#but i only do it when he keeps bothering me with information that originated from me or is trying to intimidate me

[surfium]

I don't need to work out, actually. Resisting being a bitch keeps me healthy

[lxdymoon0357]

Hello, I saw your post about a yandere Benjamin Lemberk with an elf. It occurred to me if he could be the same yandere Benjamin Lemberk x reader with the appearance of Florentia Lombardi and a personality between Helaena and Gael Targaryen is autistic with ADHD and sensitive please

(Warnings: reader is mentioned to have a mix of ginger hair with a mix of reader's original colour and heterochromia with one green-coloured eye and one has your eye colour ||Florentia Lombardi! reader.

PLEASE forgive me for not getting things right..I'm a pretty neurotypical person and I have no idea what I'm doing. Tried to make it from whatever information I got from google. 2nd Warnings: non acceptance of mental illness, ableism, murder, mutilation, everything bad except SA and cannibalism, we don't do that. Keep in mind, I don't condone this and you're very much valid, Benji here is just an asshole, too much of a douche, sorry.. Again, sorry for any inaccuracies or anything, I got everything off of google)

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Yandere!Benjamin Lemberk HCs

◈ The moment Benjamin fell out of Claudia's circle, his eyes were left onto you. An eccentric, soft-spoken, hyperactive, restless little elf. Of-course in no way was he going to let you go. You're just the cutest thing ever!!♡

◈ He does find it a bit irritating how you hyperfixate on certain things, especially bugs and other things, can't you see he's doing things and going out of his way for you? He doesn't care if your autism or ADHD is the cause of it, stop being selfish!

◈ But depending on how much you behave regarding him, he finds you soft-spoken behavior appealing though he would have preferred you being a bit more like Claudia; bright and out-spoken.

◈ but your soft spoken and cryptic language speaking and non society conforming behavior, hyperattentive traits, stimming and all of it bothers people, so he's somewhat okay with it as long as people don't get too close, he doesn't want to kill as many people. Too much work in his eyes, but as long as it's for you, he'll do whatever you want!~

◈ He'll always be beside you if he can't keep you locked away forever, help you with societal cues and everything and kp your hyperactivities are bay, but not really, he doesn't really care if you end up annoying people away. I mean, it's only working in his favor.

◈ Always listens to you talk about your bug collection or new hyper-interest in whatever you have, the weird way of systemization and your intense routine you seem intent on following. God, you're so hot when you blabber about stupid things no one seems to care about to intensely!~

◈ But he does feel like you're going half-insane when you start speaking in cryptic language, your eyes may be pretty..but he can only sit so much before he feels like you're cursing him with your cryptic language, please.

◈ But you're not just some timid girl, your firmness and you do put him in his place, despite your soft-spoken, reclusive and sensitive, eccentric traits. You do have firmness and manners of authority in yourself. He does stop being so shitty to you and behaves better regarding your mental health.

◈ His jealousy issues are off the charts, keeps you locked up everyday..but in a way he lets you hyperfixate on all interests and burn out all hyperattentivity, impulsivity and keeps you so occupied your lack of attention on certain things and time blindness doesn't really matter.

◈ Lets you use his fingers for stimming or his clothes, he gets jealous of everything and anything.His clothes are very fancy, but sometimes too over-stimulating with heavy perfumes, rough textures and evn the way it can sometimes snatch on your own clothes with it's jewels and all..So there's that.

◈ But speaking of his clothes, you may get easily overstimulated by his clothes and sometimes even his presence, the fucker is very much in himself a asmr video of type. You may even end up maybe crying and he has to control the urge to really just burn his clothes right then and there so you would stop crying. He may be the biggest, ableist and even deny you your mental health..but the moment your mental health does affect you, he'll be dying to get it fixed. He may be an asshole, but he's only your asshole.

◈ But in a way, he also uses your mental health against you. Using anything that overstimulates you for keeping you chained down, though it doesn't work like magic..but you're more subservient when he does use anything that you get overstimulated by; heavy perfumes, weird textures, nothing to stim with, tight closed rooms, even if keeping your own hair down overstimulates you, he'll force you to not put it up in hairstyles, till you can behave atleast.

◈ One time he got into this dilemma with you where he came home to you with your autism and adhd battling against each other. Apparently you were trying to 'arrange' numbers (because everything you do is universally correct), but very time you did come around, your attention never stayed and you moved on. So you removed all distractions and started to again 'arrange' numbers correctly. But again, attention never stayed so you only sat there with nothing, you wouldn't move and wer adamant.

◈ He had never thought in his life that one day, he'd have to sit down with love of his life and the bane of existence to 'arrange' numbers by their 'correct' order because you wouldn't move otherwise and literally. It took seven hours because you two kept getting distracted by your conversations to 'arrange' around a hundred numbers from 0-100. He hopes you don't get the idea of 'arranging' numbers again for 0-1000 or something because their feeligns hurt they wer left out or something.

◈ But leaving that..If anyone, other than him at-least, dares to comment on your mental health in a way you don't like like babying you or refusing to acknowledge it's something you struggle with or literally ANYTHING he does, but it's someone else. He has a whole procedure; first he'll kidnap them, torture them to get apologies so loud, you can hear it from your own room in his manor and then once he's satisfied, he'll kill the person off..but not before mutilating and really using them as a dart board or disfiguring their faces to the point of non recognition of their corpse.

◈ Yeah, it's a lot being with him with mental illness and soft spoken and eccentricness. Him as a yandere is even worse than him with Claudia, which is already borderline yandere.

[crowsofdarkness]

Soldat: Chapter Four

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

Tags: @globetrotter28 @sakuracyberhex @chinggay85-blog @bookofriverr @misatxox

Soldat Masterlist

“Steve told me you were a pilot,” I scoffed towards Sam. 

We were sitting at a table outside of a restaurant, waiting for our target to walk out. Steve and Nat were a few blocks over, waiting for word from us when we would be moving. 

Sam laughed, “I never said pilot.”

“Is it hard to fly?” I questioned with curiosity. 

“You get the hang of it after a while. And no, I will not teach you how to fly it,” Sam said. 

I faked pouted while I crossed my arms. “You’re no fun.”

He went silent only for a moment before he spoke, all jokes aside. “I know we just met and my opinions don’t matter but we’re bound to see him again. I just want to make sure you’re one hundred percent on taking him down. Like Steve said, he killed someone you all looked up to.” 

I nodded. “Can I be honest with you?” 

When Sam nodded, I continued. “I don’t know if it was because of how dark it was on the roof but when we saw each other, he acted like he didn’t even know me.”

“How long has it been?” 

“Uh-a few years. Maybe I look different or something?” I muttered. 

Our attention snapped towards the restaurant as our target walked out, Sam immediately dialing a number on his phone. I sat in silence, placing my sunglasses over my eyes and sat back in the chair. 

Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t recognize me that night. It was dark and had been a few years since we saw each other but yet, my heart still dropped when the realization hit that he didn’t recognize me. Was I that easy to forget?

“Let’s move,” Sam said while standing up. 

“Steve, do we actually have a plan here or are we just kidnapping this guy?” I questioned from a spot in the middle of the back seat. 

We were driving along the highway, trying to make it to Shield Headquarters in time to stop the helicarriers. We had learned from Jasper Sitwell that Project Insight would be launching in less than twenty four hours and we suddenly found ourselves with a change of plans. 

Hydra’s plan for the helicarriers was to use them to eliminate millions of people who were any sort of threat to them. All thanks to Zola’s algorithm. 

“I’m thinking,” Steve said, not turning his attention towards me. 

His eyes were trained to the road ahead of us as Sam continued to drive. 

I had tried talking to Steve but he had ignored me; only saying that we would talk about this later. 

“Hydra doesn’t like leaks,” Sitwell informed us. 

“Then why don’t you try sticking a cork in it,” Sam snapped before changing lanes. 

“Insight is launching in sixteen hours,” Natasha pointed out leaning towards Steve, “We’re cutting it a little close here.” 

“I know. We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly,” Steve directed to us. 

He finally looked over his shoulder to me, only briefly, and I gave him a small smile. The thought of my past with Soldat was still bothering him, I could tell by the way his jaw was clenched tight as he returned the smile. 

We'll talk later, I mouthed, promising that I would indulge more about my past to him. 

All he did was nod before looking out the front windshield again and I leaned against my seat noticing that Sitwell had an exasperated look on his face.

“Are you crazy? That is a terrible, terrible idea.” 

Suddenly, a loud thud from the top of the car sounded and I couldn’t help the small scream that left my throat as I watched Sitwell being pulled from the car window and tossed to the other side of the highway, immediately being hit by a semi. 

My eyes grew with horror as the quick flash of metal glimmered in front of me causing Natasha and I to jump towards the front of the car, her landing on Sam’s lap while I landed on Steve’s. Gunshots echoed through the small car and Steve wrapped his arms around my waist in a tight grip as he hastily put the car in park, causing the man to roll off the car. His metal fingers dragged along the pavement before coming to a stop a few feet away from us. 

“That’s him?” Steve whispered in my ear. 

My throat went dry, no words being able to come out so all I did was nod.

A car slammed into the back of ours, pushing it towards him. The Winter Soldier jumped over the hood of our car landing on top with a thud. Sam slammed on the brakes as my hand reached around for my gun and smiled in victory when I pulled it free. Aiming it to the roof of the car, I shot a few rounds. 

“Shit!” Sam screamed when the metal arm busted through the front windshield and ripped the wheel off with ease. 

It was Natasha’s turn to fire a few rounds and I looked over Steve’s shoulder as the soldier was riding on the hood of the car behind us. They slammed into us a few more times before Steve busted open the door, pulling us to safety as the car hit the median, rolling a few times and coming to a stop.

“Nat!” I bellowed as I watched her and Sam roll away from us while Steve and I were safely sitting on his shield that protected our fall. 

She gave me a small wave, indicating that they were alright, and Steve helped me to my feet and I watched his face distort in pain. 

“Are you hurt?” I asked. 

“I’m fine. You’re bleeding, though,” His fingers gently grazed over my forehead before showing me the blood that covered his hand. 

“I’ll live,” I shrugged and turned towards Sam and Nat who had caught up to us.  

We all watched as someone handed the soldier a grenade launcher and without a second thought, Steve pushed me out of the way, blocking the shot with his shield. 

“STEVE!” I screamed as I watched him fly off the bridge and straight through a bus. 

Suddenly, hundreds of bullets cascaded around us, Sam and Nat taking cover behind a van while I hid on the side of another car across the median. The bullets ricochet against the metal of cars and my body shivered when one flew past my face, my hair flowing with the wind. 

My eyes scanned my surroundings, trying to avoid any of the flying bullets, and after fighting with my consciousness, I ran out from behind the car and jumped over the median to the opposite way of traffic. Thankfully with everything going on, cars had decided to exit the freeway long before reaching us. 

Weaving my way in and out of the cars that were there, I dared to glance over my shoulder and watched in fear as he launched a grenade at the car in front of me. The heat of the fire engulfed me as the power of the blast sent me flying over the bridge, me landing somewhat safely on an abandoned car. 

“Fuck,” I groaned, feeling the wind get knocked out of me. 

I laid there for a split second as the pain slowly subsided, wondering why he still couldn’t recognize me. My heart was breaking, realizing that the memories of us might have meant nothing to him. 

“Now’s not the time to be a little bitch, Y/N.” I cursed to myself before rolling off of the car. 

I ran with a small limp, knife clenched tight in my hand, as I waved people away from the scene. 

“Get away! Get back!” I ordered. “It’s not safe!”

Seeing his shadow from the bridge above me, I came to a halt, aiming my gun towards him. I breathed as the bullet hit exactly where I wanted; his goggles. 

Not daring to stay back, I scurried over to a fallen bus as I fired a few more rounds behind me, not sure if it was a direct hit this time. I continued to run as fast as I could, hoping I would find Steve soon. 

“Fuck!” I screamed out in pain when I felt a bullet rip through my thigh, sending me plummeting to the hard ground. 

Biting back the tears, I slowly but hurriedly dragged my limp body over to the car in front of me. I leaned back against it, allowing the coldness of it to cool down my warm body. Glancing down to the wound in my leg, I let out a few large breaths before a guttural scream scratched its way out of my throat as I plunged my finger in the wound, fishing out the bullet with little to no ease. 

“Damn it, Steve. Where are you?!” I sobbed, tears brimming my eyes. 

If anyone saw me crying right now they would be appalled. Big, tough, Shield Agent, former FBI special ops, former swat member, was crying over a man? I wasn’t crying over a man, per say. I was crying at the thought that Steve was in fact right. If this truly was him, what I had known about Soldat was just a lie. 

Without warning, more rapid gunfire sounded in front of me and I watched almost in defeat as someone jumped out of the bus, my spirits lifting only a tad. 

“Steve!” I gasped slowly rising to my feet. 

He looked over his shoulder after blocking the shots with his shield and ran over towards me, immediately throwing my arm over his broad shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” He cooed. 

“For now,” I admitted. 

The bullets continued to bounce off the shield as Steve and I tried to find safety. 

“Stay close,” Steve ordered. 

Obeying, I gripped his shirt as we started making our way towards the men that were shooting at us. One of the men to my right fell to the ground, gun clattering away from him. Looking up to the overpass, I gave a small wave of thanks to Sam who had clearly been watching our backs. Steve knocked the last shooter to his feet before coming to my side again. We both looked up to Sam. 

“Go! I got this!” He yelled. 

Nodding, Steve wrapped an arm around my waist while mine snacked its way around his neck and I tried my best to hold the majority of my weight as we tried to gain our surroundings, looking for Natasha. 

“Over there!” I pointed when I saw the soldier had his gun aim at Natasha and was about to pull the trigger. 

Steve ran towards him and I watched as the two fought. Shield vs knife. My leg dragged behind me while I used the last bit of my strength to help Natasha off of the ground. 

“You’re shot,” she observed. 

“No shit,” I groaned, feeling the sudden rush of blood run down my leg. 

We both watched Steve as he tried to land punch after punch to the soldier, always coming up empty. We watched in fear as they continued to fight, Steve throwing the soldier over his shoulder, the mask rolling a few yards away. 

