#i just cut out the middle man and suffer *all* year round!

[nightmare8-420]

who needs a new years resolution to fail to lose weight when you have an ed 😍

(this is a joke, im crying in a corner as i type this, please help)

[hotvintagepoll]

The Three Stooges (Turn Back the Clock, Meet the Baron)—They. Were. The. Blueprint. All scrungly guys who came after owe their "whoop whoop whoop woop!" to the Stooges [editor's note: the Three Stooges were submitted as a group but two of their members were also submitted separately, so I've condensed them into a unit and included the propaganda submitted for Larry and Shemp below the cut.]

Peter Lorre (The Maltese Falcon, Arsenic and Old Lace, Casablanca)—to me he DEFINES scrungle hes the first person i think of every time the term comes up! i want to fold him up like a paper accordion and put him in my pocket. guy that spawned a million voice artists and impersonators. they made a ghost version of him for halloween cereal staple boo berry. bewitched by his nervous mania and tooth gap <3 (for the purposes of propaganda im linking a photo from his extremely short appearance in muscle beach party bc ive been obsessed w it for years and i couldnt find any video for it :/ anyway imagine youre frankie avalon spending the whole movie battling a bodybuilder faction thats taking over your beach and your girl and then you find out this fucking guy is their mastermind mystery leader and hes stronger than all the bodybuilders combined. like Huh. What.)

This is round 2 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

The Three Stooges:

The rest of the Stooges can pass as normalish guys, (until they open their mouths,) but between his trademark hair, very distinctive voice, and ridiculously reactive face, Larry is the Scrungly Stooge. If he isn't taking a slap, poke, or yank to the hair, he's flinching and twitching to some cartoonish violence along with the audience. And occasionally being an absolute one-liner lunatic that reaffirms why he's one of the Three Stooges. He gives off strong "Possum Spotted By Neighbors' Trash Cans" energy, but a chill possum, not one that's going to hiss or run away. A friendly possum that perhaps has limited survival instinct, but you admire him for his optimism. (Worth mentioning: In real life, Larry let Moe Howard handle most of the business aspects of The Three Stooges, because the one time Larry signed a contract by himself, it was to a completely different studio than his partners. He was also absolutely devoted to his wife, Mabel, having met her in vaudeville as teenagers. It was said that if Mabel wanted Chinese food in the middle of the night, Larry would go out and find some. Due in part to Mabel's dislike of housekeeping, and Larry either having a penchant for gambling or having very poor money-management, the Fines tended to live out of hotels. Regardless, when partner Curly suffered a career-ending stroke in the 40s, Larry still contributed part of his paycheck towards Curly's care. Spendthrift or not, Larry was a very generous soul to the end.)

Shemp is just the best at playing the curmudgeonly jackass and come on, who has a scrunglier face than he does?

[cw for disability slur]

Peter Lorre:

he's pretty much the archetype of the scrungly little guy. the blueprint. the example by which all other scrungly little guys are judged

The entire point of his iconic role in Casablanca (apart from introducing the central plot mcguffin) was to be LITTLE and SCRUNGLY to make Bogie look even cooler. And Maggot in Corpse Bride - the littlest scrungliest guy in that film - was a parody of him.

Between his big eyes, wheezy laugh, short stature, and expressive faces, Peter Lorre achieved icon status as the scrungliest, littlest guy in Hollywood. His scrungly little guy energy was often contrasted with the more typical masculinity of the leading man, but whether this contrast was meant to make him seem especially sinister, comedic, or pathetic, it always left an unforgettable impression!

The perfect sniveling character actor, “scrungly” is the first word that comes to mind when I think of him.

I'm sure somebody else has already submitted him (if not then ???) but he's a cute kind of scrungly little guy. He's got a distinctive nasal voice with an accent that is instantly recognizable and often imitated. His later horror movies are so much fun, especially when he's playing off of Vincent Price. He's so good at being unhinged, creepy, or manic, but also pathetic and sympathetic.

Classic scrungly hollywood golden age little guy who was friends with Humphrey Bogart and still played some of the wettest most sniveling characters ever committed to celluloid (complimentary) there is a deep despair and darkness in many of his characters that enhances his scrungly

To be clear, I am one of those people who will argue that Lorre is one of the most underrated film actors, but the POINT is that he's also just a scrungly delight. A delightfully pocket-sized man. Somehow endearing even when he is being actively amoral (see esp. Casablanca. "I found myself much more reasonable!") The faces he makes while doing the Russian cossack dance with a butter knife between his teeth in Silk Stockings make me laugh just thinking about them.

Wikipedia described his typical characters as "timidly devious", lots of weird little villains and evil sidekicks that are pretty horrifying but still manage to be sort of pathetic and the very definition of "poor little meow meow". His look and voice and mannerisms are so iconic they're still imitated

Cartoons for the next century have and will continue to include Peter Lorre-esque characters when needed to up the scrunge factor (see Bugs Bunny and so many more).

Youtube link for characters inspired by Lorre [editor's note: I'm not actually sure how many of these characters are directly, verifiably influenced by Peter Lorre, so take with a grain of salt. tw for suicide depiction.]

I think Arsenic and Old Lace is his quintessential "scrungly" performance. He's so put-upon and tired...all he wants is sleep and some schnapps! I love the way his shoulders fall slowly when he thinks he's caught (he looks like a sad puppy!), only to gleefully sprint out the door when he realizes how dumb those police officers are.

[thefatmfanclub]

Hiya,

To your knowledge, has a transcript (either official or fan-transcribed) ever been released for the dialogue & spoken-word components of The Odyssey?

If so, do you know where I could obtain a copy?

The film is so affecting and the spoken word has always haunted me (as do F's songs), maybe even more so as it/I age(s).

(cannot understand how HBHBHB is 10 years next June! AAAH).

Thanks very kindly for your time,

/Kit

TRANSCRIPT

Scene 1: What Kind of Man

Man: I heard you talking in your sleep last night.

Florence: What were you doing?

Man: I was just um, I was just watching. You seemed, uh, you seemed sad.

Florence: Why didn’t you wake me up?

Man: Uh, I didn’t, I didn’t want to, uh, I didn’t want to intervene. It just seemed like you were, you were suffering somewhere else. I, I didn’t think that it was my place to, to drag you out of it, so um, I just let you be.

Florence: So you just let me suffer? So you think that people that suffer together would be more connected than people who were content?

Man: Yeah, I do.

Florence: I suppose if you’d been through something. Like if you’d been through something catastrophic. If you’d been through like, like a storm or an earthquake together or something like horrendous, you, it would bring you closer together. But what if they are creating the disaster within themselves? *Laugh*.

Man: It’s not, it’s not…yeah that’s what happens, that…

Cut-scene

Florence: And there’s this big storm that’s all around us and we’re in the middle of it so it’s calm. But I can feel it, like it’s everywhere. And things are OK now but I never know when it’s going to change.

——

Scene 2: St Jude

Stranger: why are you traveling alone, are you lost?

Cut-scene

Florence: We’re not changing, I’m not changing.

——

Scene 4: Queen of Peace

‘Body Of Water’ - part 1:

To give yourself over to another body

That’s all you want really

To be out of your own and consumed by another

To swim inside the skin of your lover

Not have to breathe

Not have to think

But you can’t live on love

And salt water’s no drink

Scene 5: Long and Lost

‘Body of Water’ - part 2:

We're dying of thirst so we feast on each other

The sea is still our violent mother

The blood round here pours down like water

Each wave a lamb lead to the slaughter

And like children that she just can’t teach

We break, and break, and break

And break ourselves upon the beach

——

Scene 6: Mother

Man: When are you leaving here?

Florence: I don’t know, maybe I’ll stay.

Man: This is just a place you know, a visit. Pass through.

Florence: Yeah I don’t know, I thought…I guess I think this is what I wanted um…and sometimes I still think that I should stay.

Man: Nobody stays here. And you can leave. You will leave here.

——

Scene 7: Delilah

Man: you think you have lost your faith but you have not. You have only misplaced your faith. And you can find it where it lies now deep in your soul. And the way to do that is through the simple process of love. Love yourself. You can’t love and forgive other people if you don’t first of all love and forgive yourself. You have to realise that people are fallible beings. They make mistakes. They have to be excused from these mistakes, and allowed to continue in their quest for a better life and for goodness. So love yourself and then love other people. Please forgive yourself. Go on a journey of finding love and forgiveness…

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group C Round 4: Hitori Bocchi’s ○○ Lifestyle vs Inuyashiki: Last Hero

#C2: Hitori Bocchi’s ○○ Lifestyle (HitoriBocchi no MaruMaru Seikatsu)

High social anxiety girl has to befriend her whole class

#C3: Inuyashiki: Last Hero

Old man turns into robot superhero

Details and poll under the cut!

#C2: Hitori Bocchi’s ○○ Lifestyle (HitoriBocchi no MaruMaru Seikatsu)

Summary:

Many of us know what it is like to transition to a new school with few to no friends in a new environment, going through the arduous process of getting to know people again. Bocchi Hitori knows this struggle all too well, having just graduated from elementary school and thrown into middle school. Unfortunately, she suffers from extreme social anxiety: she faints when overwhelmed, vomits when nervous, and draws up ridiculously convoluted plans to avoid social contact. It does not help that her only friend from elementary school, Kai Yawara, will not be attending the same middle school as Bocchi. However, wanting to help her, Kai severs ties with Bocchi and promises to reconcile with her when she befriends all of her classmates in her new middle school class.

Even though Bocchi has no faith in herself, she is determined to be friends with Kai again. Summoning all of her courage, Bocchi takes on the daunting challenge of making friends with her entire class, starting with the delinquent-looking girl sitting in front of her…

Propaganda:

This is a fun and lighthearted show. Watch it if you need something cute to chill out! The art is cute and colorful, the music lively, and the animation fine enough.

As it's adapted from a four-panel gag manga, the story is simple and focuses on the various characters. They all have pun-based names related to their main personality trait, so they're easy to remember if you know some basic Japanese (Hitori Bocchi means all alone, for example). The girls are all adorable and fun in their own quirky ways, and I loved seeing the heroine doing her utmost best to overcome her fears -and other challenges- to befriend them in the hope of fulfilling her promise. That's the power of the Do-Your-Best Fairy! They all care for each other (despite some teasing) and help Bocchi with her monumental task, never pulling her down for her struggles but gently pushing her in the back when needed.

But most importantly, Hitori Bocchi is a very relatable character. As someone suffering the same trouble, I related a lot with Bocchi, from her silliest worries to her escalating panic and weird schemes in an attempt to prevent anything wrong. Anxiety is faithfully represented, mixed with the right amount of laughing to how far Bocchi can get to avoid fearful situations in her very cute ways. It feels good to see a character like me in a such positive light! The struggles are real and acknowledged, and it’s really moving to see our heroine overcome them little by little in a very humanizing way.

This series has become one of my comfort materials, and I come back to it when I need hope and inspiration in everyday social interactions! If you need one last thing to be convinced, listen to that most adorable and silly song that will give you the Power of Motivation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGoGwlNmZUQ 

Trigger Warnings: None.

#C3: Inuyashiki: Last Hero

Summary:

Ichirou Inuyashiki is a 58-year-old family man who is going through a difficult time in his life. Though his frequent back problems are painful, nothing hurts quite as much as the indifference and distaste that his wife and children have for him. Despite this, Ichirou still manages to find solace in Hanako, an abandoned Shiba Inu that he adopts into his home. However, his life takes a turn for the worse when a follow-up physical examination reveals that Ichirou has stomach cancer and only three months to live; though he tries to be strong, his family's disinterest causes an emotional breakdown. Running off into a nearby field, Ichirou embraces his dog and weeps—until he notices a strange figure standing before him.

Suddenly, a bright light appears and Ichirou is enveloped by smoke and dust. When he comes to, he discovers something is amiss—he has been reborn as a mechanized weapon wearing the skin of his former self. Though initially shocked, the compassionate Ichirou immediately uses his newfound powers to save a life, an act of kindness that fills him with happiness and newfound hope.

However, the origins of these strange powers remain unclear. Who was the mysterious figure at the site of the explosion, and are they as kind as Ichirou when it comes to using this dangerous gift?

Propaganda:

This show is nowadays remembered for referencing One Piece and its obvious CGI, but it’s so much more than that. Inuyashiki is a beautiful, dark, dramatic exploration of humanity, showcasing the brightest good that humans are capable of and the most horrific evil. It seriously explores both extremes, and it forces the audience to solemnly watch every step of the way.

It also has an AMAZINGLY badass OP and a beautifully sad ED, perfectly encapsulating the duality of the show itself.

Trigger Warnings: Animal Cruelty/Death, Flashing Lights, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore, Rape/Non-Con, Suicide

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form with your revisions, and I’ll consider adapting those changes.

New: Starting round 5, screenshots will be included in the poll post. You can submit screenshots through the form linked above, or through here, via ask or dm.

Guidelines in submitting screenshots:

No NSFW or spoilery images.

Pick some good images please. Don’t send any blurry or pixelated ones.

You may send up to 9 screenshots, but not all may be used.

[sidhewrites]

Lucky number 13! In the middle of writing this chapter, I decided that Renfield is actually going to be Kaz's cat, instead of Lucy. If there's any confusion in this draft about it, then that's just how it goes until I get to editing.

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The three of us place our hands on the planchette, Lucy being careful not to let her fingers touch ours. I feel stupid. This is the type of thing I mock people for. The kind of thing that causes my attention to drop in horror movies. Ouija boards are a patented toy created to make money and sell the spiritualism movement, not a legitimate method of contacting the dead.

I know Josie thinks something happened that night.

I know that some dead haven't moved on. I know that now.

But it still feels stupid as hell.

"Hello," Josie begins. "I'm looking for the person who spoke to the Haunted Archivists a month ago. Are you here?"

We wait for the planchette to move. Lucy looks up, glancing around, but doesn't seem to find what she's looking for.

"Hello?" Josie tries again. "If you're here, give us a sign. Move the piece, or touch one of us. Anything."

We wait. I get antsy after only a few seconds, but manage to hold out until almost a minute before asking, "Is anything happening?"

"Give it time. Maybe we're doing it wrong, or something's out of place, or...?"

"We were standing by the tree," Lucy suggests, but when we try that, nothing else happens. If anything, it feels less successful, and I feel completely useless, watching Josie try to contact the dead on her own, kneeling in the grass. I hope she isn't getting too much mud on her pants. 

We try again with all three of us sitting around the board. If nothing else, it makes me feel less useless, but to no avail. Josie frowns, sitting back when yet another round of questioning goes unanswered. "Maybe we need the rest of the supplies they had. The teddy bear, or an electromagnetic sensor, or..." We're grasping at straws here. It hurts to see.

A man's voice cuts through the night. "Are you done?"

All three of us snap our heads towards the source of the voice. Renfield sits up in his bed, eyes focused on our little circle. Something about him looks -- older. Aware, and unhappy.

"Uh..." I point uselessly. "Did he just talk?"

"Did he just talk?" Renfield mocks me, raising the pitch of his voice into a girlish falsetto. "Yes. He did. And he's getting tired of this -- though, admittedly, it was fun watching you girls struggle for a time there."

"The cat is talking," Lucy says.

"Yes, the cat is talking. The cat is using his mouth to make words. Let me know when you've finally grasped reality so we can move on." His voice is gruff. Makes me think of an old business man or a miner from the 1800s.

"The cat can see you," I say.

"Renfield...?" Josie asks, brows furrowed.

"Not quite."

