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purple-babygirl · 20 days

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in the far corner of the forest I

Pairings: Orc!Bucky Barnes x f!human!reader Word Count: 3,867 Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though. Warnings: drugging, sort of kidnapping, crying, a lil dirty talk, nudity, unwanted intimate touching, forced/arranged marriage. 18+ content. A/N: I thought I'd start small and see what you guys think first before posting longer chapters. Please let me know your thoughts if you can and please enjoy xx💜💜

“Don’t be dead already, dammit.” She heard a low voice mutter as she regained her consciousness bit by bit.

Her body felt so weak, her mind so fuzzy. Her head felt heavy as she turned it to the side with a groan, slowly opening her eyes.

The room she was in looked warm and kind of homely. It was a large room that looked like it was both a living room and a bedroom, only illuminated by the light coming from the fireplace and a couple of storm lanterns hung around.

“Ah, finally awake! How ya feelin’?” The rough voice asked her, now sounding louder.

She’s never sat up faster than she did when she saw the strange man standing at the end of the large bed.

Her vision went black for a second and her head hurt, but she fought to open her eyes, deeming it unsafe to close them with a strange man around.

Wait, was he even a man? Shit! Was that a metal arm on him?! He appeared to be wearing dog tags.

Has she been kidnapped? Arrested? But what for? She didn’t step into forbidden territory, did she?

“Are you—?”

“A real orc? Yeah.” He smirked confidently.

“And your arm…” she started, sitting herself up straighter as she cradled her head.

He only chuckled, feeding more wood to the fire warming them up.

“Is—is that—”

His smirk widened, “a real metal arm?”

She nodded.

The orc nodded back mockingly and her head was back to spinning.

She was alone, in an unfamiliar place, with a massive snow orc, who had a metal left arm.

It seemed surreal. She felt high; like she was dreaming or making everything she was seeing up in her head. Her mind must be doing an Alice-in-Wonderland bit on her.

“I need to go,” she whispered, more to herself than the stranger, trying to get her feet on the ground but the soldier tutted at her and she froze.

“Not gon’ happen.” He walked closer, watching her cute, little face twist in confusion and fear.

“What?” she asked dumbly, her voice small and shaky.

“You’re not leaving.” He stood before her, huge arms crossed.

“Please, I- I didn’t mean to trespass. I swear. I barely even leave the orph—”

“What are you talking about?” He raised an eyebrow, his large hand getting closer to try and touch her forehead to see if the sleeping potion gave her a temperature.

She immediately flinched, dodging his touch as she started panicking inside. She took a couple of steps back as she tried to rearrange her thoughts, but she couldn’t.

“I— how did I get here?” she asked, her voice sounding way more scared than she had wanted.

“You’re my bride,” the orc informed her with another smile, tusks glinting, and if she wasn’t so terrified she might’ve thought that was a happy smile.

The previous events rushed back to her mind as she remembered her encounter with the orphanage manager just days ago. So the woman did end up giving her to the soldier as promised. She didn’t protect her from that terrible fate.

The woman who had raised her just so easily put her to sleep and let some savage stranger collect her as his trophy wife even after she'd begged her not to.

“Who did you think an orphan like you was gonna marry? A prince? This is not a fairytale kingdom! I’m doing you a favour.” She remembered the woman’s demeaning comment and how she mocked her in front of the rest of the girls.

“No, no.” She shook her head, tears pearling in her frightened eyes, “there must have been a mistake.”

“Oh, little human, quit whimpering. There’s been no mistake; you’re my mate.” His big thumb swiped across her chin. “I have you now and I’m never gonna let you go,” he told her with longing she didn’t understand.

His words made the dam collapse as she burst into tears, loud sobs tearing through her chest as she hunched over and cried.

This couldn’t be her fate. She knew she wasn’t the prettiest or the slimmest of girls out there, but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to end up as a reward for some metal-armed monster. She was a good girl, she’s always been good. She deserved better.

Why did it have to be her that they offered? Why did it have to be anyone? Everyone knew what he was and who he was and they still handed her over like she meant nothing.

“Shush now, enough crying. I don’t like the sight of puffy eyes. Come on, you’re ruining our wedding night,” the orc said, his expression bored as he started to take his heavy sweater off.

She wished she hadn’t looked up at him.

He was big. Huge. What wedding night was he talking about? Was he trying to destroy her? End her?

“What are you doing?” She trembled as the words left her.

He raised a suggestive eyebrow and she chocked on a sob.

“No, no, please.” She shook her head again, crying harder.

“Stop. Crying,” he warned, grinding his teeth and she stopped her wailing at once, swallowing the lump stuck in her throat.

“Much better. Now get yourself out of these clothes,” the orc demanded, his fingers hooking themselves under the hem of her oversized, handed down pullover.

“Please don’t do this.” Her heart was hammering in her chest, her eyes frantically searching for an exit.

“You have one minute to be standing bare in front of me or I’m gonna have you find out what I do to those who make me repeat myself,” he seethed, his eyes hard as they pinned her in place.

“I— I’ve never…” she muttered, her face growing hotter as she fiddled her fingers, “please, I can’t.”

“Oh, you’ve never been fucked, little human?” He teased her, his smile bordering on a smug smirk.

She winced at his vulgar language but nodded, “I’ve never been with a man, in any way.”

Tears were back to her cheeks again at her humiliating confession. She knew it was her last hope and if he didn’t have mercy on her because of that then nothing was going to stop what he was about to do to her.

“Never?” He asked again, circling around her just to see her tremble under his starved gaze.

“Never,” she whispered, feeling as uncomfortable as never before.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you all the tricks,” the orc chuckled, playing with her hair and she could all but sob again, "I'm only half orc after all".

Was that supposed to be comforting?!

It just made her sob harder.

“What did I say about crying?”

“Please let me go.” She begged, body shaking with her sobs.

“No.”

“W—Why not? I’ll give you all I have if you let me out of here. Anything you want. Please.” She cried and pled although she knew she had nothing to give him.

“I have all I want right here.” He leaned forward to smell her hair, his huge arm squeezing her side almost gently.

If she wasn’t so terrified of what was to come next she would’ve seen the way he was looking at her like she was the most precious thing he has ever seen in his miserable life. Like she was an actual trophy that only he was lucky enough to win.

“Please—”

“40 seconds, little human,” he warned, his face scary and showing nothing but impatience and anger.

There was no way out of this, was there? The door was too far and even if she managed to get out, he would easily catch her and who knows what he’d do to her then. At least he’s asking ‘nicely’ for now. Nice enough for a rough snow orc with a metal arm.

Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she grabbed her pullover and just stood there fiddling.

“Could— could you look the other way, please?” she pleaded, her eyes too ashamed to meet his.

The orc huffed before giving her his back and allowing her these few seconds of privacy.

He thought it was ridiculous though because he was going to turn around and see her anyway, but decided he’d try and be understanding just because it was her first night with him.

“You’re not wearing that many clothes,” he complained after a minute and she whimpered behind him.

He took it as his cue to turn around and when he did she was as naked as the day she was born, holding the large sweater to her chest, trying to cover up.

“Let me see you now, come on,” the orc cooed, licking his lips at the sight of what was exposed of her before slowly pulling the item of clothing out of her death grip.

She stood there shivering from both cold and fear, shyness gnawing at her insides as the brute’s eyes skimmed down every nude inch of her.

Hell, she was beautiful. Goddesses had nothing on his bride.

“Now why would you hide such beauty from me, hmm?” He bit his lip, taking her hand in his larger one, “come here.”

She choked on another whimper as he forced her closer to his body. She could feel the heat radiating off of his chest and it made her shiver more.

The orc’s rough palms massaged her arms before settling on her bare hips, holding her close to him.

“The name’s Bucky, just so you know what to scream,” he whispered in her ear, softly kissing the spot behind her earlobe.

He felt her tense in his hold and tried to ignore the way it made him feel.

“Please,” she tried one more time but swallowed the rest of her words when Bucky’s face showed irritation.

“I’m sure I can make you cry and beg just fine, little human. Stop wasting both outside of bed,” he told her, his voice firm and authoritative, making her wipe her tears away at once.

“Speaking of the bed, go lay down for me, will you, sweet thing?”

His soft tone scared her more than his harsh one and she didn’t know what was real. It still felt like a nightmare that she would wake up from any moment.

Every muscle in her body was taut, tense with anxiety. Her face burned with disgrace from being exposed like this for the first time in her life and not willingly either.

This wasn’t how her first time was supposed to be. She shouldn’t be forced into it, let alone with an enormous half orc who had no feelings for her and neither she for him.

She desperately wanted to cry it out, but squeezed her eyes shut before she could so Bucky wouldn’t scold her again.

He climbed on top of her, caging her legs between his as his muscly arms framed her head, supporting himself up.

It might’ve been her mind trying to calm her down, but she didn’t think she saw Bucky looking at her with lust. She was expecting to see nothing in his eyes but hunger, like a ravenous beast would look at a piece of meat, but instead she could see… admiration?

Bucky wanted to kiss her but thought against it and pressed his lips to her cheek instead, letting them travel down to her jaw so he could reach her neck.

“Please go easy on me,” she whispered her plea when she felt Bucky’s ‘thing’ poke around her naked thighs.

He was big. So big.

Even if she had had sex before this night, she knew no man could have been enough preparation for the size she was making him out to be.

Bucky didn’t reply, letting his lips kiss and suck on her neck and when he pressed them to her pulse point, he felt like shit about himself.

Her heart was beating like crazy, pounding so hard it must’ve hurt inside her chest.

She didn’t want it at all. She was clearly scared and if her heart was hammering like that he could only feel bad for making her do this.

Bucky pulled away to look at her, her eyes were shut tight, her body trembling still and her fists closed up by her sides as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing.

He let his hand touch her tummy and she quivered but didn’t try to move away. He kissed between her breasts and she whimpered in fear, quickly biting her lip after.

Bucky took a deep breath before gliding his hand up her leg, watching as she her teeth almost drew blood from her lower lip as she bit down hard to prevent herself from crying, panting through her nose.

When he reached her inner thighs she was digging her fingernails in her palms so hard she was sure she’d hurt herself.

Bucky tried to be gentle as he slowly slipped a thick finger up further to touch the cut of her.

She whimpered again but Bucky didn’t stop, dipping the tip of his finger in just a little bit to feel her. He could see her trying so hard not to close her legs as her thighs shook and she started nearly gasping, her eyes still tightly closed.

Bucky swiped his finger between her lips and she was dry as a desert.

She wasn’t wet for him at all. She wasn’t anything but petrified. Nothing about her told him that she wanted this.

Bucky took his hand away and sat back, letting out a sigh as he ran his big hand through his hair.

He didn’t care what the humans of the kingdom thought about him, he knew he wasn’t actually a monster. He thought he could do it even if she didn’t want it, but he couldn’t. He thought it was enough if he wanted and knew how to do it, but it wasn’t.

He knew he didn’t need love to make babies, nor did he need her agreement. But Bucky just couldn’t hurt her, not like that.

He could get her wet enough with his tongue, but he couldn’t find it in himself to force her into this, not on their first night and not in a million years.

He couldn’t set her up for a war she would lose with her own body when her heart and mind wanted nothing to do with him. He knew how big he was; he knew it would be torture for her if she didn’t want it.

Bucky hated that she looked so scared of him. He didn’t want to scare her further. Maybe at first he'd found it amusing, but for some reason that wasn’t the case anymore.

The way she was hiccupping and trembling under him was anything but a turn on.

He couldn’t go through with this.

“Get dressed,” Bucky said as he got up from the bed, pulling his own pants up his thick thighs, ignoring his hard cock.

“W-what?” She opened her eyes, her eyelashes wet with unshed tears as she stared at him blankly.

Was she imagining this?

“Now, before I change my mind.” He really didn’t like repeating himself.

“O-okay! Thank you.” She hated that he made her stutter so much.

Bucky gave her his back, putting his own sweater back on and she got up quickly, nearly stumbling off the bed as she reached for her underwear and slipped it on. Her pullover was next and when her head was through, she noticed Bucky standing by the door, watching her.

She went to grab her shoes but Bucky’s chuckle stopped her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, making her unsure again.

“Getting my shoes?”

“I can see you. Why?”

“So— uh.. so you could take me back?”

“Take you back where exactly?” He folded his arms again and she felt nervous as she swallowed, coming to learn that this was probably not a good sign.

“To the orphanage? I mean, you’re letting me go, right?” She sounded so hopeful, he hated it.

“No.” His definitive answer shattered her hopes.

“What? Why not?” She started to tear up again and Bucky found himself turning his eyes away from her distressed ones.

“You’re my wife, that’s why.”

“But it isn’t supposed to be me! Marry someone else!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face.

“But it’s you I have here. I don’t want anyone else. You’re my mate now.”

Mate? What was he talking about?! They didn’t know each other! And she wasn’t an animal!

“But you’re not mine!”

“I will never let you go and that’s the end of it.” Bucky’s growl shut her right up.

She stared at him in horror and maybe even contempt, but Bucky didn’t care.

“But you said get dressed,” she cried out her disappointment because she really thought he had had mercy on her and was letting her go, but it seemed like he only decided to postpone her torture instead.

“Don’t try to leave because I’ll find you anyway and if I don’t, well, you’d probably be eaten,” he told her, ignoring her comment before grabbing his axe and a lamp.

“Where are you going?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

She might hate him but that didn’t mean she wanted him to leave her alone in the middle of nowhere.

“Gonna go get some more wood to get us through the night. There’s food and water in the kitchen.” She nodded and he opened the door and stepped out.

“B-Bucky?” It was the first time she said his name since the night started and the orc had no idea his name could sound so sweet.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you anyway,” she said, her hushed tone grateful yet laced with sadness.

Bucky only nodded before shutting the door behind him, locking it from the outside.

Bucky found himself slamming his axe down on the wood more vigorously than usual. He had a lot inside of him and it had to be released. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she cried and bit back sobs at his touch.

What’s happened to him? Bucky loved nothing more than scaring these pretentious humans of the kingdom! He found incomparable joy in the way they would cower down before his intense gaze whenever he would growl or flex his left arm. He had no problem talking them down, taunting them or even threatening them. So why on earth was it so difficult for him to continue to be like that to her?!

Why did he care so much all of sudden?! Why was it so hard for him to continue to be hard on her?! She seemed like someone who would follow orders just fine. Why didn’t he give her some?

Bucky picked her because she caught his eye. Because he deserved her. He deserved a bride and a family after all that he’d lost while fighting the kingdom’s people’s fights for them. It was the least they could gift him in return. A woman, a new life.

