#i know this wasn't what either of us expected from this but

[wroetominter]

Three Peaks - George Clarke

Warnings: none, some swearing

Thank you for the request! I have some serious writers block right now so bear with as the time between posts may be a little longer. I appreciate you!

———

"I don't know how I got roped into this one" I adjusted the microphone I was securing to Chris' t-shirt. He chuckled, patting my shoulder as I finished.

"Well, there aren't many of you fit enough to actually climb three mountains so it was quite the easy choice." Chris said. I sighed, shaking my head. Mentally slapping myself for telling Chris casually that I enjoyed a good hike.

Chris had the thought for a video that honestly, I couldn't even make fun of. It was a really well thought out idea. A group of his friends and crew tackling the three peaks challenge. Which is essentially just climbing three mountains in 24 hours. Seems damn near impossible, especially considering the group he had.

I had been part of Chris' camera crew for almost a year now, and I felt like I had really found a good group of friends in this job. Outside of filming I had been hanging out with Chris and his core group frequently. Many nights spent out at different pubs, or simply hanging out at their flat.

"Let's get going shall we?" Chris began to lead the group. I stuck towards the middle, filming the boys who had taken the lead.

Reev, Chris, and George led the pack as we began the ascent to the top of our first mountain.

"I can already tell this is going to be fucking awful." I heard from behind me. I turned my head to see Arthur Hill beginning the days complaints.

"George you owe me a tenner!" Television shouted from beside him.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"I placed a bet that Hill would be the first to complain." Television explained. I threw my head back laughing, panning the camera to catch Hills reaction. He deadpanned and just stared at the camera.

"Don't worry Arthur, I'm not looking forward to this either."

Each boy had been given their own special challenge for the video, and I was really enjoying watching Reev attempt to put rocks in the boys shoes.

"What's your challenge?" I asked Chris as I caught up to him.

"I need to get someone to believe a fake fact about each mountain." He whispered to the camera.

"That feels alarmingly easy considering the group we're with." I said. He agreed and told me he was already scheming up his first lie to tell Arthur.

We had been climbing for close to two hours by this point, and we were nearing the peak.

"Enjoying yourself love?" George asked me as he took a seat on the rock next to me.

"It's not nearly as bad as I expected it to be, I'll be honest." I snacked on the apple slices I packed, offering one out to George.

We sat in a comfortable silence, watching the others as they bantered back and forth with each other.

I sat and admired George as he laughed, not being able to help myself from laughing along. He had an infectious laugh. Chris caught me staring at George and raised an eyebrow at me. He was the only one of the group who knew I had somewhat of a crush on George. I had unfortunately admitted it to him accidentally after one drink too many during a pub crawl.

We had all gotten up again to keep our pace going up the mountain. The terrain upwards wasn't too bad. The most annoying part by far was having to continue to film while simultaneously making sure I didn't fall down.

"I never thought this would end!" Arthur Hill screamed as we reached the peak.

"I'm sure you're used to hearing that in bed." Harry joked with him patting him on the back.

We all shared a laugh and took in the nice view. It wasn't long before we realized that 'huh, guess we just go down now' and begin to descend the mountain.

I trailed behind Chris and ArthurTV, catching some of their conversation as Chris tried to convince Arthur that some celebrity had been the first person to complete this challenge. I had to actively hold in a giggle as I knew Chris was having him on with his challenge.

During my distracted state, I felt myself slide to the side as my foot hit a loose rock that sent me falling down. Instinctively deciding to protect my camera, I took the full brunt of the fall to my hip and legs.

"Shit, are you alright?" George asked jogging to catch up to me.

Catching my breath after scaring myself with the fall, I nodded towards him. I turned my camera off and stuck it in its carrying bag beside me, examining my ankle.

It was fairly scraped up, and was slightly throbbing. Nothing that felt it would be too crazy but painful nonetheless.

A few of the others called out to see if I was okay. I gave them a thumbs up.

"I'll stay with her and help her down, you guys can go ahead we'll just be a few minutes." George called back to them.

"Does it hurt?" He asked me, grazing his fingertips over my ankle to assess.

"Not a ton, I think I was more shocked by the fall than anything. I'll be fine George, thank you for staying behind with me." I smiled at him, noting his features contorted with uncertainty at my words.

He stood up, holding his hands out for me to help me up. I happily grabbed them and put pressure on my ankle, feeling a tinge of pain but it was bearable.

I stood upright, George still holding onto my hands to make sure I was steady. He never took his eyes off of mine, scanning my face for any sign of pain.

"I'm good George, I promise." He smiled at me, squeezing my hands.

"I think it's time to reveal my challenge to you." His words took me by surprise as I had no idea where this topic had come from.

He let go of my hands, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out a cue card similar to the other boys. He unfolded it and turned it towards me.

In small, easily recognizable handwriting I read off 'tell Y/n you have feelings for her you dumb twat'. Chris. Of course Chris would write that.

I looked back up to him, his face flushed from either embarrassment or anxiety, I couldn't tell.

"I assume what's written there is true?" I asked George, looking to him for confirmation. He nodded, sliding the paper back into his pocket.

We both stood there a little awkwardly for a moment, neither of us being particularly good at the whole admitting feelings thing.

"Your feelings are mutual." I said, cutting the silence. His eyes widened at me, a smile breaking on his features.

He put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer for a hug.

"How about we talk more about this over dinner once we’re done with the next two mountains?” He propositioned.

I groaned, “I forgot we still have two fucking mountains to go.” He laughed as I pouted.

He slid his hand up to my cheek, bringing his face closer to mine and connecting our lips in a short, sweet kiss.

“This should give you something to look forward to” he said as he pulled away. It was my turn for my cheeks to turn pink. Despite how tired and sweaty we already were, he still looked absolutely perfect.

“I suppose I can make it through as long as you promise not to let me fall again.” He laughed.

“I’ll do my best.”

We walked downwards, eventually catching up with the others who had stopped for a water break.

“Finally you two made it! Began to think you two were shacking up up there!” ArthurTV exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes at him, laughing.

“Not quite shacking up, but my challenge is complete.” George bragged, Chris’ head shot towards us at these words.

“No way.” He said, looking to me for confirmation.

“Yes way” I replied, George put his arm over my shoulder once again and we watched as the mental cogs turned in the other boys heads.

“Oh my god he finally got the balls to tell her!” Arthur Hill screamed, jumping around like a fangirl.

I looked to George who just shook his head in embarrassment. “Did everyone know except me?” I asked only loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

I knew then that the next two mountains would likely be sex jokes and embarrassing stories, and I was weirdly looking forward to it.

[xxchumanixx]

May I please request a fic where the reader (who's a famous singer) falls in love with Tim but is reluctant to fully trust and be vulnerable with him due to bad experiences she's had with men in the past? The reader could eventually write and sing a song about her love for Tim which blows up and even wins awards like Grammys too which makes their relationship stronger and she opens up her heart more? ���

Be myself

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a bit of angst, mentions of physical abuse / hitting (please look for help if you're in an abusive relationship! Being abused is not normal and it shouldn't be simply endured and viewed as it) Word count: 2.421 Authors note: I don't know if I used the gif before (probably did), but it just fits perfectly. I know you linked Whats love got to do with it by our legend Tina, but I kinda didn't vibe with it. I hope you'll still like it, though (if it was even meant for reference to the song the reader writes). I'm in no way a songwriter, so I'm not at all sure about that small part i wrote there. I know I posted a sneak peak for something different, but this gave me so much motivation to write so i put it first. Enjoy!

He didn't know how he ended up with you of all people.

Not that he'd complain.

Never.

But a famous singer like you and a cop like him? It had to be fate that brought you together when him and his rookie had been called to deescalate a situation at a concert of yours.

He didn't expect to fall for you - hell, you probably didn't either. It just kinda happened after you gave him your number before him and his rookie left.

It had been meant more like a joke - yet he hadn't been able to get you out of his head and neither did you. So he texted you.

Three weeks later you went on your first date.

You had been cautious, bad experiences with previous boyfriends and dates branding you more than you'd have liked to admit.

And so you didn't.

The date went great, leading to another one shortly after.

Tim swore you were playing some magic trick on him. The speed in which he fell for you was shocking. In a few weeks you had him wrapped around your finger.

It didn't take long for him to admit his feelings to you, saying he'd understand if you weren't ready for anything yet, and as he rambled on, you'd cut him off with a kiss.

Because you were indeed ready.

At least that's what you thought.

Not that you didn't have feelings for him - you had, and they were strong. You just had trouble letting yourself be too open, too vulnerable.

To trust easily.

Though, right from the start, you knew he was different. He was interested in your career, yes, but in a way that didn't profit him or made him want to brag about his girlfriend being famous.

Or try and hit you if you didn't spend all your money on him. It had happened once, leaving a mark on your soul you had trouble getting rid of. Getting rid of the douchebag wasn't exactly easy, either.

But that was another thing.

No, Tim supported you, took days off to watch your concerts and be there for you. And maybe to have the time of his life with you in your wardrobe backstage.

For a while now, you had been working on a project - a new song that one day came to your mind when you thought about the past few months and your relationship with Tim.

It had almost been a year now, and you started to question whether your cautiousness was misplaced.

Not that you didn't trust him.

You trusted him more than you did any other man you'd been with, it just was like a habit of sorts. Some sort of protection your mind had put up in the beginning.

It wasn't easy to let that guard down.

It was one of the main parts you included in that song. How he made you want to be more open, to trust and give up that control you so desperately held onto.

To love without the constant fear of it all going downhill.

Your producer, Savannah, supported you all the way. You wrote your song, recorded it over and over again until you were a hundred percent convinced that it did Tim justice in a way.

Or rather his love for you. The way he never treated you differently even though you were famous.

Sure, there were times when his face would be plastered along magazine articles alongside yours - especially the beginning hadn't been easy.

Hiding a relationship wasn't easy and it certainly didn't work in this case, either. The first time it happened it had been on Instagram.

Someone had seen you and him together, taking a video and posting it for everyone to see. Once it reached a certain amount of views, it spread like wildfire, and everyone knew.

Tim wasn't very happy about it.

He understood that it was part of your life, but he didn't like it - and that included him - plastered all over the internet.

When you were shopping and hoarded by paparazzi or too many fans and he'd notice you were overwhelmed, he'd play the 'I'm a cop, please stand back' card, effectively getting you out of the situation.

Another thing you loved him for.

He didn't thrive on the constant attention, didn't suck it up like a sponge and used it to his advantage. Not like other men had tried to do before.

So why was it so hard to let go? Why was it so hard to trust, to let yourself be too vulnerable?

When you published the song, Tim had yet to hear it.

Yes, maybe you should have let him listen to it before publishing it, but you were too nervous. Too nervous he'd laugh at you, tell you that you were crazy for writing and publishing that song.

It would have also meant he'd question the origin - why you had such trust issues, had these problems of opening up.

You didn't want to be judged. After all, you still hadn't told him about it.

Only a few days later, you and Tim were driving in his truck home, when suddenly, the radio moderator announced your new song. Tim's gaze snapped to you - normally you'd show him your upcoming projects, talk to him about them.

He didn't know you'd just published a new song.

Your cheeks heated up as he stared at you in confusion before his gaze fixed back on the street. You knew he was listening, picking up on the lyrics.

Another thing you loved about him.

He didn't just hear the songs, he listened to them. Analyzing them, understanding them.

So it was no surprise he did understand this song, too. About a minute into the song he parked in his driveway, killing the engine but leaving the radio on.

You nibbled on your lip nervously, heart beating wildly as you tried to make out his reaction. You couldn't read his thoughts, so you had to rely on his body language.

And when he understood the song was about him, his gaze snapped to yours right as the second chorus hit.

You let me be myself, and I thank you for that.

You ban all the bad thoughts from my head.

No matter how hard I try, I can't find anything bad about you.

And I hope you see me like that, too.

You support me, give me strength,

It is wrong to hold you at arms length.

I love you and I hope you see,

that your're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

You swallowed, not interrupting him as he listened to the rest of the song. This certainly hadn't been how you'd planned this.

Sure, you wanted him to know about the song and all the things it expressed sooner or later, but when you published it, the thought of him hearing it that soon hadn't exactly crossed your mind.

When the song ended and the next came up, he immediately turned the radio off.

He stared at you, shocked, surprised.

In awe.

You bit your lip as his own parted, though nothing came out. His head tilted slightly, thinking.

"Is it true?" was the first thing he asked. "Or is it just... I don't know, a random love song?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and you shook your head. "No, it's not a random love song." you said. "It... It's about you, Tim."

He nodded slightly, still shocked. "What about the- the trust issues you talk about? Or sing, for that matter." he inquired further. "Or the 'keeping at arms length'?"

You swallowed, sighing quietly as you looked away. "It's all true, yes." you admitted quietly. "And I know I should have told you, and I know you're having a lot of questions right now, but... I'm sorry."

Tim leaned forward over the middle console and placed his finger under your chin to lift your head, his blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hey, you have nothing to apologize for." he said, shaking his head slightly. "Yes, it would be nice to know the details behind it, but I understand that you didn't tell me. Or show me the song beforehand, for that matter. It's great, by the way - just like everything else about you."

You blushed, suddenly feeling undeserving of him. He was way too caring and understanding.

"I mean, I assumed some things..." he continued, tilting his head from side to side for a moment. "But I never pushed you to tell me. And I won't now. Neither did you on the subject of Isabel. If you want to tell me, I'm happy to listen, but you don't have to. Just know that I feel incredibly honored and love you."

Tears burned in your eyes, and suddenly, you knew you could trust him with everything. No more keeping him at arms length.

"I love you, too." you breathed out, smiling through the tears. "I just- I don't know." you shook your head in sudden embarrassment. "Ever since I got famous all the men seemed to want the same thing. Fame, my face as their way into Hollywood. To brag about their girlfriend being famous and make themselves look more important. Or try and hit me for not spoiling them like the ungrateful bitch I am." you grimaced, and his eyes widened before they narrowed. "I know you aren't like that, I do. I just couldn't shake this... habit of closing myself off and trying to avoid another one of these situations. I'm sorry, Tim. I know you are better than them. That song is about you and it is supposed to express how I feel about you."

Tim smiled, cupping your face with his hands. "You're so much more than your career, Y/N." he told you, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "You're a caring, beautiful and brilliant woman. You're far more than I deserve yet I'm too selfish to ever let you go. I love you more than you can imagine, and I want you to know that I'd never try to get any fame or benefits or whatever from you or your career. Let alone lay a hand on you. I love you too much to risk us - not that I'd need your fame or money. I'm a cop and I love being a cop. My girlfriend just happens to be an amazing singer."

