#I've finally started bleeding from my sh

[sadfraudfrogs]

I currently need to throw my phone into a river because if my mum looks through my phone I'm fucked

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Here is my thumb at the polling station!! I was gonna take a picture directly outside but someone else was taking a selfie and I felt weird waiting for her to be done. Anyway what do I get in exchange??

HELLO THUMB. I like that you've got a different coloured sign, bravo.

I'm using this opportunity to share some of what might actually be the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. This is the start of chapter two, but... yeah. It's pretty obvious what's going on here. The only context I'll give is that this is post-everything, post-game, "settled down and married and owning an inn in Toussaint".

(I'd also like to thank @spielzeugkaiser for encouraging this one)

Also adding a cut because it's long and I couldn't decide where to cut it off 😅

---

“Geralt, my darling love, my handsome witcher, my saviour of men?”

“What do you want?”

“I— what makes you think I want something?”

“You only use that tone when you want something and it’s��” Geralt shuffled around in bed and peered out of the window. It was still dark out. “Before dawn,” he finished. Paused. “What are you doing up, anyway?”

Jaskier stared down at him, dressed only in a nightshirt which Geralt was fairly certain was his.

“I heard a noise,” he said.

Geralt resisted the urge to pull him back into bed. “You heard a noise.” He repeated, tonelessly.

“Yes. It woke me up,” Jaskier continued. “And now there’s something in the stables.”

With a grumble, Geralt finally sat up. “What is it?”

Jaskier gave him an exaggerated sigh. “Well I don’t know, do I?”

“Why don’t you go check, then?”

“What if it’s a bandit? Or some sort of horrid beasty? You truly can’t expect me to deal with it, can you?”

For a moment, Geralt considered suggesting just that. But Jaskier had a point. He was  famously unhelpful in these sorts of situations. With a sigh, he swung himself out of bed and hastily dressed in the first clothes that he could get his hands on. After a second of consideration, he grabbed his sword as well.

“Come on, then.”

There was a disturbance in the stables, it turned out. Geralt could hear the horses snuffling and pacing - clearly something had spooked them. As they approached the sturdy stone building, Geralt could see that the door was swinging open.

“Stay here,” he muttered towards Jaskier over his shoulder.

“Right-o.”

The stables smelled like horse and sweat. But beneath that, a tang that Geralt didn’t recognise. And beneath that, one he did: blood.

It was too early and he was too tired to fuck about. He gripped his sword, set his shoulders, and called into the dark.

“I know you’re in here,” he said. “Show yourself.” 

At first, nothing happened. And then there was a rustle from the far corner, and a voice.

“Please, m’Lord—” 

A head appeared over the hay. A man. He was all cheekbones and angles, with a thatch of wild untamed hair. Geralt’s first thought was how young he looked. Probably no older than twenty-three or four. He looked terrified, too, and his eyes swept over Geralt in a dance Geralt had grown familiar with. The expression of fear melded from one of being caught, to one of being caught by a witcher.

As the man moved, the smell of blood grew stronger. There was a little cut on his face, just below his eye - which was marred with a huge purple bruise - but that alone wasn’t enough for such a strong scent. Geralt wondered where else he was bleeding from.

He wasn’t a bandit. He didn’t seem particularly dangerous.

“Please,” the man repeated, struggling to his feet. “Please, I’ll just— I’ll go, I swear, I just needed—”

He took a step forwards and immediately toppled, grabbing onto the wall to steady himself. He was clearly more hurt than he was letting on, and he looked exhausted. Geralt wondered how long he’d been running for. What he was running from. When he met the man’s eyes, they were wide and swimming with unspilled tears, and again, all Geralt could think was how young he looked.

Younger than Ciri, even.

Shit. Geralt was going soft. 

“Jask,” he called over his shoulder. “Come here. I need a hand…”

Jaskier’s face appeared in the doorway.

“I’m not sure what you think I can—” his eyes landed on the man. “Oh. Oh, Gods, Geralt, what’s going on?”

Geralt shrugged. “I don’t know. Help me get him inside…”

Jasker, thank Melitele, was better at this than Geralt. He quickly rushed over to the man, wrapped an arm under his shoulders to support him, and started talking to him in a low, calming tone.

“Are you alright? Look, just— you’re going to be okay, yeah? Just lean on me like that—”

Together, they manoeuvred the young man out of the stable and across the yard, his legs threatening to give out with every step.

“Thank you—” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. “Thank you, I don’t— I just— Thank you—”

“That’s quite alright,” Jaskier said, giving him a little squeeze. “What’s your name?”

The man sniffed, and winced.

“Penn.”

[euphreana]

The Shape of Truth - Chapter 15: New Moves

Masterpost

-

Back inside the wall, Ambrosius felt like he’d been walking for hours trying to get back to the hideout. Longer than it’d taken him to get to the wall, at least. The forest seemed to stretch on forever in every direction.

His leg had started bleeding again, blood seeping through the cloth tied around it. Ambrosius leaned harder on his crutch. He had too much on his mind to care. The world outside the wall was empty. Everything he’d ever been told about the monsters lurking outside was wrong. All wrong. For so long, everyone had lived in fear of nothing. Years of preparations for potential attacks, all for nothing.

Lights flashed by in the distance - hoverbikes, most likely. Probably searching for him. Ambrosius watched them aimlessly, wondering if they’d see him or not. He didn’t care either way at this point. Everything that had ever meant anything to him was gone or meaningless now.

The lights came closer. Ambrosius braced himself for the beam of blinding light to sweep over him…. closer… closer…

Suddenly, a pink blur slammed into him, whirling him behind a thick tree just as the light flared over where he’d been a moment before.

“Wh-mm?” Ambrosius tried to ask, but there was a hand clasped over his mouth.

“Sh!” Nimona’s voice came.

The beam of light swished around the area, then moved on.

Nimona released her hand.

“What are you- Are you trying to get caught?” she hissed.

Ambrosius didn’t have an answer to that. He just looked at her absently.

“Did you know?” he asked quietly.

“Know wh…” Nimona looked him over, noticing his muddied knees and bleeding calf. “Where did you go?”

“Outside.”

“No duh.”

“Outside the wall.”

Nimona was silent for a moment. Then she huffed.

“Let’s get you back to the hideout. The knights might come back.”

“You knew… You knew about the tunnel. You knew there was nothing out there.”

Nimona didn’t respond to that - instead she shifted into a tall, muscular form and scooped him up in her arms.

“The hideout’s this way.” she said, heading back the way he’d come. Ambrosius had walked right past it.

“Why didn’t you say anything about the outside?” Ambrosius asked, clinging to his crutch.

Nimona avoided eye contact.

“Would you have believed me?”

She had a point. Up until, now he wouldn’t have.

“So you’re from outside the wall?”

“I’ve been inside the wall since it went up.”

Since it went up… How long ago was that? Ambrosius stared up at Nimona, wondering whether or not to believe her.

“How old are you?”

Nimona shrugged as she stepped over a fallen log.

“As far as I know, I've always been here.”

Ambrosius let that sink in. He leaned back against her arm and closed his eyes.

“I don't even know what's true anymore… The Director is a liar and a murderer. The Institute has been hiding things. You're old…. Was Gloreth even a real person?”

“She was real.” Nimona’s voice got quiet. “She was my friend.”

Ambrosius opened his eyes.

“But… you’re a…” he trailed off, conflicted over the word that followed. He didn’t know what to call Nimona. He just knew what he’d been told by The Institute. “… What are you?”

Nimona looked slightly relieved he hadn’t finished his original sentence.

“I’m Nimona.” she said with finality, her foot landing heavily with the next step.

There was a long silence. That wasn’t the answer Ambrosius wanted. He wanted something that made sense to him - something that could be broken down and explained.

“That’s it? Just ‘Nimona’?”

Nimona shrugged and emerged into the clearing around the hideout.

“It works for me.” she said, pushing the hideout door open with her shoulder.

It was dark inside. Nimona set Ambrosius down on the couch and flicked on the strings of lights strung across the ceiling. Then she started rummaging through a cabinet.

“I saw this when I went into the city.” she said, holding up a small bottle labeled ‘skin-glue’. “Probably not as good as stitches, but better than nothing.”

The stuff was a kind of adhesive meant for keeping wounds closed. It burned when Nimona globbed it on the gash in Ambrosius’s leg, but he locked his jaw and kept still. He’d been through worse.

Nimona groaned in disappointment when the wound wouldn’t stay closed regardless how much glue she globbed on.

“I guess we’ll just have to amputate it.”

Ambrosius didn’t think that was funny.

“I think you’re supposed to wrap it up after you glue it. So it stays closed.”

“Right. That was my next idea.”