My body went rigid as he slowly turned around, his unmasked face meeting ours. Blood flooded in my ears while my mouth ran dry, trying to find the right words to say. 

He stood a few feet in front of me and he looked exactly the same. Those eyes that haunted my dream for months were suddenly in front of me and everything around me vanished. I wanted nothing more than to walk into his arms. 

“Soldat?” I breathed. 

“Bucky?” Steve questioned at the same time. 

I snapped my eyes over to him, my heart getting caught in my throat at the mention of that name. “Bucky? As in best friend who you thought fell off a train seventy years ago, Bucky?” 

“Y/N, this is Soldat?” Steve croaked, realizing that the man who had saved my life years ago was his best friend. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Soldat questioned Steve before his gaze softened on me. “How do you know me?” 

“You don’t remember me?” I blinked, surprised. “Russia. 2009. Zola.” 

Soldat’s eyes bounced back and forth between Steve and I. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, “I know that name.” 

I nodded, hoping he would remember, however, The Winter Soldier returned as fast as he had disappeared and raised his gun to shoot but Sam came flying in, literally, and knocked Bucky a few feet away from me. 

He quickly stood and stared at Steve, something unreadable coming across his features. He lifted the gun again but was stopped when Nat got a hold of the grenade launcher, sending one off in our direction. 

We all jumped out of the way in different directions, me rolling far away from Steve. 

“Y/N, watch out!” 

Hearing Steve’s voice, I looked behind me, my scream being muffled by a pair of leather gloves while my body was being dragged away from my friends. My wounded leg dragged along the ground as I tried to kick my captor with my good leg. 

My efforts were useless as my body was spun around, eyes locked with one of the gunmen working with Soldat. 

“Get in the van. Now.” 

I continued to fight against him. “Let me go!”

“He wants you,” the gunmen struggled against my punches and kicks. 

My fighting seized when I felt a blow to the back of my head causing my body to go limp against his chest.  

[moghedien]

Actually obsessed with the whole dynamic Minthara has with the tadpole mind melding powers. Because while I believe almost every other companion with a tadpole does use the powers to sort of communicate/share thoughts with the PC at some point, and even to share personal information, it feels different with Minthara

For one thing, while all (except Gale for some reason) of the tadpoled origin characters sorta mind meld with you upon meeting, it isn’t intentional with them. You’re all doing that on accident. But the first thing Minthara does upon meeting you is intentionally grab your mind and pry into it. She 100% knows she’s doing it and means to do it and the way it’s described is almost sensual

Like it’s jarring and firm, but not worded as being rough or aggressive. She caresses your mind.

But you also have to keep in mind that she is under mind control at this moment and while her decisions aren’t her own to a significant degree, her desires to reach into other people’s minds and look inside seems to be a largely Minthara thing. Other true souls do it but generally only to identify you and they’re content after learning you’re a true soul. Minthara wants to see what’s going on in your head, to an extent maybe only Z’rell does, though even with Z’rell it’s more sadism on wanting to see the goblins suffer and testing your loyalty (notably after she’s just had to sentence a high ranking true soul to death for failing under her watch so loyalty is a concern atm).

And the really interesting thing here is that Minthara is the only one (at this moment because you don’t have Minsc yet) that has a real and genuine trauma around the tadpole controlling her mind. All of the origin characters were being protected from the absolute’s control pretty much from the start. Minthara wasn’t, and she was tadpoled in an intentionally violent and horrifying way by Orin, and only after Orin made her suffer while in possession of her own mind. Orin tortured her, tadpoles her and made Minthara worship her, and then tortured her some more while Minthara couldn’t do anything but love her. It’s to the point where even all of her hatred of Ketheric stems from the sole fact he handed her over to Orin. Anything else he did, she hardly seems bothered by and even says she respects him. Him being the reason that Orin had her is the one reason she wanted him to die.

After Minthara is free from the absolute’s mind control, she doesn’t really noticeably pry into your mind until the scene where you can start a romance with her, and the dynamic there is what really makes the whole thing interesting to me.

Because she is clearly concerned about your relationship status, because she has to be at a high approval rating to get this scene, meaning SHE likes you. That doesn’t mean that you like her or that you’re trustworthy. She is a Baenre. Her last allegiances were with people that falsely welcomed her in and then tortured her. She isn’t going to accept that anyone is trustworthy.

Not unless she can go in and see that you really truly are.

Which is what really makes this dynamic, because Minthara has THE most trauma around being tadpoled and mind controlled, and yet the only way she can trust someone that she’s started to like is by using said tadpole abilities to look into their mind and seeing what they think about her. Like the tadpoling combined with her upbringing in Menzoberranzan made literally looking inside someone’s mind the only option for her to determine if they’re trustworthy. Which is probably why that was her go-to even when she was under the absolute’s control. Then, being chosen by the absolute was enough for her to accept you, even if you’re a darthiir

And when you get the scene where she wants to look in your kind, it starts with her trying to do so and then pulling back. Almost as if she did it without meaning to. Like she’d been worried if she couldn’t trust you and so her instinct was just to check, but then she realized what she was doing and that it’s wrong to do that so she stops herself. Like she’s definitely grown used to just doing that, but being aware now means she’s aware of that being wrong, even if it’s really really something she needs to see. So she stops herself and explains what’s bothering her and then asks to go in and look at your mind.

And notably, the thing she says she’s having trouble with is her identity, which yeah. She absolutely is having identity issues but that is another post, and I don’t think that’s even really the main reason she’s doing this. Like I said, she has to like you a lot in order to get this scene and what comes from this scene implies that she was trying to pin down your relationship, not her identity.

If you let her in and she sees that you view her positively and not in a way that threatens her, she just comes onto you right there. She very clearly wanted to trust you and if she looks in and sees that you’re not a threat to her, she just goes all in on that. If you don’t immediately see her as a love interest, she does try to talk you into it and expresses the need your absolute trust and whatnot. Like ensuring trust was always her goal there.

But if you basically come onto her first by indicating you see her as a lover, she immediately makes herself even more vulnerable. She does so by just letting you touch her mind after she’s been through the worst fucking mind control, but if you indicate you want her, she just immediately drops whatever guards she still had up and lets you in.

It was absolutely a test of her ability to trust you, not her trying to figure out her identity, at least not her identity outside of her relationship with you.

And once you’ve both peeped inside and determined you aren’t going to hurt each other, like I said she’s much more vulnerable both in her tone and words but also she’s still in your mind

She already admitted her fears to you at this point, but reading her almost hesitance to touch your mind after this is just a whole other level. Because this is after you agree to be with her, and now she’s all of a sudden afraid of touching your mind. Not because she’s afraid of what she’ll see there because she’s already seen it. And idk what I’m even saying here but just the moment when Minthara knows without a doubt that the two of you are something is the moment she shows hesitance with touching her mind. And it wasn’t as if the first time she did it in the goblin camp it was rough. It was notably not rough and described as a caress.

But it’s just all coming together now. Touching your minds is the only way she can feel safe, but it’s also the thing that hurt her the most in the past with others. So now she has safety and she has you and she has permission to be in your mind, and she hesitates, like she’s afraid of doing even the slightest thing to hurt you now.

Because if you’ve gotten this far with her, you are literally the only person what Minthara has ever loved that the love didn’t come with stipulations and violence. And if you realize that, it’s clear why she would so immediately devote herself to the first person she liked who she could be absolutely sure wouldn’t hurt her and why she hesitates now when doing things that even slightly resemble how she was hurt in the past.

[flamingpudding]

The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles

A/N: The original this sorta ties too: Original One Shot

>>Masterpost

Shovel Talks

Constantine swore up a storm of course only mentally. It wasn't like he was going to voice any of his thoughts right now. Not when he was faced with the good damn Ghost King. All he wanted was to summon one of his contracted demons to gather some information and what did he get the fucking Ghost King.

"Trench coat! We meet again. You worked on your manners, I hope?"

"Of course your majesty." Well he didn't but he avoided the freaking bats like crazy.

"Well I gotta thank you. Well you and my In-Law that's busy and asked me to substitute for your call since we meet and before and so on." The Ghost King casually waved his hand in a dismissive manner before looking around with his eyes sparkling in recognition and it sent a shudder down Constantine's back. "You are giving me the perfect opportunity."

Did… did the Ghost King just pull out a green glowing sword from a fucking portal and why did he have that glint in his eyes? Constantine paled. Why did this have to happen to him?

"If you will excuse me for a moment. I need to look for a Kryptonian real quick. I will deal with your problem right after. Promise."

With that the Ghost King phased through the floor apparently in search of Superman who just happened to be in the watchtower today. Fuck. Constantine run out of the room in mild panic and pushed whoever was on communication aside as he dialed for the bats. The moment someone on their end pick up he didn't bother to explain anything and just shouted for one of them to get their fucking ass here as fast as possible or superman was going to be history!

Okay that might also have sent the people witnessing his panic into chaos but this was a fucking emergency.

It was only minutes later that Batman did indeed arrived together with Nightwing and Red Robin with the Zeta-Tube at the watchtower to bear witness to Superman getting cornered by the Ghost King with Constantine bound by echo-bindings for apparently having annoyed the Ghost King with his pleading to spare the Kryptonian.

"Now I am sure I don't have to repeat myself but, IF you ever hurt Baby Bat a fate way worse than the Soul Shredder and the Nightmare Realm will be the least of your problems. The last guy that hurt my family is still in there and I will gladly make you permanently join him."

A cough resounded and Danny turned his head, a bright smile on his face as he spotted his little nephew and two of the little babies.

"Baby Bat, Baby Menace and Baby Stalker! I will be done in a little bit!"

"Ghost Ki-"

"Uncle Danny."

Batman let out a suffering sigh as Nightwing and Red Robin snickered.

"Uncle Danny. Why are you threatening Superman?"

"Because Jazz forbade me to use the Soul Shredder on humans but Superman is not human so I am allowed to use it on him."

"Uncle Danny, why do you want to use the 'Soul Shredder'" -as a joke Nightwing used air quotes- "on the him in the first place?"

"Shovel talk."

Batman chocked and Red Robin spluttered as Nightwing had a hard time suppressing a laugh. Constantine and Superman gapped at the Ghost King.

"You… are threading him for shovel talk purposes? What even is the nightmare realm?"

"A place you don't want to be in. Very traumatic and perfect to externally punish anyone that hurts my family in any regard as long as I am allowed to dump them there."

There was an added barely hearable grumble of "I would have sent the Joker and Ra's in there long ago if Clockwork weren't such a stick in the mud about keeping the timeline straight and their roles and bla bla bla."

Red Robin did a double take. Did the Ghost King just admit that he would have liked to sent their rogues into a place that was most likely hell? Wait didn't he mention sending someone in there permanently earlier.

No one noticed Superman slowly inching away from the blade still pointed at him while the Ghost King's attention wasn't on him. Well the bats noticed but didn't react to it, deeming it safer for the Super.

"Uh you said you dumped someone permanently in there?" Red Robin tried to keep the attention on them.

"Well yea." The Ghost King casually shrugged, adjusting the blade so Superman could no longer inch away from him. "I looked away from the Ice Mirrors for a week and someone dared to hurt Moma Bat. Of course I was enraged and snatched that guy off the street to permanently drop him in there."

There was a beat of heavy silence. Batman under his cowl bluescreened especially with how casually Danny just admitted at having snatched up his parents murderer to punish the man. Well that explained why he never found the culprit.

"Now If you excuse me little Babies I am gonna finish this talk with the Kryptonian and make sure he knows what will happen if he hurts Baby Bat."

With this the Ghost King turned back to the rapidly paling Superman with a feral grin. The Birds sweat dropped as Batman was still not mentally present, his mind still working through the information.

"Think I would be able to borrow that sword?" Red Robin suddenly asked as Nightwing eyed Batman worringly. "He only said that Great Grandma forbade him to use it on humans. He never said we couldn't."

"Don't let Robin or Hood hear that." Nightwing said, even if he wanted to borrow it himself too. With B mentally still checked out he had to act as the responsible one. That wouldn't stop him from asking their Ghost Uncle later if he could borrow the sword anyway.

[voidcat]

— keep it under wraps

characters: dazai osamu/reader, (mentioned: yosano akiko)

wc & synopsis: 2.2k – Practiced crafts under years of experience comes like second nature, an extension of one's body, almost like breathing. Yet you find yourself like a newborn deer with its shaky legs, afraid of the world it is born into as you are tending to man whose body you've treated and familiarised with after countless times before. (minor wound dressing, nothing explicit)

notes: hello! long time no dazai writing. this one's special for me. originally, i thought i'd break my dazai-silence with something different instead we got this. if you're familiar with my series A Case Of Bad Luck, you can take it as an extension of it (-cannot blame me for wanting to start with a fic for my favorite ongoing series ahaha.) It can be read independently but it's implied reader and Dazai have met in the past, long enough to have left an impact on each other. Leaving Yokohama and returning years later, this is their first proper confrontation/acknowledging one another.

The day’s peace is interrupted by sudden commotion by the front door.

5 minutes prior Dr. Yosano receives a call which results in her now forgotten cup of tea. From the sounds you can hear in the next room, you can make out the telltale signs of preparations for a possible operation. If you’re lucky it’s simple suture work at best, if it’s a bad day, she’ll have to use her ability.

And you hope, and pray if there’s anyone there, that it won’t have to come to this. Anything that further upsets and hurts her makes your stomach turn, leaving a sour taste and colder memories in their wake.

When the detectives rush in, she immediately looks over to divide their situations one by one. The information Kunikida provided beforehand helps with the makeshift triage, and within a blink of an eye, you find yourself alone in her office. Standing there under the bright light.

Before disappearing behind the door, she waved a hand off saying it was no hassle, that she can handle it herself, “You should attend to anyone else who might need assistance.” It is a simple request, a basic statement. But the look flashing before her eyes told you otherwise.

Worry pooling in her eyes, regret and an apology.

For what? You wanted to ask for a second but the faltered coughs coming from the room made you feel selfish for even holding her up for this long.

Dr. Yosano’s normally chatty room now contains you cold and empty. What is usually your escape and solace now feels to be swallowing you.

You’re aware of him, his faint breaths but you make no move just yet.

