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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months

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The Dangers of Hope Ch. 8

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, fluff, some smut.

Word Count: 6,667

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: As I said in a previous post, this chapter just kicked my ass. I hope after battling with it for so long, you find it worth it. 😊

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The dividers below were created by @saradika

Y/N and Dean followed Cas into the tent, curiosity hurrying their step. When they entered, Y/N went to sit beside Emma on her cot and smoothed back her daughter’s messy hair. “You were supposed to be sleeping.” She said, her tone scolding.

Emma just shrugged and Y/N rolled her eyes. Dean added some wood to the stove to warm up the tent a bit more before coming back to where Cas stood impatiently. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and lifted a hand towards Cas.

“Okay, Cas, what do you know?”

Cas opened his mouth to speak but then looked down at Emma. “Perhaps…perhaps the child should be removed.”

Y/N felt Emma tense next to her, but before she could say anything, Dean leaned down to scoop Emma into his arms, settling her against his left side.

“No, she’s fine.” He kissed the top of Emma’s head. “Right kiddo?” Emma nodded and beamed up at Dean before she tucked her head under his chin and snuggled into his chest.

Y/N felt like her heart might burst with happiness and warmth as she saw the evidence of the deep connection that had been forged between Dean and Emma. She was so distracted by the sweet moment that it took her a second to realize Cas was speaking to her.

She looked over at him and shook her head. “Sorry, Cas, what did you say?”

The angel sighed heavily, and repeated himself. “I asked you how old you are.”

Thrown a bit by the question, Y/N frowned. Cas thought he understood her reluctance and tried to address it. “I realize that it's a generally accepted practice to never ask a woman her age but this is important.”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “No, it’s fine, Cas. I’m twenty-eight.”

The angel’s eyes lit up. “What month and year were you born?”

“Um, March 1986. Why?”

Cas clapped his hands together once. “I knew it!”

Dean seemed as confused as she was. “Cas, man, what are you talking-”

“When did Azazel die?”

Dean pulled up short as Cas interrupted him and then he was clearly wracking his memory. “Uh…I think 2006 or - no,” he corrected himself, “no, it was 2007. May 2007.”

Cas looked back to Y/N. “And how old were you in May 2007?”

She tried to do the math quickly, but Dean answered for her.

“Twenty-one.” His voice was almost a whisper and it sounded full of awe. “You were twenty-one.”

Y/N stood up from the cot, tired of craning her neck to look up at the two tall men. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, that seems right. Why?”

Dean and Cas exchanged a look and then the angel’s handsome face split into another rare smile and Dean followed very quickly - a bright beautiful smile spreading across his face. It didn’t matter that Y/N had no idea what they were so excited about - Dean’s pure, unfiltered smile was like sunshine and it warmed her just as much. She couldn’t help but smile back.

Dean looked down at her, his expression full of wonder before nodding and looking back at Cas. “Yes. She was twenty-one when Yellow-Eyes died. That’s why the psychic connection was never triggered between them. By the time she turned twenty-two, he was already dead.”

Cas was nodding. “So, she has the blood in her system, hence the immunity, but -”

“None of those pesky psychic side effects.” Dean finished.

Y/N put up her hands. “Okay, you both have to stop speaking in riddles and explain what the hell you’re talking about.”

Dean shifted Emma to his other arm, so he could face Y/N easier. “The demon gave you his blood; we know that for sure because you're immune to the bite you got, and there’s no other way that could be true. But every other person I've seen with the blood in their system started getting various kinds of psychic powers as soon as they turned twenty-two. But,” he pointed at Y/N, “you don't have them.”

He smiled at Cas. “And now we know why.”

He looked back at Y/N and his face was the happiest she'd ever seen it as he continued explaining. “Because by the time you turned twenty-two, the demon was already dead. So the psychic connection couldn't be made between the two of you.”

He was beaming at her, and Y/N smiled back, but she was slightly confused by his joy. She shrugged. “Well, that's…good.”

Dean shook his head. “It's so much more than good, sweetheart.” His voice dropped to a whisper of awe. “It's a cure.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. “What?”

Cas moved closer. “Don't you see? The antibodies in your blood, they can be used to create a vaccine. And now that we know there's no inherent, potentially evil, psychic powers associated with the blood itself, there's nothing stopping us from trying to make one.”

Y/N felt an incredible sense of surreality fall over her, like she was suddenly in a very vivid dream.

A cure.

A cure for the world.

Inside of her.

It suddenly felt very hard for her to breathe, like she might just float away.

But then Dean's big hand was on her cheek, pulling her back to reality, grounding her with his warmth and the light in his emerald eyes.

“This is incredible, sweetheart. But it’ll be a process, probably a very long one. So, don't let it overwhelm you right now. Small steps, remember? Small things will add up to big wins, right?”

Y/N was so grateful for his steady calm and strength. She nodded as tears filled her eyes and she closed them, leaning into his palm.

“What's wrong, Mommy. Why are you crying?” Emma's little voice sounded slightly worried and Y/N popped open her eyes to see Dean kiss her forehead.

“Nothing's wrong kiddo. Mommy's just happy.”

Y/N nodded in reassurance, smiling brightly to put her daughter's mind at ease. “Yeah, baby. These are just happy tears.”

Emma seemed satisfied and smiled back.

Cas spoke again, his deep voice rumbling through the tent. “You know Y/N, it’s also unlikely that the responsibility will fall solely on you.”

Y/N and Dean looked at Cas questioningly as the angel explained.

“Well, Azazel never turned just one child at a time. He spoke of generations, didn’t he? So, there would be Sam’s generation, born in eighty-three, and now we know Y/N’s generation born in eighty-six. There may have been others. We don’t know when he stopped creating his psychic kids. So any kid he visited after nineteen eighty-six would have the blood with no psychic connection.”

He shrugged. “So, we could be talking about dozens of immune people, potentially more, depending on when he stopped. There may be many people out there that are just like you, Y/N.”

Dean pulled Y/N into his side and shook his head. “No, there’s no one like Y/N.”

Cas seemed confused for a moment as though they simply hadn’t understood what he said. But Dean just shook his head again. “It’s okay, buddy. You’re right. We’ll have to try and figure out his system, how he did things, how and why he chose the kids he did. That’s gonna be a lot to try and search out. We should start figuring out how to go about researching with our very limited resources.”

Cas looked like he thought of something, opening his mouth to speak. But then he stopped himself and just nodded. “Yes, research.”

The three of them talked for a long time, going over thoughts and theories without coming to any firm conclusions.

Finally Emma let out a loud yawn, and Y/N wrapped her arm around Dean’s waist. “But Dean’s right. We’re not going to figure everything out right now. Small steps. We’re all snowed in here for a couple of months now, right? So, we can take that time to try and come up with a game plan for spring.”

The men both nodded and Cas moved towards the exit, but Dean called him back. “Wait, Cas.”

When the angel turned back to him, Dean took two long strides towards him and then pulled him into a one armed hug, trying not to bounce Emma too much as he was pounding him on the back.

“Thanks, man.” He said, his voice slightly rough. “For everything. And for…not giving up.”

The angel was obviously awkward with the show of affection, and just patted Dean on the shoulder. He was looking down at the ground as he answered him. “Actually, I gave up many times. I just couldn’t manage to stay given up.” He said with a shrug.

Dean chuckled. “Well, then thanks for not staying there.”

The angel nodded and left the tent.

Silence reigned for a moment before Y/N took a deep breath and then turned to her daughter. “Okay, baby, I think it’s time for you to actually go to sleep now.” She admonished her with a smile.

Emma pouted slightly, but then giggled as Dean tossed her gently into the air, and then swung her downward to let her feet touch the floor. He held the back of her head in his big hand as he kissed the top.

“Goodnight, kiddo.” He looked at Y/N. “You’re low on firewood, I’m gonna grab you some more.”

As Dean went out into the dark, Y/N tucked Emma back under her thick blankets. She leaned forward to kiss her cheek, and Emma's expression turned curious.

“Mommy, are you going to marry Dean?”

Y/N felt her jaw drop. “What?”

“Are you going to marry him now?”

Y/N shook her head. “Where is this coming from? Why are you asking?”

Emma shrugged her thin shoulders. “In the fairytales, after they kiss, they get married.”

Y/N just chuckled. “I don’t know baby, it’s way too early to think about that.”

Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s nighttime.”

Y/N laughed happily. “Yes, it is.”

Emma’s expression cleared and she smiled shyly. “I like him.” She nodded as though confirming her own words. “Lots.”

Y/N booped her nose. “I like him lots too, baby.”

In fact, I’m madly in love with him. She admitted to herself and the feeling warmed her.

She’d known it for quite a while, and in fact she wondered whether she’d actually fallen in love with him when she was sixteen years old and he came to save her from the dark. It was entirely possible. But either way, she was completely in love with him now.

But she didn’t say any more to Emma, telling her goodnight one more time and then moving slowly around the tent, putting things away and straightening up the small space.

As she tidied, she worked to process everything, all the incredible information that had been relayed to her so quickly tonight. But the long term effects of Cas’ revelation made too many emotions and thoughts swirl around in her mind. It was a bit too much to contemplate at the moment, so she pushed it aside.

Instead she let her mind drift back to the memory of Dean’s kisses, before Cas had shown up. The way his lips had felt as they moved against her skin was lodged firmly in her memory and it made her sigh.

Her mind slid back to the way he’d touched her, the way his deft fingers had played her like an instrument. The memory of him pushing into her body, of how he’d so easily plucked pleasure from deep inside of her, had her biting her lip as wetness flooded her again.

Her excited reverie of Dean was interrupted as the man himself came back inside with an armful of firewood. He walked towards her, stopping short when he saw her heated expression as she looked up at him. A slow, knowing smile crossed his face.

“Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart.” He said. “Or, let me guess.” He moved to the box beside the stove and unloaded the wood before turning back to her and pulling her into his embrace.

His voice dropped low and quiet as he spoke into her ear. “Thinking about our time outside the tent?”

Y/N nodded, and then dropped her hand between their bodies to cup the slight bulge behind his zipper. “Yeah, I’m very sorry we got interrupted.” She whispered back. “I guess I owe you one.”

Dean growled quietly and she chuckled. He kissed her lightly, his lingering lips telling her that he wanted so much more. But he pulled back.

“Looking forward to it.” He said with a smirk. Then he sighed. “But for now, I should head back to my tent and let you get to sleep.” His voice and his expression were full of regret.

Y/N nodded and then shrugged. “Or…”

She thought of Emma asking about kissing and marriage and realized that they clearly weren’t actually hiding much from her. So she decided to just go for it.

“Or, you could stay the night here.”

She was quick to elaborate her offer when Dean’s eyes got wide. “I mean, we’d just be sleeping. But it would be nice to…” She dropped her gaze to the ground. “It would be nice to wake up with you.”

Dean nodded and lifted her chin with his forefinger so he could smile at her. “Yeah, it would.” He kissed her again softly and then glanced at the narrow cot. “Gonna be a tight fit.”

Y/N laughed and then pressed tight against him. “Well, guess we’ll just have to snuggle a bit then.”

Dean moaned softly. “Not sure if that’s an offer of heaven or hell.”

Y/N smiled wickedly. “Probably a bit of both.”

***

As winter settled heavily onto the camp and the snow grew higher everywhere, rotating groups of ten to twelve people per week were tasked with making sure the snow was shoveled from pathways and piled up safely and effectively against the tents to act as another layer of insulation from the wind.

The food boxes Brandy had suggested were a big hit; everyone already had to deal with freezing trips to the outhouses, so limiting more outside time was greatly appreciated.

For the most part people hunkered down in their tents, but there was one thing that brought folks out - The Mid-Winter Feast, as Y/N had dubbed it. She’d decided that before they had to fight through January, and most of February, always the harshest part of winter, they should have a little celebration of their community.

So, she’d asked Monique, Brandy and a few other interested campers to meet her at the main cabin, with the electrical heat turned on for an hour or so a day, so they could plan. In the beginning, they’d just been planning a small dinner - just people bringing some rations together to enjoy as a group. But as more people became involved, the celebration expanded.

The camp hunters offered to go out into the very cold surrounding forest and hunt down some kind of fresh meat. After a few days of hunting they returned with a half dozen rabbits, two geese and a young buck. So, there would be lots of rabbit stew, a couple roast geese and salted venison for the feast, with a bunch of leftovers too.

The elderly quilt-maker, Hannah, spent an afternoon giving a lesson to the kids (and a few adults as well) teaching them how to make small bannocks over the fire, which were then donated to the feast. All the campers also each donated two days worth of their vegetable rations so that everyone could have a feast of mashed potatoes, green beans and corn.

The camp builders chopped down a tree and brought it into the big cabin. It would eventually be firewood, but for now it was the star of the show. Y/N had the schoolkids take labels off of empty tin cans and fold them into stars as decorations for the tree, while the builders took the empty tin cans themselves, and cut them into wintery shapes like snowmen, sleds, and mittens. The metal was a bit dull, but it still added some shine to the tree when they were hung there.

When Y/N read to the kids in the cabin at the end of the week, parents and non-parents alike came in to listen to the stories while they stood at the tables and folded evergreen branches into boughs and wreaths.

