#have Got to be kinder to myself. Yes it's fucking Hard. But I deserve not just to Not Die but to Not Suffer.

[beetrans]

I am thinking about Who I Am outside of work and Productivity and academia and the like

and after today's Hospital Time I am reminded. that I'm actually a pretty happy person when I'm not buried in heaps upon heaps of stress and literal inescapable pain.

it is nice to be happy. Content. Experiencing the world and the many surprising everyday joys of life. doing something silly. Literally smelling the flowers (one from my Mystery Seeds smells so good -- phacelia tanacetifolia if my ID is right -- aka Bee's Friend! how lovely!!) and brushing my dog and making her hair look stupid and laying down in a comfy bed on a comfy pillow.

yes the Horrors creep in. I'm in a fuckin Bad work environment and family threats and all that. but I Have to find and hold onto the joy. If I cannot find it, I have to keep trying to create it. Building a life more worth living.

[pepperf]

2022 has been, well, let's say a continuation of the pandemic years for me. I'm a little lacking in emotional resilience these days, and I'm dragging myself over the line with the hopes that next year will be kinder. But it hasn't all been bad. I've had some amazing times with friends and family, I paddled in the sea with my nephew, I finally saw @bethanyactually again after so fucking long, and I've learned a few things. So I thought I'd do the counting my blessings thing, and look back on the good things this year.

2022 was the year that I…

Wrote nearly 200k words. That's over 500 words a day. That is two full-length novels. And I finished and posted about 130k of it on AO3, which—look, I've not been tracking it this way before now so I don't have the stats, but it's DEFINITELY a higher rate of finishing than I've had before. And @wheresmytowel deserves all my thanks for, oh, so much of that. I'm gradually figuring out what works for me in terms of completing stories, and I'm really happy with my progress on that front.

Discovered that armpit hair is cute. I'm serious. Look, I've given up shaving before, but I don't think I've stuck to my guns for this long, well, ever. But this summer, after my last trip to the beach with the family, I decided, to hell with it. And now it's all grown past the spiky stubble stage, and the beard-on-someone-who-can't-really-grow-a-beard stage, and it's kind of luxuriant and…goddamn it, it's fluffy. It is cute. Why is it always seen as a Statement or an insult, something strident and unfeminine and unkempt, when long hair is otherwise seen as an ultra-feminine attribute? I love my fluffy little pits, and legs, and bits. It's possible I'll chicken out when summer comes around again—but until then, I'll get a fond little 'yay' moment, every time I see the kitten fluff under my arms.

Decided that I didn't want the career I've got. This is a difficult one, but it's been a long time coming. A large part of why I am where I am comes from me trying to live up to the (impossible) legacy of my mother, and…okay, yes, I am also a firm believer in the value of public sector work and everyone pitching in to make the country and the world a better place. But I've been doing something along those lines for nearly 20 years now, and I'm kind of burnt out, ngl. And I'm sad to say, I might be done with the NHS. I truly believe in it, and I am loyal through and through, but…it's an increasingly hard place to work, and I don't think I have the mental stamina for it any more. Maybe once I've stepped away, and regrouped for a few years, I will come back. But at the moment, it's a really bad place to be for my mental health, and as a result of that, I'm doing an increasingly poor job of things that I used to find easy. So, I just need to stop, really, for everyone's sake, and do something different.

Started painting again. Slowly and cautiously. I started to think about it in the summer, and took some reference photos of some stuff I might like to paint—then a few months after that I got my easel down from dad's attic and took stock of my paint and brushes—then I dragged out one of my old canvases that never got properly used—and a couple of months ago I ordered some new paint—and applied a base layer to wipe off a painting that was haunting me with bad memories—and then applied another base layer to start building it up into something new…and, yeah, that's where I'm at. But it's a start, and it's more painting than I've done in a very, very long time, and I'm…cautiously excited.

Put some other tentative stakes in the ground for things I might want to do—job stuff, writing stuff, house stuff…all too much to do all at once, and it probably won't all happen next year, because I don't think I could handle that, but at least it feels like I'm not stagnating. Even if I need to remind myself of that, sometimes.

Jesus, I sound fragile. I am fragile, honestly, my confidence is easily knocked, and I'm anxious about a lot of stuff, and I feel like I keep having to gently lead myself along like a 90yo with a broken hip, and I've got things in the new year that I'm dreading (particularly job hunting, god help us—but I'm on a temp contract at the moment, so I don't have a choice). But…I'm getting there.

Here's to 2023.

[mypoisonedvine]

zemo arranged marriage where you always had a crush on him. he never paid you any attention and was always out of reach, so much more mature and older. you hear a rumor he's planning on ending the engagement, crushed you ask for just one night together so you'll at least the memories of him

so let’s not talk about how I wrote this advance and then accidentally posted it early and then had to delete it and was about to ask you to send the prompt again when I realized you sent it last week so I’m actually answering last week’s lmao

anyways this is super angsty and amazingly turned out sfw somehow

In typical fashion, you didn’t realize how desperately you loved him until you realized you could never have him.

Now that you were sobbing in the bedroom that you intended to share with him someday, you wondered how you ever could’ve thought you were lucky to be promised to him.  You were even younger and more naïve then, thinking that he could return your affections; but he was a man and you were just a girl.  Men had better things to worry about.

You’d been engaged nearly eight months now and you had barely had a conversation with your fiancé.  It made you cringe now to remember how desperate you’d been for his attention, juvenile in your repeated attempts to gain his favor.  It always backfired and he ended up further away than ever.

You gasped and jumped up when you heard the door open; he was standing there, staring at you, looking... impossible to read, as always.

“I didn’t realize you were in here,” he stated plainly.

“Well, I won’t be much longer,” you promised, defiantly wiping your tears and standing up from the bed.  “I’m going to make it easier for you, and just leave now.”

He tilted his head and you rolled your eyes.  “I hate when you do that.  Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I wish I did,” he defended.  “Have you been crying?”

“I heard you’re going to break it off,” you finally explained, and he sighed.

“Oh.”

You stormed to the dresser where you found your old luggage.  “I was just getting this, so I could pack my things from the guest room.”

It still killed you that you’d been sleeping alone in the guest room this whole time.

“I’d prefer that you didn’t leave like this,” he weakly protested, and when you tried to step past him to go back to your room, he blocked the door with his arm.

“Let me out,” you frowned.

“Not yet,” he shook his head.  “Clearly you have more to say.  I want you to say your piece before you go.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Something about the way he said it-- stern but patient, as collected as ever-- just made you fucking lose it.  How dare he be so calm as he threw you away?  How dare he ask you for anything?

You roughly shoved him in the chest, knocking him back into the hallway where you cornered him, tossing your bag aside.  “You want my piece?  Is that it?  After eight months of hell, you want to hear what I have to say?  Whatever happened to ‘stay quiet and we shouldn’t bother each other’?  What about ‘I don’t need your opinion and I have no desire for it’?  Do you remember saying those things to me?”

He nodded, “I remember.”

“For the better part of a year I had so much to say to you and no opportunity.  I wanted to tell you that I loved you, that I loved you before we were even engaged and that I’ve never loved anyone else.  I wanted to tell you how I longed for you, how much it killed me to sleep alone, how the only thing worse than imagining you alone, too, was imagining that you had someone else and that was why you kept me so far away.  I wanted to tell you that I thought myself so lucky to be your betrothed, that I dreamed of nothing more than to be your wife and that I couldn’t wait to have a family with you-- to be a family with you.”

Even though you’d been crying all day already, somehow these tears hurt the most.

“You wouldn’t even let me tell you ‘good morning.’  You’re kinder to the house staff.  Maybe that’s the worst thing... that you’re not a cruel man at all, not to anyone else, it’s just me that you hate so much.  You wouldn’t even let me tell you that I missed you.  And now... now you have the audacity to ask me what I want to say to you?!”

He looked back at you, not exactly as shocked or hurt or angry as you would’ve hoped... yes, a little stunned, but still so painfully calm.  Even now, he couldn’t give you the satisfaction of a reaction.  He just stood there, stoic and silent, like he was waiting for you to do something.  You’d never been so angry, so hurt, all at once.

“I only have one thing to say to you, Helmut,” you finished coldly.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Guess.”

He thought for a moment.  “You’re going to tell me to go fuck myself, I presume.”

You scoffed.  “Yeah, something like that.”

As you started to turn and walk down the hall in search of your bedroom to pack, his voice stopped you.  “There isn’t anyone else,” he told you.  “I slept alone.”

You knew you shouldn’t turn back, but you couldn’t help yourself.  For once he looked a little affected by it all, his expression softer and his hair having fallen out of its style and down into his face slightly.

“I longed for you, too,” he admitted, making your breath catch in your throat, “I should’ve told you, but if you turned me away I’d never recover from the heartbreak.  I thought maybe I could keep you here just to look at you, even if I couldn’t touch you or hold you... but it was too hard.  That’s why I wanted to end the engagement, to give you a chance to be with someone who could care for you like you deserved.”

His cowardice should’ve angered you and yet you began to calm down, especially as he stepped closer.  His hand reached for your arm, just the gentlest touch and it still made your heart skip.  

“I’ve been so cruel to you.  I hope if you leave now, you won’t hate me forever,” he breathed.  “Because I think I’ll love you all my life.”

Before you could stop yourself, you stood up on your toes and pulled him into a kiss, sudden and perhaps a little desperate, but relatively conservative considering how much more you really wanted.  He kissed you back, gently, just for a moment, as you felt his hands rest on your waist.

But then he pulled back and it was all over before it really began.  You didn’t open your eyes at first, afraid to see him for the last time.  “Just one night,” you whispered under your breath.

“Hm?” he asked, and you found the courage to blink your eyes open.

“Just one night,” you requested again, “to remember you by.  I’ve never wanted anyone else.”

He sighed and kissed you again, quickly, before shaking his head.  “I can’t give you that.”

Well, he’d managed to do it; he’d managed to break your heart a thousand times each day and get one twist of the knife in before he sent you away.

“I can’t just have one night,” he continued.  “If you let me hold you, I’ll never let you go.”

You breathed out shakily.  “Is that a promise?”

He smiled and trailed his fingers over yours, resting his touch on the diamond on your ring finger, the one he gave you when it all began.  “You were already promised to me.  I think it’s only fair I finally keep up on my end of the deal.”

And this time when he kissed you, it didn’t feel like a goodbye.  It felt like the beginning you’d been waiting all this time for, it felt like the chance to say everything you never did before.  And instead of one last night, you got everything you ever wished for.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

🎁🔥GUESS WHO?🔥🎁

Prompt: Y/N’s first day back to work from her vacation is also coincidentally her birthday, as the day goes by, one mysterious box is placed on her work table. The content of it is a devious surprise and Y/N needs to find out who is the mysterious person who dared to give her such a kinky birthday present.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, bondage(handcuffs), use of a vibrator, fingering, rough sex, mentions of voyeurism, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, cursing.

My Roman lovers: @ziasaph, @reigns-5sos, @mindofasagittaruis

Notes: What a better way to start 2021, then with a Roman kinky fic?! I wish you all a Happy New Year loves, may 2021 be kinder to us all. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Happy birthday, to you..” I turn around to the sound of a person singing, just to see Sasha Banks holding a chocolate cupcake and a present bag on her hands.

“Hi Sasha.” I smiled

“Happy birthday babe!” Sasha ran up to me, placing the cupcake on my working table and hugging me tightly.

“Thanks Sasha”

This was my first day back from my vacation, and coincidentally it was also my birthday, so I was excited to see some of the good friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a chiropractor.

“Here this is for you!” Sasha handed me a present bag.

“Oh Sasha, you really didn’t have to-“

“Shush! I love you, so of course I would pamper you on your birthday” Sasha said as I opened the bag to find a pair of Louboutin’s I had my eyes on for quite sometime, but couldn’t afford it.

“Sasha, are you insane? I can’t accept these! It’s way too expensive!” I gasped

“I am perfectly sane, you will accept these and I don’t care if you think they’re too expensive! I love you, you’re one of my best friends in this company and a human being with a heart made of gold. So if there is someone who deserves these is you” She happily said

“Sasha, I don’t even know how to thank you enough” I whispered with tears on my eyes

“Just say you will be my friend forever babe” She winked

“I don’t need presents to be your friend love”

“That’s why I gave it to you. I don’t care how much they cost, I just want to make my best friend happy on her birthday”

I hugged her and whispered ‘thank you’ on her ear

“So, who else has came here today?” She asked

“Oh! Bayley, Charlotte, Xavier, Kofi, Cesaro, Big E, Alexa, Naomi, Jey, Becky, Seth, Finn, Renee and Dean” I said, listing my close friends

“I was the last one then? Damn it!”

“It’s ok, I know you were busy today love”

“So...no Roman?” She whispered

“No, no Roman” I answered slightly disappointed.

Sasha along with Bayley and Renee were the only 3 people who knew about my stupid crush on Roman Reigns. It’s so stupid of me to think that a man like him would ever look at someone like me.

If he would ever look at someone on this company, it wouldn’t be the thick girl who worked as a chiropractor and yes one of the beautiful toned Divas of this company.

But still I couldn’t help but daydream about having him on top of me.

“Maybe he doesn’t know it’s your birthday?” Sasha tried to make it less uncomfortable

“Really Sasha? He’s friends with Dean! Everybody knows Dean is an open mouth, loud as fuck and can’t keep it to himself not even if his life depended on it...Roman just chose to ignore it, and it’s fine. We’re not close or anything so, I wasn’t expecting him to show up at my office door and fuck me on top of this table” I lied while chuckling weirdly

“Let’s be honest babe, everybody secretly wants Roman Reigns to fuck them on top of a table!” We both laughed at her statement before she continued “It’s his loss anyways babe”

“Yeah I guess so...”

I was making my way back to my office, from the women’s locker room, when a big black box with a golden ribbon called my attention on top of my desk.

“What the hell?” I said as I approached the box carefully. All of my closest friends had already wished me a happy birthday and gave me their presents so this was, to say the least, weird and unexpected.

I saw a blood red card on top of it, so I opened to find the handwritten saying

‘I hope these will make your birthday night unforgettable. Can you guess who’ve bought these for you? ;)’

Ok, that’s pretty fucking weird! I thought

From the corner of my eye I saw Sasha passing by and loudly whispered

“Sasha! Come here”

She entered my office “What’s up girl? Are you ok? You look scared”

I closed my office door and locked, and made my way back to the table by her side.

“Ok, I’m feeling a little paranoid. I just came back to my office to find this box and this card. Here” I handed the card to her and she red silently.

“Did you look what’s inside of it?” Sasha said

“Nope. And to be honest I don’t know if I can..what if it’s like a prank or something?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out Y/N”

She opened the box, inside of it there was a fancy red paper, I took it out of the way to reveal what was underneath it and I tell you I almost passed out.

Inside the box there was a lavender and purple (my favorite colors) vibrator, it was actually pretty cute...two pairs of handcuffs, lube, nipples clamps and a whip.

“Oh my gosh” Sasha gasped as she took the clamps on one hand and the whip on the other. “Someone wants to get kinky with you girl!” She examined the items carefully

“What in the actual fuck?” I whispered shocked “Give me that!” I took the items out of her hand, shoved back into the box and quickly closed with the black lid.

“Jesus, I can get fired if someone sees that in my office! Who the hell would do that?”

“Someone who wants to get some! And wants it rough” She chuckled

“Sasha it’s not funny! I could not have a job tomorrow morning if someone from the company found these”

“Who do you think did this?” She asked seriously

“How am I supposed to know? I have no fucking clue!”

“Maybe someone who’s name starts with an R...” She smirked

“R?... What ar-... Oh hell no! Nu uh, that’s impossible!” She couldn’t be implying that Roman was behind this, was he? No! Of course not, that’s a dumb thing to think of...but a part of me wished it was him, even though I know it wasn’t.

“Why impossible? You’re a gorgeous woman Y/N! You two would make a beautiful couple, plus, I‘ve seen his handwriting before and I’m pretty sure it’s quite similar to this one” She said as she inspected the card closely.

“Obviously someone wants to make fun out of me, so I’ll just pretend this never happened” I took the card out of her hand and shoved inside the box.

“Or someone has an eye on you for a while and decided to finally make a move”

“Sasha, please don’t tell this to anyone”

“Your secret is safe with me babe. Just promise that when your secret admirer finally show up, you’ll tell me if you guys made a good use of his presents” She laughed

“You’re the worst!” I laughed along

I made my way back to my hotel room later that evening with my hands so full of packages I could barely walk. I opened the door and carefully placed the bags, along with the black box, on the floor.

I went to the bed and sat down on the edge, while I stared at the box.

