#but it makes an easy dog absurdly easy

[beansnpeets]

Ideally next dog would be a show prospect. Realistically all the shows are so far away and I am not and will never be a wealthy person. And I have no idea how to get into it tbh. I'd have to find a breeder that would be cool with showing me the ropes to get started. I don't like going into anything without knowing how first. I can't just enter a show and figure it out, which is what people usually suggest to me. I am much too autistic, I can't do that.

I don't think Sprocket is show quality. I think she has too much coat and she has an adult tooth that never came in so she had a gap on her bottom jaw on her left side. It is a little disappointing, but at the same time I'm not in a position to be able to show a dog right now anyway, so perhaps it's for the best. I did hope to show her, but the more she matures the more I think she just isn't a show dog. Which is fine. I love her anyway and am very glad to have her. It just means we have different things in store for her future than I had initially thought. Once she's 2 I'll have her spayed and we will check out some x-rays just for funsies (and curiosity's sake) and she can just do some shed hunting and other fun stuff just for us.

#barkin up some trees #i wish there was dog stuff up here #there is one r+ trainer who has some puppy classes and basic obedience classes #but thats it #and basic obedience stuff we have down pretty good actually #sprocket is super easy to train tbh #she picks things up much faster than oscar lmao #like she constantly surprises me with how many words she understands #many things that i did not intentionally teach her #but she picks things up so incredibly fast #i didnt realize how difficult oscar actually is until getting her #in a way he prepared me #it was not fun starting out with a difficult dog #but it makes an easy dog absurdly easy #the puppy stage was awful dont get me wrong #but looking back at it now it wasnt as bad as it could have been #and it was complicated by the fact that she had to be kept away from oscar until she was 6 months ish #because hes a dickhead #but he loves her now so its all been worth it

[anika-ann]

Paperweight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, prequel, canon-ish (see A/N)

Pairining: (pre) Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4000

Summary: Falling in love with Steve Rogers is easy. Hiding it while your friendship blooms is considerably harder. Especially when he’s being absurdly loveable and perfectly hot during a training.

In which you stay behind after a work-out, bear witness to a training session led by Steve and are asked for assistance. How could you say no to the man?

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of canon-typical violence, language? Hopeless idiots in love.

A/N:  a slice-of-life standalone or a one-shot set about half a year before Love on the Brain series; reader is called “Agent Jones”; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

If there was one thing you had known long before you joined the Avengers Initiative, it was that falling for a friend tended to be a complicated thing. It was even more complicated if one was worried it might not work out – which was practically always. The growing affection and attraction were not easy to hide, especially from perceptive people. People like Black Widow. Or worse, Steve Rogers himself.

The one thing making it easier was that everyone and their (grand)mother – in this case, the saying was way more accurate than in all other cases you were aware of – had a crush on Steve Rogers too. That meant that if someone caught you staring, lingering, or even gushing (usually meaning defending) Steve, it was hardly something unique to you. No one would think twice about it. Even as his friend, you were a person with well-working eyes and blood pumping your veins and it was indeed very hard to miss that Steve’s body was literally boosted to perfection to become the peak of man. That was fine.

However, the one thing making it insanely difficult was Steve. His irritating goodness of heart that was actually way more attractive that all typical bad boys from the movies made it seem. When he added the mischievous side to his persona, his wit, his warmth, both physical and in demeanour… and the numerous numerous occasions where he could show off not all his character qualities, but also his strength, it was impossible to stay within the lines of a simple crush.

Growing affection and attraction were never easy to hide, but god damn, in the case of Steven Grant Rogers, it was task fit for titans. And you were just a walking mass of bones, flesh, blood and hormones with a brain that might be rather well-developed, but could still short-circuit when Steve showed off the biceps that could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat – or flashed you an easy smile with the sweetest edge or a spark of being up to no good.

Now, it was given that Steve was a fan of mixed groups in training. Newbies with old dogs who needed to accept they needed to learn new tricks, men with women, different departments and teams mingling together and sharing tips. But Steve, for most part, was also a very reasonable man. He did see that there were advantages to training in groups divided according to sex as well. As someone who had spent the bigger part of his fully conscious life in a body more similar to those of women, he was aware that women needed to learn how to use their agility and how to turn the weight and strength advantage of their opponents against them for instance; men, on the other hand, needed times where they would not haveto hold back completely during training in fear of making the match unequal.

Apparently, Steve also believed that men needed to build their strength in a drool-worthy way.

You had lingered after the training session you had with your female colleagues led by the infamous Natasha Romanoff – or Nat, for you – feeling the need for extra stretches. Nat said it was fine and there was an area in the largest gym designated for stretching even as the main area could already be occupied by someone else. The someone else were men, led by Steve and Jack Rollins; you expected no issues.

You did not expect the training session to turn into a drool-fest so fast. But maybe you should have.

The architectonic genius designing the gym must have indeed been a genius, because even as the group of agents and recruits would have been out of your earshot due to the distance, you could hear Steve’s voice clear as day. You refused to believe it was because you were tuned to his gentle and yet commanding timbre he used whenever he switched to the role of a teacher, the role of the Captain.

You listened. You simply couldn’t help it: not only because it was Steve, but because of what he was saying was, in fact, intriguing.

Squats with weights, front lever. One thick iron pole, three people. As he described it, you admittedly couldn’t imagine how that would work.

And then he asked Rollins to help him demonstrate, picking an agent whose name you couldn’t recall to help by performing the front lever, which alone was a feat because of the strong core muscles and arms it required, along with incredible bodily awareness and coordination. At first, you were grateful Steve wasn’t the one showing that, because seeing him control his body so perfectly as he held onto the pole to basically levitate above the ground would send your mind to the gutter real fast.

Your mind ended up in the gutter anyway. Because the two remaining men – Steve and Rollins – were holding the pole on their shoulders while Agent Whatshisname performed his task. Steve already had to be slightly crouched because he was a good foot taller than Rollins, so it was truly difficult for you not to stare. But then… then they made a squat. Using the agent as a damn weight.

The pole rested on Steve’s wide shoulders with ease as it was nothing but a paperweight, the expanse of his back muscles dancing under his white tee. His sweats hugged his defined ass the way your hands itched to. Your stretches were forgotten.

It was just a brief moment, even if generous enough, and then he and Rollins rose to their (almost) full height. And then they repeated the motion just to show off and to test you. You were just a breathing walking mass of bones, flesh, blood and hormones indeed; you felt physically unable to avert your gaze. As for your brain, well. It circled straight to the thought of being stretched in a whole different way.

Being Steve's friend and only think about him as such was truly an impossible task.

“Easy for you, you could probably lift him on your own!” a voice called out from the crowd, clearly referring to Steve and you internally cursed and used all your willpower to snap your gaze away at last, hearing Steve’s chuckle and the murmur of agreement.

Gee, Mr. Mouthy, thanks for that mental image.

“True. But that is not the point,” Steve explained, thanking the agent for assistance in their demonstration. “This is not all about strength. If you're thinking why bother with this when you could simply lift weights...”

More murmurs of agreement followed and you asked yourself the same, for you could have lived without another image added to the collection haunting the better of your sleepless nights.

“This is not an exercise to build strength, not primarily. It's a group exercise. It’s about cooperation. It took us a hot minute too before we could show you. Come here, Agent Stalinski, please. If you didn’t mind, you’d help us demonstrate why.”

Once again, you did not find it in yourself to resist watching them; this time from genuine curiosity. At least this time, you made a point of laying your chest on your knees and only peeking at them for a few seconds, as Agent Stalinski, who seemed to regret his decision to speak up already, obediently walked to the pole. He could have refused, but he clearly didn’t want to look like a chicken – and didn’t want to disrespect Steve. It was never easy to decide and disrespect a kind man without looking like an idiot and feeling that part too. Giving a choice and respecting it was part of Steve’s charm and strength as a leader.

Without another word, Agent Stalinski performed the front lever as Rollins and Steve held the pole.

“If I use all my strength to show off, we'll fail... ready?” Steve said, waiting for Rollins to nod before they squatted.

And then Steve held back his bodily superiority considerably less than before and stood up with vigour.

It was an exhilarating sight; not only because poor Rollins nearly toppled over and even importantly, because Stalinski saved himself half a second before falling on his ass hard, but obviously also because Steve showing off his skills was a treat to watch. More so when he was proving a point; that was always fun.

And your heart could melt when Steve offered Agent Stalinski a hand to help him up, effectively shutting up the cackles that sounded among the other agents with one single glare; because humiliate the agent for mouthing off was not the point.

Goddamn Steve’s golden heart. He truly wasn’t making things any easier for you – and probably half the agency who was in love with him too.

You could hear a smile in his voice when he spoke up again, almost as if he knew.But you, in return, knew he was simply satisfied with proving his point and the agents understanding the task and the goal of the exercise. Understanding that bodily strength wasn’t everything and they needed to believe both in themselves and in each other; like Peggy Carter or Dr.Erskine once believed in him even if others didn’t.

“Like I said. It's about cooperation. One weak link – weak in working with others, not necessarily in bodily strength – and this isn’t going to work. So… let's group up and try."

As the group of agents begun to move around, you returned your full attention to your stretches, breathing in deeply, slowly releasing the air as you felt your muscles cry in both strain and relief. Remaining in position, you closed your eyes, breathing through the slight pull of pain further. You would sleep like a baby tonight; Natasha did not hold back on you, but that was part of the thrill. She pushed you all, but with enough kindness to make it worth it and a lot of more satisfaction when you could see and feel your progress.

You heard the steps as soon as you felt the floor vibrate under you, and your heart involuntarily fluttered. You should truly not be able to recognize Steve’s jog, because that bordered on creepy and obsessive, but you did go running with him quite often so you could blame it on that. At least that was how you reasoned with yourself. It had nothing to do with the fact that your mind tended to gravitate towards him too often, feel his presence, because it felt like first warm sunrays of the approaching summer.

Easing your position, you looked up as he approached you with a slightly bashful smile, a brief sparkle of mischief in his eye.

Before he could even open his mouth, you glanced behind him, noticing the issue and already guessing why he was here with you instead of the trainees.

One agent stayed alone. That meant that either both Steve and Rollins would be in a group with him, leaving the others without proper supervision and assistance or the one agent would be left out. Or you could join them for a bit. The choice of letting Steve use you – for the exercise, as a faceless agent only to even the numbers in an exercise – was a real no-brainer.

Once again, you reasoned that leaving the poor loner without a chance to train would leave you feeling evil when it was no problem for you to help; and it really would, if you were being honest with yourself. If you got to see Steve up close, either working out or directing other agents with his leadership skills, as a bonus, that was simply a nice coincidence, wasn’t it?

Raising your hand with a tired smile and gesturing for him to help you up, his grin widened, pulling you up without a second thought.

“Hey Sparkles,” he hummed gently, squeezing your hand before releasing you. “Could-“

“Sure, GG,” you interrupted him, rolling your shoulders and pretending your heart didn’t skip a beat when his eyebrows rose, one corner of his lips quirking.

“Well, now I’m tempted to ask anything.”

You gulped. It was nothing but a friendly teasing, you knew. But damn if it didn’t make your stomach somersault a bit, if you didn’t think you saw something flash in his eyes.

The thing was, he could ask you anything. And your little foolish heart would probably command you to do it. Especially when he smiled like that as he towered over you, eyes roaming over you with slight concern in his expression.

“Thank you. You don't even have to do the horizontal workout-“ he noted, a genuine worry in his voice as if he didn’t just said the words horizontal workout in a completely different context than you would like him to. He had to know about how you felt about him and was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he? “Just...”

“Be your paperweight?” you suggested cheekily, hopefully masking how the probably unintended innuendo made your face hot.

“I mean-“ You raised eyebrows when he looked as if he was about to deny it. Really? “Well, yes, basically. It’s an important role either way. And I know you could do it, but you already have one session behind you and you were already almost done with your stretches. I understand if you don’t want to undo all of that. So really, any way you’re willing to assist us, we’ll be grateful.”

It truly would have been easier if Steve was only attractive; or only kind, considerate or passionate. But the fact he was all of it was a deadly cocktail you had got addicted rather fast. He was like a magnet, calling out for every part of you and pulling you into his orbit with ease and inevitability. How could you say no to him?

“Sure, whatever. We'll see. But if I’m joining you, I might as well go for the full experience, right?”

Steve smiled at you, a proud edge to the soft curl of his lips, as he beckoned to the agents. The warmth spreading through your body was already well-worth the hard work you had ahead of you.

“Right. Let’s go.”

People who even suspected that they were in love should be stripped of their lawful right to make decisions and be declared temporary insane for the time being. Or maybe that just applied to people in Steve Rogers’ vicinity. That was what you thought of as you wiped the sweat off, feeling your hands trembling minutely with exhaustion.

Of course you had gone for it. You went for the work-out with all you had and maybe even what you didn’t have, but how could you relent for even a second when you had Steve’s proud grin directed straight at you whenever you tried another rep and succeeded at least partially? Your abdomen muscles burned, but when something flashed in his eye, admiration and something you couldn’t quite decipher beyond the emotion being a good one, the pleasant warmth in your belly simply took over and you gritted your teeth once more.

Your body was utterly ruined, all thanks to Steve; and it might not be in all ways you sometimes dreamed about, but the satisfaction it brought you was still well worth it.

The shaking not so much.

The other agents went to run a few laps under Rollins’ command as Steve followed you back to the stretching area, smile all soft and playful even if a little concerned since you walked with a slight wobble. Your core muscles were so overworked that it even affected your ability to walk.

You’d be sore tomorrow; very sore. If there was a chance to prevent at least part of the pain awaiting you in the morning, it was only natural you would take it, right?

That was how you reasoned with yourself. That was how you justified that when Steve’s gentle giant hands carefully took yours with an unspoken question, thumbs pressing into your right forearm just right, you let out the words ‘yes please’ with as little moany quality in your voice as possible.

You must have succeeded, because Steve didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he was polite enough not to mention it. Needless to say that you were grateful you could blame the flush in your face on your previous work-out.

Working his way up your arm in a perfectly collected manner, Steve pressed against the tendons and muscles with precision and well-calculated amount of strength; he wasn’t rough at all, yet he made sure you felt it.

You would bet there were a lot of things which he could make you feel it, but you tried to steer your mind away from the gutter as much as possible. Once again, you blamed your momentary inability to do that more than usual on exhaustion, the lovely visuals you had been offered, and Steve’s more than pleasant touch.

“Thank you, Sparkles. You did amazing,” Steve spoke simply but sincerely, an easy smile on his lips as if his thumbs weren’t kneading the exact spot you needed, flooding your body with the relief you craved; your muscles. Your muscles craved.

Focus.

The gush of wind created by the running agents helped you ground yourself in reality.

You weren’t alone. There was a purpose – a very platonic purpose – to what Steve was doing. He was thanking you for being a good colleague and teammate and it was time again for your brain to switch into that mode. Because there was no romantic mode in your relationship with Steve. There were two people needed for that and if all Steve was offering was his absolutely exquisite friendship, the best-friendship as it seemed to bloom lately, you’d grab it and never let go. Not for anything.

And you’d take a quick massage to your exhausted muscles too.

