#i was stuck between two quotes for the description but i think i like this one better

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 3

Source for pic

Trouble 3

Word Count: 4959

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I should have chapter 4 already finished... but it's not completed yet... I haven't written almost anything this week! I know with the hollidays it will be hectic around here, but I have a few days where the office is going to be closed, so maybe I can write a bit more! Fingers crossed! Until then, please enjoy the calmness before the storm!

Masterlist

“Morning, Bug.” Shanks fills a mug of coffee for you and sets it down on the table near your plate of bacon and eggs, beside a bouquet of wildflowers. 

“Morning, Dad. Thanks for the coffee, but aren't the flowers a bit too much? It's not my birthday…” You mumble between yawns. 

“They're not from me…” Shanks smirks and nods at a note that's tucked in with the silk ribbon. 

Brow rising, your fingers brush the petals of a deep crimson poppy before they catch the note between them. ‘Wild and beautiful, just like you.’

What? Who? 

Despite the lovely gesture, you can't shake the slightest feeling of unease, it tugs at your stomach, leaving you queasy and suspicious. 

“Who's it from?” Shanks tries to hide his curiosity but falls short when he reaches over your shoulder to glimpse the note. 

“I have no idea.”

“Come on! Not even the slightest hint?” You shake your head while your mind conjures up images of a slightly not-safe-for-work dream you had with a certain green-haired cop, and you blush unintentionally. 

Obviously. Shanks picks it up. 

“You and Zoro seemed pretty cosy when I arrived yesterday…”

“It's not from him… I think.” You deflect the implications, not wanting to read too much into it yourself. “He’s not the type for grand gestures.”

Shanks hums in agreement while placing his coffee cup in the sink. “I see what you mean.” But then he places his hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at his unbearable smirk. “Though do not underestimate a man in love.”

“Dad!” You feel your ears getting hot as you get up suddenly, looking for a vase to set the flowers on. 

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. 

“He’s not… we… we’re just friends! I just got back.” You fuss with the flowers until they’re all spread beautifully on the vase and then set them at the centre of the table.

Shanks pouts and stares at you through the flowers, across from you. “Friends.” He air quotes with two fingers. “I’ve been there, Bug.”

“Agh! You’re impossible, Dad.”

But he might also be right. Because if last night was any indication, you and Zoro might be crossing the ‘just friends’ barrier soon. 

And, honestly, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

-*-

Shanks tells you to put a hold on your job hunt because he’ll be gone for about three weeks to a month for a horse show on an island in the South Blue and he’ll need you to take care of the animals and manage the farm chores. 

So you spend the next week getting reacquainted with most of your father’s tasks in addition to the ones you had taken over ever since coming back. 

The gifts keep coming. 

Every morning there are chocolates, or flowers, or stuffed animals, little trinkets… The notes are rather simple, always evoking your beauty, but short and nondescript. You are no closer to knowing who they’re from now than you were on the first day you got them.

Shanks keeps hinting that it might be Zoro, but you doubt that very much. Besides the fact that he’s not one for romantic gestures, he would’ve said something about the gifts after six straight days.

And it’s not like you haven’t been chatting… not in person, since you’ve been busy at the farm and he’s been pulling double shifts to have the Saturday off again, but you text every day.

Short texts, to the point, much like Zoro is, but he always asks how you are and if you need anything. 

And knowing he’s trying to take care of you leaves a very warm feeling in your chest. Especially because your clumsiness almost brought you to the clinic twice just this week. You have to thank whichever deity is watching over you because, even though you hurt yourself, it’s never serious enough to send you to the hospital. 

“When are you leaving?” You ask Shanks while packing beverages, muffins and a cake you’ve baked for today’s chosen group activity. 

“Let’s see, today’s Saturday, Beckman says his helper will arrive Monday morning to keep in charge of his farm, so sometime Monday afternoon, Bug. Why? Missing your Daddy already?”

You are.

“No! I just want to make sure you carry all of your medicine and that you have Dr. Law’s emergency contact with you, in case you need it–”

“I’m not going to drag Law all the way to the South Blue just because–”

“I called him and he said you should call anytime, so you’re going to call if you need him!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Shanks has got to be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. 

“Where are you going?” He hisses when you swat his hand away as he tries to steal a salty bacon muffin you’re storing in a container. Then you relent and let him have it.

“Just one, Dad! We’re going on a picnic in the park.” You say with a grin. “Nami organised it, of course. We’re going to spend the day hanging out, playing games, and socializing.” 

Shanks nods, never breaking your gaze, while trying to surreptitiously steal another muffin. This time you slap his hand with the lid of the container, and he yelps. His pout is quickly replaced by a smirk. “Is Officer Zoro going?”

You’re sure your nonchalant look can’t disguise the crimson blush tainting your cheeks, but you try to pay it no mind.  “Yes. And Luffy, and Usopp, Chopper, Sanji–”

“I was going to tell you to be careful, but I’m sure Officer Zoro is going to keep you safe from all harm.” Shanks taunts and you seethe, hands flying to your hips. 

“What are you, Dad, ten?” He guffaws as he successfully manages to distract you and steals another muffin before sprinting away from you and the kitchen.

“Be safe, Bug! Have fun!”

Seriously. How is this man a father?

-*-

Nami swings by your house with Vivi to pick you up for the picnic. You notice Robin’s absence in the car, and both girls giggle.

“Sabo’s picking Robin up. They’ll meet us there.” Vivi answers, and your mouth hangs open.

“Are they a thing?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be long.” Nami laughs as she fixes her hair in the rearview mirror while waiting for the light to turn green. “Much like you and Zoro, I think.”

You choke on your own saliva, and it takes you a good minute to regain proper breathing functions, all while Nami and Vivi erupt into cackles and giggles. 

“We’re just friends!” You say after you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure, honey. We all believe that.” Vivi turns on the front seat to pat your knee in a condescending manner while you blush. 

“There’s so much heat coming off you two whenever you’re close that I don’t know how you still haven’t spontaneously combusted.” Nami quips, and you purse your lips. She’s not wrong there. “I mean, you’ve always sort of clicked, but now… daaaaamn!”

You sigh and bite your lip, trying to contain a giggle from erupting. “Who else is going to meet us there?” You ask, changing the subject and Nami shakes her head, knowing all too well what you’re doing, but not pressing on the matter. 

-*-

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and the park is the perfect setting for the beginning of a wonderful midday. There are rows and rows of trees, shade galore, small cobblestone pathways for long walks, and even a small creek providing a soft lull alongside the soft giggles of children. 

You and the girls are setting up rows of blankets on the grass, by the shade of the tall trees, when the group begins to arrive. You lift your head, hand sheltering your eyes from the sun, and scan the crowd. Luffy, Barto, Usopp, Kaya, and Chopper are approaching the treeline. They probably rode together.

A slight breeze dishevels your hair as your eyes linger behind, but there’s no green mane of hair in sight yet. An absent sigh leaves your lips before you spy Nami’s knowing smirk aimed your way.

She doesn’t say anything, but you blush anyway. Her unspoken words linger around you like a thick fog. You are eager to see Zoro. She knows it, you know it, hell, anyone who saw you two interact lately knows it. 

But you vow to retain some semblance of dignity and pretend to fuss over the blankets and small folding chairs. You’re so absorbed in your task that you don’t even see him approach.

“Hey there, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

The smile that graces your lips is instant and unstoppable. You turn slightly and bite your lower lip when your eyes meet his. Why does every shirt he wears seem so tight against his muscles?

“Hardly! I’m just setting up chairs!” But as you deliver the words, the chair you were opening snaps shut, almost catching your fingers, and you yelp. 

“You’re a menace.” His tone is both amused and resigned, almost as if he knew something of the kind would happen, was expecting it, even. 

“It attacked me!” You defend yourself weakly, a giggle bubbling up in your chest because he is right. You are a menace.

Zoro ends up helping you set the chairs, and you don’t even try to stop him. Both because you’re very likely to end up either hurting yourself or breaking a chair, and because he keeps brushing his shoulders and hands with yours, and the touch is welcomed. 

Robin and Sabo arrive with flushed cheeks - you can almost see Nami registering that fact for later probing - and soon after, Franky and Brook, two older men you still haven’t met but Luffy quickly introduces you to, saying they’re also part of the gang. 

You see Sanji already setting up food on the blankets, and he greets you warmly. “Hi, Sanji. You rode with Mosshead?”

“Oi?” Zoro snaps, and you ignore him.

“I did, Madame, and it was the most unpleasant ride of my life. Please remind me not to do it again.”

You giggle when Zoro’s brows knit together, his hands clenched into fists. “Tch, shitty cook, next time you ride with me, it will be in my patrol car and I’ll be dragging you straight to prison.”

Sanji starts to fume, his pursed lips crumpling the cigarette dangling from his lips, and you grimace. “Hey, hey, boys, it was just a joke!”

Nami sighs as they butt heads and continue arguing. “Never mind that.” She tells you. “Any chance they get to get up close and personal, they take it. They have a weird bromance thing going on.” She raises her hands defensively in the air. “I swear, for a moment there I thought they were going to be a thing, but Sanji loves women too much and Zoro is a man with a goal-oriented mind. Even if it’s someone he set his sights on a lifetime ago.”

Your brow raises at her as she smirks that all-knowing smirk. But she leaves it at that and stands in the middle of the boys, dragging Sanji by the scruff of his dress shirt, telling him the girls are hungry, which promptly sets him back to the task of setting up the food. 

“Shitty cook…” You hear Zoro mumble as he sets his hands in his pockets and kicks a blade of grass. It’s cute how flustered he gets. Then his eye sets on you and he frowns with a low grumble. “Oi, I didn’t forget you called me Mosshead.”

You set a hand on your heart, feigning repentance. “Oh, do forgive me, Mr. Mosshead. I forgot your title.”

“Trouble…” He lowers his tone in mock warning, and you smile, taking a step back, hands in a defensive stance. 

“Lord Moss, Knight–” Your antics are cut short by a piercing yelp when Zoro jumps and tries to catch you, but somehow, you swerve away from his grasp and start to run, an unbridled laugh filling your lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking!”

“Repentance doesn’t dissolve the crime! Come here, Trouble!” He sprints, though you suspect he’s hardly even trying, and you cackle, running faster, the voices of the group fading into the distance. 

“You’ll have to catch me first!” Maybe you should’ve measured your words, because as soon as he hears the challenging tone in your voice, he sprints faster, and you barely have time to breathe before his arm wraps around your waist and he swirls you in the air, making you scream and laugh before he pulls your back against his chest.

Heart pounding against your ribs, cheeks flushed from running and breath catching in your throat, you feel your legs shaking when Zoro’s warm breath tickles your neck. “Gotcha.” He whispers, and you notice he’s not even out of breath while you look like you ran a marathon. 

The world dissolves into just this moment. The chirping of the birds and the rustling of the trees are nothing but background noise to the deafening pounding in your chest and the buzzing in your ears. 

Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch Zoro’s eye fixed on you, a wild smirk on his lips. “What now, officer? Are you going to arrest me?”

Damn. That was supposed to come out playfully, not sultrily. Right?

“Depends.” Did his voice get huskier? “Are you going to resist arrest, Trouble?”

You feel your throat bobbing up and down at all the wild fantasies running through your mind. The way he uses that nickname manages to send shivers down your spine and heat straight into your core. 

“Obviously.” You sound breathless, and it's a good thing you can blame that sorry state on the run, or you wouldn't know how to explain it. 

“Figures.” He chuckles low, and you feel it rumbling in his chest. Then, with a swift movement, he turns you, bends his knees, and hoists you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Wha–”

“Let's go.” Your flush deepens as you feel his strong hand against the back of your thighs, holding you in place. “The humiliation will teach you not to call me Mosshead.”

“Come on, Zo, I said I was sorry!” You whine, and he stiffens, his pace slowing for a beat, and you feel his shoulders shake slightly. Then he resumes his pace. 

“I like that.”

You stop pounding your fists against his back and raise your brow. “What? Me apologizing?”

He grunts and keeps walking, the blanket and your laughing friends nearly in sight. “That nickname. Way better than Mosshead.”

Oh! Zo! Another small blush creeps into your cheeks, but before you can reply, Nami whistles. “What you got there, Zoro?”

You hear your friends laughing and bury your face in your hands, feeling mortified. “Someone’s been naughty.” Zoro replies with a smirk and an edge of amusement in his tone. 

“Seriously?” You grumble, pushing against his back to try and wiggle out of his embrace, though it’s all for naught because he has an iron grip on your legs. 

“Well, either set her down so we can all eat or take her to naughty jail and punish her. Away from our sight, please.” 

“Nami!” You yell, exasperated, but Zoro merely chuckles, swerving right as if changing directions. 

“Naughty jail it is, then.”

“No, no!” You whimper. “I’m sorry!” Chopper stares at both of you, not sure if you’re being serious, so you try to take advantage of him and stretch your hand. “Help me, Chopper!”

He reaches his hand out before Nami swats it away. “Let them be, Chopper. They need some alone time.”

You seethe at Nami, a pout on your lips. “Traitor.”

Zoro lets out a low chuckle before settling you down at the edge of the blanket. “Learned your lesson, Troublemaker?”

You steady yourself, hands against his chest, and a permanent blush tattooed on your cheeks. “Damn you. I’m never calling you Mosshead again. You won.”

“I see you’re a fast learner.” His smirk is impossibly smug. “Zo’s fine, though.” Then he turns his back on you, opens the small cooler, and takes out a beer, cracking it open with one hand and chugging at it without another look back at you. 

And, damn it, if that doesn’t mess with your heart.

-*-

“Who wants another drink?” You ask and count the raised hands before getting up, heading towards the cooler to satiate your friends’ thirst. Zoro moves his hand before you reach it, and smooths the blanket before you can trip on its raised edge.

You smile at him, but he’s not even looking at you. His eye is shut, one arm behind his neck as he leans against the tree, though you know very well he’s attentive to everything. You pass the drinks around, then return to get your own.

“Watch your head.” Zoro mumbles, and you raise your brow but don’t heed his advice and, therefore, hit a low branch of the tree, releasing a string of curses while rubbing your forehead. “When are you going to start listening to me, Trouble?”

“When you stop sounding like a smug jerk.” You mouth, annoyed at his attentiveness and at how he seems to perceive danger before you even realise it’s there. He chuckles and you retrieve your drink, returning to your seat.

After a while of relaxing in the shade, Luffy drags everyone to a frisbee game. The boys are all down to play, but the girls just sit by a bench near the open space the boys chose to throw the frisbee and tackle each other. 

You sit on the back of the bench, a case of water bottles by your feet because you know the boys will be thirsty soon. Vivi sits on the grass in front of Nami’s legs, and Robin and Kaya are on the bench. 

After a small chit-chat about meaningless stuff, you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you. “So I’ve been getting a lot of gifts lately…”

Four heads whip your way, and you sigh, already expecting that reaction and the bombardment of questions that follow. So you raise your hands, and they stop to let you continue. Though you decide to focus on the game in front of you instead of the way they’re all staring at you.

You especially focus on a very athletic green-haired man who constantly gazes up to where you are before focusing back on the game. 

“It’s flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals… It started last weekend, after the party at Luffy’s. They have notes, but nothing personal. No name, no nothing… I don’t know who they’re from, and I don’t even know if I should be flattered or freaked out by them.”

“How do they make you feel?” Robin asks, and you shrug, not quite knowing how to answer that question.

“The first ones made me feel good. I thought they were from– I thought I might know who they were from. But since he didn’t say anything about it, I doubt they're from him. So now they just feel weird…”

“Honey, we all know you’re talking about Zoro.” Nami says in a very condescending manner, and all the girls agree.

You sigh and bury your face in your hands. You’re so obvious it hurts. 

