#tw: flashbacks to past domestic abuse

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[lexluvswriting]

ꔫ L'autunno.

ꔫ Ch: 4 [last page] [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> (CW): x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. things get get cheeky... teehee.

-> (TW): Allusions to domestic violence/abuse (L.O.A + Beron), eris has trauma flashbacks, sexual tension? maybe? someone read it and tell me pls. eris practically pining for reader but simultaneously pissing her off, reader x eris finally kiss, raahh!!

W/C: 3.5k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: UHM... guys... please ignore that i last posted in April or something... double degrees are not for the weak 😔✊OOH! ALSO: you two share a kiss- :O -and reader likes it >:D did I pull an all-nighter for this chapter, AND almost finish up to chapter six in one night? ... yes. do i also have an important exam in 5 hours? ... also yes. i couldn't help myself- I missed writing, okay?! anyway, pls pls pls, don't be afraid to comment & let me know what you liked, disliked or loved!!

You had both sat on the ledge of the ampitheatre, taking in the peaceful quiet, enjoying the nature that surrounded you both before you huffed softly at how ‘casual’ the setting was. A pretty patterned rug was laid out to be sat on, with porcelain cups, dishes, and all sorts of rich, fancy-fae delicacies: tea cakes of different shapes, flavours and colours; neatly cut sandwiches with different pastes, spices and fillings.

“Where’s your little throne?”

You nodded, not waiting for him before picking a sandwich to take a bite of- your stomach fluttering when you didn’t taste poison, but rather a delightful taste combination. He grinned slyly and clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment as he poured you and himself tea that smelt like bergamot and honey.

“Would have been too big for my servants to winnow, I’m afraid.”

His tone was airy and snobbish- as if he had read your mind, thus playing along to the tune of your harsh assumptions- so you rolled your eyes, food pushed into the side of your mouth to mumble out, “Figured you would have used some of them as footstools and makeshift seats instead.”

Eris huffed, before thinking over the weight of your snark which drew a chuckle that dissolved into a soft laugh of disbelief. You ignored the way the sound made your insides flutter- or perhaps that was just organ failure. He looked at you incredulously, shaking his auburn covered head as he filled your plate, then his.

“Is that what you truly think of me?”

You continued to chew, your face expressive enough to fill the silence, which made him chuckle more.

“I certainly have underestimated you, little swan,” You grumbled at the ‘feigned’ endearment, but it didn’t deter him, “You are not merely a pretty face at all. You also possess a delightful, deadly fire. Now, whether it makes you stupidly brave, or bravely stupid, I’m not sure. Even worse, I’m not sure if that intrigues me, or irritates me.” He hummed, and it seemed to stoke ‘said fire’ within you- your own pride being stroked, so you gave him a bemused half-smirk,

“Why not both?”

He raised an eyebrow at your rather coy tone, and you almost thought you liked that ‘slightly startled, slightly intrigued’ look he wore, before you remembered what he was- who he was- and looked away disinterestedly. But you knew him; or at least, knew he was trained in the arts of charming females as if it was as easy as breathing. Something in your gut told you he liked those that played ‘hard-to-get’ and the feelings that festered and stewed made you confused. Again, as if he was reading your mind, he answered accordingly:

“Almost sounds like you’re flirting with me, darling.” His serve. So the match starts.

A scoff, accompanied by a simple shake of your head. “Spare me. Just how exactly have you made it this far in life, lordling?” A simple hit back into his court.

“Is that admiration I hear?” A lazy return.

“You wish it was.” Shaking your head as you sipped the sweet, citrusy tea he poured. A back-hand swing with a bit of force.

“I do, actually. If it means you’ll stop being so shrewd.” Parried back wonderfully, much to your dismay.

“Is this how you usually find ladies to court? By acting like an arse.” You ask flatly, and he pauses. Victory.

You smirk, glancing down at the tea cup, before the silence goes on for too long. Your lips tug into a frown, but you don’t look up. Is he angry? Something tugs at your stomach, then your chest, and you finally look back up at him, only to catch him staring at you with an expression you didn’t recognise. You straightened- almost angry at yourself for feeling nervous. But you didn’t know him. Didn’t know his moods, his temperaments. Didn’t know what he did in his spare time.

The lordling seemed to sense your fidgeting and looked away; out towards the view of the sprawling Autumn colours that dotted the trees on the horizon.

“... So… what brought you to the Autumn Court?”

You blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow, before remembering you had told him you weren’t from here.

“Apparently, as a baby, I was dropped off at an orphanage near the place I live now, with some sort of Summer Court emblem and a scarf. However, I’ve got no ties, no leads to any family that I know of, and I haven’t sought them out either.” He watched you as you spoke, and before you could comment or add more, he beat you to it.

“How miserable.”

You flinched before stilling, blinking repeatedly at him. How… miserable?

Disbelief contorted your face as you looked at him like he had grown three heads. Did he just-?

Eris simply watched you, tilting his head slightly, his russet eyes meeting yours in a stare that wasn’t hostile; rather, it was him trying to figure you out like some sort of puzzle. However, his random response had caught you off guard, making you chuckle softly, before you covered your mouth quickly, only to hold your head in your hands as you began to genuinely laugh.

“Have I misspoke?”

You laughed more at his polite yet confused tone, shaking your head as you tried to control yourself, only to laugh more, which spurred a few chuckles from the male sitting across from you.

“Hold on- I only meant it in the sense that-”

“No, no!” You forced out as you gasped for air, trying to reign in your amusement as you watched him watch you again, with him seeming oddly… content with how you laughed at him.

“I… I get it. Honestly, Eris- Sorry… ‘Lord’ Eris-” He rolled his eyes, waving a hand as you continued,

“How in the Cauldron did you make it this far in life?” You chuckled again, while he flashed a strangely sweet, cheeky smile. It was almost endearing. Almost.

“Would you believe me if I said ‘through uncanny wit and dazzling charm?’” His dryness made you snicker, before a small smile grew on your face. He hummed as you did so, looking down at his hand while you caught yourself staring again; both of you sitting in the silence as you briefly self-reflected. Why was he being funny? Why could he make you laugh simply… simply by being himself?Why was it so easy to get lost in staring at him? You continued to watch him- not knowing how intensely your eyes twinkled, nor the way it made his blood heat in a way that surprised him. Yet, he caught you, finally.

“[Y/N] darling, if you keep staring at me like that, it might put ideas in my head.” He mused, and you jerked your head away instantly, hearing him snicker as you rolled your eyes.

“Why won’t you let yourself enjoy today, little swan?” He teased, but your response wasn’t as light.

“If I do, it will mean that I am as easy, and as useless as all the others that you manage to bewitch. I simply won’t let that happen.” You replied hollowly, a small part of you not even believing your own answer. Eris sucked his tooth, watching you with a nod as if you had said something truly confounding, before he clicked his tongue and stood up.

“Alright. Let’s walk.” Eris nodded at you, before offering a hand with a sly smile, waiting for you to move. You blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow before deciding to take his hand- unlike the carriage, where he practically lifted you like it was nothing- pulling yourself up.

What the hell would a walk do?

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Tell me honestly, swan. Why do you dislike me- not my family- but me, so heavily?” Eris encouraged the dancer to speak freely as you both walked down the hill. He noticed the way your eyes avoided his, instead mapping out all the different shades of brown, orange and red leaves. He watched you shrug, and internally pulled at his hair. What had you so reserved?

He wanted to say something- taunt you, tease you, even trick you into speaking- but when you hesitated, looking at the ground for an answer that wouldn’t be so easily given, he shut up immediately. It was only when you tried to avoid the question that something triggered within him to reach for and grab your arm; grabbing gently, merely to pull you back to where he had stopped walking.

“Hey-” You had snapped, baring your teeth before pulling your arm away, the action making his heart race as you did so. How wonderful- when your eyes gleamed the way they did. Did you even know how beautiful you looked? When you looked at him like you wanted to throttle him? Or, what about when you had laughed so freely before, and his brain had completely blanked?

Eris sighed wistfully, determined to crack the nut that was your eccentric, explosive enigma of a mind. 

“When you do things like that- acting like you just have some claim on me- I don’t like it.So when you do it often, or other things I don’t like, it makes it easier to dislike you.” You spoke succinctly, and he couldn’t argue with that. At least you answered him. Yet Eris watched you anyway, hoping you’d continue. When he stayed silent, he realised his staring made you nervous as you wiped your hands on your dress, delicate hands grabbing at the fabric to fidget as you pushed yourself to answer his initial question.

He willed his expression to be neutral as you began to speak- the words spilling from your lip like a fast flowing river. But his restraint was in vain- before he knew it, he was absolutely entranced by your thoughts and ideas. The way you spoke about your studies- the passion, the assertiveness you carried as you listed the criticisms your ‘surrogate mother Ordelia’ had helped you draft in an assignment; an ‘unsent response’ to his father’s unfair increase of land tax, and the random raids or ‘removals’ that always seemed to happen towards the end of the day, targeting certain fae of non-native identities. He had to remind himself to meet with this fae. She sounded like quite the female.

You had told Eris about the families that were getting displaced- how people were terrified to leave their homes because of these new restrictions- and his brain spun like a spinning top. You dared compare Beron’s treatment to the tyrant of a female that had held Prythian hostage for almost fifty years prior, and his nostrils flared, but he stayed silent. Did you realise what you were saying? How brave, how brilliant- how possibly stupid it was? Being so bold saying these ideas so freely? He almost felt liberated from the confines of his own mind- where, for too long, he had been too afraid to dare bring light to these thoughts of his own.

Eris didn’t dare stop you, so you continued, even scolding Eris himself on his ‘petty blackmail’ of your ballet instructor- he decided there and then that he wanted you to criticise and chastise him like that all the time- advocating for the old studio, and the children who used it to escape poverty in their own villages, in their own homes. Unbeknownst to you, the heir seemed to fall more and more in love with every word you said. He figured it would probably be his demise if he were to compliment you on your ideas- you seemed to treat anything he said as a callous taunt, or cruel mockery. But the heir couldn’t help himself as he exhaled softly.

“Brilliant.”

He nodded, watching you intensely, before shaking his head with a scoff, looking away.

“Ballerinas are doing politics now,” And you’re somehow doing them in the way he had always dreamed of, “What a world we live in.” He would have happily sung your praises from the treetops. He was prepared to present your ideas- your works to his father and call him out on his tirade. So why was it that, when he looked back at you, you looked up at him with a mixture of hurt and disappointment?

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“You weren’t listening to a single word, were you?” The disappointment in your voice was almost laughable. You felt bitterness coat your tongue like film as you observed the heir. There it was. That feigned incredulity, the false intrigue and interest. In his eyes, like so many other males, all you’d ever be recognised as was just a pretty little ballerina. A pretty female, with pretty eyes, hips for child-rearing, and a figure that was easy on the eyes.

“[Y/N]... You- you have just recited every single measure I have ever wanted to implement.” He had stopped walking to watch your disappointment manifest, and he shook his head again, reaching for you before hesitating as you whipped back to glare at him. Well… at least he listened to one thing.

“I don’t need your pity, lordling.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”

“Oh, boohoo!” You snapped, glaring up at the heir, “I know what you see in me- what your ‘expectations’ are. You want me to sit still and be pretty while I have to be subjected to this- this stupid ball with all these rich, ignorant nobles who-”

“Who couldn’t give a damn about the people who starve right outside their doors, right?” He finished your sentence- he cut you off, and you paused.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, [Y/N]. I know what you’re thinking. I’ve thought the exact same- down to the letter, every damned day.” He grabbed you, and your eyes narrowed, ready to warn him off you when he interjected again.

“Just- listen.” He snapped, and your mouth shut, even as you glared daggers up at him, “Do you know how exhausting it is, having to carry the burdens of that bastard?” Your eyes widened.

Was this real? Where the Hell had this come from? You opened your mouth, but he put his hand over it,

“Just wait before you spit in my face, stubborn thing.” He hissed, before continuing,

“We are… The Vanserra family… it is not glorious, and- and luxurious, and absolutely ignorant.” He was hardly fluent, hesitating and restarting the sentence. It felt wrong, unnerving. This was not the pompous, cocky, ‘typical’ arrogant noble who had half of the Autumn Court’s female population vying for him. This wasn’t the smug, dominant asshole who had watched you dance, and snidely spoke to you in the hallway of your ballet studio.

No.

This was the male- the son- who had snarled at you in the carriage when you tried to slander the Lady of the Autumn Court. There- you saw it again- that vulnerability, that hollowness that hid behind his eyes every time he stood next to his father; whether it was during royal festivals or important ceremonies. The oldest Vanserra son had gone- gotten trapped in a memory; somewhere dark, somewhere hostile and hurtful. So you decided there and then, regardless of the dislike you held for him, that you’d  hold him and wait.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Sounds of fists landing hits, a cacophony of muffled crashing and banging came from behind the closed door that Eris waited at tearfully- willing his child self to march in there and defend his mother, only to be completely stuck; paralysed by fear.

Warmth came from somewhere, somewhere distant, and there was the dull echo of a voice that made his chest tighten.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

You watched him grow distant, his eyes losing their usual gleam- not that you cared to notice, as you’d easily deny. Something made your hands move on their own, pulling his hand off your mouth so you could grab them in yours, watching him with emotions that made your stomach knot and shrivel.

“Eris?”

You called again, and he jerked- the abrupt movement making you flinch while the heir exhaled shakily. As he looked back down at you, he saw the way you held his hands, initiating contact. When he moved, you followed his gaze, unsure why you were still holding onto him. You did that, all of your own accord. You did it, yet you weren’t sure why.

Eris swallowed thickly- you even watched the way his throat bobbed, before his hands slowly, shakily cupped your face. Your eyes never left him; you didn’t move to push him away either. What had he seen? Where had he gone?

“[Y/N] [L/N].” Your heart jerked as he murmured your name- the timbre of his voice low, soul-wrenching as his russet irises bore into yours.

“I want you to meet my father. I want-... I want you to meet him, and tell him exactly what you told me.”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head,

“No- Not on your life-”

“Please.”

Again, his lips had come close to yours, like they had in the carriage, and you felt yourself go deathly still.

“Eris?”

“Please, [Y/N].”

“Eris-”

“You’re brilliant.” The male breathed, his eyes scanning you quickly, almost anxiously, like he was afraid your attention would shift away from him. You were brilliant? He thought… he thought you were brilliant. You swallowed, eyes fluttering as you looked up at him, stare never breaking. Looking into his eyes, being so close, it felt like you were staring down at a body of water at the bottom of a cliff. Was it shallow? Were there hidden rocks- jagged, hungry for bones to shatter? Was this what leaps of faith were?

“You don’t… you don’t care.” You shook your head stubbornly, resisting the pull.

“You- You are the most brilliant fae I know-” His serve, again.

“You’ve barely known me!” A hard knockback from yourself; the ball was in his court.

“I’ve never known anyone with a mind like yours, [Y/N].” A powerful hit back into your court.

“No.” You barely hit it back in his court, so close to crumbling.

“[Y/N]-” He fumbled.

“I’m not going to make a fool of myself in front of your father, Eris. What power do I hold?” A harsh serve to start the match.

“The knowledge you carry- the way you see the world- the way you solve problems that noblemen in my father’s court have been stuck on for years-” Your eyes widened at his words- you fumbled the hit.

“Eris- No- No! It is not my responsibility to fix your father’s inadequacies!” You snapped, pushing away gently as you looked away, your mind racing. You needed to go. Your heart- your stomach- Hell, you were even feeling the slightest bit aroused! You needed to go- needed to get away to think-

His hands grabbed you again, cupping your face and tilting your head up ever-so-gently, as if he thought you were made of porcelain.

“[Y/N].” Your mind blanked when you heard the way he pleaded- pleaded!

Well… if he said your name like that…

“Eris-” Your hands reached up to his- whether to hold, or to push away, you weren’t sure yet. The Vanserra male barely gave you a chance to decide before he sealed the gap between your lips, his eyes shutting while yours widened in shock, before promptly shutting them tight. 

He was kissing you. Eris Vanserra was kissing you. He thought you were brilliant, he thought you were 

The kiss was… It was…

You didn’t even know. It certainly felt like he was holding back- like he was trying to be a gentleman, and a small part of you appreciated the attempt as you moved your lips against his ever-so-slightly. His tongue didn’t swipe for your lip hungrily; his teeth didn’t tug at your bottom lip; nor did his hands move from where they held your face. Your body felt like it was on fire- a primal, lonely part of your brain urging him to lead, to do something. But he pulled away after the ‘virginal’ kiss, breathing heavily, as if it pained him to pull away- to hold himself back.

You stared up at him dumbly, eyes glittering in the autumn sun as you both stared at each other in something of shock and awe. Why did it feel like your heart was caving in when he kissed you? Why did it feel like the stars had aligned when he pressed his lips against yours so gently- so out of character for him?

“What was that?” You muttered, still shell-shocked, while he turned away, almost as if he was unwell. He shook his head- ignoring your question.

“Eris?” You urged, pulling on his arm impatiently before he turned back to face you, his voice a low murmur.

“[Y/N]... I want you to meet my father.”

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: OH GOD. okay. OKAY, I DID IT. i did it! it's done! i have posted a chapter again!! (hopefully) i can get back to my usual posting schedule!! i have 3 more exams: 12/06, 13/06 & 15/06 so i will be a lil preoccupied for at least ten days <3 again, TYSM FOR READING IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR!! <3 <3 also!! the two Loki requests are also currently being drafted as we speak!! thanks for waiting so long everyone!!