*Could Sasha be right? Could it be Roman who did this?* Was the only thought that crossed my mind

I decided to forget all about it and take a shower to wash off the day.

As I was rinsing my hair I heard some noise coming from the bedroom

*What the hell was that?*

I blamed on my super active mind and turned the shower off.

I got changed into some clean oversized t- shirt, and went full on commando. I was brushing my damp hair, when I decided to lay out the contents of the black box on the bed.

I roamed my eyes on each item slowly, until they stopped on the lavender and purple happiness. I turned the vibrator on and felt slightly tempted to use it.

*Oh fuck it! Happy birthday to me I guess”

I got rid of the t-shirt and lay down on the bed naked.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind imagine my wet dream, in form of a man... his face, his body, his cock and how I wish I could feel it inside of me, stretching me as I teased my clit with the vibrator.

I moaned Roman’s name and heard someone clear their throat on the foot of the bed. My eyes shot open and my heart nearly stopped beating when I saw who was in front of me. The vision was so unexpected that I even forgot I was naked.

“I see you liked my gift then” He smirked

“Wh- What are you doing here? How did you get inside of my room?” I whispered

“Does it matter?” His eyes had an evil glimpse to it

“Roman... I- I can explain” I begin to stutter

He placed his index finger on his lips in a shh motion and I stopped talking. He hungrily stared at every inch of my naked body, making me feel quite self conscious of the imperfections of it. I grabbed the blanket to cover my nakedness, he notice what I was about to do and yanked the blankets off the bed

“I’ve been waiting for years to see you like this, so don’t you dare cover yourself from me now”

He took off his shirt and pants leaving only his boxers on, from where I was laying I could see the outline of his hard cock and the wet spot of pre cum near of it’s head. He crawled on top of me slowly, like a predator, with dangerous eyes that were glued to my own.

“At first I was only gonna watch you... I wanted to see you pleasure yourself with my gifts, but when I saw your body fully naked on this bed moaning my name” He grunted “I couldn’t control myself, I couldn’t see this” He took the vibrator off my hand and placed on the bed by our side “Having all the fun with you, enjoying every part of your beautiful body, stretching your sweet pussy while my own cock only got to watch, he wants to have his own fun with you baby girl. He wants to make you feel real good” He leaned closer to my face, his lips brushing mine as he asked “Do you want that Y/N? Do you want my cock to make you feel good? Do you want it to stretch you out baby? Do you want it to fuck you hard and rough? Or do you prefer it slow and sweet? Do you want me to fuck you from behind?...Or maybe I should eat you out first huh? Eat that sweet pussy until you’re begging me to stop, I can’t wait to feel you come on my mouth...around my cock,milking it really nice” He growled “Tell me Y/N, what do you want?”

“I want it all, I want everything” I panted as he dry humped me

“Will you let me do whatever I want with you baby girl? What I’ve always wanted to do?”

“Yes”

He smiled satisfied, leaning to kissed me roughly and sloppily as he grabbed both of my wrists into one of his big hands pining it over my head.

“If anything I do bothers you or you feel like your not feeling it or don’t like it, you let me know ok?”

I nodded

“I need words baby girl”

“Yes, I understand”

“Good” He smiled and I felt something cold close around my wrists. I looked up to see the handcuffs around my wrists being closed on the headboard of the bed. Roman sat up and looked down do my naked body at his disposal.

“Fuck, you’re such a gorgeous sight” He said as he palmed his hard cock through his boxers. “I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside you” He panted

“Roman, please do something” I whispered

His hands roamed the sides of my body until he stopped at my breasts as his hands squeezed them hard while pinching my nipples.

“These were made just for me. Do you see how they perfectly fit my hands? I can only imagine how even more beautiful your breasts will look with my cock sliding in between them” His eyes were glued on my breasts.

I tugged at my handcuffed hands, begging “Roman, please, I need- something”

“Let’s take a look on this pussy...are you wet for me Y/N?”

“Soaked”

He raised his eyebrows “Really? Let‘s see” Two of his fingers slides through my folds “Fuck baby girl, you are soaked. Jesus, we won’t even need lube” His fingers traced lazy circles around my clit, making me moan in pleasure. One callused finger slipped inside of me.

“Oh baby girl, you’re so tight, fuck I will barely be able to move. I can’t wait to feel your sweet little pussy stretch around my cock”

He took his finger out and cleaned with his tongue, humming in pleasure to the taste of my juices.

“You taste amazing, Y/N. Fuck I need more” He slide down my body placing his head between my thighs. His tongue gave a long lick from my entrance to my clit sucking it. Making his way back to my entrance again dipping his tongue inside of me, beginning to fuck me with his tongue.

“Oh my god, Roman, please fuck me! I need you inside of me please” I whined

“As you wish baby” He smirked

He slides his cock through my folds to lube it up, then places the head of his cock at my entrance

“Are you sure about this baby girl? ‘Cause once I start I won’t be able to stop myself”

“Roman, just fuck me already would you?” I said impatiently

He chuckled lightly saying “Easy tiger, we’ll take this slow, I don’t want to hurt you” Roman leaned down to peck my lips and returned to his previous position.

He started to slowly slide inside of me, inch by inch, painfully slow. He’s the biggest man I’ve ever been with, so I knew that we needed to take it slow, but fuck he feels so good I just wish he would roughly thrust into me, so I wiggle my hips to take more of him.

“Fuck Y/N, slow down! You’re too tight and I’m not exactly small, if you keep rushing things you’re gonna end up hurting yourself and I don’t want that”

“I know is just that your cock feels so fucking good, I just want you to fuck me Ro”

“Trust me baby, there’s nothing that I want more then fuck you senseless, but I want you to enjoy it as well ok?” He kissed my nose then my lips

When all of him was finally inside of me we both moaned loudly, I’ve never felt so full before and it was both a dream and a nightmare

“Motherfucker! Jesus fuck Y/N, you’re so fuckin- Oh my god.. I gotta focus ‘cuz I feel like at the slightest move I’ll cum” He pressed his forehead to mine as his thumb slowly traced circles on my clit.

“Roman” I gasped “Please don’t tease me like that, fuck it feels so fucking good” I cried as I felt my walls tighten around him

“Oh fuck!” Roman growled loudly “Don’t do that baby girl, don’t squeeze my cock like that, you’re gonna make m-“

“Move,please” I circled my hips

“Fuck it” He said as he forcefully grabbed my hips and begin to quickly thrust me.

“Oh Roman...harder, I need harder”

“Harder?” He chuckled “Like this?” He pounded into me mercilessly

“Yes! Just like that, oh please, don’t stop” “Fuck Y/N you’re going to get me addicted to you baby girl” He kissed my lips vigorously

“I say we should push you a little further..” Roman took the vibrator from the bed and placed on my clit.

“Ooohhh”

“Fuck, you look so beautiful baby girl, a whimpering mess underneath me”

“Ro- Roman I’m gonna cum”

“Cum baby, I wanna feel you cum around my cock”

And I did. My orgasm was so hard that my juices made a mess on Roman’s thighs and the bedsheets.

“Y/N, fuck baby...so fucking gorgeous, my messy girl” He chuckled “Where do you want me to cum baby?”

“Inside” I panted while I felt another mini orgasm come through me

“Fuck, I’m officially addicted to you baby girl. You’re my wet dream come true...gorgeous face, delicious body, perfect pussy..so tight for me. And on top of it all, you want my cum inside of you?! You are beyond perfect Y/N”

He thrusts into me 3 more times before finally cum, filling me up with his seed.

As we tried to recover our breaths, Roman uncuffed my wrists and placed a sweet kiss into each one.

“You ok baby girl?”

“Mhmm” I hummed

“Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?”

“No, of course not. You were perfect!”

“Good baby” He smiled

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing baby”

“Why? Why me?”

“Why not you?” He asked sincerely while he brushed my hair with his fingers

“I don’t know, I can’t picture someone like you with someone like me.. I mean, there are so many beautiful women in the company that fit you better...I’ve never thought you could find me attractive”

“Are you serious? Have you looked yourself in the mirror? You’re gorgeous, so perfect Y/N. Yes, there are beautiful women in the company but they’re nothing compared to you baby. You stand out, exactly because you’re different from all of them. You’re unique”

“Still...I don’t know..”

“Oh so you don’t believe me? Maybe I’ll have to show you then”

I could feel his cock beginning to harden on my thigh

“Show me? How?”

“Well baby girl, good thing there are more items of the box for us to try it huh?”

“Us?”

“Yeah, you don’t really think that I’m gonna let you go right? Now that I’ve tasted you, you’ve got me hooked baby. We’ve got the whole night for me to change your mind about us together. And I bet you that I will” He smirked as he leaned down to kiss my neck...

What a great way to celebrate my birthday 🎁

[sour-n-salty-citrus]

Do you have any hopes for the season finale? I saw in another ask, you described the dynamic between rick and morty this season as "very weak, distant, and downright frankly boring" and I completely agree with you! I hope that, because this is most we'll see rick and morty interacting this season, it'll have at least a few moments of what makes their dynamic so interesting to watch.

(Ok i started airing my grievances with this season, which ended up being... long, so skip this paragraph (starting at / / /) to get to my thoughts on the finale)

Oh gosh I remember that ask (I think-). And yeah, maybe I'm being a bit overly critical. I'll probably look back on this season with retrospect, and a kinder, fonder view. Ik androgynousblackbox (think thats right) made a great point about it being the season FOR rickorty shippers. And sure, I agree on some bits, like Rick acting all pissy and partying the way you would if your ex got with someone new in the planetina ep. Overall though, i think my problem lies in that I was enjoying more individual moments than episodes themselves, especially the middle three. For example- Amortycan Grickfitti. Like, I really liked the idea of the Ship getting on a crazy adventure with Summer and Morty (and Chutback). I like the idea of a Beth-Jerry-Rick adventure. But put together, it's just kinda... meh? You know? I liked the first half of the Thanksgiving special... but it kinda dragged on after that. I get that they want to give other characters (particularly female ones) more attention, which is completely understandable and i encourage it(!) but I can't help but find it underwhelming. Like, Summer in the voltron ep was like- girl how are you STILL vying for Rick's attention! He's the worst! Haven't we done this already? (I will say though I ADORE how far Beth has come, props to her for continuing to seeing through her dad's BS. I was worried the character would relapse into a more typical s1/s2 Beth, and I'm glad she didn't). Some of these plots, funnily enough, seem more fitting of the comics (they actually had a voltron parody already). Fun and entertaining for two or three-something issues, not so much a 22 minute episode. i think most of my complaints come from the dynamic between our titular characters- ok, I know I'm very biased (I mean you can see it), but I came to the show primarily for their relationship. It doesn't even feel drama-fueled, just that they kinda... can't be arsed. I'm torn because on the one hand, they're unhealthily codependent and this separation is probably a good thing, but on the other... it doesn't feel natural? I'm not sure if that's the right word- it's like, season 4 had them practically joint at the hip, but all that's suddenly flung out the window. It just kinda feels like this "i got better things to do" vibe from both of them and its strange. The only time they both got a solo adventure (I'm classifying "solo" as an adventure where they spent a significantly large portion of time together, without the other family members) was in the sperm ep and Thanksgiving ep. And, well, in the Thanksgiving ep Morty felt like a side character in his own show, and the sperm ep... um. Yeah. I don't think it's AS bad as people were saying, but I was cringing the whole time (the second hand embarrassment for Morty was so strong I had to turn off the episode multiple times and return to it. It's just like- godammit MORTY). And I think there's good reason those two seemed to be the most disliked episodes overall. They're the ones RaM spend the most time together and it's... meh. Meh? Meh. I don't mean to say the season overall is bad (it has loads of good points, and its amazing for Smith family as a whole) just that if we're talking specifically about the dynamic between these two? Yeah, I wouldn't recommend a single episode from this season so far to use as an example of their relationship.

/ / /

There's one thing this season has been pretty good at, though. And it's showing us what happens when Rick is alone.

And that brings me to the finale.

"Who is Rick without Morty?"

Well... we already know the answer to that. Pathetic. Sad. Lonely.

This season has been phenomenal in humbling Rick. (And trust me I'm happy for it- every time someone beats the crap outta this shitty old man I'm like YES!!! IT'S WHAT HE DESERVES!). Ep 1 had his "nemesis" clearly besting him, ep 2 had Beth making constant digs (love her) and overall pointing out his extreme callousness and cruelty towards even himself(ves). Ep 3- when Morty shows interest in a girl and ditches him (like seriously it's not like he's moving out, chill) he immediately goes on a bender and develops a deep attachment to the first person he can (wearing yellow, funnily enough). Ep 4, he devotes himself to becoming an "honest man" for his new child, only for it to instantly be taken away from him. Ep 5 highlights how RICK is the asshole for making fun of and taking advantage of someone well-meaning and honest, if "simple", and how literally not cool that is. Ep 6 has his crazy rivalry with the president, and they both get smacked down a couple pegs for that. Ep 7 shows what happens when he allows himself to get carried away, and that he can end up driving everyone else away in the process (lucky they still wanted to save his ass when he needed them). And episode 8? Hooooo boy. Episode. 8. We see a direct parallel in Birdperson with Morty, and the whole "Rick and [insert] 100 years!" Rick has few people he cares about, arguably only one or two that he truly devotes himself to, but when he does, boy does he go HARD. We see younger Rick, optimistic, energetic, friendly and hopeful. And we see all of that crushed in minutes. Rick is desperate for a companion, someone to see the stars with. He needs someone there, someone he can trust and rely on to stay. Someone like Morty. So without Morty, who is Rick?

No one.

And the thing is, Morty doesn't need Rick anymore. Not like Rick needs him. In season 1, Morty was this bright-eyed kid who was new to the cosmos and the multiverse, who needed his grandpa there with him as they explored all these places together. But that's not him anymore. That's not them.

The promo has Morty using the portal gun to go somewhere w/o Rick's permission (i like to think it's boob world lol). It doesn't matter to me as much where he's going, as much as he's doing it alone. He doesn't just not need Rick there, he doesn't want him.

(Also correct me if im wrong but I've missed that sweet portal gun so much. I think the last ep was like- the first time this season we saw it).

Morty's response to Rick? "Replace me!". And wow. Wow. WOW. Morty doesn't give a FUCK! I think Rick thinks that because he's so smart, that he can offer so much, that Morty will come crawling back, and I don't think he will.

Hopes for the finale! Hmm. I mean, I definitely hope "evil" Morty makes a reappearance, haha. I think we all do tbh ;). I want to see some Morty development too, this season has been very Rick-centric (not that there's anything wrong with that!) so I wanna see what's in store for Our Boy. I really hope we get to see the Citadel again, and see the state it's in, but I doubt it. We know something super big is in store, it's just a question of what? Other hopes I have is some Summer + Beth action (please let them team up Im BEGGING) and Jerry too ahaha. I'd love if some other side characters made an appearance as well. Oh- I'm definitely expecting a dramatic cliffhanger at the end of the first half leading to the second half, with the kind of angsty music that leads into the credits (pls that shit is so good (OH WAIT imagine if it was like, for the damaged coda, but like- the chopin version or smth so it could be more subtle maybe bruhhhh)). Ok haha, maybe that's asking too much, the writers made it clear in the story train ep that they weren't gonna do that big dramatic showdown (... unless 👀). Oh, I'd also love some Premium Angst too, like someone getting kidnapped/nearly dying (like ACTUALLY nearly dying). These stakes better be so damn high I could spear a man on them! OH, also I remember androgynousblackbox (is that right? I hope it is) mentioned something along the lines that they could be driving Rick and Morty apart this season in order to have them come back together stronger than ever in an explosive finale, which, I'm strongly hoping for myself.

Thanks if you made it this far! If you have any thoughts on or hopes of your own for the finale please feel free to share! :D

[theyanderespecialist]

Stripper Dear 3 (Mini Series) Valentino X Marie OC X Stolas

[Back with another part of stripper dear and this one will now have stolas in it for reasons we hope you all enjoy this chapter!] [This Has Turned More Into A Mini series Now so.) 

(Marie pov)

I managed to get out from Vals arms as I wince. My body was in so much pain, and I could see some of the bruises. I wouldn't mind if it was because we agreed to rough sex, but he never did say it would be that rough and it was because he got angry. I stepped into the shower washing myself and washing everything I could out of me just for comfort and cleanliness sake before walking out. The entire time I questioned my decision on moving in, on even working for that overgrown moth. I walked into the club to grab my purse when I see a familiar face looking around as I walk over.

"Hey Stolas." I said as he turned around perking up. "Oh there you are, I was looking for you, say, look at this." He said pulling out his phone as I smiled.

