#lesson two: never join the army | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mamsieur · 1 year ago

Text

Don't mess with the Storm | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary : Sometimes, Cyclone could live up to his call sign. Especially when it concerned you, his youngest daughter, his little Storm.

TW : slight violence, mention of alcohol, family/domestic fluff

Length : 6753 words

AN : You can't make me believe that Beau Simpson isn't a family man with lots of kids. That's what he radiates.

posted on AO3 August 21, 2023

Your mom always said you took after your dad, but if he was a Cyclone, you were a Storm ; smaller and less destructive. Storm has always been your nickname.

It described you quite well as much in your way of doing things than in your personality. You were passionate about everything you did and you often left a mess after you.

Being a Vice Admiral, Beau managed to control himself for his work but when it came to you and your well being, he could literally destroy everything on his way. Not that your father was in any way abusive or violent, but he sometimes could over react.

You were your parents’ precious little baby.

You were the youngest of four children; you had three older brothers, all in the military. Two of them, Nathan and Jamie, were naval aviators, like your father, and one, Aaron, was a Marine Officer.

Needless to say, you were well taken care of ; you liked to think that you had a small ‘army’ for yourself.

But as much as they thought of you as their little princess, they never treated you like one, and you never wanted to be. You were tough and very capable of defending yourself. Your father always encouraged you in whatever you wanted to do.

You wanted to join the soccer team? Let's go. Switch to boxing lessons? Done. A new passion for karting? He had your back. An interest in mechanics ? He bought you your first tool box.

As long as you put your heart and soul into whatever you did, your family would support you.

So when you told them you wanted to work for the Navy after your engineering degree, they were as supportive as they could be.

You were a genius engineer - your mom’s word, not yours - and you loved working on jets, inspecting them, gathering as much data as possible to make them as efficient as they can be. Working at Top Gun was heaven. Since the pilots were supposed to be the best, you loved pushing them and their machines to be better and better.

Of course, the fact that you were working on the same base as your father had raised some eyebrows. But neither of you cared, and he got you no special treatment.

After the uranium mission, you were assigned to check the status of the Dagger Squad's F-18s. Everything seemed to be in good shape, and while your computer analyzed the flight data, you inspected the engines. You liked to work alone when you could, it helped you stay in your bubble of concentration.

The sun was slowly setting as you finished diagnosing the last jet. Being alone in the hangar, you took the opportunity to put on some music. You hummed and swayed a little while you waited for the analysis to finish on your screen and inspected the engine.

Your head was - quite literally - in it when you heard footsteps behind you. They stopped a few feet away from you to let you finish what you were doing.

"I'll just be two minutes," you muttered and then shrugged, getting no response. You finished inspecting the seemingly defective part and stood up. Your face was covered in dust and motor oil, and your hair was starting to fall out of your ponytail.

You sighed and turned to your mysterious guest.

"Oh! Good evening Lieutenant Bradshaw. May I help you?" you smiled a little and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand.

"Good evening Second Lieutenant Simpson, to tell you the truth, yes, you may..." he grinned charmingly, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the plane, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten our date? It's 7:20, and we agreed to meet at 6:30 ?”

You stopped smiling and looked at the clock. Crap! You hadn't seen the time.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I was servicing the jets and didn't realize what time it was! I should have set an alarm, I'm sorry. Jesus, how could I be so stupid?"

You were starting to mumble excuses as you gathered your things when you felt his hand on your wrist.

"It's okay, I know how you get when you're focused on something. We’ll find another day for that. I'll wait for you at the bar, okay?" he reassured you with a grin.

"Uh yeah, yeah okay! I'll be quick!" you nodded and smiled back at him. He tucked a strand of your wild hair behind your ear, a few inches from you, making you blush slightly. His thumb stroked your cheek. He had that cheeky smile he always had when something was on his mind. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, his beautiful brown eyes never leaving yours.

" Or , I can also wait for you in the changing-"

" Lieutenant Bradshaw, Second Lieutenant Simpson, what are you two still doing here? "

Your father's stern voice echoed through the hangar, taking you by surprise. Bradley took a quick step back and straightened his posture to greet him.

"I, uh-"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw forgot his keys, sir, he was out. I got carried away with the diagnostics, I'm almost finished here," you replied quickly as Cyclone’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Bradley then at you.

"Hm. You better hurry then, Second Lieutenant, overtime is not allowed. You're free to go Lieutenant Bradshaw."

"Yes sir!" you said in unison and Bradley left as quickly as he could, flashing one last smile in your direction before disappearing down the corridors.

As you started to clean up the mess you'd made, you heard an amused sigh.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. You're still living up to your nickname."

"Ha ha, very funny Dad," you rolled your eyes and closed your toolbox, "Don't wait for me, I'm going out tonight."

"Mmh. Is Bradshaw involved?" he asked as he helped you carry your stuff to the storage room.

"Yes? I mean the whole Dagger team is, I need to get to know them to understand how they work."

That was only half a lie. You knew they most likely were all at the Hard Deck, you'd met them there a few times. You got along well with them, especially Natasha, Bob and Mickey. And of course, Bradley... But it was different with him.

You'd known him for years and your very first assignment had been with him. Your friendship had evolved over the years into a kind of friends-with-benefits/fuck-buddies relationship until a few weeks ago. Since the uranium mission, he wanted more than that, and so did you. You two tried to keep your relationship secret because you suspected it could jeopardize either of your careers, and mostly because you knew your father would not approve.

He always thought the guys you dated were not good enough for you. And as annoying as it was, he was always right. He scared away some of them and when you thought back about it, it's a good thing he did.

Truth be told, you have been in love with Bradley for so long that sometimes it hurted.

You had tried to tell him so many times in the past, but you were afraid of losing what little intimacy you had with him. So when he asked you out, first thing after the uranium mission, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The hope that your feelings would be reciprocated had invaded your heart and mind, and you felt like it was the first time you were in love. It wasn’t of course, but you were all giddy about it.

You didn’t like to lie to your dad, he knew you too much to know everything in just one look.

But it was worth it, wasn’t it ?

You hoped it was.

After a well-deserved shower, you changed into clean, comfortable clothes that actually suited you. You put on your helmet and rode to the bar with your motorbike. Your mother hated when you used that ‘death machine’ and your father wasn't really fond of it either. It reminded him of Maverick. He wasn’t fond of Maverick. It always made you laugh watching your dad trying to remain calm in front of the Captain. You’ve never seen a man getting on his nerves that much.

The Hard Deck was already busy when you parked ; a totally normal Friday night , you thought. Looking around, you spotted Natasha’s, Javy’s and Bradley’s cars.

Penny nodded at you with a smile as you entered. The Daggers were in their usual places and Bradley seemed to be winning the pool game against Jake. In a desperate attempt to break his concentration, Jake chuckled, "Your girlfriend's here, Bradshaw”.

The whole team had discovered your relationship, of course, but swore to keep it a secret. You were grateful to them, but Jake being himself, he couldn't resist taking a dig at you.

You rolled your eyes and took a seat next to Bob, watching the two eternal rivals finish their game. You caught up with Mickey and theorized with him on the last episodes of Kenobi then made your way towards Penny at the bar to buy your round of beers. As you waited for your drinks at the counter, you felt two hands around your waist.

"You're late, Second Lieutenant ."

"Had to fix your teammates’ jets, Lieutenant , tell them to be more careful," you grinned, leaning your back against your boyfriend's torso. You heard him chuckle softly as he whispered that you were an ‘idiot' and kissed the top of your head.

"Sorry about our date, I'll make it up to you."

"You bet your sweet ass you will," Bradley snickered at the squeal you let out as he spanked you a little, “But right now, you owe me a dance to celebrate my victory against Hangman.”

He took your hand as you rolled your eyes but followed him. Your whole body pressed against his, arms around his neck, the room faded away. All you could feel and see was him; one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your hip, guiding you. The warmth of his body was like a spell that kept you close, not wanting to let go.His hands roamed down your back making you shiver. It felt like you belonged there.

You couldn’t let go of his eyes, hypnotized. He had such beautiful eyes ; those hazel brown orbs were magnetic, so infuriatingly charming.

One of your hands gently stroked his scarred cheek and he leaned into your touch, smiling like an idiot and humming the song you were slow dancing to. His smile always sent butterflies to your stomach and heat to your cheeks. It was almost annoying how easily you fell for his charms.

The two of you danced until the song ended and you pulled him by the collar to kiss him. You felt his hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, shamelessly squeezing your ass, and his proud grin against your lips. You bit his as you pulled away from the kiss.

"Okay, lovebirds , get a room," Jake complained and you flipped him off, still in Bradley's arms.

"Don't be jealous Jakey, your time will come," you teased, making your partner chuckle.

"She's right Seresin, just wait till you're a big boy."

The evening continued quietly, with one beer after another, a few games of darts and pool, and a few songs on the piano for Bradley.

You watched him from the bar, mesmerized, an affectionate smile on your face. You still wondered how you'd managed to get his attention; this man could have anyone he wanted with his smile combined with a little song, the sweetness with which he spoke, his sarcasms, his eyes so soft and intense at the same time, his stupid, stupid, cocky grin... God, you were definitely and undoubtedly under his spell, mind and heart.

Your eyes never left his form for more than five seconds. You looked at him as if you wanted to learn every aspect of his physique; but to be honest, you already knew him by heart.

You could locate every beauty mark, every scar - and tell its story - and where his birthmark was. You could describe every shade of brown in his eyes, depending on the light or his emotions. You knew every expression on his face; when he was angry, frustrated, sad, or playful. You knew exactly where and how to touch him to make him putty in your hands, every positively sensitive area and those to avoid.

And yet, every time you looked at him, behind the piano, laughing with his friends, you discovered a new detail that made you love him even more.

The way he cared for all of them - even Jake, his "archenemy" - and knew just what to do to make them feel better and laugh. How he always listened to what they had to share, good or bad, and offered to help. How he'd always protect them as if they were his siblings, his rather hazardous family.

Speaking of hazardous family, it always made you laugh how Bradley could be so like Pete and like your dad. It was sometimes a mixture of arrogance and calm, defiance and seriousness. Part of you was sure that if they tried, your dad and Bradley would get along. But were they willing to ?

As you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice a man, a little younger than you, sitting next to your stool. He started talking, trying to flirt, but you didn’t really pay attention, still absorbed by your boyfriend’s silliness, until he clicked his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you doll. You should really pay attention when someone is talking to you, got it ?”

You sipped your beer and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He continued his flirtatious attempts, bragging that he was one of the best in his class at Top Gun. He kept trying to get your attention by snapping his fingers or grabbing your arm. His breath was clearly too close to your face and stinked a mixture of beer and chips.

It really started to annoy you, so it was your turn to snap your fingers in his face.

"I'm not interested,” you snapped your fingers again, “If a girl ignores you, it's because she doesn't want to talk to you, got it ?"

You got off your stool, ready to join the Daggers by the piano. But a hand gripped your wrist and the man pulled you close to him. You could see a hint of anger and annoyance in his eyes, but it didn’t scare you. You were used to guys like him, thinking they own every woman they see.

“Listen doll, I was nice until now. Give me your number and I’ll forgive you,” he grinned, his buddies sneering behind him, as if they were proud of him. You couldn’t help but giggle at the scene. What kind of bad joke was that ?

In one swift motion, you released your wrist and pinned his arm behind his back. You bent him violently over the bar and locked him in that position, pressing down just enough to hurt and immobilize him.

"One false move and I will dislocate your arm," you threatened in his ear as a few glances turned in your direction. "Now listen to me carefully. This is the last time you'll talk to me or any woman like that. Understood?"

He grunted and struggled a little. You pressed harder and repeated, "Understood?"

"Okay! Okay, I understand! Get off me!"

The man growled again and you finally let go. Penny gave you a look that you understood as a warning and you smiled innocently to her. The man and his group walked away with a grunt, giving you one last murderous look. You smiled broadly and made a mocking curtsy.

Bradley raised an eyebrow as they passed him, muttering that you were a "crazy bitch". You joined him with two beers, one for him and one for you.

"What happened?"

"Nothing to worry about, just some big macho guy. He didn't like that I wasn't paying attention to him. I just put him in his place."

You shrugged with a smile and Bradley shook his head, laughing a little, knowing exactly what you meant. He put his arm around your waist and kissed your temple.

"I know you can defend yourself, but don't get yourself in trouble, Stormy."

"Don't worry, if I get in trouble, my knight in shining armor will come and rescue me, won't he?" you teased. He chuckled but nodded before taking you on his lap at the piano. He started a new song that had the remaining customers singing and dancing.

***

The end of the evening was a bit hazy.

You'd had too much to drink to get back on your bike, so it was Bradley who drove you home. You pulled your boyfriend into your small house - he offered no resistance - and kissed him as if your life depended on it, as if that simple contact made your heart beat. His hands roamed your body with hunger, and yours tore his Hawaiian shirt from his back. You thought of nothing but Bradley, his soft lips devouring your jaw and neck, leaving a few marks where he passed, his hands so warm on your skin, his breath making you shiver.

You wandered back to your room, kicking off your shoes, and your clothes ended up in a pile at the end of your bed.

You loved doing it with Bradley. He gave you everything you wanted and so much more. You'd never been as fulfilled as you were with him. It was as if he knew everything about how your body worked, that it held no secrets for him.

Your nightly activities have drained you both of what little energy you had left, and you fell asleep hugging each other, as if afraid the other will evaporate.

The next morning, it was not your massive headache that woke you, but the sound of several cars and children laughing outside your house. What day was it? Was it Saturday? It was Saturday!

You jumped to your feet as Bradley mumbled something unintelligible.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" You shook your boyfriend and wrapped yourself in a blanket as you heard the sound of a key turning in the front door lock.

"Bradley, get up!"

"Mmh, five minutes..." he mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. You heard the door open and small footsteps running toward your room. You panicked and shook him harder.

"We don't have five minutes! Get your ass up!"

You grabbed the first thing you could get your hands on: panties and Bradley's tank top. You stumbled to your bedroom door to get out before one of your nephews’ innocent eyes discovered their aunt and a man they didn't know naked as worms in her bed. You tried to look as natural as possible as you quickly closed the door behind you. Standing in front of you was Jack, your three-year-old nephew. He was Nathan’s, your oldest brother, son. He laughed as he threw himself on your legs to give you a hug.

"Oh my God, hi sweetie! You're early!"

"Dada said we'd surprise you, Auntie! And Pop-Pop is here too!" the little boy laughed.

"What a nice thought!" you tried not to sound too ironic as you picked him up to give him a kiss and rearrange his wild blond hair. "Auntie needs to get dressed, okay? Go wait with your dad in the living room!"

You gave him one last kiss and made sure he ran to the living room before storming back to your bedroom. How could you forget that your brothers were visiting today? You were so screwed! A million thoughts went through your head and one thing made you snap out of it; Bradley yawning and taking his sweet time getting up. You grumbled and attacked him with a pillow.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"We're in deep shit Bradley! My whole family is here! They weren't supposed to be up this early!"