"What--"

"Oh, stop talking for one second, would you?" He sighs heavily -- an old man's sigh. It's nothing he's ever done before. Renfield begins to circle us, still uncertain on his legs, but there's a distinct grace to him he hasn't had for years. Maybe never had it at all. "That's the problem with this world. Nobody ever shuts up for a minute and listen to their elders."

It's my turn to ask, "What?"

"Every year, it seems, the world gets louder. Machines move in and get turned on, and they make a massive racket for years, worse and worse until they finally give out and get turned off. Then you bring in more machines to take them apart and replace them with something else. And children!"

"Is he lecturing us?" Lucy asks.

"Oh, god, the children. The way you girls are raised nowadays. And the boys are no better, make no mistake. But it's the world. It's the world now, isn't it?" He scoffs. "Endless noise, so you don't have to suffer with any one of your difficult little thoughts. Nothing but noise. Nothing."

He comes to a stop, sitting on the Ouija board and somehow staring us all down.

"Renfield...?" I try one last time.

"No, stupid child, weren't you listening?" He all but spits on me. "My name is Magnus. And I lived here once. Long before you. Long before your telephones and radios and noise. And I'll be here to see it return to that silence again." Renfield -- or Magnus, I suppose -- chuckles, and stands. He turns to level us all with a single, malicious glare, and makes to step off the ouija board.

And then he falls.

He still doesn't know how to walk with four legs.

When RenfieldMagnus sits up again, he doesn't speak, or clear his throat, or anything. He meeps.

I bolt to his side, and scoop him up, cooing and comforting him before looking him over, and then looking out into the night.

"Uh..." I say, always the font of wisdom. "Did anyone else see what just happened?"

"Renfield's possessed," Josie says, short and simple if entirely incredulous.

"What? No, that's -- I stammer. That's stupid."

Apparently, so am I, based off of the look Josie gives me. "Okay. Sure. It's stupid. But he also literally just spoke to us with a whole monologue about how he hates the world, so."

"But--"

"She's right," Lucy says, frowning at the pile of fluff in my hands. "He couldn't make himself seen in this world, but he could slip in unnoticed amid all of little Renfield's fear that night."

"What, like -- like he's got fleas?"

"Well -- no, not exactly."

[Transition. But first, her coworker's shift is about to start so she has to get out of there before she's spotted.]

Lucy follows me to the front gate, though she makes a point of clearing her throat when we reach the [fountain/courtyard] separating it from the green. 

I pull up short with an apology. “I’m gonna be honest, I already might have half forgotten you’re…”

“One foot into the aether?” She offers, but there’s a tinge of weariness under her helpful, chipper tone. I imagine she’s as tired as the rest of us, in her own way. 

Actually I should probably ask instead of jumping to conclusions like normal. It’s something I’d gotten good at over the years — making excuses for people. Letting them say things and fitting in my own explanations. Sure maybe I was stood up by a date, or maybe she got into a car accident, or had personal trouble, or maybe she just couldn’t find her keys. 

It was easy to guess Lucy didn’t eat due to diet restrictions. Maybe she didn’t like physical touch. My cousin hated to be touched and only let you tap your foot against his on special occasions. It was easy to give people the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes I was right, sometimes I never found out. They didn’t owe me an explanation. I didn’t need to know everything…

Or maybe I just don’t know anything and never had. 

It’s a fight not to sigh, even as the exhaustion of the night starts to sink in. Ghosts. Seances. Talking possessed cats. It’s been three weeks, and I didn’t even notice my new kind of girlfriend wasn’t human? Or — alive? I’m not even sure what the right terminology is here, and the uncertainty and oncoming existential crisis is giving me a headache. “Sorry. You’ve gotta be tired.”

“Some, yes. But I’m rather more irritated that our walk stops here.”

“Really? You can’t even follow me across the street?” I point. "My apartment is that one right there."

“The barrier of my world is often flexible, but I can feel the limit before I’ve reached it.”

“Huh.” I run a hand through my hair. My roots are showing through, dark brown against the bleach and faded pink, but I have time before it gets too visible. “What’s it feel like?”

She looks at me for a moment, a small crease between her eyebrows. When she finds the words, she says, “Like the air is heavier. Something unseen pushes me back, heavier and harder until I can barely breathe. I broke through it once, after nearly feeling like I’d died all over again, and…” She looks away, wringing her hands and failing to suppress a frown. 

“Hey.” I step forward, about to reach out and take her hand, but stopping an inch short as I remember. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. Especially if it hurts.”

Lucy looks back at me then, and her face is so soft and full of emotion that it hurts not to reach out and kiss her then and there. I forget myself and close the distance between our hands — and flinch back. An icy jolt shoots up my arm and down my spine, and I can’t help but shiver in dread.  

“My apologies,” she says, but her voice is lighter, and I see a spark of delight in her eyes, like she enjoyed that.

“No, I’m sorry, I should have…” I wave dismissively instead of trying to figure out what it was I should have done better. “Actually, I have to ask… how long, exactly, were you going to go without telling me what you are?”

She smiles openly now, mischievous despite clearly trying to appear apologetic. “I was going to, I promise. But I thought you’d figure it out first. I wasn’t exactly subtle at times…”

True, admittedly. 

“But then, well, you didn’t. And so I was curious to see how long it would go on before you realized the truth.”

“Hm.”

“I'm not insulting you!” She rushes to add. “It was sweet in a way. I enjoyed being treated like a modern woman. I think I’d have quite liked it if I’d been alive today.” 

“You mean you liked a brainless lesbian thinking you were hot shit, right?”

“No, that’s—“ she begins, but now I’m smiling right back, and she relaxes into a laugh. “I do like that you think I’m hot shit, yes. I like it very much.”

Oh damn it. Now my face is getting hot, and I can’t help but let out a stupid little laugh. And the way she delights in teasing me — it’s awful. I have no way of resisting that smile of hers, or the mischief it hides. 

I get the feeling miss Lucille Blue has never been quite as innocent as her delicate features might suggest, least of all after almost 200 years. The idea of her life span (un-life-span?) hits me again, and I try to shove it back to worry about until I’m home again and able to properly collapse onto my bed and deal with this existential crisis. 

For now, dawn is breaking. I have to say goodbye to my ghost girlfriend, and get my cat home.

This time, when I put Renfield's carrier down and open the door, he behaves normally. He steps out, looks around, and trots over to his food bowl to snack before curling up next to the window and proceeding to snore.

I stare as he goes, following his every move, trying to find signs of intelligence or ghostliness, but it seems to be gone.

Josie's voice echoes in my head: Magnus used up his strength last night. He can't manifest for a while, so Renfield's just going to act normal for a bit.

Which is stupid. That's all stupid, and impossible, because my cat isn't possessed.

Except...

Renfield begins to snore as I sit down across from him, resting my head on my hands and forcibly reminding myself to breathe.

It's impossible, except ghosts are real. And ouija boards work. And Renfield talked last night in a man's voice and delivered a veritable monologue worthy of a cartoon villain.

Ghosts are real, and I think my cat has a bad case of possession.

Tag List

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

[livio-doublefang]

✟ ― They both got outta there alive by some miracle. Alive and in one piece... For the most part. Pretty sure they should have been cut into a million pieces. But they were alive, Livio's alive, and that's all that matters. They hobble out of there like two kicked-puppies licking their wounds, and once they're at a safe distance, Nicholas finally lets his legs give out and have his weight slump against his brother.

Damn he needs a smoke. His body is itching for a hit of nicotine after all that.

He lets Livio cry against him. Just as he always does. Propping his back against a wall, he lets him cry and sob into his chest while placing a gentle hand on the back of his head.

He's never actually told Livio off to stop crying. Even back when they were living at the orphanage. Nico would often just sit there with him to wait it out, allowing Livio to just let it all out until the little sobs that wracked his body would die down and all his tears would run out. He's allowed to cry. He's allowed to feel what he feels.

As he listens to Livio's broken incoherent words, Wolfwood can't help but think back on Knives. Something had stayed his hand from finishing them both off. He's pretty sure the man was more cold blooded than he was merciful. So what stopped him? There was that look on his face too.

Wolfwood doesn't wanna dwell on it too much. He's just thankful that the two of them could live for another day.

" You're the fuckin idiot, " Wolfwood sighed while giving Livio a bonk on the head. It was out of affection. Despite bein' all beat up, he's back to his old funny self. " What the hell did I say? I told ya to not stay too close to that asshole! "

He doesn't actually hold this against Livio.

Grumbling, he fishes out a cigarette from inside his coat and clamps it on his lips. He's still lost a lot of blood, despite taking a vial of regeneration serum. It's gunna take a while for his body to replenish all that. Now all Wolfwood wants to do is to sleep for the next hundred years till next Tuesday. @wolfcross

He lived up to the name Crybaby Livio. For a man tainted in pools of blood, he had the tears just as vast and deep. He almost lost the one person who was precocious to him. Almost lost the very man he left a normal life for...

It wasn't long though till his crying and sobbing began to wane, leaving him slumped there, holding his brother with that same sad puppy expression, big round golden eyes wet and puffy from his crying session. He hugged his brother tighter, terrified to let him go ever again. Never again..

With the bonk to the head, the ex-assassin whined, sniffling and bowing his head like a shamed puppy. "I-I...I'm sorry." He squeaked out, rubbing at his teary face as he said that.

"..I almost got y-you killed. I-...I will find a way to atone for my transgression. I promise."

He'd start by helping his brother up and on his back in a firemans carry. He was built for speed and to be agile but that didn't mean he couldn't lift his brother in his time of need. He hissed though, stumbling slightly as he put too much pressure on a wounded leg. He hadn't gotten out of that totally unharmed, the blood seeping from his thigh and down his pantleg a clear indication his healing factor was shot. They were both totally drained of power. He'd suffer through it.. He had to get Nicho somewhere safe.

"....I have a hideout the Eye gave me for between missions. We'll be safe there. You can r-rest big brother." With a pained shaky breath, he blinked away the rest of his tears and began their long track away. It was the least he could do. A warm bath and clean clothes sounded heavenly right about now. He could patch them up while he was at it too.

Once inside the cabin in the middle of nowhere did he set to work. He sat Nicho down on the bed before limping his way to the medkit nearby. "You're staying here till I can get you back on your feet. No buts. I have a pack of your favorite cigs for you, if you don't protest about it."

[littlemissleapyear]

        🕷Layla let the sweet notes of the wine play on her tongue as she looked back to her cards." It's his fault for thinking we'd let him leave after lashing his tongue in such a manner...."

             She had half the mind to have her captain cut it out. But then he'd have to make sure to keep that sorry excuse of human garbage from choking on his own blood. She'd already asked too much of him. The last thing Layla wanted was to come off as bossy to the blonde.

              "Cut him down to size, then I'll take him." It had to come as a bit of shock as she hadn't looked up from her cards. It was only when Giolla insisted she not wear such a frown that she became aware.

              " So young. Let us not see wrinkles on that face so soon, dear. Put his brut out of your mind~" The older woman was so sweet to Layla sense coming under her care. It was the closest she'd gotten to a mother figure after all these years.

                "It's fine and I know... more muscles to frown then smile. Always looking out for me sweet Giolla." Layla then had her cheek pinched lovingly by the elder causing her to laugh. Just a loving family moment in the middle of carnage.

                 Still the darkness in those emerald eyes were there . Once he'd been prepped she had him lowered to the floor on the stubs that were once his legs. Turning in her chair a bit she reached out to the man who flinched and whimpered.

                 "What a mongrel you are.” She cursed as he attempted to bite her. Layla held the situation however despite the squeak of chair moving at such an audacious action to their fellow family member. 

                  Layla pulled his head back by his hair looking into those wide horror filled eyes and she drank it up. Did he think and hope this was it? Ha, no. Slowly it seemed she ‘tied’ his head back with her own threads forcing strain on his neck to look up. From there the spider carefully and strategically got the bastards mouth held open , her treads like metal cord no matter how hard he tried resist against. 

                    Sure the screaming was gone and gargling replaced it, for now. Producing a small knife from who knows in her skin tight dress one would think she’d just slit his throat. The spider took to the task of removing his eyelids carefully so that the blood pooled down the sides of his face rather then gathing on his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to blink and she hummed as the screams filled the bar again. 

                    “Now that I have your FULL attention. I want you to listen very VERY carefully. Death will not come swiftly for you , oh no. You’ll sit here and wait for me to get a winning hand before I put you out of your sad little misery. Till then.....I’ll be removing your intestines every so slowly~” 

                    The small dagger was sharp, so sharp it cut through flesh and fat like a scalpel. From there the raven hair had but to find one little loop a small ‘ah ha!’ before her dainty fingers twitched back and it looked as if he’d popped a seem. 

                     The guttural scream as Layla started to disembowel the man had to have put people off their food and drinks. The spider however looked at the now peeking pink and licked her lips. “ That’s the stuff~” 

                     Her ire seemed so cease for a moment as she turned back to the game at hand. For each minute that ticked by another inch would be pulled out. Layla took back to her card hand and smiled .” Looks like I fold this round~”  

                      Who cared if she was losing it was clear by the agony her bully was suffering she was winning. Well, that was till they were told to leave for making a mess but she doubted that. 

                      “Doffy, you’ve already been  just a darling in all of this  but could you give me a light?” Another item produced out of thin air as a cigarette dangled between her blood stained fingers. 🕷

cont from {🖤} @videcoeur

          🕷 Layla knew she wore to much perfume, make-up and jewelry. It was her calling card after all. Most would swoon and fawn over the ivory statue that the spider was but then there were others.Others like this man. Far drunker then any sailor in a while and stunk far worse then any fowl beast. His smell was far more insulting to her nose then his words to her ears. 

                   Dear Doffy, always looking out for them. The raven hair had come to realized just wholes wing she’d been placed under quickly after just a few months. He was cruel but when it came to anyone in the family being treated in the smallest of degrees it was like a switch was flipped. 

                    Her gloved hand was softly placed upon his an insistence that he be at ease or at least hold just a few seconds longer. Sure it was easier to kill him and be done with the matter but her captain had twitchy fingers. 

                     Layla’s tongue clicked behind painted ruby lips.   

                   “There are fates worse then death ... and where one wises to take a tease at but mere fashion at least clothes are changeable. Garbage is still garbage at the end of the day. Have you had your fun? Are you nervous? Hm~” There seemed to be that moment were the silence could be cut with a knife. 

                   “Get out of our sight you sack of shit. They say boys pick on the girls they like but your personality tells me what your packing. Finish your drink and begone. You have a minute.” It was in a soft honey tone that left goosebumps of uneasiness. 

                    Sure there was laughter and it would indeed anger her captain more but she stood firm with him and waited till the sods back was turned. From there the raven hair waited till the perp was actually leaving before flashing a smirk at Doffy. With a glass of wine in one hand she placed out her hand and flipped her thump in the downward position. 

                      “Make it slow. I want to hear him scream for mercy~” From there she offered up her captain his glass again, after all this was to beautiful night to be so tense. Hopefully they could salvage it. 🕷

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 227: I Didn't Know Where Else to Go

Harry, for all intents and purposes, enjoyed his nice quiet life.

He loved his quiet, one-room cottage by the sea, with his garden in the back full of fresh vegetables and flowers, and his lovely hive of bees. He loved Mable, the scruffy mutt that had shown up on his doorstep, looking for food and then never left. No one in the village knew him as anything other than James Evans and it was the most peace he'd found in his life.

Harry absolutely did not miss being in the aurors. He didn't miss the press, the constant niggling anxiety that was present whenever he was in wizarding communities.

No, the quiet was enough.

It had been so quiet in his cottage for so long, that the pounding on his door one night in the middle of a wild storm made him summon his wand before he moved slowly to the door.