Every time he came here he'd show me and anyone else who'd look pictures of him and his daughter, although most of the time she was on her phone, or looked like it was a chore, you could tell she was smiling slightly.

"Oh that's very cute Stolas, did she get a new Hair cut?"

"Yes she di--" he stopped as I looked confused as I noticed his eyes were on my shoulder as my jacket was slipping off my arm showing the bruises as I quickly grab the sleeve and pull it up.

"Don't worry Stolas it's nothing." I said, not wanting him to ask questions

"It is clearly something." he says and takes my hand and looks at the bruise. "These are not love bites." He notes. "These are from someone using far to much force on you."

I tried to pull back a bit when he tried to look as he stopped.

"What happened?"

"..."

"..I'd like to rent a room for the day." He said suddenly.

"Your money man." The bartender said as he took me dragging me to the Vip rooms.

"We will sit here for as long as it takes." I stayed quiet for five minutes before realizing he was serious.

"Just... Val ...convinced me to have sex.. at first I did it b-because I didn't want to lose my job, then he was nice and kind but the second time.. he grabbed me in anger so hard it felt l-like he'd break a bone.."

He took my hands in his. "I am sorry my dear. That should have never happen. You deserve someone who would never hurt especially out of anger." He speaks softly

I looked down as I tried not to cry as he placed a hand on me as I grabbed him, holding him close. He always was a loyal and kind customer.

"What happened to make him so angry?"

".....I-It..I-I.."

"it's okay you don't have to--"

"I-I thought of you...and said it aloud without knowing.."

He blushed at that but smiled. "It is okay to think of someone else. May you tell me what you were thinking?" He asks and I blush darkly.

I shook my head, unable to even speak. There's no way. I'm not saying what I thought. "Oh come on do share."

"...I-I just.. felt you'd be ..better you're much kinder... a-and you wouldn't hold my job over my head.."

He smiled and cupped my cheeks then leaning down and kissing me. I blushed darkly as I let out a soft moan into the kiss as I wanted to kiss back but I was worried..then again he was so soft with it, stroking my face. It was so soft and loving in comparison to Val when he first kissed me.

I quickly wrap my arms around him kissing him back

He laid back with me on top of him and he smiles up at me. "Take as much as control as you need my love." He says and that sent excitement into me.

I looked at him shocked and excited as I bit my lip. "You mean it?" I asked as he looked at me.

(Well he may be a power bottom but he's still a bottom XD

(XD Yup)

"I mean it with all my heart." He tells me and I straddle his chest and then lean down to his neck biting and sucking gently. I felt so empowered.

It was nice..I never had any control., I didn't choose who I stripped for, the clothes I wore, I didn't really even get a choice to move in with Val, and here he is giving me control. I hear him let out soft sighs (I can't imagine feathers are something fun to suck on, but she don't care XD) I smile at him as my nails lightly run down his chest.

(we know Marie gonna tease this poor bird XD)

I then get off of him. "Get up and strip for me~" I order no one ever strip for me.

(XD and get a show out of it XD)

He looked at me shocked as i briefly worried he wasn't into it as I went to say he didn't have to before seeing his shock turn to one of happiness as sat me down as I felt happy once more as I watch him slowly stripping his clothes as I watch blushing but still sat tall as I lick my lip.

He smirked and rolled his hips to the music and soon her was stripped and I was in awe. I watch him as he slowly leans down to me and starts giving me a lap dance.

I blush but smirk at him. Sure it was a little awkward due to the..pretty massive height difference, but it didn't change anything, maybe actually make me feel more in control, as I grab him as he blushed but also smirked. I then pin him down and straddle his naked body and grind myself on him teasingly.

He let out a goran as I smirked at him. "Do you want to put it in~?" I asked smirking at him as he groaned nodding. "I don't know..I ran out of my birth control.. I didn't have to worry with Val, he can't have kids, but you, well you can~" I tease rubbing him between my lips. (Oh poor stolas)

"Please mistress~!" He begs arching into me before pulling back

I smirk leaning down and kissing his beak. "And why should I~? Convince me~" I said as I stroked his face. I was enjoying this power, but I didn't want to be mean, of course I'd let him put it in, he does want to.

He starts to kiss down my body than lifted me to be on his face and began to eat me out like a good sub. I moaned loudly as it obviously was full of need, but it was also so loving with him stroking my thighs as I let out a moan.

"G-Good boy~ y-You make me cum and you c-can put it in and take control~" I moan.

He lap even more focusing on my clit and I knew I would not last long

I grip his feathers as I tense suddenly as I came as I moaned, rubbing myself into his face to ride it out.

(he's talented with his mouth XD)

(XD Yes he is XD)

I get off of him and he smiles. "My turn~" He says and then spread my legs wide and Lined himself up with oh my he was even bigger than Val.

I felt a little afraid but we did make a deal, and he was so sweet to let me take control, so I had no issue with this. I give him a small nervous smile as he looked at me.

"oh, before we start, here this may help." he said as he took his cape, folding it up and helping to place it under me to elevate my hips slightly.

(I mean, that's his inner parent just like "Okay we don't want you hurt, we want you comfortable" XD)

(Stolas pov)

(He is a sweetie XD)

I smiled at her getting her comfortable and then slowly start to inch inside her. She moaned and arched into me. Gripping my hand gently. I smile and soon am fully seated inside of her. She catches her breath clenching around me. I held her hand in mine, lifting it to my lips. I didn't mind waiting for her to get used to me before I continued as my other hand pulled off her jacket, her shirt and her bra as I trace the bruises as she flinched as I frown.

I will kill him for hurting her like this. I will indeed. I loved her for so long I cannot stand by and let her be hurt like this.

"Please stolas...~" She moans. "Make love to me~"

I stopped at that as I then smirk as I kissed her, slowly pulling out to make sure she was in fact comfortable with me moving as she let out a bit of a shaky breath but relaxed as she moaned. "I-I was right~ Y-You f-feel so m-much better..daddy~"

I smile. "Always for you baby girl~ Get ready I am going to make you mine~" I tell her and thrust back in and she meets my thrust and cries out in pure pleasure.

She gripped onto me, her nails digging into me before she let go. "S-Sorry, I-I didn't mean to hurt you i-it just felt so good."

"It is okay, you did it out of pleasure not anger. I am okay with it my dear sweet Marie~" I tell her and she nods clings to me again and I moan picking up my pace and she cries out wrapping her legs around me pulling me even deeper. I grip onto her as I kiss her forehead as I could feel her walls clenching around me as I never felt so good~ I will admit, having sex in a strip club private room was not what I thought when I thought our first time..but I wasn't complaining~ (oh god here we go

"oh you sexy little thing clenching daddy so hard~ Such a good girl feeding daddy your sweet pussy~" He says. "Just what I needed will you let me feed your pussy it's milk~"

(Oh god why..why is that something he'd say XD)

(XD Because it is XD)

(like he would say that XD)

(XD Yes he would XD)

She moaned clenching onto me. "Y-yes~! F-Fill my pussy please~!" She begged clenching onto me. "P-Pour it a-all in daddy~" she moaned out

I smirked and we made love kissing and fucking and when I get right to the edge she cums hard forcing me to cum as well as she screams out my name in ecstasy. We collpase and I kiss her then hear the door bang open and a demonic voice.

"SToLaS!!!"

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS end on a cliff hanger. We hope you all enjoyed and stay sexy our friends!] 

[sun-undone]

You asked for Druck opinion questions - so here goes one: What are your 3 favourite Druck seasons and the best things about each one? Plus, one thing in each you'd like to change/improve?

ooooooh thank you for this! 

my top 3 druck seasons are hands-down 3, 5, and 6, in that order

i’m gonna talk a lot from memory and not really looking back at any notes that i have for these seasons so i apologize in advance if i forget about some things

let’s start with the best things from each of those seasons first

season 3: it’s really really hard to choose just one thing as being the best from this season, cause there’s just so much good in it. but i think i’d have to say that the thing that really makes druck season 3 stand out so so so much to me is how the writers really said “okay we see isak and even, we see them, we appreciate them, and we’re going to respectfully do our own thing thank you very much”. they completely switched up their isak and even characters, not just by making david trans instead of bipolar, but by changing their entire personalities and dynamic together. it’s so DIFFERENT and fresh and hits me in a personal way that i have to say has been even more poignant than how isak and even hit me when i first got into skam all those years ago. matteo and david really just feel like they are characters that have been specially made with my personal tastes in mind, and i KNOW that i’m not even close to being the only one who sees so much of myself reflected in parts of both of their personalities. i love when remakes switch things up, especially with the beloved isak season, and druck really went there with no fear. they made that shit their own, and the ways in which they did so just happen to pluck at my heartstrings so perfectly.

season 5: this season is just so well-crafted, i think a lot of people would agree in saying that it’s druck’s most well-written season. you can really tell that a ton of work went into the overall story arc, properly addressing very touchy subjects like alcoholism and mental illness, introducing all of these new characters, just EVERYTHING. and what a huge fucking task that is, putting out a new season almost completely from scratch right after pissing off all of your fans. but they fucking delivered. there’s so much good in this season, too, so it’s tough to pick just one element to be the very best. but honestly, i think i’ve gotta say mina’s acting??? i was WORRIED about what the acting would be like in the new gen because i was so impressed by the old gen actors and their ability to really make each of their characters so distinct and personable. so going into the new gen, my expectations were already low for a lot of reasons, and i was kind of expecting to just not be as convinced by the actors and therefore not be able to fall in love with most, if any, of the characters. AND BOY WAS I WRONG. i do think a few of the actors were a bit rocky at first, which was also the case with the old gen so i’m not bothered by that at all, but damn they really stepped it up and blew me away once they all found their footing and chemistry with one another, especially mina. i think she’s the second best actor in all of druck (behind michi and maybe tied with or just above anselm), which is insane considering how young she is. she absolutely killed everything she was given and completely drew me into this season that i was fully expecting to not be able to connect to. i really do think that if someone else had played nora, season 5 and the new gen in general would’ve had a much rockier start. she led us into this new generation of characters with such warmth and natural, charismatic talent, and she deserves so so so much credit for that. she had great material, yes, but she really put in the fucking work.

season 6: okay so i still haven’t rewatched season 6 cause i’ve been a tad preoccupied with a different obsession at the moment, BUT i still just know that this season is fantastic and groundbreaking by giving us a biracial couple with no white person in it, a black lesbian main with a learning disability, and tackling performative activism and racism in a really grounded, realistic way. other remakes could never. just like in other druck seasons, it is incredibly obvious that the team worked their asses off to make this season, especially in light of all the covid restrictions. i'm hesitant to name the best thing about this season because i haven’t rewatched it, so i don’t wanna miss something. i WILL say that the soundtrack for this season is fucking phenomenal and has introduced me to so many new artists, particularly artists of color, which i appreciate so much. druck’s soundtracks are always amazing imo, but fatou’s just has something extra to it that i can’t quite put my finger on. maybe it’s just simply most aligned with my own personal tastes, i really don’t know, but it’s fucking brilliant. i also do have to say that i really appreciate how fleshed out kieu my is as a full character, not just as a love interest. she definitely has an advantage from being introduced in the previous season, but the writers could’ve easily made her stagnant once she and fatou started getting together. but NO, they made her even MORE interesting. she really got a full arc along with fatou, and i just love her so fucking much. once i rewatch, maybe i’ll make another post with a more complete answer, but that’s what i’ve got just from my memories of watching the season live.

now onto the thing i would change/improve for each season (i’ll try to keep this more brief because jesus christ why do i talk so much)

season 3: it’s obvious, isn’t it? david’s outing was done poorly, the execution of episode 8 in general was weird and out of place, it’s the only time that i really felt like the show was relying on shock value and drama (maybe even trauma porn) instead of good writing and conflict. there was a way to teach the audience about trans issues and experiences without subjecting david to that pain and also without having him just be absent for so much of the season. in conclusion, the season needed more david but never at his expense.

season 5: i really think that this season is druck’s absolute best in terms of writing and pacing, so it’s hard to find something that i was disappointed by (i would put this season above season 3 if i wasn't so damn emotionally attached to 3). i’m really racking my brains trying to think of something, anything, that bothered me, no matter how small it was. the only thing i can think of is that i remember a few music moments that felt forced or badly edited to me, but that’s literally all that’s coming to mind right now.

season 6: this season definitely wasn’t as well-paced as season 5, but there’s still not many glaring narrative issues that i can remember. there were a few smaller things throughout the season, but nothing too major. the one that i would most like to change is the stupid tinder/”cheating but not really” thing at the end of episode 8 (i think that’s the right episode number). it was just unnecessary and then completely forgotten about by the writers and characters, which shows how unnecessary it really was. 

ask me some opinions about druck, wir kinder vom bahnhof zoo, or really anything!

[thecaptainhelm]

Good Love

ayyy, ch.1 to a however long i say series, it’s daminette, it’s wet, and i’m raring to go babey. *sips hot tea from a champagne glass, like a classy mofo* imma bout to fuck y’all up

Enjoy!

Damian Wayne knew two things that morning.

He was sore. 

Marinette took another one of his firsts.

His body was heavy, his eyes itched, his back hurt and his arms felt like lead. Everything without a doubt indicated his form bearing a dull pain. It was his own fault, though.

He didn’t want to break up with her. Marinette was one of the few good people he knew he could keep close without the threat of being stabbed in the back, both figuratively and literally. She was someone he could lean on wholeheartedly, through choking tears and bright, breathless laughter. Marinette loved to laugh, especially with him, it seemed.

All of that was the problem, surprisingly..

Looking back, it was never a problem, more of a false dilemma that wouldn’t leave him alone, whispering from the corners of his mind whenever things felt too good to be true.

You don’t deserve this.

What made you think you could be happy like this?

How dare you, after all you’ve done!

It was only a matter of time until he ruined her. So he made a choice. He ended it, rather mundanely too, considering the life he led.

So, while every fiber of his being was protesting, he headed home to Marinette, for the last time.

When he got to the apartment, his mood was somber. This was going to be rather sudden, an actual spur of the moment decision after all. Marinette would be devastated. His girlfriend was in the kitchen, pushing chopped vegetables into a pot next to the stove. She’d been excited to make soup for them tonight for the past two days. He was going to ruin that. 

Better now than later, he’d felt.

“Marinette, we need to have a discussion.” She looked up from the counter as she stopped mixing the batter, and he gazed at her softly. He wouldn’t be able to do things like this with her anymore. Not ever.

“Yes, cheri? Oh, you don’t look so good,” she swiftly wiped her hands on the embroidered towel he bought for the apartment when they first moved in together and raised a hand to check the temperature of his neck and forehead. He slowly pulled away and she frowned.

“You don’t have a fever, is it something else, maybe? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this pale.”

“It’s not an illness, Marinette,” he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the loveseat they argued over getting. She wanted a love seat, while he would rather have a small armchair. He admitted  grudging defeat when he saw that it fit the decor more, while allowing more intimate room for cuddling. He tried to stop thinking about the sudden memories, but they were everywhere. The furniture, the charcoal drawings on the wall, the throw blanket on the couch, the tapestry next to the balcony window, all of it.

Once, before he’d come to this decision, these things filled his chest with warmth, a soft and gentle happiness that he was growing more addicted to by the day. Now he didn’t want to look, not anymore, not ever.

“Marinette, I’m,” Damian choked, peering earnestly into her eyes. Under the fluorescent lighting, they pulled him in with their sweet and understanding look. He could say anything else. He could tell her that he used to be an assassin, that he used to be Robin, that he was going to become Batman, anything but this and she would never have to know that he had almost ended their relationship. He could marry her, instead of going through with this, but...

Not anymore, not ever.

She silently patted his hand, and he grabbed it, hating himself as he steeled his nerves.

“I’m,” he breathed. “I’m, my therapy is doing well. Going well, I meant to say, that is, I’ve--” The speech he prepared was all but useless, a mere guideline. Marinette gazed at him with patience.

“I’ve come to understand myself a bit more, and I decided that I needed to do some things,” he lamely stated.

“I need to go back home, to do that. Back to Gotham, where my family is, but I’m,” Here it was. Fuck.

“I’m not taking you with me, Marinette.”

Silence, then: “I understand, Damian. Whatever you need, I’ll support you, okay? I love you, so much.” She moved to hug him, but he painfully leaned away from her touch, letting go of her hand in the process. He would never be able to hold her again, not ever.

No, you don’t understand, he thought, and hopefully you never will. 

“Marinette, I’m breaking up with you,” he swallowed harshly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow myself to use you like I have anymore.”

“...What, use me? Damian you aren’t making sense,” she reached for him again, but he scooted away to the other end of the loveseat.