You laughed quietly, blushing more. His words spread a warmth through you like no one else ever did. "You're flattering me." you mumbled sheepishly. He cocked a brow. "I'm not." he said. "You are an amazing singer. You're amazing in general, all over."

You laughed once more, a smile on your lips. "You're way too good for me, Tim Bradford." you said. "I'm the one not deserving you."

He huffed, tilting his head from side to side again. "Debatable." he said. He leaned closer, capturing your lips in a sweet and gentle kiss. "Come on, let's head inside." he mumbled against them. "I want to celebrate this song."

It had been about two weeks until your song seemed to have gained massive popularity, and when the letter landed in the mail weeks later, you screamed.

Tim had rushed into the kitchen, gun drawn as he tried to find out what happened. When he saw you with the letter in hand, pressing a hand to your mouth, he lowered the gun, stepping beside you.

One look at the letter and his lips parted.

You looked up in your excitement, almost headbutting him where he was looking over your shoulder. "Tim-" you breathed out, cutting yourself off with another squeal. He grimaced at the high sound, though laughing as he moved to hug you from behind.

"Baby, that's amazing." he breathed out. "I'm so proud of you." You bit your cheek, heart pounding wildly. "I- I mean, I haven't won anything yet." you said, fingers trembling as they held the letter. "But..." "But you're nominated." Tim finished for you. "That's more than most can wish for. This is amazing, Y/N. God, I'm so proud of you."

You smiled widely, clutching the letter to your chest. You giggled and jumped up and down in his arms, pressing a hand to your lips. Tim laughed quietly, holding tighter onto you, his nose brushing the shell of your ear. In the last few weeks you'd grown even closer, and it all felt more right than ever.

"Told you you're amazing."

Nervous wasn't word enough to describe your current state.

The Grammys.

The fucking Grammys.

Never would you have thought this would happen. Who would have thought you'd make it this far?

Fidgeting with your small clutch nervously, you took a deep, trembling breath. Tim grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. You'll be okay.

The wait had been torture.

Waiting for the day to come, waiting for the announcements. It was like a dream come true, yet the wait left you on edge.

You'd been nominated for single of the year. Your song about Tim Be Myself had literally exploded, landing you a spot at the Grammys.

You inhaled shakily as the nominees were announced before the moderator opened an envelope. She drew it out, making the anticipation rise higher and higher until your heart suddenly slammed to a stop.

"Best single of the year goes to... Be Myself!" Your lips parted, not believing what just happened. Tim cheered, the crowd applauded, and you got up on shaky legs.

You couldn't believe it.

This was more than you could have ever wished for, and as Tim pressed a kiss to your cheek, giving you the biggest, most proudest smile you'd ever seen on him before he ushered you to the stage, you knew it.

You knew he was the one.

He was the one that treated you right. The one that loved you unconditionally.

And you'd be forever grateful for that.

Tag List

@laheysfilm @newobsessionweekly @augustvandyne @RookieTrek @dhundhchrih @nachofriess @dtftheavengers @wonderland2425 @skywalker0809 @freyathehuntress @caplanbuckybarnes @sacredwarrior88

[losers-clvb]

woman of letters pt. 3 // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x man of letters!female!reader

summary: sam and dean discover the bunker of the men of letters. expecting it to be empty, they get quite the shock when they meet you.

content: swearing, canon level violence, mutual pining between dean and reader, idiots in love trope, angst, mentions of dean's past love interests, hurt/comfort, smut, dry humping, both reader and dean get off, pet names

word count: 3.9k

taglist: @bettystonewell @kaz-2y5-spn @never-here1992

note: read it on wattpad here. if you would like to join the taglist, either comment down below or send an ask! initially, i intended to update this once a week, but i can't wait that long to share it with you all! so, twice a week it is. every monday and thursday i will update!

masterlist series masterlist previous part

----

Days passed with nothing said between the two of you. You and Dean moved around each other like ghosts. Sam, noticing the tension, tried his best to ignore when you two would get annoyed with the other. It was small, little things that set you off. A plate being left out, a half empty beer abandoned on a table in the library, even just Dean being in the wrong room at the right time. Everything he did pushed you a little closer to blowing up on him. Why couldn’t he learn what a coaster was?

Dean was in a similar situation. He noticed your spouts of anger that seemed to only happen when he did something. A blow of breath out of your nose here, a grumble to yourself there. It all pissed him off. Sam would absentmindedly use the last of your favorite cereal and you would brush it off as nothing. When Dean did the same thing, you acted like he had shot your puppy. He didn’t dare say anything, knowing you would just turn it into his fault. You didn’t understand how he was helping you, that everything he did was to improve your chances of living another day. All you saw was the present moment, where -- in your opinion -- he reminded you of all the reasons you preferred to be alone.

Now, your eyes were trained on the knife that had been deposited on the table. You knew who it belonged to. Dean. He had brought it out from his room to sharpen it earlier that day. Your teeth clenched together in anger. Why was he so disorganized?

You grabbed the handle of it with an urge to find the man who had left it there and make him take care of it. Instead, you did with it what you had begun to do with all his lost items: hide it. It was childish, maybe, but you didn’t care. If he wasn’t responsible enough to give a home to his things, he didn’t deserve them. You searched the bunker in your mind for a place to stash the thing. The bathroom, perhaps? Or maybe the garage under the tools that had never been used?

In the end you found yourself standing on a chair in the library, reaching your hand up to get the knife on top of the bookcase. It would be kept company by Dean's shirt, something you had placed there just a couple days beforehand. You were just about to climb down when you heard a throat clear behind you. It threw you off balance and you caught yourself with your good hand just before you toppled off the chair. Behind you with an eyebrow raised was Sam, an amused expression on his face. You knew you had been caught.

“What're you doing?” He asked, a worn journal in his hand. You huffed out a breath and stepped down to the floor.

“Dusting.” You lied. Sure, Sam wasn't the enemy here, but he was his brother. You didn't know what he would give away to Dean if given the information. Sam laughed at your obvious excuse.

“With a knife?” Sam's eyes twinkled with amusement. You narrowed your own eyes at him.

“If your brother has no care for his things, he doesn't deserve them.” You announced while pulling the chair back to its spot at the table. Sam walked into the room and placed the journal onto the table. You eyed it, curious as to what it was.

“So you're hiding them in the library?” Sam chuckled. He found the whole situation to be very entertaining. Between you and Dean, he would never grow bored again.

“I figured he wouldn't find them seeing how he never wants to be in here.” You pointed out the fact that no matter how long you and Sam were sat in the library, Dean would rather have been in the war room or kitchen. It drove you crazy, just as most of the things he did. You couldn't see how he had survived this long without looking through a book. The bunker had an impressive inventory of knowledge, most of which you were sure he didn't have. It wasn't as if he was dumb. He was smart, in a way that had kept him and Sam alive all these years. In all the time you had spent logging the Winchesters, you had always wondered how they hadn’t gotten themselves killed.

“What is this?” You asked, reaching for the journal Sam had held. Your fingers brushed against the leather cover. You assumed there was a reason why he had it. Maybe a personal diary, but Sam didn’t strike you as the type of person to do that. You looked up at Sam to see him watching you.

“My dad’s journal.” Sam answered. He watched the way your eyes lit up in interest, as he knew they would. He had figured the Men of Letters -- or Woman of Letters, since it was just you -- would want something like this in their records. A first hand account of a variety of monsters. He had waited before offering it up. He wanted to make sure that this place, you, were legit, that you weren’t going to sneak into their rooms at night to kill them. Your little game of hide-and-go-seek with Dean’s belongings only solidified his liking towards you.

“John.” You were slowly undoing the clasp on the journal. The crinkled pages were filled with writing, drawings, newspaper clippings. You were immediately drawn into it all. While not all of the information was new to you, there were things in there that you could have never imagined. Your mind was ablaze with all of this new knowledge. You looked back up at Sam.

“Can I borrow this?” You quirked an eyebrow up with your question.

----

John Winchester’s journal lay spread out before you. You were at your desk in the study, empty pages of a new journal at your ready. You needed to copy this information down, but it was proving difficult with your hand still injured. Your handwriting was shaky, the words being transcribed far too slowly. You had barely gotten through the introduction of where you had gotten the item. After the fifth barely legible sentence, you gave up. You needed help.

Searching the bunker, you were confused to find it empty. Under any other circumstances, you would have been jumping with joy at the opportunity for some time alone. Now, you were hoping to find the younger Winchester again. Sam would be of the most help. He did what you said far easier than Dean ever did.

You rounded the corner to the hall of rooms. All of the doors were closed, save for one. Dean’s room. Okay, maybe he could just tell you where Sam was. You walked quietly towards the door, the soft footfalls of your shoes barely making any noise. An ocean of nerves surfaced in your gut. You hadn’t spoken to him, not directly anyways, since he had tried to kiss you for the second time. Since then, you had done some… research. You were entirely sure that you would now be prepared if the opportunity ever lent itself again. Not that you expected it to after the last time.

“Are you gonna stare at me all day?” Dean broke you from your thoughts with a grumble. You stared at him for a minute longer. Initially, he looked to be annoyed. But when you looked deeper, at the way he angled himself away from you, the twitching of his fingers, you knew he was guarding himself. You were a threat to him. It made your heart sink.

“Where’s Sam?” You asked, finally looking away. The wall was suddenly very interesting. With your question, Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. For a moment there, he thought you were there for him. Of course not. Why would you be when you hated everything he did?

“Out.” Dean turned back to the television in front of him. You frowned. Theoretically, you could wait to copy the journal. You just preferred not to.

“When will he be back?” Your pushing at him caused a pang of annoyance to shoot through him. It was immediately followed by regret. You didn’t annoy him, you had just hurt him in a way he couldn’t comprehend. There hadn’t been a time when Dean was so affected by a girl before. Sam, maybe. His father, definitely. But never someone like you. This was why he didn’t let anyone in, why he kept all his thoughts and feelings, all the fuzzy emotional things, inside.

“I don’t know. I’m not my brother’s keeper.” Dean kept his eyes on the soap opera that played. He missed the way you blinked in shock. You tensed your jaw in frustration.

“You seemed to be all his life, so I figured you still were.” You crossed your arms, the nerves you had felt before suddenly shifting into something else. Dean’s eyes shot back to you. Your stance made him chuckle sarcastically, shaking his head.

“Again, how do you know so much about us? I don’t remember your answer.” Dean questioned. You scrunched your eyebrows together.

“If you listened to a word I say, you would be able to answer yourself.” You sent him a glare before turning to leave his doorway. He wasn’t of use to you with the way he was acting right now. Hopefully Sam would be back soon and you wouldn’t have to talk to Dean for the rest of the day. The sound of thick boots slapping on stone brought the fact that Dean was following you to your attention. You glanced behind your shoulder, humming in anger when you saw him.

“Oh sweetheart, I would if you ever said anything worth listening to.” Dean continued to follow you as he spoke. You swallowed at the words, wrestling with what you were going to say next. You knew it was wrong, knew it would hit something in him. But you said it anyways.

“Robin Karpluk, Cassie Robinson, Lisa Braeden.” You blurted out. You had whirled around to look right into his eyes. Dean stopped in his tracks at the names. He knew them, of course he knew them. He couldn’t ever forget them. What he didn’t know was how you knew them.

“How--?” Dean began, blinking wildly. You cut him off, fueled by only your need to get him to take you seriously.

“I told you. I know things. I hope those names were worth enough to listen to, seeing how they were the only ones you truly loved.” You spat out. You hadn’t known one hundred percent if he had loved them until you said their names. You had just remembered coming across them in the various emails, newspapers, letters, and text messages you had intercepted. You knew there had to be more, names you just couldn’t get a hold of, but these had been important to him. You watched his drive to push at you fall away with every word you spoke. You were breaking this man down, pulling at everyone he had failed to take care of. It was what you were trained for. Mind over matter, information over fists.

“You can’t… why?” Dean sputtered out, still standing strong in front of you. You held your head up with indignation.

“Maybe you’ll respect me a bit more now.” You turned from him again, stomping away and past Sam, who had arrived home just as Dean was falling apart at the seams. Why were you doing this to him? Why did you want to harm him in this way? As you walked away, you were asking yourself the same questions.

----

As the day grew on, you reflected on your earlier words. You knew it had been childish and wrong and hurtful in so many ways. It wasn't fair to use Dean's tumultuous life against him, at least not in response to what he had said. When looking at the bigger picture, his words only annoyed you, yours practically shot him. You chewed on your inner cheek in regret as you thought of the scene.

Dean had looked similar to the way you had the first day you met him. Scared, helpless. If the situation had a productive ending, it wouldn't have eaten you up inside like this. Instead of bringing on a feeling of achievement, it just reminded you why you weren't compatible with people. You didn't talk to anyone outside of the formal exchanges with your informants and the dismissive small talk at the grocery store. You didn't have to worry about what those people thought of you, how you would keep the relationships with them all alive. You were content with the fact that you didn't care how people characterized you. Or, you were until Dean came waltzing into your life. Lately you had found yourself wanting to hear his thoughts, to have him share his mind with you.

It was everything you could do to not ask him to sit with you while you read. You couldn't stand him, yet simultaneously wanted him around you always. You had tried to be civil with him, but every time you looked at him it was a reminder of all the things you lacked in. You had no prior relationships. You still couldn't punch, even without the broken hand that was slowly healing. You didn't know how to use a gun. You knew your strengths, yet it all seemed to not matter when you thought of your compatibility with Dean. You were more like Sam, who was always happy to help you research a topic, but you didn't feel anything toward him other than a growing friendship.

Still, you couldn’t let what you said go unforgiven. You stood from your chair. You were in the study again. After the blow up, you had tried again to do the copying yourself. It was slow work. You had been in there for over two hours and you only had a handful of pages finished. The words were shaky, but had been improving slowly as you wrote. You left John’s journal and the new journal together on the desk. Your steps were unhurried. You wanted to apologize, you really did, but you were also embarrassed and angry at yourself. You stopped just before the hallway. Deja vu set over you at the sight of only Dean’s door being opened.

Dean was right where he had been the first time you had bothered him. Sitting in front of his television, watching the same dramatic soap opera. This time, he hadn’t noticed you right away. You watched him, contemplating your next actions. Your hand raised to knock softly on the doorframe. Dean glanced up at you. When his face hardened and he looked away, you knew he had been expecting Sam.