"What?" he blinked and narrowed his eyes, trying to process what you'd just told him. You started to rattle on about how your brothers got their permission for your mom's birthday, but your brothers were here super early with their wifes, their kids, and your mom and dad. Bradley had trouble following what you were saying because you were talking really fast.

“Babe,” he tried to interrupt you, but you kept mumbling and pacing next to the bed, “Y/N, baby, calm down!”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to sit in front of him. His free hand cupped your cheek tenderly as he guided you into breathing to calm yourself down.

“Okay… mind explaining slower what is happening here ?”

You sighed and nodded before re-explaining the whole situation to him. “But they weren’t supposed to come here this early ! The surprise lunch for my mom was supposed to be at home, not in my flat ! And my dad is here. My dad ! What are we going to say ?”

You cursed again, rubbing your temples. Bradley took your hands in his to make you look at him and stole a kiss from you. You sighed against his lips, your tension going away slightly. He then pressed his forehead to yours, stroking your cheeks to soothe you.

“How about we get dressed and just… join them in the living room ?”

“You really want to face my dad ?” you raised one eyebrow, surprised but really relieved that he didn’t propose to just sneak out.

“Yeah ? I mean, the man already has doubts, you’ve said it yourself… and it’s your mother’s birthday, your whole army of men won’t be able to kill me. Not today at least.”

You chuckled at his joking tone and at the silly smile he has on his face. You pecked his lips with a grin. “Okay then Lieutenant , let’s get dressed.”

“Yes ma’am!”

He gave you one last tender kiss, and when the two of you went to get up, a little giggle made you both freeze.

“Auntie who that ? And why he nakey ?”

Your nephew’s voice asked. He was standing by the door, a playful smile on his chubby face, and his little finger pointing at your embarrassed boyfriend. Bradley quickly covered himself more, lifting the sheet at his chin, and you ran to get little Jack in your arms.

“How did he get here ??” Bradley scream-whispered at you, hiding himself while trying to get dressed.

“I don’t know !” you scream-whispered back before turning your attention back to the toddler who was babbling in your arms, “Jack, honey, why aren’t you with your dad and pop-pop ?”

Before he could answer, your sister in law was by your bedroom, apologizing. She didn’t notice Bradley right away, but when she did, a small cheeky smile curled on her lip.

“Hi there, sorry to have him interrupted you two.”

“Annie, it’s not what it looks like-” you blushed when you understood what she implied but Bradley interrupted you by presenting himself and shaking her hand with a wide smile. They chat while you put on a pair of jeans, keeping on Bradley’s tank top. Never in your life had you been this embarrassed.

Little Jack looked at your boyfriend with wide-eyed wonder. He loved meeting new people, and Bradley seemed fascinating to his young eyes. It was no wonder when every time Annie spoke to you, Bradley would make faces at the little boy and make him giggle.

Bradley already had him in his pocket, so that was a good thing. Annie seemed to like him too, at least you thought so from the mischievous looks she gave you.

As you crossed the hallway to join the rest of your family, a wave of nervousness ran through you. You grabbed Bradley by the sleeve of his Hawaiian shirt and turned him toward you. You pulled him into a hug to relax and to give yourself courage.

"Promise you won't hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They'll probably try to impress you, my brothers I mean... and my dad... you know how he can be..."

"Oh honey... It takes more than that to scare me. I'll be fine."

He kissed your forehead and you walked into the living room.

You greeted everyone, your father not immediately aware of Bradley's presence. You introduced him to your brothers first, Nathan, Aaron and Jamie, and they didn't do anything strange at first; they were probably waiting for you to introduce him to your father to see what sauce to cook him in.

Beau and Vivian, your mother, were too busy admiring your niece, five-month-old Juliet, to notice Bradley's presence. She was fast asleep in the arms of Jamie's fiancée, Alice. She greeted you with a smile when you waved.

"Awake at last, Stormy?" your father asked before freezing and losing his smile at the sight of your boyfriend, " Lieutenant Bradshaw. ".

His cold, hard tone made you sigh a little as the two men shook hands in greeting.

“Good morning Vice Admiral Simpson.”

They were way too formal, it was ridiculous. Your mother had the same reaction as you and introduced herself to Bradley with a warm smile and a hug.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Simpson."

"Oh, please, just call me Viv!" she laughed a little, waving her hand. Then she turned to you, discreetly gave you both thumbs up and winked at you.

Good. Bradley seemed to have charmed your mother with just a smile.

Still, you could feel your father tense up behind you as Bradley got to know everyone. He remained very polite and smiled, even letting Jack, Oliver and Tommy - Aaron's twin sons - pull him out to play in the little garden. Your father grabbed your arm. "Kitchen. Now. We need to talk." He seemed a little upset, and you could understand; you'd lied to him.

"Care to explain yourself?" He crossed his arms on his chest, a stern look on his face.

You didn't like that look. He used to have it when he scolded you when you were a teenager, when you would sneak out of the house to go to a party or to meet up with your then-boyfriend. For a moment, you were 16 again, caught in the act.

You sighed at his insistent and questioning look.

"I uh... He’s... we’re... we've been seeing each other for… a few weeks..."

"A few weeks? So you've been lying to me for weeks?"

"I haven't lied! At least not completely..." you mumbled, biting your fingernail.

"Y/N. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Seriously Dad? You've made it pretty clear that you don't really like him, I mean outside of work."

"I never said that."

You widened your eyes, shocked at his bad faith.

"Are you kidding me? You've made it clear that you don't want me around him because he's too much like Maverick! Every time I mentioned him, you made your… disapproving face. The same one you made every time I mentioned my old boyfriends, or when I wanted to get a motorcycle, or when the boys tried to bleach their hair in high school !"

"I don't have a disapproving face," he grumbled, "and it's not because he’s like Maverick that I don't want you around him, it's because he can be called back on a mission at any time. I don't want that to break your heart."

"Oh ! But it's okay for Nathan, Aaron, and Jamie to break the hearts of their partners? Of their children? It was okay for you to risk breaking Mom's heart and ours? What kind of cardboard argument is that, Dad?" You raised your arms in disbelief as you started to walk out of the kitchen, but you stopped and turned back to face him. "I know you want to protect me, but... you can't do that about things like that. I know you know better than anyone the risks of this job, the sacrifices it requires. But Bradley knows them as well, if not better, than you do. And as much as it scares me, as much as it scares us... we want to try… And even if you don't like it, we'll give it a try. Because I almost lost him once without really being able to be with him..."

Your father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. From the kitchen window you could see Bradley playing with your nephews, under your mother's and in laws’ amused and tender eyes. A small smile crept across your lips as the little ones called you over to help hold Bradley down. You hurried to join them, and your mother joined your father.

"Our boys and the little ones seem to like this Lieutenant…”

“Seems like it…”

“He reminds me a little of you when we first met..." Vivian chuckled to Beau as she hugged him.

"Really?" the man wondered, "and how?"

"Well, he has that same sparkle in his eyes... the one that calls for adventure, that gentle and loving look when his eyes land on our Storm... and he's also very good with children," she laughed at his slightly embarrassed expression, "You should give him a chance... our princess looks so relaxed with him... look at her… look at her smile…"

He lifted his head and watched the two of you having fun with the three little boys and sighed. His wife was right. You looked so happy in Bradley's arms, waltzing and laughing with the kids. He'd never seen you look so radiant, as cliché as it sounded. Your brothers also seemed to have accepted the newcomer without too much fuss. So Beau seemed to be the only one who was uncomfortable with the whole situation.

He nodded and kissed his wife on the forehead. "Okay, I'll try... but I'm not promising anything."

Vivian rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. She knew for a fact that your father would quickly accept Bradley as well.

Lunch went off without a hitch, Beau swallowing his pride not to be as awkward with Bradley as possible, although he did draw a few murderous looks from your father when he put his hand a little too high on your thigh or lower back. After dessert, he helped your brothers put the kids down for a nap and let them share the convertible bed in your little study. Your sisters-in-law and your brother-in-law, Evan - Aaron's husband - helped you with the dishes. They gently teased you that Bradley was a very handsome young man and that you had chosen well.

"I know I did. Look at you all, we Simpsons always have good taste," you sniped back with a wink and a teasing smile, making them laugh.

"Wait, wait, wait... So he was your regular booty call after your first assignment?" Evan seemed to realize. You shushed him and made sure that your parents didn't hear him say that. Annie laughed a little and grabbed your shoulder, making you look into her eyes.

"I can see why you qualified him as the best sex of your life after the upper body I saw this morning," she teased you again, making your face completely flush. You practically begged her to stop talking about your sex life, very embarrassed. But the three of them could be little bullies and they loved to tease you sometimes.

"Guys, please stop. If my father hears you-"

"Hear what, Stormy?"

You turned and paled a little under your father's cold gaze and tight smile. Your sister-in-law and brother-in-law took the opportunity to run off like teenagers, and of course Bradley arrived just then, smiling carelessly.

"The three cataclysms are finally asleep. Is everything okay in here?" he asked as he joined you in front of your father. He immediately wiped the smile off his face when he saw the look on Beau's face.

"You're lucky it's my wife's birthday, Bradshaw," he growled, his eyes staring straight into your souls, "but if I hear one more detail about your... nocturnal activities, I'm going to make sure that the two of you are as far away from each other as possible, even if it means sending one of you to Japan or Korea. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Bradley replied promptly, "Clear as day.”

"For God's sake, Dad, aren't you being a little extreme? I'm a responsible adult-"

"I'm warning you, I don't want another grandchild too soon. Keep it in your pants."

"Dad!!"

Just when you thought you couldn't get any more embarrassed, your dad had the right words. He left the two of you in the kitchen, muttering that he was getting too old for this.

"Oh my God..." You cursed as you hid your face in your hands and turned towards the sink. Of all the weird things that could happen, you'd really hoped no one would mention your sex life. You felt a little angry, but more than that, you were extremely embarrassed. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the counter as you lowered your head. You felt the warmth of Bradley's body enveloping you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his front against your back and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Why are you apologizing, babe? I told you it would take more than that to scare me off... Maybe your dad hasn't fallen for the Bradshaw charm yet, but I'm working on it..." he tried to cheer you up, "And now I have an army of kids who love me, I can order them to defend me."

You smiled, amused at his silliness. "You're really good with kids, but I think it's them who will command you..."

"Maybe you're right," he laughed a little and kissed the hollow of your neck, his mustache tickling you, "but your mother has already adopted me. I'm protected."

You laughed with him, your embarrassment and anger disappearing. You leaned against him, enjoying the hug he offered you. These simple gestures were so comforting that it was almost frightening how quickly he could soothe you. You closed your eyes as he hummed and softly danced with you in the kitchen. It was so cliché, right out of a rom-com, but you couldn’t care less.

After a few minutes, you regained enough courage to join the rest of your family in the living room. Your in-laws gave you apologetic looks, and your brothers were a little lost, but didn't dare ask.

For the rest of the afternoon, Bradley learned every little anecdote your mother had to share; whether it was about your brothers, you, or even your father, she was more than happy to share with him. Jamie and Alice had fallen asleep in the garden, making your mother smile in awe. Nathan laughed a little with Aaron. "We warned them that a newborn was exhausting, but they insisted on coming here their own way...".

You laughed a little too, it was true they looked exhausted. But little Juliet was so cute that they forgot how tired they were.

Speaking of her, the baby phone warned everyone that she was waking up. You volunteered to warm her bottle and Bradley went to get her. Alice had put the travel crib in your room so the other three children would not be disturbed if Juliet woke up.

When the milk was at the right temperature, you joined Bradley in your room. Your cheeks flushed and you felt butterflies in your stomach when you saw him holding the little one. He rocked her gently, stroking her cheek with his index finger. He seemed so natural that it made you fall even more in love with him.

You shook your head, your father's voice echoing in your head: "No more grandchildren for now.”

You joined him and let him gently place the baby in your arms. You smiled and fed the hungry five-month-old in your arms. Bradley leaned against the doorframe and watched you with a soft smile. You, too, were a natural with children. Juliet seemed so comfortable in your arms and you seemed so relaxed. He found himself daydreaming about the two of you having children together. He blushed as he imagined you pregnant with his baby... and Nathan giggled behind him. "Calm your horses Bradshaw, you're not putting a baby in my sister anytime soon."

Bradley's face turned as bright red as yours. "Nathan, shut up!" you yelled-whispered at him, careful not to disturb the eating baby in your arms.

“What? You heard our old man, "No more grandchildren for now!”” Nathan grinned and put his arm around Bradley's shoulders.

"I can't promise that..." Bradley mumbled softly, mesmerized by the sight of you holding Juliet against you as you burped her after she had finished her bottle. Nathan's eyes widened and he tried his best not to burst out laughing. "What did you say, Brad’ ? I think I misheard you?"

You blushed as you realized what your boyfriend had just said.

"I... Nothing!" Bradley defended himself weakly, very embarrassed. Nathan teased him until your mother told him to stop, threatening him with no cake after dinner. He immediately stopped and went to get his son after whispering to Bradley that he wouldn't forget what he had just said. You decided not to talk about it, feeling a little embarrassed as well.

It wasn't long before dinnertime arrived, and your father was relaxed and talking with Bradley. You even caught them laughing together. This interaction was reassuring for the rest of the evening.

As usual, your mother had cooked for a regiment, and your refrigerator was full of leftovers. She made Bradley promise to stop by the family home and look at the family albums and your childhood bedroom. He laughed a little but agreed.

You walked everyone back to their cars, helped them with the kids' stuff, and your dad gave you one last hug and said good night. He said goodbye to Bradley with a slight smile and a quick hug.

When everyone was gone, you collapsed on your sofa, drained of all energy. Bradley joined you with a smile and pulled you right into his arms.

"That didn't go so badly after all..."

You nodded, yawned and put your arms around him. You thought back to the day that had just passed, to that roller coaster of emotions, and laughed a little.

"So... eager to put a baby inside me Lieutenant?"

"Oh my God Y/N!!" Bradley blushed, hiding his face behind his fists in total embarrassment. You laughed and teased him about it. You preferred to take it as a joke because neither of you were anywhere near ready to have children of your own, you both agreed on that. Or did you?

He turned to you, a serious expression on his face.

"And what if I am? Would you... would you be on board to have kids with me? Not right now, of course, but... I... I can't imagine a future without you in it, and I'd like to have kids with you. I know we haven't really been together that long, but we've known each other for a long time... and oh my God, I'm rumbling," he groaned, rubbing his face before looking back at you. "What I mean is that I love you and I don't want to live without you. Maybe it's rushed, maybe you-"

You interrupted him, pulled him by the collar and kissed him. You didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the fact that he had just admitted his feelings, or the fact that he was already planning a life with you. Maybe both. Certainly both.

"I love you too," you whispered between two kisses, "and I don't want to be without you either... and I would love to start a family with you someday, Lieutenant Bradshaw..."