Everyone pitched in, and soon the cabin looked incredible, draped in green and other bright colors.

The actual day of the feast was busy and happy. The rabbit stew was made in a big pot over a huge outdoor fire where the geese were also roasted, and soon the whole camp smelled like sizzling, delicious food.

Everyone carted chairs from their tents to the big cabin, trying to jam them all in. The grownups all managed to sit at the big tables lined up around the room, even though everyone was pressed in tight beside each other. But the kids table ended up being the floor at the base of the tree. But the kids sure didn’t seem to mind; they kept forgetting to eat while they chattered with each other loudly and looked up at the decorated tree with wide and wondering eyes.

Brandy and Y/N made sure that baskets of food were made up and taken out to the soldiers who were at their outposts making sure the camp stayed safe while everyone celebrated.

It was a truly incredible day, and when dinner was finished, and the food packed away safely, they all stayed in the cabin a few more hours, playing simple games like simon says or charades, or talking and laughing together, and just generally enjoying the company of other people before the cold mostly bound everyone to their tent for the next couple of months.

As the evening ended and people began heading for their tents, happily full and tired, Dean came back into the cabin, having gone out a bit earlier to check on his soldiers. He walked up to where Y/N sat with a sleeping Emma on her lap.

He smiled at them as he approached and in that moment Y/N felt a peace flood through her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Obviously the world was still dangerous, and they still had so far to go before they were safe, but in that moment she felt completely happy.

When Dean got to them, he reached down to lift Emma out of Y/N’s lap and hold her in one arm, so he could reach his other hand out to Y/N. She clasped it tightly and they walked slowly back to their now shared tent.

As they walked along they could hear people calling out goodbyes to each other, as well as a continued murmur of conversations through the paths of tents. There was a sense of peace and happiness hanging over the whole camp.

Dean stopped in the middle of the path back to their red tent and turned to look down at Y/N. His face seemed awestruck and he shook his head.

“Last winter we all had to huddle in the cabin just to stay alive, and this year we were all crowded in there again, but this time we were actually living. People used to walk around the camp nervous every time I passed by. But now they smile.” He bent his head to press a soft kiss to Y/N’s lips. “You’ve changed everything, sweetheart.”

Y/N blushed. “That isn’t because of me. The winter just hasn’t gotten too brutal yet this year, and everyone helped out with the feast. And if people are less nervous around you, that’s obviously because of you, not me.”

But Dean just shook his head. “No…it’s you.”

***

Six weeks later

“What are we doing here?” Y/N asked with a laugh as Dean finally let her open her eyes and she saw he'd led her to the garage.

Dean was smiling at her. “I wanted to show you something.”

He took her hand and led her around the side of the garage. As they came upon the black Impala that sat beside the building towards the back, Y/N gasped. Snow had been cleared away all around it, and the weeds and grasses that had overrun it had been pulled up. There was still some rust on the doors and the tires were still flat, but the cracked windshield had been replaced and it looked much spiffier than it had before.

The big, black beauty looked like she knew she was getting love again.

She looked at Dean as he brought her closer. “You've been working on her.”

Dean looked a bit sheepish. “Yeah, just when I had a bit of spare time, so there's still lots to do. She still doesn’t have an engine, but I put in a new battery that lets me do this.“

He brought her to the driver's side door and opened it with a heavy creak. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket, the moonlight glinting off the silver keychain. Then he leaned inside and pushed them into the ignition, turning them so that heat and radio turned on. Of course the radio had nothing but static, so Dean quickly turned it off.

Dean closed the front door to open the back and lifted a hand, inviting her to precede him into the back seat. She climbed into the soft leather seat, Dean following behind her. She could see the inside had been lovingly cleaned and restored.

“This is amazing!” Y/N said enthusiastically, her hand running over the buttery leather of the seat.

Dean nodded, looking around. “Yeah, gotta a lot of work left, obviously. But…”

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he took off his jacket. “It's good to be back with her.”

He caught Y/N's eye and his expression became teasing.

“Now let me show you the new feature I installed.” He reached past her shoulder where a thin blanket hung; it was more like a small sheet. He pulled it across the two passenger side windows and then did the same on the driver side. He leaned over the front seat and tucked the ends of the sheet into the visors in the front, effectively closing off the interior of the car, with only a thin strip of the windshield left uncovered.

Y/N laughed as he sat back down beside her. He raised a finger. “And my very favorite feature is this one.” He reached forward again and pushed down the door locks on the front doors before doing the same in the back.

He moaned softly as he leaned back into the seat. “Privacy, blessed privacy at last.”

Y/N was smiling wide as he looked over at her. The heat in his gaze made her blush and duck her head; his need was so raw and blatant it made her stomach clench and wetness pool at her core.

The last six weeks had indeed been both heaven and hell. It had been too cold to go outside very often, so they were mostly left inside the tent, where their touching and kissing was very limited. Stolen moments here and there were simply, not nearly enough.

So to finally be somewhere they could be together, privately with a lock on the door…

Y/N bit her lip. “You said you asked Monique to watch Emma?” Dean nodded. “For how long?”

“Hours. At least. There was talk of a sleepover.” He answered roughly.

Y/N felt her heart beat double time as she watched Dean. The set of his jaw was harsh as he leaned over to pull her easily into his lap so she straddled him. Y/N braced herself against his wide shoulders as he reached up to suck on her pulse point.

He pushed her jacket off of her shoulders and then shoved up her t-shirt so he could cup her breasts through her bra. His voice was a rattling groan.

“Ah, fuck sweetheart, you’re so goddamn perfect.” He murmured as he laid nibbling kisses along the tops of her breasts. Y/N was quickly overwhelmed with her need for him, but she tried to find her breath and form thoughts, so she could tell him something.

But then he thoroughly distracted her as he pushed the cups of her bra up, freeing her breasts so he could push them together and bury his face in the cleavage. He licked and sucked at her skin, teeth scraping and biting as his big hands squeezed one breast and then the other. Y/N lost her thoughts completely as he reached between her legs and pushed at the soft material of her sweats and leggings, pressing them against her soaked core.

He pushed his hand under her waistband, not stopping until he buried his fingers deep inside her. His invasion was so sudden and forceful Y/N cried out loudly as her walls clenched tightly around his thick fingers.

He grunted against her lips before biting her bottom one and tugging on it. Y/N let out a gasp and ground down against his hand. Dean swore and pumped his fingers into her faster and rougher, adding a third and stretching her. The mostly pleasurable sting of the stretch reminded her of what she wanted to tell him and she laid a hand on his wrist where it disappeared into her pants.

“I have…have to tell you something.”

Dean stilled the movements of his hand, but kept licking and nibbling on her breasts. “What?” He asked in a rough voice.

“I um…I think I might…” He sucked hard on her nipple and she ground down against his hand again. He resumed his movements, pumping in and out of her fast and hard. He found her sweet spot and pressed against it, making her fall forward onto him, burying her face in the side of his neck and rambling out the end of her sentence.

“I think I might suck at this.”

Dean stopped moving all together and his breath left him in a whoosh as he pulled back from Y/N and pushed against her shoulder so he could look her in the eye. His brow was furrowed in complete confusion.

“What?” He asked, his breathing rough.

Y/N was embarrassed. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.” She reached for his mouth, but Dean turned away and shook his head.

“No, explain what you mean.” He said as he pulled his fingers out of her body. Y/N groaned.

“No, I don’t want you to stop.” She pulled his hand back so he was cupping her wet heat through her clothes. “Please don’t stop. I just…wanted to, I don’t know, warn you I guess.”

She shrugged. “So you could limit your expectations.”

Dean was staring at her and his expression was incredulous. “Why on earth would you think that? What would make you believe that?”

Y/N shrugged again, embarrassed and wishing more than anything that she had just kept quiet. “It’s just…well, it’s been a long time.” Her face was bright red. “I mean, I haven’t exactly been dating. The last guy I was with was Emma’s father and….”

She swallowed thickly. “...and he was also my first, so…I have, I mean I don’t have a lot of experience. And I got the feeling that…well that he didn’t really like what I was doing.”

She couldn’t look at Dean as she spoke, staring at his neck instead. But Dean called her name softly and she slowly looked back up at him. In contrast to his gentle voice, his expression was fierce, and his eyes were blazing.

“Listen to me carefully. There is no possible way for you to be bad at this.” Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but Dean pressed a finger to her lips. “No. There’s no argument to be had here. The facts are simple, you are stunningly beautiful, sexy as hell, and you make my whole fucking body hard.”

She rolled her hips against him with a slight smile and he groaned.

“God damn woman, I’ve wanted you since that first day I took you to the river and you came out screeching and covered in leeches.” He grinned.

Y/N batted his arm. “You weren’t supposed to be looking.”

His grin turned wolfish as he pulled her t-shirt off completely and unhooked her bra to toss it into the front seat. “Well, I was. And what I was looking at hasn’t left my mind since.”

He trailed the calloused pads of his fingers down the soft sides of her breasts. “You’re so perfect, Y/N and I want you so much. The way you respond to my touch,” he tweaked her nipple and she gasped, “it’s what I dream about. And I can’t get the taste of you off my tongue.”

He wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, pulling her mouth down to him, and sucking her tongue into his mouth. He trailed kisses down her neck, inhaling deeply. “And fuck, when you’re not near me, I can still smell your scent on my clothes. And I get so hard thinking about you that it actually hurts.”

He pressed her hand against his straining cock and Y/N whimpered slightly. She caught his gaze as she reached for his zipper and he nodded, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as she reached into his pants to caress him. Holding his breath, Dean lifted his hips so he could push down his jeans and underwear, giving her complete access to him.

She held him in her fist tentatively. “Can I…um…”

Dean responded to her truncated sentence quickly. “Yes. Whatever you were going to ask, the answer is yes.” She squeezed him slightly and he groaned harshly. “Yes, please.” He added in a harsh whisper.

Feeling bold and confident now, she slipped down to the floor, her knees scraping against the rough floor mat beneath her. She began placing kisses up and down his rock hard shaft. Then she licked the slit at the tip of his cock before taking the whole head of his dick into her mouth and sucking hard. Dean slammed his head back against the seat and pushed his fingers into her hair, guiding her head as she bobbed up and down.

She pushed as far as she could, until he was at the back of her throat. Then she pulled off him with a gasp, but went right back, getting him further down her throat the second time, and working the base of his cock with a tight fist. Drool and cum dripped down his shaft, lubricating him, and she used it as she pumped him.

Finally Dean tugged on her hair gently and shook his head. “Fuck, Y/N, you gotta stop, sweetheart. I'm gonna come, and I've waited way too long for the chance to be inside you, to move in you and feel your tight, sweet pussy clench around me, feel it pull me into your heat.”

Y/N moaned at his incredibly hot words, and came off of his cock with a pop. Dean helped her up from the floorboards and when she was mostly upright, he yanked down her pants and underwear. They got caught up in her boots and she stumbled back onto Dean’s lap, laughing, her feet tied together. But she was too impatient to try and get her boots unlaced and off, so she just left them. But she tugged his t-shirt up and off of him, kissing a path across his chest.

She held the base of his cock steady as she rose to her knees and lined him up at her entrance. Both of them groaned in unison as she sank down on him slowly. He was so big it made Y/N bite her lip as he stretched her with the same slight sting she’d felt on his fingers. But it was so worth it; the way he filled her so completely made her breathing extremely harsh as she began to rock against him.

Dean pulled her back down to his mouth so he could kiss all the air out of her lungs as she rode him. He slipped one hand down between their bodies and pressed his thumb against her clit, making her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders as she held on tightly.

The coil in her lower abdomen was getting tighter and tighter as he pressed so perfectly against her. Finally he pulled her nipple into his mouth again, sucking hard and Y/N tumbled wildly over the edge. She slammed her hips up and down on him as she rode out the climax.

Dean pulled away from her breast and grabbed onto her hips, taking over their rhythm, lifting her up and slamming her down against him as she faltered and fell onto his chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist, jackhammering into her tight sheath, and once again swirled his middle finger around her sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Come on, sweetheart. I wanna feel you clutch me tight one more time, just one more.”

Y/N’s head spun with pleasure and she sat up and then leaned back, resting her hands behind her on his thighs. The new angle had him hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. It didn’t take long to send her spinning into another climax; this time when she fell, Dean fell with her, bending forward to nip and lick at the valley between her breasts as he bucked up into her, spending every drop of himself.

Finally he rested his forehead against her sternum and just breathed hot and panting against her damp skin. There was no need for the curtains now, every window was covered in condensation and impossible to see through.

Slowly their breathing returned to normal and Dean wrapped them both up in his jacket. The heat in the car was on, but it was still just late February, and the air was cold on their overheated skin.

They shifted slightly so that Dean was leaning back in the seat and Y/N rested against his chest. She loved the feel of him inside her, even soft, and she wasn’t ready to give it up yet. Dean pushed her hair back from her temple and kissed her there. His breathing was still a bit rough as he spoke.

“Would you care to tell me again how you think you’re bad at this?” Y/N chuckled and Dean shook his head. “Guy was a fucking idiot, obviously.”