“What?” Dean’s voice was gravelly. You balled your hand into a fist to calm your emotions.

“I’m sorry for my earlier actions.” You spoke, voice close to emotionless. Dean scoffed at the so-called apology. In his opinion, you weren’t even trying. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel his irritation. In turn, it made you narrow your eyes.

“What?” It was your turn to say.

“That’s a shit excuse for an apology.” Dean responded. You furrowed your eyebrows, the small amount of anger you had felt dissipating. You stepped into his room, an act that made him look up from the screen in front of him.

“How so?” You asked. Your tone was still flat, like you were talking to someone passing by you rather than the man who had become one of the only constant companions in your life.

“You sound like a robot.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.” And just like that, the annoyance at him was back. You moved to sit next to him on his bed. His eyes followed the curve of your neck, wanting nothing more than to nestle his face there. When he looked back to your face, he was reminded of why you were here. Your words echoed in his mind, your cold expression when you had said them flashing across his eyes.

“What other way was I supposed to say it?” You huffed a breath out, looking at the floor in front of you. Dean rolled his eyes. He didn’t recognize this person. In the time after meeting him, you had been kind to him. Now, you seemed hellbent on pushing yourself away from him.

“I don’t know, maybe, ‘I’m sorry I was a massive asshole’?” Dean offered to you. You blinked at him.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry I was a massive asshole. Happy?” You repeated his words to him. You understood where you were initially wrong, but all of this just seemed to be taking it too far. Could Dean really not understand that you were sorry?

“No.” Dean returned his attention to the soap opera, where the main character was getting kidnapped by her secret uncle/brother. You rolled your eyes, both at the situation and the man in front of you. You combed through your mind for something to say, something to make everything go back to how it was before all of this arguing.

“What do you want from me?” You whispered, desperation leaking through the shield of irritation. You felt helpless to this feeling. Dean looked back to you and you could see the raw emotion coursing through him. All of the things he wanted to say piled up around him. He was drowning in it all, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of it.

“Nothing.” Dean answered, still looking at you. You knew he was lying. He had to be, with how he had been acting towards you. You felt your eyes drift to his lips, then back to his eyes, where they flickered with need. You reached out until your hand rested on his thigh, the rough denim the only barrier between you two. Dean immediately wrapped his hand around your wrist. He didn’t move, didn’t pull you away. You watched him as you leaned in.

Your noses brushed against each other when you finally kissed him. Without hesitation, he kissed you back. You had intended to pull back after a few seconds, but your mind clouded over when Dean’s other hand drifted to your waist. The kiss deepened, your mouths moving in sync driven by the desire growing in you both.

You crawled onto him without breaking the connection, Dean helping guide you. It clicked in you then that this was the small kiss you had prepared for. Somehow, though, you didn't care. All you cared about was his hands moving to rest on your bottom. Your chests were flush, and you breathed together. You wrapped your arm around the back of his neck, the other resting on his shoulder.

The slight friction of the seam of Dean's jeans in between your legs had you whimpering into his mouth. Dean pushed his hips into yours skillfully, earning a moan. You could feel him growing harder with each sound. Neither of you wanted to pull away to undress, and the grinding of your bodies was working fine. You may have not known how to kiss, but you did know how to pleasure yourself.

You continued to rock back and forth, applying pressure in all the right places. Dean helped by pulling you closer to him at some points. The noises you were making, God, they were almost enough to make him come right there. When you pushed down in a different way, you heard a moan fall from Dean's mouth. You liked that noise, liked that you were the one making him sound like that.

It only spurred you on. The feeling in your gut, like a knot pulling tight about to break loose, made you quicken your movements. Dean slipped his tongue into your mouth, which wasn't very hard seeing how intensely you two had been making out. You were close, so so close. Dean could feel the heat from your core on his fingertips as he squeezed at your ass. You drove yourself down one last time as you came, mouth falling from Dean’s with a moan. Dean was right behind you and you let him buck up into you while you panted against his cheek. You felt his muscles relax, his chest heaving into yours.

It was a messy scene. You were clinging to each other like the other was going to fall away. No one spoke a while after, no one moved. It was as if you were both trying not to spook each other. Finally, Dean turned his head and placed a kiss at the top of your head, right into your hair. You smiled tiredly at the action, praying it wouldn’t be the last time.

“That was…” You trailed off, breathlessly saying the words. You couldn’t think of how to describe what had happened. A million words hurricaned around your mind, yet none of them accurately fit into how you felt now. You felt the rumble of Dean’s chest as he laughed, the sound coming out raspy. You pulled your head up to look at his face, careful to not let go of him in the process. He was beaming at you and, even before he spoke, you could feel his humor.

“Cat got your tongue, angel?” Dean asked. Sweetheart, angel. Your face heated at the pet name, yet you somehow were able to scrunch your nose in displeasure.

“Don’t mock me, Dean.” You scolded him playfully. Dean placed a peck on the tip of your nose.

“Say it again.” Dean requested, eyes dancing around your face. You were confused.

“Don’t mock me.” Your tone was flat this time.

“No, the other thing.” You knew then what he wanted. You smirked slightly before speaking.

“Dean.” You spoke low, even though you and him were the only ones in the bunker at the moment. Dean kissed you again, still deep and passionate, but it ended when he pulled away.

“My name sounds so damn pretty on your lips when you look like that.” Dean commented, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You didn’t have a mirror, but from the way Dean looked, you could only assume you looked similar. His lips were slightly more pink that usual, his hair mussed, clothes wrinkled. You couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself. You had done this to him. You had been the one to make him moan under you.

“I have to go, Dean.” The words weren’t mean, weren’t robotic.

Your next actions were born out of the reminder of the time, not out of want. You shuffled off of him, standing and smoothing your clothes out with your hands. Dean felt his lap grow cold, his body already missed you. He wanted to reach out and take your hands into his. He wanted to pull you back onto him and never let you go. What he wanted didn’t matter as he watched your figure disappear out of his door and down the hall.

[thatbitchery]

Last night decided to give in to the pressure and watch Love is Blind Habibi 100% for Nour because apparently we are bringing feminine and classy back and now see I know the bar is in hell I really do and I will give credit where credit is du ma'am knows how to hold herself but then she did the dumb girl thing and I had to pause the show and take a walk around town to cool down the second hand embarrassment of someone that seems to have it all just- falling apart but on national TV.

Ladies we DO NOT tell people our standards we live by them and they either match up or fall off. When ma'am said she does not pay the bill she needs to- I had to go take a breather and recollect myself because. Ma'am. 100% of all the crap she went through on that show would have been avoided if she wasn't trying so hard to be this season's IT girl (it worked though, she is. So from a marketing perspective - 10/10). We do NOT tell people what our standards and expectations are we live them and either they are it or they are NOT.

Shut Up and Do You then go home.

EVERYTHING. EVERY single THING that you say not only can but will, as a matter of undeniable and unavoidable fact, WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU in the court of social groups. Learn to SHUT your mouth. This is where therapists and I don't match up, they want you to be open and communicate and I want you to (in real life)

NEVER part with a fact unless you have to

Shut uppppp and observe

After initial outspreading, DO NOT SPEAK UNLESS YOU'RE SPOKEN TO

If you can't do this have an anon account on here and on Instagram or something and yap and say all that and be real so you can satisfy that need/desire and move on be a baddie IRL.

Human and literally animal communication is non verbal/literate. Even before you say anything subconsciously we have you boxed, but we can't quite put a finger on what we already know. Like that weird guy said in that equally weird interview- the thing with Noor is that she's a liar. Her actions do not match her words. She's fake. Because Queens don't tell kings treat me like a queen it just happens. Because queens live like Queens and everyone just automatically fall inro service.

If i had a dollar for every time I was told 'I told him/ her I don't like X and they still did it and now I'm hurt' uh huh and you deserve it. And I pray to God it keeps happening till you learn your lesson and stop being embarrasing.

Human beings- specifically men, are naturally competitive and combative. They want to turn No into Yes. When you tell a man no he automatically wants to make it a yes if they didn't we as a species would have died when the meat said no don't hunt me and they said aight bro bye. It takes combat to be a hunter. It's instinct. Notice how when you tell a man something they do the exact opposite. It's instinct. Outside men it's human and animal instinct to want to survive for longer by preserving energy so people naturally push boundaries & you see it so much in kids when you say don't do that and they do it looking at you to see if they can preserve the energy of not doing that by just overruning you. People are naturally combative we pyush boundaries that's why we have aeroplanes someone pushed the walking boundary.

No oneee wants to be told what to do. No oneeeeee. Not even you. It's degrading. It assumes you have no free will or the comprehension to exercise it and naturally people will fight back to maintain their independence.

You do know you're teaching people how to manipulate you do ypu not? By telling them what you like or dislike from the onset you take away the requirement to work hard to know you and handing them yourself on a platter. You tell a man you like flowers you give him a great path to just manipulate you bc now he can just buy you them whenever you're mad and it's good? If you shut it he'd have had to figure that out which would stress him which would force him to cherish you because he had to work? When you tell a girl 'don't talk to me like that' you teach her how to tick and trigger you but if you'd just walked out or shut her out she'd have had to make her way back?

I don't have standards for men because I have standards for me. Or friends or family. I'm a narcissist so I run everything by me to decide if it's worth it or not and just remove myself? I buy myself flowers sir? I don't talk to myself like that? I don't do that to me why the fuck would you think you can?

Shut. It.

[protect-namine]

RE: vein's "death" again (previous thoughts have been posted here regarding the logistics of what actually happened and how it happened, and here regarding the thematic support for it). this post will be more about additional thoughs on lu guang's characterization.

so here's another interview translation that clarifies what happened. it doesn't really change much about anything I've said in previous posts, thankfully, but there is one additional thing from the interview I want to talk about.

my thoughts on the over-reliance on interviews aside, I wish yingdu actually emphasized more on the fact that lu guang's actions were a gamble. he wasn't sure his plan would work, but he took the risk anyway.

this is an important character moment for several reasons. one is that it's a milestone in lu guang's growth as a character. we were introduced to him in S1 as someone who will always stick to the original order of events and doesn't want to mess with the timeline, as shown in how he's strict with cheng xiaoshi during their dives. in his latest timeloop in yingdu, we see this in action from lu guang himself because he's always stressing about timeline deviations, and how he's timing key events down to the last minute. we also know that lu guang deeply dislikes having his plans messed up. so for him to take on a gamble is a huge change for him. it is a great risk, because he doesn't know if it would work, and moreover, this is his last loop. he believes he won't have any more chances to loop again after this. he is gambling for cheng xiaoshi's life here.

secondly, it would have been a great contrast to liu xiao, who is lu guang's narrative foil in depicting their control of the timelines. I've talked about this more in the ask post, but I wanted to point out how liu xiao was first introduced to us properly in yingdu as someone who can play gambling games, but would actually cheat to win (using his heartbeat ability). I'm going into speculation territory, but liu xiao strikes me as someone who only starts playing when he knows he can win; hence he's playing the "long game" with this show and we won't see him truly in action until S3.

idk, I just think it's a neat contrast. lu guang has already been playing the "long game" by timelooping over and over, and his solution is actually one that's something we would have expected more from cheng xiaoshi, who is the one who makes clever plans by thinking outside the box: take a gamble. take a risk. and hope it will pay off.

also, side note: looks like cheng xiaoshi having yellow eyes was also an animation error. man.

side note part two: there isn't actually anything in the interview that surprised me other than the animation errors and that there are no parallel timelines, but I am kinda disappointed that some information were revealed this way instead of us finding out in the show itself (either in yingdu or in the future in S3). for example, that bahati is indeed a school related to abilities, or that liu xiao knows and probably has taken away other people's abilities.

edit: posted this too soon lol, but there's more additional thoughts on gambling imagery in the reblog.

[anghraine]

Okay, so this is the Tarsus IV post I vaguely threatened alluded to a few days ago. I wrote most of it before last night's grumbling about movie Kirk, btw, so it's not a result of that; I was already thinking about what we know about Kirk and the Tarsus IV massacre from TOS, and what speculations and headcanons make the most sense to me in the context of TOS. I just waited until today to post it because I wasn't quite done yesterday.

Anyway, I was going over the finer details of "The Conscience of the King" to figure this out, and ended up with a ton of thoughts about the Tarsus IV backstory. So here are my (many) personal takeaways:

Firstly, there's a vague reference to some kind of local coup or uprising that put Governor Kodos in power, I think shortly before the food supply crisis. We don't get any details about the uprising from TOS, though the next to last version of the episode's script did mention Kodos setting himself up as a messianic figure once the coup succeeded. In any case, his power grab was certainly reinforced by the starvation crisis, as revealed by Spock's research:

"there were over eight thousand colonists and virtually no food. And that was when Governor Kodos seized full power and declared emergency martial law."

As far as we know in TOS, the crisis was set off by chance: an exotic fungus happened to destroy most of the colony's food supply, and it wasn't clear when relief would arrive. In fact, the Federation did send relief to the colony, per their usual practice, but it took them long enough to get there that the situation had become dire by then. Nearly all food was gone and the colonists were starving; the episode implies that some had even started committing suicide. Nevertheless, the Federation relief force arrived sooner than expected.

Kodos tries to argue in "The Conscience of the King" that the Federation's relief showing up so soon was just luck and he couldn't have guessed it would happen. But given what we know about the Federation as an institution, and given the urgent pressure the Federation puts on the Enterprise crew in multiple episodes to get food/supplies/medicine to some colony or another, it seems like there is a pretty competent, long-established Federation infrastructure for addressing crises like this. In reality, Kodos used the circumstances to justify something he already believed in and wanted to try implementing.

That thing was eugenics. This isn't ambiguous; the aired episode explicitly describes his atrocities as based on eugenics. The starvation of the colony gave Kodos the opportunity to put his theories into action.

He declared that half the colony would be executed, and the remaining food distributed among the other half. Moreover, the assignment of each colonist to either group was determined by Kodos's conception and judgment of genetic superiority. The genetically inferior half of the population, according to Kodos, was executed, and the genetically superior survivors (again, according to Kodos) were given all the food supplies. Kodos's exact words at the time to those slated to die included these lines:

"Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony."

Kirk says of Kodos's full speech to those chosen for death:

"I remember the words. I wrote them down. [...] Are you sure you didn't act this role out in front of a captive audience whom you blasted out of existence without mercy?"

In the episode, Spock condemns Kodos in similar terms as "without mercy" and "ruthless," and is clearly horrified by what he's discovered:

"Children watching their parents die. Whole families destroyed. Over four thousand people. They died quickly, without pain, but they died."

