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darrowsrising · 2 years

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What are your favorite things about the red rising series?

Do you have a lifetime?

Darrow of Lykos? Darrow of Lykos. He is the sort of protagonist I have always wanted to read. Only put my eyes on a similar character in The Count of Monte Cristo. However, Darrow starts off from way back and we are with him on his journey, instead of disengaging for mystery amplifying purposes. I started RR as a teen and I pretty much agreed with everything Darrow did, duh. I used to cringe at my first impressions, but I was glad to have a teenage protagonist that was very like me in personality. As Darrow grew, so did I and...I can't explain how much he means to me as a whole. He is very inspiring and such a good and badass person. His capacity for love and his determination boggle my mind and the way he embraces his darkness, yet proves over and over again how full of light he is, even when he doubts it. The way he is speaks to me, if that makes sense. The way he's written challamged me to explore myself, grow, mature, be more understanding, more open and caring. His vulnerability is beautiful, made me understand that in myself as well. His anger is a tool and I love that for him, that he gets to use his rage, instead of another fucking preachy shit lesson about how anger is the enemy. I find no one is worthier of love and happiness than Darrow, ironic, because he feels unworthy of that.

The writing! Pierce Brown had me from 'I would have lived in peace, but my enemies brought me war.' Poetic violence is very much my style. I love writing that feels raw - not as in 'unedited', but as in 'emotionally raw'. The way this guy juggles bodily fluids in one section and then the pain and the love of life not two seconds later, is genuinely impressive. Of course, he does have a first book syndrome, but never disasterous. I love how he handles the 'show, don't tell', because he explores a corrupt society from all of its angles, yet he mantains firmly that FASCISM SUCKS. I mean, you truly need another level of horse-glassed stupid to understand otherwise. It makes the reader wuestion their own beliefs which is extremely important for a book to be good - rip to your highly popular non-sense books, but Red Rising is superior (for legal reasons, I am kidding). I also like that the writing does not hide away from unglamourous/unromanticized things, if that makes sense. You'll have Roque and Cassius getting pimples, Sevro's hygene always put into question - it the cloak, not him, he does wash - and so on. It may be overly stinking of sun energy to some people with more moon energy, but I do like that side of the writing - not everything needs to be romanticized. I actually appreciate this kind of writing more, because it feels more honest with the reader. I feel like blue prose can't really impress me anymore - I read TCOMC and asoiaf, pretty writing must be ultra special to get to me. On the other hand, Pierce Brown's writing is beyond pretty, it's fucking beautiful. It touches every chord, it doesn't need extra words, it's incredibly impactful and to the point, while also building up things trough forshadowing and subtle seeds. It uses perspective and emotion to the max. It does not need flowery stuff to deliver, it is strong and beautiful.

I also love that violence isn't infantillized, but it also isn't a bulldozer tearing through a forest - it actually has purpose, it's a tool masterfully used as it truly is - nothing is overly dramatic, because it's well-used. Jn Dark Age the violence was meant to numb the reader - just like war does. Incredible!

The themes of Red Rising are important, but the most important of all for me is hope - because blue prose desensitized me to it, it really made me change my mind about it. I cared not one bit about how it was handled most of the time, I had a very dismisive tone about it even. Darrow became my hope, I genuinely clunged to him through my dark times and I always keep him close to my heart when I struggle or when I am good.

Another thing that I absolutely love is how a dystopian regime is handled. The world-building is making us question ourselves and our own reality. It explores all kinds of slavery, always condemning it and highlighting the importance of unity, while understanding the different experiences of the various casts. It also condemns the cast system - Pierce was inspired by the Indian Cast System, btw. It also exposes situations and experiences that echo the real world so much, it's scary at times. Very incredible writing.

It's also the fact that...the exploration of certain things are so thoroughly analysed through the narration, that makes the writing so good. You will not find simplostic surface bullshit in Red Rising, that's for sure. The skelleton of the world is bulletproof, so everything that happens with the characters is actually amazing, especially because Pierce is more of a character-driven plot person.

Speaking of characters, Pierce Brown wrotes amazing ones, but it's the depth he gives them - no surface level bullshit. Even with the episodic characters. He also actually tries not to play favourites, because more often than not, that ends up with such bad writing, it's sad to me that books like that get published. He is just opinionated enough to make us love him more for it z for example he had Darrow mourn Roque, but he would throw that bitch in the grossest ditch available.