To sweeten the deal, it felt really good to be praised by Captain America himself. You would be lying if compliments from the Steve Rogers, the ultimate good man, were the only ones that mattered to you; the side to Steve which carried the mantle of the Captain and appreciated you wasn’t exactly something to sneer at, quite on the contrary.

“I didn't want him to feel out if I could help,” you shrugged, earning a slightly scolding look as you moved your shoulders, the arm under Steve’s touch tensing when it was supposed to be relaxed. You grinned apologetically. “And you know you're a good motivator- I mean--- motivational speaker... whatever.”

The gentle rumble of Steve’s chuckle was nothing short of warm even as his grin gained a teasing note.

“Why thank you. I'll consider a career change to a motivational speaker indeed.”

You chuckled too – and instantly regretted it as your belly spasmed minutely, trembling due to the way you overdid the work-out. Steve’s fingers ceased their movements, simply gripping your arm in support. Glancing up, you found his brows furrowed in worry.

Bless the sweet man. But if he was so concerned about your abdomen muscles, maybe he could massage them too- stop.

“Yeah, okay, maybe I pushed myself a bit too much,” you admitted with another chuckle, gritting your teeth to stop the hiss threatening to escape your lips. “Glad I could help. But you mister, are forbidden from making me laugh for the next 48 hours.”

He glanced at the finger you pointed at him with slight offence.

“But I like making you laugh?”

You glanced up on instinct. There was the faintest pout to his lips as your eyes met his and you found yourself on the receiving end of the warmest gaze. His hands were cradling your elbow now – giant and gentle still, thumb brushing over your bicep.

Yes. It was a true shame that Steve’s feelings towards you were merely platonic. Because at this moment, the blue pools of his irises seemed so inviting you’d follow him anywhere, to hell and back; and you knew he’d keep you safe, held your elbow tenderly but firmly when the need would arise and he’d protect your heart too, because Steve Rogers was as much of a fighter as a protector. You already knew as much. You wanted to know even more.

You wanted more. Selfishly and wistfully, you wanted more, especially in moments like this, moments that felt as easy as breathing with him even when your chest felt so full that breathing in seemed difficult – useless. Had he leaned forward, had he taken your lips, you wouldn’t care for oxygen, you’d- stop.

You had to stop and take a cold shower in the evening.

“GG-“

“Cap? What’s next?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Rollins’ howl reached your ears.

Whatever you were about to say died in your throat, whatever your hazed brain planned. You had to admit it was rather satisfactory to see Steve jump a little too, his hands practically dropping your arm and realizing last minute you had obediently left it completely limp and it might hurt. So he gingerly pressed into your bicep two more times, slowly manoeuvring your arm back down, wary of any rapid movements.

“Be right with you!” Steve called back, turning to you with another smile. You probably only imagined the hint of regret and yet; it was a nice feeling to see you’d be missed.

“Well, the crowds call your name, Mr. Motivational Speaker. Thanks for the quick massage, GG.”

“Thank you. Now go get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

You cackled at his unamused face when you addressed him as such, quickly replaced by a brief smirk at how you instantly regretted your actions, your belly protesting again. Serves you right, that smirk said, but quickly blended into the signature worried frown.

“Rest, Agent Jones,” he bit back good-naturedly, shooting you one last glance before he jogged back to other agents under his wing.

You watched him retreat, allowing yourself one last indulgence in the form of the glorious view of his back and ass, before you sighed and turned to walk away, the wobble in your step still present. You hoped a hot shower would ease the tension in your abdomen; however, you did not forget about the need for a cold shower either.

You supposed such was the price for being friends with Steven Grant Rogers.

You didn’t mind paying it, more so when you were gaining too.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did: the evening found you with a knock on your door from your sweet neighbour and a sweet aroma of sugar, cinnamon and apples. Steve stood in your doorway with a slightly bashful but brilliant grin, holding a plate with at least a third of a freshly baked pie that might as well have been prepared by Martha Stewart herself, but was baked by her biggest competition in the baking department.

“Is this allowed or does it fall under don't make me laugh category?” Steve questioned innocently and this time, you remembered to lay your arm over your belly when you laughed a bit, smiling wide, something so painfully soft, gentle and just a little heavy humming in your chest.

“Well, I think this falls into making me smile category, so I'll allow it,” you said, not even pretending you needed to think too hard.

“Good. I like making you smile too.”

The acute feeling in your chest grew – warm, tender and bright – an echo of outrage in your ribcage that Steve could say the words so easily as if they couldn’t be a declaration of love as well as friendship.

“Yeah. I like it too. And same,” you hummed, stepping back to let him in. “Come in, neighbour.”

As you invited him into your apartment, you knew that you were – all over again – inviting him into your heart too.

Maybe that was a dangerous thing to do; but in your line of work, a little danger was an occupational hazard. Of all the risks you could take upon, carrying love for Steve Rogers was one you’d take upon gladly. You’d happily taken the burden; because the weight you’d carry couldn’t be heavier than a paperweight. And even if it was, if that was a weight you were allowed to carry, at least platonically, you’d do so with pride – and with your whole heart.

Because Steve Rogers deserved nothing less.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Saw a video of this specific work out and my mind couldn’t let go of it… and it’s no longer available, sorry 🤐

Re-reading this, I am genuinely shocked they lasted so long and that it took the Love on the Brain case to break them… well, put them together, whatever :)

I hope you enjoyed this little floofy blurb and that autumn is being kind to you 💕

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #love on the brain vibes #love on the brain #paperweight #anika ann

[van1llam1lkk]

Little Lamb

[ sfw | TW ; Size difference, Erisa isn't a human, Sexual undertones, Descriptions of Violence, Power Imbalance, Cult implications, Brief mention of terrorism, general Yandere content]

Double post today cause I forgot to post yesterday

Female Yandere x GN reader

If Erisa were to be honest, she didn’t have a clue what humans were on about. With their constant talk and inconsistent morals— They just seemed so strange and confusing.

And so it just frustrates her when she has to deal with one, maybe if she were in their shoes their attitude towards her would make more sense. As she gets the sense that maybe not everyone is used to seeing a 12' giant adorned with four arms.

But that reason did little to ease her annoyance, not only were you people inconsistent, annoying, and chatty. But you were so unreasonably easy to persuade. In most cases, she didn't even have to do much, as her 'lovely' followers would willingly commit terrorism without the promises of wealth, motivated purely by the want to be acknowledged by their goddess.

So when she first met you, all wide-eyed and nervous, unsure if you should be grateful to be in her presence or scared — Like the many followers before you. She expected to be anything but infatuated with you. Finding your discomfort around her cute in a strange sense, like a sweet, little lamb.

So when you tried applying your insignificant little Human values onto her, a being who had literally witnessed the American Revolution she couldn't help but snicker.

Really, it wasn’t her fault that she found such a small being like yourself absurdly cute. So fragile and tiny that it would take practically no effort for her to hold you down, despite your constant struggles and cries.

Of course, She'd never do anything against your will— unless she wanted to, But that's gotta count for something!

The urge within her was undeniable—a longing to cradle your fragile being against her cool, divine skin, sheltered beneath the folds of her Yukata, where none but her hands could touch you. And the fact that you were unaware of her thoughts, both violent and provocative ones and the great amount of effort she puts in so she doesn't act on them drove her crazy. She felt more like a dog in heat than a divine being when it came to you.

She tilts her head in response as you talked about your day, her attention being feigned as she wasn't paying attention to a single word you were saying. Your hands work behind your back to tie the apron neatly around your waist, You were making something — A tiramisu if she remembered correctly, she never understood why humans were so delicate that they needed a consistent supply food to survive.

When she first made an impression on your species it definitely confused her how often her followers needed to eat. Often complaining when there isn't enough food despite eating five hours ago.

As she watched you work, her eyes trailed down from your face to your hands. They were so fragile, so easily breakable. It would be so easy to snap your fingers one by one, to see the look on your face as your pain muddled in with your rising fear.

She wanted to savor every inch of you, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a memory of what once was. She could practically taste your fear from that one possibility, your heart racing faster and faster with each passing moment as human instinct pushed you to try to fight for your life.

But as much as she wanted to indulge in her fantasies, Erisa knew that she couldn't. Not yet, at least. It's been awhile since someone as pretty as you came into her grasp and she didn't want to so carelessly throw it away. And so she continued to sit there on the plush floor mats, listening to your meaningless chatter and enjoying the way your body moved as you worked.

Eventually, you finished your task and turned to face her, a smile on your face. Erisa returned it, though her mind was elsewhere. Setting the plate down onto the tray and taking your seat next to her she watches you eat with mild interest, absentmindedly nodding her head and agreeing with everything you were saying as you chatted.

Her gaze occasionally dropping towards your lips, a habit of hers she'll never truly understand. She wasn't sure if her way of releasing these pent-up thoughts was just by being a degenerate. Acting so filthy like the damned humans she herself detested, but the imagery of having you sitting atop her thigh— Whispering sweet nothings against your ears as large hands hold your waist steady, wasn't something she entirely hated the idea of.

Stretching out her arms — careful to not hit your head, she stands up, her second pair of arms dusting off her robe as she announced she'd be leaving to deal with some business.

It was a blatant lie, but you didn't need to know that. And as much as she doesn't wanna leave you, seeing the hint of disappointment in your eyes whenever she leaves you makes up for it. Doe eyes staring up at her with brows slightly furrowed in frustration at her insistence to work —If only you knew it was just an excuse to get away from you before she did something stupid. but despite your frustration you still with that sweet tone of yours bid her farewell.

She swears your an angel sent from the heavens themselves. A blessing only meant to be received by her own four hands.

And to think that you were wholly hers— Truly a testament.

#Fawn | Erisa #fanfic #writing #female original character #fiction #yandere content #monster romance #size difference #dark romance #dark fic #cw intrusive thoughts #power imbalance #mention of death #cw terrorism #tw violence #yandere cw #yandere x reader #female yandere #tall oc #yandere oc #yandere x darling #gender neutral reader #gn reader #female yandere x reader #oc x reader #cw cults #cw religious themes #darkfic #yandere #Erisa is a violent mf in this

[unfortunately-obsessed]

What Is Wrong With Us (3/3)

( Previous )

Pairing: Batman x Reader

Word count: +7.7K | AO3 Link

It takes a while to see Batman again.

You didn't expect to see him again.

But the Narrow's are hungry.

Hungry dog, is what this is. It's angry because its starving.

Coming back home after a 24-hour shift, which had been mind-numbing boredom for the first half and absolute hell for the last, you're exhausted.

Your shift felt longer than two days, you're just imagining yourself getting home and hitting the showers, eating your bodyweight of food and sleeping winter away.

The place hadn't done you wrong, not worse than Gotham would to one of its own.

Four in the morning reads on your wristwatch. A chilly breeze against you, after a flight of stairs, you find your keys fast.

The apartment is dark. Other buildings and clouds didn't let any moonlight pass through.

It's a habit, simple routine. Closing the door behind you and fumbling in the dark a little, holding the keys in your finger, trying to find the lightswitch.

Your mind is clouded with exhaustion.

It's slow, sinking, like most of your days.

It isn't a choice you consciously make.

The same way the sun descends. It wasn't an option, a decision.

You take off your coat. You take a step forward and–

Outlined by an orange streetlight, light barely illuminates the living room.

A dark, towering figure stands mere feet from you.

In silence, only the silhouette highlighted and–

Your first bet is to scream.

Fast, there's leathery grip placed firmly against your mouth. You don't get a chance to weep, colliding against the very door you just closed.

The impact makes your wound hurt. You hunch against the intruder, groaning in furious pain.

Your keys fall to the ground.

In a fear-ridden mind, you try to fight against it.

Trying to find something to push, you recognize the cold metal you're fighting and– the grip is not iron-strong.

As you start to catch your breath, realizing he's not doing anything besides pressing you against the door, trying to focus and identify what is pressing you into the door, you hear a frustrated groan from the intruder.

It's easy to let go, too.

His hand is still on your mouth, terrified of you screaming so loud it awakes the whole building but– but you're eye-level with the symbol, a bat, his chest plate.

He's pressing you against the door, not to intimidate you. He's actually leaning his bodyweight into the door because he can't keep himself up.

Between your lashes, you find piercing anesthetized eyes staring you back.

Anesthetized?

Batman is towering over you awkwardly.

Your hands, hungry and desperate, do search for something. On his whole torso, searching in the armor. You can hear his breathing, shaky and shallow.

Cold panic instill over you when your hands, starving, come back wet with red.

"You're injuried," you say, like this is your turn of playing the game. But your tone is not proud, fair from it, you're terrified Batman is going to die on your living room.

He grunts. An absurdly frustrated confirmation.

"Okay," you say, more to yourself than to him. Your mind rushes with things to do. "Okay."

No way you can manhandle this mountain of a man anywhere.

You hold his elbow, no time to be tender as you shoulder his weight.

He almost pancakes you into the floor while at it. Your hand finds the edge of a wall to support you two, and you feel your thumb almost cracking up with the impact.

"Hey," you agonize flatly, lungs burning with fury, "don't do that again."

Air hisses through your teeth as you carry him to the couch, you two limping on a stiff walk.

Batman doesn't react. He falls to your couch and, this cheap furniture you decided to buy, makes a creaking sound. You normally would laugh.

His eyes are shut, he is making a face. You search for where you previously found a wound.

The fact he is not fighting you says enough of a consent.

Material shattered, below his ribcage. The armor wrecked open due impact.

"Didn't know you liked me," you joke mindlessly, humor quickly overpowered by the sight of blood.

He grunts again. You snarled too, leaning closer to look at the injury. A gunshot wound that already started to heal, a week-or-so-old. Stitches busted open by a contusion.

It's nasty.

"I was trying to hide," he says.

"Oh." You notice you're not using gloves. "Didn't know it was my house then?"

He grunts. A yes.

You almost smile at his discontent – it's funny seeing this pile of Kevlar so frustrated – but the heartstrings tugging on your ribcage won't let you.

Realizing you don't fear him is scariest than finding him in your house. This man is officially the GCPD most wanted.

(You and Gordon didn't talk about Batman, that day on the hospital. There's some things that go unsaid.)

"Don't make me feel forgettable," you smile at him, letting his half-closed eyes see your hands, "it's gonna make me sad."

This is the devastating truth. You make it sound like a lighthearted joke as your voice doesn't wave, but it's true.

He's staining all your couch. It's going to be a pain to clean his blood off.

"I don't know if you're very lucky or..." and the words die on your throat. The wound is bad. You want a whole ambulance, a well stocked one, so you can treat him.

Or a hospital. Too bad he wouldn't willing set a foot in one.

The blood is free-flowing from him, hot. The nearest cloth, your scarf, is pressed at it by your hands. You take his hand, too, and make him hold it. He knows what to do without you saying it.

"I'm going to get some things to help you out," you say, straighten up, forming a plan.

There's a emergency kit on your bedroom, below the bed. Not nearly stocked like it should but. This is Gotham, you need one. Anything is good enough.

A black stain is sitting on your couch, bleeding all over the cheap fabric. He's watching you like a hawk. Over your shoulder, you look back at him too.

You were mid-step when you remembered what is Batman so famous for.

And your hands are hungry. It's so simple because even him, of all people, gets to look vulnerable bleeding like this.

His cowl. You wonder what his face look like.