Just a few more seconds of courage, just enough to push down your thoughts and memories from reaching the surface.

During the call, Kunikida had said it was one grave injury and one minor. And the first thing Dr. Yosano had asked was if they needed to go through with the plan.

You hadn’t even bothered asking then, maybe you should have.

Your silence only must have suspected more, her gut feeling proving closer to truth each day.

So to the grave injury she went, and to the minor one you- due to the priorities of the cases and because her ability wouldn’t have worked on him any way, so it was better to be doing a basic wound dressing.

You swallow once, thickly, your throat hurts. Behind you you can her footsteps towards the examination chair.

You allow yourself one more moment, close your eyes, take a deep breath in and out. Open them.

It’s been years since you’ve last been alone in a room with Dazai Osamu.

Ignoring his gaze on you, you walk up to the cabinet to get the materials you need.

It should be a basic injury, so the basics will do.

Legs swinging in the air, Dazai watches you with keen interest.

After months of dancing around the topic and ignoring one another altogether, there is a lingering curiosity in how things will progress from here on.

How much longer can you keep this up, is the real question. 

It’s been taking its toll on you lately, he can tell. Skeletons in your closet, you never let the past drop fully, always have to go back and tamper, seek out a pile of bones when in dire need of talking. Isn’t it tiring? Aren’t you exhausted?

You look nothing like what he last saw, maybe that’s an improvement, a small victory in your book.

You seem to have come a long way, moved on, moved away, started fresh.

Clearly not enough from how you came back all the way here.

To push away the standard practice and instead sign up to work under her, under the Armed Detective Agency.

Almost as if a part of you still seeks it.

“Good evening, sir.” You say the word wincing, force of habit. “Could you take off your coat for me?” you say, rest of voice unfaltering, practiced decency and greetings to the notch. Your eyes watching his every movement, you wait for any sign of pain to locate the wound.

Maybe it’s not as much of a standard treatment. You do call everyone here with titles rather than names after all. You keep a distance, closest you are with is the doctor and even then you don’t drop titles of respect and the walls separating you from everyone else.

Dazai is uncharacteristically silent- for his persona he has crafted and wore here at least. It is unnerving to a degree but not the first time you’ve had to endure this thick silence in the air, lingering, waiting for any sign of weakness to suffocate its victims.

Or it could be just that. Lost in thoughts. If you recall the details, he wasn’t in charge of this case originally, but as it grew and the roots spread, more focus was shifted its way.

Something appearing innocent in the mirage of a ball of cotton and sinking anyone foolish enough to approach it with no caution.

There are many examples of this in nature- angler fish, rafflessia, a peculiar man wrapped in too many bandages for his own good hiding secrets and burdens too much for his body to contain.

Dangerous beings, predators lying in wait.

You take Dazai’s hands and inspect each digit, forearms and up to his shoulder.

On his left arm the gauze has gotten crimson red, smelling of iron.

Slowly your hand trails down and finds the start of the gauze tucked under the wraps as your eyes roam his torso for any signs of multiple injuries.

This isn’t proper examination, not really.

You should’ve checked his breathing too, looked for his intercostals, listened to his lungs, asked him what had happened and where else he got shot.

Yet you’re aware the attempt would’ve been futile, from the moment his coat was off and your hands were on him, you knew there wasn’t anything else. 

Sometimes you think, and fear, that you know his body better than your own.

Unwrapping the gauze with sharp and precise movements, you reveal his forearm. 

Still littered in cuts and patches of dry skin here and there. He must be wrapping it too tight at some areas because the body hair has grown at uneven lengths there. 

After all these years he still cannot do his bandages himself, but tucks the end just the way you do.

Something about the notion makes your heart ache.

It stings, to think how much yet how little has changed.

Your fingers still dance on his skin with the same precision, and his body responds with the same touch starved state, hairs on end for a moment until he adjusts to the heat coming from your body and care coming from your hands.

It intrigues Dazai how despite everything, even from the very start you still hold him like something delicate, fragile, handle him with care one would only have for something they value greatly- even if not that grand, there’s still care to an extent.

You hold the materials with a confidence now, Dazai notes. Boldness of someone who knows what they’re doing, you’re swift as you lay down what you’ll be needing, you open few packs of gauze sponge and pour iodine tincture without taking them off yet. Place them side by side, cut strips of gauze and nonwoven plaster, already calculating how wide you’ll need each piece- an extra cut in the middle of each, he notices.

His wound is nothing big, even left with his preexisting bandages, he would’ve been fine- or so he said until Kunikida started going on a lecture about infections and what-not. Big deal! If the universe wishes for your paths to be clashing so soon, well he will have no complaints. 

Satisfied with the set up, you wash and disinfect your hands again.

This is the same routine you’ve always done, know by heart, hands moving on their own. It’s fascinating how muscle memory resurfaces even after so long, the bodies and the nerves are truly amazing. It comes to you as second nature by now, to undo his bandages, look over for any signs of concerning signs, even in the dim lights you can tell apart what is his body’s usual and not. 

Grabbing the first gauze sponge, you wipe the wound off with one swift motion, toss it to the side and grab another one. Starting from the center of the wound, to the outside you wipe it in one circular motion, toss this one when you’re done with it and wait a few seconds.

Placing a smaller one on top of his wound, your hand then mindlessly goes for the pieces of plaster and you apply them carefully over the gauze. Not too tight nor loose- enough to let the wound breathe, your fingers linger a moment too long on his skin when you’re done.

With a slight shake of your head, you retract your hand immediately and reach for the gauze strip.

Despite all the discordance and circumstances out of your control, it’s the small routines that have helped you keep you somewhat grounded, to keep going. And despite being one of your greatest sources of said disturbances, Dazai had become a part of the said routines as well.

As familiar as the night time, his presence had become something comforting, as all kinds of feelings swirled like an impending storm from within, ready to burst out of your chest at any given time. 

There was nothing normal and everything odd with your run-ins with Dazai, were you to think about it. Each one weirder than the last, and growing into something much twisted, roots of the ivy digging deeper, maybe it’s the unfamiliarity that brought comfort, the change that comes with the unknown. At nights, you had some resemblance of a control. At nights, it was just your room and the bright, faraway lights of nearby signs illuminating your room, he fitted right in instead of standing out. Eyes trained on your body, silent and waiting for your signs. An illusion maybe but a taste of control nonetheless. 

You’d like to think he enjoyed it somewhat too, the opportunity to observe you in a shade tad different, inspect a side to you you’re yet to experiment with. 

And each night, you chose to hold out to him that beacon of compromise, an olive branch, restocked on gauze in the house- not that anyone noticed it lessening in amount.

It’s the same hands moving then, with the same routine like a ritual on themselves.

Yet you’ve grown, and changed. Your eyes no longer carry the same light of empathy as they once did. You’re more distant now, tried your best to keep him at a arm’s length so far, and it worked to an extent.

If that’s how you want to play, then fine, he’ll play along. It’s only so long until you lose control again.

And when it does, it’ll be Dazai who’ll be there in wait, the only one to know how to handle and cradle you, how to assess the situation to the best of opportunities.

You wrap the area of his wound and the rest of his arm separately. Firm in your touch, you tuck the end of the gauze despite fixating it with an extra piece of plaster.

“Your wound will need redressing and inspecting to see how it has healed.” You give notice.

With a nod of his head, he flashes one of his smiles, not reaching his eyes. “Thanks, there!-” 

“Doctor.” you correct him, the word leaving your lips like cold metal.

“Well, thanks doc.” Dazai says, his smile morphing somewhat wicked. Now the edges of his mouth crooked, lids dropped slightly and a hint of poison to his voice, the man you’ve known comes oozing out of the cracks he so carefully filled.

You can never fix something to where it was, nor cover up the cracks with polish. There is no as “good” as “new”, it’s either, and even then the judgement depends entirely on the experience and the person.

“We’ll be seeing you later, then.” you say, to bid him away. And for once, Dazai complies without resistance, his smile never faltering and eyes never leaving yours, ‘I see you, and I see this gimmick you’re trying to pull.’

Hopping off the stretcher, he reaches for his coat with his uninjured arm, not bothering to button up his shirt; he stops by the door, hand stroking your bandage work for a moment. 

Neither of you make a comment on the lack of time you’ve given him to come visit Dr. Yosano’s office again. After all old habits die hard, and both of you still remember the specifics as clear as day.

A part of you wishes to yell then, or push him by the chest, say there’s no pretending, that this is who you are, truly, at heart, that you’re a good person with nothing left to hide now. 

Regardless, if it’s a show he wants, you’ll give either way- you always do. And with sharp eyes he'll wait for you to squirm and fall, and once more you’ll stand tall with your head held high, chest heaving with the weight of his gaze. Sooner or better, you’ll accept his fingers are intervening within the strings of your fate.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

dewdrops deserted in the carnage 

the wistful wyvern, chapter four

a/n: we're mostly getting angsty in this chapter, buuuuut also just a little bit slutty at the end. just a little sprinkling of spice.

summary: “please, stop,” you said firmly, your glare briefly averting, “look, trust me when I say, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice. But unfortunately, you’re the only one with the information that we need.”

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, slow burn, one-sided pinning, forced proximity, violence, weapons, the death of a horse, crying, only one bed, jealousy

word count: 3398

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“I mean, I knew that your dad was a crook, but One-eyed Ollie? That’s your father?” 

Letting a heavy sigh seep from your lungs, “unfortunately,” you didn’t bother throwing a glance over at the warden riding beside you.

“How did I not know this?” 

“Only the most important people know,” you shrugged, as the king had kept up his promise to keep your past secret. 

“Oh, geez, thanks, snow,” Bucky huffed, taking your comment to heart, “glad for the assurance of where we fucking stand.” 

Twisting your neck, you glanced over at him as his stare was now firm on the road you travelled down, “…fine,” you exhaled, “what do you wanna know?”

Meeting your gaze, his curiosity then began to overflow, “what’s he like? What was your childhood like? Did you know him well?”

“Uh, well,” an awkward chuckle briefly billowed out of you, “let’s just say, he wouldn’t win any awards for his parenting skills. His idea of bonding with his kid wasn’t to teach me how to fish or farm. He taught me how to lie and steal from innocent people. To be honest, I don’t even know if he ever really saw me as a child, more just a tiny impressionable human being that he could mould into the perfect addition to his team…” 

Staring over at you, he asked, “were you there back then?”

“No, that was a little before my time,” you cocked your head as you frame rocked with each of Zenna’s steps, “if I’d already been a part of the only successful attempt there’d been in all the history of Obelón at breaking into the vault in Ingorn’s palace, then I wouldn’t need to go seek help from my father after swearing I’d never even acknowledge his existence again for the remainder of my days.”

Pursing his lips, his gaze then flicked away from you as he uttered slowly, “…so, have you ever stolen anything from me?”

Rolling your eyes, you sighed loudly through the amused smile that somehow bloomed on your lips, “Buck–”

“Have you?” 

“No!” you exclaimed, “of course not.” 

“Really?” he tilted his head before turning his attention back towards the road, “your fingers never had a moment where they itched too much to resist–,” and as he spoke, you begrudgingly fulfilled his request and swept out your grasp, snatching up the coin purse at his belt right as his body’s swaying gave you an opportunity. Though as soon as you’d swiped it, completely unbeknownst to him, you threw it back in his face and the pouch struck his bearded jaw, “ow!” before it tumbled down into his grasp. 

As his eyes lifted from the purse up to shoot a glare in your direction, you just huffed, “there. You happy? I stole something from you. Now can we please just–” 

But the rest of your banter got cut short as a rumbling abruptly shook the earth beneath you. Both of the horses reacted, getting a bit spooked at their sudden unstable footing. 

Without any further warning, the dirt before you split open as a huge ankheg burrowed its way out. 

Skittering forth with its many legs, the insectoid creature ferociously jumped your horse, causing her to tumble over as the monster snapped its large mandibles at her. Tumbling to the grass, all the air got knocked out of your lungs from the impact. 

Coughing and reeling from the fall, you swiftly unsheathed a couple of daggers and tossed them just as Bucky too sent a few bolts flying as well, both of them sinking into the monster at the same time. 

Unfortunately, the ankheg hadn’t been alone as a few more then crawled out of the hole and attacked you both. 

One skurried on top of you as you were still dazed on the ground. Its long branch-like antennas swayed above its head as it screeched a clicking call over you.

The bulbous sack that protruded right on its throat throbbed as green acidic saliva began to drip out of its mouth and down its mandibles, scarcely missing your head as it sizzled against the grass.

Fiddling for a blade, you sucked in a shaky breath when you discovered there weren’t any left on your person. 

As it pinned you down and you used all of your might to keep it at bay, your glance first fluttered to your partner for help, only to discover that he too was in over his head. Your frantic eyes then flickered around, searching for anything you might be able to defend yourself with. 

And just above your head, there lied a solid rock. 

Bending your legs, you pressed your boots up against the ankheg’s hard scales, using everything you had as you slipped your right hand out and stretched it to the stone. Only your fingertips grazed it at first as it wasn’t quite in your reach. Straining till a scream forced its way out of your lungs, your grip then finally succeeded and wrapped around the rock. 

It stunned the creature slightly when you knocked the stone against its head, enough to grant you the upper hand and slip out from under it. 

You didn’t know how many times you repeatedly brought the rock down upon the monster as you lost yourself completely till you were kneeling above its smashed remains, heaving for breath, with its dark green viscera splashed across you and dripping from the stone still glued in your grasp.

The grunt of Bucky dealing the killing blow to the one he was battling didn’t manage to snap you out of your trance. But when the dying sounds of your horse cut through the blinding adrenaline within you and found your ears, in an instant the rock tumbled from your grasp.

Twisting around, tears swiftly blurred up the image of Zenna suffering on the ground, her brown-speckled stomach split open and blistering as her innards spilt out of her. 

“No, no, no–,” you shakily scrambled to your feet, but already knew there wasn’t anything you could do. 

The only thing you could do for her now was end her pain. 

Bending down, you pulled one of your daggers out of her killer’s corpse, still lying right beside her. 

Your hands were shaking so hard that you nearly dropped the blade. Every muscle in your body locked up as you tried to kneel down beside Zenna. 