There was another round of a fist banging against the door before he finally blew out the nerves and yanked it open.

He wasn't prepared for the man who fell through the door, stumbling as though it had been holding him up.

"Draco?" he asked, catching him and bearing most of his weight as the other man slumped on his feet; cold, wet fingers clinging to Harry's shirt.

"Sorry," he whispered, silver eyes taking in Harry's face like he was noticing every new wrinkle, every last sun worn freckle. "I didn't know where else to go."

And then he promptly passed out.

Harry carried him over to the bed before locking the cottage door and warding it against whoever might be after Draco. Then he set to work, stripping the other man of his soaking wet clothes, finding numerous bloody gashes and deep red and purple bruises.

(Read more below the cut)

"Shit," he hissed, casting a series of diagnostic charms he'd learned both as an auror and as the former partner of the man in front of him, who held no real regard for his own life. He cast a series of spells to stabilize the other man's condition before going back to his bedroom and digging his case out from under his bed.

Harry spent the next hour and a half tending to wounds, using the spellbook he had, along with half a dozen potions before he was satisfied with Draco's diagnostics.

He managed to get Draco into a pair of loose pajama bottoms before pulling the blankets up over him and stoking the fire, adding a few more logs for good measure. Then he sat down in the armchair and let himself drift while he waited for Draco to wake up and explain himself.

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

Draco had always been a stubborn sod.

Honestly, he shouldn't have even been surprised that the other man hadn't woken up by the time Harry did the following morning.

He went about his business as usual, letting Mable out into the back garden to chase away any rabbits that might be contemplating his vegetables, before making a pot of coffee and starting in on the bread making he did every other day.

The morning went on as usual and Harry was just pulling the bread out of the oven when the spell he'd left over Draco to alert him to movement went off.

"Your stomach always did wake you up," Harry called softly, his voice carrying across the small space.

Draco groaned, rolling and wincing, "Harry?" he asked, eyes blinking open like it was difficult.

"Hey," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and brushing Draco's hair back out of his face.

His eyes fixed on Harry, soft and warm and for a moment it was like they'd never left. Ten years of time and space disappeared as though they'd never existed in the first place.

"I shouldn't be here," he said, eyes clouding again. "Sorry, I've put you in danger-"

"Hey," he said, gently pressing him back against the mattress. "You're not going anywhere. You've suffered massive internal injuries, you need to rest and-"

"I need to go," he repeated, struggling to stand.

Harry touched his shoulder, "You're not going anywhere. You said last night that you didn't know where else to go."

"I was delirious."

"I'm aware," he replied. "But I ran diagnostics; you didn't have any tracers on you, there's been no abnormal magical activity within a 10 kilometer radius, my cottage is warded and it's unplottable. We're safe."

Draco sank back against the pillow for a moment, rubbing his face with his hands.

He took in the curve of his wrists, even narrower now than they'd been when they'd worked together. He'd lost weight, too, and Harry's gut churned uneasily. "You've been working too hard," he said softly.

"Someone had to," Draco snapped and Harry recoiled, standing and moving back to the bread he'd left sitting on the counter. "Sorry," Draco said, and even without looking at him, Harry knew he was shaking his head. "I didn't mean that."

"You did," Harry replied evenly as he spread butter and then honey on a warm slab of bread. "Do you still like honey in your tea?" he asked as he prepared a cup for himself.

"Yes," he murmured, defeated.

Harry returned a few minutes later, handing Draco a plate with bread and a cup of tea before sitting down in the armchair once more.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

He nodded.

"I never have been good at keeping myself from antagonizing you."

"Yes, well," he said before sipping his tea, "Wouldn't feel right if you weren't, so," he let the rest of the sentence drop, shrugging a shoulder.

"What do you do here?" Draco asked.

He shrugged again, "I bake bread and I garden. I take my dog for walks on the beach. I tend my bees."

"And you're happy doing that?" he asked as though he couldn't quite believe it.

Harry hummed, "I stopped trying to atone a long time ago."

The other man didn't say anything to that, probably didn't want to start a fight, but that was okay. Harry didn't mind the silence. He'd actually grown rather accustomed to it.

"Don't you miss it?" Draco asked eventually, tearing the crust of his bread between his slender fingers.

"It or you?" Harry replied.

He shrugged, "either. Both."

"It, no," Harry said softly. Then he waited and Draco's eyes found his, "You? Everyday."

"Harry," he whispered, face crumpling.

He reached over and took Draco's hand in his, "I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't watch while you did everything in your power to get yourself killed. Every mission we took," he shook his head, "It's like you were looking for danger."

"Someone had to-"

"I couldn't anymore," he repeated.

Draco stared down at his hands clasped in his lap, "I know."

"Still hurt, though," Harry finished for him. "You were always welcome to come with me, you know."

"I wasn't ready."

He hummed, "And now?"

Draco shook his head, "It's too late now. You've built your whole life here, it's safe and quiet. I'd just bring all of the chaos and-"

"It's not too late," he interrupted. "I got bees, Draco," he said, "so I could make you tea and slather your toast in honey. I bought a cottage by the sea because you always said you wanted to live by the sea someday, the humid air was good for your complexion and all of that. I learned to bake bread because you love the smell of bread in the oven. I've carved out a place for you here," he added, feeling small and afraid in a way he hadn't in a long time. "I want you here."

He blinked at him, "You can't mean that."

"I do."

"They're hunting me," he started. "The ministry-"

"They'll stop," Harry replied. "They stopped looking for me. They'll stop looking for you, too. Eventually."

He still looked uncertain, "You haven't seen me in a decade," he said. "And you just want me to stay here? You don't know anything about me anymore-"

"I'll learn." He brought Draco's knuckles to his lips, "I've never stopped loving you. You just have to let me."

Draco stared at him, tears in his eyes.

"Let it go," he murmured. "You've done enough. Just," he sighed, "Stay."

Harry'd never been so relieved in his life as the moment that Draco nodded and threw himself into Harry's arms. He hadn't ever fancied himself particularly gifted in Divination, but with Draco's body pressed against his, Harry knew that everything was going to turn out just fine.

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

This is very out of order. But it's the prompt that sparked a little bit of joy today.

Read my other ficlets here.

[eri-cheri]

Now that we have reached the last chapter of the year. It is time to do a 2020 roll call of what I like to call, “State of the Shippers”:

1. IzuOcha. Status: Placated.

-IzuOcha’s could celebrate several cute tidbits throughout the year. Mini moments as they say.

Anime Highlights: The OVA’s came in clutch with moments for shippers all around and IzuOcha is no exception. We got a cute tidbit where Izuku and Ochako bumped into each other and were flustered.

Manga Highlights: Christmas kept on giving to this fandom as the AM doll Izuku gave Ochako made many appearances. A cute fist bump between the two was also exchanged and Mina was right there bouncing with y’all.

Heroes Rising: Izuku super man carried Ochako to safety. And was Angy she was injured. Fans could enjoy the small Lois Lane moment.

Troubling Signs?: Ochako said “I would like to be excluded from this narrative” when it comes to her feelings for Deku. She’s a hero damnit! So if they are in for something, probably won’t be while they are still in school.

II. DabiHawks. Status: Yikes.

- Dabi and Hawk’s very public breakup set this fandom in disarray but also kind of disayay?

Anime Highlights: None yet. This fandom was cruelly cock blocked by Bones. Sorry DabiHawks stans.

Manga Highlights: Where to begin, my goodness. With these fans, I guess the good and the bad is a plus in this homoerotic double agent relationship. We have the notion that Dabi may have known Hawks when they were kids, which may be a positive? Hori sure loves his childhood friends. Other than that. The GIRLS WERE FIGHTIN’. Hawks is now permanently scarred by Dabi and I don’t think it was kinky folks. Tokoyami inserted himself in the middle to White Knight Hawks, Dabi broke up with him via YT expose and overall, shippers could anguish in the absolute MESS that this ship endured this year. But I’m sure that’s part of the appeal. So...yay?

Heroes Rising: They were both in it.

Troubling Signs?: The entire relationship is a troubling sign which again, is part of the appeal. Maybe Hawks will cuddle up with Dabi’s father after the war. That’s troubling! Speaking of...

III. EndHawks. Status: Yearning and Burning.

-If there’s one thing Endeavor couldn’t stop worrying about, it was his hot (in more ways than one) new side piece who probably should have looked at the fine print when signing a contract to be a recurring guest star on “Keeping up with the Todoroki’s”.

Anime Highlights: A fateful meeting finally in high definition for all our eyes to see! Hawks’s unwavering support of his biggest hero was endearing to watch and their shenanigans together spurred the anime onlies to finally jump on the biggest May-December ship in the series.

Manga Highlights: Endeavor’s admiration and concern for Hawks seeped through the pages as we entered our most exciting arc in the manga yet. Fate split these two up yet entwined their downfall together. And that Fate’s name was Dabi...or should I say ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️ or should I just say Touya!

Heroes Rising: “Don’t bite my head off, Endeavor.” Geez, can you flirt a little less loud Hawks?

Troubling Signs?: They say never meet your heroes and Hawks is in for a rude awakening. We shall see just how deep his admiration runs or if Endeavor’s past will split our dynamic duo up for good.

IV: TodoDeku. Status: “Precious”

-Shoto’s “Midoriya is in Danger” radar was highlighted in both manga and anime. 4th User’s quirk, who?

Anime Highlights: “Midoriya hasn’t returned yet.” “Where’s Midoriya?” “Midoriya! Grab my hand!” “Have some of my Soba Midoriya.” Shoto gets it. His emotional support friend is a danger magnet. TodoDeku’s also enjoyed tiny tidbits in the OVA such as a hand grabbing scene. Gotta hold tight to those crumbs.

Manga Highlights: Two Words. “Precious Friend.” Deku comes in w/o arms or legs fighting for Shoto and Shoto’s honor. These two spent the entire year worried sick about each other, and going against all odds to save each other. Precious Friends indeed. TDDK fans ate.

Heroes Rising: Shoto kicks some dog ass and then faints thinking of Deku (and Bakugo but shh. Let the shippers rejoice.) On the bright side, we have a 3rd movie coming featuring “The Three Musketeers” so shippers of TdDk can HOLD TIGHT to what’s to come.

Troubling Signs?: Shoto still doesn’t know about OFA and he’s gonna have LOTS of questions after this arc. Will Deku finally tell him? If not, it could make or break the ship.

V. TodoBaku. Status: “Shining through the city with a little funk and soul.”

-Who knew the greatest comedy duo we needed was Shoto and his hot headed “friend” or not friend? It still remains unclear to Shoto. Regardless, these two had a fun year.

Anime Highlights: “I wanna see your cute face”, disco dancing, and more fun in the provisional license training. Plus the OVA added some cute moments between the two such as Bakugo staying behind to save Todoroki during a dangerous excercise and his adorable plan neatly animated for us. I’d say TodoBaku’s really were resurgent and energized this year!

Manga Highlights: Shoto, that is not how you properly Catch a Kacchan, I’m sorry. But at least you did it you mad lad. As with Deku, Shoto spent the year worried sick about Bakugo. While the anime let us have our fun, these two were suffering in the manga.

Heroes Rising: Again, Shoto put a dog down and then fainted with Bakugo on his mind (and Deku but we ignore that. Shush.) TodoBaku’s have the 3rd movie to look forward to which is bound to have some amazing content!

Troubling Signs?: They have a lot of trauma to deal with. And a lot of Deku to worry about. I also imagine Shoto will be hurt about being left out of the OFA secret. We shall see what 2021 has to offer.

VI. KiriMina. Status: Unbreakable.

-Changing your hairstyle to match the gal who inspired you in middle school? Sorry y’all but if Mina were a guy, I’d say that’s gay af.

Anime Highlights: We got that backstory Bois. Red Riot’s origin might as well make him be called Pink Riot. Again with Hori and the childhood friends though I wouldn’t exactly call them friends. They just went to the same middle school but Kirishima was highly influenced by Mina’s Chivalrous spirit! A ship is born!

Manga Highlights: The influence is mutual! Mina creates a move based on Kirishima’s unbreakable and we all let out a collective “awwww”. Also in the war arc, we got Kirishima making sure Mina’s chivalrous spirit shines through right into Gigantomachia’s mouth! KiriMina may just be the unsung MVP’s of this arc.

Heroes Rising: They were in it.

Troubling Signs?: I can’t think of a single one. KiriMina’s can enjoy a peaceful sailing.

VII: KiriBaku. Status: Crumb Collectors.

-2020 was an uneventful year for KiriBaku but Bones made sure there were crumbs aplenty! Thank God for OVA’s!

Anime Highlights: KiriBaku’s did thrive in one episode! Kirishima reflects on the sludge incident and evolves his quirk based on inspiring words from Bakugo! Hooray! KiriBaku’s can thrive in their blossoming friendship. The OVA also has Kirishima (and Kaminari but shh) once again following Bakugo’s lead when it comes to the training excercise. How can you not? He’s so manly!

Manga Highlights: Not gonna lie. There is nothing much here this year. I did find a teeny tiny flake in Aizawa’s flashback. Kirishima and Bakugo are sitting next to each other. Oh! And at the hot pot gathering, Bakugo sits next to Kirishima! Eat your crumbs KiriBaku’s! There’s always next year!

Heroes Rising: Kirishima hangs with a lazy Bakugo and delivers the most hilarious line in the whole movie. “Silly Bakugo, there won’t be villains here!” Hahah... Silly Bakugo. Oh you~ KiriBaku’s can inhale the fact that those two sure love to hover around each other!

Troubling Signs?: With great crumbs come little responsiblity. No trouble if there’s no content! 🤔

VIII: KamiJirou. Status: Singing their hearts out 🎶

-If there’s any ship that’s coming close to canonization, I think this is it, folks! “Think of the person most important to you!” Can’t argue with Midnight!

Anime Highlights: Kaminari does non stop encouraging of Jirou and her hobbies! He works super hard to learn guitar for her sake! We love a king who can encourage his queen!

Manga Highlights: Kaminari thinks of the most important person to him and surprise! It’s Jirou! All of the feels can commence.

Heroes Rising: They were in it!

Troubling Signs?: Kaminari does love his women. And men. Kaminari overall is a huge flirt. But Jirou appears to have his heart strings. ❤️

IX: BakuDeku. Status: Rising. 👑

-Alternative Statuses include Winning, Thriving, Soaring. It’s just been non stop content this year. 2020 is truly the year for BakuDeku. The shippers can rejoice.

Anime Highlights: Three words. Be. My. Cane. The OVA’s helped fan the flames of the BkDk hearts with a surprise! Deku tops! Not only that, we got a lovely shoulder tap of encouragement in the canon material. While in season 4, Deku’s primary focus was Eri. Bakugo and Deku still had their moments to be hella gay.

Manga Highlights: Where do I even begin? I guess we’ll just cut to the chase with Bakugo Katsuki: Rising. We finally saw Bakugo’s true feelings manifest for Deku and if getting stabbed for him isn’t the ultimate showing of love, then idk what is. BakuDeku’s rounded out the year with the Volume 29 cover AND the volume 29 cover drafts to eat at our heart strings. Overall, their relationship got the spotlight in the manga this year. And we’re bound to start 2021 with a dramatic confrontation. Hand holding seems to be the key with these two and it didn’t stop with Heroes Rising...speaking of.