But not even your hands are this hungry.

You feel like scolding him for being reckless. "Don't disappear," you say instead.

You are quick to do so, going straight to your bedroom.

It's a mess, clothes everywhere. Fortunately you don't have the time to care about it. You throw yourself to the end of the bed, reaching fast for the bag.

Needles, threads, iron supplements. "Any allergies to opioids?" you question, marching to the kitchen while holding blue latex gloves.

He's still there, you can see as your kitchen is open.

Batman grunts. The only language he speaks. You wonder, very briefly and unprofessionally, where his mind is going.

You elected to bring the whole kit with you. Placing it in the balcony, you open the fridge. One bottle of mineral water and three beers. Nice.

What were you planning to do when you got home? That timeline suddenly feels distant.

Getting the bottle of water, tying your hair, washing your hands meticulously. When you return, he is exactly how you left him.

You allow yourself a second; his eyes are closed. Hands hungry when you put on gloves, burning this view into your memory, cracking your ribcage open and your heart–

"I'm going to remove those stitches," you start to search for the things you need on the bag. A suture kit you borrowed from the ER. "No painkiller for you?"

He open his eyes. Everytime he does you see a different color, now a pain exploding inside him while he keeps himself collected and numb.

You scan him, head to toes, noticing how there's no place where you could possibly stick an IV, all his arms and neck covered by armor.

His face doesn't have no laceration or bruise, and you can't find any other dent in his armor. Which is good.

"Just stop the bleeding," he groans.

This man could open your ribcage and take your heart raw, but he just wants you to stop the bleeding.

"I though so," you whisper, kneeling by him, holding a medical penlight. "My working space here is too little, y'know?"

He watches you between eyelashes, almost closing it. You force your left hand on his chest plate, making him lean back more.

His armor is grazed, a vicious red soaked your scarf, which is now heavy. The influx of blood decreased.

Batman barely left out any sound when you tried to take a better look by touching, examining if there's any debris. The stitches are holding together the better it could.

You know he felt pain. He's feeling it now.

You don't want him to.

"Will you have a stroke if I ask to you lay down?" His jaw clenches. "At least take off this part of the armor," you say as if it's better, gently knocking his chest plate with thump thump.

An impact this strong, able to crack his armor, definitely can break ribs. This time, you will show him how appropriately take care of broken ribs–

He blinks heavy at you. Haunting eyes.

You look at him, examining a way to undress him. (Another very strange statement.)

His hand is slow, moving up. You wonder what he's planning to do, getting increasingly exasperated as it starts to move on your direction, and– to the side, he unfasten something.

It's a like a military vest, you realize. You know how those work, and you're fast to help him on this crusade before he–

"Don't exhaust yourself," you order him, independently of what he represents, stopping him to get the whole four pounds of armor off the way and tossing it to the couch.

You wonder desperately how many layers he has on when you are caught with another fabric under his suit. You don't wait for consent, cutting it with shears.

Batman stares at you and you're back at school, the same pressure a instructor on your shoulder has as you practice stitches.

This time your hands don't wave, you know exactly what to do. Wiping around with a alcohol wipe, using tweezers to get the busted stitches out, a little blood still oozing.

The pain shouldn't be extreme at this step. It should be tolerable. He isn't flinching so you take it as something good.

But his eyes, always his eyes. You don't want him to feel pain. "You can look away, I'm not going to hurt you."

You're already hurting him.

His jaw clenched, you fear he's going to break a teeth or two with the pressure he's putting there.

You force yourself back to work, even under his scrutinity.

"I'm going to irrigate the wound now," you explain, cracking open the bottle of mineral water. "I don't have any saline solution so I'll use this."

His eyes flicker. "You have opioids but you don't have–"

Your chuckle cuts him. Yeah, it does sound funny. You would actually give him some of your pain meds for the cracked ribs, your cracked ribs, but– you start to irrigate the wound. Some things go unsaid.

He almost flinches at the cold water. Almost. You just want to help.

Your couch goes to the point beyond salvation.

"Y'know, I thought you were more bulletproof." You put the bottle by your side, tapping him dry with a gauze.

His shoulders don't relax at your attempts of lighten the situation. Needle holder, forceps, the needle and the thread. It's going to hurt and burn without anesthesia.

In fact, he doesn't look away. As you touch him, getting a better view of the wound, making sure there's nothing in there, he stiffens. You expect him to pry your touch away, say he's going to toughen this one up back home.

He doesn't. Eyes stained with black paint. It makes you curious when he stares you in a way it burns you. Bottomless. His eyes, like the blue goes on forever, that isn't nothing like cold impartiality.

He remains static and steady as stone. "I normally am."

You snort, steading your hand. "Gosh, Batman has sense of humor."

And you even see a tiny, tiny smirk on his face.

Humans are like sponges. Social creatures, always mimicking those around them. You have to keep your breathing steady, just in case he mimicks you.

But it's hard. "I'm going to make an interrupted suture. About six stitches."

You look back to him, for any sign you should leave him alone. He doesn't say no. You start before he might do.

Batman gives up a pained breath. Makes you chew your bottom lip, mumbling, attempting in a distraction, "Are you up to date with your tetanus vaccines?"

One stitch is finished. He grunts. You're not sure if it's a confirmation or not.

You proceed. Second stitch, flicking your pulse to do it right. You need to do it right.

He claws your scarf by his side, hardly letting out any sound. Clenched teeth, holding out a scream. Batman can't brute-force this one out, neither.

His skin in a fury of fire and the needle diving through. Head tilts back with blood-loss and pain-related fuzziness.

You're trying to make it fast, to end it quickly. All his color gone away. Your knees hurt in a position like this.

"I'm almost finishing," you promise with gritted teeth. A tremble goes through you, but not your hands, you can't afford to tremble them.

You can't kill hope. Of all things, there's something bigger than you two on your hands.

The cowl might be boiling hot on his head. He's sweating.

The Narrows are hungry. Like a starving dog, it bites and hurts those around, because it doesn't understand the concept of help, or the concept of trying to help.

Batman is a surprisingly easy patient. "You're doing so well," you say from the heart. Your finger brush around the wound as you cut the excess thread.

Hungry, your hands. Too much. He falls a little more easy on the breathing.

His skin is so hot. You're hoping he isn't feverish. Faintly, lazily, he looks back at you.

Last stitch. The Narrows are hungry and you grew up on its stomach. Your wristwatch read dangerously close to 5 AM.

Batman's eyes could freeze you dead. It's almost doing so.

You're holding your breath.

Last knot. It wasn't so bad, right?

You don't have enough strength to joke.

"I finished."

He exhales, slowly, and so do you.

You reach for the bag, a little pile of things blemished with his blood, gauze and your scarf, by it. "I'm going to put some antiseptic on, and then cover it with a sterile adhesive to prevent further contamination."

He grunts, wanting to get up and leave. "It seems excessive."

"I don't want you to die."

Neither of you say something about what just came out of your mouth. You play it as something you would say to any other patient.

One antiseptic and adhesive after, you're standing up over him. Observing. Again, burning him into your vision.

"Can I see if you have a broken rib?"

"I don't have–"

Before he gets to finish, you were already touching the ribcage side, the same side of his wound, examining quickly so he doesn't get upset at you.

Clicking your tongue in sympathy, you're actually very content there's no other damage your eyes, or hands, can catch on. But, your heart hurts, seeing some white strips across his skin, old and new scars, along one more injury to the list.

Your eyes goes back to his. "About the tetanic shot–"

He grunts, cutting you off. He doesn't shrug, you couldn't even imagine Batman shrugging.

Your heart beats so strong when he starts to push himself up that it might as well get off your chest.

"Where are you headin'?" you question, feeling your throat hurt with only the thought of him getting anywhere where you can't see, scrambling to hold his shoulder.

He stops, barely resisting, looking up to you with stubbornness. "I'm not staying."

The way he says it, so casually and almost angered, makes you both livid and anxious. "Humour me. Did you think I was doing this for nothing?"

Your heart keeps missing beats, you keep being unable to keep your hands to yourself.

You can't see if one of his eyebrows rose, certainly though, he isn't content with your adamant and as strong stubbornness.

Undecided, he stays in the same place for a second longer, trying to catch any hesitancy on your face. You're still learning how to deal with him.

"I'll shoot you myself if you open those stitches again tonight," you reprimanded, collecting your hand back to yourself before he can comment on it.

You toss the gloves somewhere, hoping he catches on your playful tone.

Your house is a mess anyway.

Batman frowns at you when you throw yourself by his side. You make sure to keep a respectable distance between you two.

"What you're doing?" There's this strange edge on his voice.

You're not surprised, not at this point, how his voice still so thunder-strong and low. Briefly, your mind wanders to the reality he has gone through worse.

"I'm getting delivery." You get your phone out your pocket, scrolling fast. "What do you want?"

His jaw taunts slightly. No answer.

"You'll heal faster if you eat," you explain. "If you don't say anything I'll get you the most cheap thing and–"

"You shouldn't do that."

"What?"

"Help me out."

Too late–

You frown. "Why?"

Even him struggles to give a good reasoning. He's a good person, believing it or not.

His one-second-long hesitancy gets you smug. Everything hurts, a indigo-soft sunlight starts to come off through your window.

And it's strange, seeing Vengeance given meaning and purpose, sitting by your side. Completely seeing him. Even more strange than the artificial light it's seeing him at the start of the day.

It had been easy to let it happen.

You wouldn't, normally. You're doing a lot a things you wouldn't. Getting delivery is not on your scope of things to do. Normally you would starve until the grocery store is open.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" you lamented, unable to control your tone, hoping the answer is a clear, direct no.

You won't explain it to him. He must know he needs at least two hours, stay in observation. No fever, no symptoms or–

Or what? What would you even do? You can't get him on an ambulance, much less a hospital.

He does all that for a reason.

And if it makes him more comfortable being left alone–

The Narrows are a hungry dog. Batman keeps getting bitten trying to help it out. You don't want to lose hope, either.

But if he wants to leave, you would be helpless against him.

Batman is furious. Not now, but normally.

Now, he's lost and in pain.

The sensation of being near him, casually so, makes something twitch on your stomach. Like a knife breaking inside you.

He's a chance to Gotham. He's change. Endless being of utter hope and fury. You want him to live.

You almost cry for him to stay.

You don't realize you don't need to.

His shoulder loosen, holding your gaze, steadily. "No."

The smile on your face, against your will, is almost childish.

-------

Next time you see him, neither of you planned.

Which, fairly enough, summarizes pretty much all the times you saw him.

A bomb goes a long way to chaos. A bomb exploding on the Main Street–

You were send as a portion of the transport team, a lot of ambulances and sirens and chaos, stabilizing people to go. Gotham University Hospital was coordinating with General, Firefighters and Search and Rescue teams.

And Batman.

Days turned into weeks, and you were worried.

Both covered in soot, debris and ashes.

You see him far away, talking to Gordon, trying to make order of this situation.

Triage. Walking around and deciding who has the highest priority while directing some other EMS. This one's going to die. This one might survive. This one is already dead.

Most of the corpses are lying around uncovered. You don't have time to spend in unsalvageable cases, but you don't leave anyone that can be helped behind.

You both were busy.

So when you send the patient en-route, an woman who suffered from evisceration after blunt trauma, deciding to stay until some doctor shows up to coordinate the EMS, your heart–

–Always your heart, so weak and dumb.

Your heart have suffered heavier things.

You make your way to him nevertheless.

When no one's looking, no one needs either of you.

Patiently, at the right time. Your hand touches his ribs, where he was shot some weeks ago.

Through the armor, he shouldn't even be able to feel you by how light was your fingers.

Following him to rubble, seeing clear destruction. But he stops, looking at you back.

"You're okay?"

As in, is it hurting still? Do you need me?

He doesn't look surprised, looking at you like this. It didn't break you, but almost– "Yes."

"Okay." The silence crosses your mouth as mercy. You smile, playfully then, gently knocking his chestplate in a soft clack. "Don't die tonight."

His eyes bore into you, lips twitching like he's trying not to smile.

Batman watches you go back to work for a little longer than he needed.

-------

Weeks turn into almost a month.

You suppose you have no right to be sad about it. Gotham is already bitter enough for you.

Cold, in vain, terribly alone. The only thing the warm your hands is the tea. You were always like this, always in this situation, why does it feel different now?

For the last years of your career, there was too little things you could keep as habit. But the door of the rooftop opens the same way it did since you moved here.

Gotham, the Narrows, are pretty. Especially at night. There is beautifulness even in the ugly part of the city, of people, of rubble.

Your apartment building is not very high, but it still gives you a pretty view of it all. Close to the ledge, falling from there is no less terrifying. But, by now, you're used to the chilling shivers.

You take the time before your shift, to drink your tea and appreciate it. Gotham is not so bad, you need to remember yourself of this.

A thermal bottle on your hands. The wristwatch reads 2 AM on it, you have a little more than 20 minutes to get on the train. It's undoubtedly cold, as Gotham is, you're packed on coats.

Steam gets out of your mouth. Your heart pounding, a longing you had no way of fighting against.

"What are you doing in here?"

If the voice was from anyone you didn't recognize, you would jump, scared of not being alone.

But you do recognize this voice. A growling bass. Right behind your back, materializing out of thin air as he do.

Turning to his direction, you find a shadow standing by the other edge, hard to make out of his silhouette for how dark Gotham's night is.

Still, you can't help but smile.

The same way your face is burned by the cold, Batman, the Boogeyman itself, has pinky cheeks.

"Can't I?"

Batman grunts. You determine, now masterfully, he isn't truly discontent with your presence. As is the same for you.

He holds your gaze for a few minutes, not saying anything. Hunger strikes, on your teeth and hands, disaster that propels your nowhere but his eyes.

You see him analyzing you, too close for you not to see, too far away to understand what he's thinking.

His eyes fall into your tea.

"Do you want some?" You offer him the cap you've been using as cup, half-filled. "It's a herbal mix, good for immunity."

Batman steps closer, lighted by the moon. Made of hard edges, where you can easily cut yourself.

Life goes on without him. The moon, burning for the sun; the sun, burning for the moon. You're burning too, but you refuse to say for what.

Batman gets closer. You see his jaw, a little bruised, remember rather clinically how he operates from the 9 PM to 4 AM. So he's in the middle of his night when you're just starting it.

"I'm not trying to roofie you," you chuckle, watching how suspiciously he stares at the cap. You take a sip, to demonstrate. "See?"

He hums, contented.

You didn't think he would actually accept it. He does, surprising you forever.

"Are you busy?" he asks.

You raised a brow, letting some vapor out your mouth. "I'm not on duty."

It's as simple as you say; you're off duty, you're not busy, while on duty equals being busy. Is it the same for him?

Seeing him, tangible and touchable, feeling everything that hurts cold into your bones.

Batman is unreadable, but only a little less than before. You don't know why he decided to stay, this time, as he doesn't need to. He's not stuck with you but he's drinking your tea.

A expectancy builds on your chest, as if your world is going to fall to crumbles if he's doesn't like it. "Good?"

He answer by taking another sip, nodding slowly.

And your smile slips a little bigger. "Just don't burn your tongue."

He asses you for longer than he needs to, reading your smile.

Why would anyone be worried about clocking in time if Batman is studying one like this?