Then, as tears streamed down your cheeks and dropped to the blood-stained grass below, a hand suddenly appeared and slipped the weapon out of your hand. 

Blinking up into Bucky’s blue eyes, he quietly uttered, “I’ll do it,” as he tightened his fist around the hilt of the short blade. 

As he sank down onto his knees, you turned around and shut your eyes. 

When her suffering sounds were no more and the road grew quiet, an onslaught of tears violently burst out of you. 

Rising to his feet, Bucky wrapped his arms around you before you tumbled over. Twisting slightly, you curled into him, welcoming his hug as your sobs melted against his armoured chest.

“You ready?” Bucky asked softly in your ear as he sat behind you on his ebony mount. 

Staring up at the intimidating dark stone fortress of Yoslor Penitentiary, you let out a low breath, “no.” 

Sometime in the decade since you’d been imprisoned here, your father had finally been caught. For what exactly you weren’t sure of, but the night that the king had pulled you aside to discreetly inform you, was the first one you’d soundly slept through, perhaps ever. 

Even though the last very thing you desired was to lay eyes on your dad once more, you still slipped off of the stallion but a moment after Bucky did. 

You were both let in without much fuss after stating your stature and your business. Guards led you through the prison, passed some of the cells, and escorted you to a chamber, not unlike the one you’d been in when you had talked to the king and your whole life had changed.

After you’d both taken a seat at the central table, not much time passed before, like a haunting nightmare, the voice of your father began to rumble on the other side of the closed door.

“Oh come on, gents. You can tell me who my visitor is,” your eyes fluttered shut a moment at the familiar sound, “or do you want me to guess?”

Blowing out a slow and agonising exhale, you gathered yourself right before the door burst open and in tumble your father. 

Though he was a bit slimmer now, had lost more of his hair, as well as the new accessory of heavy chains that restricted his movements, he still looked exactly the same. 

“Well, well, well…” a bright grin split apart his lips, flashing you a few of his golden teeth, as the guards tossed him down into the opposing chair and secured his chains, “my baby dewdrop,” he stared at you with the eye not scared over and covered by a leather patch, “I heard you got out.”

“Hello, Olliander,” you greeted coldly, keeping your spine straight. 

“Oh, come on, no need to be so rigid,” the chains jangled loudly and he gestured with his hands, “get over here and give your pa a big hug.” 

“Please, stop,” you said firmly, your glare briefly averting, “look, trust me when I say, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other choice. But unfortunately, you’re the only one with the information that we need.”

“And what would I get out of this little arrangement?” 

Staring back at him, you swore you felt steam begin to billow out of your ears, “you would get to help your daughter, finally do something reminiscent of good, after running and making me take the fall when I’d thought you’d only set me up to be the decoy.”

“Look, dewdrop, it was a different time back then, the authorities were hot of our trail!” he tried to diminish your statement, “someone had to go down in order to save the rest of us.”

“So, you thought it should be your own kid?” you seethed, leaning forward in your seat ever so slightly. 

“…well, you’re tough, I knew you’d be able to handle it,” he tilted his head, “and just look at you now! If I hadn’t made that decision, then you’d never have this fancy new life of yours.” 

“Don’t you dare,” the little restraint you tried to keep a hold of snapped, “don’t you fucking dare take any of the credit. You didn’t do a single thing, my entire life, you never did anything that didn’t benefit you,” your pointer finger extended accusatorially, “so, I’m not asking you, I am telling you, you will give us the information we need, or else I’ll make sure your life here gets a hell of a lot more miserable than it already is.” 

The room fell quiet, not even Bucky dared to move before your father eventually let out a heavy sigh, “…what do you wanna know?”

“The vault in Ingorn’s palace, the one made out of hellstone,” your fingers dug into your thigh beneath the table as you spoke, “how did you do it?”

The one-eyed criminal then began to laugh, “seriously? You wanna break into that? I mean, you’re good, dewdrop, almost as good as me, but come on, with how rusty you must be these days, that is just insane–”

“Just tell us how you did it,” you barked. 

“Alright, fine,” he exhaled and rested a restrained arm against the edge of the table, “well, first of all, the lock on it is a thing of beauty, you can’t just tickle her open like a lady with a few lockpicks…” 

“You know, when you said that you knew a place in Erasild where we could stash our stuff, this isn’t what I imagined,” you stared up at the building before you, before shooting a glare in Bucky’s direction, “a brothel? Seriously? We don’t have time to pause everything just so that you can get laid.”

“Hey, this is business, not pleasure,” he stated, then playfully added before heading inside, “but if you wanna get that stick out of your ass, I’m sure some of them would like to help.”

As you entered behind him, the warmth radiating from the establishment swiftly thawed the evening chill that had settled in your bones. Navigating through the clusters of small tables, gently lit by candlelight, a trio of bards in the corner caught your ear as they strummed out a smooth ditty as a part of the sensual ambience. 

A voluptuous woman then sauntered out of a backroom with a casket of clinking wine bottles in her grasp. As she sat it down on the bar with a loud thud and her gaze then flickered up to spot your travelling companion, her face lit up into a bright smile. 

“Ah! Darling!” she immediately walked up to him and threw her arms around him. Pressing her lips to his cheek in a loud peck, she then pulled him back at arm’s length to get a good look at him, “what has it been, like three years? I was starting to think you’d died on me.”

“It's good to see you too, Helen,” a warm chuckle rumbled out of Bucky, before he then twisted back towards you, “let me introduce you,” he held out an open hand in your direction, “this is Warden Y/l/n,” you bowed your head softly as she found your eye, “snow, this is Helen Raye, owner and proprietor of The Sapphire Chateau.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam,” you offered her a tight-lipped smile. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” she purred, letting her gaze study you a second before her plump lips parted once more, “so, will you be wanting to share your entertainment tonight, or do you want someone all for yourself? There is this girl that came to me a few years back that I know you’d just love,” your eyes couldn’t help but grow wide as Helen battered her eyelashes up at Bucky, “she can’t just bend herself into a pretzel, but every other shape imaginable.” 

“Uh, some other time, Hel,” he declined with a polite smile, “we’re not really here for that.”

“Oh,” she breathed, though still smirked back at Bucky like she was about to ravage him. 

“We just need a place to set off a few things, let Echo stay, just for a little bit while we go pay Ingorn a visit.” 

“Ah, you must be going to that fancy ball they’re throwing! I’ve no idea what the occasion is, but business has been booming the past few weeks as all sorts of lords and ladies have passed through on their way down to the capital.”

Sharing a glance with you at the new information, Bucky then fibbed, “uh, yeah, we–… we are.” 

Twisting her frame, Helen then waved down a lanky boy behind the bar and said, “I’ll have Jeremy take care of your horse,” you watched as the lad zoomed out to do his duty, “and if you want somewhere secure to store your items, you’re welcome to use the little safe in my room.” 

“Thank you,” you uttered. 

“Do you have any rooms available?” Bucky asked as Helen manoeuvred around the bar, “a hot bath would be nice before we head out again.” 

“Uh,” her vision fluttered down behind the counter where a few keys hung from small hooks, “I have one room unoccupied,” she held up a dangling key, hooked on her curved finger, “it’s yours if you want it.”

And before you could protest about how this didn’t line up with the limited time you had to work with, Bucky had already snatched up the key, “thanks.”

“Room eight,” her teeth lightly caught her bottom lip, “your favourite, if I recall correctly.” 

If his back hadn’t been turned to you, the flush that then crept up on Bucky’s features would have been noticeable to your eyes even in this low light, “it–, uh, yeah, thanks,” he then cleared his throat, “the soap and such still in the same spot?”

“It is.”

“Great,” he exhaled, then turned to you, “I’m gonna head up first, get cleaned up,” his feet already began to carry him towards the staircase in the corner, “you mind ordering us some food? I’m starving for a proper meal.” 

“Uh, sure,” you uttered, still a bit stunned as you now found yourself without a buffer, “so, what kind of food do you serve in this establishment?”

“Let me get you a menu, love,” Helen headed into the back for a moment, only to return with more than just a pamphlet of culinary options. As the list slid over the bar towards you, her palm also insistently pushed a small glass vial containing some dried herbs in your direction. 

“What–,” heat began to rise in your cheeks as you read the small label. It was athrire, the herb commonly brewed into a tea and utilised as birth control, “oh, no, thanks, but I don’t need this.”

“You’ve been on the road for a while, and from how I know that man, you’ve probably run out by now,” she winked and pushed it right back to you as you tried to return it. 

“No, it’s really not like that, we’re not–”

“Darling,” her hand enclosed momentarily around yours, “just take it.”

When you’d found the room, Bucky was so fresh out of his bath that you nearly caught a glimpse of something as he buttoned up a fresh pair of pants. Droplets still trailed down his inked physique as he turned at the sound of your entrance. 

If his painstakingly slow work at covering his drool-worthy body up again hadn’t been enough to make you more flustered than a bashful bunny, the discovery that the room only had one bed sure did the trick.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it still managed to. 

And when you stated that you’d just sleep on the floor and let him have the plush mattress all to himself, Bucky argued teasingly that you’d slept under the stars together countless times before. 

But that had been different, oh so very different and he knew it.

As he disappeared to get your food, you grabbed a quick bath. The view of the night sky from out of the balcony doors relaxed and distracted you long enough that you had to scramble at the last moment when Bucky returned, knocking on the door before you shrieked for him to stay on the other side just a moment longer as you rushed out of the tub. 

After the warm meal was scarfed down and a dozen yawns had escaped your lungs, you found yourself in a place you never thought you’d actually get to be. 

In bed next to Bucky. 

You were afraid to move. Just laid there like a statue, your stare darting from the constellations clear out the tall window, to the small Zondür alter in the corner of the chamber. 

But eventually, you heard your hushed tone fill the room, “so, Helen…”

“Hm?” Bucky hummed from his side of the bed, “what about her?”

“She seems nice,” your gaze bore a hole into the ceiling. 

Hearing him shift beside you, he said, “well, she is.” 

Feeling his gaze upon your silhouette, you didn’t dare to twist and meet his eye, “…so, how many of the other people that work here do you think are nice?”

A short chuckle then bubbled out of him, “snow…” before he teased, “what are you trying to get a personal recommendation or something?”

Your mouth then flew open as you shot him a glare, “no, I just–,” letting out a loud groan, “forget I said anything,” and you frantically turned your back to him, “go to sleep.” 

“Helen is very good at what she does,” he casually informed you through his amused smirk, “she hires people who are very good at their job, people who are very nice. You’d be in good hands with any of them.”

“I-I wasn’t trying to–,” you stammered, nearly twisting around to bash his mass in the moonlight, “just shut up, please!” but he just laughed. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[itsa-me-lily]

So I wrote this during my lunch hour in a haze of fruit and inspiration. Thank you @kitsur for reading this over for me to check the ending and in general for hearing me go on my crazed cork board rants some days (most days)

This is a sequel to “That’s My Purse” and I really really encourage you to read part one because it sets all of this up. And maybe read this if the bed comment is confusing. Also thank you @nightunite for the original ask that lead to all this.

Here is the Simon & Thimble playlist

Here is the MPS AU masterlist

Content warning; cheating (kind of. It’s more non monogamy I guess and it’s very debatable if it’s even ethical because I really don’t think Simon would explain his arrangement to a stranger), fatphobia, misogyny, “bro language”

Alright, he could admit it. You weren’t the worst person to be married to. Though you were certainly in the running for most annoying. Always had some smart comment to say, acting like it was an Olympic sport you were aiming for gold in. Sometimes Simon just wanted to eat his beans on toast in god damn peace. Was that too much to ask for?

So yeah you seemed to always run your mouth with him, but sometimes you did say things that made logical sense.

He didn’t care about the whole demi-whatever thing you had explained to him, even if it sparked some sort of recognition in the back of his brain. You didn’t want to have sex with him, so he didn’t want to have sex with you, simple enough. And he could appreciate that you didn’t want the entire base to know he was being cuckholded, however willingly. Though he didn’t really care what people around him thought.

But he’d give what he got. The few times he did find someone that held some interest to him, in some after mission bar, he at least made sure there wasn’t a surface level connection to the base, or you. He’d go back to their place and then act like he had just gotten back from the mission when he went home the next morning. It didn’t seem to bother you and he’d figure you’d appreciate the extra night in the bed and not the pull out.

The first time he tried though, Price nearly put him on his ass. Pulling him to the alley outside the pub and shoving him against a wall, demanding to know if Simon was the kind of man to ignore his vows just to get his dick wet. Trying to explain your agreement with Price went phenomenally awful, and the captain wouldn’t look at him different until all three of you sat down and you confirmed that you were indeed okay with it.

And then of course it had to happen all over again with the other two chuckleheads he worked with. By the time you were having your third sit down with Soap you’d just handed him some informational pamphlet you cooked up. Always had to be cheeky you did. He didn’t think they really understood, but as long as they didn’t look at him like he was a scummy bastard he didn’t care.

So every now and again he’d find someone to follow back to theirs, just to blow off some steam, get rid of the twitch that lived under his skin. The sex was okay. Nothing to write home about. It got the job done.

It was what Simon was planning to do tonight. There was already some bird leaning against the bar, giving him the stare as she nibbled on the end of her drink straw. Plump little thing. But before he could get up to start his advance, voices behind him broke out in the loud drunk way young twenty-something men did when they had too much liquid courage.

“Listen man, pussy is pussy even in the dark”

“Yeah but you got some balls to go after Riley’s wife.”

That stopped him, keeping him glued to his seat. What’s this about you? Judging how Soap’s bottle paused at his lips though, Simon wasn’t the only one to hear it.

“Yeah well she found your balls lacking bro.”

There was mocking laughter from the table behind him. At least Simon wasn’t the only one catching casualties from your mouth. He was going to let it go, maybe just see who they were to keep in mind, when the ring leader decided to seal his fate.

“Yeah yeah. Fat cow’s acting all tough now but she’ll be begging for it sooner or later.”

No Simon didn’t notice how his grip tightened around his beer, tight enough that his fingertips turned white.

“Dude you think?”

No one in the vicinity heard how Simon’s chair scrapped violently against the ground as he stood up.