Heroes Rising: The entire movie. Like....yeah. That’s it. [OP, your bias is showing. You have to be SPECIFIC.] {But random criticizer in my head, if I lay out the entire plot of the movie, my post will be too long} [OP....] UGHHHH Okay okay. The POPSICLE MELTING. THE HAND HOLDING. THE CHARACTER DESIGNS OF WHAT MIGHT AS WELL BE THEIR LOVE CHILDREN. Did I mention? “It’s fine if it’s you?” CAUSE YEAH. Oh and All Might randomly officiating their wedding in their heads like idk. Isn’t it just simpler if I say the whole movie??!

Troubling Signs?: Well these two’s relationship is extremely delicate and while it has non stop soared this year, Deku might not take too kindly to Bakugo almost dying for him. Will they stop pushing each other away? Time will tell.

That’s all for this year folks! Happy Shipping and good luck to everyone next year!

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Wounded

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader [Dating], Bucky Barnes x Reader [Platonic] Warnings: mantions of kidnapping, slight depictions of PTSD, angst Summary: After you survive a kidnapping that ends up affecting you in ways you and Steve never anticipated, you turn to Bucky for comfort leaving Steve confused and insecure. A/N: alright this is an older one I had sitting on my computer i felt like uploading but very sorry for the lack of content! I am currently dealing with finals but this is my last year so fingers crossed i’ll have more time after this! Still, please enjoy this, I remember really enjoying writing it :)

Masterlist

You shot up in bed suddenly, praying your eyes would adjust to the pitch black darkness of your bedroom fast enough to ease your brain. As your heart raced and sides ached with bruises, you took in your surroundings finally.

You were in your bed, your boyfriend Steve sleeping peacefully next to you. You knew this in your brain but your heart didn’t. It still raced relentlessly, just a haunting reminder of your latest nightmare.

The nightmares always had the same theme. They always seemed to circle back to your troubling and scarring kidnapping you had suffered just a few weeks ago. It was a devastating ploy by some equally devastating men to get to your boyfriend. The abduction didn’t last very long — just about a week in some musty, dirty cell being kicked around — but the scars it left on your brain where so much deeper than you had ever realized until recently.

The physical abuse was bad but the bruises and cuts were healing just fine. It was the mental and emotional games they played that was going to take longer to ease. The words were haunting and they followed you in every crevasse of your brain, typically leaving you running on a couple of hours a sleep. It was a cruel routine: go to bed safe and sound, find peace for two hours, wake up in a cold sweat, watch mindless TV in the common area until breakfast.

Here we go, you thought as you made your way out of the bed. Steve was still undisturbed, in a peaceful dream sleep, typically unaware of your absence. The few times he had caught on you rushed him back to bed, claiming you just wanted a midnight snack. He never questioned it but his eyes always told you he wasn’t convinced. You ignored it — you just couldn’t tell him. The guilt he carried about your kidnapping was unbelievable. You worked so hard to convince him you were alright, it wasn’t ever his fault, and that the wounds were healing because you couldn’t bare to see those eyes in such a miserable state.

It really wasn’t a total lie — the wounds were swell and you wouldn’t dare to blame him for something not in his control — but then the nightmares started. The daunting voice began chiming in. The depression… the anxiety… the fear… it all came at once so unexpectedly.

You tugged on your fluffy robe along with your slippers and made your way to the kitchen. As you rounded the corner you were stunned to see the kitchen light already on. Peaking your head in, your eyes fell on Bucky who was situated at the kitchen island  snacking on some chips.

You stared, unsure of whether you should head to the living room and venture into the kitchen. No one had ever been up with you before and if they did, they never made themselves known.

"I can feel you staring, Y/N."

Bucky’s rough voice brought you out of your ridiculous phase. You sighed and made your way to the fridge.

"What are you doing up?" You asked, grabbing a carton of vanilla ice cream along with a spoon and making your way to the island. You stood opposite of him, watching and waiting for a reply as he crunched on the chips.

"Isn’t this the time you always get up?"

His question stunned you. Holding his intense stare, you placed your spoon on the counter next to the ice cream. Suddenly, your stomach was in a knot. Maybe a part of you didn’t want anyone to know what was going on.

"I just wanted a snack," You gave your go-to spiel but the ex-assassin wasn’t buying one bit of it.

"Every night?" Bucky scoffed. "Probably should eat a bigger dinner, then."

You rolled your eyes as he gave you his know-it-all smirk. You loved Bucky really —totally loved his company and all that — he had been such a great friend to you and so inviting but no matter what, without a fail, he could always pick up on anything that was off. Steve, of course, could see right through you but he always gave you the benefit of the doubt. He was gentler with you, never wanting to pry or upset you, and you were so thankful for that. But Bucky didn’t give a shit — if something was wrong he was gonna find out one way or another.

"Why are you up?" You repeated your initial question, getting a bit fed up with this now. He stalled your question and reached for more chips. You sighed in annoyance and opened the ice cream carton, digging into the creamy deliciousness.

"Something’s up with you," Bucky finally answered. His voice was a bit softer and way less cocky. Hearing someone express they saw you weren’t okay nearly had you in tears. You shoveled more ice cream in your mouth, staring down at the granite counter.

You shook your head. "Just wanted a snack."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N." Bucky groaned. "Come on, don’t make this hard." You placed your spoon in the carton, pushing it to the side. You fiddled with your nails as thoughts and feelings swarmed in your brain. It couldn’t hurt for someone to know, right?

"Nightmares," You spoke softly, voice cracking ever so slightly. "Just some bad nightmares."

"The kidnapping," He whispered. You saw his fists clinch at the mention of it. Your kidnapping had shocked everyone. They all had their own way of handling it but usually it was just a lot of confusion. You weren’t some hero. You didn’t have magical power or a fancy training. You were just a nurse who bandaged up the heroes when they came back. Even with dating Steve, no one expected you to be a casualty.

"It’s really messing with my brain," The words were rough to get out but once they were out there, you felt a new freedom. A weight you never realized was so heavy was being lifted so carelessly with words.

Bucky just nodded and waited for you to continue.

From then on, your nightly routine was no longer a lonesome thing. Bucky began joining you every night with snacks and a therapy session. It felt easy to talk with him about it especially since he understood. He didn’t have to pretend to know how you felt — he had felt it all, too. He got what being captive was like, how the mental manipulation went, how strong the effects of it all could be… You for once didn’t feel crazy. But most importantly — someone knew. Like really knew. And you were immensely grateful.

It seemed to be helping as well. You knew when the thoughts got rough, you could just spew it all out. You could talk about what exactly had happened to you without fear of being looked at differently. The whole thing was like breathing fresh air. You could even sometimes fall back asleep on the couch which now put your sleeping time up to four glorious hours.

The nightly chats really put your daytime spirits back up. So much so, Steve was getting a little suspicious. While he was so relieved you seemed to be doing better, the steps you took to get there were still a mystery to him and you could tell he was curious. When you’d join him in your shared room at the end of the day, he’d ask more questions about what you had done through the day. It was almost like he wanted a play-by-play and you did your best to comply.

It wasn’t until a week or so later that he started catching on to you leaving in the middle of the night. Without knowing it, he had used all his might to stay up one night to see if something was going on. You didn’t appear to be doing anything but work during the day so something must’ve been happening in the night — and that’s when his mind wandered. The thoughts of what could be helping you started to get a little unpleasant.

It was a random Tuesday night and you were on the couch with Bucky eating some pretzels. He was sitting up right while you were laying on the couch, legs thrown over his lap. You were going on about how your nightmares had gotten weaker when unexpected foot steps halted your words.

"What’s this?" The unmistakably strong voice of your boyfriend boomed through the living room. You scrambled to sit up, throwing pretzels all over the coffee table. Both stunned and unsure, you and Bucky stared at Steve. His demeanor was hard, his face unamused, and his eye said he was ready for a fight.

"Steve, babe, what-," You fumbled for your words, trying your best to reason. He hadn’t caught you two doing anything but his energy was so startling it made you unexplainably scared.

"What? What am I doing up? What are you doing up?" He marched towards the couch. Hesitantly, you stood up to face him. Bucky stayed seated, looking at you both with a slight expression of annoyance. He knew how possessive his best friend could get but this felt excessive.

"Just wanted a snack-,"

"Don’t bullshit me," Steve growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. You jumped at the harshness. Sure, you guys had had disagreements before but this was entirely new.

"I… I’m not… Steve-,"

Steve took a deep breath.

"Y/N," His voice got deeper. It was slightly too calm compared to his attitude just seconds before. "Tell me why you’re up at night sneaking around with my best friend."

"Sneaking around?!" You gasped. "Steve, that is not-,"

"OH, IT’S NOT?" Steve’s voice boomed throughout the common area. Even a watching Bucky jumped at the noise.

You quickly backed away from him, completely scared beyond belief. His eyes were harsh, his entire demeanor fuming with anger. You had never seen anything like this from him and it started to bring up the memories you worked so hard to heal from.

"Steve, man, take it down a notch…" Bucky finally stood from the couch and placed his hands on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve flinched back, nearly ready to throw one at Bucky, but something in him clicked. He lowered his hand and took a few deep breaths. Coming to his senses, he looked at you and saw the absolute horror on your face. He had never seen you look at him like that and it broke him into a million pieces.

"I… just… what the hell is going on?" Steve meant for it to come out nicer, but the harshness was yet to leave him and his tone. You started rubbing your hands together, a nervous tick you’ve had forever. Bucky tried to get you to stop when he noticed your movements, but Steve’s cold glare wouldn’t let him anywhere near you.

"I can’t sleep anymore," you said, breaking the silence with a much more powerful voice than you intended. You didn’t know you had the strength. "Ever since… I can’t sleep. I keep having these nightmares and Bucky’s been helping."

Steve scoffed, "Helping?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Now you were getting weary of both super soldiers.

"We sit up talking," Bucky explained. "It helps her… well both of us, really, to talk, watch TV… anything."

"And you didn’t tell me this because…?" Steve asked, pointing his attention back on you. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went down your spine as his cold gaze. You sighed, realizing the gig was up.

"God, Steve, I didn’t wanna worry you!" You exclaimed. "The last thing you need is a girlfriend with PTSD. You go through enough shit and I just didn’t wanna pile it on."

The admission sat in the air heavily around you three. Bucky looked relieve you finally said something but Steve’s eyes just held so much confusion. Personally, you felt so much weight coming off you. You thought you’d never have to tell him, assumed everything would sort itself out, but no, you finally spoke up.

"Honey," Steve sighed with sudden tears forming in his eyes. "You didn’t… You shouldn’t have done that, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

You nodded, "Steve it was just so scary. I didn’t know what to do. Bucky was just there and he got it and would just sit up with me and-,"

"Alright, hon," Steve cut you off and made his way closer. Thankfully, you didn’t flinch away. "I understand and I’m glad you had someone, but I would’ve helped. I can help you, sweetheart."

"I’m sorry," You whispered as he pulled you into a hug. You threw your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest, letting the pent up tears flow. Steve rest his chin on your head, stroking your hair softly.

"I didn’t know you were hurting this much," he admitted.

"It’s been so fucking scary,"

Steve could almost feel his heart breaking at the sound of your voice alone. Your words just piled on so much.

"I should let you two…" Bucky began, essentially forgotten standing next to you two. You pulled away from Steve to look at him.

"Thank you, Buck," you said.

Steve nodded in agreement. "I’m sorry for the overreacting I just… I thought the worst, but really you probably saved my girl."

Bucky gave a small smile and patted Steve on the back. "I didn’t do anything. It’s her strength you gotta thank."

With that, he made his way to the elevator and back to his room, leaving you two still standing in an embrace in the common area. You stared up at Steve, watching his expression towards you change. What was once so scary and harsh was back to the softest man you’d ever met.

"We’ll make some calls in the morning but for now, would you come back to bed?" Steve asked. "I can’t imagine anymore nights without you."

You nodded, giving him a peck on the lips. He led you back to the shared bedroom and for once, you went to bed with a sense of hope.

[ardent-musings]

“Strike Three?” A Neville Longbottom Smut

EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS OF LEGAL AGE AND CONSENTING

Warnings: NSFW 18+, sub!nev, dom!femreader, swearing, slapping (one hit), oral (f and m receiving), vaginal sex, teasing, slight degradation, unprotected sex. (WRAP IT UP YALL)

He wasn't happy anymore.

No matter how hard he tried to convince you he was happy being an Auror, his growing exhaustion and increased amount of nightmare alerted you to his unease. Your once happy and relaxed Neville would come home, only to be reminded of his time in the war. When he was recruited by the Ministry to work for them, he felt honored; for the first time he was really being recognized for his strength and bravery.

But that wasn't who he was. Neville wasn't made to hunt down dark wizards his whole life. He was made for something kinder. Something that wouldn't make him come home looking half alive.

Just like he did today.

"Hi, bubs," you sighed as you caught notice of his dark sullen under eyes.

"Hi, petal," he responded while dropping onto the couch with a huff. He started rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

He was hunched over and tense, the veins in his neck were popped from the strain his job put him under. Unable to see him suffer, you went behind him to rub and massage the sore spot near the base of his neck.

"Love," Neville groans at your skilled fingers working at the knots in his muscle. His deep throaty whine made your stomach twist.

"Does that help any, my love?" You hummed near his ear, massaging behind it to release the ache in his neck.

"It feels perfect," he replied quietly, mewling at the soft digs against his skin.

His head dipped back, exposing the expanse of his skin to your greedy eyes. Neville was always a cutie pie; however, the boy really grew up. Ever since he ran DA during his seventh year, Neville was a combination of gentle power and taunt muscle. He grew out of his baby fat, and sprung up into the attractive man you knew and fell in love with. You loved him however he looked; but his tight shoulder muscles looked beautiful under your fingertips.

Neville's eyes were closed, his mouth dropped open at the feel of your hands against his skin. But before he could enjoy it too much, you stopped massaging is neck and rounded the couch to face him.

He was tired and sore, but his eyes burned into yours with lust, but there was no signs of fire or fight in his olive brown irises.

You knelt down, sitting on your heels as you rubbed up and down the expanse of his work pants.

"I wanna play with you, love," you whispered to your tired boy.

He whined lowly, a sound that lit up the fire in your stomach and sent a chill down your spine. Neville was always so beautiful when he gave up all premonitions and embraced your control.

"I wanna play with you," you repeated while unbuckling the silver hardware of his belt. His eyes closed, brows furrowing, and chest heaving as you toyed with the waistband of his jeans.

"Love," he groaned, although, the words barely escaping his pouty pink lips, "God, please do whatever you want to me."

"Is that an order?" You cautioned. Neville was not going to be in control tonight; both of you knew it. But you needed him to be aware of the power dynamic this given night.

"No!" he cried. "No, no, that wasn't an order."

"Then what was it?"

He shifted in his seat, wiggling as you dragged the belt out of the looped holes and began making quick work of his zipper.

"What was it?" You asked with a bit more grit.

"A plead? Fuck!"

Neville's explanation was cut short, the feeling of your hand wrapped around his cock was already an overwhelming feeling and the most release he had gotten all day. You gripped onto his thigh with a firm grasp, nails digging lightly into the soft skin, making your boy groan at the light scratch marks that littered his leg.

"Wanna feel good, baby boy?" You teased. "Want me to play with your pretty cock until I get you off?"

"God, fuck yes," he whined, the words coming out in pieces as you flicked your wrist, pumping only the tip of his dick. You knew just how sensitive he was there.

Neville cried out at the slap you administered to her thigh, making him jump and groan in pleasure at the tingly sting. The pale skin already started turning red: a sign of your time together.

"Yes, what?" You teased as you kitten licked him all while you massaged his heavy balls in a single hand, the other one teased the inside of his thigh.

"Yes, ma'am," his brows furrowed in the middle, a mixture of both pain and pleasure etched across every inch of his cute face.