Y/N just nodded. After a moment, Dean kissed her forehead. “What happened there, with him? Emma’s father, I mean. Where is he now?”

Y/N sat up slightly and shook her head. “I have no idea. He was gone long before the world ended. Pretty much as soon as the stick turned pink.”

Dean kissed her softly. “Asshole.” He said simply and Y/N nodded again, smiling and laying back against Dean’s chest.

They dozed there gently for a while until there was suddenly a light tapping on the front passenger's side window. They both jolted awake and Dean groaned.

“What?” He called out angrily.

It was Johnston who answered. “I’m so sorry to bug you, sir, but I was told Y/N was here. It’s Emma, she’s hurt.”

***

By the time they got dressed, turned off the car and ran to the medical tent, it was already quite full of people. Monique, Keisha and Julianne were there and both little girls were crying. Brandy and Theresa were there too. Patrick, who'd been an EMT before the end came, and who therefore acted as the camp medic when needed, was standing close to where Emma sat on a folding table that was covered in a sheet.

Her daughter’s big blue eyes were swimming in tears and as she saw Y/N enter she began crying in earnest, reaching her left arm out towards her, while she held the right one close to her body. Y/N could see that her right arm was bent at an odd angle.

Broken.

Her stomach twisted and she felt a bit sick as she looked at it. But she walked up to Emma and pulled her tight against her. “Oh, baby, what happened?”

Monique stepped forward, her face awash in guilt. “I’m so sorry Y/N. The girls were all playing together just outside the tent, while Brandy and I were talking. We’d left a flap open and we could see them. But it just happened so quick we couldn’t stop it.”

Brandy took over the story. “They were all taking turns sitting on Theresa’s back and she was riding them around like a pony, and Emma just took a tumble off her back and…and then just started crying. We got her over here as fast as possible.”

Monique covered her mouth with her fingers. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.” She repeated. But Y/N just shook her head.

“Oh, Monique, no, it isn't your fault. Or anyones.” She said looking at Theresa whose face was ashen and also wore a look of guilt. Y/N kissed Emma’s forehead. “Accidents just happen.”

But Emma’s little shoulders still shook with quiet sobs and Y/N felt awful for her baby girl. Patrick started to lift her arm slightly and Emma let out a painful cry. Dean stepped up behind Patrick, and his voice was hard with authority.

“Be careful what you’re doing.” He scolded.

Patrick just nodded. “Yes sir. I just need to try and figure out how the bone is broken, so I can splint it properly.”

As the medic/soldier poked and prodded as gently as he could, Emma continued to cry and buried her face in Y/N’s chest. Accepting that his soldier was being as careful as he could, Dean stopped hovering over him and moved around to stand behind Emma instead, rubbing soothing circles over her skinny back.

Finally Patrick nodded. “I think it’s a greenstick fracture. I’m gonna get a splint to hold it in place.”

He walked away to a sideboard that had medical paraphernalia sitting on it. As he did, however, Cas walked into the tent. Y/N looked up at the angel, and was taken aback by the way he was staring at Emma. His expression was cautious and a little frightened as he approached her.

“It’s a broken arm.” Y/N explained and he just nodded.

“Emma,” he said quietly, “hold still okay. I think,” he glanced at Y/N and then Dean, “I think I can fix you.”

“Cas?” Dean asked, clearly confused.

The angel lifted his hand over Emma’s arm and for a moment it just looked like he was going to grab hold of it. But suddenly, a white light began to grow beneath his palm and his already blue eyes glowed bright, like blue flame.

Y/N held her breath, as seconds later, the light left his eyes and he pulled his hand away. Emma’s eyes became wide and then she clapped happily. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Mommy!”

Y/N tried to smile at her daughter, but her eyes fell on Cas, and Dean asked the question uppermost in her mind.

“What the hell, Cas? Since when can you heal anymore?” He shook his head. “What…what does this mean?”

Cas’ face was serious, and the fear Y/N had seen before was still there as he answered.

“I’m afraid that…I think it means the other angels have returned.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#endverse!dean x reader #endverse!dean #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #endverse!dean fan fic #endverse!dean series #spn fan fic series

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mydaddywiki · 21 days

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Howard Schnellenberger

Physique: Husky Build Height: 6' 1" (185cm)

Howard Leslie Schnellenberger (March 16, 1934 – March 27, 2021; aged 87) was an American football coach with long service at both the professional and college levels. He held head coaching positions with the NFL's Baltimore Colts and in college for the University of Miami, University of Oklahoma, University of Louisville, and Florida Atlantic University. He won a national championship with Miami in 1983. Schnellenberger worked extensively as an assistant coach at the college and professional levels, including as part of the staff of the undefeated 1972 Miami Dolphins.

From his white hair, bushy mustache, blazer-wearing and ever-present pipe made him look more businessman than football coach, he was one sexy man. And with that low voice of his…forget about it. Mmmmmm.

Born in Saint Meinrad, Indiana, Schnellenberger graduated from Flaget High School in Louisville, Kentucky, where he played football, basketball, and baseball and earned a scholarship to the University of Kentucky. Apparently, he was an elite tight end for the Kentucky Wildcats, being named a 1955 All-American.

He was married to his former cheerleader of a wife for over 62 years; they had three sons. I’m projecting here, but I wonder if they’re swingers. Probably not, but if they were, I wouldn’t be surprised. I personally would waste no time in tapping both of them in some serious 3-way action. Again my fruitful imagination is running away again. Schnellenberger died on March 27, 2021, in Boca Raton, Florida, eleven days following his 87th birthday.

Years Active: 1959–2011

Head Coaching Record Overall: 158–151–3 (college), 4–13 (NFL) Bowls: 6–0 Tournaments 2–1 (NCAA D-I-AA playoffs)

Accomplishments and Honors Championships: National (1983), Sun Belt (2007) Awards: Eddie Robinson Coach of the Year Award (1983), Paul "Bear" Bryant Lifetime Achievement Award (2021)

#Howard Schnellenberger #mydaddywiki sports figures #football coach

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assortedvillainvault · 2 months

Note

Hi! I was browsing the Lord Shen tag and found your blog 👀. I loved the headcanons for ShenxReader through the wolf henchmen's pov ❤️.

Would you mind sharing some headcanons but from the pov of the fluffy Lord peacock himself?

Hi Anon, thank you so much!!

I'm so sorry that my Lord Shen Masterlist slipped my mind - I'm fighting tumblrs atrocious tag search to find my previous writings for him and get them on there for you. In the meantime please - have some more!

Lord Shen x Reader Headcannons

- This stuck up, mithery, hairpin tempered ball of anxiety and condescension is officially your problem now. I mean. You chose this, so I’ll leave it to you as to what end of the bad choices scale you’re landing on, but man. You sure picked.

- I also can’t get over the fact that – in China and most of the East: white is associated with death and sadness, and mourning. You not only picked the unhinged genocide gun bird, you picked the only person in all of China to be literally born emo via albinism.

- I will get back to the above, but I’m mcfucking losing it over the image of Shen being. The smaller of the two of you.

- Like if you were a smaller creature he could properly get his elegant noble stride on, nose in the air and tail gently swishing behind him as he circles you, admiring every angle and relishing the nervous, excited little glances you give him. He might not be a strictly predatory species but he sure loves that thrilling edge of not-quite-stalking. He’s too high class for the genuine article, that’s what he has the wolves for.

- But if you had the audacity to be larger than him?!

- He’d grind his teeth if he had any. He wants so badly to intimidate you – making sure to step with an extra click of metal coated talons, words honey-barbed and sticky as he looks for chinks in your armour, having to crane his head back and up to look you in the eye and- look- could, could you just- just lean down? Lean down for goodness sake just- there. There. Lovely. As he was saying…

- Shen going to go bananas planning the perfect courtship. Everything must be. Exactly. As he plans it. God forbid you trip on the stairs. If you bribe the guards to move all furniture two inches to the left you’re going to have a great time watching Shen’s eyelid twitch for twenty minutes as he tries to figure out what’s ticking him off.

- Want a shortcut? Say nice things about his cannon. No seriously, it’s not a euphemism (though it could be-)

- The cannon is the culmination of Shen’s ambitions, the reason for his exile, the demonstration of ingenuity that set him apart. Seeing you run a hand smoothly over the intricate castings and complimenting his life's work is going to fill him with so many butterflies he’ll have the wedding ready by noon.

- Of course he does, underneath all the royal snobbery and sass, really, genuinely like you. More than he ever thought he could ever like another person. Go you.

- ...He can’t contain the terror that you might not like him back. Not because of all the murder, no, that’s clearly not the issue. But because he isn’t perfect enough for you. Because he’s not enough.

- Shen popped out of his egg all but rocking the 2007 bangs and MCR soundtrack of his time: born the colours of death in a house and species traditionally all the colours of the rainbow will have been like a self fulfilling prophesy – unspoken but not forgotten as he grew up and internalised his inadequacy by striving for excellence in literally everything else in life.

- Excellence in the form of weaponry, security, excessive control and genocidal ruthlessness. Combined with ingenuity, high intelligence and paranoia: all wrapped in a package of straining courtly manners and a need to constantly have the upper hand.

- You keep taking the fucking rug out from under him by reversing the script and being nice. Even his nanny (soothsayer, who has having a great time munching popcorn and giving incidental commentary) gives him shit and drives him up the wall – yet you’re out here, smiling (how dare you-) and- and saying he looks good (he knows, knows he looks sickly and out of place, a reaper amongst royalty-) and – of course you want to hand his hand really, who wouldn’t (who would?) - he’s fine, he’s fine-

- If he dared to let you go, he’d shatter like a discarded doll.

- How does it feel, reader, to hold the fate of all China in the balance of your smile?

#thalassa responds #thank you so so much for the ask!!#x reader #kfp lord shen #lord shen #lord shen x reader #kfp lord shen x reader #ahhh that critical combo of parental issues and chronic instability vs a need for love so intense whole nations are at risk. gotta love it.#disaster bird.#@rose your man is breaching containment

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 1 year

Note

HI!! i loved your Bill Kaulitz as a dad. Daddy's Here.

yeah so i was thinking of another dad (2023 bill) fic where he has a daughter that is like him when he was younger and she asks if she can dye his hair and transform him into his emo self so they can be twins for an event thing.(like met gala or some event like that) he agrees and like at the end Uncle Tom is shocked! or something like that. i just think it would be really cute!

also i love your writing! keep it up pls!!!

<3<3<3

2023!Bill Kaulitz Back to 2005

He was very hesitant at first I feel like

He had done his makeup wmd stuff like that before to look like he was still in 2005 for fun

But he had never really thought about doing the whole thing again

Until you asked, more like begged, him too

It took a lot of convincing to make your dad to it, I'm not gonna lie

Mainly because he likes his style now and didn't want to have to spend the whole time trying to do everything again and dye his hair

He's lazy my dude, your dad is lazy

But somehow, you did it!

It was mainly because he likes seeing how happy you were at the idea

He has raised you around that stuff, and you were probably born in one of his eras, probably one of his emo eras, and wanted to see what it was like to actually experience it

Especially because you had only seen videos and pictures of him when they first started out and you wanted to see him like that in person

When you got older he was pretty surprised you were just like him when he was younger

In terms of style, hair, makeup and stuff like that

He thought the past was coming to bite him in the ass but he supported your style, he would be a hypocrite if he didn't

He was actually pretty excited you were taking after him, it was sort of nostalgia for him

But actually playing the part of his 2005 self with you seemed hesitant but a pretty fun idea

He was down after enough convincing from you

You guys turned it into a surprise, choosing to reveal it to everyone at an event

He was pretty excited for the bands reaction to him

It was pure chaos trying to get ready though

You guys had so much fun, but it was pretty chaotic as he tried to recreate his hairdo once more

He forgot how much hairstyle and he or fucking took

He had a set rule not to touch his hair once it was done and man, it looked exactly the same

If you have the same length hair he did the same one on you but if you didn't you settled for like one of his later looks, like in 2007

Bill is still the master at doing the hair and he said it felt like muscle memory

He got pretty emotional seeing you and him dressed up in the mirror

He realized how old you both were

He thought 15 was a shit age, but he still sorta missed it a bit, just being that young and that much fun

But he was so excited to see you and how excited you were made it all worth it

You and him did a good job hiding it all and when you guys got there and revealed it was so fun

Tom was actually very shocked and laughing

"Was hast du gemacht?"

Tom was laughing at how you begged your dad to do it and how your dad gave in

But he knew it was true as Bill would do anything for you

He was making fun of his brother but he also felt sorta nostalgic

Wanted him to dress up like his old self with his kid now

Get the band back together and shit

You guys got a very fun and positive message from social media

The pictures turned out great and Bill actually seemed like he was still on 2005, just a bit taller and more mature now

Especially with his own kid wrapped up in his arm

Tom and the band had fun posing with him

Georg and Gustav were non stop poking fun but said he should do it more often

You may have caused a little thing where you force everyone to dress as their old selves

Give Uncle Georg a wig

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #gustav tokio hotel #tokio hotel georg

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silvergreenseraphim · 4 months

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I am still reading through Ultimania translations like a certain someone in the data room…

Here are some curious notes on our Jenova Project scientists, Vincent, and Sephiroth that I know you will all appreciate.