“There’s no way Riley is fucking that. Even with back shots she’s-”

No one at the other table expected Simon Riley to appear out of thin air, heavy hand coming down with a crushing force onto the man stupid enough to slander your name. Pearson. Of course it was. Jackass who thought he was god’s gift to everyone because Daddy had a bit of money and some girls let him stick it in once.

Yes, you had to have the last word all the fucking time. You had too much shit, and he honestly thought you were a little too obsessed with your guinea pigs.

But you always met him head on. Was so unapologetically yourself, laughing so loudly at terrible jokes even he got startled now and again. You respected who he was, how he was. Like hell he was going to let some personification of a left ballsack talk about you like that.

“She’s my wife”

[thatsnotmygunflash]

“Panic erupted at Central City Hall after unknown gunmen kidnapped Congressman Leonard Snart in broad daylight during his 'Metas are Human' rally. Eyewitnesses to the attack say three of Snart's security guards were killed in their efforts to protect the Congressman and four more were injured. Authorities say they are putting in every effort to recover the Congressman, working around the clock to bring him home safely. If anyone has any information regarding—”

“Hey man, are you watching the news?” Barry didn't bother with a hello when he heard the call connected, his eyes still glued to the footage of the kidnapping replaying on the TV screen. It was the first time since being back in Central that he'd felt the familiar course of adrenaline start to build in his blood. His feet were already vibrating just thinking about running head-first into a new mission. This was a problem he could solve as easily as making a run to the grocery store. He might not be in the military anymore and his whole team may be suspended from using their powers on US soil until the investigation is over, but there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to let that stop him from saving not only his personal hero but the Congressman leading the fight for metahuman rights. If Leonard Snart died, metahumans wouldn’t stand a chance against the discrimination and dehumanization they were up against in Congress. 

“Yeah, crazy right? Can't believe they got the drop on Captain Cold.” Cisco replied readily, the echoing broadcast accompanying his voice. “I mean, we've all heard the stories from General Lance.” 

Leonard Snart hadn’t always been a Congressman, of course. He was the beloved Mayor of Central City before that, and a decorated police officer briefly after being honorably discharged from the military due to an injury in the field. Leonard Snart was the only human to ever Captain the same covert metahuman team Barry had helped lead for the past five years. The original Rogues were legendary, especially their human leader. He may have only been human, but Snart had a genius-level intellect and was an expert tactician, not to mention an exceptional marksman and a bit of a kleptomaniac at the most convenient of times. Captain Cold was a decorated hero who helped turn the Rouges into the military's best secret weapon. The motivational stories that Sara had told them during training and the old missions she would drill them on had fueled Barry's endless quest to be the best operative he could be. Chasing Captain Cold's legacy like it was critical to his career, right up to the point of obsession. It had helped him rank up quickly, religiously studying Snart's tactical strategies, missions, and reports. Barry learned from his mistakes before he could even make them most of the time thanks to Snart’s detailed mission logs and his additional references to counter scenarios that would have been successful. Barry was the man he is today because of Leonard Snart–his hero, his teacher, and his inspiration. He couldn’t stand back on the sidelines and hope someone else was going to put a plan together and save Snart.

He had to do something. 

“Yeah, they would have just shot him in the street if they wanted him dead,” Barry theorized, finally giving in to the restlessness running through his body and taking off into a sprint, barely being able to enjoy the exhilarating feeling of running again before he was across town and right into the middle of Cisco’s underground workshop. “The kidnappers must want something else, but that doesn't mean they won't kill him when they get it.” 

“Is this you trying to ask me to look into where they’re keeping him?” Cisco questioned with a surprised eyebrow raised as he took the phone away from his ear and set it down near the gutted metal tube spilling over with wires sitting in front of the scientist, along with an array of tools and loose equipment. If Barry wasn’t mistaken it was one of Hartley’s sonic grenades he was tinkering with. The same sonic grenades the Miltary had confiscated. Barry knew he couldn't have been the only one going stir-crazy since being discharged, but Cisco had been smart enough not to inform the government about his ability to breach, allowing him easy access to anything he wanted, from this world or another. Cisco always had to be doing something with his hands, anything to keep him busy and his ideas flowing. It was a trait Barry had always admired about his best friend, especially right now.

“Maybe? I don't know. I feel like I should do something, he could die,” Barry replied warily, running a hand through his hair as he considered what would happen if he didn't get involved. “The guys who grabbed him have to be professionals, there's no way of knowing what they'll do if SWAT gets involved. I'm thinking if you can pin down his location I can be in and out with Snart before you finish telling me the address.” 

“I'll let Frosty and Cait know what's up while I track him down, have them set up the med room for him just in case.” Cisco was already abandoning his workbench and moving towards his computer as he spoke, typing out a message to the girls on his phone while he booted up his PC. “Want me to contact his team and let them in on the plan?”

“After. I don't want to take the chance if this is an inside job. I want Snart safe before we bring outsiders in on this.” Barry responded, knowing in his gut that the only thing they could afford to worry about right now was making sure Snart made it out of this alive. 

“Yeah good call, can't have the man spearheading the ‘Metas are Human' movement dying before he can get the bill passed.” Cisco agreed with an approving nod, fingers dancing over the keyboard as he pulled up the satellite footage of the kidnapping. 

“Exactly. He's our only chance at keeping our civil rights, Cisco, we gotta save him.” He didn't mention he was their only chance of getting the team back together and their dishonorable discharges dropped. Lance still kept in contact with them all even if it was dangerous for her own career to be mixed up with their disgraced team at such an uneasy time like this. She had risked it though to tell them she had talked to Snart about their situation and he had vowed to do what he could to get them all reinstated and the investigation handled by an unbiased party. 

“I know man, I'm tracking them through CCTV cameras right now, shouldn't be much longer. You should suit up.” Cisco suggested, pressing a button on a small remote while nodding towards the now moving back wall where he kept the team’s secret emergency gear stashed. It seemed like Cisco was keeping a lot of secrets from the government down here. 

“Red or black?” Barry asked the scientist, trying not to get caught up in the nostalgia of seeing his team's suits lined up and on display again. It had only been three months since the team was disbanded but it felt like years to him. This felt like coming home, much more than arriving at Central City airport after 12 years away had. 

“Black. Should probably keep this one stealthy.” Cisco replied, turning his head to the side to meet Barry's eye. “Are we playing this like Karmana or Kota Baharu?” 

“Moscow,” Barry said with a soft hum, trembling fingers reaching for the reinforced tripolymer fabric waiting for him. It really had been too long, the anticipation was almost too much for him to handle. He's missed the comfort of his super suit. Of his team. His life. God, everything had gone to such shit so quickly that he never even got to prepare himself for never suiting up and leading a mission again. It had been stripped from him just like his team, his rank, and his reputation had. 

“Oh really?” Cisco curved his surprise quickly, his worry pushing forward instead. “You think he'll remember the call sign?” 

“He'll remember,” Barry replied confidently, not wasting another second and flashing into his suit. It was even better than he remembered, like a missing limb growing back, or maybe he had missed his old life more than he cared to admit. Now, he felt safe and powerful and needed. Three things that had been severely lacking in his life since being discharged.

“Let's hope you're right,” Cisco muttered before glancing down at his phone and smirking in triumph. “I've got the location and Cait is almost ready. It's showtime, Lieutenant Flash.” 

“Don't call me that man. I'm not your lieutenant anymore.” Barry said with a shake of his head, brushing off Cisco's quick reply. 

“The government may have royally fucked us all over and disbanded the team, but that doesn't mean I lost respect for the rank you earned dude.”

“Whatever, can you just give me the address please? We have a Congressman to save.” Barry pulled his cowl up, letting it settle into place and feeling his shoulders drop down, all the tension he was carrying leaving him at once. There was no better feeling than using his powers to save someone, and now after months of moping around his shoebox apartment and his mind-numbing third-shift security gig, having to refrain from using his speed, he was going to get to use it to save Leonard Snart. He knew the ‘Oh shit, I’m going to meet Leonard Snart!’ freak out he would no doubt have later would be embarrassing and long, but it would mean Snart would be alive and that was more than enough for Barry to look forward to making a fool of himself in the future.  

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Cisco winced at the latest text that popped up, shooting Barry a constipated smile. “Hopefully he's like really grateful you’re risking it all right now to save his ass and can keep you from getting arrested for doing it. Frost says they know you're active. APB is about to go out. Waller is pissed.” 

“Better make this good then, I'm too pretty for prison.” Barry couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face as Cisco finally rattled off the address to him, offering him a lazy salute that a year ago would have gotten him kitchen duty for two weeks. Now it just earned him a good-natured laugh.  

“Good luck, Lieutenant,” Cisco said with an encouraging pat on the back, letting out a small laugh to himself when Barry took off just as quickly as he had appeared. “Something tells me you're going to need it.”

[43501]

How would Near show affection to his lover? Like.. Do you think he’d be the type to cuddle or call them sweet names? Or would he be rather emotionally distant…

One of my favorite subjects! Thanks for the ask!

(Since you're whispering in my ear for Nearposts, I suspect you've already seen these, but if you haven't: Near Romance Headcanons Part 1 // Near Romance Headcanons Part 2)

Need to advise that my answer will be a combination of pointing to things in canon that inform my opinions, and pure headcanon. Death Note's canon and extrinsic materials give us very, very little indication of what any of these people are like in their personal lives (except L, who has an entire DS game where you can romance him, and I am forever jealous).

What kind of person is Near?

Want to start by saying that I think the common fandom perception of him as an emotionless person is wrong. He definitely feels things - very strongly at times, even (speech at the Yellow Box, calling the president a "maggot", that very, very good scene in the Relight where he calls Light after the SPK is killed and just sits there seething in silence while covered in blood) - but he's always in control of himself. That's one of his defining character traits, after all.

I don't know why this omitted from the English translation, but the Japanese text under the "personality" section of his character bio in HT13 describes him as "a dry person". Also worth mentioning that in Japanese, Near is maintaining a super high level of formality in his speech at all times. He's always ending sentences with -masu or -desu, even when he's talking to Mello.

Like, the only really telling thing we get about him as a person is a meta comment (from Ryuk, of all people) in HTR13 suggesting he might be distant from others because he's sensitive. I think we are supposed to infer that he intentionally isolates himself from others to maintain his peace and clarity of mind. By the way, the original Japanese version of this says "due to being too smart and sensitive, they cut off contact with the outside world", so the Viz English translation is faithful.

HTR13 explicitly says he "had no friends at Wammy's House" but this is obviously self-imposed. Linda tries to get him to go outside and play with the other kids and the fact that the other guy on-panel is like "don't bother, Linda" means that this is probably a regular occurrence... plus, we see the panel of everyone crowding around Near to look at his test results. They would probably try to be his friends if he'd allow it, but he seems to hold them at bay.

He values Mello a lot, though. He has zero hesitation about inheriting the title of "L" together with him and working collaboratively (and in the anime adaptations, honestly reads a touch disappointed to me when Mello storms out of Wammy's House). His original line to Mello during the reunion was "welcome home, Mello" (okaerinasai) ... why did they change that? He's quite passionate in his speech to Light at the Yellow Box, giving Mello the credit for solving the case and almost directly saying "he makes up for what I lack". It's implied he recovered Mello's belongings and eats Mello's chocolate in remembrance of him. He keeps Mello's finger puppet and just like... sits around wearing it, years later.

I think this is the in-text proof we get of the "he's actually kind of sensitive" comment from HTR13. Also the C-Kira one-shot where he falters and knocks over a tarot card tower when Halle correctly surmises he's agonizing about what the original L would do in the situation (and then he apologizes and dismisses them, asking to be left alone for the rest of the day). In general, his emotions are displayed through his props. In part because manga is a visual medium, in part because that's actually how he expresses himself... sitting in the shadow of those huge "L" shaped card towers. Taking great care with making Mello's puppet because he "liked him". Breaking his own toys whenever he gets frustrated.

All of that to say that I think, if we're trying to make inferences from canon:

Near is certainly capable of warmth (and I'd even argue genuine attachment and admiration for a person), but his expressions of affection are likely to be low-key.

His social skills are extremely low. At least at first, he's not going to know what he's supposed to do in a relationship. It might even take him a while to realize he has more-than-friendly feelings for a person in the first place.

The suggestion that he has a "sensitive core" somewhere under all of that leaves a lot to the imagination. There's a ton of ways this can be interpreted.

By the way, this didn't fit in with any of the above but I wanted to mention a scene I really like. Only in the TV anime, Near tries to stop the Task Force from pursuing Light when he flees the Yellow Box. When Aizawa tells Near "I'm not going to follow your orders", Near seems genuinely aghast and embarrassed for a moment lol. It's not a strictly necessary scene (it's not in the original manga or the Relight) but it's nice to see Near shocked out of his element for a second, a humanizing moment.

Actually Answering Your Question

Now I'm going to forget about all of that and answer with what is in my heart, as someone who has been unreasonably attached to this character for 17 years.

Most of his expressions of love are indirect. He's the world's greatest detective (implied to still be quasi-FBI in present day) and provides financially for his partner - it's a very practical, down-to-earth show of love and very Near-like. He's very creative and always making stuff. He'll definitely make things in the image of his partner - finger puppets, sculptures, plushies - and keep them nearby. He's a careful study of everyone and everything in his life, so he knows you back-to-front. Gifts relating to your interests/hobbies will show up at your door at random, he definitely expresses affection by way of gift-giving.

Yes, he's very cuddly. Once a trusting relationship has been established and he feels he can open up. In keeping with his tendency to express his bigger, more complicated feelings in ways other than words, he relies on physical affection as a shortcut. It makes him feel at peace. Sometimes it lulls him to sleep. The first times you hold him, it feels like you're touching a thoroughly touch-starved person. Something he does a lot is hide/bury his face in the crook of your neck. He also twirls your hair through this fingers like he does with his own hair, like you might be an extension of him.

Kissing is much the same. For the most part, it's very loving, pure and chaste. Impossibly gentle kisses on the back of your hand, your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. Those hot, open-mouthed kisses, all tongue and teeth, are a more occasional thing. It always makes his head spin a little, lol.

Sex is infrequent but intense (at least emotionally, for him, I think, especially the first few times). He's pretty straightforward about his desires, but a touch awkward about it still. I don't personally view him as asexual (this is a whole essay unto itself so I won't elaborate), but he could easily do without it also. It's low on his list of priorities.