You would pour more tea to him, if he lets you. "Are you healing okay?"

He looks to you, destroying your ribcage bone by bone. "It's better."

You don't want to laugh, you don't find it funny. Even then, you smirk. "You are ninety percent painkillers."

(You don't want him to feel pain. This desire will be your death.)

He drinks a little more, retrieving you an empty cup. And longing – attachment or fondness – is a highway with no way out.

"You know I trust you," he says, regarding the tea, and the fact he knows you wouldn't drug him for the sake of causing harm.

But the fact he says it, Batman of all people, makes your throat so full of surprise any other word hardly gets out. You don't even try.

You meant to bury your fingers there, in every wound, to stain your finger with his soaking blood. Everytime you smile, your teeth and tongue reveal more than you need.

Nothing is more frightening, to you, than looking and wanting what you see. It's awfully true, without thought or regard.

You may have to break some ribs, restart your own heart. This is worth it.

Gravity is worth the fall.

"I do know," you answer, getting some tea for you too.

Today you starve for tomorrow.

---------

Dispatch hurried you so much you the place your driver almost crashed on the way.

By the address you knew two things: the person that called was unreasonably rich, and you were never so glad about working where the administration can't hunt you.

You didn't care about the fact half of Gotham's police was on the apartment. You cared about the fact they were on the way.

The penthouse was very much colder than outside was, makes you wonder what happened to the heating. The news were talking about it, reporters and policeman crowding.

You make sure your badge is visible and walk around purposefully, fast, trying to understand why were the EMS called so desperately.

Double height ceilings, ornate and impressive.

The chaos is so much no one seem to notice the EMS, you and your partner, arrived.

You do see some familiar faces, Gordon and Mayor Reál, for instance. Doesn't make you stop to hear their conversation. It only makes you more exasperated when you discern the Mayor's tone as despair.

An police officer, Martinez you read on the nametag, guides you, finally.

By the end of a hall, some seconds navigating into the luxurious penthouse. A bathroom, bigger than your whole apartment altogether.

"He was dead when we arrived," another officer reports.

You look at him. A child, a boy tied down to the bathroom filled with ice and water. Not older than eleven. He's purple, submerged. A victim of a failed hostage situation.

Why didn't they call EMS before?

Corruption in Gotham goes as far as–

A kid. Dead.

A message.

The golden lighting and crystal don't make the scene lighter. "For how long?"

The officer, you look at him better, gripping your kit with your partner right beside you. He's the same officer of the police car when you were arrested, middle-aged ginger. "What?"

You hate when people hesitate on duty, like they're not making life or death decisions.

"For how long him has been there?" you bark.

"About 10 minutes," Martinez answer, chiming in.

Okay.

Your legs move, feeling cold into your bones, which hurts, soaks, when you step into the bathtub, cutting the boy free with a handy pocketknife.

No one dies tonight.

"What are you doing?" The older officer practically screeches like you were refusing to save a life, a vein popping on his forehead.

You don't give him the privilege of an answer. Your partner don't question you either, a break on protocol but you're this stubborn.

"I want epinephrine and body warmers," you grunt, striving in not falling from the bathtub and getting the boy out at the same time. "What's his name?"

"Alex," Martinez has his eyes wide. "He is the Mayor's nephew."

You carry the boy to the ground, barely humming to acknowledge Martinez. The world turn muffled around you, your partner making a dozen of protocol questions in the background, nothing else matters but the kid.

You had seen worse. You had seem worse.

Worse than the corpse of a child–

And you knew what the human body could go through. You check his airways, scan him for any bleeding and–

Your partner place the body warmers, hook he up on the monitor, getting the soaked clothes off Alex while you draw 1 cc into the syringe, flicking the needle once.

A crowd around you, that you aren't even aware off. Murmuring. But it doesn't matter.

You watch the boy's face carefully, injecting the dose into his tight and beginning chest compressions.

Is actually incredible what the human body is able to do.

You grunt, eager for it, to be right. You've seen worse but it is not a guarantee everything is going to go smoothly this time.

What could this kid possibly have done that he deserves to die? You don't want him to die.

His ribs break under your hands, will make you lose sleep.

The blue tinge on the boy's cheeks leaves you uneasy, desperate.

It burns, as always, on your shoulder, on your back. Now, because your most recent injury, you feel like breathing in fire too.

But you don't stop. You want Alex to live.

You never felt more happy for someone throwing up on your clothes, letting he expel all the water in his lungs on you.

He starts to breath 10 minutes into chest compression.

Alex cries in pain.

You shush him, rubbing circles on his back as the crowd grows more noisy. Alex reaches out to you, gripping you strong as he screams.

"It's going to be okay," you say, soothingly. "The worst part is over."

Bella Reál barges in as pale as the boy previously was. You let her hug him, briefly instructing to not hug too tight, but your voice probably go unheard.

Now you're soaked.

When you get out of the bathroom, back to the hallway, you walk unnoticed.

"Say the hospital the boy needs a MRI, a CT and ECG upon arrival," you say to a EMT that arrived after your unit. "He came back after 20 minutes of not breathing."

You watch as other two EMS rush with the boy on a stretcher, a maks of oxygen on him and some morphine, Bella Reál following close behind. It's strange how what kills you might as well save you; the boy is only alive because of the cold.

Will probably not have any permanent damage, either. Crying is a good sign in situations like these.

Your lungs burn, trying to regulate your breathing, drenched in so much; body fluids, water, your own sweat.

The EMS go. You were about to follow them when a dark figure gets your attention, standing by the corner.

The smile is inevitable, a tension on your shoulder alleviating. You look around, briefly, when no one's is paying attention to either of you.

"He's going to be fine," you explain unrequitedly, knowing he wants to know.

He scrunches his eyebrows, his best answer.

"You'll take care of this?" you gesticulate to everything around.

Batman nods.

You sigh, looking at your wristwatch. "Shame," you dramatically leans back. "I'm basically off duty now."

A fury, vengeance on his eyes, burning strong. You smile, and you know what he needs to do. It's easy to feel safe when he is so determined.

You softly knocks into his chestplate, in the symbol. "Don't die tonight."

Because nothing makes me sadder than imagining myself not seeing you again.

Because this is the best I can do, instead of saying goodbye.

He looks at you. Really, really looks at you, unmaking you into pieces. There was something terrible on him that he's been putting to good use.

It still remains untamed, unnamed; the need to touch and be close.

----------

"Why did you choose this?"

Batman asks you.

He has been opening up little by little. Letting you stitch another gunshot wound.

This, you think, is being a paramedic.

A job where you are paid less than a pre-school teacher, where the line-of-duty death rate is the same as firefighters, where the suicide and substance abuse is far too high comparing with the general population.

You pass the thread through his skin, he grunts at the newest assault against his person.

"For the same reason you do all this."

To save lives?

No. You don't save as many lives you want to.

You do it because there's something wrong with you.

Fundamentally wrong.

Because you need something to fill the gap on your chest, to ease the hunger.

He stays silent.

----------

Batman keeps coming back to your house, injuried.

You don't know why.

"You don't need to do this," he urges, sitting on your couch where he can see the windows and doors, very careful about vantage points.

He, again, stained all your couch with his blood.

"Do what?" You absently scrolls through the several options of food.

It's almost morning, most places are not open yet. The space between you two is named madness, few inches now, humming in the early rays of light.

Then it clicks into your mind.

"What? You don't want me to spend money on you?"

He doesn't say anything, looking away. Is kind of a sweet how he is human enough to stumble.

"Then spend your money on me." You smile when he stares back to you scandalously, sharp shimmering blue eyes, like he could make a hole through your head. "What, aren't you a rich boy?"

You knocks lightly his chest, pointing at all his undoubtedly expensive gadgets.

(How can he scare anyone with those shining eyes?)

Didn't expect him to smile, soft blue light painting the still air. "Inviting me?"

Even him, of all those people, adrenaline junkie like you, doesn't risk finishing the phrase.

You play it cool, heart drumming and singing on your chest. "Inviting myself," you correct. "And i want a vanilla milkshake."

He isn't pretending nothing. You don't think you're pretending something, either.

But neither mention this again.

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

"This isn't fair."

Your voice cuts the air to him. Gotham is getting warmer.

From his tea, he looks up to you, a silent what? Ready to break bones of what is making you discontent.

You sigh, early in the midnight. It should be disturbing, especially to you, especially to him, to be so known.

The rooftop and the tea. He keeps coming back even not bleeding, and it starts to feel like routine.

But nothing else in your routine make you feel like this.

"You have all the ways to contact me." You hardly see any stars from your rooftop, but they still burn fire even if you can't see. "Me, however..."

Batman sips his tea. It warms you both. He's soft, gentle, kind.

He almost smirks, proud. "Asking for my number?"

You sniff.

Looking at him, reciprocated. He's steering the story himself, making change.

It's destroying your face, your hands, your heart. Propels you anywhere but back to him.

You hold his jaw, protecting his face from the cold. He let you, breathing hot against your skin. This type of touch has become natural. The sky has never has been so wide and endless.

You're close but not close enough. "Don't get silly."

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

There are scars that can't be seen.

But you want to touch them all. Hands willing, starving.

You do know why he keeps coming back.

Sitting by his side, on his car. There's no sight of the blood you had once spilled there.

You wonder, incessantly, what was the drive-thru's employee's face when you asked for vanilla milkshake from inside Batman's car, going hard on the girlie voice.

Batman has the heater on for you.

Rambling about theories, again. Like you're his friend. That's what you do when he's having a slow night and you're off duty.

You're turning even more like a creature of the night. Now, all your time off is spent when it's dark.

"Who said I wasn't mad?" you blurt out, halfway through the milkshake.

He was the one touching the subject. You did left it die, before, not wanting to revive something long dead.

But you realize, late, you just admitted something you shouldn't have.

Batman lets a long pause in the air. His lips twitch in poorly-concealed agitation. As strange it is to want a cold desert while its winter, or being wrongly accused of murder, Batman is strange when he's so uneasy.

A gloved hand slides on the wheel, uncomfortable. His eyes burn, adamantly angry.

You decide to save his mind a little peace. "Oh, what do you mean Batman doesn't visit every victim on the hospital?" you gasped, dramatically. "I thought you would show up with flowers and–"

"Stop," he growls.

The only thing keeping him from actually saying something further was the urge to make you stop downplaying your own emotions. Simply, and fearful at it.

(And he hates how you fill your mouth with his name. That's not a name, that's what he's trying to be.)

Your eyebrows scrunch together. You don't smile, your lips actually curve down.

A hollow on your chest. It stains you in the mouth, jaw, chest, teeth, until you're the primary evidence of his crime.

You hate that you can't salvage something. There are scars that can't be seen.

His blood on your hands, not gentle at all, you. Dirt, possessive; slow and sinking.

You want. How awful is that?

Dancing between embrace and constraint, you want.

You two make this dance smooth.

The pain loses its edge.

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

"Do you have a concussion?" you bark to him, following him like you're the plage.

It's the same tone people use on a dog chewing some unknown thing.

Probably louder than you needed to, too, especially when you're in a crime scene full of policeman. And a corpse, somewhere. You didn't find it yet.

Anger blinds you, you can only see red and him.

Everybody focus on you two, most confused on why you, a paramedic that should have left the scene three minutes ago, is pursuing Batman around. More importantly, why is he running away?

"I don't have a concussion," he reply, slow and low, walking faster.

A dopey look on his face is the reason he is religiously not letting you see his eyes.

"You do have a concussion," you argue, chasing him. "Come back here."

He walks even faster.

Gordon shakes his head.

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

You got shot.

Nothing new. You were on duty and someone with a finger on the trigger got mad at you. Not even close to the worst you had gone through.

(A job where the line-of-duty death rate is the same as firefighters.)

You almost died from blood-loss, again, though.

This time there was no prince using a Kevlar armor to save you. You can't hope he's going to be there everytime to scoop you out and gift you a cold desert.

When you open your eyes, it's night. The hospital lights are off and the clean blue-dim light of other building are the only thing lighting your room.

Shifting uncomfortably on the hospital bed, you caught a figure standing by your side.

It's the first time you see him out of costume. Using a leather jacket and a helmet, carefully protecting his own identity but here. How did even get there using a helmet? It doesn't matter.

He's here. By your side.

You don't even need his eyes, or voice, to know it's him.

And nothing is more frightening to you than looking and wanting what you see. It's awfully true, without thought or regard, that you want.

It goes unnamed, you both refusing to say something.

His hand is bare, skin warm and you must've been anesthetized because all you can focus is the way his hand touches your face, almost afraid of breaking you.

It goes unnamed: the problem with you two. He's leaving a trial of fire everywhere he touches, careful on your neck and face and hair, trying to comfort.

So badly he wants to say his not worth any of this; how you look at him, how you smile immediately after seeing him.

So badly he doesn't want you to feel pain; he might not even know what he's doing to you now.

He wants you to say his name.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, trying hard to hide how he's alarmed about your paleness. It's funny how now you're able to read him by body language alone.

Your throat feels dry. You want to see his eyes, desperately. "I could use a cup of water."

His hands leaves you. He has a mission, purpose for the night, shoulders tensing up.

You don't say you want his hands back.

"Hey," you call as he walks to the door. Batman looks back at you, like a kid's cartoon with that helmet on. "Don't disappear."

You got the Dark Knight wrapped around your little finger.

It has been easy to let happen.

He keeps coming back to you.

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

Batman brings his own cookies next time, on the rooftop.

"Did you make this?" you wonder, dumbfounded with the taste. Soft and sweet, sugar butter cookies. It goes well with the tea.

How funny is it, Batman bringing you cookies before your shift?

He doesn't answer, watching you eat a mouthful of warm cookies. Still warm. Did he rush from his kitchen to your rooftop? You don't know where he lives.

You don't know his name. Or his face.

Even then, you want to crack your ribcage open and let both your hearts merge. Keeping this warmness in your breastbone.

Those days, you've been having the disgusting need to simply talk to him. It's turning into how you measure time: time with him, time without him.

"You never told me."

Flash fire on his eyes, wondering where possibly he could have wronged you. You realized he's terrified of doing so.

He tilt his head. "What?"

One day, you'll stop playing games with him. For now, you need to feel him near.

For now, the only named feeling is yearning.

"How did you clean my name."

Batman can destroy you, and only because you would let him. What a terrible waste of life it would be, to take life in the easier path, to not know him or to fear him.

"I only exposed the truth," Batman says, very simple, "you were innocent."

His simplicity, how much his oath is simple and you want him. He has made a slave out of you.

You've been hoarding his name on your mouth; you know it before he told you; you know it before knowing it.

Batman holds another cookie for you. You don't know how much time you stare at it.

There's too much happening. No cookie in this world will ease this hunger. Too many thoughts, feelings, sensations.

You just need him to stay a little longer, making life so achingly wonderful you want to stay too. He's worth knowing, worth finding.

You take cookie from his gloved hand. A sickening feeling of warmness. The hunger strikes your laughter, filling the air.

You lean back on the edge and he holds your hip, fearing for your life more than you do. Your voice, giggling, echoes briefly.

Keeping his hand on your hip. It's easy– wanting him is as natural as breathing.