Another growl left Bucky’s chest as he slammed his axe down again.

He couldn’t go back to the cottage with a hard cock. He only had so much control. He needed to get it all out now.

This was going to be hard.

She continued to cry after Bucky was gone. She wasn’t really thankful he didn’t rape her when he could have, she just didn’t want to fall under his wrath had she tried to argue further.

She was always so scared, of everyone and everything. Always bending to the storm and never fighting back. And look where that had gotten her…. A cast out orc’s wife.

Was that really how her fate was drawn? Was that what was meant for her after so many lonely years in the orphanage?

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the key turning followed by the cottage’s door being kicked.

She swallowed the rest of her whimpers as she watched Bucky’s arms enter first, a bunch of cut wood in them.

He was so strong. She was sure he could crush her skull with his bare hands if he wanted to. The thought alone sent yet another shiver down her spine.

Bucky kicked the door closed before walking to the fireplace and setting the wood pieces beside it. He put some inside to keep the fire alive before getting up and looking at her with a look she couldn’t pin down.

“Have you been sitting here the whole time?” Bucky asked her upon noticing how she was curled up on the floor next to the bed, her face streaked with dried tears and her nose and lips swollen.

“Y-yes.” Her voice was hoarse from the constant sobbing.

“You didn’t eat anything?”

She shook her head and Bucky sighed loudly.

He walked to the kitchen and she could hear a fridge being opened. Then a match was lit and something metal sat down on the stove.

A few minutes later Bucky was coming out of his kitchen with a large glass of warm milk. He looked at her as he put the glass on the table.

“I put honey in there to help soothe your throat.”

“I- I don’t want to. Thank y—”

“Come here and drink your milk.” One glare and she was scrambling to the only seat on the table before the steaming glass.

“Don’t leave one single drop in there,” he told her before walking to the wooden closet in the corner.

Bucky got himself something clean and comfy to wear as well as a towel.

“I’m gonna go clean up,” he informed her in case she needed to go to the bathroom but she only nodded so he went on his way.

She watched the door to the bathroom shut and let out the breath she was holding before standing up.

Walking around the room, she found a stack of papers on the smaller table by the window. One was their marriage certificate that she hasn’t even gotten the choice whether or not to sign. She thought about throwing it in the fire, but it would likely cause her more problems than she would want to handle at the moment. Under it was what looked like a contract that they made this orc sign. Her chest tightened and tears pricked her eyes again.

It wasn’t enough that they gave her to a stranger, but they’d handed her out to an exiled orc, signing contracts to close their deal of selling her. What had she done to anyone to ever deserve this?

The room was suddenly too quiet when she looked around again. The milk before her looked tempting and she was hungry, but the door looked better and she was entrapped.

She slowly walked closer as she could hear water running inside the bathroom and when she twisted the handle, the door opened. Just like that. Bucky had forgotten to lock it and now was her chance.

The thunder cracked outside once more as if in warning, but she didn’t pay it any mind. It was now or never.

Part II

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shirefantasies · 2 months

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Hello! 👋 Your work is amazing! I was wondering, how do you think the LOTR characters would interact with their companion/crush who has a loyal dog/wolf companion? How would the dog react to the characters? I just like the dynamics between people and animals. Take care!

SUPER OLD REQUEST I’M SORRY!!! Hmmmm interesting 🤔 I'm a huge animal girlie, though it's cats for me hehe! Love imagining my faves with animals omg 🥺

LoTR Characters + Your Loyal Canine Companion

Aragorn

✧ As someone who bonds with animals, he understands immediately and feels a sort of trust toward you because you respect other living things.

✧ He approaches the beast with great caution, near-reverence, offering a tentative hand. It is your turn to smile as your companion warily accepts, butting its head into his palm as he whispers gentle encouragement in Elvish.

✧ With your permission, takes it out tracking, curious to compare skills and see how the beasts of the world are truly made for their roles in a way even the greatest ranger cannot be.

✧ He sees firsthand the way you trust each other, move in battle as if carefully choreographed, and remarks how truly lucky you are.

✧ It moves your heart to see Aragorn’s grin one night when your companion practically knocks him off his seat by the fire.

Legolas

✧ You can see the surprise coloring his eyes before he actually speaks, the way they trace your motions and the furrow of his brows.

✧ Fearing it is judgment, you cross your arms and bite out a “Don’t tell me- an elf who’s not one for beasts?” Calm as anything, he replies in a tone dripping with wonder that he has never seen one so in tune with the world of nature, and at that, in the face of his satisfied smile, your jaw and tone drop.

✧ Naturally, your guardian is completely calm in Legolas’s presence, regarding him with a politely cocked head and an inquiring gaze sated by the elf’s hand upon its head.

✧ Legolas sees the way it curls up in the dirt at your feet, shakes his head and takes one of his blankets, wrapping the fabric into a nest for it.

✧ You catch him having a race with it one day, claiming with great merriment that the dwarf bet him he was slower than the animal.

Boromir

✧ Chuckles deeply at the sight of who trails you, shaking his head in wonder. “Don’t you two make quite a pair?”

✧ Asks right away if he can take the beast hunting, saying he envies you such a great hound.

✧ This leads to Boromir sitting at your side and recounting grand tales of Gondor’s best hunts, idly stroking the beast at your feet as he reminisces.

✧ He loves tossing sticks for the dog/wolf, amusement and peace clear upon his face as he opens his arms to the returning canine. “I could get used to this.”

✧ Your companion serves as an avenue for him to admit his feelings, starting with telling you your home must truly be a happy place with such a beast in it.

Gimli

✧ You probably meet because your companion goes bounding up to the dwarf at once, all but knocking him over. “Control your dog or I shall have to!” We all know, of course, that he is all talk.

✧ It surprises you how friendly your guardian is with a stranger, but his merry chuckles are quite infectious, bringing a smile to your lips.

✧ When you begin your travels together Gimli builds up a teasing friendship with the canine, playfully arguing with it as it noses against him for the meat he is eating and he shoos it, only to sneak a bit down anyway.

✧ Can be a bit rough with play sometimes, but you know your beloved beast can handle it, especially if it’s quite large, then they are evenly matched! Sometimes they all but wrestle in the dirt, tug-of-war somehow having turned much more silly and personal.

✧ Knows your companion’s name, but still always calls it Laddie/Lassie.

Frodo

✧ “How did you come by this creature?” Frodo is the only fellowship member to ask questions rather than whisper to themselves, and you appreciate that, telling him the story one night.

✧ Since then, the young hobbit offers plenty of secret little smiles your way and you ask for stories of his people in return.

✧ When the weight of the ring gets heavier Frodo finds himself curling his fingers through the fur at the top of the beast’s head idly, bringing him that much closer to reality’s solid ground.

✧ He even finds a special form of companionship in the moments anxiety overtakes him, your canine friend sensing his unease and draping itself upon him like a warm, heavy blanket.

✧ Grateful is an understatement. Frodo tells you in a soft voice that he doesn’t know what he would do without you two by his side.

Sam

✧ Before he even has a chance to get defensive your companion melts for him, warming up to the hobbit like none you’ve ever seen.

✧ The way they take to each other surprises you, Sam keeping aside bones from the broth to give it and your guardian taking circling Sam just as seriously as with you.

✧ Maybe it has something to do with the way Sam looks at you, the awe glistening in his eyes and the way he says your name like he isn’t worthy of it, though of course he’s the most worthy of the whole lot.

✧ Uses your companion as a sort of proxy to say things to you he’s too shy to say to your face, telling it how amazing its owner is and the like.

✧ Refers to the wolf/dog as Miss or Mister partially because he thinks it’s funny and usually says it in a jolly voice but also so you know how much respect he has for it.

Merry

✧ “Well, I haven’t seen a dog this big since outside that bar in Bree! What’s his name?”

✧ Sees your companion as a pet, which though not entirely wrong creates a more playful dynamic between them once they both understand neither is a threat.

✧ Merry can’t help bursting into laughter the day he knocks you over in a sparring match, only to get peeled off you by a massive wall of canine. Keeps laughing once they both unfreeze and he gets licked, trying to roll back up and away from the new attack. “I was going to ask if he knew any tricks, but no need now it seems!”

✧ Retaliates by finding the ‘sweet spot’, scratching until your canine friend kicks his legs like they do!

✧ Opens up to you one day, remarking how he wishes to be half of such an in-tune duo in battles and in life. Not that he doesn’t love his cousin, but he craves a different kind of companionship, one you assure him he could have with a fond smile on your lips.

Pippin

✧ Peers at you with the round eyes of complete shock, having seen nothing like you in his Shire days.

✧ Keeps the beast plenty occupied letting it run after him, tearing giddily around the camp once he sees you keep friendly company.

✧ He makes the mistake one night of extending his spoon for your guardian to sniff, only for his morsel to be stolen. Pippin cannot help a laugh, though, and a glittering look your way. “He likes to eat as much as I do, I see!”

✧ You cannot help softening at the fire one night upon looking over and seeing that the hobbit has fallen asleep, his head resting gently against the soft side of your wolf/dog.

✧ Definitely sees your companion as a way to get to know you better, asking plenty of questions and getting close to the canine in hopes to earn a place by your side, too.

Faramir

✧ Lives by a sort of silent oath to question but accept. Thus he asks why you travel with a beast, but listens to your reasons with firm nods and the beginning flicker of an understanding smile.

✧ Offers his hand very tentatively, having had his touch rejected or struck against many a time, but when the dog/wolf nuzzles against him he looks at you with joyous pride that melts you.

✧ That little interaction has you wanting to bring the two of them together, some inexplicable invisible string tugging you closer to Faramir by the heart.

✧ You let him feed your companion, indulge in a game of fetch, and in between it all make some conversation yourself. Amazing, really, all the knowledge Faramir has and he is equally impressed with your prowess in nature.

✧ Faramir always tells you how you remind him of great heroes from the stories he grew up reading with his brother.

Eomer

✧ “Who is this,” he teases you with a smirk, “your mount?” “No,” you shoot back, “though he is sure leagues more loyal than yours.”

✧ Challenges you to a competition, a challenge of hunting between him and his horse and you and your beloved canine. You win, and he accepts, offering pats to its head.

✧ Ever the tease, Eomer dubs you the Lord/Lady of Dogs, but you know by his smile and the glint in his eyes that he means it with affection.

✧ Invites you on patrols of his land’s borders, saying he trusts you both to get the job done.

✧ Suddenly he keeps talking about taking in a dog of his own so yours has a sibling, more and more thoughts along that vein invading his mind…

Haldir

✧ Fears your companion will slow the party’s orc tracking down, especially as many members utilize the cover of the trees.

✧ Allows you to do as you please, though, his soft spot evident in the way he shuts down any and all whispers about the group’s most unique member.

✧ You can see it, too, hear it in the way they speak warily of your fellow hunter, but you will not be parted. Instead you prove them wrong as your fierce defender takes down several of your quarry on its own.

✧ Haldir himself commends you both, offering a tentative hand to your newly shared ally and smiling up at you as it is accepted. Something different flashes in his eyes alongside the almost shy look.

✧ “Truly, how much less exciting my life would be without you in it…”

Eowyn

✧ Astounded by the way you two communicate, it is as if you truly do understand each other. She questions it, asks how this can be.

✧ Takes you by the horses, curious if your harmony spreads. She smiles at the way you interact with them, but it is clear just from that that the bond with your companion has been forged over years.

✧ Absolutely ready to fight to get a suit of armor made for your canine friend complete with a helmet and all of Rohan’s motifs of course!

✧ “After all, we much protect such beauty, no?”

✧ Playfully dangles things in the air, giggling whenever your canine guardian leaps for them and smiling widely at you.

Arwen

✧ Kneels down and whispers something in Elvish to it the moment she sees trepidation in its eyes, calming your companion immediately.

✧ It fosters a sense of trust between you and the woman, whose side you kneel to, tangling a hand in your canine's fur next to her.

✧ She is reminded, of course, of Huan, Oromë’s most famous hound and wonders if your beast could even be his descendant.

✧ Fair and just, Arwen quickly falls into the circle of people your furry comrade protects, chuckling deeply when it growls at the next set of people joining you as visitors to Rivendell. She speaks gently to it, asking it with a teasing tone how it still feels such unease in such a place.

✧ She knows you feel like an outsider sometimes and works to correct that, constantly telling you you have such strength and a place in the world- even Rivendell with her if you so desire.

Elrond

✧ Looks taken aback by the large form that follows you, brows raising at the creature entering his home. He hesitates, makes to hold it back, but when you insist you both go or neither the elf somewhat grudgingly nods.

✧ Used to odd patrons as he is, Elrond reminds himself that he welcomes all and asks politely for the beast’s name.

✧ Studies up on its origin if he is not already aware, trying to determine if this is an ordinary wolf/dog or one with any ties to the land’s magic.

✧ He sees your companion charge into battle at your defense, risking its own life, and with a nod of pride rushes in to save it from its own sacrifice.

✧ From then on Elrond regards your guardian as an equal of sorts, stroking its head in passing and speaking to it as if it could understand him.

Lindir

✧ Goes to comical lengths to step away from and avoid the massive canine at your heels when first he meets it.

✧ Possibly even asks if it’s safe, has fleas, etc. but immediately retracts and offers pats when you glare at him for it. Finds himself smiling despite himself at the feeling of the soft fur beneath his hand.

✧ You’ve seen dogs that howl as their owners play instruments? Then you know exactly what it is I am saying. The kick Lindir gets out of this is astounding; he can’t even be annoyed.

✧ Jokes that you’re hiding a composer under the guise of a hunter.

✧ Takes to the idea of further training, seeing how such an intelligent creature could learn to open doors and fetch items, considering such a use for helping Rivendell’s infirmary patients and those struggling with loss of motion or senses.

Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Let me know if you’d like to join ☺️

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cerise-on-top · 4 months

Note

IT'S MEEEE! 😆 how're you doing?

I want some ANGST! But with a happy ending with Fluff!

Valeria/Laswell/Farah have a stressful day, and they are in a bad mood and take it out in the reader.

Take your time and take care! 🫶

Hello again! Welcome back! I'm doing fine, I'm just a bit tired right now, but I should be alright by tomorrow! First off, I'm so sorry this took so long! I tried to make it a bit longer than I usually would as an apology! There's not a whole lot of angst, aside from the girls having had a rough day and accidentally letting it out on reader, but I tried! I hope it's to your liking! Thank you for your request!

