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bylightofdawn · 2 years

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I finished ME3 and whelp that end game was a fucking SLOG. OH MY GOD. It never ended. I ended up going with Control because I am a weak-willed paragon player at the end of the day. I will probably reload my save if I can and experiment with Destroy tomorrow though. Even though I did a shit ton of side-missions I guess my military assets still weren’t enough. I blame the fact I didn’t know the Reapors would breed like fucking lice and I prolly should have spent the first day just scanning for as much materials as I could because I did 95% of the side-missions that didn’t require scanning and I was only like 6000+

Fuck. My. Life.

Okay so my hot takes are as follows: I still love Shepard/Garrus. I was very heartbroken to break Kaidan’s heart by picking the sexy velociraptor over him.

Also, Garrus never gave me shit for picking up with Cerberus and I get why people dislike Kaidan. I still think his pluses outweigh the minuses and I am thinking of doing a m!Shep only trilogy playthrough where I romance him cause fuck I love war buddies falling in love and watching a friendship shift into something more trope. -cough cough- I’m looking at you Cortez and Vega. -cough cough-

Garrus also kinda reads as ver young and emotionally immature in a lot of ways. Like Shepard was definitely the first serious relationship he ever had. Fucks sake, this man’s idea of a date was to go and shoot things on top of the Citadel. And he cannot be smooth to save his poor Turian life.

But that’s part of his charm, if I’m being honest. However compare that to the heartbreaking and emotionally vulnerable moments Shepard and Kaidan have, you can definitely tell the developers were more invested in that romance.

I ABJECTLY REFUSE to acknowledge they did my bae Kal’Reegar like they did and fucking offed him in a fucking email. N O P E. Sorry, rumors of his death are greatly exaggerated and he will drag his wounded ass home and surprise Tali by being alive. I will accept no other canon.

I fucking ship the hell out of Liara and Javik even though Javik is a super not-cool colonizer/ at times outright misogynist and I don’t know how I feel about this. It makes me uncomfortable but I guess that’s why you have problematic faves. So long as you are willing to acknowledge and accept that the shit they pull isn’t kosher and don’t try and defend it then it’s up for you to find that balance of on your morality scale.

But yeah even Citadel DLC hinted at that being a thing and yeah I ship it.

I don’t mind Garrus/Tali as much as I thought I was when going into ME3 and I know I kinda rudely labeled it as pair the spares but the more I think about it, the more I can see it. I mean, they have been with Shepard for years and I can totally see them building a bond. I would also be completely down for a Garrus/Tali slow-burn where Shepard/Garrus was a thing and now Garrus needs to find a way to conduct his life in a world without her being the pendulum on which his orbit revolves.

And I feel like Tali and Kaidan/Liara to a lesser extent are the people who would understand what it’s like trying to live in a world without her larger-than-life presence. I am also 1000% open to the idea of Garrus/Kaidan finding second chance love with one another with them grieving together over the loss of Shepard and HAVE in fact read some really awesome fanfics with that theme.

I’ve been reading SO MANY FANFICS during this playthrough and I have a shit ton of pairings, both crack and otherwise. I’m compiling a list of ME fanfic recs right now that I will gush about in ad nauseam later.

I got boned because I didn’t import from ME1 onwards so it felt like a personal attack and failing that Eve and Miranda died. I also didn’t have access to Kasumi or Zaheed which made me sad.

I just don’t think I’m up for sinking another 100+ hours into this series right this moment. I am debating buying Andromedea but the amount of bitching and whinging I’ve heard about it, I don’t know if it’s just fandom being a whiny titty baby because they ‘broke it’ or if it’s legitimate criticism.

I’m darkly amused that I am 2/2 in the talking at people long enough they would rather shoot themselves than listen to me pontificate any longer. First Saren and now the Illusive Man, Shepard really do be talking people quite literally to death with her care bear stares Paragon energy. 🤣 And yes I am dating myself horrifically with that reference.

I’m also debating picking up Dragon Age. I bought it on disk for PS3 I think but I’m not breaking that shit out to play a horrifically grainy near 20 year old title. Hopefully it has a remastered edition.

I’m glad I finally finished this series. I’ve legit been picking it up and putting it down for like 10 years at this point. Do I think it’s worth the hype everyone has given it? Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhh no? It’s serviceable and definitely a fun ride. I am super both confused and impressed with BioWare rehauling the gaming mechanics THREE DIFFERENT TIMES. Like, I respect the grind but why? I know everyone hated the Mako and none of use were sad to see it go but jeeze. I’m assuming there was a gaming engine difference between the three of them but still it’s not usual to have the gaming mechanics changed three different times and it gives it a bit of a haphazard vibe because of it.

I actually REALLY MISSED the hacking games in ME3. I suspect I’m prolly in the minority there but I would much rather have that fun code matching/icon matching memory style game over mashing buttons in ME1 or just having to sit there watching Shepard wave her hand around for 10 seconds while bypassing doors in ME3.

I hated only having access to three/eventually four weapons in ME2 but I liked it’s leveling up system the most. Class restricted weapons just didn’t do it for me. Being able to build your paragon/renegade level in ME1 is just weird and I’m glad they got away from that. I do feel like ME1 and ME3 were more similar in how they did their level scaling and I really liked being able to earn a special ability from one of your teammates if you invested enough time and effort into building a rapport with them. Whereas you could just buy it in ME2.

NGL I got Flare and didn’t look back at all. LMAO. What a stupidly OP ability. Banshee and Brutes? Eh toss some grenades and Flare at them and it ain’t a problem anymore.

There are other things but I think I’ve spazzed out long enough over this stupid video game trilogy.

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gojology · 3 years

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Let Me Spoil You. (18+) (NSFW)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I AM FEEDING U GUYS SO GOOD ???? holy mother of a goose i poured my blood sweat and tears into this, bumping to yung gravy as i write this so u alrdy know this is gonna be a banger!!! also i didn’t edit at all and i got so lazy at the end n i didnt wanna scrap this so uhh sorry if its bad 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Dom Gojo x Sub Female Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3683 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Dub-Con (I think?) Inexperienced Virgin Reader, Somnophilia, Degradation, Dom/Sub, Edging, Begging, Spitting 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | It’s your one month anniversary, and you really don’t like Gojo spoiling you, Gojo gets frustrated, he teaches you a lesson. A soft orange filter glazed the bathroom, a humid breeze blowing in weakly from the window that was always open, no matter what. The shower head lightly sprinkled on you, mumbling curses to the shower head, you swatted, and lightly tapped it a few times before you realized you had to change the water pressure. Facepalming, you hadn’t realized that you had changed the water pressure to ungodly levels. It was too late when you had realized, the water shot at your face, practically pushing you back. Water droplets adorned your cheeks, and your hair suddenly decreased in volume. Gasping for air, you used your arm to wipe your eyes and quickly turned the temperature up to anything other than the freezing bitter cold, you stretched, indulging in the refreshing, hot water. You had just gone out with Gojo for a luxurious dinner, even though it wasn’t quite your style, Gojo had insisted on taking you out to a fine-dining establishment. Small cuts of steak, with absurdly expensive champagne on the side, and of course, Gojo’s favorite, absurdly expensive desserts. It had been almost a month since you had began to go out with him, and he had tried treating you like a princess ever since. Anything you set your eyes on, he offered to buy it, whipping out a black leather wallet that was close to snapping. Thick wads of cash sat untouched, and you always politely declined. He had always argued with you, telling you that it was a given for significant others to spoil their loved ones. You always brushed it off, but in the latest argument between you two, Gojo was persistent, insisting that you were to dress in your finest and so that he could, “finally spoil my babygirl.” You could still remember how the conversation went. “No, Satoru.” you scoffed, turning to face him, leaning on the counter. Your arms crossed over your chest, “We can get JUST as good food if we order take out or some shit.” “Listen, sweetheart,” he immediately rushed over, his hand on your ass, rubbing up and down, his other caressing your neck. “It’s nothing on me financially, I can handle it, I want to spoil you princess.” You shook your head, looking down. He took his hand off your neck and rubbed his. “I rarely get to spend time with you, between the meetings and the missions and training Yuuji, so let me do it just this once, is that okay, pumpkin? Besides, what do you lose from this? I made the reservation too, so we don’t have to wait. It’s a win win~” You glanced up, before looking down again, ruffling your hair. An awkward silence grew between you two. What did you lose from this? Even though Gojo was absolutely loaded, you still felt terrible spending money for unnecessary shit. He looked at you, placing his hand on his chin, he looked like he was thinking, which was unusual, because the guy was as dumb as a snail sometimes. He let out a small “hm” stroking his chin as if he was debating with world renowned scholars before finally opening his mouth, “Oooooooooh, I get it now!” You sighed, so dramatic. He leaned forward, you always forgot how ridiculously tall he was, and how much he loomed over your figure. “Babe, don’t feel bad.” he tipped your chin upward so he could look you in the eye, even though he was quite literally wearing his blindfold, “this has been our 1 month anniversary, and what’s an anniversary without spending money on unnecessary shit?” “I mean, I guess..” Hesitantly agreeing, he shoved you upstairs into his room (and yours as well!) to throw on the best formal looking outfit you could find last minute. Digging through the drawers, you found a skin-tight black sundress that you had paired with a layered delicate necklace Gojo had gifted you on your second week of dating. Hastily throwing on gold rings and a gold anklet just for the fun of it, you fluffed up your hair. You looked at your black high heels. Hey, if you were gonna be so lavish looking, why not go all out? You regretted that train of thought later on, and wondered why you didn’t just pull up in a simple white t-shirt. Regardless, it was worth it at the end. Gojo looked stunning that night. Swapping out the regular blindfold for a pair of black sunglasses, it accentuated his chiseled features even more. His hair wasn’t what it was usually, it wasn’t spiked up at all. Instead, he wore it down. It looked much softer, and it framed his face perfectly. He wore a buttoned down dress shirt, and you felt your heart swell when other woman watched him walk by, their faces faltering when they realized his arm around your waist. He even went to the extent of pulling the chairs out for you, and opening the car door, as if you were truly a princess. Admittedly, you found yourself enjoying the fine dining, even with the ridiculously small portions. The atmosphere, and the pampering from the waiters had grown on you. While thinking about the events of your anniversary, the door creaked opened, Gojo’s head peaked just above the foggy glass doors of the shower. You slightly slid the door open just a crack, you knew that most couples would immediately open the door and have their arms out, waiting for their significant other to immediately pleasure them in the shower, but you hadn’t done anything like that with Gojo yet. Instantly met with his incredibly toned body, glowing in the hazy amber light from the window, you gulped. A towel draped over his veiny arms, and an incredibly large t-shirt with panties in the other. You quickly realized the t-shirt as the one Gojo often wore, you had never worn one of his t-shirts before. The endless missions had obviously done him well, he looked like he was sculpted from marble, a gift from heaven. Arms strong enough to hold the world, you wondered what it would be like to have him carry you around. Your face flushed a bright red, you didn’t even know what it was like to be carried by him, the furthest you both went was making out, and even you had found yourself being too bad at it to do it consistently. Lost in thought, you didn’t even realize what Gojo was saying. “Sugarplum? I got your clothes.” he murmured softly, setting the towel and clothes down. Your breath hitched, watching his head turn to face the shower. Instantaneously looking down at your face peeking through. You were never gonna hear the end of this one. A small smile spread across his face, before disappearing into a large cocky smirk, now that he had realized what you were looking at. “It’s okay, I understand, pumpkin. Not many have the courage to tell me face to face that I’m the best. In terms of strength, and looks, and everything.” You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry. “Fuck off, idiot, I’m trying to shower!” “Ouch! I didn’t say that when you were ogling at my body, didn’t I? That really hurt my feelings, weren’t you ever taught the golden rule?” His hand wove through his hair, and you couldn’t help realize how soft it looked without all the gel holding the iconic spikes together. “Treat others how you want to be treated.” he winked. Your mouth sealed shut, accepting your defeat, you slid the glass door shut loudly. You heard loud booming laughter go down the hallway, gradually getting quieter and quieter before exhaling a sigh of relief as you continued to shower. You couldn’t help but think about your boyfriend’s body once more, it seemed like a dream. Was he really yours? He had the body of a super model and he settled with you and not some ridiculously pretty girl? Anyone would take advantage of such a handsome boyfriend, showing him off for the world to see. You felt an unfamiliar throb between your legs, you looked down, head tilted to the side while also simultaneously furiously washing your hair. You hadn’t felt this throbbing too much, it was almost like a yearning, and you were almost sure you knew what it was, but you didn’t quite want to admit it yet. Shaking your head furiously, you wanted to finish your shower before anything else. Ignoring the obvious. ‧₊˚✩彡. Rubbing your hair with your towel, you had thrown on the t-shirt and panties, cursing Gojo silently for not giving you a pair of shorts. Rummaging through the drawers in your room, Gojo suddenly appeared in the hallway. “What are you looking for, love?” he leaned on the doorway, cocking his head to his side with a mischievous grin. “Why don’t you ask yourself, considering that you were the one who gave me my clothes.” you scoffed, pushing the drawer you were searching for back and moving on to the next. You had forgotten which drawer had your pants, vivid images of Gojo’s body echoing through your mind. “Your pants are on the left of the drawer.” he strode over to the king-sized bed, the mattress sinking down as he sat. “What are you thinking about?” You scoffed again, looking at him with a side eye. “I’m not thinking of anything? What are you talking about?”

“Whenever you think, you forget literally everything around you.”

Cursing the Gojo clan for ever birthing such a smart yet stupid child, you twirled around with a pair of shorts now in hand. “I do not!”

“Yeah? Okay lil girl. Oh no, you’re not wearing those.”

You felt a throb yet again when you heard him call you lil girl. He snatched the pair of shorts up, dangling it just above your head. “Can’t I ever have my girlfriend wear something remotely sexy? I love your body. I want to see it all in its glory.” He placed it back into the drawer neatly.

You froze. He was being incredibly straightforward, which wasn’t unlike Gojo, but you didn’t think he would make such large advancements. His arms snaked around your waist without you even realizing, breathing heavily as he placed your ass on his lap.

Readjusting to the new position, you looked up, fear and excitement brewing inside of you, was this going to be your first time having sex? You leaned in for a kiss.

Just as he was about to give you a taste of his lips once again, a loud ringtone sounded.

“Fuck.” he cursed to himself, digging into his pockets and whipping out his phone, he gestured for you to be quiet. You whined a little, you had now realized what you were throbbing for.

“Hello?” Gojo cocked his head to his side, placing the phone right next to his ear as it dangerously rested on his shoulder. A disgruntled look in his face, one hand squishing your ass.

“Mmmmmm, yeah, okay.” he placed the phone down on the covers, looking down to you, eye to eye.

“That was a call from Ijichi, there’s some crazy shit going on somewhere, I have to take an emergency business trip.” he kissed your forehead gently, “I love you okay?”

Disappointed with the outcome, you nodded. He gave you a gentle few pats on your back before standing up, gently rolling you over on the bed, and rummaging through the drawers for his work uniform.

“As he casually undressed in front of you, you obviously stared, savoring the last few minutes of his body before he would disappear for the next few days, or maybe even weeks, or a month.

He looked back on you, just as he was entering the hallway.

“You forgot to say I love you.”

Looking up, you cursed to yourself, he didn’t have the usual playful cocky grin, now replaced with a worried one.

“I love you too.”

‧₊˚✩彡.

It had now been a week since your 1 month anniversary, you had been blue balled so badly, it almost hurt. You were laying down on your bed, looking at the curtains flutter as a casual wind blew into the room. The sun was setting, and a beautiful dark blue canvas dotted with stars was sure to appear.

You had tried holding off, ignoring your walls desperately wrapping around something that wasn’t there. Constantly looking down, seeing that your panties were obviously soaked. The dreams weren’t helping either, Satoru had been appearing in your dreams and doing things that even he would be weirded out by, and he had seen some shit.

Your arm snaked down to your panties, hand underneath the fabric. You breathed a sigh of relief as your unexperienced fingers circled your entrance, enjoying the slight tease. You heard the slight suckle of your walls around your fingers, enjoying the full feeling.

Yet you knew that this wasn’t the extent of things, you knew that there were much bigger, capable of reaching places you wouldn’t even dream of reaching. But you enjoyed the small amounts of pleasure anyways.

You pulled your panties down, throwing it into the laundry basket and cursing yourself for making it so wet. Slowly thrusting in and out with the finger, you sighed a breath of relief.

“Fuck.” you gasped, as a white fluid pooled out of you onto the sheets. You cursed harder to yourself, realizing now that you had to wash them.

“Shit.” you couldn’t quite stop there though, you had even more aching between your legs, and you had to satisfy your cravings, you didn’t even know when Gojo would come home.

You gasped more, a second round of white fluids flowed out of you. The yearnings now gone, you yanked a tissue out of the tissue box, wiping your finger on it, too lazy to get up, you would worry about the cum later. Drifting off into a heavy sleep, dreaming once again about the ungodly things you wanted Gojo to do to you.

‧₊˚✩彡.

“Gojo, s-stop.” you looked up at him as you sat on his lap, his fingers coated with your slick. His other hand played with the hem of your skirt. Not responding, he continued to quietly fingering you.

You quickly put a hand over your mouth, letting out a muffled moan, he snickered a little, before pulling out his fingers.

You whined a bit, earning a stare from a few people. Looking up at him with puppy eyes, you felt yourself wrapping around air.

He sadistically smiled. You wondered how his eyes would look right now, unable to look at him because of his blindfold.

“Beg for it, slut.” he silently whispered, teasing your entrance. You let out a little whimper again, how were you to be quiet when he was doing all this to you?

You opened your mouth slightly, about to beg, before being shut down completely as he shoved 3 fingers into you.

You let out a loud squeak, the whole restaurant now staring at you, eyeing you even across the room with displeased faces. You looked down, embarrassed.

He was now laughing at you, you looked up to him about to silently chew him out. Before opening your mouth, you were transported into a bright room.

‧₊˚✩彡.

Your eyes blinked, readjusting to the brightness. You realized that your legs were slightly colder then your upper half, realizing that you were completely naked down there. You blinked furiously, looking around, seeing someone’s incredibly muscular chest, with unmistakable white hair.

Rubbing your eyes, making sure that you weren’t seeing things, you mumbled, “Gojo?”

You felt something squirm around inside of you, letting out a loud moan as it pulled out.

“Hm?” he murmured sleepily, you looked down.

Putting two and two together, his incredibly long fingers were glistening with a wetness. He shuffled a bit before finally sucking and licking his fingers, looking at you directly in the eye while doing so.

“What’s wrong, slut?” he smiled deviously again, resting his chin on your shoulder before thrusting 2 fingers back inside of you again. Curling them inside of you, indulging in the toe curling scream you made.

“Gojo! You’re...” he pulled his fingers out before you could finish, adding another finger, he was now up to 3.

“FUCK, SATORU!” With a lustrous glint in his eyes, he shoved his thumb and index finger into your mouth. “That’s daddy to you, and look at your body. It’s practically begging for my cock by now. Oh princess, did I play with you for too long?” he slipped his fingers out of your needy pussy, smiling into your hair. “Want daddy to fuck you?” Your mouth suddenly dry, you looked at his neck. Not knowing how to respond, you nodded vigorously, sucking on his fingers. He tipped your chin to look upwards at his face, staring directly into his aquamarine eyes. “Use your words, whore. Or you’re not getting shit.” he pulled his fingers out of your mouth. You coughed and spluttered into your arm, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. His eyes went softer, pulling you into his chest. “Oh sweetheart, did I go too rough on you?” You shook your head, before shakily replying, “I-I was just surprised y-you came e-early from the mission a-and...” you took a deep breath in, “I was... unp-prepared. Before he could reply, you blurted out, “P-please, daddy, use my tight l-little holes. I’m all yours to u-use.” He smiled, “What a cute slut. You want me to spoil you, don’t you?” You nodded, now rubbing your thighs together. Your slick coated your inner thigh and your breathing was getting hot. “How come when I offered to, you didn’t want to obey me?” “Y-you can’t compare the two-” He spat into your open mouth. Smiling a bit when he realized that you had swallowed it, looking at him with even wider puppy eyes. “No talking back, repeat after me, lil girl. When daddy wants to spoil me, I will let him spoil me.” “W-when daddy wants to s-spoil me, I...” you took a shaky breath in, “I’ll let him spoil m-me.” “That’s a good girl. Now turn to look at the wall.” he calmly replied, you obeyed, looking at the wall, anticipating for whatever happened next. You felt something big touch your entrance. Something unnecessarily big, you whimpered. Realizing it was Gojo’s dick. He chuckled a bit, smiling into your neck and then giving it a light suck. “It’s okay princess, this is your first isn’t it? I’ll make you into my cumslut afterwards. I’ll go nice and easy.” Heaving a bit, he thrusted a little inside of you. You held your breath. Strangely, it didn’t hurt at all. Even with the contrast between his incredibly thick and large cock, to your inexperienced, tight walls. “Missy, you’re so wet.” huskily muttering into your ear, “almost like you’re milking my cock. So tight.” He grunted, repositioning myself and letting out a small, “Fuck.” as he did so. You whined as he gradually put more and more of him inside of you. You tightened around his cock, drooling as you did so. You didn’t realize your mouth was open. “Babe, I can barely fucking pull out.” Gojo said, while he played with your hair, stroking your cheek. “W-why not?” “Nothing other then the fact that, a) you’re too tight around me, and b) you’re clenching incredibly hard for no real reason.” he once again, shoved his thumb and index finger for you to suck on, the other playing with your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple. “Just relax, baby. Let daddy do all the work, okay?” You weakly nodded, as he finished shoving the last of his length inside of you. Whimpering, and yanking your pillow out from its normal position to hug it. You felt him pull out, and he slammed back inside of you once again. You swore to God that you saw the light, a wave of pleasure and your body going numb as he did so. Letting out a shrill squeak, you hugged your pillow as hard as you can, your juices flowing down into the bed now, leaving an evident trail of where it once came from. Gojo grunted, snuggling deeper into your body. There was barely any space between the two of you, but you still didn’t feel close enough. The room was filled with the sound of sticky skin against stinky skin, panting, and moans. You felt every. single. bit. of him. Now, he had begun to quicken his pace, slamming into your body more often, sending waves of pleasure inside of you. His hair stuck to his neck, sweat pouring down his body, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, I want to cum inside of you so badly, love.” he panted out of breath. You whimpered, still unable to speak due to his fingers you were harshly sucking all this time. He laughed in response, before finally pulling out. In a blink of an eye, he shot ropes of cum on your stomach, panting. You had finally gotten a good view of his cock, big was an understatement. Veins decorated the side of it, and the tip was a rosy pink. “Lick some cum off of your pretty stomach, princess. I wanna see how pretty you look while doing so.” Both of you breathing heavily, sweat dampening the sheets, his eyes bore into you. You gulped, even though you had done something so intimate with him, dominant Gojo was nothing to mess with. You scooped some of his cum up with your finger and sucked on it, looking at him the whole time. He grunted with approval, giving you a nice headrub. “Well would you look at that.” he glanced at the wall, “it’s already morning. Wanna take a shower together, lil girl?” On any other day, you’d make up an excuse, but you figured that you’d get fucked even harder if you told him you didn’t want to. “Okay, daddy.” “Good girl.”