“Fine, yes. I thought they might’ve come from him, at first. But he’s not one for romantic gestures.”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” Nami quipped back, a smirk tugging her lips as her eyes fell back on the game. Sure enough, Zoro’s eyes are back on the bench - on you, to be more specific. “I think it’s quite romantic the way he’s always checking to see if you’re safe. Keeping you away from trouble and making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

A small blush creeps its way into your cheeks. It is quite romantic. “That’s just Zoro being Zoro. He’s a cop. He protects and serves.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure he would like to serve you.” Nami giggles and all the girls try to stifle their own laughs. “But you’re wrong about that. Sure, he’s always attentive to any kind of threats, but it’s different with you.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t stop the way your heart pounds maddeningly against your sternum. 

“She means that Zoro doesn’t usually go out of his way to keep people from tripping on stuff or from bumping their head. And with you, he’s always extra careful.” Robin finishes with a small smile. 

“Like the way he’s playing now, but keeps looking at you to see if you’re still in one piece. It’s like he’s expecting you to spontaneously combust or something.” Kaya adds with a giggle. 

“It’s very endearing.” Vivi finishes, and your blush deepens, so you bury your head back into your hands, stifling a loud groan. 

“But you’re still right.” Nami continues as if you’re not breaking down in front of them. “I don’t think he’s the one leaving the gifts…” She laughs suddenly. “But there’s one way to tell for sure.”

You raise your head from your hand cocoon to tell her to keep her mouth shut, but Zoro is already halfway to the bench and you squeak. “Nami…”

“Hey, Zoro!” She starts with a wave of her hand. You see Zoro raise his eyebrow at her, his long strides bringing him closer to the bench. 

Shit.

He’s sweaty all over. Fat droplets of perspiration drop from his temples to his perfect jawline and neck, and you gulp, feeling hot and bothered. So, it comes as no surprise that when he reaches his hand to grab a bottle between your legs, you lose your balance and fall back on the bench.

Yelping, you expect to hit the floor with a dry thud, air escaping your lungs and sharp pain blinding you. Instead, you feel a strong hand wrap around your forearm and tug hard, then your face being squished against a muscular, sweaty chest.

Zoro saved you from an ugly fall. Again.

“Seriously, Trouble? Why?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but with an edge of exasperation lacing it. “I’m starting to feel like I have to be with you 24/7 or you’re going to end up in the hospital.”

Your breath is still leaving your lips in ragged gasps because of the slight scare of facing an inevitable fall, and your face is still pressed against Zoro’s chest. You feel the girls’ gaze on both of you and Zoro seems completely unfazed by it, while saying you’re embarrassed would be the understatement of the year.

So you disentangle yourself from the predicament that is Zoro’s muscles and laugh it off, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “Ah, thank you. I got… distracted.”

“By what?” He asks while taking a sip of water.

“Well, Zoro,” Nami begins, and he shifts his focus to her, “we were discussing who could be her secret admirer, and then you showed up. Curious.”

“Secret admirer?” Zoro’s gaze falls back on you, his brow scrunched.

“Ah, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just–”

“She’s been getting gifts. Flowers, chocolates, love declarations…” Why is Nami exaggerating? Is she trying to fish for information or make Zoro jealous? “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?”

He drinks the water in three long gulps before answering, his scowl now permanently etched on his lips. “Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?”

You look down and bite your lower lip. You knew it wasn’t him, but maybe, secretly, there was still a little part of you that hoped he could be showering you with that kind of attention. 

“Well, I just thought–” Nami begins, but she’s swiftly interrupted by Zoro, whose eyes can’t seem to leave your figure.

“When I want someone, I make it clear I’m interested. You’ll know.” He finishes drinking the water just as your eyes meet his, and the fire burning there scalds and melts. Was he telling you he’s interested? Was he saying he’s about to make a move?

With a smirk, he turns his back, grunts a gruff ‘try not to fall again, Trouble’, and gets back to the game, leaving you more confused than ever. 

“Did he–” Nami starts.

“Nobody says anything. We’re going to act like nothing happened.” You mumble before getting up and chugging down an entire bottle of water yourself to try and calm your nerves.

It doesn’t work.

-*-

The frisbee game makes everyone tired - and hungry - so, after all the bellies are filled again, the crew is relaxing in the blanket, enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon and the lulling sounds of the park. 

Chopper, Usopp, Luffy, and Barto are enjoying a card game. Franky seems interested, but he’s only overseeing and throwing advice that only seems to make Usopp lose the game. Robin has a book in her hands and Sabo’s head on her lap, his eyes closed with a blissful smile on his lips. 

You have serious doubts that she's paying attention to the book, especially since she seems to be stuck on the same page for over ten minutes, but you don’t say anything. Kaya is braiding Vivi’s hair and Nami is snapping photos of the crew, taking little candid shots with her cellphone. Brook is gracing everyone with a nice, mellow song on his violin - he's a wonderful musician - and Zoro seems to be sleeping peacefully, leaning against the tree.

Everything seems peaceful, quiet, and idyllic. 

But you can’t seem to shake the feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. It’s like someone is watching you, but you can’t quite pinpoint who or where. It’s a prickling on your neck, something you’re already growing so used to that you start to think you should have this checked out by a doctor. 

With a heavy sigh, you stand up, stretching your arms to justify that action. “I’ll be back soon.” You say softly to Nami, who’s closer to you and she nods. Then, you look around before taking a step. The park is one big open space - with the exception of some trees here and there - except for the dense treeline behind you. 

So that’s where you’re headed. 

-*-

Zoro senses you getting up and opens his eye slowly, following you with his gaze and scowling when you don’t see the tree root sticking out and stumble a little before steadying your pace. 

You’re such a damn klutz.

And damn it, if he doesn’t want to be there to catch you and protect you from everything. 

His heart constricts slightly at the thought, and he sighs softly. He thought absence had made him forget how he felt about you. He even had some ‘relationships’ while you were away. Wait… can he really call something that never went past three months a real relationship? He never truly bonded with those women. Never truly cared.

No one ever made him feel the way you did.

The way you do.

But time and distance did nothing but make him pine harder for you. When Nami told him casually that you were returning, he almost didn’t believe her. You didn’t even come back for any of the holidays or to say ‘hi’, let alone come back for good after experiencing life in the big city. 

But you returned.

And then he thought he wouldn’t quite forgive you for having literally abandoned them. No text, no email, no letter, nothing. He would be salty, at least. Grumpy and upset, at most.

But he forgave you instantly. 

One look at your dishevelled form, chasing a goddamned tire with dirt all over your clothes and face, and he was a lovestruck teenager again. 

Fucking heart, what a useless organ. 

All those thoughts forgotten, he simply reached out. And you reached back, almost like no time had passed between you, and you could basically continue your story where you left off. 

And he was willing to try.

Though he didn’t want to rush too fast - damn Nami should just stop intruding and let you two figure things out yourselves. He’d get there. He almost kissed you already, so the feeling is mutual. 

He’s got time.

Sitting up, he watches as you peek behind trees, a cautious demeanour to your posture making him raise his brow. What the hell are you doing?

“Just go to her, dumbass.”

“Shut up, Witch. Mind your own business.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at him and snaps a picture of his grouchy face before turning her phone towards you and snapping another candid shot. 

“You look like a lost puppy in love. It’s cute, you know? The way you keep looking out for her.” Zoro feels his ears heat up and leans back again, trying to close his eye and return to a state of relaxation, but he can’t very well do that when you’re doing God-knows-what near the trees, looking creepily at everywhere and everything. “Just make sure you make your move soon… or maybe that secret admirer will one-up you and poof!” She makes an exploding gesture with her hand, and Zoro scowls at her. 

“You’re insufferable.” He quips before getting up and dusting his jeans.

“Word of the day? How smart of you, Zoro.” She giggles when Zoro passes by her and messes up her hair with his hand, earning an indignant gasp from the orange-haired girl. “I just went to the salon, you brute!”

Zoro smirks at her reaction and starts pacing towards you, Nami’s antics behind him. Well… all except one…

‘Make sure you make your move soon…’

Perhaps he should. He doesn’t want to lose you before even having the chance to have you.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks

|Chapter 4|

[she-wolf09231982]

Joe Toye

“The Bunny and The Fox”

Summary: You thought Joe Toye was too scary to even consider a friend, but he proves to be not only a great friend, but also a lover.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, JoeToyeX!FemMedic, WW2, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO Band of Brothers References, Mentions/Descriptions of Injuries, Weaponry, Smoking. Angst/Conflict, Smut, *John Wayne/McClintock Movie Quote*, FOREVER FLUFF

@awaterfalls 😁🪖♠️🦅❤️

These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

He always appeared so….serious. His face in a constant state of pissed off and disdain. If looks could kill, Joe Toye (and Johnny Martin) wouldn’t have needed weapons in the war.

You avoided him all through Toccoa. He just seemed like the type to leave the hell alone. But every now and then, you caught a glimpse of him smiling or laughing with the guys.

“Not bad.” You’d think to yourself as you admired his smile.

Since you trained with Easy as a medic, you rarely had an excuse to speak to him unless he was injured. Even then you kept your conversation short and sweet with hardly any eye contact. But with his low raspy voice came a sense of calm while you took care of him. You supposed he seemed friendly enough.

~~~~~~

June 1944 Post D-Day

Orders were given to take Carentan where German soldiers were being sheltered. Carentan was the main crossroad between Cotentin and Calvados where the ally force's tanks needed passage to attack the main objective, Cherbourg.

"Listen up!" LT Welsh shouted. "It'll be dark soon. I want light and noise discipline from here on. No talking, no smoking. And no playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you, Luz. We're taking Carentan. It's the only place where armor from Omaha and Utah Beach can link up and head inland. Until we take Carentan, they're stuck on the sand. General Taylor's sending the whole division."

Some of the men began to grumble under their breath. Everyone started to stir to gather their gear to begin the journey to Carentan.

Walking in a file formation on each side of the road to Carentan. You found yourself walking in front of Toye as Perconte proceeded you.

“Hey Toye, why you always in the middle when we convoy anywhere? Ain’t you ever in the front?” Guarnere teased.

“I go wherever the medic goes in case I get hit, Bill.” Joe responded.

You blushed and dared to sneak a glance behind you. As you did, Toye met your gaze shooting you a quick wink. You quickly look back to the front embarrassed he caught you acknowledging him.

“Awe now look what ya did. You scared her.” Guarnere teased.

You hear some of the guys laugh.

“Maintain your noise discipline.” Winters reminded.

~~~~~~~

"MEDIC!!"

You and Doc on separate ends of the streets trying to keep low to tend to the wounded.

You rush to two soldiers landing on your knees next to them, one on the ground with a trail of blood coming from his helmet, the other crouching over him.

"He's still breathing, help me carry him!" You call out. You each grab an arm of the injured soldier and drag him behind a building.

While you're working on the nameless soldier's head wound, a drug store gets blasted by German artillery not far from where you were, the force from the explosion sending you sideways into the brick wall next to you.

You shake your head to stop the ringing in your ears. Everything you could hear was distant as your vision became fuzzy and dark. You start to smack your ear trying to make it pop so you can get back to your senses.

“Y/L/N! We gotta move! Get up!” Toye’s muffled voice yelled out.

He grabbed you by the arm pulling you up to your feet. You still couldn’t barely see so you held onto his arms for dear life.

“I-I can’t see nothin’ Joe!” You called out to him.

“Ok, come on…UP we go!” You hear him grunt as he threw you over his shoulder.

You feel him trotting to safety while blast after blast erupted all around you. You feel him lower you as gently as he could to the ground against a wall.

“Hey, look at me.” Toye said as he guided your face towards his, “Can you see me now?”

You shake your head, “No, it’s all dark and blurry.” You reply as tears started to stream down your cheeks.

Were you going blind?? Is this it? You’re not going to be able to see your family’s faces? Never see your own reflection? You feel yourself slipping into shock.

“Hey! Stay with me now, ok doll? Don’t cry. Doc’s on his way.” You hear Toye’s voice break through your thoughts.

Doc ducked behind the wall with you and Toye.

“What’s the matta’ with her?” You hear Gene ask.

“She can’t see. Says everything is blurry.”

“Gene, I think I’m going blind. Am I going blind??” You asked panicked trying to reach out for him.

“What happened before she couldn’t see?”

“A shell dropped right by her and she went flying into a brick wall.”

Gene nodded, “That’ll do it. You got a concussion, Y/L/N, you ain’t goin’ blind.”

You released a sigh of relief.

“Joe, can you get her back to HQ? She ain’t no good out here if she can’t see nothin’.”

“I got her, Doc.”

~~~~~~~

Toye got you back to an aid station not long after Easy Company claimed victory over Carentan. You remained there until the following day after your vision returned. As you approached a group of the guys from Easy, you were welcomed with whoops and cheers.

“Hey! Look who it is!” Luz called out.

All the guys turned to find you walking towards them.

“Hey look what the cat dragged in!” Malarkey joked.

The chorus of laughter from the men lifted your spirits.

“Yeah, I look rough, I know. Thanks guys.” You greet.

You looked around for Toye.

“He’s over there.” Luz pointed out as he gestured with is thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh, I just, uh, wanted to thank him for-“ you began.

“-yeah, yeah we know. He’s over there.” Malarkey interjected pointing down the street.

You feel yourself get flustered so you scamper off to where they said Joe was. As you walk through the rubble that Carentan has become, you see Toye standing in a circle with a few of the other guys from Easy. He throws his cigarette butt on the ground, stomping it out with his boot before he turns and sees you.

His face lights up when he saw you walking up.

“Hey there she is!” Guarnere hailed.

Bill met you and extended his hand for you to shake, which you obliged.

“Good to see you, Bill.”

“Glad to see you up and about, doll.” He pulled you in closer, “Someone’s been real worried about you since they left you at the aid station, by the way.” He disclosed.

You pull back and met Bill’s face with confusion. He winked and motioned over to Toye with his chin.

“Go on and say hi to him.” Bill added.

You narrow your eyes at him and smile. You slowly approach Toye as he stood there with his hands in his pockets and smirking as he patiently waited for you.

“Hey, Toye.” You squeak.

“Hey, Y/L/N. Good to see you.” He replied with his signature husky voice.

“Well, if it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here. Thank you for helping me.” You say as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

You hear Guarnere whistle. You turn around and shake your head at him.

Toye cleared his throat, “It was nothin’.”

You both stood there awkwardly until Bill came over.

“Hey, the guys were going to go to the bar that survived the wreck. You wanna join us later for a few night caps, Y/L/N?”

“Sure, if I can find a place to get cleaned up.”

“Ok it’s that little place over there. We’ll all be there around 1900, aight?”

You knew Bill was scheming something for you and Toye. You look at him suspiciously.

“Ok, I’ll see you guys there later.”

~~~~~~~

You breeze through the front door of the pub and begin scanning the room for the familiar faces of Easy.

“Hey! Y/F/N! Over here!” Guarnere called out waving his hand.

You push through the crowd to get to the table where most of your guys were sitting. You catch Toye playing darts with LT Compton, Luz, and Heffron.

“What can I getchya?” Bill asked.

“Oh, whatever you’re drinking, Bill.” You reply.

“Comin’ right up.” He announced as he walked to the bar.

You look back to Toye and catch his eyes looking at you too. He smiled and raised his glass to you with a wink. You smile back and give him a little wave.

“Here ya go.” Bill returned handing you a pint glass of beer.

You cheers and take a hearty gulp.