Valeria, Farah and Laswell Taking their Anger out on Reader but then Comforting them

Valeria: It was likely Alejandro who got on her nerves, chasing her like a dog would its own tail, only to never catch her after all. If she could, she would have him killed just like that. Much to her dismay, however, he was slippery, a trained killer whose only weakness was either himself or Rudy. But even the latter was hard to catch, so both of them meeting a fitting end would yet have to wait some more. At that moment, all Valeria wanted was to spill some blood. Anyone’s would have been fine. Walking through the door to your shared home, she watched you fold some clothes in the living room, putting them aside carefully so as to not put too many folds in them. Waving to her once you put down the sweater, you greeted her, wanting to throw your arms around your partner. Yet, fear struck you as Valeria glared at you, looking as though she was about to rip your throat out using her bare teeth. Thus, you kept your hug to yourself, a bit intimidated by her.

Instead, you tell her that you made some food, some vegetable stew, which she could easily reheat in the kitchen. Somehow, that information made her even more furious. Seemingly disappointed in your choice of cooking, she cussed. At first not at you, but when you tried to deescalate the situation, insisting that you could cook her a meat based dish as well, Valeria’s fuse blew. Her voice grew louder, almost booming, with her explicitly telling you that she didn’t fucking care about the food. It wasn’t the first time you had seen her act like this, but not towards you. Therefore you figured she must have had an extremely rough day. Even so, when she was done, you muttered an apology, going to your room and avoiding her for the rest of the evening so she could blow off some steam. It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known after all, but you still felt like a failure, awaiting the seconds, the minutes, the hours, until you could finally go to bed. Just hearing Valeria stomp around outside your room made your blood freeze in your veins.

It wasn’t until 21:23, as you were just about to head to bed, that you heard a knock on your door. Even without your permission, it was opened, showcasing Valeria on the other side, seemingly having calmed down a bit. Leaning against the doorframe, she complimented your cooking. It was as delicious as it had always been, very well seasoned and very filling after all. You did nothing wrong, she, too, assured you of that. While she won’t go into detail regarding what exactly happened for her to snap at you like that, simply mentioning a few sleazebags who had caught up with her, you will hear something that only ever leaves her mouth when she’s wronged you for no good reason: an apology.

If you let her in, then she’s more than happy to try and comfort you. Yes, it’s a bit awkward since she’s not used to doing so, but seeing your eyes wide, your body tense, all because of her does take its toll on her. If you don’t wanna be touched just yet, that’s fine, she can respect that. But if you do allow it, then she’ll gently grab your hand and squeeze it a few times. She’s tired too, so she likely won’t be doing anything big with you anymore that night, but she’s open to making plans with you and discussing them. She really wants to right her wrongs when it comes to you, so you’re more than welcome to make a suggestion. You wanna have a picnic with her? She knows Las Almas quite well, some beautiful, undisturbed spots coming to mind almost immediately. You wanna go shopping? You can ask her for just about anything you want, she’ll give you extras to go this time too. You wanna stay in and watch a comfort movie? While she may not be one for watching movies, she will make an exception for you. She always does when she can.

Discussing those plans with you, she’ll try to make you smile at least a little bit. Once she’s sure you’re not afraid of her anymore, she’ll give your cheek a little kiss, joking around a bit more than she did before. She won’t bother you for the rest of the evening unless you explicitly seek her out, but she will keep an eye out for you, leaving you a few snacks right in front of your door. Maybe even some money so you can get yourself something fancy and nice. Problem is, she likely won’t have too much time, but she’ll be damned if she won’t take better care of you, if just temporarily. Even though she’ll always try her best to take care of you, it’s you we’re talking about, after all.

Farah: Another stressful day during the revolution. With an ambush surprising her, leaving her and her people a bit more vulnerable than usual, with her almost losing some of her best and closest fighters, it was only natural for Farah to be a bit more on edge than usual. Normally so calm, able to calculate the best moves and maneuvers for just about anything, no matter what happens, this was something she did not foresee at the time, thinking she had had the upper hand instead. It was only when she finally had the time, just a day or two, for you, mad as she usually never was, that she walked through the door, throwing her gun to the cabinet. Despite not being such a loud person, a sniper had to be quiet and patient, after all, she made quite a ruckus when she had finally returned. You were ready to greet Farah, give her a big smile and make her feel welcome and home as only you could. Soon enough, however, you did feel that something was off. Despite being stressed more often than not, she usually wouldn’t scowl at you like that for no reason.

You offered her a hug, opening your arms wide despite your expression betraying your nervousness. Aside from a glare, you got no reaction. Eventually, you put your arms down and she greeted you, venom spewing from her words. The toxins could corrode even the strongest iron walls, leaving you defenseless in your fear. Did you do something this time? Likely not, Farah just got home after all, but the thought still lingered. Although she was normally so chatty when she was just a bit exhausted, she stomped away, not saying a single word to you. First the bathroom, then the kitchen and lastly her bedroom. The clanking of cutlery against a plate could be heard, but that’s about it. You felt awful, something properly terrible must have happened to her for her to act like that. But it wasn’t like you could change it, so you lowered the volume of your TV instead before turning it off entirely and reading something on your phone.

Another few hours had passed, you barely even dared to move a muscle aside from scrolling on your phone, much less make any noise. What if it was you after all? What is Farah was about to leave you for something you didn’t even know about? Your thoughts spiraled, with every following one being worse than the previous one. You folded the blanket and put it on the arm of the couch, ready to head to bed when you bumped into her. Quickly, you uttered an apology before being ready to dart off to your own room, but Farah held you in place, asking you if you had a moment to spare and listen to her. It was dark already, with the dim artificial lights doing you no favors in seeing her any better either, but she sounded calmer than before. Still slightly annoyed, but it seemed like whatever had gotten into her had lessened its grasp on her. Tugging you onto the couch, she apologized for giving you such a harsh and cold treatment, simply figuring that waiting until she had calmed down would be better than letting it out on you, who had no part in it. The situation was dire for her, she told you a bit about it. About the ambush, about the people she’s almost lost during it. She knew that she really shouldn’t have been acting like that towards you, and for that she apologizes one last time.

Once she was done explaining what had upset her to you, she’d be quiet, remorseful, until you’d speak up again. She’d love to make it up to you, you really didn’t deserve such harsh treatment after all. If you just want a hug or a kiss as a form of apology, she’ll smile at you, being more than willing to give you just that. However, she will also ask you if that’s everything you wanted. That would be your chance to ask for something reasonable from her. Sure, she won’t be able to buy you a new car, but you’re more than welcome to ask her for some alone time, just the two of you. She might only have a day or two away from the fight, which she was going to spend with you either way since she rarely gets to see you, but if you have special requests, that would be the best time to suggest them. There may not be too many fancy restaurants or malls nearby, but you can always just watch a silly movie or take a walk together.

Farah would literally swear to you that she’s going to make it back in one piece to you. After all, there’s no one else she’d rather roam the streets with during a beautiful cloudless night. Besides, she made two promises that night: to make it back to you and to make it up to you. Farah would fight any deities out there to make it back to you, no matter if it was a losing battle or not. If it’s you then she’ll fight as dirty as possible to see you smile again.

Laswell: She was likely taken off a case, in spite of her having enough evidence to prove everything that needed to come to light. With her wit, with her having the right people at her disposal, she could have brought this to an end. However, her incompetent superior had other plans, letting it all rot in darkness instead, until everyone forgot it ever even happened. Laswell was furious, no matter how much she argued, her superior wouldn’t budge and for that she silently cursed. Normally so calm and composed, this time she wished she could have blown someone’s brain out for being the dumbest creature alive. But alas, such a thing was illegal, if someone ever were to find out. She entertains the idea for a few minutes, but quickly enough shakes her head, thinking of other ways to accomplish her goal. Walking through the door, she already heard you singing along to some tune, the music unnecessarily loud. You likely didn’t hear her come in, which in and of itself wouldn’t have been a problem. On any other day.

Only when she turns off the music do you realize she’s here. However, her grimace was already telling. Shyly, you greeted her, but not much else, letting her speak instead. The fury had gotten to her head, her face being slightly more red than usual. This time, she was stern, telling you that you really shouldn’t listen to your dumb music this loudly at such an hour. She was going to get a massive headache from today, if only because of you needing to turn up the volume impossibly high. While Laswell wouldn’t yell at you, her words would be sharper than an obsidian knife instead. Indeed, she’s not trying to actively hurt you, in fact, once her little lesson on you maybe being a bit more quiet is over, she’ll feel bad, apologizing immediately. It would take her much, much longer than that to actually calm down, but once she sees your scared, saddened expression, unable to really say much, she’ll say she’s sorry and let you go, watching you as you quietly trot away with your head hung low. Sighing to herself, she already comes up with plans on making it up to you, but she knows she can’t control her anger as she was right now.

A few hours later, you’d hear the bell ring, but not be quite ready to leave your room just yet. It likely was for Laswell, not for you, so you simply stayed put, hoping that she had calmed down a bit by then. However, your ears would perk up upon hearing her knock on your door, asking you to come to the living room so you could eat something together. Despite being a little bit skittish still, afraid to anger her further, you soon enough noticed she had calmed down again, with your favorite takeout from a restaurant you usually suggest lying on the table. Once seated, Laswell opened the packages, handing you your food. In a much more serene tone, she’d apologize yet again. Your music wasn’t dumb, it wasn’t giving her a headache, she just had a very rough day and needed some peace and quiet. Laswell hopes you can understand this, even if she did treat you unfairly. She recognizes that, and that she also tells you, with her promising to try her best to not have it happen again.

Laswell won’t go into detail either regarding what happened, for obvious reasons, only that some inconvenience happened today, which upset her a great deal. But that wasn’t what was important at that moment. She was calm, hopefully you were as well. And if not, then she’d try her darndest to make it that way. Considering she, technically speaking, had more time that day, and the following ones as well, she’d be the one to suggest going out the next evening. Maybe a nice and fancy restaurant, maybe a show like a musical at the broadway. Or maybe the two of you just want to take a vacation somewhere nearby. Either way, Laswell has plans for the two of you, having brainstormed a few in the past few hours. She’ll get her way at work eventually, it just might take some time, so she’ll happily “indulge” her superior for a few days before going back to crack the case either way. It would make her all the less suspicious. Besides, she’d get to spend time with you as well, even if all you wanted was to just go window shopping at the local mall.

That evening, she’d likely just want to watch TV with you, continuing to discuss your plans for the next few days. But after that she’s more than happy to book whatever it is you want to do afterwards. While she might not be the biggest fan of such, she will even go to the nearest Six Flags with you and ride a few attractions just to see you smile and hear your laughter, as well as excited screams, yet again.

#cod #cod x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #farah karim #farah karim x reader #kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #thank you so much for waiting #I hope these suffice #I don't really have much else to say this time except I'm glad Christmas is over #now I only have to survive new year's eve #anyway girls are pretty epic right?#sometimes I watch the Valeria interrogation scenes and giggle while kicking my feet #I also sometimes think back on how Laswell slowly grew on me #second game during the ghillie mission I knew I was in love all of a sudden #Farah was the surprise girl for me since I didn't even know who she was before I started watching #but all three of them are intimidating and strong in a way where I want them in my life #I just have a thing for strong and intimidating women #I still remember my first woman crush: Jolyne from Stone Ocean #I remember thinking about kissing her and suddenly realising “wait that's not very heterosexual of me is it?”#it's been going uphill for me ever since #those are some very fond memories of mine

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bitchfitch · 1 month

Text

"Stay out of the woods."

The order rang around Peregrine's head like a bell lost in white water. Stay out of the woods, Peregrine. Don't go in the woods. Stay out of the fucking woods.

It didn't matter what Peregrine asked about the stupid forest behind their temporary home, that was his husband's only answer. Ensio had grown up in the manor, so perhaps it was a now pointless holdover from a young boy's days of reckless exploration. Or Ensio was attempting to hide some family secret from the last piece of family he had. Or whatever fucking else.

His reasoning didn't matter if he wouldn't tell what it was because if Ensio had wanted a spouse who would obey pointless rules, he didn't find it in Peregrine.

The snow crunched under Peregrine's boots over the gravel paths through the acres of trees. They had been finely maintained, no brambles or dead leaves rotting and blocking the way. The occasional set of deer tracks, or birds flittering about in the cold air to break up the blinding white monotony. There was, annoyingly, nothing off about the forest in the slightest. It was Just an old grove that hadn't seen propper cultivation in ages.

That added to his frustrated confusion.

Seven years of marriage, another two of courting. Never had Ensio set a boundary he refused to explain, nor had he ever once expected Peregrine to obey an order like a dog.

It was just a forest. Maybe Ensio had some childhood memory of this place that soured him to it? He did grow up on this estate.

He did have those scars he refused to tell Peregrine how he got.

Peregrine pulled his coat tighter around himself. It was a pleasant day, in a pleasant forest. They'd worked through much worse things together than a little childhood trauma being exasperated by the stress of suddenly becoming lord of a territory neither of them had interest in living within. They'd get through this too.

And if they didn't... They weren't going to be here for long. Soon they'd find a regent and go home to Peregrine's estate on the sunny beach where they both belonged.

Peregrine let his dream of going home soon slip aside as he finally found something that might explain this bizarre behavior.

Wolf tracks in the snow. Maybe that was it? Some stupid wolves? Peregrine was a witch of little comparison, Ensio knew that better than anyone else. Wolves couldn't be his concern. Could they? Sure, Peregrine might have let his studies slide while he tended to the operations of their businesses, but he could still handle a few lousy wolves.

The tracks were strange enough to give him pause, though. The toes long and splayed, the spacing between each print too far. Peregrine didn't know how to read tracks, but he felt there was something off in the rhythm of the steps. They looked more like his than they did anything four legged.

But he'd seen his kitty carefully step within her own paw prints when the snow was deep. Perhaps the wolf had done the same?

Peregrine lowered himself to place his hand beside a paw print. He'd never actually seen a wolf, but judging by these prints, each as wide as his hand was long, the bastards must be massive... He still had that familiar spell saved in his journal, the one he'd used to bind his kitty, Snowdrop, to himself. Perhaps the solution to their problem was to give his dear Ensio something he'd been humming and hawing over for some time. A wolf would suit him nicely, Peregrine thought.

A racket of snapping twigs and crunching snow rang out to his side, instinct jolting him up from the cold ground and back onto his feet.

"Peregrine!?" Ensio's panicked voice broke throw the still air.

"I'm here! Straight down the main path," Peregrine called back with a sigh and a hand over his thundering heart.