That worked. The fresh bandages didn’t show any blood, even after several minutes.

Nimona got busy in the kitchen while Ambrosius laid back on the couch, staring at the ceiling emptily. He could hear the stove crackle to life as the scent of cooking meat began to fill the room. Funny, Ambrosius hadn’t remembered it being hooked up to any power sources.

It was several minutes before Nimona’s face poked in front of his.

“Wake up, it’s chow time!” She plunked a sizzling pan of bacon onto the table next to the couch.

Ambrosius’s stomach growled loudly. He hadn’t eaten at all that day. The stress of everything that’d happened hadn’t let him get hungry.

Nimona snatched up a piece of bacon and shoved it into her mouth, hot grease dripping from her fingers.

“Dig in!” she said through the mouthful of food. “I forgot to get forks but hey, your hands are probably clean enough!”

Ambrosius stared at the pan of bacon. In the back of his mind, he could hear his mom reviewing fork protocol for the formal dinners he’d grown up with. ‘You’re Gloreth’s ambassador,’ she’d told him, ‘you need to set an example.’ She’d always meant well, but at the time it had only stressed him out more.

Nimona’s voice broke in.

“Well? It isn’t any good cold.”

Ambrosius closed his eyes. His mom was gone, and it wasn’t like he needed to impress anyone anymore. He leaned forward and tentatively picked up a strip of bacon. The hot grease stung his fingers, but he ignored the pain and bit off a piece. It burned his tongue.

“Hot…” he mumbled, trying to cool it down enough to eat.

“But good!” Nimona responded through her own mouthful of bacon.

She was right. Ambrosius gave a weak smile and took another hot bite of freedom.

“So…” Nimona said, “What’s our next move?”

Ambrosius sighed.

“I don’t know.” he said, “Everyone I care about is dead, everything I’ve worked for is gone, and everything I knew is a lie. I'd almost rather…” He paused for a long moment to chew, “You know… what is outside the wall?”

Nimona shrugged.

Ambrosius wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“You've never looked?”

Nimona shrugged again.

“This place has always been my home.”

Ambrosius was dumbfounded.

“Haven't you ever wanted to leave?”

“Sometimes. But it isn't so bad here. There's food and lights and TV. … and there's your family.”

“Yeah…” Ambrosius remembered their old conversation. “Have you been stalking my family from the beginning of time?”

“Not stalking, just… watching. Mostly. You're Gloreth's kids.”

There was a long silence.

“You said you were friends?”

Nimona avoided his gaze.

“Yeah. Sorta. Kinda.”

Ambrosius didn’t press the question.

“So that’s all that’s keeping you from trying to escape again? Food, lights, and TV?”

“What, you think I’d find that outside the wall? There wasn’t anything out there before the wall went up, and there hasn’t been anything since it went up. I've looked.”

Ambrosius shook his head.

“There has to be something out there. If there’s nothing out there eating everything, why wouldn’t there be anyone? It’s worth a shot.”

Nimona cocked an eyebrow.

“You want to leave?"

Ambrosius was beginning to feel a spark of hope. If there wasn’t anything for him inside the wall, maybe there was something outside.

“Why not? There has to be some other place with food and lights and TV.”

“Need I remind you of the cannons?”

“What if it was dark, and the cannons got sabotaged?"

"What if there's nothing out there and we can't come back?"

"Come on, where'd your sense of adventure go? I'm supposed to be the one playing it safe!"

Nimona picked up another piece of bacon.

"I just... don't want you to die is all. You're the last of Gloreth's kids."

"I'm going to die if I stay here." Ambrosius paused. "Really, if I'm the only reason you've been sticking around… would you go with me if I left?”

There was a long silence. Then Nimona spoke.

“I suppose you have a plan for that?”

Ambrosius was quiet for a moment.

“Maybe…” Then Ambrosius grinned. “Actually yeah. I do.”

-

Next

[a-queer-seminarian]

cw religious transphobia, Catholic trauma, plus a weird dream involving violence and bombs lol

had another of my dreams about my childhood church last night — probably prompted by the latest shitty Vatican publication condemning "gender theory" :/

...the document doesn't have much new in it, just more of the Roman Catholic Church's usual bullshit with slightly different language. but God i'd take fundamentalism's look-even-slightly-closer-and-it-falls-apart cognitive dissonance any day to the very carefully ordered logic of Catholic bigotry. i always feel physically ill reading through these Vatican documents because the language is so "loving" and "reasonable" — at least for me as someone who was raised into the Catholic logic system; some deep core of me resonates to this specific pitch and aches.

It's like they know exactly what language to use to shatter me — this time it's language about the Infinite Dignity of human beings, which is something i deeply believe in! It's heart-language for me. Tell me queer folk are "intrinsically disordered" or "demonic" and i can mostly scoff it off as outdated unscientific bullshit. But tell me queerness is on par with fucking WAR and POVERTY and XENOPHOBIA in attacking human dignity and that hurts.

...but they also, of course :/, bring in abortion — but also, in a surprising twist, surrogacy??? — as attacking human dignity, and that thankfully snaps me out of my spiral a little bit. Like seriously?? you think all forms of surrogacy violate the *checks notes* child's "right to have a fully human (and not artificially induced) origin..." and the recognition of "every dimension of the dignity of the conjugal union and of human procreation."

It reminds me that the Catholic condemnation of queer sex is like, one level in a house of cards where you take out one piece and it all collapses: the logic they follow to condemn queer sex and extramarital sex requires that they also condemn contraceptives, and priests getting married, and yes, surrogacy and IVF too. To become lax about any one would send the whole logic tower tumbling --

Okay now i'm just ranting incoherently lol. the dream:

my dream was actually kind of interesting? it's the first one where instead of me being scared about my own safety when suddenly finding myself back in my childhood church, i was scared for everyone else —

i was running home trying to escape some kind of violent attack unfolding in a city center (idk the details don't worry about it lol), and realized i had to cut through saint raphael for the fastest route home. so i entered, only to realize the sanctuary was packed full with people in the middle of Mass. (it's the old sanctuary, the one i grew up with, rather than the new bigger one built back in like 2014)

so i'm trying to slink behind the pews so they won't notice me -- and then i suddenly realize someone is up in the choir loft with a bomb. everyone is clueless except for me. i don't want to alert the person with the bomb that i've seen them in case it prompts them to attack, so i start speaking urgently to people in the pews nearest me. some listen, some tell me to shut up, Mass is more important than whatever danger i think is there. very few get up to hurry out the nearest exit. but i keep trying, going pew to pew to warn people, getting closer to the front.

and there is father tim, about to begin eucharistic liturgy at the altar. i'm about to race up to him, to warn him, to beg him to tell everyone to flee, when the person in the choir loft finally speaks. i don't remember what he says, but he hurls the bomb. finally everyone is running for the exits, but it's too late to get everyone out. they'd ignored the violence in their midst far too long.

i don't remember what happens after that except that i get out, get across the street, and turn back to look upon the crumbled mess of my childhood church, one side entirely exploded outward, people soot-streaked and bleeding hobbling from a smoking doorway, shouting.

idk, it just feels symbolic somehow. Catholics who are either very happy with the queerphobic poison the Roman Catholic Church espouses, or who at least shrug and ignore it so as not to rock the boat and cause discomfort / risk their own standing in the church, seem to think they won't be harmed by that poison too. Very "i didn't think the tigers would eat my face" meme-esque. They are happy to let it seep into every crack and crevice in their churches, to swallow it with their Communion wine, to spread it among their children.

But it is poisoning them, all the same. We are just the canaries in the coal mine, dropping first. The queerphobia, the misogyny, the scandals buried under the rug — these warp their ability to experience the Divine, to recognize God's activity in their midst.

The bomb is already activated. Some of them applaud it, almost worship it. Others ignore its quiet, patient tick. And they push out all the queers, all the survivors of church abuse, all the people with pregnancies that will literally kill them, who are desperately trying to help them shut off the damn bomb before it's too late.

[starseneyes]

"I wish I could write 'weird sh*t' as a diagnosis"

I love my General Practitioner. My last one retired, and it took me over a year on a wait list to get into this one a girlfriend recommended, but it was so worth it.

Today I received my formal Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome diagnosis. Not vascular, in my case, but does cause me quite a bit of daily pain and I'll be off to PT shortly.

But what is often my least favorite part of visiting the doctor became a revelation today—the weigh-in.

TW: miscarriage, bleeding, pregnancy

The year was 2020. It was late February and I was getting ready for what would become my last Tae Kwon Do belt testing before the Pandemic shut the world down. I didn't love my weight, but I felt strong.

See, after I had my twins, I went back to pre-pregnancy weight in 17 days. Yup. 17 days. And for a 30-year-old, I was shocked and pleasantly surprised!