“Thanks, Bill.” You say as you squeeze his arm.

~~~~~~~

The night was filled with laughter, banter, and taunts amongst Easy. And somehow, your glass kept getting magically refilled by each of the guys. You had to refuse Malarkey’s offer to buy your next round because you felt your head starting to spin.

“Ok, we’ll slow down.” Don chuckled, “But when you’re ready, I got the next one!”

“Yessir.” You quipped.

You turn towards the dart boards and see that Toye had moved. You began to search the room for him and suddenly stop at the bar where he was talking to a local woman dressed in a tightly fit dress.

You felt a distinct sense of dread mixed with anger, but you weren’t sure why. The longer you watched Toye leaning closer to whisper in her ear while she giggled, the more your rage boiled over inside.

“What’s the matter, doll? You gotta look on ya like you’re gonna murder someone.” You hear Guarnere chime in.

You avert your eyes to the floor.

“It’s nothing.” You say quickly.

Bill looked where you were just looking.

“Well ain’t that a son of a bitch. After all the trouble I went through to set you’s guys up, he goes and finds another bird to chat up.”

You look at Bill, “What do you mean set us up?”

Bill looked at you alarmed.

“Oh, well, I thought you knew. Toye over there has got it real bad for ya. Has ever since basic but he figured he never had a chance. I told him you were a catch and that you had a thing for him too.”

“Oh do I now?” You asked astounded by his response.

“Well, don’tchya?”

“I suppose he’s handsome. Good soldier. But looks like he’s not as sweet on me as you think.” You state as you gesture to Toye by the bar getting disgustingly close to the blonde bombshell.

“Ah, he’s an idiot. He’s just trying to get laid.”

You look at him with daggers behind your eyes. Bill’s eyes widen.

“Uh, what I mean is he don’t care about her, ya know? He’s trying to not think about you because he thinks you’re outta his league.” Bill hastily explained.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll get his attention.” You declare as you storm off towards the bar.

“Ah shit.” Bill mumbled to himself rolling his eyes.

You walk up to a soldier from Fox Company standing a few feet away from where Toye was with his new little friend. You approach the bar and slightly bend over to the surface of the bar and rest your elbows on it. The soldier noticed you right away and a devilish grin appeared across his face.

You look over at him and smile.

“Hey, angel, you’re the prettiest face in here.” He said as he scanned you from head to toe.

You see Toye look over the blonde’s shoulder at you. So you inched closer to the stranger.

“At least someone noticed how hard I worked on my make up tonight.” You say loud enough for Joe to hear.

Toye’s jaw started to tighten. Your plan was working like a charm.

“What are you talkin’ about? You’re a dish!” He returned enthusiastically, “Can I get you a drink?”

“A pint is fine.”

Toye excused himself from the company of his little vixen and approached you with obvious vigor. He stopped so close to you, you can feel his breath on your face.

“You think you should have anymore?” Toye asked in a low gravelly tone.

You were almost a puddle at his feet.

“What’s one more?” You dismiss.

“Hey, buddy, this one’s mine. Get lost.” The Fox soldier warned.

Toye glared at him, a clear warning with his fierce gaze to back off. “Shut up.”

He turned back to you. “You hit your head hard yesterday. You got a concussion, remember? Drinking too much isn’t good for you right now.” He cautioned.

The soldier behind Toye huffed outloud. You bring your face closer to his.

“How about you go on back to your little blonde bunny over there and worry about her?” You say softly staring intensely into his eyes.

You snidely smile and gently push him aside to accept the beer the Fox soldier was holding for you. Toye grabbed your wrist before you could get your fingers around the glass.

“Because I’m worried about you.” He sternly replied.

“Hey, pal, I’m not gonna tell ya-“

Before the guy could finish his sentence, Toye swung and punched him across the face sending him to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“Joe, what the hell is the matter with you?” You bark.

He turned to face you, his teeth clenched and resentment in his eyes.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You got my attention.” He said raising his arms to the side.

Just then, another Fox Company soldier soared in and tackled Toye. When Guarnere saw Toye get sacked, him and the rest of Easy rushed in, clashing with Fox Company in a battle royalé in the middle of the dance floor.

You grab a bottle of whiskey and force your way into the horde to smash it over the head of one of the opposing soldiers when you suddenly feel your feet swiftly leave the floor, and you find yourself once again thrown over Joe Toye’s shoulder as he rushes out the front door.

You start to push off of his back to look at him.

“What are you doing?? Put me down, NOW! This is completely barbaric! Were you raised by wolves??”

“Shut your mouth.” Toye said sharply.

He wouldn’t cave no matter how hard you struggled. He continued to carry you until he got to the house where you had been staying at with the field nurses. He opened the front door and practically threw you onto the couch in the main corridor.

“You’re an absolute animal, Joe Toye.” You snarled at him.

“Yeah? You haven’t even seen the worst of it yet.” He retorted.

You stood up, only to lose your balance and fell backward on to the couch again.

“Well save it.” You spit back crossing your arms, “You can go now. I’m sure that little dish at the bar is waiting on you.”

Toye furrowed his eyebrows at you, “You’re the only one even thinking about her. I haven’t even given her a second thought since you walked through the door of that place!”

You scoff, “Sure, Joe. Didn’t seem like it when your hands were all over her like a magnet.” You pointed out as you stood up slowly.

“Yeah?” He queried as he closed the gap between the two of you, “You mean like this?”

He roughly grabbed you by the waist and kneaded your hips with his strong calloused hands as he pulled you into him. Your faces so close, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he only hovered over your mouth. You were a deer in the headlights, your words caught in your throat somewhere. You almost forgot to take breath when you started to feel faint, so you took in a deep breath through your nose to recover.

You put your hands on his chest and started to push away.

“What are you doing, Toye?” You manage to say.

He jerked you back into him, slithering his one hand across the small of your back while the other one firmly caressed the swell of your ass. You tried to protest, but your voice betrayed you only allowing a whimper to escape from your throat. This man had you a melting hot mess in his arms and it only made you angrier that he was getting you flustered.

“What? Got nothin’ snarky to say now, sweetheart?” He teased.

The fire inside you began to rise, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were turned on, or pissed off.

“I hate you.” You sneered as you slipped out of his grasp and headed for the staircase.

Before you could lift your foot to take the first step, you feel yourself twirled back around and face to face with Toye in his arms.

*“Half of the people in the world are women…Why does it have to be you that stirs me?”* He growled before grabbing the back of your head to bring your mouth to his.

You wanted to fight back and push away again, but your body fought you, leaning into his body and fisting his uniform jacket to pull him as close as possible to you. You part your lips to allow his tongue to pass and explore yours. You playfully nip at his bottom lip eliciting a deep guttural groan from him. His hands scoured your body as his hips instinctively pushed his hard on against you. You dig your nails into his shoulders as you moan into his mouth.

You pull back, “Let’s take this upstairs.”

Toye only replied with a mischievous grin, then picked you up bridal style to carry you up the stairs. When you direct him to your room, he set you down to secure the door. Right at the moment he turned around, you forced him against the door and hungrily kiss him while unraveling his tie.

He grabbed you by the shoulders swinging you around pinning you against the door with a ‘thud’ then placed his hand around your throat. He tightened his grip enough to make a point he was in charge, but not hard enough to alarm you. You instinctively grab his wrist with both hands as you clenched your thighs together, hoping to get some friction against your core and to prevent the wetness from dripping down your leg.

You hissed through your teeth as a smile stretched across your face. Toye pressed himself harder against you, the bulge in his pants grinding into your pelvis. You slide one hand away from his wrist gradually finding your way to his belt buckle. His fingers around your neck increased their grip.

You ran your tongue along your lower lip. He looks from your eyes to your mouth as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly scooped you up from behind your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist and carried you over to the bed, dropping you on your back onto the mattress.

He removed his tie, then with one hand unbuckled his belt all the while staring at you like a starved wolf about to pounce on his prey. You scoot to the edge of the bed and start to unbutton your uniform top. He situated himself between your spread knees at the edge of the bed.

You look up at him through your lashes and smile as you start to work on removing his pants. Your top partially open with your cleavage peaking through, he fisted the front with both hands and yanked the blouse off your shoulders. You wiggle out of the shirt and drop his pants and briefs as he removed his uniform top.

Now you were both ravenous for eachother just yanking off articles of clothing and throwing them carelessly onto the floor. Finally when he slid your panties off, a devilish grin graced his face when he saw how wet you were for him.

He looked at you roguishly as he glided two of his fingers up and down your drenched slit.

“Is this all from me?” His gruff honeyed voice had you melting in his hand.

You nod without breaking eye contact. He crawled over you, caging you in between his brawny arms. As his hardened dick rested on top of your center, he started to grind into you, coating the tip of his cock with your slick between your folds.

You couldn’t help but arch your back, rhythmically moving your hips with his to feel him rub against your clit. Your needy sighs spurred him on, knowing he was making you feel so good.

“Oh my God, Toye-“

“No. No more ‘Toye.’ I want to hear you say my name.” He commanded.

You stare at him.

“Fucking say it.” He ordered.

“Joe…” you breathed as you playfully nip at his lower lip, greedily locking onto his mouth.

He lifted you by the ass and pushed his length through your dripping entrance with one fleeting thrust forward.

You gasp then wrap your legs around his waist, waiting for the ride to begin. Joe unleashed over a year’s worth of pent up rage and frustration from the war onto you, railing into you in almost a deliciously painful pace. He was rough, and aggressive, yet attentive and sensual.

He sat up resting on his heels and angled you closer into him by hugging your thighs against him and driving into you, hitting that spot that had you edging to your finish.

He feels your walls constricting around his cock, and starts to slow his tempo. You look at him with a pout.

All you could manage was a strained, “Why?”

He pulled out and hastily flipped you onto your hands and knees. He reached around your front under your arms once again grabbing your throat with his perfect hand. He pulls you back until your back was flush with his chest.

He guided the back of your head to rest on his shoulder before he turned to your ear.

“You think that fucking Fox Company chump could’ve done this for you?” He hissed.

You feel his grip constricting your neck. You’re so fucked out you can’t help but laugh.

“Fucking answer me, sweetheart. You think that asshole’s got anything on me?” His voice rumbling in your ear like thunder.

You start to pant, your bare chest and peaked nipples heaving from overstimulation and restriction of oxygen.

“No, Joe. Never.” You huffed.

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your jawline. He nipped at your ear.

“That’s right, baby.” He purred before he thrusted you forward on all fours.

He lined his dick up with your slippery pussy and entered you with a sweet push forward until he bottomed out. He plummeted into you, spanking you occasionally while his hips slammed into you.

“My God, Joe.” You moaned pushing back into him so he can get inside you as deep as possible.

“Yeah, scream my name so all Fox Company can hear.”

He had a vice grip on your waist, guiding you back everytime his hips came forward. The slams of his front against your ass grew steadily louder with groans and grunts between the two of you.

His stride began to stagger, and you could feel him pulsate inside you.

“I’m getting close, sweetheart.” You hear his low rugged voice from behind you.

“Me too, Joe.”

“I know, I can feel you squeezing on me. Let go, baby.” He hummed.

He reached around finding your clit and began rubbing hard circles onto the bud.

You close your eyes and focus on the sensation of where his hands were and the throbbing of his cock inside you then hearing his voice roar,

“Come on, baby, let go for me.”

He chased your orgasm until he felt your walls fluttering around his cock. You throw your head back practically howling as ropes of Joe’s cum released over and over again inside you. A guttural grunt left Joe’s lips as he groped your ass to have something to hold onto to steady himself.

Sweat glistened on his chiseled torso while he caught his breath. He snatched the hand towel by the basin next to the bed to clean you up after he pulled out. He plopped onto the bed next to you, pulling you into him to hold you.

You each sigh, content and relaxed in eachother’s afterglow.

“Your little bunny friend is going to be heart broken.” You joke.

Joe chuckled, “Yeah, I have that effect on people.”

You giggled.

“I got my girl right here.” He added.

Joe looked down adoringly at you with your head on his shoulder, sensing his eyes were on you, you look up at him. He gently kissed your lips, then rubbed his nose on the tip of yours.

~~~~~~~

[sublimeaxolotls]

thinking about this translated quote from shirahama bc the words "fun fact" have stuck in my mind. (obviously some things could get lost in translation but hear me out)

i've seen some people talk about this as confirmation that characters are queer and more importantly, the importance of representation in manga that wha provides. but "bring it up as a fun fact" stands out to me. although this likely could be a comment on how wha's representation is important to the manga industry, you could interpret it as a comment on how her manga is marketed/presented (particularly by fans online, she does have a twitter after all)

a lot of times when i see a series of any kind advertised by its (queer, i am on tumblr) fans on social media, they point to whatever representation they think it has as a main selling point. "read this series bc it has queer characters" "watch this show bc these two are definitely gay for each other." they treat representation like it's a selling point for the series, dare i say, a fun fact. i saw dungeon meshi get spread around bc "look this show has lesbians !!! they're so in love !!" even though farcille is not cannon. i'm sure something similar has happened with wha. would a straight romance between its main characters get brought up as a reason why you! reader! should check out Witch Hat Atelier? (again this kinda brings back representation in the manga industry, these are my mad ramblings) a romance between its main characters isn't required in a fantasy series- i don't think fans would point to the existence of a straight pairing as one of the reasons why someone should read Your Favorite Manga, the straight romance just is.

idk how to end this, the wordage of "fun fact" was interesting to me and these are also just residual feelings on how the internet likes to advertise its favorite media as "Look! It has [thing]!" instead of a legit description of the plot or anything

[thosearentcrimes]

Read Bring No Clothes by Charlie Porter. If I followed the rule "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything", that would have been the only sentence in the review. Well, really, it wouldn't have existed, implicature is still a form of speech. For a while it didn't exist, since I read this book some time back now, but not out of moral concern, but rather simply because I'm not allowed to use the computers at work for personal shit anymore, and that's where I wrote these. So I finally got around to buying a new e-book reader instead, expect more reviews shortly, written from home this time. But I digress.

Bring No Clothes is a truly awful book about the fashion of the Bloomsbury group. I struggle to think of any redeeming features. It is shorter than the hardback makes it seem, but this is simply false advertising, and not a virtue. It chooses to give each chapter heading its very own entire page to sit on, to blow the letters up to an absurd size with liberal line spacing in the style of a panicking high school student, to pepper the book with black and white photos of dresses remarkable for their color. The hardcover copy I read pretends to have 340 A5 pages, and I would be surprised if it got to 100 with reasonable formatting. In truth it is a nothing but a handful of hastily concatenated half-written filler articles and a couple of unpublishable magazine features stuck between two hard covers for no apparent reason, an unfilmed script for a "video essay" (read: summary) that would be too long to watch and too short to say anything.

It is really quite literally a series of magazine articles. Charlie Porter is a fashion journalist, and his work on the book speaks to his total inability to adjust his writing style to the medium, the astonishingly poor standards in fashion journalism, and the seeming absence of any editing whatsoever on the part of the publisher. Though possibly it was edited, and earlier drafts were even worse. Somehow. There is no coherent theme to the book, no throughline connecting the individual chapters. There are entire chapters that are obviously unnecessary and poorly conceived, which would presumably have been removed if not for the desperate need to pretend the book is so much longer than it really is. Lastly, for some reason image descriptions are done in-line rather than through captions. Is this common in fashion journalism? It sucks to read, in any case.

The writing is shit. It's so unbelievably bad. Borderline unreadable, the structural issues with the book as a whole are reproduced even at the level of individual sentences. Porter's chief flaw is that he is preposterously self-absorbed. He is either unable or unwilling to separate his own impressions and delusions from reality. He spends substantial sections of most chapters writing about the personal experience of researching and writing the book, and plenty of other insufferable personal trivia besides. To pull that trick off without boring the reader takes extraordinary talent, personal charisma, and varied and interesting life experiences, none of which Porter seems to have. Not an amazing range of vocabulary on display either, and somehow I doubt this was a deliberate effort to keep the reading difficulty down. The miserable structure, constant pointless personal asides, and general inability to express what few ideas Porter may or may not have render the book a truly tedious slog.

When reading a non-fiction book, I would like to be able to pick out something I learned about the topic, some basic point of interest. It is impossible in this book, which contains nothing but boring accounts of relationships between seemingly insufferable people. Porter's narration does bring his protagonists to life in places, with some help from direct quotes. Unfortunately, they are brought to life as some of the most annoying egotists you've ever met in your life, which admittedly seems quite plausible for British upper class twits (well, mostly twits). Still, I don't put too much stock in that characterization, as it could very easily be projection by the blatantly self-absorbed author.

