#who grew up experiencing the horrors she did

[hyperfixiation-station]

Hi!!

I am totally obsessed with your fics!!! Your writing 🤌💕

I just wanted to request a fic where the reader is new to the task force but she's experienced and tough. Vibez similar to Ghost to elaborate she's more scary than Ghost cuz of her past maybe she was experimented on or trained brutally....

Reader is working hard to prove herself even if everyone knows she's the most lethal person. So one time she gets injured badly while protecting someone from the 141( probably Ghost 👉👈) and she wakes up has an emotional moment Ghost comes know about her Trauma . More like hurt/comfort....

Happy Writing 💝

Guilt-Tripped

CW: Mentions/references of kidnapping, torture, canon typical violenece Part 2, Part 3 Hiii Anon!! First off, thank you! Secondly, I am so, so, so sorry for how long this took😭 I did make this a two parter, the first part is kinda like backstoryish and the second part will be the actual story. I was gonna wait until I finished both to post but you have been waiting for way to long so I'll give you the first part now instead of waiting, again I am so sorry! I hope you like it :)) Summary: F!Reader was a part of a special program(LMK if you can guess what it is) and once she was released she joined the military.

WC: 1467 As always, I didn't proof read so lmk if there are any mistakes :3

Life had not been kind to you. Ripped from your family at a very young age, you had never known the type of love and safety a nurturing home could provide. Instead, you grew up in the confines of a Russian base, with cruel instructors and a dwindling group of girls as your only companions.

From the moment you could walk, you had been told you were a weapon. A lethal force to be honed and trained, nothing more than a tool for others to use to further their games. Brainwashed, tortured, and trained into submission, a perfect puppet. Both your brain and body were sculpted into absolute perfection, a rigorous process most people did not survive. By day, they trained to be a lethal force, an unstoppable, unnoticeable, killing machine. At night, you were handcuffed to your bed, listening to the screams of students who did not make the cut.(to this day you sleep handcuffed)

You watched, at first in horror, then with a sense of detachment, as your friendsrivals bit the dust, unable to keep up with what the program demanded of them. It got better as you got older, less girls died from their tasks. But in some ways it got worse. It was a competition now, a fight to see who would remain victorious, to see who would come out on top. It was not a place for friendship and comradery, and you learned that quickly.

You stopped trying to make friends with the other students when you were forced to shoot your best friend in the head after giving her some of your dinner when she was being punished. You were 8. And you stopped trying to even just be friendly with the other girls at 10 years old, when the instructor broke every bone in your hands after your bunkmate framed you for something you didn't do. To this day your hands are not the same, always hurting and forever scarred.

Your world was kill or be killed, and you'd be dammed if you didn't come out on top.

And come out on top you did. You graduated top of your class, a position you had fought and killed for, won through bloodshed and pain. If you had a conscience, it would have been screaming at you for the things you had done to get to the top(You laid awake every night consumed by guilt and grief)

The program was disbanded(re: destroyed) when you hit 18, just two weeks after your 'graduation'. You were given two options: Join the American military, or face a life sentence in prison. 

You had a lifetime of sins to atone for, and knew there was only one way to even begin to ease your guilt. Two days later your background was sealed up and you were shipped off to boot camp. 

And you excelled. This was nothing to you. What was a six mile run when you used to run until you passed out, then wake up and keep going? What was surviving on four hours of sleep when sleep deprivation had been the norm your whole life? What was any of this compared to what you had been forced to do everyday since you were five? 

You scared your instructors. And the other recruits. And everyone else you came into contact with. And you were fine with that. You didn't like when people got close to you anyhow.

Love got you nowhere in the world. It was a lesson you learned hard and fast. You did not care for others, they did not care for you. And you liked it that way. Until you met the 141.

A woman named General Laswell came to you one day with a job offer. Well, not a job offer exactly, but more of a…transfer of positions. A small, (mostly)four-man team that she oversaw.

You had gotten disciplined for beating the ever-loving shit out of a recruit the week before, and Laswell had watched it all unfold. She went back to her office, read your full file, and decided you would make a good fit for John's team.

You took a look at your bunk, at the trunk that held zero worldly possessions, realized there is nothing for you here, and said yes. 

Price had not wanted a new recruit, and told Laswell as much. She simply said he had a penchant for picking up strays and left your file on his desk. It took him a week to actually get curious enough to read it. A paper copy, the only one in existence that had your full, undisclosed background. He pretended he didn’t see her smug grin when he hit accept on your transfer application. 

You had been trained since youth to fight and to kill, yes, but your true purpose was espionage. You were trained to study those around you, to lie, to mold yourself to the expectations of those around you. You excelled at fitting into your surroundings, at assimilating perfectly with your peers. It was all you were good for, in your opinion. So you asked Laswell for files on your new teammates. And she gave them to you. They were full of gaping holes and redacted information, but there was enough there for you to profile them. 