#gojo satoru smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojou satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #dom gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojou x you

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Healing

Prompts: So I’ve recently binged all your SS fics practically and I know you SWAMPED in prompts, but if this sounds like something you could enjoy creating I’d love to request a promt as well:

Set in your SS Butterfly Project, could we maybe get Virgil reacting to all the sides (specifically L and Ro) learning to heal, and bouncing between helping sooth everyone’s anxiety over all the changes? I’d just love under appreciated Virgil helping in the moments in between the healing process if that makes any sense…

I appreciate the he*l out of you regardless if you take this prompt or not; and you deserve all the kindness the world has to offer you. ❤️ - mylgbtbabies

I would take any fic where somethigns off and virgil knows it. Someone: Im sure its fine!! Virgil: Idk man Im anxiety my spooder sense be tingly. - anon

If you're taking requests for Sanders Sides uwu can I ask for something Virgil-centric? I just love the emo boy - anon

ahh yes the babes

Read on Ao3

Warnings: ngl this one's pretty much fluff

Pairings: DLAMP, LAMP, DLAMPR, that found family

Word Count: 3538

Healing: To restore to health or soundness; cure.

Healing: To ease or relieve (emotional distress).

* * *

Healing isn’t a linear process.

It’s messy, it’s hard, and no one should expect it to be anything otherwise. Humans are complicated, more often than not brains are absolute garbage, and trying to navigate everything on your own is difficult. Really difficult.

So is learning how to ask for help.

Virgil sighs and leans back against the couch as Roman continues to type on his laptop. He risks a glance up at Princey to see his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. Every so often he’ll quirk his eyebrow in the way that means he just made a hilarious typo and has to go back. Virgil hides a smile as he turns his attention back to his phone. Can’t intrude too much on the process, that’s not how it works. He glances up to make sure no one’s coming down the stairs and shifts his weight again.

“Are you alright?”

There’s Roman, taking care of everyone else first. “I’m good, Princey, just trying not to fuck up my spine.”

“…do you want to come sit up here with me? I won’t mind.”

Virgil cranes his neck back, letting a slow and lazy smile come across his face. “Nah, ‘m good right here. You just make with the typey typey, okay?”

Roman smiles too, victory achieved. “Okay.”

“That’s my Princey.”

Virgil isn’t humble enough to not feel the little rush of pride at seeing a quick flush spread to Roman’s ears as he turns his attention back to his laptop. Suppressing a chuckle, he starts mindlessly scrolling again, getting sucked back into whatever’s contaminating his dash this time. What’s this about a k-drama…?

“Oh! There you are!”

Patton might not notice the way Roman startles, but Virgil does. He looks up and quickly shakes his head as Patton comes the rest of the way down the stairs.

“It’s work hours, Pat.”

“Oh, I thought—“ Virgil gives him a look that he knows Patton understands as Roman is setting the rules here, and he nods quickly— “well don’t mind me, I’m just getting a drink.”

Roman relaxes slightly as Patton bustles in and out of the kitchen, then a little more as Virgil reaches up to squeeze his hand.

“Thank you,” comes the quiet mumble.

“I gotcha, Princey. Work hours are your thing, I’m happy to help.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, when Logan comes down the stairs carrying his computer, he takes one look at them in the living room before his mouth drops open slightly.

“Is it…work hours?”

“Mhm,” Virgil says, letting his head loll back, “you wanna join?”

“May I? I can be quiet as well.”

Virgil looks up at Roman. Roman glances up, smile softening when he sees it’s Logan, and gently pats the sofa next to him. Logan smiles too and yeah, okay, Virgil’s fine with his edge lord image fading slightly if it means he gets to be fond at watching these two nerds be gentle with each other.

The two of them start to type on their laptops, Logan’s constant murmurs of what he’s working on an amusing contrast to Roman’s silent yet expressive face. Virgil keeps the barrier there, warding off Janus and Remus when they try and drag the others into the dramatics—if anyone, especially Janus, tries to deny that he’s as much a part of it as Remus is, do not under any circumstances believe them—to keep the nerds safe.

After a while, when Virgil re-emerges from whatever deep dive he’s gone on this time—and yeah, he might be looking to pirate that k-drama, maybe—he realizes there’s no more typing. He looks up, a little concerned, only to be incredibly glad no one else is around to see him melt at the sight on the couch.

Roman’s laptop lies partially closed on his lap, the screen just touching the tops of his knuckles. His head and shoulders are angled toward Logan and his eyes are closed. Logan’s glasses are slipping slightly off his face, his head on Roman’s shoulder, eyes closed, lips parted slightly as his hair falls back into his face. His laptop has been set on the coffee table, somewhere safe.

Virgil shakes his head, standing and carefully taking Roman’s laptop from him. He saves whatever’s on it and sets it next to Logan’s. Then he takes the blanket from the back of the couch and carefully drapes it over the two of them. He slides Logan’s glasses from his face and undoes the top button of Princey’s collar. Can’t do for them to have a red mark, after all. And he sits back down to keep watch.

Sometimes, when they’re doing better, they ask for more. Roman comes to him sometimes and asks, very very quietly, but he does ask, for Virgil to come sit with him by his room. Virgil happily takes up residence in the warm spot in the hallway next to Roman’s room, right where the big windows are, soaking in the warmth from outside as Roman closes the door gently behind himself.

Something that everyone had to learn pretty quick once Logan and Roman started reaching out was that both of them are extremely private people. On the surface, it might seem like they’re different—and if they’re being honest, they certainly thought they were very different—but they aren’t. Not really. Roman hides behind being too much, Logan hides behind not being anything. Whether or not anyone actually knows them without any of the facades is up for debate.

Except each other. They…they…know each other.

Virgil would be lying if he said he isn’t a little jealous of how close the two of them have become. There are soft smiles they only have for each other now, little brushes of their hands against each other’s as a constant way of saying ‘I’m here, I see you, are you alright?’ And sometimes it’s Virgil’s job to sit outside one of their rooms as they try and hold each other steady.

Their company feels better than their solitude and it’s up to them to decide where that line is.

Today, Virgil’s just keeping an eye on Roman. Fielding off anyone who comes to knock on his door, glaring away the more persistent ones who don’t seem to understand that Roman needs his space right now, kindly fuck off. Logan comes around the corner and immediately understands and he sees them murmur quietly to each other when it’s time for dinner.

When he watches Logan, it’s a little harder. Because poor Logan is so used to pushing himself to the side to be able to make decisions, to help do things, that Virgil has to remind everyone involved that no, Logan’s enforced a boundary that means he doesn’t want to be disturbed right now, he’s allowed to do that, let’s leave him be for now. Left brain boys have to stick together.

But the others, to a certain extent, are easy. They care about Roman and Logan as much as Virgil does, and if it’s to help them, they’ll do whatever they have to. Protecting them from themselves…that’s another story.

Logan is too fucking good at pretending he’s fine. He’s too good at pretending he doesn’t have emotions, that he doesn’t care what’s going on unless it’s the absolute most illogical thing that’s happening. So, sometimes he has to work a little harder to get Logan to admit it.

“L,” he mutters as the others continue to argue, “check-in.”

“I’m fine.”

Janus shoots him a look as he continues to argue. Virgil tugs gently on Logan’s sleeve.

“No one’s gonna be mad if you say you aren’t, bud.”

Logan shakes his head firmly, eyes still trained on the way Patton and Janus are insisting that they’re the one right.

“Hey,” Virgil says softly, making them take a step back, “I need you to look at me, L.”

“What is the purpose of this?”

“You’re seizing up again.” Logan looks down at his hands, sees the way they’re shaking as Virgil gently runs a finger over the back of one of them. “It’s okay, bud, you’re gonna be fine, you just have to let yourself not be for a moment, okay?”

Logan risks a glance at the others but they haven’t noticed anything. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. Judging by the way Janus is being more dramatic than normal and Roman has turned so his back is facing them, they’ve noticed something’s wrong and are purposefully not noticing anything else.

“Logan,” Virgil calls, “do you need a minute?”

Logan’s mouth opens, closes, then he nods sharply.

“Okay, thank you, I’m really proud of you for saying that. Can I sink you out?”

Another sharp nod.

Virgil sets his hand gently on Logan’s elbow and sinks them out, right outside Logan’s room. He nods to the door.

“Do you need to be alone for a moment? Or do you need me with you?”

Logan looks at the door. His hands shake again. Virgil sees them twitch toward his legs. Then he looks at Virgil and oh, okay, no, Virgil’s definitely coming inside.

“Come on,” he says, guiding hand still on Logan’s shoulder, “just through here, okay? I’m gonna get you a glass of water.”

Logan looks small, Virgil decides he doesn’t like that. He presses a glass of water gently into Logan’s hands, watches as he drinks the whole thing without complaint, and then carefully sets one of Logan’s fluffier pillows into his lap for Logan to hang onto.

“Do you want to sit here for a moment?”

Logan nods, then buries his face in the pillow and breathes. Virgil closes his eyes and starts to breathe too, keeping it slow and steady as he breathes in, then out, then in, then out. When Logan’s breathing starts to hitch, he opens his eyes and scoots a little closer, wordlessly offering a shoulder. Logan takes it after a moment, his face still buried in the pillow even as his head comes to rest on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Let it out, bud,” Virgil murmurs into the crown of Logan’s head, “don’t try and keep any of that shit in you. It’s just me.”

Watching Logan cry isn’t fun. He doesn’t recommend it. But it’s much, much better than the alternative.

“Hey,” he calls again, a fresh glass of water in his hand, “drink, bud, it’ll help.”

Logan drinks, a little slower this time, as Virgil settles back on the bed, one leg folded under him.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to distract you?”

Logan shakes his head. “I…do not think distraction would be helpful.”

“Okay. Do you want me to give you the logical reason why this is fine, or the emotional one where I tell you how much we care?”

Logan sniffles.

“Both it is, then.” Virgil scoots closer, ready if Logan needs to lean against him again. “Despite the fact that your role is Logic, no one expects you to be entirely logical. You are a person, you have feelings and emotions, and they are as much a part of you as Logic is. Trying to deny that isn’t logical, nor productive. The reason you are who you are is equally due to both of those things.”

He softens his voice as Logan leans toward him again, smiling at how shamelessly Logan is asking to be comforted.

“And that’s why we care about you,” he mumbles, ignoring the heat rushing to his own face, “because you’re you. You’re…prissy and stuck-up and a know-it-all and it’s perfect, L. You’re our braincell and you’re fucking ours. You’re—you’re not going anywhere.”

Logan’s arms still grip the pillow tightly even as his head nudges its way under Virgil’s chin. Virgil smiles and lets him, only realizing he’s absentmindedly nuzzling Logan’s hair after a minute.

The others will be fine. Logan just needs a moment to check out.

Roman, on the other hand, fucking sucks at letting himself ask.

And yeah, Virgil’s not too proud to admit he still feels sick at how much he’s fucked that up for him. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try and fix that now.

Princey’s gig as Creativity isn’t misplaced; Virgil’s equal parts impressed and dismayed at how well Roman’s managed to get himself what he needs without directly asking for it, be it a favor, a piece of feedback, or a conversation.

The one thing he can’t do that with is touch.

Roman needs physical contact like he needs water. He may run hotter than a goddamn furnace but he somehow manages to look cold. Watching him sit himself apart from everyone else hurts now, especially when Janus comes and confesses that he can hear how much Roman tries to insist that he doesn’t need affection from the others.

So, they built a system. Some with Roman’s knowledge, some without. Roman goes to them for comfort when he needs it, but sometimes, when he really needs it, it’s up to them to figure out just how much.

Remus knows his job when it comes to this. His brother is Roman and you don’t get to be a Dark Side without Janus as a dramatic caveat. He’s well-versed in blackmailing self-sacrificing idiots into taking care of themselves.

Remus finds Roman when Roman’s sitting alone, off to the side, staring out into the expanse of the Imagination. He sits down, brushes their shoulders together, and frowns when Roman apologizes and shifts further away.

That’s the first indication.

He suggests they go bother Patton, or sneak out to the field and practice cliff jumping. If Roman’s alright, he’ll roll his eyes and propose an alternative, or agree and they’ll scamper off. But instead, he smiles softly and says no thank-you, politely inviting Remus to stay if he likes, but he’d rather not move.

That’s the second indication.

The third one comes when Remus carefully—really carefully—prods at Roman to see how obvious Roman’s dazed state is. He’s barely there.

Time for reinforcements.

Who gets called depends on who’s around. Since Remus is usually the first one in the chain—although that responsibility does get bounced around—everyone else’s schedules make absolute consistency difficult.

Today, it’s Janus.

He sits on Roman’s other side, pressing their shoulders together. If he’s alright, he’ll lean into him, or at the very least, tolerate it. His presence is strong, enough to coax down his shields and that’ll be the end of it. But today, he scoots away from him too, another apology on his lips.

They exchange a look over Roman’s head.

No one banters quite like Remus and Janus, and sometimes that’s all it takes to pull him out of his head. Sometimes it’s an offer to go flounce around an abandoned castle, and there’s a small smile on his face as they leave.

Not today.

As a last resort, Janus reaches out and gently calls to him.

“My prince, are you alright?”

Sometimes it’s enough.

Not today.

“Alright,” Remus declares, getting up and clapping his hands, “time to pull out the big guns.”

Sometimes he’ll get up and walk with them, sometimes he won’t. He has carried him through the Mindscape before, but it was only once. And that was when he couldn’t actually move and they’d had a murmured conversation where he gave him permission to.

Today he gets up and follows them, confused as to what’s going on. They march him straight to a door and Remus knocks on it.

“Roman’s upset,” he says as soon as the door opens.

Virgil smiles and steps aside, letting him come in. Sometimes it’s a waiting game, sometimes Remus pushes him inside. But today, Roman bows his head and walks inside, letting Virgil close the door behind him.

Sometimes it’s a protest. Sometimes it’s a: ‘this really isn’t necessary,’ or a ‘do we have to do this?’ When that happens he indulges Roman, meets every quip with one of his own until he can knock Roman off-balance with well-placed sincerity and use his distraction to steer him to the bed.

Sometimes it’s an apology. It’s an: ‘I’m sure you’ve got other things to do, I can just go,’ and he shakes his head, tells Roman he’s more than happy to spend time with him. That no, he’s not being rude, that he all but asked for Roman to come. When that happens, he normally clams up, stays quiet, until he relents and gathers Roman up into a cuddle by the door.

Sometimes it’s silence. It’s a bowed head, curled up like a frightened animal, braced for punishment. It’s the moments where the gap between Light and Dark feels uncrossable. It’s the moments where the anger is disappointment, where the frustration is indifference, until he speaks first and murmurs that no, Roman’s not in trouble, he’s not here to lecture him, he’s hurt and he wants to help, as he takes Roman into his arms.

Every time it’s a fight.

It’s knowing that he can’t win because of course, he can’t win but this isn’t something he’s supposed to win but he can’t show weakness but he won’t have a choice because it’s the slow, patient kill that speaks of nothing but kindness and care but Virgil has enough to worry about and he doesn’t get to dump all of his problems on Virgil but he knows he wouldn’t do this if he didn’t care but he cares about everyone and Roman isn’t special but he knows that doesn’t matter and he needs this but it makes him want to rip all of his skin off and start over but then he’d get blood on his carpet and that wouldn’t be very polite either—

Virgil guides him to the couch with a hand on his back, sitting him down and bringing two cups of tea to the table. He cups Roman’s hand around one to gauge how warm it is and if his fingers grow too red, he sets it aside. He sits next to him and carefully reaches out.

Here she is, sitting right next to him, and yet he’s almost nowhere to be found.

He needs to relearn how to ask for comfort, for reassurance, for what he needs, but the wait hurts them both.

I’m trying, I’m trying, I promise, I’m sorry—

It’s alright, I’m right here, just ask, that’s all.

When he finally reaches out, Virgil snaps and bundles Roman into his arms. He tucks Roman up against his chest, letting him wind his arms as tightly as he needs to, guiding one leg, then the other, over his. Roman lets out a little whine as he tucks his face into the crook of his neck. He cards his fingers through Roman's hair and smiles as the poor prince melts into his arms.

The familiar protective instinct swells up and Virgil finds himself wanting very much to wrap him up in his hoodie and keep him safe from the universe.

He keeps his breathing even, hoping his heart doesn’t begin to race from the need to protect the Roman. This is for Roman, this is what he needs, to chase away the worries of the world and be safe.

Sometimes they fall asleep like that. Sometimes Roman needs to cry and he hushes him tenderly. Sometimes he seems convinced that if either of them lets go they’ll fly apart.

It doesn’t matter.

If he feels the safest with Virgil’s arms around him, his head on his chest, his heartbeat in his ear, the world could be on fire and he would not leave his side.

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #roman angst #logan sanders #logan angst #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #patton sanders

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haleigh-sloth · 3 years

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I have a question but why do you think so many people are against Dabi/Touya getting a redemption arc or getting saved? Like some are against him being saved but are all down for Shiggy and Toga to be saved? I usually see the same argument and it’s frustrating! Like before I explain myself just want to say I’m not hating on Shiggy or do I feel like he’s any less worth saving but I see these arguments that leave me baffled. So the arguments I have seen before is some people don’t think Dabi/Touya can be redeemed or saved because he has murdered 30+ people, but like Shiggy has probably killed the same amount of not more people so that logic doesn’t really cut it. So why does it make a difference? Like why are people so against Dabi/Touya being saved or redeemed?

Well, I'll start this by saying that Shigaraki has ABSOLUTELY KILLED MORE PEOPLE HOLY SHIT DUDE. It's not even up for debate 😂 that boy flattened two cities with the touch of a hand. Shiggy is my favorite hands down and I'll defend the boy til I die but he has done so much more damage. That's kind of the point to his arc--actually. But anyways~

Content Warning of abuse below the cut a bit further down--

So with that--I've wondered the same thing you're asking. Why is Touya getting so much hate? Why not redeem him? Well, there's a few reasons that I have seen:

Endeavor- This is the first and foremost reason I can see for Touya having so many antis. This is something I can't grasp or fathom--Why do so many people like Endeavor? Or more like--why do so many people want to see an abuser thrive and his victim be put down? I can understand wanting to see an abuser better himself AND wanting to see the victim thrive, and I can see people wanting the abuser to be put down and the victim to thrive. But to just want the abuser to come out on top? No. Fuck you. (not you anon). So for whatever reason that I cannot fathom, people can't stand the idea of Touya surviving, being saved and redeemed, because it means that Enji has failed (which he already has but--again I really don't understand that side of the fandom and quite frankly I don't want to). So yeah, Endeavor has a lot of ridiculous fans. Hawks- I've already talked about how ridiculous some of the Hawks-stans are. I'm sorry but---they're fucking ridiculous. Some of them need to step away from their computer, go outside, breath some outside air, and shut the fuck up. And let me tell you---we sometimes joke about how the hero-stan side of the fandom lacks critical thinking skills and can't read past the surface--but I want to disagree with to an extent. I can tell you right now, Hawks's stans saw THIS:

And they knew. Seeing Hawks remain in the dark while Dabi walked toward the light. They knew what this was foretelling. And they didn't like it. And then this happened:

And they DEFINITELY did not like that. And then Dabi went and made fried chicken out of him and they found more reason to hate him with all their being. Hawks was kind of set up to die heroically--and even though his arc is pretty bad right now, I still think that at this point that’s the best ending for him. For me, he’s gone too long without even remotely thinking of changing his ideologies, and has been backing Endeavor unquestionably for a bit too long now. It’s just not looking good for him survival-wise. And his stans either SEE this very clearly and are in denial and need something to hate in order to deal with it, OR they really just aren’t looking as deep into the story as they need to. Those panels I used above though honestly tell it all. That being said he very well may survive and not have any consequences from his low point at all--but then he gets thrown in the “BNHA’s shittiest written arcs” pile. But whatever.