Wanting for something that fundamentally can't love you back–

Just the mention makes you lightheaded, dizzy. But isn't it true? Love. It sounds childish for you two.

You want something that doesn't end in heartache. You want him to want you back.

He looks at you, grounding you by the hip. His touch is so tender against your jacket. The sky has never looked so bright during the night.

You gaze back to him, reciprocated. You can't look away.

You can't look at him without burning either.

"Thank you," you say.

"For what?"

"Saving me, of course," you gently knocks on his chestplate. "And for not dying."

And you know he burns for you too.

#batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #dc #batman #arwrites #me!batman

[vigilskeep]

Hiya, do u have a carrd or anything with info on your ocs? I love reading about ocs n all that crap but the tumblr search function is like actually evil. Keir seems super interesting but it’s like killing me trying to find posts to recap his lore 😭

i don’t i’m afraid!! it’s just his enormous mess of a tag as the lore built up... i might make something sometime??? i hadnt thought abt it tbh. in the meantime feel free to ask me any and all questions even if it’s something i’ve probably already said, i love going over this stuff and will do so forever if even slightly prompted. on that note, if it helps, here is a briefly condensed version:

keir is a red personality (aggressive/direct) non-mage hawke. i did his full playthrough as a warrior, i sometimes talk about switching him to rogue, but the only really important thing is that he’s a reaver and will bite you for real

he’s a man of few words, extremely blunt and threatening to the point of being absurdly over-the-top with pretty much all strangers, and much softer but still bluntly earnest with the small group of people he considers his own. he considers himself first and foremost a protector and would do anything to keep those people safe. his father malcolm was a strict man who raised him to do this and he accepted that wholeheartedly. consider him a guard dog. killed his first templar in defence of the family aged 15

he adores and idolises magic and fiercely supports mage freedom, though ultimately he would absolutely sacrifice a wider “cause” if doing so would keep his mages safe. fortunately or unfortunately, he can’t do that because the two are inextricable

he’s a proud fereldan and cares very little for kirkwall (hates kirkwall. hates kirkwall. someone please get him out of here) and its nobility, which tends to show in his appearance and behaviour. long braided hair, the streak across his nose is kaddis, and takes his mabari, silla, absolutely everywhere

he’s elf-blooded via his father, who was the bastard son of a fereldan elven servant girl and an orlesian chevalier who was with the occupation

his playthrough has circle mage bethany. he adores her and he would do anything for her but her acceptance of her fate and disillusionment with his overprotectiveness meant they had an increasingly strained relationship. it was because she was trapped that he couldn’t leave the city. once he was champion, meredith essentially had a knife to his sister’s throat whenever she wanted his compliance, not to mention the looming threat to anders and merrill, making those three years the worst and most terrifying in his life

he romances anders! friendmance and they escape kirkwall together in the end. not always easy but he really loves him, justice half included. there’s a lot of lore here ummm if i mention the “and they were housemates” timeline, that’s my silly mutual pining alternate version of events where anders moves into the amell estate for safekeeping before he and keir actually get together. if i mention aura hawke, that’s the potential daughter i occasionally hc for them

he had previous relationships with morrigan (in lothering as young 20-somethings) and merrill (during act 1). you cannot keep him away from those romanceable mages

he’s still close friends with merrill. isabela is his best friend. he has a complicated, semi-antagonistic friendship with varric, who was really closer with anders but now after the fact doesn’t want to remember that. he deeply respects and is friends with fenris. he did rivalry with sebastian, but in an agree-to-disagree way where they considered each other friends nonetheless until All That happened. he had a more genuine rivalry with aveline though still coloured by their trauma bonding

i THINK those are the main beats of his lore but he’s my most discussed and developed dragon age character so i’m sure i’ve missed some of the assorted junkyard of thoughts

#keir hawke

[doberbutts]

I really do suggest learning how to DIY basic at-home fixes and upgrades because I've been tinkering here and there and honestly even the stuff that's hard (like my fence) was still doable if stretched out over an extended timeline. It's saved me tons of money AND it means that my house is slowly becoming much more disability-friendly as time goes on. There's stuff I have to hire a contractor for but for the most part these little fixes make a huge difference in how much effort it takes just to exist day-to-day.

Like I'm super sick with Maybe Covid and it's been absurdly easy to take care of myself and the dogs and that's been by design because I'm making upgrades to everything with "remember when I couldn't walk for three months or was paralyzed down my right side for most of the year? Yeah now I don't have roommates to help me if that happens again".

[cowboybrunch]

a beast or a bad dog - untitled vampire story

Chapter 1 (part 1/2)

I’m not a wise person by any means, but even I know that everything in life is a transaction. Currency exchanged for food or lodging, a smile withheld as a boon to earn, conversation as an offering of peace… It makes sense, then, that death can also be a transaction. Coins in my palm, a blade in a heart. The simplest truth is also the most devious: the strong kill the weak, and the weak pay the strongest to kill the strong.

This client was not the usual type. He paid only partially upfront, then will make payments to Nicolai for the next several years. Decades, maybe. A rare occurrence for Nicolai to accept such an offer but not unheard of. Most of my clients are anonymous and absurdly wealthy, offering coin that they would not miss for their enemies to go missing. I’ve delivered clean deaths, quiet deaths, excruciating deaths, and immoral deaths. I’ve taken bribes from targets to move the mark, to turn the tide back towards the person that ordered the hit. I’ve tortured and soothed, wrung information out of closed lips and delivered it to Nicolai who then sold it to the highest bidder. I’ve gone undercover in fighting rings to reach their organizer. I’ve taken out entire bloodlines by extinguishing their sire.

The vampire looks more menacing in death, fangs bared and clothes spattered with dark blood— his, not mine. I wipe my dagger on my pant leg. The leather is black, chosen for this exact purpose. He went easily, not even landing a blow before I drove my blade into his chest. He begged for life, as all living things do, but I’ve long since stopped hearing the pleas. An alley is an awful place to die, and he died badly. I’d pity him if he hadn’t gone for my jugular. Twice.

I nudge the body with my foot. “Who’s next?” I ask the figure lurking behind me.

Nicolai grins when I glance back at him, showing off his pointed canines. I’ve warned him that if I found those fangs anywhere near my throat, I would revel in watching the life drain from his eyes. There were many times I considered killing him, many days I spun a blade between my fingers as I listened to him sleep.

A pouch of coins rattles as it hits the ground next to my feet. “Do you not want to relax? Take the rest of the night off?” Nicolai asks.

I am not the wisest. I am not the fastest, and I am definitely not the strongest, but I have the most to lose, and that makes me the best. I tuck the dagger back into my belt and casually slide my hand over the other concealed weapons, the ones that even Nicolai doesn’t know about. “Who’s next?”

---

The alley is as dark as it is unsettling. Somewhere in the distance, a siren sounds over the howl of a stray dog. A light flickers, and I frown up at it before taking stock of every possible escape route, just as Nicolai had taught me. It’s instinct to track every wind-blown leaf and scrape of footsteps. Undetected movement could mean death, and like any living creature, I am vehemently and stubbornly opposed to dying.

For this reason, I try to avoid meeting clients for the first time at night, but Nicolai insisted that this was a special case. The woman had contacted him only a few hours prior, guaranteeing payment in advance— and a large sum of it. The reward intrigues me less than the rushed contact. She must be in a heap of trouble to reach out to Nicolai on such short notice, especially because she refused to give him anything except the vaguest details until I met with her.

“She has a list of names,” was all Nicolai had said, all he had known. “Dispose of them.”

Easy enough.

She stands at the end of the alley, hood casting shadows over her face. Strands of black hair cascade down her pale, exposed shoulders. Her clothes are clean but unremarkable, and from the way they lay nearly skin-tight on her body, she doesn’t seem to be carrying any weapons. Not that she needs them. I don’t need to see her features to know what she is; the inhuman stillness gives her away immediately. Vampires have a tendency to forget to move their shoulders to feign breath.

“Amelia?” Her voice is a song, an invitation, an exhale. If I had not been trained from the moment I could walk, it might’ve lured me in, made me docile and willing to offer my neck to her.

Instead, I take a careful step forward and out of the shadow I had ducked into while performing my assessment, leaving three feet of space between us. “You have a list, I hear.”

She rakes her eyes over me hungrily. As subtly as I can manage, I run a thumb over the hidden dagger in my waistband. With a flick of my wrist, I could have it drawn and pressed against her ribcage. Nicolai wouldn’t send me into a situation I couldn’t handle. At least, that’s what I tell myself to slow my rising heart rate.

“You are exactly how he described you.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a neatly folded paper, extending it towards me. “The prodigy. Nicolai’s assassin.”

“In the flesh.” I take the paper from her, unfolding it and skimming over the names. Seven, and none that I recognize. I pocket it. “Any special requests? Parting remarks, items you’d like me to leave, messages you’d like me to relay?”

She grins, fangs glinting in the dim moonlight. “You’re not one for small talk, are you?” I don’t reply, proving her point. “Start at the top and go down the line. I want them to know you’re coming. I want them afraid.” She laughs suddenly, cruelly. “Your dagger in their heart will be enough of a message, don’t you think?”

I hum noncommittally. “Time frame?”

“Don’t you want to know my motivation?”

I swallow a sigh. These types love to hear themselves talk. “Money, power, or revenge?”

She inclines her head, a predator assessing prey that has chosen to unsheathe its claws instead of running away. “Excuse me?”

“People hire me for three reasons. Considering how much you’re offering, I don’t think it’s the first. Power or revenge?”

“Are they not the same thing?”

I shrug, my patience waning. “Give me three weeks. Send the advance to Nicolai. He’ll be your contact if you have any concerns.”

She frowns. I skim my thumb over the hidden dagger again for reassurance. “You’re not my contact?”

The words escape before I can reign them in. “If you’re looking for someone to sit for a cup of tea and gossip until their lips are blue, you hired the wrong prodigy. The brothel is down the road.” I jerk my chin in that direction. My temper is the one thing that Nicolai hasn’t been able to train out of me. Biting before you bark, he always says, like a bad dog.

She laughs again. The sound rakes nails down my skin. “You have fangs.”

With one hand on the hilt of my dagger, I back away into the alcove that allows me access to the rooftops. “Don’t insult me.”

(next part here!)

#a beast or a bad dog #writerblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction

[squids-and-jellyfish]

The Phantom Thief

part 4

The pot was massive. Instead of just being an absurdly large stew spot, it was actually a cauldron. From top to bottom was easy four feet tall she thought. Where does one even find something like that. It had three golden feet etched with swirls and strange markings she had never seen before. An ancient language she thought. The handles on the side were golden and marked as well. The cauldron itself was dark, with purple blue undertone if you looked at it just right. Despite having legs, the cauldron was not sat down directly on the fire. It was hung by a chain from a large teepee sized wooden tripod. Because the top was so far off the ground, there was a small step stool.

Claire walked to the other side where the step stool was, finding Granny seated right beside it. As if she were there as a guard. Granny greeted her with a smile and small hum. Her hair was up in a messy bun as it was every day. Though it was contained with a black hair net sticking out like a sore thumb compared to the white hair it controlled. Thick cat eye glasses rested at the bottom of her nose causing her squint as she peered over them to look at Claire. Her baggy shirt and skirt mixed with the glasses gave a quaint appearance.

She climbed up the steps and opened her bag. To her shock, the melon and pepper were no longer there. Replaced with a rotten turnip and a purple calling card. “The Phantom Thief” written in gold across the paper. Her heart skipped a beat. Unsure if it was from this thief once again breaking into her home or the mayor's unwavering stare while he watched her. Accidentally making eye contact with him, he raised his hand pointing his index and middle fingers towards his eyes and then at her. A silent threat.

Panicked, she tossed in the turnip and quickly backed down from the stew. Be cool, play it cool. Stay calm. She told herself. No one noticed what she threw in. Only that she participated. She looked around for an open place to sit in the sand. The beach was pretty crowded.

A hand squeezed her shoulder, “So you're the new farmer?” a voice behind her questioned. Spinning around on her heels, Claire turned to face the stranger. Her feet now buried in the sand. She assumes this must be the Governor, the man Mayor Thomas has been talking to when she arrived. “I've heard an awful lot about you.” He continued. “Farming must be pretty tough. What was your name again?” “I'm Claire! What's your name?” She replied with a soft smile. “You can just call me Governor. My birth name is not important. Say did you know, before you took over the farm, years ago there was a farmer who had a dog, and Bingo was his name.” smirking at the thought. “ Man old Bingo was such a great dog. My favorite part about my visits here to Misty Cove. Steve, the farmer, was alright I guess. Always a bit of a grouch though.”

“Bingo was the farmer and Steve was the dog” she interrupted, baffled by the mix up. She couldn't help but make a face. “He was my grandfather.” came out a bit more offended than she intended. Quickly changing the subject, “So have you been coming to Judge the valley for a long time then?” “Ah yes. I've been doing this for about 30 years actually. I like to say it's my passion in life. Plus I love the free food.” He answered with a smile and winked. “Well I must be off now, lots of people to greet and the tasting soon enough. Nice to meet you Caitie.” “It's Claire…” She said but he was already headed to mingle with the florist and the psychic who were always together.

*A MargoMortelle original

#writers and poets #margomortelle #writers on tumblr #author #creative writing #story #the phantom thief #writers #writing #book writing #writer community #writer #novel writing #aspiring writer

[sweeethinny]

Hinny Fest - Day 10

I'm so lucky to be able to live this life with you"- day ten

didn't know what to write, I admit, but it came out easily I think it's the best domestic hinny I've ever written

@hinnyfest

-----

He was at work and that seemed to be the topic of the day.

''It's easy to say you love when it's okay,'' he heard someone say. ''I want to see when everything is a mess, children screaming and running, messy house, dirty dishes, bills to pay... That's when we see true love.''

''That's why she left me,'' Cecil said, still looking sad but now a little angry. ''We wanted to have kids but as soon as our little one was born and things got tough, she dumped me for a new woman.''

''Sorry, sweetheart,'' Someone spoke, compassionate tone and low voice.

''Alright, we're getting through it.''

''But what I said is true, look when you get home, tell them you love them even when the biggest mess is happening, you'll see how their reaction is different from when everything is perfect and we are having the most romantic time together .''

Harry continued to do his work, silently in his office, until it was time to leave. He as usual closed everything, ensured that nothing had been left behind, made sure he hadn't forgotten anything…

The usual routine.

He stopped by the kids' school to pick them up, went to the bakery to buy some bread, cheese and some chocolate cookies that Ginny asked for, tried to keep the kids from sleeping in the backseat like they always did, and went home.

As soon as he arrived, he had already started to set the table for dinner — he had left a potato and chicken pie ready in the freezer — and was still trying to prevent them from sleeping without eating. Harry put them to feed Khaleesi and Sir, their cat and dog, and then made them open all the windows and curtains - it was an absurdly hot summer - and water the plants around the house. They made a mess, of course, they weren't tall enough yet and they fought over who would do what, but at least they were staying awake.

Harry and Ginny had already made the mistake of letting them sleep too early a few times, and the price they paid the next morning wasn't low.

When she arrived an hour later, Harry had already finished making dinner and was trying to settle a fight between Lily and Albus over the flavour of the juice they wanted to drink, sleep making them a little angry with each other, but he was doing a good job.