Having literally the situation in the palm of your hand, you wanted to fully take advantage of the strong man in front of you. Your speed increased, making Neville whine and moan out quiet whimpers at the feelings you were imposing on him.

His neck covered in a thin layer of sweat and goosebumps, every nerve and neuron was fired up at the feeling of your lips wrapped around him. You giggled and slapped him against your tongue, treating him like your little toy to play with.

"God fucking damnit," Neville pouted, threading his fingers into the hair at the base of your neck, bucking up into your warm mouth for even more friction. He just needed a few more pumps to get off.

But you wouldn't let him.

Strike one.

With a pop, you rose from your kneeled position, just to straddle his lap and grab him by his throat, pinning him to the back of the couch. Neville's eyes were blown wide from his delayed high, his mouth dropping in pleasure at the squeeze around his neck.

"Did I say you could touch me, sweet slut?"

"No," he groaned, his dick leaking desperately against his work shirt, "I'm sorry. Please, god, I'm sorry. Love, please make me cum."

"You wanna cum?" You mocked back to him in a sickeningly sweet voice, your grip tightening slightly around his neck. "Does my big boy wanna cum for me?"

Your boyfriend mumbled his wishes and desires, his thumb grazing the exposed skin at the hem of your shirt, just yearning for a touch of your skin.

Strike two.

"I said no touching, Nev," you chastised as you grabbed both of his wrists and pinning them to the couch cushions, leaving him laying down beneath you. "Shirt off. Now."

The sweet, sensitive boy responded immediately, his work shirt was gone in a second. He was now fully naked beneath you, his skin was littered with scars and healing bruises, and yet he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. And he was yours.

"Get to work, pretty baby," you instructed as you shuffled up his chest, hovering your clothed pussy over his chest. "Think you're up for the challenge?"

"Yes, yes, please, love. Sit on my face, petal. I'll make you feel so good."

Neville had totally disregarded his own release, the idea of getting you off gave him something to focus on. And you weren't going to ask a second time. So within seconds, you sat with knees around his shoulders, waiting for Nev's next move considering his wrists were still pinned above his head.

"Want me to sit down, honey? Think you can eat my pussy as good as you can fuck it?"

His head craned higher, trying to get a taste of you before he was even given permission. Your teasing was growing to be too much, his cock rested on his lower belly, dreadfully sensitive from being left on the edge.

Graciously, you lowered yourself to his face, grinding lightly against his crooked nose for the meantime. Neville groaned at your taste, his tongue dipping to trace along your panties and to suck against your clit. The one thing Neville was always fantastic at, was eating your out. But seeing his arms pinned above him, made you even wetter; it was always a sight to see when Neville grew so desperate to get you off.

"Keep your hands up," you ordered as you then brought your hands the his hair, tugging and dragging his face against your cunt, doing your best to get off before he ever could.

Reluctant moans left your lips, Neville was just too good with his mouth.

"Wanna get me off, toy?" You taunted, finding it filthy how all your boyfriend could do was moan in response against your panties. "Think you can even get me off like that? Only using your mouth to get me off, yeah?"

Once again, all your boy could do was groan against you, taking in every grind and hair pull with a smile and a twitch to his cock.

"Fuck, Neville, you're gonna make me cum. Get me there, honey. Get your girl to feel good."

And he did. It only took a few more swivels of your pussy against his hungry lips to make your back arch. You dug his hands into the couch beneath him, fully grinding his face as if it were a pillow. He made you cum incredibly hard, your legs shook around his head as you filled with the feeling of your high.

You released his hands and resituated your legs to cradle his hips, now straddling him. Neville's chin was glistening in your cum, making him lick his lips as if he had just eaten some delicious candy or butterbeer.

"Now's your time baby," You promised as you grabbed his cock and lined it up with you. "But you gotta work for it."

Neville's confused look amused you, you could see the gears turning in his head.

"I'm not gonna sink down onto your cock, pretty boy."

It took Neville a second to understand, but he got the memo. Without touching you, he began snapping his hips up into your soaked and sensitive cunt. His deepness was surprising, given the fact that you refused to put in  the extra bit of work. But Neville was desperate beyond relief, his hips jutted off the couch to fuck you deep and fast even if you weren't meeting him halfway. You rubbed at your clit as Neville threw his head back at the squeeze of you against him.

"Gonna cum, pretty boy?" You asked while gripping onto his hair.

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck.." Neville groaned out loudly, his hips stuttering as he worked himself into a sweat. "Fuck, please let me cum. Let me cum. Love."

"Go on, love," you moaned above him, growing close to your second release. "Cum for me. "

Neville cried out loudly as you began bouncing furiously on top of him, giving him the friction he needed. He fully forgot the "no touching" rule, as he ran his hands up and down your smooth thighs as you both came in unison.

His cries and your demands were like a catalyst to the other, making your orgasms so incredibly intense. You fell on top of his bare chest, placing kisses against his collarbone and Adam's apple. A gentle blow of air against his neck made Neville groan, his body sensitive from all the teasing but so wonderfully taken care of all the same.

He twirled you hair between his fingers, finding comfort in your softest features.

"Thank you, petal. I needed that so much," he admitted with blushing cheeks.

"Of course my love, I just hate seeing you so stressed from work. You deserve to do something you adore, honey."

"I adore you."

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter Eight

Here's Chapter 8, y'all. My work is not to be posted on any other site. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: language, violence, descriptions of torture.

Series Master List

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

You climb down from the tower, trying to dry your eyes. You dust your hands off and head for the lab. You don’t want to study these stupid flowers, you just want to forget that whole stupid fucking planet. Your eyes won’t stop watering, your throat thick and painful as you try not to burst into tears again.

You round a corner, glancing behind you as you wipe your eyes again. The skin around them is starting to feel raw as you rub them endlessly. There’s something in the middle of the walkway that shouldn’t be there. You turn back to look at what you’ve walked into, stumbling back as fingers wrap around your shoulders.

“Y/N,” Poe breathes, eyes fluttering closed.

Oh, Maker. Your lower lip trembles as you look at his beautiful face, the rejection from earlier swirling up and stifling you. Your eyebrows pinch against your will, eyes starting to squint as the tears threaten to overtake you. Fighting for control, you struggle to smooth out your forehead, but no matter how hard you try, it won’t relax. You inhale sharply through your nose and his eyes fly open.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He mumbles, pulling you in for a hug. It hurts, feeling him care about you this way. You don’t hug him back, keeping your arms rigid by your sides. If you let yourself give in, it will only make things harder. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” He whispers, burying his face in your neck. “I didn’t mean… this morning…” he takes a shuddering breath. “Please? Just… pl-please.” He hugs you tighter, his voice breaking.

“Poe,”

“Don’t you think I want… if I let myself ki-“ he cuts off audibly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He whispers.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, but it comes out colder than you mean it to.

“Forgive me? You have to know I would do anything for you. Anything you ask of me.”

“You didn’t do anything that needs to be forgiven.” You say softly, your arms curling around his back, your willpower crumbling.

“In my room-“ he starts.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.” You sigh, turning your face into his neck. “Moment of weakness. Will you forgive me?” You ask.

His soft lips press into your neck and you shiver at the unexpected touch. “Nothing to forgive.” He murmurs, lifting his head up to trail up your neck. Your heart thrums erratically in your chest as his lips brush your jawline. “Please tell me you haven’t been crying all day because I’m an asshole.”

“No.” You say, barely more than a whisper. It’s all you can manage as his lips trail up your cheek. “I finished my report for Leia.” You say and he tenses. “Poe? I know… I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk about the river?” You ask quietly.

“I liked the river.” He mumbles against your cheek. You desperately want to turn your head, to catch his lips with yours. Maker, you feel like you’re on an emotional rollercoaster, high then low, upside down, then backwards.

“I meant what happened in the river.” You correct.

“Liked that, too.” That earns a weak chuckle.

“You shouldn’t have.” You mumble.

“Y/N,” he groans, guiding you against the wall. He brushes his thumb along your jaw. “What’s bothering you? Tell me. You have so much that you’re not saying and it just breaks my heart.”

Your holopad beeps and you close your eyes. “I have to get to the lab.” You twist your face away.

“I have literally nothing else to do. We can talk on the way.” He says, taking your hand.

“You don’t have to.” You look at him suspiciously. “Why send poor Snap to my room earlier?” You ask and he tips his head back, laughing.

“For funsies.”

“Pando? What the hell was that about?” You ask, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Lando Calrissian. You mentioned he was an inspiration of yours to become a pilot. I figured you would get the reference. Poe, Lando, we’re both pilots.” He shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“I mentioned Calrissian once, five years ago. I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“I remember everything.” He promises. “How was your caf?” He hints.

“Better than the one Bryce brought me. Thank you. And for the food.” You add and he beams, lifting your hands to trace your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Of course.” He looks at you before facing straight and keeping his lips pressed together.

“You might as well say it. You have a terrible sabaacc face.” You sigh, pulling him into the lab.

“I don’t like him. He’s been dating you for three years and still doesn’t know how you like your caf. It’s not hard. He’s a jerk. And I hate that he kept me from the med bay so I couldn’t see you. I hate that he acts like he owns you.” He picks up your protective lab coat and helps you slide your arms in. You wince in pain but quickly compose your face so he won’t see.

“Anything else?” You look up at him.

“Only a million other things.” He sighs, leaning against your lab bench.

“Tell me.” You say, catching his hand.

He lifts your hand to his mouth, lips parting slightly as he flutters his eyes shut. He inhales deeply, lips moving silently against the back of it.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“This is so fucked up to say, but I’m so proud of you.” He says. “When we were taken, you were incredible. I never should have put you in that position, but you didn’t say anything, not to save me, not to save yourself and, Maker, I’m so fucking proud of you. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to hold out when he started hurting you, but the fact that you weren’t breaking gave me strength.” He bows his head, clinging to your hand. “And I hate the fact that you think we went through all that because of you. None of it, none, was your fault.” He sighs, lifting his eyes to your face. “In fact, if it wasn’t morally the exact wrong thing to do, I would kiss you again in a heartbeat. Over and over. But you’re a good person and that wouldn’t be fair to you.” He murmurs softly.

“Poe,” you plead. It’s all you want, to kiss him.

“I know. I shouldn’t want that. You’re not mine to want that with, but I just… it’s in my head now. How good you taste, how soft your lips are.” He squeezes his eyes shut, cutting off his words and you squeak. You try to get your hands free, you want them in his hair, holding him to you.

“Poe, please!” You struggle and he drops your hands, hurt written all over his face.

“Okay.” He turns to leave and you grab his arm, pulling him back. You cling to his face, pulling his lips against yours. His hands grip your waist and you exhale in a rush. A massive weight is lifted off your shoulders as you kiss him, hold him. His lips part under yours and you moan low in the back of your throat. He clings to you, crushing you against him like he can’t get close enough.

Maker, you could stay like this forever.

He backs you into the lab bench, fingers pressing into your hips and you rock into him, starving. The door hisses open and he jerks back, spinning around and walking away a few steps.

Nya walks around the corner and looks up to see you fiddling with your holopad. Having barely recovered your wits, you grabbed the first thing your hands landed on.

“Y/N.” She greets with a smile. It’s fake and you want to slap her, but you just tighten your grip on your holopad instead.

“Nya. What are you doing here?” You ask, trying for polite at least and failing horribly. Poe smirks at you over the shelf he’s studying.

“Looking for you, actually.” She says, heading over and you internally groan.

“What did I do?” You ask and she laughs lightly.

“Nothing yet.” She promises. “Your plants are in bin Cin17.” She says, handing over the packet she’s holding.

“Oh. Thanks.”

She smiles at you and turns to walk away. You glance at Poe and he shrugs, coming back over. “That was odd.” He comments.

“Odd? That’s literally the nicest she’s ever been to me.” You sigh, turning back to your bench.

“I wonder why.”

“Maybe she wants something? Maybe she saw my outright panic attack in the dining hall and is getting off on my suffering.” You sigh.

“Or. On a slightly less negative note. Maybe she missed you? Maybe she realized she’s in love with you and now she wants to make it right and have babies with you.” He says and by the end, you’re laughing much harder than you should be. You double over, grasping your knees, your entire midsection aching for various reasons.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me rip my stitches.” You gasp.

“It wasn’t that funny.” He mumbles.

“Oh man, you’re a funny guy, Dameron.” You pant, standing up and wiping your forehead.

“Thanks.” He mutters dryly. “May I ask what, exactly, was so funny about that?”

“Nya. Liking me? She’s so into dick, it’s all she talks about sometimes. Everyone who has one is in her sights. Especially you, Commander. And then babies with me? Come on. Get serious.”

“Just her? Or anyone in general is unbelievable?” He asks, an odd, stiff texture to his voice.

“I dunno. Anyone? I never really thought I’d make a good mom.” You shrug, heading for the containers now that you’re back under control.

“Really? I do.” He says and your face heats.

“Moot point at the moment. Bryce doesn’t want kids.” You say and he groans.

“Just when I think…” he rubs his face. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.” He mumbles, swiftly heading for the door.

“Wait, Poe!” You call, half turning.

Too late. He’s gone.

***

You’ve never been punched before. Training was always hand to hand, blocking blows or fighting with weapons. They don’t teach you how to take a punch, or five, or twenty.

It doesn’t hurt at first. The impacted spot on your cheek just goes numb. You can feel the cut on the inside from your teeth against the sensitive tissue, but it doesn’t hurt. Yet.

Then after a couple minutes, it turns into a white hot pain. Couple that with fists landing all over your body, and you’re in pain like you’ve never felt before. Tears spill over your cheeks as the fist lands against your nose, cracking your head back against your prison table. You can’t see, can’t feel your face. Your mouth fills with blood, coating your tongue and spilling down your chin as you gasp for air. You can feel your lips split in different places.

There isn’t a part of you that doesn’t hurt, but you hold onto Poe. He didn’t give them anything, so you can’t either. You can’t let him have suffered for nothing.

The trooper stops, rolling his shoulder. “Answer me. Where is your base?”

You spit the blood out of your mouth at his feet. “That all you got? I was just getting into it.” You say and he grumbles, turning to leave for the time being.

You close your aching eyes and drop your head against the support. It’s not comfortable by any stretch of the word, but it’s better than having to hold your head up anymore.

The image from your nightmare flashes in front of your eyes, Poe fighting the invisible enemy, only now it’s not so invisible. A StormTrooper is wielding the blade, plunging it deep into Poe’s heart.

You jerk upright in your bed, upsetting your holopad and sending it crashing to the floor. You flip on the light, unnerved and feeling like you're not alone in your room. But there doesn’t seem to be anything there. Just your clothes on the floor.

You push yourself to your feet, not feeling safe here, and grab your blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders. You want to go see Poe, make sure he’s okay, be positive your nightmares haven’t gotten him yet.

But he doesn’t want to see you. Having avoided you for the rest of the day, you get the hint. A moment of weakness. That’s what that kiss was. You were there and he needed someone. Could have been Nya, probably for all he would have minded. Any port in the storm.

So, you bypass his room and head for the tower where you ate your lunch. It’s quiet, dark, you can see anything coming for you. You climb the steps slowly, feeling the familiar pinch of your stitches. They’re still ugly, crude, jagged. Maybe it’s good that Poe doesn’t really want you. No one could possibly love the new mutilated you. Bryce hasn’t seen them yet, either. You’re positive that the second he does, he’ll run for the hills.

Maker, you’re selfish.

You push open the door and a body in the tower makes you freeze. “Oh.” You mumble, realizing it’s Poe. “Sorry. I’ll leave.” You rush, ducking back down.