[cultofdixon]

Tough Love

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • They/Them Pronouns [Non-Binary - AFAB] • Life hasn’t been that kind to you. Like having Merle Dixon as your biological father. And Daryl Dixon not stepping in when he should’ve. But then the end of the world happened…and everything is changing • ANGST/SFW • TW: Canon Violence / Slurs [cuz Merle is a bitch] / Self Harm Scars / Self Harm / Scars / Domestic Abuse / Abandonment Issues / Coming Out / Past Attempt Mentioned / Injuries • Fuckton of Flashbacks

Requested by: @monootakuu

“What in the fucking hell is that, Merle”

“Are you that fucking stupid? It’s a baby”

“NO SHIT BUT HOWD YEA GET IT”

“ITS MINE DIPSHIT”

Daryl frowns as he couldn’t believe it. His brother is that fucking stupid to knock somebody up.

“This is all you, Merle.”

“You ain’t gonna help me?”

“I’m not the one that knocked up a fucking hooker. For once in your life, take responsibility and try not to fuck every woman that stands. Or there will be more mini Merle’s that infest the earth” Daryl snaps at his brother grabbing his jacket and leaving the trailer, with the extra emphasize of how he feels with slamming the trailer door making the little baby violently sob.

“You little—“ Merle glares in the direction Daryl left before taking the baby out of the car seat it came in. “Shut it you little ass kicker”

________

“Hurry up kid” Merle snaps continuing to lead the way on the hunt as Y/N stood up from checking a batch of mushrooms to catch up to their old man.

Daryl walks beside his brother glancing back and every now and then to find Y/N staring at their feet but still right behind them.

“I can show yea which mushrooms you can eat or not”

“Or not.” Y/N frowns. “I’ve got my book…I don’t need your help” they sigh opening said nature book they stole from their school library before the end of the world happened.

The two heard the thud and scream from behind them seeing Y/N now hanging upside down by the ankle. They struggled with the trap trying to bend enough to use their knife to cut them down but they were starting to get frustrated. Daryl was about to cut them down when he noticed Merle ready his weapon to the footsteps approaching.

“Somethin’ triggered the trap finally” One of the two announced but as they approached to notice the two hunters staring back with the crossbow and hunting rifle at the ready. “Oh. Shit but it’s—-“ he looks up seeing the human being that got caught. “Well shit.”

“Do you even know how to set fucking traps like that? Some part of it is supposed to be visible to hunters” Daryl snaps at the two watching them tense.

“We’re not hunters, we are just trying to feed our camp and we can only use so much of the forage”

“But. Given y’all are hunters. Maybe we can come up with something”

“You’re really gonna ask us for some kind of fucking deal when you almost killed our kid?”

“Said kid would like to be fucking let DOWN” Y/N yells off the top of their lungs not giving a damn about what else could be walking the forest. Daryl was about to do it gently until Merle pushed past him with his hunting knife in hand, striking the rope causing his kid to hit the ground hard.

“MERLE”

“What? They’ll fucking walk it off” Merle scoffs approaching the two strangers. “So a deal?”

Daryl glares at the back of his brother’s head holding his hand out for Y/N as they kept to the ground for a moment which lead to him kneeling to their side.

“What hurts kid?”

“Like he said I’ll just walk it off…” Y/N sighs swatting their uncle’s hand away and getting up from the hard ground picking up their book along the way.

________

Daryl frowns watching Merle ignore his toddler that was more interested in him and what he was doing at. But what the man was doing was preparing his crystal deliveries.

“Don’t let her ingest some of that Merle. Or you’ll lose your kid”

“I ain’t letting her anywhere—-HEY!” Merle suddenly pushed his kid over with his foot causing his brother to get up from the kitchen table to check on her. But the kid sprung back up like it was nothing. “You’re in time out. GO!” He points to the corner and the small child knew where to go.

“You’re a monster, Merle”

“No. The monster is that devil spawn’s mother that locked her legs around my torso” Merle snaps crushing a piece of the meth grabbing his pipe about to light it when Daryl grabbed the spray bottle he uses on his kid. “Don’t you fucking dare”

“Smoke outside if you really want to be a douchebag. Don’t hurt your kid even more than you already have”

________

“You are staying here” Merle states to Y/N who is more than capable to take care of themselves on a run like this one. But given the anger in his tone, Y/N didn’t even bother trying to fight.

“Just stay safe old man” They sigh going to their campsite within a campsite more toward the can boarder to alert of walkers.

“Daryl” The eldest yells at his brother to get his attention from Dale who he was informing about a possible hunting ground. Daryl approaches the small run party looking at his brother confused. “Keep an eye on’em.”

“If they want to join the hunt, they will. Otherwise, there’s other people to keep an eye on them just in case of anything” Daryl reassures his brother even if it didn’t really mean much.

Y/N didn’t go with Daryl to hunt this deer he’s been tracking for a while. Didn’t even leave the tent for the first hour, just reading the foraging books that were stolen by Merle as an attempt to bond with his kid. But failed when they discovered he stole them.

“Y/N? Honey?”

The teen quickly shot up to the voice taking a second to remember that it’s not just the Dixon’s anymore.

“Who is it?”

“Lori, was wondering if you wanna come with the ladies and kids down to the lake. You don’t have to do laundry but just get out of the campsite” Lori patiently waited for a few minutes as she was about to leave thinking she asked too much but saw the tent open with Y/N stepping out with their backpack on. “Got everything?” She gave them a smile watching them nod before leading the way for them.

Soon Y/N found themselves watching two kids splashing each other in the lake while they assumed their mothers and the other women at the camp did the laundry. They watched the ripples in the water for a while and only thought about how they couldn’t swim.

Honestly liked the moment without their dad and uncle

The children stopped splashing when they noticed Y/N stepping into the water after rolling up their pants and grabbing a few pebbles. They started to skip the rocks along the water and the two were intrigued.

Lori gently elbows Carol for her attention before directing with her eyes. Both watching Y/N teach their kids how to skip rocks. Sophia accidentally hitting Y/N in the back of the head with a pebble resulting in the two rising to their feet not knowing how they’ll react. But the slow turn with a serious look resulted in a smile and the teen suddenly splashing the kid with the water. The giggling broke out for all three of them making the moms relax and admire the happiness they all now rarely see.

“Yea sure?” Dale questions Y/N as they offered to take one of the night watches with their uncle’s hunting rifle that he’s never used.

“Yeah I’m not sleepy so”

“Okay, only for a couple hours. Then I’ll be up”

Y/N shot him a thumbs up before climbing up the RV and taking a seat on the lawn chair. They watch their surroundings for a while, inevitably falling into a leaning position staring up at the night sky…enjoying all the stars in the sky…part of them couldn’t believe they were loving a moment without their dad.

He just…never seemed to care.

________

The thirteen year old strutted out of the hospital still wearing their gown over their tshirt and shorts with the grippy socks and all. Y/N stopped at the end of the walkway seeing Daryl leaning up against Merle’s truck but no Merle. Their shoulders slumped and the frown remained as they approach their uncle.

“Where’s the old man?”

“Jail. Again.” Daryl frowns, his eyes glued to the bandaging on their wrists. “Got called by the cops about bailing him out and when I got there, your dad just. Magically remembered that today was your release day…which I didn’t know anything about and I fucking live with y’all…so I left him there and waited in this parking lot until you got out”

“You didn’t have to…they probably would’ve LOVED to hear me talk about my hooker mom that I never met and deadbeat dad that uses me as a drug rat in my school for more money.”

“Did you actually—-“

“Not the drug rat part. Just enough for them to let me leave…” They frown dropping their shoes that had the shoelaces pulled out so that they can slip them on. “Can you re-lace them for me when we get home?”

“Mhm” Daryl really couldn’t pull his eyes from the obvious as Y/N felt the words get stuck about addressing it.

“You think Dad would’ve…actually come and pick me up?”

“Honest?”

“Prefer it…”

“Probably not” Daryl frowns extending his hand to take their bag and toss it into the bed of the truck turning back to the kid seeing the glued stare of theirs. “I don’t wanna ask if you’re not okay to talk about it”

“It wasn’t even dad who found me…just one of his hook ups. You were on that road trip on your bike. Paramedics couldn’t reach yea and reached…Merle who didn’t hesitate to get me committed. The kitchen isn’t going to look pretty when we get home…I’ll cle—-“

“I’ll clean it up. Just…please talk to me if you need somebody.” Daryl felt the ache in his chest hearing all of that coming from them as he couldn’t help but pull them into his embrace. “You’re my family too, and I’m sorry for being a bitch too most of your life”

Y/N brought their arms around him not understanding the full extent of hugging but the safe feeling they got from it…made them hold on longer.

________

“You—-DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA WHO YOU’RE AFFECTIN’ HERE?!” Daryl snaps at the sheriff in front of him feeling Shane push him back to avoid any physical altercation.

“Just you I’m assumin’” Rick held his hands up defensively but those words caused a lot of looks in his direction. “Now what am I missing here?!”

“Rick, honey, Merle is—-“

“What is Uncle Daryl yelling?” Y/N joins the party wearing one of Merle’s tan button downs over their long sleeves as the similar shirt is what caught Rick’s attention.

They’re too young to be a lover—-well. Everybody’s seen Merle right? Rick thought but then instantly received whiplash of the word “uncle” that came from their mouth realizing he just handcuffed someone’s father to a roof and left him there. “Shit. I—-“

“Y/N, he didn’t mean to” Shane tried to cover for his best friend as Daryl shoved the other cop off of him going to his confused kid.

“Something happened to Merle”

Y/N frowns instantly as the words left behind were the only ones that stuck out in Daryl’s explanation but before he could get riled up again. The fifteen year old made their way toward’s Rick and his guilt expression before suddenly having their fist meet his face without a second thought. Rick went down instantly and scrambled a bit confused on how much strength that teenager carried as the confused turned to anger and then sorrow within seconds. Lori didn’t bother getting involved, nor did Shane or Daryl. Rick instantly knew that he deserved it for the decision he made even if Merle is who he is.

“Look…I’m—-“

“Shut the fuck up, pig” Y/N kicked the dirt at him before storming off wiping the tears away on their way back to their tent.

“You’re not gonna fight him too right? Cuz we’ll knock your ass down” Shane tells Daryl who shot him a glare.

“The kid said enough for the both of us” Daryl frowns leaving to talk to Y/N before even talking to the retired sheriff how they’re going to get his brother back.

His anxiety got the best of him when he opened their tent seeing Y/N fiddling with their knife. But the action was stopped when he entered, to avoid his assumptions.

“Is he dead?”

“Dunno”

“Are we going to go get him?”

“I will go get him. With some of those fucks by the looks of it.”

“Why won’t you let me go”

“Because if shit hits the fan, you ain’t getting yourself killed.”

“And lose you too? Fucking think for once Uncle Daryl.” Y/N frowns picking up their knife and putting it in its sheath pushing past him.

________

“You’re seriously leavin’? For how long?”

“Just for a week. Why the fuck does that matter to you?”

“Who’s gonna help me and Y/N—-“

“No. I’ve told yea. Countless times. Not to take Y/N on these runs. Your buyers can wait and this Jesse dude? Will get his money later” Daryl picks up his bag looking at the oblivious but happy six year old sitting at the coffee table fiddling with a plush bear he’s never seen before. “Did you steal that?”

“Isn’t stealing bad?”

“Na—-“

“Yes. Don’t listen to your old man. And don’t go to sketchy places with him either.”

“Who gonna watch me?” Y/N frowns looking up at her uncle as Merle gave him more of an amused one. They both can be jerks.

“Your dealer…can fucking wait another day” Daryl snaps at his brother slamming the door on his way out resulting in the kid flinching.

Merle turns to his kid thinking what would happen if he left her at home but then he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Daryl if he came home before him.

“You win this round, kid”

________

“Y/N! Y/N!” Daryl yells off the top of his lungs taking out every walker in sight growing anxious the more screaming he heard from these people.

A loud whistle rang through as the archer quickly drew his attention to the RV finding Y/N on the ladder after they had taken a few sickos out to get there to grab their uncle attention.

Once the threat was taken care of, Daryl quickly went to his kid checking their person finding the whistle around their neck. It’s a dumb otter shape whistle that he bought when both Merle and him lost Y/N in a zoo. Of course they would be a wanderer. Y/N snapped in his face to get his attention back as he did another check of their person only to get punched in the shoulder.

“You bit?!”

“No! You find dad?”

“No…found something of him but I don’t think you wanna know”

You’re right. I don’t. Y/N frowns watching the sobbing display happening around them as a part of them started to feel guilty for liking the time without their dad around.

But they couldn’t help it. With a father like that, why would you want to be around them?

________

Merle carried his plastic bag of belongings out of the prison to be greeted with his truck and his brother’s enraged expression.

“Where the fuck is the rugrat?”

“At home. With a babysitter”

“Wow how the fuck did yea—-“ Merle was suddenly cut off by Daryl punching him right in the jaw making him stumble to the ground. “Hey what gives?”

“YOUR FUCKING KID GOT A HOLD OF YOUR STASH AND ALMOST DIED” Daryl snaps not giving a damn of the curious guard watching the interaction. “If you don’t do fucking better. CPS will take her”

“So? She’d be somewhere fucking better”

Daryl frowns about to kick Merle’s ass when it clicked to him.

“If you wanted to be a goddamn father so much, why didn’t you take the responsibility from me?”

________

Daryl blames a lot of Y/N’s childhood on himself. He should’ve been more present then a lot of the mistakes that occurred wouldn’t have happened.

Her overdosing on her father’s supply, making him lose temporary custody of her.

They’re coming out resulting in a few profanities thrown and Merle expressing his very conservative side. Inevitably having them run away until they realized three days in a drug addict’s apartment is better than a park bench.

The attempt during a time where the only one who understands responsibility wasn’t there…to a relapse that he wish didn’t happen

Amongst a whole lot of other things…Daryl really wanted to give them a life they wanted even when the world ended.

But the universe keeps on taking…

“You followed one of my men” This unknown voice didn’t freak out Y/N entirely. They’ve been in these situations way too often in the world before. Mostly watching their dad get the shit beat out of him by an angry drug lord’s goons. “How did you even manage to catch up? He was in a car and when you got caught. You were on foot”

“Could’ve been a track star if god gave me more of a nuclear family instead of one idiot being my dad and the other being an absent family member half the time” Y/N kicked their feet amused as their hands were straining to the rope. The footsteps drew closer but stopped where they couldn’t turn around to see who it was.

“Where did y’all come from? Where’s your camp?”

“Gonna take a whole lot for me to just roll over, buddy”

The voice sighed before approaching the door to the room they were in and opening it. Letting another set of unknown footsteps bring themselves in. Y/N couldn’t make out the hushed whispers.

But the flinch Merle experienced about to land a punch on Glenn, made him stop trying to get answers out of the guy. All he did was listening to the screaming that both knew wasn’t Maggie.

“Who followed yea”

“What?”

“ANSWER ME” Merle snaps at Glenn instead of throwing punches as he didn’t reply right away but given the look in his eyes.

The Governor watched as his right hand stepped out with a rage filled expression about to deck the man beside him that had bloodied knuckles.

“Who else did y’all find?”

“Why does that matter? Did you get anything out of the guy?”

“No—Now answer—“

“Just some teenager that was with them. They weren’t giving answers so boss man had me work my magic” The brute laughs slightly as the Governor noticed Merle’s tense composure and clenched fist.

“You said your brother is a part of this group. After recognizing the guy”

“So?”

“Do you know the girl?”

“No, but I was about to—-“

“I’ll go talk to the girl…you talk to your kid” The Governor pats Merle’s shoulder, heading back inside with the other.

Leaving Merle to find himself standing outside the door where his kid, his fucking blood that they beat to get answers out of, sat waiting and not knowing what is happening to their friends.

The door opening caused Y/N to flinch in their fetal position lifting their head to look at the door but that was difficult given their left eye swollen shut and the other they didn’t want to open at all.

“What hurts”

Y/N couldn’t help the painful laugh to escape their bruised throat. They uncomfortably turned their body to the other side even if it meant laying on more broken ribs.

“Kid. What. Hurts.” Merle yells causing them to flinch once more but also him retract a bit. “Y/N…I ain’t asking anything else. Not asking about your camp. Daryl. Nothing. Just you”

“Now? N-NOW?!” Y/N snaps wincing when they raised their voice, struggling to sit up as Merle took note of the pain they were experiencing in their wrists and legs when getting up. “Why is it now that you fucking care?!”

“Y/N—-“

“Just cuz you got your goddamn hand cut off doesn’t mean you just fucking book it. Or not even bother to go and find your goddamn kid.” Y/N stopped to spit up some blood making Merle grow anxious as he tried stepping close but they stepped back. “I knew you never gave a fucking damn about me. You only cared when I was smaller or when I was your goddamn pack mule—-I SHOULDVE JUST BEEN YOUR KID. NOT YOUR GODDAMN HELP” they dropped on that last note feeling the pain get the best of them as the tears came on. “What I learned from yea…helps me now…never helped me then…do you even remember the good years? Where you were actually a dad?”

“I never wanted you” Merle finally admits the one thing, Y/N has been begging him since they knew better for him to straight up say. But the pain started to become unbearable as he spoke. “Daryl reminded me everyday how terrible of a father I was. How I was like your grandpa. Be thankful you never met the fuck”

“I’ll send a postcard to hell” Y/N curls up a bit hunched over. “What the fuck are you getting—-“

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t love yea. I never wanted you. But you were the best thing to happen, next to leaving my old man’s place to escape his abuse. The only reason you came out with a heart wasn’t because of me.” Merle frowns kneeling to his kid’s level checking their person with his eyes knowing if he tried to touch they’d lash out. “But because of Daryl. When I was in prison for the four years you can barely remember, he raised yea. He took yea to school. Got you what you wanted the right way. He told the social worker the day you OD’d, that he would take custody of yea”

The tears running down their face were turning into more of a mix. The pain…and the pain caused by the blur of those four years that they couldn’t accept because of all the agony caused in all the others.