Soap would be the most receptive to you. He most likely would also be the one to not give up in trying to get you to be open with them. Gaz would be receptive as well, but you know that your sealed background would put him on edge, Ghost, well…Ghost was a lot like you from what you could piece together. Yet another person who learned that the world was cruel and unforgiving, who had learned the lesson that love does nothing but hurt. And because he was like you, you knew he would trust you the least.

You felt a small pang in your chest when looking at this masked photo that you hadn’t felt in years. Not quite sadness, but…pity? No. It was different, it was sympathy. It weirded you out. 

It was hard at first, joining the 141. You had court-mandated therapy you had had to attend, and you had slowly come to realize that some trust was good, necessary even, for life. You knew you wouldn’t be able to open yourself up to them, that you would never be able to feel the sense of brotherhood you had seen amongst other soldiers, but you wanted to try. 

It was harder than you thought it would be. Hard joining men who already had comradery, who had a bond that had been forged with blood, sweat, and tears. men who weren't sure how to fit another person, much less a female, into their group. 

As you suspected, Soap was the most receptive. He was fun, you thought. His Scottish accent and affinity for filling the silence made him a very pleasant conversationalist. You didn’t have to do any of the talking.

Gaz was wary of you, but did a good job of not showing it. As you suspected, he stopped inviting you out after you said ‘no thanks’ for the third time. 

Ghost didn’t like you. You could see it in the slight tensing of his muscles when you walked in the room, the way his eyes pinched when you spoke. 

It was a rough, rocky start, full of distrust and misunderstandings. Everything about you set his senses on high alert. They way you could sneak up on him completely silent, the way you could hold your own when you sparred with him, even the way you moved had his hair standing on end. It wasn’t until a mission that would have ended with Soap's death if you hadn’t risked your life to shove him out of the way that Ghost began to trust you. 

And then he began to notice something else about you. And the more he noticed, the more concerned he grew. He noticed the way you threw yourself into battle, what little regard you held for your own life. He noticed how you never instigated conversation, never gave away the slightest bit of information that could be used against you. Noticed that you always wore gloves. In fact, he's never once seen your hands.

His constant observations of you had an unintended side effect. The longer he watched you, the more he realized you were a lot like him, the more he was drawn to you. And vice-versa. 

You found yourself willfully seeking Ghost out, willingly sharing information with him. Nothing about your past, no, you would never tell anyone the things you had done. But little things, how you liked the food served this week, how your mission went, that your new pants were really itchy. And he told you things too. Told you really bad jokes, told you Soaps stupid Scottish saying of the week. And slowly you branched out, agreeing to go to the bar the next time Soap asked you, telling Gaz that you liked his new sunglasses. 

It was nice, having people who looked at you like you meant something to them. Having people who didn’t know what you’d done, people who didn’t look at you with disgust and distrust. It was nice to have…friends. 

So of course everything had to go downhill from there.

End scene :3 let me know what you think!!6 and be on the look out for pt.2, I hope you're ready for a buttload of angst >:) Also requests are open <3

#hehehehe #sorry for how long it took #i am so tired lmao #i don't even know if this stuff makes sense #cod fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #angst #no beta we die like men #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #call of duty #simon riley x reader #sorry i disappeared #honestly don't know what i'm doing #but whatever #kate laswell #black widow #marvel

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 5

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt, PTSD, violence, mentally unstable Soldier Boy, anger issues, Soldier Boy hates everyone, Countess is a bitch

Word Count: 3032

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Present, 2022

Butcher grinned and added, “Lift your asses up, boys. We're heading to Russia. Let's see what's being hidden there that could kill.. Cuntlander.”

Butcher had been looking for any other way to terminate Homelander and was working hard to get the chance to succeed. Butcher's past was clear after everything that transpired with Stormfront, but he didn't like the quiet. He still had unfinished business with Homelander. He was willing to take a chance and find a way out, but he wasn't sure if his plan would work out well. He would fuck around and find out.

It wasn't challenging to enter the Russian basement with Temp V on his body and the boys around. When they stood near the well-guarded metal object that concealed the potential end of Homeland, they took extreme caution. They all were aware of that was their final shot. Butcher didn’t know what could he done more to end Homelander.

Kimiko and Frenchie retreated a step as Butcher approached and removed the metal object's door with ease. Frenchie's gun-wielding fingers clenched, and Kimiko attempted to peek inside the box. As the strong smoke began to reduce, MM's eyes grew wide with horror, his heart paced with distress. Butcher leaned forward and muttered, “Soldier Boy.”