The means by which Kodos had thousands of civilians killed isn't stated in the episode. As we see in the above quote, though, it seems to have been done very rapidly.

In an earlier draft, there's mention of some kind of re-purposed anti-matter chamber as the mechanism, and Kodos deliberately "sparing" Kirk while making him watch as the chamber switch was flipped. In that version, Kirk seems to be personally targeted for some reason, where in the episode as it is, he's just one of several random eyewitnesses who survived. I personally prefer the episode's version, which I think better fits a narrative around a mass-scale atrocity.

Anyway, there's another take on the massacre where the thousands of civilians slated for execution were gunned down with phasers, but I find that more difficult to reconcile with Spock's description, which sounds more mechanized and efficient to me. I do think there's reason to believe phasers or some other form of advanced weaponry did get used in the course of events, but not in the executions—more on that later.

As I mentioned in my poll, Kirk is established in TOS as being only 33 during "The Conscience of the King," and thus was only 13 when he personally saw all this (the episode repeatedly insists the atrocity took place exactly twenty years earlier—I think the emphasis on this time gap is important). There is no explanation in TOS of why 13-year-old Kirk seems to be the only member of his family who was present for this—and certainly the only one of the Kirks to personally see Kodos—though earlier drafts do have various explanations that make sense.

For instance, there was an idea floating around the drafting process that Kirk might have been a young midshipman stationed on Tarsus IV during the massacre, not a child. His exact age in TOS was up in the air until the second season explicitly established his then-current age as 34. So that idea is not at all canon, but did internally make sense, since there'd be no reason for his relatives to be posted with him.

There's also a fairly late script in which Kirk's father was among those killed. I believe Kirk Sr was already envisioned as a Starfleet officer at that point, and had been assigned to a post on Tarsus IV some time earlier, which is how a boy born in the Midwest ended up living in a remote colony as a child. However, as I understand, the writers were forced to remove the reference to Kirk's father getting killed because higher-ups didn't want to nail down Kirk's history too much in S1, in case they later wanted to take his family in a different direction.

IIRC, TOS never did do anything with Kirk's parents and we're never even told in the show if they're currently alive or dead, much less told anything about their roles during the massacre. His brother Sam Kirk was envisioned as 10 years older than James (I think the new shows shrink this, but that's irrelevant to the TOS production process), so it also made sense that Sam wasn't there, since he'd have been in his 20s and early in his own career elsewhere. (Sam and his family are mentioned in both earlier and later S1 episodes, so "they hadn't invented him yet" isn't the reason for his absence.)

Beyond all that, another detail I find interesting is that Kodos's speech announcing the impending massacre is preserved in some kind of audio file that Kirk has access to on the Enterprise. Kirk gives "Karidian" a copy of the exact words of this speech and orders him to read it aloud, and has the computers run a vocal comparison between that reading and the original recording. The computer analysis strongly indicates that both speeches were delivered by the same person, but lacks 100% certainty—perhaps due to vocal changes over the last 20 years, perhaps to a difference in the quality of the recordings or some other reason.

However, we don't actually know who recorded the original speech; since so few survivors ever got near enough to even see or hear Kodos in person, maybe the recording was done by Kodos himself or one of his people, and recovered later by Starfleet. The speech only addresses the colonists slated for death, suggesting that the 4000 chosen for survival had already been separated out. But it's possible that it was one or more of the colonists themselves who managed to record the speech.

Only nine of the survivors ever personally set eyes on Kodos (this seems to again imply that those selected for survival were mainly not present during the speech). There's a preserved photograph of him from that era, but that's all, and one of the reasons he's able to evade discovery for so long is because of the vanishingly few people involved who had ever seen him—this is not only canon but a major plot point in "The Conscience of the King."

I read on the wiki that there's a book about the whole thing, and in that version, Kirk never actually saw Kodos and just found a picture in a database, which honestly I think is stupid as fuck and makes no sense in terms of the episode as written (though very typical of corporate franchises watering down the horror of some element of an original, less sanitized story in later byproducts). In "The Conscience of the King," though, Leighton, Kirk, and Riley are explicitly stated to be among the nine survivors who saw Kodos personally.

It's never explained why they were among this small group of eyewitnesses, especially considering that Kirk and Riley would have been children at the time and Leighton was quite young.

Another intriguing data point is the fact that half of Leighton's face is very heavily damaged, and it does seem strongly indicated that this happened during the massacre. We don't know why, though, or how old he even was at the time—he seems older than 33-year-old Kirk, but they're good friends and rough contemporaries, so not that far apart in age.

There's also some interesting phrasing in the episode:

"There were nine eyewitnesses who survived the massacre, who'd actually seen Kodos with their own eyes. Jim Kirk was one of them."

This description is also from Spock after his research dive, someone unlikely to be loose with his phrasing. The general assumption, I think, is that the nine eyewitnesses (who I'm going to call the Tarsus Nine for convenience) were among those chosen for survival for eugenics purposes. The reason such a small number of them had ever seen Kodos is, presumably, that most people who'd seen him were deliberately assigned to the genetically unworthy group and killed. The Tarsus Nine were just the tiny fraction who flew under the radar.

That was my original impression, and it is possible, but there were some things I found puzzling about that scenario. For one, if the Tarsus Nine were separated with the other survivors, why are they persistently presented as the only eyewitnesses? If Leighton was separated into the survivor group, why was his face so heavily damaged in all this? Did he try to fight? Would he have been spared from death if he did? And the episode is clear that Leighton, Kirk, and Riley all heard Kodos's speech and witnessed the massacre in person.

Leighton:

"I remember him. That voice. The bloody thing he did [...] Jim, Jim, I need your help. There were only eight or nine of us who actually saw Kodos. I was one, you were another."

Kirk:

"But I remember. [...] I remember the words. I wrote them down. [...] All I understand is that four thousand people were needlessly butchered. [...] I saw him once, twenty years ago. Men change. Memory changes."

Riley:

"He murdered my father, and my mother. I know that voice, that face, I know it. I saw it. He murdered them."

I had been considering possible explanations for the uniqueness of these nine people as the only direct eyewitnesses among some 4000 survivors + the fact that the three eyewitnesses we meet would have been so young at the time (and Spock talks specifically of children seeing their parents die) + Kirk saying he remembers hearing the speech and that he only ever saw Kodos that one time + the Tarsus Nine knowing that nobody left alive except themselves saw Kodos as governor + their very accurate estimates of how many eyewitnesses survived + Leighton's facial scars.

And then I tripped over an ancient post (on livejournal of all things—I was linked to a post unrelated to the massacre and then followed another link) that collected some of the relevant Tarsus IV quotes and offered a very simple and elegant solution.

What if the Tarsus Nine weren't assigned to the "genetically more valuable" group? What if Kirk, Riley, Leighton, and the other six were in fact considered genetically unworthy and assigned to the group slated for death? What if they're the only direct eyewitnesses because everyone else was either removed from the massacre (and never saw the speech) or killed, and that's why there are so few of them?

me: oh damn, I didn't think about that and ... whoa, I don't think the episode ever does say what group they were actually assigned to. It's possible. Holy shit.

So, here's an alternate possibility/headcanon:

4000-odd colonists including the Tarsus Nine were gathered without any knowledge of the intended massacre. They didn't know where the other colonists were or what was going on beyond starvation and martial law. None of them had ever personally seen their reclusive governor. They were just waiting with their families to find out what was going on. Kodos came out to speak to them, at last, and delivered his speech to those slated for death (hence Kirk saying in TOS that he only ever saw him once, 20 years earlier). The "survival" group didn't hear it and never saw him. But Kirk, Leighton, and Riley did—because they were supposed to die.

Kodos's description of 33-year-old Kirk is, uh, let's say intriguing in that context:

"Here you stand, the perfect symbol of our technical society. Mechanized, electronized, and not very human. You've done away with humanity, the striving of man to achieve greatness through his own resources."

Kodos's murderous daughter Lenore, similarly, says:

LENORE: Are you like that, Captain? All this power at your command, yet the decisions that you have to make— KIRK: Come from a very human source. LENORE: Are you, Captain? Human?

It's likely that these colonists and other residents didn't all go meekly to their entirely unexpected deaths. If we go with the concept of Kirk's father as a Starfleet officer serving on a post on the colony, some of these people were in Starfleet and might well have still had weaponry of some kind. They were just as hungry as the rest, but I suspect would have fought to the death against an undisguised atrocity. I think others also would have fought back against Kodos's people, despite being starved and much less well-armed (if armed at all).

In all probability, none of them expected to win, but hoped to buy time for others, especially their children, to escape (hence the conspicuous youth of the eyewitnesses). The resisting residents would have been massacred by Kodos's troops as he took control of the situation, even before thousands of more people were sent to their executions, but I imagine this resistance created enough havoc for nine children and young adults to escape with their lives (Leighton's face getting seared in the process—perhaps by a phaser set to kill that barely missed him).

Most of the literal children among the Tarsus Nine had seen their parents killed as Kodos's people took control, as had other children who didn't survive (hence Spock's description of children watching parents die and of the nine eyewitnesses directly surviving a massacre). The Tarsus Nine may have seen the other colonists forced into the execution mechanism, whatever it was, either during their escape or if any snuck out afterwards to see. Regardless, I headcanon that the Tarsus Nine found each other and hid out together (I'm assuming they ended up cooperating because they're so accurate about just how many of them there were and because I'm guessing literal children wouldn't have survived alone).

We don't know a whole lot about what was going on psychologically with them at the time. But something else I've been thinking about is the interesting ambiguity in Kirk's statement to Kodos about the original genocide speech. Kirk says, "I remember the words. I wrote them down," which seems a reference to Kirk writing the speech down during the episode to force Kodos to read it. However, something I find fascinating there (/Spock fistbump) is that Kirk's statement that he himself wrote down the speech follows so directly from "I remember the words."

I think the implication is that he wrote down the exact words of the speech from memory (indicating that Kodos's genocide announcement that Kirk heard at age 13 is still seared into his mind). Or possibly, the causality is reversed: he perfectly remembers Kodos's speech because he wrote it down at some point in the past (likely not long after surviving the massacre). The former seems a bit more probable to me, but either case would suggest quite a lot about how deeply this affected him.

But whatever the Tarsus Nine were up to, they lasted long enough for Starfleet to arrive and take charge of the situation. We don't know the details of how that happened from TOS, either, though the fact that Kodos got the hell out of Dodge and left a burned body to be misidentified as him suggests that it was obvious enough what Starfleet's arrival was going to mean well before any fighting began.

Afterwards, well ... some of the Tarsus Nine maintained ties, for sure. Kirk and Leighton seem to be trusting friends; they address each other by familiar nicknames, Kirk knows Leighton's wife, and he regards Leighton's deception as something of a personal betrayal. Kirk is a bit vague on Leighton's professional life and dismisses his suspicions at first, so I don't think they're super close, but it's a trusting and familiar relationship in general.

Meanwhile, others among them lost contact. Kirk clearly has no idea that the Lieutenant Riley he knows on the Enterprise was a little boy among the other eyewitnesses, which seems probable enough. Riley likely ended up with caretakers who wouldn't have been all that keen on him being reminded of the horrific trauma he'd experienced. Him ending up on the Enterprise by sheer chance is a hell of a coincidence, but that's not unusual for Star Trek, let's be real.

A minor point: I'm guessing Sam Kirk had a hell of a week as the information about what was happening on Tarsus IV leaked out. I'm guessing from the outside, there'd be the official alert of the food crisis -> the colony's communications going dark -> Starfleet arriving and discovering what had happened -> their updates as they searched for survivors and those responsible -> their reports of finding the 4000 chosen for survival and the Tarsus Nine.

Moving forwards chronologically, we don't know that much about the longer-term effects on the Tarsus Nine apart from Kirk, though Riley is clearly haunted to some extent. Thomas Leighton has a respectable career, though his wife says after his death:

"At least he has peace now. He never really had that before."

As for Kirk, I think the next "version" of Kirk we know anything about via TOS is him as a very young man at Starfleet Academy. This Kirk is repeatedly described as bookish and solemn. In "Shore Leave" (which follows very shortly after "The Conscience of the King," though it's far lighter), we get this exchange:

KIRK: I know the feeling very well. I had it at the Academy. An upperclassman there. One practical joke after another, and always on me. My own personal devil. A guy by the name of Finnegan. MCCOY: And you being the very serious young— KIRK: Serious? I'll make a confession, Bones. I was absolutely grim.

Yeah, I wonder why.

Even as late as his time as an instructor at the Academy, when he was Lieutenant Kirk, he seems pretty recognizably "that" Kirk. He taught a notoriously challenging class (the subject not stated, but implied to be philosophy) and was known as a demanding teacher. In "Where No Man Has Gone Before," his friend and former student Gary Mitchell says:

"Well, I'm getting a chance to read some of that longhair stuff you like. Hey man, I remember you back at the Academy. A stack of books with legs. The first thing I ever heard from an upperclassman was, watch out for Lieutenant Kirk. In his class, you either think or sink."

Mitchell jokes about how he only passed by orchestrating the campaign of a "little blonde lab technician" to distract Kirk from his usual severity. And even this was not a fling; Kirk's relationship with the lab technician reached the point that he almost married her. So even that suggests someone who was taking every part of his life deadly seriously.

The personable, dutiful-but-easy-going charm and good humor of Kirk in much of TOS seems to not have been much in evidence for many, many years of Kirk's life. And even by the time we meet him, this runs much less deep than his powerful sense of responsibility and his commitment to the ideals of the Federation and his own philosophical convictions. We often see his outwards charm switch off like a light when it doesn't serve his purposes.

This is especially apparent in "The Conscience of the King" itself, which includes one of Kirk's most cold-blooded charm offensives—he can't immediately reach Kodos, so instead he deliberately charms Kodos's nineteen-year-old daughter Lenore in order to dig up information on him (not realizing Lenore herself is a murderer). There is a chasm between this calculated charm and his manner when he finds Kodos and drops the front:

The last thing I wanted to say about "The Conscience of the King" and this particular backstory for Kirk is that, after all of this, what exactly is the point of the backstory revealed in this episode? It's Star Trek, there usually is one, even when it's executed badly or clumsily. What is it gesturing at?

There's a repeated emphasis on the twenty years between the present moment and Kodos's atrocity. He is now an old man living a normal life, and doesn't seem to be a particular threat to anyone. One of the major subplots involves Spock trying to figure out what the hell happened twenty years earlier, then trying to convince McCoy of the threat, then Kirk and Spock and McCoy having this fraught discussion about it.