The female characters are always a mood. Always. I love them. I get very inspired by them and I find it validating to have them have these powerful, intense emotions like rage and hatred, thirst for justice and love for their family.

I find the way Pierce explores humanity is very beautiful. There is a genuine sense of hope, yet he also allows unforgivables - which are severly punished, as they should. He explored similar themes as in The Count of Monte Cristo that I loved very much - justice and revenge, love and hope etc.

The action and the intrigue are exquisite, absolutely amazing. Politics and battles are some of my favourite aspects - the space battles got getting used to, but they are very visual, so that helped.

I love how good the plot is, it always keeps me on the edge of my seat.

The love side of the saga is also beautiful. I did not expect it at all, but Pierce writes better romance than some popular romance authors. WAY BETTER.

Thank you for the ask! It took a long time to gather all of my thoughts, I think I am still missing something, but I am posting it as is.

Howl on!

#red rising #pierce brown

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eyeless-cunt · 3 years

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scenario where yandere masky/Tim s/o accidentally broke some plates while putting them away (s/o was already kidnapped and is naturally apologetic) (yes I'm that one person asking for more submissive stuff maybe I have a Problem maybe I don't)

you do have a problem but that’s alright because i’m an enabler, darling. we really do just mix.

TW: kidnapping although that’s not mentioned, blood mention, pulling glass out of skin, crying, there’s not much ‘yandere’ stuff in here

You were just so bored. I mean, there’s literally nothing to do in this old shack, so doing what could be considered chores was really your only option—unless you counted staring at the ceiling as one. Of course, something so simple just had to turn out terribly wrong, thanks to your idiocracy. You and Masky only owned like four plates altogether, so it should have been easy and quick. Although because you are, an idiot, as you started to dry off the last one (this whole ordeal had only taken you a good five minutes so far—so it wasn’t much of a time waster like you had hoped it be) it slipped through your hands and hit the ground with a loud splintering crash.

The plate hit the ground so fast that it took a minute to process the few tiny glass pieces that were now embedded in your skin. The pain hit you so suddenly, making you suck in a large gulp of air, tears bubbling behind your eyelids. You felt like an idiot, a now crying idiot. It really did hurt, blood starting to slightly leak out of the shallow cuts. It was like an amplified paper cut. You thought about how you had broken one of the only plates you and Masky owned, and how much these stupid fucking cuts hurt. Then you thought about how absolutely stupid you were for not holding an obviously slippery plate well enough.

You stood there, no coherent thoughts or plans of action attempting to make a name for themselves. You were dumbfounded for a few more seconds, wondering what the hell you were supposed to do. ‘Should I clean this up first? Or fix these cuts? Fuck, this hurts...’

Of course, your partner(?) just had to come home at that moment, walking right in on you staring at your now excessively bleeding legs like a dumbass. Not your finest moment. He paused. You paused. He stared down at your red Leonardo da Vinci painted legs and you stared at his blank mask. Both of you went through the seven stages of buffering in about five seconds. Immediately though, as soon as the situation got through his thick mask and even thicker skull he was heading towards you, his movements a lot quicker than they’d usually be.

This, obviously, made you shift into gear as well, the sight of him steamrolling towards you after you’d broken a perfectly good plate coaxing an apology out of you hastily. Not because you were sure he was mad at you (although you figured that was on the table) but because you were genuinely sorry. I mean, what was he supposed to do? Break into someone’s house and steal a singular plate because his idiot s/o breaks everything they touch? Walk into a dollar store buying a single plate and just end up staring down the chashier? They’d probably call the cops on him as soon as they saw that sketchy mask walk into the store. And there’s no fucking way he’s letting you walk into some place.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but instead let out a sqeak as he lifted you just a few inches off the ground, practically dragging you into your bathroom. He lifted you up onto the sink, where you sat dumbfounded. You turned to look at him as he shuffled through a cupboard, looking for something with apparent difficulty. He pulled out a pair of tweezers, and you knew this was about to hurt. “...I didn’t even know we owned tweezers.” No response. He took off his mask—something he rarely did—and kneeled down, grabbing the back of your right leg and bringing it in close.

“Wa-wait,” you gasped out, the sight of the glass imbedded in your legs making you uneasy, “it’ll hurt. When you pull it out it’ll hurt.”

“...should I knock you out?” Figures that that’s how he would solve your fear.

“You’ll just end up giving me a concussion...I’m sorry for breaking the plate...it was an accident. I’m sorry.” He didn’t seem like he cared about that, and didn’t even attempt to respond to your apology. It didn’t deter you from continuing though, still feeling the guilt press down on you like a thick fog. “I know we only have a few—and I made such a mess too. I promise I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry.”