That note about Hojo envying Gast and his genius—please keep this in mind. It will come into play for these next translations.

The research on Omega and the Kalm experiments were also in the Shinra manor. It makes you wonder if Sephiroth read any of that and further saw how cruel Shinra was.

The Jenova cell flashes in Sephiroth’s mind that we saw in the Rebirth demo can be seen in this image from the Crisis Core guide.

This is where everything becomes more interesting. Something not fully explained in DOC is Lucrecia’s own deterioration. It would appear that Vincent confronted Hojo over this after Sephiroth was born and taken away (or did he?). Lucrecia was falling to pieces it seems. (We will come back to this).

(Small note, but it looks like Vincent actually did propose to Lucrecia).

The next pile of notes are from the older Ultimania Omega from 2005, and some debate the validity of the text and whether it still holds true to current canon. However, if we are willing to consider Crisis Core from 2007 as canon, then I see no issue with this Ultimania unless something is directly changed.

For our Jenova project scientists, there is just more detail not spoken in the game. Some of it is fascinating and helpful.

I take this information as extra insight that the original game did not give us and mostly canon as well. Reading it felt like a stab to the chest even if I knew most of it.

We know from DOC that Lucrecia did love Vincent in the end, but during their time together she pushed him away because of the guilt with his father and gave into her love for Hojo instead.

It is….strange but that line from the CC guide about Hojo’s envy of Gast was apparently a concept here too. It supposedly was so strong that it brought out a maternal love in Lucrecia. Very likely this was before Hojo was completely mad and murderous.

I also wonder if Lucrecia’s affection was only that overall. A feeling that didn’t last when she realized Hojo’s complex was destructive and not “cute.”

These are the details some debate and I believe it has been for shipping reasons in the past…but as a non-shipper, I can see this happening with such a complex group of people.

The next bit about Lucrecia’s deterioration is also odd because it almost sounds as though Lucrecia disappeared only because of her body’s collapse. DOC once again changed the order of these events to where Lucrecia left after failing to save Vincent and losing her son.

It also looks like Vincent confronted Hojo much earlier. We are now left to interpretation maybe since DOC’s own timeline is hard to follow. There are plenty of people who have these events better thought through than me.

But if we combine all of these details together and ignore the timeline, we have more reasons for Lucrecia’s breakdown in general. Vincent’s bodily corruption, the loss of Sephiroth, and Lucrecia’s own degradation. We may not know the very order of every event until Rebirth or the third game, which is okay. These are still good details.

This hurts so much and I do not even need to explain why, ahaha. Hojo is so, so cruel to his own family.

I have recently pulled a translation from this section which some of you may recognize. All of the small details make me emotional 🥲

And this is the last one I wanted to share. I cannot stop thinking about Hojo’s inferiority complex with Gast because we know Sephiroth looked up to and admired Gast from a young age. How bitter Hojo must have been that his own son adored a man he hated. The implications of how complicated this could have made their relationship are endless. No wonder Hojo murdered Gast without hesitation. A walking mass of complexes indeed.

I think this is so emotional for me because of The First Soldier and Rebirth now. These details matter for enrichment.

Edit: I should once again clarify what I think about the 2005 Ultimania because there are fans that dismiss it thanks to its questionable text in spots. I believe that if a note from this book does not directly contradict currently established canon, then it may be safe to take in as context enrichment.

For example, all of the information about Sephiroth here is still accurate to the most recent depictions of his character, but there are small details added about why he believed he was different.

I do not see any reason to fully dismiss this because it does no harm to canon and does not go against what we have seen even in recent media like Ever Crisis.

On the other hand, the information about Lucrecia and when she left and why is much more fragile because Dirge of Cerberus added a new take on her motives. For this reason, I will only cherry-pick. I would say the detail about deterioration is accurate because that was hinted at in DOC but it’s no longer the only reason she left.

But everyone should make up their own minds on how to approach this Ultimania.

#aaaaaa #next i have some information on genesis #and then finally i will complete this post on a crisis core translation detail because i finally found the keyword i was looking for!#i am so happy they are referencing these old details in the first soldier with sephiroth #hojo being the one to give sephiroth the photo and say lucrecia’s name was jenova…#ouch #it all still cuts deeply #i feel awful for lucrecia and sephiroth and vincent #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #ffvii #crisis core #sephiroth #fvii rebirth #fvii first soldier #lucrecia crescent #vincent valentine #hojo #gast faremis

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mintheleaf · 4 months

Text

Second Lead Syndrome, Patient Name: Gojo Satoru. (cw: Mentions of character's death, canon compliant, there might be some slight ooc on Gojo's characteristic, fem!reader due to mention of pregnancy, brief Nanami x reader, only up to the Shibuya arc as I don't want to possibly spoil those who haven't read the manga or seen the spoilers, apologies if I do miss any warnings.)

Word count: 1193 (my hands-)

Gojo Satoru, a man who shifted the balance of the world when he was born onto this earth. A man who had people cowered in fear when he graced them with his presence, a man who had admirers falling to their knees for a chance with him, a man who had everything in the palm of his hands. Almost everything.

Year 2006,

Warm and sunny, the air was ringing with the sounds of laughter. Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and yours. The laughter lingered in the air like the lingered gazes Satoru had sneakily made to you. Your eyes welled with tears as you clutched your stomach from laughing too hard at Suguru's awful attempt at a joke. Satoru's heart skipped a beat, maybe two. Cheeks rosy as he lets you lean onto him for support. This is nice, the close proximity was nice, everything was just perfect. Until... it wasn't.

"Since you all promised me you won't laugh, I'll tell you... I really, really like Nanami," you bashfully admitted under a starry night to the other three. Suguru and Shoko were egging you on regards to your feelings for the sombre junior, but Satoru was on edge. How? How can a monotonous boy who rarely smiles swoop your heart first? How can he, the Gojo Satoru, the strongest of all, lose to a mere man like him? Ugly thoughts reared in his mind, gnashing it's teeth, demanding for answers. Satoru quickly tucked it away as you brought his attention back to reality. "You guys would make a great couple." "Why do you sound so paasive aggresive Satoru?" you feign hurt as you playfully pout at him. Satoru could only fake a chuckle as Suguru and Shoko looked at each other with a knowing worry. Blue eyes turned green, and things went for the worst for Gojo Satoru.

Year 2007

The news of Suguru's betrayal shook both you and Satoru's hearts, your best friend betraying you, Satoru and Shoko was the last thing you would imagine. After the failure of protecting Riko Amanai last year, Suguru and Satoru drifted apart as Satoru began working on mastering his techniques and standing alone as the strongest sorcerer. Although you did tried your best to be the thread that kept the friendship together, it was broken apart albeit your attempt. Guilt stricken and in mourning of the loss of your friendship with Satoru and Suguru, you had found solace in Kento as he too mourned over Haibara's death. With Kento unable to blame Suguru as he understands his feelings, your attraction to Kento deepened. Satoru saw this, and despite his emotions telling him to reconnect with you, his ego and his need to stand alone as the strongest won over. Occasionally talking to you became into awkward greetings as you and Kento stuck to each other by the hip.

With Kento's departure from the world of Jujutsu right after he gratuated, you followed along while maintaining contact with the others. Years went by when Satoru finally had the right mind to contact you, he was instead greeted with a call coming from you. "I didn't expect you would pick up actually, but since you did I'm glad. I actually want to invite you to my wedding, me and Kento initially planned to send you a card but-..." Satoru mind went blank as you continued on your talk, unknowingly that your conversation with him was one-sided. The only thing repeated in his mind was "you're... getting... married..." When the day of the wedding came, he knew he wasn't ready to face you. The people around him was buzzing with happiness for the new couple, unable to see or feel how he felt. When he saw you in your dress, he knew that his time was up. But oh how beautiful you looked in that dress and how he wished it was him waiting for you by the altar instead of Nanami. When you caught his gaze in the crowd, you smiled. It felt like the world had slowed down as his heartbeat picked up. The only thing he could do was smile back as he watch your make your way to your future husband.

Year 2018

Things weren't exactly going as smooth as Satoru had hope. Not only had he lost the chance to win your heart, he lost his best friend, his moral compass, his emotional support. As an added insult to the injuries, you've announced your departure from being the school's teacher due to your pregnancy. How can he forget, you were a married woman for a few years now. A married woman that is not his to love and care, a woman that is not carrying his legacy with him, a woman that he is still oh-so-hopelessly in love with.

You looked so radiant, so beautiful with the glow of motherhood despite just starting it. Satoru wished it was him, he wished it was him who had Nanami's life. But he can't blame him, to be with a woman like you is something that Satoru would kill a thousand men for. He would carry the weight of the world if it meant he gets to stand by your side till death parts him and you away. The ugly thoughts never left, it had been the one to kept him accompanied in his darkest days. Feeding off from his jealousy as he scrolled through your socials, admiring your domestic life with Nanami. With a heavy sigh, he walked away from the students that had surrounded you, wishing farewell. Blue eyes that turned green had deepened its shade.

October 31st, 2018

Chaos, chaos was around and thriving in Shibuya station. Mangled humans, humans that turned into cursed entities, blood and death was eminent in the air of the subway station. Yet your radiant gaze was the only thing in Satoru's mind. It mingled with the disgusting feral thoughts of killing intent as Satoru demolish curses after curses. Hanami's death brought nothing but joy to him. Yet the poor man was rendered into a speechless boy as the voice of his old, and deceased friend rang into his ears. Memories came back, ignited by the spark of "Suguru's" voice. The memories of you, Suguru and Shoko, the time spent between all four of you came crashing into his mind. Before Satoru could do anything, he was trapped. Trapped by the binds of the prison realm. Everything happened too suddenly, he didn't even had the time to tell you how he felt, how he was a fool without you, how he cannot live without you.

Not even his Six-eyes could predict this, he knew that this was not Suguru, his Six-eyes tells him. And yet, there's nothing he could do for now. As the gates of the prison realm slowly dawned upon him, enclosing him in darkness, the only thing he could do is stare into the eyes of his old friend as his mind raced to tell you things that could not be reached to your ears. How ironic for the one with everything was trapped in a cage where the things he wanted are out of his reach.

A/n: Ngl, I kind of hate how I ended it and I'm not sure if it can be classified as Second Lead Syndrome. But, ehh mistakes are meant to be made as a way to improve in the future. Hope you enjoyed and look forward for the other stories of this series :)

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru x reader #satorugojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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jbaileyfansite · 6 months

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Jonathan Bailey and Matt Bomer's Interview for WMagazine (2023)

Warning: Spoilers for Fellow Travelers ahead.

Matt Bomer and Jonathan Bailey had a feeling their characters’ sexual escapades in Fellow Travelers would ignite a social media firestorm. But apart from some in-person encounters with fans who watched the Showtime limited series, both actors claim they’ve avoided going down a rabbit hole of reactions to their performances.

“The first week of just seeing a GIF of a toe was kind of alarming,” Bailey says in a joint interview with Bomer. “But when you’re doing a scene like that, you know what function it serves—not just in the story, but in the selling of a TV series. I call it the Trojan toe: You slip it in, get people watching, and by the time they get to [that moment], they’ll understand exactly what the show’s setting out to explore.”

Adapted from Thomas Mallon’s 2007 novel, Fellow Travelers chronicles the clandestine romance between Hawkins Fuller (Bomer), a debonair State Department employee, and Tim Laughlin (Bailey), a wide-eyed college graduate, who fall in love at the height of McCarthyism and the Lavender Scare in 1950s Washington D.C. As they weave in and out of each other’s lives across multiple decades, Hawk and Tim’s enduring relationship hurtles toward a devastating conclusion in the 1980s. Following Tim’s terminal AIDS diagnosis, Hawk visits his lover—whom he has nicknamed “Skippy”—one last time in San Francisco, where they both come to terms with the significance of their volatile romance.

“A lot of people feel seen—not just by the sex scenes, but by aspects of queer identity on the show,” Bomer says. “That’s the hope, right? That whatever you’re pouring your heart and soul into resonates with somebody or makes them feel seen.”

On a recent visit to New York City, Bailey and Bomer were affable and laid-back—a far cry from the brooding, tortured characters that have defined their respective careers. Bouncing ideas off each other, the charming costars spoke with W about their approach to telling their characters’ epic love story, the surreal experience of shooting their final scene together, and what to expect from Maestro and the next season of Bridgerton.

Why does Hawk and Tim’s connection make them question everything they thought they knew about themselves?

Jonathan Bailey: You will never really know what Hawk and Tim would’ve been like [as a full-fledged couple]. You can’t judge them on anything, because there’s a survival element at play, which reflects the brutality of the world they were born into. As [the show] expands and this liberation blooms, we see more of [Hawk’s wife] Lucy [played by Allison Williams] and the impact of Hawk’s decisions on the characters around him.