“I had realized that, sometime ago, I began to use you as a crutch. You constantly support me, love me, and listen to me, to a fault, in fact,” he looked somberly at the floor before meeting her gaze again.

“I started to treat you like you were my therapist, not my girlfriend. I’m sorry, Marinette. I’m so, so sorry.”

She laughed wetly. “It’s fine, Damian, cheri, I promise it’s fine. As long as we know about it and address it together, then we can fix this, together. I promise, so, please…” She started to choke back tears.

He shook his head. “I’ve made my decision, Ha-- Marinette.”

“Well, what do I get to say in all this?!” She snapped. “I don’t want to break up with you, at all Damian Wayne, I,” she blinked hard. 

“Damian, I want to be with you, for a long, long time. I want...” She stopped trying to get the words out, and started trying not to cry instead. She seemed to be resigning herself. Good, he thought as his chest twinged. This is for the best.

Once more, you’ve proven yourself a monster.

Even she, whom you claim to love, gets hurt in the end.

You really are a bastard.

“I’m sorry. I,” I never wanted to hurt you. It’s better this way, I promise. Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry. So, so very sorry. I love you. I’ll always love you, Habibti, Rabia. Ya Amar. 

"Au Revoir, Marinette.”

It had gone as smoothly as a breakup could, in the end. He dreamed of turning back countless times, made himself sick from it even, as though his body knew that he couldn’t live without her..

Damian began to move his things out the next day, to be directly shipped back to the manor. He’d already sent the message to Alfred, though his reply gave the impression that he would have a lot of explaining to do. She was his first crush, his first girlfriend, and now his first ex. 

The hardest part, unsurprisingly, was avoiding Marinette.

She was the only person he knew in New York, besides his therapist and his coworkers at a finance firm, but the part that made it impossible to avoid her was that she was a self-employed businesswoman. Quite successful in fact, successful enough to pull vacation days on his ass as she got a second wind to persuade him back into her arms. 

That night, he’d slept on the couch, but he could hear her muffled crying, so he slept in his car for the rest of the week. During that time, she tried talking to him again, wanting an explanation. He gave her the same thing in different words each time, so she started to change her approach.

She came at him softly, gently, and lovingly, every time. They talked, they discussed. He would say the same things again, and she would come up with a new reason for him to stay. He would waver, and she would hold him like he could shatter at any moment. Then he would get mad and she would get mad, and they would start to argue and argue and argue, all while he packed his belongings, and she pleaded behind him like she was doing everything to keep him from leaving. 

He wanted to turn back so many times, fall into her embrace like nothing ever happened. He wanted to be with her, be in love with her, and her to be in love with him. He wanted that for the rest of forever and far beyond that.

You’re undeserving of her love.

You don’t have emotions, you never have.

You can’t be like other people, not ever.

“Not ever,” he whispered.

He stood in the doorway, looking out into the hall. Marinette was behind him, leaning against the door.

“So, I really can’t change your mind?” He turned around. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, a defeatist smile on her lips.

He shook his head.

Marinette gazed up at him, and he was struck by the sudden fact that this was it. He would never see her again after this day, for the rest of his life. He burned her image into memory, the way her long skirt fell as she stepped up to him, the slight sound of her rustling turtleneck sweater, her scent lightly wafting around them as her hair fell from her shoulder, all as she moved towards him. For the last time.

I love you, his heart pleaded him to say, I was wrong, Rabia, I’m still in love with you! Please, take me back. I’ll never be so foolish again.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“I know,” her lips pulled into something kinder, but she didn’t seem to have the strength to smile. Her arms made an aborted motion to hug him and he appreciated her restraint. He had to leave, before he crumpled.

“Damian,” she called as he was halfway down the hall. He stopped but didn’t turn back.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he heard her shuffle. Silence, then:

“And, I am so very proud of you, Damian. Thank you, for loving me. Thank you for allowing me to love you as long as you did. I’ll always cherish our time together.” This was…

"J't'aime et au revoir, Damian. Toujours, j’t’aime.” He whirled around as the door clicked shut.

Marinette had given him her blessings, as well as bid him farewell. It’s truly over.

He swallowed, and headed down the elevator, walked to the parking garage, unlocked his car. He sat in the passenger seat, unthinking, before closing the door and sliding behind the wheel. At some point he started driving, but halfway through he realized that he wasn’t on the way home to Gotham. He pulled over in the middle of nowhere and cut the engine. Nothing and no one was around. He started to feel a little lonely and heartbroken. He didn’t want this, not all.

He wanted Marinette. Damian tightly gripped the wheel, knuckles pale.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed to himself. “Don’t even think about it. Just, go home.”

Home was in an apartment in uptown New York. Home was where Marinette was. 

No! His vision went red.

He grabbed the penknife from under the dash and he viciously stabbed himself in the leg, over and over again, shouting and shrieking in accordance with his true nature.

“You’re going back to the manor! Habibti doesn’t deserve someone broken like you! She doesn’t need you, any of your problems, any of your burdens, any of your so called love!” He stopped, breathing frenzied.

“She needs someone human. That someone is not you, Tafrukh Shaytan.” He slumped, panting.

It would never be him. Not anymore. Not ever.

-----

no more me 2000 bc twinges in two thousand words or less. class of ‘06 (3006) 

lmao i meant wet with tears, psh, you thought, have you seen my icon?

My ao3

[recoveringlikeclockwork]

hi! something has been really bothering me lately. i thought venting to a friend would help but i’m still angry & i don’t know how to cope with this or who else to go to about this that would understand. this will be really long. sorry.

since the pandemic i’ve been seeing so many posts on social media where people are saying things like “if all you did today was get out of bed, that’s enough” & “it’s okay if your best looks different, you’re doing great & i’m proud of you,” shit like that. i’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that. for a lot of people these are unprecedented times (myself included, for certain reasons), & they deserve all that love & support. but a lot of what the world is going through rn, i went through that when i was younger & i went through it completely alone. a part of me is so happy that people have others who will listen to them & be there for them. everybody deserves to have that & they have the right to feel however they feel whenever they feel it. but the survivor part of me is furious. not only did i never have that support, but i was constantly dismissed. people never noticed something was wrong, & if they did they either used my anger issues & lashing out at others as a reason why i wasn’t worth listening to or being cared for, they chalked it up to me “having issues” & being the weird kid, or they simply didn’t know what to do (not blaming these people). i cried a lot when i was little, & all i got was “oh here we go again” & that i was too sensitive or overdramatic & oh it’s Kris of course she’s crying again. & now that it’s happening to everyone else, NOW they think to themselves “hmm, maybe we should start being kinder & more compassionate & start listening to each other.” ohh you think?! why did it take this fucking long?! you get all this support & love & the comfort of knowing that you’re not alone & that you’ll always have someone. what about younger me who had no one on her side, & if she did they all left eventually bc they found someone better? what about any other kids my age who were going through the same thing or something similar? we were always worthy of that & you all fucking know it. i feel so cheated. & another part of me also feels like i have to be this warrior or whatever & be an example bc i’ve gone through it but i’m so tired of being strong all the time & being told how strong i am bc it’s not fucking true. i mean okay yes i am strong bc i’ve survived everything but i’m not any stronger than the rest of you. i’m human, not superwoman. can i be strong & tired sometimes too maybe?? idk it’s just... it’s so triggering & i see it everywhere & i’m tired. i thought i would be able to connect with more people bc i felt like they finally understand what i was going through, but i feel more alone than i have in a long time.

Hey there. I want to make this very clear: your anger is a normal response.

It’s normal to feel upset. It’s normal to feel jealous. It’s normal to feel angry. You were hurt and you had to deal with that alone. It’s ok to be upset that other people are getting reassurance and help while you didn’t.

And most of all it’s ok to feel tired. Pain is tiring. You work so hard and you have every right to feel tired.

You deserve every bit of kindness and love and help that you didn’t get back then. You deserve support and you deserve to feel seen and loved. And I’m sorry that you didn’t have that before.

I hope venting about this and my response is able to bring you some peace. I love you.

[imtrynnawriteshit]

Jacob Frye x Female!Reader (1? Maybe? It’s a surprise for everyone involved)

Hullo!!! Guess who it is??

Me, a lil shit

This was fueled by an intense yearning for all things Victorian (I've been gazing longingly at what WikiVictorian posts on twitter for a couple of weeks now) coupled with an obsession with Mr. Frye

Contains Victorian slang, that I’ve probably butchered beyond recognition

Again, I do wanna continue this, but if I’m back to being a bastard, I might not rip

Pls lemme know if it's too cringe. If it is, I will bury myself in sand, never to surface

Words: 1768

Warnings: One (1) fuck (2 now, I suppose oof), might end up sounding a lil pretentious or sucky or both :(

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed (Syndicate)

Characters: Jacob Frye, You!!

Relationships: So far, Jacob Frye x Reader

The morning greeted you with news of your mother’s death.

Murder, they said it was, her throat slit open with an unnerving amount of precision.  No eyewitnesses, even though it took place where she was completely surrounded by her guards. What good were they when they obviously couldn’t do their fucking jobs very well?

Pearl was deserving of a lot of things, but a lonely death wasn’t one of them.

Seated in your carriage, you idly wondered if the house would feel any emptier than it usually did, what with her always off somewhere, attending to business. You didn’t want to dwell on your uncle’s - no, Mr. Starrick’s words. Obviously they weren’t of consolation (not like you needed or wanted them to be, anyway); he wasn’t the kind to care for others, especially when they weren’t what he would consider family, you knew that. No, everything was about his wretched Order as always. The very Order that got the only familial figure to ever care for you killed.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you glanced out the window, hoping to lose yourself in the sights and sounds of the city around you, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of someone’s boot heading towards the top of the carriage, which jostled. Once. Twice.

You barely had enough time to blink, let alone register what was happening as you watched your driver fall (or was he thrown?) to the ground before the carriage sped away, much faster than before, crashing into lampposts and fences. It went on like this for what felt like ages, only coming to a (rather abrupt) halt once you were far enough away from where you’d been, making you lurch forward. One of your hands flew to your chest, the other gripping the seat in the time that you took a few deep breaths to try and get your racing heart back under control, even as you heard a dull thud, and heavy footsteps making their way towards you. The carriage door was flung open, and a man slid into the seat opposite you before shutting it with a resounding click.

While he made himself at home, you took the time to examine him, his general (and rather fetching, in your opinion) appearance and apparent nonchalant attitude (even to approaching an obviously unaccompanied and unwed woman, you thought amusedly, lips twitching into a barely detectable smirk) telling you all you needed to know. The gauntlet worn proud on his arm didn’t hurt either.

This was your mother’s killer. The assassin, Jacob Frye. Was he here to kill you now?

If death was to indeed come by his blade, you didn’t think you’d mind his being the last face you ever saw.

“Miss Attaway, I presume.” It wasn’t a question, but you still inclined your head slightly in acknowledgement. “And what were you up to this early in the day? Not taking the time to grieve before you step into mummy’s shoes?” His tone remained conversational, but you could see the accusation, the distrust in his eyes, in the way his body was ever so slightly tensed, poised to strike at the slightest hint of danger. This time, you let yourself smile.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Mr. Frye”, schooling your expression, you leaned forward slightly, matching the intensity of his gaze with your own while your hand stealthily crept towards the pistol you knew was tucked under the cushions, “your dealings had to do with Pearl, not me. Leave me out of whatever this is.”

That got a reaction out of him. Setting his mouth in a hard line, he copied you, elbows coming to rest on his knees, arms pointed casually in your direction, but you knew what it was: a warning. Your fingers curled around the gun the moment it came into your grasp, but you knew not to pull it out yet. You had to time it right.

Though, you supposed you were flattered to have managed to warrant such caution from a man clearly far more menacing than you were.

“Y'see, it is my business. You may be a proper bit of frock, but considering your…relations, it’s not a stretch to assume that the next time we meet may very well end with my blade buried in you.”

You only angled yourself further towards him, chin resting on your free hand as you tilted your head to the side, half-lidded eyes tracing his features, delighting in the way his own followed your movements closely.

“Is that a promise, Mr. Frye?”

Your words were but a whisper, spoken through lips curved in a salacious smile. Rather reluctantly, an answering grin spread across his face, and it took all you had to not swoon at the sight. It certainly wouldn’t do you very well to have him think you’d go off in an aromatic faint every time a man so much as smiled at you.

“None of your cheek and back answers now, this is a serious conversation. One that has no need of a pistol, I should think”, he motioned to where you’d been practically strangling the poor weapon just out of sight.

Straightening, you huffed and let your hands fall into your lap, “alright, fine, what exactly would you like to know? Or did you just abduct me to reprimand me for not mourning an adequate amount of time?”

He sat back again, arms crossed, a self satisfied look on his face, “We’ll get back to that later if you’d like, but for now”, his voice dropped an octave or two, and you felt it rumble through your chest, almost making your breath hitch, “what are Starrick’s plans for you?”

“If that’s your way of asking if I’m joining the Templars, then no, I’m not. He’s allowed me that much, at least. I will, however, be taking over ownership of Attaway Transport.”

He furrowed his brow, “you’re taking over the business? You don’t look like an Albertine.”

Though he probably didn’t mean them to, his words almost made you burst your stay lace. “I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of it! After all, I was the one taking care of the accounts back when Pearl was still- well-”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. And you’ll be working under Starrick, then?”

Attractive as he may have been, you didn’t think you liked the way he dismissed your (righteous) indignation.

“Certainly looks that way”, you narrowed your eyes at him, “if I want to keep the business, I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Otherwise I lose the deed.”

That piqued his interest. “You don’t want to work for him?”

“Of course not! He’s a right bastard.”

“And also your uncle.”

You rolled your eyes, “in name only. And with Pearl’s death, he’s not even that anymore. Said so himself, in as many words.”

“Hang on”, he frowned, “are you not related by blood? To him and Pearl?”

You scoffed incredulously, raising an eyebrow, “I thought assassins tended to research their targets thoroughly. It appears I was mistaken”, at his scowl, you hurriedly continued, “but no, I’m not. Pearl took me in when I was younger.”

“So you have no obligations to Starrick?”

“None”, you exhaled sharply, suddenly exhausted. This was not how you expected your day to go at all. Clearing your throat, you pressed on, “are we done here? Or was there something else you wanted?”

He seemed to think for a minute or two, before coming to a decision.

“Work with us.”

You were stunned, to say the least. It must’ve been apparent, because he looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“What did you say?”

“Look, you’ll be running the only transport business in the city as of now, and I imagine you’d find yourself in close quarters with Starrick often enough. You could gather information, provide us with funds we - or others - might need, help liberate the people of London!” He spread his arms wide as he stared at you, likely eagerly awaiting your acceptance.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, sir?” Did he honestly expect you to agree? “The only person this partnership helps is you. I’m going to be the one sticking my neck out for you. And you have nothing to offer me in return. Any such agreement has to be mutually beneficial. And no”, you cut him off before he could get a word in, “your protection doesn’t count. It’s not exactly something I need.”

“But-”

“Mr. Frye”, you sighed, “you seem like a good man, and ordinarily I’d at least consider it, but it’s been a trying day, and-”, you paused as you saw the briefest glimpse of dismay cross his face, before it was gone. It made you uneasy, an incessant bob in your throat to see that, though you weren’t sure why. Still, you supposed you could be just a bit kinder. “Tell you what, if you do realise you have something you could bargain with, we can discuss terms. But only if I think it’s worth the trouble.”

He considered your words for a moment, before nodding, holding his hand out to you.

“We’re in agreement, then?”

“We are”, he affirmed, and you reached out to shake his hand.

“Wonderful. I’ll expect to see you soon enough. But for now”, you gestured vaguely in the direction you’d come from, “would you be so kind as to fetch me a driver? I’d walk, but I’m afraid I don’t know where we are. I might lose my way”, you smiled innocently up at him.

“I could always drive you, there’s no need for all that.”

“Forgive me, but any more of your driving and I might just find myself losing my breakfast”, you ignored his sputtering at your remark, “besides, there will be eyes on my home at all times now. Starrick doesn’t trust me yet, so he’s going to make absolutely certain I’m not…fraternising. I can’t be seen with you or anyone affiliated with you and your sister. So no Rooks either.”

He nodded, looking quite resigned, and opened the carriage door, “very well, ma'am, I shall fetch you your driver. Though, I do hope I don’t have to make an appointment for when I drop by to seal the deal?”

You bit your lip as a mischievous smirk flitted across your lips.

“I’d usually prefer a calling card, but I suppose you could always commandeer my carriage again. Only next time”, he turned to look at you, amusement glinting in his eyes, “try not to wreck London as you do so, please.”