Also--shoutout to the blogs I follow and people I talk to who genuinely LOVE Hawks’s character but like--aren’t ridiculous about it and don’t harass people in their inboxes about it. Who also try to understand his character and not just make him out to be a uwu baby that never did anything wrong. TRUE Hawks-stans if I ever saw em.

Shouto--This is FAR less common than the other two reasons, but I have seen a few people who think this. They love Shouto (understandably--he’s a fluffy boy who needs a hug from his big brother Touya), but they think that Touya is going to be Shouto’s “final boss”, or his mortal enemy or something. Which--idk if they just refuse to read into Shouto’s awesome character on purpose or not, but he is not about to go out there and try to kill his big brother, who he never got to know, who he KNOWS suffered because of their father, and who is very very clearly in physical, mental, and emotional pain. Again--Shouto-stans are a far less part of the problem. But I’ve seen this misunderstanding of Shouto’s character go around a few times.

This next one is also big, and kind of falls into the same category with Endeavor up top--but it’s such a huge issue that I’m seeing that it needs its own paragraph: People don’t understand children’s behaviors, abuse, abusive family dynamics, and just child psychology in general. Child psychology is hard to understand--but also very simple. It’s hard as an adult to think back to how black and white the world was when you were a kid. Your parents were your safe place--they were your guardians. Or rather--they were supposed to be. This isn’t always the case though. And the Todoroki family exhibits a lot of realistic aspects of abuse. Even though the Todoroki backstory was very messily written--one thing is absolute: Endeavor emotionally abused his child. The issue is that Shouto’s and Rei’s physical abuse was shown FIRST in the story--and THEN we were shown what really happened with Touya wasn’t so easily identified as abuse (I mean it is--to me, but not to everybody). And people got stuck on comparing Touya’s and Shouto’s childhood instead of viewing them as two completely separate crimes Endeavor committed against his family. And they misunderstand Touya’s behaviors. Peep back at when I said that your parents are supposed to be your safe place--well, for Touya, Enji WAS his safe place, his guardian, his world. And then suddenly all of that disappeared without reason (good reason I mean). And that takes a serious toll on a child. I could honestly go on and on and on about this topic in particular but it’s not necessary for this ask. The point is---people don’t think Touya was actually abused or that he suffered as a child. They seriously lack an understanding when it comes to stuff like that. And they aren’t shy about showing it to the rest of the internet.

The last reason which I think kind of encompasses all of these reasons: People don’t understand redemption arcs--because they’re not your run of the mill Heroes vs. Villains story. It makes it to where it’s not clearly obvious whose side you should take. I guess people don’t like that---but I love it. Why not take BOTH sides?

You get to have more fun this way imo. You get to watch and see how the two sides come together--rather than just stick to one ideology til the end. I think it’s because people don’t like having their ideals, beliefs, and values challenged. It may be personal for some people--but forgiveness is a touchy subject as well. And I also think a lot of people very much think that the rules of our reality should exist within fiction. People forget that fiction exists for us to escape reality--I don’t know why this is so easily forgotten. But what’s cool about fictional stories is that everybody can have a happy ending--no matter how many atrocities they committed, people they hurt/killed, because guess what? NOBODY ACTUALLY GOT HURT!

But anyway---these are the conclusions I’ve come to regarding why Touya has so many haters. Some are legitimate reasons (the last two I listed) and some are just outright ridiculous (the first three I listed).

I’m not bothered though. I would LIKE to say that when these villain-saving chapters come out I’ll laugh hysterically at all the villain-haters’ reactions---BUT I already blocked almost all of them. 😂

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ohhipstaplease · 3 years

Text

Strawberry Sugar | NH

In which an uncharacteristically bashful Naruto finally realizes he’s in love with Hinata over a slice of strawberry shortcake.

nsfw | semi-canon divergence | ongoing

Read: Ao3 / FFN

Chapter 1

They say it takes about three seconds to fall in love with someone, but how long does it take to be reciprocated? That was exactly the question that Hinata Hyuga asked herself time and time again.

Ever since she had blatantly admitted her love to the boy she had been fawning over since their schoolyard days, she had realized that perhaps if it didn't happen within those three minuscule seconds, it never would. After all, love was something you either felt or you didn't, and clearly her golden boy, well, it seemed as if he felt the latter.

Hinata's cheeks reddened at the thought of her confession. It had come at the most unexpected, and perhaps, most inappropriate times—right at the cusp of the Fourth Shinobi World War. To be completely fair, she had believed that she would not survive the battle. She had really thought that was the final stand for her, and who better to take it for. She was willing to put his life before hers, the whole village was. Ultimately, he was the one who would save the entirety of the nation. What was one for many? But before she confronted her own mortality, she only thought it right to make it clear to him why she was willing to so easily die for him.

But he didn't understand. Or rather, he did, but not to the extent that Hinata had hoped. Quite clearly she was alive and well. The sun shined, the birds chirped loudly, and the familiar smells of the various shops preparing for the breakfast rush surrounded her. But still, even though she had made her confession, even though she had been on the brink of death right alongside him, nothing had changed.

She had thought that the moment would bring clarity, not only to her but to the boy who had been the reason she had become the woman she was now. But it had been over a year and he had not said a word about the matter. But, then again, it was in the middle of a battle, so you know, emotions run high. He could have written it off to that whole thing about being confronted with your mortality and saying things you don't wholeheartedly mean in the heat of the moment. Or he could have confused the love she had confessed to him for one similar to that of which he felt for his longtime rival Sasuke. You know, the sibling kind of love that has nothing amorous or passionate to do with it? That's the one.

Why did Hinata think that? Well for starters Naruto had taken to calling her for trivial things, things that honestly did not put her anywhere other than in the friend zone. From walking him back to his apartment after his physical therapy, to just helping him pick out a new rug for his too-cold wooden floor, Naruto had, perhaps without realizing, told Hinata what he had thought of her declaration without saying a word.

Hinata constantly ran various scenarios through her head, but all she could come up with was that Naruto simply didn't reciprocate what she felt for him. That she had to let it go.

And just as she ran that thought through her mind for the billionth time, she found herself bumping into Sakura Haruno, one-third of Team 7, and currently, one of Naruto's closest confidants.

"Hinata! It's been so long"

Hinata's lavender eyes widened in surprise as she saw a blur of pink and maroon before feeling a pair of strong, almost too strong, arms around her shoulders.

"Sa-Sakura-chan"

"Yes?"

"You're hurting me"

Sakura stepped back and laughed loudly, a big smile upon her face. Her cherry blossom colored hair was slightly askew, her clothes a little worn, clearly she was coming back from some mission or another she had most likely been sent on.

"How are you?" Sakura asked, taking hold of Hinata's hand.

Hinata curled her fingers around her friend's and smiled, "I've been alright. Hanabi's birthday is tomorrow, I just wanted to make sure that we had her favorite strawberry shortcake at home."

Sakura nearly squealed, "She's getting so big! I can't believe she's turning fourteen!"

"I know," Hinata exclaimed, "I can barely believe it myself."

"Are you heading to the bakery? I'll walk with you, I need some things myself. My fridge is completely empty! Can you believe I went home expecting to have at least instant ramen in the cupboard and I found absolutely nothing?"

"Oh, you need to take better care of yourself," Hinata said, concern clearly etched upon her face.

"Tell that to Naruto. You know he's planning on going on missions soon? I don't know who in their right mind would clear that, Tsunade-sama hasn't even finished working on his arm. I really don't know what to do with him."

"Hmm," Hinata mumbled, blushing and looking down at the gravel under her feet.

Sakura held back a chuckle, "He still hasn't said anything, has he?

"About?"

"You know what about."

"I-I uh."

"Don't get all worked up," Sakura said, looking at her friend's changing complexion. Beads of sweat began to form upon Hinata's forehead, and her once smooth and warm hand became clammy at the mention of Naruto's name.

"I-I'm not."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay, then tell me why you're going out with Naruto, again, if he has not mentioned anything about what happened."

Hinata didn't want to seem rude, but she let go of Sakura's hand to push back her too-long bangs off of her forehead, "He needed some help picking out a gift for Lord Hokage-sama."

"Ah, yes. He did say he had his eye on something for Kaka—I mean lord sixth. God, baka, I keep forgetting."

"It's okay. I'm sure Lord Hokage doesn't mind. You were a part of his team."

Hinata said, recalling how uneasy the Sixth Hokage had been in the first place in regards to his new title and position.

"Yeah, but formalities are formalities. He's not just my sensei anymore, you know?"

Hinata nodded, "I understand, Sakura-chan."

"You always do," Sakura said, unintentionally rolling her eyes.

Hinata stiffened, wondering what she had done to insult her friend, "What does that mean?"

"If you keep being this understanding, you're never going to get anywhere."

Hinata understood, of course, she did. She and Sakura had spoken about this time and time again, but she didn't have the heart to fight her today. So she simply responded, "I don't know what you could possibly-", only to be cut off by the pink-haired girl.

"You know exactly what I mean, Hinata. Please, just talk to him. You mustered the courage to say something all that time ago. Why not again?"

"Because..."

"Because?"

Hinata avoided looking at Sakura's too intense stare and mumbled, "What if he rejects me? What if he didn't say anything because he really just wasn't interested."

"Oh, please."

"What?"

"He's interested."

"How could you be so sure?"

Sakura shrugged, "Sometimes you just know."

"And if he isn't?" Hinata asked.

Sakura jokingly drew her fist roughly to her hand, "Need I say anything else?"

Hinata gulped knowing Sakura's strength, "Please don't hurt him."

"If he doesn't hurt you, then I don't have to," Sakura said sweetly.

"Oh, Sakura-chan."

"Never mind me, let's go get that strawberry shortcake. I have to be back by noon, I promised Shizune I'd take over so she can take a break," She said, linking her arm through Hinata's and turning them both in the direction of the bakery.

Hinata chewed the side of her cheek, careful not to draw blood...again. She didn't know how'd she muster the courage once more, but Sakura was right. Something had to be done.

————————————————————-

Hinata arrived home within the hour, strawberry shortcake in hand. She had spent the better part of the morning in an inner debate, wondering whether or not she should once and for all just re-confess to Naruto.

"Oneechan?"

Hinata's head snapped up as she saw her younger sister walk into the kitchen, with the cake still in plain sight. Hinata quickly stepped in front of it, in hopes that Hanabi would not see it.

"H-hi!" She said, excitedly waving her hands.

Hanabi tilted her head slightly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just fine." Hinata leaned against the counter in hopes of looking more relaxed.

"Did you go out?"

"Yes. I ran into Sakura."

"Oh, that's nice."

"How was your training?" Hinata asked, not moving an inch.

"Fine. You know how it is with otousan. Can't even take a day off for my birthday."

"He only wants the-"

"Best for me. I know Onee-chan, I know," Hanabi finished with a sigh.

"Well, at least tonight we can all have dinner together," Hinata tried, with a smile.

Hanabi nodded and walked towards the water pitcher on the table, "Did you run into anyone else while you were out?"

"Oh, no. Just Sakura."

"Not Naruto?" She asked as she poured her glass of water.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Well, you two have been hanging out quite a bit."

"He's needed help with some things, you know?"

"I do. And I also think that considering you confessed to him-"

Hinata sighed, "Why does everyone keep saying that."

"Because you did it! You confessed to him!"

"Shhh! Otousan is going to hear, Hanabi."

"Oh, like he hasn't already. It's only been going around the entire village."

"No, it hasn't!"

Hanabi smirked, her violet eyes twinkling mischievously, "If you two are so close, why don't you just call him up and tell him you want to see him."

"Why would I do that?"

"So that you can confess to the stupid idiot again."

"Hanabi!"

"Hinata, please, the entire village is on edge waiting for you two to finally just get over yourselves and get it on with it."

"What!?"

"Just call him so we can cut the cake, please."

"You knew?" Hinata asked, looking behind her.

"Oh please," Hanabi said in her sweetest voice, "I knew you were getting it the moment you said you were going into town. Now please, call him and so you two can finally just get married."

"We're just friends!" Hinata said her pale face reddening.

"Right. Friends that are probably going to have babies together."

"Get out!"

"Cake? Soon?"

"Out, Hanabi!"

Hinata rubbed her temples as she avoided the general direction of the phone. She knew what she needed to do, it was as easy as picking up the phone and dialing a number.

"Just do it already!"

Hinata turned to see Hanabi peering at her from the doorway, "Fine!"

"I'm not leaving until you do it."

Hinata walked over to the phone on the wall, tentatively grabbed it, and slowly typed in the numbers she clearly knew by heart. It wasn't until Hanabi heard Naruto's unmistakable voice on the other line that she turned on her heel and left Hinata to make plans with him for the next day.

#naruhina #naruhina fanfiction #naruto #naruto uzumaki #hinata hyuga #naruto shippuden #naruto gaiden #naruhina fluff #naruhina fanfic recs #naruhina smut #ao3 writer #ffn.net #naruto x hinata #naruto fanfiction

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mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

Say You’ll Stay - Chapter 9

Fury/Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

There are a million excuses I could give as to why its taken me so long to update. So I will simply say- writer’s block. Here we are though!

Tag List: @happyveday @alwaysindecemberfeels @saritanotserena

Series Masterlist

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

He did not know what to do. He knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he should do. But when those two options were at odds, that left him in the quandary of what to actually do.

Either way, Anna was in trouble and did not even know it yet.

"Fuck." He muttered to himself.

"Something to add, Sergeant Collier?"

Don looked over to meet the stern, blue eyes of Captain Winters. "No, sir."

The redheaded captain stared at the tank commander for a moment before continuing speaking to the other officers in HQ. "This town here is a key point for supplies for the Germans. There is a railroad next to the town that intelligence says is crucial to them. Once we get control of the town, we'll secure it until 1st Battalion can relieve us." Winters said, pointing at a spot on the map laid across the table.

Don glanced back out the window, watching Captain Evans walk away from the HQ building. It had been three days since they arrived in Haguenau, and Captain Evans planned on leaving in two more.

The dark-haired intelligence officer began speaking next. "Our sources say it's only infantry there. It seems most of the tanks have been recalled back to Germany. Either way, we expect resistance but as to how much, we aren't sure."

"That's why we are sending the Armored Division with you. Sergeant Collier will lead the four tanks in assistance." Winters said. "They will follow behind. At this point we've been asked to minimize damage to property but I will not trade it for lives. Understand?"

A chorus of "yes, sir" answered him.

"Excellent. Fox Company will lead the assault with some of Dog Company in reserve. Have your men ready, you leave at oh-six hundred tomorrow. Any questions?"

Don tried to focus on the rest of the discussion. He was leading his platoon for fuck's sake into another fight, but his thoughts kept drifting to Captain Evans leaving and what that meant.

Anna would be leaving too.

She had been sent to stay with Captain Evans, to be a medic and translator. She was never supposed to come to Haguenau. Don was never supposed to give a fuck about her. Their brief encounters back at that field hospital were supposed to be the extent of their interactions. Yet here he was. Worried for her safety. He and his crew were leaving tomorrow for the next fight. Captain Evans would leave the next day to start pushing into Germany.

His mind whirled with questions. Who would protect Anna? Who would make sure she ate and slept? Who would make sure she was looking out for herself just as much as her patients?

Don barely heard the dismissal from Captain Winters. The shuffling of feet and low cadence of voices heading towards the door thrust him back into reality from his dark thoughts. Without a word or acknowledging the paratroopers he would be working with, he headed out of the Battalion HQ and walked towards his lodgings. His mind raced with more questions than answers.

He knew what he wanted to do.

He knew what he should do.

Both options made him clench his jaw and want to punch a hole in a wall.

He trudged back to the house, throwing open the door, uncaring of the way it slammed into the wall. Stepping towards the common room, he saw Davis, Binkowski, Grady and a few others playing cards on a short table. A few others lounged around in the sunny room.

"What's the news, Wardaddy?" Binkowski asked, keeping his eyes on the cards in his hand.

"Leaving tomorrow. Oh-six hundred. Make sure your men got their shit together."

"You alright, Don?"

He had not even heard Boyd come around the corner from the kitchen. His sharp gaze landed on his gunner, who was watching him warily. "Yeah, fucking fine." He snapped; his frustration was a writhing mess of snakes in his gut.

Christ, he needed some peace and quiet and a cigarette. Don stormed through the common room to head up the stairs, uncaring of the confused looks around him. In his haste to leave, he accidently bumped a flimsy chair someone must have left out. It just caught him at the right angle and dug into his side, nothing painful but just enough to infuriate him even more. He had not even realized how angry he was until the chair caught him, but it was the catalyst that released the pent-up frustration.

With a snarl, he grabbed the back of the chair and threw it against the wall. The sounds of wood snapping and breaking filled the now silent room. Without a word, without stopping, because if one person said something to him, he would beat the fucking shit out of them, he stalked up the stairs to his shared room.

After throwing the door open, he kicked it shut. The solid boom of the door slammed back only made him want to do it again and again. Instead he moved to drop onto the bed, sitting on the edge and quickly lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, the smoke immediately bringing some relief to him.

He was surprised Norman was not in the bedroom. When he left for the meeting, Norman had been curled up in the bed sleeping still. At first, he thought Norman slept so much because he was sick. Now he was beginning to wonder if the kid absorbed sleep like a desert soaking up a rainstorm; the rarity of it making it harder to ignore and easier to overindulge.

It could not have been even two minutes later when the bedroom door slowly opened. Don dropped his head in one of his hands, the other still holding the cigarette.

"Wanna explain what that was?"

"Not now, Boyd." Don hissed, not looking up.

The gunner rocked back on his heels, the floorboards creaking under the motion. "A'right. Well, I'm just gonna be right here when you ready to talk."

He chuckled darkly. Five minutes. He could not even get five fucking minutes alone. He tried to ignore Boyd as he stared out the window.

"Where's Norman?" He finally asked after taking another hit of his cigarette.

"Gordo took 'im to the aid station to see Anna."

"She's not coming here?"

"Dunno."

"Fuck." Don whispered, rubbing a hand over his face. He suddenly felt like he should be in his sixties or seventies, not just recently turned thirty. His mind played over the past three days since they arrived in Haguenau. Besides that first day of their arrival, Anna had been over every day. He knew it was mostly to check in on Norman and make sure his cold did not worsen but she usually ended up staying for some time or if someone could convince or threaten her enough, she would also catch up on some sleep. During that time he had become so used to seeing her around, it felt strange to question if she was coming back or not. In his mind, she was a part of his crew, and he was positive he was not the only one to feel that way.

He needed her safe.

That was what everything seemed to come back to for him. He cared about her safety, like he would any of his crew. Except he knew, he wanted to be the one to keep her safe. To keep her gentle smile on him. To be the one she turned to. He felt like a moth drawn to her flame.

He knew what he needed to do. He doubted she was going to like it. Hell, if they got caught he wondered if he would lose his rank by going behind the backs of his superiors. He had to do something though. He had to keep her safe. Well, as safe as anyone could be while at war.

He knew the truth though- he wanted her close….to him.

With a groan, he stuck the cigarette between his lips then pushed against his knees to stand up.

"Where you goin'?"

"Stay here."

Boyd stood up, blocking the door. "What's goin' on, Don?"

He debated just pushing Boyd out of the way before shaking his head. "Captain Evans leaves in two days."

"Uh huh. Anna mentioned somethin' about the wounded finally being moved to a field hospital today. Probably why she ain't here."

"We leave tomorrow." Don flatly stated.

Boyd's eyebrows drew together. "I feel like I'm missin' somethin'."

"Anna is supposed to go with Evans. That was why she was sent."

He could see the light bulb go off in Boyd's mind when what Don said finally clicked. His eyes widened, a myriad of emotions flickered across his face ranging from horror to frustration and what could be despair.

"What…." Boyd stopped, looking off to the side and taking a deep breath before turning back to his commander. "What we gonna do?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Don…."

"Stay here, Boyd. Start gettin' ready to leave tomorrow. I won't be gone long." This time he did gently push Boyd out of the way and with a long look, he stalked out of the room, down the stairs and outside.

He made his way to the aid station, only having to jump behind a building once to avoid a mortar. This was his first time coming to the aid station in Haguenau, having had no reason prior to come. He was pleased it was in better shape than most of the other buildings and further back from the river and Nazis.

Soon as he stepped through, he was hit with the smell of sanitation, coffee, and dried blood.

"Where's the nurse?" He growled at a pair of medics who stared at him like he was the grim reaper come to take their souls. One pointed towards the back. Don stormed in that direction, boots pounding on the wood floor.

He arrived at what most likely had been someone's study or library prior to the war but had been converted to the aid station. His gaze zeroed in on her folding up some blankets while she chatted with a medic. He stalked towards her. She only turned her head to look up at him as he was within five feet of her.

"Don?" The sweet smile on her face immediately faded away as she took in the serious expression he wore.

"We need to talk." He stated, moving to stand beside her.