To me, it’s a love story for the ages because you can follow any thread and it comes back to the political backdrop. But ultimately, there’s a real meeting of souls between the two. They complete each other in a way that’s so painful. But in a world where joy, connection and absolution are so hard to find, especially in the ’50s for gay men, it becomes addictive, and there are toxic cycles that come from it.

Matt Bomer: There are aspects of their own personal trauma that are complementary of each other.

JB: And they feed the other’s insecurities.

MB: The sad thing is, when Hawk is finally at a place where he can be his most authentic self and be available and empathetic enough to be a real partner in a relationship, it’s too late.

Hawk has a very specific moral code as a gay man living a double life in the 20th century: He is clearly able to show genuine affection for Tim, but he needs control in his relationships and is able to code-switch in public. Tim doesn’t understand Hawk’s ability to compartmentalize his life, but he still finds Hawk irresistible. How did you want to embody the many contradictions of your characters?

MB: For me, it all went back to Hawk’s childhood and that horrific incident that happened with his father [and his first love, Kenny]. He refuses to be a victim, so he’s going to find a way to survive and thrive in whatever way he can. It all ties into the fact that he will never be the victim of a homophobic society or family again.

JB: What Tim’s really drawn to in Hawk is his center. Hawk is the epicenter of all these people’s worlds because he doesn’t afford them space to veer him off in any direction. Tim’s always there for Hawk when he needs him, but Hawk’s never really there for Tim, and that is something Tim is drawn to. Tim’s quest in life is his desperate need for a groundedness, and the choice I made early on was to physicalize Tim so that his inner and outer world were matched.

Tim finds it really hard to lie; he can’t not be completely transparent. The decoding of Hawk is something that fills all sorts of needs in Tim. But as he gets older and [society’s] way of thinking aligns with his need to disassemble the cards he’s been given, Tim finds a stillness and a calm, which is reflected in the way he can then handle Hawk.

MB: Hawk does have his allegiances and his own sense of empathy, but if it comes down to anything that’s going to threaten his survival, he can go full Scorpio and cut it off. [He’s] a little Mother Teresa, a little Tony Soprano. [Laughs.]

JB: And in the performing of [those scenes], Tim felt so much more love than I thought he would. In episode two, I think it became more confusing to play Tim in the best possible way, because when he says, “I don’t understand you” [to Hawk], it’s because he can see the palpable empathy, love, and compassion. That is just as real as everything else, and that is a bind for Tim and really hard to step away from. When they look at each other, there’s no one else that’s ever existed. And if you’re lucky enough to have that with someone, it’s really hard to let that go.

There are little details that anchor each of Hawk and Tim’s sex scenes—the eye contact, the importance of consent, the shifting power dynamics, the negotiation of how much of yourself you’re willing to give to another person. How did you want to subvert traditional depictions of queer intimacy?

MB: We were so fortunate that those scenes were just an extension of the story, that the relationship was never the same after one of those scenes as it was before. It was always an externalization of what was going on with the characters internally.

JB: I think it’s a rule that [creator] Ron [Nyswaner] learned on Homeland where every single scene has to further the story—and that’s true of the sex scenes. Because there haven’t necessarily been elevated, eight-hourlong gay dramas like this; there was space to breathe, and that constant negotiation between the two of them is so vital. I remember speaking to [executive producer/director] Dan Minahan in Toronto. We had a good few hours, and we ended up talking about intimacy and how you can capture it on film. The thing that I understand [from] enjoying love stories or intimacy on film is the moments where they surprise each other.

MB: Yeah! It’s not like Hawk’s pushing the envelope the whole time; Tim upends Hawk as much as Hawk upends Tim’s expectations.

JB: We basically started with the chicken soup [scene in episode one], when Hawk seduces Tim for the first time. By the time we were in episode four, we were really emboldened as a team. As Jonny and Matt, we were always whispering, “This is absolutely fine, if you want to do this.” For so many people, it’s bizarre to think of that as a job. But when the material is as rich as this, no stone will go unturned into [depicting] how intricate, sensitive, celebratory, and joyful those moments are.

MB: I believe everybody should get to play every role, but I think the fact that we’re both openly gay men lent an ease and an understanding of a lot of the aspects of the relationship.

JB: You can have conversations between yourselves of why your instincts are cropping up in those moments. It was a bit like when, just before they dive, synchronized divers do that thing where they jump up and clap.

MB: [Laughs.] That was us! And there’s no [going] halfway in scenes like those that are written in this [show]. You know you have to go all the way.

Knowing that the entire emotional weight of their relationship rests on the penultimate line, “Promise you won’t write,” what did you want to convey in Hawk and Tim’s final scene together outside the governor’s ball? What do you remember from shooting their goodbye scene?

MB: I remember everything about that day.

JB: Yeah, I do too. Everything was in hyper-focus. It was overwhelming.

MB: It’s one of those scenes that you’re really glad you didn’t have to shoot on day two, because we had five and a half months of history [with] these characters. It was one of the last things we filmed together.

JB: I left [Toronto] early as well [to shoot Bridgerton], so we didn’t finish [shooting] together. We finished the love story in that scene.

MB: Yes, that’s right. It was one of those days at work where you have to try to get out of your own way and trust that all you’ve invested in these roles and these relationships will be inside of you. You don’t have to try to force or push anything; you have to just try to keep it alive and spontaneous when the cameras are rolling.

JB: I think we filmed it in the first take, didn’t we?

MB: Yeah.

JB: There are moments in that scene when it was like the world melted away. It’s amazing to see Tim establish his boundaries and be really kind with it. In that moment, he’s fully centered and aligned, and Hawk helps give him that final push to go, “I know what I’m doing, and what I’m saying is the right thing.” He’s never really known that with Hawk.

MB: Yeah, Hawk is finally emotionally vulnerable. I had every intention of coming into that scene and not letting any emotional vulnerability creep through, but it’s just one of those things where the scene takes over and you don’t want to block it.

Have either of you given much thought to what a second season of Fellow Travelers could look like?

JB: What I hope this [season] will be is a trampette into telling other queer stories, because two white gay men are the way in [to start a larger conversation], and it would be so interesting to have a world explored of [Jelani Alladin’s] Marcus and [Noah J. Ricketts’] Frankie. They were such a massive reason why I was like, “Okay, this is going to be good.”

MB: They weren’t in the book, and it was so important from the creatives that we included that narrative.

JB: I would totally come back and support Frankie’s story.

MB: Yeah, I would come in and do two days—whatever they need me for.

JB: Frankie and Marcus up front, and I’ll be there.

Surely, we all deserve to have the two of you star in a rom-com together (with a happier ending than this one).

JB: If someone comes up with it... Who would be the dream?

MB: To direct?

JB: Yeah. Luca Guadagnino?

MB: Yes, Luca or Andrew Haigh.

JB: We’ll do it!

MB: We’re there. And Russell T. Davies, if it’s a miniseries.

Have you discussed collaborating again in the future?

MB: Listen, sign me up to work with Jonathan Bailey any time. [They shake hands.] I will bring a tray to his character at the dinner table in a scene.

JB: Stop it. As long as it’s [like] Upstairs, Downstairs…

MB: [Laughs.] Yes, exactly. I would love that. Next time, I have to be British though. And I’ll come to London.

JB: I’ll be a Texan cowboy. [They laugh.]

In addition to Fellow Travelers, you both have new projects that will be debuting in the coming months. Matt, what were some of your takeaways from working with Bradley Cooper on Maestro?

MB: Bradley is such a generous and beyond talented scene partner—and his style of directing is so electric and present. He wants everything happening on the camera for the first time. I feel like I was really the beneficiary of his process before I started work on Fellow Travelers because I got to watch him and Carey [Mulligan] travel through all these phases of their multidecade romance. And then, [I was] getting to work with Johnny—who’s so similar in many regards, so generous, always keeping you on your toes and bringing things to the material that make the scene richer.

JB: Has Bradley watched Fellow Travelers?

MB: I keep telling him to! And Carey says she wants to. She keeps asking me where it’s on in England.

The third season of Bridgerton will premiere in two parts on May 16 and June 13, 2024. Jonathan, what new layers of Kate (Simone Ashley) and Anthony’s relationship will we see in the new season?

JB: I’m a massive fan of “Kanthony.” There’s so much to enjoy for both of them now, and we explore that in season three. They’ve overcome a lot. [We’re] talking about the need for communication in a romance, and that study of how they communicate and how little they did communicate until the very end [of season two]. So now, we can see them completely celebrate each other for who they are. There are really lovely conversations about heritage and familial roles, and once you meet someone who understands you fully, having sacrificed so much for the families as they both have, how exciting [it is] to make decisions that might change the course for them [as a couple].

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#fellow travelers #jonathan bailey #matt bomer #interviews #interviews:2023 #wmagazine interview #NEW!

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daresplaining · 8 months

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An Interview with Christine Hanefalk

Christine Hanefalk created her blog, The Other Murdock Papers, in 2007 as a place to discuss and share her interest in Matt Murdock and his world. Over the years, she has become one of the most compelling and influential voices within the Daredevil fan community, even making a cameo appearance in the comic itself in Daredevil volume 3 #31. In 2022 she published Being Matt Murdock, a passion project centered around an area of particular fascination: Matt's legendary hypersenses. The book weaves real-world science into the vast Daredevil canon to explore the notion that Daredevil's powers, though superhuman, are not – and do not need to be – as divorced from reality as one might think.

Christine was kind enough to answer my questions about the book, and about her nearly twenty-year-long fascination with the Man Without Fear. Read the interview below...

Daresplaining: I know many people will be familiar with your blog and your longtime interest in Matt Murdock's sensory world, but could you say a little about how Being Matt Murdock first came about, and how you approached writing and researching it?

Christine Hanefalk: I started The Other Murdock Papers in late 2007 and gradually allowed myself to start writing more about the scientific and sensory aspects of Daredevil as time went on. I was really worried it might turn people off, but the opposite was true and people really seemed to dig my deep dives. And so as far back as around 2012 I decided that, one of these days, I was going to try to write a whole book on the subject.

Despite the fact that it took me ten years to complete it, with most of the work being concentrated to the final 12-18 months before publication, I had actually done some writing early-on. I think I had about half of chapters one (on the literary history) and seven (on the sense of smell) written several years ago, along with various snippets and notes that I had filed away and was able to work into some of the other chapters. I had also consistently been keeping an eye out for anything new and interesting in the peer reviewed academic literature, and managed to amass – and read through – quite a collection of books on sensory neuroscience over the years.

When that “now or never” moment finally arrived, it lined up well with a period of time in my life where I was able to cut back on regular work and devote most of my time and energy to the book. I went over all of the stuff I’d already looked at before but with more focus, and got myself reacquainted with subjects I hadn’t really touched since college, such as thermodynamics. I also reread nearly all of the comics, taking very detailed notes on how and when Daredevil used his senses to get a better idea of the overall pattern. It’s not an understatement to say that I’ve spent upwards of 2,000 hours on this project over the years.

D: I understand that you were introduced to Daredevil through the 2003 movie. What drew you so strongly to Matt as a character? How much of a role has your fascination with his powers played in your continuing interest over the years?

CH: I grew up reading comics and enjoying sci-fi and superhero movies as a kid. I was born in 1977, so both the original Star Wars trilogy and the Superman franchise loomed large in my life when I got old enough to watch them. And while I eventually stopped reading superhero comics, I always had a special place in my heart for the genre and had a certain fascination with the general idea of superheroes. That eventually steered me in the direction of the Daredevil movie when it was released in video stores (I don’t think it even went up in theaters in my native Sweden).

The specifics of Matt Murdock’s power set was definitely one thing that gave this character an unusual kind of appeal to me. I had always been interested in the science of the senses – and what happens when one is missing – and had even written a paper on sensory compensation for my neuroscience class while I was an exchange student at the University of Rochester around the turn of the millennium.

There were additional things that made Daredevil interesting of course, such as his career as a lawyer, his overall personality, and the general mood of the world he inhabited, but the combination of his power set and my already having a soft spot for superheroes definitely piqued my interest right away. Within a few months of learning that Daredevil even existed, I had read pretty much everything he had ever appeared in.

D: Do you have a favorite sense, both in terms of your own research and as a Daredevil fan?

CH: I think I probably enjoyed researching hearing the most since there’s so much to cover. It’s also fascinating to me how hearing can be called on to perform spatial functions despite having this deceptively simple, linear, time-dependent form in terms of how it is received by the ear. The fact that it’s possible, even for quite ordinary humans, to sort of “see-hear” silent objects is fascinating to me.

However, if we look at Daredevil, I’d say that hearing has tended to be overused compared to both smell and touch. While hearing is often called on to perform near transcendental duties, smell tends to be forgotten by a lot of writers, probably in large part due to the fact that we humans seem to be less conscious of smells than we are of other sensory input. For the entire history of the comic, Daredevil has often gone several issues without any reference to smell, and the things he’s been smelling have often tended to not be very interesting. It’s always a treat to see smell being used in creative ways.

Still, the sense I would be even more interested in seeing more of in Daredevil is probably touch, which I also think is used less than it could be. Sure, there’s plenty of reading by touch (print or braille), but I still think we might be underestimating the importance of touch in Matt’s life, due in part to the high expectations of the radar sense (whatever we make of it). I view the “radar” as absolutely vital to everything Matt does as Daredevil, but I also see a much greater potential role for touch to work synergistically with such an ability.