Spock is not dispassionate; he is horrified by both the past atrocity and current threat to Kirk, and quickly reaches a point of certainty about Karidian's/Kodos's identity and what should be done about him. Kirk is more anxious and unsure about getting it wrong and about his own motives, despite simultaneously wanting to just kill this guy on the spot. McCoy doesn't want to believe at pretty much every turn, and even when he does, is wary of acting out of potentially questionable motives so long after the fact. It leads to this great scene between all three:

SPOCK: Why do you invite death? KIRK: I'm not. I'm interested in justice. MCCOY: Are you? Are you sure it's not vengeance? KIRK: No, I'm not sure. I wish I was. I've done things I've never done before. I've placed my command in jeopardy. From here on I've got to determine whether or not Karidian is Kodos. SPOCK: He is. KIRK: You sound certain. I wish I could be. Before I accuse a man of that, I've got to be. I saw him once, twenty years ago. Men change. Memory changes. Look at him now, he's an actor. He can change his appearance. No. Logic is not enough. I've got to feel my way, make absolutely sure. MCCOY: What if you decide he is Kodos? What then? Do you play God, carry his head through the corridors in triumph? That won't bring back the dead, Jim. KIRK: No, but they may rest easier.

Of course, the matter of "oh hey, we keep finding elderly people who committed atrocities some 20 years ago and we've got to navigate how to deal with them now in a way that honors their victims" was not at all metaphorical at the time. In the 60s, the architects of atrocities who made their escape twenty years earlier and were discovered as ostensibly normal aging people were just literal Nazis.

While the Tarsus IV massacre is on a much smaller scale, obviously, Erin Horáková has a good explanation of the topicality here:

In “The Conscience of the King”, we learn that Kirk is a survivor of a colony-world genocide that occurred during his childhood. As an adult, Kirk attempts to determine whether an old man, now an actor, is actually Kodos, the mass murderer who perpetrated this genocide. “Conscience” is a complex, shifting episode made in the wake of the arrest of aged Nazis in South America by Mossad agents (again, it’s subtextually important to this episode that Kirk is played by a Jewish actor).

For further context, plenty of people involved in TOS had themselves fought in WWII, so "what do we do about elderly Nazis" was not a distant issue. Also, while Roddenberry himself was unfortunately antisemitic (a quality presumably related to "Patterns of Force" ever seeing the light of day), there were a lot of Jewish people working behind and in front of the camera on TOS, most famously including both William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy (both are/were Jewish actors from Jewish communities, though this tends to be much more present for many fans with Nimoy—it's hard not to think that is at least partly related to their physical appearances). So the whole premise is complex and fraught in real world terms, as well, which I felt was also worth mentioning as a significant element of what's going on here.

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 10>

smut warning

word count: 2.8K

Sophia's POV:

I am currently in the bed of the hotel room with Roman all over me, exchanging not so sweet, sloppy kisses.

"You were amazing tonight." he whispered heavily through the kisses.

We were already in our pajamas attire since it's around midnight.

"Thank you. But I wasn't the one who threw punches." I replied in the same way as him and he laughed deeply.

"I hit Randy harder than I was supposed to but he deserved it. The way he was talking at you like he has a chance against me." Roman got heated up again and leaned to kiss my neck and I slightly moaned as I was running my hands through his back.

"You smell so good." the deep voice mixed with the heavy breaths is a deadly combination that caused an unfamiliar tickling feeling down to my private parts.

Suddenly I felt Roman started licking my neck and I think I'm getting wet right now.

"Damn, you put coconut juice on you, babygirl?" he just had to make things more intense than already are with calling me that. "I'm gonna eat you whole." he stopped himself and lifted himself up, so we could be face to face again.

"It's just a body lotion." I giggled while examining his hungry eyes and ignoring the tension I am feeling down there.

"An edible one or is it just you." he made a witty comment and I closed my mouth.

"No, no. Don't close it. I still have work there." Roman spoke and we started kissing again but the ringing on my phone interrupted us.

"Who is it that late of the night?" I asked and reached for my device and seeing uncle's name on it made my eyes pop out.

"It's uncle." I said and Roman suddenly panicked.

"Is it face-time?" he asked.

"No. Standard call. Be quiet." I whisper yelled and picked up.

"Uncle." I said sweetly.

"I want to congratulate you, Sophia once again. You are doing an amazing job. Even beyond my expectations." he complimented me and I laughed nervously.

"Thank you so much. I learn from the best." I replied. "How have you been?"

"Still the same. The issue is severe." I pouted.

"My poor uncle." I said in a weeping tone.

"I'll be fine, sweetie. So tell me how are you with Roman?" he asked and I looked at Roman with horror.

"I think we get along okay, yeah." I said in the coolest way possible but deep down my whole body is pounding.

"If you two are at a hotel in Atlanta for three days it must be more than okay." uncle snapped at me and I gulped loudly. Roman is looking at me with "what the hell is going on" look.

"I just wanted to see the Botanical Garden plus we are in seperate rooms, uncle. Come on now." I said the biggest lie to exist and I hope he buys it.

"I know. I know." he said and I started wondering who might have told him. It's either mom or if he called Jimmy and Solo...more like mom. "Okay, dear. You must be tired already. I just wanted to praise you for your work. Can't wait for the Royal Rumble match next Saturday."

"Me too, uncle. Thank you once again. Get better and I will make sure to visit you, soon, okay? Kiss my cousins and aunt from me." I ordered.

"No chance for your aunt." uncle enunciated and I rolled my eyes. "Good night."

"Good night." I replied sweetly and hung up.

"Somebody told him we are at a hotel and I think it's mom." I stated and Roman seemed puzzled. "We have to tell him about us one day, though." I sighed and sat back on my bed while he was laying on it.

"Now that we are on the topic, you are being promoted from Wise Woman to girlfriend." Roman declared.

"I am?" I smirked and climbed on his lap. "Whose girlfriend?" I ran my fingers softly through his abs.

"What do you mean whose? Mine!" he grumbled.

"I got it but am I Tribal Chief's girlfriend or am I Joe's girlfriend?" I asked.

"All of my personalities are yours." my boyfriend announced with a smile and I smiled back at him.

"As scary as this sounds, I love it." I said and leaned to kiss him again.

...

I slowly opened my eyes and I saw I am lying on Roman's naked chest. He is still sleeping peacefully with his arm around my shoulder.

He looks very peaceful while he is sleeping. His tied hair is not so tied anymore. There are fluffy strands everywhere and he looks unbelievably cute.

The second I looked down, however, I saw a big bump in the sheet.

Holy heavens. That's NPT. Robert got these too but it's not close to this size I am witnessing right now. This view is scary. How big is that thing?

I immediately got up and ran to the bathroom before he wakes up and becomes uncomfortable.

As I shut the door I felt my heart pounding in my chest. Why the hell am I so nervous? It's not like we are gonna do this right now but one day we will and I fear this is gonna hurt a lot.

I decided to stop thinking about this and just brushed my teeth. I think I need a consultation with Cleo and Tina because I have to be prepared.

I need advice.

For the first time in my life.

I used the time to do some skincare and fix my hair and I hope when I walk out the door everything is back to normal.

After the deep breath I took, I opened the door and went back to the room.

I saw Roman still lying on his bed, already awake. He must have been waiting for me to get out of the bathroom, so he could go.

Also, there was a pillow on his crotch.

"Good morning." he said with a smile and got up with the pillow.

"Good morning." I replied trying to look completely unbothered by the sight. I gulped loudly, didn't even bother to ask.

Will he just wait to go down or will he...I better not think about this.

...

Roman's POV:

I think that Sophia definitely saw my loaded gun earlier in the morning. When she got out of that bathroom she kinda looked like she's seen a ghost.

It's good she knows I'm a perfectly erectile functional man and I will be until I die if I spend the rest of my life with her. I just know it.

...

Right now I am sweating my ass off in that sauna and Sophia's perect half-naked body covered with sweat and barbie pink one-piece swimsuit that was making her breasts pop out, don't help at all.

"Is your body okay?" she suddenly asked me and I furrowed my eyebrows out of confusion.

"From the fight last night." my girlfriend specified. I can't believe she is really my girlfriend already.

"Yup. I am strong like a bull." I squeezed my right bicep indicating my strength.

Sophia just giggled and looked down.

Sweat was dripping down her cleavage. I have a sudden urge to lick it.

"Are you alright, though?" I asked her.

"I'm not sure. Ever since I woke up I have pain in the lower back." she put her hand on the hurt spot.

"Let's get out of here and make a massage appointment." I grabbed her hand and we got out of the tiny hell.

The breeze of normal air filled my nostrills and body with coolness.

"We have to take a shower first. We are a sweaty mess." Soph giggled and went to the shower.

Although my intrusive thoughts yelled at me to join her and rinse together I just waited for her respectfully and then I went to wash myself.

"I'm sorry, sir. There are no available masseurs for today." the receptionist apologized to me as I requested a massage for Soph and myself.

Okay. Little does my girlfriend know that I am a literal problem solver. I saw a shelf behind her that had body oils on it.

"Could you give me a massage oil then? A relaxing one, please." I asked politely and she gave me exactly what I was looking for then I pulled out my debit card.

Judging by Sophia's expression, she looks baffled and I just gave her an assuring nod.

Sophia's POV:

I am laying on my stomach with a towel beneath me and one over my butt. All of this is on the bed in the hotel room.

I feel like I'm gonna explode any second because I'm basically naked in front of Joe although he can't see anything but still.

"You sure you know how this works?" I asked again.

"One hundred percent. I'm an athlete, baby. I know a few tricks." he reassured me and I heard the bottle opening.

I felt him spreading the relaxing oil all over my body.

"I want you to loosen up a little." he gave me instructions. Probably he felt I am as stiff as a rock right now. "Imagine I am just your masseur now, not your boyfriend. I'm not gonna touch you inappropriately...unless you ask me to do it." he whispered the last part and I felt I got chills all over my body.

"Okay." I said with a high pitched voice and I heard a sudden chuckle.

"But you are still tense." he concluded as he continued to softly touch my body continuing spreading the oil that smells of menthol and camphor and was filling my nostrills with pure calm and relaxation all of the sudden.

I started to breathe deeply as well.

"There you go." Joe said quietly and started softly massaging me from my shoulders. "Now you are gonna tell me exactly where it hurts."

He was going lower and lower until he touched my lower back and I hissed cause he shoot the right spot.

"Right there." I answered and he brought his focus to that exact place as he was massaging slowly at first and going gradually faster. The tension in that part was growing and I am feeling a serious amount of pain which was supported by my quiet moans.

"It's okay, babygirl. You can go crazy. Don't surpress the pain. Show me how much it hurts." I went a bit louder and released the pain.

All of the sudden however, I stopped feeling pain and pressure in my lower back. Instead I felt that the pressure moved between my legs.

A very weird kind of pressure.

Meanwhile Joe started kneading all around my back with slow movements but the tension wasn't disappearing. It was rising.

"Good girl." my boyfriend whispered, sending chills even into inside of my brain and I felt the tension that accumulated between my legs, suddenly got released, making me moan out loud but not of pain.

It was pleasure.

A very unfamiliar sensation.

Damn, is this why people go to massages that often?

"Soph, did you just have an orgasm?" Joe suddenly asked me and I freezed all over again.

"What? No." I immediately denied. "I mean I don't know." this just slipped out of my mouth and I put my fist on it.

"What do you mean you don't know? This a 'yes or no' thing." he said and I thank God that I can't look at his eyes right now since I will die from embarrassment.

"Well..." okay, maybe I have to tell him. "I don't know cause I never got one before." I confessed. I really haven't though. I usually treat sex like a duty and I don't care if I feel good, as long as it gets done faster than possible.

Also, the other methods of pleasuring a woman haven't worked for me as well.

"Pardon?" I could hear loud and clearly the shock in Roman's voice. "You are a saying a woman like you has never received an orgasm in her life?"

I felt my cheeks burning.

"Yes." I confirmed.

"Dear God. What did Sophia do to deserve this? Am I the chosen one?" not Roman having conversations with God now. I started laughing.

"It's not funny. A woman like you should receive at least two a day." I finally turned my head to him and he seemed genuinely pissed off.

It is cute, not gonna lie.

"I have an idea." he said. "Why don't you turn around and let me bring you another wave of pleasure but this time with my fingers. How does that sound?" never have I ever heard this sentence in my life.

"You are gonna be covered fully with the towel, sweetheart. Don't worry. I know I don't deserve to see you fully naked yet." Roman reassured me and I felt the tingle down there again.

"Um..." he really put me in a position where speechless is an understatement for my current state of loss of words. I feel like I swallowed my whole tongue and I will never be able to speak again and in this case, I'd be thankful for that.

"You don't have to do anything. Just lie there as you are. I'm gonna do the work, okay?" he really seemed excited to do this yet he was speaking in a cool, chill tone as if it's nothing.

I took a minute to think about this. It's just a little touch. I won't have to do anything. It's not sex basically, so I'm not gonna give away myself fully.

"Okay." I simply replied. I can't believe that I actually said that.

Roman went to the bathroom to wash the oil from his hands since it can be dangerous for the private parts.

During that time I turned around - laying on my back with the towel fully covering my chest and vagina.

Once, he came back, my boyfriend leaned to give me a deep, passionate kiss on the lips while sliding his tongue as well.

He was standing right next to the bed and suddenly I felt him kneeling, so we could be at one level.

Is this how he's gonna..?

I saw a spark in his big brown eyes. He was eager but I could sense a small amount of nervousness. Way smaller than mine.

"What I want from you is to spread your legs a little bit and not take your eyes off of me." Roman instructed me and I just nodded my head.

He then slid his big hand under the towel and reached my freshly waxed triangle and then went down.

My breath hitched.

"It's wet...and incredibly soft. Good god." Roman exclaimed.

"Thank you." I muttered while trying not to look away.

He then started rubbing my clit and I moaned softly.

"For a wrestler, your hands are pretty soft and smooth." I remarked and he seemed impressed.

"Oh yeah?" Roman asked and started going faster bringing a new wave of tension and soft vocal performance from me.

"Mhm." I whimpered and bit my lower lip.

"You sound amazing when you moan by the way." Roman whispered and I pressed my lips. "Let's get you a little louder." as he spoke, I feel he shoved his two fingers in my vagina, catching my breath from the sudden surprise.