"Of course, let me…"

"No. Now." He grabbed her upper arm and started to pull her from the room. The other medic started to say something but snapped his mouth shut at the icy glare Don sent him.

"What's going on?"

He ignored her question, looking down at her once they were in the hallway. "Where can we speak in private?"

"Upstairs."

Once she seemed to sense his urgency, he allowed her to lead him up the stairs and into a room that seemed to be used by the medics to store their personal effects. Two cots were pushed against opposite walls, both empty thankfully. Soon as he shut the door behind them, he rounded on her.

"You need to hide."

"Ex....excuse me?" She stuttered, sapphire eyes peering up at him, wide and unblinking.

"Captain Evans plans on leaving the day after tomorrow."

"We heard. One of the lieutenants stopped by after the wounded were taken to inform us. Why does…"

He cut her off. "My crew and I are being sent out. We leave tomorrow. I don't know how soon we'll be back. So, you need to hide until Captain Evans leaves."

"I don't.… I don't understand, Don."

"Fuck!" He moved closer to her, grabbing both of her upper arms, his hands wrapping completely around them. "Listen. I can't protect you if you are in some other goddamn country. You can't leave with the Captain, alright? You stay here. You stay low and you'll get left behind. When we come back, I'll take care of you."

"But…. I mean, I'll be fine. The men are….um…. It’ll work out. I'm more worried about you and the others. You are going into a fight!"

"Fuck them and fuck the fight!" He shouted, moving away before he shook her, trying to make her understand. How could she not see what he was trying to do? "I don't trust those bastards to keep their hands off you! And you shouldn't either! Who's going to look out for you? Huh? Who's going to make sure they don't lay a fucking finger on you?! Cause I can promise you, it won't fucking be them!"

He stood in front of her, chest heaving from the anger rolling through him like a tsunami wave. Only now, after his words spewed out like vitriol did he witness the effect. The tears that welled in her eyes, how one of her hands covered her mouth, the other wrapped around her torso almost in a self-hug.

"Anna…" Resentment towards himself flooded through his veins. Slowly he tried to reach out to her, to place a hand on her shoulder with an apology dancing on the tip of his tongue, but froze when she flinched.

And that hurt worse than being pierced with a bullet.

He made no further move towards her, afraid of her reaction. Frustrated at everything but mostly himself in the moment, he ran his hands through his hair.

Her gaze had dropped to the floorboards, hunched into herself. Finally after several seconds, she whispered. "What do you want from me, Don?"

What did he want from her? Hell, if he was still trying to come to terms with that answer himself. In the moment, he chose to honestly answer.

"I want you safe."

His equally soft reply made her head jerk up, eyes meeting his. "Why?"

"You're a part of my crew...and I swore to make sure they survive this war. I can't do that if you're in another company."

"Is that the only reason?"

Did she know how loaded that question was? How this growing tension between the two of them grated on him? Not because he disliked it. No. Because he wanted her closer. But this was war, and no one was guaranteed tomorrow. So he answered with something that tasted like a half-truth. "The only one that matters right now."

She sniffled, wiping away the moisture from her eyes with her dainty fingers.

As if approaching an injured animal, he carefully shifted closer to her. Seeing the tears in her eyes broke what resolve he meagerly held. He hated that he made her cry, made her flinch. It tore at his soul. Something his mind demanded he fix, for both of them.

Hesitantly, he reached forward and clasped her hands in his. She inhaled sharply, but only tightened her grip on his hands. The air between them felt charged with something unnamed but powerful. The way their gazes locked, hands holding each other, as if they had been put under a spell neither wished to escape.

"I need you safe, darling…." He murmured, the words flowing out of him without his conscious approval. Only after did they hang in the air, waiting to stoke the fire between them or shatter everything like glass.

"Darling?" The corners of her lips turned up in a barely-there smile.

He huffed a short laugh. "That alright?"

"Yes." She answered with a blush growing on her cheeks.

And damn if that sight didn't stir something within him. Following his instincts, he gently tugged her closer, pulling her into a warm embrace, beyond pleased when she practically melted against him. His arms went around her back while her arms wrapped around his waist. Her cheek laid against the middle of his chest and he wondered if she could hear it pounding within him. Not for the first time was he reminded how small and vulnerable she seemed, tucked against his body now. He knew and witnessed how strong she truly was though. Faced with blood and death and distraught, she still persevered.

She sighed after some time, neither attempting to end the embrace. "I'll try to hide but I don't know where I could. All the medics know I'm here. Arthur and the others will be expecting me to join them especially after losing…" Her voice trailed off.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

"I trust you." They continued to stand there, finding solace in one another but also a silent understanding between them. Of affections that were too dangerous to say aloud but still lingered in the air. A few seconds later, her whisper disturbed the peace. "I'm so tired of this war."

"Me too."

A knock on the door broke their moment but when Anna tried to step away from Don, he only held her tighter, unwilling to give her up but also wanting to protect her. He watched the door open to reveal a medic, who although his face seemed calm, there was an undercurrent of tension in the way he clenched his jaw and the shifting of his eyes as he immediately took in the scene before him.

"Chérie? Everythin' alright? Spina said he 'eard yellin'."

Only when she turned to face the medic did Don let her go. "Yes. I'm sorry, Gene. It's nothing.... just a misunderstanding."

"Mmm." The medic glanced back down the hallway then stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. "Someone wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

Don immediately recognized the name Gene. She had referenced him multiple times when she had been over taking care of Norman. By the way she spoke about him, Don picked up that she trusted him and they were friendly. Perhaps he had an ally here after all.

"Are you able to hide her?" He asked bluntly, knowing his time was running short to figure out a plan.

Gene's eyebrows scrunched together. "What?"

"Don, no... it’s fine," she answered at the same time, placing a hand on his arm, "I'll figure out something."

"Nah, chérie." Gene looked back over to Don, expression reserved but determined. "What do ya mean?"

Don quickly explained the situation, impressed by the medic with the thick accent and how he absorbed the information thrown at him without too many questions.

Gene nodded once at the end, gaze downward as he ran his tongue over his teeth. Finally, he looked up at the two. "I know somewhere. They got some extra room. Lemme talk to their Sergeant first."

Anna's gaze bounced between the two men, clearly unable to believe what she was hearing. "We can't do this. We'll get…. I don't want to cause more problems or get people in trouble. What happens when your Captain finds out?"

Gene shrugged. "Winters is a good man. He might not like it but he'll understand." He paused, tapping a finger on his crossed arms. "I'll go now. Anna, stay here, get ya things gathered. We'll bring ya over tonight."

She stared at both of them again before Don could visibly see her acceptance when her shoulders sagged. With a roll of her eyes, she gave the medic a cheeky salute. "Yes, sir."

"Fille effrontée." He grinned.

She blew him an air kiss that made him shake his head, a small grin on his lips. The two men nodded at each other once more before the medic slipped back out.

Once alone again, she turned back around, placing her hands on his chest, peering up at him earnestly. "Be safe, please...tell the others for me too."

"I will."

This time he leaned down as she rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his jawline. His hands tightened on her waist, where they had landed. Instead of immediately pulling back after she fell back onto her flat feet, he lingered. Hovering over her, he cupped her cheek, guiding her head. She was completely pliant under his touch, allowing him to tilt her face until their noses almost touched. He was spellbound, staring down at her. Her gentle breaths sliding across his mouth tantalizingly. It was the soft adoration and trust in her sapphire eyes that pulled in his chest and stole the breath from his lungs. She was too good, too pure for someone like him. Yet he could not draw away from her, captured in her tender affections, left breathless by her kindness. Turning his face just slightly, he could feel the corner of her mouth against his, her warm breath hitting his cheek.

"I should go." He whispered, without moving away.

Her hands slid up to the nape of his neck, causing him to suppress a low groan as her chest pressed against his. "Don, please come back." Her words pierced his heart.

"I will, I promise." This time he brushed his lips over hers. It was just a moment, the faintest of touches but the spark it ignited in him felt like an inferno awakening.

Abruptly he pulled back, turned on his heels and walked out. If he stayed any longer, she would be in his arms, his mouth devouring hers, her back pressed against the nearest wall. He had half a mind to turn back and do that just now. But he kept walking. Why she held any affections for him left him boggled. She deserved better than him. He wanted her though. Christ above, he wanted her. It was becoming a truth he could not ignore.

And that barely-there kiss only proved it.

*****

Anna followed behind Gene as they headed to a different building, supposedly where she would stay hidden. She worried all of this would blow up in their faces eventually, that the men would get in trouble because of her, that she would be sent away to a company she did not know. Would the army count this as desertion? Fears and concerns tormented her mind, but it was too late now. Her feet were already planted firmly on the path. Physically and metaphorically.

Gene had told her that she would stay with the paratrooper platoon until after Captains Evans and his company left. The Cajun medic had already started a rumor along with Spina, who seemed to be enjoying all this espionage a little too much, that she had been sent to assist a family living just outside of Haguenau where the wife was in labor with her first child. It would explain why she was only gone for a short time and as to why her sudden disappearance. Plus, Gene reasoned it sounded like something she would do. She could not blame him there. It would be.

So now, they walked in the late hours of the night, moonlight highlighting the ground beneath their feet. The ill-fitting ODs, the coat from a dead soldier and her medic satchel were the only things she owned. All of her other possessions and clothing had blown up when the medic truck was hit during the surprise attack. She desperately tried not to think about that fact. She was alive and with no injuries. Twenty-two men lost their lives that day. Her few belongings were minimal compared to that.

She still missed her book though.

Gene did not even knock when they reached the damaged house. Quietly, he opened the door and shifted so she could walk in first. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath her feet, making her freeze for a moment. Only after a word of encouragement from Gene did she continue. As she stepped in, she could hear the murmuring of voices suddenly fall silent. Knowing Gene was at her side and he trusted these men, she took a deep breath before taking another step forward.

She rounded the corner from the entryway and towards what must have been a common room before the war. There were three men, two sitting on beat-up looking couches and one standing. The moonlight shining through the window cast everything in deep shadows. Somehow it felt appropriate for all that these men had been through. How they were still waiting for the sun to shine on them again, to beat back the shadows and nightmares and remind them to hope and dream of the future without war hovering over them like a furie.

It was as she met the gaze of the one standing, staring at her, that she could feel tears well up in her eyes. He looked so world-weary, as if he had not slept in years and all peace had abandoned him. His eyes once so bright with laughter and life were now dull. His once expressive face was now weathered and closed-off. Only his red hair looked the same. It broke her heart.

"Donnie…." She softly said.

The corners of his lips lifted up at the nickname she bestowed upon him so long ago. "Hi, Anna."

Without warning or a care for his reaction, she flew across the room. She threw her arms around him, the top of her head just at his chin. A few tears spilled as he seemed to hesitate at her action, as if he had forgotten what a hug was, as if he no longer understood how to be comforted. Then slowly his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer to his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Donnie." She mumbled against him, fighting a losing battle against the tears flooding her eyes. "Muck and Penkala…. they were the best of men. I'm so sorry. And for the others too."

He stiffened at the names of his deceased best friends. She could feel the shudder that ran through him, the soft sob he forced back. "Not…. not your fault." He finally whispered, a faint quiver in his voice.

She pulled back to meet his eyes, uncaring of the tear tracks staining her cheeks. Carefully she moved her hands to cup his face between them, forcing his gaze to stay on hers. "If you need to talk, I'll listen. Or just cry. Or hold your hand. I'll do it, without any questions."

"Sure."

"I'm serious."

"I know. You sound like you've been hanging out with Doc Roe too much." He teased, forcing back the pain in his voice. A slight squeeze of her hand let her know he appreciated her words.

She giggled, sliding out of his embrace to glance at Gene, who had moved to sit next to another redhead on one of the couches. "He does start to rub off on you, can't decide if he's a good influence or a bad one."

Gene scowled at her, making her giggle more.

"Who's the dame? Easy taking female paratroopers now?" The other redhead asked, his Philly accent unmistakable.

"Nah, this is Anna Cooper, a nurse. She's gonna stay with ya fellas for a couple days." Gene said casually.

The redhead's eyebrows were furrowed as his gaze darted from Gene to Anna and back. "Why?"

"I just missed Donnie here so much." She smiled up at the man, who just gave her an awkward smile, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Uh huh. So, what's the real fucking reason?" The third man asked, twirling a cigarette between his fingers.

"Joe, nothing you need to worry about right now." Malarkey answered.

Anna wondered if Gene expected the whole platoon to know of her existence there and why or only Donnie and himself. That was probably something she should have asked before their arrival but her mind was too caught up in its tornado of fears.

"How do you two know each other?" The other redhead asked, now eyeing her like she was a rare specimen.

Roe sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. "She was in Albourne with us medics when we were training before the jump into Normandy."

"Donnie here also took me on a date." Anna blurted out, a smile on her lips.

"What?" The one Malarkey had called 'Joe' stared with his jaw dropped. "A'ight, now I gotta hear this."

Malarkey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he looked down at her. "Not sure I'd call that a date, Anna."

"Mmm...it's a date when you kiss the girl after, right?"

For a beat there was shocked silence before the two on the couches started laughing, Roe just shook his head and muttered something to himself.

"Holy shit, Anna…" Malarkey rubbed a hand over his face. If there had been more light, his face most likely would have matched the color of his hair. "I thought we agreed never to mention it ever again?"

"It wasn't that bad, Donnie."

"Yes, it was. That damn shovel almost broke my nose. You had to walk me to the aid station instead of me walking you home."

"I mean.... when you say it like that." Anna teased.

"Shit, I really need to hear this now."

"Babe, no." Malarkey pointed his finger at the other redhead then moved it to the other man. "Joe, not a word."

The one, Joe, shrugged, a smirk on his face. "How come I don't remember this?"

"Cause you was in London chasin' skirts and gettin' in fights that weekend." Gene stated evenly. "It's late, I need to head back to the aid station. Malarkey, where is Anna stayin'?"

"Right. This way." Malarkey led the way with Anna and Gene following up a set of stairs and down the hallway to a bedroom. "Supposed to be for officers I guess but since we don't have any…. the door locks too."

"Thank you, Donnie." She smiled up at the man, someone she had thought she would never see again. It was funny how fate had brought Easy Company back into her life. Moving further into the room, she was pleased to find a single bed pressed against the wall and a desk across from it. Otherwise the room was completely bare of any other furniture or decorations.

"Ya ok here, chérie?" Gene leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yes."

"Good, good. One question then." Gene paused, an intensity in his eyes that startled her. "What's ya relationship with that Sergeant?"

In the middle of slipping the coat off, she froze, having not been expecting that question. Her mind raced with trying to find an adequate answer. Although it felt futile. How could she describe her relationship with Sergeant Don Collier? Not that there was a relationship, per se, even if memories of their last encounter sprung forth in her mind's eye. Even though they had not known each other long, he was someone she found herself trusting wholeheartedly and feeling safe around. The loyalty of his men inspired her. The brutality of war was evident in the way he carried himself, the shifting of his eyes and the perpetual frown on his face when he was thinking. Yet he still cared. He still went out of his way to take care of a nurse who meant nothing to him. How when he was close by, her heart beat a little faster and butterflies danced in her belly. On more than one occasion, as she laid down waiting for sleep to find her, she wondered what his kiss would feel like.

Finally, she settled with a glossed over version, hoping Gene would be satisfied with just that. "Um....we don't…. he’s just looking out for me. Him and his crew kind of took me in."

"Mmm….and when I walked into him holdin' ya in his arms, lookin' ready to kiss ya?"

"It's....it's not like that."

Malarkey spoke up, leaning against the doorframe. "Who’s this Sergeant?"

"In charge of the armored division." Gene answered, dark eyes staring at her as if to sift the secrets out of her words and wide eyes.

"Don's just looking out for me…. him and his crew, they've, well, they've protected me several times already from…. others." She finished lamely, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to push the memories away.

He must have sensed her discomfort. "Alright, chérie, just be careful."

She nodded. She appreciated his concern but felt it was misplaced.

"Don, huh? Do you call him Donnie too?" Malarkey broke the following silence.

She rolled her eyes but smiled at the slight change of subject. "No, only you get that nickname."

"Lucky me. So, is he a redhead too? You have a thing for the name Don?"

She covered her face as her cheeks warmed.

"Ya two can discuss this tomorrow." Gene pushed off the desk. "I'll come get ya the day after tomorrow. If ya need anythin', send someone to get me."

She dropped the coat at the end of the bed and moved to give him a quick hug. "Thank you, Cajun angel."

He rolled his eyes while Malarkey snickered in the back but returned the embrace.

Next, she walked over to Malarkey and gave him another quick hug. "Thank you too. For doing this for me."

"I'm in the room across, if you need me. Bathroom is two doors down."

The two paratroopers then left, closing the door behind them. Taking a deep breath, she surveyed around her as she stood there in the small room under the moonlight shining through the window. The future was always unknown but especially now, she felt tossed about on the waves of uncertainties. She hoped this plan was not completely foolhardy, but she would admit, she felt safer with Gene and Malarkey looking out for her while Don and Boyd were gone. She would never admit how she had cried while hiding away from everyone when she realized she was no longer alone, that she would not be sent with Captain Evans and his company. There were good men looking out for her.

She crawled into bed, slipping under the scratchy covers. All the while, her mind sent a fervent prayer that the crew of Fury would be safe. That they would return to her uninjured. That Don would be okay.

#Fury movie #fury fanfic #fury 2014 #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #Don Collier #Don Wardaddy Collier #Don Wardaddy collier x OFC #don collier x OFC #boyd swan #boyd bible swan #eugene roe #babe heffron #joe liebgott #donald malarkey #mzwrites

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clusterbuck · 3 years

Text

been trying to tell you i want you the most (part two)

(2.6k, rated E, chapter 2/2; vampire!buck au) part one, or read the whole thing on ao3

Buck avoids him for the entire rest of the day. He’s not obvious about it—doesn’t turn tail and run away from him like Chimney trying to hide a secret—but Eddie knows Buck, knows him better than he knows anyone, with the possible exception of his own son. So he knows what it looks like when Buck’s avoiding someone.

There’s also the fact that Eddie is accustomed to spending entire shifts practically glued to Buck’s side, and now he’s alone. Buck might only be on the other side of the room, but he could just as well be on a different planet. And Eddie knows he isn’t the only one who’s noticed.

No one says anything, but Eddie doesn’t miss the way Bobby, Hen, and Chimney keep looking back and forth between him and Buck like spectators at a tennis match. He also doesn’t miss the way their gazes linger at the base of his throat, where Buck’s earlier attention left a sizeable hickey.

At least no one had seen him in the locker room, scrambling to find a pair of uniform pants with the button still attached.

But Eddie doesn’t care about any of it—the looks, the raised eyebrows, the speculation he knows must be going on behind his back. All he cares about is the fact that Buck won’t even look at him. It gnaws at him, digs a hole in his chest that only grows deeper the longer this goes on.

And on it goes.

They get called out to a fairly sizeable structure fire in the early afternoon, and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, because at least now Buck will have to look at him.

Except he doesn’t, not once. It would be impressive, if not for the fact that it’s putting them all in danger.

Their shift is over by the time they pull back into the station. Buck is off the truck before it comes to a stop, in and out of the locker room before most of them manage to climb out. He stalks through the station and out towards the parking lot, and Bobby sighs.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” he tells Eddie. “But you need to sort it out before it gets somebody killed.”

“It’s—” Eddie starts, and then stops, because he doesn’t know if Buck has actually disclosed the whole vampire thing to Bobby. Also because he doesn’t really want to tell his captain a story that culminates in him basically coming in his pants in the fire station supply closet.

“I don’t need to know the details,” Bobby says. “Nor do I particularly want to. Just figure it out, will you?”

“I’m trying,” Eddie mutters. Bobby gives him an encouraging smile and heads off in the direction of his office.

He calls Carla on the drive over to Buck’s loft to ask if she can hang out with Christopher for a little while longer today.

“Is everything okay?” she asks immediately.

“Yeah, I just need to figure out why Buck won’t fucking look at me,” he says, perhaps a little more vehemently than originally intended.

There’s silence on the other end of the line, and then: “I’m gonna tell my husband I’m spending the night here.”

“No, you don’t have to—”

“Good luck!” Carla says, and hangs up before Eddie can finish his protest.

He pulls up in front of Buck’s building, and this time he doesn’t need to sit in the parking lot debating it. He just walks right in, all the way into Buck’s apartment.

Buck is lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t react when Eddie storms in, doesn’t even turn his head to look. “What the fuck, Buckley?”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says hoarsely, and he sounds so despairing that Eddie stops in his tracks. Some of his anger melts away.

“What—are you okay?”

Buck says nothing.

“I’m gonna need more words,” Eddie says.

“No, I’m not okay,” Buck says tonelessly.

“Buck.”

“It’s okay, you can spare me the lecture and just go. I know. I’m sorry.”

Eddie had been angry when he walked in, but now he’s mostly just confused, and more than a little concerned. “What are you sorry for, exactly?”

“I said I wouldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, and then I…” Buck trails off, and it clicks.

Eddie doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream. This is why Buck has been avoiding him all day?

“Were we in the same supply closet?” he asks, incredulous. “Did you miss the part where I said please?” It’s not exactly his proudest moment, the begging, but he’d thought it was pretty obvious that he had been very into everything that had been happening.