D: Do you have a favorite new fact that you learned over the course of researching this book?

CH: Yes. I do think my coming across Jacob Twersky’s writing helped solidify the idea I had about how the concept of the radar sense may have originated. Blinded in childhood, Twersky would go on to become a champion collegiate wrestler, and later a historian and author. I read both his 1954 novel The Face of the Deep and his 1959 autobiography The Sound of the Walls while working on my own book. The way Twersky describes his sense of the obstacles around him in The Sound of the Walls struck me as shockingly similar to early descriptions of Daredevil’s radar sense, including the use of the term “radar” itself.

While I can’t know for sure whether anyone at Marvel was familiar with Twersky’s writing, it’s worth noting that he was a New Yorker and a contemporary of Stan Lee and many of the others in the Marvel bullpen back in the day. Whatever the case may be, it’s clear that the Marvel creators were not the first to use the word “radar” to describe the “obstacle sense of the blind,” as it was often known at the time. Over the years, and especially after having studied the early issues in great detail, I’ve definitely come to favor the idea that the “radar sense” wasn’t meant to be understood as a literal (electromagnetic) radar, though I should add that the understanding of the radar seems to have been all over the place for most of Daredevil history. Reading Twersky definitely added considerable weight to my interpretation of the early radar sense.

I also had some favorite epiphanies connected to the radar sense, one in particular which I think explains why Daredevil’s very particular way of being blind is often so difficult to make sense of for writers and fans alike. I recently wrote a rather lengthy post covering much of that stuff.

D: While taking a renewed deep dive into the source material, did you find yourself changing your opinion on anything?

CH: I should preface this by saying that there are definitely things I’ve changed my mind about over the years, even before I started most of the work on the book. I mentioned above that my understanding of the radar sense has shifted gradually, away from the more literal take the name suggests. Looking at the comics very carefully gives you even more of a sense that pinning down anything concrete here is going to be really difficult.

Revisting the comics has also given me a new appreciation for certain runs, such as the pre-Miller Bronze Age issues. This process has also led me to reassess my earlier assumptions that Daredevil’s senses have gone through some kind of steady evolution from Silver Age goofy to modern and grounded. This really isn’t the case, especially when you exclude some of the early outliers. You can find plenty of examples of both nonsensical and absolutely brilliant “senses writing” throughout the history of the comic, but I wouldn’t say that the treatment of the senses, or Matt’s blindness, have necessarily become more grounded on average.

D: You go into great detail about how much of Matt's sensory world has not been explored yet on the page. Is there any particular, specific experience that you would love to see depicted in future runs or adaptations?

CH: Contrary to what people might expect of me given my priors, I don’t necessarily think that there needs to be more stories about his senses, blindness and so on. However, I think these aspects of the character should be viewed as absolutely essential to how Daredevil is written, no matter what the particular storyline happens to be. I make a point in the book about how Daredevil is an amazingly interesting thought experiment, and I really believe that. So I’d really just wish for writers to be more comfortable running their scenes and stories through whatever their own version of this thought experiment happens to be and making sure that what’s on the page makes sense in light of that.

D: While researching other superpowered blind characters from the comics world and beyond, did you discover any new favorites? Can we expect a spin-off blog about Doctor Mid-Nite?

CH: Ha ha, no. It’s enough of a challenge keeping up with The Other Murdock Papers these days. As regular readers have undoubtedly noticed, I’ve been considerably less active there in recent years, having to do with work on the book as well as other real life stuff that’s competing for my time and attention. I do expect it to live on for many more years though, and I do update every once in a while. I’m definitely looking forward to writing about Daredevil: Born Again when that comes out, and we also have Echo coming out in early 2024.

D: What is your biggest Daredevil sensory pet peeve?

CH: To be honest, what bothers me more than all of the silly things put together is the suggestion that Daredevil can “see better than all of us,” is “not really blind,” and so on. As much as this might sound like the whole point of the character, it also takes much of the complexity out of what Daredevil does and how he does it. As blanket statements go, it just doesn’t hold up to scrutiny, unless we radically redefine what sight is, and what the other senses – even when heightened – actually do.

D: I love the scene in volume 3 #26 when Matt evades Ikari by changing his heart rate, even though logic would suggest that Ikari could still track him using his other senses, or even just other sounds. Do you have any favorite DD moments where you let sensory weirdnesses slide just because the scene is so compelling?

CH: While it’s a whole issue rather than a single scene, I really enjoyed what Mark Waid and Chris Samnee were attempting to do with the story that sees Matt attempt to escape Latveria while losing all of his senses. The scene I’m choosing to let slide here is when Matt seems to develop some kind of heat vision (it’s frankly unclear what it’s supposed to be) as his body tries to compensate. Whenever you see hints of thermal imaging in Daredevil, that’s an indication that he’s doing something that’s much further removed from how his senses should work than most people realize. It’s not something that follows naturally from heightened senses and is more like an entirely different kind of superpower.

I definitely tend to give a writer much more slack when 1) I'm enjoying the writing overall, and 2) said writer compensates to some degree by doing a good job of exploring, or at the very least remembering, that Matt is in fact blind.

D: What are your hopes for this book in regards to the impact it might have on how Daredevil is written in the future? What are the key takeaways that you hope fans and/or potential future Daredevil creators pull from it?

CH: If people reading this interview haven’t read Being Matt Murdock they may get the impression that it’s all a long list of “don’ts” or “can’ts,” but that’s a far cry from what I’ve attempted to do. I remember reading another superhero science book a few years ago that seemed to have as its central premise that “superpowers are stupid,” which didn’t feel particularly gratifying. I don’t see it that way at all. Sure, there are certainly characters whose powers read more like magic than anything else, but I don’t necessarily mind that. We don’t have to hold every character to any kind of scientific standard, and there definitely comes a point when taking this too far just takes the fun out of it.

When it comes to a character like Daredevil, however, I feel very strongly that bringing science into the picture has the potential to aid in the creative process rather than hinder it. Daredevil is relatively unusual in that he can exist comfortably in a kind of “reality next door.” His powers are not possible in our own universe, but they are not so far removed from our normal understanding of things that we can’t attempt to make sense of them and imagine what life would be like from his perspective. Because while no one has super hearing, most of us do have regular human hearing which detects the measurable and explainable phenomenon of sound.

There are naturally things about Daredevil that not even loosening the reins of biology will address – for instance, even a science-minded writer is likely going to have to break some of the laws of the physics of sound – but understanding how these phenomena unfold in the real world helps create a good structure for how Daredevil might operate. And I feel like I’ve come pretty close to presenting a coherent “view” of the world from Daredevil’s perspective in this book.

It would definitely be a dream come true to have this book inspire future Daredevil writers, but I obviously don’t have much control over that kind of stuff. I’ve been able to give out plenty of copies to past writers and artists though, ha ha. I would want incoming writers to know that science is their friend. And that understanding some of the science makes Daredevil even more fascinating.

D: If you were given the opportunity to actually experience the world the way Matt does for a day, would you take it?

CH: Absolutely! Mind you, I probably wouldn’t want to do it for longer than a day or two and I very much appreciate my standard issue eyesight, but I think it would be fascinating to explore his world. Though in this thought experiment, I would assume that I could experience things the way he does after years of getting used to it so it’s not too much of a shock to the system. Unlike what happened in the delightfully ridiculous story where Daredevil switched bodies with Doctor Doom, and Doom appeared to adjust on the spot and couldn’t even figure out that he was now blind, I would expect it to take months or even years to learn to navigate the world the way Matt does (superhero acrobatics not included). And it’s not just about being able to integrate different amounts and kinds of sensory information. It’s also a matter of acquiring the strategies that allow for combining this sensory information with real-world knowledge in order to handle the many ambiguities which remain in a world organized around people with a more standard set of human senses.

D: Do you have any book/article/etc. recommendations for someone wanting to expand their reading on the topics explored in the book?

CH: Among the books I’ve read that I would recommend for general audiences is David Eagleman’s The Brain: The Story of You as a good introduction to the brain. If people want to progress from there I also recommend Brainscapes by Rebecca Schwarzlose. I don’t make any explicit references to Brainscapes in my book, but it’s a very solid read for anyone who wants to learn more about the role of “brain maps” in guiding our experiences. For the senses themselves, there’s The Universal Sense by Seth S. Horowitz (about hearing), and What the Nose Knows by Avery Gilbert.

Another book I read years ago that is sort of “on-topic” is A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History’s Greatest Traveler by Jason Roberts. It’s not one I reference in my own book, but I guess it’s “Daredevil adjacent.” It tells the absolutely fascinating true story of James Holman (1786-1857).

D: Beyond Being Matt Murdock and your blog, is there anything else you would like to promote/mention here?

CH: Not for the time being. Maybe there’ll be a second edition of Being Matt Murdock one day, but I don’t have any such plans for the foreseeable future. What I would like to do is take the opportunity to encourage people to tackle their own passion projects. For me, finalizing this project came down to realizing that if I were to be told I only had a year to live, I would want to prioritize finishing this book. That’s how much it meant to me. And when you feel that way about something, try to do whatever you can – as much as your current circumstances will allow – to give yourself that gift. Tackling something like this can be very daunting, and I definitely had to get over my fears of making mistakes and putting myself out there in order to do this. But I’m really glad that I finally did.

For more fun facts and information on Being Matt Murdock, and to purchase your own copy, visit www.scienceofdaredevil.com

For more of Christine Hanefalk's writing, visit www.theothermurdockpapers.com

#Christine Hanefalk #Being Matt Murdock #Daredevil #Matt Murdock #Quotes #Commentary

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haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll · 12 days

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Tracklist:

Suffer For Fashion • Sink The Seine • Cato As A Pun • Heimdalsgate Like A Promethean Curse • Gronlandic Edit • A Sentence Of Sorts In Kongsvinger • The Past Is A Grotesque Animal • Bunny Ain't No Kind Of Rider* • Faberge Falls For Shuggie • Labrynthian Pomp • She's A Rejecter • We Were Born Mutants Again With Leafling

*This is a character song from the perspective of Georgie Fruit, a GNC black man, and involves him rejecting a bisexual woman for not being up to his standards. Because of the use of a homophobic slur in the chorus, this song may read as homophobic/biphobic. of Montreal is fronted by Kevin Barnes, a bisexual nonbinary person, who has since denounced the Georgie Fruit character and has stated that he existed partially as a way for Barnes to explore their own gender and sexuality.

Spotify ♪ YouTube

#hyltta-polls #polls #artist: of montreal #language: english #decade: 2000s #Psychedelic Pop #Indie Pop #Neo-Psychedelia #Indietronica #Art Pop #Glam Rock #New Rave #Synthpop

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homomenhommes · 2 months

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … April 20

1188 – Died: St Hildegonde of Neuss (Also spelt Hildegund), German saint, biologically female, who dressed as a boy as a child, and lived as a man as an adult, before entering a male monastery. She was born at Neuss, near Cologne. After the death of her mother, at age 12, she went with her father, a knight, on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. For her safety, during the trip, she was dressed as a boy and called "Joseph" for her protection.

While returning from the Holy Land Hildegund's father died, but she was able to make her own way home and maintained her disguise first as a boy and then as a man. Later, she made a pilgrimage to Rome, during which she had several adventures.

On one of them, she was condemned to be hanged as a robber and escaped only when a friend of the real robber cut her down from the gallows.

After that, she returned to Germany and was accepted into the Cistercian monastery at Shönau, near Heidelberg, concealing her gender, and to her death she was believed to be a man. Her true sex went undiscovered until her death in 1188.

A few years later, abbot Engelhartof Langheim wrote her biography. She is considered a saint, even though her cult is not approved by the Roman Catholic Church.

Aretino by Titian

1492 – The Renaissance writer and dramatist Pietro Aretino was born on this date (d.1556). Aretino was an Italian author, playwright, poet and satirist who wielded immense influence on contemporary art and politics and invented modern literate pornography, notably in La Cazzaria ("The Book of the Prick"). This colorful writer and dramatist, described as the first professional writer of his century, was probably the son of a cobbler, although he preferred to claim he was illegitimate and of noble origin. His patrons included Popes (Leo X, Clement VII), Cardinals, kings (Francois I and Emperor Charles V) and other connoisseurs of the porn of the age. He had a flair for self-dramatization, a fertile dirty mind, and an uncanny knack for profiting from the politics of his age. He first achieved notoriety for a series of pornographic sonnets, each describing a different position of sexual intercourse, and each illustrated by Giulio Romano and in which he declares himself to have been a sodomite from birth.

Aretino prospered, living from hand to mouth as a hanger-on in the literate circle of his patron, sharpening his satirical talents on the gossip of politics and the Papal Curia, and turning the coarse Roman pasquinade into a rapier weapon of satire, until his sixteen ribald Sonetti Lussuriosi (Lust Sonnets) written to accompany Giulio Romano's exquisitely beautiful but utterly pornographic series drawings engraved by Marcantonio Raimondi under the title I Modi finally caused such outrage that he had to temporarily flee Rome. In 2007, Michael Nyman set eight of the poems to music. They proved no less controversial in the twenty first century: at a 2008 performance at Cadogan Hall, the programs were withdrawn on allegations of obscenity.