However, he continued going deeper and deeper with them. His fingers are honestly so long, it feels like we're having sex.

Which brings me to the question what's gonna feel like when he actually gets in me.

As of now that concept sounds very exciting and for a moment I imagined he is fully in me, so I started moaning louder.

"You are so tight, Soph." my boyfriend breathed out. "So tight that it might be a problem."

"Why?" I cried out from the pleasure that's building in my body.

"Might be a problem for me to fit in you...at first." so it really is true.

"It's gonna be okay, baby. You are the chosen one." I panted as he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and then I just felt the pleasure taking over my whole body.

The intensity of this orgasm made me rest my head back. Therefore I stopped the beautiful eye contact me and Joe were having.

I had no idea I could moan so much and so loud.

"There you go, babygirl." judging from his tone, my boyfriend sounded satisfied. He gave me a small kiss on the lips.

I kinda got so used to his fingers that I felt awful when he took them out of me.

I opened my eyes, took a look and saw he was licking the juice that was on them.

"I just had a 5-star lunch. Are you hungry?" Roman asked me as if it was nothing and I just laughed out loud.

[d0rothydraws]

Piercing

(You have nipple piercings and Sylus finds out. I might do a part 2 is people want it i have ideas.)

You never thought that you would be the kind of person to do this yet here you were. You were out with some friends, as one does. Maybe you were slightly tipsy, maybe someone planted an idea earlier that night. You didn't really know. All you did know is you were laying on a padded chair, shirt off as a man was piercing your nipples.

Now you knew you wouldn't regret it. If anything, you could always take them out and the hole would close eventually. But as the piercings healed and you got used to it, you loved it. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be and also it was like jewelry only you could see. Well, you and..

The night Sylus discovered your piercings was a night you would never remember. You had been what some would call dating for a month or so. While you tried to take it slow because you felt like that was the responsible thing to do, things just felt very natural with him. Though physically, you didn't take the leap yet. At least, fully.

There were plenty of nights where you were on his lap. His hand between your thighs, lips on yours. Yet for some reason you didn't feel ready to fully reveal yourself to him. Call it insecurity or maybe even the fear of it all ending up being for nothing, like usual. You didn't really know.

It was your weekend off work and you came over to his place to destress. You had made plans to watch some movies, play some board games and maybe even finally if you were brave enough, take that final step of intimacy. Coming straight from work Friday night you were still in your work clothes as you arrived. You already had everything you needed at his place. A whole dresser of clothes, your own shampoo and body wash. Any toiletries. If you ran out, he restocked. It was like a second home.

Sylus was still out finishing up god knows what which meant you were alone to your own devices. A fresh change of clothes was calling your name. Moving through the house you entered a room that you continued to deny was yours even though it had more of your items in it than your own room in your apartment. Opening the dresser you pulled out a tank top and some shorts.

Maybe you were still tired from work, maybe you couldn't hear over the song you were humming. Either way, you failed to notice that you no longer were alone. You turned your head to toss your work shirt in the clothes hamper to be washed and in turn was met with ruby eyes. They weren't looking at yours though like usual. They were looking lower.

It took you a moment to realize, you pulled your bra off with your shirt. Not the best for your bra's lifespan. But the best for convivence. So there you stood, in front of Sylus. Topless as your little secret was exposed. You felt heat pull in your gut. This isn't how you wanted the big reveal to happen, but the look on his face made you feel.. powerful. He looked hungry. You even seen his adams apple bob just a bit as he swallowed. With just a simple action you made this man look like he was going to devour you. But even still, he knew you had boundaries. No mater how badly he wanted to touch you.

"My my, kitten." He said, his voice low as he tore his eyes away from your chest to look at you. "Now that is a surprise I wasn't expecting." His voice was teasing but playful. He chuckled slightly, raising an eyebrow. "I wonder if you have any other secrets to uncover."

You didn't know if it was the adrenaline of being walked in on or the look in his eye but your body moved before your mind caught up to you. You stood in front of him as you took his hand and moved it to your breast. Your heart raced as his fingers began to play with the piercing. Taking a deep breath to try and steady your nerves and quickly growing heat that was beginning to boil inside you, you took a step closer so his hand was pushed even more against the soft tissue.

"Why don't you come find out?"

That's all it took before his lips were on yours. His free hand moving to cradle your head as his other hand continued to play with your nipple. You stepped back. He followed. Another step back, and again. Each one until the back of your legs pressed against the bed. Pulling back from the kiss you looked up at him. He looked back at you, his eyes intense but waiting. He was letting you have full control, for now at least.

"I always wanted to try something." You admitted, feeling your heart in your throat. You motioned for him to sit on the bed and as he did you straddled him, not able to stop yourself from pushing your hips against his just enough to make him groan. You had barely done anything to him. You weren't even fully naked. Yet you could feel how much you effected him.

You curled a hand into his hair as you guided his lips to your chest. He didn't need anymore instructions. His teeth toyed with the metal, pulling slightly as it made you gasp. His tongue brushing against your nipple before he pulled it into his mouth. Your head fell back as your eyes closed. A groan vibrated against your skin as he licked and bit at your sensitive skin. After a few minuets he pulled back with a growl before he moved in on the other one. His hips rutted up against you making you moan. His hands moving to your hips as you moved back against him. It felt like he was devouring you.

You heard a slight wet sound as he pulled away from your nipple to lick up your chest and neck. Shivering as the air hit your sensitive, wet skin. A hand moved up your side to cup one of your breasts, thumb and finger playing with your piercing. His voice was a low purr that made your skin tingle.

"I'm not going to be able to keep my hands of you, sweetie."

~

I havent written anything in so long im tired im sorry. i found this prompt in my drafts and ran with it

[missyue]

TASTE

Fem!satoru gojo x fem reader x fem!suguru geto

Contains: slight satosugu. Violence. Satosugu killing each other over and over. Satoru and y/n are exes. Alternate universe. Possibly OOC. toxic relationships?. Satoru Gojo is now Satori Gojo, and Suguru Geto is now Sugki (I really tried lol) Geto . Y/n being kinda useless in the satosugu beef. Male ver of Shoko is here btw. Satosugu is somewhat implied to be dating after the funeral. Death.

Yue's notes: imma be honest, reader isn't really involved alot ...tbh this is mostly fem!satosugu..

"I'm sorry, Satori. I just don't think we'll work out.." y/n said, her arms wrapped around her as if to shield herself from the woman's gaze. Y/n knew perfectly well her reason for breaking up with Satori wasn't because she didn't think it'd work out. The real reason was mostly because she was still in love with Sugki Geto, her ex and Satori's best friend.

Satori wasn't sure how to react, after all no one has broken up with her before. Unless you want to count the time Sugki had left her and y/n at KFC.

Y/n didn't wait for an answer and quickly left with her things.

•••

Satori was scrolling on a media app when she saw a recent photo of Sugkk and y/n on a ice cream. Seriously? Did y/n break up with her for her best friend?

She's not surprised, she should've known. everyone knew this would happen at some point. Sugki and y/n were the type of couple to break up for a few months and then get back together.

But she couldn't believe it, why did Sugki knowingly get with y/n if (and she knows the pretty woman knew) she knew she used to be with y/n. Well to be fair, she shouldn't be talking either, she took his shot with y/n the moment he could. But she didn't care.

•••

Satori picked up a knife, using it as a mirror to put on lipstick and gloss. She soon left her house and went into her car, quickly putting in the address of y/n's house. She was sure the two backstabbers were at that location, it was okay if they weren't. After all, she had both addresses.

She entered the house and went upstairs. Quietly walking to y/n's room, hoping to murder Sugki and take joy in her ex's face as she would wake up to Suguru's dead body.

•••

As Satori went to the other side of the bed, she took her weapon of choice out of hiding and stabbed Sugki with a smile multiple times in a row. Her smile dropped as she noticed that instead of blood, feathers were flying.

Y/n soon screamed as she wasn't expecting to see Satoru with a weapon. Sugki came in with a gun, aiming it at Satori and shot it.

Satori soon dodged every bullet. Sugki was getting frustrated, not only was her aim off but Satoru kept dodging with a smile as if taunting her.

Satori then stopped and said,"I hope you like my sloppy seconds!"

BANG!

Sugki had shot Satori. Y/n couldn't believe what she saw. Sugki had murdered her ex.

Satork tumbled out from the glass doors and fell down from the balcony, landing into the fence. The fence had pierced her stomach and left blood all over.

Sugki had gone to the balcony and looked down to where Satoru was laying. Sugki laughed at the white haired woman's state.

Satori was furious and took out a small knife. Sugki tilted her head to the side, wondering what her rival was going to do. She was then blinded in her left eye.

She screamed in agony with y/n quickly attending to her. Y/n looked down to Satoru and saw her put up the finger at her.

•••

Satori was in the hospital as someone had found her. Her doctor was Shouske leiri, he was surprised Satori survived her wounds.

"how the hell did this happen?" Shouske asked, struggling to take out the fence that was still stuck in his friend. Satori gave him a smile, "I was trying to kill Sugki."

Shouske sighed at his friend's antics. He finally took out the fence which made Satori look back at him in pain, she was also slightly annoyed at how rough the fence came out.

"I don't know how you do it, Satori." He said with a soft chuckle and walked away to light a cigarette outside. What he didn't know was that Sugki was in the room disguised as a nurse. Her left eye was now covered by an eye patch, her hair was in a bun with a small hat that had a red plus to show she was in the medical field, and she wore a dress that went to her mid thigh with short sleeves.

Sugki was warming up an electric shock device, turning her head slowly to make sure Satori didn't notice her. She quickly stopped warming up the device and speed walked to Satori. She took the device and put it to Satori's back, shocking her.

Satori's body shook viciously before she turned around with a pissed off face. Sugki didn't wait for what Satori had to say and shocked her again in the chest. Once again, The blue-eyed woman's body shook violently before Sugki put the device on the sides of Satori's head, electrifying the woman's brain and killing her (for now).

Her body fell back into the hospital bed. Sugki put down the device and quickly left before anyone can catch her.

•••

Y/n was sitting on the couch and was finishing the last bite of her meal, after all Sugki had a surprise for her and she didn't want her food to be in the way.

Sugki had come back into the living room wearing black lingerie. Y/n was stunned, she couldn't find the words to speak. Sugki didn't really wear lingerie.

Sugki had sat on Y/n's lap and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's neck. Little did they know they had an audience.

Before Sugki could kiss her lover, some force made her bend backwards which had hurt her spine. Y/n began to worry, what was wrong with Sugki?

Sugki got off her partner's lap, making noises of pain. She realized this was Satori's doing, remembering when they jokingly made voodoo dolls of each other. She grabbed the doll version of Satori, but before she could do anything, her neck snapped making her head come undone.

Y/n had screamed thinking her girlfriend would die. Sugki snapped her neck and head back into place before throwing the doll into the fire. They both heard a scream, and y/n looked into the distance.

"oh my God! Satori is on fire!" Y/n could see her ex scream and freak out. Who wouldn't? I mean the fire was burning her skin and her organs.

Sugki just laughed while y/n looked at her girlfriend like she was psychotic and ran to help Satori.

•••

Satori was dressed in a fancy white dress with a silk coat with fur on it. She was furious and couldn't let Sugki think she had won. She rushed up the stairs where she could hear water rushing.

Sugki and y/n were making out when Satori opened the curtain and put up her knife, but before she could, Sugki cut her arm off with her own weapon. Y/n gasped and screamed, her eyes closed due to blood in her eyes. Satori had ran off.

Sugki quickly got dressed and took Satori's arm with her which was laying on the floor.

Satori had tripped near the end of the stairs and fell, Sugki had caught up to her and choked her with the white haired woman's arm. Satori choked for a moment before passing out.

Sugki had let laughter leave her lips, she looked psychotic since Satori's blood was on her. Sugki stood up and walked away after her laugh attack.

•••

Sugki and her lover, Y/n, were at the pool and were making out. Sugki then noticed arms wrapping around her waist, pushing her closer. The hands left her waist and found their way to her bottom. Sugki opened her eyes in surprise, only to see Satori kissing her instead of her lover. Satori had a cheeky smile.

Sugki on the other hand was furious, she took out a chainsaw and sliced Satori through her stomach.

Satori held her stomach in pain, at least she was able to kiss the lips that kissed y/n. She fell into the pool and her body slowly sank.

Sugki had a crazed smile on her face but what she didn't notice was Satori next to her smiling in shock, she didn't think Sugki had the guts. Sugki looked at her then took a second look to see if Satori was really alive before looking back to the body in the pool.

The body was not in fact Satoris' instead it was y/n's. Sugki stood there in disbelief. In disbelief that she killed the woman she loved.

•••

Satori and Sugki were dressed in all black, holding solemn faces. After all, what do you say and do when you're at your ex's funeral and was the one who murdered them?

Sugki could hear y/n's family sob.

•••

Satori and Sugki were at their home, giggling as they drank their milkshakes.

"I honestly can't believe we let some girl get between us, Satori" Sugki said before taking another sip of her milkshake.

Satori gave Sugki a soft chuckle before saying, "Lets hope that doesn't happen again" Sugki agreed and kissed Satori on the cheek.

•••

Shouske on the other hand was reading the messages his friends had sent him.

"Why am I always friends with the crazy ones?"

Y/n's ghost agreed.

AHHH, I honestly really love this and Ik it's not perfect but still.

Can u tell I was resisting to make satosugu canon.

[riverofjazzsims]

Winter Holiday 20 years old 4'11 Orientation: Heterosexual-ish Occupation: Creator of smiles Location: Where the snow first falls

Winter Holiday is an unique individual who over the last few months has started to show, shall we say some interesting characteristics. For the moment though she is mostly human. She knows that she will have an interesting road a head of her and as her parents have made her aware, a partner during this journey will be essential. Mainly because no-one knows what to expect. Her parents defied the rules and loved each other and if that wasn't bad enough did what was thought impossible, create new life. See Winter has some magical lineage, her fathers, yes fathers, are a touch legendary and her mother seemingly just human was found to be a bit more than anyone could guess.

But we are not here today to talk about them. Winter is very much a mystery and as such, details about her will become known as we progress.