Ensio came running, his face red and his breathing rough with exertion. Peregrine barely had time to turn to greet him before he was being tackled in tight hug. The impact making him stumble backwards.

"You worried me Sick." Ensio pulled away, fear and rage plastered across his face, "Go back to the house. Now. It's not safe out here,"

"The wolves. I know," Peregrine narrowed his eyes, glancing to the riffle Ensio had felt the need to bring with him, "Let me handle them for you."

"No. No. You- You need to go Peregrine. Now." Ensio's grip on his arm was a hairs width shy of bruising as he yanked him back the way they'd both came.

"Not until you tell me what is going on," he dug in his heels and jerked his arm free.

"Peregrine-" Ensio looked like Peregrine had just slapped him.

"No excuses, Tell me."

"I can't. Not yet. It's not safe yet. Please, please I am begging you to trust me." Ensio tried to grab for Peregrine's hand but caught only frigid air.

"I trust you to not treat me like I can't-" Peregrine's protests were lost to an indignant yelp.

Ensio was freakishly strong for his build, a fact Peregrine had adored for nine years but which now made his blood boil as he was lifted like he weighed nothing. At least the bastard had the good sense to opt for a bridal carry, anything else would have enraged Peregrine enough to do more than attempt and fail to out-strength him.

Ensio looked like a dog with his tail between his legs the entire jog back to the manner. His eyes forward to avoid meeting Peregrine's silent glare at all costs.

Guilt, Peregrine knew the way Ensio wore it well. He had just hoped he wouldn't be seeing it on this trip until Ensio got bored and swanned off with some beau Peregrine never cared to know about. At least then he'd understand why Ensio was eating himself up and then get some gift of apology for a crime Peregrine didn't actually mind all that much. This time Peregrine didn't even have an annoying taboo to blame for Ensio's hurt.

When Ensio finally let Peregrine stand on his own two feet again on the back kitchen of the manor, they both knew that whatever Ensio buys to sate his guilt this time, it better be real fucking good if he didn't want Peregrine taking walks to become a nightly occurrence. At least until Ensio spat out his hairball reasoning.

#Peregrine #Ensio

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jamietarttsnorthernattitude · 14 days

Note

“You poor thing.”

The face of an angel swam into view, clearing the dark clouds that had rudely taken up in Jamie’s vision.

Mummy.

”Hi mummy,” Jamie said, a smile spreading uninvited across his lips at the face of his mother.

He tried to search his mind to find when mummy had come over, but he couldn’t remember. His thoughts slipped like water through his hands. Was he home? He must be. But which home?

Was he in his Richmond house? The one with the balloon dog he loved. Closest he’d get to a real dog until he retired. The house with the gun lamps that looked fucking mint in his sparse living area. His bedroom with the floral headboard Keeley convinced him to buy, the one he liked to watch her arch her back against and fan her hair against.

Or was he at the Manchester flat? The new one in the posh building with the views of the city and the doorman and the fancy gym that he never used because he was always at the Etihad campus? But the building was new, and it had air con and Thomas, the doorman, always greeted him with a smile no matter if City won or lost or if he spent the match on the bench or even when he came home with blood dripping down the side of his face.

Maybe he was home, at mummy’s. Maybe Simon was downstairs cooking and he would turn over and see Roy Kent and Keeley Jones on his wall. Only they were just Roy and Keeley now. And one was a knob and the other he loved, but they weren’t on his wall anymore, they were sitting across a table from him and they were together now weren’t they? Another fucking mind game from Richmond.

Jamie looked around trying to find where he was but everything behind mummy was a blinding white.

“It’s okay, baby,” she cooed as she brushed a hand through his hair.

Jamie leaned into her hand. Mummy was here things were okay.

”Mummy,” he said again.

”Aw does the ickle baby want his mummy?”

The voice cut through Jamie like a jagged blade, sharp and burning hot. The voice wasn’t mummy’s. She filtered from his vision, disappearing like smoke. He reached up to grab her but she evaporated in his grasp.

“Mummy,” another voice sneered and laughed.

Jamie hated the way the voices said it, like it was a slur, not the honorific of the best woman he knew.

“Christ, Jamie, when’re you gonna grow the fuck up?”

Something rough hit him in the side, but that wasn’t what worried Jamie the most. what worried Jamie the most was the voice. Jamie recognised that voice the same way he recognised Mummy’s. But whereas Mummy’s voice meant safety and comfort and love, this voice meant danger and fear and bruises.

Dad.

Fuck.

Mummy wasn’t here. She wouldn’t be here would she? Jamie hadn’t talked to her since he left for Richmond, leaving behind Manchester and everything in it, good and bad. Wasn’t even sure she knew he was back with the way she only followed City if he was playing. Couldn’t blame her if he was being honest. He’d ignored her calls for weeks before he left. Easier than explaining the bits he didn’t want to explain.

Mummy never believed him after all.

Now Richmond was relegated.

Roy Kent’s career was likely over.

And Jamie Tartt? Jamie was alone with a monster.

Like always.

#jamie tartt #fuck jamie’s dad #cw implied abuse #ted lasso #thank you thank you my lovely friend for indulging me #this was funnnnnnnnnnnnn #sorry not sorry #it's the hope that kills you #season one finale episode coda

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

Text

The Road Forgotten - Chapter 1

Pairing: Arthur Havisham (Dickensian) x OFC

A/N: I made Arthur bisexual and paired him with a female character in this. I know some writers have gotten flack for pairing Arthur with a female character (or reader), so if it's not your cup of tea, please walk away.

This is mostly based on the events of "Dickensian", but I've also incorporated some elements and characters from "Great Expectations". Most notably, Satis House is in Kent (as in the book) instead of in London. I kept the setting "vaguely Victorian", the same as the show though (if I go with the book, it would have to be the early 1800s, since this takes place about 10 years before the start of "Great Expectations", which is in 1812. I've just finished one Regency series and didn't feel like staying there.)

Summary: A few years after his plan to swindle his sister ended in tragedy, Arthur Havisham is a shadow of a man, living in guilt and fear. When Elsie Bradford, a young woman also wronged by Compeyson, enlists Arthur's help to hunt down his former partner-in-crime, Arthur must face his demons and other strange, new feelings, to redeem himself.

Warnings: slow burn, angst (this is standard for me now), revenge, guilt, psychological trauma, mention of prostitution, mention of suicide, some violence, a bit of smut

Chapter word count: 3.2k

Prologue

Saffron Hill was a wretched place to be even in the best of times, but on that miserable night in March, it was a place none but the most desperate would brave. It had been a late, cold spring, and that night was as cold as the middle of winter. Rain fell steadily on the muddy, narrow street, the kind of rain that soaked through waterproofs and chilled a person to the bones, while a merciless wind howled through the alleys filled with refuse. Even the children, who could often be seen crawling in and out of the dark shops at all hours, were rendered invisible. Only the occasional whimpers from behind the termite-infested doors were proof that they hadn't been spirited away by some evil fairy. The sole business that showed some light and life was the Three Cripples. The noises coming from its gas-lit interior were more boisterous than usual, as the inhabitants of Saffron Hill flocked there for some warmth, either in fire, drinks, or company.

However, not everybody was seeking shelter. Opposite the Three Cripples, a figure stood with arms crossed and head bent, heedless of the rain and the wind. From afar, the figure looked to be that of a young man or a boy, broad-shouldered and flat-chested, clad in the usual clothes of a common laborer - trousers and jacket of rough brown corduroy, a black handkerchief wrapped around the collar of an off-white linen shirt in place of a cravat, and a slouch-brimmed hat, which covered the head and most of the face. Only the small, slender hands, sheathed in leather gloves, constantly twitching and plucking at some unseen thread on the jacket sleeves, struck a discordant note.

This person stood leaning against the wall in a pool of shadow between the blinking streetlamps, almost blending in with the murky brickworks, unmoving save for the hands, but the whole body seemed on alert. From under the brim of the hat, a pair of light green eyes looked out, fixed on the bright square of the public house's entrance. Those eyes noticed that a man was also loitering near the door of the Three Cripples, as if waiting for someone. He was a stout, hulking shape, and unlike the figure at the wall, made no effort to conceal his presence. A shaggy, dirty white dog whined at his feet, obviously wanting to go inside where it was warm and agreeable. The whine was answered by a kick from its master, and the dog tugged its tail between its legs, shaking.

Another figure appeared at the mouth of the street, a taller man wearing a frock coat and a top hat. He was dragging his feet and his walking stick on the cobbles, a desolate hunch about his shoulders.

At the sight of this figure, the man outside the Three Cripples sprang into action. He crossed the street with just a stride of his bulky legs, seized the other man's arm, and dragged him into a covered way between two houses. "I hope you're coming to settle your debt, Mr. Havisham," the stout man said.

"Sikes!" the victim yelped. "You frightened me."

The stout man, Sikes, held his hand out, palm up. "Your debt. Sir." This last word was uttered almost as an afterthought.

The other man reluctantly drew a pouch out of his coat and dropped some meager coins in it. Sikes narrowed his eyes. "Is that it?"

"That's... that's all I have."

"Mr. Fagin would not be pleased."

"I will have the rest soon, but..."

"Soon's not good enough. Perhaps I should give you a bit of shaking, just to be sure you're not hiding anything in that fancy coat, eh?" Sikes said, pulling a cudgel out of his velveteen jacket. Havisham cowered on the ground. He could have run, but he seemed frozen in fear. Before Sikes could bring the cudgel down, however, his eyes suddenly went wide, and the hand holding the cudgel was frozen in place.

"Let him go," a quiet voice said out of the darkness.

Havisham blinked up in surprise. Sikes moved stiffly forward, just enough for the flickering light of the lamps to flash on a blade, held in a leather-gloved hand, pressed to his throat. "Who're ye?" he asked.

"Someone that can move faster than you," the voice answered.

"You're bluffing," Sikes said, but he sounded uncertain.

"Try it, and you'll bleed out before you can catch me."

Sikes' lips curled in anger. His small eyes scowled at the victim on the ground. The blade pressed down a little harder, and a drop of blood squeezed out. Sikes spat and dropped the cudgel. At that moment, the blade also left his throat.

"You'll see me again," Sikes growled to both of them, then picked up the cudgel and vanished into the night, the dog following closely on his heels.

Havisham sat still in the puddle of black slush he had collapsed into, seemingly too stunned to move. His savior bent down and extended a hand. "Arthur Havisham?"

Havisham could only nod.

"You're a hard man to find, Mr. Havisham," the other person said. The melodious voice seemed to lift Havisham out of his daze.

"Who are you?" he asked, taking the helping hand and struggling to his feet.

The other person stepped forward and took off the hat, revealing two wings of black hair framing a face that even the uncertain light of the streetlamps showed to be striking, and definitely female. "Elsie Bradford," the young woman said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Chapter 1

Elsie led Havisham into the Three Cripples, though he kept looking behind his back as if afraid that Sikes would return. She picked a table in a corner, away from the fire and the piano, where most of the patrons converged. None of them gave the pair a glance, even though one of them was a woman dressed in man's clothing. The Three Cripples had seen odder characters than that. Only a furtive-looking man, sitting by the window, turned to stare at them briefly, before burying his head in his pint again.

Elsie called for the barmaid and ordered two ales. "Or do you prefer brandy?" she asked Havisham. "I'm buying."

"Brandy, please," he said in a small voice, and Elsie nodded to the barmaid.

While waiting for their drinks, she took a closer look at the man she'd just rescued, the man she'd watched the Three Cripples for a whole week to meet. He was younger than she thought, probably just a little more than five-and-twenty, around her own age, though his face was sadly ravaged, whether by excessive vices or personal misery or both, she did not know. He must have been handsome once, and there were still traces of his former good looks in his high, white forehead, his finely shaped nose, full lips, and long lashes that veiled over his large brown eyes. But the forehead was now plastered with limp, sweaty dark blond curls, the nose was red from cold or drinks, the lips were slack and surrounded by stubble, and the eyes were puffy, red-rimmed, and kept darting around the room like those of a cornered animal. She also took in his frayed velvet coat, splattered with dirty water from his fall, and faded silk hat. All spoke of a man not so much down on his luck as scraping the bottom of the barrel of his luck and still coming up empty.

The drinks arrived. Havisham gulped his down like a man dying of thirst. Elsie indicated for the barmaid to leave the bottle and took a sip of her ale. The brandy seemed to revive Havisham a little. He sat up straighter and eyed Elsie curiously.

"You said I was a hard man to find," he began. "May I ask why you were trying to find me?"

"I need your help," Elsie said.

Havisham slumped down again. "I'm of help to no one," he said. "Not even myself."

Elsie raised an eyebrow at that. "Most people would ask 'help with what' first."

"I know my limits," Havisham muttered into his drink.

"How much do you owe Fagin?" Elsie asked, changing tactics.

"What business is it of yours?"

"Perhaps we could help each other."

"I doubt that," Havisham said bleakly.

Elsie sighed, frustrated. They were going to be here all night at this rate.

"All right, Mr. Havisham," she said, putting her pint down. "I'm here because I know you used to be friends with a man called Meriwether Compeyson. And I need your help to find him."

The changes that came over Havisham were shocking. If he had looked like a cornered animal before, now he was like an animal looking down the barrel of the hunter's gun. His face was deathly white, his hand around the glass of brandy trembled so much that Elsie was afraid he would drop it, and he wasn't looking at her, but at a spot over her shoulder, at something that wasn't there. She waited. The piano jingled a tune, and some woman led the whole room in song. With a herculean effort, Havisham took another drink and pulled himself together.

"He's no friend of mine," he said, his voice shaking. "I haven't seen him in five years, and I do not wish to ever see him again."

"I know that," Elsie said. "But you must know something about where he can be found, where he used to frequent."

"Why do you want to find him?"

"To kill him."

Havisham stared at her. She returned his look evenly. Then he started laughing, a horrible, mirthless laugh that sent chills up her spine. "Oh, Miss Bradford, you are quite the comedienne," finally he said.

"He took something from me," Elsie said, stone-faced. "I consider it a fair compensation."

Havisham shook his head. "Nobody gets anything back once Compeyson decides to take it."

Elsie studied him. She had only heard that Compeyson had swindled Havisham out of his inheritance, but what had the villain done that rendered this young man a shadow like this? But look at yourself, she thought bitterly. You may not be a drunken mess like this poor sod, but who from your old life would've recognized you now? And poor Marianne... Compeyson had a talent for damaging people even without touching them.