But after my daughter, three years later, I had 20 extra pounds that I couldn't shake. This was partly due to a rough pregnancy (almost lost her at 12 weeks, placenta previa, couldn't work out) and then complications after her birth (trapped placenta, bled for 5 months, hemorrhaged, etc).

I started Tae Kwon Do in 2019 mostly because I'd been told my whole life that I couldn't do it. I wanted to prove that person wrong, but also show myself that I was capable. I had to work hard, but I wasn't bad. That last belt test, I earned my blue-stripe (mid-level belt).

And I was strong. I didn't lose a single pound doing Tae Kwon Do, but I turned it into strength. Into muscle.

It was when I stopped weighing myself. I realized that the number on the scale didn't reflect the body I had.

But, when the world shut down, everything shifted for all of us. I was sick for 10 months of 2020. I lost 40% of my income. I had to balance working from home with homeschooling three children, and I barely ate.

Now, I am not one of those people who loses weight when they don't eat. My body goes into preservation mode, and it all goes to my stomach, arms, butt, and hips.

I gained 20 pounds, and since 2020, I haven't been able to get them off.

Six months ago, I went for a weigh-in as part of my physical. I tried to ignore the number, but I knew it well. No changes. Today, I went in for a follow-up—and 18 of those 20 pounds are gone.

I knew I felt different. I felt stronger. I felt healthier. My clothes felt different. But I don't get on scales anymore, so I didn't realize the difference of having the stress gone.

You see, 5 months ago, our lives changed. After a year of trying to keep up with medical debt by taking every extra job I could, working all hours and not sleeping, I finally put up a GoFundMe in shame and desperation.

In 48 hours it raised $8,000 and we erased all but two medical payment plans—one that is now down to $300, and the other has a few thousand to go for my braces.

I went back to working normal hours. I started being able to afford groceries again for me and not just for the kids. Everything shifted in a beautiful way.

I haven't gotten into a workout routine, yet, but I started walking several times a week for Mental Health Walks.

Life changed for us radically because a bunch of people (some of whom I've only met online) rallied around us in our darkest hour.

And for the first time in years, I am getting back to a healthier me. I cannot express my gratitude. There aren't enough words.

It's a reminder that sometimes we can't do it alone. We need our community. We need people who love us. And I am humbled and honored by the love showered on me.

And you. Yes, you! If you don't feel loved today, I hope you know that I love you. I value you. I am proud of you. You are beautiful. And you are loved.

[very-uncorrect]

(writing from memory, probably has mistakes)

Tw for sh, suicide

I like bike riding

It's oh so exciting

Much better than fighting with all who come near me

Rope's getting tighter

My hand's on the lighter

I'm playing with fire

You'd better come save me!

That there's my sister

Yeah, you couldn't miss her

That big facial blister

Her pity getting scheme

I think I hate her

Those green alligators

I wish they'd've ate her

If that happened you'd see

That there's a part of me that's appealingly sweet

I'm sure you'd agree if you got to know me

And admittedly I'm not that interesting

But I'll let you have what's mine if you just give me your time

If there's a party today it's not coming my way

Should be needless to say but I need things to change

Remember yesterday?

I gotcha flowers, you threw them away

Coffee and peppermint tea

Brewing instructions engraved on leaves

Symbols that I can't read

Seems it's all written in Chinese

I could use some help translating these

I'm an unknown breed

Unsprouted seed

A hot spring with its waters frozen over by your cold mentality

If it's grief you need then take my spleen

I'm gonna bleed all over the floor

And more until you remember me

I like bike riding

It can be exciting

Well I'm through with hiding

You're gonna think I'm crazy!

Swallowing swords now

Too bad I don't know how

I'm juggling knives

(ow!)

Three fingers that cost me

Oh, what have I done?

A green luscious island

It's covered in diamonds

Far as the eye can see

Lower the bar cause I'm choking on stardust

Becoming a carcass

Though pain's rather tasty

There's a part of me that's appealingly sweet

I'm sure you'd agree if you got to know me

And admittedly I'm not that interesting

But I'll let you have what's mine if you just give me your time

With myself I must play in this game of charades

Cause there's no one to speak to of the things going on in my brain

There's nothing particular I need you to say

At least care to see if I'm ok

Watch me now play with pointy things

Now, see, isn't it interesting?

No, you're not even listening!

Is that not brave enough for you?

As flies are drawn to the rotten cheese

Are sadists attracted to misery?

In this case, that's another word for me

So I'll post the danger ×2

(or maybe 3)

Just red paint? Babe this ain't pretend

How I logn for your arms again

I might lose me a leg or ehad

Maybe you will believe me then

Autumn leaves fail to break my fall

Sticks and stones didn't care at all

Skin and bones decorate the walls

Think that's everything I can recall

Finally a part just for me!

In contrast with those attending I'm quite happy

Like your brains' hard drives just installed sympathy

Judging by how much your cry it's like you're draining your eyes

Got in candy land I paid the entrance fee

Funny no one tried to stop my from my self injury spree

People, please, you should be smiling!

If you cared you woulda showed love 'fore I became a piece of meat

Hey, c'mon, let's up the vibrancy!

I want some sort of balloons and your tears can be the confetti

Went from living faeces to your priority

Funny how much more you notice something that you can't see

A whole garden of flowers

And my name etched on a rock

This could've all been avoided

All I wanted was to talk

Now I've been appointed

As your new king

I decree

That's it's too late to start

Caring

About

Me!

I'm mildly obsessed with Hansel by Sodikken and I've also discovered that I'm pretty good at doing the weird voices for it and that it's also super fun to sing (even with the sad and disturbing lyrics), I've pretty much memorised the whole song now

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Fighting - Bonus Scene Part 2

Geralt heard Yennefer's sleep rough voice go from barely coherent to fully awake (and very loud) the second she heard him say "It's Jaskier, he's been in a fight..." And she had lots of questions.

And apparently "I don't know, Yen, getting the sh*t beat out of him?" was not an acceptable answer to "What was he doing in a fight, Geralt?" He wondered how long it would take her to locate them and set up a portal. Maybe he had a few hours left to enjoy life...

Geralt made one more phone call. "Lambert, get Eskel. I've got a favor to ask you. I need you to pick up...somebody. At the back of the Forking Good Time. Yes, the one with the sh*tty a** food Yen made us try." He gave them no further explanation.

He headed toward the back of the van, hearing Jaskier start making distressed sounds. The pain meds must have finally worn off, and now he was probably having a nightmare.

Jaskier whimpered in his sleep, crying for Geralt and Yennefer, and twitching. Geralt reached the bed and felt his heart clench uncomfortably with a tangle of strong emotions. Jaskier had one hand tangled in his blanket, and the other...

Geralt lightly bruhsed his fingertips against his hand, and then paused. He'd never seen Jaskier do that before. His go to soothing method was what he jokingly referred to as Blankie Therapy. Never had he ever seen him try to soothe himself like this.

It made Geralt's heart ache. And it made him feel an all consuming rage towards the person who'd caused this.

Geralt was just going to leave him alone and let him have whatever small comfort it brought him, but then he smelled the blood. He looked a little closer and saw the blood that had dripped from the corner of his mouth. He'd dislodged the blood clots from the empty sockets in his gums and they were bleeding again.

Geralt gently took Jaskier's hand and slowly eased his thumb out of his mouth. He diluted some more Swallow and used a finger to rub it over his gums to stop the bleeding. Jaskier shifted with a groggy grumble of protest. Geralt lightly rubbed the back of his shoulder until he settled down.

He went outsided to pace, feeling angry and helpless. D**n that b**tard!

Geralt's angry pacing was interrupted by Yennefer stepping through the portal she'd opened. The sorceress was carrying her old cat plush, Sammy, and carrying a small bag of supplies. She had obviously not bothered to get dressed as she was wearing one of Geralt's old t-shirts, and the pair of Jaskier's boxers that had been missing for weeks. He wasn't going to be getting them back anytime soon. Once Yennefer stole an article of clothing, you could kiss it goodbye forever.

Geralt wasted no time dragging her into the van. Yennefer's eyebrows furrowed and she tenderly touched Jaskier's hand much the same way Geralt had done when she saw him trying to soothe himself. "My poor Julek...what did he do to you?" she whispered softly.

She sat on the edge of the bed and laid her hand on Jaskier's bruised cheek.

"Why is he so warm?" she asked, noting that Jaskier was warmer than he should have been, but not shivering as if he had a fever.

"I...gave him some Swallow."

"You gave him what?! Are you trying to kill him?"

"I diluted it! The bleeding in his kidney was getting worse." Geralt responded defensively.