In a letter to Giovanni de Medici written in 1524 Aretino encloses a satirical poem saying that due to a sudden aberration he has fallen in love with a female cook and "temporarily switched from boys to girls..." Later he was known and admired for his ragionamenti dialogues, often audaciously filthy, on contemporary Roman life. Public figures so feared his clever and vicious pen that Aretino became rich from promising not to write on certain subjects. He is said to have died from a stroke while laughing at a dirty joke.

Aretino was a close friend of Titian, who painted his portrait at least three times. The early portrait above is a psychological study of alarming modernity.

1857 – Herman Bang (d.1912) was a Danish writer and one of the men of the Modern Break-Through - the late 19th century literary movement in Scandinavia that replaced Romanticism. Bang was born of a noble family on the small Danish island of Als.

When he was twenty he published two volumes of critical essays on the realistic movement. In 1880 he published his novel Haabløse Slægter (Families without hope), which at once aroused attention. The main character was a young man who had a relationship with an older woman in Danish fin de siècle society. The book was considered pornographic and immoral at the time and was banned. After some time spent travelling and a successful lecture tour in Norway and Sweden, he settled in Copenhagen, and produced a series of novels and collections of short stories, which placed him in the front rank of Scandinavian novelists. Among his more famous stories are Faedra (1883) and Tine (1889).

Bang was a homosexual, a fact which partly isolated him in Danish cultural life and made him the victim of smear campaigns. He lived most of his life with his sister but found happiness for a few years with the Hungarian actor Max Eisfeld with whom he lived in Prague 1885-86.

Failed as an actor, Bang earned fame as a theatre producer in Paris and in Copenhagen. He was a very productive journalist, writing for Danish, Nordic and German newspapers, developing modern reporting. His article on the fire of Christiansborg Palace is a landmark in Danish journalism. Some of his books, including Tine and Katinka (English titles), were translated into many languages and filmed.

Of especial interest is Michael. Michael (also known as Mikaël, Chained: The Story of the Third Sex, and Heart's Desire) was a movie released in 1924 directed by fellow Dane Carl Theodor Dreyer (director of other notable silents such as The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)). Along with Different From the Others (1919) and Sex in Chains (1928), Michael is widely considered a landmark in gay silent cinema.

The film is based on Herman Bang's 1902 novel Mikaël. It is the second screen adaptation of the book, the first being The Wings, made eight years prior by gay director Mauritz Stiller. Michael, however, follows Bang's storyline much more closely than the earlier film version had done.

Herman Bang's last years were embittered by persecutions and a declining health. He travelled widely in Europe and died during a recitation tour in the USA.

1895 – Henry de Montherlant was a French writer of essays and novels (d.1972), as well as one of the leading French playwrights of the twentieth century.

Descended from an old noble family, he was educated at private schools at Jeanson-de-Sailly, then at the Sainte-Croix academy at Neuilly-sur-Seine, where his family lived.

Conscripted in 1916, he was wounded and decorated. Marked by his experience of war, he wrote Songe (Dream), an autobiographic novel, as well as his Chant funèbre pour les morts de Verdun (Funeral Chant for the Dead at Verdun), both exaltations of heroism during the Great War.

His early successes were works such as the tetralogy Les jeunes filles (The Young Girls) (1936-1939) and Les célibataires (The Bachelors) (1934). At this time he did a lot of travelling, mainly to Spain, Italy, and Algeria.

From 1929 he began to write for the theatre, plays such as La reine morte (1934), Pasiphaé (1936), Le Maître de Santiago (1947), Port-Royal (1954), Le Cardinal d'Espagne (1960). He is particularly remembered as a playwright. In his plays, as well as in his novels, he frequently portrayed heroic characters displaying the moral standards he professed.

In Le solstice de Juin (1941) he expressed his admiration for the German army and claimed that France had been justly defeated and conquered in 1940.

Montherlant concealed his pederastic tendencies from the public during his lifetime. In 1912, he had been expelled from the Sainte-Croix de Neuilly academy for a relationship with a fellow student. Although not openly gay, Montherlant treated homosexual themes in his work, including his play La Ville dont le prince est un enfant (1952) and novel Les Garçons (The Boys), published in 1969 but written four or five decades earlier. Les garçons and his correspondence with Roger Peyrefitte, (author of Les amitiés particulières (1943), also about sexual relationships between boys at a Roman Catholic boarding school), are the main testaments to this side of his character.

In 1960 Montherlant was elected a member of the Académie française. His presentation speech dwelt mercilessly on the geography of New Zealand.

According to Peyrefitte, some time in 1970 he was beaten up by some youths, which caused a serious injury to his eye, as a consequence of which he became progressively blind.

He committed suicide in 1972, swallowing a cyanide capsule and shooting himself in the head.

Isherwood and Neddermeyer

1914 – Heinz Neddermeyer was a German citizen considered to be the first great love of writer Christopher Isherwood.

Heinz and Christopher met in Berlin on March 13, 1932 when Heinz was 17. Christopher would often describe their relationship as an adoption, since Heinz was so much younger and not entirely mature. The couple lived together in Berlin until May 1933 when, because of the rise of Hitler, they were forced to flee the country. They traveled Europe and North Africa until May 12, 1937 when Heinz was expelled from Luxembourg and forced to return to Germany. The next day he was arrested by the Gestapo and sentenced to three and half years of forced labor and military service. He survived the forced labor which was brief. Being conditionally freed if he would take a wife, he married a woman named Gerda in 1938 and had a son named Christian, his only child, in 1940. It was not uncommon for gay men to take this drastic turn in their lives after being arrested and sentenced to prison for homosexuality by the Nazi party.

Although Heinz and Christopher continued to correspond, Heinz would not see Christopher again until November of 1952 while Christopher was visiting England and Germany for productions of his "Berlin Stories".

In November 1956 Christopher received a note from Heinz stating that he had been in a political argument at the factory where he worked in East Berlin. Fearing arrest, he fled to Hamburg. Christopher sent him some money. Nothing else is mentioned of Heinz in Christopher's diaries other than fond memories of their past in various cities around Europe and a kind note from Heinz when Christopher's mother passed away in August of 1960.

Heinz died in 1984.

1935 – Warren Casey (d.1988) was an American theatre composer, lyricist, writer, and actor. He is best known for being the writer and composer, with Jim Jacobs of the stage and film musical Grease.

In the mid-1960s, Casey met Jim Jacobs while acting with the Chicago Stage Guild, and the two began collaborating on a play with music about high school life during the golden age of rock 'n' roll in the 1950s. Entitled Grease, it premiered in 1971 at the Kingston Mines Theater, one of the pioneering companies of Chicago's off-Loop theater movement, in the Lincoln Park section of Chicago. Producers Ken Waissman and Maxine Fox saw the show and suggested to the playwrights that it might work better as a musical, and told them if the creative partners were willing to rework it and they liked the end result, they would produce it off-Broadway.

Casey quit his day job as a department store lingerie buyer and the team headed to New York City to collaborate on what would become Grease, which opened at the Eden Theatre in downtown Manhattan, moved to Broadway, and earned him a Tony Award nomination for Best Book of a Musical. The show went on to become a West End hit, a hugely successful film (for which he and Jacobs wrote additional songs), and a staple of regional theatre, summer stock, community theatre, and high school drama groups.

Casey was gay and he died of AIDS-related complications in Chicago at the age of 53. At the time of his death he was writing a musical with the Brazilian performer Valucha deCastro.

1943 – Jamie Gillis (d.2010) was an American pornographic actor, director and member of the AVN Hall of Fame.

Gillis was born James Ira Gurman in New York City into a Jewish family and graduated from Columbia University. His parents named him Jamie after the Tyrone Power character in the film The Black Swan (1942), and he took the name Gillis from the girlfriend he was living with when he made his first films.

He appeared in more than 470 movies as an actor. He also directed several adult movies. Openly bisexual, he appeared in many gay porn films, including a sex scene with Zebedy Colt in the 1975 BDSM-themed film The Story Of Joanna. Gillis also appeared in the mainstream Hollywood film Nighthawks (1981) as the boss of Lindsay Wagner's character.

He was a pioneer in the pornographic style known as Gonzo. In addition to starring in the first Buttman film, he also created the influential On The Prowl series. Featuring a porn star who rides in a limo looking for regular guys to have sex with, the video series was very popular and inspired a scene in the movie Boogie Nights. He also co-produced the popular Dirty Debutante series with fellow director and performer Ed Powers, as well as the Walking Toilet Bowl series of films that focused on golden showers and coprophilia.

Gillis died on February 19, 2010 in New York City from melanoma, which was diagnosed four or five months earlier. In an audio interview given to The Rialto Report shortly before his death, Gillis stated that in the 1970s he'd wanted his ashes to be scattered in Times Square, but years later he changed his mind as "clean Times Square would contaminate them".

1951 – The American R&B singer Luther Vandross was born on this date (d. 2005).

Initially content to remain in the background as a backing singer and producer - he toured with David Bowie in 1974 and sang backing vocals on the Young Americans (1975) album - Vandross was encouraged to take centre stage by Roberta Flack, who thought he had a unique talent. His breakthrough to major chart success came as lead singer with Change, and he went on to have a string of million selling hit solo albums, and successful collaborations with other artists, throughout the 80s and 90s.

During Vandross' entire career he was 'dogged' by questions regarding his sexuality. He never married, his name was never romantically linked in the media with women. Although Vandross never explicitly denied being gay, he never publicly acknowledged it either. He generally fielded questions by saying that his 'busy lifestyle' made marriage difficult and indicated that, in any case, 'it was not what he wanted.' Many gay publications have stated that Vandross' gayness was an 'open secret' in the music business, but even now it is rarely spoken of.

He died of a heart attack in Edison, NJ at 54. Some of his songs are: Endless Love, Always and Forever, Dance with My Father and Your Secret Love.

His unusual middle name "Ronzoni" was given him by his mother in thanks for the comfort that Ronzoni brand pasta products gave her during her pregnancy.

1959 – Douglas Sadownick is a gay American writer, activist, professor and psychotherapist. He co-created The Buddy Systems (1985) with Tim Miller, with whom Sadownick was involved in a 14-year relationship.

Born in the Bronx, Douglas Sadownick attended Columbia College for his B.A., New York University for his graduate work in English, and the graduate program in clinical psychology at Antioch University for a Master's of Arts in Clinical Psychology. He received his Ph.D. from Pacifica Graduate Institute in Clinical Psychology in 2006. His dissertation was entitled, Homosexual Enlightenment: A Gay Science Perspective on 19th Century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

He is the founding director of the nation's first LGBT Specialization in Clinical Psychology, at Antioch University, and he is also the Founder of Colors LGBTQ Youth Counseling Center, founded in 2011, with Philip Lance, an LGBT affirmative psychologist and community organizer. He is also a co-founding member of the Institute for Uranian Psychoanalysis , which is the first Institute in the world dedicated to deepening homosexual self-realization. He was also a principal co-founder of Highways Performance Art Space in 1989.

His work Sacred Lips of the Bronx (1994) was nominated for a Lambda Literary Award. His second book, Sex Between Men: An Intimate History of the Sex Lives of Gay Men, Postwar to Present, was published in 1996 and 1997. His articles have appeared in the Advocate, the Los Angeles Times, Genre, High Performance, the New York Native, and the L.A. Weekly. He received a GLAAD award for excellence in reporting in 1991. He works as a private practice psychotherapist in Hollywood, California.

McGehee (L) with working partner Siegel

1981 – Matus Valent is a European male fitness model born in Bratislava, Slovak Republic living in California.

As a youth, he played indoor volleyball and became the Junior Slovakian champion with his team ASK Inter. He was also on the Slovakian National volleyball team at age 19.

During his college years, he turned to beach volleyball, and in 2004 he became the California A-Category champion. After earning a University Masters Degree in Physical Education and Sports with Management in his hometown, he moved to California where he now lives.

Matus Valent has appeared in numerous magazines (over 200 in the past 8 years) including Muscle & Fitness, Fitness RX, Flex, Muscle & Performance, Iron Man and many others with over 46 covers in the USA and internationally. He also has several catalog, romance novels & fitness book covers under his belt. (Not to mention his ample goodies)

His modeling career has lead to many other opportunities for Matus, including appearing in the music video for Kristine W's hit " Walk Away," modeling for the movie poster for "Pathfinder", being featured in national advertising for Otomix fitness clothing and active wear, national TV commercial for Shake Weight, TCORE, and ORECK XL vacuums and co-starring in the third season of Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency TV series. In 2009, Matus also appeared in ad campaigns for Prosource.net and Nutrition Express supplements superstores and made appearances in the films "Night at the Museum II" and "Baggage Claim."

1990 – On this date Queer Nation members showed up en masse at Macy's department store where Olympic gold medalist Greg Louganis was promoting a new swimsuit line. Queers arrived with WHEATIES cereal boxes with the swimmer's picture pasted on front, to recall the time the cereal maker rejected Louganis as a spokesperson, ostensibly because he is Gay.