"I don't intend to take it back," she said. "It cannot be. But perhaps I could stop him from claiming more victims."

"It's a noble pursuit, I'm sure," Havisham said. "But for your own well-being, Miss Bradford, I suggest you forget the whole thing. Compeyson is not a man to be reckoned with. I am living proof of that." A bitter smile, filled with self-hatred, briefly crossed his face. He downed the rest of his drink, stood up, and put on his hat. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said and walked away. At the door, however, he seemed to have second thoughts, turned back, and pocketed the bottle of brandy. "And thank you for saving me from Sikes," he added and left, for good this time.

Elsie bit back a curse. Money wasted, and she was no closer to her mark. Then his parting words struck her, and an idea formed. If Havisham couldn't be bought by brandy, she would have another way to ensure he was in her debt.

***

It wasn't difficult to send a message to Havisham's creditor - every child in Saffron Hill seemed to be in his employment. The old Jew showed up at the Three Cripples promptly enough, though with understandable skepticism. It was only when Elsie pushed the money across the table that his shriveled face relaxed, like a crumpled handkerchief being smoothed out. "Well, my dear, far be it from me to tell a young lady what to do with her own money," he said in his oily voice, as the bills disappeared into the depths of his overcoat. "It appears young Havisham was fortunate in his acquaintances." Elsie asked if Fagin himself had had any dealings with Compeyson at all, but in this he had nothing for her - he, like most people, only knew of Compeyson's general involvement with Havisham. Of course. Compeyson was a gentleman. He wouldn't deal with common criminals like Fagin.

Fagin did give Elsie the address of Havisham's lodgings in St. Giles. Early the next morning, wearing her plainest, most practical wool dress and with her face hidden behind a poke bonnet, she set out for it, the promissory note in her reticule and the blade concealed in her sleeve as usual. She took the long way, avoiding the familiar streets of Covent Garden, though at this time of the day, her old friends were most likely still abed and there would be none to recognize her. Still, she tightened her hand around the blade as she neared the Rookery. Its sharpness felt reassuring in her palm.

Havisham's lodgings were on the second storey of one of the many tall, narrow houses that crowded a side street. This wasn't the heart of the Rookery, so it was slightly quieter, but the level of squalor was no less appalling. Silent, ill-humored men slumped in doorways, filthy children sat amongst the rubbish and mangy dogs, too listless to even play. A woman with a swollen, stony face emptied a chamber pot out of a window, and it was by pure luck that Elsie didn't get splashed by it. She thought of the faded finery of Havisham's clothes and wondered how far down the social ladder he had fallen. Reaching the house, she climbed the slimy staircase and knocked on the door. There was some muttering from inside, but nobody came. She knocked again. "Mr. Havisham?" she called. "It's Elsie Bradford." More mutterings, louder now, but the door remained closed. Impatient, Elsie tried the knob. It turned in her hand. She pushed the door open and walked in.

Havisham was sprawled on a chair in the corner of the sparsely furnished room, but he wasn't alone. Another man was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his head buried in Havisham's lap. At her entrance, both men looked up, and Havisham's face went purple with shock. "Get out!" he screamed, grabbing a glass by his side and throwing it at her. Elsie withdrew just as the glass shattered on the wall next to her head.

She waited on the landing while the voices inside rose in contention. Then the door burst open and the other man ran out, fixing his clothes as he went. She never got a good look at his face, only a glimpse of a rich velvet coat and a silk cravat flapping around his neck. Just another young scion of some rich family who fancied himself a libertine, searching for debauchery amongst the great unwashed before slinking home to his doting parents and fawning servants. She had seen too many of them.

Havisham stumbled out the door but appeared to have no intention of following the other man—he was still in his shirtsleeves and barefoot. He stopped upon seeing Elsie. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed, his face twisted in anger.

"I came here to tell you that I've settled your debt with Mr. Fagin," Elsie said.

Havisham seemed to have trouble understanding her.

"I paid it off," Elsie repeated. "But that means you owe me twenty pounds now. So perhaps you should be nicer to me, starting by inviting me into your room."

Havisham, still looking nonplussed, stepped inside, and Elsie followed him.

The room was as miserable a place as she'd ever seen. It was steeped in a gray murkiness. Situated at the back of the house, the only light it received came through a window overlooking a courtyard surrounded by yet more houses, which did very little in ways of illumination. That might be a blessing, though, for more light would only accentuate the dreariness of the room. Other than a chair, a table, a bed, and a cupboard, there was no other furniture in the room, no rug to cover the scratched wooden floor, no picture to liven up the peeling plastered walls, no curtain to brighten up the grimy windowpanes. Elsie suddenly felt quite sorry for Havisham.

"Mr. Havisham," she said, her voice softening. "My apologies for barging in like that."

"I suppose you have another debt to hold over my head now, even more valuable than the twenty pounds," he said sullenly.

It took a moment for her to catch his meaning. "No!" she said. "I would never—please, Mr. Havisham. You and your friend can rest assured. Your secret is quite safe."

"He's not my friend," Havisham replied, looking pained. The look lasted only for a few seconds, but Elsie saw it, and somehow it went straight to her heart.

"I—I'm not... It doesn't matter to me," she said, trying to explain. She hadn't been flustered before when she walked in on them, but she found it offensive that Havisham thought she would use this to blackmail him. It was something the likes of Compeyson would do. "I used to... I used to work at a bawdyhouse. There is very little that I haven't seen."

Slowly, Havisham's scowl disappeared, to be replaced by his usual default expression of despondency. "My debt?" he prompted her.

Remembering her business, Elsie showed him the promissory note. "I shall cancel it if you help me find Compeyson."

Havisham glanced at the note. "If you could pay off my debt that easily, you can't be wanting for money," he said. "Why do you want to kill Compeyson?"

"I told you, I'm not looking to get my money back. I just want him to pay for his crimes."

"But he didn't hurt you that badly, by the look of it."

"You have no idea how he's hurt me, Mr. Havisham."

Havisham looked at her more closely. "Did he... jilt you? Break your heart?"

Elsie smiled grimly. "Ha! He never had the chance."

"Then what?" he insisted. "Look around you. Did you want to end up like this, like me? Because that is what would happen if you chose to go against Compeyson. I'm trying to warn you here, Miss Bradford. You were lucky. Forget him and live your life."

Lucky? If he'd only known... Elsie looked down at her gloves, feeling the blade hidden there. To Hell with it, she thought. She had gone this far; she might as well tell him the truth.

"Yes, I suppose I was lucky," she said, still fingering the shape of the blade under her glove. "Do you want to meet someone who wasn't so lucky?"

Havisham frowned, not understanding.

"Get dressed, and I'll take you to her."

"Do not order me about," Havisham snapped at her with a trace of haughtiness that must have been insufferable when he was in his prime.

"I'm sorry," Elsie said, unable to suppress the mocking in her voice. "Get dressed, please."

Chapter 2

#arthur havisham #dickensian #arthur havisham fic #arthur havisham x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

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princesssarisa · 3 months

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Character ask: Honour "Beauty" Huston (Robin McKinley's "Beauty")

No one requested this. I just finished rereading the book and felt like discussing it.

Favorite thing about them: How human and relatable she is, especially compared to the idealized fairy tale heroines of tradition. She makes the parallels between Beauty and the Beast and Jane Eyre more obvious than ever, since she's not a physical beauty (or at least doesn't think she is until the end), nor is she the traditional sweet and gentle figure, but a no-nonsense, stubborn, intellectual bookworm and horse girl, who only gradually attunes to magic and romance as she lives in the castle. These differences from the traditional Beauty make her more of a kindred spirit to the Beast (since they're both kind-hearted yet slightly rough around the edges, and both insecure about their looks), and they humanize her too. So do many details in the way she's written. For example, the sheer physicality of her first-person narration – her emphasis on smells, tastes, and tactile sensations, her mentions of aching feet or hands raw with work, her dislike of dainty teacups and preference for a big mug of tea, etc. – enhance the sense of her grounded personality and make her seem all the more real. Or the fact that she doesn't ask her father for a single, pretty but ephemeral rose, but makes a more practical request for rose seeds, with which she can plant a garden full of roses that will last. Now, of course, the idea of reimagining a classic fairy tale heroine as plain, strong-willed and down-to-earth rather than sweet, gentle and beautiful is nothing new anymore. Neither is a YA heroine with low self-esteem because she thinks she's not pretty. But those tropes were obviously fresher and newer in 1978, when this novel was first published, so I feel free to consider them effective in Beauty's case without calling them clichés.

Least favorite thing about them: The very brief moment when she loses her temper and shouts some nasty things at her horse Greatheart when he panics at the sight of the Beast and almost throws her. I understand that she's struggling not to fall and break her neck, but it still seems harsh and faintly out of character for a girl who's usually so level-headed. But then, her level-headedness also disappears at other important points, like when when she goes into hysterics and faints at the reveal that she can never leave the castle. I suppose the key to understanding these moments is that she doesn't often let her emotions flow freely, but when she does, whether in anger, anguish, or fear, she goes all-out.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I love books.

*I'm sometimes insecure about my appearance.

*I like spice cake and hot chocolate.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I don't have any sisters.

*I have very little experience with horses.

*I'm not allergic to dogs, as she mentions in passing that she is.

Favorite line:

To her sister Hope, when the latter worries that their father won't approve of her love for a blacksmith:

"If you think you'll be happiest scrubbing tar out of burlap aprons, Father won't say nay. And he will probably buy you several maids to do the scrubbing."

When her invisible maids are trying to force her into a fancy gown that she thinks is much too beautiful for a plain girl like her:

"It's a beautiful dress, and that's why I won't wear it; if you put a peacock's tail on a sparrow, he's still a brown little, wretched little, drab little sparrow."

After she saves the Beast from dying at the climax, and is nearly swooning from exhaustion, and the Beast urges her to rest:

"Not yet. I have to see to Greatheart – I'd still be in the forest without him – but I had to find you first – and then there's something I must tell you... I can't sleep now. It's daylight. What I want is breakfast."

Attuned though she is now with the castle's magic and her own love, she's still her old, down-to-earth self. Even when she's near collapse after journeying for twelve hours through the forest, finding the Beast near death, and then miraculously reviving him, she talks about tending to her horse and getting something to eat.

brOTP: Her father, her sisters Grace and Hope, her brother-in-law Ger, and if non-sentient animals count, her horse Greatheart.

OTP: The Beast/Prince.

nOTP: Her father.

Random headcanon: Her life story will inspire the fairy tale of Beauty and the Beast as we know it today. But the telling-and-retelling process, combined with attempts by parents and governesses to make the story more didactic for young ladies, will distort the tale and result in all the familiar differences from the "true" story. For example, that Beauty was always physically beautiful, that her sisters were wicked and jealous rather than kind and loving, that she did all the cooking and cleaning in their cottage rather than the "boyish" outdoor work she really did, and that she asked her father to bring her a rose rather than rose seeds.

Unpopular opinion: I don't think Disney's Belle is as much of a knockoff of her as some people do. Yes, Disney did arguably borrow some details from this novel – even more in the 2017 remake than in the animated version – but apart from their shared love of books, which comes from Mme. de Beaumont's version of the original fairy tale, this Beauty is a very different person from Belle. For the most part, Beauty is a grounded, unromantic girl, whose love of books is intellectual (for example, she writes her own translations of Greek tragedies and dreams of becoming a scholar at a university), and who learns to embrace magic and passion in the Romantic world of the Beast's castle. Belle is a sensitive, "dazed and distracted" dreamer, who loves books for the adventure and romance they bring her, and she doesn't change as much as Beauty does by the end, but finds what she was always looking for, just in an unexpected way.

Song I associate with them: None.

Favorite picture of them:

This stylized silhouette from the cover of the book's 2018 edition.

#character ask #beauty #honour “beauty” huston #beauty: a retelling of the story of beauty and the beast #robin mckinley #1978 #fairy tale #beauty and the beast #fairy tale retelling #ask game #fictional characters #fictional character ask

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yuulina-vre · 8 months

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Fear - Chapter eight

Summary: Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. a job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and a house she dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: dead animal, descriptions of blood and disembodiment, vomiting

Divider by Firefly-Graphics

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

The scream rips the men away from the lifeless animal. “Was that Y/N?”

“Shit!” Bucky throws the gloves and the garbage bag away, scrambles up from his crouched position and almost faceplants again as he trips over his own feet. He barely catches himself, twists his wrist slightly as he cushions his fall, and runs back to the conservatory. He looks around, but his girlfriend is not in the conservatory, the kitchen, the living room, or down the hall. “Y/N? Where are you?” He sprints up the stairs, taking two steps at once. Behind him, he can hear Sam following him. Bucky turns at the top of the stairs to run to the bedroom when his eyes catch the light coming from their shared office. He stops abruptly, almost making Sam run into his back. He’s breathing hard as he quickly steps into his room, squats down, and sees Y/N sitting on the floor. She’s pale, almost white, as if she has died sitting down if it wasn’t for her breathing. It's fast but shallow, and Bucky knows she’s not getting enough air if she continues like this. He inhales deeply to steady his breathing and then speaks to his girlfriend. “Y/N! Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

But Y/N just stares ahead, a mask of horror on her face. Tears run down her cheeks, and sobs get stuck in her throat, making breathing even more difficult. “Baby. Look at me.” Gently he puts one hand on her shoulder, and the other softly cups her cheek. She doesn't react. There's no sign of recognition, no flinch, no stuttering breath, no eye contact. “Doll, you’re hyperventilating. Look at me. Try to breathe with me.” Bucky draws the air deep into his lungs, holding it for a moment before he ejects it again. He repeats it, trying to hold eye contact with Y/N, even though she doesn't notice him. The stiff woman makes no effort to copy him. Instead, her breathing gets worse and worse.

"Fuck!" Sam breathes out. His voice sounds raw, rough, almost hoarse. He sounds really shocked. Bucky looks up at him as he steps into the room. “What?” At first, he thinks Sam means Y/N’s state, but then he notices that Sam stares in the same direction as Y/N, with the same mask of horror on his face. Drawing his eyebrows together in confusion, he follows their gazes and draws in the air sharply.

A large German Shepard lies on the carpet, right between his and Y/N’s desk. The animal must have been beautiful when it was alive, but now its brown fur is drenched and sticky with blood. The abdomen has a large cut, skin splitting open, revealing the dog's organs that are scattered on the floor. The intestine is completely missing and instead hangs over the curtain rod like a garland for Christmas. The animal's head is smashed and no longer looks like a dog. The limbs are separated and neatly lined up next to the animal. Blood soaks the cream-colored carpet, leaving it lying in a large red puddle.