"So you thought poisoning the poor thing would be better?"

"I swear, every time I leave you two alone for more than five minutes, all your braincells deactivate and you almost kill yourselves!"

"Was that a You're-absolutely-right-Yennefer-we're-idiots 'hm', or was that a Go-f**k-yourself-Yennefer 'hm'? It f**king better have been a Your're-absolutely-right-Yennefer-we're-idiots 'hm'!"

"What's this band-aid on his arm?"

"I gave him a shot of midazolam for the pain and to calm him down-" Geralt began.

"You know he hates needles, you absolute prick! Please tell me you didn't hold him down! You better not have held him down, Geralt! Or you and I are going to have words!

"That 'hm' didn't convice me at all!. You better start using your words right f**king now-!"

Jaskier woke with a thin whine, rolling onto his back with a wince. "YEn..." He whimpered when he saw her, and tried to sit up, reaching for her.

"Shhhh, Lark. It's okay." she said, instantly forgetting about hen-pecking Geralt in favor of carefully laying Jaskier back down. "I'm here, I'm here!" she said, brushing the backs of her fingers over his cheek. "Let me take a look at you." She closed her eyes and focused her magic. She clucked her tongue.

She let him hold Sammy while she started with healing the gash on the back of his head. The missing teeth would have to wait, but she did press healing magic into the empty sockets to help them heal, and keep them from becoming infected.

Her hands were gentle as she ran them over his chest and down his ribs, sweeping away much of the pain and some of the bruising.

Jaskier shuddered, biting back a grunt and squeezing Sammy tighter as Yennefer lightly rested her fingers on his subluxated ribs. She made quiet shushing sounds to him and the pain faded. He felt the ribs click back into place. There was a little discomfort, but it wasn't as painful as it had been a few hours ago.

"Sit up, Starling, so I can get the ones on your back."

Jaskier sat up with Geralt's help, ribs still sore, and put his arms around Yennefer's neck, leaning his head on her shoulder and clinging.

"He was waiting outside the restaraunt. I don't know what his problem was, but he had it out for me... He tried to hit me, but he kept missing..."

Geralt smiled, imagining what the guy's face must have looked like when Jaskier started doing his bumbling dodging routine.

"I ran, thinking I could get away, but..." Jaskier paused with a pained moan as Yennefer's hand found a particularly tender rib. "He was fast. He-he caught me and dragged me into the alley... He wouldn't stop hitting me, Yen," he said, voice trembling.

"It's alright, dear heart." she whispered, running her hands gently over the ribs in his back as he fought back tears. She could feel him shake, and feel his heart pounding in his chest. She tightened her arms around him.

Jaskier was sobbing now, pressing his face into Yennefer's shoulder "He was going to call more Vipers to come play too, b-but I knocked the phone out of his hand...and he got p*ssed... He slammed me into the wall, and...I didn't know what else to do, so I-I... I knifed him."

A Witcher?! Geralt was going to say something, but his phone rang. It was Lambert. He turned to go to the front of the van to answer the call. Yennefer put her hands on Jaskier's shoulders when he reached for Geralt as he walked away to answer his phone.

There was a look of near panic in Jaskier's eyes as he grabbed at the Witcher, tying to stop him from leaving, crying and begging him not to go. Yennefer gently pulled his hands off Geralt's sleeves, whispering soothingly to him. "He's not leaving, my love, he's not leaving!"

Geralt hated to pull away, but he had to answer his phone. He paused long enough to pat the Bard's cheek reassuringly, before moving away. Jaskier watched him anxiously, not even realizing that he'd put his thumb back in his mouth.

Yennefer put her hand on his cheek, gently turning his face towards her. "It's okay, Julek. He's right there. He'll be right over in a minute." She murmured. Her hands started stroking over his arms and shoulders, trying to relax him.

Jaskier looked at Geralt, nervously watching him sitting in the driver's seat. Yennefer gathered him into her arms, not saying a word. Her heart twisted painfully as she listend to him suck his thumb.

Yennefer was deeply worried about Jaskier's mental and emotional state. He had never sucked his thumb before, and the amount of distress he must be in to turn to that type of regressive behavior as a soothing method greatly concerned her.

What unsettled her more was that he was so distressed that he was beyond the point of caring if anyone saw him.

Yennefer ran her fingers through Jaskier's hair as she whispered to him softly in his head while she impatiently waited for Geralt to come back.

"You said we were picking up a body. You didn't say it was going to be a f**king snake, and that he was going to still be alive, Geralt!"

"He's still alive?"

"Yeah. He's got four stab wounds and he's bleeding all over my seats! Why the h*ll didn't you just run him through properly?"

Because I wasn't the one who stabbed him. It was Jaskier. And it was probably hard for him to stab him 'properly' while the ar*ehole was beating the f**king sh*t out of him!

Geralt heard Lambert growl and Eskel ask what was going on. He heard Lambert snarl "This f**ker hurt Songbird!", then "I told you I smelled him in the alley, Lambert! F**k! Some of that blood was his!"

They started quarreling until Geralt snarled at them to shut up. "You want us to cut his throat-!" Eskel began, only for Geralt to snap "No! That f**ker is mine! I have my location turned on. Bring him here now!"

Geralt ended the call and sat back down on the edge of the bed. Jaskier leaned into him, letting him hold him against his chest while Yennefer stroked his side.

"Shhh, I've got you, Julek." Geralt murmured, and was surprised when Jaskier wrapped his free arm around him and grabbed a handful of his shirt.

Yennefer was usually the one he went to when Blankie Therapy wasn't enough. She was so soft with him, and her motherly older sister vibe always put him at ease.

But right now, Jaskier needed Geralt. He was scared and shaken, and he needed to feel like he was safe. Geralt was not as good at being soft like Yennefer, but he was good at being a fierce protector and being a solid, physical presence. Geralt tightened his arms around him as much as he could without causing him pain.

" I'm sorry I wasn't there, but I won't let anyone ever do that to you again." Geralt promised softly, draping Jaskier's blanket over his shoulders. He let him lean on him, silently holding him and rocking gently until he felt and heard his rapidly beating heart slow.

Jaskier pulled his thumb out of his mouth as the tension eased and he started to feel less anxious. He gave a contented hum and put his other arm around the Witcher. Geralt rubbed his jaw and cheeks over Jaskier's head, like a wolf scent marking a pack member, while Yennefer smiled but said nothing.

When Jaskier had calmed down Geralt put him on his belly on the bed, so Yen could take care of the injured kidney. She was just laying her hand over the bruise, when Geralt heard the approaching vehicle. Eskel and Lambert were here.

"Stay with him, Yen," Geralt said gently to Yennefer, as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt so he had more freedom of movement. Jaskier tensed under Yennefer's hand, rolling an anxious eye at Geralt over his shoulder.

"I won't be gone long." Geralt assured him. He stroked his hand down the back of Jaskier's head. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go make sure that b**tard and all his friends never come near you again."

Yennefer nodded and rose to give him a kiss. "Go avenge your Bard, Witcher." she whispered. "And don't make any extra work for me." she added, slapping his backside as he stepped out through the sliding door...

[annie-blackhill]

Aight, I know that I've been away for awhile but now I'm back and I have ideas babes!

____________________________________

Warnings:

Depression

Anxiety

Past panic attacks

Mentions of past domestic violence

Abusive childhood

Post traumatic events unconscious coping mechanisms

Unconscious flinching out of instinct

Sudden panic when hearing fighting between a man and a woman screaming very near

Loss of breath

Domestic violence

Blood

Panic attack

____________________________________

Dazai Osamu

________________

Safe and Sound

________________

Dazai and (Y/N) have been in a relationship for two years now. They're so in love with each other that everyone at the ADA are questioning the fact as to why they weren't married yet.

Dazai really loves (Y/N) and she loves him just as much back. They both really love each other and they both understand each other the most too.

But there were still some things that Dazai didn't know.

The main reason why (Y/N) and Dazai weren't married yet was because Dazai wanted to get her parents' blessings first. He was so excited to get their blessings, to meet the people who brought his perfectly imperfect lover into this cruel, tainted world.

He was eternally grateful to them for bringing her into this world, although the cruel world had tainted her and made her the broken person she is now, he still loves her for her. She's the only reason he has to live now. And he loves her for that.

Whenever Dazai asked (Y/N) about her family, she would tell him stories about when she was a child and how her dad would bring them to the beach every weekend because they lived near to the beach or when they went back to school shopping together.

But that was it. Her dad never really appeared in her other stories much. He would pop in at some point of the tale and then disappear. Her mum, was mostly the one to witness her achievements.

But (Y/N) has never described her parents' proud expressions whenever she achieved something.