“Stay.” He croaks and you hesitate. “I can’t sleep. Stay and talk to me?”

“You sure you want me to?” You ask.

“I’d rather it be you than anyone else.” He admits.

You feel like leaves on the wind as you climb the rest of the way up. Swirling around in chaotic confusion. You don’t know which way is up, what to trust. You sit a little ways away, back against the wall, facing him.

“What do you want me to talk about?” You ask finally.

He drags a stick through the dirt, making scratch drawings. “I told you some stuff earlier. Spilled some of my guts. Anything you wanna tell me?” He asks finally.

“Yes.” You answer. It’s harder than you think to get these words out. “I…” you close your mouth, thinking about where to start.

“Not easy. To spill your secrets.” He muses. The pale moonlight ghosts across his face. He looks terrible. Tired, hurt, miserable.

“Anything you wanna ask me?” You prompt. “Maybe I can say it that way.”

He looks at you warily. “Will you tell me the truth?”

“Always.” You answer immediately.

“Why did you kiss me in the river?” He asks. “I’ve been thinking over it on a loop and I just can’t figure it out.”

“It felt… right. I needed to do it. I wanted to do it. You’ve always been the best person in the world to me, always taking care of me and looking out for me. And on that planet, I was losing my fucking m-mind, seeing things, hearing things. You were so patient, so kind, so… you. And I could feel tension. Not in a bad way, but pulling me towards you. I’m so sorry, Poe. I know you said I didn’t do it, but I can’t shake the feeling that if I hadn’t, if I hadn’t distracted you, you would have heard those troopers coming. You’ve never been so compromised on a mission before until you go on one with me. I fucked up so bad and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for hurting you like that.” You ramble, the dam broken and the words spill out everywhere. He doesn’t move in the shadows.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Your ears start to ring in the dead silence before he speaks again. “So, why kiss me in the lab?”

You sniffle quietly. “You admitted you wanted to do it again, and it’s been one of the dominating thoughts in my head since you saved me in that closet. I want to kiss you. And I like kissing you, but… the guilt… it just keeps reminding me that I’m hurting everyone. Every time I kiss you, I hurt Bryce. Every time I mention him, I hurt you. I can’t get it right. I’m turning into a plague.” You press your lips together.

“You had a nightmare in the cave. What was it?” He asks. You’re not even sure if he’s actually listening to your words, he gives no indication of hearing them.

“I,” you pause, having to think back that far. “I was hovering over myself as I slept. You were saying something but I couldn’t really hear it. Then I went outside, but it was into a First Order ship. And then I saw the tables we were attached to. And then two men fighting with lightsabers. And then…” you cut off, swallowing thickly. This part you remember, even though you wish you could forget it. “A-and then you. Y-you were fighting something I c-couldn’t see. It had a bl-blade and it killed you, stabbed you th-through the heart.” You say, gasping for breath. It feels like the surrounding air is crushing you. “I w-woke up and you weren’t there, I pa-panicked.” You twist your fingers into your blanket, hiding your face.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” He asks finally.

“Poe,”

“Do you? If you say no, I’ll never bring it up again.” He promises.

“Of course, I do. But it’s not that easy. I keep hurting you. I don’t know how not to. And being around you, it makes me happy, it makes it easier to breathe. I don’t wanna lose you. I couldn’t survive it.” You admit shamelessly.

“You won’t lose me. I won’t leave you.” He says. “One more thing.” He starts.

“Okay?”

“Do you hate the way dickhead doesn’t know how you like your caf?” He asks and you crack a tearful smile.

“Yes. It’s not hard.” You mumble.

“Come here.” He holds out his arms. “Come sit with me.”

You scoot over, resting your head on his shoulder as he spreads your blanket out over the both of you.

“I need you, too, you know. I can’t lose you, either. And if that means I have to kick Bryce from here to Tatooine, I will.” He says, nuzzling into your hair.

“Please don’t. You’ve been hurt enough on my account.” You close your eyes to him stroking your hair.

“No promises, sweetheart.” He's quiet for so long, you nearly fall asleep. “But I’m not gonna stop kissing you.” He murmurs against your hair.

With one last conscious thought, you dig into your pocket, reaching for his hand with your other one. Sleep is making your limbs like lead, heavy and clumsy. You feel him chuckle a little, placing his wrist in your fumbling palm. You place the chain in his hand, curling his fingers around it.

“Meant to give it to you earlier,” you mumble, almost certain you formed actual words.

“Y/N, ” he chokes, squeezing you tight. “Thank you.”

***

“You have to eat something.” He protests, guiding you down off the ladder. His chain is back around his neck, shimmering against his tan skin as it always has. Some day, he's going to give it to someone; someone he wants to spend the rest of forever with. Someone who isn't broken like you. Someone who actually deserves him. And you'll try to be happy for him, but you know it'll break your heart.

“Can’t you just… go get it for me?” You ask, feeling your hands start to shake at the thought of the crowd.

He smiles softly, brushing your hair back. “Sweetheart. No.”

“Poe…” you start and he cups your face.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? I’ll be right there the whole time.” He promises. “But you have to eat. You need your friends. They miss you.” He looks around, noting the empty pathway. “If you need to leave, we’ll leave. Just say the word.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s gonna be loud.” You protest as he takes your hand and leads you towards the commissary and dining hall.

“This early?” He scoffs. He pulls you along gently. You could stop him, you could let the tears free that have been simmering just under the surface since you got back. You know he wouldn’t push you to do it if you’re not ready.

But… he’s gone in there, he’s seen his friends. If he can do it, you can, too. You take an extra step, falling in next to him instead of being pulled by him and he smiles down at you proudly.

“There’s my girl.” He says softly. He holds your hand right up until you stop outside the doors. He lifts your hand to his mouth softly, eyes never leaving your face. “I’ll be right next to you.” He promises. You nod and he lowers your hand, reluctantly letting it go until not even your fingertips are touching.

He pulls open the door and lets you walk inside first. He doesn’t shove you in, instead, he waits for you to take a deep breath, smiling down at you until you straighten with a false sense of confidence, and step inside. He follows you, just barely touching your arm as he guides you to the line of food.

Despite his assurances that the room would be mostly empty, with shift changes and missions leaving early, the room is fairly crowded. You can feel his eyes on you, along with about a hundred others, but you feel better today. Stronger, even. You can do this.

You hope.

Poe picks up two trays and starts to put food on both, watching your face for positive or negative signs. You could do this yourself, you’re perfectly capable, but you like him waiting on you a little bit. Just this one time, let him dote on you.

He finds an empty table, just the two of you and he sits across from you, foot tapping against yours. They trickle over, slowly, one at a time. Your friends come to sit next to you. But this time, they don’t swarm you. They sit next to you, or next to Poe, talking to him about something trivial and you’re so grateful. It lets you get used to it again, being around people, acting human again.

You watch Poe, listening to him joke with Snap; Beaumont sets an apple on your tray as he tells Poe some gossip. And Poe sits there, listening and laughing to all of it. He interacts, partakes, and never once does he look uncomfortable or like he wants to bolt. You don’t know how he does it.

And then Lieutenant Connix walks behind him. She leans down to say something in his ear, her hand squeezing his shoulder as she talks. His hand lifts to cover her own as he twists his face to listen. After a second, he nods and she walks away.

You’ve always liked her, she’s friendly, smart, ambitious. But maybe you need to rethink your ideas. She walks quickly, her hips swaying, and you huff under your breath. Since when are she and Poe so close?

You try to listen, to distract yourself, but you can’t tear your eyes away from where the pretty girl disappeared through. Poe’s foot taps against yours and you flinch, looking up at him slowly. He smiles softly, his eyes falling to your ignored food.

You roll your eyes, picking apart your roll and taking small nibbles. After a couple minutes, Connix is forgotten as Beaumont regales the table with a story of how he got trapped in a wedding dress on Coruscant.

Soon, you’re laughing along with them. You forgot what this feels like, your face hurts from smiling so much. Poe’s beautiful eyes are on you, his own grin infectious.

A crack echoes across the big room and you jump, hands grabbing the table, ready to run. Your heart pounds in your ears and it’s like your vision completely leaves you. Snap’s hand settles on yours closest to him as he shouts something. Your brain slowly fades back in and you realize Poe has your other hand across the table and Beaumont is out of his chair, peering across the room.

Two mechs collided, neither paying attention to what was in front of them, their trays falling to the cement. That was the cracking noise.

Poe’s hand is shaking just slightly, hardly noticeable, as it covers yours, but you feel it. You twist your hand into his and he glances over at you. You smile softly, tracing your thumb over the back of his hand.

Beau sits back down next to you, his eyes searching your face for a minute before he grins. “Never boring, eh, Y/N?” He asks, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“I guess not.” You answer. You pull your hands back and pick up the apple. Poe is quicker than you thought possible, his favorite knife out and the handle pressed into your palm before you can even realize you need one.

You cut the apple in half, core out the middle on both halves and give the other half to your best friend. He’s abnormally quiet for a minute as he chews, and you wonder if maybe he’s not as okay as you thought.

“Wexley, what’s on the agenda today?” You ask Snap, half turning to face him, giving Poe time to recover.

“Well, I have a mission the day after tomorrow. So, I need to get my ship ready. There’s a part that’s being problematic. I have some mechs that are gonna look at it today and see if they can fix it.” He sighs.

“Well, if they have any problems, you can always come find me and see if I can help.” You offer and he grins.

“I just might do that.”

Once Poe is sure you’ve eaten all you possibly can without getting sick, he collects your trays and you join him to deposit them before leaving the room with a wave to your friends.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks and you slip your hand into his.

“Thank you for making me go.” You say, leaning into his shoulder.

“Of course.” He smiles. “And… thank you.” He sighs, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand. You cast your mind around, trying to figure out what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“I didn’t do anything.” You frown.

“With that stupid tray… you… fuck. How are you always so strong exactly when I need you to be?”

“Poe, I was ready to bolt. The only thing stopping me was you and Snap.” You tell him. “If you hadn’t grabbed my hand to keep me there, all you would have seen was my dust as I hightailed it out of there.”

He smiles softly, but it’s weak, a little broken. “I didn’t grab your hand to keep you there. I grabbed it to keep me there.” He admits, pausing outside the door to the lab.

You stare up at him, realization dawning much too slowly. “Poe,” you place a hand on his cheek and he leans into it, eyes fluttering closed. “Anything I can do, anything you need-I’ll always be here. You’re not alone.” You whisper and he pulls you close, kissing you softly.

Every time feels like the first time. His lips press against yours like they’ve known each other forever, no hesitation. He tips your head back, towering over you as you hold onto his shirt. His tongue is soft on yours, not domineering and controlling the way… someone else’s is… your subconscious blanks on the name, but it doesn’t matter, not when Poe is kissing you like his very life depends on it. No, like your life depends on it.

He pulls away, breathing slightly faster, forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are closed, but yours are open, drinking in every detail of his beautiful face. “Me and you, kid.” He agrees and you punch his arm, a smile already pulling at your lips. His eyes fly open and he rubs his arm.

“We’re the same age.” You glower and he laughs.

“I know. But you’re so much shorter.” He puts his hand on top of your head and you slap it away, turning towards the door with a huff. You’re about to swipe your keycard, but he pulls you back, plucking it out of your pocket. He swipes it and pushes the door open, letting you step in first.

“Will you stay?” You ask, reaching for your log books.

“Yeah. I don’t have anything else to do. I’m still technically on leave, recovering from…” he trails off, but you get the picture.

“Alright.” You start checking off your supplies and notes while he moves around your lab. You don’t pay him much attention, there isn’t much trouble he can get into. But you feel better having him around.

He looks through every box on the supply shelves, every glass container. You look over at him, catching his eye being magnified through a specimen jar. He looks so ridiculous that you can’t help but snort at him. He grins and straightens up, coming over next to you.

“Didn’t find anything you liked?” You tease, flipping through the last of your notes.

“Oh, I found plenty I like. Just nothing I can take right now.” He sighs wistfully. Your face heats, so you keep your gaze directly away from him. He chuckles and sits in the spinning chair next to your bench.

Chapter Nine

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[drwcn]

《 Without Envy 》 storyboard 10 - concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

Other snippets and storyboards can be found on [Master List]

Exactly 851 days - 2 years, 4 months and 11 days - after Wei Wuxian arrived at Gusu and began his mission as a sleeper agent, he was activated.

That chilly morning, he walked into the pastry shop - a front maintained by a decade-long Wen spy - a walk he'd done hundred of times on hundreds of mornings since he arrived. He breezed past the packaging counter, skipped through the faded cotton drapes, and rounded behind the back staircase to the room where Xue Yang always waited for him. Only this time, it was not just his candy-obsessed, murder-happy shidi, but a face he hadn't seen in many, many months. "...Shifu?" Wen Zhuliu's visit meant the end of his carefree days. It's time. That night, Wei Wuxian did not look at either Lan Wangji or Jiang Yanli when he bid "dianxia" and "Jiang-zhuzi" good night. He pretended to retire to bed early, after washing himself of his servant's exterior and donning his robes of night-black. He laid in the dark, waiting for time to pass, and reminded himself of his true purpose. He was never meant to care about these people; love these people. Jiang Yanli was not his doting foster sister; Lan Wangji was not his beloved wangye. I am Wei Wuxian of the great Qishan Wen. Nevernight is my home. I am a spy. Gusu is my enemy. Wei Wuxian kept his eyes closed, his breathing even, and his heartbeat slow. In the lonely quiet, he waited, and waited, and waited. Until the candlelight around the princely manor dimmed to nothing, until the night grew still and the moon shone bright and high in the dark, dark sky. Reaching under the floorboard beneath his bed, Wei Wuxian retrieved his life-long companion from its hiding place and released it from its sheath. "Hello, old friend." He whispered, stroking the blade edge. Suibian's steel glistened with cold malevolence in the stark, pale moonlight.

It would be another year before WWX's identity is discovered. During that time, he lived a double life. In the day, he was Lan Wangji's precious Wei Ying, and at night, he was the blade in Wen Ruohan's hand, stealing, killing and destroying on command. His assignments were not always murder; sometimes it required him to break into secure facilities and obtain copies of certain documents. He was never alone on these jobs; there was always someone convalescing with him from within. Slowly, he began to realize just how deep Wen Ruohan's spy network had infiltrated Gusu's foundation. In a way, it excited him, to know that the posturing and pretending would soon be over, that in the near future a quick war would sweep across the land and unite the two nations. In another way, it frightened him to the bones.

Wei Wuxian killed 37 individuals within the span of a year, 37 men and women of different ranks, status and stations. He did not always know why these people needed to die; in fact, he often didn't and preferred it that way. If he didn't know the motive, then he couldn't argue against the reason, and thus could go on believing that what Wen Ruohan did was ultimately for the betterment of everyone. The men of Gusu were weak - Wei Wuxian was always told - they were not fit to rule. The people of Gusu would be better served under a united empire. He repeated this statement to himself before every job, but over time, the mantra on his tongue began to lose its flavour.

In the meantime however, Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli quickly formed a strong plan on how they wanted to live out the rest of their lives. Lan Wangji never quite enjoyed laying with women, but Jiang Yanli had just enough wickedness behind her demure exterior that things were... well, interesting. In any case, it was not long before she came to him all smiles and whispered the good news over luncheon .