You smiled, your forehead pressed against his, and he chuckled in relief.

"Today was really like you... a storm..." he sighed, smiling and stroking your cheeks.

"I know... are you sure you can keep up with my family?" you teased, "Now that you've messed with the storm, the cyclone will never be far away."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Stormy."

#top gun maverick #top gun imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #beau simpson #family fluff #natasha trace #jake seresin #rober floyd #mickey garcia #pov second person #post movie top gun maverick

537 notes · View notes

evans23 · 1 month ago

Text

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 1 - DECEMBER MOON [A1]

Pairing : Colonel Brandon x OC

Summary : During a night on December, Colonel Brandon meets a young woman who captivates him instantly. He then realises that what he had mistaken for love when he met Marianne had never truly been love.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Sadness, mention of depression and loneliness.

A/N : Hello dear 😁 I'm so excited to write for my first Rickmas hosted by the amazing @deepperplexity ! I stumbled upon Rickmas last year... after Christmas, but I was in a very bad phase at the time and all those amazing stories helped me so much and I also discoverd the incredible trilogy "Judge and Sentenced" from @deepperplexity that I advise you to read because it's probably the best Turpin's fiction I've ever read ! Anyway, I'm doing my Sinclair by rambling here, therefore, let's begin Rickmas !

QUIET WISHING : Part II

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

Poor Colonel Brandon was returning from London, exhausted. He, who usually preferred to be perched on his stallion was comfortably installed in the shelter of his carriage. At 38, he had never felt so old and yet, he was still so young.

But a small voice, which strangely had the same intonations as a lady he knew, told him that he was just an old man full of rheumatism. It was not entirely false. He had an old soul since birth, fuelled by the mistreatment of a violent and unloving father and by a protective mother who died too early. As for the rheumatism, it was more a vestige of his life in the army, but also of an accident in India involving an elephant, which had almost cost him an arm and had left him with a painful shoulder, especially in rainy weather.

But beyond his 38 years that he carried like a burden, there was the memory of his sweet Eliza and te one of the mischievous Marianne. Two women who had broken his heart. The first without wanting to, the second on a whim.

Eliza, tender, intrepid and in love with him, this beauty with whom he had fallen in love while still very young and whom his father had taken away from him without scruples before sending him, at only sixteen, to join the ranks of his majesty's army.

Fortunately, in India he had met John Middleton who had been more than a friend, almost a surrogate father. Indeed, 20 years older than Brandon, he had immediately taken a liking to the young man and his situation, helping him to climb the ranks of the army thanks to his influence.

Later, when he returned to England, he met his mentor's mother-in-law, Mrs. Jennings, an intrusive woman who had an unfortunate tendency to meddle in things that didn't concern her, but for whom he nevertheless had infinite tenderness. Her intrusive nature came from the pain of having lost his eldest daughter, John's wife, while she was expecting a child. A haemorrhage in the middle of the night, an incompetent doctor, and in the morning, the mother and child had gone to join the heavens. Mrs. Jennings reminded him of his own mother with the gentleness she showed him and if she was not known for her subtlety, she had always had the delicacy to never mention Eliza in front of him.

As for Marianne... This pretty devil who had reminded him of her deceased Eliza had hurt him much more than any whipping given by his father for an unimportant misdeed.

He had loved her at first sight, finding in her his first love and it had taken him time and a little too much of a difficult lesson to realize that she wasn't even the shadow of his Eliza. Eliza would never have shown the wickedness that Marianne had shown by letting him hope just after his infectious fever, graciously accepting his gifts and demanding his presence. No, Marianne, full of malice, had felt no remorse in making him suffer as she did with all those around her when she could no longer get anything from them.

She had let him believe that she was his just after this fever that had almost taken her, but when he had asked her to marry him, she had hesitated, giving him an ambiguous answer, a "maybe" more than a "yes". It was during a social event organised at Barton Park that he had understood that the young woman had set her sights on another man of barely 23 years old. A young and dashing high judge of London with a cold and severe look, but rich and powerful, much more than him, much more than anyone in Devonshire.

The next day, he had asked Marianne for an answer to his question and when she had still hesitated, he had told her that he knew and that he was freeing her. He didn't yet know that it was him that he was freeing.

Marianne was now married to this man that all of London nicknamed The Death's Judge, and if she was happily married or not, Brandon didn't know, all he knew was that she was expecting her first child while he was still alone, with no one to love. No loved one and no descendants.

Alone with his heavy thoughts and this feeling that he would end up alone, he who had so much affection to offer, so much love to give, if only a woman with enough spirit but also a certain reserve could make his heart beat again that he now thought would be cold forever, he would cherish her as no man could.

Two years had passed since the injury inflicted by Marianne and with time, his heart had calmed down, and his old governess, full of wisdom, had gently made him understand that what he had taken for love towards Marianne had in fact been only an illusion nourished by this vague resemblance of character that the young woman shared with Eliza.

It was then that the carriage stopped abruptly and Christopher had just enough time to put his hand in front of him so as not to crush his hooked nose against the empty seat in front of him.

"What's going on ?" he asked in his baritone voice as he got out of the carriage.

The icy wind immediately bit his cheeks as night fell gently, promising new frosts.

"A dog, Colonel Brandon, I wanted to avoid a dog," the coachman apologized.

Christopher saw it. A little further away. A dog with a red coat was curled up.

"Is it hurt ?" Christopher asked, genuinely worried.

"No, I avoided him," the coachman replied, "I think he got scared."

Christopher approached the animal cautiously. Medium-sized, the dog looked fierce, ready to bite, but Christopher was reassured to see no injuries.

"Are you lost, little boy ?" he asked the dog, hoping to calm him down.

As if to answer his question, a young woman's voice was heard behind the trees that lined the road.

"Henry ! Henry !" she shouted urgently.

That's when you appeared from behind the trees at the very moment the moon was hitting the night with its first rays. Christopher couldn't take his eyes off that angelic face, fine features that gave off great gentleness and eyes... eyes as deep green as the woods you had just left, green like when summer brought the trees back to life.

You stopped dead when you saw the carriage and your face went from surprise to terror.

"HENRY !" you shouted as you ran towards the dog.

Without even a glance at Christopher or his coachman who had just dismounted, you ran towards the dog who immediately stood up to run towards you.

"Henry, are you okay ?" you asked as if the dog could have answered you.

You examined him carefully, looking for an injury or a trace of blood.

"My coachman avoided it just in time," Christopher reassured you.

You stood up, turning towards Christopher who was slightly disconcerted by your gaze, deep, vibrant, eyes that reflected a thousand emotions at the same time... and who seemed to judge him.

"I promise you it was an accident, the dog rushed in front of the carriage," he felt obliged to justify himself.

You still said nothing, watching Christopher carefully. He did the same, although a little uncomfortable by the sudden silence of this young woman who had been so vocal when she had thought her dog was injured. He too looked at you. He had never seen you before, not that he knew everyone living in Dorsetshire, but he could at least boast of knowing everyone living around Delaford, most of them working for him.

"I am Colonel Christopher Brandon," he finally introduced himself with a bow.

"[Y/N], [Y/N] [Y/S]," you answered in a soft voice, bowing back.

You seemed a little shy, perhaps due to your youth. But the more Christopher looked at you, the more he doubted that you were as young as you looked. A certain seriousness in your gaze, like a deep-seated pain that only someone who has lived long enough to know the true pangs of life could have.

"I have never seen you here before," he said in spite of himself.

"My father was hired as a gardener by the Hawthorns, we arrived a month ago," you answered without trying to appear for what you was not.

Christopher knew this influential family from Devonshire well, John's neighbours. You were far from their home, more than four hours on foot, maybe five if the rain started to fall on the ground that was freezing at full speed.

"You are far from home," he pointed out.

The moonlight prevented him from hiding a slight blush on your cheeks.

"It's Henry, he ran away this morning and I wanted to find him before nightfall. I was afraid he would die of cold tonight," you explained, glancing at the said Henry.

The dog, totally unaware of the fright he had given his mistress, amused himself by teasing Christopher's coachman who was not at ease in front of the animal, much to the amusement of the Colonel.

"You came all this way for a dog?" he asked, surprised.

"Henry isn't just a dog ! He's a full-fledged member of the family," you replied briskly.

Christopher apologized quickly. He hadn't meant to offend you, he had been sincerely surprised. In his world, full of nobility, a woman wouldn't have ventured so far, so lightly covered, to find a runaway dog.

"Aren't you cold, miss ?" Christopher asked, seeing you suppress a shiver.

"I'm used to it," you replied, looking away.

That was all it took for him to understand. He had already understood your modest condition, but he assumed, probably rightly, that your family had probably couldn't afford a proper coat.

Without hesitation, he took his off and before you could protest, he placed it on your shoulders.

"I insist," he said gently but firmly when you wanted to give it back.

A new silence settled between you. Christopher couldn't help but notice your similarities. You didn't speak much, looked serious but you had a certain dignity and you seemed deeply kind even if he guessed a volcanic temperament if you attacked those you loved, as you had shown when he dared to say that your dog was just a dog.

"Henry, that's a funny name for a dog," he finally dared to say.

"I called him that because when I found him, I was reading a book about Henry VIII."

"Found ?"

"Yes, an old farmer had abandoned his dog's entire litter in the middle of the woods. It was in the village where I used to live. Henry was the only puppy still alive. I brought him back and my father didn't have the heart to abandon him when he found him hiding in my room," you said before stopping suddenly, feeling like you had said too much.

But Christopher didn't judge you, not for your modest condition. He found you endearing, refreshing even in your own way.

"Can I drive you and Henry home ?" he offered kindly.

"That's nice, but we're going for a walk," you replied.

Christopher's smile immediately faded.

"Miss [Y/S], I insist, it's already pitch black."

"I don't think it's right for me to sit alone with you in your carriage," you said softly.

Christopher's eyes lit up with a flash of understanding. You had no chaperone to accompany you in the carriage and propriety shouldn't have made him insist, but it was cold, you were far from home, and he would not have been able to sleep properly tonight without being sure that you had returned home safely.

He was about to insist when, without warning, the rain began to fall, hammering the ground severely. He almost pushed you into the carriage before grabbing Henry and making him climb in at the same time as himself.

"You can't go back alone, by foot, in this weather, you will catch your death," he said in a tone that left no room for contradiction.

He told the coachman your destination and the carriage set off again. He wouldn't return home tonight finally, to his estate that he had so longed to return to, he wouldn't find his firm and comfortable bed and his governess's lemon cakes. He already knew that you would arrive home late, but he had no doubt that John and his mother-in-law would welcome him with open arms, even if he was not expected. It bothered him a little to impose himself like this, but he knew that the horse, and also the coachman, would not have the strength to make it all the way to Devonshire, then to Delaford.

The journey took place in comfortable silence. You were shivering slightly from the cold, snuggling in spite of yourself in the Colonel's oversized coat that smelled of cologne and another perfume whose name you did not know but that you had already smelled on your father's employer.

"May I ask you if you live alone with your father ?" Christopher dared to ask.

His intention wasn't entirely innocent. He wanted to know if you had a fiancé.

"Yes," you simply replied.

He wondered how old you were and what you did with your days, but he felt you were reserved and he himself was not a man who spoke easily about himself, he preferred not to bother you any further.

It was almost 10 pm when the carriage finally arrived near the modest cottage that the Hawthorns rented at a ridiculous price to your father. The place was small, modest. There were only four rooms: two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen as well as a small cold and poorly lit room that you used to take your baths.

Although you didn't know who Christopher really was, you guessed that he was important... and rich, and you couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by the smallness of your means, but at no time did Christopher seem to be bothered by it. He helped you down before handing you Henry.

"Come inside and get warm, [Y/S]," he said, bowing before adding, "it was a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you Colonel Brandon, really," you replied before disappearing inside, not without one last look at the man who still had his hazel eyes fixed on you.

Christopher then headed to his old friend John's, his thoughts filled with your face, your soft voice, that strange feeling you had awakened in him but that he tried to stifle at all costs. He didn't want to suffer, not again. He had finally learned his lesson. Love wasn't for him, you wouldn't make him suffer, not you too.

"Brandon ! My old friend, I didn't know we were expecting you !" John exclaimed when the butler announced Christopher.

"I'm sorry to intrude like this..." he began before being interrupted by Mrs. Jennings who told him with her usual joviality that he was always welcome at their home.

John invited him to drink a glass of his best whisky, a Scottish vintage that he particularly cherished, in his office. Christopher hesitated to confide in him about the intriguing encounter he had had, and wisdom made him hold his tongue. Until the next day, when at breakfast, when he ventured a few questions to Mrs. Jennings.

"Last night, as I was heading to your place, I met a young woman. A certain [Y/S]. Do you know her, Mrs. Jennings ?" he asked casually without telling the whole truth about your encounter.

"Oh, Miss [Y/S] ! I don't know her very well, she's a very private young lady, but..."

She knew a lot for someone who didn't know you and she was able to tell Christopher that you were a 28 year old spinster with no known fiancé. You were rather private although often seen with your faithful Henry.

"She sometimes walks on my land," John informed Christopher as he took a bite of bread, "I've never had the heart to tell her she walks on private land, she's so reserved that I don't want to make her uncomfortable," he added.

"Oh, and she seems so respectful and she's not doing anything wrong walking here with her dog. Poor child, she's always so alone." Mrs. Jennings said theatrically. "She sometimes helps out at the Hawthorne manor with the children. I did try to invite her to have tea with me once, but she told me she didn't think a girl like her belonged at my table."

"Nonsense !" John exclaimed, "Any pleasant and well-mannered person is worthy of being part of our acquaintances."

His mother-in-law nodded vigorously before continuing with the latest gossip, but Christopher was already no longer listening, his thoughts lost in a December night where the moon lit up your eyes a deep green.

Finally returning home, Christopher settled into his old worn fabric armchair, a book in his hand, but he wasn't reading. You were still there haunting his thoughts. He had felt this feeling before. Not like with Marianne, no. But like with Eliza.

He shook his head vigorously as if to get your image out of his head. He couldn't afford to have heartbroken, he wouldn't survive it, not when he had finally come to terms with the idea of being alone for the rest of his life, in the comfort of the Delaford, with his dogs. And yet, he didn't see his day go by. Not because he had been busy with his fishing trip and his horseback ride, but because his mind had been busy. Busy with you.

And for no real reason, he found himself visiting his friend John two days later, under the pretext of proposing a hunting trip. John accepted enthusiastically, unaware that his friend's real intention was to see you again. And it didn't take more than two days for him to come across you near the small river that crossed John's land. Recognising him, Henry ran towards him, barking happily.

"Miss [Y/S], what a nice surprise to see you again," Brandon said politely, bowing.

"Colonel Brandon, this is a surprise indeed," you replied, giving him a slight bow.

"You don't have any gloves," he remarked, a little concerned.