Slang used:

Proper bit of frock - a pretty and clever well-dressed girl

(She’ll) go off in an aromatic faint - said of a fantastical woman, meaning that her delicate nerves will surely be the death of her

Back answers - sharp retorts, quick-tongued replies, without any concession to the laws of etiquette

Albertine - an adroit, calculating, business-like mistress

Burst (her) stay lace -  A sudden bust-heaving feminine indignation, which might even literally, and certainly does figuratively, bring about this catastrophe.

Calling card - small cards used for social purposes; also called visiting cards

[gulfportofficial]

Anyway, here’s some more WIP GP (I think some of you may have seen bits of this before? I told you it was taking me forever).

I loved how he looked when he woke up. Cranky and rumpled and soft all at the same time, his black hair messy and his skin warm from the bedclothes. It seemed to take him a minute or two to hear me well enough to respond to me. How human he was, still, that even now with his impossible strength, he woke up groggy. I climbed onto the bed, and then onto him, and kissed him on the mouth.

He smiled against it. He put his arms around me. “Has the paper come?”

Typical, I thought of saying, but did not. I wasn’t really annoyed by it. That clever little occupation of his, that too, was part of his sweetness too. “Yes,” I said, “and I’ve got the Picayune.”

Louis shuffled up and arranged his pillows fussily, so he could lean back onto them. “You’re very good to me,” he said. “Was it a nice walk?”

“Entirely uneventful,” I said. “Kiss me again and I’ll let you read your papers.”

He did. “Will you tell me the shape of the evening so that I know how long I have to read them?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did your mother mention what time she was arriving? Do we need to go out before she comes?” he asked. “I don’t mind doing that.”

It would be entirely wrong to say that I had forgotten she was coming. I had thought about nothing else since her call. I had thought about it in my sleep and upon waking and during my walk and while he was kissing me. But I thought about it so hard it didn’t seem to be present in my real life. I swallowed, and Louis looked at me strangely.

“I don’t know,” I said. “She might want to go out together.” “It’s a shame you just can’t call her to check,” Louis said.

I didn’t bother to answer that. Such a pointless dig. Was that the shape of the evening then, something structured by Louis’ painful and barbed asides catching at my flesh? I rolled off him and fished out my laptop computer. I took my notebook and glasses from the bedside table. He didn’t comment.

There wasn’t much for me to attend to on the internet. A few emails. Facebook nonsense. I had been tagged in some photographs and proceeded to vet them. I do like candid photographs, but there are limits.

Louis had picked up the Press-Register. “Why don’t we go out just in case,” he said. “If she wants to, we can go again.”

I don’t think he was thinking this through. As a general rule, we do not hunt so close to where we live, unless we can truly be sure it is a little drink only and nothing more. We didn’t have time to go far enough afield. At least I felt we didn’t have time. He was right that I couldn’t call to check.

“You go,” I said. “I’ll wait.”

“That’s alright. If you want to wait, we’ll wait. I’ll survive.”

“Won’t it drive you mad?” I said. I’d opened up my Notes document and begin to transcribe.

“You forget to whom it is you’re speaking,” Louis said, and I was about to tell him off, but he was right. Anyone who could live on rats for as long as he had could skip a night. Just one though, allowing for the precedent of the consequences of his doing that.

“How’s the Gulf?” I asked, deliberately.

Louis gave me a look, but it worked, as I knew it would. “Thad Allen’s leaving,” he said.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“The Coastguard National Incident Commander. He actually stepped down moths ago but…”

I sighed. “Unlike you, Louis, I have better things to do than read everything about the fucking oil spill, so obviously I don’t know what that is either. When you tell a story like this you must structure in a referent or two so I am able to orient myself.”

I regretted saying that. I regretted saying anything that could stop him from focusing on the spill instead of my mother. “It’s called glossing,” I said, hastily. “One should gloss.”

I wonder if he took pity on me then, because he went on with only the slightest air of annoyance. “Admiral Allen,” Louis said, “is a Coast Guard official and the man appointed by President Obama to oversee responses to the disaster. He has a most distinguished career, actually, and…”

“What did he do?”

“Many things, but…”

“No, I mean, why is he stepping down? What did he do? Did he get caught taking a bribe or something else scandalous?”

“I think he’s just retiring.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s dull.”

“He’s responsible for most of the online mapping.”

“The what?”

“I showed you,” Louis said. “The computer map of the spill and how it was spreading. On the internet. That was his idea, to make that map public.”  

“Oh yes, I remember,” I said. I didn’t. I was bored with the internet now anyway. I hopped out of bed, and started to flick through my wardrobe. I’d shower and dress, I felt better equipped to face the evening showered and dressed. I felt the need to cement things with a lot of ritual. Prayer. I thought I might do something to my face and slipped into the bathroom.

“What’s that on your face?” Louis asked when I slipped out. “Supernatural late stage leprosy?”

“Shut up,” I said, then I read off the jar for him, “it’s a Green Clay Masque with Rice Enzyme.”

Louis opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. I supposed I knew what it was – you don’t need that, it will have absolutely no effect on you – but I wondered why he decided not to lecture me. Perhaps he couldn’t be bothered.

He could think what he liked anyway. I felt the stuff drying on my face and I liked the sensation of it, it felt redeeming in some manner. I set the jar down and sat back on the bed and pulled out my laptop again. Nothing on Facebook had changed and it was all still boring. I trawled through it anyway. One feels obligated, or else compulsion. That,too, is like a naturalized little prayer against disaster.

Louis ran a gentle, distracted-seeming hand up and down on my back as I did. “My mother…” he said. I looked up.

I wasn’t sure if he’d trailed off out of discomfort, or simply because he didn’t intend to keep speaking. “What, Louis?”

“When my brother died…” Louis said, and that was surprising enough that I had to actually turn around to look at him. He never spoke about this. Never. And it didn’t precisely seem buried, not on his face now, nor in the fact that he’d stuttered himself out of speaking. Once turned around I held perfectly still.

He began again. “When my brother died,” Louis said, “well, you probably remember my telling you this, but we’d argued. Almost immediately before. Moments before. And my mother blamed me.”

“That’s not kind,” I said. “And it’s not true. Brothers exchange harsh words sometimes.”

“No, you’ve misunderstood,” Louis said. “I mean that she believed I’d committed the act. She asked the police to question me.”

Oh, Louis, I wanted to say. How horrible. How cruel. “Is that why you can’t understand a mother caring for you, or being your friend or being intimate?”

“Perhaps it is,” Louis said. “My mother and I were never particularly at odds before then, but we weren’t close either. I don’t know. I don’t know what she thought.”

“Why didn’t you ask her?”

“You’re correct that we didn’t have that sort of intimacy. I don’t recall ever asking her much of anything.”

How quickly I regretted this Green Clay Masque with Rice Enzyme. It had already started to itch and I wanted it off me, but I could not move to interrupt what Louis was saying. My heart wouldn’t let me do that.

“I don’t think my family in general liked me very much,” Louis said, his solemn white face still and his eyes far away. “Furthermore, I’m not sure I deserved being liked, since I don’t recall I was very kind to them. My father died and I focused on management, and I don’t wonder if that’s all I did. My sister said as much, after… well, after you and I… after I sent her to the city.”

“Did she really just announce that to you,” I said. “That she didn’t like you? That’s an awfully rude thing to say to the person funding your lifestyle.”

Louis raised an eyebrow at me. I took the point. However, there was strangely little malice in his expression considering how much room in it for malice there was. That was curious and I waited for him to continue.

“Yes she did,” he said. “She and I did become close then. When I visited her, we did talk, and with a great deal of frankness and intimacy, and she said very directly that I had become kinder and that she had begun to understand and to like me. So perhaps my mother simply knew an unkind person.”

But the real you must have shone through, I wanted to say. It seemed impossible to me that anyone could have met Louis and not instantly fallen as fatally in love as I, even, if not especially, his mother. Someone so beautiful, so passionate, so gentle and particular and odd, you’d need a heart of stone not to love him. But perhaps all of his reservations with me had come from this. Perhaps like all of us, Louis had been irreparably shaped by the first person ever to hold his vulnerable mortal body as it came into this world, forever formed by whatever definition of love was taught to him.

“Your mother was crazed with grief, chéri,” I said. “That’s all it was. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Well,” he said. He opened the paper again. His face was flat now. He’d finished. Any grief of his own that lingered, he wouldn’t show me.

I tried, subtly, to scratch my face, but I stopped before he looked at me. If he noticed he’d say something pointedly right about the masque and I didn’t want him to do that. “Whatever happened to that man your sister married,” I said. “She married that… I forget, but there was something about him…”

It was desperate. But I hoped it at least sounded conversational.

“There was nothing about him,” Louis said. “Unless you mean the fact that he was profoundly inbred, which yes, I suppose, is notable from a certain point of view.”

I snorted. “You’re a snob, chaton.”

“I’m nothing of the sort. It’s your kind who inbreed. The middle classes marry out.”

“You are…” I said, but I didn’t know what he was. Terrible, at least, I wanted to say. Absolutely appalling. I felt myself smiling, preparing to tease.

“Listen, Monsieur,” Louis said, and I stopped. He said it firmly, a stately little command, and it worked on me instantly. I listened, I waited.

“Listen, Monsieur,” he said, again. “I intend to be an asset to you in this, not a obstacle.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“That’s all,” he said. “Go on. Go on about your strange ablutions. I’m going to finish these papers.”

[abusiveparentshelpfairy]

hi! something has been really bothering me lately. i thought venting to a friend would help but i’m still angry & i don’t know how to cope with this or who else to go to about this that would understand. this will be really long. sorry.

since the pandemic i’ve been seeing so many posts on social media where people are saying things like “if all you did today was get out of bed, that’s enough” & “it’s okay if your best looks different, you’re doing great & i’m proud of you,” shit like that. i’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that. for a lot of people these are unprecedented times (myself included, for certain reasons), & they deserve all that love & support. but a lot of what the world is going through rn, i went through that when i was younger & i went through it completely alone. a part of me is so happy that people have others who will listen to them & be there for them. everybody deserves to have that & they have the right to feel however they feel whenever they feel it. but the survivor part of me is furious. not only did i never have that support, but i was constantly dismissed. people never noticed something was wrong, & if they did they either used my anger issues & lashing out at others as a reason why i wasn’t worth listening to or being cared for, they chalked it up to me “having issues” & being the weird kid, or they simply didn’t know what to do (not blaming these people). i cried a lot when i was little, & all i got was “oh here we go again” & that i was too sensitive or overdramatic & oh it’s Kris of course she’s crying again. & now that it’s happening to everyone else, NOW they think to themselves “hmm, maybe we should start being kinder & more compassionate & start listening to each other.” ohh you think?! why did it take this fucking long?! you get all this support & love & the comfort of knowing that you’re not alone & that you’ll always have someone. what about younger me who had no one on her side, & if she did they all left eventually bc they found someone better? what about any other kids my age who were going through the same thing or something similar? we were always worthy of that & you all fucking know it. i feel so cheated. & another part of me also feels like i have to be this warrior or whatever & be an example bc i’ve gone through it but i’m so tired of being strong all the time & being told how strong i am bc it’s not fucking true. i mean okay yes i am strong bc i’ve survived everything but i’m not any stronger than the rest of you. i’m human, not superwoman. can i be strong & tired sometimes too maybe?? idk it’s just... it’s so triggering & i see it everywhere & i’m tired. i thought i would be able to connect with more people bc i felt like they finally understand what i was going through, but i feel more alone than i have in a long time.

Oh sweetheart, what you are feeling right now is completely normal and valid! You feeling cheated on having this type of empathy and sympathy when you needed it most as a child is something that makes complete sense. You deserved that support and you still do. As someone who also grew up as the “weird kid”, I can totally relate to where you are coming from. Just from what I’ve read you definitely are a very strong human, and sometimes the strongest people have the most difficulty with allowing themselves to be vulnerable and not so guarded. It’s completely okay to just not be okay, to be tired, to be frustrated. The anger that you are feeling is justified, especially since you feel that you were not granted that sympathy, care and comfort that is being tossed out to so many today.

The advice that I would give is that I hope that you can give yourself that care, comfort and sympathy that you wish was granted to you. A sometimes hard task to do, I know, but you can start with the little things and gradually build your way upwards.

Honour how you feel, love. If you feel cheated, honour it. If you feel frustrated, honour it. Hell, if you feel pissed out of your mind, honour it! Don’t dismiss or reject how you’re feeling, but instead embrace it, so you can learn and grow from it!

Those connections that you thought would happen WILL come, I swear it. And never apologize for saying what’s on your mind! I’m sorry I took a few days to respond, but know that I’m always here and I hope that I was able to help you just a little bit ❤️

[erika-bb]

My Badge Of Honor

Tonight, I am going to be brave. The other day I was over at my mom's house spending some time with my four-year-old niece. That beautiful summer weather is starting to tease us so I was wearing a short sleeved short and a pair of shorts. I had my arms at my side and my niece on my lap and she pointed at my upper arm and said "auntie, what's that?" For those who don't know, excess skin can look a bit strange depending on how its positioned. In this case, because of how my arm was positioned, my skin was kind of bunched up. Like this:

So I said to my sweet girl "well, auntie lost a lot of weight and it's given her some extra skin." Obviously, being four years old, she didn't understand and just kept staring at it. So I asked "do you want to touch it?" She smiled and reached out and touched it. She laughed and started playing with it - pulling on it, moving it around. She was having the time of her life.

And you know what? She wasn't disgusted. She was just curious. And when I explained to her what it was, she just accepted it and embraced it for what it was. 

She's four, but I learned something important from her that night.

I had high hopes about excess skin when I decided to have gastric bypass surgery. I told myself I was young. Maybe if I just exercised and drank a lot of water I wouldn't have to deal with the horrors of extra skin. Sure, I weighed 425 pounds, but surely it couldn't be that bad right?

Wrong.

I was morbidly obese for 25 years. My poor skin has been stretched to its limit. It's damaged beyond repair. There's no easy fix for this - I can't just exercise or wear some fancy band. My only option at this point is surgery, and this is not something that I've had an easy time accepting.

This may seem incredibly silly to many people reading, but I do not remember what I looked like naked when I weighed 425 pounds. Maybe I've just purposefully forgotten, but in reality, I think I just never looked. I would turn away from the mirror when I was getting dressed. I didn't own a full length mirror and avoided them when they were around. I did not look at myself when I weighed 425 pounds. Now, I'm obsessed. I'm constantly looking at myself, the skin, touching, pulling, poking, prodding, crying, pleading - "would you just fucking disappear already?!" 

Spoiler: it's not going anywhere.

It is the strangest feeling in the world to lose 235 pounds and realize that you hate your body more than you ever did when you were bigger. It is the strangest feeling in the world to go through hell to get approved for surgery, go through hell to get the surgery and recover, go through hell to change your life completely to lose such a huge amount of weight, only to realize that you regret it. What are you, crazy? Look at yourself! You're healthy. Every illness you had when you were so big is gone. You are living. How could you possibly regret this for one single second?!

Because I look disgusting.

I have spent my entire life hating my body. All my energy for the last 26 years has gone into despising every inch of myself. If there is anything that has brought me pain and misery in this life, it's my hatred for my body. I have spent nights laying awake in bed sobbing, wishing I was anyone but me. I have spent countless hours cutting into my own skin, punishing my body for... what? Existing? I have spent so much time staring in the mirror at my body crying, wishing more than anything I could just tear myself out of my skin because living one more minute in it is just too painful.

But you know what?

This is me. This is all I've got.

I have worked so hard for this body. And this body works so hard for me. This body has stuck with me throughout the hardest times. I have spent 26 years abusing and punishing this body and it still wakes me up every morning and keeps my heart beating and my lungs breathing. I have fought to kill this body and through every second of it it has fought to keep me alive. How can I possibly hate something that loves me so much?

So I am on a mission. I'm going to make amends with this body. I'm going to learn to love myself. I'm going to start being kinder and treating my body with the respect it deserves. I'm going to feed it with healthy nutritious food, move it and stretch it so it can feel its best, give it plenty of sleep every night, and tell it every day how beautiful and strong it is. 

Will I have the skin removed someday? Probably. Will I be ok if I don't? Yes. Do I love myself? Not yet. But I am trying. I know that myself and my body deserve to be loved.

Tonight, I am going to be brave.

This is the body that I have. This is the body that I have to live inside of. This is the body that loves me and takes care of me every day. This is the body that I'm going to learn to love back, because it's beautiful.

[purplesurveys]

1076

Be honest, did Fifty Shades of Grey arouse you in any way? I honestly never felt the need to see a single page, hear of the plot, or watch any part from any of the movies tbh. I just heard from everyone it was full of smut and it was enough to turn me away from it. Then it got banned in my school which definitely helped in not having to hear anything about it again.