“It’s the venom,” Buck mutters. “More of the same predator bullshit. It just makes you think you want things.”

This isn’t the way Eddie had planned on coming clean to Buck. Mostly on account of the fact that he hadn’t really planned on doing it at all. But Buck is about to spiral, and Eddie can only think of one way to pull him out of it.

He takes a deep breath. “Buck. I wanted you long before I ever even saw your fangs. It isn’t the venom talking.”

“Sounds like something someone under the thrall of vampire venom would say,” Buck says, but he’s beginning to sound more like himself, amused and a little teasing.

“It’s not—okay, is there some kind of venom field sobriety test?”

Buck stares at him. “I can almost guarantee you there is not, because no one in the history of the world has ever needed one before.”

“Okay, so, how long do the effects usually last?”

“Twelve hours, maybe?”

Eddie looks at his watch. “Okay then.” He pulls Buck’s feet off the couch and sits in the space left behind.

“What are you doing?” Buck asks, scrambling not to fall on the floor.

“Waiting it out.”

Eddie doesn’t know exactly when they left the supply closet, but he has a good enough idea. He watches the minutes tick by, looking up at Buck every now and then. Buck meets his gaze every time, and his stare is intense enough that Eddie’s well on his way to hard by the time his self-imposed deadline comes around.

“Time’s up,” he says, looking at Buck. “I still want you.”

Buck swallows. “Then have me.”

Eddie crawls over slowly, draping himself across Buck. “Are you sure?” he asks, face hovering inches above Buck’s. “Sure it’s not just the venom talking?”

“Shut up,” Buck growls, reaching for Eddie’s neck to pull him closer.

“Make me,” Eddie says, and he’s grinning as his lips crash against Buck’s.

It’s then that Eddie realises that as familiar as he’s become with Buck’s mouth over the past few weeks, this is the first time they’re actually kissing. Buck’s mouth has been all over him, but this is the first time he’s been able to get his mouth on Buck.

For the life of him, he can’t remember why they haven’t been doing this all along. Buck’s mouth slides against his like they were made to fit together, and Eddie is suddenly glad they’re already lying down. It would be embarrassing if the mere act of kissing brought him to his knees, like he suspects it might if his legs had to actually hold his weight right now.

Buck’s fangs slide out, and Eddie traces the shape of them with his tongue. Buck pulls back, just enough so he can see Eddie.

“I knew it,” Buck says, a hint of smugness in his voice. “You have a thing for the fangs.”

“I don’t—” Eddie splutters. “It’s not—”

But Buck drags the tips of his fangs down the column of Eddie’s throat, just shy of drawing actual blood, and Eddie’s dick twitches.

“That’s right,” Buck says. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a little fang kink.”

Eddie groans and hides his face against Buck’s shoulder. He’s pretty sure it’s approximately the same shade as a fire truck right now.

“I mean, you’ve come to the right place,” Buck says, trailing his fingertips up and down the back of Eddie’s neck. “If, you know, that was something you were into.” He punctuates the statement by nipping at Eddie’s throat, just enough that blood starts beading on his skin, and Eddie shudders.

“I’m gonna have to start wearing turtlenecks,” Eddie grumbles.

“We live in LA,” Buck points out. “You might as well just wear a big sign that says ‘ask me about the marks on my throat’.”

“Or you could stop marking up my throat.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Buck asks, and Eddie still hasn’t looked up, but he can hear the grin in Buck’s voice. “I do have a couple of ideas, though…”

Eddie lifts his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and scrapes a fang along Eddie’s jaw. “But I just fed this morning, so you’ll have to wait to find out what they are.”

“Tease,” Eddie groans, breath catching as Buck licks at the spot his fangs had just been.

“It’s only teasing if I don’t do anything about it,” Buck counters. “And I fully intend to.” Then he moves, flipping both of them over faster than Eddie can blink. And maybe he should be used to the vampire strength by now, but it still kind of takes his breath away.

Buck cradles his face like it’s something precious to him, and Eddie is struck dumb by the contrast of the fond look on Buck’s face and the fangs at the corners of his mouth. He’s always been drawn to Buck, but he’s only just starting to understand the extent of it. There is no configuration of the universe that intended for them to end up here like this, predator and prey—and yet.

Eddie has always been defiant, but as he reaches up to chase Buck’s lips with his, he thinks this might be a new extreme.

Buck leans back as Eddie reaches up, a glint in his eye. “So much for not being a tease,” Eddie whines in protest.

“Give me a second,” Buck says. A moment later he’s on his feet, supporting Eddie’s weight with just one arm.

Yeah, Eddie is definitely not used to the vampire strength yet. He wraps his legs around Buck’s waist, more for the novelty of it than because he’s afraid Buck will drop him.

Buck heads for the stairs, and Eddie leans in to kiss his neck, the underside of his jaw, anywhere he can reach. They reach the top and Buck deposits him on the bed, crawling after him until he’s hovering over Eddie.

“It’s not that I wasn’t enjoying the high school style couch make out,” Buck says, kissing the corner of Eddie’s mouth, and his jaw, and nipping at his earlobe. “But I need room to work.”

Buck tears off his shirt, and Eddie is about to protest when Buck gently bites at a spot on his ribcage and starts sucking a mark into his skin, and Eddie no longer has the brain cells to spare for things like complaining about ripped clothing.

He’s convinced Buck’s mouth has magical properties, even beyond the obvious, because surely the combination of tongue and teeth shouldn’t be this potent. Eddie writhes under Buck’s touch, torn between never wanting him to stop and begging him to move on already, because Buck hasn’t even touched him anywhere below the ribs yet and he’s almost painfully hard.

“Buck,” he grits out, a groan and a plea. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, exactly, just knows that he needs more.

“We’re going to have to work on your patience,” Buck says, and bites at Eddie’s hip, just above the waistline of his boxers.

“Patience is overrated,” Eddie grumbles, trying to grab at whatever part of Buck is closest to him.

Buck takes both his wrists in one hand and pins them to the side. “Will you just stay still? I promise I’m gonna take care of you.”

“What if I want to take care of you?” Eddie counters, sounding more belligerent than he feels with Buck’s hands working his fly open and dragging his pants down.

“Later,” Buck says, throwing Eddie’s pants and boxers off somewhere to the side and pulling his own clothes off. “My turn first.”

Eddie is about to protest when Buck wraps his lips around his dick, and the only sound that leaves Eddie’s mouth is a moan.

If Eddie thought Buck’s mouth had magical properties before, it was nothing compared to this. His entire world narrows to this one point, to his dick in Buck’s mouth. To the swirl of Buck’s tongue and the gentle pressure of his mouth. To the occasional barely-there scrape of his teeth, just enough to remind Eddie about the sharp fangs that live in that mouth.

Just as suddenly as it began, it’s over, and Eddie whines at the loss of contact as Buck withdraws. Buck runs his hands over Eddie’s thighs and spreads them apart, and Eddie shudders at the rush of air—and then shudders again as Buck bites the inside of his thigh, enough to draw blood.

“Told you I have ideas,” Buck says, and Eddie can hear the smirk in his voice.

“You can’t—you can’t do that at the station,” Eddie gasps out.

“No, that’s just for me,” Buck agrees, and bites him again.

There’s a sound Eddie can’t identify, and then Buck’s fangs are replaced with something cold. Buck brings a hand between his legs, and Eddie realises it must be lube just as Buck starts carefully working a finger into him.

Buck takes his sweet time with it, moving his fingers so slowly Eddie isn’t sure he’s moving at all. Eddie whines impatiently and tries to buck his hips, and Buck just laughs and pins him down with his other hand.

“Buck,” Eddie pleads. Buck’s slow movements have all his nerve endings on high alert, desperate for the friction Buck isn’t providing. “Please, I—I need—”

“Shh, I know,” Buck says, hand still continuing at its maddeningly slow pace. “Soon.”

Soon could be hours later or it could be seconds, Eddie doesn’t know. All he knows is the way every cell in his body is focused on Buck’s hand, like he could somehow telepathically will it to give him what he needs. His cock is hard against his stomach, leaking and twitching every time Buck brushes against his prostate.

Finally, Buck withdraws his hand. He produces a pillow from somewhere and tucks it under Eddie’s hips, and then Eddie’s practically sobbing from relief as Buck pushes into him.

Buck keeps his thrusts steady and slow and Eddie writhes beneath him, mumbling incoherent praise and encouragement. He can feel himself teetering on the edge, and he tries to communicate this to Buck, practically begging for harder, faster, for anything to tip him out of this limbo of almost, almost, almost—

He tries to reach for his dick but Buck stops him, lifting his arms and pinning them over his head. It brings his face closer to Eddie’s, and he grins. “I keep telling you,” Buck says, “patience,” then he sinks his fangs into the pulse point on Eddie’s throat, and Eddie comes so hard he whites out for a second.

Above him, Buck is finally losing his composure, and Eddie watches him slowly come apart; moving faster, almost frantically, then stilling as his orgasm hits him.

Buck collapses onto him, breathing heavily and nestling his face in Eddie’s shoulder. “Patience was worth it, huh?”

Eddie hums in reply, trailing his fingers up Buck’s back. “I’ll show you patience,” he says, feeling the heavy weight of exhaustion begin to creep over him. “Next time.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, letting it curl into just enough of a growl to wipe the smirk off Buck’s face. “So you’d better be ready.”

#buddie fic #buddie #911 fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #shush emma #emma writes #vampire!buck au #if you read part 1 the other day please note the rating has been upgraded from M to E lol

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kellyvela · 3 years

Note

GRRM has said in interviews that he’s purposely played with the romantic tension between the hound and Sansa. What do you think the endgame purpose of the unkiss and that playing is meant to be for?

This is all what he said about the matter in question so far:

The Hound and Sansa, romantic or platonic? It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you!

JUNE 24, 1999 THE HOUND AND SANSA

Moreta12: I understand, I’ve heard your opinion on that. In ACOK, it seems that the relationship between the Hound and Sansa had romantic undertones. Is that true?

GeoRR: Well, read the book and decide for yourself.

Moreta12: I’ve read the book and I’ve debated those particular scenes with a few others. Half say that it’s romantic and half say it’s platonic. I’ve taken the romantic stance.

GeoRR: It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you

Moreta12:Yes, but it seem like evidence points towards romantic undertones. Will the Hound appear later?

GeoRR: Yes, the Hound will be in STORM OF SWORDS. In fact, I just finished writing a big scene with him.

[Source]

When will Sansa be “legal”? **ºª@”¡¿x<%$!&?

OCTOBER 05, 1999 AGE OF SEXUAL RELATIONS IN WESTEROS

The nature of the relationship between Sandor and Sansa has been a hot topic on Revanshe’s board. Sansa’s youth has been one focus of the discussion. What is the general Westerosi view as to romantic or sexual relationships involving a girl of Sansa’s age and level of physical maturity?

A boy is Westeros is considered to be a “man grown” at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us.

However, for girls, the first flowering is also very significant… and in older traditions, a girl who has flowered is a woman, fit for both wedding and bedding.

A girl who has flowered, but not yet attained her sixteenth name day, is in a somewhat ambigious position: part child, part woman. A “maid,” in other words. Fertile but innocent, beloved of the singers.

In the “general Westerosi view,” well, girls may well be wed before their first flowerings, for political reasons, but it would considered perverse to bed them. And such early weddings, even without sex, remain rare. Generally weddings are postponed until the bride has passed from girlhood to maidenhood.

Maidens may be wedded and bedded… however, even there, many husbands will wait until the bride is fifteen or sixteen before sleeping with them. Very young mothers tend to have significantly higher rates of death in childbirth, which the maesters will have noted.

As in the real Middle Ages, highborn girls tend to flower significantly earlier than those of lower birth. Probably a matter of nutrition. As a result, they also tend to marry earlier, and to bear children earlier. There are plenty of exceptions.

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator

JUNE 26, 2001 SF, TARGARYENS, VALYRIA, SANSA, MARTELLS, AND MORE

[GRRM is asked about Sansa misremembering the name of Joffrey’s sword.]

The Lion’s Paw / Lion’s Tooth business (*), on the other hand, is intentional. A small touch of the unreliable narrator. I was trying to establish that the memories of my viewpoint characters are not infallible. Sansa is simply remembering it wrong. A very minor thing (you are the only one to catch it to date), but it was meant to set the stage for a much more important lapse in memory. You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom… but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it’s a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on.

[Source]

(*) It was Arya who misremembered the name of Joffrey’s sword tho…

Unreliable Narrator 2.0

OCTOBER 05, 2002 SANSA’S MEMORY

[Note: This mail has been edited for brevity.]

… this is an inconsistency with ASoS more than an outright error. In ASoS, Sansa thinks that the Hound kissed her before leaving her room and King’s Landing. In ACoK, no kiss is mentioned in the scene, though Sansa did think that he was about to do so.

Well, not every inconsistency is a mistake, actually. Some are quite intentional. File this one under “unreliable narrator” and feel free to ponder its meaning

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 3.0

NOVEMBER 27, 2007 GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS

Here’s a really particular question (which I realize means it probably won’t get asked in a general interview): In A Storm of Swords, there is a chapter early on where Sansa is thinking back to the scene at the end of A Clash of Kings when The Hound came into her room during the battle. She thinks in the chapter about how he kissed her, but in the scene in A Clash of Kings, this actually didn’t happen. Was that a typo or something? —Valdora

GRRM: It’s not a typo. It is something! [Laughs] ”Unreliable narrator” is the key phrase there. The second scene is from Sansa’s thoughts. And what does that reveal about her psychologically? I try to be subtle about these things.

[Source]

Sansa may be dead but Alayne is alive

APRIL 15, 2008 FUTURE MEETINGS, POVS, ARYA’S ROLE, EASTERN LANDS, AND ASSASSINS

[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?]

Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone.

[Source]

A lot more dangerous than romantic

AUGUST 2, 2009 AS SER JORAH MORMONT…

weltraummuell: The Hound Oh please don’t cast an old guy for the Hound, his scenes with Sansa are so romantic and erotic, I couldn’t bear if it’d feel creepy all of a sudden. Well, that’s me making demands. LOL

GRRM: Re: The Hound Old guy? No, but… the Hound is still a whole lot older than Sansa, and was never written as attractive… you know, those hideous burns and all that… he’s a lot more dangerous than he is romantic.

kestrana: The Hound Yeah its a “girl always wants the bad boy” kind of thing although Sansa seems to pull something else out of him. It feels so wrong sometimes but I want to see them together again tee hee.

weltraummuell: The Hound Hehe, George, maybe you didn’t intend it, but he turned out to be a very erotic character to female readers. Especially since he’s mutilated and dangerous. Makes him unpredictable and vulnerable which is the most explosive aphrodisiac for a girl’s fantasy. ;)

weltraummuell: The Hound And I know from discussions on other board other women feel just the same about Sandor. He’s an absolute favourite with the ladies!

halfbloodmalfoy: The Hound LOL, you’re such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

GRRM: The Hound But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for

JUNE 22, 2012 SWORD & LASER VIDEO PODCAST

GRRM: I am sometimes surprised by the reactions, of women in particular, to some of the villains. The number of women over the years who have written to me that their favorite characters are Jaime Lannister or Sandor Clegane [the Hound] or Theon Greyjoy… All of these are deeply troubled individuals with some very dark sides, who have done some very dark things. Nonetheless, they do draw this response, and quite heavily, I think, in the case of some of them, from my female readers in particular.

Veronica Belmont: I’m a big fan of the Hound, myself, actually.

Tom Merritt: Of Sandor? Really?

Veronica Belmont: Yeah, the Hound… Maybe it’s not because I feel any compassion towards them, I’m not really sure what the attraction is. Ah, I’m not going to call it attraction, actually. Let’s just say it’s a fascination, perhaps.

GRRM: [Chuckles] Well, I mean, fascination is one thing, but some of these letters indicate that there really is like a romantic attraction going on there. And I do know there’s all these people out there who are, as they call themselves, the “San/San” fans, who want to see Sandor and Sansa get together at the end. So that’s interesting, too.

Tom Merritt: The TV show has sort of played with that a little, and probably stoked those fires.

GRRM: Oh, sure. And I’ve played with it in the books. There’s something there, but it’s still interesting to see how many people have responded to it.

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for 2.0

JUNE 23, 2015 GRRM Q&A AT THE SCIENCE FICTION BOOKSTORE IN STOCKHOLM

Question: “Is there any fan reactions that you have been surprised by, like is there a character that’s more popular than you thought or have people been shocked by something you didn’t think we would be shocked at?”

GRRM: “I’m reasonably certain what people will be shocked by. I knew that the Red Wedding would provoke a big reaction and it did. I was pretty confident that, you know, throwing Bran out the window and then killing Ned in the first book would get reactions, and indeed they did. All of those worked exactly the way it did to the extent that things that have surprised me, they tend to be smaller things. I guess I… Maybe I should not have, I don’t know. How do I phrase this without getting myself in terrible trouble… I guess I don’t understand women, but I was definitely, you know, way back when, surprised by the number of women who reacted positively to characters like Theon and the Hound as dashing, romantic figures. The san/san kind of thing took me by surprise, I must admit, and even more so the women who, and there are some, who really like Theon. So that surprised me.”

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 4.0

DECEMBER 2016 ASKING GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ABOUT S@N/S@N

My question is regarding Sansa Stark. Her sexuality has evolved through every book and yet the memory that seems to stick the more with her in this regard is the night of the Blackwater. So I was wondering if you can expand on your view on what this is, since as before that night her interactions with Sandor Clegane weren’t really physical.

The night of the Blackwater, yes. Ahhh… Well, I’m not going to give you a straight answer on that hahaha… Uhmmm, but I would say that ahhh… you know a television show and a book each has its own strengths and weaknesses; there a re tools that are available to me as a novelist, that are not available to people doing a television show. And of course there are tools available to them, that are not available to a novelist, I mean they can lay in a soundtrack, they can do special effects, they can do amazing things that I can’t do, I just have words on paper. What can I do, well I can use things like the internal narrative, I can take you inside of territories… thoughts, which you can’t do in a TV show… Ahhh… You just have the words they speak, you see them from outside because the camera is external, while prose is internal, and I have the device known as “unreliable narrator”… Ahhh… Which again, they don’t have. So, think about those two aspects when you consider that night of the Blackwater.

[Source]

Do with it what you will.

#anon asks #sansa stark #the so called unkiss #grrm #asoiaf

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masonscig · 3 years

Text

pairing | mason x sofía

word count | 4.3k

warnings | angst, blood, body horror, gore. please let me know if i need to add any other tags!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @masonsfangs, @queerbrujas, @nerdferatum, @peonylon, @yoru-no-nekousagi

author’s note | sorry in advance – i know this wouldn’t happen in canon like. at all, but i just love making mason do some introspection :-)

read on ao3!

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He was sure that he’d ground a line into the linoleum floor from how fast he was pacing. Nate’s voice was long gone from his subconscious – at this point he couldn’t be comforted.

For fourteen days he’d been outside that room, day in and day out.

He left for the basic necessities like… showering when absolutely necessary, but if anyone dared to try to relieve him, he was a gnashing, snarling mess. After the first couple days, they just left him alone.

They wouldn’t allow him in.

The most he’d heard from her was a mumbled greeting (said to someone else) through a cracked door.

He slumped into the chair he’d parked outside the door, fatigue curling around his muscles, winding its way up his nerves, the brute of it settling on his eyelids.

Fighting sleep wasn’t that hard – it’d never been this hard.

He’d been a tense ball of both rage and distress for so long that the first time he unclenched – there, hunched over in an uncomfortable folding chair – was due to pure exhaustion.

The metronome on the other side of the door was the only thing keeping him awake.

As long as he could hear her pulse through the walls, he wasn’t leaving.

He had to do something to stay awake. She could call him in any minute now –

So he started counting. One, two, three.

This is so fucking stupid, he thought, curling his hands into fists so tight that his skin screamed at him to stop before he broke through.

But he kept counting, kept counting until he was well into the thousands, not caring how much time had passed.

Thankfully, her heartbeat was steady, strong, so he knew she was still on the other side of the wall. That’s all he could ask for since he’d been kept in the dark for days.

Counting at least kept his mind off of the things that (rightfully) tormented him.

Mason could count on one hand the times he’d been truly terrified in his life. Most of them had happened the past few years.

Lots of times if he tried hard enough, he could feel the fragmented remnants of fear from a past life he knew nothing about, but those moments were rare and fleeting.

He usually pushed them down, deep down, until they bobbed to the surface like some deep sea anomaly that was trying to tug at his curiosity. It normally didn’t amount to much, but every once in a while he divulged in it, experiencing that bone deep ache of something he didn’t even think himself capable of feeling in the first place.

Since he met Sofía, though, fear was interwoven into his everyday life, like the ashes of his past were meticulously sprinkled across Wayhaven and he couldn’t do a single thing but feel it over and over and over.

Nonchalance and deflection couldn’t shield him from the shit he’d been through the past two weeks.

He’d taken the worst tongue lashing from Rebecca he’d ever gotten – it was the first time he wanted to curl into himself and hide.

“You knew how she felt about this,” Rebecca whispered furiously, her eyes well past brimming with tears.

She blinked them away, tearing into him as they streaked down her cheeks and onto the linoleum, not even pausing to wipe them.

“Our policy has always been to turn those who are one hundred percent consenting to the process, and you deliberately breached protocol when you knew this wasn’t what she wanted.”