“...’s jus’ a plate. ‘m cleanin’ it.” He slowly pulled out a smaller piece from your skin, making you gasp in pain as a response.

“It hurts. It real-really hurts.” He spared you a single glance, getting up to wet a washcloth. He pressed the wet and slightly steaming washcloth to your leg, wiping off already dried and new (some had spurted out when he pulled out some glass) blood. You flinched when he made contact, his hands were warm on your cold skin.

“Close your eyes.” He grabbed the tweezers again, repositioning his hands so that he could grip you firmly. You figured it was so that you didn’t move around or struggle, purposely or not. You obeyed, closing your eyes.

“It’s gonna hurt. Masky it’s gonna hURT!—

He pulled a slightly larger piece out of you leg, making you lean forward to grasp onto his shoulders, gripping them tightly in response to the pain. Your breathing got heavier and you felt your eyes water. You opened your eyes to him looking up at you, his lips turned slightly downwards—usually the look on his face when his mask was off showed no expression, so this was a surprise. He moved to pull out another one, but you stopped him, tugging on his jacket. He paused and looked back up at you.

“I don’t want you to. It really fucking hurts.” You knew that you were being a baby and logically these few more pieces needed to come out of your leg as soon as possible. Your body shook, maybe it was shock. Maybe because you were so cold. Maybe because it hurt so much and you were scared. Probably all of the above. You closed your eyes again, preparing yourself for him to ignore you and pull another out. You wanted this to be done with.

Instead, you felt him wrap his arms under your legs and back, picking you up and walking out of the bathroom. Your eyes watered more, for whatever reason you weren’t sure. You curled into his chest, gripping him tight. It felt secure here. He sat you down on your shared bed, although you found yourself alone in it most nights. He kneeled down to the floor again, taking your leg and picking up the tweezers again to continue.

His actions clicked in your mind instantly, making tears slip even though you tried your hardest to make them stay put hidden away. This was more comfortable, it felt safer in here. He brought your head down to quickly kiss your forehead upon seeing your tears—which only made you cry more. His actions were confirmation that he genuinely cared, which was something you didn’t get often from him.

“I’ll be quick.” He pushed on your shoulder, signaling that he was continuing and that he wanted you to lay down. You did as he asked, laying down and staring up at the ceiling (how ironic that this is what you were trying to avoid doing only so many minutes before) with your legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He pulled another out, your hands clenching the blankets around you as the pain clenched you—your body tensing so as to not spasm out of his grip and mess something up.

“One more.” You let out a breath of relief, bracing yourself for one more. He slowly dug it out, this one apparently deeper than the others. That’s probably why he left it for last. You hit the bed beside you, clenching your teeth as it moved under your skin. He tugged it out, finally.

The tension left your body as soon as it was out, you wanting to curl into bed and never touch any glass objects ever again. “Stay.” You huffed at his word choice. “‘m not a dog.” He paused in the doorway. “...bunny.” You laughed, a bunny? Do you tell bunnies to stay? Can bunnies follow commands? You heard the bathroom sink running, figuring that he was probably washing out the washcloth, surprisingly. Usually he left bloody clothes out and you ended up dealing with them. You knew his intention wasn’t for you to do them, but it somehow ended up that way anyways.

You stopped focusing on listening to what he was doing, instead opting to drag a pillow over to you and snuggle into it as best you could without changing your current position with you laying on your back. Masky came in a minute later, equipped with bandages and a glass of water. You heard one of his many pill bottles scatter as he walked in his pocket. He made you take at least three of those a day, often more if he was with you. The reason you didn’t know, but it didn’t change anything about you, so you didn’t mind.

You waited patiently as he wrapped the bandages around your leg, flinching every so often when he came into contact with an injured area. “Done.” You immediately got up, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was complaining like a baby the entire time.”

He didn’t say anything, as usual. Although he placed his hand on the back of your head, patting awkwardly —it was actually sorta comfy though. You went to leave the room to clean up your mess, only for him to stop you by grabbing your wrist and pulling you back.

“What?” You stared up at him, his face giving away no tell as to what he may be feeling, much less thinking.

“...I need to clean up.” He pushed you back again, seemingly annoyed.