What does your sibling(s) call you? In third-person they refer to me as Ate, which is the honorific for older sister. But my sister usually addresses me simply by looking my way and starting her sentence/question from there.

Do you have any close friends that are the opposite sex that your significant other dislikes? I don’t have a significant other anymore but my ex used to be unnecessarily mean about some of my close guy friends. I didn’t like some of her friends too, but I always had some valid reason behind it, e.g. they were creepy around her, they were aloof towards me, etc. But she didn’t like some of my guy friends by the sole fact that they were guys and she didn’t trust them around me, and like it was just something I couldn’t do anything about tbh. It also hurt me, because I love my guy friends and it didn’t feel right that she hated and criticized them without even wanting to make the effort to get to know them.

Do you honestly believe everything happens for a reason? Why or why not? My life is the grand sum of what I make of things. Idk if that’s able to address the question, but that is how I see the world in general.

Do you believe in reincarnation? Why or why not? No. Doesn’t really sit well with me, simply put. I believe that when I die, that is it for me; same with all other living beings.

The Hunger Games or The Maze Runner? I guess The Hunger Games. I saw the first movie and fairly enjoyed it, but that’s it as far as my interest in the franchise goes. I have never had any idea what The Maze Runner is about, and I honestly keep confusing it for the Divergent series for some reason lol.

Has anyone you’ve known claimed to be psychic? I don’t think so. If I did, I probably have already made the conscious decision not to hang out with them a lot haha.

Did/do you believe them? If I did know someone, I would not believe them.

Is anything annoying you right now? It’s fucking Sunday evening and I am not in the mood to go back to work tomorrow. I’m also staying up late (it’s already past 11 PM) and I know I’m already going to regret this, which is annoying me even more.

Have you ever been ice-skating? Yes! So many times as a kid. We don’t get actual snow though, so some malls have artificial ice skating rinks for those who want to do so. From ages 8-10 my mom would drop me off at the rink for me to practice/play in for a few hours because she knew I didn’t like tagging along in errands.

Does the sound of rain at night help you sleep? I wouldn’t say it helps me sleep since I generally have no issues dozing off, but the sound does make me feel calm and relaxed.

Have you ever seen an albino person, in person? Yes, I had a classmate with albinism at one point.

Have you ever worn a pair of scrubs? I don’t think I ever have. I never had to.

Have you ever walked into a massive cobweb? Probably. Or, at least, shot my hand out in an area where I ended up feeling a big cobweb.

What would you say is your strongest felt emotion right now? Despair. Hahahaha. Give me a longer fucking weekend, universe.

Are you talking to anyone at the moment? No, just this survey.

Do you have trust issues? Well now I do.

Have you ever found an arrow head? I don’t know; I don’t think so.

Who is with you? It’s just me in my room now. Kimi didn’t enter with me, and I think he wants to hang out in the corridor for a bit tonight. He’ll knock once he wants to be in here.

What can you not stop thinking about? How much longer I should continue doing this survey because I need to get sleep if I don’t want to wake up cranky.

Do you forgive easily? No. I tend to hold grudges, and I’d rather be honest and straightforward about my grudges than lie to someone’s face that I’ve forgiven them when I know within myself that I still resent them. I feel like that would be unfair to them anyway so it’s grudges all the way for me.

In what part of your life so far, have you learned the most about yourself? Not sure there’s a most. I possess self-awareness so I continue to learn as I get older. < Yeah I gotta go with this one. In every start of a new chapter in my life, I always seem to pick up new details or lessons about myself.

Have you ever been in a fist fight? I’ve been in physical fights but no fists were ever thrown.

Are your ears pierced? Yes, they are indeed.

What did you last say out loud? Something along the lines of “Not yet? Alright” to Kimi when he decided he didn’t want to enter my room with me.

What are you waiting on? I’m waiting on Friday already -____-

Do you tell people when they get on your nerves? Not usually. I like expressing it indirectly, like having shorter patience with them or ignoring them completely.

Are your feelings hurt easily? This working girl has to sleep, lmao. Catch y’all soon. Okay, where were we... Yeah, I would say being sensitive is one of my main traits. It’s fairly easy for me to get my feelings hurt, and I tend to overthink/overanalyze the simplest of jokes or comments towards me.

What's the most expensive piece of clothing you have? Did you buy it yourself? I haven’t started shelling out when it comes to clothes; like I’ve mentioned before, most of my money goes to food and the rest goes to gas, lmao. My most expensive clothes are probably just my WWE shirts. The merch I own are of the biggest wrestlers during the time I got them, so it was their shirts that cost the highest.

Who is your closest platonic friend of the opposite sex? Probably Hans. The two of us don’t talk much at all, but we always bond super well when we’re together and I can count on him to give me honest, hard-pill-to-swallow advice. Angela has to be with us though, or else I’ll feel awkward and shy.

How do you think your first relationship shaped who you are as a partner now? Yes, but there are good and bad sides to it. I will always be thankful to Gabie for tirelessly encouraging me to try out new things, expand my horizons, and to be unafraid to discover what I am capable of. She was undoubtedly my biggest supporter, especially when it came to going out of my comfort zone. I grew a lot from my relationship with her, so much so that it has definitely helped shape me to be the much braver, risk-taker person I am today. I like who I am now, and I won’t deny that it was she who helped in bringing that person out of her shell.

Bad side...she made me say sorry a lot. For her, she could do no wrong; and even if she did, she was always able to flip a situation around to make it sound like it was actually my fault. And so I said sorry, a lot. For four years. And on my end, I don’t think I received a lot of the apologies I think I deserved. So these days, I get jumpy with people and always feel the need to panic and apologize for the smallest shortcomings. She also always wanted to win arguments. Getting her point across and me agreeing with it mattered more than actually resolving arguments and moving our relationship forward. Bad as it was, it taught me a personal lesson: I learned how to negotiate and communicate better in my other relationships because I wanted to avoid the toxic dynamic I had in my own relationship.

As sad as I am that I lost the relationship and as much as I continue to think of the things that could have been, these days I get sadder instead when I think of how much I allowed myself to be treated that way. Of course, I’m very aware that I had my own set of problematic traits too. I’m not saying I was the model significant other (I was far from it), but the main difference between us is that I was always striving to be better in the relationship. I wanted to address the issues she had with me and to try to be a better, kinder person from it, for her sake and for my own personal growth. Unfortunately, all my attempts at healthy communication with her was always met with, “I can’t change who I am because this is already me.” Anyway, I’m rambling and I’m starting to feel sad again. Next question! Hahahaha.

Who is your favorite protagonist of the same sex? Claire Foy’s Elizabeth from The Crown.

Were you popular in high school? What was your reputation like? I was invisible in freshman and sophomore years, High school was the start of a new chapter, and my track record with new life chapters was never impressive because I take longer than normal to adjust to new environments. By third year I reconnected with Angela, and she hung out with the popular kids, so soon enough I got pulled into that crowd. I’d say by the end of high school I was a solid point on the radar - it was also thanks to my open secret of a same-sex relationship in a Catholic school, if we’re being honest lol - but I never liked having the spotlight on me. I liked that I had popular friends, but I myself never wanted to stir up shit on my own. I was just glad to be constantly invited to soirées and underground parties, lmao.

Have you always known your sexual orientation or did something happen to make you realize it? I’ve always been icky about the concepts of dating and sex. I could never imagine being intimate with anyone, and sex isn’t the biggest priority for me in relationships. The only time it makes the most sense to me is if I did it with someone I’ve built a solid, strong connection with; a close friend that I could trust. Realizing those made it easier to accept within me that I’m demi, or at least dancing around somewhere under the asexual umbrella.

What was the hardest part of your last break up? Coming to terms with how shittily I was treated, during and after. By the end of our relationship, she made it seem as though talking to me and maintaining the relationship was a chore. Every mistake I made sent her into a rage, which always ended in me rapidly apologizing in tears. Then after the breakup, she simply wanted to cut ties with me. She was never willing to allow me to healthily process the situation, and whenever I had questions in mind she would answer them curtly, and not give me reflective answers or perspectives. I begged for a long time to have my questions answered and to allow myself the teeniest bit of closure. 

I had such a shiny, sparkly, perfect, can-do-no-wrong idea of my girlfriend for our entire friendship; so to take my rose-colored glasses off was the hardest part of it all. But taking that hard step was also the first step to healing, so it brought some good too I guess. I just wish getting to the good and easy part didn’t have to be so painful.

What brought you out of the hardest period in your life? The awareness that I had friends who unconditionally care about me. Also if I’m being honest, the Christmas break. I realized I was having such a hard time with my breakup because I was also already dealing with work burnout and the pressure of being in a new position and trying to make as few as mistakes as possible  – so by the time the Christmas break rolled around and I had two weeks of no work, it was enough for me to recharge, realign my priorities, and determine the things and people that matter and that I want to keep.

What's your favorite kind of smiley face? Idk, I guess just :)? I like keeping my emoticons simple.

Does anybody know your deepest darkest secret? I dunno if I have one.

Did you ever watch Rugrats? (the babies) I did, but I never liked it. I remember Rugrats very specifically because this was the show that would be on Nickelodeon whenever me and my sister would be woken up at 5 AM to prepare for school. It came before Legends of the Hidden Temple, which was a lot more fun to watch.

What about Hey Arnold? I caught it often because this was also an early morning show (it came after Legends of the Hidden Temple), but I was never into it either. I also never got to watch the episodes in full because the school bus would pick me up by the time this was on the air.

Do you like pep rallies? Idk what that is.

Have you ever had pneumonia? No.

What do you feel about surgeries? Do they worry you? The possibility of accidentally waking up in the middle of a surgery and being unable to speak out because I was anaesthetized scares me more than anything else. But since I’ve never had to have a surgery before, I imagine feeling completely terrified if the time ever comes for me to have one.

Do you play Minecraft? if so, feelings about servers? I don’t play it. I think I tried it before, but it just never stuck with me. The most I’ve gone with it is to watch several playthroughs by Pewdiepie. I have no clue what you mean by servers.

Do you read creepypastas? No. I’m familiar with some, but I never read any.

Do you think vlogging in public is scary? I feel like this survey contains snippets from many different surveys because I’ve definitely answered this question before...but anyway, I wouldn’t say it’s scary per se but I AM shy when it comes to these things, and I don’t think I have it in me to carry a camera around in public and directly speak to it.

Have you been to an escape room? Was it a success? Mmm no, doesn’t sound like my idea of fun either. I don’t like solving puzzles hahaha.

What social class would you say you're in? Middle class. We live a relatively comfortable life in this country.

Have you ever recorded a cover of a song? Nope. I have never recorded myself singing because it has never been necessary lol.

How do you feel about guns? Not a fan. If I needed weapons for self-defense, I’d get anything other than a gun.

What's the most traumatizing event that ever happened to you? The drunken rages I had to helplessly watch from my childhood years.

Are you faint to the sight of blood? Yeah absolutely. Like I’ve always felt bad about it but I was such a shit helper whenever my ex had her semi-regular nosebleeds. I did help, I just panicked and nearly hyperventilated every time I did so because of the blood HAHA

Do you like spicy food? Love them, but the food has to be meaningfully spicy for me to enjoy it - like curry or laksa. Spicy food shouldn’t just be dishes with sprinkled spicy powder as a finishing touch, because for the most part that just irritates my throat and it doesn’t allow me to appreciate the spiciness.

Do you have good dreams or nightmares more? I think I am back to having simply strange dreams. But in the last few months, my nights had. been regularly plagued with nightmares.

When was the last time someone insulted you? What was the insult? Idk it was probably something my mom said that I had discarded from my memory. I’ve gotten so much better at that now.

What’s your second favorite color? Baby pink/pastel pink.

Do you ever wish you lived in a different country? I think about this everyday. Yes.

Who’s the last person you “pounded” fists with? One of my uncles.

Have you ever been involved in an affair? Nope.

How many times a week do you speak to your boss? I talk to them everyday since we have a Viber chat. I wouldn’t know what tasks to do or prioritize without them, so we need to be in touch all the time.

What do you want for your birthday? I don’t even want to think about my first birthday without her...but anyway, mine and Cooper’s birthday are super close to each other, so I actually want to throw a small party at home celebrating our birthdays haha :) Cooper can get his own doggie cake and cupcakes, heheh.

Have you ever been to a masquerade? I don’t think so.

Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? I’m sure I can think of a couple of people I know.

Who in your phone has a heart after their name? Angela.

Anything you’re avoiding? I wanna avoid work for the next hour or so. Then once I’ve done some recharging, I can continue with a few tasks tonight so that my workload can be just a bit lighter tomorrow morning.

After breaking up, what’s the worst? Depends on the breakup. < Agreed.

Does your sibling have a significant other? I don’t think either of them has.

Do you use Skype? Not since a decade ago. At work, we mainly use Google Meet. Some clients will use Zoom; one client uses Teams.

Are you a fan of acrylic nails? Not yet, but I do want to try it out someday just to spoil myself haha.

Name one happy song that describes you better than any other. Idk if I can call myself happy just yet...hmm. Paramore does have a short song/interlude called I’m Not Angry Anymore, and it’s a happy-sounding song with a very passive-aggressive message hahaha. I’d say that’s me right now. Some of the lyrics go:

“I’m not bitter anymore, I’m syrupy sweet I’ll rot your teeth down to their core if I’m really happy

Depends on the day, if I wake up in a giddy haze Well, I’m not angry, I’m not totally angry, I’m not all that angry anymore” and everything about it is so meeeeee.

Name one sad/mellow song that describes you better than any other. Forgiveness, also by Paramore. Sorry I’m in a music slump y’all. Only Paramore has been able to make my days the slightest bit better.

What is your most used pick up line? I don’t use those, nor do I like hearing those.

Do you like the taste of alcohol? Sure. I like strong mixed drinks the best, though.

What kinds of food make you sick? I don’t have a weak stomach when it comes to food. The only food that has made me sick are expired foods.

[stressedspidergirlsfandomblog]

Or read on tumblr. 

They ride hard and Geralt does his best to ignore the poet creating new songs about his good looks. Nonexistent as they may be.

By the time they reach the town, it takes a matter of minutes to locate the inn Yennefer selected. Perhaps because it's one of two, and the other smells of urine all the way from across the road.

The other inn has a stable and a conspicuous lack of puddles surrounding it. Yennefer would always choose the nicest inn, regardless of how incognito they need to be. He leads Roach towards that one, Dandelion on his heels. He’s not speaking to the bard, too worried about getting back to Ciri. And not having to have a conversation about his appearance ever again. Utter ridiculousness. He lets Dandelion go in first, taking both horses to settle them in the stables. The hay is fresh and clear of mold. He doles out some oats for Roach and sees Yennefer’s newest mount alongside Ciri’s Kelpie. Roach whickers softly at the other horses in greeting and then headbutts him, causing him to stagger back a little. Stroking her cheek for a few seconds and scratching along her jaw, he frees her from her tack, carefully hanging it before taking his time brushing her down. When her mane and tail are free of burs and tangles, he moves on to Dandelion’s horse. The fat beast gives him very little trouble, happier to stuff its face into the feed than to be groomed.

The horses cared for, he lifts his head, nostrils flaring. He can smell Ciri and Yen, gooseberries and lilac, and then Dandelion’s unwashed self. The bard will smell differently, soon, probably more like cedar and then whatever oils he’s been using on the wood of his lute. He follows his nose, glaring when someone comes up to stop him from mounting the stairs. The maid backs away, and he continues up in search of his companions.

Geralt has more or less forgotten Dandelion's promise to inform Yennefer of his earlier self-deprecation. He feels a dull sense of panic start low in his stomach that slowly crawls up into his throat, tightening it when he remembers about halfway up the stairs. He knows he’s walking into some kind of trap of his own making no matter what he does. Odds are Dandelion will have gotten himself all worked up trying to convince Yennefer to disabuse him of the fact he’s ugly. What Dandelion doesn’t understand is that Yennefer has never been a woman to pretty the truth, or to lie. Although, perhaps the sorceress will be in a good mood, having gotten a good laugh out of the bard before Geralt even gets to the rooms. That might help.

Geralt takes a breath before continuing up the last few steps, misery coiling low in his gut. Whatever madness had gotten into the bard that morning was just going to end in humiliation for the witcher, rather than vindication for the bard. Perhaps he could take a room with Ciri and just avoid his lovers entirely until the whole issue blows over. Glumly, he reflects that is entirely unlikely seeing as how Dandelion is like a starved cur with a bone once he decides to dig his heels in. And Yen....Yen likes to win.