Here are some fun Winter facts: ❄️she absolutely LOVES the cold and snow ❄️oddly almost anywhere Winter goes there's either a drop in temp / starts to snow ❄️The birthmarks on her cheeks slowly appeared over the years and are cool to the touch ❄️She loves the color blue ❄️Dancing is her religion

More info will be forthcoming as we lead up to the submission deadline

Contestant Entry Rules:

❄️YA males only, any ethnicity or size welcome ❄️No Occults - caveat- winner will become immortal/long lifespan as Winter will be walking this rock of a planet for a very long time. ❄️Bio/brief backstory ❄️1 negative trait/ no custom traits ❄️No in game jobs assigned please ( totally fine for them to have one listed in their bio) ❄️3 skills of your choosing, max level 5 ❄️Likes/Dislikes please - 10 max ❄️Turn-on/off optional ❄️light /med CC or Vanilla is OK ❄️NO ALPHA hair ❄️No body presets ❄️Attire: 2 everyday/ 1 cold weather. If you don't have seasons please add your sims cold weather outfit as their 3rd everyday and I will change it over to the appropriate slot in CAS. All other you can leave in underwear and I will supply outfit if/when needed. Please keep in mind we will be almost always in cold weather when outside.

Side note: I use default skin (Bare by Lamatisse) and eyes (jack eyes remastered - but i had to "fix" them to work after some patch so your simmies will be using those in game Sliders are ok as I have the most popular ones. Note I will not add any new ones in my game so small tweaks may be made to compensate

❄️ I own ALL packs ❄️

Quick Questions for the potential hopefuls What is your favorite color Tell us what makes you naughty and what makes you nice ( yes answer both) Sims height

Contestant Submissions

Submissions deadline: Saturday Feb 15th @10pm CST. If I end up with more than 7 candidates , 7 will be chosen from the submissions. More to come if this ends up being the case

Remember to tag me or use #HTDF or #KillerBC So I can see your entry and reblog

Friendly reminder this is an 18+ blog, there will be mature themes involved. So the watcher needs to be at least 18 to enter 🫡

Not everyone will make it out alive.👀☠️ Some may even disappear. There will be chaos and drama and what ever else these damn sims throw my way.

Gameplay: There will be various gameplay mods being used throughout this BC including and not limited to Wicked Whims, and several Sacrificial Mods including extreme violence There will be some storytelling component to this, As with most BC there will be some challenges, group activities/dates and solo opportunities. Interactions will predominately be autonomous and I will use that to help build the story and game play. Some scenes/interactions may be replayed out using poses/animations Winter is looking for love but keep in mind there is a story playing out along side this and its a little on the dark side and yes not everyone will make it out alive. The only ones immune to the Grimms kiss will be Winter and her parents.

[maxdibert]

Your canon takes are AMAZING!!!!

Say, what do you think teen Barty was like? Or any other Slytherin from the Marauders era. I absolutely hate how he's made into a crazy, spunky, weird caricature by the fans- he's giving too much Pinkie Pie from that old Smile video iyky and for no good reason. Like??? Wasn't everyone shocked to learn he became a death eater?? Implying he didn't show his crazy side??

What little we know about young Barty is that NO ONE expected him to be a follower of Voldemort. His father had him completely under his thumb—or at least, that’s what Crouch Sr. thought. In fact, Crouch Sr. boasts about what a great student he was and the incredible grades he got. It was a shock to everyone to learn that the son of one of the wizards who despised dark magic the most and pursued dark wizards relentlessly was part of Voldemort’s cult. So clearly, Barty wasn’t an eccentric twink flaunting his psychopathy with witty, sassy, and sharp comments, because that image has absolutely nothing to do with what we’re told about Barty prior to Azkaban.

I think Barty was actually quite an introverted kid who got along well enough at Hogwarts because of who his father was. He was very focused on his studies and always tried to avoid drawing attention to himself. He was terrified of his father, who didn’t inspire respect but fear, being the patriarchal figure of the family with a terribly dominant character. Over the years, he probably accumulated a great deal of resentment towards him. He didn’t feel loved or supported, and no matter how hard he tried to please him, it was never enough because, for Crouch Sr., nothing ever was. So, one way to get back at him, so to speak, was to take an interest in what Crouch Sr. hated the most: the Dark Arts.

It’s common for people who grow up in oppressive environments with parental figures who are more of a threat than a source of protection to develop anxious and obsessive behaviors. It’s likely that Barty learned his lack of empathy from his father, who never showed any understanding toward him. As Voldemort’s influence grew at Hogwarts, I think Barty gravitated toward some kids involved in the movement. Voldemort probably saw him as an asset: the son of a high-ranking Ministry official who could be used to extract valuable information. So Voldemort essentially gave him everything Crouch Sr. never had: attention, validation, and affirmation. Voldemort didn’t show him affection, but he didn’t reject him either, and he even valued (or at least pretended to value) his loyalty and talent. That was something Barty had never received from a male authority figure, so he saw Voldemort as a substitute for the father who had always intimidated and rejected him. This explains his unwavering loyalty and devotion to Voldemort: Voldemort gave him a purpose, but more importantly, he gave him value.

Barty likely kept a low profile, avoiding being seen with Slytherins or people who might be connected to the Death Eaters, and collaborated with Voldemort in the shadows. I don’t think he was ready during his teenage years, no matter how radicalized he became, to confront Crouch Sr. He wouldn’t have risked rumors about the people he associated with reaching his father’s ears. So all those silly notions about him being part of a Slytherin gang are absurd because they don’t align with what we know about him in canon.

No, not at all—Barty waited for his moment to graduate, and that’s when everything he’d been bottling up came out. At some point, I believe he developed psychotic behavior combined with a compulsive need to prove to Voldemort that he was worthy, that he wouldn’t fail him, that if Voldemort trusted him, he would repay that trust by being his most loyal follower. Voldemort had given him the security his father never had, and that was the most valuable thing in the world to him. So he was willing to do anything to repay Voldemort for the sense of recognition he made him feel. And all of this came with the added (whether conscious or not) satisfaction of destroying Crouch Sr.’s reputation and hitting him where it hurt the most.

And, well, the rest is history. I think this version is much more coherent and consistent than the cheap caricature the fandom has made of him.

[pukefactory]

AM I LATE? OKAY OKAY COUGH UHHH IMMA TRY AND MAKE THIS QUICK.

Either Cosmo x Young (around 9?) sibling reader...Some Plot: not a lot of people like us since we act differently from their favorite and it continues to repeat into bulling for weeks and weeks until one day we come up crying to them and then we start to explain that we were getting bullied for just being different and go explaining what they did. Then Cosmo procedded to confront the person (not sure what you want but something like that and then Cosmo ends up reporting them to the handlers.

Im sorry if it's not clear but I hope this wasn't too late! It really just angst to fluff

Nope, you’re not late at all! This is a unique and intriguing prompt. It did challenge me a bit, but I hope it meets your expectations!

── ･ ｡ﾟ⟡ AND ONCE MORE ⟡ ˚｡ ･ ──

♫ Summary: Cosmo helps his bullied little sibling

♫ Character(s): Cosmo (Dandy’s World)

♫ Reader Pronouns: Non Specified

♫ Genre: Short Story, Angst, Comfort

♫ Word Count: 567

♫ Warning(s): Mentions of Bullying, Physical Abuse

You remember every name you’ve been called but how many times? You’ve lost count. It’s been more than enough. And every time you ask them why they’re so cruel, they just laugh in your face, calling you a freak, a no-show, a good-for-nothing weirdo—just because you’re different from the other toons. You don’t fit in.

According to them, there’s nothing special about you. That’s their excuse for treating you so horribly. And for a while, you believe them. Why wouldn’t you? If they keep pushing, shoving, and yelling, they must be right… right?

You endure their cruelty for weeks, letting them hurl insults and knock you around because you think you deserve it. But today, they take it too far. One of them shoves you to the ground, spitting out the same tired words you’ve heard a hundred times before. Then comes the first kick. Then another. And another. They don’t stop until they’ve had their fill and walk away, leaving you curled up in a ball, trembling and sobbing, trying to shield yourself from the pain.

The moment they’re gone, you scramble to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your back, and run. Run to the one place you know is safe. Run to the one person who can help you.

Cosmo is in the kitchen, casually baking cupcakes—something he and Spout have done countless times. Lately, he’s always in the kitchen, experimenting with new recipes, even when his best friend isn’t around to help. He slides a tray into the preheated oven, wipes the sweat from his forehead, and then hears the front door creak open, followed by soft sniffles.

The second he sees you—his little sibling, tear-streaked and shaking—he rushes over, not caring about the batter-covered mess on his hands.

“Hey, what’s wrong, buddy?” His voice is gentle but filled with concern.

You sniffle, trying to wipe away your tears, but they keep falling no matter how hard you try. “They keep hurting me…”

“Who keeps hurting you?”

“A group of bullies.” You hiccup, voice breaking. “They keep hurting me because I’m a freak!”

Without hesitation, Cosmo pulls you into a warm hug, shushing you softly. “You’re not a freak. You never were, and you never will be.”

He rubs your back in slow, soothing circles, his embrace melting away some of the fear.

“How about we bake some cupcakes together? And after that…” He pulls back slightly, giving you a knowing look. “Would you mind showing me who those meanies are?”

You nod without hesitation. You trust him. You feel safe with him.

After sharing a fresh batch of cupcakes, you lead Cosmo to the ones who have been tormenting you for weeks. He sends you back to the kitchen with a simple request—to clean up a little while he handles things.

An hour passes before he finally returns, looking somewhere between satisfied and angry. As he steps inside, his eyes flick to the kitchen, clearly impressed by how spotless it is.

“What took you so long?” you ask.

“Oh, I was just dealing with those mean people.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing bad! I told the toon handlers everything, so they definitely won’t be bothering you anymore.”

You gasp, then throw your arms around him. “Thank you, Cosmo.”

“Of course. Anything for you, bud.” He hugs you back, a small smile on his face, relieved that you’re finally safe.

Everything will be okay now.

[jestercouture]

Hii, i really liked your last post about jonathan and blackmore tending to sick darling! May i ask one like that but with yandere bruno and mista (the diiference being that reader got sick after trying to escape from them and spending the whole night hiding from them on the cold streets)

Bruno Bucciarati

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, obsessive behavior, light gaslighting, threats of violence.

His hands were shaking as he placed a warm blanket across your body; in anger or nervousness you did not know. You could gather that he was angry with you, for hiding, for running away from him but did you really have any other choice?

It was either run or spend the rest of your life in a locked room, disguised as a luxurious paradise, with the “love of your life” attending to your every whim. Except, Bruno wasn’t your lover and he had been closely following your every move without your knowledge as he prepared to take you for himself.

Oh, and he was a capo to the local Italian mafia.

But you hadn’t had a chance to spill a desperate apology from your chattering lips, eyes glazed over with tears burning and about to run down your cheeks. His eyes met yours and you just felt your heart stop; he was furious, that much you could tell, but he was trying his hardest to keep his composure.

Bruno was a man of utmost respect; it was his very nature to care and nurture to the best of his ability despite a difficult situation on his hands. If you had liked him the slightest bit, perhaps he could have also commanded your respect without intention.

Because Bruno did care. Too much, to his own and to your detriment, which is how you got stuck here. He always tended to notice those on the fringes of society, those who weren't cared for and abandoned. You had a family, but after moving to Italy for a gap year as you decided what to with yourself for the rest of your life...it could get quite isolating. Staying in a cheap hostel wasn't easy, especially with your limited Italian.

But you made it work, as an English tutor to parents who wished for their kids to have more options for study and work. It paid well, most times, but you still fought tooth and nail to find a more stable and higher paying position as a barista or something.

If only you hadn’t taken that job at the local coffee shop, with good pay and regular customers who were (mostly) kind.

If only he hadn’t laid his eyes on you, you would be free. And happy.

There was no use in thinking about that now. You life, your freedom, you had been snatched away from all of it, without any thought as to how you would feel. He acted as though you should be grateful. Bruno thought, genuinely envisioned that you would be overjoyed to be stolen away from your own life.

“Do you find joy in being so difficult, mia cara?”, you almost jumped as his voice rang out in the bedroom, almost morose as he looked at you. Disappointment was worse than anger sometimes, because what did he really expect to happen?

“You can’t keep me here forever, Bucciarati. I don’t want to be here an-“, a slew of coughs wracked your body, ceasing your oncoming insults.

“Mmm, and I suppose I should have left you out there in this state?” Warm, strangely soft hands brushed against your forehead, drawing away after he felt the light sheen of sweat forming.

His chiding tone did nothing to inspire guilt, or even a sense of shame for running away from him, it only made you feel much more fury towards him.

Towards what had happened to you. A sadness of what you had now lost, and had no help of returning to.

You let your eyes wander up to his face- admittedly attractive, but his beauty was tainted by his selfishness. Big blue eyes gazed down at you, a sickening mocking care in them that made you begin to shake.

“Oh, carina this is why I keep you here, hm? Nice and safe, warm and right by my side,” Bruno gently placed another blanket over you, smoothing your hair and kissing your forehead.

You could have fallen in love with him. You felt weak enough as it was, sick and shivering and pathetic whilst still despising the man who ruined your life.

“You need me, sweetheart. You just need to give in, let me love you, let me adore you and all of your pain will go away.”

You had that minute of freedom; you grasped it with both hands desperately, knowing it would be last time you would taste it for a while.

Your eyes began to lose your energy faster than you wanted, eyes drooping but fluttering to stay awake.

A relieving, cool hand touched your face and stroked your cheek with tenderness; you almost felt sicker when your heart stopped at the feathery touch.

“Just sleep, amore, I’ll be there when you wake up.”

That’s what you were afraid of.

Guido Mista

"Aww, baby, you really outdid yourself this time, didn't you?"

You were feverish, barely able to see the shadows flittering around the room. It felt as though tiny creatures were jumping and crawling throughout the sheets, nipping and tickling your skin.

"Mista...where?..." you could barely form words, your throat was dry as all hell and your foggy vision was clouding your frail efforts to catch sight of a glass somewhere, anywhere in the haze.

“Shh, shh, just let me take care of you, carina. You’ve only gone and caught yourself a nasty little cold, huh?” His voice was teasing you, that much you could make out, yet your sweating body almost went into shock at the undertones of dread it gave you.

Mista was being uncharacteristically caring about your escape attempt; you had been bracing yourself for a long lecture and one-sided argument at your selfishness, your callous disregard for how you had abandoned Mista when all he wanted to do was love you.

Yeah, love you to death, more like. You had seen him dispose of low-life criminals on the streets of Italy, callous and violent, like it meant nothing to him. He may have tried to shield you from his occupation but you both knew what he was.

You forced yourself to watch Mista if it was possible to remind yourself of what he could do to you if you ever went too far; his gun could be pressed against your head one day if you pushed him far enough, right?