“Didn’t’ch hear me? ‘m cleanin’ it.” You protested as soon as the words left his mouth, but he only pushed you down again, leaving to go clean up your mess. You felt even worse now. You broke a plate, made him clean you up, and now he’s cleaning up the mess you started. You felt absolutely pathetic as more tears slipped out. Your arms moved to cover your face, not wanting anyone to see you genuinely cry.

He was back five minutes later, but paused once again when he heard you sniffling. You wiped your tears, ashamed of your out of control emotions. His mask was on when you looked up to find that he was back. He closed the door beside him and sat on the opposite side of the bed, slipping off his shoes and coat. He laid himself down in bed, looking at you as if he was expecting something. So you got up from your uncomfortable position and crawled in beside him under the covers, wrapping an arm around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer. He was always warm, and a bit sweaty. His arms found themselves around you in return and you smiled for the first time that day.

#i genuinely dont like this #THIS IS SO BADLY WRITTEJ LMFAOFJFJ PLEASE #masky #masky marble hornets #marble hornets headcanons #masky x reader #yandere masky #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets yandere #tim marble hornets #marble hornets #creepypasta headcannons #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #yandere

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hot-wiings · 3 years

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The One Where Dabi Gets Involved With Overhaul’s Girl, Part Eighteen.

Edited: 3-26-2021

A month had passed since Kai announced your engagement, and a month had passed since your pregnancy became public knowledge. You ran your fingers over your stomach, you weren't really showing yet. You knew as the weeks progressed you would blow up like a bowling ball and your stomach would pop open like a flower. As of right now, you had the smallest, most insignificant bump, only you knew it was there and it was only visible with your shirt up.

You looked up from your spot on the couch to Dabi. You hadn't had a moment to talk to him with Hari around. Per what he said to Kai, he had been watching you like a hawk. You hadn't been able to speak to each other freely, let alone even look in each other's direction. Your lingering touches were no longer, your sweet whispered words were gone.

You knew you had to stop such actions due to Hari's presence and watchful eyes, yet part of you couldn't help but feel that the affections you used to brazenly show each other in private had been turned unwanted. Not being alone meant you hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Dabi about this baby, your baby.

You still had no idea if he wanted you both, this was a two-for-one deal now, and it was a tie-breaker you were not willing to get rid of. The true father of your baby was still an unanswered question. An unanswered question you weren't sure mattered to Dabi. Asking Dabi to risk his life for the sake of a baby that might not be his was a huge favor. That was if he even wanted a baby, another unanswered question that sent nerves sparking throughout your body.

Noticing Hari see your eyes on Dabi you quickly come up with something to say to him. You quickly come up with a reason to talk to him. You don't want to make yourself, nor Dabi look suspicious. Anything noteworthy that Hari sees he will take directly to Kai. You didn't want to raise suspicions simply for looking at him.

"I can't believe I'll be naming a baby in seven months. Any suggestions?"

"Let me guess, Kai is leaning towards junior for a boy."

Dabi's face tightens as he says the words, and you suppose to was an unfair question to ask but it was all you could think up on the fly at that moment. Presuming Dabi wanted this baby, it was unfair to ask him such things knowing that if this baby was born before you escaped, then it would be Kai helping you name them.

Presuming that Dabi wanted this baby, it was already unfair that he couldn't be with you, it was unfair he couldn't help you. It wasn't him pulling back your hair when you threw up, it was Kai. It wasn't him rubbing your shoulders, it was Kai. It wasn't him coddling and taking care of you, it was Kai.

Of course, that was presuming and wishful thinking. For all that you really knew he was upset and his tightened smile was out of anger towards Kai and this baby. Anger that this baby was ruining things, ruining his plan to get you and Eri out, and ruining your disclosed and deeply harbored feelings for each other. Anger towards Kai for having possibly gotten you pregnant, anger this baby might actually belong to a monster and not him.

This uncertainty on his feelings was tearing you apart. You didn't know what he wanted, and you didn't know what he was thinking. He could resent this baby, he could hate them, or he could love them. He could be thinking about how he wanted to whisk you away from Kai, he could be thinking about how he wants a family with you, or he could be thinking about not helping you and Eri at all. Knowing him, knowing his own upbringing, and how his own father acted towards him did not help shake the feeling that maybe he didn't want you and this baby anymore.

"I think Kai Junior would be a lovely name."

Hari, ever-delightful to praise Kai, even in his absence speaks up commending the name. There was no way you'd ever name your child after Kai. Even if this baby ends up being Kai's, even if they had his genes, you would not raise them to be like him. You would not raise them to be such a monster.

"Well, we will have to take it into consideration, but I think I want something more original."