I generally try to recommend books to sorts of people who I think would like them, whether or not I was a fan myself. I suspect I am a poor judge of appeal, ultimately, but I try nonetheless. I think nobody should read this book, ever, for any reason. It is not that the book is evil. Reading evil has merit. The book is just bad. There are people who would like it, probably. Those people, in particular, should not read the book, as I suspect it would inhibit their development. Everyone involved in the production and distribution of the book should feel shame proportional to their degree of responsibility for what they have inflicted on the world in general, and on me in particular.

[starlightandfairies]

Daryl Dixon x plus!size reader: Daryl and the reader are friends (but the reader wishes they were more because she is in love with daryl) and the reader joins Daryl to find more people they run into a bad group and it ends terribly and the reader and Daryl end up in France when they get to the nuns she notices Isabelle getting a little to close to Daryl the reader is jealous of course but she is very good at hiding her emotions so when they find the pre school with the kids that are surviving there before the reader joined Daryl to help get some medication for the kids teacher the reader ask Daryl if there is anything going on between him and Isabelle Daryl said there is nothing going on and why did she ask the reader tells him to forget she said anything but Daryl won’t let it go so the reader tells Daryl about her feelings and that he doesn’t have to say it back because she thinks he doesn’t feel to same way she just rambles on about how she finds herself ugly and Daryl shuts her up by kissing her and telling her he feels the same way and to stop talking bad about her self when they are back on the road taking Laurent (where Ever he needs to be taken sorry forgot the place) Laurent is being stubborn and won't get on the carriage so the reader gets down to talk to him and tells him that the reason he needs to go with him is because he is special and he is the key to curing the zombies and she promises that she won't let anything happen to him and that she will protect him with her life Laurent looks up to the reader because she is very pretty and she is a total badass because she is a good fighter and she puts herself in danger first so the people she cares about won't get hurt and she is very fearless and she doesn't like seeing good people die.

Description: The reader is forced to confess her feelings for Daryl after having suspicions that he loved Isabelle.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, she/her pronouns, twd violence, mentions of injury, insecurities. Based on Daryl's tv show episode 2

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thanks so much for giving this request!!! I had fun writing it!!!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 1623

Daryl and I had know each other for quite a fair few years. After the battle of the Commonwealth, Daryl and I decided to go looking for Rick and Michonne. However, we got fucked over by another fucked up group of people and ended up in the water. I lost track of the days, I have no clue how long we have both been in the water. I felt a slapping against my cheeks, groaning and rolled to my side as woke up to find Daryl hovering by my side. 

After Daryl helped me up, I glanced around, knowing that we were not in America anymore. It was a matter of finding out where we were and what to do. 

“Guess we aren’t in Kansas anymore.” Daryl shot me a look, I stuck my tongue out and gave a smile, sometimes it honestly felt like the best that I could to do. 

“Can’t believe that after all this time you are quoting movies.” 

“What can I say? It’s what you love about me.” God I wish it were true 

After realising we were are in France; Daryl and I began searching for supplies to keep ourselves going for the night. Daryl found an French to English book to help with translations. After a little while longer, these two assholes screwed us over, tried robbing us after we killed two other men that tried attacking all of us. 

A group of nuns brought us in, treated Daryl’s acid burn from the walkers, which I’m glad was treated. Then came Isabelle, I hate to say that it’s been 12 years since the world turned to shit and I still get jealous feelings. Isabelle was too close to Daryl, maybe she hadn’t had a nice man in her life for a while but her beauty and her pretty smile made me feel insecure of my own looks and inability to tell Daryl how I feel made me feel shittier than when I realised I’m going to die before the world is fixed. 

All respect to the nuns; I understand why they did what they did but at the same time, after seeing it go wrong a thousand other times. Keeping a walker alive as a message or just the emotional trauma of losing that loved one is obviously horrible to go through but as soon as we realised that the father was a walker we left as soon as we could only to return and take Laurent, honestly a sweet little boy to safety. 

Daryl and Isabelle were walking ahead, I stayed behind, kicking my feet in the dirt like an upset little kid and carried on as I drowned in my own feelings. 

“What’s going on with you?” Daryl questioned, I glanced up, placed on one of my award winning smiles and shook my head. 

“I’m all good. Honestly, I just want to get back to America.” Daryl nodded believing what I said, turning back to the front and it allowed me to wallow in my emotions again. I loved Daryl, he’s a good man, even if he doesn’t think he is a good man, he is a good man and I wish that he knew that more often. 

Isabelle is gorgeous, more so than compared to me. I mean, I’ve got rolls, even during this shitstorm I’ve got all these skin problems still and I clearly have no confidence in my appearance, even if it doesn’t matter now. I thought the end of the world would mean less problems when it came to appearance and self esteem. But noooo, it still means the same shit goes through my mind like it did when I was dating in college. 

I mean, I can handle the shitty groups that survive off of anarchy. I can handle them, because just a couple of hits to the head and boom not a problem anymore. But my insecurities, they kill me and I hate that I am not strong enough to deal with problems that shouldn’t matter anymore. Staring at what used to be a preschool made me want to cry, the place is being run by children and I wish that these children didn’t have to go through this horrible stuff and could be children in a decently safe world where they didn’t have to deal with no familiarity of what we grew up with. 

“Hey, that teacher needs some medicine, want to come with?” I nodded, glad to finally be getting that one on one time with Daryl again. Walking in the silence became uncomfortable and noticing that Daryl was hanging out with Isabelle a lot I want getting curious to know about where he stood with her. 

“So, Daryl… what’s going on with you and Isabelle?” Daryl shot me a look, as if I really just asked him about something that sounds so childish and like a teenager experience. 

“There’s nothing going on between her and I. I’m just finding out what I can from her that can help us get back home… why?” There it was, that one little question that I wish wasn’t a word. I shrugged slightly, cringing internally as I realised my capabilities to hide my true emotions decided not to work today. 

“No reason.” Fuck my voice is giving me away, all nervous and defensive. Daryl stopped in my tracks, he grabbed my arm, getting me to stop in my tracks. I couldn’t meet his eyes, I insecurely wrapped my arms around my body to cocoon into myself as I always did when I was feeling insecure. 

“Don’t give me that crap. What’s going on?” I tried one more time, hoping that Daryl would give it a reason and not think to ask about it again. That was just wishful thinking. 

“Please, just forget it!” I snapped, Daryl took a step back, shaking his head and grabbed ahold of both my arms gently. I took a shaky breathy, shaking my head and sniffled. 

“What is going on?” 

“I’m in love with you! Okay?” Daryl looked surprised by my outburst, I pushed myself out of his arms and began pacing around the tree covered area we were in.  

“Me! Fat little me, I’m in love with you! And I know you won’t say it back because I know you don’t love me back because I am nowhere near as attractive as the girls I know you’d be with if the world was still normal.” I shook my head, keeping my eyes focused on the ground as my tears fell from eyes and I didn’t want Daryl to see me like this. 

“I’m overweight, I’m ugly, I’ve got rolls and eczema. I’m an insecure little girl who hasn’t changed since high school. My acne scars make me look like I’m a fucking walker. I am ugly and I am not worth anyone’s love, not even in this world because I don’t have that kind of beauty. I am no pretty nor worth anyone’s love and I-“ Daryl grabbed my face in his hands, his lips being placed upon mine and I know it sounds incredibly cliche but it really felt like the world literally stop. Why was Daryl kissing me? I mean I was kissing him back and holy shit it was one of the greatest kisses I’ve ever experienced and I did not want it to stop. I honestly forgot the world we currently lived in is the way that it is but having Daryl actually kissing me until I needed to pull away for air made me feel like I was in a world of a book that I would’ve loved to read in the before. 

“I love you. I love you more than I can even begin to say. I ain’t good with words. But you gotta stop talking down about yourself. You are gorgeous, you are exactly as you should be and I love you. I find you incredibly gorgeous and you have a heart of gold. You are not what that stupid little insecure voice inside your head says that you are. You understand me?” I nodded, smiling as he grinned at me and rested a kiss on my forehead. 

After leaving the preschool, Laurent was angry with Isabelle and wouldn’t get in the carriage that we acquired. It was honestly a very useful invention that made life so much easier. I decided to get out of the carriage to talk to the kid and figure out a way to get him in the carriage. 

“Listen Laurent. I understand that you’re upset and not feeling the greatest in regards to that you feel Isabelle is lying to and I won’t lie to you. Not about something like this. The reason why you need to go with us is that you could be the cure to helping understand a cure for these walkers. But I promise to you I will not allow you to be hurt, I will protect and you so will the rest of us. I will protect you until my very last breath, you’re one of us and we won’t let you get hurt. I promise you and if you feel that I break your promise then you can do whatever you want if it means you feel safe.” 

“I look up to you. You’re… you’re this badass lady that knows how to fight and is a good person because you won’t let bad things happen. You are also very pretty.” I turned to see Daryl watching with a smile, he winked at me and nodded softly as I got Laurent into the carriage finally. 

Daryl took my hand as I squeezed in beside him, resting a final kiss on my cheek before offering his shoulder for me to sleep on. 

[andromedaexists]

Infinity Alchemist || Kacen Callender

★★★★★

TW: ABUSE (FAMILIAL, ON PAGE), DEATH (MURDER), GUILT, GRIEF, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ENCOUNTERS (FADE TO BLACK), VIOLENCE

I always feel like I don't know where to start with these. 9 times outta 10 I'm writing reviews right off the end of the book and this one... I have tears in my eyes. This is a 6 star book for me. Firmly. My heart hurts

I received this book as an ARC in return for an honest review. Thank you to Tor Teen and NetGalley for the ARC.

Infinity Alchemist releases in just a few weeks on Feb. 6th I believe, and I highly recommend it to anyone who will listen.

Once again calling back to any book that makes me physically feel something get an automatic five star, but this book did more than that. This book wrapped my heart in tendrils of alchemical magic and refuses to let go.

Let's start with the characters: Ash, Ramsay, Callum, and Marlowe. Ash is our POV character and in a trans POC man. He is an asshole who has a rough life, growing up in the slums with a mother who passed away not too long ago. He wants to prove himself worthy of his absent father, and will stop at nothing to do so.

Ramsay is a prodigy, the genderfluid child of known and executed terrorists hell-bent on atoning for their sins. She uses he/she pronouns, though leans more towards she/her throughout the book. She is also such an uptight prick... until she's not. I genuinely love how prickly and rude she is and how much that shows to me as an autistic mask. I just love her so much.

Callum is a black man and the youngest son of the Kendrick house, more or less the police state in book. He is kind and caring despite the heavy hand of his father and all he wants to do is heal. He wants to heal and help others, like the good man he is.

These three, oh these three. They hold my heart.

Marlowe is my obligatory redhead (listen I have to point them out when they are given to me!). She is an orphan of House Lune and becomes so integral to the story in ways I never thought possible.

Without given away too many spoilers, I want to tell yous: there is so much diversity in this cast. So much! It's beautiful!! And, AND, we get not one, but two (2) separate Rivals-to-Lovers ARCs that don't end in a love triangle, but a polycule! We also get best friends to lovers to bitter exes to lovers once again!!

As far as the worldbuilding goes, I have to say that Kacen is a master at weaving these mystical and fantastical realms together in a way that not only make sense, but feel real. I felt like I was in the higher realms with the characters, like I knew exactly what each house was and why they were there.

I have aphantasia, which means that I cannot imagine what anything ever looks like. And yet, the beautiful world descriptions put me there. They called back to things that I do know and do have experience with and built off of it. I very genuinely could see myself in the world, and that is saying a lot.

I don't think I can talk too much more about this book without bringing myself to tears again, so let's pivot to some of my favorite quotes to make y'all understand the gravity of this book:

The world became a white blur. The snow turned red. It fell to the ground, drops spreading like blots of ink. The blood dripped from Amelia's cheeks. Her smile faded as the screams began.

That's what privileged assholes like you always say.

[redacted] paused, but only for a moment. He opened the [redacted]. There was an explosion of light.

It was too late. [redacted] was already there.

It wasn't death he'd feared, he realized, but the change—the transformation that forced him to release.

This light held the vibration of energy that the physical body would translate as love.

They all created the same infinite light. They were eternal.

It was an interesting place to be caught, stuck between grief and gladness that they were gone.

Okay, I think that's all I can put without spoilers.

One thing I forgot to mention: this book is genuinely funny. Maybe it's because of the autistic mask I mentioned earlier, but the interactions between Ramsay and Ash at any given point past like 20% of the book are genuinely funny. I love Ramsay's sense of humor.

Anyways, that's all for this book! I am going to curl up in a ball and cry while I purchase a physical copy to annotate and put on my recommendations shelf. This is a story that I will be thinking about years down the line, I just know it. Ash is a part of my soul now, and I can't wait to see what he does next.

[mage]

from chapter 5 of whatever this is, it isn't lust on ao3

(the lack of alt text is intentional, comic description is under the cut)

Eda had left Camila to roll up the yoga mats and push the coffee table back into place as soon as the instructor on the livestream bowed to signal the end of the session, but Camila didn't begrudge her that. The slow pace of the gentle yoga class had left Eda vibrating with energy and, really, Camila was grateful that Eda had humoured her at all.

Plus, when she came out of the kitchen, she had two mugs of what smelled like apple blood, not coffee, in her hands, and she let Camila snuggle into her on the couch without complaint.

Not that Eda had ever complained about cuddling, and her free arm went around Camila's shoulders as soon as Camila settled in.

"So?" Eda asked. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Camila took a long sip of her drink. "You already know that I love you."

The hand about Camila’s shoulder pushed at her instead. "Not that!"

Camila could hear the blush in Eda's voice and she couldn't help but twist about to admire it. "I do love you, you know."

"I know." Eda pulled Camila back into her side. "And I love you too. But what were you going to tell me? Before we had sex?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," Camila said. "We've had a lot of sex and a lot of conversations interrupted by it."

"Camila." Eda's smile turned lascivious. "Yesterday. When I was on your lap and—"

"Ah, yes. That."

She should have known that Eda wouldn't have forgotten that conversation thread. She took another drink, this time for fortification as she considered how to broach a topic she had never intended to discuss.

Fuck it. There wasn't any good way. "How familiar are you with avian reproductive anatomy?"

Eda's expression went flat. Which Camila found funny, given that Eda had known that Camila had been thinking about a, quote-unquote, 'gross veterinarian thing'.

"Why the hell would I know anything about 'avian reproductive anatomy'?"

Camila couldn't resist snaking one hand between the couch and Eda's back, groping low until her fingers grazed Eda's ass. "Well, you are a bird sometimes. With a mammalian backside, but—"

"Camila."

She let her voice slip into a lecturer's cadence and ignored Eda's fidgeting. "Almost every bird species has a single posterior orifice called a cloaca and reproduction occurs via an cloacal kiss, which is honestly a very cute turn of"—Eda wasn't fidgeting anymore, her eyes were on Camila—"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're so fucking weird. It's cute. Unlike a cloacal kiss, which we will never discuss again."

Camila hid her laugh in Eda's shoulder and muffled her mock-protest into the soft cotton of her shirt. Eda plucked the mug from her hand, which, honestly was for the best. Camila would be the one stuck with cleaning up the stain if any of the alcohol spilled. "I'm not weird! This is my job, I literally have a doctorate in"—Eda placed a hand on Camila's chest and pushed, once—"Eda!"

Eda followed her down onto the couch, one knee pressed firm against Camila's centre, her body heavy on top of Camila. "Later, Cam." She was laughing, the asshole, turning Camila's own words against her. "Sex now."

[multifanatics]

All The World's a Stage || Joker x F!Reader

A/N: I wanted to try my hand at writing a Joker x Reader fic since I finished Harley Quinn and The Joker: Sound Mind and am getting the Harleen comics. The beginning is a tad gruesome, I have no idea why but here we are.

Warnings: Blood, Descriptive, The beginning is a bit gruesome, Twisted romance? PROCEED with caution as there are more that I haven't caught.