“Dad…I wanna go home” Y/N begs reaching out to him as Merle carefully took them into his arms quickly breaking the knife off the other so that he could carry his kid out of there when the moment was right.

But the group was already going to rescue them.

When Merle stepped out carrying Y/N in his arms feeling their grip weaken, he was stopped by both Maggie and Glenn aiming the stolen weapons at the man. Maggie was confused about the two being together but that was a story for later, and Merle turned to Glenn who instantly knew what was happening.

“You follow me and I’ll help yea out of here. As long as you take them”

“Deal. But you can’t follow us”

“No shit. I don’t like yea…but I know they mean something to all of yea.” Merle states handing Y/N off as they suddenly grabbed a fist full of his shirt staring him down. “This is for your safety and your groups. Now follow me”

Merle got the three out, but also ran into the others. Who wants to kill Merle is pretty much what was happening as everyone wanted a piece of the man except those he shares blood with. For the most part. Glenn and Maggie protested against having the eldest Dixon stay with them at the prison, but given he lead them out of there and that he didn’t go through with prying it out of Glenn…they bent. But only if he listened to them and helped them work with Woodbury or get rid of the threat.

“They alright?”

“They passed out after the adrenaline wore off. Should be fine as long as they don’t move for a while” Hershel checked their pulse for the third time since returning to the prison before getting up to leave the cell room when both Dixon brothers stared intensely at the doc. “If the bruising on their side from the broken ribs gets worse, I’ll have to relieve it with what I’ve got”

“Could steal medical supplies from Woodbury”

“You’re a fugitive” Daryl frowns. “Need to find somethin’ now to take care of it”

“Y’all can’t do anything to save them if we have a target on our backs” Rick interrupts the two for only a second but clearly their attention wasn’t going to be taken unless something more major happens. “Merle. Think you can map out Woodbury of its weak—-“

“I’ll give yea whatever the fuck you want if it means you’d leave me alone for goddamn five minutes” Merle snaps leaving with Rick to take care of business as Hershel steps out to grab a few things for Y/N, ultimately leaving Daryl alone with them.

As Daryl sat beside Y/N’s bedside in place of Hershel, he watches them stir a bit from discomfort making him tug the blanket to cover them more and resting the back of his hand on their forehead.

“M’not hot”

“Just double checkin’.”

“Ain’t no doc…” Y/N flinched to the sound of Daryl’s chair moving when all he wanted was to bring it closer. “Dad didn’t do it…”

“He’s told me who fucking did it, and he ain’t livin’ for much longer” Daryl states watching Y/N fall back asleep as that moment Rick came back needing his input on the plan.

Talking to the Governor is full proof. Being civil about it before taking matters into your own hands. Or Merle’s. Daryl left with Rick and a few others for the meeting with the Governor. Merle decided to take that opportunity to steal medical supplies from his old community for Y/N and extra for the hell of it. Michonne followed Merle to get answers of her own but also make sure he wasn’t leaving to tell anybody anything.

They will be okay. They will be okay. Merle frowns getting everything they will possibly need as his thoughts and actions were interrupted by the door springing open.

The swordsman quickly drew her katana when Merle drew his knife. The two relaxed realizing who it was but given Michonne’s issue with the guy, she kept an eye on him.

“I heard stories”

“So?”

“You think you can do all of this to redeem yourself for the pain you inflicted on this group? Let alone your own child”

“They’re practically an adult, I’m not doing this shit for anybody else but my kid, and I’m not looking for a fucking award” Merle snaps filling the duffle with anything and everything in the medical ward. The unexpected thing was Michonne receiving the duffle. “And I ain’t letting that bastard live”

Michonne returns. No Merle. Daryl leaves in search for Merle while the group in the prison prepares for an attack.

Hershel checks Y/N once more when they were moved in a secure area that won’t be affected by the attack. He notices their eyes following his movements and thought something was going on physically but once he stopped checking their bruising, they sighed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Useless…”

“You are hurt, the others don’t want yea risking further injury”

“Yknow…when my dad was missing…I was kind of relieved.” Y/N frowns fiddling with the buttons on their shirt. “Not like…I didn’t have the freedom when he was around…least I didn’t have to hear him bitch when I did shit…”

The doc took their wrist to check their pulse like he’s been doing every hour but also listening to their rambling that he thought was them reaching unconsciousness again. But they kept on.

“Now he’s back…yea think he gonna leave again?”

“When I was an alcoholic…the first time around, I’d disappear to avoid disappointing my family. Yeah to the local watering hole but didn’t want to hurt Maggie and Beth with my presence…” Hershel sets their arm down bringing the blanket back to cover them. “But it hurt them more not to have me there for’em. I don’t know your dad. Or your uncle for that matter. Besides that both would do anything for yea…I doubt they’re gonna leave in any way.”

The reassurance was needed.

Again.

And again.

Y/N watches from the entrance to their cellblock as Rick helps direct Woodbury folk out of the bus they took. Daryl quietly approaches their side sitting on the steps with them as they kept their gaze away from him after hearing the news. Recklessness was definitely a Dixon thing. Except only two out of the three know how to save themselves.

“We don’t have to talk about it”

“Good. I don’t want to”

Daryl frowns wanting to find the right words then remembered what he found on Merle’s body and got up for a second to retrieve it from his bike. When he returned, Y/N watches as the photo comes into their view taking it from their uncle’s extended hand.

“Your old man never left without that. Even when we both thought he was the worse father anybody could have” Daryl returns to his seat right beside them. “You were a pain as a baby. Found myself sleeping in the truck to leave Merle to take care of you. But when I came back one morning, you were sound asleep on him. So I took that for him. Thought he didn’t like it. Found it on his person when…he died.”

Y/N continues to stare at the photo letting the achey feeling in their chest get worse and ultimately make the tears roll off their cheeks.

“That son of a bitch…”

[insoukokuhell-434]

Chuuya Takes Care of Dazai Fics

Includes:

Emotional Hurt/Comfort (long term & immediate)

Physical Hurt/Comfort

The format I’m using is:

Title - writer (ao3 link) Fic length Time period (teen/mafia skk, 22! Skk, all ages) Additional tags (Tags in bold added by me for extra info) TW

Some fics have parts of the summary/ comments added for additional info

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Long Term (multiple instances)

hey look, the sky's falling apart - saffroncassis    

24.8k TEEN SKK (16/17) AU - Canon Divergence Protective Nakahara Chuuya, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Developing Relationship Found Family (the Akutagawa siblings, Oda's kids, Kyouka, Oda, Ango) TW- Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse and discussions of both these, also cw food for the whole fic

Summary - "At age 16, Chuuya defects from the Port Mafia and drags his partner with him not so much kicking and screaming as silently begrudging, and the rest follow suit in time."

Mostly Chuuya helping Dazai, but Dazai supports him too <33

[Really realistic depiction of the relationship between a depressed person and their supportive partner!]

For the Record - zombiemarker

19.1k TEEN SKK  AU- Spies & Secret Agents + Physical Hurt/Comfort Nightmares, Childhood Trauma, they get all dressed up and go to a gala, Implied Sexual Content, Fluff & Angst, Literal sleeping together, Getting together, First kiss, Developing Relationship TW - Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma

From tags: "Chuuya's a government experiment, Dazai's been with Mori for years, they've both got trauma now"

Mostly Chuuya helping Dazai, but Dazai supports him too <33

A mouth to empty into - series by osamuchuu

Not listing all 4 fics cause this post is already so long, but they’re all amazing pls go read them!

The series depicts depression + CSA trauma so well!

This is my favourite -

Love is not a victory march - osamuchuu

8.7k 22 SKK Soukoku taking care of each other, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mental Illness, Depression, Drug Addiction, Blood and Injury, Healing, Recovery, Soukoku Tenderness, Light Angst TW -  Dazai-Typical Suicide References and Attempts, Addiction, Drug Use

believe me darling, the stars were made for falling -communist_sasuke

14.6k ALL AGES Worried Chuuya, Love Confessions, Dazai is a Mess, Angst, Self-Harm , Fluff & Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon timeline, First Kiss, TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions , Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt

Trust Fall - insi 

3.5k ALL AGES (Dark Era, Post-Dark Era, 22 SKK) Emotional Constipation, Mental Health Issues, Dazai has issues TW - Implied/Referenced Suicide & Self-Harm, Suicidal ideation

From tags: Chuuya has met Dazai on the rooftop many times throughout knowing each other.

Immediate

Emotional H/C

Even the Darkness We're Watching Is So Beautiful - NastyaEx

4k 22 SKK (post-109) bsd 109, Fluff, Dazai Needs a Hug, Dazai is a Mess, exhausted dazai, dazai cries but only a little bit, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Soft skk, Dazai centered, yosano is a bit here and she's great

I'll Make A Home In Your Gut Because its Somewhere Warm to Sleep - arahabakii

8.9k 22 SKK Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Making Out, Getting Together, Domestic Fluff, Touch-Starved Dazai, Dazai needs a hug, Chuuya needs a hug TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References

stay- neon_toad

4.6k 22 SKK (pm!skk flashbacks) Suffering Dazai, Dazai Needs a Hug , Dazai is Bad at Feelings, Oblivious Dazai Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hugs, birthday, Birthday Presents, soft skk TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide References

where are you? - doeinstinct

2.8k 22 SKK Depression, Disordered Eating, physical symptoms of depression, Mentions of past self harm, m because they shower together, canon adjacent, meal replacements, Love Confessions, They're In Love Your Honor

Run Away With Me - Anonymous

5.3k Dark Era Grief/Mourning, Dissociation, Suicidal Thoughts, Soft Soukoku, Dazai Needs a Hug , Dazai Has Feelings, Pining, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sharing a Bed, Chuuya Needs a Hug, Kissing, Dazai asks Chuuya to run away with him

stay the night - Shinkirou

3.6k 22 SKK Gen or Pre-Slash, Developing Relationship, Character Study, Sharing a Bed, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dazai's depression

Physical Hurt/Comfort

Fool for loyalty, or some other word - osamuchuu

1.7k Dark Era Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Injury Light Angst, chuuya deals with so much tbh, what a champ, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship, Established Relationship, chuuya being Dazai's nurse because he absolutely was Dazai's angry nurse

under wraps - Coffeebiscuits

5k Post-Dark era + Emotional hurt comfort Love confessions, deep talks, Light angst, Fluff and angst, kissing, crushes, sharing a bed, Suicide, Self-Harm, Tending to Wounds TW - Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm 

From tags: “basically chuuya has to patch dazai upand they talk about some things they need to discuss”

Chuuya also gets some emotional comfort

EXHAUSTION

So if you go too far I'll be there - Kimisu

2.5k 22 SKK - Pre-Fyodor | Cannibalism Arc  No Plot/Plotless, Literal Sleeping Together, Some Fluff, Canon Timeline

From Summary: Based on a HC that Dazai spends days before every major arc planning and arranging the pieces in order for everything to 'work'. He also pushes his body limits a bit too far when doing that sometimes.

SICK FIC

Nothing More Important Than You - StormDew2

3k MAFIA SKK (15) Sickfic, Soft soukoku, Vulnerability

Please like/reblog if this helped u find a fic, I'd be delighted to know asjsj <3

“Dazai takes care of Chuuya” recs here

Fic rec masterlist here

[kingarthurflourofficial]

june books

The good soldier Švejk : and his fortunes in the world war 3/5 (i have to confess i skimmed over the last quarter of this bc it got VERY samey very fast but it absolutely does what it sets out to do which point out the absurdity of creeping fascism)

trouble 4/5 (the hands down winner of this library trip - not only a great homage to the sound of music but also features a bisexual lead and one of the best period representations of a trans character i've ever read. didn't realise until afterwards it's the same author as art and gwen are not in love but it makes sense bc i loved that one too!)

the jungle book I 4/5 (every time i have to apologise for loving this imperialist author but i re-read this and kim every few years and there are many and many quotes that form part of my DNA at this point)

swordheart 4/5 (re-read - love an unlikely love affair!)

paladin's grace 4/5 (re-read - upsettingly accurate portrayal of trying to love again post trauma/post domestic abuse with a cracking mystery/adventure happening in the background. really sets the scene for)

paladin's hope 5/5 (re-read - i can't help it i love the way men love! [steering one another through an ancient murder maze and having desperate life affirming sex while a long-suffering gnole waits in the hallway])

britt-marie was here 4.5/5 (re-read - BACKMAN!!!!!!!!!! i am in your WALLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! britt-marie is about finding how to impose your social structure and important base beliefs onto the world in a way that benefits both you and the world and ALSO it's about waking up after a long bout of depression where you burrowed into a cave and thought you'd never come out again and discovering there were people waiting for you all along and ALSO it's about going to paris and ALSO! it's about cleaning things with bicarbonate of SODA)

castle in the air 3/5 (re-read - alas for the days of my youth when i picked this book up as my first diana wynne jones and it changed my life! re-reading as an adult you notice a little more fatphobia than the first or second time around and feel a Trifle uneasy about the Fantasy Desert Culture Trope)

death by silver 3.5/5 (a rare non-reread! a great victorian gaslamp mystery featuring two interesting OCs. tw for past period typical abuse in all boys boarding schools)

a death in the dionysis club 4.5/5 (sequel to the above. loved the second one better than the first! is this bc there were fewer flashbacks? MAYBE! there's also an excellent negotiation scene halfway through that doesn't stick in my craw unlike Many that try and superimpose modern bdsm onto historical times)

and novel length fic!

An Ace that I Could Keep 4.5/5 (i've missed harriet_vane's writing so much! what a joyful return!)

WWMMD? (What Would Mianmian Do?) 4.5/5 (beautiful worldbuilding and thoughtful bdsm etiquette without veering into 'he would not fucking say that' territory)

Peerless Melons vs the Patriarchy 4.5/5 (hands down one of the most IC shen yuans i've ever read)

True Treasure 3/5 (love a rare-pair)

hey, share the weight a little 4/5 (LOVE A RARE-PAIR)

pale shadows of forgotten names 4/5 (madam lan lives!)

A word, a look, will be enough 5/5 (jaytim! jay! tim! by FEYBURNER!!!!!!)

Who is holding your hand? 4/5 (yiling patriarch supremacy!)

Palimpsest 4/5 (growth and healing? in yue qingyuan's economy?!)

now you’re tearing through the pages and the ink 4/5 (this fandom does SO MUCH with minor characters and every time i am more in awe)

anything you've read lately that i absolutely have to add to my list for july? please share if so!

[nateoldrin]

i will likely be having major surgery on my 30th birthday next month and i don't know if i'll survive it, and i wanted to leave this message for anyone younger (or my age or older!) who struggles with this. if you suspect that you have PTSD or C-PTSD from medical treatment, please read below. if you don't suspect this but have told someone they're not valid for that, read below.

ok and encouraged to reblog.

i wanted to use this vent drawing for this for extra impact, as this is one of numerous (hundreds) of vent pieces i have pertaining to this issue. tw for types of trauma, abuse and medical trauma.

PTSD, and likewise C-PTSD (and DID, though that is not the topic today as interlinked as they are for me) can be caused by an unintended trauma too. people think that all trauma has to happen because harm befell you on purpose or due to a gruesome accident - sexual assault, domestic abuse, repeated beatings, car accident, war, and so on. PTSD usually comes about from a single event (though not always!), while C-PTSD, or Complex PTSD, "by contrast, is more likely to occur when a person experiences multiple or ongoing traumas or when a single trauma lasts for a long time and leads to feelings of captivity."

the examples most often used are to do with purposeful harm, such as abuse or repeated assault, but did you know that doesn't have to always be the case?