You feel a firm hand slide over your shoulders from behind you, squeezing them in a comforting way. The assailant presses his thumb into your skin in such an intricate way you know exactly who it is. The exact monster whose name you're conversing about.

"Kai Junior has a nice ring to it. We'll discuss it, but whatever we agree on is sure to be perfect."

Kai's voice meets your ears as he leans in close and presses a kiss on your cheek. You want to pull away, you want to reject it. Not with Dabi in front of you, not with you being unsure of his feelings for you and this baby. Showing affection towards Kai feels like a betrayal. Quite ironic seemingly since your shared feelings with Dabi were in fact a betrayal to Kai. You know it would be stupid to pull away from Kai, things have been going good lately. Due to this pregnancy he had given you some of your freedom back, even if it was just a shard of freedom, even the smallest shred felt like a lifetime.

You had Kai utterly convinced you were in love. Whether he thought you were suffering from Stockholm syndrome or were genuinely in love with him didn't matter. He believed you loved him, and that was enough.

"All done with work for the day?"

"No, I needed Hari for some important matters. It'll just be you and Dabi for the rest of the day."

Kai had been keeping his plans more secretive. He was keeping things in front of Dabi and the other league members on a need-to-know basis. You could tell it was making them antsy, and Kai seemed stressed. Although, he hadn't been taking that stress out on you as he used to. Something big was going down soon, you just knew it.

"Okay, be safe."

You give Kai a quick kiss on the lips before he moved away from you and out of the room with Hari hot on his heels. You felt disgusted for having to put on such a display of affection for him, but as you watched him and Hari disappear further and further away, the feelings in your stomach transitioned from disgust to relief, and that relief slowly turned to nervousness. You felt achy and sick, it wasn't the morning sickness that conveniently happened in the afternoon and evening.

This was the first time you would be alone with Dabi since you announced your pregnancy. You would finally be able to discuss it, you would finally be able to talk about what this would mean for your both. You would finally find out whether he wanted this baby, whether he wanted to be a father. You would finally get to put your nerves to rest, but the idea of talking about this made you uneasy.

What if he didn't want this baby? What if he no longer wanted you. You didn't know what you would do without him. While you hated being so codependent on someone, he was all you had. He was your only shot of escaping Kai alive, he was your only shot at getting Eri out safe and now he was the possible father of your baby. He was the man you loved, and If he rejected you, you, and your baby, you would be forced to live an unhappy life going around as Kai's wife for the sake of your baby.

You and Dabi stare at each other in silence for a moment, as if daring one of you to make the first move to break it. Dabi stood up from where he was sitting and made long stridefull steps to the couch you were sitting on. He takes a seat next to you and loosely grabs your hand. The action somewhat puts your gut at ease. He wasn't being cold and distant, that was a good sign, wasn't it?

"You're pregnant, huh?"

"Yeah, Kai did an ultrasound and everything."

"Do you know whose it is?"

You pulled your lip in between your teeth and bit down. Here was the hard part. You didn't know who the actual father was, and you didn't know what that meant to Dabi. It could be hard to father another man's baby. Every day Dabi would have to look in his child's face and possibly see Kai.

"No, the times we... You overlapped each other. I- Are you upset? Does it bother you Kai might be the father?"

"No, no. It's mine."

"How can you be so sure?"

Dabi's grip on your hand tightened as he brought it up to his mouth and left a little kiss on top of your knuckles.

"Doesn't matter who the father is, does it? I'm gonna help you raise it- them. My money is going towards their education and living expenses, my time is going towards raising them into being a good person in such a shitty, unfair world. I'm going to be the father, doesn't matter what a piece of paper or blood work says. They'll be mine, ours."

"So you want them? You want us?"

"You know I had a crap dad, I'll admit when I first found out it scared me. I don't want to be like him, the thought of raising a child and being like him scares me. I'm not going to be like him, I'll be so much better."

"You will! You'll be a great dad."

You reached into the pocket of your pants and pulled out the ultrasound photo. It had gotten a bit beat up because you had it floating around in your pocket ever since you had it taken, you wanted to give it to Dabi as soon as you got the chance. You took the folded photo and placed it in Dabi's hand.

"I want you to have this, just don't let anyone see or know you have it."

You watched in anticipation as Dabi unfolded the photo and looked at it. His own small smile displayed on his face as he refolded it and placed it in the inner pocket of his jacket, secure and safe from prying eyes.

"They're so small."