He pauses on the landing, head tilted, listening. His witcher’s enhanced hearing allows him to hear through the doors relatively easily, and he focuses on the sound of Ciri’s voice. While he isn’t close enough to understand her every word, her tone is concerned. Nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply again, taking in their scents, he can smell the bitter tang that tells him not all is well. Throat squeezing and stomach curdling in dread, he goes to the door, takes one last pause to be sure, and pushes the door open.  

Not expecting the scene that greets him when he enters the room, he takes a step back when Ciri slams into him, wrapping her arms tight around his middle. "Dandelion says you've got a poor opinion of yourself and it's our job to disabuse you of it. Yen says he's a moron."

Geralt snorts since he agrees with Yen but Dandelion is staring at him morosely and he doesn't want to hurt the bard worse. Yennefer's mocking had probably been quite thorough. Then he catches her glance and recoils slightly. She's angry. At him. He opens his mouth to speak but realizes he has no idea what he's done wrong.

The sorceress crosses the floor in two steps and raises her hand as if she intends to slap him. He freezes, and then notes she's dropped her hand.

"You ... Geralt. All this time? You've really felt that all this time? I know you try and play the fool when you think it will benefit you, but I never thought you believed it. Or the things people say about witchers. Am I a monster Geralt? Because I am no longer entirely human? You were a boy once, until you passed the trials. Then you became a Witcher. A ‘horrible mutation’, as you like to say. But you're still human, Geralt. You still..." She looks at him fiercely. "I don't know what to do with you. Or say to you," she tells him softly, cupping his cheek. He pulls away, unwilling to meet her eyes. She knows he doesn’t think of her as a monster, or a mutation. Even if she isn’t fully human, and that’s why her magic is so strong. The pain he’s holding onto cuts her. "Do you really think all the women lining up to fuck you want to do it because they're daring themselves to fuck a tame monster?"

She sees the accession in his eyes. "Geralt. You're quite handsome. And anything but tame. Or a monster." She curls her fingers into his hair, dragging his head down to press his forehead to hers. "Either you think I am a monster, too, or blind, if you think I would debase myself to fuck you. If I saw you how you saw yourself."

He stares at her, pupils enlarging as he takes in the details of her face.

"Geralt. I love you. And I know you love me. Do you think I would attach myself to someone truly hideous and inhuman? Regardless of the personal gain." She lets him pull even farther away, knowing that he is deeply uncomfortable and unable to have this conversation with her. "No one finds you ugly. Those that fear your hair and eyes are fools. Have you never seen the light catch them? They light up like liquid gold. There's nothing monstrous in them."

He stares at her in confusion, stunned. "Yen, we don't need to, uh...There’s no point to any of this. It doesn’t change what I am." His throat is tight and he finds he just wants to leave the room. "I'll go ask the owner to have a bath drawn for you," he says and turns on his heel to go.

He hears Dandelion protest, and Yen hush him. He chooses not to listen as he hears Ciri's voice rise in confusion and hurt. Yennefer hushes her, and he tries not to hear anything more.

"You scared our Witcher," she sounds faintly amused. Even if her mind is turning over how to best help Geralt. Currently, she feels letting him go lick his wounds is the best option. If they push him too hard, he’ll just get angry and none of it will matter. Once he shuts down it’s all over.

"I had no idea. You didn't either, did you? With all your mind reading,” Dandelion shakes his head in frustration. “How can he see himself like that?”

"I suppose I should say I'm surprised you were able to catch anything I missed. But I am thankful you saw it when I did not. He sees such beauty in the world around him I hadn't thought he saw none in himself." She waves a hand to forestall the bard's indignant protest. "I know he sees himself as less. I just hadn't thought it ran even deeper than that. I know he hates being different, I know he feels he doesn't deserve all that he does. I didn't know how deep all that hatred ran."

Ciri looks at Yennefer. "You've called me ugly. Why is it such a bad thing to be ugly?"

"Do you think Geralt is ugly?" Yennefer asks.

"No. I suppose he looks like any other man, other than the hair and eyes. At least until he does that smile of his. The one he uses when he's being threatening. Not his real smile. Would I have come to look like him had I kept training to be a Witcher?"

"If you survived the trials of the grasses, you might have had, yes. As it is, you'll stay how you are."

Geralt stumps up the stairs, knowing a few moments later tubs will be brought up. This is the kind of inn where one doesn't go down to the tub. He hopes Yennefer has the coin to pay for it. He doesn't. And neither does the bard. For all perhaps he could sing up supper at least. Yen booked two rooms. So he heads into the other, before deciding he can't stand it. He heads back to the other room, pausing at the door he shakes his head. Since when does he feel fear? Witchers don't feel. Once he's opened the door and glanced around, he sees the bard and sorceress focus on him.

"He called you a she-devil," he says abruptly, hoping to shift focus on that. Holding out his hand for Ciri, she jumps up and takes it and lets him lead her from the room.

Before Dandelion can puff up and pick a fight with Geralt Yen holds a hand up, indicating he should let Geralt escape. "I've called you much worse. Both to your face and behind your back."

"And I you."

"So no harm done then. We've put it aside for him before. And quite frankly 'she-devil' is one of the kinder things I've been called."

Ciri allows Geralt to curl up with her on top of the linens. They haven't bathed so there's no point in getting under them. She remembers when he first found her at the farm. He'd promised they would be together. And the only way she had slept was at his side. Perhaps he needs her now like she needed him; to chase away the nightmares. Unexpectedly soothed by his repeated stroking of her hair, she drifts off contentedly. Geralt finds himself calmer as the girl eases into sleep. Her heart beats against his, quicker but no less powerful. Her small hands grip the leathers of his jerkin and he's glad to know even if he falls asleep, she will be there when he wakes. Safe, in his arms.

When a knock at the door wakes them, Ciri pulls away and palms her dagger as Geralt stands to answer. He listens for a moment, heightened senses hearing nothing amiss as he pulls open the door to allow the tub to be brought in. Next door he sees another one going into Yennefer's room.

The maid gives him a look when she sees Ciri sitting on the edge of his bed. "This is a respectable place, sir," she says softly as her fellows start to leave. She dumps a stack of towels with a cake of soap onto the small chest.

"It isn't like that," Geralt growls, surprised by the disgust he feels at the idea. "She is my d- apprentice. I teach her a trade. I do not bed her. You will not suggest that again."

The maid, utterly terrified, mumbles her apologies and flees.

Ciri hears the catch in his voice and feels a hint of wonder. He was going to say daughter, she's sure. "You've scared them so now they won't bring any water," she tells him accusingly.

"They'll bring it to Yen. Besides you'll bathe in her rooms anyway."  He cocks his head to the side, listening as he hears heavy footsteps up the stairs and the slosh of water. "They're bringing it now. Best hurry, don't keep her waiting." He shoos the cub into the next room after checking nothing is amiss. Other than his dignity.

Dandelion heads into the room with the Witcher, leaving the women to bathe peace. "She's going to make us sick insisting we bathe every chance she gets."

Geralt grunts as he begins working his leather armor loose enough to remove, “That’s all bullshit, no one caught sick of bathing.”. Buckets of water still arrive at their room despite Ciri's reservations. It's even still hot.

“Plenty of people have!”

“Hm,” Geralt replies rather than have another fruitless conversation.

Once the servants have all left Geralt watches lazily as Dandelion strips and sinks into the tub. The bard scrubs himself quickly and ducks his head multiple times to rinse his hair.

"Why is it I always help you bathe and not the other way around?"

"You've never asked," the Witcher points out.  

"Well then I'm asking now, come scrub my back "

Geralt gets up from the bed with a grunt. His leg still aches. Picking up a handful of soap flakes he raises his eyebrows in annoyance until Dandelion leans forward to make it possible to rub his back. Unsure of what to do exactly, he does his best to recall and replicate how Dandelion helps him. After working the soap around he carefully kneads the bard's neck and shoulders. He's afraid to hurt the other man. He freezes when Dandelion groans.

"Oh, don't stop, not yet," the bard protests.

"The water will be cold," Geralt says patiently.

"You always say witchers don't feel things," he points out, looking to push at Geralt again. To keep trying to force him into admitting he isn’t abnormal like he thinks.

"I can feel physical things Dandelion," his voice takes a hard edge. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t tolerate the discomfort. There’d been plenty of monsters in fetid bogs, piles of filth and trash, swamps… and he’d tackled them all without a second thought. Without giving in to the revulsion that would have stopped a normal man from even approaching the monster. He’d pushed past shit and filth to kill things, as needed. Taken his coin from revolted aldermen and other terrified townsfolk. It always cut to see the hatred and mistrust in their eyes as he showed proof of the monster’s death. He’d done it for them. And for the coin since one has to have coin to live on. The assumption he enjoys killing for the sake of killing is what cuts him the most. That he’s some barbarian monster who loves killing and has found a way to profit off it.

"I know. I know you feel pain." Dandelion tips his head up to look at Geralt.  He reads the hurt there and purses his lips. "I wasn't mocking you or trying to hurt you earlier. What I said I said in earnest. I like your eyes." He reaches up to touch Geralt's cheek and slide his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in close. “Geralt, I know you feel things. I know you can feel discomfort, and pleasure, and pain, and all of that.”

Rather than reply, Geralt shuts his eyes.

"Have you truly never seen it? You truly don't believe me? Geralt..."

Unsure why those cornflower blue eyes are regarding him so sadly, and at a loss for how to fix it, he presses his lips gently to the bard's. Dandelion pulls away after a moment, and Geralt stares at him helplessly. What’s he supposed to do?

"I wish you fit in here with me," Dandelion sighs. "I'll get out before the water is cold. No sense in making you suffer more than you make yourself already."

Once standing he dries off quickly and watches Geralt slide into the tub uncomfortably. His knees are forced to bend up near his chest. The Witcher rubs at his leg, face carefully blank but Dandelion notices the signs of pain all the same. The way his jaw juts forward just a bit, his eyebrows have a slight crinkle and his shoulders are tense.

"I can help you with that," he offers, gesturing at Geralt's knee.

"I don't think you can," Geralt says heavily.

"Then I can wash your hair," he gets up half dressed, trousers still unbuckled and his shirt waiting for him on the bed. It takes a moment or so to work soap through the witcher's hair, turning it from a greyish white back to milk. It takes a few rinses to get all the soap out and by the end of it Geralt feels much better. He's come to realize he quite enjoys having his scalp massaged. He's never had a problem enjoying physical attention. Not many people are willing to touch him with any kind of kindness or affection, so when someone is, he can barely stop himself from leaning into it. Eyes closed, he tilts his head up when Dandelion stops, opening them slowly and checking on the other man. Somewhat concerned by Dandelion's expression he finishes scrubbing up without help, and gets out of the tub, even though he’s not sure he’s ready to leave the warmth of the water. Or pull himself away from the bard’s gentle fingers.

Drying himself roughly, he drags on breeches and pulls the bard away from the lip of the tub to sit with him on the bed. "I don't like the look on your face," Geralt says quietly, not sure how to go about fixing this. Usually his only long-term interactions of a romantic nature were with Yen, and she had no problem speaking her mind. He rarely hurt her feelings so badly she turned morose. Not to say they didn't have their fights. There was just usually more loud voices and fucking after. Or going their separate ways.

"Well unfortunately it's just how my face looks right now. I'm quite tired you know."

"You were happier earlier."

"Do you truly not feel emotion Geralt? Can you truly say that? You can only feel the physical things? A hand on your skin, cold water clutching at you, and nothing else?"

"Dandelion..."

"Can you look at me right now and truly say you don't know what it is to have feelings? Anger? Happiness? Amusement? .... Love?" He says the last word in barely more than a whisper. They’ve talked about it before, but each time it seems like Dandelion never gains any ground and Geralt goes right back to refusing to admit anything.

Geralt searches for words to explain what it's like. He'd been made to not care. To not fear. To do things that regular humans were too good for. Such as fighting a monster in a moat of waste. What normal man would do that simply because that's all he exists for? His throat squeezes because he knows answering this wrong will end badly. And everything is so new and he's not ready to lose it. He likes being caught between the bard and sorceress, he likes how together they make him feel something he has no name for, but he’s sure it’s something good.

"I... Dandelion, you're asking me something I can't even answer for myself," he says pleadingly. "I know I'm not empty inside, I'm not devoid of all things, but I don't ... I don't feel as you do. I'm a m-"

"Don't say that to me either. I won't stand for it any more than she does." Dandelion starts when a knock sounds at the door.

Ciri pokes her head in, tousled locks of hair still damp. "Yennefer was wondering if you would go order food to be brought up. Since you're the least conspicuous of us," She asks Dandelion politely. He accedes to her request and Geralt sits uncomfortably on the bed, feeling lost.

Ciri comes over, "Put on your shirt and I'll fix your hair again. Like before."

"Can you bring the comb in here?"

"Yen says hiding from her won't make the problem go away."

He raises a brow.

"She said if you tried to hide in here to tell you that," the girl shrugs. "If this is all about your looks then I don't understand any of it. But all the same Yennefer hates that headband you use, so let me fix your hair back so there's nothing else for you two to gripe over."

"Like chickens in the coop," he suggests.

She glances at him, “Some monsters wear human skin, and they’re far more terrifying than any other kind I’ve seen.” Shaking her head, a little, she shrugs and heads back to the other room. A little shaken, the voice hadn’t quite been hers, and she’d looked at him with an intensity he’s unused to. The girl has magic, he knows. Geralt tugs his shirt on but doesn't tuck it in before following his cub to the other room. He sits on the bed and allows Ciri to brush out and tie back his hair. It's soothing.

Yennefer is busily completing her grooming regimen and the room smells of lilac and gooseberries. He closes his eyes until he hears footsteps approach and cool fingers slip under his chin. He looks up at her, unconcerned. He's so very tired.

"Maybe you wouldn't be as exhausted if you two hadn't dallied about like rutting dogs at daybreak?" She suggests lightly. Not that she minds, she started that. If nothing else she hopes he found some satisfaction in it. He’s in some kind of turmoil and she respects him enough to not pry intentionally to find out why. She can’t help getting some thoughts, or flashes of feelings, but she doesn’t have to go digging.

"Or perhaps several nights with no bed, not enough food, and constantly having to change course and split up to avoid the Nilfgaardian army wears on a person after a while."

"Then rest. Food will be here soon enough and you'll feel more yourself." She kisses his forehead.

He frowns slightly, he'd expected her to pick up where Dandelion had left off. Or just to be more tempestuous in general. Ciri has busied herself with unpacking and laying out her and Yennefer's clothing. "It'll need a clothes press," she complains.

Geralt chooses to let them dicker over how to pack better and leans against the headboard with his eyes closed until sleep claims him. When Dandelion joins him, he shifts to accommodate them both better. The bard chooses to drop his head into Geralt's lap, an arm thrown over his legs.

When the food is brought up on trays, they fall ravenously upon it. Rolls of warm bread packed with seeds disappear alongside a hearty lamb stew within minutes.

Geralt crawls wearily into bed after, unsurprised no one feels much like joining him. All their fine words about him, and when he could use the comfort, they’re all too busy. Not that he’s said anything or done anything to indicate he wants company.

"Don't wallow," Yennefer tells him sharply. "Not everyone can sleep just because they're bored or having a fit of self-pity." She has no intention of putting up with him having a fit over nothing. They’re not as tired as he is, and she’s not ready to lie down.

Unable to come up with anything sufficiently nasty to say in response, he simply gets up and goes into the other room to sleep in peace. Grateful to hear Ciri's slippers on the wooden floor behind him, he hadn't asked her to come but he's still struggling to allow her out of his sight. Splitting up had been agonizing.

"You didn't used to sleep this much; I had hoped you might help continue my training."

"In the morning," he agrees. After shedding his boots, he works his way under the linens and tries to find a way to sleep that will ease his aching leg. He feels like it's sucking the life out of him, the way the pain always presses on him. Always there in the back of his mind, aching unceasingly until it flares into sharp blooms of agony.

He shifts around in the bed, trying to find a comfortable way to rest. He’s so exhausted. Why is it so hard to get settled? He grumbles to himself, shifting around miserably.

"What's wrong?" Ciri asks sharply, heading over to the bed and setting down the book she'd brought. He hadn't even noticed it earlier. He wonders vaguely how long he'd been twisting around for her to notice. Minutes? Hours?

He doesn’t have an answer for her. His leg hurts, what of it? He’ll get settled and he’ll get some rest and it will be fine. There’s no reason for her to be worried. He’s been in pain for months now, ever since… ever since the tower fell. Ever since Vilgefortz, ever since he almost lost Ciri forever.