Word Count: 1164

The only other thing [Y/N] could hear was his signature maniacal laugh. His laughter and the thumping of her heart beat. The cause of her current rush of adrenaline that surged through her veins, the same adrenaline that kept her at her current task. The uncontrollable contagious laughter of no one other than the Joker himself was the only other thing she could hear. 

“I th.. I think that punchline STUCK!” He tried to contain his laughter while running a hand through his longer green hair in an attempt to get the stray strands back in the position they were previously. Joker stared at [Y/N] taking in the way the blood of the man who previously insulted her was so graciously splattered on her face. The weapon of choice was a hatchet, not exactly the cleanest but it did the job which was the center of today’s lesson. Using what you had over what you preferred and [Y/N] demonstrated the skills of an A+ student. 

“Did I do good?” [Y/N] asked as she came back to her reality. The adrenaline that sounded like a drum muted, causing her to be slightly more tired than she had been previously. 1 am on a skyscraper with a man who could kill her just as she had done to the poor man with a hatchet through his heart. It was the symbolism of the action that made her swing harder, and soothe her fear. Even with all rational thought rushing back to her the atmosphere felt romantic. [Y/N] was on a rooftop illuminated by Gotham city 330 feet below her with a special guest. What a dance, one may say a Midnight Waltz. 

“That question is starting to bore me.. Of COURSE you did well, I am the one who taught you.”  Narcissism, and dependence wrapped into man and woman who happened to find each other.  Unlucky are those who trifle with the stage they perform on such as The Batman which according to the news remained in a hospital overseas. Everyone bleeds but how many cuts does it take for an already fragile Bat until he bleeds black? 

“Well it seems the GCPD are missing an old friend. Perhaps we should bow and exit stage right?” [Y/N] gazed into the illuminescent sky where the Bat signal remained. Gotham’s way of saying Get better Batman.. We need you. The ‘hero’ who caused the villains in Gotham he currently could not control since the newest Arkham breakout which ricocheted with Blackgate. [Y/N] was brought out of her thoughts by Joker stepping onto the ledge of the skyscraper she watched his intricate steps. The tight rope routine is a known and practiced routine [Y/N] personally uses on old tightrope back at the circus. 

“To quote Shakespeare: ‘All the world's a stage.” Joker once again distracted [Y/N] from her own thoughts, handing her his hand. A Joker offering his hand was in many ways the most dangerous thing he could do, his hand had a taunt to it, something that would drive any sane civilian insane. Between a clown and a showman this taunt became much more personal, especially when they were equally insane. [Y/N] places her hand in Joker's; the taunt was irresistible. Come, show me. Let me put you on display for this is our Gotham. [Y/N] stepped onto the ledge with the man who claimed her as his equal, a relationship never spoken yet known between both parties. A slow waltz between the two came to fruition after [Y/N] learned her balance. The slow movement matched what could have been Moonlight Sonata (First Movement). The night sky and slow movement made them cling to each other as if life could decide to throw them both off the edge. The night time breeze became a wind setting a romantic scene. Without death to the underlings of Gotham this moment would not exist: the perfect moment between man and woman.The feeling of being without restrictions, without law, and without those troubles that keep children up at night. The real nightmares of Gotham were sleeping, plotting, or dancing on the ledge of a skyscraper. Gotham is a city of beauty and love with corruption, in so many ways being a villain was an act of the truest love.

“Must we leave so soon?” [Y/N] frowned as she brought the flashing blue and red lights to Joker’s attention. The innocence of the moment ruined by the GCPD and a frown. 

“We can continue later, as for now we must exit our stage.” Joker held his hand that was intertwined with [Y/N]’s over the concrete ground of the building. In a simple gesture to help her down from the ledge before hopping down himself. [Y/N] guided him toward the emergency stairwell, her hand still in his per his silent request. The current chaos of the police being at the scene yet slipping away as though they had never been there after a dance had humor to it. They both ran down the emergency stairwell dreading the echoing of their feet and Joker’s uncontrollable laughter. Soon enough they both had made their getaway with the help of some man Joker held at gunpoint so they could arrive back home safely. 

“Such a shame.” [Y/N] took Joker’s gun and killed the man before exiting the car. A place of safety should never be at risk. A person of safety should be accompanied when thrown back into Arkham... Given why crime lords work with others to take the fall. [Y/N] walked into their current safe place and placed a vinyl on the old record player. She watched as the vinyl spun and classical came out in return, safe at last. In the criminal world of Gotham there weren’t many places you could be safe when your name was in the five o'clock news every night. Joker took [Y/N]’s hand into his and spun her into him finishing the dance they enjoyed. There was something intimate rather than romantic about the shared dance in a different light. Very clearly there was a line drawn of where Joker stood in this relationship of sorts and when he could cross said line. He pulls [Y/N] closer to him as they dance, he spun her once pulling her back into him before dipping her and catching her with his palm on her lower back. A bow of sorts to conclude another day of which they lived, and no show was complete without some sort of kiss between the main characters. A kiss that sealed the fate of each character, in this specific instance the fate of jokes, crime, and the impending doom of death. [Y/N] wraps her arms around Joker’s neck as he removes his hand from her back, a test of his strength as they both focus on locking in each other's fate. What an irony. 

[k00321183]

[14/11/24]

I had a few quick sketches I had made throughout my day of different relations I have from family, friends, and also love. I had multiple ideas of using different objects that you find and will connect together or to something and compared them with each of my relations.

Magnet;

I used magnet to represent the relationship between me and my mother, I quoted it as 'trying to make it work, but it won't'. I used this quote to represent how two magnets will push each other away rather than connect together like they would when they're on a fridge. Me and my mams relationship is always rocky and we always try to make it work with each other but in the end we will always push away from each other and keep our distance than try to keep it the way it was while I was younger. I thought magnet was just the perfect representation for me and her.

Cups and lids;

Cups and lids were my representations of me and my younger sisters. 'Like a cup, some lids are too small they just fall in'. My sisters are younger than me, and physically and mentally smaller and younger. I had an idea of using these objects that connect together for them because of the distance in our age, and how they're so small they fall from my arms because I'm not going to be there with them forever and they will never get to know me for the real me, and who I am as a person because of how distant we can be towards each other as well.

Plug and socket;

My use of the plug and socket was for me and boyfriend and the love I have in my life with him. 'The right plug is made for the right person.' I realised the plug and socket could represent intimacy between two people in different ways, not just in a sexual but emotional way. I had the idea of us being the plug and socket for each other because it represents how well we are with each other, in so many ways, which is the positive of most of these ideas. The thought of us being together reminded me of electricity, because with love, it has some sort of zing between it, like a plug gaining electricity from the socket.

Lego;

Lego was my only representation I could think of for my friendships. 'The lego pieces will always be connected, not always so perfectly but the ones that work, do.' I thought this was a perfect description of having friends, you will have your friends that will click in and work perfectly like two lego pieces that were meant to work will, but sometimes they will come loose and you'll lose them, but when they're right they'll stay stuck together and you can't lose them.

All of my relations I have in real life I was easily able to figure out which fits which object I had thought about using originally for my main object related project, but switching from just the plugs and sockets to making it related to my real life makes it so much easier for me to come up with more ideas for my project. :)

[revvethasmythh]

17 25 30

17. talk about your writing and editing process

Honestly, it varies wildly from project to project, and is especially different between fic and original fiction. I'm much more lackadaisical about fic because it requires a lot less prep and usually will have a lot less length than my original fiction (I never mastered the short story--all I know how to do is write full length novels).

The writing process for fic is usually that I'll come up with a concept, maybe scribble down a few lines that could work as an entry point to the story, and then I'll just do it and see where it takes me. I keep editing to the minimal, usually just line edits, though I'll do some structural edits when absolutely necessary and obviously edit to correct mistakes regarding canon. But that's basically it, the process isn't very complicated for me even dealing with bigger pieces (or pieces that get bigger as I go along), I'll just outline as I go until I've got it all figured out. I wing it, basically.

Original fiction is a little trickier. There's a lot more that you have to build out in an original story and I tend to let ideas simmer for a long time before committing anything to paper. I like to have a full compendium of main characters, setting, worldbuilding, magic, and some philosophical concepts where necessary (such as, my current draft is highly focused on death and the afterlife, so what does that look like in-world? How do people interact with the afterlife/ghosts? Funerary rites, philosophy on death, that sort of stuff). I've sat on stories for a year or two figuring this sort of stuff out before writing anything beyond cursory character descriptions. And editing for original fiction is a lot harder for me specifically, because I'm not great at editing! Large, structural edits are very difficult for me! (And they're usually necessary due to the "figure it out as you go" nature of the way I write). I prefer drafting a lot more than editing, which is probably my biggest weakness as a writer. The day I crack outlining and editing it's over for you all. Alas, who knows when that will be.

The only consistent thing about my process between fic and original is that I pretty much always take notes/figure out my next steps in a physical journal. I don't know what it is about writing on actual paper, but it's the only way I can really organize my thoughts. It just doesn't happen when I'm typing on a computer the same way at all. So my journals are filled with weird quotes and half-concepts that help get the ball rolling again. If I didn't do that, I'd get stuck on just about everything I've ever written.

25. besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

I have a lot of random hobbies. I knit, sometimes I crochet even though I hate it (holding ONE needle?? uncomfortable, impossible, awful), I'm an equestrian, I'd consider myself a home-chef and a hobbyist baker, I kickbox, I cosplay, sometimes I draw--man, I don't know, I do a lot when I can. Does working out in general count as a hobby? I'm pretty fitness oriented on the day to day.

30. share a fic you’re especially proud of

I'm pretty proud of this bg3 fic I wrote (for my durge) during the holidays actually. Considering I was low-key delirious for half of the writing time (I wrote 7 out of 9.5k of it in one night!) I think it turned out remarkably well and has some in-character dialogue/conversations I'm especially proud of in all my work.

ask me about writing!

[dallasareaopinion]

The one thousandth post

It has been over twelve years since I first started this blog. And I knew the 1,000 post was coming up, so I wanted to write something so profound the universe would stop, you know the pride thing going on. Well…I can’t think of a thing.

And between spending three weeks in Washington D. C. moving, being tired, and uninspired I haven’t gotten around to this post. Yes we are in a new place and are settling in so do I have all the good excuses not to be Mt. Tibet inspired to save you all from your daily drudgery?

I was thinking this morning just in general not for this blog and thought the more I travel the more I realize how little I know. And that just sounded so familiar that I internet searched. Yep there are quite a few similar quotes running around about traveling and realizing how little you know.  Yet I do feel quite strongly about that thought. And I think I have blogged about something similar before because one of my favorite quotes is from St. Augustine “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” And as always he hits the nail on the head. And my thinking is quite a few problems we face could be eventually solved if more people had a better idea of everything going on beyond their scope of life. And besides traveling is quite fun.

So the above is not quite the earth shattering post I wanted to make, however, it does incorporate one of my favorite topics and pastimes, traveling. I love to travel and see new and even familiar places. Right now though I am sitting on my couch trying to figure out what to post.

And since I have not reached the peak of thought for mankind I decided I just needed to make my post and move on. I still owe you the rest of my independent or fictional third party platform for 2024’s election. It isn’t like our government is racing to solve all our problems right now and with Tucker in Russia committing treason, Trump crying don’t do anything so I can win, the Democrats caught between the games the Republicans play and their inability to push through them, the left and right wing media all geared up to tell us how bad is the other side, and absolutely no legislation of any kind about to be passed we, the people as usual are screwed. And quite frankly the Republicans now saying we shouldn’t do anything until the people decide with the next election along with them saying it was a rigged election if they lose, we can now guarantee nothing will be achieved for years.

And yet for some reason, as little as I don’t like government it would help if it actually did address some issues. And yes I know the Democrats are trying to do something and there was a bi partisan attempt at the border issue, but hey Trump passed gas so the Republican righteous jumped at the prescribed height and so no border bill.

And for the vast majority of us, we are stuck paying too much for everything, mainly now for corporate greed because hey, Wall Street prescribes the height they are to jump to, and no help from the people who we pay through tax dollars to protect us from enemies within and outside of our borders.

I will continue my tirades just so when the deal goes down there is something in writing that says I tried to tell you so. Maybe some future alien civilization will come across the remnants of our planet and dig through all the terabytes of information left behind and go, hey at least someone knew things weren’t working. Ah to be so redeemed.

Anyway if you are reading this on Tumblr or Wordpress you may go I do not see 1,000 posts and that is because I originally started this on blogger or blogspot or whatever and then somewhere along the line I started this same blog on the other two platforms and just copy and paste the same post to all three sites. My thinking is I need to try and reach more people. Who knows if that is succeeding. So if you want to catch up you have to go to blogger or blogspot and read from the beginning. I also changed my original description of this blog. At first it was a couple of paragraphs long, now it is a simple sentence that really doesn’t describe the blog, yet is more of my feeling about the whole sha bang.

Eventually I do want to do a podcast tied to this blog while still posting in the written word. I have a microphone someone gave me, however in all the moves we have made in less than a year I cannot find it. Once I do, be forewarned. My plan is for some of the podcasts to compliment my written posts and some to be on separate topics. And then there is the quote the best laid plans of mice and men and if you want to read something profound maybe read Steinbeck. And according to all the modern world thinking, I also need to create a brand so people can understand who am I. That is simple: crotchety old man who thinks he knows it all, who is frustrated that the people who say they know it all keep screwing it up. How about that for a brand?

Folks, we all need something better than the current leadership we have in this country and elsewhere on this planet, and honestly I hope we find it because I want to travel to where you live and enjoy life with you.

Cheers!

And before I forget, Go Mavs, Stars, FC Dallas, Rangers and then Cowboys (sheesh). Wish Dallas had received the World Cup Championship, but we did receive 9 games so it will be fun around here in 2026.

And yes there is quite a bit of news right now, but everyone else is commenting on all the craziness so another time maybe.

[townofcrosshollow]

Twine Sugarcube 101

AKA, all you need to make a Twine game (I swear to god)

I’ve seen a lot of people go “Twine is too complicated for me :(” and give up before they’ve even started. And that makes me sad, partly because they’re giving up on a really cool hobby, and also because that’s false! It’s absolutely not too complicated for you!

I think the problem is that people look up Twine, see the documentation, and go “There’s way too much there! I can’t learn all that!” Well guess what- you shouldn’t learn all that, at least not yet. As a beginner you can skip pretty much all of this:

(Ignore <<linkappend>> too, forgot to crop that one out)

That’s a lot more manageable, right? Below the cut, I’ll let you know how to use all those remaining important things to make your story! Warning- it’s quite long! You might want to read it in sections! And while I’ll try to keep it entertaining, it’s also a coding tutorial, so... y’know. Might not be the most exciting read if you aren’t trying to learn Twine.

Welcome to below the cut!

First off, make sure your story format is set to Sugarcube 2. On the right side of the home screen (with all your stories), click format and choose the one labeled “Sugarcube 2.x.x” then open a new story with the green button! Here’s what you’ll see and what it all means:

Passages are all like individual web pages that you navigate between to play the game. When they’re linked together they’ll be shown like this:

Anything you write in a passage will just be shown on screen as plain text, no code required! But if you want to make anything more than just one passage with a bunch of text, you’ll have to link passages together with...

Links!

A link is composed of two parts- the text you see on screen, and the name of the passage you’re attaching it to. These are enclosed in [[double square brackets]], with a vertical bar | or a little arrow -> between them. If you want to show the passage name instead of alternative text, you can just put the passage name in square brackets alone! So this in the editor:

[[Visible text|Passage name]]

[[Visible text->Passage name]]

[[Passage name]]

Will look like this in the story:

Visible text

Visible text

Passage name

And all of them will lead to the passage labeled “Passage name.” You don’t even need to create the passage- when Twine sees that you’ve linked to a passage that doesn’t exist, it’ll add that passage for you.