"I had it taken a month ago, I won't get another until the middle of my second trimester."

"Hijire."

"Hijire?"

Dabi flashed you a smile as he pulled your hand up and kissed your knuckles again. He let out a low chuckle as if he had a very funny joke running through his head.

"I like the name Hijire. Earlier you asked for a suggestion, and I like Hijire."

"Baby Hijire, I like it."

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marril96 · 5 years

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Acting for Dummies 101

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: In order to help Sam and Dean with a case, you and Rowena go undercover as a troubled couple.

A/N: Inspired by the bickering scene in 14x14.

Editor: @oswinthestrange

It had been Jack's idea.

Something was killing couples. There had been three incidents so far, all bodies found with their heart neatly carved out and sigils etched into their foreheads and wrists. All signs pointed to a witch, but the suspect pool was long; this small town had a surprising number of suspicious people hanging around, and it was difficult to pinpoint either of them as the offender.

Thankfully, Sam had managed to find a link between the victims. As it turned out, all the couples had had issues, and all had visited the same therapist. Dr. Miranda Jackson had a clean record, not even a parking ticket; out of all people on the suspect list, she seemed least likely to be the culprit. Even still, the coincidence was too glaring to ignore. She was more than worth looking into.

Dean suggested going undercover and Jack had helpfully volunteered you and Rowena. He was so enamored by her performance last time, when she and Sam had portrayed a bickering couple worried about their puppy, that he wanted to see it again. And besides, the two of you were already a couple. You were basically perfect for the role.

So here you were, slumped in a chair you wished was more comfortable, with Rowena right next to you, preparing your imaginary lines. You barely resisted the urge to bite your nails; you dug them into your jean-clad thighs, raked them over the soft denim, curled your fingers in tune with your throbbing nerves. You could do this, you told yourself. It was just a little bit of lying. Nothing you hadn't done before.

All you had to do was fake being in a troubled relationship, look out for any traces of magic lingering in the air, be prepared to fight if the good doctor did turn out to be the murderer, and not get caught.

No pressure at all!

Doctor Jackson observed you, gifted you with a smile, friendly, non-threatening, when your nervous eyes locked with hers for a brief moment. You lowered your gaze right away, suddenly finding the floor — strangely clean and shiny for one in a therapist's office — very interesting. She shifted her eyes to Rowena, earning a smile that was so sugary sweet it induced diabetes.

"So," Dr. Jackson said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the small room, "Why don't you tell me a bit about your troubles? I assume there's a reason you made an urgent appointment."

Her voice was soft and sweet, tone professional yet kind. The kind that made you want to tell her your deepest, darkest secrets, that made you trust her within the first five minutes of knowing her.

"Och, there is!" Rowena said dramatically.

She was a horrible liar, and an even worse actress. You didn't know what it was Jack saw that made him think her performance was, in any way, shape, or form, good. She was an extremely gifted and powerful witch. However, lying, and all related activities, was one of her weakest points.

You loved the woman to death, but not even love was that blind.

"We're having so many problems!"

We'll have problems if your shitty acting gets us caught, you thought.

"Could you elaborate?" Dr. Jackson asked.

"She spends an awful lot," Rowena said. "I work so hard for us, and she throws it all away on nonsense!"

"You're so full of shit!" you said.

On your way to Dr. Jackson's office she, when you asked her what to do, told you to let it come naturally, to just relax and go with the flow. You might as well give it a try.

Pointing a finger at Rowena, you turned to the doctor. "She gambles! That's where her" — you formed quotes with your fingers — "'hard-earned money' comes from! And she's not even good at gambling! She cheats all the time!"

Rowena gasped. "I never!"

"You admitted it to me two months ago!" you argued.

Her eyes widened with feigned shock. She took a deep breath and turned to Dr. Jackson. "I may have cheated once or twice" — you scoffed at that, earning you a glare — "but it's only because she spends so much! I did it for us!"

You snorted, and she shot you another glare.

Dr. Jackson adjusted her glasses, taking the madness in. She seemed to be buying it. "So you're in financial trouble?"

"Yes," Rowena said.

"And you're frustrated because Y/N keeps spending the little money you have?"

"Yes."

"I can see how that would put a strain on a relationship. Finances are a common problem amongst couples — especially married ones. You two are married, correct?"

"As of two years ago," Rowena said happily, flashing a ruby ring she'd bought with your fake credit card a week ago. Dr. Jackson smiled at the gesture.

"She made me take her last name," you mumbled.