However, what he didn't mention, although he noticed it right away, was that you were wearing his coat, the one he had forced over your shoulders a few nights earlier and that you had forgotten to give him back. The fabric still smelled like him, in addition to being of undeniable quality, giving you a welcome warmth. Christopher was kind enough not to say anything, happy that you had something decent to cover yourself with.

"I never wear them," you replied, shrugging, "I can't turn the pages of my book with gloves," you added, showing him the book with the worn cover that you were holding in your hands.

"Can I accompany you on your walk, Miss [Y/S] ?"

You nodded shyly and you walked along the small river together, Henry at your side. The Colonel didn't seem bothered by your four-legged companion who regularly jumped on him, leaving his footprints on his black pants. When you apologised, a little embarrassed by Henry's behaviour, Christopher replied with a smile that he loved dogs and that it didn't matter to him that Henry decided to repaint his pants.

When the sky began to darken in the late afternoon, you politely excused yourself, stating that you should go home before nightfall.

"Can I walk you home ?" Brandon suggested, genuinely worried about letting you walk home alone.

You bit your lip, hesitant. On one hand, you didn't want to risk being seen with a man and having rumors spread about you, but on the other hand, you didn't want to risk hurting the kind Colonel Brandon. You finally agreed, praying inwardly that no viper's tongue in the village would see you two. Your wish seemed to have been granted and it was with the manners of a gentleman that Colonel Brandon wished you a good evening before waiting until you had closed the door behind you to turn on your heels.

In love. He was in love, for sure. And it wasn't an illusion this time. You were nothing like Eliza. You were neither lively nor spontaneous. In fact, you were more like him: thoughtful, calm and sparing with words. But you also had a certain depth, a certain culture and a natural curiosity to feed your mind. He knew that with you, he would always have a subject of conversation, whether it was books, poetry, art, theatre or music. He had understood it when, despite your lack of education on the subject, you had taken an interest in his life in the army and when you had started to drown him in questions not about him but about India, the different cultures and people he had met there, he had found it refreshing.

At no time had you asked a question about his field or made any allusion to his status. But that was where the problem lay in Christopher's mind. His status. He had never really given importance to social class differences. Not with Eliza. Not with Marianne. His father had taught him a first lesson, Marianne a second, more bitter than the first one. What would he do if you were also a dowry hunter?

Christopher wanted to be loved. Loved for himself, not for his wealth, not for the Delaford. Of course, if you were his he would spoil you like never before. You would have the most beautiful dresses, your own coats, gloves, clothes for every season and jewellery to match each dress.

You would have access to all the books you wanted and he would teach you to draw and play the piano so that you could occupy your time in his big house. But it was not for all that he had to offer that he wanted you to love him in return. It was for himself and a small, vicious voice told him that a girl like you, a girl of little condition, penniless, a gardener's daughter, an old maid at that, could never truly love him for himself. But another small voice, weaker but still there, told him that he must not let himself be swayed by a bad experience.

After all, Marianne was just a child, a capricious and changeable little girl and he wasn't even sure that her real interest in his love stories was money. With her impulsiveness, Marianne fell in love as easily as one falls off a chair and he wondered if she would keep her promise made before God to be faithful to her high judge. Although he knew the latter well enough not to doubt that he would hold this little demon with an iron fist.

Several miles from the Delaford, your thoughts were haunted too. Haunted by a tall man with dark blond hair and hazel eyes. His eagle-beaked nose that made him even more distinguished and his shy smile haunted you. You knew exactly what you felt for him. You had known it the moment he had wrapped you authoritatively in his coat before forcing you into his carriage to take you home on that December night lit only by the moon.

You loved him. You loved him as you had thought you loved twelve years earlier. But you realized today that what you had taken for love at only sixteen had nothing to do with what you felt for the dark Colonel Brandon. This time, you were experiencing true love, the kind that burns you from the inside, consumes you, haunts your nights and fills your days.

But you had no right to love him. By discreetly asking around at the old bakery, you had learned who Colonel Christopher Brandon really was. A man who wasn't for you. A man too good, too important, too rich. How could a man like him ever be interested in a woman like you ?

But that wasn't all. Even if, by some totally improbable chance, Colonel Brandon could have the slightest interest in you, you were hiding something. A secret that would repel any man, even a man of your status. A secret that only your grandmother knew and that she had taken with her to her grave. A secret that would die with you but that condemned you to remain alone forever.

A few days later, you were alone outside in the middle of the night, frozen to the bone as a pure white snow fell on Dorsetshire. Henry was sheltered in your coat, or at least the Colonel's coat. The little rascal had burrowed away again and now you were both going to catch bluetongue. If it hadn't been for the full moon, you would never have been able to find your way through all that white. Just then, in front of you came a man on horseback, a magnificent black stallion with a fine appearance.

Inwardly, you felt anxiety take hold of you. It was late and you could tell that the rider was a man, and you hoped that he was a man with good intentions.

The closer the horse got, the more familiar the figure on it seemed to you. But it was only when he was a few steps away from you that you recognized Colonel Brandon, dashing in his long wool coat.

"Miss [Y/S] !" he exclaimed in an almost angry tone, "what are you doing out in this weather ? You're going to catch your death !"

"It's Henry, he disappeared again himself again," you replied in a very small voice.

Hearing his name, the dog stuck his head between the flaps of the coat, his tongue hanging out trying to catch the snowflakes that were falling on you.

"Maybe we should build a proper barrier to stop your companion from scaring you to death... and freezing."

Brandon had said this with a firmness that left no room for any kind of humour. You nodded timidly, shivering despite the warmth of his coat.

"Give him to me," Brandon ordered.

You hesitated for a moment but when he held out his gloved hands towards you, you handed him Henry without fear. Deep down, you knew he wouldn't hurt your best friend. Christopher placed your dog inside his own coat, then he held out your hand.

"Ride with me, I'll take you home !"

You placed your hand in his hesitantly and he hoisted you up without any harm behind him before setting his horse into a gallop.

Your hands hooked on his hips, you gently rested your head against his back. You could feel the warmth emanating from his body pierce you and for a moment, you imagined what it must be like to be loved by a man like him.

When the horse stopped in front of the cottage you shared with your father, the snow had stopped falling and it shone like millions of diamonds under the benevolent gaze of the moon.

"Your father isn't here ?" Brandon asked worriedly, seeing no candles lit in your candle, nor the smoke of a warm fire burning in the fireplace.

"No. The Hawthornes are having a small party for the staff and he was invited," you replied as he helped you dismount.

Christopher dismounted as well, Henry still sheltered against his chest.

"Do you need help lighting the fire ?" Brandon asked, genuinely concerned.

"No, thank you Colonel, but I'll be fine."

The truth was that you couldn't start the fire eight times out of ten, but if anyone found out that a man had come into your house while your father wasn't there to chaperone you, it didn't matter that you were already 28, the rumour that you were a girl of easy virtue would spread like wildfire in the village and your father would risk losing his job with the Hawthornes, people of great kindness but who couldn't stand to be the object of mockery, especially at the fault of their employees.

"Good evening, Miss [Y/S]," Brandon murmured, his gaze tender.

"Colonel, I can't go home," you murmured.

"Why ?" Christopher asked in a whisper.

"Because you're still holding my dog in hostage," you replied with a slight smile.

Christopher chuckled before handing Henry back to you, but as he placed him in your arms, his fingers lingered longer than necessary on your icy hand.

Gently, he untied the silk scarf that brought a little more warmth to his throat and chest to place it around you, adding a touch of modesty to your fragile form in the face of his imposing stature. The scarf, light and delicate, immediately offered you an additional touch of warmth, a touch of warmth that manifested itself in a delicate blush on your cheeks, a touch of warmth caused by the violent feelings you felt for Christopher Brandon.

"I offer it to you. As well as the coat. They will keep you warm this winter," Brandon said softly, almost as if he were reciting poetry.

"Colonel..." you murmured, too moved to add a thank you.

"Miss [Y/S]..."

He hesitated for a moment. What he was about to say would change the destiny of both of you forever. He wasn't going to offer to be your friend. No, he was going to take a risk, a new one.bet against the reason that pushed him to make you a mere memory, against his heart that screamed at him that he would suffer again, against the love that seemed to refuse him with force, leaving him a little more broken each time.

"Miss [Y/S], do you allow me to court you ?"

A million emotions crossed your gaze and he could not name any of them. Inside, you screamed with joy while your heart beat so hard that you wondered if it would not explode with love. But there was this secret. This secret that could destroy the slightest illusion that you could nourish towards the slightest spark of love between Colonel Brandon and yourself. Yet, if your head told you to say no to him immediately so as not to hurt him later, so as not to hurt this man who seemed sincerely good and kind and who deserved so much better than you, it was your heart that answered.

"Yes."

You said it in a breath, your eyes diving into his. With tenderness, he caressed your face, a slight smile softening his features so often severe while you allowed yourself a sincere smile that hid your fear that he could learn what had haunted you for more than twelve years.

"I promise to always respect you miss [Y/S]," Christopher murmured, confusing your apprehension for what you were hiding with the fear that he was playing you.

"Colonel, please, call me by my first name," you asked him candidly.

"Only if, in private, you call me Christopher."

You nodded with emotion. He squeezed your small hands in his, smiling slightly at Henry's antics who was impatient at the idea of going back to get warm.

"Come back, [Y/N], get warm. I'll come back to see you tomorrow and talk to your father. I'll ask for his blessing to court you properly."

And without waiting to answer, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead, while on this December evening, only the moon was witness to this hope that you both nourished. The hope of a new chance, of redemption, of finally knowing true love.

#rickmas2024 #deepperplexity #Colonel Brandon #alan rickman x reader #Colonel Brandon x Reader #Colonel Brandon x OC #sense and sensibility #evans23

80 notes · View notes

kitausu · 3 months ago

Text

Fantasy Novels/Series I Think Are CRIMINALLY Underhyped

Just as the title says, this is simply a list of fantasy novels and series that I think deserve all the hype and yet I basically never see people talking them up. These are not in any kind of order because they're all amazing. If you read any of these please hmu because I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Since the city of Bezim was shaken half into the sea by a magical earthquake, the Inquisitors have policed alchemy with brutal efficiency. Nothing too powerful, too complicated, too much like real magic is allowed–and the careful science that’s left is kept too expensive for any but the rich and indolent to tinker with. Siyon Velo, a glorified errand boy scraping together lesson money from a little inter-planar fetch and carry, doesn’t qualify. But when Siyon accidentally commits a public act of impossible magic, he’s catapulted into the limelight. Except the limelight is a bad place to be when the planes themselves start lurching out of alignment, threatening to send the rest of the city into the sea. Now Siyon, a dockside brat who clawed his way up and proved himself on rooftops with saber in hand, might be Bezim’s only hope. Because if they don’t fix the cascading failures of magic in their plane, the Powers and their armies in the other three will do it for them.

A god will return When the earth and sky converge Under the black sun In the holy city of Tova, the winter solstice is usually a time for celebration and renewal, but this year it coincides with a solar eclipse, a rare celestial event proscribed by the Sun Priest as an unbalancing of the world. Meanwhile, a ship launches from a distant city bound for Tova and set to arrive on the solstice. The captain of the ship, Xiala, is a disgraced Teek whose song can calm the waters around her as easily as it can warp a man’s mind. Her ship carries one passenger. Described as harmless, the passenger, Serapio, is a young man, blind, scarred, and cloaked in destiny. As Xiala well knows, when a man is described as harmless, he usually ends up being a villain.

The Omehi people have been fighting an unwinnable fight for almost two hundred years. Their society has been built around war and only war. The lucky ones are born gifted. One in every two thousand women has the power to call down dragons. One in every hundred men is able to magically transform himself into a bigger, stronger, faster killing machine. Everyone else is fodder, destined to fight and die in the endless war. Young, gift-less Tau knows all this, but he has a plan of escape. He's going to get himself injured, get out early, and settle down to marriage, children, and land. Only, he doesn't get the chance. Those closest to him are brutally murdered, and his grief swiftly turns to anger. Fixated on revenge, Tau dedicates himself to an unthinkable path. He'll become the greatest swordsman to ever live, a man willing to die a hundred thousand times for the chance to kill the three who betrayed him.

Twenty-seven years ago, a Duke with a grudge led a ruthless coup against the empire of Semilla, killing thousands. He failed. The Duke was executed, a terrifyingly powerful sorcerer was imprisoned, and an unwilling princess disappeared. The empire moved on. Now, when Quill, an apprentice scribe, arrives in the capital city, he believes he's on a simple errand for another pompous noble: fetch ancient artifacts from the magical Imperial Archives. He's always found his apprenticeship to a lawman to be dull work. But these aren't just any artifacts — these are the instruments of revolution, the banners under which the Duke lead his coup. Just as the artifacts are unearthed, the city is shaken by a brutal murder that seems to have been caused by a weapon not seen since the days of rebellion. With Quill being the main witness to the murder, and no one in power believing his story, he must join the Archivists — a young mage, a seasoned archivist, and a disillusioned detective — to solve the truth of the attack. And what they uncover will be the key to saving the empire – or destroying it again.

#booklr #bookblr #fantasy books #lgbtq books #book recs #kit reads books #im reading relics of ruin rn #and I am SCREAMING #i love them i love them i loooooove them #davinia evans #rebecca roanhorse #evan winter #erin m evans

63 notes · View notes

quotidianish · 1 year ago

Text

TF2 x ATLA AU :3

Lore, close ups, and doodles underneath !

Scout, Pauling, and Ludwig are the main three- scout, who’s an (admittedly shitty) airbender but not the avatar, who ran away after his father left. Once spotted by fire nation soldiers, he is presumed to be the avatar- and scout basks in the glory of his false identity. Pauling- a studious, too serious for her own good, non-bender, who’s Medic’s student. She’s of the southern water tribe, treating medic like her paternal figure after the disappearance of her aunt. Medic is (unbeknownst to pauling and scout) a blood bender who was exiled for his practices. He doesn’t seem to care for anyone or anything, also being very jovial and cheery.

All Pauling and Scout know is that Ludwig was exiled from the northern water tribe then fled to the south for an undisclosed reason. Pauling never bothered to pry and the Scout was too intimidated to. Here the avatar cycle has indeed been broken. It’s up to a group of nine ragtag men and one mousy girl to defeat Gray Mann.

And the main three villains are soldier, demo, and sniper who're all fire nation folk. Sort of the team rocket; never truly competent enough to cause real damage, that or their hearts truly aren’t in it.

Soldier's a fire bender who specializes in jet propulsion and was kicked out of the army. He thinks if he steals back the avatar, they'll let him back in. A weapon since childhood, once a bully, always a bully, or so he’s heard.Character arc being the realization the fire nation army isn't worth fighting for. Surprisingly, he is very good with spirits, opposite to his best friend, Tavish, who despises them.

Demo’s just trying to impress his mum and be a good friend to the Soldier. People pleasing tendencies, that's his character arc. He's supposedly a non bender who's mighty good with swords; but underneath his inconspicuous-ish eye patch holds a combustion bending tattoo. Only Jane knows this. Well-versed in calligraphy.