At times, when Dazai did pry lightly, she would turn the story somewhere else, mostly to her friends.

He knew that she didn't really have a good primary school life, seeing as she's told him before that she's been bullied at that time. She's described them as the loneliest years of her life and how much she's hated herself those times.

Whenever (Y/N) talked about friends, it would be about her friends from her high school life. Her high school was much more on the better side.

She had been a prefect in her high school years, since her first year to her last year.

The only bad memories she had was when she realized that being in the first class and being the top of the class meant the other students would sabotage her and the two times in her senior years where she had to fight back as self-defense when she tried to break up a fight and they started to hit her too.

Dazai wasn't daft. Of course, he picked up on all the signs she showed that she wasn't really fond of her parents.

At first, he thought that it was just because of a small fight they had. But two years have passed in their relationship and (Y/N) hasn't cracked even the least to tell him why her childhood stories are only until a certain age or why she's never told him how proud her parents were of her.

Dazai was worried. In the end, he decided that maybe her parents just have a slightly tight relationship with each other.

Dazai decided to not ask. He let it slide and slip past them. He never touched the subject of her parents for the half of the second year of their relationship.

As the other half year of their relationship rolled in, Dazai and (Y/N) had saved enough money to buy a cozy little apartment near the ADA and move out of the ADA's hostel.

The day they were moving in, the couple were greeted by the middle aged woman who lived next door with her husband and 4 year old daughter.

She had been a very sweet auntie that welcome the sweet couple to the apartment complex with open arms and a sweet smile.

More than once had she cooked good food for the duo since they always returned late from work.

"You two kinda remind me of how my husband and I used to be when we were younger and so in love," the auntie would say to the duo all the time.

The little 4 year old would also come by and play around with the loving couple whenever they were on leave.

Auntie would always try persuade her daughter from "disturbing the lovely young couple" as she would always say to her daughter.

"It's alright, auntie! I love kids! (N/N)-chan and I are planning to have a few little munchkins like this when we're married too!" Dazai would assure her, while playing with the little girl.

But there was always something about how (Y/N) would send the auntie knowing looks as though she knew something that he didn't all the time, so he decided to pay more attention too.

When Dazai did start to notice more, he noticed the dark bags under the auntie's eyes and he noticed how tired she always was.

The more he noticed the more concerning she looked to him day by day.

"Auntie, would you like to join us for tea, today? Osamu and I wanted to play with that sweet little angel," (Y/N) invited the auntie.

"WHO'S THAT AT THE DOOR???!!!" the booming voice of the male from inside the auntie's house shook (Y/N) to the core and it ignited old memories that she didn't have to remember.

"Auntie, you really should come. Osamu insists! You know how he gets when he doesn't get what he wants! He'll be whining all day long like a little baby!" (Y/N) tried to convince the auntie discreetly.

"I ASKED 'WHO'S THAT AT THE DOOR'! ANSWER ME YOU USELESS WOMAN!!!" the man shouted from the bedroom again.

(Y/N) flinched. She was regretting sending Dazai to the store now. They had been running low on groceries and she had sent Dazai to the store, as she would say "please contribute you're lazy arse to do something in this household, my love" and he had carried his lazy arse to the store near the apartment complex.

After Dazai had left was when she started to hear the shouts and yells from the next door auntie's house.

Even as the bad memories plunged her being, she had forced herself to go and at least try to save the auntie before anything bad happened to either her or her daughter.

But even then, if you looked closely at (Y/N) you could see that she was trembling badly and that she could barely stand on her two feet.

"Auntie, come on please!" (Y/N) begged in a mutter exclamation.

"I'm sorry," the auntie murmured before closing the door on her with an apologetic smile.

"Auntie, no!" (Y/N) exclaimed.

And that was when she heard the terrible screams and the yell. The cries of the little 4 year old teared her soul apart into the smallest of pieces.

"NO, NO, NO!!!!" (Y/N) yelled as her mind turned blank and the memories flooded her brain.

Her mind turned so blank that she forgot that she was slamming her fists onto the door and that she had an ability.

The memories of how her father would come home drunk and lay on the sofa. Of how her mother had found out that he was having an affair. Of how, he would beat the living daylights out of her mother.

(Y/N) never told Dazai any of that. She felt ashamed to tell him that her childhood was the most terrible thing to ever happen to her.

A blood curdling screamed pierced the air along with a loud cry and that was enough for (Y/N) to snap out of her traumas and remember that there were lives on the stake right now.

She finally regained her senses fully and remembered that she has an ability.

Using her elemental abilities, she bent the wooden front door so much that it broke it half and broke off of it's hinges. The lower half flew to the side of the corridor almost hitting her while the other half flew into the house and hit the middle aged aggressive man that was about to beat his wife over the head with a glass flower vase.

The auntie stood in shock as the younger woman ran to her and hugged her.

"Auntie! Are you alright?! Are you bleeding anywhere?! Do you have any fatal injuries?!" (Y/N) questioned quickly as she held the shorter's woman's face in her hands and looked her over, making sure that she wasn bleeding anywhere majorly.

"Why you little freak show! You must one of those freak shows that are born with those little abilities! How dare you interfere with someone else's family problems?! Youngsters these days don't know how to respect their elders! Let me teach you then!" the man yelled at (Y/N) as she stood in front of the trembling woman, making sure that the older woman was perfectly hidden behind her.

(Y/N) slipped a hand into the back pocket of her jeans. She clutched the holster of her gun.

"Step away, right now before I seriously hurt you," (Y/N) warned as she held her left hand out to stop him from coming any nearer to them.

The man took off his belt and folded it into two, straightening it out with a snap, which caused both women to flinch as more dark memories flooded into (Y/N)'s mind.

"I said STOP RIGHT THERE!" (Y/N) warned yet again. It was against the law for her to shoot him and she couldn't even use her abilities against him as he was a normal civilian.

She was trying her best to not hurt anyone here and let the civilian authorities handle the ruthless man.

The moment the man raised his arm was the same time (Y/N) slipped her gun out of her back pocket and shot his arm.

The man let out a cry of pain and fell back from the sudden pain. He looked at the younger woman, wide eyed as she held the gun tight and pointed the barrel to his forehead.

"Armed Detective Agency member, (L/N) (Y/N)," (Y/N) announced as she showed him her ADA card.

The man backed away more at that. His eyes wide as he realized that she was a member of the authorities.

"(Y/N)?!" Dazai shouted as he entered only to see the bloodied situation of the man and the two trembling women.

"Where's the child?!" Dazai asked immediately.

"Sh-she's in her room," the auntie answered meekly.

Dazai nodded. He looked down at the man, disgust, venom and a desire to kill clear on his face.

The man even then, still tried to gain Dazai's pity as Dazai was a fellow man too.

"S-sir! All I was trying to do was educate my wife to be more better and obedient! I wasn't trying to do anything other than that! I swear!" the man said.

That only made Dazai even more disgusted as he spat on the man's face in disgust. He stomped his foot harshly on the man's hand that was holding the belt.

"You disgust me you old fool! You're an utter disgrace of a human being! I'm disgusted to see people like you are still alive! Terrorizing women's lives! Making them only feel like obedient dolls that should only do whatever you say!

I'd rather kill you then let you go to jail and then get back out after a few months! People like you shouldn't exist at all in the first place!

Your wife is supposed to be your life partner! Not some maid or toy that would do everything you say! You're supposed to live life and do everything together!

I can't believe you even had a child with her only to state your dominance over her and make her unable to run away from you!

You disgust me!" Dazai yelled at the man as he twisted his foot on the man's hand more and stomped it over and over and over again, intent on breaking it.

(Y/N) shielded the auntie's sight form her lover's rage as he broke the man's hand and rendered it completely shattered under his shoe.

"Osamu..." (Y/N) called out for him.

Dazai raised his head to look at his lover, tears streaming from his eyes from utter pure white hot rage.

"Are you alright? Are the two of you alright? Is that little angel injured?" Dazai's voice turned so soft that (Y/N)'s heart broke at the mere sound of it. He sounded as scared as she was feeling.

Dazai went over to the two women and squeezed them into a light hug, he buried his face into the crook of (Y/N)'s neck. (Y/N) hugged his waist, her arm practically limp, but her hand still clutching the gun tight just in case the man tried anything, her ear was placed against his frantically beating heart.

The older woman had wrapped her arm over his back and was hugging him tight, scared out of her life and grateful for the presence of the two youngsters at the moment.

"Osamu... We need to call the police and the ADA, specifically Kunikida-san. We need to explain a hell load to them all," (Y/N) murmured lightly to the shaken man.

Dazai nodded lightly at her statement before pressing a light kiss to the crook of her neck and removing himself from the hold of the two women.