Agent Olmos was sobbing through her anger, striding towards him while he backed farther and farther down the hallway towards the exit.

He let her continue, as did the rest of Unit Bravo, watching wide-eyed from behind her as she tore him to shreds in the same warehouse she aided in making their home.

“I hope you know that you cannot run from this. I plan on pursuing punishment to its full extent,” she said through stuttered breaths. “The worst the Agency can give.” The threat tacked on at the end of her tirade haunted him for days. And he’d never forget the look of absolute dejection tugging at every inch of her body.

Unit Bravo had stopped trying to console him days before.

Well, Nate and Felix stopped.

Adam was… vastly less understanding. He was furious, nearly as furious as Rebecca, but for different reasons.

He’d shut Mason out the second he’d chosen wrong, siding with Rebecca immediately.

Nate was still on the fence, opting to try to maintain the peace.

Felix was the only one who’d stood by Mason through it all.

“We’ve been kept in Wayhaven to protect her, right? Well, he did what he thought was protecting her at the time. And she’s alive, right?”

Mason overheard Felix defending him in hushed tones, trying to plead his case to Adam.

Well, he was right. He did exactly what he thought would save her at the time.

But he really didn’t think, he did.

Seeing her in a crumpled heap of nothing but limbs and blood triggered the worst of that feeling he tried suppressing.

If he had to put a name to the feeling, he’d probably say it was like being struck by a lightning bolt. Fear zapped him, violently so, each nerve ending in his body on edge, leaving behind a painful sting.

He’d sunk his fangs into her neck before they could stop him, releasing venom into the bite as Adam’s hand grabbed at his shoulder.

“Let me fucking go –” he yelled, thrashing in Adam’s ironclad grip.

“Is she breathing?” Nate asked in a raised voice, directing Felix while trying to keep Adam from crushing Mason.

Felix crouched next to Sofía's bloodied form, pressing fingers to the other side of her neck, shoulders visibly relaxing.

“Yeah, she’s breathing.”

“We have to get out of here now, Adam,” Nate shook his head frantically. “We might not make it back in time –”

“We will.” Adam said matter-of-factly, jaw firmly set.

“Let him carry her.”

“Absolutely not, he deliberately compromised the mission –”

“There was nothing deliberate about it. Please, we need to go –”

“Guys?”

Felix’s timid voice tore them both out of their argument and Mason stopped thrashing for a moment to look where he was pointing: her neck.

The scar was shrinking before their eyes, the crescent moon disappearing, replaced with her smooth, warm skin.

A low groan of pain echoed through the room. They collectively winced at the sound.

“She’s healing.”

The first crack was the loudest, reverberating off of the walls like a gunshot, startling everyone.

But with each one an even scarier sound came from her lips, the garbled broken moans filling the space between them and sending chills up Mason’s spine.

“We have to go, now.”

Nate was demanding, not asking, at that point. Adam gave him a curt nod before releasing Mason, one hand still grasping his arm.

“Take her to the warehouse. We have to prepare for the worst case scenario. Be on guard.”

“She’s going to survive,” Mason growled, shaking out of Adam’s grip.

“We don’t have time for arguments, guys, she’s turning right now –” Felix was nearly shouting, frantic and unprepared to witness what was happening in front of him.

Mason’s arms were curling underneath her back and the bend of her knees before another word was uttered.

“Felix go with him –” Nate called after them.

“Got it,” he nodded, already rushing to keep up with Mason’s lightning fast gait.

Felix smashed the large glass door open with pointed feet, trying desperately to clear pathways before Mason could get there.

One of the shards split the skin of Mason’s cheekbone open, but he barely winced, determined to push himself to his absolute limit to make it back to the warehouse in time.

The way every muscle in his body screamed at him like they never had before was nothing if it meant she’d be safe.

He could ignore the pain, sure.

He couldn’t ignore what was happening in his arms, though.

Crack after agonizing crack, she was breaking apart in his arms, her body shattering and putting itself together.

All he could do was grit his teeth and push himself harder.

Felix was clearly more affected, his expression one of horror, trying not to react to her cries of pain.

By the time they made it to the warehouse doors, she was shrieking, her animalistic screams slicing through the dead of night.

“Where do we – what do we do –” Felix was panicking, looking to Mason for an inkling of guidance.

“My room,” Mason grunted, forcing himself to sprint the last hundred feet to his bedroom.

For the last few minutes of her transformation, he and Felix sat by her side, trying to hold her down while she thrashed through the pain.

Her body stretched and broke and grew underneath their palms, her entire frame changing before their eyes.

She was still bloodied, but not battered, all of her lacerations from their last fight zipping up until there wasn’t a trace that she’d taken any damage.

The room was tense, even more so when Adam stepped in, his gaze steely, his glare cutting.

By the time Nate joined the room (thankfully) the worst of it was over, and she stilled, transitioning from loud moans of pain to labored breaths.

“Is it over?” Felix whispered, his tear streaked face glistening in the light when he looked up at Adam.

Adam nodded, lips set in a firm line. “If she comes to, she’s survived. If she turns feral, we’ll have to finish her off before Agent Olmos arrives.”

Mason’s voice was guttural, eyes wild, coming from a place of protectiveness that surprised even him.

“You’re not touching her –” he pushed off of the bed and stood at his full height, chin tilted slightly to eye the other man with a menacing glare. “– not if I have anything to say about it.”

“It is not up for debate. We will not risk keeping her alive for your ignorant, selfish reasons,” Adam nearly spat, voice unwavering.

When he said he’d kill for the Agency without hesitation, Mason didn’t think Adam would take it this far.

She was a part of the team… she was one of them.

“You’re that comfortable killing one of your own?” He shouted, his own volume foreign to him.

He wasn’t that guy.

He was the laid back one. The one who didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.

She’d done this to him. She’d snuck her way into his life a fucking song Felix played on loop until it was on repeat at the back of his mind for months and months and months.

“I’m comfortable following protocol, despite your apparent imperviousness to rules.”

“Adam, Mason, please,” Felix whispered from below. “She wouldn’t want this.”

Icy green and grey eyes were downcast, almost in shame at their outbursts.

Mason turned away from Adam, rolling his lips. “You’re right.”

“I apologize for arguing, but I will not change my mind.”

Mason nodded once, kneeling down next to Sofía's form as Adam slipped out of the door.

When she finally awoke, she was surrounded by the entire team – Unit Bravo and her mother.

She blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim lighting.

“Mason?” Her half lidded gaze stopped on him and her brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here – what happened – last thing I remember is getting knocked out –”

Struggling to sit up, she shifted her weight until she was upright. “Did we finish the mission? Did you guys make it out safe?”

“We have a lot to discuss, Sofía,” Nate said cautiously, stepping forward until he was looking over the bed.

“About the mission?”

“Not exactly.”

She stiffened at Nate’s tone, appearing a bit more alert, her eyes darting across each person’s somber expression.

“What’s going on?”

“You almost died, Sofía,” Felix murmured, struggling to keep his voice even.

She still looked puzzled, her eyes flitting between everyone in the room, gauging their reactions to what Felix said.

She landed on Mason, gaze pleading.

Tell me. Be honest with me, they said.

“Dammit, I had to – I couldn’t just let you –” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Mason knew he didn’t fuck up, but it sure felt like he did.

She crumbled before him, her expression one of a person who’d realized her humanity had been stolen from her.

Fisting the sheets, she looked down at her clenched hands, before ripping the cloth away, staring at her body in sheer disgust.

“This can’t be happening –” she whispered, her breathing becoming more and more frantic.

She rotated her hands in front of her face, scanning her long slender fingers (that weren’t before) with wide eyes.

A choked sob silenced her, her shoulders, hands, lips trembling.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted, but we can work with you. We can accommodate you –”

She cut Nate off with a half-laugh, half-sob.

Whatever retort she was going to spit in his direction wasn’t coming, instead replaced with hysterical cries.

And whatever Mason planned to say to her wasn’t coming either.

He wasn’t one to preplan speeches, especially ones that were… apologetic (to say the least). His mind was completely blank as he watched the woman he thought he’d saved shatter in front of him.

He’d never seen her cry like this – he’s not sure anyone had.

She didn’t cry, not really, unless she was angry. Passionate.

Hadn’t seen her cry in a while, though. Couldn’t remember the last time she did, it’d been so long. He was to blame for most reasons she spilled tears.

And this time it was because of him. Again.

“Please let us try to help you,” Nate said, finally, somehow the bravest in the group, crouching down until he was on a knee, nearly eye level with her hunched form.

“There’s nothing we can do to undo your turning, but we can make you comfortable. It’s a little bit of an adjustment, but we can coach you –”

“A little bit?” She shook her head, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks.

Her head tilted up to survey the room again, her expression pained. “Why didn’t you just let me die?”

He stepped forward impulsively, jaw clenched. “Don’t say that.”

“You knew I didn’t want this – all of you knew I didn’t want this. Why did you let him change me?”

Change. But she was the same old Sofía.

“He’d already sunk his teeth in your neck by the time we noticed him move. We couldn’t stop him in time,” Adam said from the corner, brows furrowed, clearly uncomfortable.

Rebecca and Felix remained silent, clearly the most affected.

“I need all of you to get out.”

“We cannot do that, detective. There’s much we need to talk over –” Adam started, but she cut him off with a yell.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of this room right now, I’ll make you get out. Rebecca, that includes you. Get out. Now.”

The collective shock followed them out into the hallway as they straggled out of the room.

“Not you, Mason. Stay.”

The tone of her voice was enough to rattle him.

As soon as Felix closed the door behind him (after giving a worried glance back at Mason), she was pushing herself off of the bed. She struggled to stand upright like she was relearning how to walk again on new legs.

When she stood at her full height, she appeared to be tormented by the revelation.

She’d become taller than Felix and only an inch or two shorter than Mason. Her limbs were gangly, her body type completely different.

More tears fell, more sobs came, and with each cry he couldn’t help but feel himself cracking too.

“I did what I thought was right.”

“Did you? Did you really?”

“You were dying right in front of me. I couldn’t let you go, not like that –”

“Have you always intended on changing me? Do you care that little about me and what I want? Are you that selfish?”–

Fear – he was engulfed in it. The repressed storm – the one he’d always stood at the eye of – shifted, and he was engulfed in the monstrous waves, colliding with his worst fears at the same time he realized what they were.

He was going to lose her. And it was his fault.

He gritted his teeth, trying to come up with some kind of justification that didn’t sound selfish.

She spoke before he could collect his thoughts.

“My body is… different. It doesn’t even feel like mine anymore,” she whispered, plopping back onto the edge of the bed, head hung low.

“You’re still a detective. You’re still you. Nothing else around you’s changed,” he said.

He hoped that restating facts would be some kind of replacement for whatever jumbled mess was going on inside of his mind.

“No. I was supposed to decide who I’m going to be and you made the decision for me.”

His whole body stiffened, glued in place at the vitriol dripping from her words.

“You made my choice for me. I didn’t want this,” she repeated, shaking her head, hugging her arms around herself.

“You don’t have to be a detective –”

“Can you not just say you’re sorry? Is that really not in your vocabulary?” She asked, making a sound that sounded almost like a laugh, but not quite. “Have you seriously gone a hundred years without apologizing to anyone?”

She wasn’t exactly wrong.

Admitting fault was a weak point of his. Truth be told it cut his pride deep to say “I was wrong,” because he always had some kind of justification.

He was painfully stubborn. That didn’t bother him too much – not until those rare moments (like that one) where no matter how much he knew the other person was in pain, it was exceedingly difficult to form those three words and push them past his teeth.

The one time his impulse doesn’t kick in, and it’s when he should be desperately apologizing and groveling and begging on his hands and knees for forgiveness.

He’d thought for the longest time that a hundred years of an immortal lifestyle had wiped away all traces of his humanity, but it lingered.

Maybe that’s why she was a breath of fresh air – she was drawing those irrefutable human emotions that he didn’t believe himself to have anymore and tugged them to the surface.

She wasn’t a breath of fresh air – she was air. He’d been drowning for so fucking long, unchallenged, unchanging, and she came along like an otherworldly presence that wholly stilled his water.

God, was she his moon?

Did she hold that much power over his waves?

This revelation couldn’t have come at a worse time, as she continued despite his silence.

“I wasn’t supposed to come back here… now I’m trapped. I can never get out.

“I was supposed to be a doctor. I was supposed to be someone.”

The arguments he thought he’d spit out dissolved, as whatever he said next had to mean something. It couldn’t undo the damage, but it might could quell a sliver of her pain.

“You’re someone to me.”

She sank her teeth into her wobbling lip, no doubtedly harder than she intended, blood dotting the pink skin.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this,” Sofía murmured, voice surprisingly steady with her usual resolve, despite not being able to meet his eye as she said it. “Please go.”

And just like that, he was engulfed again.

He’d been nearly disowned by his teammates and prosecuted by his former boss, his entire immortal life in shambles, but he didn’t fucking care.

The only thing that mattered to him was whether or not she was going to speak to him again.

He squeezed his hands into tight fists again, trying not to think about what she’d said to him after she’d turned – she was understanding. She was kind. She was forgiving.

She was Sofía.

He’d robbed her of her humanity, sure, but he could’ve never taken away what made her Sofía. No one could do that.

“Hey, Mason. We’re having a meeting in thirty minutes,” Nate had said, sympathy written on his features like Mason was a tragedy and he’d already read the ending.

He thought if he waited long enough he could catch her and say what they both needed to hear: I’m sorry.

When the door finally opened (a minute before the meeting started), she stepped out, bookbag slung over her shoulder, not sparing him a second glance.

He stumbled after her, exhausted still.

He found himself hesitating to speak first, worried he was going to say the wrong thing, and nervous that she wouldn’t hear him out.

She was vastly more intimidating after her turning than she was before – her body had rearranged itself to be more predator-like. Of course he was scared.

But he didn’t fear her.

Her long legged stride was less determined than usual. Her posture was worse, like she was trying to hide. Her presence didn’t hold the confidence she used to have.

It was getting harder and harder to find what made her her.

But he still didn’t fear her.

As soon as they were settled in for the meeting (him perched against the seat she used to sit, her standing on the opposite side of the room), Rebecca commanded the meeting, demanding silence with nothing but a look.

“This will be our last formal meeting in Wayhaven, as we’ve all received new assignments.”

Mason’s chest twinged, his grip on the arm of the chair tightening until the fabric tore. No one else appeared as surprised as he was.

“Agent Du Mortain, Agent Sewell, and Agent Hauville, we’ll be relocating for the time being on a minor assignment while the Agency finds us something longer term,” she continued, surveying the room, not sparing Mason a glance.

“Sofía will not be joining us.”

The statement hung in the air like a thick fog.

“I’ve received special clearance for the time being. The Agency is giving me time to sort through my feelings before I decide whether or not I want to continue working for them,” she said, nodding towards her mother, both of them smiling ever so slightly.

When had they gotten so close?

“That’s awesome, Sofía,” Felix grinned, seemingly happy for the first time in weeks. “I can’t wait to visit you and have a sleepover for old times’ sake.”

She didn’t answer, her eyebrows furrowed instead like she was trying to break the news to him gently.

“I’m afraid this is the last time we’re going to see Sofía, Felix,” Nate murmured, reaching out to pat his bat cautiously.

“Ever?” His voice broke with the second syllable.

She dropped her bag and strode across the room, wrapping Felix in a tight hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were watering, too.

“I can’t come back here. Even if I choose this existence and I work for the Agency, they’ll never let me set foot back in this town, and… I don’t think I’d want to, either.”

“She’s right. I’m sure she will have to wait until the townsfolk die off until she can come back,” Adam nodded sympathetically despite his bluntness.

They were talking about her future – she was, too – without including Mason in it. Like she’d already made up her mind and everyone in the room knew but him.

No, he didn’t fear her. He feared life without her.

“Sofía,” he said, finally, voice low, ignoring the boring gazes of Adam and Rebecca.

She met his eyes, and for a split second he was relieved – her eyes were soft, forgiving, human, like the old Sofía.

It didn’t console him for long, though. She wasn’t looking at him the way she used to. She’d forgiven him, sure, but it was more than just that.

She looked at him like she’d moved on, her forgiveness magnanimous in nature, like she’d put it behind her – put him behind her.

Rebecca’s voice snapped him out of it, her tone biting. “Mason, you’ve been ordered to stay behind and stand trial. For the time being, you’ve been stripped of your title. If you’re granted amnesty, your Agent title will be restored, but for now, you’re to be taken into custody and prosecuted as a rogue. If you try to run, lethal force will be used without hesitation.”

Adam’s heavy hand on his shoulder made the situation much more realistic.

He really was losing everything. It wasn’t some horrific nightmare that he could shake himself out of.

The cuffs Nate clicked into place weren’t too tight (he made sure of it).

He couldn’t do a thing but watch Sofía say her tearful goodbyes to everyone.

She cried with both her mother and Felix, but pulled it together for Nate, snuggling her face into his chest. She even managed to get a hug out of Adam, despite his awkwardness.

When she made it to Mason, she tugged his shackled hands upward, slipping underneath his arms, tucking her nose under his chin.

He was stunned, the lump in his throat aching with regret.

He gripped her tighter, burying his nose into her hair. He knew exactly how she smelled, how she felt, how she tasted, but he was committing it to memory since it was the last time.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, arms trembling.

“I didn’t want the Agency to press charges. I tried stopping it. I’m sorry,” she whispered back, hands rubbing at his back in soothing circles.

“If I could take it all back, I would. I’m sorry,” he said again and again, trying to pour all of himself into her to show that he knew he was wrong.

“Maybe in another life.”

And then she was gone. And they were gone.

And he was still there. Still afraid.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #agent mason #mason x sofía #my fic #tw blood #tw body horror #tw gore

38 notes · View notes

alexwritesfiction · 3 years

Note

Heyy bestie , I was wondering if you could write a Byler fanfiction where it's a very cold night and Mike is playing at Will's house. But it becomes very cold so Joyce insists Mike to sleep in Will's room. But Will cannot resist himself from watching Mike sleep, so he stays awake and later he cuddles Mike

I hope you'll write xx 🥺🤞

Wish I Were Heather (byler fanfic)

Read on AO3

Warnings: Fluff and a bit of Angst | Pairing: Mike Wheeler/Will Byers (otp <3) | Words: 2029 | Requested: @your-local-book-worm345

A/N: Here it is! the softest ship i can imagine, i love you for sending this in <3 hope you have a good read!

Requests closed | tag list at the end, ask to be +/-

------

“Can we play DnD now?” Will asks for the umpteenth time as Mike took a bit of a pause from his rant. He was pretty bummed about how El had dumped him. What had he done wrong, he kept asking Will. Will The Wise, for the first time in forever, had nothing to say.

He’d wanted this forever, for them to be apart so that he could have his chance. But it broke him to see his best friend sad. He couldn’t relish in joy while Mike suffered.

“Yeah, okay.” Mike said distractedly, surprising the living lights out of Will. He’d expected to hear an annoyed “not yet”.

He looked at Mike to confirm he hadn’t heard something wrong, only to see Mike already pulling the game board from under the bed. Before he could even question how it had gotten there, a strong wind thundered outside their window. Mike dropped the game, cringing at the spilt contents on the floor. He was just reaching to pick them up when Joyce’s voice filled the hallway.

“Boys, it looks like it’s going to storm tonight,” she said, concern etched on her face. It was clear she didn’t want either of them going out.

Mike looked at Will, a smile on his face. This confused Will, he couldn’t understand why Mike would be happy he wouldn’t be able to go home tonight. As much as this made hope flutter in his heart, he crushed it down as a simple occurrence.

Will thought about his chances of staying over would be over if he'd still been with El. He didn’t hate El. He really didn’t, but oh how envious he was of her. She had it all, the looks, the brains, the powers, Mike. Everything. Just for once, he wanted to see how it felt like to be her. He wished he was El, just to experience how it would be when everyone you loved, loves you back, counted you as important. He wanted to see how it felt to be in a relationship with Mike Wheeler, to be everything he wants.

“I can stay over tonight, if that’s okay, Mrs. Byers?” Mike voiced out his request, now staring hopefully at Joyce who looked conflicted. She knew Karen, as reckless as she was, cared about Mike and Joyce didn’t know if she’d be okay with the impromptu plan. She shook her thoughts away and focused on the two boys sitting on the bed with their board game yet to be played. d made will extremely sad.

Her lips curled into a genuine smile. She reminisced how long it’d been since things had almost gone back to normal and Will had finally been happy after a long time. Without thinking, she uttered a quick okay, but snapped back to reality when she heard a whoop from the curly haired boy.

Like always, Will expected Mike to leave. He'd stopped staying over at his house since some time, and made will extremely sad.

“Don’t get too excited, I still need to call Karen,” she shushed, taming them down, even though she knew he'd be staying over. The boys shrugged, grinning as they planned out their campaign. They knew she’d relent with enough sweet talk and reassurance.

Will eyed his Will The Wise costume beside his desk but dismissed it quickly. They were probably going to stop playing in just a little while. Will’s mind debated with itself. On one hand, he was delirious that Mike had decided to stay over, but he didn’t know if he'd able to stop himself from acting on his feeling for him. This night could either make him and Mike even closer, or taint their friendship, but nothing could lessen the extent of what he felt for Mike.