"I didn't make you," Rowena defended. "I simply suggested you take mine because it suited you so well."

"You said mine was ugly and that you wouldn't be caught dead having it as your last name!" you snapped.

"Well, it was!" she exclaimed. "MacLeod certainly has a finer ring to it than—"

"Okay," Dr. Jackson interrupted, hands up in a placating manner. "Clearly finances aren't the only issue here. Why don't—"

You cut in. "She spends more than me! Okay, I go on a binge from time to time, but she does it constantly. She can't leave the house without going to one of her ridiculously expensive boutiques. A year ago we had to buy a closet — a closet! — just for her shoes. And it's already full!"

"I will not apologize for wanting to look nice for you!" Rowena said indignantly.

In reality, you loved her shopping habits. She may have spent a lot and bought clothes she would only wear once or twice, but it was something she loved, something she truly enjoyed. As much as you preferred to sit at home to roaming the mall, you happily accompanied her. Her face always lit up with joy as she observed the dresses and blouses, as she looked them over, felt the fine fabrics underneath her fingertips. Every item she tried on she made a point to pose in for you. Part of it was her ego; the woman drank compliments like water, needed them to live, thrived on them. But she also did it for you. She wanted you to see how each item fitted her, how the fabrics hugged her body. Wanted you to want to take it off of her.

Rowena MacLeod was nothing if not a tease.

"Are you sure it's for me?" you said.

She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well!" you snapped. "She cheated on me!"

Rowena exhaled loudly. "It was one time!" she admitted, raising a forefinger in emphasis. The corners of her lips turned downwards in exaggerated sadness. "She said she's forgiven me, but every time we argue she brings it up."

You ignored her. "She brought him to our house, to our bed!"

She shot you a glare that must have killed before. "Maybe if you did more than just lie there like a heavily sedated walrus while I did all the work I wouldn't have felt the need to seek someone else's company!"

Stifling an incoming surge of laughter, you clasped a hand over your heart dramatically. Her theatrics were rubbing off on you. "Sure, it's my fault. Everything's always my fault. Queen Rowena is always right."

"Well, I am," she said matter-of-factly.

You sighed, rubbing your temples frustratedly. "See what I have to deal with every day?" Before Dr. Jackson could respond, you said, "And it's not just that she's stubborn. She's difficult to live with. She complains about everything. Everything! Nothing's ever good enough for Miss perfect!"

"Forgive me for having standards!" Rowena said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It's called being a snob!" you retorted. Your eyes shifted to the doctor. "One time at a restaurant she complained to the waiter about rain hitting the roof."

"It was annoyingly loud and I have sensitive ears!"

"It was weather! What the hell was he supposed to do, will it to stop? Do a rain banishing dance?"

Her response was a heavy roll of eyes, her trademark.

"She makes these ridiculous complaints at home, too!" you continued. Mimicking her accent, you said, "'My soup is too hot, my tea is cold, you left a speck of dust in the corner, there's creases on my blouse, iron it again…' Can't satisfy her!"

"If you did your job right, I wouldn't complain."

You were outraged. "My job? Honey, if you wanted a housewife, you married the wrong woman!"

Rowena turned to the doctor, eyes pleading, begging for her to side with her. "All I ask is appreciation for my hard work."

"You're a gambler!" you pointed out.

She grit her teeth. "At least I have a job!"

"I had a job, too," you said. The lies fell easily from your lips. Rowena was right; it came naturally. All you had to do was give in to it. "You made me quit, remember?" You locked eyes with Dr. Jackson. "She was jealous of my boss."

"The man was staring at your arse all the bloody time. Who knows what he would've done?"

"Keep telling yourself that."

"I try to look out for her and this is how she repays me," Rowena told the doctor.

"Poor Rowena, always the victim."

She ignored the remark. "She's the jealous one in our relationship."

"Am not," you said childishly.

"Are, too," Rowena retorted. "She scowls at every man who talks to me. One time she even growled. Like a rabid dog." She made a disgusted, outraged face. "Whenever I leave the house, she insists of accompanying me."

"That may have to do with your cheating," you pointed out.

She spread her arms wide, sighed heavily. "There she goes again! She will never let me live it down."

"Would you let me live down cheating on you?"

"I would if you were genuinely repentant. Like me."

You swallowed back a rush of laughter threatening to tear free. Rowena had held grudges for centuries. There were still a few she'd held over a minor disagreement with a small coven of witches a hundred years ago. If any cheating was to happen from your side, she would make note of it, sear it into her brain, and let anger consume her whole one day at a time. If hurt didn't get to her first.