Bucky looks away bitterly and stares up at his colleague. Anger rises in his chest, and even though he doesn't want to admit it, fear is just as fast to grip his chest. "I thought you searched everything! What the hell is that?!" Angrily he gestures at what used to be a living animal. Silently he hopes the poor animal was dead before it was slaughtered like that. Sam also turns away and looks into his friend's eyes."I swear, I checked. There wasn't a dog here before; you saw me check it out. It was all clean. I don’t kno-," he leaves the rest of the sentence unspoken. Bucky also knows what his colleague is thinking just now. The guy is still here!

Bucky works fast. He looks at his fiancé again and hugs her, guiding her head into his shoulder, so she can't stare at the animal anymore. Then he picks her up. He’s careful since she’s still unresponsive and unable to hold onto him. He slips past Sam and carries her back to the bedroom. Slowly she starts to come back to her senses as he sits down on the mattress. Bucky holds Y/N on his lap, tightly embraced. “Doll, please. Listen to my voice. I have you. You’re safe with me; we’re both all right.” Sluggishly, her head sinks onto his shoulder, but her breathing remains erratic, though, Bucky thinks it already calmed down just the tiniest bit. He gently strokes her hair, hoping to soothe her. “Everything will be fine. I promise." He thinks for a moment, then pulls her closer to him and starts humming a song he knows she loves. They dance to it now and then in the living room if the moment feels right, and they’re both in the mood. He hums for a while until he notices that Y/N slowly calms down. At some point, he even starts singing the lyrics. His eyes flicker through the room, trying to gauge their surroundings. There’s nothing unusual, but Bucky has to admit that he has a bad feeling. But that could be because he just saw a dismembered dog in his own home. He doesn’t even want to imagine if that’s how Y/N felt today.

Y/N’s head gets heavier on his shoulder, causing him to look down. Her eyes are closed, her breathing flat. A small smile creeps on his face, and he softly kisses her cheek, holding her for a while longer. When Bucky’s sure that his girlfriend is deep asleep, he tries to be as careful as he can be while gently lying her down. He covers her with the duvet that Y/N took upstairs before getting dressed. Then he slips in right beside her, still pressing her tightly to his side. He keeps stroking her arm gently, soothing her in her sleep so she hopefully won't have a nightmare. He can hear his colleague's voice, who speaks frantically into his radio and asks for reinforcements.

Heavy footsteps echo through the house and deep voices bark instructions. I blink against the sun's blinding light but quickly close my eyes again. After ten minutes, I can feel my breathing deepening and slowly drift back into a restless sleep.

Warm arms wrap around my middle. I hear the voices from earlier; they are very close, somewhere in the hall. But someone is talking in my bedroom. Groggily I open my eyes. My head hurts like hell, and now that the sunlight dispels the darkness, it's even worse. How long have I been asleep?

I try to turn around, but the arms around me prevent me at first. My eyes slip close again, and I whine a bit until the arms loosen their tight grip. This time I manage to turn around.I sigh in relief. I didn’t notice until I turned that my side actually started to hurt a bit, and now, lying on my right side, the relief is immediate. I open my eyes again, still blinking against the sleep and light, only to be met with a man's chest.“Hey, doll.” A kiss is gently pressed to my hairline. Bucky briefly turns away from me again. “Okay, thanks, Sam. I’ll leave the rest to you.” His head turns back to me, and I look into his familiar handsome face. A small smile creeps over his narrow lips. His blue eyes, however, radiate concern, mustering my face and looking over every inch. “How are you?” The voice is also dripping with concern but has something that sounds like relief. I slowly straighten myself and stretch my body as best as possible while still cuddling up to him. Then I entangle my legs with his and scoot closer to nuzzle into his chest. The whole time Bucky’s eyes stay on me. I look up at him and smile, but something must have happened while I look at him because, in the next moment, all the pictures pop up in my mind.

Blood, limbs, organs.

Without warning, my stomach cramps, and throw up. It splashes all over myself, and on the uniform of the man next to me. But instead of jumping up and getting to safety, Bucky stays put. One hand is on my back and soothingly caresses it, while the other strokes my hair out of my face. “Come on, doll, sit up. That’s easier. Just like that.” Bucky is Quick to help me sit up. I choke a few more times until the taste in my mouth and the constant choking brings tears to my eyes. “Think somethings coming up?” His hand runs over my back, his voice soothing and warm against my head as he presses his lips to my temple. How he can kiss me while I’m full of vomit and, in general, pretty disgusting is beyond me. I’m not certain if something coming up; my stomach seems to think so as it clenches uncomfortably again. I only shrug. “Okay, let's get you to the bathroom. Can you walk?”

I shake my head. If I know one thing, then it’s that I don’t have any control over my legs at the moment. Right now, I wouldn't even dare to wipe my nose. Everything feels numb and paralyzed. I feel his arms come around my beg and under my knees, and suddenly, he lifts me up. He’s mindful of my queasy stomach and the vomit on my own clothes. Instead of carrying me to our bathroom, which might be closer, he carries me through the hall to the guest bathroom. Probably because it’s easier to clean later. I also know that Bucky often goes there if he needs to puke. He claims that the smell won't make us both nauseous this way.

Softly he helps me down, and to the toilet, then he vanishes. He comes back after a few seconds, wearing a new shirt and sweatpants. Bucky has a hair band on his wrist that he quickly slips off to wrap my hair into a loose bun. “That’s better, huh?” he smiles at me again and continues with his back rubs as another wave of nausea overcomes me, and I puke into the toilet. The smell and sounds alone would make me vomit on a normal day. Now that I feel bad already, it's like it intensifies. My stomach clenches so hard that it hurts, eliciting a sob from me as tears fall. Between puking and crying, it gets harder to get any air into my lungs; my nose is completely blocked now.

The whole time Bucky stays with me and doesn't say a word except silently encourage me to keep going, that it will feel better soon, and soothingly strokes my back. A knock on the door makes me look up tiredly. Bucky locked the door when he returned, which is pretty foresighted since a few strangers are currently in our house. Bucky’s eyes instantly flicker to mine, silently questioning if I’m all right for a moment. I whine a bit, not really wanting anybody to see me like this, but who knows, maybe it’s important, so I nod. “All right. I’ll be quick, sweetheart.”Again, he kisses my temple. I have to smell so bad, but he still does it. I admire him for that resilience. Bucky gets up with a soft squeeze of my shoulder and quickly steps out of the bathroom-. I watch him close the door as a groan slips past my lips. A new wave of nausea hits again, but nothing comes up this time. With the back of my hand, I wipe away the tears that are caused by the corrosive taste and effort. I retch a few more times, but nothing comes up. Confident that I’m finally finished, I flush the toilet. Getting on my feet is another struggle. My legs are trembling and weak, but with a tight grip on the toilet, I manage to push myself up and stumble to the sink behind me.

I fill one of the cups with water and rinse my mouth thoroughly before spitting it out and splashing water into my face.I look down into the sink for a moment, then close my eyes and hold my breath. When I look back up in the mirror, I’m startled by the image of the woman in it. Shit! Is that me? She' looks nothing like me.

My hand runs over my cheeks. The woman in my mirror is pale and looks like a goddamn corpse.Hardly recognizable rings start to appear under the eyes, which only stare expressionlessly into the mirror. The otherwise green eyes, which sparkle like emeralds, as Bucky always claims, seem dull and pale.

Almost lifeless.

Somehow disgusted, I turn my gaze away from the mirror and feel the urge to bend over the bowl again. Instead of doing that, I take a few deep breaths, briefly wondering where Bucky’s now. I decided to strip out of my soiled clothes. I manage to get them off without getting any of the vomit in my hair. I throw them in a pile on the floor and leave the bathroom. The hall is empty, so I find it safe to stroll through it to our bedroom. The second I pass the office, I close my eyes, a hand on the wall to guide me past it. I don’t know if the door is open or closed, but right now, I don’t even care. I don’t want any chance to find what I found earlier again accidentally.

I hold my breath for the whole four seconds until I finally reach the bedroom. I don’t waste any time and quickly slip back into bed, this time purposefully on Bucky’s side. I see that he already switched the sheet, where some of the vomit had landed. It doesn't smell like bucky anymore, but his pillow still does. So, I grab his pillow and snuggle into it, inhaling deeply and letting his smell soothe me. There’s nothing to see or hear from Bucky, only the voices somewhere downstair sound silently up to me.

For a moment, I think I can hear Bucky's voice. I pull the thinner throw blanket for the feet of our bed up to my chin because I suddenly feel quite hot and just the look at our duvet makes me feel like dying of a heart stroke.

After about ten minutes - or maybe just a few seconds - Bucky comes back. I can hear him call for me in confusion until he steps into the room. “Ah, here you are.” He strolls over to me and sits down at the bedside.He pulls the blanket back a bit to reveal my face. His expression softens as he looks at me. “Here. Take the pills and have a drink. They’ll help with the nausea.” He hands it to me, but I shake my head. A grimace of disgust. I hate taking medicine, and pills are my worst enemy. After spiders. Even as a small child, I was never able to swallow any kind of pills. Strangely gummy bears weren’t a problem at all.

Most of the time, I feel worse after taking a pill because it takes me so long to swallow the damn things. I try to pull the blanket over my head again, but Bucky quickly grabs it firmly to hold it down. “I know you don’t like them, but they’ll help you. Come on, doll. For me?” Puppy dog eyes! I hate them!

He pulls this move, and suddenly I do everything he wants me to. So, I sigh, defeated, sit up as much as I can without disturbing my stomach, and do as he tells me.

It takes me a few tries and almost the whole glass of water, but I finally succeed. “Good girl.” Bucky smiles and strokes my hair, but I slap his hand away with a grumble. Then I arrange the blanket around me so I can lay my head on his lap. “What are you doing?”

“Going to sleep,” I grumble and wrap my arms around his hips so that I can hide in his stomach. Without any kind of warning, I start to sob again. I don’t know where it comes from, but suddenly, I’m a mess.

Slowly his hand brushes through my hair, as he has done so many times today, and immediately it feels a bit better. “Shh... All right. I know it’s a bit much today. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He sits a bit longer like that, continuing his motions. “Doll, everyone else is leaving. Sam called someone to make sure the house gets cleaned today. He’ll be back around noon to make sure.” He pauses for a moment. “Would you like to come to the living room with me? Maybe watch a movie?”Still crying, I nod and let go of him. He unwraps me from my blanket cocoon and squats down in front of the bed. “Come here, pretty girl. Let me give you a ride.” Bucky knows I love it when he carries me around, and a smile creeps onto my face. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my thighs against his hips. Bucky is comfortably warm. I bury my face in his neck, letting the tears continue to fall. “Okay. All passengers are instructed to keep a tight hold and enjoy the ride. We arrive approximately in two minutes at our destination: Livingroom couch. We wish you a joyful ride!” Bucky announces it with a loud voice, sounding almost like someone from a fair. I have to admit that it makes me giggle despite the fact that I'm still crying. He’s ridiculous.

I feel him standing up and walking, getting down the stairs and into the living room. Bucky lets me slide off his back. Then he lies on the sofa and stretches his arms to me. They seem so inviting that I let them wrap me up in an embrace and lie down on his chest, legs wedged between his and the backrest.

It’s a little uncomfortable. So, instead, I slide one leg over his, and immediately, it seems more comfortable. He hugs me tenderly and breathes a soothing kiss onto my hair. He gently caresses my back while one hand fumbles for the TV remote. He switches the TV on, and some movie pops up that neither of us pays a lot of attention to. The pills he had given me before starts to take their effect, and I can feel myself getting drowsy and tired again. I feel him gently spreading a thin blanket over us as I close my eyes and bury my face in his chest. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here the whole time.”

Taglist:

@cjand10

#Bucky Branes #Bucky x Reader #Reader insert #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x Female Reader #yuulina writes #Fear

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loominggaia · 6 months

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AlyssaCarol asks: Hey! I've noticed that you haven't done a description for these kiddos like you have for both the Commoner & Fae kids. I think it would be interesting to see a description in the same style as the other ones!

Hey you're right! I think I meant to but I must have forgot. I'll just update all of them here...

Humans are known as the "beast tamers". They have a gift for taming animals, using them as tools, weapons, and companions. They're most famous for their close relationship with dogs. This human girl got a puppy for her birthday, sure to be her best friend for many years.

Roshava are the "athletes". The finest athletes in the world are historically roshavan, and while they are very capable in battle, they historically have used their talents for sports instead. This roshavan boy shows off his muscles, hoping to be a wrestler some day.

Dworfs are the "engineers". They are half the size of humans but twice as strong. Their understanding of engineering and natural resistance to pollution has made their civilizations the most impressive in the world, but at the detriment of nature. This dworfen girl is proud of the flower she found, for it was the last living plant on her street.

Trolls are the "tunnelers". Their claws are powerful digging tools and their immune systems are tough, so they like to call the dark, damp, underground their home. This troll boy just emerged from the underground for the first time, and he's ready to terrorize some topsiders.

Ogres are the "heavyweights". With their massive size and unmatched strength, they are feared by other peoples. This ogre girl often gets scolded, for she plays too rough with her little elven friends.

Elves are the "craftsmen". Their sharp vision and long, dextrous fingers allow them to craft all kinds of fine-quality things from shoes, to jewelry, to toys. This elven girl shows off a dress made by her mother and boots made by her father.

Goblins are the "slaves". This species is magically bound by their names. If a non-goblin addresses one with all three parts of their name, the goblin is magically compelled to obey the next order given. This young goblin is watching his back, for his school bully just learned his full name.

Gnomes are the "wee folk". They are the shortest of all peoples, standing only a few inches tall. Despite their doll-like size, this species boasts powerful magic. This young gnome skips merrily through the forest without fear, for she has enchanted a mighty tiger to protect her.

Sirenes are the "beauties of the sea". Their soft, androgynous appearance and vivid colors makes this species a sight for sore eyes. This sirene boy waves to a group of girls on shore, confident that they will fall in love with him at first sight.

Cecaelia are the "ancient ones". This Aquarian species has an impressive lifespan of up to 1,500 years! Their age gives them plenty of time to hone their magic powers, though their alien appearance can be off-putting to others. This cecaelian girl looks like she's smiling, but she is actually baring her teeth in aggression.

Satyrs are the "revelers". They were born for a lifestyle full of drink, dance, and romance. Though some people find their behavior too rowdy and rambunctious, satyrs rarely mean any harm and just want to have fun. This satyr girl is having a great time dancing to music.