Sniper is a 26 year old yuyan archer who was discharged for failing a mission while he was young. He joined the other two with the same goal as the Soldier. His yuyan archer tattoo still remains. He's a non bender with excellent aim, who grew up on the rural outskirts of the fire nation. His character arc is something about not adhering to expectations and learning who he's fighting for; a combination of the demoman and the soldier’s lessons.

Spy's a crusty airbender constantly sporting a mask to hide his tattoos, and knife. Nobody has a clue where he's from and he takes orders from whoever pays him best. His airbending tricks are so subtle, the public believes him to be a crafty nonbender. Usually said tricks are only invisibility and voice alteration. While not assassinating political figures he traverses the spirit world looking for his wife, a fellow air nomad, avoiding physical aging in brief sprints of time. He returns on a well paid mission to kill the “avatar,” which was presumably the scout. Little does he know, that weird whiteboy is just some lame airbender. Who’s also his son. His bad.

Engineers the metalbender; an art perfected by his ancestors and passed down in whispers to him. I haven't developed him much. He teaches the Scout what he knows while obscuring information on how he got that metal arm. Him and the Pyro have a shared love of blacksmithing. From an explosion, he thinks..

Pyro's a spirit probably. Nobody knows what he is. Where he’s from? Pyro. What’s his gender? Pyro. Guy who sets things on fire. Presumably human judging by his questionable use of what looks to be fire bending. And also the Spy's companion! They met in the spirit world. He and the Soldier form a close bond quite quickly thanks to their good graces with spirits (to Tavish’s immense dismay).

Heavy's an earth bender who continues to win in underground fights. Residing in ba sing se with his three sisters and elderly mother, scout pauling and medic meet him in an earth bender championship. Despite what his appearance suggests, his patience is unmatched, which is his greatest strength. He has near -perfect seismic sense. He and the Medic get on quite well, and after the fire lord has been struck down, form a duo in the ring, earning even more won championships.

377 notes · View notes

beardedmrbean · 2 months ago

Text

Lessons in Manliness from Bass Reeves _________________

It’s Never Too Late for a Man to Have a Second Act

Bass Reeves was born a slave in Arkansas in 1838. When the Civil War broke out, his white master joined the Confederate Army and took Reeves along to serve as his body servant. Reeves bided his time, until one night he saw an opening, laid out his master with his mighty fists, and took off for the hills a free man. He was taken in by the Keetoowah, an abolitionist sect of the Cherokee Nation.

When the war was over, he struck out on his own and settled with his family in Van Buren, Arkansas, making a good living as a farmer and horse breeder. He was the first black man to settle in Van Buren, and he built his family an eight room house with his own hands.

He started making some extra money by helping the U.S. Marshals with scouting and tracking and soon earned a reputation for himself as a man who knew what he was doing and could be relied upon.

He was commissioned as a Deputy U.S. Marshal in his own right in 1875, when he was 38 years old. During this time marshals were paid for the number of criminals brought in and the distance traveled in capturing them and bringing them back to court. With so many miles to cover in Indian Territory, and with his legendary effectiveness for tracking down wrong-doers, Reeves made a great living at his job. And so it was only as he was nearing 40 that he found his true calling.

Compensate for Weaknesses by Cultivating Signature Strengths

“My mom always said she heard that Bass was so tough he could spit on a brick and bust it in two!” -Willabelle Shultz, granddaughter of fellow marshal

Because he grew up a slave, Bass Reeves did not know how to read or write. Being an illiterate U.S. Marshal was highly unusual—the men needed to fill out forms and reports–but Bass got and kept his job by compensating for this weakness with other valuable strengths.

First, he could speak the Muskogee language of the Creeks and Seminoles, and he could also converse pretty well in the languages of the other Five Civilized Tribes. He took the time to get to know the tribes and their customs, and they respected him for it. His friendly and sterling reputation among Indians, blacks, and whites alike led folks to trust him and give him assistance and tips they didn’t feel comfortable sharing with other marshals.

Reeves knew Indian Territory like the back of his hand, and his scouting and tracking skills were second to none.

But his most notable strength was his prowess with firearms. He carried two big .45 caliber six-shooters and wore them with their handles facing forward. He employed the cross-handed draw, as he believed it was the fastest way for a man to grab his guns. And indeed, he was known as a man who could draw with lightning fast speed; numerous men tried to beat him, and 14 of them died in the attempt.

But unlike what you see in movies, cowboys in the West did not rely on their pistols; those were their back-up firearms. A cowboy’s weapon of choice was his trusty Winchester rifle, and that was the gun Reeves used most. But he was a proficient marksman with both weapons. Ambidextrous and always cool under pressure, Reeves could fire an accurate shot with pistol or rifle, with his left hand or his right. It was said he could draw “a bead as fine as a spider’s web on a frosty morning” and “shoot the left hind leg off of a contended fly sitting on a mule’s ear at a hundred yards and never ruffle a hair.”

Turkey shoot competitions were popular at territorial fairs and picnics, but Reeves was banned from entering them because he was too darn good. Once, when he saw 6 wolves tearing at a steer, he took them all out with just 8 shots from the back of a galloping horse.

The Mind Is Just as Powerful a Weapon as the Gun

“If Reeves were fictional, he would be a combination of Sherlock Holmes, Superman, and the Lone Ranger.” -Historian Art Burton

Despite Bass’ legendary strength and prowess with firearms, he didn’t simply go after criminals with guns and fists blazing. Rather, he took a far slower, methodical, and ultimately more effective approach. He was an intuitive and quick-thinking detective who often got his man from being smart and crafty.

Reeves was a master of disguise, a tactic he used to sneak up on unsuspecting outlaws. They would undoubtedly see a giant black man on a giant horse coming for them, so when Bass was closing in on a man, he would switch to a smaller ride, and he learned tricks from the Indians on how to look smaller in the saddle.

And often he would ditch the horse all together. For example, one time he dressed like a farmer and lumbered along in a ramshackle wagon pulled by old oxen. He drove the wagon close to a cabin where six outlaws where holed up, and as he passed their hide out, he pretended to get the wagon snagged on a large tree stump. When the outlaws came out to help this humble farmer, he coolly reached into his overalls, drew out his six-shooters, and placed the men under arrest.

On another occasion, Reeves was after two outlaws who were hiding out at their mother’s house. Reeves camped 28 miles away to be sure they didn’t see him coming or hear he was in the area. Then he ditched his marshal duds and stashed his handcuffs and six-shooters under a set of dirty, baggy clothes, flat shoes, and a large floppy hat into which he shot three bullet holes. Dressed like a typical tramp, Reeves sauntered up to the felons’ hideout and asked for something to eat, showing them his bullet-ridden hat and explaining how he had been shot at by marshals and was famished from having walked for miles to flee the law. Having ingratiated himself as a fellow outlaw, the men ate together and decided to join forces on a future heist. After everyone had fallen asleep for the night, Reeves crept up to the two outlaws and handcuffed them in their sleep, careful not to wake them. In the morning, Reeves bounded into the room and woke them up with his booming voice, “Come on, boys, let’s get going from here!” As the men tried to get out bed, they quickly realized they’d been had by crafty old Bass Reeves.

Be Reliable–The Details Matter

Even though he was a tough-as-nails badass, locals also remembered Reeves as a man known for his “politeness and courteous manner” and as someone who was “kind,” “sympathetic,” and “always neatly dressed.” He was also a man who took pride in getting the details right.

Reeves was unable to read or write and yet part of his job was to write up reports on his arrests and serve subpoenas to witnesses. So when he had to write a report, he would dictate to someone else and sign with an “X.” When he would get a stack of subpoenas to serve to different people, he would memorize the names like symbols and have people read the subpoenas out loud to him until he memorized what symbol went with what subpoena.

He took great pride in the fact that he never once served the wrong subpoena to the wrong person. In fact, many of the courts specially requested that their subpoenas be served by Reeves because he was so reliable.

Keep Cool. Always.

“Reeves was never known to show the slightest excitement under any circumstance. He does not know what fear is. Place a warrant for arrest in his hands and no circumstance can cause him to deviate. ” –Oklahoma City Weekly Times-Journal, 1907

Bass Reeves had an uncanny ability to stay calm and cool, even when he was in a really tight spot.

He found himself in that kind of tight spot while looking to arrest a murderer, Jim Webb, who was hanging out with posseman Floyd Smith at a ranch house. Reeves and his partner moseyed up, tried to pull the old, “we’re just regular cowboys passing through” trick, and sat down to get some breakfast. But the two men weren’t buying it and sat glaring at the marshals, pistols at the ready in their hands. An hour went by and Reeves and his partner still didn’t have an opening to make a move on the outlaws. But when Webb was momentarily distracted by a noise outside, Reeves jumped up, wrapped his large hand around Webb’s throat, and shoved his Colt .45 in the surprised man’s face. Webb meekly surrendered. Reeves’ partner was supposed to jump in and grab Smith, but he froze. Smith fired two shots at Reeves; he dodged them both, and with his hand still around Webb’s neck, he turned and took Smith out with one shot. Then he ordered his partner to handcuff Webb and called it a day.

Reeves was the target of numerous assassination attempts but he often saved his own neck by staying completely calm and in control. One time, he met two men out riding who knew who he was and wanted him dead. They drew their guns and forced him off his horse. One of the men asked if Reeves had any last words, and Bass answered that he would really appreciate it if one of them could read him a letter from his wife before finishing him off. He reached into his saddlebag for the letter and handed it over. As soon as the would-be-assassin reached for the letter, Bass put one of his hands around the man’s throat, used his other hand to draw his gun, and said, “Son of a bitch, now you’re under arrest!” The outlaw’s partner was so surprised he dropped his gun, and Reeves put both men in chains.

Another time, Reeves faced a similar situation; this time three wanted outlaws forced him from his horse and were about to do him in. He showed them the warrants he had for their arrest and asked them for the date, so he could jot it down for his records when he turned the men into jail. The leader of the group laughed and said,“You are ready to turn in now.” But having dropped his guard for just a second, Reeves drew his six-shooter as fast as lightning and grabbed the barrel of the man’s gun. The outlaw fired three times, but Reeves again dodged the bullets. At the same time, and with his hand still around the barrel of the first man’s gun, he shot the second man, and then hit the third man over the head with his six-shooter, killing him. All in a day’s work for Deputy U.S. Marshal Bass Reeves.

Build a Bridge

When Reeves was appointed a marshal by Judge Parker, the judge reminded him that “he would be in a position to serve as a deputy to show the lawful as well as the lawless that a black man was the equal of any other law enforcement officer on the frontier.”

Bass took this responsibility seriously.

Black law enforcement officers were a rarity in other parts of the country, but more common in Indian Territory and surrounding states like Texas. In fact, despite Hollywood’s depiction of the Old West as lily white, 25% of cowboys in Texas were African-American.

Because of the reputation Bass earned as a marshal who was honest, effective, and doggedly persistent–the Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal of the Western District, Bud Ledbetter, called Bass, “one of the bravest men this country has ever known”–more black marshals were hired in Indian Territory; a couple dozen were part of the service during Bass’ tenure. Nowhere else in the country could a black man arrest a white man. Bass had paved the way, and done one of the manliest things a man can do—build a bridge and a legacy for others to follow.

Sadly, when Oklahoma became a state in 1907, it instituted Jim Crow laws that forced black marshals out of the service. Despite his legendary record as a deputy marshal, Reeves had to take a job as a municipal policeman in the town of Muskogee the year before he died. But his shining example of manhood cannot so easily be passed over and still speaks to us today.

#international men's day #bass reeves

28 notes · View notes

mynoiii · 4 months ago

Text

Tigeress and prince Renae headcanons

Cause no, I will not stop talking about them. They are my absolute favorites, and I need to see them on my timeline more often

These are just some silly things I made up in the AM, some of these are angsty and kinda sad LOL so enjoy lol.This got super Long for some reason? lol. Might do other characters cause this is fun, i enjoy talking into the void.

Grammer was not checked.

Also, snice more content is coming out. I'm hoping that around next year, I can post a newer video in regards to more lore and new things I've discovered since my last video 🫠

_________________________🐅👑_________________________

When the prince and tigeress were kids, he made a deal with her that she would be his ' right hand man ' when he became the king/emperor

The queen made tigeress take Etiquette classes to tame her wild and big personality; she failed.

The queens next best bet was to sign tigeress up to be his knight when she's older

Tigeress father knew the two had a crush on each other and found it pretty funny

The two would sneak into balls to watch the dances and listen to exchanges, snice they weren't old enough to attend themselves yet

Tigeress mother was actually from a well-respected old money rich family ( not in the empire, I'm thinking more stealgate ), but she was disowned after running away with pirates

They both have " spoiled rich kid " Attitudes.

The prince is more petty, but tigeress knows how to humble him

They've been friends from snice they we're 6years old to 14years old

Tigeress is the shortest out of all the listeners

Both in the old series and new one tigeress reputation gets around fast, intica looks for the ship often on their seas in hopes they can tempt/convince her to join their army

The prince would sometimes watch and listen to tigeress father teach her new fighting techniques snice he himself can't join in to learn, her father has made efforts to let him join the lessons..but he wants to follow his mother's orders and chooses to sit out

The prince is a hardcore lightweight compared to tigeress who can handle her liquor

These two would find places to hide together in the castle, and it would stress EVERYONE out, eyes gotta be on them 24/7, or THEY WILL go missing for a good few hours

The prince shows tigeress old historic things from around gorgeous era. They both love reading old journal entry together and learning about the old world.

Castle staff loved watching the two hangouts and playing with each other. They got sad when tigeress ' left ' the castle. The prince never looked so sad and bored in his life.

Sad headcanons cause their my personal favorite

The prince father passed away before he was born

For some reason, tigeress mom never trusted Darius, and while she was alive, she made sure her daughter was never in his way

Tigeress mother passed away due to illness when she was 8; 14 is when her father was hanged.

To remember tigeress the prince kept her old play sword; he also kept any ' treasures ' she would give him after her and her father left the empire for ' business ' this is where his love of gold accessories comes from.these items are hidden away from his mother

Tigeress does not call Darius ( the new captain ) captain. She calls him by his name and sticks to that only, she kinda does not recognize him as her captain, but she wouldn't openly admit that

Tigeress does not allow ANYONE to touch or wear her father's old captain hat. She herself doesn't even wear it. Darius was forced to get a brand new one commissioned, and tigeress made sure it didn't look like her father's

On the ship, her father had a private captain study, only he, his wife, and, of course, tigeress was allowed in. After his death, only one key remained. Tigeress has that key and has locked the room snice his death; no one is allowed in the room. Ever.

The prince watched the shoreline everyday in hopes he would see his old friends ship dock.he stopped watching when he turned 17

While the prince mother lied to him about tigeress were abouts he would Secretly give sailors missing flyers in hopes his friend would return

The queen was generally confused when she could not find tigeress after her father hanging. She had sent the guards to the shore lines, across the city, even checked some of her and the prince hiding spots in the castle...but nothing came up she gave up looking after 3 days and deemed she was just taken.