PTSD, and C-PTSD, can be developed from prolonged FEELING of being trapped or harmed regardless of the intent of the people who are inflicting the harm, ie

prolonged medical treatment at a young age.

this is a complicated topic, but to put is in very simple ways: a baby doesn't know that it's being cut into (surgeries), harmed (pain), taken away from its parents (observation, life risk, etc) and so on for its own good. a newborn can't tell. you can't explain that to a baby's brain. so to a small brain, this is all perceived as intended and severe harm akin to sexual assault. i have a similar type of response to certain stimuli as people who have trauma that comes from SA. i have been told, numerous times, that my trauma doesn't count because:

1. i don't remember it; my flashbacks are emotional and consist of deep breakdowns with total loss of cognition but no memory of what's harming me so sometimes i can have a sense of doom, or have a flashback without knowing what's going on

2. it wasn't caused by intended harm (such as SA)

i have even thought in the past that i was sexually assaulted due to how similarly i react to SA and medical treatment (i have been groomed and assaulted as well, though not as a baby, so my trauma doesn't stem from there). after years of therapy, my doctor told me that it's because to a child, especially one who can't yet understand complex situations, such as a newborn or baby, an invasion of the body's boundaries and the bodily autonomy is invaded horrifically in both a surgery and a SA, so my body just reacts to it as it is: my bodily autonomy was invaded, i was harmed, i was horrifically "abused", i was never "safe" and my parents "didn't save me". whether those concepts are rooted in reality doesn't ultimately matter, because that's what my brain THINKS. it's a trauma so deep, it can't be uprooted with remembering, understanding, forgiving, etc.

it's a very complex healing process because speaking strictly logically, i have no one to be mad at, no one to blame, and no memories to process - all of my trauma is stored in my body, in my subconscious, in my muscles, in my bones, in my fractured mind. i developed psychosis due to this. people were trying to help me, and though i know that now, my child self never did. it's not something i can go back to explain to him.

when i first started therapy at 18, i didn't even believe my therapist that i was traumatized by my numerous medical treatments. i don't remember this, but allegedly i even got enraged the first few times she suggested it. i have since accepted it and tried to work on it in numerous ways. i'm also not comfortable disclosing what my exact medical condition/medical situation is, but i will say that when you have a chronic health condition, having C-PTSD by it is horrific, because you can never really "escape". i will never be free. if i no longer seek medical treatment for my disability/problem, my condition is terminal, but if i keep seeking treatment then i get re-traumatized each and every time i have to get checked up (or hospitalized). additionally, this has made me mentally incapable of really being independent - i also suffer from other things that this has simply made worse.

i can't really heal because i don't have the time, and growing up i was never given the tools or ability to be angry at my circumstances ("be grateful" "your life was saved" "this was a miracle" "good people helped us" "your surgeon was a genius") so it built up. i could not healthily express anger until my early 20s.

so, if you think that you may have PTSD/C-PTSD from prolonged medical treatment since a young age (in my case, literally since the day i was born until now - 30 years), try and talk about it with a therapist if you can, and know you aren't fake.

trauma doesn't have to be caused by purposeful harm to be trauma.

stay strong. i don't know if there is light at the end of the tunnel for us, but don't give up hope, and know you are real.

[midnightkens]

TW: alcoholism, ptsd, past domestic violence

--

also consider: in the months after patrick, ken starts drinking a little too much.

months of trauma just slam into him all at once. he'd stopped going to therapy a while back. his therapist was getting suspicious about the abuse, and patrick manipulated him into stopping therapy.

he doesn't have a therapist. no coping mechanisms to fall back on. he's having panic attacks and flashbacks, can't sleep, doesn't eat.

he doesn't get totally sloshed every night. he has a wine spritzer in a 20oz cup that he drinks throughout the night. he gets a bit of a buzz, but he's functional all day, and he's not mean or violent, so he tells himself he doesn't have a problem.

he knows that his family is worried about him, especially colt. he grew up with an alcoholic father, and ken hates himself even more for doing this to him.

the buzz brings him back to being happy, smiling, laughing a lot. wouldn't colt, and barbie and the others rather deal with that over ken crying and having panic attacks?

but deep down, he knows he has a problem.

he just doesn't know what to do about it.

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

I did it :D I tortured Yorkie with my bullsh*t again :’)

~Yorkie isn’t having a great time in this~

⚠️TW⚠️mentions of war and 9/11, mentioned abuse and SA, possible inaccurately described mental disorders/illnesses, and the characters might possibly be OOC

=======================================================================

Around 8pm:

To say that New York was having a rough day would be an understatement. First reason, he had gotten no sleep the night before (not that he ever did sleep in the first place), because he was awake all night dealing flashbacks of war, past domestic violence regarding Britain, and 9/11. He hated that he could still hear the screams and gunshots and the other various sounds of war. He hated that he could still hear his father’s harsh words and feel his harsh grip on his body. He hated that he could still hear the sounds of the planes crashing into the towers, and the screams of his people was almost deafening, and he could feel the phantom pain of the large gaping wound that had spread across his back that day.

Second reason, whilst it wasn’t that bad, yet still a bit annoying, he was having one of those days where certain texture were a big ol’ nope. Unfortunately, the textures of his usual favorite shirt and jacket were a BIG nope, and anytime he tried putting them on, he took them off almost immediately. So he decided to settle for something new-ish, and grabbed one of his soft cropped sweaters and black sweatpants. That wasn’t a big deal, until he went to the store later that day since it was his turn to do the shopping.

And that’s a near perfect transition into reason número tres. When he had went to the store, he kept getting followed around by this jacka$$ that kept trying to ask him out, ask for his number, flirt with him, and even TOUCHED him inappropriately once. When York confronted the guy about touching him and harassing him, the guy responded with saying stuff like "Oh c’mon, you were basically asking for it with the way you’re dressed", and "Well it’s not my fault your dressed like that and have such a small waist", and other creepy sh*t that made New York incredibly uncomfortable. Luckily Mass had came with York to the store and told the guy off with a "few" "small" threats when he found them.

Reason number four, due to the air quality in his state, York was having a bit of a rough time breathing at some parts of the day (his asthma didn’t make it any better), and had moments where he would feel incredibly dizzy and nearly black out. He was coughing a bit every now and then, and once he even dissolved into a coughing fit in his room, and he ended up coughing up blood on one of the rugs he had, which was he//a fun to clean.

And final reason is the fact that he was currently at a meeting that Gov had scheduled at 8-F*CKING-PM. Who in their right mind does that?! Gov, apparently, but York highly doubted that the government personification was ever in his right mind to be honest.

Oklahoma and Texas were fighting again, Florida was busy messing with Gov, Loui looked like he was trying his hardest to not sentence Alabama to eternal damnation cuz Bama’ wouldn’t shut his d*mn mouth about Mardi Gras, Pennsylvania and New Jersey were fist fighting, and New York was getting anxious because of noise and chaos.

York could feel his chest tightening and could feel himself slowly losing control of his breathing. He started snapping his fingers against his thigh and tried to calm himself down, but his vision started getting blurred with tears and he could feel the dizziness making itself known. He decided to just slide out from his chair and under the table where he could hopefully calm himself down before he had a full blown panic attack in front of the others. That would be he//a embarrassing. He quietly tried doing some of the breathing exercises he learned so that the others wouldn’t hear him, but it appears that today was not aligning in his favor, seeing as he dissolved into a coughing fit and started hyperventilating a bit. He could just barely hear the room fall nearly slightly quiet.

New Jersey heard something that sounded like choking and crying and paused his fighting to look around. That unfortunately (or in this case, fortunately) distracted him long enough that Penn had the opportunity to trip and throw him down on the ground, temporarily shocking him for a few moments. But those few moments were all he needed to look under the table and see what seemed to be New York under the table curled in a ball. He then saw Penn getting ready to kick him, and quickly scrambled to sit up and stop Penn from kicking him.

"Penn wait wait-WAIT!!" Shouted the Garden State, putting his arm up to block his face if Penn did follow through with the kick. But he didn’t, thankfully, and just gave the smaller a confused look. Jersey looked back under the table at his younger brother and crawled over slightly. "Ay Yorkie?! Are ya dyin’ or some sh*t?"

The only response he got was a slight cough and a choked cry. Ok- well that was bit concerning…. He got a bit closer to York and saw how violently he was shaking and hyperventilating. "York? You good??" Jersey slid a bit closer to his brother and went to put a hand on his shoulder, but instantly pulled his hand away when the younger let out a small whimper and backed away slightly.

York didn’t even know what was happening, he only knew that he was panicked, couldn’t breathe, overstimulated, and needed to get out of there as soon as possible. He looked up slightly and saw an opening where Texas’s, Oklahoma’s and Jersey’s chairs had moved, and tried to make a run for it, but he only made it halfway to the door before his knees gave out on him. He braved for the fall, but instead of feeling the cold hard ground (OH, OH, TROUBLE TROUBLE 😩✨), he felt two arms wrap around his bare waist (remember, he was wearing a cropped sweater), holding him securely. But of course, he didn’t know who it was, and he felt the weird scratching feeling of arm hair on his waist, so he let out a smallish scream and scratched one of the arms of whoever grabbed him, but they didn’t let go.

Jersey held his younger brother in tight grip, only nearly letting go when York had scratched his arm. He was able to hold on to York pretty easily, seeing as he actually had some muscle on him and York didn’t seem to. He struggled to keep a hold of the younger when he tried sliding out of his arms, and decided to gently guide the slightly taller panicked state into a sitting position on the floor in the corner. Jersey could the stares of some of the other states, but chose to ignore them, seeing as this was more important. He silently cursed when he saw York bury his head in his knees, meaning he wasn’t getting any fresh air and breathing wouldn’t be easier. He grabbed the slightly taller’s shoulder gently and said "York?"

York slowly looked up at his older brother. He had multiple tears running down his face and was hyperventilating. And let’s not even talk about how much he was shaking. "Y-y-yea..?" He asked quietly, his voice shaking.

"I’m gonna need ya to breathe. Like this, copy after me kiddo." Said the Garden State. He took a slow deep inhale, and then exhaled, York following his actions. Slowly but surely, the Empire State regained control of his breathing, but he was still crying a bit and shaking.

"Can I hug ya?" Jersey asked. He waited until York gave a small nod and then grabbed him and set him in his lap, where York wrapped his legs around the older’s torso and buried his face in his shoulder. Jersey wrapped his arms around his brother and buried his face in the crook of York’s neck. The two brother’s sat like that for a while until York had near fully calmed down. The older of the two lightly poked York in the side, making him flinch and turn his attention to his brother.

"Do ya wanna talk about it? You don’t have to speak, tap my arm if yes, hug me tighter if no." whispered the Garden State. He mumbled an okay when he felt York hug him tighter.

"Is New York alright?" Gov asked as he walked over to the two states.

Jersey stood up with York wrapped around him. "Yea he’ll be aight. I’m gonna bring im’ to his room and let im’ rest."

"Alright then. Good night, New Jersey." said the Fed. He smiled and walked back over to the table to make a sad attempt at regaining control of things.

Jersey teleported to York’s room and gently set the near fully-asleep York on his bed. He was about to teleport when he felt someone grab his hand and heard a small, near-silent whine. He sighed quietly and got into the bed with the younger. He couldn’t help the small smile crept onto his face when his younger brother cuddled close to him and buried his face in his chest. Jersey felt the bed sink a bit on the other side, indicating that Nico (York’s golden retriever) and Kodi (York’s border collie) had jumped on the bed to join them in a cuddle session. He gently patted each dog on the head when they started sniffing the two of them, and smiled fondly when York sleepily giggled when Kodi nuzzled into his ear and neck.

Eventually, the four of them fell asleep peacefully, and once again, Rhode Island got some new blackmail :)

[n3g5nx]

What Have I Been Dragged Into?

♡♡♡

CHAPTER EIGHT

TW/ past domestic abuse flashback and substance abuse problems mentioned.

General warning this fic is highkey toxic so I don't condone any of this behaviour okay?

AO3 Chapters

♡♡♡

♡♡♡

"So… you're his so called wives" X asks with a gulp, fidgeting with the hem of their shirt.

Two of the girls sat on the couch while the blonde one was in the kitchen pouring two tall glasses of wine.

"Yeah. And we aren't the only ones." The brunette sighs, her hands firmly in her lap, intense gaze on X. It made then shift uncomfortably.

"There's Frankie, too, but she's… distracting him." The black-haired girl added . She didn't need to elaborate, her meaning was clear. 

The blonde returned and handed X a glass, taking a swig of her own and sitting in the arm chair beside the couch. They took a long gulp of their own, tapping a finger on the glass nervously. 

"I'm Amber," The blonde, Amber, started after a period of silence, "And that's Sherry and Tonya"

"I'm-" X started, but Tonya help up a hand to stop them.

"I've heard your name plenty of times." There was an edge of disgust to her voice, making X shutter at the implications. 

"Yeah, he's pretty obsessed with you." Sherry said with a reserved, soft voice, "we just… wanted to check on you. He's not trying to coerce you or…?" She trailed off.

X shook their head and took another sip of their wine. It was bitter but they didn't care at the moment and would likely be going back for seconds. This whole moment felt surreal.

"No, thank god." They mumbled before taking another long sip.

"You know, he's talked about making you… like us." Amber spoke up after a long dri k of her own glass. "But you're like, special somehow."

Sherry nodded and added, "He's 'visited' us a lot less since you got here."

"Why are you guys telling me this?" X gulps, feeling themselves growing more anxious with each minute that dragged on.

"We're worried." Tonya put simply, the other girls nodding in agreement, "He won't give you up. Not even after that." She gestured towards the darkening bruises, causing X's face to grow warm with embarrassment. 

"Hey," Tonya rises out of her seat, clasping one of their hands in hers. "It's not your fault."

The simple statement brought tears to X's eyes, their breath catching in their throat as they held back the waterworks. They nodded in response and downed the rest of their glass, pulling away to pour another. It'd been so long since they drank, they forgot how good it felt.

*

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE." They screamed, throwing the empty wine glass beside the man's head. It shattered against the wall, a stray piece of glass hitting the man and cutting open his cheek.

"YOUR HOUSE? I have been paying the rent for the past FIVE FUCKING MONTHS, X." The man retorted, stomping towards them. "If you forget, you lost your fucking job because YOU, couldn't stay sober for ONE FUCKING WEEK."

"YOU ARENT MY FUCKING DAD." X screamed in retort, shoving the man hard on the chest and turning around, slamming their hands on the table behind them.

"Yeah, I'm not, because he died popping fucking pills, just like you will." The man was seething, taking another step towards X and snatching them by the wrist, fingers digging hard into their skin. "Do you really want me to hurt you again?" He hissed out.

X tried to pull away but his grip was too strong, another scream erupting from their throat. "JUST GET OUT!"

There was a sudden pounding at the door, causing them to both fall silent and turn around to face the door.

"Great, now I have to deal with the police again. Go hide in the goddamn closet until I'm done talking to them and DONT make a fucking peep." The man demanded with a scoff, pushing them towards the hallway as he made his way to the door.

X grumbled buy complied, swaying and stumbling their way to the padded closet and slumping against the wall inside. "I'm not fucking crazy…" they murmured to themselves, watching from the slits in the closet door.

The man opened the door with a wide smile plastered across his face, but before he could say a word the blood-covered person on the other side stumbled in and latched onto him. X watched helplessly as their husband was torn into, his neck pouring blood within an instant. He screamed for only a few seconds before he was gone, the other person relentlessly tearing farther into his throat and clawing at his shoulder and chest.

They held a hand over their mouth, eyes wide and pricked with tears. They hated him but god, did they fucking love him too.

Amber had fetched a second bottle, X pouring the remaining contents into their cup. Who knows how many they've has so far. 

"My taste in guys os so fucking shit." They mumbled to themselves, lightly kicking the kitchen counter. "I'm such an idiot…"

Tonya and Sherry passed each other a worried glance before slowly standing up. They had debriefed X on a plethora of the things Negan has done and what his intentions with them probably were. They had stayed quiet most of the time, taking in everything they said.

"We should get back now…" Sherry cleared her throat.

"Yeah, before he notices we're gone." Tonya adds, offering X a faint smile as they look over at them.

Amber stammers to her feet and nods, humming in agreement. They watch as the 3 girls scurry out, leaving X alone with their thoughts and a glass of wine. 

They sat silently in the dimly lit room, only a small lamp turned on, slumped against the counter and nursing their glass of wine. Reflecting on every little moment they had with Negan, the alcohol did little to numb the pain. What was worst was that deep inside, some part of them straining to be heard, still wanted him. Still cared about him. They knew he was a piece of shit but god, it wasn't that simple, was it? He was more than that.. There were other parts of him, too. Different sides of him, even ones they'd yet to see. Maybe he just needed a nudge in the right direction was all…

Taking a swig before looking down at the swirling red liquid, they remembered him. A tall, looming figure with broad shoulders and a perfect jawline. The softest eyes, too. It wasn't Negan, it was him. Their Kate husband. God did they miss him, even if he had bruised them more times then they could count. 

With a heavy sigh, they downed the rest of their wine and pushed themselves off the floor. They changed into a tank and some shorts before stumbling out of their room. Their silent demeanour was lost, loud, clumsy steps ringing through the hallways as they walked. Usually they wore heavy boots, but now they wore nothing but thin socks on their feet.

Eventually making their way to the doctors office, they rasped at the door with a knuckle. Hopefully he'd be open this late. 

"Hello?" Dr Carson, as X had learned his name was, answered the door, looking down at them as they leaned helplessly on the frame.

"Yeah, uh, headache…" they croaked out, stumbling over each syllable, "I've got this damn headache.. real strong one. No, it's super bad, okay? I need like.. I need a bottle of something, okay?"

Dr Carson sighed, pinching the bridge of his bone at their clearly inebriated state. It was kind of sad. "Um, X, is it? Yeah, I don't think I can do that…" He said with a low sigh, "How about you just come back in the morning?"

X stood straighter and moved closer to him, looking at him with half-closed eyes and a small smile on their lips. "Pretty please, doc?" They drawled, tilting their head slightly. 

Dr Carson scoffed and pushed them back "How about we just get Negan and-"

He was cut off by their blood curdling scream, X turning around and slamming a fist into the wall behind them "I am NOT his fucking PET, I HATE that STUPID CUNT."

Their outburst was similar to that of a child, eyes flashing with something dark and wild. The doctor gulped and retreated into his office, shutting the door and fumbling for a walkie talkie.

A few moments of darkness passed before X lazily blinked open their eyes, now on the ground slumped against the wall they had hit. Someone was standing in front of them. Looking up, they recognised Dwight's nervous-looking face and tilted their head at him.

"Dwighty-boy," They giggled, "what're you doing here?"

Dwight sighed and helped X off the ground, guiding them through an exit door into the cool night air and sitting them on a step against the exterior wall. He sat on the ground across from them and pulled out a cigarette.

"Hey.. I want one too." X pouted, their eyes barely open.

"Yeah, sure…" Dwight passed them a lit cig before lighting his own and taking a long puff. "Someone wanted me looking out for you. And no, it wasn't Negan. I actually stopped Dr Carson in time before he could try to radio him."