"I'm getting Yen," Ciri tells him and he wonders if he didn't answer her. His head aches and he feels befuddled. Was the food poisoned? No, Ciri is fine. Alert with her wits about her. What if he had made the maid mad and she only poisoned his food? No, not possible she couldn’t know who would eat what plate. Upon further deliberation it turns out he doesn't much care if the food was poisoned, if it'll make his leg stop aching.

Yen hurries in with Ciri on her heels, feeling genuine fear when her witcher doesn't turn to the door when she opens it. Dandelion is right behind her.

"Witchers can't get sick, can they?" He asks worriedly.

"They're very strong, but I suppose it's possible. Geralt isn't exactly an open book of Witcher lore."

“Yennefer, he was twisting around like he was in pain,” Ciri reminds her.

"Was he conscious when you left?"

"Yes," Ciri tells her. "Maybe not lucid but he knew I was talking to him."

"It's that damn leg of his," Dandelion suggests. "It was bothering him in the bath earlier. It's been bothering him constantly just about."

Yennefer knows their voices should wake him up. "He wouldn't faint from a sore leg," she snaps, lightly shaking him. "Get up," she tells him.

When he still fails to rouse, she pulls the blankets down a bit, running her hands over him. "Geralt," she shakes him gently. She looks at Ciri, “Nothing’s broken,” she reassures her. His muscles are hard and tense, she knows he’s suffering. But she’s not finding any bruising or any points that make him twitch. “Geralt, wake up,” she puts an edge into her voice. He very much doesn’t like being told what to do.

"Leave off," he wakes enough to glare at her, or try to. His eyes unfocused. "I'm cold," he tells her vaguely before reclaiming the blankets from her. Yen runs her hands over forehead and neck. "He's freezing. Ciri, take your book and curl up beside him, keep him warm. I'll see if there's any bed warmers." She feels a touch of worry, but perhaps if he's in a bleak enough mood it affects his physical health. They'd certainly upset him earlier. And Dandelion had kept pressing. She felt it was good to let Geralt suffer a little here and there, at least about his supposed lack of feelings. It's easy enough to remember the wide range of feelings he has. Telling her he loves her, before sex, instead of only after. Unlike some. The anger and hurt he's capable of carrying. She hurries down the stairs, wondering what spells might work should his condition worsen.

He'd almost died thanks to the beating he took from Vilgefortz. Had tramped out of Brokilon half healed to go find Ciri. Gone through hell and armies to get to her. Perhaps he's just worn himself out and his body is taking time to finish healing.

Dandelion settles with his lute against Geralt's side. He'll try and help keep Geralt warm, too. Ciri reads quietly as Yennefer comes back in unsure of how to help.

"They'll bring up the bed warmers shortly," she informs them, glancing briefly at the lump under the blankets.  There's not much she can do just yet. She's avoiding using magic in case anyone were to notice. It looks like they're keeping him about as warm as they can. "Must you do that?" she asks, referring to his lute.

"Not all of us can get whatever we want by spreading our legs."

"But you're so good at it. How else do you find patrons for that drivel you call music?"

"You need a nap," he huffs, and picks up his lute with a jangle of strings and leaves the room. He'll drum up some business and gather some news. And hopefully the Witcher will be awake and the witch will be in a better mood.

Not much seems to help keep him warm, and while she does her best to get a look at his leg, he resists her even while sleeping. Finally, giving up on getting him to cooperate, she doses him with poppy syrup which at least eases the pain he’s in. Dandelion is worried the poppy will stop him from waking at all and Yennefer has no interest in debating the point with him. If Geralt is in pain, then the pain needs to be eased. With his witcher’s immunity to most poisons and drugs, the poppy won’t last even a quarter of the time it should have. He’ll be hurting again soon enough.

They spend the night tense and worried, only to find in the morning Geralt is awake, if a little groggy. Breakfast passes quickly as they prepare to move on. There’s some arguing between them about whether to risk staying and letting Geralt rest longer, or if it’s better to move on in case more soldiers pass through. It’s Ciri who suggests in a trembling voice that they take Geralt back to Kaer Morhen. If he’s sick, perhaps Old Vesemir would know what it was and be able to cure him.

When he’s lucid, Geralt mostly grumbles that he’s fine, and they should move on as soon as possible. He seems more aware throughout the day, only to fall heavily asleep after dinner, body tense with pain.

“We have to be far enough away that I can risk a portal without alerting anyone, and I’ll get us as close to the keep grounds as possible.”

“Yennefer, what if he can’t make it long enough to wait for this ‘right time to portal’?”

“He’ll be fine, he’s strong. His heartbeat is still steady, he’s still competent when he’s conscious. Sleep seems to help revive him somewhat. He feeds himself when he’s awake. I don’t see why another day or so of travel is a risk.” She does inwardly wonder if she should have paid him more mind weeks ago when he’d told her he hadn’t felt right. She’d assumed roughing it with that much stress had just been a bad combination for all of them, and not anything to be concerned about.

“And if Vesemir can’t help him?”

“I am not entirely sure we need Vesemir in the first place,” she points out. “However, there’s enough low level magic thrumming all through Kaer Morhen that I should be able to hide most of what I’m doing.”

“And if that’s true why haven’t we gone back there, before?”

“In case they went looking for Ciri there. Where else would a witcher take a child of surprise, Dandelion? Novigrad? No, we’ve had no intention of causing a second sacking of the keep. But perhaps we’ll have to take the risk.”

“Don’t they think she’s dead?”

“They did. But it’s not as if Geralt looking for Rience didn’t cause some problems. Somehow, someone caught on to what he was doing and found the firm helping him. Ciri told me one of her dreams, and I checked into it. They’re dead. I suspect they found some proof of her. Not to mention her being teleported half across the globe did nothing to help us keep her location a secret. Geralt would rather be dead than risk her again, but I have to hope that no one can get back to the keep or that people think she’s elsewhere.”

“Then let’s get him moving first thing tomorrow.”

“We will.”

[somuchbetterthanthat]

If you could hit me with a no. 10 on the prompt list for JonMartin and completely destroy me emotionally, I would be very grateful? :D

10 - not said to me. :). :). :).  (how dare u.). Disclaimer that 1) i don’t know what martin’s poetry looks like; 2) i myself have written a few bad poems before 3) IN FRENCH. so, yeah. Please, please don’t judge me too hard.

It’s not about what I say, by Martin Blackwood. 

I create warmth; carefully measured for your hands,Sweeter than they all expect, even you, to make amends. 

“And… You believe him?” Elias asks.

His tone is mild as ever, which tends to make Jon more agitated even on his best days, and this is definitely not one of those - he’s left Martin down in the Archives to settle in, and he can’t stop thinking of his pale, tired face, or the way his eyes had immediately checked the whole room nervously as soon as he’d thought Jon wasn’t paying attention anymore. 

“Well, yes,” Jon says impatiently. “I can’t imagine why he would lie about that, and we’ve all been made aware of Jane Prentiss months ago -”

“Mmh, he isn’t a bad liar,” Elias says, which - is a very odd and Elias thing to say, Jon supposes. “But alright, I’ll see what I can do, call the police perhaps. If you’ll please tell Martin to come see me -”

“Not today,” Jon says categorically. Elias’ eyebrows raise somehow even higher than before. “He’s exhausted, and terrified.” he justifies, with no idea why his neck warms up. “He needs rest. You can hear his story tomorrow, surely.”

“Of course.” 

Jon nods. “Right. Well. Thank you. On his behalf. For letting him stay -”

“If you don’t mind me saying, Jon, I’m quite surprised of how… ardently you seem to be taking this,” Elias says lightly. “You’ve been very vocal before about your… disapproval of Martin.”

Jon flushes; he can still very well recall the… heated discussion he and Elias had a few months ago, when Elias told him Martin would join them in the Archives. Still; this is not - this is much bigger than any personal feelings, surely Elias can see that -

“I may not like the way Martin works, but I’m not heartless,” he says at last. “He’s - he’s just had a very traumatic experience. I’m not going to begrudge him some kindness just because he’s horrendeous in latin. Besides he’s -” Jon tapes his fingers stiffly on his side. “He’s a… a good man. And if I had been a bit kinder in the first place, perhaps he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to go back there in the first place just to, to prove a point to me.”

And i feel guilty, he doesn’t add; I feel guilty that I’ve been so pleased not to have him around, I feel guilty I didn’t think to check on him properly when he didn’t return my calls, I feel guilty I sent him there in the first place -

Elias seems to understand, like he always does. “Well, that’s a lesson learnt I suppose,” he says. “We’ll see what comes of it soon enough, I’m sure.”

I offer whatever I can, through the dark you take refuge in; I stay here even when you bite, because I don’t need to be seen.

“Tim, one more thing,” Jon says before he can’t stop himself. 

Tim turns around to look at him with tensed shoulders, lips pursed and eyes ready for a fight. It makes every single bit of Jon’s agressive instincts rise up as well, but he tries very hard to keep his voice mild and professional when he says: 

“I know the situation is…” 

“Fucked-up?” Tim says when Jon can’t seem to find the proper word. 

“Right,” Jon sighs. “That. I understand it’s been - hard on you but if you would please refrain for taking in out on Martin -”

“Excuse-me?” Tim exclaims, and closes back the door loudly behind him. “Oh that’s rich, Jon, that’s - are you kidding me right now?”

“You’re mad at me,” Jon retorts stiffly. “Yell at me all you want, but I’ve overheard you and Martin yesterday and -”

“You overheard did you?” Tim bites. “That’s none of your business what I say or not say to Martin -”

“Yes, it is!” Jon snaps. “Weren’t you the one who wanted me to be a proper boss? Well, as your boss, I’m telling you there’s no need to take out your anger on your colleague, especially when, out of all of us, I think Martin deserves it the less -”

Tim scoffs with angry disbelief. “You are such an arshole,” he says. “You’re so - You’re such an hypocrite! You literally spent your days before going off at him for the stupidest reasons and now I’m being called off because I got annoyed at his endless cheerfulness once?” 

“I’m just saying -”

“No, no, I get what you’re saying,” Tim cuts him off. “Bet that’s going to make Martin’s day too, really; oh, hey Martin, of course i’ll take that cup of tea, Jon said I had to, because he doesn’t want us to hurt your feelings. Get this: next time he might even admit that you’re not a murderer! That’s true love right here!”

“I -” Jon tries again, cheeks flushed and stomach twisting unpleasantly. “If you’re going to make a joke out of this -”

Tim stares at him for a second, and then he shakes his head, looking disgusted. 

“God, you’re so - Fine, boss. Be nice to Martin. Added to my to do list of the day. I’ll just go now, or I may punch you, and god forbid I get fired.”

And though you may never hear, surely you must notice,That I fight for you, the small and the big, monsters or police -

“Hey, Jon?” 

“Mmh?”

“I’ve been thinking about your colleague,” says Georgie above his head. 

Jon opens his eyes back to stare at her, baffled: “Why were you thinking about Martin?”

He knows immediately he’s made a mistake, though, because Georgie’s hand goes back to play with his hair and she gives him a cheeky grin, the kind he’s learnt to dread years and years ago. 

“Who says I was talking about Martin?” she asks, and she even has the nerves to waggle her eyebrows at him. He scowls, cheeks flushed.

“Well, if it was Melanie, you would have said her name, for a start. As for Tim and Basira I - well -”

He doesn’t have any excuse; he knows this, and she knows this, and he knows she knows this. Her eyes are sparkling. 

“No,” he says. 

“Oh, come on,” she laughs. “I was testing a theory, and you’ve proven me right.”

“No,” he repeats, more firmly. 

He knows exactly what she’s thinking and it’s - absurd. Utterly, entirely, completely - 

“He sounds sweet, from what you’ve said,” Georgie continues, happily ignoring him. “And like he cares about you, which is important, you’re really terrible at taking care of yourself, Jon.”

“I am not, under any circumstances, having this conversation with you,” Jon tells her.

“Who else are you going to talk to about your feelings, uh?” Georgie asks, and then, grins harder. “Martin?”

“Isn’t there an implicit law, somewhere, that forbids exes to talk about each other’s -” Jon stops right there. He’s made another mistake. God, he’s bad at this. Or perhaps Georgie is very good. There’s no words for what Martin is to him, he supposes. He’d like to think they’re more than coworkers, but he’s unsure friends can really apply when he’s spent the last few months unable to trust him for anything at all, and the last few years before that berrating him for poor work ethics. He groans. 

“You could ask him out,” Georgie suggests, her voice kinder now. “Have dinner with him, see what’s going on here.”

“Right,” says Jon. “And then what? We date until I become a monster? Until he dies horribly because I made another mistake? Or, perhaps, until the end of the world arrives and we don’t know how to stop it?”

“…Jon,” Georgie sighs softly. 

“I - sorry,” Jon mumbles. “I just… I just don’t think dating should be high on my priorities right now.” Georgie opens her mouth again, but he adds, empathically: “Besides, and that is a very important fact, I am not in love with Martin Blackwood. Which means this whole conversation is pointless.”

There’s a blank; The Admiral purrs on Jon’s chest, his claws digging into his sweater rather uncomfortably. Georgie’s eyebrows rise up. Oh, thinks Jon. Third mistake. He’s really, really quite terrible at emotional talks. 

“In love?” 

So you see, dear one, there are many things I could say to you,I have, before; and I will again, that much is true -

“Look, Jon,” says Basira. “I do care about what’s happening with Martin, but out of all of the things to take out from these tapes, I don’t think that finding him is the priority.”

“Fine,” Jon spits; he’s still clutching the last tape recorder in his hand, as if it could somehow make Martin appear right now, in front of him. “Then I’ll just go find him alone.”

“Jon,” says Daisy calmly between them. 

“What?” Jon snaps. “What is it Daisy? What is it you all want me to say? That I’m going to deal with this - this Extinction business right away? I don’t care about a new threat to the world. We have plenty of things ready to destroy the world at any given moment! This whole place is a monument to it! I may very well be on the path to destroy it myself, not that I would know if that’s the case because that’s the information I apparently can’t get by thinking hard! So excuse-me if for once, for once I prioritize -”

“For god’s sake Jon, Martin’s a big boy,” Basira cuts him off, exasperated. “He’s made his choice, he’s very clear about it. He doesn’t need you to throw yourself into danger recklessly again, he needs you to think. Look at all of this! He’s carved you the path for it so if you could just -”

“What did you do, all those months Daisy was trapped in the coffin?” Jon asks abruptly.

Basira looks like he’s just slapped her. “This is not -”

“You searched for her,” Jon continues fierce and angry; his mind pulling at Basira’s thoughts; she stares at him, and when their eyes meet they both feel the gaze of the Eye, staring down at them, heavy and passive. “You searched for her, again and again, you did not give up because there was no body, which meant there was hope. And yes, sometimes, that meant leaving Martin and Melanie at the Institute, unprotected; but you did it, because you loved her.” 

“Stop that,” Basira says, very, very coldly. “Get out of my head, Jon;”

Jon does but, for once, he doesn’t waste his breath apologizing. “I am going to find him,” he says. “Because I love him, and because I refuse to believe it’s too late. Everything else can wait.” 

But I don’t need to tell you that I love you,Because I know you’ll understand it in everything I do. 

“Jon,” says Basira, very quietly. She understood already of course. Jon’s throat is tight. 

“I know,” he says, and that’s ironic, that’s so - he wants to laugh, and he wants to cry. “I know.”

“What?” says Martin, worry and urgency in his voice. “What is it?”

“There’s a way to get out,” Jon tells him, very softly. “Of course there is. I just - need to know it.”

“…Okay?” Martin frowns. His hand is still gripping Jon’s arm, warm and comforting, and Jon feels little tears prickle at the corner of his eyes. “Do you - why do I feel like i’m not going to like it?” he asks. 

“It’ll be fine,” Jon breathes out. He stares at him, drinks him in, pale and freckled and entirely focused on Jon, as he always were; all this time, doing everything for him, as if Jon deserved any of it - “It’s going to be fine, Martin.” 

“You usually say that when it’s not,” Martin says. 

Jon laughs. “Right, I guess I do. Basira -”

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll handle it.”

“Thank you,” he tells her softly. There’s a beat, and then she awkwardly squeezes his hand. “Good luck,” she tells him, and gets up, rising up her gun.

“Wil one of you just tell me what’s going on?” Martin snaps. 

Jon turns towards him again; carefully, hesitantly, he lets his fingers run over Martin’s cheek. Martin freezes; 

“Martin,” Jon begins. “I -”

I love you, he doesn’t say. What’s the point? Why add to their pain, when there’s already so much of it? I love you, he doesn’t say, and lets his hand fall at his side again, ready to open the door and drown.