That’s all you need to know! Technically, all you need to do to make a Twine story is add those fancy links between passages. If you add your awesome writing skills, that story will be super cool!

...but you want to do some fancy shit, right? Well let me introduce you to the next step up in complexity,

Variables!

“Variable” is a fun, code-y way to say “a bit of information that can change.” You could say they... vary.

Variables are useful for keeping track of information. If the player chooses to be blonde instead of a redhead, you might want to bring that up again- but you probably don’t want to write an entirely separate story based on that choice, right? So instead you save that information as a variable.

In Twine, variables are written as words with a $ in front of them. So my hair colour variable might be “$hairColour.” If you just write the variable out without any code, Twine will print the information you put into the variable. So if $hairColour is set to “blonde,” this...

She had $hairColour hair.

Will become...

She had blonde hair.

The value in a variable can be a boolean (ie. true or false), a number, or a string (like “blonde” or “any other string of characters”). They can also be fancy stuff like arrays, but we won’t be touching on that.

You can use variables to keep track of a lot of things! For instance...

How much money the player has

Whether a player has a key

What the player’s name is

I keep mentioning the value of a variable or “setting” it, but how do you do that? Well, one way is to add it to a link. If you want a link to set hair colour to blonde, for instance, you could write [[Blonde|Next passage][$hairColour to “blonde”]]. Clicking on that link would forward the player to “Next passage” and set the value of $hairColour to “blonde.”

There is a better way of doing it, however, but we’ll need to talk about...

Macros!

A macro is a snippet of code that runs when you put a special code word inside these <<spiky boys>>. You can write your own macros with JavaScript if you’re smart, find them on the internet if you’re even more smart, or just use the ones that come built in with Sugarcube.

The ones we’ll be talking about, and the ones that are the most important for most Twine games, are <<set>>, <<if>>, and <<link>>.

<<set>>

The <<set>> macro allows you to, you guessed it, assign a value to a variable. For instance, if you want to set $hairColour to blonde... well, that’s all you need to do! It’s just:

<<set $hairColour to “blonde”>>

It’s important to remember with the <<set>> macro that strings (collections of different characters) require quotation marks around them to show the code that it isn’t a number or a true/false value. If you put quotes around a number and try to do math with that variable, you’ll get a big ol’ error message.

If you’re using numbers, you can also use JavaScript operators in place of “to.” Each one will perform a calculation on the variable if that variable is a number, and then replace the variable with the result. If you want to add $5 to the player’s $money, you could use this:

<<set $money += 5>>

The “+=“ will add the number on the right to the variable on the left. “-=“ will do the same for subtraction, “*=“ for multiplication, and “/=“ for division. Easy enough, just don’t forget the = sign after the usual symbol!

By default, the <<set>> macro will be executed as soon as the page it’s on loads. Sometimes that’s useful, but sometimes you would rather the player click a link that sets a variable- like if they choose a hair colour. You might also want the same link to set multiple variables, like subtracting money and giving them an item when they use a shop. How do we do that?

<<link>>

The <<link>> macro is also pretty simple. All it does is create a link, and when that link it pressed it executes whatever is inside of it. Here we’ll be using it with <<set>>, but you can use it with all kinds of different macros and even nest some of them to do really complicated stuff!

As an example, we want the player to click “buy key,” give the player the key, and subtract $5 from their money. Here’s how we do it:

<<link “Buy key”>>

<<set $key to true>>

<<set $money -= 5>>

<</link>>

The text the player will click is in quotation marks, and after all of the macros we need to execute we have to close off the code by adding <</link>>. Easy, right?

But other than printing them on the screen, what can you actually use those variables for? Well, for that we’ll be using...

<<if>>

The <<if>> macro is my favourite, hands down, because it’s an easy way of accomplishing hard stuff. Simply put, <<if>> will check if the thing you asked about is true, and if it is, it will do whatever you put inside of it.

Here’s a simple example:

<<if $key is true>>

[[Use the key|Progress]]

<</if>>

Whatever is inside the <<if>> macro will be executed if the “if” statement is true. In this case, the link “Use the key” will be printed on the screen only if the player has the key. This also applies to code- if you put a <<set>> macro inside, that macro would only set a variable if the player has the key.

Now here’s a more complicated example, to show everything the <<if>> macro is capable of. Here we also want to check if they’ve already opened the door, and display alternate text if they have no key and the door is locked.

<<if $key is true>>

[[Use the key|Progress]]

<<elseif $doorOpen is true>>

[[Walk through|Progress]]

<<else>>

You need to find a key.

<</if>>

I’ll break it down line by line to tell you what each thing does.

<<if $key is true>>

This line is the only necessary one- it checks whether $key has been set to true. You can check for any value that a variable can be, like a number, true/false, or a string. You can also check for other things with this macro- for instance, “isnot” will check that the variable isn’t equal to the value on the right. “gt” or “lt” will check if the variable is greater/lesser than the value on the right, and “gte” or “lte” will check if it is greater than or equal to the value.

<<elseif $doorOpen is true>>

This line allows us to check for something else within the same <<if>> macro. Once the game has checked the original <<if>> and found that it is false, it will move on to checking each <<elseif>> until it finds one that is true. You can have as many <<elseif>>s as you need, and they can check the same variable or different variables, but only the first true one will be executed! And, of course, you can’t use <<elseif>> on its own- it’s stuck to the <<if>> macro!

<<else>>

This line is the last resort- if the original <<if>> and any <<elseif>>s have all been false, the game will execute whatever is after <<else>>. Because of this, there can only be one <<else>> line within any <<if>> macro! If you don’t have an <<else>>, nothing at all will be executed, so whether you include one depends on the situation.

<</if>>

This closes off the <<if>> macro. Nothing special, but very important! Put it after the last piece of code or bit of text you want the macro to control.

Phew. That’s it! That’s all I wanted to show you!

Now, HOMEWORK!

Okay, not homework, just practice. Here are some things you can try building to practice all these tools and get comfortable with how they work!

A store system with different items for different amounts of money

A character creation screen, followed by a description of your character (with variables!)

A puzzle that requires you to choose the right answer to proceed

If you have any trouble, need to ask any questions, or if something in this tutorial wasn’t clear to you, please let me know- you can DM me or send me an ask anytime and I’m happy to answer any Twine questions you have. I hope this was of use to you, and have fun making games <3

[lightns881]

DTeam Tumblr Demographics Survey Results (Part 1):

The Gifted Child Syndrome is Real with this One...

*Rubs hands together in preparation for some juicy data and in-depth analysis of the typical member of the DTeam Tumblr community*

Ooooooooh boy! Here we go!

I want to start of by thanking you guys for over 400 responses to the demographics survey! Y’all have no idea how much I appreciate it! We have so much to cover, so I’m going to divide up different sections of the survey into several posts to make it more digestable and do justice to each topic explored in the form! We’re going to start of with, you guessed it, personality types!

Strap yourself in because we’re about to thoroughly dissect your sub-conscious innerworkings and find out how the typical DTeam Tumblr Fan thinks! (And judging by the majority personality types, you guys will probably enjoy it)

The Delicious Data

From the 449 responses we received, this is a pie chart displaying the personality types of all respondents.

Image Description: INFP (40.5%), INTP (15.1%), INFJ (8.9%), INTJ (8.9%), ISFP (6.9%), ENFP (4.2%), ISTP (4.0%), ENTP (3.8%), ESFP (1.6%), ISFJ (1.6%), ENTJ (1.3%), ENFJ (1.3%), ISTJ (1.1%), ESTP (0.4%), ESFJ (0.2%), ESTJ (0%)

In comparison, this is a pie chart displaying the personality type percentages of the population as a whole according to the MBTI website.

Image Description: ISTP (14%), ESFJ (12%), ISTJ (12%), ISFP (9%), ESTJ (9%), ESFP (8%) ENFP (8%), ISTP (5%), INFP (4%), ESTP (4%), INTP (3%), ENTP (3%), ENFJ (2%), INTJ (2%), ENTJ (2%), INFJ (1%)

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sensing a tiny difference here... Oh, right!

INxx’s on the Loose!

It’s funny. When I first found one of the 18+ DTeam fan servers through Tumblr, I asked everyone what their personality type was. I was pleasantly surprised when a lot of them told me they were INFPs like me!

It actually reminded me of MatPat’s (Game Theory) survey for one of his Life Is Strange theories that found the majority personality there was also INFP...

Funny enough, can you guess what the second leading personality on that survey was? The third? The fourth?

You probably guessed it right. MatPat found that out of the fans who responded, the leading majority was INFP while INTPs came in second, INFJs came in third, and INTJs came in fourth. The exact order for the personality types in DTeam Tumblr.

But why is it that some of the rarer personalities of the world are dominating DTeam Tumblr or Game Theory’s fanbase? What is it about these communities that attract the rare introverted Intuitive Perceivers (INxP) and Intuitive Judgers (INxJ) of the world like magnets?

The Gifted Kid Syndrome

To answer this question, first we have to examine our leading personalities. As we can see from the data, INFPs and INTPs make up 55.6% and INFJs and INTJs make up 17.8% of the total respondents. That’s nearly 3/4′s of the DTeam Tumblr population made up of INxx types!

Now, here’s me calling y’all out.

A lot of you probably relate to the quiet kid sitting at the back of the classroom who’s put into some type of TAG, gifted program, or some authority figure has probably called you smart and/or “gifted” at some point in your life. Academics probably came easy to you at one point, maybe they still do.

You’ve probably felt your chest swell up at the shower of compliments about your intelligence and at another... you’ve probably felt like people put you in a pedestal and overrate you so you’re stuck with this inherent fear of failure, and it causes you to completely shut down when the things that came easy to you at one point no longer do so. 

It’s gifted kid syndrome hitting you like a brick to the face. And if it hasn’t yet, oh you’re in for a surprise, honey.

And I’m sure many of you have come across funny, relatable posts like this:

And you want to know why most of you relate?

Image Description: INTP, INTJ, INFP, anf INFJ’s rate the highest in a giftedness per MBTI Type chart

No. You’re not hallucinating. It’s not even a joke at this point. It feels true because it probably is true.

(Granted, the study that captured similar results to this graph is long lost to the internet, but the best source I found with it was a reddit post I will be citing in the reblog.)

Now, my next point is where we find a split.

INFPs and INTPs and their Need to Question Everything (even if it’s about one sentence [insert creator here] said that one time during a 4-hour long stream)

The strongest connection I found between the two leading personalities of DTeam Tumblr is they share Extraverted Intuiting (Ne) as their auxiliary cognitive function.

I’ll use a quote that explains Ne better than I could ever explain it in my own words:

“Extraverted intuition or Ne is very much focused on patterns and making connections from information they gather... Ne dominant users enjoy being able to explore things in a much more open manner, not wanting to feel closed off to the possibilities around them... They are also highly imaginative people, who enjoy being able to come up with unique hobbies and experiences... They are not afraid of imagining things which seem almost impossible to others... [For INFPs,] Ne is what creates this detailed and incredible thoughts process which keeps them busy for long periods of time.”

And another:

“Auxiliary Ne manifests in people constantly questioning the world around them, but unlike ENxPs, they can be more pick and choose about this. But generally, they don’t take people, things and events at face value.“

Now, think about the community you’re in right now. Think about the post you’re reading at the moment.

DTeam Tumblr is full of over-analysis posts, whether about Dream and George’s secret love for each other or about the inherent problems with Dream’s shipbait and gay jokes or theories about what’s going to happen next in the dream SMP lore and the dramatic betrayals and creator’s descend into madness and more theories about sexuality and charts depicting creator’s personalities and what they’d be likely to do in different scenarios and... ooof, I’m out of breath here. You get my point.

DTeam Tumblr is literally a group of ex-gifted or gifted introverted people who love to read or write analysis, theory, and discussion posts about sweaty Minecraft Youtubers because they’re probably too overwhelmed by real life and find joy in obsessing over “dumb” things.

That’s it. That’s literally the post. I might as well end there.

But I won’t. 

Because obsessions is exactly what I want to focus on next.

The Inherent Nature of the INFP and their “Micro-Obsessions”

This is me having a one-to-one conversation with all my INFPs reading this.

Do you sometimes just set your mind on a goal--like, let’s say, writing a book--and you spend so much time obsessing over it to the point where you burn out and suddenly it never sees the light of day because you move onto your next goal or obsession because now you’re getting ready to launch your freelance website so you can start a business on [insert new hobby here]?

Or do you just suddenly find a fandom or a show or a channel you really enjoy and you spend the next few months doing nothing but engaging with it and reading fanfiction and drawing fan art or making dumb analysis posts on your main Tumblr account where suddenly you get an influx of followers from that community and now people are expecting you to just post about MCYT!?

Oh, sorry, I got a little carried away at the end there...

Anyhow, my point is, do you ever develop an obsession over something all the sudden only for it to just disappear when you find something new or just fall into the deep crevices of your mind only for it to maybe reemerge a few years later after you get a deep sense of nostalgia remembering it?

I call them micro-obsessions. And I recently found out, I’m not the only one who does this!

Here’s another quote for you: 

“According to Carl Jung’s theory of cognitive functions, when an INFP makes a decision, Ne comes in second to another process known as Introverted Feeling (Fi). Fi does not use logic to make a decision. It uses how we feel about the decision according to our values. In other words, it asks, “Which choice feels right for me?”

Ne, on the other hand, craves new ideas and experiences to explore, which causes INFPs to always be on the lookout for something novel.

Unfortunately, INFPs can get stuck in a loop, going back and forth between their Ne and Fi. They search to understand their values by constantly trying new things. They ask themselves, “Does this feel right?” then throw it over their shoulder as they move on to something else.”

So, you’re probably asking right about now, Light, how the heck does any of this have anything to do with the Dream Team and MCYT!?

Well, my friend, it has EVERYTHING to do with the Dream Team and MCYT and DTeam Tumblr as a whole.

Because INxx’s are predisposed to end up in places like this--fandoms on Tumblr, channels that speculate whether Mario is evil, watching dramatic Minecraft smp wars and elections as opposed to looking at the news that depicts Murphy’s Law as 2020′s new favorite epigram. 

The introvert in them causes them to prefer socializing in small communities online where they’re not forced to engage in conversations if they don’t want to or put into uncomfortable situations where they have to talk to that one friend of their friend who wants to make meaningless small chat.

Their Intuition causes them to wonder into places like Tumblr where they can engage in deep discussions about their newest obsessions, and they won’t be judged for writing a 500+ word post about why Dream’s shipbait tactics are a genius algorithm strat or simping over sweaty Minecraft boys.

DTeam Tumblr is a safe haven for INFPs and INTPs who might be placed in the “other” category or marked as weird for being interested in “childish” entertainment or being different from the general population overall, whether that’d be sexuality, point of view, age, gender, etc. A place where you can fully be yourself and not have to worry about disappointing people.

INFPs are predisposed for drowning themselves in their micro-obsessions to avoid all of the madness in the world--even if that means giggling like a little girl while reading memes about your favorite Minecraft YouTube creators.

That is a deep-dive into the mind of a typical DTeam Tumblr user. What do you think? Is it accurate at all? Is it completely off? Let me know in the comments!

And with that, I digress. I’m not sure whether I’ll be covering general demographics next week or diving into the topic of ships (could be a mix of both), but I will be posting about it eventually, so make sure to hit the follow if you got to the end of this post and enjoyed it or learned something new from it!

Friendly reminder that this survey and post is in no way supposed to be taken 100% seriously. These are just the ramblings of a math major INFP with too much time on her hands and way too big of an obsession for MCYT. My asks are always open for literally anything, whether if you want to ask me about this or any DNF related subject, my own opinions, or just criticize the whole of this post and tell me it’s complete trash! I’ll answer as long as it’s appropriate!

And, again, thank you everyone who filled out the survey. Without y’all, this post wouldn’t be possible. I really enjoyed writing it! Adios!