Dispite Tigeress not being the most high rank on the ship now under a new captain her room on the ship is the captains suite, she gave Darius her old room after her father's hanging, Darius allowed this knowing tigeress was extremely close with her parents ( probs the only nice thing he's ever done for her)

Despite her father last wishing of tigeress making it to the ship, she was kicking and scearming, not wanting to leave the empire. It was like a 3 home to her.

She wanted to write renae letters, but Darius stopped her every time in hopes that one day in the future, he could use tigeress for a bigger plan, AKA kidnapping the prince when she was an adult.

Lol that's it, this was fun ☺️🤪

Might do a post about how all the cast feels about eachother cause that would be fun.

#desmond asmr #desmond asmr tigeress #desmond asmr prince renae #asmr

26 notes · View notes

bladeinthedark · 2 years ago

Text

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x female!reader Request: hi! could i request a nikolai x heartrender reader where the reader helps comfort/take care of nikolai after he turns back to himself after turning into the monster one night? tysm! <3

Summary: When everything is falling apart around Nikolai, you’re there to support him and bring more peace into his life. Words: 4k Warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, lots of angst

You had been in the King’s service for quite a while. When you had first joined the Second Army as a child, you never imagined to one day find yourself in the King of Ravka’s inner circle, but now you were one of the first to be called to the King if he needed help.

The help you could offer was mostly connected to the powers gifted to you. Being a heartrender secured lots of different tasks in the King’s service for you, but there was one task given you that was the most important.

Countless times you had sat on the King’s bedside, your fingers moving over his palm as you slowed down his heartbeat. Nikolai’s dishevelled blonde hair was spread over the pillow, his eyes losing focus again and again as he desperately tried to look at you. “It’s alright, moi tsar,” you whispered, your voice reflecting the desperation inside you. It hurt you to see him like this. Over and over again.

When his eyes closed, his heartbeat slowing to a sleepy rate, you stayed for a bit longer than needed. How many times would you have to do this again?

Today had been a slow day at the palace. Genya had left this morning to head out to a First Army camp, Zoya leaving to take a ship to Kerch for some private business she had. That meant you and Nikolai were basically alone in the palace for a few days. At least when it came to your friends.

David was still there, but he didn’t like to come out of his workshop anyway, unless Genya made him.

However, just because your two closest friends were away didn’t mean you didn’t have any work to do. You had a heartrendering lesson to teach today, out on the grounds of the Little Palace, with the teens this time. You didn’t have a preference when it came to teaching different age groups, but all of them had a different way of listening to you and then learning from the moves you made.

It was a stormy day today and the clouds were dark, heavy with the upcoming rain. You liked to train outside and teach with the fresh air around you. It was a calming atmosphere for a lot of students and for you as well.

Yet your time was cut short. It soon started pouring rain, thunder roaring in the sky and you quickly directed everyone to get back inside the palace. “We will continue the lesson tomorrow,” you assured them. You wanted to teach a new unit and it wasn’t worth it trying to gather everyone in a room again. Until silence would have settled, your time would already be over.

So you spent the rest of your day going over letters that had been sent to you in your office. You cut them open neatly, read through them and then made two different piles. The one on your left would be for letters that didn’t require a response and the one on your right would be the ones that you had to get back to at some point. The right pile ended up being much higher than the first one.

You dipped your quill into a small bottle of ink, starting to write your letter to a Commander of the First Army. He had requested a few Second Army troops, but you couldn’t give him what he wanted at the moment.

A knock on the door made you look up from the parchment. “Come in,” you said, but you already knew who it was. You would recognise that heartbeat anywhere. It was the one you so frequently looked for, calming it, gifting this heart a well needed rest.

“Moi tsar,” you greeted the King when he closed the door behind him. He was wearing his uniform, blond hair slightly dishevelled, a few strands hanging down onto his forehead. He pushed the sleeves of his brown jacket up as he made his way over to you. Your desk was standing by the window, the lightning outside illuminating the scene every now and then.

“You still call me that every time,” Nikolai chuckled, pulling the chair from your dressing table over to the desk. He sat down opposite of you, a grin on his face. “What is my favourite heartrender working on, huh?” He seemed to be in a good mood. Just a few nights ago you had visited his chambers to free him from his pain again. To free him from the hold the monster had on him even after it visibly disappeared.

Nikolai had become more than just your prince or your king over the years. He had become a good friend, a best friend. You trusted him with your life and he trusted you with his.

After the monster had settled inside him after that fateful fight, he came to you for help. He knew you couldn’t make it go away, but you could grant him a little peace every time that dark storm raged inside him again. He trusted you, to make this your shared secret and to look after him in some way. This situation made your bond even stronger, unbreakable. Whenever his body ached, his heart dared to burst out of his chest and he was haunted by visions and nightmares, you were there to bring him calm, like the sound of soft ocean waves hitting the shore or the birds singing outside of his window.

Nikolai wasn’t too sure if what he was feeling in his stomach sometimes, when he looked at you, was only the feeling of relief, someone coming to help him. It felt more like something that reached a lot deeper.

He had so much admiration for you. Even when his limbs were filled with pain, when his hands felt like they were on fire, shivers sometimes ran through his body whenever you touched him. Your soft fingertips running over his skin left a mark on him no one else could. He wanted to carry that feeling around all day, at all times.

“Just answering some letters. There have been quite a few letters from the First Army,” you explained to him, but placed the quill down to make sure Nikolai knew he had all your attention.

“And what is my favourite king doing on a stormy day like this?” You asked, a smile on your face. Talking to Nikolai always felt so easy, so natural. There were no secrets between you two.

Except for the yearning deep inside you. The urge to kiss his forehead whenever you helped him fall asleep. The desire to lace your fingers together whenever he put his hand out to you. His pink lips looking so inviting when you came to check up on him in the morning.

Everything about Nikolai was admirable. His looks, his personality, even the way he carried himself. Yet you felt like giving in to these feelings, your deepest desires, would be a death sentence for your friendship.

For you, Nikolai was a good friend. For others, he was their king, representing a country that had been divided for centuries. He had more important things to do than form a deeper relationship with a heartrender in his service. There was enough space for you in his life to be a friend, but your love might be too big to fit his chest in times like these.

You could still dream about it at night though. Every now and then.

“I’m your favourite king? I didn’t know there was another one,” he chuckled and then picked one of the grapes from your fruit bowl. You always kept something to eat around when you were working on your desk.

“I started to-” he said with a full mouth, but then paused to speak clearly again. “I started going over some documents as well. Was really boring though, so I’m here now to check up on you.”

Nikolai did complain about his work load sometimes, but you knew that he would do even more if he had to. He would do anything for this country and make it a peaceful, balanced place again after all the chaos it had to endure over the years. The Darkling’s terror was over, as was the horrible irresponsibly of his father. The young king was here to put things right again.

“Well, I’m glad you’re keeping me company. The palace is a lot more quiet when Genya and Zoya are gone, don’t you think?” You leaned back in your chair, crossing your legs while Nikolai continued to eat some of the grapes.

“Yeah, it is. I don’t see David getting dragged around as much as usual.”

You let out a chuckle at his answer, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “He needs to get out of the workshop sometimes, you know that.”

“I do, I do,” the blonde man insisted, eventually playing with the letters you had deemed as unimportant. “So, will you join me for dinner tonight?”

Dinner? You didn’t know when you had dinner alone, just the two of you, for the last time.

“Just us. Won’t even drag David out of the workshop.”

A tingling sensation spread in your stomach. A dinner for just the two of you sounded almost too good to be true. But it was surely a thing between friends. Catching up on recent work, enjoying a day inside since the weather was so horrible…

“I would love to,” you agreed eventually, nodding reassuringly.

A grin spread over Nikolai’s face and his eyes lit up. Not only due to the lightning that basked your room in light again.

“Then I will see you at the usual time, my favourite heartrender.”

Then he was gone, leaving you with a fast beating heart and the urge to count down the seconds until dinner.

Dinner with Nikolai never came.

You sat in the dining hall at the long table, in your usual spot, right next to the King’s seat at the head of the table. The rain was still splattering against the window rapidly, the candles on the table were reflecting their light onto the polished plates in front of you.

Your hands fumbled with the sleeves of your red kefta, a sigh leaving your lips.

The white and golden walls of the room were starting to make you feel trapped in this room. Guards were standing outside, but the room itself, it was empty, except for you.

The eerie silence was only interrupted by the pitter-patter of the rain and the thunder roaring outside. Your gaze travelled over portraits and expensive furniture, over all the gold and glamour you were surrounded with.

Anything to distract you from the pressure in your chest.

Did Nikolai just forget about your meeting? No, he wasn’t someone to do that.

Did he deem something else as more important? Maybe, but he would have told you. He would have sent someone to inform you about any changes in his schedule, especially if there was something planned with you.

Did something happen to him?

The thought alone sent a wave of nausea through you. Your fingers tapped against the polished table, feeling continuously nervous. You couldn’t just sit around here all night.

You pushed back the chair and then stormed towards the large double doors that led back into the hallway of the palace.

“Miss-”

It was probably one of the guards wanting to stop you from leaving. He probably had some kind of excuse on his lips why you should stay, but you knew that something must have happened if Nikolai didn’t appear at the promised time.

Too much time had already passed. He could be dead by now. And you had been sitting around, waiting for the food to be served.

When you turned the corner, wanting to head straight to Nikolai’s office to look if he was there, David came rushing towards you. His hair was even more dishevelled than usual, sweat was pooling on his forehead and he was out of breath by the time he reached you.

“Where is Nikolai?”

It was all you said. He must know.

“He’s in his chambers. I was about to call you for-”

You didn’t need another explanation. Without waiting a second longer, you left David standing in the hallway and your feet took you to Nikolai’s chambers as fast as you could. The walls around you seemed to be spinning by the time you arrived in the other wing of the palace, standing in front of the king’s chambers.

“Saints,” you breathed out, already being able to hear Nikolai’s rapid heartbeat.

You slipped into his room, locking the door behind you.

Nikolai was sitting on the edge of the bed, blood running down his temple, claws still present on his hands. He was shirtless, his chest filled with bruises and scratches.

Your heart almost stopped. You didn’t like to see him in pain. Then there was the overwhelming urge to take it from him, to tend to his wounds somehow, even if you weren’t a healer.

“Nikolai,” you breathed out and he turned to look at you. He seemed to look right past you for a moment, until his eyes seemed to fill with tears. “My favourite heartrender,” he croaked, lifting his arm to reach out to you.

In a few big steps, you were by the bed, in front of him.

You knew he had turned into the monster again. He had probably fought with an animal, maybe losing himself between tree branches again, their sharp ends poking through his skin. Your hands found his and he visibly tensed up again.

“The claw-” he started, but you were quick to interrupt him.

“I don’t care, Nikolai. I don’t care,” you whispered, voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes as well. All this pain for a young man with already too much weight on his shoulders.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, focusing on his heart rate once more. As you had done so many times before. His heartbeat was a familiar sound in your ear, a sound following to your dreams as if it was pounding exactly like yours.

Nikolai relaxed, his heart slowing down once more and his breathing regulating again as well.

“It’s alright,” you whispered and kneeled down in front of him. His claws slowly disappeared and you watched him close his eyes for a moment. His jaw unclenched and a single tear ran down his cheek, but you were quick to wipe it away.

“Everything’s alright,” you reassured him, slowly getting back onto your feet and grabbing a towel from the nearby dressing table. With precision, you wiped the blood off his temple, before sitting down next to him on the bed.

Nikolai didn’t look at you for what seemed like an eternity. His gaze was fixed on his hands as if they were displaying a horror he had never seen before. His breathing stayed the same but you could feel his heartbeat slowly rising once more. Your hand found its way onto his back, trying to keep him calm, using your powers to assist that goal.

The lightning outside lit up the room again. You could see more blood stains on Nikolai’s arms and his chest. His blonde hair was darker from dirt gathered in it. A sign of his journey, of the fate he was haunted by.

The monster would always be a part of him.

And comforting him would always be your priority.

“Want me to run you a bath?” You asked softly, fingers gliding over his bare back. Under different circumstances, you would have used the time to enjoy the view in front of you. Seeing his bare skin, his hard chest and wondering what it would feel like to let your lips meet his soft skin.

But this was far from any of the scenarios you wished for in your head.

A nod from your king.

You left him in his bed for a moment as you prepared the bathtub in the adjacent bathroom. You also got some fresh towels ready as well as some thin pants for Nikolai to sleep in, together with his night robe.

By the time everything was prepared, Nikolai was standing in the door already. He seemed a bit more collected now. “I need that bath,” he mumbled and started opening his pants. You turned around, staring at the wall in front of you with burning cheeks.

When you heard Nikolai settle in the bathtub, you dared to turn around again. The bubbles and foam were covering enough so you could only make out parts of the man’s chest. It still didn’t stop your own heartbeat from rising. Tending to his wounds was usually less intimate than watching him lean back in the bathtub, arms resting on either side of it.

“I will wait in the bedroom,” you assured him, but you were just by the door as his voice sounded through the room again.

“Stay here.”

You turned around to face him and there was a desperation in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. They seemed to be pleading with you to stay, to not leave him alone.

“I will.”

His expression relaxed once more and then he reached out for you. Your legs felt weak as you made your way closer to the tub, eventually letting your hands meet. His fingers intertwined with yours easily, as if they belonged into that position. Your eyes met again and the pain in them was gone. It had made space for something else – adoration.

His hazel eyes closed for another moment and when he opened them again, tears were dwelling on the edges, but a smile was on visible on his lips. “Thank you for doing this. For… all of this,” he whispered, his voice almost being drowned out by the sound of the rain outside.

You slowly knelt down to bring yourself to about the same height as Nikolai in the bathtub. Your other hand went to cover his as you kept it in a strong hold. You could feel the pulse in his arms, the loud beating of his heart and you knew that he was enjoying this moment just as much as you were. It just raised the question inside of you where all of this would go eventually. Would you be able to confess your feelings for the King? For someone you had sworn to protect and serve, but had found a good friend in instead?

His hand let go of yours and for a moment, you felt disappointment sink into your stomach. But Nikolai’s hand soon found the back of your neck, warmth spreading there and goosebumps making their way to every part of your body. You held your breath for a second as you felt a slight pressure on your neck. Nikolai moved you just a bit closer as he leaned forward as well. You were able to feel his breath on your lips, a shiver running down your back. You were so close – close enough to kiss.

“Can I?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

The words were stuck in your throat, so all you did was nod, too afraid to destroy the moment and the silence between you.

Then his lips were on yours, light as a feather, but it seemed to shake you to your core. It felt wonderful, almost like flying, and as if a heavy weight was finally taken from your shoulder. The heat in your cheeks was rising, your hand finding its way into Nikolai’s blonde hair, slightly wet from the bath.