Joyce watched the boys for a moment, her gaze lingering a moment more on her son’s nervous face which quickly fizzled into excitement when Mike shook him to show him the game. She’d known he had some feelings for the boy next to him, but she didn’t want to ask him about it. She could see he was extremely touchy about the topics, but she was internally happy that after a long time he was in a dilemma that was actually of his own age and not about a monster being his end.

She sighed softly, leaving the room and calling the Wheelers’. Five minutes later, she was about to knock on the boys’ door when she heard deep laughing from the other side. She figured she’d let them be. She wrote out a note for them saying they could feast all they wanted from the snacks, and then slipped into a much needed peaceful slumber. She wasn't haunted by fear that night like always, but still she thought about a familiar bearded man who sacrificed himself for everything.

She still felt like he was alive, sometimes, like he was just there, trying to reach her. It was moments like these that Will knew to be there for his mother. After all, he knew very well how it was to feel like that.

“Do you want to set up another campaign?” Will asked roughly five hours later, as he slowly started to pack up the game. They’d played DnD late into the night and Mike could feel his eyes drooping heavily with sleep. He covered himself up in the stretched out part of Will’s blanket up to his nose, so that only his eyes were visible. Will was wide awake, he didn’t want to miss a single moment with Mike. Not when this was probably the only time he had Mike all to himself, even for just a while.

“No, I think I'm going to pass out,” Mike groaned, facing the other side, away from Will. Will smiled at how adorable he looked, all wrapped up and about to sleep. A gentle smile spread on his as he quietly watched him. A few beats passed and Mike’s eyes finally closed of their own accord, only to open a second later. His body jerked as he slowly sat up once again. Will frowned as Mike looked at him, and it was different. He looked at him with so much intensity it scared Will.

Mike still had the blanket wrapped around him as he stared into Will’s eyes, biting his lip nervously. He heaved a breath and Will could barely keep his restraint from crushing Mike into his arms, but he didn’t have to, because in the next two seconds, Mike had his arms wrapped Will, enveloping him like he'd never want to let go. He buried his face into Will’s neck and inhaled softly. Will was as still as a statue, not quite comprehending what just happened.

The warmth radiating off of Mike snapped him out of his trance and he hugged him back, with loose hands at first but as soon as he felt Mike’s small smile on his neck, he returned the embrace with just as much force. He felt at home, they both did. It felt to Will as if heaven had come own to greet him as he barely helped himself from choking up. He rested his head softly against Mike’s shoulder, his small frame completely lost in Mike’s lanky posture.

They sat there for god knows how long, just breathing each other in. The moon watched over them as a few silent moments passed, the sounds of their breathing creating a serene atmosphere in the room.

“This is nice,” Will finally managed to voice, still not letting go of his grip on Mike. It felt too real, and he wanted to dream so bad that maybe Mike did reciprocate his feelings. He wanted to dream of being with him, holding hands, sharing everything with him, being more than just friends. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he couldn’t while Mike was still tangled into him. So he didn’t, deciding to just let the moment be.

Mike hummed in agreement to Will’s comment. His hands on Will tightened again before he took a long breath and whispered words into the air that would be the breaking of Will Byers.

“I'm sorry,”

Will frowned at the words, chest aching as he realized why he'd said it. But Mike could feel the confusion radiating off of him.

“For what I said that day in the rain. I didn’t mean it. I'm sorry, Will. I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have pushed you away just because I found a girl. You were so right. I love her, but she could never make me feel the way you do. She’d never be the same as what your friendship means to me, Will.” Mike uttered out in a small voice, as he realized just how true it were. Will was more precious to him than anyone. He'd always felt like he was Wil’s protective shield, and he loved being it. He loved how Will trusted him, how he could feel free with him, everything.

“Mike-” he tried to say, but Mike cut him off.

“I missed you,” Mike said, almost breaking from the comfort he felt in that moment, finally saying the words he'd wanted to as soon as he'd stepped into Will’s house. The force of his words shattered Will, and he drew in a shaky breath before retracting his arms from Mike’s neck. Mike tensed, fearing he’d said something to push him away but relaxed into Will’s touch as soon as he clutched his arms around Mike’s torso, his head now gently resting just near his heart. It didn’t feel awkward at all, rather just deepening the bond between them.

“I missed you too,” Will whispered into Mike’s warmth and he barley caught it because of how inaudibly he spoke. His feeble voice showed how vulnerable he felt, as he held onto Mike for dear life.

They let a minute pass before Mike finally ended the hug, Will wanting for it to last forever. He reluctantly straightened up, giving Mike a small smile as he watched a large grin appear on his face. He looked at Will with pure adoration shining in his eyes.

He grabbed Will, bringing him in for one last hug that only lasted barely three seconds before pulling away and slowly compelling the smaller boy to sleep. He muttered a soft goodnight as he turned to the other side once again, making sure to leave half of the blanket for Will.

Will chuckled, shaking his head as he watched him sleep. In no time, soft snores escaped Mike, making Will smile at how much he felt comfortable with him. He observed Mike’s sleeping form. How his chest rose and fell gently, how there was a crease between his eyebrows, how his lips were in a pout, how is cheeks were a little more chubby, how he looked like an angel resting.

He slid down beside him, wrapping himself in the rest of the blanket. He closed his eyes for a second as if to gain confidence. Without thinking, he intertwined his hand between Mike’s side and his hand resting on his side, so that now he has circling his waist, impossibly close. Will’s eyes snapped towards Mike’s face to see if the sudden action had woken him up. His heart melted with cuteness and relief as Mike slept just as heavy.

Will dared to do something he'd longed to do, feeling brave. He pulled Mike close so that his face was less than a centimetre away from his curls, his body pressed up against Mike’s back. His hand tightened its grip on Mike, but careful to not hurt him. His legs tangled with Mike’s under the warm blanket. He never would have thought in a million years that he'd get to be big spoon with Mike, that he'd get to caress his cheek like he was now.

He couldn’t quit describe how he was feeling, just that it was something that he never wanted to stop. He finally felt like he belonged, right there cuddled up to Mike. He felt loved, he felt comfortable in his own skin, with Mike. And he couldn’t be more grateful.

----

Taglist: @petitpancakes @skinni-ciggis @bubblegum18 @cbfjdx @fckingpernico @dumbsouvenir @i-like-5sos @heartbreakgirlisagoodsongcalum @neptune-falls @metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @lady-of-himring @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-book-worm345

#wish i were heather #stranger things fanfic #my works #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #am writing #byler #mike wheeler #will bylers #stranger things

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changbinniebabie · 3 years

Text

♡crush! Yoon Hyunsuk♡

why he fell for you + how he confessed:

regardless of how you two met, you became close friends pretty quickly

even though Hyunsuk seems to be a shy person to some extent, I feel like your kind, comforting aura would make him want to be around you as much as possible

it was just another day of you and Hyunsuk hanging out at the dorms

since the boys had gotten a few days off after a successful comeback wrap up, Hyunsuk brought up the idea of having a movie night

you thought that he meant having a movie night with you and the rest of the members, but now, as you were sitting a few centimetres apart from Hyunsuk on the living room couch, unable to hear any other sound but the rapid beating of your heart and Hyunsuk's soft, slightly shaky breaths, you finally realized that the other members won't be joining

at this point you had been crushing on Hyunsuk for months

ever since you first met him you had seriously adored his bubbly, bright personality, but at first you never really thought that you'd end up having a crush on him

not because there was something about him that you didn't like, it was just that you had never felt so comfortable around anyone else, so free to be yourself and to not be afraid of being judged, because Hyunsuk is a very open-minded, understanding person

...therefore, from day one, you had promised yourself to never let go of such an amazing friend

aaand subconsciously you knew that garnering a crush on him would only eventually complicate your friendship, so you never really did anything to risk it

well,,, sometimes you couldn't help but stare at his beautiful side profile for a little too long for it to go unnoticed, but whenever he had caught you staring, you just made a funny face at him and pretended like all along you had only wanted to annoy him a little, you know, as close friends do

Hyunsuk, on the other hand, sometimes found himself admiring you on purpose

scratch that,, he found himself admiring you on purpose very often

whenever you giggled at a stupid pun he had just made, or when you got a little too excited about spotting a dog at the park on your frequent early morning walks (you often accompanied him on his way to his company since your workplace is very close to his), even when you just,, existed, he would look at you with very loving eyes and try to imprint the image of you in his mind so that he would never forget any moment spent with you

he truly thought that you were too good to be true, perhaps a lost angel

the other boys realized that he likes you pretty quickly

I mean,,, whenever the guys would have a break during practice, Hyunsuk without fail would always think of another thing about you that he just had to let others know about

one time, without really realizing what he's doing, he was gushing about you once again, and at some point during his "why I love y/n" TED talk he blurted out "I swear she's the most beautiful person I've ever met!" while having the biggest smile on his face

at this point, the other boys had heard almost everything about you

Jinyoung could even swear that he knows just how many hoodies you own, since during his crazed rants Hyunsuk always mentioned what you had been wearing that day

I mean,, Hyunsuk is a notorious chatter box in general, but when it came to you, like I mentioned before, he felt like he had to show you off to the world, and, since he trusts his members completely, everything just spilled out naturally

plus he thinks that you're the cutest human being to ever exist when you're wearing your oversized hoodies (even when you're not but especially when you seem to be drowning in the little-bit-too-big fabric)

the guys had had enough

they hadn't even spent that much time with you but thanks to Hyunsuk's neverending rants seemed to know everything about you, and that could only mean one thing...

Hyunsuk likes (,,loves??) you

so, that night, they came up with the genius plan of suggesting having a group movie night to Hyunsuk while in reality they planned to ditch you two before telling Hyunsuk that they think you like him back (I mean,,, they didn't know that for sure because, like I said, they had only met you a few times, but they felt like they had to do something to nudge Hyunsuk in the direction of confessing to you)

besides having had their ears talked off, the most important reason to this was because the guys had never seen Hyunsuk so happy before

you seemed like his happy pill, someone who gave him not only a lot of joy, but also immense support, which sometimes Hyunsuk really needed since he has such a physically and mentally demanding job

"he'll thank us later" Byounggon whispered matter-of-factly as they all walked through the front door of the dorms, going god knows where and leaving you and Hyunsuk all alone

at first, Hyunsuk had no idea what to say to you

Hyunsuk had spent many times before with you and only you but this time was different, since all he could think about was the possibility of you liking him back (and how incredibly sweaty his hands had gotten in the span of one minute)

of course, he had always hoped you do, but he didn't think such an angelic person like you could fall for plain old him (at least that's what he thought about himself most of the time)

"do you want to pick the movie?" finally, you spoke up, wanting to ease the awkward tension

"sURE!!!" he said, a little bit too fast and a tad bit too loudly for anyone to think that he was anything but extremely nervous

as Hyunsuk was looking through the most popular movies on Netflix, you prepared the popcorn

after making sure you weren't looking at him, he wiped his hands off on his black jeans and prayed to god for his heart not to jump out of his chest

at the same time as Hyunsuk finally clicked on a random romcom, you sat down on the couch with a large bowl of popcorn in your hands, this time much further away from him (to put the popcorn in the middle of both of you for easy sharing, of course, not because being only mere centimetres apart from him made you feel like your whole body was on fire, no, not at all)

you watched the movie in silence, only letting out a soft laugh now and then at some mildly funny jokes the main character had said to impress his love interest

Hyunsuk, however, was so on edge that he couldn't even process the words that came out from the TV

at some point you got very worried about him cause he honestly looked like he had caught the flu or something

his flushed face, slightly shaky but (very) sweaty hands and seemingly solemn mood made you so worried that you couldn't keep quiet anymore despite being nervous as well (but of course you didn't know that he was just extremely nervous to be around the person who he 1) had a rapidly blooming crush on, and 2) maybe liked him back)

"Hyunsuk are you okay??"

your sudden question seemed to make him even more shaky "of course, why wouldn't I be??!"

you looked him in the eyes with a serious expression on your face "don't lie to me, Hyuk. you look like you saw a ghost earlier today or something."

'Hyuk'... whenever he heard you say that nickname you had for him it never failed to make a sudden wave of warmth wash over his chest

for a few seconds he debated in his head whether to tell you the truth and potentially risk your friendship or to make up some white lie to just get out of this very tense situation

you could tell just by looking into his eyes that the wheels in his head were working very hard to come up with something to say

since you had pretty much always known that Hyunsuk can have a hard time opening up to people due to not only the fear of upsetting someone, but also because he can't help but think sometimes that he always needs to hold up his bright, positive maknae image, you decided to speak up once again and hopefully ease his heart by leading the conversation

"I don't know what happened but you seem to be not feeling well... you know you can tell me anything, Hyuk. please let's just talk it out, I don't think either of us can stand this strange tension anymore."

you thought that maybe you had said something wrong, or that maybe things hadn't been so well at practice, but you could've never expected what he said next

"do you like me??" he blurted out with a sudden rush of confidence coursing through his veins

despite being in shock, you managed to answer him right away "what do you mean??"

"I mean... Byounggon hyung told me that you might like me back..." he clarified as suddenly taking interest in scanning the floor

"Byounggon told yo- wait what?? did you say "like me back"??! as in... you like,, me??"

as soon as realization hit him, his cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red

"I- I mean- well,, I didn't-"

"just tell me the truth, Hyunsuk. please..." you said to him before trying to calm him down a little by taking one of his hands in yours and squeezing it gently in reassurance

somehow this action made Hyunsuk feel even more nervous and relaxed at the same time

but, thankfully, it was all it took for him to spill the beans

"yeah... I like you, y/n. a lot... and I hope we can just get past this without ruining our friendship..." he said in a disheartened tone with a slight pout on his flushed face

in that moment you swore to yourself that you had never seen anyone look more adorable than Hyunsuk did

you wanted to ease his worries of rejection but couldn't choose the right words to say as all you could focus on in that moment was how inviting his rosy lips looked

so you put the forgotten bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of you, scooted closer to him, and right as he turned his head to look at what you were doing, planted a soft, short kiss on his lips

"does this mean you like me too?" he asked with a hopeful glint in his suddenly much bigger pupils after you had pulled away ever so slightly from the sweet kiss you just shared

you buried your head in the crook of his neck and giggled, unable to handle how absolutely adorable Hyunsuk was being

at first he didn't know what to think, but as soon as he felt you nodding in agreement against his chest, he started to giggle along with you

you two spent the rest of the night cuddling on the living room couch and finishing the romcom that had totally been forgotten for about 10 minutes

you felt so safe and warm in his embrace that close to the end of the movie you fell into a deep slumber

of course, the rest of the members just had to return from their outing right when Hyunsuk was looking down at you with the softest little smile on his face and ever so gently brushing your hair back out of your face

thankfully none of them dared to wake you up with loud cheers of congratulations, but Seunghun did make a few kissy noises in Hyunsuk's direction while Yonghee quietly scolded him for teasing the maknae

A/N:

thank you for reading this❣

if you have any requests, please leave them in the comments!

(p.s- I actually post much more on Wattpad so check out my works on there @ kami_kaci)

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rrickgrrimes8 · 3 years

Text

Normality is Death

Chapter Seven ~ One of The Infected

masterlist

For Jacey, it felt as if the camp was at 10x speed. She couldn't tell if that was the norm for them but either way, it threw her into a state of discomfort. She watched as a small group of the adults assembled close to where the blonde woman still cried over her sister.

Her parents had pushed her away every time she attempted to go over, which she understood but it still hurt, she just got her family back and they won't even stay around her for longer than a second except for Carl of course.

Carl had yet to withdraw his hand from his older sisters, which Jacey didn't mind at all. She knew that she missed her brother while separated but not to the extent she felt right now.

Another thing she knew as well is that she'd have to leave soon. It pained her to say but she already had a home and that just wasn't with her parents, not anymore, it was with Addie and Mitchell. Now she just had to summon the strength inside her to tell her family.

Jacey could hardly breathe due to the rotting flesh of the dead, it seemed she was the only one affected by it or rather the only one who couldn't hide it. Earlier, she had heard a commotion from the Korean that saved her and Addie a day earlier about the importance of burying the dead and to not treat them like those things. She couldn't agree more with what he was saying but it still hurt her thinking about it. No, she didn't know any of the people that died or if they deserved it or not but she couldn't stop her mind from wandering to the idea that if she hadn't shown up when she did her father would have the bury her mother and brother as well. For that reason alone she wanted to stay, just to protect them but she knew she had other people to protect, people that didn't abandon her.

"What you thinking about, Jacey?" Her brother asked interrupting her guilty thought stream.

"Nothin' kiddo," she smiled down to him, hand still intertwined, "What about you?"

"About you," he admitted curtly to which Jacey furrowed her eyebrows at, "You were dead. Y-you were gone... but you weren't. We left you Jacey, why don't you hate me?"

Jacey could see the tears beginning to form in the younger boys eyes and dropped down to his level brushing away the already fallen ones, "I could never hate you, squirt. Don't ever think I could. And besides, I did say I'd always find my way back to you"

"B-but I was such a bad brother I didn't protect you, I didn't talk to you. I was just so upset about dad a-and I took it out on you. I didn't know you were gonna leave me but you promised you wouldn't," He choked out.

"I know squirt. I'm so sorry but I'm here now, okay? And I'm okay and you are too."

"Promise you won't leave me again?" Carl said, unlacing their hands so he could hold out his pinky finger for her. Jacey looked at it guiltily, trying to blink away the tears, "I can't promise that, Carl."

Carl looked back to the girl his young mind attempting to comprehend her words, she was going to leave again, she was going to leave me again.

Carl grabbed her small hands which were still bigger than his own and hooked their pinkies together, "Now you can't. You already promised a-and you can't go back on that." Jacey removed her hand and stood up.

"Jacey please."

"I'm sorry." She brushed herself off and picked up her gun placing it back into her belt and started to walk in the direction of her parents.

"Dad? Mom? Can I talk to you?" She asked in her thick southern accent. Rick looked to his daughter the wrinkles on his forehead creased telling Jacey he was stressed.

Lori, however, kept her eyes trained elsewhere and said, "Nows, not the time, Jacey. We're busy." the child muttered an 'oh' before moving back towards, stopping when a panicked voice called out, "A walker got him. A walker bit Jim." Jacey turned around eyes meeting the concerned ones of her fathers as he went over to the woman she learned to be called Jacqui. Jacqui was stood with the tall man from before, he looked paler than he did earlier and there was a small patch of blood seeping through his shirt - definitely signs of a bite Jacey thought to herself remembering when a member of her team, earlier at the beginning, had been bitten.

The group crowded around Jim as he spoke, "I'm okay. I'm okay." Daryl, the redneck that threatened to shoot Jacey the previous morning, calmly ordered, "Show it to us. Show it to us." Jacey stopped listening for a moment as she met eyes with the dark ones of Jim's. She'd seen that look before and it was certainly something to fear.

Jim picked up a nearby shovel as some of the men grew closer to him. She heard Shane say something to him before a dark-skinned man came behind him, restraining him from moving.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay," He told the group unconvincingly before Daryl lifted his shirt to show the symmetrical mark of a walkers teeth, "I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay."

Sometime later, Jacey found herself watching the debate between the group on what to do with the unforeseen issue at hand. She knew what had to happen but she could tell they didn't or rather they knew but didn't want to say. She wanted to be honest with them, to put him out of his misery before it was too late but had to remind herself that this was their friend and they'd certainly not give up on him that easily even if it was the better thing to do.

"I say we put a pickaxe in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it," Daryl stated his rough exterior not letting an ounce of sympathy out. Although Jacey agreed with him she wouldn't dream of having the balls to put it that way.

Wearing a disgusted expression Shane questioned, "Is that what you'd want if it were you?"

"Yeah, and I'd thank you while you did it."

"I hate to say it… I never thought I would… but maybe Daryl's right," An older gentleman, Dale, admitted.

By that point Rick decided to join in, "Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog."

Jacey shook her head ignoring Dales attempts at reasoning with the officer, "No, but he will be soon."

Her father looked to the girl shocked, "He's sick. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"

"He's infected dad, he's as good as one of them." If it was possible Ricks jaw dropped further not recognising the unsympathetic girl as his own daughter.

"The line's pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be," Daryl agreed with the child, telling the police officer, who was still looking at his daughter for any sign of regret.

"Daryl's right, dad. And there will come a day you'll understand that too."

Ignoring Jacey's words, he looked to his group and said, "What if we can get him help? I heard the C.D.C. was working on a cure."

"I heard that too. Heard a lot of things before the world went to hell," Shane responded.

"What if the C.D.C. is still up and running?" Jacey looked at her dad hopefully, a small part of her still believing that that could be true.

"Man, that is a stretch right there."

"Why? If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the C.D.C. at all costs, wouldn't they? I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection…" Rick proposed.

"Okay, Rick, you want those things, alright? I do too, okay? Now if they exist, they're at the army base. Fort Benning," Shane offered, earning the attention and response of Lori, "That's 100 miles in the opposite direction."

"That is right. But it's away from the hot zone. Now listen to me. If that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there," Shane suggested.

"If that place was operational wouldn't they have gotten us out of this shithole already?" Jacey sassed, causing both Rick and Shane to roll their eyes.

"Language," Rick warned her, "Besides the military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun. We've all seen that. The C.D.C. is our best choice and Jim's only chance."