''Hello,'' Ginny walked over to him, giving him a quick kiss and then bending down to hug and kiss the kids. ‘'How are we?''

Lily and Albus went back to talking about the juice fight while James talked about what he had done at school. The three of them followed Ginny upstairs, while she went to change clothes and wash her hands, Harry finished putting all the food on the table and squeezing some oranges to put with the pineapple juice, putting together Albus' and Lily's wishes.

''No Khaleesi,'' Harry took the cat off the table, who meowed angrily at him and headed out into the garden, a place she loved to hang out during the summer.

While everyone else didn't come downstairs, Harry made sure the dirty dishes wash themselves, as well as the clothes in the laundry room, remembered telling James to put away his toys that were scattered in the living room, put away the things that were out of place around the house and took the dry clothes off the line, folding them and leaving them in a pile, later Ginny was going to take each one to its proper place, but now he just wanted to sit down and eat.

''Yummy, it looks great,'' Ginny set the kids up in the chairs and Harry served them, they were both hungry and tired so dinner was always quieter, everyone concentrated on the food.

James was almost asleep on top of his plate at the end of the meal, which indicated that it was bath time.

Harry and Ginny took turns, while she helped with the children's baths, he made the beds and sorted out the pyjamas. As long as they could still get the three of them to bathe in their big bathtub – one of the first things Harry bought with his first paycheck, and he would never regret it – they wouldn't waste time in the shower, having already experienced it. It was faster, yes, but with three kids who loved a mess, it became a very difficult process for a Wednesday.

He helped them dry one by one, wearing only Lily, who was the youngest and still had some difficulties putting on her clothes.

It was Ginny's turn to put the children to bed, so Harry kissed each one good night and left the room, heading for theirs.

They used to sleep late before they had kids, but then during the week, Harry and Ginny were passed out in bed before eleven at night. It was a tiring routine, they would wake up early, Ginny would drive them to school not far away (after a lot of silly arguing between the kids, as their moods were so bad in the morning), they would have breakfast together, go to work, and they only saw each other again during lunch, and that was only sometimes. He wished he could stay awake with her longer, but it was eight-thirty and Harry could barely stand it with his eyes open as he showered, looking at himself in the mirror inside the shower and trying to find the strength to shave.

One more day, that would be for later, he decided, putting down the razor he was using and just washing his face.

When he came out of the shower, Ginny was walking back to the bedroom, a tired smile on her face. ''They didn't even fight today, Lily barely drink her milk,''

''She'll stop asking for the bottle soon,'' Harry hung up the towel and went to their closet, looking for a pair of underwear in the drawer. ''It was like that with the other three too, remember?''

''Yes,'' Ginny hugged him, her warm hand touching his cold skin and making him shiver. ''This weekend, Mum will take them,''

''Hm,'' Harry smiled. ''What do you want to do?''

''Today, if I had to decide, I'd tell us to do nothing, just sleep, no interruptions,'' They laughed, but Harry might have agreed with that. ''But then I thought we could do something. Go out a little, I don't know, it's been a while since we've done anything, just the two of us, outside the house.''

''We can do it,'' Harry took her hand, kissing her ring, as he always did. ‘'I'll think of something. Now go take a shower, I'll make the kids' lunch tomorrow,''

''Let me do it,'' He denied.

''I'd rather you handle the clothes,'' Ginny groaned in frustration, leaning her forehead against his bare back.

''Urg, I hate storing clothes,'' He knew, and that's why he always preferred to spend more time in the kitchen.

She left, went to the bathroom and Harry finished getting dressed, only old trunks and flip-flops, so he went back downstairs and into the kitchen, starting to pack the children's lunch boxes. After a few years of experience, Harry and Ginny realised that losing a few hours of comfort in bed at night was far more worth it than having to get up early to cook; it was a double-edged sword, but this was a less painful stab.

James ate everything, so his lunch box was never a problem; Harry made a sandwich he had already asked, put in two pieces of cake, some fruit, and a granola bar that he loved to eat while waiting on the way out or in the car back home.

Albus didn't like to eat sandwiches like that, so for him, Harry would knead the slices of bread until they were thin, and fill it the same way, but then roll the bread, as if it were a Japanese food that Albus loved. He only got him a piece of cake, as he wasn't eating as much as James. For him, instead of the granola bar, Harry added some more fruit, which he also liked to eat in the car.

Lily was the most selective. For her, at the age of five, everything needed to be more beautiful to the eyes than necessarily to the taste. Harry was more dedicated to hers, with star and bunny cutters, plastic flower sticks and paper towels decorated with her favourite characters. It was the same food, but it took Harry a lot longer to arrange everything beautifully than anything else. She also only got one piece of cake, but less fruit, as she wasn't eating much.

By the time it was all over—and after Ginny had finished putting away the clothes—it was close to ten o'clock. They were talking while she in the laundry room folded the clothes and hung up the ones that were clean now, and Harry made sure the kitchen was clean by tomorrow morning. When they went to bed, they were already too tired to do anything, so he just gave her a kiss and hugged her.

''I'm so lucky to be able to live this life with you" He said, kissing her forehead once more, remembering what he was listening to at work earlier. Ginny laughed softly, hugging him tighter.

''Hm, that took me by surprise,'' she said, smiling. ''I feel that way too,'' She kissed him. ''I love you.''

''Love you too.''

#hinny #hinny fest #day 10 #my fic #harry x ginny

[ben-talks-art]

Why I like Asa and Yoru

"Hypothetically…if one person in class…had to jump off a roof…and that person was to be chosen by a vote…I think they'd all vote for me. I'd vote for me too."

Chainsawman has probably my favorite cast of female characters in any action shounen manga. Something about the way this author writes women just really works for me.

I always hate in manga when a female character is just the male lead's friend, or the male lead's love interest, or the male lead's mom, or teacher, or secretary, or dog walker or whatever... Basically, they tend to either have no character or life outside of the male lead's world.

Something I really like about Chainsawman is that all the girls and women act like they could be the protagonist of their own stories. They all act like they have their own problems, their own goals, their own sh*t to deal with... They all feel like actual characters and not just things to be added to the male lead's story. If something happened to Denji and he were to die or something they each would still have a life to live and a story to tell.

So when I saw that part 2 of the manga would focus on a girl as the new protagonist, I got really excited!

(spoilers for Chainsawman)

And just as I imagined, it took me just one chapter to completely fall for Asa. I love this girl.

Just like all the other girls in the series, she feels like she has her own struggles to deal with. She hates devils and yet has to live in a world where everyone's biggest hero is a devil, both of her parents are dead and she has no friends which means she's always alone, and everywhere she goes she keeps attracting bad luck after bad luck, be it a devil trying to kill her, her classmates trying to kill her (in more than one ways), or the crazy girl inside her head threatening to kill her.

But what's really interesting is that, even though she deals with a lot (and it really is a lot, my God I feel sorry for her...) she is always true to her ideals.

Even though Asa has probably all the reason in the world to just be the most miserable person alive, she never stops being a nice person. Any time she's offered the option to help someone right in front of her she takes it, even if things don't work out in the end and she ends up getting really hurt as a result.

Something that I don't feel many people often realize is that being a selfish jerk is easy... Like, absurdly easy. There is nothing more tempting than just saying "My problems matter more than yours, so deal with it!"

Again, by all accounts, Asa should be the world's biggest supervillain because almost everyone and everything treats her like garbage... And yet, for some reason she still remains a good girl, never betraying her standards.

I'm not sure if it's because she knows how ugly it is to be a bad person and she refuses to be like them, or if the little love she received in life is enough to stop her from falling into temptation, but for whatever reason, she still continues to be one of the noblest heroes I've ever seen, even despite all the misery she faces every day.

But aside from being a noble and kind soul, Asa also has amazing chemistry with her internal roommate, Yoru.

I've always been a big fan of this trope, the two souls in one being, the devil in your ear, the demon that hides a secret power in the protagonist's body.

I liked it in Naruto with the fox, I liked it in Bleach with the inner hollow, and I also liked it in Soul Eater where they have people turn into weapons and have their souls literally connect, or in the Kane Chronicles where they have the protagonists be hosts for the Egyptian gods.

It's just a really fun idea with the concept of establishing a strong bond with another being and having them understand you on a deeper level than most people would. Having someone that knows your whole story, your secrets, your fears, your worries... It's kinda scary but at the same time fascinating because you have someone constantly looking at you and making you realize things about yourself you didn't even know about.

And that's exactly what Yoru is.

She's always pushing Asa to question and challenge her ideals. making her see who she truly is, and what she truly wants. It's like having a psychiatrist inside your head, constantly talking to you about who you are... And they do it in such a charming way.

Yoru keeps going back and forth between being this threatening creature holding Asa hostage to this complete dork who has no idea how the real world or how people work. It reminds me of Shen and Po how Asa goes from being scared of her to just being baffled by her.

These two have such good chemistry, probably the best one I've seen from this trope. I could watch them just talking to each other forever.

I love how Yoru keeps acting like she's so elegant, sophisticated, and gracious always making these exaggerated poses as if she was in a perfume commercial or modeling for a magazine... But when you hear her actually talking she kinda sounds like she's five years old, and you just have Asa looking at her antics and trying to process how to even react to her. It's just great mood backlash that really works.

I know it's weird to like a character so much when these two only had about 10 chapters of existence so far... But even from the little pieces I've seen from them I feel so many things clicking just right for me.

Great chemistry, great ideals, great personality... And I didn't even talk about how awesome their "war powers" are.

I completely adore this duo and I'm very happy with this new direction for Chainsawman!

Favorite character list>>

#chainsaw man #asa mitaka #asa chainsaw man #yoru chainsawman #war devil

[dyinggirldied]

The Happiest

The fanfic is available on ao3 here

Two months before December, the emperor summoned her for a private meeting. Once upon a time it would have brightened her day, taking this gesture a feeble proof that he held something for her, his other daughter, in his heart.

Nowadays, it perked her up, but not in childish naivety or hopeful longing but in tentative caution and nervous wary. 

Worst, the one to bring the news was his loyal dog, the Crimson Knight. Sir Robane smiled at her, perhaps hoping to put her at ease but tried as she might she couldn't find the will to return the same. Had she been Jennette, it would have come easy for her.

But she was Athanasia, gloomy, somber Athanasia. 

The moon could never be the sun no matter how hard it tried.

Lily's reaction mirrored her inner feelings but she assured the older woman, her heart warm in comfort of the knowledge that she had one person who was always there in her corner from the beginning to now and ever after.

"It will be alright Lily." she assured her, taking the strength from her mother-figure's fierce embrace. "I will be back soon."

Of course, anything involving the emperor could not be guaranteed but in a fit of bravely stubbornness, Athanasia swore to make this one true. 

"What does his Majesty wish of me?" she asked as they walked on the impossibly long hall. 

Unlike her royal father, Sir Robane was free of his expression in comparison to his commander and she could decipher it in a second. Her back chilled despite the warm golden light spilled through. The long hallway didn't help as it stretched into a maze and she felt absurdly like a prisoner about to face a Minotaur. 

She bowed her head, avoiding the rows of past royals staring back at her from their portraits. 

The gilded door towering over as she stepped in. 

Robane stationed outside. 

Emperor Claude looked no different than the day she glimpsed him behind those walls as a child nor the dreaded day when she kneeled down, begging for any scraps of his love. The noon light cast a halo on his fair head and despite the tousled state of his robe, power radiated his every move. Cold Obelia gemstone-eyes dissected her as she curtsied and began the etiquette forms necessary when facing those of higher ranks. 

Surprisingly, Jennette wasn't here. The pit of fear worn itself deeper in her stomach but she willed her face to be cool and smooth, unbothered. 

The maids brought in the tea and array of cakes, heads low similar to her. Once done, they quickly scattered, leaving her truly alone with her father for what seemed like forever, not including the disastrous time she had begged him on her knees for his understanding, his love.

What a stupid, insipid girl she had been.

He made her wait for twenty minutes, to which she only dared to take a slip from the black tea and not any of the desserts. A small part of her yearned to taste the pretty looking chocolate cake, decorated in gold and berries but she held herself. 

A princess must not be wanting, even a bastard-born one. 

All the while, Claude's eyes bore into her form.

"Duke Martell has sent a proposal for your hand in marriage." his Majesty spoke suddenly, leaning back on his chair, a paper in his hand. 

Athanasia froze. 

Her prospects hadn't been great even before Jennette's introduction at the débutante. After all, her father was healthy and young enough and could potentially sire more desirable sons and daughters. After Jennette was welcomed into the fold, however, Athanasia had suspected she would either be wed to a minor noble of Claude's faction or secretly disposed of to ensure Jennette's golden future.

On the other hand, his words looped inside her mind. House Martell was one of the most prominent noble houses in Siodonna, having connections and relations to the royal family. If her memory served, the current queen of Siodonna related directly to the duke in question's father. She might need to check just to be sure.

"Apparently," he continued, eyes never left her. "He has heard tales of your beauty and manners which intrigued him greatly, despite your...lesser birth and pitiful lack of mana." she was still as the statues lining outside the garden despite the subtle dig. "What shall you make of that?"

It was not a question. "Whatever your Majesty wish, I shall obey. For it is your will above all."

He smirked but the glint in his eyes remained. 

"Get out."

"As you wish, sire."

She didn't run but it was a near thing.

-------x----------x---------

Two weeks later, after the summoning the Crimson Knight came back to the Ruby Palace, an announcement on his lips that rattled her entire being. 

She was to leave Obelia the day after her birthday for her voyeur to her mother's former home and her new home. The ship would carry her, the entourage of her choice (this, she nearly buckled under waves of relief and so was Lily), guards for her defense and her dowry to Siodonna for her wedding. 

She didn't care much for the dowry than the having at least one familiar face at a foreign land but she was surprised and grateful that he would honor her this. Sir Robane gave her the list and so far, it was pretty standard: a chest full of gold coins, precious gemstones, priceless pearls, expensive linen. 

It was more than she ever dared to hope of. 

She wryly suspected that had the emperor got his way - which he had plenty of -  she would have been at Siodonna and a married woman by now. Out of sight, out of mind. It was an open secret to the court how her father perceived her presence. 

She would give it to Jennette's influence, the second person in Obelia that would rather Athanasia stay.

Her musing was proven correct when days after the news, Jennette immediately invited her to the Emerald Palace for their tête-à-tête. Here, they ate and laughed - Jennette had the talent for making even the introverted Athanasia opened up - and they had discussions and conversations about Athanasia's soon-to-be-husband and Siodonna.

To be honest, she hadn't contemplated much about her future groom. Then again, the whole matter had happened at a breakneck speed so she hadn't the time to do so. What she told Jennette was drawn from limited information about the duke.

(She had to be careful with her choice of words too. Despite the wedding on the horizon and international political affairs at play, ears were everywhere, the waggle tongues more so. One wrong word could see her lost it all.)

Duke Phoebus Martell was seven years her senior and the middle son of the current Siodonna queen's brother. He was talented at archery and sword skill. There were rumors that he was a playboy and Jennette had concerns but as long as he didn't flaunt his affairs in her face, she would let him be. Especially if he proved himself to be a cruel man but if he was, his family hid it well or there was truly none. That was all Athanasia could gather. The rest, well, she would soon find out she guessed. If it came down to it, she would survive. What was another tragedy, being a forgotten queen in a foreign country? 