Not that you would be any different. You could forgive a lot of things, but cheating wasn't one of them. Thankfully, Rowena was as faithful as she was a wonderful, attentive lover. She was known to tease and flirt, but she would never cross the line. She loved you, respected you, cherished you too much for that.

"Repentant?" You snorted. "You never even said sorry. In fact, I've never heard you say sorry in my life."

It was a thing of the past — she'd gradually learned to own up to her mistakes and express regret in words as well as actions — but it made for a great addition to your little play.

Rowena, ever the theater actress, agreed. "I said I regretted it."

"You didn't say sorry," you pointed out.

"It's the same thing."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is." She pouted, and it took all your self-control to refrain from melting at the sheer cuteness of it. "You just want to humiliate me."

Instead, you let out another snort. "Basic human decency is not humiliation, but sure. Whatever you say."

"Now you're just being condescending!" she accused.

"I wouldn't have to be if you apologized like a normal person!" you shot back.

"Okay!" Dr. Jackson exclaimed, cutting you both off. She took a deep breath. Exhaled. Inhaled again. Rinse and repeat. Her face was the picture of tiredness, thick, dark circles framing her eyes, skin pale and washed out. It was as if the last forty minutes had added ten years to her age.

If you had to listen to two women bickering like children for a living, you would have aged prematurely, too.

"There's obviously a lot going on here," the doctor said. An understatement.

"A lot," Rowena agreed.

"Yup," you said with a nod.

"You two want to work it out, right? That's why you're here?"

"Aye," Rowena said. She reached for your hand and squeezed it. "Despite everything, I love my wee lamb very much."

You blushed at the nickname. Usually, it was you who called her ridiculous names. Payback. "She really does," you said, the first truth you'd spoken here. "I love her, too. She's my baby girl."

You brought your linked hands to your mouth and kissed her knuckles.

Dr. Jackson flashed you a bright smile. "That's excellent to hear!" she said, and she meant it. She genuinely wished you best. "Time's run out for today. How about we set an appointment for…" She checked her schedule book. "Friday, two o'clock?"

"Sounds marvelous!" Rowena beamed.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"It's a deal, then," the doctor said happily. She stood up. You and Rowena followed suit.

"Thank you so much, Doctor," Rowena said exaggeratedly, shaking the woman's hand with both of hers. "You are going to save our marriage!"

"It's what I do," Dr. Jackson said, giving a humble nod. "I have a good feeling about you two."

She had no idea. Your relationship was far from the fiction you'd sold her. Happy. Wholesome. Healthy. Perhaps a tad codependent, but no relationship was perfect. Arguments were rare, but when they happened, they lasted a few hours tops, and were always resolved with a good makeout session or a tumble between the sheets.

You had your annoyingly overprotective moments, just as Rowena had her difficult, drama-queen ones, but they were nothing the two of you couldn't deal with.

"Thank you," you said.

You and the doctor shook hands and, with a quick exchange of goodbye pleasantries, you were out on the streets. You took in a deep breath of fresh air, tense muscles relaxing, pressure subsiding. A tinge of pride bloomed up in your chest.

"We did it!" you said, smiling from ear to ear.

Rowena flashed a smile of her own. "We did! You were marvelous, dear!" She tilted her chin up, proud, smug. "Not as marvelous as me, of course, but close enough."

You slapped her arm playfully. Your little egoist.

She yelped dramatically, lower lip popping out in a pout. You pressed a swift kiss to it, unable to resist the adorableness. Rowena grinned.

"I didn't sense anything from her," you said.

"Me, neither," she said. "She's not our villain."

You sighed. "This was a waste of time."

"Don't be like that!" Rowena chastised. "It was fun."

"If you say so." A playful smile curled at the corners of your mouth. You hated to admit it, but she was right. It was fun. Pointless, but still entertaining. "We should call the others, let them know about the doctor."

She nodded. "Fancy a lunch? I saw a cosy wee restaurant down the street."

"Sure." Your stomach grumbled in agreement. You rubbed it, cheeks burning hot, embarrassed.

Rowena chuckled. "I suppose we'd better hurry! Come, dear. Let's get that belly full!"

She reclaimed her hold on your hand and lead the way. You followed after her like a faithful puppy, mouth watering at thoughts of warm meals and sweet, delicious desserts. You'd worked hard earlier; you'd earned a treat, or several.

The case could wait half an hour.

Your belly could not.

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