"Auntie, do get your little girl and wait outside of the house. (Y/N) and I will call the police and our co-worker to handle the mess here," Dazai informed the older woman.

She merely nodded, not trusting her voice to be strong enough to answer him as she went to the little girl's bedroom to get her out of the house.

Once the child and woman were safely out of the house, Dazai dialed Kunikida while (Y/N) dialed the police station.

Both at had arrived at the house. The man was brought away on a stretcher by the paramedics as (Y/N) was explaining to the police as to why she had used her gun.

Kunikida and Dazai, both standing on either side of her, trying to justify the reason as to why she did so and the police accepted the reasons in the end.

Dazai said his end of the story and then they moved on to ask the wife and the child about their ends of the story.

"(Y/N), you know you shouldn't have used your gun. I'll have to confiscate it for now. You'll only be allowed to use it on missions. I'm sorry but those are the rules that you need to follow after that little act of 'misusage' as the police says," Kunikida sighed as he took the gun lightly from her slightly slackened grasp on it now.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was scared and he raised the belt above me, ready to hit at any moment---" her voice cracked and she couldn't continue the sentence anymore.

Kunikida held her hand softly as Dazai brought (Y/N) into a soft side hug, holding her softly and rubbing her shoulders.

"I know and that's why I'm the one that's supposed to be saying sorry for taking away your gun, (Y/N)," Kunikida said.

"Hey, hey. It's alright, the both of you. I'll pull some strings here and there and make sure, (Y/N) gets her gun back, alright? Easy peasy!" Dazai lightened the mood up a little.

"Sigh, thank you, Dazai. For making this easier for all of us," Kunikida said before excusing himself, saying that he needs to fill out a few more forms at the police station and make sure that neither Dazai or (Y/N) get accused for anything that they didn't do.

Dazai proceeded to lead (Y/N) back to their little home as the auntie and her daughter were led to the second ambulance by the new paramedics.

(Y/N) leaned into Dazai as she curled up onto him. He held her close and tight, knowing full well that she was shaken up from the encounter.

"Osamu... Remember how you always asked for the truth about my childhood... What you witnessed today that was happening to that auntie and her daughter? That's the real truth to my childhood.

But no one saved us. And as I grew and my dad lived his other life with his little affair, he would come and go to let off steam on my mother and my mother started to blame me for how miserable our lives were.

That's why I never had a past occupation like everyone else. I had been working with the ADA ever since I was 18 and I ran away from her.

The president helped me. He helped my mother by providing her safety and a new home.

My father is still out there, somewhere with that other woman.

And I... I've never seen my mother since the day I ran away. She must be happier now," (Y/N) said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Dazai hugged her closer and kissed her forehead.

"It's alright, love. You have me and the other ADA members for you as well now. Hell, even the Port Mafia is with you right now after how much you helped them out when we were all having trouble with The Guild and Fyodor. You have all of us here for you.

Most importantly, my love, you have me. I won't let anyone so much as hurt you even a little bit and go off the hook.

I swear," Dazai murmured softly into her ear and she snuggled closer to him, their feets touching and their hands interwined with each other's.

____________________________________

"Port Mafia strikes again as a man who was arrested yesterday due to commiting domestic violence was murdered by them brutally in his own jail cell much to the surprise of all the police officers present.

Police officers were considering requesting the Armed Detective Agency to further an investigation at first, but has now decided against it as the chief of the police station has deemed it as a waste since the man was a criminal," the news reporter announced on the morning news as (Y/N) sipped her (bitter/sweet/neutral) (coffee/tea) and Dazai adorable chewed his crab sandwich.

"Who did you ask to do it?" (Y/N) asked immediately as soon as Dazai swallowed.

"Chuuya was more than willing after I told him the story. I didn't even have to tell him which police station and cell that scum was in, he ran off and figured it all out himself and finished the job," Dazai answered before continuing to adorably eat his crab sandwich.

"That scum deserved it," (Y/N) agreed as she continue sipping her (coffee/tea).

____________________________________

Awareness Note:

Stop domestic violence. The pain lingers on even after the relationship has ended. No one should have to be bounded to a spouse that only views them as an object and an inferior instead of a human being and an equal. No one has to go through physical and mental pain with a monster that prefers to take control of everything. No one has to go through such pain.

Marriage isn't pain! Marriage is a bond of two people who love each other!

If it hurts both physically and mentally, then it's not love.

Know the difference.

[fandom-18]

Thunder Manifestation sagau hcs

Includes: imposter au, sagau

Warnings: mentions injuries, nothing too graphic

I've read countless works from the sagau, and imposter is my favourite. So, here are some hcs I thought of

You get isekaid to Teyvat, are called an imposter, noone knows you're actually the Creator(even you), but animals and monsters do and try to help you, also you remember everything from before

After leaving(more like running away from) Mondstat and Liyue you arrive at Inazuma, specifically Narukami island. You're covered in bruises and scratches, but still alive

Raiden Shogun already knows about the so called 'imposter' and wants to kill them. After the fiasco of other nations, you are sure Ei won't be different. So instead of going inside the Inazuma city or one of the villages you try to get to Seirai island

You already know that monsters and other creatures like you and don't want to kill you. So why not try and find Thunder Manifestation? If Oceanid helped you than it's twin might be nice too

After a few days of traveling you arrived at Seirai island

Some time later you finally found who you've been looking for

More like you've been found. Lighty felt your presence when you were near their arena and decided to look for you

(I'll name them Lighty because thair in-game name is too long)

Than they see you and become as gentle as a butterfly, after realising that the Creator is standing before them

After Lighty started questioning some things like why you are here and bruised, you tell them what happened before

That's where sh*t gets real. They start thinking of the ways to stop the hunt for you. Maybe even make other creatures of Inazuma(like Magu Kenki or Hydro Hypostasis) aware, so they can help

They'll send electro fairies to do it

Even if they seem calm THEY ARE FURIOUS!! How dare those mortal idiots harm their god?!

Although electro isn't the best to heal, so they'll find some hilichurls that will help you. Their level of knowledge in medicine may not be very high, but bandaging your bleeding scars will be enough for now

Lighty starts cuddling you to make you feel better. Maybe even make some purring noises

So, while humans try to catch you, Lighty lets you sit on their back while they show you the beauty of Seirai

If you'd like to, Lighty will make some kind of a lighting show for you

Maybe the two of you can fly together?

But don't worry. If someone tries to harm you Lighty will strike them down with the biggest lighting they can

Finished! It was inspired by various sagau hcs where creatures recognise god!reader. I haven't seen anything for Thunder Manifestation in sagau works, so I decided to fix it

[purposefully-lost]

❦ - … My muse’s child for Charlie - @sugacraving

I know this was probably meant to be with Alice but I don’t know how to write children in the slightest and ALSO I've been wanting to write something pertaining to Charie' schizophrenia SO,, here's some Georgia and Charlie bonding

She hadn't really been sleeping, scrolling mindlessly through her phone while quiet music played in her ears, but the sound startled her nonetheless. The opening of a door elsewhere in the house was barely noted, but what followed- a bang as something heavy hit the floor, a quiet swear- made her jump. Quickly pulling her earbuds from her ears, Georgia slipped from her bed and made her way to the bedroom door, flicking the light on only so it'd bleed into the hallway when she peered out. She paused when what she found was Charlie pulling himself up from the floor. He flinched when the light fell on him and looked up, expression softening as their eyes met. "Oh. Sh- uh, I- I didn't wake you, did I?"

She shook her head. "I.. wasn't asleep. You might've woken the rest of the house, though." She said softly, before pausing. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just- uh. I-" He flinched again, this time from nothing she could see. Georgia frowned as she watched him take a breath and straighten himself. "I tripped."

"Oh," she replied. "Okay."

He nodded, hovering where he was for a long moment. Georgia glanced down to check the time on her phone. 5:25. He'd be getting up for work in another hour, typically. She looked up again to see him taking a few steps back to peek into his and Vee's bedroom, his shoulders almost seeming to relax at whatever sight he found inside. It didn't surprise her- in her experience, the both of them could sleep through a doomsday if they wanted to. If Vee had even noted the noise, she'd be shocked. She watched as Charlie returned his gaze to her, then looked away again. A creeping suspicion rose in her mind that made her suddenly nervous to be standing with him, a few hours shy of when either of them should be awake. "You should, uh- you can head back to bed," he finally continued, voice soft. "I'm alright."

"Like I said, I wasn't sleeping anyway. ...Charlie?"

"Hm?"

"You, um.. are you.. drinking?"