Immortal was her name but survival was her fate and she would chase it to the very end. 

"The people are making songs about you, you know." Jennette's lips curled; the smile lit up her elegant face. "The Winter Princess married to the Duke of the land of suns and spices. There are even poems!"

How strange. She didn't know what to feel about that. She had been isolated in Ruby Palace for so long that she doubted the common people was aware of her name. 

"Siodonna." Jennette tested the foreign name, the pronunciation slightly off. Athanasia was sure she would get it better next time. "I hope I didn't bother you Athy, but it was your lady mother's homeland, right?"

Her mother, lady Diana. The dancer whose bewitching ruby eyes and sensual dancing skill had captured her father's attention. She had had time to make peace with

Athanasia nodded. "It was, yes." she placed her cup down the saucer. "And you have no need to worry Jettie, I am sure Siodonna is a wonderful place one can call home."

-------x----------x---------

Weeks leading up to her birthday and eventual journey, she was granted higher allowance from his Majesty. Her dresses are more diverse, more fashionable than anything she had been wearing for the past seventeen years of her life.

The nobles, usually snickered at her attire and attitude, didn't provoke her as much as they used to. It was by no virtue of her and more of fears to accidentally set themselves up in emperor Claude's way. 

For to object the marriage that he had gracefully accepted was objecting his will and borderline questioned his decision. A thing no one with a healthy dose of fear of death wanted to be accused of.

Regardless, she knew this marriage was far better for one of her station. Siodonna was one of Obelian Empire's allies but Claude's treatment of his Siodonna-born concubines, her mother included, was less than satisfying. Siodonna, in fact, found it equally horrific and barbaric for they treasured their subjects, especially the commoners. 

Unlike most empires and countries, Siodonna understood the value of everyday men and women. They took the most percentage of farmers, inventors, clergy, military, magicians, healers and so many more.

Not to mention, Siodonna was leaps and beyond in treatment to their illegitimate children. They could inherit and occupy any position lawfully and any discrimination was met with swift and heavy punishment. Obelian Empire could never!

It was the reason why the talented, the ambitious and the hopefuls were attracted to the land, despite its boiling temperature and unique geographical placement. The latter was the main reason why Siodonna had retained its independence for thousands of years.

They always said that Siodonna conquered by marriage. 

-------x----------x---------

December 3rd came in a swirling of snow flurries and an exciting, anticipating burst of decorations at the Emerald Palace. No matter how obviously spoilt Jennette was by their father, he forbid her from celebrating at the Ruby Palace. So, Jennette's palace it was.

Athanasia had insisted, almost pleaded Jennette to instead make it a smaller party. She had very few people in her inner circle that wished her well and she argued that for her last birthday at Obelian Empire, she wanted it to be Jennette and Lily. Sir Robane was added for extra measure.

Jennette had ordered a three-foot long chocolate cake that was beautifully decorated in gold swirls and fresh, exotic fruits. They had their shares of the delicious, obscene treat and got a bit tipsy in the process. Afterwards, it was time for present.

Jennette's gift was a pair of handmade dolls, obviously resembling her and Athanasia, along with a necklace whose azure gemstone sparkled similar to their iconic royal eyes. 

A rare book that must have cost a fortune from lord Ijekiel (as Jennette insisted on being informal)- whose business he had to attend so he wasn't here. 

Lily gave her a silk ribbon and a handmade handkerchief. 

Felix's was perhaps the most outstanding. When the red-haired man had reached out a single pair of gold earrings with tiny rubies embedded in the middle and a large, red gemstone ornament, Lily had gasped, face pallid.

"This is all I could save of your mother." he told her gently, sheepish. "I think lady Diana would like you to have it, especially now that you are going back to her home soon." 

She thanked the man, her mood slightly damped.

Later, in bed she would touch the ruby stone, thoughts running in her mind. Had Diana ever wondered her fate would end like this? Dead and buried who-knew-where in a foreign country, a man she believed to have loved her abandoned their daughter in a crumpling, blood-soaked palace for years on end?

Finally, she shoved it away. Her mother was dead and she was alive. 

Overall, tonight was the best birthday of her life.

-------x----------x---------

She hugged her sister as their tears found their ways together. 

"Don't forget me." Jennette cried. "Please don't forget me."

"I won't." Athanasia promised.

Sir Robane and lord Ijekiel stood a foot away, respectively avoiding their eyes from this touching scene. The latter seemed to want to say something, eyes flickering to and from her. In the end, he stayed put where he was. 

She watched as their shapes blurred and as she sailed further and further from Obelia. She couldn't identify the tight feeling in her chest. It might be grief; it might be relief. It could be both. 

"Princess, would you like some warm tea?" Lily asked, a hand on her shoulder.

What a sweet woman. Lily deserved better than Athanasia could give her, would give her. 

"That will be great Lily."

-------x----------x---------

As soon as they arrived, the air changed. She could taste the spicy tint in the air, how thick the wind was. Their heavy garments, unsuitable to the weather, was soon soaked in sweats that minutely, Lily had to change her outfit into a lighter blue dress that accommodated her figure nicely and wiped her forehead obsessively.

She felt guilty for always making Lily so worry but the older woman's foresight was immeasurable once she caught the sight of the man she had learnt to remember. 

Lord Martell and his entourage were there to greet her when she came aboard. He was handsomer than she expected. His eyes were a lovely red shade of wine, his skin dark and his curly hair darker. He wore the robe the style she had seen repetitively on her father, and gold ornaments fit for prince. 

She flushed when he caught her eyes lingered a tad too long at the exposed nest of dark hair on his muscle chest. Lily's stare was heavy on the back of her head. Lord Martell's chuckle contained no notes of maliciousness she was often used to back home. 

"My lady, if you wish to look, don't be shy." he teased. "It will soon be yours to look after every day."

"You are too kind sir." she coughed; a tingling of sort rushed through her spine. Strangely, the idea pleased her. 

"Phoebus." he kindly corrected. "You will be my wife soon and I don't wish for us to be strangers."

Something in her relaxed. "Then, you can call me Athy." She offered. "That's what my sister calls me."

"Athy." he smiled and took her hand. "Welcome to Siodonna."

-------x----------x---------

The wedding was the most opulent, full of sounds and colors, food and wine. Her dress was light as a feather and softer than silk, a multitude of shades of orange and pink that highlighted her every best features.

Phoebus stammered when she descended into his line of vision and a tiny part of her was glad for the unintentional payback to him at the dock.

He took her hand and together, they recited the oaths. 

Her smile was brighter than ever.

-------x----------x---------

Her new home was grand, no less than any of Obelian Palaces, with its ivory and airy architecture. A lake situated in front of the mansion. 

Phoebus brought her to meet up with his parents. She could see where Phoebus got his best features from.

Her mother-in-law kissed her on the cheek, and a tear slipped from her wine-red eyes.

"Your mother and I were best friends. Bosom friends. Our mothers had been friends and our grandmothers before that." she said. "If I had known of your damned father's behavior towards Diana and you sooner..." Her fist clenched. 

The current of hurt and sorrow beneath the anger moved her heart. That an ocean away there was someone who cared deeply about her mother, a woman long gone and her, a practical stranger. She didn't ponder on the what-ifs. Now was better than her loftiest dream.

She tip-toed and returned her mother-in-law's kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you." she whispered and let the woman tugged her into an embrace.

Later, her mother-in-law would again give a kiss to Lily, thanking her for being Diana's friend and confidant and for being a mother to Athanasia. 

Athanasia's heart, once previously shrouded in thorns and darkness, opened to sunlight. 

-------x----------x---------

Phoebus was...not what she had been prepared for. He was friendly and sly but never mean-spirited, unless someone gave him reasons to. He respected her as an equal, hadn't once deemed her inferior because of her gender or age, willing to help and guide but never dismiss or belittle her when she made a mistake. 

They ensured there was always break time, where Phoebus proceed to hold her hand and sneaked her away, as if they were two young teens in a clandestine love affair!

(Her face reddened but she didn't admonish him much more than she should)  

He taught her Sindonna slangs and jokes and obscure facts that had her lips quirked. She, in turn, returned it back full force, having advantage over him by mastering more languages. 

Open up to him was easier than it should be but there was not an ounce of regret in it.

-------x----------x---------

After much thinking, she decided to sign up to dancing lessons, the Siodonna's dancing style. She found it beautiful and magical the way Diana must have once found it and soon grew to love it. 

Her mothers clapped the loudest when she performed. 

-------x----------x---------

Her fear that once grasped tight to her heart diminished each and every day. 

It was easier to sleep at night, no longer needing to fear a monster with fair head and cold, indifferent eyes waiting for her to tumble. That there was strong hands, warm chest and tender kiss on her head to snap her out of her night terror that gradually decreased.  

-------x----------x---------

She gave birth to a daughter, which she named Lilian but everyone agreed on the nickname Annie. A pair of twins graced their family few years later, the son she named Aelius and the daughter Diane. 

-------x----------x---------

She didn't aware when the realization hit but Athanasia was happy. Lily, who had taken care of her since she was a child was here, hale and healthy. Her husband's parents loved her dearly and she to them. Phoebus was not the prince charming she once imagined of, he was real and so was their children. 

Her sweet children, who would never have to go through a lonely, isolated childhood, living in a blood-splattered wall or begging for a father's love that never existed. 

For the first time in her life, Athanasia confidently declared that she was the happiest.

#a fanfic where lp!athy gets love and happiness #in this age and economy? #more likely than you think #lp!athy deserves better #lovely princess #lovely princess canon divergence #who made me a princess #athanasia de alger obelia #wmmap athanasia #wmmap #suddenly became a princess one day #sbapod

[fancytrinkets]

Circus

(Astarion/Tav) enjoy this snippet, second person, Astarion PoV, from my self-indulgent collection of little chapters in which Tav is a wizard (renamed Tamar) and Astarion is reluctantly falling for them...

Your poisoned blade sinks deep into the flesh of your enemy, the last to fall. When it first attacked, it appeared to be human. But now, you're aware that it isn't. Its long, pale corpse lies naked and contorted among half a dozen others just like it, strewn across the circus grounds.

Shapeshifters. You kick the foot of the nearest one. "A shame. I thought we were killing a real clown."

Tamar laughs and then can't stop laughing. You consider for a moment that they may have been cursed. But no. They wipe away their tears as the laughing fit subsides.

"Sorry. That one got me. Clowns were never my favorite."

"And yet, you cajoled me into going on stage with one." Gale's expression is sour. He looks supremely unimpressed. "Not just any clown, mind you — a shapeshifting murderous one. With a dog that bit me!"

"I'll make it up to you." Tamar sounds earnestly contrite. "What would you like? Facepainting? A go at the prize wheel? You name it, I'm buying."

Gale grins with mirth and mischief. "Oh, you'll pay for it, all right. I have just the attraction in mind. Follow me."

Tamar obliges, falling in step behind Gale. Karlach, still absurdly delighted by this circus despite its lackluster attractions and abysmal security, cheers with joy at the prospect of visiting another tent. She grabs your sleeve, pulling you along as she follows the others.

"Oh, what now?" You're growing tired of this place already.

Your displeasure increases by tenfold when you see Gale's destination: a small stage — more of a platform, really. It's trying to be rustic, but like all things designed by druids, the look it achieves is best described as poverty, but with trees adjacent.

"One good turn deserves another," Gale says as he pushes Tamar forward, closer to the druid who offers her services.

"This?" Tamar asks. "Really?"

"Oh, yes," Gale says. "I insist."

Apparently, it's to be a test of true love, which means Tamar is not being volunteered to undergo this fearsome trial alone.

Sure enough, Tamar turns towards you. "Astarion, are you up for this?"

You'd like to object, but the look on their face is so intrigued and hopeful. There must be something wrong with you — did you fall and hit your head without having noticed? — because you find yourself swayed to go through with it.

"How could I say no?"

Fortunately, it's a trick of druid magic. The trial takes place entirely in your mind, so Gale doesn't get to serve as a smug and laughing spectator. It's only you, Tamar, and the druid herself — which is more than enough for an audience.

The questions she asks are invasive. The answers are supposed to be honest. But to your overwhelming relief, Tamar plays this game more shrewdly than you would have imagined, with a mind for spotting loopholes and preserving secrets. Each truth they tell is an easy one — a joyful or flippant admission, chosen to protect the shameful things you'd rather hide than show.

Your greatest fear? Why, it's breaking a nail, of course! Not anything to do with Cazador. Not the clawing, strangling terror of one day losing this tenuous freedom you've won.

Each delving, probing question is different. Tamar's answers are always the same — a clever selection of half-truths, spoken in service of keeping you safe.

It ends up being rather enjoyable, actually; though, at the end you feel uneasy. Seducing Tamar was meant to be fun with a purpose, the combined pleasure of sex and manipulation, as simple as that. But something's changed, and you aren't sure when it started.

The trial of love ends. Your panicked musings are swiftly interrupted by the jarring reality of what comes next: the druid turns into Orin — the most unhinged of your Netherstone-bearing enemies — who disappears rather than staying to fight.

"Is this circus entirely made up of murderous shapeshifters?" Gale asks, looking shocked and dismayed.

"Last Days," Tamar says, grinning. "It's right there in the name."

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #circus of the last days

[trollprincess]

There is a really large part of me that just wants to skip Christmas.

I’m not going to. I can’t. I have to work at dog camp on Christmas Eve (not bad, it’s nice and it’ll be busy but I’ll have help and I get time and a half), but then I have to go to my parents’ house for Christmas Eve and Secret Santa. Which I don’t have much hope for. Keep in mind, I am *absurdly* easy to shop for. Those of you who’ve seen my wishlist (which is 90% mini dollhouses) or knows me (books, always books) know I’m not hard. Yet my family Christmas Eve Secret Santa has yet to result in a gift I remotely liked that didn’t come from someone who gave birth to me.

I mean, in a normal year, that’d be my pet peeve. But this year I’d give up all my gifts if I could just stay home on Christmas Eve and sleep. And then stay home on Christmas and sleep. All I want to do is sleep. I barely leave bed. I’m about to burn myself out from several hours’ of social interaction. I just … I don’t want to do anything.

I feel bad for Professor. I’ve barely walked him this week, because I just don’t have the energy. And hell, he could happily spend lots of time in bed wriggled between the covers on the electric blanket. But he needs walks, and I’m not even there right now.

I’ve barely even looked at podcast stuff the past two weeks. Two other jobs, and I’m still behind on literally everything. I’m gaining weight. I’m coming up in three months on five straight years of working three jobs at the same time. I want to take another week in NYC this year just to get the hell out of this garbage town, but that’s not happening without a miracle. Starting in on one of my WIPs again is just making me feel like trying to get published at all is a mountain I’m not sure I have the energy to climb. I’m going to work at my night job, researching and writing on my breaks, and deleting FB spam for my dog camp job whenever it pops up.

And don’t even get me started on real world events outside my apartment. I’m trying to, I just … I feel like a shadow where a person’s supposed to be.

I think I’m just going to go make pierogies and then take a nap before work. I think I have at least enough energy to throw some pierogies into the air fryer. But we’ll see.