X visibly flinched at the mention of Negan, eyes opening wider. They took a drag from their cigarette and sighed. "Did I freak out at someone?"

Dwight nodded and X cursed under their breath. They were still drunk but seemingly more calm now. Something about his presence was comforting, he seemed a lot more… normal then some of the others. Which, X couldn't say much about normalcy. 

"Thanks for, um, stepping in…" X mumbled with a sigh, a cloud of smoke exhaling from their lungs as they cast a sideways glance to Dwight. "I.. I don't know why I do that. Why I freak out like that sometimes. It's just… everything gets so messed up in my head."

Dwight nodded again as he took another drag of his cigarette, looking through the railing at the distant night landscape, "We've all got our demons." He replied quietly, toying with the cig between his fingers, "This world, hell, this place.. it does things to people."

"God, I'm so stupid…" X quietly said to themselves, taking another drag. They'd been avoiding getting back into smoking but hell, it's the apocalypse. Who's going to stop them?

[miscmonet]

How shoulder pain led to my biggest healing break through.

TW: Domestic Violence, Sexual assault, Addiction/Substance abuse

To start out I've had some shoulder pain over the last couple of weeks. Nothing I couldn't handle or roll on the ground about.

Monday morning my partner and I laid down for bed after watching the Perseids. When I woke up I was in SO MUCH PAIN. My loving partner immediately jumped into action and got in touch with a friend who is also a masseuse. He invited her over, coordinated a time, planned with our roommate to be upstairs/ended up going to spend time with his partner while I was getting worked on. I was, and still am, completely overwhelmed by how much I am loved. I am so touched that he cares about me so much that he would go through these lengths to help me feel better. He set up an emergency at home visit and also scheduled an hour long session the day after to make sure the issue was taken care of. I am eternally grateful for him doing this when he did not have to at all.

With all that being said, it took so much trust for me to let all this happen. I was in so much pain that I was in no condition to protest or make a fuss about someone touching me/seeing my body. I could feel and see the start of a flashback coming on in the midst of all the planning. A mesh of the past and present.

I'm sitting on the floor, I've just been told someone I've met only a few times will be coming over today. For me. No time determined yet... The nervous anticipation and waiting for the next update, they are still needing to find a ride/sitter. Getting the text for final plans, my partner leaves to pick her up/greet her and see if she needs any help. Finally she enters. I'm still on the floor, not sure what the next move is. Waiting for someone to give me direction. Sit in front of her, don't move, don't show fear, don't flinch from her touch....

And then it starts. And nothing happens. The world didn't implode. My shoulder hurts more, sure. But I gave in. I trusted and I made it out the other side in one piece. For the home visit I didn't even have to take my shirt off. The best part was my partner didn't sexualize the visit. I had a massage. Period end of sentence.

The next day for the hour long session I was still weary of being touched. This one required at least no bra or shirt. I was able to keep my leggings on. At the end I was very touched out/overwhelmed. The combination of rough touch, the volume was a bit much on the relaxing playlist, there were lots of smells and to top it off I had a blanket on and was hot. As for the healing...

She started the massage on my right shoulder. I have an injury in that shoulder from my arm being pulled on roughly, at the time of the injury I was not allowed medical care. It pops multiple times a day, if I move weird it kinda shifts in the socket. Anyway, she starts on that side and I begin to cry and I let it out silently while being worked on. I'm thinking about how this wonderful man has healed wounds he never inflicted, even if he doesn't know it. To feel relief in my shoulder for the first time in almost 7 years! During that massage I let go of a lot more than physical pain. I was able to process the events that surrounded my shoulder injury, hopefully the nightmares of that one will stop now. I was able to process the events that led to my ankle injury and how that was handled. I was able to acknowledge and accept the fact that my abuser regularly invited someone over that I was not comfortable with, voiced this, and yet was still required to perform. And when I became unwilling, that's where the pills and alcohol came in.

There will never be a day that goes by where I won't have a fleeting memory of what I went through for six years and I hate you for that.

But I will forever love my partner, the light of my life, my moon and stars, for being so soft and caring. For always going above and beyond to take care of me. I see how much patience he has to love me, a broken and mentally ill mess, and yet he makes it look so easy.

That's the story of how emotional pain and trauma can stay hidden and stored in the body. Even if you don't remember, the body does. Don't try to run from the pain and memories, it will find away to come back around until you process it. But please do so responsibly and within your capability. Do not push yourself to heal from something you aren't ready for.

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: The Duchess by Sophie Jordan

3.5/5. Releases 3/26/24.

Vibes: recovery and healing, forced proximity, and female friendship

Heat Index: 4/10

Duchess Valencia is undoubtedly happier now that her abusive husband is dead. But her merry widowhood is interrupted by Rhain, her husband's beefy Welsh successor, whose gruffness hides his immediate attraction to her. Valencia can't continue with her familiar lifestyle without Rhain's support--and he won't offer that support unless she ushers his sisters into society. The more time she spends with Rhain and his family, the more Valencia is tempted by the man. However, after the pain of her first marriage, she dreads letting any man law claim to her again...

There are levels on which this book works for me: it's well-written, it's fast-paced, and it offers a look at the kinds of figures we normally don't see in historical romance. Like Tru before her, Valencia is in her thirties, jaded and experiences. She's not a blushing virgin being romanced by your standard issue rake.

Where I struggle, however, is with this as a romance. A lot of the plot deals more with Valencia's pain and recovery from it (TW: for domestic violence--it's in the past, but it's heavy, and there is also a brief sexual assault in a flashback). Her romance with Rhain feels somewhat more like a subplot, whereas the main plot is her journey--and it's a tough journey. In this sense, it feels more like it's slanting towards women's fiction than historical romance. I'm more used to Sophie Jordan as a very straightforward, frothy, high-heat historical romance author, and while the Scandalous Ladies of London books have been pushed as a heroine-forward series, the summaries then read like historical romance summaries. And I don't know if I'd categorize this as that.

Quick Takes:

--There is something important and empowering about Valencia recovering from what was truly a hideous marriage. I do need to be clear, too--she does find her happiness with Rhain. However, she does spend a lot of this book sad, and I don't know if that's necessarily what I expect from a romance novel. It's not dark; it's highly emotional, but it's not what I would call anywhere near "dark romance". But it's also not anything like the kind of light, frothy, fun historical romance I'm used to reading from Sophie Jordan.

In a lot of ways, I tend to wonder if this could've been fixed by extending the length of the book? I'm used to Sophie writing a short, tight book. She's good at that. However, with subject matter as intense as this, more pages could've potentially been helpful. Not only to balance the intense emotionality of Valencia's recovery a little more; but to devote more time to Valencia and Rhain's romance.

--That being said, I continue to enjoy the uniqueness of the heroines in this series. They aren't your standard historical leads, and their friendships are really real. You feel the sense that the story is totally invested in them, in a way that it perhaps isn't invested in the love story. Which isn't bad! It's a different kind of love story. It just isn't quite what you may expect from a historical romance.

--Rhain is Welsh, and he is sexy, and I did feel echoes of a certain Welsh historical romance hero who's become quite popular... But it isn't quite on that level. I think he could've gotten there! We just didn't have the time between him and Valencia. He's a cute, comforting, kinda gruff dude who clearly loves his sisters and has no idea what to do with them. Which is charming.

The Sex:

This is fairly low heat. I'd say there is one explicit sex scene--well-done, it's Sophie Jordan--and then a smattering of other mentions. I could've used some more.

I think this is perfect for readers who are looking for a more somewhat heavier book focused on female friendships, heroine-forward development, and a lower heat level. For me, I do wonder if it's fully a ROMANCE romance. That doesn't mean it's a bad book, it just means it's a different book than what I expected.

Thanks to Netgalley and Avon for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[chicleeblair]

First, Do No Harm [Epilogue] |||[FFN]

Rating: NC-17/Explicit

Pairings: Meredith Grey/Derek Shepherd

An assailant from her past renders Meredith Grey temporarily deaf with her jaw wired shut. Derek traces the less visible damage that led to someone trying to silence her, and finds himself at the root. She can’t shake the belief that he’ll resent her for time spent away from the NIH. Neither of them can answer the true question: Is this is a six-week truce, or will their skill at non-verbal conversation keep their marriage from shattering with the silence?

AO3||FFN

Chapter TWs under the cut.

Mentions of:

attempted sexual assault

sexual trauma

molestation of an underaged girl

incest

homophobia

Domestic Abuse/Strangulation

PTSD Flashbacks

[blackberrywars]

The Behemoth

Alrightttttt hi my dear my darling!! The Behemoth is just the new title for the version of Berry Content I edit on, and since you've already read it, I'll just paste the most angst-filled section, because it is, in my opinion, some of my best writing.

Lambert is having a the definition of a terrible time.

TW: abortion, domestic abuse, PTSD flashback.

Stone bricks press against her back, but all she feels are the cracked, mud-caked walls of the small house she’d spent her first nine years in. She can hear her father slamming the door on his way out of their home and how it always rattled the wooden frame, hears the creak of his ax being yanked from the stump he leaves it in, hears his boots crushing fallen leaves all the way to the forest. Watches the way Mama’s shoulders release. They wait another few minutes more, just in case he forgets something and circles back. Then, Ma falls to her knees. She reaches below the bed and pulls out a ceramic jug, breaking the seal —the alcohol inside burns Lambert’s nose from across the room. It’s her father’s, they both know it well. But Mama drinks and drinks and drinks until she nearly vomits onto the floor, forehead pressed against the packed dirt and hand clamped over her mouth, forcing back the liquor.

“Ma… Mama, why?”

She gets no reply, not until her mother levers herself up off the floor, bracing herself against the bed and heaves her body onto it. Mama laughs, the sound cracking apart as soon as it leaves her lips.

“I hope you never have to know.”

“Ma-”

“No. I won’t —not today. Go to the woods, fetch me some scotch broom and wormwood. We’ve enough pennyroyal here.”

Mama clasps her hands under her chest, almost clinging to herself for comfort, when it occurs to Lambert, suddenly, how small she is. How thin her arms are. How her eyes sink into her skull. How the bruises littered across her pale skin last a month when they should last a week. How her clothes hang off her body everywhere… except her stomach. A little bump, harder against her touch than a belly should be, when Lambert crawls onto the bed and tries to hug her mama. She’s swollen. Like the other omegas and women sometimes are, in the square, before the announcement goes out: a baby. Lambert presses in tighter, one hand on the swell. Mama sighs.

“You’re too smart for your own good, little lamb of mine. But maybe it’ll save you.”

“You don’t want it?”

“No. Not how I am and not with him.” 

And Lambert understands. Knows that another person in the house would bring only pain —less food, less space, another target for her father to beat. Knows it would hurt Mama, to have it. Knows she could die, and the baby could die, and then she’d be alone. Alone with her father, and nothing could be worse than that —she crushes the wish for a sibling right then and there. Scotch broom, wormwood, and pennyroyal. If it’s a medicine, she doesn’t know it, or else Ma’s never made it when she’s with her, or sold it at all. But if she needs it, Lambert will get it for her.

“Okay, Mama.”

Walking to the forest with a small pair of shears, she avoids the distant sound of her father’s ax, thudding off on the other side of the hill. The wormwood doesn’t take long to find. Ma keeps a few healthy patches of it close to the house for their pain, and to jar for when she can sell salves and tonics of it in the village. Every copper she makes goes into a small pouch, hidden in the dirt of their small garden. Hope, Ma calls it. All their hope in a roughspun sack that fits in her palm, stained with earth and stitched up where the worms dig through it in the springs. Lambert takes several extra sprigs, just in case. Market day’s around the corner, and Mama might want to make more for anyone who buys it. ‘Every copper counts,’ she says.

Scotch broom has pretty yellow flowers and it’s taller than she is, but it still takes her longer to find it. Every rock on the ground hurts her feet through the thin soles of her shoes, but she keeps walking until she sees a flash of yellow. After tripping over a root, she clips a few sprigs of that too. Should she take more? Ma hasn’t sold it at any other market, but if it fixes this…… someone else must need it too. Another Ma, with another baby she won’t have. With a few more snips, she makes a bundle of it, with some twine in her pocket, and walks back to where she knows the house is. 

Inside, Mama’s completely asleep on the bed. Arms limp, one hanging over the side. Head lolling back, flat on the bed without so much as a pillow to cushion her from it. Lambert shakes her to no response, and something awful rises in her throat, choking her. She never wakes her father when he’s gone like this. In a fit of desperation, she pinches down on her mother’s inner thigh, where she knows there’s a dark bruise in the shape of her father’s hand. The pain wakes her, makes her flinch, but she sinks back into the straw mattress.

“No, Mama, wake up. I have what you asked for, right here, but it’s almost noon.”

“Mmm, good jobb, girl.”

“Ma, he’ll be here in an hour.”

That makes her mother jolt again, but instead of settling back, she throws herself up to sit on the bed. But instead of getting up, she lurches forward, and Lambert catches her by the shoulders, helping her sit back again, pushing a few pillows under her back to prop her up. The smell on her breath makes her feel sick.

“What do I do?”

“A tea. Tea, boil the water and put the herbs in. He…… he hass a lunch, made it forr him before he left.”

Lambert struggles to lift their heavy copper pot full of water, but she manages to snag the handle onto the hook. After far too long, the water reaches a weak simmer over their fire, but she doesn’t know how to stoke it hotter, and she doesn’t dare touch the poker, lying still on the floor. It has to be enough. She dips a wooden mug into the water and leaves the fresh herbs to sit with the pennyroyal until it’s a bitter, ugly yellow, and hands it over. Mama sips once and grimaces, mouth twisting downward before she gulps the rest down fast. She lurches forward again, clamping a hand over her mouth again, and Lambert watches her throat move around the tea, swallowing it again. Mama clutches at her stomach.

“Hahh. Godss, I’m sorry, little lamb.”

“It’s okay, Mama. It’s okay.

“S’ not.”

And it isn’t. It isn’t, not then, when she’d followed slurred instructions to make them dinner because her mother was too drunk to stand, body shaking with cramps. Lambert spent the next three days washing bloody cloths from between her mother’s legs, even though the stains never came out. She kept the house up, taking over every morning to cook and clean when her mother couldn’t hold the act any longer. When she collapsed from the pain. Clutching her abdomen, crying into the dirt floor. They never made it to market day, and their coin pouch got lighter, just a bit, when Lambert dug it out to buy the bread she couldn’t make. She sobbed into the dirt as loud as she dared with her father inside the house, pretending to pick the weeds in their little garden, planting tears with the seeds.

[thebibliosphere]

So this is purely based on things that are heavily inferred by the Pennyworth show (and somewhat by the Pennyworth comics) but Alfred did not have a very good childhood.

tw: war, public executions, alcoholism, murder, suicide, domestic abuse, fascism, PTSD

Alfred was born in the shadow of WW2 (which lasted well into the 1950s in this universe) and basically grew up in an alternate version of the East End of London where public executions were so commonplace and violent that people walked past televised executions in the street like they were nothing.

As soon as he was old enough, he went straight into the military (whether he was drafted or voluntarily signed up is unclear). Eventually, he winds up a member of the SAS, with his final tour being in Borneo as part of the Indonesia–Malaysia confrontation (1963-1966). Alfred has many regrets about the war, and we frequently see him having PTSD flashbacks.

At one point during a hallucination (which he's seemingly very prone to), he hallucinates his mum asking him where he's been, and he says, "They sent us to the jungle, mum. It was hell."

Doing the math (which is sketchy in the show), he was 19 at the time.

We later learn that a lot of Alfred's former SAS comrades have died recently, most of them by suicide. Those who haven't died have severe alcohol issues, including his friend Daveboy, who is essentially a high-functioning alcoholic. Alfred also drinks a lot, especially after his fiancee is killed by his former commanding officer as revenge for Alfred making fun of him. We later find out his former CO is a serial killer, and the police know about it, but because he's the son of a rich Lord with connections to Parliament, nothing is ever done about it. Alfred executes him and ends up going to jail for it but is released when the government decides they could use him as an assassin.

(Who is he supposed to kill? Thomas and Martha. He refuses to pull the trigger and ends up on the run.)

In the comics, it's implied that before Alfred went to war, his dad would take him on butler jobs as a second pair of hands, which is when Alfred sees his "first death" during a "'''hunting accident'''" when some rich lord gets sniped in front of him. It's supposedly his first exposure to death, but considering London is a fucking dystopian nightmare in this reality, that seems unlikely.

The comics also paint his father as stern but practical, teaching Alfred a multitude of skills that would later come in handy as a spy.

The show doesn't really support this. Instead, Alfred's father is shown as a brusque, imposing man with "traditional values" and a fondness for drink. It's unclear if he served in WW2 or if he was spared active service due to being the manservant of a lord, but Alfred's refusal to follow in his footsteps into household service is a major point of contention between them.

Personally, I get the vibe that his father feels guilty over not serving his country, and he takes it out on Alfred, who did serve his country and came home highly decorated (and traumatized). It would certainly make his father becoming a militant fascist in later seasons make more sense, as his father often says things like, "I'm doing it to serve my country."

It's also heavily implied that his father was an abusive drunk during Alfred's childhood, with both Alfred and his mother often trying to tell his father he's had enough to drink and his father responding he hasn't. At one point, Alfred puts himself between his father and mother, almost like he's daring his father to hit him now that he's fully grown. The show only does this once and never really touches on it again, but it's a moment that stood out to me the first time I watched it.