The expression on his face made her regret asking. They'd told her once before that he used to have a problem; she'd seen Vee mark a date on the calendar in the kitchen and had asked about it. Another milestone in Charlie's sobriety, he'd said, before Charlie himself had started to explain it to her. As if she didn't know about the existence of drinking- but she'd appreciated it all the same. It was hard to reconcile the things he'd said with the man who was saying them, but right now... She squeezed at the phone in her hands just to have something to hold onto. This was weird. He was acting weird. Even as she waited for an answer, he seemed to wince away from something again, just for a second, before he met her gaze.

"I.. no. I'm not- I'm still.. good. Fuck," he said softly. She watched him close his eyes, steel himself. Then he offered her a small, tired smile. "I'm sorry, Peach. I didn't, uh.. I didn't mean to scare you. ..I- I figure I should be tellin' you to get your ass in bed and get some sleep, but, uh.." He watched her, his smile relaxing when she returned it. "What d'you say we make breakfast?"

-----

If there was one thing her new-ish parents had a knack for, it was breakfast. She was finding that most Saturdays, even when Charlie or Vee or both had somewhere to be, they made time for it. And if she wasn't up and at the table by the time it was all done, someone would gently shake her awake and ask if she wanted them to bring her a plate. Sometimes being woken up was annoying, but.. she had to admit, she'd be more annoyed if they didn't, so she never complained. It was always some mix of the classic breakfast foods unless someone wanted to try something new- and usually, it was good, even if they only made it once. It was what made Saturdays always feel so nice.

She was laying the last of the pancakes onto a plate- Charlie had just earlier shown her how to make them, and she was proud of how they looked- when he leaned against the kitchen counter and suddenly spoke a little more gently than he had the entire morning. "So, uh.. about earlier, when I fell."

She paused to look up at him. She'd almost forgotten entirely about the fall. After they'd come in here, it'd started to seem like that was all it had been- a trip. She frowned. "..Yeah?"

"It, uh.." Charlie took in a breath, then offered a smile, small and gentle, when she set down her pan and faced him. "I'm- I'm sorry to keep droppin' things like this- like, uh, like my drinking- on you, Peach. I just.. I don't want you to feel like you're in the dark, yeah? This ain't- I wasn't drinkin', though. This is different."

"Okay?"

"D'you.. know what, uh, schizophrenia, is?"

"Um." Schizophrenia? She'd heard the word before, sure, but.. her frown deepened. "Isn't that, like.. the.. crazy-killer-thing?" She paused. "I mean I- I know it probably isn't that.. bad, in real life, but.."

His lips twitched, his smile turning a little sad. She fell quiet, then continued. "Why?"

"It's, uh.. listen, that's what I thought of, too, when someone first said I had it." He met her gaze again. "But it's, uh- it ain't like that. It.. can be pretty damn scary, but it ain't what they show in movies."

"Oh," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Georgia. You didn't have another.. reference, for it." Charlie scratched at the side of his face. "It's, uh.. you can ask any question you like about it, I guess. I just- um, earlier, somethin' woke me up. I.. it sounded like someone was.. bangin' on the walls, on- on the doors. It- it's like that, sometimes, for me. But- Vee and I- we've been workin' on it. We've got.. a system. I just- I don't wanna scare you."

She was still a little scared. And she didn't think it was of him, but.. of what she didn't get. The thing itself. Schizophrenia. "So you.. hear things?"

"Sometimes."

"Is that it?"

Charlie paused, considerate. "Not.. by a long shot. But that's- it's what you're gonna see me dealin' with the most often, I think. But- like I said, it.. me n' Vee, we're workin' on it. I don't want you to be concerned about it."

Georgia frowned. She could trust that, she thought. Charlie was.. kind. And so was Vee, and more importantly.. Kyrie had trusted them. If Georgia didn't think she had known them long enough to tell, Kyrie had. And she could always ask her the next time she visited with Vee..

Her gaze fell to the breakfast they had waiting on them before she looked back to Charlie. Beyond all that, too, she liked it here. She liked Charlie and Vee and the way they spoke to each other- always kind, even when they were teasing. She liked playing the piano in the living room and letting Charlie teach her new songs, she liked the blankets Vee knitted and the way he spun stories for Matty. She nodded slowly. "Um, okay."

Charlie studied her. "D'you.. have any questions? I- I'm happy to answer. Vee would be, too."

"I..." She trailed off, then hummed. "I don't think so. Not right now."

"Okay," he answered. "And, uh.. are you okay?"

"Yeah." She smiled, finally, earning a smile in return. She didn't think Charlie realized it when he smiled half the time. Vee had said as much to her one day and she'd found herself noticing it since. "I'm okay."

"Well, good." Charlie stood and looked over the dishes they'd laid out on the counter. "What d'you say we go wake the others?"

"Sounds good to me." She crossed her arms, relaxing. "And, um.. Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"...Um, thanks, I think?"

He smiled again. "No problem, kid."

@mxdnight-thinking

[richietozierluv]

it was final - (richie tozier) part 5 of 5

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Summary: Back to where it all began, the heart of the town, the infamous house.

Author’s Note: this took me forever to write and feel free to leave any angry complaints about any damage I've caused

Word Count: 2,455

Warnings: Swearing, ?Angst?

 In some ideal world, where clowns didn’t exist to torture children, and boys didn’t pull knives on their own fathers, perhaps there’d be an ending in which everybody could be happy. But, it is inevitable for things to go terribly wrong.

For the longest time, your only fear had been the shapes of the shadows in your bedroom late at night. You would lay awake hoping that the pile of clothes on your floor wouldn’t start moving, or that at least the monster underneath would be polite enough to introduce itself before devouring you whole. Not before long, you had gotten over this fear, and had planted a new one, in the boy that made your heart and your eyes flutter. From that, grew not the fear of him, but the fear of a life without.

So, when the words left your mouth, “Go fuck yourself Richie,” you felt as if you had taken another leap off of the Quarry, but this time, without his hand in yours; and you thought to yourself whether or not that was how he felt when he had said, “you’re a real bitch you know that?”

-

“What’s the plan?” Beverly stood up next to Bill, sparing Richie a pitiful glance, remembering all the times she had caught him with you in this exact place.

“We should find Y/n, right? She’s the reason we’re here in the first place,” Eddie said. They all looked at Richie, who was staring at the ground, with his hands pulling slightly at his hair. “Rich, do you know where she could’ve gone?”

“M-m-maybe she wuh-went t-to the barrens?” added Bill, now wringing his hands and staring left and right down the street, looking for something.

“No. I don’t think she- she wouldn’t go to the Barrens,” Richie stood up, “and I don’t think we should find her, yet.”

“W-w-what?”

“Just think about it,” he started to pace, while Eddie shared a worried look with Beverly, “this summer, the times we saw IT individually weren’t that bad, yeah?”

“Sp-sp-speak for y-yourself,”

“I just mean, that the real shit, the shit that almost killed us, only started happening when Mike finally joined. When it became the 8 of us,”

“Richie, that- that was just a coincidence,” Beverly shook her head.

“No! No it wasn’t! Bill- you know what I’m talking about,” Richie turned to him, and it was as if he were looking through Bill.

“B-but it’s j-j-just the fuh-five of us this t-time,”

“I don’t think that matters. Honestly, Derry probably couldn’t be happier,”

“So what are you saying?” Eddie finally stood up, now there was a sharp pain in his arm that he chose to ignore, “just let Y/n deal with this by herself? Are you kidding-“

“When we left Derry, something broke, didn’t it?” Beverly turned to Bill.

“Y/n’s s-still a p-part of D-Derry. Sh-she never left,” he held onto her hand, “I think- w-we’re okay, o-or at least a-alive for now, wuh-while we’re sp-split up,”

Richie sighed, a mixture of relief and guilt for having let you walk away, “Okay, so what do we-“

“E-except y-you Richie,”

“Sorry, what-?”

-

You barely noticed where you were going, too distracted by the look Richie had given you before you turned to walk away, and how that could possibly be the last time you saw him. It probably wouldn’t have hurt so much if he didn’t smile, or if he begged you to stay. And if you had known that he had broken down the moment you turned the street corner, maybe you would have run back, and maybe you wouldn’t be standing in front of the infamous house on Neibolt Street. But you didn’t know, and your feet had crossed the threshold as soon as you realised that this was your worst idea yet.

“I know you’re not dead,” you whispered, walking past the lower floors, and straight up the stairs. If you had taken the time to look around, you would have noticed that behind the decaying wallpaper, ‘missing person’ posters plastered the drywall, displaying the faces of everybody who now lived in Derry, and the faces of those who had come back to save you. “I’ve had enough of your shit okay?” you didn’t bother to speak above a whisper, “but please,” you started to sob despite not being able to cry, “don’t hurt them- d-don’t hurt them, p-p-please.” The door shut behind you as you stumbled over the uneven floor and into the bathroom, where six months ago, you came face to face with IT for the first time.