EDIT: Aaaaaand my mom’s dog might have cancer. Christ.

#mental health #depression

[shadowonwater]

Pokemon Scarlet Playthrough: Part the 7th, I get lost again but this time it's the mountains and tunnels, I fought a hungry businessman, and then got lost again but even worse

So as I always do, I wondered off and got a bit lost in the mountains. I was exploring while trying to make my way to the normal gym. First I thought I was wondering off in the tunnels before realizing I was going the right way. Then I back tracked so I could explore more. My rock salt friend evolved again, now it looks like a golem. And my starter evolved to it's finale form too.

I wondered around the mountains for awhile before being like, "I should save this for later." So I'm going to do it later. I ran into a Hawlucha 10 levels above me and I was like "I don't feel like dealing with this."

I ran into another absurdly high level wild Tera Pokemon, like the Espeon. It was an ice Lucario this time. It was level 75. And I was like, "NOPE" So I ran.

I ran into some new Pokemon. He would have guessed that Frill Pokemon would evolve into an Ostridge. I expected it's evolution to look ugly like Slurpuff's evolution looks. But it actually looks great!

One thing I always thought to myself was that if there was going to be a grass/fire Pokemon it would be a pepper. I was right! Called it! So I now have the pepper pokemon.

I also saw the new dragon line. I saw a piece of artwork with it along with other dragons, so I assume that's what it is. I tried to catch it but I didn't know it was ice type, maybe I should have guessed from the name, but I used a super effective move and it fainted.

I also caught the ice whale and ghost dog. I was talking in the last post about trying to get a female Salandit. no need now, I caught a Salazzal in the wild, I'm all good.

Also I underrated how fun High Jumping would be, it's pretty cool actually. So yeah that's it of this session. Gonna play more later. You don't have to wait though, it's all in the same post.

Very short session because I got hungry. Got into the town w/ Normal Gym, currently exploring town before fighting Larry. I know he's popular, so let's see what all the fuss is about. Tinker evolved into Tinkerton. And I caught another Pokemon that I have never seen before, some sort of stork called Bombirdier. So yeah that's it, will play more after I eat.

Speaking of eating... I have completed the normal gym! I really liked the test for this one, it was fun running around town and gathering the info I needed for the test. The battles ended up being kinda easy because I was over leveled and was using a kick ass Flamingo with really high attack, that was holding a held item that increases physical move damage. Seriously, my Wowza is a powerhouse.

I don't I ever mentioned this but I really love the theme that plays when the gym leaders do the Tera thing, it's a hype theme. I also love Tera raid music, but I especially love the music you get when you complete a Tera Raid.

So yeah, kind of ironic that I got really hungry right before the Normal Gym. Larry's alright, I do find it funny that he doesn't really seem to take his Gym Leader position that seriously. It seems like a side gig/hobby to him. I wonder what his actual job is though, is he like an accountant or something? I can't help but wonder how he became a Gym Leader because he doesn't strike me as the sort of person who would go out of his way to get that position.

In unrelated news, what I thought might be undisguised Mimikyu was 100% not that. It was just a big grasshopper. In my defense, you don't really get that much detail in the little map sprites. It's still implied that there is an undisguised form out there, and I want it.

So apparently I can change my Pokemon's Tera type if I get enough shards. I was wondering what the shards are for because I already found a few. So the chef lady is going to cook them into a dish that can do that... I wonder what eating a Tera shard is like, is it like rock candy? Does it get crushed up to become like some sort of weird salt/seasoning? I wonder about the logistics.

So I asked the nurse where I should go next and she said the Dragon Titan. But I'm looking at the map and I'm like r u serious? That's an island! Koraidon can't swim! Is there like a ferry or something? I guess I'll try to see if it's possible but I'll probably end up going someplace else.

Yeah it's impossible, I can't swim and the Pokemon around the area are a bit overleveled for me. I don't know why she told me to go over there. I ended up wondering around A LOT. And catching lots of Pokemon!

I finally caught a Goomy! I tried to catch a Toedstool but this is the 2nd time that it was actually shapeshifter in disguise. I caught a Giraferig, evolved it, and replaced my Tinkerton with it. It's undrleveled compared to the rest of my party but I was just really excited to finally get one. I managed to catch a Pachirisu, they kept getting away from me by climbing up trees, but not this time! I got chu! Also caught the Dung Beetle. I caught another Gimmighoul, but it's much higher level now.

I caught the baby version of the pepper monster I mentioned earlier in this post. I also managed to catch a Tatsugiri. They were in the area that was ovreleveled for me. I only have one form though, they keep using Memento and fainting.

I also evolved some Pokemon using exp candy. So I now have a Dachsbun, Espartha, and Dolliv. I suspect Dolliv evolves one more time.

Anyway there were other Pokemon I caught/Evolved but they aren't worthy of note.

I visited Porto Marinada. The auctioneers there pretty much told me to fuck off. I guess I have to unlock that at a later point. I decided to choose between the water gym and the ground titan as my next target, and I choose the ground titan. The water gym after that, the the dark star raid. Maybe after I beat the ground titan I can swim.

I saw but didn't catch a "Veluza", a Dratini, and also these giant catfish. I wonder if that catfish Pokemon has an evolution now or if this is an unrelated mon. Just checked Pokedex, no room for it to have an additional evolution, must be something new.

Checking the Pokedex... I don't think Kilowattrel evolves again, I'm pretty sure the space after it is meant to be Eevee. Anyway... I think I'm going to leave this post off around here. Next post will probably have a bunch more actual progression.

#pokemon #pokemon scarlet #pokemon sv #playthrough #first playthrough #live posting

[mainsmate]

When does party panic come out on xbox one

#When does party panic come out on xbox one plus

#When does party panic come out on xbox one series

#When does party panic come out on xbox one plus

The game is far from perfect, a bit rough around the edges plus some game-modes or mini-games are a bit weaker. Following in 2008, the bands album Pretty. Panic At the Disco released its debut studio album A Fever You Cant Sweat Out in 2005, which became certified double platinum in the US. The band consists of Brendon Urie, Dan Pawlovich, Nicole Row, and Mike Naran. So far this is the closest to Mario Party that you can have for some quick party child friendly fun. The official YouTube channel of multi-platinum rock band Panic At The Disco. Party Panic is an absolute must-have in your toolset for party games. While playing you will notice the characters making random weird facial expressions to other characters or just at random times.

#When does party panic come out on xbox one series

The game is made by Boneloaf, a small independent game studio making a series of experimental multiplayer party games. The art style is a little cartoonish with the characters having very long arms and large heads. Gang Beasts is a silly multiplayer party game with surly gelatinous characters, brutal mêlée fight sequences, and absurdly hazardous environments. It has online or local split screen co-op both with the option to add bots which is always nice to see in a party game. There are over 30 minigames to play, enjoy, or get frustrated with. There is a whole range of hats and outfits that can be found in loot boxes so that each player can customize their own little avatar before a round begins. There is a Party Panic chose a simple art style with goofy characters, and you know right from the start that you are here for the laughs. BombSquad consists of a bomb-based multiplayer gameplay (somewhat similar to Bomberman) that is geared towards a party setting. The Jackbox Party Pack 7 is a handful of fun party games, for up to eight players and up to 10,000 audience. Or just stick your head in a piece of bread.Party Panic chose a simple art style with goofy characters, and you know right from the start that you are here for the laughs. The Jackbox Party Pack 7 (Steam, Xbox One, PlayStation 4, Nintendo Switch, Mobile). Wear a pot on your head, strap a rocket to your back, or a wear a hot dog costume. Or turn them off completely!Įveryone knows all great games let you wear hats. Bots are available to play against, to guarantee it's always a party, even when your friends are not around! Bots have three difficulties: Easy, Normal, and Hard. There is even a built in drinking game Youll laugh, youll cry, its stupid. Compete against your friends in 30+ rapid fire minigames, play the new Board Game mode, race through the brutal Gauntlet, or complete the trophy challenges on Trophy Island. Party Panic is a hoot when playing with your friends on the couch or online, but sometimes this isn't an option. Party Panic is a crazy online and local-multiplayer party game. Can you be the first to make it through the giant swinging axes, spike traps and more? Race your friends through the deadly and brutal obstacle course that is the Gauntlet. Adventure through the ancient ruins in "The Temple of Goob", or the ridiculous "Willy's Pizza Party" Compete against your friends in 30+ rapid fire minigames, play the new Board. Take turns hitting the dice to move your Goober around the board and collect the most trophies. VPN Argentina Party Panic is a crazy online and local-multiplayer party game. Over 30 unique minigames! Run, jump, and punch your way to first place! Fight over gems, chase exploding chickens, play football with your face! Grab your friends for a night of couch gaming, or play against them online! Play with 4 players on console, or 4 players each at their own consoles, online! Grab your friends, pick your characters and get partying in this exciting and panic filled game! Party Panic is a crazy online and local-multiplayer party game.

#When does party panic come out on xbox one

[acepalindrome]

I’ve spent much of 2021 thus far playing Stardew Valley in the hopes of distracting myself from the horrors of reality, and I keep meaning to make a list of mods I recommend! Because I am running a truly embarrassing number of mods and there are some really great ones that really improve the gameplay or add fun content or just make everything look really pretty! So without further ado, here are some of my favorite mods:

- Lookup Anything: This is probably my favorite mod. It basically eliminates the need to have to keep consulting the Stardew Valley wiki while you play. The title says it all: this mod lets you look up anything. Need to know what’s a good present for Shane? You can pull up a list of all his loved and liked gifts, with items you have on hand highlighted for ease, plus his birthday, how many hearts he has with you and how many points you need to get to the next heart. Need to know if you should hoard that pine sap or sell it? You can pull up all the uses for it, items that can be crafted with it, anyone who might like it, community center bundles it’s used for, and how much you make by selling. How many days until your melons are ready to harvest? What items can drop from that stone in the mines? What are all the items you can make with the furnace? It’s such a fantastically handy mod and I refuse to play without it!

- NPC Map Locations: One of the most frustrating things in the game is trying to remember everyone’s schedule and then not being able to find someone to give them a birthday present or turn in a quest item. This mod shows exactly where everyone is on your map and solves that problem for good!

- Automate: This mod automatically pulls items from nearby chests into machines, so you don’t have to keep running back and forth to your furnace to pick up the finished metal bars and toss more ore in there...it just spits the finished item back into the nearby chest, pulls in whatever available items you’ve got in the chest and starts running again without you having to do a thing! Just be careful of where you place your chests and machines or you might end up processing items you didn’t want to. Luckily, you can set individual chests to not have items pulled from them.

- Fishing Made Easy Suite: I suck at fishing. I almost never bother with fishing if I don’t have a mod to make it bearable. I like this one because it has different levels of easy-ness, so you can make fishing just 25% easier, or 50%, or 75%, or 99%! And there are some other fun perks too. You want to catch all fish regardless of weather or season? Want to catch legendary fish multiple times? Want to catch prismatic shards? Go nuts.

- Stardew Valley Expanded: This mod is absurdly huge and adds SO MUCH CONTENT. New areas! New characters! New events! I was a little hesitant to start it just because I knew there was so much to the mod and was a little concerned of how well it would mesh with the rest of the game, but the characters and story and style fit in perfectly with the vanilla content. I could almost forget Andy and Sophia weren’t there all along! The purpose of the mod was to make the game feel fresh and new for people who had already played the game and that’s exactly what it does. I love it.

- Artisan Valley/Project Populate JsonAssets/Starbrew Valley: I’m lumping these together but this is a collection of mods that add a TON of new items, crops, trees, flowers, machines and recipes to the game. You don’t have to download them all! You can pick and choose the ones you want, or download the PPJA content pack to get the bulk of these mods all in one go! I personally really love Artisan Valley because it lets me make floral candles and soaps. And an espresso machine so I can make fancy coffee. And Starbrew Valley so there’s actually a fun variety of alcohol in the game.

I’m putting the rest under a cut because this is getting too long.

- Chests Anywhere: Lets you access all of your chests from the menu! You can add some limitations, like only being able to access chests in the same location you’re in, but I’m dumb and constantly forget that I was supposed to bring a present for a villager with me today, or that I wanted to upgrade one of my tools but left all my metal bars at home. So instead of having to run all the way back to my farm, I can just open my menu and switch through the chests until I find the item I need! Labeling the chests also makes this a lot easier for organization.

- Seasonal Villager Outfits: Finally, the villagers have more than one set of clothes! This mod gives them different outfits in different seasons, different weather and special outfits for holidays! It’s cute and really improves the immersion to see the villagers wearing tshirts in the summer and bundling up in the winter, and dressing up for special events! Some characters will change their hairstyle too, which I love.

- Canon-Friendly Dialogue Expansion: Gives all characters more stuff to say so they won’t just repeat the same lines over and over! Also gives them varied dialogue for festivals starting in year 2, so they don’t say the same thing every year at the Egg Festival or Spirit’s Eve.

- Immersive Elliott: Add more dialogue! Lots more dialogue! I downloaded the Elliott version of this mod because that’s who I plan to marry but I recommend looking up dialogue mods for whoever your favorite characters are (I think there’s one for almost all the marriageable candidates.) You’ll probably be chatting a lot with whoever you’re trying to woo and it’s nice to get lots of new lines!

- Stardew Foliage Redone: There are tons of mods that change the colors and style of trees and buildings and stuff but this one is my favorite. It’s very soft and earthy and pretty without being overkill.

- The Love of Cooking: Actually makes cooking fun in Stardew Valley! It adds a cooking skill, an upgradable cooking tool that lets you cook with more ingredients (at the start you can only make one ingredient dishes), a cooking community center bundle, star levels to cooked items, an animation when you cook...cooking was very bland in the base game, and this mod really spruces the whole system up.

- Medieval Buildings/Medieval craftables: Again, there are so many mods that change up the look of your farm buildings and stuff but these are really pretty and cool and absolutely my style. There’s a mod to make all the town buildings have this style too, but I kind of like keeping the town normal and just living on my mysterious and beautiful farm apart from the rest of the world. My sprinklers are magic moss covered rocks now!

- Elle’s Dog/Cat/Horse/Barn/Coop/etc animals: Super cute animal skins. They look so huggable and soft. Also one of the dog options looks like my real life dog and that’s very important to me.

- Adopt ‘n’ Skin: Pairs well with the mods above, this mod lets you have multiple dogs/cats/horses and lets you use as many different skins as you like. I’ve got four cows and they’ve all got different patterns and colors. I love it. Also Marnie starts taking in stray animals and you can adopt them from her, which is a really cute way of letting you have more pets.

- Seasonal Garden Farmhouse: Its a pinch overkill especially in the early game, but I really like this farmhouse layout. It gives you a small kitchen from the start, a bathroom you can use to restore stamina, big open windows that change with the seasons and time of day...it’s a luxury house and it’s very nice to live in!

- Industrial Kitchen and Interior/Industrial Furniture/Rustic Country Town Interiors: These mods give the interiors and furniture a more rustic style, and the last one changes the town interiors to match. There are many furniture/interior mods, so if this style doesn’t do it for you, check out some of the others! There are lots of very pretty mods!

And I’m going to stop there but that’s only the tip of the iceberg and I highly recommend looking around NexusMods or ModDrop and seeing what kind of stuff is available!

#stardew valley