"Truly?" Lan Wangji set down his chopsticks. "Hm uhm." Jiang Yanli dapped her mouth delicately. "Now, perhaps it's a good time to discuss how dianxia should go about winning A-Xian's affection. He's under the impression you've cast him aside on taishi's orders and has been giving him the cold shoulder." "I wasn't." Lan Wangji defended himself, distressed and slightly offended. "It's just, huangshu's been watching me like a hawk. I was afraid any further attempt to be closer to him would give my uncle reason to remove him from my household entirely." Jiang Yanli was sympathetic. "The summer hunt is in two week's time, and afterwards, since bixia always likes to finish the night on the river with fireworks, perhaps...." She let the sentence dangle, a knowing smile playing at her lips. Lan Wangji felt hope.

Unfortunately, a little hiccup happened before the hunt could take place. Jin Ziyan falsely believed that Wei Wuxian had fallen out of favour with Lan Wangji and was itching to show him his place. Poor Mo Xuanyu was caught in the middle. Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian was an audacious one, but not so stupid that he could be easily goaded into committing a grave offence. Thus, Jin Ziyan planned to cause an incident in the garden whereby poor Mo Xuanyu would unwittingly "offend" him, and he would publicly announce a punishment that was harsher than necessary. He made sure that Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian were near by, as they usually took a mid-afternoon stroll after lunch. True to his predictions, Wei Wuxian could not stop himself for interfering on Mo Xuanyu's behalf. Then in their altercation, Jin Ziyan would fall into the pond, making it seem as though Wei Wuxian was the one who shoved him out of anger. Oh but a lowly servant shoving Hanguang-wang's deputy consort into the pond??! He was as good as dead. What's more, everything happened on the same afternoon that Lan Qiren was scheduled to visit Lan Wangji to discuss matters of court. If it was only Lan Wangji, Jin Ziyan knew Wei Wuxian would suffer little consequence, but taishi tolerated no insubordination or churlish behaviour of any kind.

Lan Qiren was incensed, livid, but he was not hasty to deal the punishment. Instead he turned to his nephew and asked, whilst fully knowing the answer, "Wangji, your household follows the regulations that govern all princely manors, does it not?" "It does, huangshu." "Then tell me what is the punishment reserved for a servant for daring to lay hands on a deputy consort and to cause physical harm to said consort?" "It....I - huangshu -" "What is the rule?" Lan Wangji knew very well that the punishment was death for any servant, maid or eunuch who dared to harm any member of the harem. But Wei Ying, his Wei Ying... "Wei Ying is very precious to Yanli and to Yunmeng-hou. As well..." Lan Wangji hesitated. "Yanli is with child again. It is still very early so we thought it best not to announce it lest we have a repeat of last time. It would not do to upset her at this time." Lan Qiren was extremely dissatisfied with his answer, but conceded for Jiang Yanli's sake. "I'm glad, Wangji, that you've found your way back to your proper companions. This Wei Wuxian clearly has been spoiled to the point of impropriety. His actions today are utterly unacceptable and cannot be allowed to go unpunished or else others would surely follow his example. Guards!" "Detain Wei Wuxian. Have him strung up on a post in the servants' courtyard and give him fifty lashes. No food nor drink. Sun or rain, he is not to be let down until dusk tomorrow." "Huangshu!" Lan Wangji's head buzzed, as though someone had struck him squarely in the temple. His chest felt tight, and his heart ached where it rebelled inside him. "Please -" "He has his life. That is mercy enough."

Wei Wuxian was stripped down to his trousers only and tied up to a post, his hands bound together above him and his bare feet never finding purchase on the ground no matter how he struggled. This fucking suck ass. Jin Ziyan you're a dead man. When all fifty lashes were dealt, even the guards were sweating through their robes. They left him dangling there in the blistering summer heat. A young maid dared to try and sneak him some water but was thwarted by an older momo. "What do you think you're doing, lassie? Did you not hear taishi, no food or drink until dusk tomorrow. Do you want lashes too? Go on! Go!" It rained hard all through the night, only easing up at dawn, but the aftermath of the storm left the air muggy and humid. Combined with the heat, it felt as though he was being steamed alive like a wheat bun. At some point during the second day, Wei Wuxian finally lost consciousness. He was not aware when Lan Wangji barged into the courtyard against Lan Qiren's explicit orders and cut him free.

Really tho, i just want this scene to happen (╹ڡ╹ ) "I'm sorry." Wei Wuxian blinked at Lan Wangji's hunched figure sitting at his bedside. "Whatever for? You saved me, dianxia." Lan Wangji, "But it was my attention that put you in such a position in the first place. Huangshu was looking for a reason to punish you since that day he saw us in my study." Wei Wuxian, "dianxia..." "I find you... lovely, Wei Ying," confessed Lan Wangji with a heavy sigh. His ears burned red not only with the embarrassment of a youth in love but with shame. "I wish for your company, even when you have no desire to be part of my harem. Now I know my mistake. I should have respected the boundaries. I should've known my attention on you would incite jealousy from the others, and as a servant, you have no means of protecting yourself. This is entirely my fault." Wei Wuxian's heart fluttered despite himself. He quickly shook his head. "No dianxia, please don't blame yourself -" Lan Wangji, "perhaps I should send you back to Jiang-fu; I'm sure Jiang-xiao-gongzi would be delighted to have your company back. You would be safe there." Jiang Wanyin had come to visit his sister the very next day after Wei Wuxian was sentenced to whipping. He was one of the most accomplishment young men of his generation, anticipated to be a great general. Nie Mingjue had thought highly of him and had expected great things from this youth. Though perhaps what the late feng-jun found truly commendable was Jiang Wanyin's complete lack of pretense and his short-fuse temper. That is to say, he did not hesitate to get in Lan Wangji's face. His sister would have chastised him, had she not been so preoccupied by her tears. Wei Wuxian, "Jiang...Jiang Cheng was here?" "He was, and he was very upset about your condition. He left many fine medicine and ointments for you." Lan Wangji sighed again. "I shall speak with Yanli. If she is amenable, then I shall make arrangements for you to go back to Jiang-fu. You would not have to put up with me any longer." Lan Wangji stood up. Wei Wuxian grasped his sleeve immediately. In that moment, he could not tell if his panic was derived from his worry that he would not be able to complete his assignment if Lan Wangji were to send him away or if he simply did not wish to part with the prince. "Dianxia - I - I don't want to leave. I - it's true I had once rejected you, but...would you think less of me if I said your attention … hasn't been unwanted for a while, that I have come to enjoy them." At Lan Wangji's widened eyes, Wei Wuxian continued quickly. "You need not give me anything, no elevation, no rank. I don't care about any of that. I am a man, I have no ability to give you children. Nor do I have any family who would benefit from your continued favour of me. I am an orphan, dianxia, I have no place to go. I just....don't send me away. Please let me stay! I'm not afraid of Jin Ziyan, or taishi, or anything!" Lan Wangji sat back down. His hand trembled when he laid it on top of Wei Wuxian's. "Wei Ying...?" Wei Wuxian smiled, still radiant despite his pale complexion. "Dianxia -" "Lan Zhan. No more dianxia, I only want to hear you call me by my name." Wei Wuxian flushed pink. The blush was real, as was the pleased little smile he tried to hide. "Lan Zhan, Wei Ying is yours, if you still want him." The worst part of that was that he meant it. Just the mere thought of being held by Lan Wangji, of being kissed by him, of... so many other wonderful possibilities, made Wei Wuxian want to hide his flaming face into his pillow. Lan Wangji smiled. Quietly, he lifted Wei Wuxian's hand and pressed a kiss to the inner side of his wrist. "Rest, I will be right here." Wei Wuxian felt his treacherous little heart soar: oh no … oh no no no no ….. (Xue Yang's voice in narration: and it was in this moment, that Wei Wuxian knew, he fucked up.) The cruellest thing Wei Wuxian ever did was give Lan Wangji hope knowing that one day he would take it all away.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

where's the essay op

Okay so bayonets.  I don't know why I ever pretend that I want to talk about anything but military history and battlefield medicine.  I checked all my sources in the waiting room of a doctor's office so you're just going to have to trust me because they are Gone.  I’m pretty sure this can all be found on a few Wiki dives, though.

First of all, to recap, let me clarify a common misconception.  The triangular bayonet was NOT outlawed in the 1949 Geneva Convention, nor any future revisions—as it was originally a musket weapon, it was fading out of use by World War II and the subsequent Convention.  However, you'll notice that I opted to use to word "violates" rather than "were banned by," which is a fine semantical hair to split and, I suppose, debatable.  Most bayonets were not explicitly banned in the GC, in that there is not an article in the GC saying you can't use them.  However there IS an article in the GC, adopted from the earlier 1899 Hague Regulations, stating that it is prohibited to "employ weapons...of a nature to cause superfluous injury or unnecessary suffering" (originally part of Article 23 of the HR, now Article 35 of the GC, expanded in 1977).  Personally, as someone who knows a lot about how a lot of weapons impact the human body, I think that is a more expansive statement than most people would expect, and should be treated accordingly.  Regrettably I do not work for the UN.

Point is, triangular blades specifically are known to cause wounds that are difficult to heal, highly prone to infection, and extremely likely to never fully recover, while also having a relatively low mortality rate.  This is because the axes of a triangular wound, which is shaped sort of like a Y, make it very hard to stitch closed, and very easy for any "twisting" of the blade to create a large hole with ragged edges that's functionally impossible to stitch closed.  As an added bonus, because of the way scar tissue forms, it's possible for one "line" of a triangular wound to pull open other parts of the puncture while the scar tissue forms and pulls on the skin.  Even by standards in the 1700s, triangular bayonet wounds were phenomenally likely to infect and consistently difficult to repair, and modern medicine has made only limited improvements on that situation.  As such, cases have been made that certain types of bayonet/triangular blades in general are therefore in violation of this article, despite not being explicitly banned.

(Side note: yes, the American military violates the GC on the regular.  The American police violate the GC.  I am excruciatingly aware.  The GC is interesting reading generally, but especially if you're an American and you ever feel like being appalled for a few hours.)

Anyway, with that covered again, let's actually talk about the development of triangular bayonets, which might've been out of use by the time of the GC but DEFINITELY violated that article in a big way for a good two centuries prior and are also a fascinating insight into the fact that humanity, as a whole, is really determined to do things in the dumbest way possible.

The first thing you have to understand about bayonets is that they were originally invented as a way to integrate pikes with guns, not knives or even swords.  When arquebuses and muskets were first invented, you were lucky to get a rate of fire around one round per minute, and you still had to protect your army while they were reloading their clunky black powder guns.  Therefore, most infantries between like...the invention of the gun and the late 1600s were comprised of soldiers equipped with muskets, and also soldiers equipped with pikes (a type of spear).  The idea of a bayonet was "what if we put a pike and a musket TOGETHER and then we could give everyone THAT and have way more guns in our army because we don't need pikemen anymore." Which makes sense when you think about it.

What makes less sense is that the initial effort at bayonets was something called a plug bayonet.  You'll never fucking guess what these geniuses (first record is Chinese infantry around-abouts 1600, popular use of plug bayonets recorded in Europe around the 1630s) figured out for their first try at a bayonet.  Here's a hint!  There's not a lot of places on a gun where you can "plug in" a sword. 

Obviously plug bayonets did not exactly catch on as a fantastic solution, because these guns were either a gun OR a short spear and neither was especially good at their jobs.  A bunch of battles hinged on this problem. Which brings us to the end of the 1600s, when English forces in Scotland got absolutely obliterated by a bunch of Highlanders in 1689 because the English were so busy trying to fix their bayonets that the Highlanders literally just charged them, fired one volley, and cut them down with swords and axes. The English took that one very personally (which, you know what, fair, it was a humiliating defeat, especially since the Highlanders had been using that tactic very successfully for a while) and started developing better bayonets.

This is where we get to socket bayonets, AKA what you would probably recognize as a bayonet from a period TV series or a museum.  Socket bayonets have a metal sleeve that gets attached around the barrel of a gun (in this case a musket), so that you can still theoretically use the damn gun while it's attached.  There were problems with the development of socket bayonets (notably, it took a while to figure out how to keep them from falling off the gun during battle), but overall they worked much better and armies started getting rid of pikemen. This was also when bayonets were shortened to a little over a foot, which isn't really important but made them much easier to maneuver.  Socket bayonets were the European order of the day by the early 1700s, and mostly came in three flavors: single edge (like a knife), double edge (like a sword), and spike (like a...spike).  There were pros and cons to all of these (single edge wasn't great for stabbing, spike was ONLY good for stabbing, and double edge was kind of okay at stabbing and kind of okay at slashing), but most importantly, both single and double edged bayonets were fragile.  The heads of polearms were shaped on patterns other than "sword on a stick" for a reason, and it's because "sword on a stick" is not very sturdy.

Triangular bayonets were the solution to this problem.  Triangular bayonets are basically a single piece of metal creased long-ways, with both edges sharpened and the top fluted to form a third edge at the crease.  This makes a much more resilient weapon than a flat blade, because a twisting motion doesn’t risk snapping the blade in the middle.  It also means that now you have three edges, and human nature is to figure “more knife better.”

And don’t get me wrong, as a weapon of war, the triangular bayonet was a great one.  It was introduced in the 1710s and then got used regularly to maim and terrify through the start of the 1900s.  In fact, the triangular bayonet worked so well that it only began to get phased out of use when the style of war itself started to change dramatically during the World Wars.  When warfare was focused on pitched battle (your old school “two armies enter, one army leaves” kind of warfare), the emphasis of a bayonet was on extending the reach of a gun.  A bayonet lets a soldier have a weapon for closer range combat, where a gun—especially a long gun like a musket—is not as effective.  So when you had two armies on the field and a bayonet was first and foremost a way to keep the enemy at least gun-length away, longer bayonets were better.  

But World War I was the advent of trench warfare, which was a terrible idea and also meant that a long weapon, like a gun with an extra foot and a half of sword on top, was much, MUCH harder to work with.  Either fighting took place in no man’s land, where you probably weren’t going to get close enough to use a bayonet anyway, or in a trench, where a weapon as long as you were tall was just impossible to work with.  

(If you know anything about WWI, you’re probably asking me about bayonet charges right now, specifically the concept of “going over the top.”  Contrary to every media representation of WWI ever, “going over the top” of a trench faded out of use pretty quickly.  It was a type of bayonet charge where the soldiers in ONE trench fixed their bayonets and tried to charge no man’s land in an effort to reach the OTHER trench, but it was basically never effective because no man’s land was often heavily trapped and strafed with gunfire and mortar shells.  Also, it was the kind of battle tactic that military history books talk about with phrases like “total annihilation of whole attacking battalions,” so that’s the kind of mortality rate we’re talking about here.  The Battle of the Somme featured a good number of bayonet charges by the British, for context, so people learned and started using other tactics.)

So, since bayonets were only useful in trenches, suddenly everyone was scrambling to shorten bayonets and guns so that their soldiers could get ANYTHING DONE.  And THEN soldiers started admitting that they were literally taking their bayonets off their guns and using them as knives instead, because for trench fighting that was way more useful, and so everyone just decided fuck it, let’s just make bayonet-knives, which is why WWI weapons with bayonets usually look, very literally, like someone duct taped a short knife to the front of a gun.  This was the start of the decline of the triangular bayonet, a full two hundred years after it hit the battlefield, which is a frankly spectacular run for any weapon since the invention of the gun.  Triangular bayonets held on, here and there, through part of WWII, but they were almost entirely gone by the time of the Geneva Convention being ratified in 1949.  However, spike or knife bayonets are still issued to many armies as a weapon of last resort to this day, although they aren’t often used in actual attacks.  Now we have bigger, worse weapons for actual attacks.

 TL;DR, the development of bayonets went like this:

“What if we put a pike ON a gun?  …oh wait, you still want to use the gun?  Sucks to be you, I guess.”