Despite this, his mother is shown to love his father and stands by him, even when he starts to get more and more involved in fascist rallies (which they keep secret from Alfred because they know he wouldn't approve). When Alfred is forced to kill his father to save the Queen, his mother says she understands why but is still devastated. Alfred struggles with having killed his father, even though he knows he had no other choice.

There's a bunch more stuff, but basically: grew up in a Mad Max-esque version of London being continually bombed during WW2. Went into the military potentially to escape his abusive, alcoholic father. Witnessed The Horrors. Got sent home after getting blown up, ends up living at home with his parents again -- loses his fiancee to a serial killer. Goes to jail. Comits patricide. And that's just mostly season 1. Shit just keeps getting wilder from there.

Bruce was off planet when everyone was turned into teenagers. They had some access to their memories, but their emotional states seemed to match their ages. It would be fine though, right?

[insert frantic bat out of hell dash to earth]

Bruce didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this bullshit.

- Damian was teaching Jason how to paint

- Duke was sparring all out with Tim

- Cass had talked Steph and Babs into playing knife tag

- Alfred was unaccounted for, along with several guns, a concerning amount of money, and all data on the last known whereabouts of Deathstroke, Tarantula, Ra’s, and Joker

- Dick was stapled to the vaulted ceiling (clothes, not skin), cursing out everyone else

- The word “Snitch,” was also written on Dick’s forehead

[riversofmars]

Songs of Love - Day 24

Prompt: "Slaying A Monster"

Rating: Mature (subject matter)

TW: Referenced Domestic Violence

Summary: Helen thought learning of her father’s death would set her free and absolved her from the shadows of the past. As she returns to the TARDIS with her friends, she finds the very opposite is happening. Seeing George and learning of what had happened to her parents dragged up memories she wanted to forget about. There are things she wants to overcome, particularly as she's becoming more and more aware of her attraction to her best friend, but it's not as easy as all that.

The Monster Under The Bed

Helen looked out of the window of the train and watched the green landscape that stretched out towards the horizon. It was a comforting sight. No matter the decade, there was something soothing about riding a train through England. The rolling hills they passed by hardly seemed to have changed. While the train was going a little faster than it would have in her native time, it still allowed for quiet meditation and she rested her head against the cool glass. She had a lot to think about. 

Her last conversation with George still echoed through her mind. There was some feeling of closure, yes, but her emotions were red and raw. They had never even been that close - as he had been keen to point out - but that didn’t mean she hadn’t cared for him or the rest of her family. The thought that she would never get to see any of them again evoked all manner of emotions in her that she had yet to figure out. It was complicated and she gave a deep sigh, her breath gathering on the cool window. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice pulled Helen from her pensive state and she looked around to find Liv glancing over. The med-tech sat across from her as they had managed to snag a four-seater with a table, a rare treat. The Doctor was off doing God knows what, pacing up and down the train as he was unable to sit still. It gave his two travelling companions a rare moment of peace and quiet.

“How would you know what a penny is?” Helen aptly deflected with a smile, considering her friend’s background, and Liv chuckled:

“Something I picked up from Molly, I guess. It’s what I get for hanging out with you Earth girls, I start to sound like you,” she explained with a cheeky sort of grin and the linguist was reminded of how much she liked it when she smiled. She didn’t as much as she ought to, Helen thought, and it only served to strengthen the effect when she did. It lit up her whole face. 

“Molly?” The linguist questioned, as the name didn’t ring a bell. She wasn’t sure why she would have expected it would. There was an awful lot she didn’t know about Liv Chenka. They had spent some time filling each other in, introducing themselves, when Helen had first joined her and the Doctor aboard TARDIS. It was good manners, and while she had struggled with the concept of Liv being from an entirely different place and time to her, it oddly made a lot of sense. She wasn’t like anyone she had ever met before, that much was becoming clearer with every day they spent together. 

“A friend,” Liv answered and Helen was beginning to know her well enough to notice the wistfulness behind her expressive eyes and found her voice softening noticeably too. “She was travelling with the Doctor when I joined them.” Helen tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that she couldn’t quite explain or justify as an uncomfortable notion of self-doubt made her wonder whether she would rather be travelling with her still.

“Like I have joined you now?” The linguist prompted, trying to distract herself, and Liv smiled.

“I guess, yeah, hadn’t thought about it like that.”

Helen smiled as well. It was odd to think that Liv had been the new girl once, having to find her feet in the terrifying new world of time travel the way the linguist struggled to do now. Liv always seemed so capable, so together, that she couldn’t imagine her fighting the same insecurities she was. 

“Where is she now? I can’t imagine anyone wanting to give this up - mad as it is,” Helen asked, after a brief moment of contemplation. She had been through an emotional roller coaster ride over the last few days. She had gone from wanting to abandon their great adventure after witnessing what her leaving had done to her family, to being forced to accept that she wouldn’t be able to, courtesy of her own thoughtless actions. The ache in her heart remained deep and raw and yet, having had a bit of time to get used to the reality of her situation, she had realised that she wouldn’t have wanted to leave anyway. It had been a rash, impulsive request and she was almost glad it wasn’t an option anymore.

Liv didn’t answer immediately, she dropped her eyes to her lap where she fumbled with the edge of her shirt.

“She, uh-” The med-tech’s brow creased as she seemed to be considering her words. “Molly died… not all that long before we met, actually… I mean, the Doctor and I, we travelled a bit in between but-” Her voice trailed off and Helen felt like a block of ice was forming in her stomach. She didn’t know what to say and cursed her own curiosity and tactlessness. If Liv had wanted to talk about her, she could have done so in her own time, there had been no need to push her. 

“I’m sorry,” was all the linguist could manage, fearing she had ripped open wounds that the med-tech - as capable a physician as she was - could have done without having to mend. Helen could only presume the grief for her father was still on her mind in the same way as the grief for her own family was for her.

“It’s fine, you couldn’t have known,” Liv answered thoughtfully and took a deep breath, then smiled: “Besides, there was no need for a phone call from her, we got to say our goodbyes.”

“That’s… good, I suppose.” Helen was at a loss for what to say and she averted her eyes.

“I believe I was asking if there was something on your mind before?” The med-tech took charge of the conversation, obviously eager to deflect from herself which Helen couldn’t blame her for, even if she wasn’t particularly eager to bare her soul either. She waited as Liv continued: “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left London… I know the last couple of days have been a lot and you’ve hardly had time to… What happened with your brother, her family, your past-”

Helen looked up from her hands to find Liv watching her with concern, and her kind yet serious expression stirred something deep inside her. She had never felt so seen. From work and the limited social life she had had in her own time, she was used to people just passing her over or not really caring for anything she had to say. They might pay her attention for her looks but never for what might be going on in her head. She found it touched her more than she could have imagined, her heart ached and she wondered if it was from the effort of beating faster. 

“It’s fine, Liv, don’t worry about it,” she tried to brush it off. There was still so much she needed to figure out in how she felt about it all, she wasn’t sure she could give her a truthful answer. 

“Helen, it’s not fine,” the med-tech interrupted but Helen just shook her head.

“Really, I just-” She gave a shrug and a smile and continued as she tried to detach herself from the painful events: “It’s like I said earlier, we weren’t exactly close…”

“They were still your family,” Liv reached across the table and held out her hand to her. A silent gesture of support, of saying that she understood and was here for her and only needed to reach out if she wanted to. 

Helen eyed her hand for a moment, confused. It was a wonderful invitation. She had held her hand a few times now for practical reasons while they were running from danger, not to lose each other. Their hands fit together well and she considered how lovely reaching out would be. She wasn’t quite sure what it was that was holding her back but it did. 

“It’s not all bad,” she found herself saying, voicing some of the more complicated feelings that had been on her mind. “I’m glad I don’t have to face him again. My father. I guess there is an upside there…”

She looked across the table and found the lack of understanding on Liv’s face heartbreaking. It was what prompted her into action at last and quickly she reached for the med-tech’s hand before she could withdraw it. 

“I know that’s hard for you to imagine, I’m so sorry about your father, he sounds like a wonderful man and-” True as Helen’s words had been, she regretted uttering them as she considered the effect they might have on her friend. She didn’t want to cause her any more pain than she was already in.

“He was…” Liv said after a moment of heavy silence. “But we’re not talking about my father right now.”

“I suppose not…” Helen dropped her gaze once more and her friend continued, gently:

“You know you can talk about it though, right? Any time. I’d be happy to listen. You’ve just lost your family, you’re going through a lot, so-” She let her voice trail off but reaffirmed her words by squeezing her hand. Her fingers were warm and firm around hers.

“Maybe it’s a new beginning too,” Helen considered as she observed their intertwined fingers and felt as though a whole world of possibilities was suddenly opening up to her.

Maybe, she would finally be able to let go of some of the things that had plagued her all her life. Maybe with some distance and the knowledge that her father would never be able to harm her again, she could allow herself more freedom. There had been a lot of things in her life that she had given up on, maybe now she could entertain them. It was scary and thrilling all at once. As she observed her hand in Liv’s, she marvelled once more at how their hands fit like puzzle pieces and how pleasant the brush of the med-tech’s elegant long fingers was on the inside of her wrist. 

“I hope so,” Liv spoke into the silence. “For what it’s worth, you have a place in the TARDIS for as long as you want it.”

For a moment, Helen didn’t know what to say. She just looked at her friend across the table as emotions overwhelmed her. It was a lovely gesture she hadn’t expected or felt like she had earned yet. She was all new to it still. Also, she wasn’t sure whether it was technically Liv’s place to make the offer. It was the Doctor’s ship after all and they were both his guests. She wondered if, perhaps, the med-tech meant to imply that she could stick with her. The idea made her heart swell and she wasn’t quite ready to admit why. 

“Thank you, Liv, that means a lot,” she said at last and Liv smiled in return. 

“You’re stuck with us now,” she broke into a grin and Helen laughed with a sense of joy that made a good start on blowing away the melancholy feeling of loss that had been hanging over them. 

“Have you been wanting to go back at all? Home, I mean… not permanently, of course, hopefully! But to visit… do you miss it?” Helen’s curiosity won her over. She had been meaning to ask about Liv’s home world but there hadn’t been much of an opportunity before now. She wondered how the med-tech felt about having left home and she wondered if she, herself, would end up missing her native time eventually. Thus far she could only think of things she wouldn’t miss, except her family perhaps. She wouldn’t miss having to get up early for work when she wasn’t a morning person. She wouldn’t miss the way her male superiors belittled her. She wouldn’t miss the social pressure to eventually settle down with a husband when she had no desire to. She wouldn’t miss how lonely she had been, unable to form a meaningful connection with anyone. She had always felt so very much out of her time. 

“Dunno, maybe…” Liv gave a noncommittal shrug. “Not at present though.”

“What’s it like? Kaldor?” Helen pressed on curiously and the med-tech gave another shrug as if she wasn’t quite sure what to say. 

“Desert mostly,” was the curt, yet pleasant, reply. It seemed as though she didn’t have much to say on the matter and Helen wondered if she didn’t have much of a connection to the place she came from anymore, much like herself. 

“Is it? Explains why you’re so tanned,” she observed and Liv chuckled.

“I guess so,” she conceded and rubbed her arms. “And explains why I’m so cold. Honestly, is this what you call summer? I really should have taken a coat…” She cast a glance out of the window. It was a mix of sun and clouds and Helen had to admit that it wasn’t as warm as one might have liked in the summer.

“Here, have my cardigan,” she offered and let go of her hand. She was reluctant to do so for course, but she had to in order to brush the item of clothing off her shoulders and hand it over.

“You don’t need it?” Liv frowned, visibly hesitant, as the linguist held the cardigan out to her.

“I’m plenty warm, have it,” she prompted kindly, even though it was a white lie. She expected she would get cold eventually, her blouse was rather thin, but the thought of taking care of her friend in this way warmed her in an entirely different way. 

“Thanks,” the med-tech gave a soft smile and took the cardigan. Helen thought her cheeks pinked a little but it was difficult to tell when her hair fell in her face while she put it on. She pulled it this way and that, as it wasn’t like anything she would usually wear but eventually she settled down and leaned back in her seat. They had a while to go yet before they would return to the TARDIS. They shared a smile as Helen leaned back as well, getting comfortable. Silence fell between them but not unpleasantly so, as they both cast their glances out of the window. 

As lovely a sight as the countryside was, it didn’t hold the linguist’s attention for long. She found her eyes drawn back to her companion who, for her part, continued to watch hills and trees shoot past their window.  

While unfamiliar, the cream cardigan over her navy button up shirt suited her. It softened her appearance. It wasn’t that Helen didn’t like her usual appearance, quite the contrary, there were a lot of things about Liv Chenka’s physical form she found altogether too appealing. The soft wave of her dark hair, her slim yet somewhat strong frame, her deep blue eyes, her radiant smile… If Helen was being perfectly honest, the cardigan did nothing to emphasise or lessen those attributes, it was the quiet thrill she experienced for seeing her wearing her clothes. 

Helen caught herself in her thoughts and her eyes shot into her lap, to her hands that had taken up the anxious habit of fiddling with the ham of her blouse. She was getting too brave, she realised, getting ahead of herself, wanting to run before she could walk. It was dangerous territory and she didn’t want to mess up. Even though she felt her father’s hold over her waning, it didn’t take away the painful memories that forced themselves onto her mind. Her thoughts wandered as she looked back outside the window.

---

“What happened to Albie? Why did they take him away?” George piped up first when Helen wouldn’t have dared, not in their father’s presence. 

“Shush, George,” their mother was quick to interrupt her youngest son but the small boy wouldn’t be dissuaded. He was too young to understand. So was Helen, really, but in many ways she was older than her years. She thought she had just aged a whole lot more as she didn’t think she would be able to forget what she had just been witness to, even at the tender age of eleven. 

“I want to see Albie!” George protested and he looked around to his siblings for support. Harry, second oldest of the Sinclair children, hung by the door to the hallway. His expression was indifferent with numbness but the way he’d inched towards the door frame betrayed his desire to have an escape route. George stood in the middle of the room, facing his mother who held out her hands appeasingly, almost as if to usher him backwards, towards the door as well, anywhere, really, so long as it was away from her husband, their father. He was sitting in his armchair by the fire, hunched over, leaning his elbows onto his knees, cradling a large glass of whisky in his hands. He wore a face like thunder. 

Helen looked on, numb yet mortified. She stood a few paces behind George and felt utterly helpless. She wanted to kick and scream and protest like her younger brother seemed good and ready to do but she knew it would be no use. It would make things much, much worse. She cast an anxious glance at her father who was gripping his glass so tightly, she feared it would fracture at any moment. 

“You can’t,” their mother tried to sooth her youngest but his sorrowful complaining had already been too much for their father’s tense nerves. 

“Make him shut up!” He growled at his wife who looked panicked and rightly so, Helen thought. Their father’s wrath was a terrifying thing and she had never seen him quite as mad at that. She grabbed George’s arm and pulled him along, backwards towards the door. Not too fast to displease their father and be seen to be fleeing, but quick enough to get out of harm’s way. 

“It’ll be okay, it’s just that Albie-” their mother started, seemingly trying to explain but their father interrupted her sharply, furiously and downed his whisky. 

“Stop saying his name!” He yelled and jumped to his feet. His temper was quick. “Don’t you dare speak about him ever again. Don’t you dare tell him what he did,” he jabbed his finger at his wife. “I will not have filth like that in my house!”

“He’s still our brother…” Harry stated quietly, hanging by the door and Helen was surprised. She hadn’t expected him to dare and speak. 

“He’s no such thing, he is no son of mine!” Their father barked and the ear splintering noise of glass breaking made them all jump. He had smashed his glass on the mantelpiece, shards flying everywhere. The boys retreated but Helen stepped forward, grabbed her mother’s arm for fear of her safety. 

“Mother-” she started but she shook her head.

“Hush now, Helen, listen to your father,” she tried to put on a brave face but her voice was shaky and her eyes betrayed fear. “You ought to go now…”

“And to think a son of mine-” Meanwhile their father continued to rage. “It’s your fault, you stupid woman! Whatever made him turn out like that, he must have had it from you!” He turned back towards the rest of the family, focusing his eyes on his wife with malice. 

---

“Earth to Helen?” 

Helen jumped and knocked her head on the window she was resting against. Her mind struggled to return to the here and now. The memory had consumed her, put her right back into her eleven-year-old’s shoes and it was a terrifying place. She struggled to respond. 

“Geez, what do I have to do to get your attention? Weren’t you the one that was meant to pay attention to our train stop?” Liv was teasing her but Helen didn’t manage a response in kind, she didn’t even manage a smile. 

“Sorry,” she whispered and quickly stood when she realised they were pulling into the train station. 

“Are you okay?” The med-tech asked with immediate concern. She grabbed Helen’s arm as she tried to walk past her in the aisle. 

“Yeah, fine, just… like you said, I’ve been through a lot.” She pressed her lips to a thin smile and pulled her arm from her grasp. Where she had been content to hold her hand before, her touch suddenly made her self-conscious and uncomfortable. 

“Helen…” Liv must have noticed her changed demeanour and Helen felt guilty immediately. She looked hurt by her retreat. 

“It’s fine Liv, really. Let’s get back to the TARDIS,” the linguist tried to put the matter off and walked ahead to the door as the train began to slow. 

“Okay, yeah…” the med-tech agreed as she followed. She came to stand beside her by the door as they waited. “I didn’t… Did I do something wrong?” She asked after a moment of tense silence and wrapped her arms around herself.

“No, no, not at all. Things on my mind, that’s all,” Helen forced herself to smile and to her great relief, the doors of the train opened, cutting the conversation short.