The pressure on your neck increased, so you moved forward a bit, enough to make it easier for the kiss to become deeper, more passionate. Kissing someone had never felt this good and when your hands cupped Nikolai’s cheeks, you could practically hear his heartbeat jumping. His hand stayed in your neck, a sign that he didn’t want this to end. Maybe ever.

Only when you had to breathe again, did you dare to pull away. His eyes were darker, filled with a tint of lust, but more importantly, his breathing had changed. It was faster, like his heartbeat. “You don’t know how many times I had wanted to do this.”

His confession was unexpected, but very welcome. “Me too.” It was just fair that he knew your feelings as well. For a moment, you regretted not saying something, or doing something, sooner, so you could have enjoyed this a lot earlier. But everything was perfect the way it was.

Slowly, with wobbly legs, you stood up again, but your eyes never left Nikolai’s as you walked over and grabbed a bathrobe and towels for him. “As much as I like kissing you, I think you need to wash all the blood off and get into your bed. Then maybe, you can get another kiss?”

A grin appeared on the King’s face at your words. It was filled with love, adoration and most importantly, he seemed happy. His shoulders didn’t look as tense anymore and the horror in his face had left, traces of the monster inside him fully retreated.

“Then I must get to bed immediately,” he agreed and as he slowly lifted himself out of the tub, you turned around to give him his privacy.

You watched the lightning outside, seeing the branches of the trees shaking in the wind. It was a beautiful sight, but you shivered at the thought of Nikolai being out there earlier, flying through the storm, coming back with wounds and blood all over him.

Arms wrapped around your waist, Nikolai’s head resting on your shoulder as he pulled you closer against him from behind. The bathrobe felt soft against you, but his breath at your cheek was enough to make your legs feel weak as well. A kiss was planted onto your cheek and you could feel Nikolai’s heartbeat slowing down more and more. He was relaxing, finally getting some emotional rest. But you would have to get him to bed as well, so he can let his body regenerate.

“Let’s go to bed,” you whispered, before turning around in his arms. Hands found their way to your hips as you looked at the man in front of you. The smile was still apparent on his lips, the same excitement and love in his eyes as before. “I can’t even say no to you when you say it like that,” he smiled, taking your hand again as he walked back into his bedroom, eventually getting into bed himself.

You sat down on the edge again, taking his hand into your own and moving two fingers up and down on his arm. “Are you going to make me sleep again?” His voice was soft and you would have thought it might indicate that he did not want to sleep yet, but his tired eyes, now struggling to stay open, spoke another story.

“If you want me to,” you answered, not forcing anything upon him. When the beast didn’t let go of his heart, making it race over and over, and he wasn’t able to calm down, then you did force him to sleep once or twice. But Nikolai seemed alright now, not in need of heartrending-induced sleeping.

“I do. But only after you’ve given me a kiss,” he demanded, sitting up a bit in bed again as he leant forward to you. A smile on his lips, he pursed his lips, expecting a kiss from you.

You were certainly not going to deny him that.

Leaning forward, your lips met again, the same intoxicating feeling making its way through your body. Your hands cupped his warm cheeks, smiling into the kiss as you fully enjoyed the goosebumps, the shivers, all the sensations this was giving you. Nikolai’s lips felt like heaven, there was no doubt about it.

When you pulled away again, his cheeks had turned a darker colour, but he let himself drop into the pillow with a satisfied smile.

“Goodnight, my favourite heartrender,” he whispered, smile on his lips as he closed his eyes.

You couldn’t hold back your own smile and the content feeling in your stomach become even more apparent.

“Goodnight, Nikolai.”

You sat there for another moment. You would always keep him safe.

271 notes · View notes

bagginshieldlibrary · 10 months ago

Text

SUNDAY FIC REC LIST

This week's selection is Hurt/Comfort. So get your Blankies, snackies and a trusted stuffed companion, because this is going to hurt your feelings.

First up is Teach Me Your Ways by airebellah

Summary: Thorin sat in a bookstore reading to his nephews. He struggled to read the foreign English text, but he would do anything to please his nephews. Including humiliating himself in front of a cute man with a small boy of his own.

Thorin Durin, forced from his home in war-torn Erebor, struggles to adapt to England’s language and customs. Bilbo offers to help, and amongst many a cultural confusion, their relationship quickly grows beyond simple language lessons.

Rating: Gen

The summary says it all. :)

(you need and account to read it)

Next Up is Bad Blood by @conkers-thecosy

Summary: Bilbo patted Gloin awkwardly on the back, once, and was glad when the dwarf let go. It had only been a fraction of the time Thorin had held him for on the Carrock, and he was glad for it. Somehow it had been different, and perhaps until now, until he had been hugged fast by another of their company, held as a friend expressing gratitude, Bilbo hadn’t quite realised how different.

The thought of their leader caused Bilbo’s gaze to drag across to where Thorin was standing, restrained firmly by two elves, and he was embarrassed to find those blue eyes fixed upon him quite unblinkingy. His expression was unreadable, as it always seemed to be, but there was something fierce in his gaze. Something barely contained. Hidden, but so close to the surface that Bilbo still got a sense of it. Like a shadow, or smoke reflected in glass.

***

Or: How might the events of Mirkwood unfolded if Bilbo hadn't had the ring?

Rating: Teen and up

Angry protective Bilbo. Biting. Feral acts of violence against elves. Nobody's secrets are safe. Conkers I love you for this one.

In third we have, A King's Bond by Mordelle

Summary: King Thorin felt like Mahal Himself had swung his mighty hammer and cracked it right between his dazed blue eyes. The vibrations from The Strike shook his very being from his skull to his heart and then out through every nerve in his body. His eyes rolled back, his lungs expelled every breath of air, and the King Under the Mountain swooned so violently that his chair tipped backward with a loud crash, leaving everyone in the room silently gaping at the head of the table where only a pair of royal boots could be seen. His One had finally returned his Call.

Rating: Mature

(just imagine a string of crying emoji's here.) there's fading, there's parental rage, there's slow burn. They love each other your honor.

Our 4th fic is Wild Wings by DomesticGoddess

Summary:

Wounded and stranded in a strange forest, Thorin finds himself in the care of a lovebird, a reclusive and mysterious race. He’s not impressed. His host appears backward and primitive. But Bilbo seems content enough to play caretaker while Thorin heals, and that is a mercy. Isolated with the halfling, Thorin has little to do besides navigate the barriers between them and learn more about his host. The more he learns, the more he finds himself drawn to the selfless, hardworking hobbit.

But how can he be sure that this growing attraction between them is anything more than an intimacy brought on by isolation? Besides, Thorin’s a king. He’ll have to return to his kingdom, and Bilbo has never left the forest.

Rate: Explicit

WING FIC!! WING FIC!!!! WING FIC!!!!! That is all.

And lastly we have Through the mist (I find you) by MiraHerondale

Summary: Bilbo returns to Erebor two years after the Battle of the five Armies, invited by his friends to join the Durin's Day festivities. With his last memory of Thorin being him dying on the ice of Ravenhill, he worries he might not be entirely welcome. After all, he never heard about his banishment being revoked. What he finds, is simply much more devastating.

Rate: Explicit

Thorin's lost his memories. Bilbo's desperate to get one last taste. I apologize for the hurt, but also You're welcome for the rest!

#bagginshield #thilbo #bilbo x thorin #thorin x bilbo #bagginshield library #hurt/comfort #fanfic #the hobbit #sunday fic list

45 notes · View notes

calliesmemes · 11 months ago

Text

STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS (2008-2020)

SENTENCE STARTER PROMPTS FROM ASSORTED EPISODES OF THE ANIMATED SERIES.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“ Your father would be proud of you. ”

“ I've loved you always. I always will. ”

“ I said, "On your knees." ”

“ You have a spark of tenacity. I’ll give you that. ”

“ I'm going to get you out of this. Believe me. ”

“ Nothing will ever change. ”

“ This was your great trial. ”

“ Well done; you are a worthy adversary. ”

“ Every time I think about this, I feel conflicted. ”

“ I guess I’ve fooled you like I’ve fooled everyone else. ”

“ Why didn’t you reveal this before? ”

“ I will not deal with those who break their word. ”

“ Lives are in danger. We can't just turn our backs on them. ”

“ If I'm getting in trouble for this, you're gonna share some of the blame, too. ”

“ I hope you know what you're doing. ”

“ Where do you think you're going? ”

“ Everything I know I learned from you. ”

“ Subtlety has never been one of your strong points. ”

“ You haven't exactly impressed me today. ”

“ We don’t deserve this honor. ”

“ What is the matter with you? Are you trying to get us killed? ”

“ There's always a choice! To live in fear is no life at all! ”

“ Our most important allies are not always the most powerful. ”

“ The rules have changed. ”

“ The task is only impossible because you have deemed it so. ”

“ You’re just a pawn! ”

“ I'm enjoying this far too much. ”

“ How come I'm the one getting caught all the time? It doesn't look good. ”

“ They are devious, deceitful, and most importantly, stupid. ”

“ You underestimate them at your own peril. ”

“ I would kill you both right now if I did not have to drag your bodies. ”

“ We have no quarrel with you, and we seek no revenge. ”

“ Control your insolence. ”

“ Violence breeds violence. ”

“ What difference does it make who started the war and who only wants to end it? No side is free of fault. It takes two to fight. ”

“ It is nothing to be ashamed of. ”

“ He was like a father to me. ”

“ Don't lose a thousand lives just to save one. ”

“ A strong belief can be more powerful than any army. ”

“ Sometimes it takes courage to stick to one's beliefs. ”

“ At least I’ve gotten something out of all this suffering! ”

“ You couldn’t be a greater disappointment. ”

“ You seem a bit on edge. ”

“ I hope that their sacrifice brings us closer to peace. ”

“ A great leap forward often requires taking two steps back. ”

“ You did a fantastic job today. ”

“ He expects you to make a full recovery. ”

“ Did you train her not to follow orders? ”

“ I’m gonna do whatever I can to help those people. ”

“ I’ll leave the politics to you. ”

“ Thank you for trusting me. ”

“ I just need you to listen to me, please! ”

“ I was framed, because I know the truth! ”

“ I have proof of it, I can prove that everything I know is true beyond the shadow of a doubt! ”

“ I didn't want this to happen. ”

“ Either you are with us, or against us. ”

“ All this time, your idealism, just lies! ”

“ You know the price of failure. ”

“ Sometimes, things are just that important. ”

“ You should've joined me. ”

“ Hope is something we cannot allow our enemy to possess. ”

“ Today, you learned the hardest lesson a commander can learn: how to live to fight another day. ”

“ You don't have to carry a sword to be powerful. Some leaders' strength is inspiring greatness in others. ”

“ I'm not sure I like this plan after all. ”

“ This turn of events is unfortunate. ”

“ He kinda reminds me of you. ”

“ If we fail, everyone fails! Do you understand this?! ”

“ It may be difficult, but these are difficult times. ”

“ I honor my code. That's what I believe. ”

“ It's refreshing to have good news. ”

“ This can't be happening, what have we done? ”

“ He’s been against us from the beginning. ”

“ It's treason, then. ”

“ A new power is rising. I've foreseen it. ”

“ I serve no one's side, only my own. ”

“ How could you do this? You had my trust! My loyalty! ”

“ You're in a position of power now. How does it feel? ”

“ I can sense your fear. ”

“ You have to learn to make your own decisions. ”

“ What's the point of all this? I mean, why? ”

“ I do know that someday this war is gonna end. ”

“ Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him. ”

“ I tried it once. I wasn't any good at it. ”

“ You need not worry about your friends, they will be quite safe. ”

“ Looks like I have to rescue you again, old man. ”

“ You can't make everyone happy. ”

“ This is a fight you cannot win alone. ”

“ I know I did some questionable things, but I did what I had to do. ”

“ You are the one I was sent here for. ”

“ I have always been greater than you. ”

“ You think you can defeat me? You're nothing. ”

“ Something is rising, something sinister. ”

“ You can't be trusted. You're a slithering liar! ”

“ Do you remember who you are? Where you came from? ”

“ I was destined to become... so much more. ”

“ I'm not sure I've made your acquaintance. ”

“ You may have forgotten me, but I will never forget you. ”

“ I've waited so many years for my revenge, I can wait a little longer ”

“ It looks like I'm here to rescue you. ”

“ When did you become the good guy? ”

“ Don't flatter yourself. You’ve never been much to look at, especially now. ”

“ Always put purpose ahead of your feelings. ”

“ He represents hope and is critical to their success. ”

“ I feel responsible for them. ”

“ We cannot control their fate. ”

“ What a surprise. Have a seat. What may I ask is the honor? ”

“ You are going to pay the price for your treachery. ”

“ You are our secret weapon. ”

“ Only the strongest shall rule ”

“ If you will not join me, you will all die. ”

“ Unfortunately for you, history will not see it that way. ”

“ Let your anger deepen your hatred! ”

“ You can kill me, but you will never destroy me. ”

“ It is more powerful than you know. ”

“ I never planned on killing you, but I will make you share my pain. ”

“ I am most impressed to see that you have survived your injuries. ”

“ How unfortunate that you are attempting to deceive me ”

“ You’re dealing with things you don’t understand. ”

“ I am not going to take the fall for something that I didn't do! ”

“ I do trust you, but you know as well as I do that no one else will believe me. ”

“ I don't know who to trust. ”

“ I would never let anyone hurt you ”

“ You've already made your decision, haven't you? ”

“ We are the ones that should be put on trial, all of us! ”

“ You have shown great strength and resilience. ”

#askbox meme #askbox prompt #rp ask meme #ask box #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starters #roleplay prompts #* sentence meme #roleplay sentence starters #rpc help

50 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 9 months ago

Text

It’s not too late, because it’s never too late. No outcomes are ever preordained, nothing is ever over, and you can always affect what happens tomorrow by making the right choices today. The U.S. Congress is finally making one of those right choices. Soon, American weapons and ammunition will once again start flowing to Ukraine.

But delays do have a price. By dawdling for so many months, by heading down the blind alley of border reform before turning back, congressional Republicans who blocked weapons and ammunition for Ukraine did an enormous amount of damage, some of it irreparable. Over the past six months, Ukraine lost territory, lives, and infrastructure. If Ukraine had not been deprived of air defense, the city of Kharkiv might still have most of its power plants. People who have died in the near-daily bombardment of Odesa might still be alive. Ukrainian soldiers who spent weeks at the front lines rationing ammunition might not be so demoralized.

The delay has changed American politics too. Only a minority of House Republicans, including Speaker Mike Johnson, joined most Democrats to approve $60 billion in aid yesterday. What is now clearly a pro-Russia Republican caucus has consolidated inside Congress. The lesson is clear: Anyone who seeks to manipulate the foreign policy of the United States, whether the tin-pot autocrat in Hungary or the Communist Party of China, now knows that a carefully designed propaganda campaign, when targeted at the right people, can succeed well beyond what anyone once thought possible. From the first days of the 2022 Russian invasion, President Vladimir Putin has been trying to conquer Ukraine through psychological games as well as military force. He needed to persuade Americans, Europeans, and above all Ukrainians that victory was impossible, that the only alternative was surrender, and that the Ukrainian state would disappear in due course.