-

“Y-you’ve a-already gone and s-seen her. And if y-your theory is t-true, I d-don’t think-“

“No, no that’s not what I meant!” Richie looked around at the others, who were staring at the ground awkwardly, not meeting his eyes.

“Richie, s-stop, I mean, y-you can actually go help Y/n in-instead,”

“She doesn’t want my help, she doesn’t even wanna fucking see me,” he sat back down on the curb, his face in his heads, barely audible, “she’s better off without me,”

They stood there in silence, unsure of what to say, until Eddie sat down, putting an arm around Richie’s shoulders. “I hate to agree with him Rich, but- I think she’d take any help at this point. And look,” he chewed his lip nervously, “we know that blood on you isn’t just hers.”

Richie looked up at Eddie, lost for words, shaking under his friend’s arm, when Beverly had just noticed the familiar dark red stain on his shirt from what must’ve been months ago.

“How- Richie isn’t that from-?” she took a step closer, and gasped when she realised that the blood was fresh, and much worse than she could remember.

“It happened ages ago, when Henry had his knife to my stomach,” his breathing hitched as he laughed, “You remember that right? When I punched him?”

“So, why is it- what happened to you?” Beverly couldn’t bring herself to laugh along with the others.

“B-by seeing Y/n, I- I think he’s kind of, I dunno, a part- part of Derry again,” Bill felt Beverly tense up beside him. “And, the same- the same thing tha-that’s happening to her, i-is happening to R-Richie.”

“And the blood on my hands, I think- the scars from when Stan cut us, they’re opening up?”

Bill nodded, noticing the look on Eddie’s face, and how he clutched his arm.

“E-Eddie-“

“I know where she is,” Richie had interrupted Bill, and stood up, “I’ll catch up with you later, and if Y/n’s not dead yet, I might bring her too,”

Eddie glared at him, “Beep beep, Richie.”

-

You stared at the drain in the middle of the tiled room, then at the broken toilet in the corner, remembering Richie’s joke from six months ago, and smiling, despite being too terrified to move. Your friends’ voices could be heard as if they were standing right next to you, yelling at Beverly to just fucking shoot it, and from the corner of your eye, you could see Ben cowering in the bathtub, clutching at his bleeding stomach.

 As you turned to help him and yell at the others, wondering why they weren’t doing anything, your feet slipped in the blood that had been dry not even two seconds ago. Your nose caught most of the impact from the edge of the tub, bringing back the throbbing pain, and at the same time, Richie had tripped over the house’s front steps; you both swore in unison, “fucking hell-”

The cut in his stomach had only gotten deeper as he made his way from Bill to you, and now, along with the renewed bleeding in his hands, he could taste blood in his mouth. Before standing up, he had taken his shirt off and wrapped it around his waist in an attempt to stem the flow, and carefully made his way back up the stairs. He reluctantly walked into the house and through to the living room, where his throat had become devoid of any saliva, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, accompanied by goose bumps.

There, sitting on the couch and gathered around the coffee table, were a dozen or so mannequins, with red balloons for heads. The most he could get out was a sob, before the balloon closest to him had popped, splattering blood onto the furniture, the floor, and himself. If it weren’t for Richie noticing that his face stared back at him on the wall, remembering how he had seen that exact poster during the summer, he would still be standing with his feet glued to the floorboards, and in the presence of Pennywise the clown.

-

Beverly, Bill, and Eddie found themselves in a moral predicament. On one hand, they knew that Richie wouldn’t be coming back, but whether or not that meant he’d be alive was a question they couldn’t answer. And if he were in trouble, who’s to say that by risking their own lives, that they wouldn’t be putting him in even more danger.

“I d-don’t think Richie will m-muh-make it with that c-c-cut, Eddie’s a-arm’s getting b-bad again and he ha-hasn’t sp-spoken to Y/n since he- he’s been in Derry,”

“And we don’t know what’s happened to her either,” Eddie breathed in sharply, “for all we know- shit, I don’t even wanna think about what she’s gone through,”

“But what do we do Bill? If we all get together, won’t it just- what if Richie’s theory is true?” Beverly looked up from where she sat, her hands shaking as she fumbled with her hair.

“We- we’ve survived b-before, right? And this t-t-time should be eh-easier; when we left IT six muh-months ago, we hurt IT p-p-pretty badly,”

-

He ran up the stairs, tripping over every other step and looking over his shoulder, making sure that nothing had followed him. But it wouldn’t have mattered if something was, as in all the commotion, Richie’s contacts had fallen out; he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a rotting house plant and a murderous clown. When he reached the second floor landing he had quickly got to his feet, narrowly sidestepping a dead rat, and held his hands out for the closest thing to hold on to. This had been an array of stacked wine bottles, and much to his luck, they toppled to the ground, glass cutting his shins, but disrupting the conversation in the bathroom.

-

You sat slumped against the bathtub, one hand on the edge trying to pull yourself up, and one hand pinching the top of your nose, trying to stop the bleeding. If you hadn’t felt so weak, you might have jumped when you noticed that your reflection in the mirror stood where you sat, staring at you with a blank expression.

“You alright Y/n? What happened? Are you hurt?” the ‘you’ in the mirror repeated the words your dad had said when he found you in the kitchen, a dead cat two feet from where you cried.

“What are you?-“

“Did you do this? Did you do this? Did you dothis? Did youdothis? Didyoudothis?” your reflection’s head spun around, repeating the question over and over again, now in your dad’s voice. You found yourself unable to tell what was real and what wasn’t; hitting your head had rendered your mind foggy, and no matter how hard you tried to scream “I didn’t!” all that came from your lips were a sob. All that lay between you and the other ‘you’ had been a screen of glass, and even in your state of mind you realised that there was nothing you could do. But as you sat there, your body hurting from all that had happened in the past three days, almost hopeful that this would be the end of it, the shatter of glass hadn’t come from the mirror, but from the hall outside the bathroom door.

-

There had been no time to think that the sound had come from anything but Richie, if the situation were different you’d laugh at his clumsiness. Your reflection had stopped spinning, its head turned to the door, then back to you, and as you both made eye contact you yelled, “Richie?!”, finally able to stand up. Hearing your voice, he waded through the dark, calling your name, following the sound as you called back; a twisted game of Marco Polo. The door wouldn’t budge, you tried to turn the handle as Richie kicked and elbowed the door from the other side, and with every sob, you could hear glass slowly cracking, and small pieces falling into the sink below.

“Richie! I’m so sorry,” you fell back from the door, nails digging into the palm of your hands, “it’s useless!” Trapped in this room, with the continued rhythm of Richie kicking the door, it would drive anyone insane. You watched, tears streaming down your face, as the mirror gradually became nothing but a hole in the wall; a window to a room just like this one.

-

All at once the kicking had stopped, and the door stood perfectly still, the only sound being the drip, drip, dripping of glass against porcelain. You backed away into the corner of the room, at a loss for what to do, but you didn’t dare call for Richie, more scared of the lack of answer than any at all.

“Stand back!”

“Beverly?!” the shock of hearing her voice had left you unprepared for what happened next, and as the wall came forward, so did the bathtub and the tiles around you. Bits and pieces cut into your already bruised arms and legs, but the pain meant nothing as you lowered your arms to see Richie running toward you through the smoke and dust of the explosion. He smelled of blood as he wrapped himself around you, and you couldn’t help but cry as you thought, why is he so damn cold?

Whether he even had the strength to let go, he didn’t, he held on to you as your entire body shook; your eyes burned as they strained to look through the smoke, for something that wasn’t entirely human like. Everything was quiet for a moment as you felt Richie shiver against you, ash falling onto his skin, but the only thing that emerged from the dust had been Bill, coughing and spluttering, unable to stop the tears falling down his face.

“B-Bill is everything okay?” the moment you had opened your mouth, you began to cough too.

“We f-f-f-fucking did it,” you’d forgotten what Bill looked like when he smiled.

-

But Richie had lost too much blood.

AN: im aware of the irony of leaving a piece of writing titled ‘it was final’ with an open ending, but for the most part it WAS final, and i suppose it’s pretty self explanatory to what happens to him ):

hopefully you enjoyed!!! again sorry it took me so long, between being in a depressive slump and writer’s block, i tried my best to write whenever i could, which mainly meant me staring at the laptop screen for a few hours

i could always write an epilogue??? but honestly its time for more things but of course if anyone would want that, id be happy to, and it’d probably be pretty short

tagged: @riverdalerebel @johnsonxstilinski @littlepaperaeroplanes @tn22220-blog @goshdarnitthatsalongname @griff1ndor @emmaamalie @longlivethetampon