I struggle to see him as someone who uses sweet names on a partner, but I honestly think you'd get a "dear" or maybe even "my dear" once in a while. It fits with him still being a little bit formal, even in his private life, and it's the address he went with for the back of Mello's photograph instead of writing "To Mello" or something more impersonal...

In the case of a long-distance relationship which doesn't have a face-to-face component, I think his letter-writing is thoughtful and surprisingly ardent. He can be more honest (perhaps a touch poetic) when he has distance and time to compose his thoughts and feelings and put them to a page. There's a Near x OC fic I really like that runs on this premise. He doesn't talk like this in person or on the phone, though.

He doesn't distance himself from his partner per se, but there's always a sense that he's holding back a bit or there's something unsaid. Like there's a little tiny part of him always just out of reach. He doesn't say "I love you" unprompted (though he'll say it back if you do first). He's never going to be one for grand gestures. Even if he loves you, he still needs a lot of alone time (both for himself and in service of his work) and appreciates you respecting his space.

[dawnbreaker-mylove]

The loml Series

Warning Swearing Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Masterlist

It's eleven in the evening. You're sweating buckets from the humid summer air. Even with the fan on, it was barely helping. Outside, the hum of the cars drifts through your quaint town, even at this hour. It's been four months since you broke up with your long-term ex‐boyfriend who can never keep it in his pants, Fredrick, a name so fugly it matches his face. Since then, you've been sleeping around eight o'clock, but this morning, you made yourself an iced coffee with four shots of espresso. Seriously, how bored are you?

“Ugh, I can feel the heartburn,” you groaned aloud. Sighing in frustration, you pick up your phone to check the class group chat. The screen’s glow was blinding in the dark and silent room. As you scrolled through the conversations, there was nothing new. Just a group asking for help with their research assignment—typical. You checked the clock again: 11:11. Huh, you thought. This is the latest you've stayed up in forever. The stillness of the night was interrupted when your phone pinged a message.

Zayne?

“Hey,” the message read with the “typing” indicator flickering beneath.

You raised an eyebrow. Zayne is the typical quiet, smart kid at the back. But his looks were not so typical. His black hair was combed neatly, and his cool hazel green eyes didn't scream, ‘Haha, nerd.’ You figured he was the type to never meddle in class drama but knew everything if you asked nicely. He was the teachers’ favorite—no surprise there. The two of you never interacted unless it was for a group project. He isn't at all bad, you think. Awkward, maybe? But that didn't stop you from catching feelings for the guy. What would he need at this hour?

The little dots flicker rhythmically, indicating he’s still typing. Holy shit, dude, what does he need from you to be drafting a fucking novel? Impatient, you reply, “I don’t have money, boo.”

Now, your problem wasn't only sleep; Pookie just sent you a cryptic one-liner. What are you going to do with that? Your phone ping again and you think, finally, he's said something! But it wasn't what you expected.

“I like you.”

Your eyes widened, your brain struggling to process the message before you. Your fingers trembled as you typed, “Hahahahaha… Funny, bro. Seriously, what is it?”

You were surprised at how fast he replied this time: “You think… I'm joking?” The way he said it sounded serious in your head. Was he… angry? Or maybe annoyed that you thought it was a joke?

“Or you're a spy trying to pry information from me by winning my heart,” you replied. “Who knows? Could you be working for the government?!”

Well fuck, you thought. The guy you had been pining for was confessing to you? What kind of voodoo have you been unknowingly fucking with? But when you think about it, it makes your heart race and you doubted it was from the caffeine.

Your thoughts were cut off when your phone notified you once again. Zayne's message read, “I know this is all… out of character for me. You were probably asleep when I messaged.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at that, finding his awkwardness quite endearing, but you continued reading.

“I had planned this differently,” the next message read. “Forget it. I'm sorry to bother you.”

Your chest tightened when you read the last line. You recognized the feeling of being a bother all too well. But this—whatever Zayne has going on—is unexpectedly comforting. “Don't say that,” you typed. “I was just surprised, that's all.”

You scrolled back to his previous messages, rereading his confession and the mention of a plan. Ah, it made sense now. A few days ago, you had been sitting on one of the bleachers in the school gym. The rhythmic dribble of the basketball and the squeaks of the shoes echoed around you. It's the third day of the intramurals, and you were unimpressed. The players weren't exactly worth watching, and you wish you didn't have to waste your time just for attendance for a paper you were assigned to write.

Out of boredom, you looked around and behind you, flinching slightly. It was Zayne, walking by. Your eyes met briefly, his eyes widening slightly in what seemed to be surprise before he quickly tore his gaze away from you and hurried off. That was… odd, you thought. Was there something wrong?

“Holy shit!” You realized, going back to your phone. “So that's why you avoided me a few days ago!”

He had the audacity to react to your message with a “haha”. You couldn't help but find it amusing while also feeling a little betrayed at the same time. You should've seen it coming. “Son of a bitch,” you typed and added laughing emojis for good measure. “So you really did have a plan?”

You felt skittish as you watched the chat bubbles flicker on the screen, your mind racing with so many scenarios. “I did,” Zayne replied. “I was going to tell you then. I was just too much of a coward to approach you.” Cute, you thought, your heart fluttering. Your smile faded and your eyebrows rose when you read his next message. “You just looked too beautiful.”

“Fuck!” You threw your phone across the bed and hid your flushed face into a pillow, your body trembling with giddy elation. After settling down, you retrieved your phone. “Thanks. Also, good timing. I don't think I can sleep tonight lol.”

“I don't mind keeping you company,” he replied instantly. “But may I ask why?” You blinked at the message, his eagerness had you both amused and flustered

You snorted, shaking your head as you recalled grabbing a tumbler, ice, and brewing yourself multiple espressos. After you had explained what happened, Zayne texted, “You know that's very unhealthy if you take that much caffeine every day.”

“Okay, first off, you cannot judge my life choices—I do that already. Second, think of it as a sign from the universe. Maybe we were meant to talk around this time.”

Zayne took a while to reply this time, making you wonder if you said the wrong thing. Relief washed over you when his message finally. “You're probably right, it read. So… Do you believe me now?”

You couldn't help but smile. When he said he was acting out of character earlier, he wasn't joking. “Yeah, I believe you,” you replied though a flicker of doubt lingered. You couldn't help it; deep down, a small part of you refused to believe it. Of course, you didn't say that. Instead, you change the topic. “What are you doing right now?”

“I'm on a walk,” he replied.

“Huh?” You typed out, followed by the emoji with the open-mouth smile and blank stare. “At midnight?!” you added, incredulous.

Zayne reacted to your message with another laugh, leaving you a little confused. It was as if he was telling you he does this every night. “Don't worry. I do this almost every night,” he types and it confirms your suspicion. “I also got so nervous, I had to leave the house. I'm still trembling, mind you.”

“Why are you nervous?!” You typed, shocked. To you, Zayne always seemed calm and composed, like nothing fazed him. “I'm sorryyyy…” you added, guilt creeping in.

This time, instead of a laughing emoji, Zayne reacted with a green heart. “Don't worry,” he typed. “I should be the one asking for an apology. I caught you off guard.”

“Aren't most confessions like that??” you replied, smirking slightly at your screen.

“Right,” Zayne said and you could almost feel him smile on the other end. He went quiet for a moment, leaving you to wonder if he was still there mustering the courage to say something. Finally, his message appeared, your name followed by, “Would you like to go out with me tomorrow evening?”

“Yes!” you shouted, sitting up abruptly. The sudden motion made you lightheaded, forcing you to lie back down until you didn't see black.

Without hesitation, you typed, “Of course. I'd love to go anywhere with you.”

That last message was risky, yes. But he did say he liked you, so you couldn't help but wonder what he was feeling. Was he kicking his feet like you? Squealing with excitement? Or was he just his usual calm, aloof self?

A notification ping snapped you back to reality and your cheeks heated up when you read his message: “Perfect. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you replied with a stupid grin plastered on your face. Afterward, Zayne mentioned he'd arrived back home. When you insisted he get some sleep—it was nearly three in the morning—he finally gave in. “Good night,” he sent, adding a pensive emoji. “Get some sleep too.”

“I will,” you replied. “Goodnight, Zayne.”

After sending the message and confirming he wasn't typing anymore, you turn your phone off and place it on your chest, right over your heart. Your smile stretched wide, cheeks still hot from the whole exchange. That's when it hit you—you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.

“Fuck,” you said aloud.

A/N: Izz finally hereee... Please tell me if you ever experienced something similar because I doubt this is an original experience. I hope Zayne is still in character to you guys. It feels rushed, I know. Lemme know what you think :D

[hashimasims]

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Image Transcript below the cut A poll as well

Transcript:

Dylan: Miss Glynnan, the agents from Gateman Security are here. I've already checked their IDs and everything checks out. Elucea: Thank you Dylan, and please just call me El. Can you take over playing dolls with Fae? Dylan: Of course Miss - El

Carlo: Good morning Mrs. Kwon, I'm Carl Hanson, the Superior officer assigned to you. Elucea: Good morning but it's Elucea Glynnan not Kwon.

Carlo: Apologies, that was in the file but over the phone Mr. Taehyung Kwon said he was hiring us for his mate, I've had a few wolves work with us and understand that's the same thing as being married I should not have assumed. Elucea: That does sound like Tae and no worries. Who is everyone else?

Carlo: Agents Bianca Gallo, Maluokeakua Kekoa- Malu: Just call me Malu, it might be easier Carlo: Yes well, then we have Jaxon Khan, Kiera Davenport, and Æirik Nøkk.

Carlo: Malu here will be your personal guard for the duration of our contract. Malu: So when would you like to head to your hotel? Elucea: Hotel? I'm staying here, with my children. Malu: The toddlers are yours? Elucea: Of course! Why else would I be here?

Malu: I thought you were just visiting a friend and this was the established rendezvous. Sir I don't think I can properly handle this assignment Carlo: And why not agent? Malu: Because there are children involved, I did not know about them. Carlo: The information was all in the file.

Malu: I guess I didn't get to that part Elucea: It's not that serious, are you allergic to toddlers or something? Malu: Well, no, but - Carlo: I don't know why the boss suggested you for this assignment, you couldn't even bother to do the reading. Just do your job agent

Æirik: Sir? If Miss Glynnan doesn't mind, I will take the assignment in Malu's stead.

Carlo: Is that OK with you? Elucea: Doesn't matter to me, no offense but I think your services are unnecessary, Tae is just overprotective. Æirik: Miss, you've been recently abducted and one of the culprits is still at large, I think our services are warranted. Best case scenario we get an easy pay day and worst . . . well, that's why we're here.

Elucea: Fine, fine. I see your point. Carlo: Wonderful. I guess I'll have to make the call and let the powers that be know that plans have changed. Shall we go over logistics of your trip to Brindleton Bay with the cast and crew of "Dating Deanna"?

Elucea: Should be pretty easy. I've been assured that it will only take the day so my children will remain here with the nannies tomorrow morning and then I will return tomorrow night. Carlo: in that case then Æirik will accompany you alone and the rest of us will remain here to watch the property.

POLL TIME!

So I keep going back and forth between changing my posts to this format (text on screenshots) or staying with how things have been since the beginning (screenshots and text separate) but I can't make up my mind even after asking the opinions of a couple other expert Simblrs. I figured that with this being the first post of Elucea's Tartosa adventure I would give this way of posting a try. So now I ask you! My faithful readers (and friends if you don't mind the title!) which format you prefer for the Glynnan story

Please feel free to leave me any suggestions and critiques!!!

Watcher's Notes: Please remember that outside of family, other Gods who know who he is, and Vamps as a whole Absalom IS Taehyung Kwon and will introduce himself as such

[primroseevans03]

Yandere Paul Atreides x Reader

Opera Dune

Warnings Yandere behavior, Fem!reader, toxic relationship, forced marriage (mentioned), attempted murder, poisoning, abortion, extramarital affairs, betrayal, use of voice, psychological manipulation, emotional instability

Parole 3170

I just translated this with Google translation so please don't judge me🥹

And the original post is this

And the Author @raggaza-whintigale

The corridors at this time of night were almost completely empty, except for the soldiers on guard and the graceful figure of the beautiful woman called (name) Alithea and in the future Atreides -if the marriage ever went through of course-. The beauty of her figure certainly deserved the nickname she had been given when she was still a child. The princess of Alithea. As the only daughter until she was 12 she had been loved and adored almost as much as the countess who had once been her mother.

Her beauty and purity had not yet fallen out of favor according to the public.

Her beauty, her education and her gentle character had allowed this nickname. Little would one imagine that behind that beautiful facade a woman no longer different could be hidden.

A cold and cruel woman, who has grown to recognize her only usefulness as an exchange between families. The name and importance of the Atreides to a fertile and educated woman who would keep the bloodline high.

She was almost tired of hearing such voices coming from the outside, by now almost all the servants in the service of the Duke and his family were familiar with the woman's bad temper.

My lady, what are you doing awake at this hour? The woman stopped staggering in her tracks. You should be in your rooms resting." (name) has a sickly look to her soft features. The color of her skin has faded just enough to make her appear between life and death. The disheveled hair (color) is freed from the usual complicated braiding, thus allowing soft waves to accompany her face. The pleasant movement of the locks followed his face once he decided he could honor this person with his attentions.

Duncan Idaho stood in the middle of the hallway looking solemn. The upright and impeccable posture is just something one could expect from the Atreides house and one of its trusted ones.

The man's gaze looks suspiciously at the frail and barely supported the body of his lady. There is no hint of hostility towards anyone, just his usual spoiled self. Or at least that's what it's been for the last 7 years. When suddenly the sweetness of the little girl was replaced with the characteristic coldness of the Alithea house.

Duncan never mistrusted her. Not that she could in any way, she is such a fragile and small woman that one doubted she could hurt any member of the Atreides family. Solo couldn't help but notice the change in character as he grew up alongside the Atreides heir. Before his eyes he saw how someone could sink into darkness little by little.

The woman's sharp gaze fell on the soldier, trusted by the Atreides and close to the one who would become her husband. "Nothing important Sir, I'm just trying to reach my future husband in his rooms. He asked me to speak in private."