"You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do. Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!" Daryl's accent getting thicker the angrier he got. Daryl marched over into Jim's direction, pickaxe in hand attempting to swing at Jim's head.

In response, her father draws his gun pointing at the side of the redneck's head, "We don't kill the living." Jacey walked closer to the scene, hand on the top of her gun just in case Daryl decide to risk taking his frustrations out on her father.

"That's funny coming from a man who just put a gun to my head."

"We may disagree on some things, not on this. You put it down. Go on," Shane demanded causing Daryl to drop his weapon and walk off. Shane walked over to the infected man before dragging him off the opposite way Daryl did, for 'safety'.

Rick watched as his best friend walked away with Jim before turning to Jacey anger seeping from every orifice, "What the hell were you thinking? Saying all that stuff back there."

"I was thinking about telling the truth unlike half the people in this damn group," She shot back, hating whenever her and her dad got into arguments.

"The truth?!" He yelled ignoring the stares he got from the other group members, "You think executing Jim is the right thing to do!"

"I never said we were going to execute him! All I said is that sooner or later that man will turn and when he does he won't have any problem with killing every last one of us!"

Rick brought his right hand across his face, his left hand resting on his waist the way he would when he wanted to appear threatening, "I don't even know who you are right now because this," looking over her, "is not my daughter."

Jacey scoffed, scowling at him, "I haven't been your daughter in a very long time, not since you abandoned me."

"I didn't abandon you."

"Yes, you did! You left me. You left me alone with them! I needed you and you left!" She screamed at him ignoring the tears forming in both his and her matching blue eyes, "You all left me! And I hate you! I hate you so much for it!"

"Jacey..." He started but it merely coming out as a whimper.

"No! Don't try and justify it! You don't care about me. You let me think you were dead only for me to come back here to see you okay, w-with the family you always wanted, right? God, I'm so stupid I should've never listened to Shane. You don't need me neither does mom or Carl. I should've never come here," The young girl cried before crumpling to the ground, Rick catching her instantly.

"That's not true, okay? I thought you were dead and God you don't know how hard it was coming back here seeing your mom and Carl and having them telling me you were gone," He held her tighter thinking back to nights before, "It felt like my entire world was collapsing around me because you weren't there. I don't know how you got here nor where you were or what happened but I am so glad you're here with me now. I'm so sorry I left you. I love you so much, angel."

By the time he was finished Jacey had somewhat calmed down and all Rick could hear was small cries buried deep into his chest, "Its okay angel. Everything's okay now," he calmly put ushing her off into a deep, much needed rest.

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theelliottsmiths · 4 years

Note

do you feel like talking about tillchard? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 not necessarely in a shippy way, just,,, how their relationship functions and why,,,, how they made it work for so long even tho they're so different,,,, i'm trying to write them but i'm in a bit of a block and i feel like you can word things so well and hopefully it will make me able to string words together again 🥺🥺 have a good day in any case 🥺🥺

Okay we have to ease into this my brain needs to warm up to switch tracks so I'm just gonna

Disclaimer: this is mostly conjecture and inference, take it with a full handful of salt.

I feel like whether or not they're all that different is up for debate? Maybe in terms of interests and conflict management skills, but the fundamentals seem pretty similar. I'd argue that's usually the basis for long, intense friendships: your core structures are the same but there's enough difference further out towards the surface that it stays a little spicy.

For a start, they both had rough home lives, though to different extents and in different ways, and I think that's one of those things that really helps people bond deeply (especially as young adults). Finding someone who understands what you've experienced can be difficult, not even accounting for the fact that they didnt have the internet to seek others out and kind of met by chance.

For Richard, who learned from a fairly early age it was him against everything and everyone else, and Till, who at that time had gone through some interpersonal shit with the people he worked with before leaving to move in with his dad and then also the stuff with his dad, it must have been almost... Shocking? to meet someone they could click with and depend on. It doesn't sound like they had that before, but nobody really has asked them. On top of that is all kinds of other trauma and the mental health issues (depression, addiction, anxiety etc) that they can at least to some degree understand in each other. I have no idea how long it took for their friendship to get that intense or any of that more specific stuff, but I honestly don't think that matters: They understand each other at a pretty fundamental level now. Sometimes I think about how Till believes in karma and Richard believes in fate and I just... Yeah.

They have very different feelings and reactions when it comes to disagreements (Till hates conflict and will try to placate people or just do what they want completely, Richard prefers a good cathartic argument) and I can absolutely see them having a hard time with that, especially when they lived together for a while. Whether they have much to fight over besides silly friend/bandmate/brother things remains to be seen.

They're also both very driven and creative almost to a fault? Though Till seems a lot better at switching off and leaving that headspace, whereas Richard doesn't seem like he'd be able to even of he wanted to, which I don't think he does. If one is lost in their work the other will understand. I wonder whether they try to offer support, given how much emotion they both channel into it, or if that's not something either of them would want.

They feed into each others creativity so nicely too. They use that to their complete advantage and honestly just... Can you imagine Rammstein if they didn't go to each other with their ideas first? I think they need each others encouragement before they face the more critical members of the band: the support of a single person can make so much difference.

When the Mutter Situation was in progress Till was the only one in Richards side, though I doubt he inserted himself into many arguments because he's allergic to shouting. I with my whole heart believe that Richard would have tried to leave Rammstein if it wasn't for Till. He'd already thought about it, in particular at times when they were struggling financially. Without that tether would he have gone back willingly? I'm not so sure. He loved them and they were still friends outside of the work, but I don't know that the work with them would feel worth it. Complete conjecture.

Theyll have inevitably drifted in and out of their friendship over the years, which I know a lot of us (especially those of is in our teens and twenties) hate the idea of because we have not experienced 30-year adult friendships and therefore it feels Risky, but actually thats pretty fine. It seems like at some point Richard wasn't happy with the gap and he made efforts to change it, which says so much about him and them. No idea if it worked, but it (along with the stuff with the other guys) shows he's willing to work against his whole lone wolf thing. Again, that man will fight. I'm sure Till was receptive.

I also really do think the other guys being there and them all forming the band was vital. Yes, it did eventually mean their friendship morphed into something more like brothers and colleagues than friends, but again, Let's Go. "Sometimes people need to be reminded". Having those shared friends/bandmates—as well as Khira li, come to think of it— meant that two men who seem fairly prone to cutting themselves off from everyone else didn't have the choice to completely grow apart. It means they had even more shared experiences and had no choice but to be physically together for long stretches of time.

Related to the mutter thing, I do wonder sometimes how Till is when it comes to Richards drug addiction. He's not exactly a fan of the therapy (did it hurt Richard when Till said therapy makes people egotistical, what with him praising it so highly himself?) and still does drugs and binge drinks. How safe is he to be around if Richard is in a bad spot? Presumably Till isn't like that when he's not in work mode, so hanging out one in one or with family/the other boys is probably okay, but in tour? Well, maybe that's why Paul looks after him on stage like that.

Yeah. They're sweet boys and I'm glad they met each other, both because of the band and because they were clearly good for each other. Regardless of any of the negative stuff I just said they love each other. So. Fucking. Much.

Okay so looking back upon this I do not know if I did what you asked. Uh. Shit. Distraction:

#ive been trying to hard not to start with the autism/adhd thing im trying so hard to shush #rammstein #me rambling #till lindemann #richard zk #basically an essay #friends

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years

Note

oh j0nryas know about balticon report, they just think he was being coy (asdjkahs same delusion with s/ns/ns), that he was rambling bc he was trying not to give spoilers. at this point he could go on live and say "no dumbasses there is no j0nrya, there won't be, there never was" (same w pedoships) and they will all be like "omg it is definitely happening in twow, look at how he's trying to divert our attentions, we are onto you george hehehe"

OK let’s review, again, chronologically, all the times that GRRM was being coy and trying to divert his readers’ attention regarding the ships you mentioned:

The “It could be very different things to each of those involved” Alternative: “Mind you!”

JUNE 24, 1999 THE HOUND AND SANSA

Moreta12: I understand, I’ve heard your opinion on that. In ACOK, it seems that the relationship between the Hound and Sansa had romantic undertones. Is that true?

GeoRR: Well, read the book and decide for yourself.

Moreta12: I’ve read the book and I’ve debated those particular scenes with a few others. Half say that it’s romantic and half say it’s platonic. I’ve taken the romantic stance.

GeoRR: It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you

Moreta12:Yes, but it seem like evidence points towards romantic undertones. Will the Hound appear later?

GeoRR: Yes, the Hound will be in STORM OF SWORDS. In fact, I just finished writing a big scene with him.

[Source]

The “Why are you asking me about Sansa’s sexuality?” Alternative 1: “Are you really asking me when your fave male adult character can fuck a girl, 15 years younger than him, without guilt?” Alternative 2: “Why are you so gross?”

OCTOBER 05, 1999 AGE OF SEXUAL RELATIONS IN WESTEROS

The nature of the relationship between Sandor and Sansa has been a hot topic on Revanshe's board. Sansa's youth has been one focus of the discussion. What is the general Westerosi view as to romantic or sexual relationships involving a girl of Sansa's age and level of physical maturity?

A boy is Westeros is considered to be a "man grown" at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us. However, for girls, the first flowering is also very significant... and in older traditions, a girl who has flowered is a woman, fit for both wedding and bedding. A girl who has flowered, but not yet attained her sixteenth name day, is in a somewhat ambigious position: part child, part woman. A "maid," in other words. Fertile but innocent, beloved of the singers. In the "general Westerosi view," well, girls may well be wed before their first flowerings, for political reasons, but it would considered perverse to bed them. And such early weddings, even without sex, remain rare. Generally weddings are postponed until the bride has passed from girlhood to maidenhood. Maidens may be wedded and bedded... however, even there, many husbands will wait until the bride is fifteen or sixteen before sleeping with them. Very young mothers tend to have significantly higher rates of death in childbirth, which the maesters will have noted. As in the real Middle Ages, highborn girls tend to flower significantly earlier than those of lower birth. Probably a matter of nutrition. As a result, they also tend to marry earlier, and to bear children earlier. There are plenty of exceptions.

[Source]

The “Unreliable narrator - Part 1” Alternative: “The much more important lapse in memory that was promised”

JUNE 26, 2001 SF, TARGARYENS, VALYRIA, SANSA, MARTELLS, AND MORE

[GRRM is asked about Sansa misremembering the name of Joffrey’s sword.]

The Lion’s Paw / Lion’s Tooth business, on the other hand, is intentional. A small touch of the unreliable narrator. I was trying to establish that the memories of my viewpoint characters are not infallible. Sansa is simply remembering it wrong. A very minor thing (you are the only one to catch it to date), but it was meant to set the stage for a much more important lapse in memory. You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom… but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it’s a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on.

[Source]

The “Unreliable narrator - Part 2” Alternative: “It doesn’t mean what you think it means”

OCTOBER 05, 2002 SANSA’S MEMORY

[Note: This mail has been edited for brevity.]

Well, not every inconsistency is a mistake, actually. Some are quite intentional. File this one under “unreliable narrator” and feel free to ponder its meaning

[Source]

The “Unreliable narrator - Part 3” Alternative: “Better ask yourself about Sansa’s psychological state”

NOVEMBER 27, 2007 GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS

[Source]

The “The answer is No” Alternative: NO!

APRIL 15, 2008 FUTURE MEETINGS, POVS, ARYA’S ROLE, EASTERN LANDS, AND ASSASSINS

[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?]

Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone.

[Source]

The “He’s a lot more dangerous than he is romantic” Alternative: “BUT THERE IS SAM!”

AUG. 21ST, 2009 AS SER JORAH MORMONT… - NOT A BLOG

weltraummuell: The Hound And I know from discussions on other board other women feel just the same about Sandor. He’s an absolute favourite with the ladies!

halfbloodmalfoy: The Hound LOL, you’re such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

GRRM: The Hound But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

[Source]

The “That’s interesting...” Alternative: “They are deeply troubled individuals, Harriet”

22 JUNE 2012 SWORD & LASER VIDEO PODCAST

Veronica Belmont: I’m a big fan of the Hound, myself, actually.

Tom Merritt: Of Sandor? Really?

Tom Merritt: The TV show has sort of played with that a little, and probably stoked those fires.

GRRM: Oh, sure. And I’ve played with it in the books. There’s something there, but it’s still interesting to see how many people have responded to it.

[Source]

The “I guess I don’t understand women” Alternative: “I'm shook”

JUNE 23, 2015 GRRM Q&A AT THE SCIENCE FICTION BOOKSTORE IN STOCKHOLM

[Source]

The “Comfort level of femininity” Alternative: “That's not a reference for romance”

MAY 29, 2016 BALTICON REPORT

My con friend asked about the Jon/Arya relationship again and brought her (impressive) Game book that had all of her references marked out with little flags. She brought up the Ygritte connections to Arya that Jon saw in her. George did not directly answer yes or no if there would be anything romantic between the two.

George did say, despite what readers see as clues to a romantic relationship between Jon/Arya in the books themselves, he did not confirm this so easily but inferred that what Jon saw in Ygritte was a comfort level of femininity. <<< She and I obviously discussed these comments after the meeting and this was the general feeling.

My con friend was referring to George explaining Jon’s perception: GRRM replied, “You know, I don’t think it’s a reference for that [for romance]. It’s a reference to a certain physical type, and a certain indication of what Jon finds admirable. It’s like someone who reminds you of, you know… Other people might be put off by this, you know, hair that looks like small rodents have been living in there. It doesn’t put him off because he is used to that.”

The “I was making up shit.” Alternative: "I wish I can delete that"

MAY 29, 2016 BALTICON REPORT

After the Coffee Talk just outside the room:

My Con Friend asked about Arya and Jon again. This time GRRM gave some very pointed replies:

GRRM finished (in the hallway now) by saying that he “wished some past things weren’t such strong foreshadowing,” and that he, “wished some new things had stronger foreshadowing then.”

Friend: Ok, if you foreshadowed something in the first book, like, really cleverly hidden, would you then follow through on that hint? For sure?..

GRRM: “Well, this goes with what I said before, the story changes and expands as I write. I wish I was able to go back and make revised drafts, but that’s not going to happen.”

Here is a transcript of the outline discussion and Jon/Arya portion of the coffee talk:

[question about Jon/Arya]

GRRM: “Alright, you’ve thought about this more than I have. I mean it’s simple, Jon is very fond of Arya. They were the two odd birds in the Stark family nest, here. They didn’t quite fit in with the others, they look like each other, they both had the brown hair, you know, as opposed to the auburn hair of Sansa and Bran and Rickon and Robb. So there was always that closeness between them. And, you know, Arya didn’t mind that Jon was a bastard, and Jon didn’t mind that Arya was a tomboy, so there is that closeness there.”

[question about Jon comparing his lover to his sister]

GRRM: “If he did it, uhm… I began writing these books in 1991, and, uhm, I worked on it in 91 and then I got a tv play, so I put it aside to really work on ‘Doorways’ tv pilot and did a tv show in 92-93. In 94 I returned to it [the books] and worked on it. You know, up till then, in my career as a writer, I’d always written the entire book before I opted for sale. That’s unusual. Most writers do chapters and an outline. They write a few chapters, they outline the rest of the book, give that to the publisher and the publisher says ‘oh okay, I’ll take that’.

“As some of you may have noticed, those who have been paying very, very carefully attention, I’m not good with deadlines. And, uh, and I’m not good with outlines, either. I always hated outlines. So with Fevre Dream and with Armageddon Rag and with Dying of the Light and all my novels, I wrote the entire book. I didn’t do chapters and outline. I sat down, I wrote a whole book, and I sent it to my agent and said ‘Look, here’s a whole book, and it’s finished’. That way I ran into no deadline, it was finished before it even went on the market. And it worked well for me. And my initial thought was to do this the same way, but what happened, you know, was in 1994, uhm, when I returned to it and I’m working on it and I’m very enthused about it and I say ‘I really wanna write these Game of Thrones books as the next part’. But I was still in Hollywood and I’d just lost all this groundwork on ‘Doorways’, I was still in… The studios and networks still wanna work with me, so I’m getting other offers, like ‘We want you to write this movie’, ‘we want you to do another tv pilot’. And, you know, I took a couple of them and was ‘Oh god, I gotta have to put the book away again’. Cause I have no deadline [for the book]. You know, when you think Hollywood, they will give you a deadline, you know, they say ‘here, son, write this movie, we want it in three months’.

“So, I said ‘look, if I wanna get back to being a novelist, I’m gonna have to sell this even though it’s not finished’. So I had my 200 pages of Game of Thrones at that point, but they wanted outline. I said ‘I don’t do outlines. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, I figure it out as I go. And that’s how I always did it.’ No, we had to have an outline. So I wrote two pages, a two-page thing about what I thought would happen. It’ll be a trilogy, it’ll be three books, Game of Thrones, the Dance with Dragons, and Winds of Winter. Those were the three window titles. And, uh, it’ll be three books and this’ll happen, and this’ll happen, and this’ll happen. And I was making up shit.

“And I had thought that those two pages were long forgotten, because, of course, the books did sell. They sold in the United States and in Great Britain, both. They sold for enough money that I didn’t have to take any more Hollywood games. So I was able to say ‘no’ around. I had a few less [?] to wind up in in 94 and 95. Once I had, I said ‘no, I don’t want any more movies or tv shows, I’m going to write these books now’. And I started writing the books. And in the process, I pretty much disregarded the outline. The characters took me off in entirely different directions. So, for 20 years I had forgotten that that two-page thing even existed. And then someone in my British publisher, HarperCollins, they got a new office building, uh, brand new offices, and new conference rooms, big conference rooms that they decorated with books and stuff like that. And they named the conference rooms after the writers, so one of the conference rooms [?], and they put up these plastic display cases, including the outline. The two-page outline, yes. [?], they didn’t ask my permission, they just put it up. And in that two-page outline, Jon and Arya become a romantic item.”

“You know, I don’t think it’s a reference for that [for romance]. It’s a reference to a certain physical type, and a certain indication of what Jon finds admirable. It’s like someone who reminds you of, you know… Other people might be put off by this, you know, hair that looks like small rodents have been living in there. It doesn’t put him off because he is used to that.””

[someone says they have 5 minutes left]

“You know, I was pretty pissed that that outline got out there. It should not have happened. Outlines and letters like that are meant only for the eyes of the editor. They shouldn’t go on public display. And, uh, they also [?] my papers on [?], all my papers and correspondence. You know, I’ve been sending that stuff there for years, and it’d be, you know, available for future scholars or whatever, just like the papers of many other writers. Somehow, in the back of my head I was like ‘yeah, 20 years after I’m dead some scholar will go in and find them’. They’re going in right now!” ”

[question if he is still going with the 1991 ending]

“Yes, I mean, I did partly joke when I said I don’t know where I was going. I know the broad strokes, and I’ve known the broad strokes since 1991. I know who’s going to be on the Iron Throne. I know who’s gonna win some of the battles, I know the major characters, who’s gonna die and how they’re gonna die, and who’s gonna get married and all that. The major characters. Of course along the way I made up a lot of minor characters, you know, I, uhm…Did I know in 1991 how Bronn, what was gonna happen to Bronn? No, I didn’t even know there’d be a guy named Bronn. I was inventing him along the way when I was writing, ‘Okay, he gets kidnapped. Let’s see, there are a couple sellswords there, their names are Fred and Bronn’.

“It was actually Bronn and Chiggen, and then one of them dies, I flipped a coin ‘okay, who dies? Chiggen dies, cause his name is stupid. Bronn is a better name, so I’ll keep Bronn’. And then Bronn became quite an interesting character and plenty of these characters take on minds of their own. They push to the front till you [?] speech and you think of a cool line and you give it to Bronn because he’s trying to talk, and now Bronn is somebody who says something cool. [?]. That’s how characters grow on you. “So a lot of the minor characters I’m still discovering along the way. But the mains-”

[question if he knows Arya’s and Jon’s fates]

“Tyrion, Arya, Jon, Sansa, you know, all of the Stark kids, and the major Lannisters, yeah.”

This report appears in the following sources:

fattest leech of ice and fire blog [Source 1]

asoiaf.westeros.org [Source 2]

westeros.org [Source 3]

The “Unreliable narrator - Part 4” Alternative: “I think I had enough...”

DECEMBER 2016 ASKING GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ABOUT SAN/SAN

The night of the Blackwater, yes. Ahhh... Well, I'm not going to give you a straight answer on that hahaha... Uhmmm, but I would say that ahhh... you know a television show and a book each has its own strengths and weaknesses; there a re tools that are available to me as a novelist, that are not available to people doing a television show. And of course there are tools available to them, that are not available to a novelist, I mean they can lay in a soundtrack, they can do special effects, they can do amazing things that I can't do, I just have words on paper. What can I do, well I can use things like the internal narrative, I can take you inside of territories... thoughts, which you can't do in a TV show... Ahhh... You just have the words they speak, you see them from outside because the camera is external, while prose is internal, and I have the device known as "unreliable narrator"... Ahhh... Which again, they don't have. So, think about those two aspects when you consider that night of the Blackwater.

[Source]

Most of these questions make me think of Nabokov having to clarified, regarding Lolita, that he didn’t write a romance..........

So there’s that, everyone can draw their own conclusions. God knows that in this fandom: “We look up at the same stars, and see such different things.”

Thanks for your message.

#anon ask #grrm #jon and arya #sansa deserves better #the things i have to read...#poor george #poor nabokov

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