[reginarubie]

This was from a prompt list by nick---mulligan

Literally Anything Involving The Game Assassins "I think the guy who has me as a target is in the student union, hey random person, can you pretend to be my partner and then break up with me so he feels bad and won't tag me" "I have you as a target but stalking you has made me fall in love with you" "I have you as a target HOW MANY WIGS CAN YOU POSSIBLY HAVE WTF" "You have me as a target, but classes are a no-tag zone, and we're upperclassmen in the same major, so we have all the same classes" "You have me as a target DID YOU JUST JUMP OUT OF A MOVING VEHICLE ARE YOU INSANE"

You can use the lines as prompt words, or just to get a general idea of the game if you don't know it.

Or if your not feeling that prompt

Two Students, Chillin' in the Stacks, 2 Feet Apart Because They're Both Stubborn (the lever rolling the bookshelves apart is stuck, so there's like 2 feet of space between those shelves, but these two absolutely need books in this specific aisle, so they're sandwiched in and doing their best)

you don't have to do them exact just the general gist. Or anything that strikes your fancy!

Ciao!,

So, first of all thank you for the prompts! For the first one you'll have to wait a bit because I actually don't know the game and I'm going on a research-spree before I write something about it ;) those quotes are amazing though (especially the «You have me as a target, DID YOU JUST JUMP OUT OF A MOVING VEHICLE, ARE YOU INSANE?», I am obsessed with it, most probably than not that will be the opening quote of the prompt, just spoilering)

So I decided to write the second one (for now) you're going to get also the first one, when my research-spree is over!

As I started writing this I realized you had not chosen a couple, and though I am primarily a Jonsa writer, I write also other couples, and I decided I wanted to keep it neutral, as if it was an original work. For that same reason I left aside the description of the characters so that you can fill the blanks and decide, by their characterization how you want them to look like. You want them to have dark skin and curly hair, you can do that; you want them to have blue eyes and blond hair or whatever else? You can do that. Basically I'm giving you, and all readers freedom to decide how they want these characters to be.

Representation matters, so what better way than to make it count in my little corner than this way, neutrally described characters?, imagine it like one of those books for kids and parents in which you can choose the skin color and appearance of the character even if the story remains the same.

[And I dearly hope I haven't offended anyone with the way I phrased it]

You can read it after the cut!

Fair warning, as I settled to write this I kind of took the tangent and got inspired by Dandelions (so I do advise you listen to it while you read because I listened to it on repeat while I wrote this, it just gave me the vibe of soft stubbornness of one of the characters) and it turned out a bit more romantically nuanced that I had first planned, nevertheless, hope you enjoy!

Dandelions in between pages

Prompt: Two Students, Chillin' in the Stacks, 2 Feet Apart Because They're Both Stubborn (the lever rolling the bookshelves apart is stuck, so there's like 2 feet of space between those shelves, but these two absolutely need books in this specific aisle, so they're sandwiched in and doing their best)

They’ve fought. And that isn’t even the worst part of it.

Do you want to know what the worst part of this is?

That he is stubborn enough to just cause problems, and while the universe never once replies to her…oh how it complies when he is the one manifesting. 

[Like that time he manifested with that bright grin on his face that they’d be paired for a group project and they ended up being paired for every group project of that semester]

So, of course they need books from the very same aisle of the library, and, of course, the lever rolling is stuck. And, of course, because he is a spine in the side, he couldn’t just wait five minutes, let her take her books and then proceed with his own research.

No, that’s what smart and sensible person would do. 

[why hasn’t she done it, you might ask?, she’s not about to analyze that little detail. Thank you and amen.]

Instead, the moment he has seen her struggling with the lever rolling what has he done?, made a literal bolt for it, closing her in the space of barely two feet, his side basically hovering over her own. 

The little—

Okay. She can do this. It’s not like she’s had a crush on him for the best part of the semester. 

She’s developed a massive crush on the guy who sits next to him in class though, he’s smart and sensible and polite. He never once made fun of her nor has he ever shown himself bold enough to interrupt her when she’s asking her question to initiate a damned debate in the middle of a lesson. 

[She likes nice guys, and so? What’s so bad about it? Her crush has a very sweet smile though it never reaches his eyes. His smile, instead, is frustrating beyond measure. He smiles with his whole face — like he’s doing now — like he knows one secret only he is privy to, and his eyes crinkle at the edges and his irises sparkle with mirth and fondness at his own jokes. She’d enjoy it much better if it wasn’t always made at her expanses— and that is a thought better left alone. She doesn’t enjoy it, period. His smile is as brass as he is, nothing enchanting about it].

“Couldn’t you have waited five minutes?” she asks, frustration seeping in her very tone. 

“Couldn’t you?” he counters “you were clearly busy trying to unstuck the lever, I figured it would be safe—”

She doesn’t even let him finish his idiotic justification “Which is why you felt the need to make a bolt for it”

He gapes at her in a mixture of awe and fondness she’s not analyzing, EVER.

So, what if they’ve fought?, she thinks, she still owes him a punch for what he said. 

[And now, you might wonder, why have they fought? Well don’t they always fight for the same very thing? He’s vexing. That’s the truth and she suspects he might find her as vexing as she does him, yet he’s still always around her, poking at her sensibilities, making fun of her color-coded study system and her artsy notes. She thinks he’s jealous. So if you ask her why they’ve fought..? Just more of the same. He poked a bit too much fun to her notes, and maybe tones rose a bit too much, and maybe she told him he was a pain in the ass, and when he had refuted that she looked like she enjoyed staring at him during class she had boldly told him he was just collateral and she was actually staring at his friend whose twice lovelier than he is. He had looked hurt at that and had flipped her the bird, told her she’d never ever get with his friend and stalked away, leaving her with a heavy heart and her stomach twisting in uncomfortable knots]

He chuckles breathily and she refuses to acknowledge the way his breath tingles the back of her neck and make her squirm. It’s disgust, she thinks, she feels uncomfortable. 

[That's denial.]

He looks down as he smiles and fondness does shine in his eyes and…does he look a bit shy?

It’s not possible, she reasons with herself. And why there’s a sense of contentment sitting deep in her gut?

Oh, look, his eyes are crinkling in the corners, since they’ve fought his smile has been sparse, she has noticed.

[She’s been looking out for it]

“You know you could’ve just tried to unstuck the lever,” she points out “it’s what a gentleman would’ve done”

He chuckles “Why, do you want me to be a gentleman with you?” he asks and she feels her cheeks flare, she looks down to the list of books, forcing herself to ignore the way he has shifted and is now pressed against her back. His chest is surprisingly warm and soft, despite she knowing he has his fair share of muscles, she’s seen him too many times without a shirt as he trains on track—

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get in close quarters with you” he breathes out in a joke and she snaps her head back up from her list of books she needs. 

[He doesn’t sound like he’s joking at all]

“Look,” she says, ignore it, ignore it, ignore it “there’s only one way we’ll able to get out of this mess” she tells him and he cocks his eyebrow at her.

[It would be sufficient for one of them to step back, yes it would get a bit of maneuvering but with the right motivation one of them could step back, let the other take their book and then to the same. She almost challenges him to rock-paper-scissor to see who’s the unlucky soul who’ll need to wait]

He’s looking at her completely entranced. 

“You’re taller,” she points out like it’s obvious “You reach for where I can’t,” she says “You take all the books and then walk away, I’ll follow you” she adds unhelpfully. 

[this plan is shit]

“Okay” he breathes out and— why is he looking at her like that anyway?, his hand is suddenly in her vision “give me the list, and try to slither your way out of there” he says gesturing with a finger in the direction of the end of the aisle. 

She crosses her arms to her chest, clutching the list in her hand “Not a chance in hell,” she says “you would mistake the books on purpose and—” her voice gets stuck in her throat when he grabs her by one hip, his hand is surprising gentle even if his hold is firm on her, and it silences her.

He snatches the list from her hand, his jaw clenched— a muscle jumping near the juncture with his ear and she gulps “Do as you will,” he says “just don’t— slap me” 

“Why would I slap..?” her question falls on deaf ears because he is intently reading her list, his lips slightly curling and his hand is still curled possessively at her hip. 

He looks up and smiles at her, his eyes crinkling in the corners “Move” he commands and she shakes her head.

“I told you I don’t trust you to not—” his other hand comes up, resting on the shelves just on the same level as her face, caging her in,  he leans closer and she gets a whiff of his scent. Tobacco, she knows he smokes — she hates it besides, since when do athletes smoke? He’s a fraud — and mint and sandalwood and she feels her lips slightly opening, maybe… inviting?, she doesn’t know, but the way he’s solely focused on her makes her feel lightheaded. 

Since when has he been so intense, anyway?

[Always. He’s always looking at you and you know. A small voice that sounds like her brother whispers in her mind, unbidden]

“You really trust me so little?”

“You’re a—” she wets her lips “a troublemaker” she says “I would be foolish to trust you” 

“I’m playful” he says instead, still caging her in “you are the real troublemaker”

“I?” she snaps her eyes flaring and he chuckles, why does he draw so much pleasure from making fun of her she’ll never understand. She stands her ground. 

“My books,” she orders, “we don’t have all day, and an essay due on friday”she adds “I cannot fail this exam”

He rolls his eyes. 

“So bossy” he mutters, but does shift enough to get a good read at the titles before starting to collect the books, he steps forth and suddenly she finds herself sandwiched between him and the shelves, the spines of the books digging into her back, her hands finding purchase on the shelves and grabbing so tight they whiten. His chest is pressed against her, and she can see goosebumps rise in the exposed flesh of his collarbones when her breath fans against his skin.

[She’s not engaging in the thoughts of why she enjoys to get that reaction from him]

“You should’ve moved” 

“Huh?” she looks up and he has collected all of her books, piled them in his arms and is looking at her with mirth in his eyes and something else she cannot place.

“You should’ve moved,” he repeats “now we’re even more crammed because I also have the books” he adds. 

“Is this another excuse to vex me?” she demands her voice rising of an octave. 

He shrugs “Maybe it is another excuse to get closer to you” he says and he keeps saying this kind of things.

“Tell me, why you’re so intent on ruining my day?”

“Maybe I enjoy ruining you” he comments the innuendo clear in his tone of voice, dropped and hoarse and she isn’t so sure it’s safe to keep stubbornly not giving an inch. 

And suddenly something her mom used to say comes to her mind, when you have to give an inch make sure to take a mile.

“Wouldn’t you just enjoy that?, maybe you’d end up being the one being ruined” she sasses as she snatches the books from his arms ignoring the strain on her arms — they’re heavy — and she shoulders at his chest, shoving him (though she’s pretty sure he is humoring her and that her shove didn’t actually affect him) enough to get enough room to pass through, though it’s still a tight fit.  

Had she turned around she would’ve seen him smile.

Had she turned around she would’ve seen he didn’t take any books. 

Had she turned around she would’ve seen his eyes shining with fondness as he looks at her.

Had she turned around she would've seen him successfully unstuck the rolling lever of the shelves.  

But she doesn’t turn around.

She’s too stubborn for that, but he’s stubborn too, so he keeps ambushing her. Keeps stealing her pencil, keep sitting next to her in the library. Keeps starting debates when she wants to ask a question during the lessons — she doesn’t just imagine the professor enjoying those tête-à-têtes or the way she starts enjoying those too.

 [she’s not analyzing why she starts bringing more than one pencil and keeps the seat next to her in the library occupied with her purse until she sees him walking in her direction; why she rises her hand in class just to begin a debate as well. Why, in spring she goes to study near the tracks, and brings a bottle of iced water that he always gulps down when he approaches her at the end of his training to exchange back and forths. Doesn’t wonder why he starts carrying her books for her when they are speaking of some essay they have to do riding solo, but still end up sharing ideas about anyway]

She’s stubborn, so when he kisses her, in that very same aisle two months from now, she almost bites at his lip in retaliation. He’s stubborn too, so when she does bites his lip, he just grips her from behind her tights and presses her against the shelves in their secret alcove, his touch scorching. 

She doesn’t admit her feelings for him for quite some times even after they’ve kissed. 

[He’s stubborn too. He doesn’t let her go]

Fin

So, here you have it! Hope you enjoyed it!, again, thank you for the prompt, stay tuned for the first one, and I wish you an amazing sunday!

[knockknockchicagopd]

❛ OH, SHE ISN'T PLAYING ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY @ocetevasgirl: Hola preciosa! Can I request prompt 8 from the fluff list with Voight? Love you 💖

❚❙ PROMPTS: “You're jealous, aren't you?” “You're calling that jealousy? If she/he can still use her/his legs, I'm not being jealous”.

❚❙ HANK VOIGHT MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Since you saw this morning Olivia Benson walking downstairs accompanied by Voight, your good mood got burned into ashes just in a sight. He hadn't told you that she was going to come and, actually, he hadn't why to tell you. For him, it's only part of his job. But you know it's something else for her. You have seen her how she looks at your man. The unjustified and unnecessary touches on his back, on his arm. The stupid smiles she draws to him, that you would be delighted of erasing using your fist.

You have never, ever, been the kind of jealous girl. You trust your boyfriend blindly, but you don't trust her. You can't. You have tried it with all your efforts, but then you heard her laughing for no reason and Hank responding with a fleeting smile. You haven't talked him about how you feel, because the age gap between both makes you look stupid sometimes. Fortunately, you're professional enough to not let these things affect your job and your relationship. You have learnt how to hide your emotions, even if sometimes your friends suspect that something is going on by the tic that makes you blink your left eye unconsciously.

Aware that he must be there with his amazing friend, Kim places a hand on your shoulder trying to encourage you to cross the entrance and come into the Molly's. Licking your lips as you calm yourself a little, you nod pushing the door to be embraced by the warm atmosphere inside it, covering you from the cold breeze of Chicago. Letting your eyes travel around the place, you greet some of your friends waving a hand, before landing your gaze on your boyfriend. He turns at that exact moment, not even trying to contain a smile. You show him another back, but his disappears when he sees you passing him away straight to the Unit's table without greeting him. And Olivia notices it, but you don't care.

“What's up, trouble?” Jay pulls down your hair, earning a laugh from you.

“Platt said you crashed a patrol”. Wrinkling your nose in a funny gesture, after Adam's words, you take a seat next to him.

“These aren't the things you have to learn from us, you know it, right?” Antonio makes you all chuckle, calling to his sister raising a finger to ask for more beers.

“I caught the bad guy, didn't I?”

“Yeah, crashing a car”. Atwater raises his eyebrows, leaning over the table.

“But I caught the bad guy, that's my job not to take care of the cars. I'm not a mechanic…”

“BUT A COP!” You all say in unison, as always, like a famous quote.

As soon as the beers arrive, you make another toast for your car lost in action. And everything is fun until you feel a presence behind you and the silence gets installed around your table. Gulping and licking your bottom lip, as your friends drink from their bottles trying to pretend that you all weren't doing what you were doing, you turn around over your stool forcing a smile.

“Having fun, officer (Y/L/N)?” Platt's voice gives you the kind of shivers you can hide.

“No, no, n— I mean… yes”. The look on her face causes you to swallow again. “I me—mean, no?”

“It's a simple question. Yes or no”.

“Trudy, leave the kid alone”.

Saved by the bell. Your hero.

“Crash a car is part of our tradition, ain't it?” Hank tries to put some humor in the situation, traveling his eyes from her to you.

“Hm”. The woman just replies, before walking away.

You don't know about what kind of tradition he is talking of, but at least he has saved your ass. Again. Not being able to look at him, you sip from your beer trembling yet. Probably, tomorrow Crowley will ask for a convincing explanation. I caught the bad guy will not work with her, that's for sure. Feeling a soft touch in your lower back, you raise your orbs from the bottle to your boss, who makes a brief move with his chin to point at the back door at the end of the bar. You don't want to go, you know exactly what it's going to happen and you just want to forget the intense day you have had. But he raises his eyebrows with that cockiness usual on him, about to drag you if you don't put down from your stool.