It didn’t matter right now, though. The pitter-patter and united whining of Sex Pistols still rang in your ears until the irritated voice of your captor scolded them for disturbing you in your time of rest.

“Mista, I-I’m sorry for leaving, I just wanted to-“

“Carina, rest your head. You made a simple mistake, hmm?”

Your foggy eyes widened. Mista was letting you off for now? That would have made you sigh with relief months ago, but you’d come to understand over time that he had a bit of a temper at times.

But now, as he fussed and pampered your bedridden body, a new stab of dread became more present in your gut. This could be dangerous.

He could have hurt me, you realized. But he didn’t, or rather hadn’t yet. Was he waiting until you were back on your feet to punish you? To make you regret you’d ever run away so foolishly, throwing his love and adoration for you back in his face?

But you could feel his painful anger towards you, no matter how hard he tried to keep it down. Eyes twitching, tense shoulders, all of them were hallmarks of a Mista meltdown ready to snap on you.

Bated breaths escaped you as a familiar, sickly feeling began to wash over you; anticipation. Whether or not you knew what was coming, you never failed to feel a few stops short of vomiting when he got like this.

“I don’t know why you do these things, bella. It really hurts my feelings when you act up and make me lose my patience.”

Mista pressed a damp cloth to your face, dabbing gently as he spoke, eyes fixed on your reactions. His tendencies is what was scaring you the most, you almost wanted him to lose his shit with you.

“But I know you’re sorry. I know you feel bad about making me worry and chase you down like that!” That last part…why was it spoken with such glee, such assurance in himself? In you, even after you’d run away?

“I-I really am sorry, Mista, I d-don’t know why I did it”-

“You were scared, weren’t you?”

You shut your eyes instinctually, baring yourself to face the inevitable consequences of your actions. But there was nothing, nothing at all, apart from the slow whisper next to your ear.

It made your hair stand on end, your heart thudded to point where you felt as though you could collapse into the pillows and cushions.

“But I forgive you. This time. If you do it again…I’ll break your legs.”

Somehow, you weren’t sure if you would make it out intact.

If you would make it out at all.

——————————————————

like my work?

ko-fi

i hope you enjoyed this one! took me a while, and i struggled with writing Mista a bit and i hope they turn out well!

jjba is on the brain im literally frothing at the mouth morning noon and night

[orthodoxchristianity]

Heartbreak: the art of letting go

This one is a bit personal for me, but I thought to share since I know many other people may be feeling the same way. Please read and share any advice or experience you may have, it would be greatly appreciated. God-bless!

The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, And saves such as have a contrite spirit.

Psalm 34:18

Heartbreak. It isn't easy. It's even harder being stuck in between two thoughts. Firstly obsessing over what could have been, thinking should I have said this, or should I have said that. Why did I not do this or why did I not tell him that? It's hard to let go of the expectations in your mind or the plans you made that you wanted to share, all the little daily updates you sent waiting to hear back from him. But secondly, as a Christian, my understanding that God does what is best for us stays in my mind. The knowledge that God takes care of us even when we do not understand it. For He knows and sees far more than we will ever understand, and that is okay. Having trust in His timing and His plan for us is vital. I pray every day "God please remove anyone or anything that is not meant to be in my life", and then why do I get sad when God answers this prayer? Maybe I thought I knew him but clearly he was not meant to be in my life anymore, no matter how sad it may be now.

Taking it day by day is needed because in some moments I feel okay, but in other moments I remember how he looked and me and the lovely moments we shared. I know that one day I will look back on all the moments I shared with him and be at peace. I know that love is never wasted. But one thing is to know and another is to actually enact it. It seems to be like a separation between my head and my heart. My head acting rational and reminding myself to not let the enemy tell me lies, whereas my heart still holding onto the hope of what could have been.

I keep thinking why wasn't he the one Lord? Why couldn't he have been the one for me?

I know that it was done for a reason, that the Lord has bigger and better things in store for me. Perhaps this is simply a lesson. My time with him is brief in the grand scheme of life and of all the people and things I am yet to experience. But it is still hard to let go, even though I know it's the end, that's it.

Perhaps I wasn't ready or he wasn't, but either way it seems the timing was not right. As I pray every day, "All in God's timing".

I know that when the right person comes it will be in God's timing and it will be bring me peace, rather than anxiety. I understand that I probably am still holding onto him because of the inherent fear of being single. Seeing so many of my friends get into relationships easily and of course I am beyond happy for them but it is hard to not think oh when will the love of my life come? I guess this brings me back to the concept of patience and trusting in the Lord for His plans and timing is far better than mine. I feel like this society really pushes for moving and doing everything fast, whereas the Bible tells us:

"Love is patient, love is kind...Love never fails." (1 Corinthians 13:4-8, NIV)

I harbour no anger or hatred towards him, for given the circumstances I can understand where he was coming from. I do, however, pray that he heals from anything that is holding him back. I pray for him to let go off anything from the past that is keeping him stuck emotionally. I pray he finds love and happiness.

I don't know if anyone else can relate to the feeling of 'intellectualising' my emotions. I try to solve them rather than feel. I have been trying to slow down and just let myself feel rather than simply keeping myself busy and giving myself no time to heal. I know there is a reason he came into my life, God is teaching me through this experience, so I need to slow down and feel my emotions.

If you are still reading thank you. I know heartbreak is a part of human life, it is something we all go through in various shapes or forms throughout our life. I hope this makes me stronger and I hope that you find peace and love and happiness. Whoever is reading, I hope you heal from any hurt and that the Lord blesses you abundantly in everything you do.

In Jesus' name,

Amen

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.

Jeremiah 29:11, NKJV

[lovelizards]

"Rosie...I want to go home...I just want to go home..."

Opal took to being a maid of the manor better than she expected to.

The cleaning wasn't particularly laborious, and she often spent time outside washing and hanging the laundry.

The other maids weren't very friendly, and usually just left her to her tasks, which she preferred. At least outside the breeze was cool and the sun warmed her skin.

And it gave her time to study the grounds of the estate.

In her first week of work, she had tried to take in and note down all the details she could. How many doors lead outside? How many gates? How often are they locked? Where do the house guards linger, and when do they change over?

She wrote down everything that could be helpful on spare bits of parchment that she stole from the rooms she cleaned, with a piece of coal she'd taken from a fireplace.

And she wrote it in the language of the Dwarves, so that if anyone tried to read it, they wouldn't know what it said.

It was on a chilly morning during her second week stuck at the manor, that Opal woke up in the small room she shared - with a half elf girl called Lysie - and found her shoes missing.

They weren't next to the door where she usually left them, nor under her bed. They were gone. And Lysie had already left for the morning, though both she and Opal usually got ready and left together.

With a heavy sigh, she got dressed and in bare feet went to find the head maid - a stern old halfling woman - to report the missing shoes.

But on the way there, she was stopped by the - well, the only way to describe it would be 'the clique'. A group of young maids who somehow found themselves the most popular and powerful among the servants.

Their leader had long sable hair, and curling smirk. Her name was Megan, a tall half-human girl who was said to have the blood of angels in her. Though, Opal was skeptical of that.

Her usual two lackeys stood on either side of her, and behind them was Lysie looking a little nervous.

"Looking for something?" Megan asked casually.

Opal sighed.

There had been small moments of bullying in her first week: putting coarse grounds in her tea, pointing and whispering behind her back, but Opal was an adult and had no interest in their childish games.

"My shoes have gone missing," Opal said, "I'm on my way to report it to the head maid. Pardon me."

She tried to pass them by in the hallway, and thought they would just let her go, but Megan stuck her foot out at the last second and Opal stumbled over it - stubbing her toes against the floor.

"Oops," Megan said, "You shouldn't be wandering around barefoot."

"Lysie told us how dirty your shoes got" Alice, another one of Megan's lackeys, mentioned boredly, "we did you a favour and had them cleaned. They're in the shed."

Opal took a slow breath in, and stood straight, looking past the clique at Lysie who was staring hard at the floor.

She didn't really want to go to the shed...but if that's where the girls had hidden her shoes, there was no helping it. She could tell the head maid about it afterwards.

"How kind of you," Opal muttered, "I'll go collect them now."

"Watch your step outside. Don't want to trip again..." Megan said as she passed, her mean blue eyes not meeting Opals, but lingering on the collar around her neck.

What a nasty bunch. Is that what happens, she wondered, when you spend your life living in a place like the manor? Opal couldn't be the only one brought in from the non-human slave market, so why was she being singled out?

She'd have to get out of there, sooner rather than later.

Opal took the paved path through the back gardens slowly, taking her time as she made her way to the shed. She was admiring the flowers, brushing her fingers against the soft petals of roses as she walked.

And she wasn't paying enough attention.

Something sharp crunched under her feet and made her yelp. She took another step forward to move away from it, and stepped on something else that was just as sharp. With a groan, she shuffled back and looked down at the path.

Shards of broken glass had been spread over the stones, nearly invisible and just barely glinting in the sunlight.

Grimacing, Opal took a long painful moment and pulled the glass out of her feet. It hadn't cut deep, but she was bleeding.

Now that she knew the glass was there, it was easy enough to use her apron as a makeshift brush and clear the path of glass well enough to cross to the shed.

She dashed away tears from her eyes, and angrily pulled the shed door open. It was a small building, mostly empty save for some old crates and broken gardening tools.

But she didn't see her shoes.

Before she could stop and think, she heard the shuffle of feet behind her and felt strong hands shove her in the back. Caught off guard, she stumbled forward and caught herself on her hands and knees.

"Dirty things like you should stay outside where they belong," Megan's voice said behind her, and punctuated the sentence with the slamming of the door.

A key clicked in the lock, and Opal gasped, scrambling up to her feet.

"Let me out! This isn't funny! Let me out right now!" She yelled, pounding her fist on the door. But it held strong, no matter how hard she pushed with her hands or rammed with her shoulder.

After a few long minutes of trying, and yelling, and crying, she stood away from the door - tears dripping down her cheeks, her breath coming heavy and shallow - and she fell to her knees.

"It's not like I wanted to be here..." she moaned, sitting back against the wall in the corner, and curling up in the only ray of sunlight that came through the warped wooden boards of the walls.

Dust shimmered in the light like flower petals.

She was reminded of her wife.

Rosalind had loved flowers. She had loved the springtime, and the garden. Opal could still see her laughing, lying in the grass as pink petals rained down around her from the peach trees. She could still hear her voice, more beautiful than a song, if she closed her eyes tight enough and listened closely.

Sometimes, in the sun, she could still feel her wife's gentle arms around her.

The smell of roses always brought her back in vivid colour; brought her back to Opal's mind, and brought that terrible pain in her chest.

An emptiness, a missing piece she could never fill.

"Rosie..." Opal choked, tears making her words an incomprehensible mumble, "Rosie...I want to go home...I just want to go home..."

『 Previous / Next 』

[Tag List]: @haro-whumps, @blood-and-regrets, @febuwhump

[Day 4 // Alt 1 // Major Character Death]

[astrhae]

i know i'm asking for pain with this but:

wesper + a kiss on a scar? 🥰

double bluff | angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence, 4k

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

“There you are,” Wylan sighed.

He’d been waiting for Jesper to come back with lunch for two hours. The Van Eck office by the Church of Barter was an imposing building that spiraled upward to rival the Geldrenner’s clocktower. They worked on the top floor there three days a week, taking meetings and trying to grapple with the business – even after two years, the empire he’d stolen back from his father still felt impossibly large.

It felt even more impossible when he was hungry.

Things weren’t a complete loss, though: Wylan had managed to sketch some new factory floorplans while Jesper had been out, and he moved those papers away onto one of the armchairs that littered the private office, wiping the charcoal off his fingers.

They were trying to change how things worked in Ketterdam, but it was far more than an uphill battle. Sometimes, that meant upsetting people: like Councilmen who didn't approve of Wylan's plans to open up new harbors.

Jesper held up a bag of uitsmijter. He swung the door closed behind him with his hip, his pistol clattering against the polished wood. The other matching pistol was on the armchair beside the papers: they were also still working on putting down their weapons, one at a time.

“Sorry,” Jesper dropped the bag over the empty spot on the table. His words curled with the Kaelish accent that rarely ever showed itself. “There was quite a line.”

“A line?” Wylan frowned.

It was past three bells in the afternoon, the sun from the office’s bay windows was already beginning to sink near the horizon in the early winter. No one should be lining up for uitsmijter, which was why Jesper had suggested it in the first place.

“Yes,” Jesper shrugged. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

“Well,” Wylan was about to shrug it off – to say they should eat first – but he caught the red stain on the pistol at Jesper’s hip, stark against its pearl handle, and, “were you in a gunfight?”

“No.”

The answer came far too quick, and far too short. Wylan walked around the table, heart hammering. Hadn’t they talked about this? The uitsmijter shop was nowhere near the Barrel – so either someone attacked Jesper, or Jesper had taken a detour. Or, more likely: both a fight and a detour. His vest was too crooked on his shoulder, jacket far more crumpled than it had been when he’d left the office two hours ago, and was that a shirt in a different color?

They could deal with everything else later. For now, one thing at a time, and the most important:

“Were you hurt?” Wylan strode closer, reaching out to take Jesper’s hand, but –

Jesper jerked away, taking a step back. “I’m fine,” he insisted, lips pressed into a thin line. “Let’s get out.”

“Out?”

This wasn’t like Jesper. Yes, Jesper could be impulsive and brusque and rough, and some days even Jesper couldn’t bear to be touched, the world too full and his heart too hollow to do anything except run. Still, this wasn’t like Jesper – one staccato beat off tempo, and Wylan was stumbling to catch up, to try and understand –

“Yes,” Jesper said again, nodding toward the door he’d just closed. The gaudy laurels painted on it was really something they needed to replace soon. “Out.”

Again, too short and too quick.

Wylan stared at him, grey eyes he didn’t think he knew right now. He’d seen enough people change, seen enough people be twisted out of shape: in front of him, because of him. Until there were no more silver linings to hold onto, only slivers of lies he tricked himself into calling hope.

This wasn’t like Jesper.

This wasn’t –

The door swung open and –

Instinct kicked in. He made a dash for the other pistol on the armchair –

“Don’t!” Jesper’s voice rang out.

And it was Jesper’s voice, because it was Jesper standing in the doorway, shirt sticking wet on his shoulders and jacket gone and a cut dripping from his temple. And it was Jesper, too, standing in the office with Wylan, jacket askew and blood on his pistol.

(read on ao3)