Duncan doubted that Paul could be so damn rude as to bother his girlfriend who until a few days ago was on her deathbed. Then no one - not even Paul - had told him about this meeting and although it could have been a meeting between lovers, which he highly doubted, the boy would still have informed someone about it.

Generally the lady (name) wasn't even a person for romantic encounters in the moonlight, nor for an adventure in the bedroom. So it was very presumable that he was planning something to do with Paul. Duncan hoped very much that this wouldn't get them into trouble.

In that case let me accompany you." His honor prevented him from leaving his lady wandering the halls of Castle Caladan in search of her future husband, when she couldn't even walk properly.

He was also trembling at times under his llama.

The woman's gaze narrowed, letting the silver specks drown in the (color) of her irises shine. (Name) was smart enough not to attempt an argument over such a trifle. No matter how disrespectful it was, it would only make it more suspicious. If that's what you want." Duncan walked until he passed (name) and guided her to her destination.

Paul's room wasn't very far away, so the journey was short. The princess knocked elegantly on the door and Paul answered by opening the door. The surprise was clear in her green eyes, but she recovered the moment she noticed Duncan too. He greeted the man with a nod and then turned to Alithea's woman "To what do I owe my lady's visit?" (Name) reduced her expression to pure disgust and entered the room leaving behind Duncan and his expression desperate from the woman's tantrums and lies. Paul offered nothing more than an apologetic expression to his trusted companion closing the door telling him to continue with his duties.

“I hope there is a valid reason to disturb your and Duncan's rest.” “I didn't ask him to disturb himself.” The lady (name) overlooked her precarious condition as she stood in the middle of the room crossing her arms over her chest. The stole and soft robe annihilated every curve the woman might possess. A sigh left Paul's lips as he moved closer to wrap his arms around the woman's form, Your cruelty never fades my lady, not even when you are ill. And to think that when you were little you had such kindness. The warmth of their skin touching was something (name) hated, and he knew that in the future he wouldn't get enough of this from her.

She secretly basked in the warmth of their embrace, perhaps she should have gotten a heavier stole but she couldn't find it on her own. I would start to blame him for this behavior if I were you, Paul." ||

his name had a dismissive lilt but The Atreides, in some twisted way, seemed to appreciate it. Paul presses a kiss to her neck, oblivious to the layer of hair that overlapped (name)'s skin. You shudder disgusted.

In any case you didn't answer my question. He pulled away from her and went to sit on the other side of the room. He poured himself something to drink and did the same for her. Lady (Name) knew better than to give in to such gallantries. She was considered a beauty to such an extent that many sought her attention with petty tricks.

In reality Paul knew why he was there and what caused his confusion. There was a crack in his usual armor, revealing glimpses of anger and nervousness. He had read his movements and words carefully. How he lingered on something too long, how he kept his belly covered with his stole and how he scratched his wrists. You have to let it go. He's not to blame." "Hmm? "He took a sip of his drink while keeping his eyes on her. He knew what he was talking about, there was no need for confirmation, yet he continued to pretend not to understand. If the lady (name) didn't know him, he could have said he was enjoying seeing her like this.

Paul knew her well enough to know that: nothing could upset the woman if not the awareness of having condemned someone for her mistake. She wasn't as cruel as everyone had made her out to be, and Paul knew that better than anyone. He knew that the black circles under his eyes were probably just the cause of the sleepless nights of guilt.

Guilt.

Perhaps no one but him knew that Lady Alithea was capable of feeling such emotions. She was really good at hiding her intentions behind her coldness, not always but almost, Paul would have granted her that. Perhaps if it weren't for his Bene Gesserit abilities he wouldn't have noticed either. "I don't see why I should, (name), after what he did to you. IT'S ALL MY FAULT! HE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH IT- The scream revealed all the resentment he had towards her. It had come out so spontaneously from his lips that she managed to stop him only after having partially vented. She certainly stopped at a certain point and part of the blame went to the look that the Atreides heir gave her still troubled her, even after years and despite their age difference. the opportunity to your advantage." and you used Not even the poison detectors could detect it. She had been careful. So attentive that when blood began to drip down her nose and mouth general confusion filled the room. Some soldiers rushed there, others called doctor Yueh and later Hawat also arrived. It was one of the few times that the Duke was also present, perhaps all that confusion was also due to this.

No one had managed to find out who he had done it or how he had done it. But Paul had an idea. An idea that had turned out to be more than right. He had seen it clearly. -

The woman's arms slid straight across her body as she gripped the fabric of her robe in her fists. It wasn't clear whether she regretted having shouted it or whether she was just afraid of Paul's gaze. But the rest of the sentence was still reduced to a quiet whisper.

Maybe he felt guilty. He had never touched her before without her permission. He had never hurt her. Yet she had acted against him. She first tried to kill Paul while he slept with a makeshift knife, but was too cowardly to carry out the feat and collapsed in Paul's arms. He hadn't said in one word he had shown fear of it. Then he tried to poison him... but he changed his aim. Perhaps she hoped someone would question her union with Paul, perhaps not deeming her worthy of becoming a Duchess and an Atreides. But it doesn't happen. All Paul needed to do was store the information, analyze it and evaluate how to best resolve the situation. His attempt on the young Duke was never discovered, and his poisoned self was only diverted to the simplest solution. The boy so close to Lady (name) that he poisoned her out of jealousy.

This made her regret having chosen him and brought him with her to Caladan in the first place, that she had compromised herself with him and that she had been forced to have an abortion to preserve the honor of both of them. Maybe you should have thought about involving someone external first. It was stupid but he already knew. She didn't even love him like he deserved.

And it's quite clear that Paul was playing with these feelings of guilt.

He wouldn't offer her a trade, he didn't need one to make her do whatever he wanted. There was no way they had talked about trading the boy's life for something that would benefit Paul and Lady (name) him. was to Paul's advantage and Lady (name) knew it well enough.

"Anyway, now you won't have to worry about covering up that unwanted pregnancy and I won't have to keep a bastard." A bastard heir. It was something ironic now, in young Paul's eyes. I don't remind him in the slightest of his mother, who gave Duke Leto the heir he so desired.

The woman was full of resentment, guilt and embarrassment, which is why she didn't say another word. She didn't try to save herself or justify the obvious facts, he was the only one besides her who knew and could only deduce it was thanks to her predictions. Not even poor Elias was aware that he had impregnated Paul's future bride. Maybe it was for the best.

"You should be grateful." Paul's voice lost its affection and reproach. It only became cold as if he had lost the ability to feel. He moved closer to his lady's form, cupping her soft-featured face in his hands. The princess felt disgusted. ""For not condemning you with him."

In a flash of anger (name) pushed his hands away on the boy's chest, moving away just enough.

First she thought he would give it to her, in his current state, he was stronger than her. Therefore the distance was what he had granted him regardless. "I would have rather died from my own poison than stay here with you." The princess gritted her teeth at each cruel statement as she headed for the door with the sole intent of leaving.

"Don't leave the room." (name) stopped in her tracks, hand on the doorknob and one foot ready to take the first step out. He knew Paul could use his voice, he had heard his mother talk about it many times when they practiced. There was a tacit agreement about this. He shouldn't have used it on her.

Although no terms and conditions had ever been put in place, he had only done it once, excluding this one. Maybe it was that time that convinced him not to use it. She had literally gone crazy, screaming and trying to attack him directly.

No one was able to give an answer to this behavior and the situation remained silent to a few days, leaving an aura of mystery over the matter.

The woman's gaze was filled with anger and a bloody desire to harm him. Paul looked back at her with a sort of challenge in his eyes. Would she be overwhelmed by the voice or would she be locked up for making an attempt on Paul's life?

She was almost sure that in the second one he would suffer more than her, which is why when she took her first steps towards her boyfriend he parted his lips. Ready to recall any order would bring her back to her place. But she stopped even before she could take another step.

Paul's gaze was still on her. Her wavy hair falling to her drooping shoulders. His silver robe and the stole that had fallen from his shoulders and was now held only by the girl's arms. A damned and pathetic sight just like his lady was when no one could see her but him. Pride and vanity had disappeared in favor of sweet desperation and guilt. But ultimately the Atreides could not have wanted anything more than to be the only spectator of such a sight. No one could have admired the dim and simple light of a woman, who had learned to maintain the appearance of coldness and nobility, falling apart in the face of something that was shattering her little by little.

Paul was that thing and they both knew it.

His first steps were intercepted by the woman who stepped back to maintain the initial distance. A sigh of exasperation and amusement left Paul as he spoke again.

"You have to stop these scenes. They won't do you much good especially if I'm the only one watching. Their eyes were fixed on each other. Nothing would change in the woman's behavior, he knew it. Yet her eyes were still beware of whatever he wanted to do with her. He would keep his words and yet she was still unwilling to come closer."

Explain to me how I can make myself heard, without necessarily giving you an order. That power was not a simple order! If it had just been an order she would have ignored it and then moved on with what she thought was best. But in those moments her body stopped being her property and did what that chorus of voices told her to do. Cast out and deprived of her own will. That's how it could be described.

"You can't. Simple, right? All it takes is for me to leave it alone, and clear him of those accusations, and for a while I will continue this act, for a while. For a while... It didn't mean forever. She wouldn't calm down and this would only be something temporary. It was like a stone hitting the void. It didn't make any noise. Neither of them had a speech connected to that of the other and yet they continued to speak along the same lines. She was there for a reason and then she wanted to get away as far away as possible. Even the bottom of the Caladan Sea seemed more welcoming and inviting than that room suffused with light. While he wanted to try to convince her to stay, in his room and in his life. Not that she had that much choice involved but he still wanted her to want him at least a little.

He took another step and then another and another, towards her, in silence. But she walked away again and again and again. The steps were shaky and the possibility that he might fall could not be ruled out. You can really be cruel my lady... especially to me. "Paul seemed to like to point out how his cutting words lost their sharpness in her presence, lacing his words with terrible sarcasm. She tripped over something and fell sitting on the boy's bed. She couldn't know what, but he figured it was Paul's fault. It was always his fault even when it wasn't, in his eyes.

She didn't know exactly how she ended up there, at one end of the room, opposite from where she was. How many steps had he taken without looking around? When she had lost herself too deeply in Paul's eyes and the hatred she felt for him.

"I hate you. He laughed at the confirmation of her words. This was hate. A pathetic hate that suits him beautifully. "I know. He moved closer to her face, leaving little space between them, so much so that each breath brushed the skin of their faces. The woman's (color) eyes were wide open looking for a solution, a clue or some glimmer, in the eyes of her future husband. Any spark but nothing. He was as impassive and unreadable as he always had been, and it terrified her. As in their first meetings, as in their first meeting. "What do you want in exchange? After a long silence lady (name) decided to speak. Usually during their exchanges of words there was never talk of exchanges or mediations. Neither of them would have given up something to have another. Especially (name ).

"Stay. It was decidedly generic in response and the girl found herself impatient with such indulgence. If it had only been one night it might even be a good deal. If it was moving her rooms into Paul's for his last stint here in Caladan before returning home to make wedding preparations, it was excessive but she could still give it to him. She had asked for a very high price after all, as much as she herself didn't want to admit it. But if you mean for his whole life it was too much. However cruel and cold she may have been, she had always kept her word and for this reason she rarely made promises, especially when she didn't want to or couldn't keep them.

"Everything but this.

“Take it or leave it, (name).”

[lemonwisp]

Okay folks here is my honest review of season 4 of the umbrella academy (not that it matters but this is from a person who’s obsession runs so deep I started a meme page for this show, I started making edits because of this show, I found out how to label my sexuality because of this show, after season 1 I bought all the comics and then I also bought the you look like death comics when they came out, I have nearly every funko pop (rip hazel and cha cha when I get you and when I get young Ben my collection will be complete) I love this show more than words can describe)

I was expecting it to be bad, in the way that season 3 was bad, and it wasn’t bad in that way, however there was still some awful cgi (tua really shows me that shows can have wonderful and awful cgi at the same time)

I enjoyed the first episode and became hopeful when Klaus got the dog tags but then he doesn’t even put them on despite keeping them. I loved Klaus’s friendship with Claire, I liked Luther acting like a golden retriever. Blah blah blah. I liked Diego and the piñata and the fact they called their firstborn Grace was really sweet

However the continuity errors in this season really bothered me. At the end of season 3 Klaus still has the dog tags and temple tattoo, in the promotional picture Klaus has the temple tattoo, yet in the show it wasn’t there.

The plot hole of Sloane not being there (I know realistically when Allison told Reggie the timeline she wanted she was being selfish but still)

Also the thing about Lila and hating bracelets totally goes back on the fact that Diego got her one in season 2 and she wore it all the time.

THE FACT IT TOOK THEM SO LONG TO GET TO MAINE BUT WHEN PEOPLE JUST WALKED OFF THEY GOT BACK TO THEIR HOUSES AND STUFF SO FAST

The fact Ray leaving was mentioned only twice and we never got more information on that.

The fact that Klaus pulled the lovers card and Dave didn’t come back! The fact Klaus had time to try to summon Dave and just didn’t. Klaus writing STOP on their hand and then that just disappearing. Also Klaus’s PTSD just not being shown anymore.

I’m not even going to talk about the Lila and Five situation because I’m so unbelievably angry about it. I’m obviously angry about Dave not being mentioned at all.

Also I thought Klaus being a medium was clever but also then it just turned into them being used and idk I just want Klaus to be happy

Also Ben this season was funny, but I just miss brelly Ben so much.

And while they were in the subway station I was waiting for Brelly ben to show up because the scene in season 3 of Ben BEING ON A TRAIN! I was like oh that must be brelly ben, like that’s where he went after turning into swiss cheese and then they’d get him and have him face sparrow Ben or something.

And after all of the lead up to how Ben originally died and it just being that Reggie killed him. I feel like that wasn’t that big of a shock value because Reginald seems like the type to do that. I also feel like it was kind of boring. But I did appreciate the fact the young cast were in season 4

Also I’m not saying Jennifer should have died but they said only one of them needed to die and I know it’s selfish to want Ben to live and I felt bad for Jennifer it’s just I didn’t really grow attached to her

I understand why it ended the way it did but also am upset with the ending. I admit the marigolds at the end were cute, but even though I know it’s self indulgent to wish for this I just wanted them to be happy. Or even if the ending was just like a time loop and it restarted back to season 1 would have made me feel a bit more satisfied.