Plenty of Americans and Europeans, though not so many Ukrainians, supported this view. Pro-Russia influencers—Tucker Carlson, J. D. Vance, David Sacks—backed up by an army of pro-Russia trolls on X and other social-media platforms, helped feed the narrative of failure and convinced a minority in Congress to block aid for Ukraine. It’s instructive to trace the path of a social-media post that falsely claimed that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky owns two yachts, how it traveled up the food chain late last year, from the keyboard of a propagandist through the echo chamber created by trolls and into the brains of American lawmakers. According to Senator Thom Tillis, a Republican from North Carolina, some of his colleagues worried out loud, during debates about military aid to Ukraine, that “people will buy yachts with this money.” They had read the false stories and believed they were true.

But with the passage of this aid bill, Russia’s demoralization campaign has suffered a severe setback. This is also a setback for the Russian war effort, and not only because the Ukrainians will now have more ammunition. Suddenly the Russian military and Russian society are once again faced with the prospect of a very long war. Ukraine, backed by the combined military and economic forces of the United States and the European Union, is a much different opponent than Ukraine isolated and alone.

That doesn’t mean that the Russians will quickly give up: Putin and the propagandists who support him on state television have repeatedly stated that their goal is not to gain a bit of extra territory but to control all of Ukraine. They don’t want to swap land for peace. They want to occupy Kharkiv, Odesa, Kyiv, and more. Now, while their goals become harder to reach, is a good moment for the democratic countries backing Ukraine to recalibrate our strategy too.

Once the aid package becomes law this week, the psychological advantage will once again be on our side. Let’s use it. As Johnson himself recommended, the Biden administration should immediately pressure European allies to release the $300 billion in Russian assets that they jointly hold and send it to Ukraine. There are excellent legal and moral arguments for doing so—the money can legitimately be considered a form of reparations. This shift would also make clear to the Kremlin that it has no path back to what used to be called “normal” relations, and that the price Russia is paying for its colonial war will only continue to grow.

This is also a good moment for both Europeans and Americans to take the sanctions and export-control regimes imposed on Russia more seriously. If NATO were running a true economic-pressure campaign, thousands of people would be involved, with banks of screens at a central command center and constantly updated intelligence. Instead, the task has been left to a smattering of people across different agencies in different countries who may or may not be aware of what others are doing.

As American aid resumes, the Ukrainians should be actively encouraged to pursue the asymmetric warfare that they do best. The air and naval drone campaign that pushed the Black Sea Fleet away from their coastline, the raids on Russian gas and oil facilities thousands of miles from Ukraine, the recruitment of Russian soldiers, in Russia, to join pro-Ukraine Russian units fighting on the border—we need more of this, not less. The Biden administration should also heed Johnson’s suggestion that the United States supply more and better long-range weapons so that Ukrainians can hit Russian missile launchers before the missiles reach Ukraine. If the U.S. had done so in the autumn of 2022, when Ukraine was taking back territory, the world might look a lot different today.

This war will be over only when the Russians no longer want to fight—and they will stop fighting when they realize they cannot win. Now it is our turn to convince them, as well as our own pro-Russia caucus, that their invasion will fail. The best way to do that is to believe it ourselves.

34 notes · View notes

mahercbeaucoup · 1 year ago

Text

TTRPG Design Lessons from Wildermyth

I've recently been spending a good deal of time thinking about solo RPGs and playing Rangers of Shadow Deep, a solo miniature game. My brain has been buzzing with ideas for solo game design, but I wanted to extend my research into video games, and so I found myself playing Wildermyth. This game has been on my radar for years, but I finally took the time to sit down with it. I enjoyed the game's first campaign, and I came away with some lessons for solo TTRPG design.

Procedural Stories

As your party of heroes wanders the world of Wildermyth, the player is treated to vignettes of the characters' encounters with their environment. These little stories build much of the player's connection to their band of heroes, especially the ones who join later and appear less often in the main plot.

Coming from the OSR world, a natural comparison arises to random encounters, especially during overland exploration. But whereas OSR encounters can follow any structure (and it is not uncommon for them to merely provide a moment of flavor), the Wildermyth vignettes always result in a meaningful change to the game state (as far as I can tell). A character may gain a new item, or change in some unexpected way, and the player will have a choice to make. Because a vignette always results in some sort of change, the game has a continuous feel of forward momentum.

In solo games, I struggle with developing side characters (or characterization at all, if the game is primarily skirmish-based). Looking at Wildermyth's approach, I can see the potential for a spark table to take one or two characters and create a little side-adventure for them, giving them a little color and differentiating them from the others.

Overworld Map

Wildermyth's map is broken down into regions, and each type of region contributes a different gameplay option. Some areas may have ruins you can reclaim, giving you increased resources or "Legacy Points" (a type of special currency), that you can use to grow and enhance your party. Some areas might allow you to build a bridge across a river, or tunnel through a mountain pass, into an adjacent territory. Villages provide recruitment opportunities, and new areas need to be scouted.

Crucially, every action requires time to complete, and the world is always moving on. Timers count down to the next bad event, armies march across the map and destroy settlements, and the deck of potential enemies is always growing stronger. Even when you acquire enough party members to split them up over multiple locations, it always feels like there is never enough time to get to everything you want to.

This system is simple, but it adds rich, opportunities for gameplay. I would love to experiment with this kind of campaign layer in an otherwise more traditional skirmish game. By adding simple concrete benefits to the control of a region, a huge amount of gameplay naturally emerges, even before diving deep into other sorts of quest hooks that will develop.

Enemy Behavior

When it comes to the tactical battles, the enemy AI seems to be very simplistic (as it is in most games of this type, and video games in general). But this isn't a knock against the battles, because the game's designers clearly understand that you can compensate for AI with varied enemies and scenario design.

I could very much picture running these enemies manually, each one operating by a different tactic that is simple enough to execute manually, while also appearing in enough unique combinations and situations to the player on their toes. One enemy might always charge to the farthest character it can reach, while another might draw characters toward it. These are just a few examples from Wildermyth, but they demonstrate how a few simple enemies can drastically change the tactical situation.

Interfusion

The mage class in Wildermyth has "Interfusion" as its primary ability. This lets the character manipulate the scatter terrain in the environment, with different types of terrain offering different tactical benefits.

I haven't seen this kind of approach to magic before, and I think it has good potential on the tabletop.

Putting it all together

After playing Wildermyth, I have a clearer picture of the game that is brewing in my mind: a cross between a skirmish game and an RPG (hardly a new idea), focused on a war band securing an area, and reacting to dynamic threats with varied enemies and approaches to AI. It's the smallest of seeds, but I have a vision for what it can grow into.

#ttrpg #wildermyth #solo rpg

67 notes · View notes

half-an-hour-hence · 1 year ago

Text

Some random headcanons for the ghosts if they were alive today (part 1)

JAMES

I’m so unoriginal but he works in a war museum as a tour guide. He’s often assigned to showing kids on school trips around because he’s always so excited to answer all of their questions.

People call him ‘Captain’ because of his obsession with war (specifically the events of WW2), not because he’s actually served in the army. He did apply, but failed his medical exam.

His joint pain gets really bad sometimes, so he occasionally carries a cane to help.

James met Havers when he was in a cafe with Humphrey; he caught his eye when they were in line waiting to order and couldn’t stop glancing over at him after he’d sat back down. Humphrey - ever the wingman - caught on immediately and asked Havers to join them in the hopes that James would actually speak to him. It worked, and they’ve been together for two years now.

MARY

Works as an independent artist and sells her abstract art online. She’s had multiple exhibitions as well. She can also sew and crochet, and she sometimes sells what she makes at markets. Most of the time she just gives things away to her friends, though.

She lives in one of those loft apartments with her girlfriend, Annie. Annie runs the cafe that the Captain met Havers in, and they met at one of Mary’s exhibitions. They’ve been together for three years.

Goes out of her way to slag off men on Twitter.

Was internet best friends with Kitty before finding out she lived literally down the road from her. They’ve been inseparable ever since. They go travelling to little villages in the middle of nowhere specifically to spend hours in those quaint antique shops.

ROBIN

He works at the local university as a physics professor. He’s quite an enthusiastic and entertaining teacher, often giving visual demonstrations of how things work to try and make his lessons more interesting and enjoyable.

Co-runs a conspiracy blog on Tumblr with Sophie, Humphrey’s girlfriend.

Robin is obviously very passionate about space, so he owns several telescopes and frequently hikes up hills in the middle of the night to study the stars and the moon. He also runs an astronomy club at the university.

This isn’t necessarily a new thing, but he’s an excellent listener, and wants to include everyone. He’s the only one who’ll stick around when James starts talking about the Second World War. He’s doing a French Duolingo course with Humphrey. He isn’t afraid to try new things, like sewing with Mary or cruising with Julian (although he’s never doing that again).

#bbc ghosts #the captain ghosts #mary ghosts #robin ghosts #robin the caveman #ben willbond #katy wix #larry rickard #six idiots

52 notes · View notes

mxlfoydraco · 2 years ago

Note

Hii! I've had this idea for so long of what would've happened if Draco accepted Dumbledore's help in HP6 and the Death Eaters hadn't come? I need to read something that explores it and I've no idea how to look for it, so do you perhaps have any fic recs where this happens?? Could also be something similar of like Draco leaving the Dark side earlier in the story while they're still in school

Thank you in advance! 😊

Hi! I have lists for Spy Draco and War Fics, there are a lot of good fics that fit the theme in those (maybe some from the Pre War too?). I can add on some "switching sides" here,

9 ½ Days by @magpiefngrl (69k)

After the events at the Manor, Harry and Draco find themselves stranded in the countryside with a broken wand and Death Eaters on their tail. This is the story of an uneasy truce, featuring faerie forests, seaside caves, Romani camps, kind old ladies, and a shared bed in an attic.

Or how two boys fell in love in the midst of a bloody coup.

Changing Tides by @carpemermaidtales (109k)

Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life. Instead of doing what’s expected of him fifth year, he joins Dumbledore’s Army and learns how to defend himself, how to make his own choices, and how he can be something greater than his father’s example as he grows into his own man rather than his father’s shadow. The choices he makes change both his and Harry’s fates, intertwining their paths until they converge.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (302k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness. Pairings: HP/DM (Slash) Timeframe: 1994-2002 Goblet to 4 yrs post-DH EWE Rating T for language, high angst, content.

Love Found by @peachpety (7k)

During Harry’s sixth year, Draco Malfoy joins the Order as a double-agent and continues with his task to get the Death Eaters into the castle as assigned by Voldemort.Draco succeeds with his mission the evening Harry returns from the caves with Dumbledore. The boys reunite on the Astronomy Tower and, with the Death Eater’s arrival, are forced to engage in a fight, driving Harry to come to terms with his feelings about true friendship and romantic love.

Eclipse by Mijan (287k)

“You’re dead, Potter… I’m going to make you pay…” Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius’s imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It’s the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco’s world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Speak (and may the world come undone) by @shealwaysreads (26k)

The war is on in earnest, and the hunt for the Horcruxes has begun. Harry receives help from the least expected person, and must decide whether he can trust the enemy he knows best. A story of grey-tinged loyalty, the silver of trust in the darkness, the agony of courage, the unexpected richness of secrets, and the vast unknown of survival.

Abraxan Wings by khalulu (14k)

AU following the confrontation in the bathroom, which in this fic takes place around the middle of year 6. When the Sectumsempra curse severs a nerve at the base of Draco’s spine, he loses some abilities he may never recover. It isn’t the end of the road, though – just the beginning of a major change of course. A mostly serious but not gloomy coming of age /romance /adventure story, featuring the Room of Parole, Mme Maxime, Rosemonde the flying horse, and Harry Potter on sax.

For Every Action orphaned (8k)

When Harry wins a second bottle of Felix Felicis from Dean Thomas, he is instructed to take it the very next morning. What happens then, and how it basically all comes down to Draco Malfoy, is up to the laws of the universe.

The Light More Beautiful by @firethesound (81k)

Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter's help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn't been enough to dim Draco's obsession with him.

Starts with a Spin by Maxine (120k)

It started with the spin of a bottle, and now Harry and Draco have gotten themselves so far into their own game there’s almost no way out again. Except to keep playing.

Vulnera Sanentur by dreaminginfiction (164k)

Vulnera Sanentur: The counter curse to Sectumsempra. What if on that fateful day in the bathroom, Harry hesitates before casting the curse? Maybe Draco Malfoy isn't the person Harry had always thought he was and maybe Harry sometimes hates being Harry Potter and all the crap that comes with it. This is a story of Harry and Draco learning to understand each other and change their stories.

Erosmancy by astolat (11k)

Blaise was immune to whatever it was people usually felt around his mother, for which he was profoundly grateful, since no one needed an Oedipal complex on quite that spectacular a scale, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a thorough respect for her gift.

Circumpolar by @lower-east-side (8k)

After their duel in the bathroom, Draco's wounds are much worse than Harry anticipated, which prompts a turning point for both of them.

Reflection by @owlswithfins (84k)

Harry wakes up in Draco's body moments before he's supposed to take the Dark Mark. When they switch back, he assumes things will return to the way they were before. It turns out it's a lot harder to hate someone after taking a walk in their shoes.

The White Pawn by Soupy_George (80k)

When eighteen-year-old Draco Malfoy finds himself back at Hogwarts on the eve of Voldemort's infamous return, he is confronted with the most difficult decision he's ever had to make: Relive the 6th year at school he's tried so hard to forget, or do the unthinkable and ally himself with Potter's lot...

Even From Opposite Ends of the Universe by @kbrick (173k, WIP)

In sixth year, Harry begins obsessively tracking Draco Malfoy's every move, telling himself it's the only way to prevent Malfoy from carrying out his dark plans. But as the year progresses, fist fights and mutual animosity gradually give way to a swirling, complicated intimacy that neither boy expects or understands, even as they desperately try to shield it from the outside world.

The Bound Prince series by slashpervert (991k)

In HBP, there is a pivotal moment where things could have gone very differently for Harry and Draco. In the bathroom sixth year, Draco is upset that Harry has caught him crying and throws a hex. It escalates and ends in blood, with Harry nearly killing Draco by accident. But in this timeline, things go differently.

In this story, instead, unvoiced attraction to Harry motivates Draco to take a chance and kiss him. Once sparked, their mutual desire and exploration becomes the driving force in the alternative ending to the series. Over seven books, we follow them as they fight, fuck, and love, taking on the Wizarding War with the help of friends and family.

#drarry #drarry fic recs #drarry reclist #drarry fic rec #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #switching sides #my recs #drarry recs #drarry fics #realizing once more that I dont read this era often!

291 notes · View notes