“Okay…” Liv agreed and followed as Helen was the first out of the train. 

Helen hung back a little once they had met up with the Doctor and walked through the train station. The Doctor and Liv were engaged in conversation about where they would head next in order to find the other pieces of the clock. Meanwhile, the linguist found herself utterly unable to grasp a clear thought. Her fathers shouting echoed through her mind. The slurs and abuse shouted at the top of his lungs, the crashing of things breaking and the thundering of his footsteps. Helen had huddled together with her brothers, forced to listen as even with their bedroom door bolted shut, as she had had the good sense to do, they could make out every word, every sound, and where left to imagine the actions that went with them. They hadn’t heard their mother and, in hindsight, Helen wondered if she had done her best to stay quiet and not scare them any more. There was no way she would ever forget about that night, even if she had nothing to fear from him now. As she felt the nauseating effect her memories had on her, she wondered if she would ever be rid of the monster that held a firm grip on her mind. 

From a few paces behind them, Helen watched Liv, still dressed in her cream cardigan and gesticulating wildly as she spoke. Beside her, the Doctor was listening with keen interest, nodding every now and then and offering an opinion. 

Liv was mesmerising when she spoke. Her wit was sharp; her intelligence evident in every word. And her voice conveyed emotion like nothing she had ever heard before. Excitement and dread. Curiosity and despondency. Joy and sorrow. Her voice had the richest tone and Helen felt every word she spoke in her soul. She could listen to her for hours. 

There was something utterly captivating about Liv Chenka. Everything about her from the physical to her very soul was fascinating and she couldn’t pull her eyes off her as they walked. She tried to, as her father’s words tore at her inner defences. Why now? She wondered. She had thought she would feel better, feel relief and shake off the shackles of the past, but the more she thought about it, the more keenly she became aware of her thoughts about her friend, the more she struggled to breathe. 

“Why was what Albie did so wrong?”

It had been a genuine question. It had been a week after Albie had been taken away and Helen had spent it processing, thinking about the things she had seen and heard, trying to make sense of her father’s rage and her mother’s helplessness. Eventually, she had caught her mother unaware in the kitchen and she grasped the opportunity to ask. She had to understand. She knew what had happened, she knew of the consequences, but what she couldn’t fathom was the why. And so, in her childish naivety, she’d gathered her courage to ask while her mother was applying a fresh layer of make up to the space underneath her eye. 

“Helen, don’t-” Her mother whirled around, her eyes shooting in between the windows and the door, obviously scared someone might overhear them. But Helen had been careful to wait until her father had taken to his study.

“But what if he couldn’t help it? What if that’s just the way God made him?” Helen continued her questions, rushed them even, as she needed answers. “Why is it so wrong to-” She wanted to understand so she could put the thoughts out of her mind. On the face of it, she considered herself too young to experience these things for herself but on an academic level, she wanted to be prepared for every eventuality, just in case she-

Her mother struck her across the face.

“Do not let your father hear you speak like that,” she hissed and Helen raised her hand to her burning cheek, stunned into silence as she looked at her mother with wide, terrified eyes. She had never raised a hand to her before and Helen knew this wasn’t like the anger that burned inside her father. This was fear, lashing out. Desperation. And it was all too evident in her mother’s shaky breaths and the tears that burned in her eyes as she herself seemed mortified at her actions. “Don’t give him a reason, please, Helen, I can’t lose another one of you,” she pleaded then and Helen’s heart dropped with sorrow, with guilt. 

Helen couldn’t quite fathom the pain of losing a child. She hadn’t been able to then and she still wasn’t, she figured it was the sort of pain only a mother could understand. But she did understand, even then, that she couldn’t allow for her mother to go through it a second time. 

“I’m sorry, Mother…” she whispered and tears welled up in her eyes. Tears of grief for her beloved brother. Tears of sorrow for her mother’s fate and loss. And tears of pain for realising that people did get to be who they wanted to be or love who they wanted to love. She had yet to see how these truths would impact her own life beyond her family, but the injustice of it all weighed her down.

And then, her mother’s arms were around her, both comforting and seeking comfort in return.

“I love you so much. It’s not fair, none of it but-” Her mother held her tightly and whispered apologies into her blonde hair. She pressed a kiss to it. “Albie made his own bed. He broke the law. Even if he- He could have stopped himself.” Her words sounded hollow and Helen wasn’t sure if she even believed them herself.

“He shouldn’t have had to,” she countered in a moment of angry defiance as she wrapped her arms around her mother’s middle and allowed herself to be the child she was. A child that just wanted to be held by her mother and have the world explained to her. But no explanations were forthcoming as there were none to be had that would make sense.

“Please, Helen, please try to understand,” her mother pleaded instead but Helen never would. 

“There we are, at last!” Liv’s joyous exclamation as they returned to the TARDIS pulled Helen out of her thoughts and she was glad for it. She could feel herself tearing up, though if anyone had asked, she would have said it was the wind. Quickly she caught up with her friends and they returned to their home - the only place Helen could proclaim as such now. 

“I’m going to turn in, I think, I’m exhausted,” Helen declared and the Doctor nodded as he launched the space and time ship. 

“I’ll be a while working out our next steps. Have a good rest,” he smiled and his attention had already returned to the console. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled in response and headed off towards the inside of their ship, back to her room, back to safety. She felt her composure slipping and she needed to be alone. What she had initially mistook as a bolt to freedom was quickly turning into treacherous quicksand of memories, deep rooted grief and internalised behaviours that wouldn’t let her go. 

“Helen, hold up,” Liv called and rushed after her, catching up in no time. She seemed to have learned from last time, she didn’t reach for her arm but she fell into step with her.

“I’m sorry, Liv, I’m just… really tired, emotionally drained, so…” Helen made her excuses, she didn’t even look at her. The TARDIS seemed to have taken pity on her as well as they came up to her room already. 

“I just wanted to give you this back,” the med-tech replied and struggled out of the cardigan. “Thank you for letting me borrow it.” She looked clumsy in her rush, particularly as she tried to fold it up quickly and Helen found it incredibly endearing, despite the conflicting emotions that made her feel nauseous. She also caught a glimpse of Liv’s toned stomach as her shirt rode up while taking the cardigan off and the linguist quickly fixed her eyes to the floor.

“Oh it was nothing. You could have hung on to it…” she replied but took the item of clothing as offered to her. She was mindful of not touching her hand to her friend’s in the process. 

“My dad used to tell me off for it. Used to say it was bad enough having to tell Tula and my washing apart, there was no need to add my girlfriend’s to the mix,” Liv answered easily and with a smile and Helen’s chest tightened. Had she made the statement on purpose? Was it her way of inadvertently telling her that yes, she was interested in women, and present all the potential to her? Or was it the universe having a laugh at Helen’s expense and making her emotional conflict much worse?

“Oh- uh- right-” she stuttered and tightened her grip around the cardigan while avoiding her friend’s eyes. 

“Thank you anyway,” the med-tech continued and Helen nodded.

“Of course.” 

Neither one of them moved and the silence between them became stilted, almost uncomfortable and it was Liv that broke it in the end:

“Do you maybe want to have a cup of tea before bed or-”

“No, no, I just- I think I ought to just sleep.” The linguist was startled out of her stupor as she felt first tears falling. Quickly she turned. 

“Helen?” Liv’s voice was filled with concern now but Helen didn’t have it in her to worry about her now. She fled into the safety of her room and closed the door in her friend’s face. She felt terribly guilty but the tears wouldn’t wait any longer.

She had had hope. She had thought she would be able to rejoice and let go of the past demons now but all it had done was bring back the most painful of memories. Albie had barely been a man yet. He had been young and he had been in love and that had been his only crime. Over twenty years later, she still couldn’t fathom it. She had worked so hard over the years to deny herself any sort of romantic feelings. It had only been a few years after Albie had been taken away that she first felt the sort of attraction she had feared she might one day and it had been the realisation of all her nightmares. The fear that had been creeping into her subconscious all this time had become a reality and she had cried for herself and the things she would never have. 

Where she had thought today would free her at last and allow for the exciting possibilities that presented themselves in the shape of the attractive med-tech that had come into her life, it proved the events of the past and her father’s hold over her remained strong as ever. She had hoped in vain.

“You stupid, horrible man!” She sobbed and buried her face in her hands. “You’re ruining my life!” She wanted to throw something, break something, to air her anger but she knew it would only make her more like him so she refused. She simply rushed the short space to her bed, stumbled along the way and dropped to the floor by the foot of it. 

“You’ve done that all by yourself. What a disappointment.” Helen heard her father’s voice echo through the back of her head as if he were really there.

“I don’t want or need your approval!” She spat, defiantly, but her physical response was more fragile. She leaned against the foot of the bed and gathered her knees to her chest. 

“Then why are you stalling? What’s holding your back?” He was laughing now, as if he could sense the power he exerted over her without even having to try. 

“I-” Helen gasped, her voice cut off by tears. 

“You’re pathetic,” he mocked. 

“No, I’m-” She shook her head and buried her face in her hands, resting against her knees. She wanted to believe she was safe, the TARDIS gave a hum of comfort, but there was nothing anyone could do against the monsters in her mind. 

“You know you don’t deserve to be loved. It’s wrong. Nothing good will come of it,” her father continued and the linguist’s protest was weak and innocent, as if she were eleven again. 

“No, that’s not true. There is nothing wrong with following your heart and-”

“No-one is ever going to love you,” he spat the words, voicing the possibility that she feared most. 

“Yes. Yes, she will. She might, she-” She so wanted to believe it. She wished now that she had Liv’s fierce determination, her strength of character and her unwavering beliefs. She wished she had been part of her world before, then maybe, she wouldn’t feel so lost in it. 

“She won’t feel the same about you. Why would she? She’s so much more capable than you. So much more experienced, you wouldn’t even know what you’re doing. You’ve never even been-” the voice of doubt carried on.

”Well, how could I? When I’ve always had to be scared of-” she sobbed. 

“She won’t want to be with you. Who would? You disgust me!” He snarled. 

“Then just leave me alone, let me go!” Helen exclaimed. “You’re dead! Well and truly this time and I will never have to see you again and you have no right anymore to have an opinion on what I do! Or who I-” she shook with violent sobs. 

“Helen? HELEN!” 

With the smash of the door being forced open, the storm of emotions was shocked into silence. Helen’s eyes shot up to find Liv standing in the doorway, white faced and panting from what she could only presume was the effort of breaking her door open. She hadn’t even heard her knocking, or the banging that had followed, or the concerned calls for her to open up. 

“Liv-” the linguist breathed when she realised that her friend must have been outside her room this entire time, probably having heard every word - hers at least. 

“Right, I don’t know what’s going on but you’re going to talk to me about it. I’m not having this!” Liv exclaimed, coming out of the shock she seemed to have had for finding her friend in the state she was in. 

“Liv…” Helen whispered as she didn’t know what to say. How was she to explain what was going on with her?

“No! You were fine earlier. Contemplative, but fine. Something happened,” the med-tech argued hotly, refusing to be put off again. She hurried forward and knelt in front of her, her eyes were filled with questions and her brow furrowed with concern. She reached out, ever so gently, and cupped her cheek, brushed her thumb over it to rid her of tears, even though they kept falling. Helen quickly jolted back.

“I’m so sorry, Liv- I can’t-” The linguist shook her head, defeated and sorrowful at the look of disappointment on her friend’s face. Her touch had felt lovely and yet- 

“Helen, just talk to me, that’s all I want. Let me try to help,” she urged her softly and moved away a little and sat beside her, legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap, helplessly holding on to each other as she seemed to have realised she wasn’t welcome to hold anything else.

“I thought it would be over,” Helen whispered when she realised there was no way around it. Liv was here. She wanted to help. She wanted to listen. Maybe she would understand. “I thought if I never have to see him again, I would be free to-”

“Free to do what?” The med-tech prompted her along gently but Helen couldn’t say it, not yet. She squeezed her eyes together as the doubts resurfaced.

“But he’s still there, in the back of my mind, saying horrible things. The more I thought about it, the possibilities that I- It brought it all back. All of it,” she whimpered, as if the emotional pain became physical. 

“Brought what back, Helen?” Liv asked compassionately and turned towards her once more. “Talk to me,” she pleaded and as Helen started crying once more, she pulled her into her arms before she could protest. The linguist struggled, aware of her closeness and terrified of it as she imagined her father would have a good laugh at how scared she was of a woman’s touch, just because-

But Liv’s arms, though strong, were gentle as they held her. She’d knelt up and pulled Helen towards her, making her rest her head against her collarbone and she kissed the top of her head in a comforting, tender gesture. She whispered soothing nothings into her hair and assured her that everything would be alright until finally, the linguist relaxed in her arms and allowed herself to be held, to be comforted, perhaps in time she could allow herself to be-

“I thought he would kill me if he found out,” she whispered and Liv stiffed at the shocking statement.

“What?” She breathed and pulled back a little to be able to look at her. Helen looked up. It was too late to turn back now so all she could do was confront the fears that continued to whisper to her about how her friend would never understand and never feel the way she wanted her to. 

“My father…” the linguist clarified and the memories flooded her mind, the fear took hold of her once more as she tensed up. “The police took Albie, ‘cause it was against the law, but for women it wasn’t so I thought, if he found out, if I ever- then he would just do it himself and my mother, she-” She gasped for breath as her thoughts spiralled. The fear that had dictated her teenage years cut off her airway. “I couldn’t let her lose another one of us. He beat her black and blue the night that-” she whimpered and shook her head violently, trying to clear it, but she couldn’t. She pushed against Liv, tried to pull away as she felt claustrophobic, she began to panic and the med-tech released her quickly.

“Helen, Helen, you’re not making any sense. Hold up, please, for me. Back up. I’m not following,” she did her best to calm her as Helen scurried away, put some distance between them and Liv remained, her expression heartbroken. “Take a deep breath. Look, I won’t touch you.” She held her hands up to show they weren’t anywhere near her, though her face betrayed how much having to do so hurt. “You have nothing to be scared of. You’re safe. You’re in the TARDIS and you’re safe and I’m right over here,” she pleaded with her to understand. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Helen dropped her gaze when her panic subsided and she realised how she had acted. Slowly, she returned to the space beside Liv and leaned against the foot of the bed. 

“It’s fine. I understand. You’re panicking. But you have to help me understand why,” Liv offered gently and Helen felt like she didn’t deserve her patience, her understanding. “I can’t pretend to know what you went through with your family. I can’t. I don’t understand your time and- but I understand pain. I understand feeling helpless. I understand what it’s like to fear for your life,” the med-tech offered slowly, speaking into the silence as Helen fell into sorrow. She didn’t have the words she needed to express herself and Liv seemed to realise as much as she carried on slowly: “I was a medic on a world that had been conquered in a terrible war and occupied. I was trying to help people but whatever I did, it was never enough. I was just trying to help people but by doing so, people thought me a collaborator, a traitor, that’s what they called me. I was hated when all I wanted to do was help, do what I do best… And every day I would fear for my life. So I understand, Helen, I do.” Her hand inched forward, eager to grasp Helen’s but she seemed to think better of it, as she retreated to her friend’s hollow words:

“It’s not the same.”

“What?” The med-tech questioned gently and the linguist took a deep breath before answering: 

“It’s not the same as being afraid of someone who should protect you. You can’t understand because your father was kind. He was a good man. He loved you! My father, he- He despised everything I was. Being a girl wasn’t a great start and then, when Albie-” she broke off and Liv asked:

“Who is Albie?”

“My brother,” Helen answered and strangely, it felt good to say it. She hadn’t expected that. 

“You had another? You only mentioned Harry and George…” Liv frowned and the linguist couldn’t blame her for her confusion, so she explained: 

“Albie was my oldest brother but… he died, he-” Fresh tears choked her up. 

“Helen, what happened?” Liv asked gently and Helen closed her eyes as she forced herself to say the words she had never told anyone:

“He got arrested because he had… relations… with another man.”

“What? Why?” Liv’s voice was filled with disbelief and while Helen had expected as much, it didn’t stop her feeling disappointed. 

“See, I told you you wouldn’t understand…” she mumbled. 

“Well, I understand that in the past-” the med-tech started but the linguist interrupted her:

“You can’t understand the fear. You can’t possibly understand what that was like,” she gave a bitter laugh. “The night they took him away… my father turned into a monster. Before then, it had only been my mother and me he would put down but when Albie- One of his precious boys… He turned it around on Mother of course. Told her it was her fault. He beat her up. He’d never done that before...”  Her voice trailed off. 

“Helen, I’m so sorry,” Liv didn’t seem able to think of anything else to say. She looked devastated. 

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Helen said and found it far easier to admit than she had the first time around, to George. Then, it had been a spur of the moment comment, now, she had thought it through and come to that inevitable conclusion. 

“I understand,” her friend nodded.

“But I was foolish to think he would just… let me go,” Helen felt calmed now and leaned back against the bed. “That the fear would-”

“Fear of what?” Liv prompted and the linguist looked over to her. Her eyes found her hand, lying flat against the floor between them. She felt an overwhelming urge to take it but she didn’t dare. Instead she said:

“Can’t you guess?”

Liv remained quiet but she could see the understanding in her eyes.

“He would have killed me if he had found out, so I never… and I thought with him gone I could finally… but turns out I can’t, he’s still there. Like a voice in the back of my mind, saying all the things I’m afraid of…” she whispered her explanations for her behaviour. 