Fauns are the "musicians". Though they are the physically weakest of all gaians, fauns are also the most graceful movers, the second-fastest runners, and have the greatest potential for spellcasting. Their sensitive ears also give them a natural gift for music. This faun boy is upset because his parents took his flute away.

Minotaurs are the "barbarians". This large, powerful species may be the slowest-moving of all gaians, but they are also the strongest. Minotaurs have trouble communicating with other species due to the beast-like shape of their mouths. This young minotaur is learning sign language as an alternative.

Centaurs are the "racers". They are the fastest-moving of all peoples and they are quite strong too, making them top-notch soldiers and athletes. Though they are fast and powerful, their legs are prone to breaking easily. This centaur boy is in time-out for throwing his weight around the schoolyard.

Gorgons are the "venomous ones". Male gorgons have a venomous barb on their tails which can poison their enemies, while females instead have a loud and intimidating rattle, which they also use for musical purposes. Gorgons can't jump very well and they struggle to climb stairs, but they do move surprisingly fast. This gorgon girl is wearing jewelry made from the scaly skin of her ancestors.

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

#ask #askgaian #askfae #askcommoner #funstuff

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heartofspells · 1 year

Note

Hello, it's AMA with heartofspells! Tell me about a universe where Sirius survives OOTP. How do the rest of the books unfold with Sirius alive? (And beyond, if you want!)

Hmm, is that what this is? Yeah, okay. AMA with Holli, everyone! Come one, come all! Except I'm not that interesting.

BUT then here's Imp, starting things off with a bang and making me use my brain. That's a bit evil and I love it.

Let's just pick up after the DoM battle, shall we? Sirius survives (duh, no other universe exists), he's cleared of all charges after a bit of struggle, but he was there fighting against those he was suspected of aiding, so there's not much denial at play. No Order of Merlin, though, because the Ministry are salty bastards and he's still alive. They don't care.

Skip ahead to right before the summer. Free and clear, Sirius leaves Grimmauld Place (good riddance, too many bad memories now, as though there weren't before) and he returns to Remus' little cottage surrounded by woods, fresh air, loads of room to roam and run. They set up a room for Harry, and then Sirius begins his battle with Dumbledore, the one he never got to truly have all those years ago. Harry is his, belongs with Sirius, a right bestowed onto him by his best friends. Legally, there's nothing Dumbledore can do. The only power he has at play is the blood protection, but Sirius only scoffs at that. Harry's coming home.

He spends one day, only one, with the Dursleys, Padfoot present the entire time. And of course Sirius doesn't have to be the dog, but it's more fun that way, though he does take his chance when Vernon becomes particularly enraged over something to shift back to himself, very intimidating, causing the man to choke on his own tongue.

Now, clever as Sirius is, as well as Remus, they connect a few dots based on what they've learned about Harry being linked with Voldemort. Dumbledore is keeping secrets, he always has, so as the summer progresses, Sirius and Remus work around him, do their own research about what could link a two people together, wand reactions, really looking into that night in Godric's Hallow and what happened to destroy Voldemort as he once was. And Sirius, with access to centuries of Black family tomes filled with the darkest of things, figures it out, consults a few others, somewhat experts, before setting to work.

While Harry is at school, constantly in contact with his two loving and attentive parents, attending to studies and finally, hopefully, feeling like the teenager he's meant to be, Sirius and Remus begin hunting down the Horcruxes themselves. They use their own contacts for the research they need, track down those that had interacted with Riddle and survived, learn whatever secrets he hadn't managed to bury. They find them all, every last one, gaining the ring before Dumbledore can, no curse there to set Draco's path into motion, squashing it before it starts. No reason for Dumbledore to act out of panic and begin showing Harry the memories relating to the Horcruxes. They take them back to their home, ward a clearing in the woods until it's safe, destroy them with Fiendfyre, Sirius understanding just how volatile it can be, how carefully it must be cast, how clear a person's head should be before doing so. And he does it all for Harry. For Harry and for Lily and for James.

It takes a long time, just the two of them working at it, fear clawing at them if the wrong person finds out, relays it back to Dumbledore. But they're not finished yet, the worst still to come. It's nearly the end of Harry's seventh year, NEWTs fast approaching, Harry exactly where he belongs, not traipsing all over the country, living rough, but warm in his bed every night. They've still been looking into that night when everything finally fell apart beneath their feet, sorting out the pieces, puzzling them together until they finally form the answer.

Harry is a Horcrux.

Now look, I could go into a lot of detail here and try to fix all the issues that are RIFE in canon, but I will not. Harry's a Horcrux, but they can't kill him, Sirius would never, wouldn't even risk it. So they corner Voldemort, blast him with the Killing Curse, trap his maimed soul, bury him in a cement block at the bottom of the North Sea (near where Sirius had spent SO MANY wasted years) and live happily ever after.

Harry lives his life, does as he pleases, roams a bit without a master, free to do as he wishes with his best godfather in full support of his choices. Remus gets to live a comfortable life with Sirius, working as he pleases, surrounding himself with books and whatever else he likes, and Sirius goes into training to be a Healer. He and Remus have an entire litter of babies with their big brother Harry always around to spoil them senseless until he's got his own kids to be rightfully spoiled by their grandfathers Moony and Padfoot (Moony always has chocolate in his pocket, but shhhh don't tell Harry)(he knows). They all grow old and lazy and Sirius finds that he really enjoys comfortable slippers with rabbit ears very much.

THE END

#jesus imp #you really just went for it #ask #answer #sirius black #harry potter #wolfstar #sirius raises harry #good godfather sirius black #master of horcruxes #and burying evil megalomaniacs at sea #he's writing a book!#it'll be a best seller #imp tag

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cosmicluzer · 19 days

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hi asking about ur Gross wip in the hopes that the song fic title is from the song i know that is titled “Gross” also 👀

if you are thinking penelope scott’s gross then you are thinking correct lol. kind of hoping you are - that song is one of my personal favorites hehe. kinda sad if it is - the original idea got warped into something WAY more fluffy than gross is, but never fear bc that song will return with its intended angst wether i have to force myself to write it or not.

anyways, you probably won’t have toooo much interest in it, seeing as it isn’t for sp. it’s a one piece (live action bc i love them) fanfic, because i am a liar and a fandom hopping fraud. I was scrolling through my yt shorts one day and stumbled upon that one “you dated brutal dictator of Nicaragua?!” meme and my brain went: “oh. i can do something with this. Small snippet under the cut ;P

REMINDER THAT THIS IS A WIP AND A ROUGH DRAFT AND THAT I KINDA SUCK AT WRITING OK OK GOOD NOW PROCEED WITH CAUTION

Sanji is washing the dishes, the rest of the crew sitting at the dining table conversing. He flits in and out of the conversation, adding bits here and there as he continues his task. The day is peaceful, and Sanji feels at rest.

Nami sits, legs crossed over the top of the chair next to her - Zoro’s - with the newspaper propped into her lap. Zoro sits in his chair, slouching against it and looking mildly annoyed at Nami’s legs at the back of his chair but not saying a word about it. Across the table is Usopp, tinkering on seas knows what, and Luffy, content in gnawing through a bundle of fish jerky Sanji made earlier that morning.

The breeze is light, floating through the open windows and door. The sunshine shines brightly through into the galley, and with the crew this docile together it’s, well… peaceful, like he’s said before.

Of course, that’s when they decide to throw the conversat into a depth Sanji is thoroughly avoiding, and has been since six months after… that.

“Usopp, how long were you and Kaya together?” Luffy asks, interrupting Usopp’s story - one about Kaya, and those were the closest you can get to the truth from him.

Usopp pauses at the words, face going slightly red as he sputters out a reply.

“W-Well, Luffy, the great captain Usopp speaks not of the mountains of women he’s conquered! It is not befitting to-“

“They weren’t together,” Nami says, looking at Usopp with an unsurprised look. “He’s too chicken for that.” With that, she turns her attention back to her newspaper, flipping the page and reading it off.

“Hey-!”

“Did you ever have someone like Usopp didn’t have Kaya?” Luffy asks, because the kid can’t read a room. Usopp lets out an offended noise, and Nami doesn’t even look up from the paper as she speaks next.

“Nope, no time for that.”

Luffy hums, looking over the table. He goes to speak, most likely to ask the question to Zoro, but the green-headed swordsman interrupts him.

“No, Luffy. That’s not my style. Why not ask cook?” Zoro’s tone turns from unamused to smug, and he smirks. He turns in his seat to face Sanji, who has gone back to vigorously scrubbing the plate in his hand as he hopes to be kept out of the conversation. “He’s seen the most people, he must have great stories.”

Sanji turns, sneering at Zoro, before he grabs the next plate and gets to scrubbing.

“Sanji! Tell me a story!” Luffy shouts from his spot, getting excited. Nami turns her attention from her newspaper, looking mildly intrigued. Sanji sighs.

“No. I gave you food, occupy yourself.” Sanji shouts over his shoulder, and Luffy pouts.

“C’mon, Sanji. You must have a good story for us.” Nami says, trying to bait him into it. Everyone turned to face him, Usopp and Luffy putting on their best puppy dog eyes in hopes for some entertainment. Sanji pauses his fish washing, considering before shaking his head and turning around.

“I’m sorry, Nami dearest, but there truly is nothing for me to discuss on this topic. There has been nobody of notice in that area of my life, and besides, a gentleman does not kiss and tell.” He says, using a tone of remorse. Nami quirks an eyebrow at him, face going from casual to interested.

“Was that a lie, Sanji-san?” Nami asks, face breaking out into an amused smirk.

Of fucking course the brilliant redhead would see through his lie. He sighs, admitting defeat.

“You truly are too clever for your own good, my swan.” He says, moving to the table and sitting in an empty seat. The other three males look at him with varying degrees of surprise - it is very out of character for Sanji to lie to the crew let alone Nami, a woman.

“Sanji, share!” Luffy whines, wanting to hear what could possibly be such a grandiose secret to Sanji that he’d hide it.

“Be quiet, Luffy, I’m thinking of where to start.”

“How about the beginning, curly.” Zoro says, and Sanji so wants to ring the other man’s throat for being so smug. Instead, he takes a deep breath.

“Alright,” Sanji exhales, grabbing at the pack of cigs in his pocket and the lighter sitting near them. He knows he’ll need a cigarette to get through this. “So this story starts about five years ago…”

#reply #ao3 #one piece #opla #fanfiction #current wip

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kittensartswriting · 1 year

Text

Find The Word Tag

Thank you for tagging me, @mariahwritesstuff! I was tagged sharp, damage, blue and forever.

I'll tag: @dotr-rose-love @kainablue @aohendo @faelanvance @wildswrites @andromeda-grace @forthesanityofstorytellers

Your words are

sharp

Julius shook his head. “No. You are the priority. Inform them that.” “I won’t”, Rigantona said sharply. “We can’t put our lives before thousands of people.” “Our house is the target! I told you what they did to Ignatus’ children!” “You also told me what they did to civilians.” Her voice went quiet. “You know the city won’t be fully evacuated by the time the enemy arrives. Every minute spend on the evacuation efforts saves hundreds of lives.” He covered his face. She was right, of course she was, but it didn't calm his fears.

damage

Valeri took off the fur coat slowly and carefully. It had soaked up a lot of blood, turning heavy and stiff. Biting his teeth and fingers shaky he opened the buttons on his coat and waistcoat. He pealed up the rest of the layers to reveal his side. Right below the lowest rib there was a small hole, which oozed thick blood on his skin. The bullet was close enough to the surface to be visible. The fur must have slowed it down, but the rib was most definitely broken. He lowered the blood stained shirts back and took a couple of deep breaths before taking a look at the damage in his arm. It was sore, but didn't feel broken. The dog's teeth had left only surface wounds, but there was plenty of blood still. The fur must have protected the arm too. Agrippa was back with the tools he had asked for. "The bottle", he said with a rough voice. She offered the water flagon. He shook his head. "The whiskey."

blue

"You didn't return in the evening nor in the morning to the palace." Marcus' voice was an accusation. Faerathos sighed and walked passed him to the narrow wardrobe. He took his sword from it's corner and strapped it on his waist. "Sorry. I had other things to do." "It's my job to know where you are." "Right. Fine." He folded the blue scholar's cloak over his shoulders and covered the sword with it. Marcus stepped in front of him, now eyeing him suspiciously. "Where are you going this time?" "If I told you, you'd try to stop me." "I guess I'll stop you without knowing then."

forever

Valeri left the reluctant Cúén outside and stepped into the liquor stenching mass of people. Tonight the officer club wasn't it's usual tidy and respectable establishment. Certainly the brass wouldn't be here. He pressed between people towards the counter, where the footmen were serving thirsty war-worn officers. He was aware, too aware, of his sober state in the middle of all this intoxication. He had not spotted anyone from his legion yet. After getting his drink, he comb through the mass for familiar faces. The voices blended together into a uniform ear-shattering row and the faces melted into a mass of laughing, shouting mouths. There was tingle in the back of his neck and the air was too thick to breath. Once the uncomfortable palpitation in his chest became intolerable, he joined Cúén outside. Cúén ran up to him and wagged his tail like it was years since they parted. Valeri sat on the low wall next to the street as Cúén tried to lick his face. Balancing to hold the drink inside the glass he tried to calm down Cúén. After Cúén sat down, he took a long sip and looked over to the dark sea. The outside air was very welcome. Really it has been couple of months, but the last time he had sat there felt like forever ago.

I'll tag: @dotr-rose-love @kainablue @aohendo @faelanvance @wildswrites @andromeda-grace @forthesanityofstorytellers @talesofsorrowandofruin

Your words are cat, wound, hazy and wrong.

#tagged #tag game #writeblr #excerpt #bcc #bcc excerpt #valeri #faerathos #julius #rigantona #marcus

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ey-there-little-guy · 1 year

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So I have questions for your Lulled by Waves Au!!!! It’s so very good and Mers my beloveds!!!!

1. So Ranboo must be quite old (I can’t remember how decades work) does this mean that mers and Leviathans age differently to humans?

2. Language barriers are soooooo annoying and soooo good! Do Ranboo and Tubbo eventually work out a way to communicate?

3. Is there any kind of mer/leviathan magic that exists in this universe? Like you mentioned that humans think that Mers created Leviathans as a means of protection. If yes what kind of magic and could it be linked to breaking language barriers :3

4. Telllllll meeeeee abouttttt Tommmmyyyyyyyyyy!!!!! How does he come into play in the au????

5. Do you plan to add more characters in the future (even if this is just rambles, I still wanna know 👉👈)

6. Does anyone ever find out about Ranboo and Tubbo’s meetings???

As you can see, I like this Au very much :3 Thanks for your time and have a lollipop 🍭

I'm glad you like it :DD ty for the questions!