“What if we put a sword on the gun instead?  Then we could put it somewhere where we can still use the gun!  Good luck keeping it on there, though.”

“What if we actually made something designed to get put on a gun and stab people effectively?  Like, what if we designed something with that purpose in mind?  Perhaps?” SMASH CUT TWO CENTURIES

“Well if you’re just gonna take your bayonet off and stab someone with it anyway, can we just go back to giving you knives, then?”

And now you’re caught up on all the dubiously successful ways we’ve tried to mutilate people with a knife-gun.

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group C Round 2: #C1 vs #C2

#C1: Friendship over nostalgia for the past, and moving forward

#C2: High social anxiety girl has to befriend her whole class

Details and poll under the cut!

#C1: After the Rain (Koi wa Ameagari no You ni)

Summary:

Akira Tachibana, a reserved high school student and former track runner, has not been able to race the same as she used to since she experienced a severe foot injury. And although she is regarded as attractive by her classmates, she is not interested in the boys around school.

While working part-time at the Garden Cafe, Akira begins to develop feelings for the manager—a 45-year-old man named Masami Kondou—despite the large age gap. Kondou shows genuine concern and kindness toward the customers of his restaurant, which, while viewed by others as soft or weak, draws Akira to him. Spending time together at the restaurant, they grow closer, which only strengthens her feelings. Weighed down by these uncertain emotions, Akira finally resolves to confess, but what will be the result?

Alternatively: The main girl works at a diner and misses being able to run. Main guy is the boss at the diner and misses writing.

Propaganda:

It feels like a lot of folks didn’t give this a fair chance because they thought it would be an age gap romance, when it really is more about friendship between the MCs. Don’t be turned off by the opening. It’s cute, but all from MG’s POV. The art is pretty, and Aimer’s “Ref: rain” is one of my favourite songs now, besides it being a beautiful ending theme. Depending on how old you are, you might relate more with one MC over the other.

Trigger Warnings: One-sided age gap. Depending on your views, MC’s friendship with her boss could be uncomfortable

#C2: Hitori Bocchi’s ○○ Lifestyle (HitoriBocchi no MaruMaru Seikatsu)

Summary:

Many of us know what it is like to transition to a new school with few to no friends in a new environment, going through the arduous process of getting to know people again. Bocchi Hitori knows this struggle all too well, having just graduated from elementary school and thrown into middle school. Unfortunately, she suffers from extreme social anxiety: she faints when overwhelmed, vomits when nervous, and draws up ridiculously convoluted plans to avoid social contact. It does not help that her only friend from elementary school, Kai Yawara, will not be attending the same middle school as Bocchi. However, wanting to help her, Kai severs ties with Bocchi and promises to reconcile with her when she befriends all of her classmates in her new middle school class.

Even though Bocchi has no faith in herself, she is determined to be friends with Kai again. Summoning all of her courage, Bocchi takes on the daunting challenge of making friends with her entire class, starting with the delinquent-looking girl sitting in front of her…

Propaganda:

This is a fun and lighthearted show. Watch it if you need something cute to chill out! The art is cute and colorful, the music lively, and the animation fine enough.

As it's adapted from a four-panel gag manga, the story is simple and focuses on the various characters. They all have pun-based names related to their main personality trait, so they're easy to remember if you know some basic Japanese (Hitori Bocchi means all alone, for example). The girls are all adorable and fun in their own quirky ways, and I loved seeing the heroine doing her utmost best to overcome her fears -and other challenges- to befriend them in the hope of fulfilling her promise. That's the power of the Do-Your-Best Fairy! They all care for each other (despite some teasing) and help Bocchi with her monumental task, never pulling her down for her struggles but gently pushing her in the back when needed.

But most importantly, Hitori Bocchi is a very relatable character. As someone suffering the same trouble, I related a lot with Bocchi, from her silliest worries to her escalating panic and weird schemes in an attempt to prevent anything wrong. Anxiety is faithfully represented, mixed with the right amount of laughing to how far Bocchi can get to avoid fearful situations in her very cute ways. It feels good to see a character like me in a such positive light! The struggles are real and acknowledged, and it’s really moving to see our heroine overcome them little by little in a very humanizing way.

This series has become one of my comfort materials, and I come back to it when I need hope and inspiration in everyday social interactions! If you need one last thing to be convinced, listen to that most adorable and silly song that will give you the Power of Motivation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGoGwlNmZUQ 

Trigger Warnings: None.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how they’re presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 20

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 20 - This Venerable One Will Tell You a Story (Part 2)

Early the next morning, the members of the Chen family walked back from their relatives and saw that the orange tree in their courtyard had fallen down and the oranges were spread all over the ground. There weren't many other residents around here. They were only close with the Luo family. When they thought of how Luo Xianxian drooled over those oranges every day, the Chen family were sure——

The oranges must have been stolen by that bastard child, Luo Xianxian!

Not only did she steal them but she got jealous and chopped down their orange tree!

The Chen family immediately went to Luo Shusheng to complain. Luo Shusheng couldn't bear such humiliation. He immediately called his daughter over and asked her angrily if she stole the oranges.

Luo Xianxian cried and said no.

He asked if she had cut the tree down.

Again, Luo Xianxian said no.

He asked her if she had eaten the oranges.

Luo Xianxian couldn't lie so she had to admit that she did.

Before she could explain, her furious father ordered her to kneel down. She was beaten with a ruler in front of the Chen family. While he beat her, he said: "Raising a daughter is much worse than raising a sun! At such a young age, how could you do such a thing? Shame on you! You disgraced your father! As punishment, you won't have anything to eat today and you'll face the wall for three days. Think about your mistakes and repent--"

"Dad, it wasn't me! It really wasn't me!"

"How dare you talk back to me!"

No one believed her. Although the Lower Cultivation World was in chaos Caidie Town was an exception. The town had always been simple and honest, no one locked their door. What was she supposed to say; that a bloody lunatic ran in in the middle of the night? Who would believe it?

Luo Xianxian's small hands were split open from the beating.

The members of the Chen family looked at her coldly. Only the oldest boy among them, pulling at the corner of his mother's clothes, hesitated to speak.

His mother ignored him and there was nothing he could do about it. The boy's small face scrunched up. He couldn't bear it, and he stood off to the side, unwilling to look anymore.

At night, Luo Xianxian didn't dare go back to her room, squatting under the eaves of her house, standing pitifully.

Her father was a scholar and couldn't tolerate stealing. Moreover, he had a rotten and sour aura, and he was stubborn, unwilling to listen to explanations.

Luo Xianxian's head was dizzy after a day with no food. Suddenly someone whispered to her: "Miss Luo."

Luo Xianxian turned his head and saw a well-groomed head protruding from the edge of the dirt wall. It was Chen Bohuan, the eldest son of the Chen family who tried to help her plead her case earlier.

Chen Bohuan did a couple checks over the dirt wall to make sure no one was watching. He was carrying a hot steamed bun in his arms, and without saying a word, he shoved it into her hand.

"I know you've been standing by the wall all day and haven't eaten anything. Here's a steamed bun. Hurry up and eat it."

"I..." Luo Xianxian had always been shy. She had lived here for several months and had never spoken to her neighbour's son. Now, they were so close together that she inadvertently took a few steps back and banged her head against the wall. Still, she stammered out: "I couldn't. . . Dad won't let me. . . He said. . ."

She was incoherent and couldn't even form a complete sentence.

Chen Bohuan said: "Oh, your father's watching you at all times? What do you care what he's doing? If you're hungry, don't starve yourself. Eat it. If you don't, it'll get cold."

The steamed bun was soft and white, looking so enticing, steam rising from it.

Luo Xianxian looked down and stared for a while, taking a large gulp.

She was so hungry, too. Regardless of whether she was supposed to be a gentleman or not, she grabbed the steamed bun and inhaled it, gobbling it up in no time.

After eating it, she raised her round eyes and rushed to explain to Chen Bohuan: "I didn't cut down the orange tree, and I try to steal any."

Chen Bohuan was taken aback, and slowly smiled: "Okay."

"But they don't believe me. . ." With such an emotional gaze, Luo Xianxian's heart slowly opened, her anger melting away like snow. She wailed, her mouth wide open. She wiped her tears and wept loudly: "None of them believe me. . . I didn't steal. . . I didn't. . ."

Chen Bohuan patted her back: "I know you didn't steal it. Like come on, you stand under the tree and stare at it every day yet you never took an orange. You would've stolen some a long time ago. . ."

"I didn't do it! I didn't do it!" Her crying became more fierce, tears and snot rolling on her face.

Chen Bohuan consoled her: "You didn't do it, you didn't do it."

The two children got to know each other very well.

Later, there was a murder in a neighbouring village. A few nights ago, a bandit covered in blood entered a family's home and wanted to borrow the family's bedroom to sleep. When the man did not agree, the bandit stabbed the family to death. Then, in the room full of corpses, he slept peacefully and leisurely left the next day during the daylight. He left and even left a message written in blood on the wall. He wrote out a large message, detailing everything he had done to make sure the world knew that an evil individual like him existed.

This tragedy immediately spread like wildfire, and soon reached Caidie Town. That was the night Luo Xianxian admitted she had met "Mr. Madman".

Luo Shusheng and the Chen family were speechless.

After the misunderstanding was cleared up, the two families were in much closer contact. The Chen family saw that Luo Xianxian was cute hardworking little beauty. They thought that, based on their current situation, it would be difficult to find a daughter-in-law, so they quickly arranged the marriage of Chen Bohuan and Luo Xianxian. Once they reached adulthood, they would officially be wed.

When Luo Shusheng saw his daughter and Chen Bohuan were good childhood friends, so he readily agreed.

As the days passed, if it weren't for Luo Shusheng's love of elegance and fragrance, then the Chen and Luo families would live lives of poverty and tranquillity as they had originally expected.

Unfortunately, Luo Shusheng accidentally made the "Hundred Butterfly Fragrance Powder".

Although the scent of the powder was nothing special and it wasn't much different from the typical powders in town, it had a benefit that ordinary powders didn't——

It could last for a hundred days with a neverending afterglow.

Hundred Butterfly Fragrance Powder lasted for a long time and it didn't wear off easily. It was exactly what everyday people were looking for in terms of good quality and low price.

Luo Shusheng, Mr. "Everything is inferior; the only excellence is in academia." Even though he made the powder, he didn't want to sell it, thinking that he "would lose his identity."

If he didn't sell it, naturally others will worry about it.

Madam Chen repeatedly tried to get the recipe out of him and urged Luo Shusheng to open a shop, but she was always rejected. After going back and forth, Madam Chen got embarrassed, so she stopped bringing it up, but she silently always kept it in mind.

The year Luo Xianxian reached adulthood, the opportunity came. Luo Shusheng's sickly body had contracted tuberculosis. He suffered for a few days then died. As Luo Xianxian's in-laws, even though she wasn't officially their daughter-in-law yet, they were still close friends, so they got busy helping her arrange the funeral.

Luo Xianxian burst into tears of gratitude. What she didn't know was that Madam Chen had a plan to quietly walk away with the secret powder recipe while she packed up Luo Shusheng's things.

That night, Madam Chen, under the light of a soybean oil lamp, was full of excitement, ready to read the recipe. After only one glance, she was at a loss.

Luo Shusheng's words danced across the page, calligraphy that typically would be considered elegant and unrestrained. She stared at it for a long time, but she couldn't understand half of the words.

She had no choice but to return the recipe quietly.

A few months later, after Luo Xianxian had a chance to grieve, she invited the girl over to their house for dinner and "inadvertently" mentioned the Hundred Butterfly Fragrance Powder in a passing conversation.

Luo Xianxian thought to herself there was no point in keeping the recipe at home. Her mother-in-law treated herself so well. If she wanted it, she'd give it to her.

So she found it her father's things and helped Madam Chen to distinguish the individual characters and sort out the precise recipe.

Madam Chen was ecstatic. When she got the recipe, she and her husband opened a perfume shop together.

Of course, she was still very fond of her gentle and sensible prospective daughter-in-law. The more Luo Xianxian grew, the more beautiful she became. Although her family was unfortunate, her looks were some of the best in town and many young people in the town began to pay attention to her.

A long night is filled with dreams*, Madam Chen thought to herself. They'd need to hurry and secure the marriage.

*(T/N: 夜长梦多 - means that the longer something is put off, the more likely something will happen before you're able to do it)

However, Luo Xianxian just lost his father. According to the custom of Caidie Town, she couldn't get married for three years after the death of her parent.

How could Madam Chen wait for three years? She deliberated and thought of a way--

One day, Luo Xianxian was braiding the hair of the Chen's family young daughter. She had a very good relationship with the youngest Chen daughter. Luo Xianxian pulled the hair over and under and the braid trailed down her back.

Madam Chen walked into the courtyard and called Luo Xianxian to the inner hall. She said to her: "Xianxian, you and Bohuan were childhood sweethearts and had a marriage arranged. Now that your father is gone, you must be lonely. It can't be easy living by yourself. You should be getting married this year. But we have the three-year mourning period, so you can't get married, so I got thinking: if you wait for three years, how old are you going to be?

Luo Xianxian lowered her head. She didn't say anything but she was clever and could guess what Madam Chen was insinuating. Her cheeks grew slightly red.

Sure enough, Madam Chen went on to say:

"Living alone must be so difficult and tiring. How about this - you two get married behind closed doors. No one needs to know. If anyone asks, just say that you're living with your auntie to help care for her and preparing to be her daughter-in-law. This will not only complete the wedding rituals without the worry of being criticized, but also give your father some peace in the underworld. After the three-year period is up, we'll have a beautiful proper wedding for you two, alright?"

Her remarks sounded like she cared about Luo Xianxian. Luo Xianxian was a person who always saw the best in others and would never think badly about someone else so she agreed.

Later, the Chen family made a fortune by selling the Hundred Butterfly Fragrance Powder. They moved out of their old house, bought a large piece of land in the town, built a mansion on it, and became a powerful family.

Luo Xianxian had become a shadow among the many figures of the large household, an infrequent presence.

People in the town thought that Luo Xianxian had been taken in by Madam Chen, so she lived in the Chen house. They didn't know that she was actually married to Chen Bohuan.

Although it wasn't perfect, Luo Xianxian thought that her mother-in-law was doing this for her own good so that people didn't gossip, so she didn't complain. In addition, Chen Bohuan was dear to her, the couple living a sweet and fulfilling life. They only need to wait for the three-year period to pass then everything would return to normal.

But Luo Xianxian didn't wait for the day of the official wedding.

The Chen family business was growing larger and larger. In addition, Chen Bohuan was handsome. Not just in Caidie Town but even the daughters of the big families in the surrounding towns had begun to play with the idea of marrying Young Master Chen. With this development, Madam Chen's mind was racing.

Back then, she decided to secure Luo Xianxian because she thought she wouldn't be able to find a good daughter-in-law when they were nothing but a farming family.

Who would have thought that the heavens would bless the Chen family and allow them to soar into high society? Now, when she looked back at Luo Xianxian, she felt that the girl was not good-looking enough and she wasn't intelligent enough. Like her dead father, she was unpleasant to look at.

She regretted it a bit.

The appearance of Yao Qianjin turned her "a bit" into "a lot".

Yao Qianjin is the daughter of the county magistrate. She loved men in positions. One day she returned from hunting on a horse. She passed by an incense shop and picked out a few fragrance powders. It didn't matter what fragrances she picked out, but she caught a glimpse of the busy handsome young man in the hall.

The gentleman was no other than Luo Xianxian's husband, Chen Bohuan.

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