“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Liv offered and Helen gave a sad laugh: 

“Rationally I know that but-”

“No, Helen. I mean it. I won’t let him,” and just like that, Liv grasped her hand and pulled it towards her. She rested it against her lips. “Even if he were still alive, if he were in this very room, I wouldn’t let him put a finger on you!” Her words were spoken with fierce determination and her grasp on her hand was firm while her lips were ever so soft. 

“Liv-” Helen was overwhelmed but among her swirling emotions, she felt no urge to pull her hand away. Her friend’s words touched her, cut through the conflict and the confusion and reached her heart. 

“I mean it. No-one will ever hurt you again, Helen. Not him, not anyone,” Liv promised fiercely. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry you went through that but starting now, I’ll do whatever I can to make things better. You’re not part of that world anymore.”

“I know that…” The linguist nodded and the med-tech’s expression softened.

“Then if it’s not him, what is it you’re scared of?”

“I-” Helen wasn’t sure how to answer the question. And as she considered the mocking words her father had spoken, she realised it wasn’t the attraction itself that scared her. She had come to terms with it long ago, she had simply repressed it to survive. It was the thought that if she was brave enough to follow her feelings, she would be rejected anyway. And then she would lose everything. She had no place to go back to and she couldn’t risk losing the only place she had to turn to. “I want to stay here forever,” she confessed.

“Good, well, that’s what I said, isn’t it? You have a home here,” Liv answered gently and kissed the back of her hand once more. It was a lovely feeling and Helen felt her breath catch. Maybe she could be brave. Maybe that would be the thing she needed to do to be free of the fear at last. She had to overcome it. Despite her doubts, despite the risks, despite the potential to lose everything. She had to be honest with herself and with Liv if she wanted to be free. 

“I want to stay with you forever,” she whispered and the moment of doubt passed as quickly as it had come when Liv smiled:

“Good.” She planted another kiss on her hand and this time Helen didn’t flinch. “Me too.”

“Why?” The linguist couldn’t quite believe it, she wasn’t sure she had heard her right. 

“Because I’m slowly and steadily falling in love with you,” the med-tech answered with a hopeful smile. “And I’m hoping if you… if you stay, we might…”

Helen hadn’t considered Liv might be insecure too but that was what she seemed when she dropped her eyes for a moment, almost as if she was scared of finding out her reaction. The linguist, for her part, let her words wash over her, words so powerful and desired that they silenced the storm. It was as if time slowed to a trickle and Helen allowed the words to engulf her and lift every aspect of her being, in the equal opposite reaction to her father’s hurtful words. Where he had trapped her, Liv would set her free and Helen crossed the distance between them. She pulled their hands out of the way and crashed their lips together. 

It was a clumsy kiss, inexperienced but pure, as if she wound back the years and the many missed chances and experiences she would never have. The realisation of her teenage desires, in one impulsive moment of overwhelming emotions. 

“Oh God, I’m sorry-” Helen blinked, perplexed and pulled back, she brought her free hand to her mouth while Liv held on tightly to the other. 

“Whatever for?” The med-tech asked gently but despite the concern visible in her eyes, a smile lit up her face. The smile Helen longed to see so much more of. Perhaps, if a kiss could make her smile, she should try it more often…

“I’m sorry this is going to- I’m still-” She took a deep breath as she didn’t feel quite brave enough to repeat the gesture, as much as she would have liked to. 

“That’s quite alright,” Liv nodded, stroking her thumb over the back of her hand in reassurance and Helen found her touch didn’t feel unwelcome then, strange and new but in a comfortable, safe and reassuring way. 

“I have demons, Liv,” she confessed as she didn’t think she would be able to overcome her past as quickly as that. It had been foolish to think as much in the first place. It would take a long time for her emotions to align with her rational mind. Trauma wasn’t rational and the scars ran deep. 

“So do I,” the med-tech answered with a sad, yet somewhat hopeful smile. “But we will defeat them - together.” 

She opened her arms to her in an offer to care for, comfort and protect her in a way no-one else had been willing or able to before. Her father had been the monster under her bed and her mother the helpless victim alongside her. In time, Helen knew they would fade into the past and she would be allowed peace as she finally found a home she would be safe in. 

Helen settled into Liv’s arms, home at last.

[themotherofblood]

Watching You

Tywin Lannister x Reader

Tears of Gold AU

A/N: this is a flashback chapter, there is nearly a years difference between this chapter and the first tears of gold chapter.

TW: domestic abuse, misogyny, child abuse, suicide.

Grey, the skies were grey in the Westerlands. Black adorned every noble lord’s and lady’s bodies as they stood by the falls. Five children stood as they mourned the death of their mother, along with many other houses who had only come to pay respects; out of obligation. Only five young bodies knew the truth of what had happened.

“Our Lady took a terrible fall.”

Our mother killed herself

The silk that wrapped the former ladies bodies held further truth, if one peaked in they would see her bashed left cheek from the impact, a little lower they would see her crushed collar bone and even lower they would see blackened bruises from the fall. They would also see scars, yellowing bruises and fingerprints all over her skin, the testament to the brutality she had to suffer at the hand of her lord husband. She was gone, and a candle that all five children held in the storm; blew out with her. The oldest boy Jeagir stood with his arm around his sister Y/N- her hands rested on the shoulders of her two younger twin sisters Ellia and Nyela and their Maester Crasden,that stood next to them stood with an asleep toddler in his arms; the youngest Loren.

While the younger girls wept silently, their older siblings silently boiled in rage. All four children were handed torches as they walked to the four corners of the pyre their mother laid on, a Dornish priest went on with words that were muffled in the noble children’s ears. While some remembered the screams from that night, some could only hear the crackling fire in their hands. In unison they lit the four corners of their mother’s final rest. She would be safer now, nobody would hurt her now.

Lady Y/N’s mother had written to her six moons ago, “Fly back to me, child.” She had written. Her Martell uncles had managed to get her on a ship within the next day of the letter’s arrival. The ship flung the banner of House Martell and delights filled the cargo of the ship for their dear sister.

“Give her my love.” Oberyn Martell had said as he kissed the top his niece’s head, a girl he had raised as his own for the past seven years.

The morning the young lady arrived to Lannisport, her receiver and long friend Fredrick also brought the doomed message.

“Lady Elina took a terrible fall.”

One look at her mother’s dead body and the guilt in her mother’s handmaiden’s eyes, the horrified sullen eyes of her sisters and the rage in her brothers eyes. She knew.

Her mother killed herself.

Lannisport was controlled by the most powerful family in the Westerlands, the Lannisters. More specifically Tywin Lannister. That man knew everything that went on in his lands and surely a Dornish ship with Martell sails entering his harbour was to be brought to his attention. He had ridden out that day, as he did every other day to visit Lannistown and the port. Mostly to set his own eyes upon the visitors from Dorne, he had taken extra guards as a welcome party. He watched from high ground as the ship docked itself, five boats emerged from the ship. One with a golden pavilion shade, harbouring most likely a person of noble decent. He wondered if the Martell’s finally had come for his head, but out emerged a woman, young lady at best in a pink Dornish dress.

His cousin has rode down to the ports to enquire about the arriving party before riding back to his brother. Tywin watched as a man stood with the banner of his sworn house Maerilys, he watched as the man greeted the girl in pink, then he watched them speak and for a moment all the colour drained from the girl’s face. It seemed as though everyone around her had frozen too, then he watched as her hand came up to her forehead, her lips widen as all the men and women that came with her hung their head low. A message came for him too, a rider rode out from the Rock with the message.

“Lady Elina of House Maerilys has passed.”

His cousin returned from the ports too.

“That’s Lord Maerilys’s eldest daughter.”

Tywin had arrived to Deep Den after the funeral, he had known Lady Elina personally, the woman wasn’t much older than him but he knows wits when he sees it, though he never liked the man she married. Lord Loren Maerilys, clearly named after his ancestor but Tywin knew that man held no kingly qualities. The house provided a good chuck of the Lannister fleet and armies, siege weapons and other labour personnel to the Rock.

Lord Maerilys was a cruel man, the Mad King had his own reasons but Maerilys was another kind of evil, he flaunted his affairs in his lady wife’s face, he beat her and humiliated her. Lady Elina on the other hand suffered through it all, many never understood why, she was Dornish. If she had written about the true brutality of her husband to her brothers. They would have landed an army right at her front gates to take her home. She never did, she suffered it all.

When Lady Y/N was born Lord Maerilys was not pleased, had it not been for his advisors and Maesters, he would have thrown the girl into the sea to wash off her existence, to another father she may have been a delight, a gorgeous little girl. But to her father, she was weakness, she couldn’t carry their house’s name. Maester Crasden protected that little girl as best he could, keeping her for longer lessons or away from her father’s sight most times. However she too fell in the trap of her father’s violence, instead of staying in her room one night as her mother’s muffled wails rang through the halls, she hid a dagger in her skirts and walked into her parents chambers. Her little hands were ineffective, the blade she wielded ended up giving her a bigger cut than her father and a swollen bruise to her cheek from a backhanded slap.

“You insolent cunt! I could have your head for this.” He screamed like a mad man as the little girl’s glare never left him. That night her mother wrote to her brothers for help for the first time. She urged them to take her daughter, to raise her as their own with her nieces and nephews.

“Protect my girl, do not let her flame die.” She had written.

Tywin had strayed from his riding party for a while, he rarely got to breathe in the country and the serenity of its views. He wanted to tarry a bit, as his riding party prepped for his arrival. The old lion had taken a guard along with him, surely he was smart enough to know that he was safe no where. There was a faint rush of water from the great falls in the mountains by Deep Den, the birds sang their songs as the air in the forest remained thick and humid, and Tywin walked through it all like he owned the forests. He had taken a long deep breath, closing his eyes as his head lifted upwards, allowing himself to unravel for just a moment. Though his moment of peace was interrupted by the whoosh of an arrow that nearly missed him and lodged itself onto the tree trunk behind him.

His guard drew their swords, at alert as Tywin sat strong on his horse. All of them looking around to find the source of the attack, a rustle in the bushes and most of them were prepared to fight. Until from the bushes and vines emerged a woman, out of breath and sharp as she looked around before her eyes widened at the men with their swords out. Her hands instinctively held tighter on her bow as he chest heaved, looking at all three men skeptically; until the armour they wore gave their true identity away. Lannisters.

She dropped the bow, raising her hands in defence. Gulping at the glare, the lord had fixated on the girl.

“Forgive me, my lord. I thought you were a deer.” She looked at him apprehensively, as the prayed to the gods, that this man knew nothing of her identity.

“Clearly not.” He nodded at his men to sheath their steel.

Tywin didn’t trust the girl, and the only way he knew that he would make out of these woods without killing the woman, was to take her with him. She was clean, too clean for a commoner. Her posture and nimble fingers, too relaxed to be an assassin. She looked familiar and yet he couldn’t quite put a name to the face.

“Who are you girl?” Tywin commanded, his eyes capturing every detail of the girl. The velvet of her dress pointed that she was no mere peasant girl, though her unruly hair and mud over her hands would unlikely make her noble.

“I am a kitchen wench, from the Den my lord.” She tried to hold his gaze to not seem as if she was lying through her teeth. The lord gave her a grunt of answer before turning his horse around.

“Come along then. No girl like you should be out here alone.” He ordered but the girl stood her ground

“Forgive me my lord, strange men offering escort in the middle of the woods, not exactly reliable.” She made her case “I can find my own way home.” With that she ran, abandoning her weapon. The girl ran through the very well known forests as the Lannister guards wandered deeper into the forest with no avail.

Lady Y/N had returned home, huffing and covered in dirt. What was to be a trip to clear her head turned out to be a rat chase. The maids all looked scared for their Lady, for surely if Lord Maerilys saw his daughter in this condition, not only would he have her head but also the gaurds that were supposed to be escorting her.

“You must change, before your father sees you my lady.” A man called out, Fredrick. When she had left the shore he was merely a boy but when he came to receive her, he stood a man grown at nearly six foot three.

Down in the Deep Den’s hall, Lord Maerilys. A stubbed, and disgruntled old man greeted their liege lord. Both lord exchanged words of formality before Tywin walked himself to the rear gardens, where a burnt out pyre of ashes remained, still gusts of simmering smoke emitted from it. There laid lady Elina, he still remembered her face, how young him and his betrothed were when his father had brought him along to their wedding. An elaborate affair, the Dornish princess was set to marry the older Maerilys brother, yet tragedy struck and her “condition” left her in choice but to wed Loren Maerilys instead.

“They say you look for a wife, Lord Tywin.” Lord Maerilys asked, the old lion just nodded in reply.

“I have three. The older one just returned from Dorne, and my two younger one’s are yet to bleed but should be of cause my lord.” Tywin’s face scrunched up in disgust, though his face looked away from Loren, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sure Tywin had imposed a marriage on his daughter, but sell out your daughters that young. Then out of the blue, it hit Tywin.

“Kitchen wench.” He scoffed under his breath. He hadn’t been outsmarted in a while but surely he was looking forward to meeting this Lady as he put a name to the familiar face. He remembered her from the docks

All the Maerilys kids poured out one by one. Jaegir came first, head held high and the spitting Dornish image of his mother, behind him trailed the two younger girls, Nyela and Ellia. They stood in a line as Tywin was introduced to them, he shook the oldest boy’s hands and charmingly complimented the little girls on their hair. Then burst through the doors was another, her hurried feet found her standing next to her little sisters, with a toddler in her arms. She bowed.

“This is Lady Y/N Maerilys, my eldest daughter.” Her father introduced her, the young lady cursed herself internally with ever crass word she knew. She prayed that he would keep his mouth shut about earlier, and thank the gods he did.

“And who might this be?” Tywin gestured at the child in Lady Y/N’s arms.

“Loren Maerilys, my lord.” Her voice spoke up, a lot gentler then earlier, almost a whisper as she tried to not startle the child.

Tywin that night thought of the proposition Lord Maerilys put forth, there was something about this girl that just made her tick. Tywin wasn’t a child that merely beauty would sway him, though she was quite a sight he had seen in a while, there was something commanding about her, the way her eyes never left his, her head held high even admits all this sorrow. He saw a gain in this too, an alliance between Martells and Lannisters, she was important enough for them to send her home with Martell sails. The next morning he made his wishes heard, he would court Lady Y/N for the week he was to reside at Deep Den, and leave with a bride by him.

Y/N Maerilys was having none of it, a screaming match broke out in the hall. As servants and soldiers turned a deaf ear to them yet again. Y/N had nothing against this wedding but she refused to leave her little sisters behind at the hands of a monster.

“The girls will leave with me to Dorne!” You yelled over your father’s voice

“You watch it girl, I could sell you and sisters for a lump sum and no one would bat an eye!” Her father threw back, menacingly nearing her. However Y/N wasn’t a child anymore, she stood her ground glaring up at her father. His hand shot forward, yanking Y/N’s head up from the root of her hair making her yelp out in pain.

“Hurt me, go on. My uncles will cut your hands off if I tell them about this.” The young lady’s words were laced in venom.

“My lord.” Maester Crasden’s voice made Lord Maerilys push his daughter away, as tears threatened to roll down her face. She sat on the chair with her head in the table, rubbing the spot her father had held onto. Crasden came over, his fingers gently parting her hair to check for injury, the lady would be fine.

“Marry him child.” Y/N scoffed at Crasden but he looked at her as if he wasn’t finished, her sat down next to her.

“You would be the Lady of Castley Rock, our liege lady.” He cleared his throat before going on “You could order your sisters away to Dorne.” His hand patted her cheek “You would hold power, I could not help your mother child. Let me help you.”

The old maester’s words had sunk deep within Y/N, she began to ponder on the topic of her marriage and finally gave in, other than Tywin’s cruelty on the battlefield and politics, there was no account of him ever imposing himself on women, she began to think of if she’d be safe and the only way to confirm her fonts would be from the source itself.

Tywin and Y/N had found themselves in her mothers gardens, Lady Y/N had called for him herself and Tywin was curious to hear what she had to say.

“I realize how auspicious of a union this is, however I have questions and terms of my own before I agree to this.” She kept her voice strong as she voiced her feelings on the matter.

“Go on then, my lady.” Tywin walked past her to sit down.

“I truly hope that you know my disdain isn’t toward you my lord, but merely a worry for my sisters.” She stated as she sat down across from him, she didn’t want to elaborate further, not wanting to slander her father in front of his liege lord.

“I am aware Lady Y/N” Tywin’s stress on the word made her look away

“Our family could take them for ward.” He suggested making Y/N look at him, grateful and confused

“They would be well looked after and eventually sponsored for when the time came for potential matches.” He elaborated further.

“I knew your mother Lady Y/N, I have a debt that still needs to be paid.” The mere mention of her mother made the lady’s eyes close over.

“And I would be safe?” There was a gentle crack to her voice.

“You would be safe.” He reassured her.

So it was setttled, Lady Y/N Maerilys was to wed Lord Tywin Lannister, ravens flew from Deep Den to Castley Rock, The Red Keep and to Sunspear. The news of this alliance spread through both families, both his children and the Martells were furious at about the wedding but it was done. A small affair in the sept, Lady Y/N wore her mother’s ivory dress that was fit to her sizing, that morning her mind nearly changed again as she tried to make a break for the ports but was stopped by her brother. If not for her then Lady Y/N performed her duties to protect her sisters.

“Father.”

“Smith.”

“Warrior.”

“Mother.”

“Maiden.”

“Crone.”

“Stranger.”

“I am hers and she is mine.”

“I am his and he is mine.”

“From this day until my last day.”

A chaste kiss between the two sealed this union. She was now Lady Lannister of Castley Rock, and hell was to pay if anyone tried to hurt her.

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