With an imperceptible sight, you end up obeying in silence under the attentive eyes of your friends. Hank walks behind you with both hands in the pocket of his jeans, as you wear your jacket to zip it above your chest. The fresh air hits your face once you reach the Molly's back alley, resting your back against the wall with your face bowed to your military black boots. Placing himself in front of you, he studies thoroughly your gesture, your lips pressed and the lack of eye contact.

“What's the matter?”

Shaking your head slightly, you cross one leg behind the other, putting your hands on your lower back.

“You're jealous, aren't you?”

Letting go an exaggerated chuckle, you roll your eyes before gluing them on him. “You're calling that jealousy? If she can still use her legs, I'm not being jealous”.

“It ain't a good moment to be sarcastic, sweetheart”.

“I'm not. She is just a colleague, right?”

Hank nods in silence tilting his head closer and you're sure he can hear your heart speeding up under your skin. He always does that, putting you nervous only to prove the power he has on you, on your body, on your senses. And you hate him. You hate how proud he feels because of it. The grin on his face causes a chill down your spine, standing up from the wall to pretend that he is wrong, that he doesn't control your reactions.

“Hm… Good to know you're conscious of her position. She's gonna stay in my house tonight. We didn't plan to need more than one day and she doesn't have a place”.

For a moment, the image of you punching his face runs your mind, keeping your hands inside the pockets of your jacket to close them in two fist until you feel your nails hurting your palms. There are a lot of replies to his words stuck in your throat, but if it's a proof of trust, you would fail miserably. This is a clash of titans and you're not going to let him win.

“That's fine”. You respond squinting at him, taking a step ahead almost facing Hank. “Anything else?”

“No”.

“Okay”.

With a feigned smile, you turn to the left to leave the alley and come back to your private party, which means to get drunk until Burgess and Hailey have to carry you home.

“What an interesting night is gonna be”. Hank whispers seeing you grabbing the doorknob, teasing you as only he knows how to do.

Kissing your lips as your steps stop dead, you turn your head about to lose your calm.

“If I see her putting a hand on your leg again, I'm gonna break every single fucking bone of her body”.

You couldn't help it. He knows exactly which words he has to use to push you to the edge. The worst part is the fun he usually has doing it. Walking towards you moving his head as if he was nodding, Hank caresses his bottom lip with a forefinger looking thoughtful.

“I didn't think of you as someone violent”.

“Fucking watch me, Voight”.

“Hm…”

Containing a laugh, he opens the door for you, pointing at the inside with a hand. Clearly challenging you. But before you can pass him away, the sergeant grabs your forearm to push you back and lean his lips over your ear.

“She booked the hotel yesterday”. His raspy voice touring your head makes you feel your cheeks burning in shame.

He has won already and you know it. Wanting to leave him again, he pulls you back again hearing the heavy snort escaping your mouth.

“She knows who you are. Told her this morning”.

Did really he? Arching up one of your eyebrows, you can't help but turn your face slightly at him. Your parted lips reveal the surprise and the confusion. Why can she know it, but not your friends? Just because she doesn't work in Chicago? It isn't fair. At least, under your opinion. It's not like you're going to act like Voight's girlfriend and take the advantage of what it means. But it allows you to smile at him when you cross your eyes in the hallways, it allows you to don't have to hide if you want to have lunch together, it allows you to not have to drive two different cars and leave his house before him to work. Small simple things that for you means a lot.

“Cut off the show, boss. Everybody is looking at us”.

It isn't the first time that Hank can't avoid touching you somehow in public, finding the stupidest excuse just to feel you. And he really enjoys putting you nervous, watching the way you lick your lips and bite the bottom one, feel the way your body gets tense when he lays his hands on you, the short frights he gives you coming behind you and whispering ‘officer (Y/L/N)’ in your ear.

Actually, there's no reason why you decided to hide your relationship. You haven't even talked about it. You haven't thought if it's because of the age gap, because of his past, because he is your boss (...). You haven't given it any importance, till you met Olivia Benson a couple months ago. That kind of sergeant who comes from New York and thinks that she runs the Chicago police department. Hank hasn't told you how they met, imagining they did when he was working on the Gang Unit.

“Admit your jealousy”. Tilting his head enough to look into your eyes, the challenging grimace comes back to his face.

Knowing that he's not going to stop, you simply nod. “It isn't fair that other women can… touch you, and I have to wait more than twelve hours just… simply to smile at you without looking suspicious”.

Hank can hear to perfection the hopelessness in your voice, feeling your fingers loosening his grip around your other forearm. It's not a question of possessiveness, but of insecurity; and he's discovering it now, thinking about since when you feel like that.

“Do you wan'me to take you home?”

You shake your head, now with guilt running under your skin because you know it has ruined his night.

“I'm okay, boss. Gonna have some fun with my friends after a long day”.

“Will you have some fun with your boss after that? End the night in my house playing pool, drinking whisky? I will let you win”.

You can't help but show him a fleeting smile, almost curving your lips. That's a yes for him and Hank feels satisfied. Holding your right hand on his, your boyfriend brings it to his mouth placing a tender kiss on the back of it, before letting you go.

Hailey and Burgess are squinting at you, knowing that their suspicions weren't wrong at all. Not saying a word and pretending normality, you sit back on your stool to have a sip from your beer. You're literally sweating right now, and it isn't because of the jacket you are wearing but because of the petty smiles appearing on the other cops.

“You know that we work in Intelligence, right, little trouble?” Antonio is the first one talking jokingly.

“Yeah, and we don't need to be detectives to know what's going on”. Hailey hums resting his arms over the table.

“How is Voight in private? I've always had curiosity. He takes off the stick of his ass when he comes home, or…?”

“Halstead, I can hear you”.

“Yeah, that was the intention, Sarge”. He replies, lifting up his beer in a silent toast.

Turning at Hank just for a second, you can't help but shrug with your eyebrows briefly frowned in a funny grimace that makes him giggle. It was inevitable, since they have seen the way and how close he has talked to you. But now, the pressure within your chest is dropping down, feeling better.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Not You (500 Celebration)

500 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Prompt: From the Quotes category: “You are shaking fists and trembling teeth. I know: you did not mean to be cruel. That does not mean you were kind.”  

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Ivar (he is a warning, idk what to tell u). Angst. Graphic descriptions of violence. Blood. Death. My shitty writing.

A/N: I’m slowly getting back to writing, I’ll try to get to the requests and challenge entries soon. I am so so sorry for being so slow lately. Thank you for being patient, and for your support!

Also, this isn’t very good (I was in between two paths to take with this, and fitting the quote into it was tricky lol) so I apologize in advance, I just really need to push forward w/writing, so you’ll have to bear with me with some shittier than usual stuff for a while lol. Love ya!

There’s something you have learned a while ago, long ago enough that you cannot recall when it was that the realization dawned on you.

You’ve learned there are countless different ways Ivar tells you he loves you.

He tells you quietly, a whisper against your lips, as he prepares to leave for the spring, as he leaves behind your home to lands unexplored, as he leaves your embraces for battles to fight. You savor those times with the bittersweetness of goodbye, with the promise of yet another reunion; and each time he promises one last I love you, barely audible over the winds of the coast, you taste the salt of the sea on your lips and save your words, the silent order to return to you if he wishes to hear it back. He always does.

He tells you fervently, words stumbling over one another, as you make each promise he asks of you, as you promise to be by his side for as long as the Gods let you, as you promise to become his wife before the Gods and any who may be present. You can almost hear the same promise of his own being made as he repeats those three words; and each time he vows his love in between starved and frantic kisses broken by words and too-wide smiles, you still the fervor with but a touch as you always did, promising the same love with the lowest of voices, hoping he can hear. He always does.

He tells you hoarsely, a litany accompanied by your name as his voice gives out, as your hands and lips trace over every inch you wish to and remind him of what hunger feels like, as you put him at your mercy and remind him of what being yours feels like. You feel power running through your veins like lightning with each of those prayers in the shape of your name, in the cadence of an I love you; and with each breathed truth and each jagged moan that speaks without words what you already know, you press yourself as close as you can to him, and promise the same with reverent kisses over fever-warm skin, with sighs of his name, with the certainty he can understand, can see it in your eyes, how much you love him. He always does.

He tells you hesitantly, with the sudden fear of who jumps not really certain there will be a safe spot to land on, as a years-old certainty is dragged to the front of his mind and happiness is nothing is a truth more than your love for him could ever be, as the self-loathing that still surprises and catches you off guard makes itself known in his voice and in the blue of his eyes. You always feel your heart break a bit more at each of those times, at each admission that love like this after a lifetime of pain can only mean that it will leave -and you hear the words he doesn’t say, you will leave- and bring forth agony when it does; yet you still promise your love and pray he believes you. He always does.

There are countless different ways he tells you he loves you.

The door to your rooms opens, and your hands clench into fists in the rose-colored water you were washing them on. You don’t turn around, but the familiar sound of Ivar’s steps stopping a fair distance away from you tells you that he knows you are aware of his presence.

You refuse to look at him until you can get the blood of your hands, though. For a moment you are afraid you never will be able to wash off the stain.

Emir’s words, accusing, biting, true, “You look at a monster like him and you choose to love him, at all the monstrous things he does and you choose to love him despite them. You are worse than he is.”

With the dark eyes of the man you were once married to set on you, you didn’t feel anything other than anger, than the familiar ire and drive to defend the man you love. And even now, with the evidence of the monstrous things the man you love does still staining your hands, you don’t feel any regret, any shame.

You shake the water off your hands, and the instinctual movement to dry them haphazardly on the front of your dress is jarringly stopped when you notice the blood still staining the sleeves of it. You grab a linen instead, and count your breaths before you turn around.

Ivar is sitting near the door, head turned to the side as he watches his thumb run over and over, almost compulsively, over a ridge on the top of his crutch. You linger for a few breaths watching him, the uncharacteristic nervousness of the man that killed without second thought and would again, the jarring humanity of someone capable of such cruel things, and the truth behind Emir’s words doesn’t bother you at all.

Ivar takes a breath, but doesn’t look at you, still following with his eyes the repetitive movement of his hand, when he says, “I love you.”

There are countless different ways he tells you he loves you, and now, now it sounds like an apology, like an apology and something else, something more fragile. Like a request, like a plea, but you don’t know what for.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

Big eyes look up at you as you approach, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything else. Heart heavy, you have to curl your hand into a fist to keep traitorous fingers from falling into the temptation of tracing the slight furrow of his brow, of soothing the lines of worry you see etched in the angles of his face, to follow the line of his jaw and remind him not to grit his teeth like that.

“I know you do,” You whisper quietly, and it isn’t the answer you usually give. Past the flare of anger in his eyes, you see something else, something that looks like fear and makes acid churn at your stomach. You swallow thickly, “Ivar, I-…”

“No, no, just…just-…you know I wasn’t thinking,” He interrupts, and though there’s a frantic edge to his words, it is quickly overshadowed by that anger particular to him, that anger at feeling unmoored, that resentment at being vulnerable. “Anger overcame me, it wasn’t-…what would you have done, hm?”

“What?”

“He was trying to take you away from me, he was trying to convince you to leave me. I know that.”

He doesn’t mind the look you give him, pushing forward, “When we were children you would risk punishment by stealing to feed the hunting dogs, remember? Now you help Ivar the Boneless raid our land, overthrow our King, your brother? You’d burn the world for a man like him?”

Your eyes fall closed, and all you can offer is a sigh that gets halfway stuck in your throat.

Ivar stays silent, mercifully. Or cruelly, maybe. You aren’t sure you know the difference anymore. You aren’t sure you care.

Emir and you parted ways a long time ago, a marriage of convenience that blossomed into friendship, but that once your parents and his guardian were dead had no reason to continue to be so. Seeing him earlier tonight on the feast was not something you were expecting, and not something you thought would end the way it did. And his presence, his absence, beg the question he asked last and you are afraid to answer, what would you be willing to do for him? What would you forgive, what would you condemn?

His hands settle on the sides of your hips, a grounding touch, you aren’t sure if for your benefit or his own. Ivar pushes on when you remain silent for maybe too long.

“I need to know you can forgive me. I can make it better, I can…I can do that,” You don’t know if he is reassuring you or himself, and at your silence Ivar lifts big eyes to you again. There’s no hiding the fear now. “I l-love you.”

The scream is caught on your throat as Emir drops to the ground, the axe grotesquely stuck on the base of his neck. Your hands tremble, your whole body does, as you try helplessly to stop the bleeding as he gasps and chokes on his own blood.

A few involuntary jerks of his body as death grips him, and you lift your eyes and find Ivar’s unwavering gaze. He doesn’t give away anything other than cold fury, just the ruthless glare of the man Emir saw and was killed for speaking against.

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Stop saying it.”

“It is true, you know that,” He says, swallowing once before attempting, “And you love me.”

“You killed him, Ivar.”

“I had to.” He insists, searching your gaze as he uses his hands on your hips to tentatively bring you closer.

“You didn’t have to, you chose to.”

He grits his teeth, and there’s the clear tell of anger, of stubborn affront; but he doesn’t argue. Instead, searching your gaze for a few breaths, he asks,

“Can you forgive me?”

And it is at his words, at the answer that you can so easily give, that a pit grows in your stomach and ice runs through your veins. You can. You have already.

By all the Gods, if Emir is right and Ivar is a monster…what does loving him make out of you? What does forgiving the horrible things he does make out of the girl that would steal to feed hungry dogs?

Maybe the answer is in all the ways he tells you he loves you, in all the ways he promises devotion and protection and love. Maybe the answer is in how it has only felt real, it has only felt true, when it is Ivar the one telling you he loves you.

Maybe because you are not something other than that girl by loving him, but just by who you are, by growing past the desire to keep the world and learning to choose to let it burn for the sake of those you love. Maybe because you love him because of who you made out of yourself, not the other way around.

The ghost Emir’s voice becomes one with your brother’s, who still lives but not for long -not when his head holds a crown you are interested in and the man you love is willing to grant you-, and at what you made out of yourself they ask if you are content with your decision.

Searching his gaze, you mutely nod your head, both to his question and the one your ghosts ask.

“I can’t lose you,” Ivar admits past the clear tell of gritted teeth. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. “Not you.”

Torturously slow, the tips of your fingers dance over the side of his face, tracing the scar on his cheekbone

“You won’t.”

At your promise Ivar sighs, the first deep breath you have heard from him in a while, as if he were holding his breath; and leans forward, burying his face against your stomach and holding you even closer.

“Tell me you love me.” He beseechs, no longer attempting to hide the need to hear you say it.

You are sure there are countless ways you tell him you love him too, you are sure in times like these you tell him you love him like a promise to never leave him, like the assurance that he won’t ever lose you; and he needs to hear you say it.

“I love you,” You promise him, your arms around his shoulders as best as you can. Your eyes fall closed and you wonder if the words should taste like shame when you offer yet another truth, “Nothing could change that.”

Quietly, so quietly you are half-convinced it is imagined, he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“He was our enemy, he would have died in battle anyways.” You tell him, and it is true, and maybe worse. Emir would have died fighting against an invasion you are part of the reason for, he would have died defending a kingdom Ivar will claim because it was once your home, he would have died alongside an army whose weaknesses you whispered in Ivar’s ear a long time ago.

He would have died, and you would have been the reason why. And it would have mattered to you as much as it does now.

But Ivar shakes his head, “I’m sorry, for…for all that I do.”

You wonder absently if he apologizes now not for Emir’s murder but for something else, something more human. You wonder if he apologizes for craving your gentleness, for needing your reassurance, for asking for your love. You wouldn’t put it past those worst thoughts he has about himself to make him believe he ought to seek repentance for something as simple as humanity.

Your fingers tracing absently over the short hair at the nape of his neck, you take a deep breath, but say nothing, certain it isn’t words what he needs from you now.

After an eternity, or maybe a moment, Ivar speaks again.

Solemn, he promises, “I love you.”

There are countless different ways he tells you he loves you. Sometimes, sometimes an I love you is just that, an admission, a declaration. A truth.

Thank you for reading!

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