How to say gay in Chinese

2001 – China removes homosexuality from their list of mental disorders.

Bōlī (玻璃)

The English translation of the Chinese word bōlī (玻璃) is crystal, glass, etc., and since the mid-90s it has been used as a slang term for homosexual men by the LGBT community in China and Taiwan. This slang word comes from the English acronym B.L., which has several versions, like Boy Lover, Boy’s Love, Boys Love. All of them serve to refer to the love between boys, men, etc.

T-shirt with the bōlī (玻璃) drawing.

27 notes · View notes

kyskaisen · 1 month

Text

reflections; maki x reader

:two men and a deal

:master list

note: filler chapter 🫡

(January, 2007)

A deal had been made. Two men were agreeing upon something; a universal event that never led to anything good.

His eyebrows had been furrowed every day since 2002, his lips were pursed into a constant frown. His sour expression was a default; no one had ever seen any other look grace his piercing eyes and hard lips. He looked like the very definition of a main character in every romance novel ever written; dark hair, dark eyes, dark attire. He looked like a Greek god statue, his skin looked smooth as if he was carved from marble. His attitude was nothing of the sort of his skin; he was quiet, though he was rough with his words whenever they were required. He sought to rebuild his clan—the Hatake clan—and restore it to its true glory. He planned to start doing so by having a son.

His plans were ruined on a fateful day in 2002. He was overjoyed to run into the room, his hand gripping the doorframe to turn in and spin himself in the cubicle. His wife laid there on the hospital bed with a tired look on her face, her skin glistening with sweat as it stuck her hair to her forehead. She was smiling down at the newborn in her arms. Strange; it wasn't as loud as he expected it to be. He'd walked over and looked down at the baby, expecting to find an heir to his role as Head of the Hatake clan, only to find a baby girl in her mother's arms.

“That stupid Gojo isn’t here…” an older man grumbled, frowning slightly.

Perhaps if the man had listened more carefully in Biology class then he would know to make his testosterone interact with his wife multiple times in the first 6 weeks of her pregnancy. Perhaps he would have a baby boy to teach how to fight and how to be a clan leader, a role model, like he was. He wouldn't be sitting here in a clan meeting with Naobito Zenin on this rainy day, with his arms crossed and his hands resting in the sleeves of his haori to keep them warm, where the sky and the sun had been covered and hidden by dark gray clouds filled with rain that would prey on the fields of Kyoto.

"And this...Hatake...you're sure they're competent in fulfilling a woman's duties? Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry?"

"I'm positive," the man— Isamu Hatake— dared to spare his daughter a side eye, looking down at the girl with a glare. He couldn't stand looking at the girl—he couldn't stand himself, knowing he'd been getting excited over a failure. He couldn't stand the girl. That girl had taken away his hopes of having an heir.

After his daughter was born, his wife nurtured the girl, took care of it, fed it, put it to sleep for as long as she could tolerate her husband's disapproval in her. While she was cradling and feeding and changing diapers, she was carrying the weight of Isamu's anger and frustration and disappointment over her shoulders until the weight was too much, and it broke through her bones and pierced her heart. She'd took her own life on a fateful day before Isamu could try for a boy—nobody would ever know why, but Isamu came to the conclusion that it was because of you.

He'd cursed you, swearing that you'd always and forever ruin everything you ever come in contact with. Everyone you'll ever meet will suffer from knowing you. Everything you'll ever touch will lose its value from the skin of your cursed fingertips. The air you breathe will be filled with a toxicity that will make your life miserable. The food you consume will fill your stomach with knots that will make you crouch and kneel to the pain. The water you drink will be poisoned with a hex that promises you of being unworthy of love from any person, or even a pet. Your very existence will taint the earth you walk on, and only will the planet be at peace when you draw your last breath, and that cursed heart of yours stops beating.

"Their culinary skills are exceptional. They are obedient, never one to talk back. They know the consequences if they ever do." Isamu narrowed his eyes at Naobito pointedly, as if he expected the old Head to already catch on. Naobito simply nodded and smirked, his beady eyes drifting towards you standing next to Isamu with your hands clasped in one another, your back straightened and your face neutral. No smile had ever graced your lips your entire life—five years of an indifferent expression.

"Very well. And you are aware that their cursed technique is in our hands, now?"

"Yes. Do what you please with it, Naobito. They're nothing but a mere servant and a weapon. Not worthy of any humanization."

"I see." Naobito looked back at Isamu. His nimble fingers twisted his stringy mustache, rubbing it between his index finger and his thumb. "I'll keep the brat. No word about their existence shall grace your ears from this day forward. Do we have a deal?"

Isamu glanced back at you one final time. Not even looking at your full profile, barely even looking at your side profile. You didn't deserve his full gaze. You took his wife away from him. You took his hope away from him. No woman would want him after already bearing a child. A child that will soon be erased from his memory.

He looked at your hair, how it barely went past your nape. Your eyes, empty and neutral. Your mouth, tightly sealed shut with your lips. He looked away in a hurry to ease his eyes on anything else but his cursed child, looking back at Naobito. His sixty year old hand sticking in front of Isamu.

Isamu slowly reached his own hand up, his heart pounding in his chest once his flesh met wrinkles and bones. He slightly grimaced as they shook hands, sealing the deal and finally getting the weight off his chest.

You stood there, silent. Your face was like a statue. Silent. You didn't move a muscle, not an eye blink, not a finger twitch.

Silent.

The two men stood up from their seats, still shaking hands. Isamu held awkward eye contact with Naobito, squinting his eyes to signal he was ready to stop. Their hands released each other, and their arms fell to their sides.

Isamu tilted his chin up, looking ahead as he turned to leave the room. As he stepped out, he felt free. He felt several pounds lighter, he felt younger. He felt better, knowing that retch— you— his servant, was out of his life.

You'd been given away to some man from the Zenin clan. Not even the Head wanted you, it seemed. Or maybe he already had enough servants given the population you saw on your way to the room—all the stares from the people you saw lingering in the hallways. Men and women alike. Different genders, different roles, all pairs of eyes staring at you with the same look on their faces: disgust. You were the only child of Isamu Hatake? The only man who made his bloodline known again in the Jujutsu world, had a daughter— you?

The man's name was Naoya, you learned when you were forced to find your way around the Zenin estate and to his room, which was leagues bigger than the one you were given back at the relatively small compound that was the start of the Hatake Dynasty. He had a smug look on his lips that never seemed to go away; you would think it was drawn on him, the way his lip were always turned up into that smile. It wasn't a pretty one, not to you at least. You thought he looked like a snake. His eyes were narrowed (though you think that's a natural state), like he was judging you and everyone else and wasn't even trying to hide it.

You served under Naoya for the rest of your time at the Zenin estate (which was just short of 9 years). You'd gotten used to all the glances of curiosity and disgust from the same pairs of eyes, the same questions running through people's brains and making a thought-train: was that really the only other Hatake descendant? They could hardly believe it; a direct connection to the clan, a hobbit working away under the thumb of the Zenin clan. Every day was hell on Earth. Pushes, shoves, insults and names thrown at you, as well as dishes and utensils and other items found in a household. Plates and bowls that you'd washed with your bare hands (they didn't bother giving you gloves—whatever wet food your fingers touched were probably getting under your nails) had been tossed and chucked at your head. Every toss was missed, either hitting a wall or crashing through a window. Forks and knives that you scrubbed and scraped on your fingers landed right in the wood of the wall next to your ear, sending a tremor of fear down your spine and planting your feet right where you stood. This was the life Isamu wanted you to live for tainting his own life with the embarrassment of only having a girl instead of a boy.

Even when things were thrown at you and insults were spat in your direction and disrespect was surrounding you, there was always a dim light at the end of the tunnel. That light, apparently, was the golden irises of another girl you'd seen walking around the halls of the estate. Her hair was an evergreen color, a color you thought wasn't natural but you live in an environment where nobody acts natural here, so you decided not to question it. Her bangs were evenly cut—stopping just above her eyebrows. You'd think she used a cutting board or something to cut them, they were so perfect. Another girl, who looked just like her and who you learned was the former's sister, her hair wasn't as neat, and her eyes were slightly darker. More amber than gold.

They were what one would call a 'safe haven': a place where you could escape all the hurt and pain that would be inflicted by the people who are lawfully expected to take care of you. Maki—the girl with the evenly cut bangs—was the one who taught you how to read and interact with people properly instead of just bowing and nodding your head at every word. She was your first friend. Despite only having really talked a grand total of less than half a day, she was the only person you could actually say you were close with. From skipping chores and sneaking around the Estate to getting in trouble with each other. That was the highlight of your time at the Estate.

A small voice touched your eardrums—it was light, almost like a chipmunk. You curiously turned your head and looked around. The bucket you were carrying—filled with water—sloshed around with the sway of your body. Turning to search for the source of the voice was an excuse to give your eyes a break from the unforgiving sun that was setting over the horizon and was shining right in your eyes.

Another voice came from the end of the hall in the direction you were facing. You blinked in curiosity and started walking towards the direction of the sound. You slowly made your way across the hall with the heavy bucket in your hands, heaving it with you until you stopped at the corner when you saw two girls about to turn as well.

All three of you widened your eyes and looked at each other like you all were crazy. You looked between the two girls silently, your grip tightening on the sides of the bucket.

"Big sister, is that...the girl everyone's talking about?"

Your eyes lowered at the girls question. You felt a heaviness in your chest that you couldn't quite explain; it felt as if your heart was lowering in your chest. The other girl, with even bangs and even ends, looked at you with those same lowered eyes and an uninterested gaze.

"What's your name?" She asked. Her voice wasn't as light as the other girl's voice—she didn't sound like a chipmunk or a mouse. She sounded like she was older than you—she probably was.

"Y/n." You answered stiffly, readjusting your grip on the bucket. The girl looked at your hands struggling to hold on to the pail and decided to take a hold of it for you, holding it by the bottom and lifting it up.

"I'm Maki. That's my little sister, Mai," she tilted her head to the girl hiding behind her. Maki. That name struck a cord on your head and made you squint your eyes, almost like you flinched. Maki stared at you bluntly as you gently rubbed your eyebrow, almost judging you.

"Where were you taking the bucket?"

"I was going to the kitchen to scrub the floor with it," you answered after letting your arm fall to your side.

"I can help you. Those people don't like it when you waste time."

"I know," you frowned as you turned your head back to where you were originally going, the sun shining in your eyes again. You squinted in turn, raising your hand to block the blinding light from your retinas.

“Then hurry up,” Maki said, disgruntled. She brushed past you and readjusted her grip on the bucket. You watched her waddle down the hallway and to the other end, leaving you and Mai alone at that corner. You decided to follow after Maki, since she decided to be nice enough and help out with your cleaning duties.

You and Mai walked down together to join Maki, standing next to each other in the doorway when you reached the kitchen. Luckily no morbidly obese member of the clan was in the room, or else all three of you would be getting yelled at. Maki sat the bucket down on the wooden floor and looked at you both standing there, and frowned.

“Well, come on. Can’t just stand there forever,” Maki walked over to a cabinet and opened it, grabbing a few sponges and handing one to you and Mai, keeping one for herself. The three of you scrubbed down the kitchen floor with the bucket water (and with some soap that you jumped up and reached onto the counter for); you found that you much preferred doing your chores alone than with others. Especially since there was no implication that you could have company. You worried that someone would walk in and find you working with the twins and immediately yell in all your ears about it.

You found other things as well. Primarily that Maki wasn’t a very nice person—you weren’t that warm and welcoming either—she was just in a good mood. You learned that from watching her quickly scrub down half the kitchen by herself while you and Mai were busy struggling with grease stains and what not. By the time she was done with half the kitchen floor, she turned to look at you and Mai with a frown and a soaked sponge in her hand. A blind man could tell she was already annoyed—as much as a 5 year old can be. She scolded the both of you for not going fast enough and holding all three of you back; you bit your tongue to keep from talking back and instead scrubbed harder, a trail of soap behind every scrub.

After many minutes of scrubbing and rubbing and wiping, the kitchen floor was shining. There was a clear reflection of the ceiling light hanging above it, which made you feel a little proud of yourself.

“Is that all you have to do?” Maki looked at you. You figured she probably knew that it wasn’t, but she had already helped you and done half the floor, so you nodded instead.

“Yeah. Thank you for your help, Maki.”

“Mhm,” she mumbled, her mouth staying shut as she looked at the floor again.

“Mai, come on,” Maki called, turning on her foot and walking towards the door. You whipped your head around and watched Maki and Mai about to leave.

“Can I ask you to help me again? When I see you again?” You ask, your light voice croaking with nervousness. Maki stops before she’s able to turn the corner, her eyes squinting from the sun shining in the corner of her eye.

“You can’t do it yourself?” Maki inquired, squinting her eyes. “Ok. See you around, then.”

“See you,” you muttered almost inaudibly, clearing your throat and watching as Maki turned the corner with her sister, leaving your eyesight.

After that day, your heart started beating a little differently all the way up until 2018.