1- Leviathans do age a bit differently from humans and other mer! they age faster as babies but drastically slow as they almost reach adolescence to prepare for all the growing they're gonna do, I'm gonna say that takes 10 years, then from there they keep steadily growing and aging at a slower pace.

I haven't figured out anything exact yet, but Ranboo is probably in his 90s yeah, and about 18-20 maturity wise. so maybe 4-5 years for 1 leviathan year?

2- It's a one-sided language barrier too so it's extra annoying for Ranboo lol, and even though Tubbo's looking past the history he was taught he hasn't thought of Ranboo as more intelligent than a crow or smart dog yet. He starts to suspect when Ranboo responds so accurately to what he says, but that gets sped up when Tommy slaps Tubbo with 'yeah the leviathan is a person' and helps Ranboo figure out how to actually speak english.

3- there is some magic! I haven't thought it out fully but suggestions are open. And that story of leviathan origins is actually exclusive to mers, humans have no idea, they just think leviathans are a case of deep-sea gigantism of a less evolved species of mer. No magic with language barriers for Ranboo bc I have more fun that way but it gives me an idea!

-I'm gonna give some merfolk/leviathans the ability to bond with another person that forms a mental link of sorts, a way to easily communicate over distance and sense if there's trouble. Ranboo and Tubbo don't have this but maybe some day.

-The little sprite guys can be magical too. say, if enough of them are gathered around a mer that mer can be transformed into a leviathan. I like that. it'd be more complicated but it's a start :)

-something with breathing underwater

4- Tommyyyy, Tommy my boy, he has it rough! He's a mer that got fished up and put in a tank a few years ago. He's seen the sights, been on display, made some friends, lost 'em, he's got stories man. Eventually was bought by some guys who figured they can gain infinite scales to get rich off of as long as they keep him alive.

They stop in Tubbo's town for business, everyone knows seaside towns are a hotspot for scale buyers. Tubbo catches on that there's a live mer being held captive and well, people know mers are sapient, scale buying is dying out with newer generations, so since he has a chance to do something about it this time he breaks Tommy out and carts him off to Ranboo for help, bc where else could he go?

Tommy really fixes the communication problem here, MVP. Turns out Ranboo couldn't speak english because they usually practiced underwater and not enough above water to actually figure out how to use their vocal cords the right way, and of course Tommy knows, so he helps Ranboo and Ranboo re-familiarizes him with merfolk language in return. :D It's a silly mistake but tbf to Ranboo they try not to breach the surface if they can help it bc of old fear of hunters.

5- I do!! Wilbur, Techno, Kristin, Philza, Michael, and Puffy so far!

Wilbur is a human, he busts mer poachers. he mistakes Tubbo for one at first bc he was following Tommy's trail and learned he was taken from the guys. Nearly passes out when meeting Ranboo.

Techno is a mer! Very standoffish to humans, but tolerates Tubbo bc Tommy vouched for him. He's just traveling and looking for humans to mess up.

Kristin is a leviathan and Philza is her mer husband :], they're friends of Techno! Phil and Techno have that magic mental link so they can keep in touch despite long distances. Techno kinda calls them over after meeting benchtrio.

Michael is a leviathan, just a little baby guy Ranboo finds after meeting Techno but before meeting Kristin and Phil. No one knows where his parents are, presumably they're gone by more natural causes. Ranboo adopts immediately.

Puffy is a human! I haven't figured out a lot of her role yet besides being a sailor that Tubbo talks to. Maybe a neighbor or guardian? Someone to notice how much Tubbo stays out at the beach.

6- which leads to this I guess :D So besides Wilbur, I haven't planned who find out very well. Someone else def will find out though. Tubbo has kinda been documenting what he learns about leviathans, so one day he can try and change people's minds about them.

And I have this little spinoff idea where Tubbo makes internet posts and videos with Ranboo or the other mers, so either they do the reveal themselves and cause shenanigans, or get found out and have some drama before the shenanigans. ^_^ The first one would give Tubbo more anonymity, but the latter would make people believe him quicker.

TY for the lollipop :D it was very fun to answer these! <3

#beckyu #asks #mcyt g/t #dsmp g/t #giant!ranboo #tiny!tubbo #tiny!tommy #Lulled by Waves au #tiny!philza #tiny!wilbur #tiny!techno #uuh i dont want to overtag #but yeah thanks for the ask :D it helped me flesh out some things too!#i have many good pictures in my head for scenes but few ways to string them into plot lol

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targaryenvodka · 1 year

Text

the lonely joker

warnings - 18+ please! discussion of drug addiction and alcoholism

word count - 600

authors note - what can i say, winter makes me sad. this isn't a very comforting concept, so please don't read it if you think it will negatively affect you

In his mind, there lie only two possibilities. Being heard or never existing on the face of the Earth. He yearns for them to listen, anyone and everyone to at least try to understand what he thinks.

It's a long way before that though, so he haunts neighborhoods after dark, walking around in the cold with a thick wall of music and space around his brain. Curating his ideas, cementing them into reality. He draws from some deep pool within himself- the water cold, clear, constantly refilling within the deep cavern underground. It runs across his hand and down his forearms, cutting deep across his tongue. The ideas, they're there- but is there anyone to take them from him?

His voice is the only thing that keeps the water from flooding. It's the only thing that keeps his mind sane. The drive for at least two eyes on him that understand, that hear what they need to hear. It's the only thing that keeps the pills out of his hand some days.

But it doesn't keep the drinking out. Nor does it keep the smoking, which he does to pad the fear that no one will ever hear him.

Which, of course, he is certain will never happen.

Failure follows him like a kicked dog. He can never shake it, no matter how hard he fights it. It just comes back for more abuse, constantly tailing him and whimpering in his ears.

Sometimes, late at night, storms brew. Rain falls into the cavern, flooding his brain. Too many ideas, but not enough people to hear them. Too much to handle, and no one to even help. He must be heard. He must pour the water into someone else. He must be heard. He is drowning in his thoughts, and the pressure is only building.

So he does what he must when nobody is around to help bail him out. He writes.

Low, heavy music and thick socks, hair that hasn't been washed for days as he barricades himself inside his room. It is his last stand, his only hope for now.

He crouches in a ball against the rough wood, praying, hoping for the storm of his world to end. Not even sure what he wants to say, but knowing that he has to say something, he reaches for a pen and paper.

The storm does not recede, not even when he fills two pages with writing, hectic thoughts pouring out onto the paper beneath. Suddenly, there is so much to say. It only stops when he reaches for his weed. The quiet floats out of his high, stormwaters receding to a quiet calm.

He laughs at the paper next to him, covered in scribbles. He laughs at the failure that whines next to him. He laughs at the world crumbling around him. He laughs because it's the only thing left to do.

In the morning, he wakes up and does it all again. Things don't look as bleak as they did the night before, but the reality in his brain is harsher and the fear etched into his skin is in sharp relief.

He shrugs, fights down the urge to laugh again- nothing’s funny, but it’s what his mind knows how to do. Some people cut. Some people run. Some people push it all away until they explode.

Aegon? He just laughs, a grating, forced sound. Hiding sobs barely underneath the surface. Aegon is used to living in the fear that blossoms in his chest- he blows it out of proportion, makes a caricature. Every single thing is awful in his life, but that’s what makes it great. It’s funny. It’s fucking hilarious. And the world will never know.

#trigger warning #trigger warning drugs #trigger warning alcoholism #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #might qualify for dead dove ?#dark themes #house of the dragon headcanon #house of the dragon #concept writing

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raxistaicho · 1 year

Text

Are we not Engaged? Part 9.

Up to chapter 16!

Spoilers under the cut.

I just realized a picket fence is all that protects against the edge of the Somniel at the orchard. This place wouldn’t pass OSHA, lol.

Oh no somebody let a psychic into the Somniel.

Oh it’s Seadall. That’s neat.

Farm in concept: Adopt cute animals

Farm in my playthrough: Raxis runs a dog kennel as part of a smithing material producing racket.

Dogs are broken.

Alear Celine A: Celine tracked down the bandits from the B support and had ordered them eliminated. Despite them being Firenese, she feels no anguish for having ordered it. In fact, she’s more bothered that she doesn’t feel satisfied and she fears it’s a mark of weakness. Alear assures her it’s a sign of Celine’s kindness, which is reflected in the character of Fierene Dayum, I didn’t expect this from miss layer-cake dress.

Alear Alcryst B: Alcryst wants to be ready in advice to apologize for something, lol. Alear stresses that her life isn’t worth more than Alcryst’s, or anybody’s. She says he should do things his own way until he’s ready to be more confident.

Alear Merrin C: Merrin likes rare critters. She wants Alear to help her understand what Divine Dragons are like. She’s writing a taxonomical book about Alear, lol. Cute support.

Chloe Seadall C: He wants to eat some meat but he’s concerned for his figure. When his divination cards tell him not to eat, Chloe devours it instead, roflmao. She promises to repay him later.

Timerra Seadall C: Timerra was making meat and he’s upset about the good smell. As mentioned before he’s concerned for his figure XD

I think the fortune thing is mostly for fun. It suggested Ivy was honorable while also saying she stole fruit from the orchard.

Focus on the story for now, these paralogues are getting rough lol.

There’s no more rings in the wild, 5 on our side, 7 on Sombron’s, most of them the stolen 6 and also Eirika. At this point we have to go on the attack. The party however is concerned that they’d be at a disadvantage. Turns out Elusia is attacking Firene for some reason, so the issue is gonna be forced, it seems.

Oh no it’s fucking Marni again. And also Mauvier. Zephia’s ordered them to go on a rampage. Rosado and Goldmary managed to steal Eirika’s ring, go them! :D

The villains have a severe issue with leaving living loose ends running loose and suffering for it.

“If you’re being held against your will, blink three times” Okay I like him, lol.

Hello, Eirika! Now it’s an even 6 v 6. Rosado gets Eirika it seems.

Oh sweet fancy jesus they’re both strong.

Oh that monster’s actually pretty big lol. Makes Demonic Beasts look like chumps.

Lol “Also Ephraim’s here.”

This mission’s getting way more complex. It has a way less annoying version of the disappearaing walkways gimmick from Night of Farewells.

https://twitter.com/Raxistaicho2/status/1618466719609286656

Ahahah, but you libertine swine thought I’d be forsaking Goddess Dance to give Celine Thyrsus? No, for I am brilliant and I have also played Tellius so I know how to abuse a 4-way dance.

(Mauvier silenced Ivy or I wouldn’t have had to bother lol)

That’s twice I beat up Marni and Mauvier.

Poor Good!Veyle. Griss and Zephia are tricking her into thinking they’ll help her reunite with us and clear up the “misunderstanding”. She’s painfully naive though.

Oh shit, that red stone Veyle had is a dragonstone! It must be Alear’s! But wait, does Veyle have one of her own?

Evidently Sombron once had more kids who died in the last war. Oh snap, they’re gonna do something at Firene to make Evil!Veyle permanent.

I keep getting Relay Tickets but the online tower is ass. Shame.

Holy shit I pulled an S rank Ryoma.

Rosado Hortensia C: He drew a picture of her, but she’s upset it’s not cute enough. Rosado insists the first looks cuter though. Curious to see why he said that.

Alear Ivy B: Turns out Ivy’s religious enamored with Alear. It’s actually really sweet, Ivy’s got a cute bit of, I don’t know if shyness is the right word, but it’s something.

Alear Rosado C: Rosado sketched a really nice picture of a flower at the bottom of a well, which Alear loved. Rosado’s super happy that Alear was able to appreciate his artistic intent behind it. Rosado apparently hikes out to look for pretty things to sketch. Really nice support! Rosado’s a kind-hearted man and it turns out Alear’s got a knack for artistic interpretation :)

Alear Goldmary C: Goldmary seems very very vain and wants Alear’s attention.

Ivy Louis B: Louis’s still trying to get Ivy happy without success, but his doggedness actually coaxes a smile out.

Hortensia Goldmary C: Hortensia’s jealous of all the attention Goldmary gets from men and wants Goldmary to teach her how to be like her.

On with the story!

Four hounds sacked a port in Firene :(

The windmills aren’t fucking moving, lol.

Hounds and Veyle appear.

So it fucking turns out Zephie is FUCKING WITH VEYLE’S MIND and is responsible for the creation of Veyle’s evil half, as I predicted. Keep in mind that Veyle is an incredibly gentle person who doesn’t want to hurt people, and Zephia is fucking with her mind to turn her into a callous murderer. Jesus christ, I swear to god if she’s recruitable in any capacity I’m ramming her into the first thing capable of killing her. She’s one of the most abhorrent characters I’ve seen in this series. That does at least explain why Evil!Veyle was so fucked up.

Oh no, Veyle has Marth, nobody cares lol.

Hyacinth is back. He’s mostly intact as he was before he died. Seems Veyle can make better Corrupted than Sombron, that’s interesting. Poor Ivy :(

Turn one I baited Griss into using Celica’s warp and then just dogpiled him, lol.

Marni and Mauvier were annoying to kill. It might legit be worth having 3 mages just for Marni. I continue to be very happy I have Byleth on Celine.

Aggroing the dragon aggros Veyle, Hyacinth, and all their mooks lol.

I need a plan :p

Okay so my plan is to let Hyacinth constantly ram into Yunaka to stack poison on him while Hortensia leaves ice walls a step behind him to slow Veyle down.

Ivy has a heatfelt final goodbye with Hyacinth T_T

But it worked! Veyle is surprisingly easy to kill because she stuck to Marth’s rapier which she doesn’t do much damage with instead of her kickass tome.

Killing Zephia was still annoying since she can approach from a million miles away, hit at 2 range, fly, and then canto back 3 spaces. Not even surrounding her would necessarily work since she has Sigurd’s Emblem attack.

Really good map! Put on the pressure, made me plan and use my resources.

All the fucking Hounds escaped lol, but at least Hyacinth dropped Leif when he died again.

Veyle asking Zephia for Sigurd? OH, IT’S GOOD VEYLE ACTING LIKE EVIL VEYLE! Nicely done, Veyle :) So we got Sigurd and Leif back.

Zaphia hit Veyle :’(

#fire emblem engage #spoilers

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