I don’t know, it’s just that I’ve grown up watching tua, I’ve spent five years of my life hyperfixating on this show, and it feels like the actors care about their characters and the writers do not.

However I’m so glad I got to be part of this journey with all the other TUA fans, I thank everyone who supported my meme page I have on Instagram, who makes fan art, fan fiction, and edits about the show and comics, everyone who cares about TUA, and I’m sorry that it ended the way that it did because frankly seeing the fans care more about the characters than the writers hurts. Knowing the injustices done to the characters hurts, but I’m glad I’m not alone when I say season four kinda fucking sucked.

EDIT: NOT TO EVEN MENTION IN SEASON 3 BEN KEPT DRAWING JENNIFER THEN THAT WAS NEVER MENTIONED IN SEASON 4 and CLAIRE KNEW KLAUS WAS IMMORTAL LIKE WHEN DID SHE FIND THAT OUT

[15-lizards]

About your daughters of the mountain au any ideas for how they fare during asoiaf from the rebellion to their father's technical demise at oberyns hand or would he leave them behind at the cleganes' keep? Their interactions with most of the characters like would they become ladies in waiting only to unsettle the fuck out of sansa & arya? What if they sadly ran into of Joffrey?

Welcome into me and @sshireens mind palace 😋🩵 tw abuse of all kinds

Longggg post below whoops!

So I originally created them to be foils to Sansa and Arya, so they’re around their ages and thus weren’t alive during the rebellion. They spent most of their miserable lives either being kept away in cleganes keep or going to kings landing when it was time for a tourney or some other court business when Gregor remember they existed and would take them along. Not bc he wanted to actually bring them to court but more bc he wanted them to remember that they were his property he could bring anywhere without warning.

Their lives suck ass either way but marginally less so in kings landing. Mostly because there were more people around and so he couldn’t exactly knock their teeth out and bruise their faces without some mildly reprimanding looks from Tywin. Also the keep is too big to navigate at night to try and find their rooms so he doesn’t even bother. And he gets pissed if people stare if he verbally abuses them in public. So he has some small bit of restraint. Which is like paradise for Dagmar and Iva

Also the girls are pretty stunted socially, so most of their interactions both at home and away are at the least embarrassing and stiff and at their worst an egregious social taboo. At home, there’s not that many other people, just their masochist rapist murder dad’s friends and a few servants and working families. So social interaction consists of very hushed and fearful lessons from whatever poor septa or septon Tywin forced to go to Cleganes keep and leering from the mountains men. The only kids their age were a couple servant’s children and such but Dagmar accidentally beat the kennel boy so hard when he grabbed Iva’s skirt that she killed him or gave him serious brain damage you can pick. God forbid a girl be a highly reactive and abused guard dog. 🙄

People in kings landing think they’re a couple of freaks for the most part. Cersei thinks they’re amusing to observe like little specimen in a Petri dish but also doesn’t let them get within five feet of her in case Dagmar tries to lunge or something. Joffrey thinks everything they do is hilarious and begs his mom to let him have them as his own personal freak show. Tyrion feels bad for their situation but also does nothing to actually help. He’s so kind 🫶. Jamie thinks they’re stinky and gross and doesn’t actually think ab them beyond making bitchy comments with Cersei when they see them. Robert would rather not see them but did try to be nice to Iva once. She ran away. Stannis thinks they need to be euthanized for their own good. Varys and Littlefinger both tried to use them for their gay little schemes once but soon realized that a neither a selective mute who curls into a ball at the nearest sign of danger and doesn’t retain information that well as a trauma response or her antisocial emotionally disregulated abuse victim sister prone to violent and disproportional outbursts would be all that good as spies

Sandor has the most complicated feelings about them. Dagmar is literally him and Iva was his Sansa before Sansa. He wished someone would put them out of their misery and simply believed they were too weak to survive. He simultaneously didn’t have any tolerance for the way they acted but also knew exactly what sort of abuses they were facing that made them act like that. Thinking about it too long makes him want to kill his brother but he knows he can’t kill his brother so instead he just sometimes thinks about killing them so they don’t need to suffer anymore. It’s the kindest thing he can think to do. As they get older Sandor starts feeling a modicum of guilt for not protecting them more and does what he can to keep them out of harms way. Giving Dagmar her first real knife, which they both know wouldn’t do anything against Gregor, but it was the thought that counted and besides, Dagmar could always stab herself with it. Taking the girls in the middle of the night to some filthy street in flea bottom and tucked them in an ally (that he stood guard in front of) that they spent all night shivering in because he knew Gregor was on the prowl in the red keep. Making Iva sit on his lap during feasts so that the mountains men would think that she was “taken” and she wouldn’t have to be victim to their prying hands. Letting Dagmar get shitfaced drunk for the first time when she was old enough (12) because she thinks Gregor broke a rib and really wants to forget about it. World’s best uncle everyone.

Anywho by the time of the original story, I imagine that they meet Arya and Sansa in kings landing. Of course Sansa is grossed out by both of them but also pities them, while Arya idolizes Dagmar. Iva definitely follows Arya around (to her mild annoyance) bc Arya collect freaks and misfits and outcasts like Pokémon. Sansa tries to reform them to no avail and Arya can’t get on Dagmars good side either. However once shit hits the fan they all remember each other with almost fondness.

Dagmar reallllly reminds Sansa of the hound and Sansa realllly reminds Dagmar of Iva (if she was less horrifically abused) so there’s lots of parallelisms there. They have a weird bonding moment so when Sansa slips away after Joffrey dies Dagmar kind of sort of misses her in her own weird way.

When the WOT5K really gets underway, they are moved back and forth between clegane keep and kings landing, officially being shut up in kings landing when Robb starts taking the westerlands. Bc even though they are horribly broken little girls who can’t function properly, they are still Gregor’s heirs and property, so he dumps them there to protect his assets. It’s actually almost nice for them bc Gregor is constantly off campaigning and you never know he could die this time around. They can just be majorly codependent in quiet corners of the castle in peace.

However he does in fact come back each time. And then Oberyn steps up to challenge him and Dagmar, for the first time in her life, seriously believes she might be rid of him. And it is all so close!!!! Even after the fights over and Oberyns skull is akin to a crushed watermelon her dad has till been copiously poisoned so not all hope is lost. Except he keeps hanging on. And he just won’t fucking die and doesn’t look like he’ll ever. He’ll come back from the dead just to loom over her and Iva for the rest of their lives. And Dagmar literally drags Iva to the top of the red keep and stands there for hours debating on jumping off or not.

Yayyyyy

[lightofraye]

The reason(s) I’m anti-Danneel

Hello all!

This is actually my first official anti-Danneel post as opposed to reblogging an anti post or responding to anons who somehow found me.

First, a note: some of what I'm posting are reposts from other now defunct/deactivated Tumblrs that I was able--thanks to the Wayback Machine and/or Tumblr preserving the reblogs with information--so whenever possible, I will credit the original authors. It's because of them that I was able to find out all the crap Danneel had done and the evidence.

If it's a "Jensen said this", don't ask me where precisely, because there are way too many cons, panels, interviews. Just trust that Jensen did say it, okay?

Now... to begin with the biggest crime to lay at Danneel's feet: Abuse.

So I'm going to preface this with a content warning/trigger warning. If you are bothered by description of abuse, even emotional abuse, I advise you to skip. I will not be held responsible for how upsetting this might get. You've been warned.

Now to begin! Here's the issues I've noticed (and others). Hat tip to @taraslittlecorner (now defunct/deactivated) for the original post that I was thankfully able to find on the Wayback Machine.

I'll add a cut here because it's going to get long!

Public Humiliation:

Jensen eating gummy bears. This post was made as a public stab at Jensen for the amount of gummy bears he was eating. It was a stab at not only his eating habits/weight, but it was also a stab at him being greedy or gluttonous.

Jensen on the carousel. Another stab at Jensen about his weight.

The whole AD house tour is full of stabs at Jensen. She takes a swipe at everything from him not wanting to change the children’s diapers, not cleaning the toilets, not cooking, and not being able to organize or clean behind himself. (There’s a lot of sketchy things in that video as well.) She even made fun of him for being proud of his side of the closet for being tidy.

Jensen didn't cry at the birth of his children. Yet another attempt at making an important, emotional moment in Jensen’s life about her, as well making Jensen seem as if he is emotionless and detached from his family and children, and she’s the one that’s so sensitive.

The FBBC interview. Now, that interviewer sucked ass too, let’s not kid ourselves, that was one of the worst interviews I’ve ever seen in my life. Elta continually trying to make Jensen look lazy, saying that he didn’t smell good, saying that she was pregnant knowing it made him uncomfortable. All of this was with one goal, to humiliate him.

The gaslighting hairdresser. You will never convince me Elta put this woman up to posting this photoshopped, off guard, horrible pic of Jensen and herself, as well as disclosing the location of his family in order to make it look as if she’s been there the whole time when really she’s not. Jensen is very self conscious about his appearance, and this showed him in a bad light, again to humiliate him and make him look like a slob. (That seems to be her MO.)

(These are just the ones we’re all familiar with, but if you guys send more receipts you want to add to this I’d be glad to add them to it as a receipt collection.)

2. Controlling: This is another all day topic. Seriously, we could talk all day about how one can be considered controlling in a relationship, and Elta is no different. The biggest and most public thing that we can see is her constant control over his Social Media.

Now, we know good and damn well that she’s also doing this to hold up to her facade of a “happily married couple”, but it’s also a way of controlling his interactions with other women, (originally he was never allowed to follow women on Social Media; something that has recently changed since The Boys and Big Sky has happened), and to keep track of who he’s talking to and what he’s doing.

Access to one’s cellphone, email address, and other social media is almost as good as attaching a GPS onto a person. If she access his cloud, she can access everything from text messages he’s sent to his most recent emails to his employers.

I have some proof but it will take time to document all of them.

**For those SPN buffs out there. You will also notice that Dean got a whole lot less action between the sheets and with female guest stars after his wedding to Elta, and that’s not a coincidence.**

Jealousy, or extreme jealousy in Elta’s case, can also be the mark of an abuser. The NEED to maintain that state of control, and if he get’s attached to another woman that is paying him better attention, he may try and break things off with her.

3. Isolation: If you’ve noticed Jensen hardly sees his family anymore. He used to speak of his family often, now it’s rare that he’s ever seen with them. They usually have to come to Dallas Con just to see him, and the only actual evidence we have of Elta being there with them all in years is a sketchy ass post on Instagram of Thanksgiving a few years back. Jensen did take his dad, brother, and brother-in law to the Nascar event he recently attended. Other than that, there has been little to no evidence of contact with his family at all as the years progressed, and it’s gotten worse as the years pass of that “marriage.”

He also seems to have shorted his circle of friends to people she gets along with. Marcus, Steve, etc. And even on “vacations” it’s surrounded by her little group of mooching family members and friends: New Orleans, she brought her brother and mother, as well as Steve Carlson and Marcus. Marcus even attended the trip to Cali when they went to the Golden Globes after party.

If you really take time and look, he’s rarely seen with anyone that ELTA doesn’t get along with, or are friends with. He doesn’t even hang out with Jared outside of Canada like he used too, and that should raise suspicious eyebrows alone.

4. Hypersensitivity:

We’ve seen this in the countless attacks Elta, as well as her friends, feel the need to do to SPN fans, or anyone that questions the legitimacy of anything she does or post. I don’t have all of these anymore on hand, but will add the links if I can find them. She’s called fans “fat whores”, anti joker face used to have the receipts, they went on for a while. You don’t have to dig very deep to find this stuff people.

She’s even had Clif write long ass post in order to make it looks as if she’s been so targeted when she just really brings all this shit on herself. She feels threatened because somewhere deep down, she knows she’s doing wrong. You know how the old saying goes, the guilty dog barks? Well, Elta barks a lot.

Even Jensen can get a little defensive when they attack her at cons and to his face. He knows that if he doesn’t defend her, or trys to stand up for himself there will be repercussions. “I don’t tell my wife what to do. I’m not stupid, or suicidal.”

5. Unexplained injury, or weight-loss: Since about 2018, Jensen has progressively lost weight. To the point that the FBBC instagram page even removed the photo I used in this example because people were commenting on Jensen’s weightloss. They try to explain it away in marathon training, but we all know that’s not the case. The constant attacks she’s made against his weight are starting to show.

Every time Jensen has to quarantine with her he starts to look like death warmed over, weight drop, sickly looking skin color, (which is also a sign of malnutrition), and that dead look we can’t get seem to forget. Then we get him back to work, and it’s almost an immediate improvement.

Then there is the chunk that’s missing out of his nose now because of a nose injury that kept being explained in different instances at the same event as to how he even got it. It first appeared a day after the FBBC family reunion event that took place in May of 2018 in a post made by Elta of Jensen playing with the kids, and people thought it was just a breathe right strip.

If you look closely, you can even see that his eyes looked to be blacked, as if he’d somehow broken his nose.Once he got ot an event for Elta’s Limbo Jewelry line launch in NYC, he kept changing the story as to how he got said injury. First he told fans that he’d hurt it by hitting a pool wall while playing with his kids. Then he said he’d dropped a keg on it. Well, if you’ve ever worked for a bar or been around kegs you know those things are heavy, and that story is a blatant lie.

CONSTANTLY SHIFTING STORIES OF HOW AN INJURY OCCURRED ARE ONE HELL OF A RED FLAG PEOPLE!!

If it were Elta with the injury, and she kept changing the story as to how she got it, there would have been questions asked; but since Jensen is a man it was never looked into.

Take all these for what you will guys! It’s only my observations and opinions! You may not agree, but I know you all can agree that if Jensen were female, this conversation would have happened a LONG time ago.

Men can be victims of domestic abuse/violence, and the evidence is there! I’m sure there is more, and if you send it to me via submission, even if you want to keep quiet and not put your handle on there I will add the evidence to this post.

THIS MAN DESERVES BETTER!!