Ben removed the handcuffs and the object from his face with ease as his senses began to awaken. His legs felt like jelly, and he was holding on to the metal object he was in. He couldn’t see a shit at first; everything was blurry as fuck. When he began to realize the real gravity of what was happening, he understood that he was completely naked. He was being watched intently by a few people around him. He blinked in confusion, sensing immense power beneath his chest. His muscles began to tense with fury.

“It’s okay,” one of them said with a calm voice.

That fucking calm voice, Ben thought. It was the same tone as the fucking scientists who tortured and poisioned him for years, like they were studying a fucking little rat. They were all going to pay for what they did to him.

Ben experienced an immediate increase in warmth and energy in his chest. As he exploded, he let out a painful shout and felt a wave of relief afterwards. Fuck, he thought. What the fuck was that? What they have done to him? He was aware that he had to leave the region as soon as possible. He needed to get out from the lab as quickly as he could before they caught them again.

Ben then remembered you. He was informed that Vought had punished you for treason by shipping you to Russia in a metal box where you would be subjected to the same smoke that he had breathed for decades. You were nowhere to be found, even though he tried his hardest to locate and rescue you. When he realized that fucking Crimson Countess had betrayed him, it was too fucking late. She would be the first to die.

He would track them down and rip their limbs off for their betrayal. Stan Edgar would be the fucking second among them, if he was still alive. He had to find you first, though. He didn’t know what exactly happened to you. He didn’t want to think the possiblity of your betrayal. Ben had done unforgottable things to you, hurt your heart pretty bad, after all. He wouldn’t be surprised.

Ben stuck into an airport after he stole some clothes and illegally boarded a passenger plane bound for America, New York. It was the city that he had known you had been last time he remembered. However, he got confused seeing huge buildings and crowd. The city was nothing like he remembered at all; there was huge screen around, everywhere. Ben paused for a moment and thought what he should do. Everything he knew had changed and he didn’t feel like fit in there.

A nearby location played Russian music on the radio that Ben heard as he wandered down Manhattan's street. He recalled all of the torture and shit he had endured over the years. Back in Russia, he experienced the same overwhelming sensation in his chest. He struggled to control this new power without drawing attention to himself or doing any harm, but the terrible memories overpowered him so much that he was unable to control it and let out a loud groan as he exploded.

“Oh fuck,” Ben whispered when he opened his eyes. Maybe he needed to find Legend first to make a start somewhere before he exploded the whole country. Fuck, he needed you.

Butcher and MM were too late when they arrived in New York, where Soldier Boy exploded. Their eyes widened with shock, seeing the entire building burn out. There were at least ten corpses around the building. It was a big fucking mess. Butcher’s chest overwhelmed with remorse. He was the one to free Soldier Boy after all. But there were no place for soft heart at that moment.

“Where could he have fucking gone?” Butcher murmered as he wandered around, overwhelmed by the chaos in the street and hearing cryings. He wasn’t sure at this point if Soldier Boy was really controllable or not.

“Who else lives in this city?” MM said, raising his eyebrows. “Think about it.”

Butcher’s eyes widened with excitement, and he said, “Legend.”

Legend was drinking his visky in joy when Butcher, MM, and Hughie knocked on his door out of the blue. He resisted letting them in after seeing Butcher among them, but he eventually gave up and invited them in.

“I swear on my kids,” Legend said, raising both hands up. “I haven’t seen Soldier Boy.”

“You hate your kids.”

“Well, you’d hate them too if they were your kids,” said Legend with an irritated voice.

“Fuck, stop being stubborn. Nothing will happen to you. I give you my word,” MM said, trying his best to convince him to talk. Butcher’s patience was also growing thin.

“Your word? He gave his word too once. I fucking lost my leg.” Legend snapped suddenly, showing off his prosthetic leg and waving it on the air.

“You’ll have to order another one if you keep talking like that old man,” said Butcher, getting up from his couch.

“Let’s calm down,” said Hughie. He got anxious because of the heat of the moment, but nobody gave a damn about him at all, so remained silent.

Legend sighed as he kept sipping his visky, and he murmered “I thought I'd seen a ghost. Fuck, he never aged a day, despite his long, odd beard. He just took his suit, nothing more.”

MM and Butcher exchanged a look.

“It seems like he demanded something,” Butcher stated, casting Legend a wary glance.

“Well, he requested the address of the Crimson Countess. I don't know, but he appeared quite furious. I don't expect to have an enjoyable visit.”

Ben learnt that Countess had been living in a trailer before he arrived. Thankfully, it was very easy to locate the bitch. His heart filled with anger seeing she lived her life while we was burn and tortured for decades. Before he entered the trailer, Ben had seen the same cocksucker back in Russia. His eyes narrowed in confusion. He had a very punchable face.

“You’re the same asshole in the lab,” Ben said with a questioning voice.

“Yeah. I am the asshole who let you out. Your lovey-dovey countess is inside the trailer. All yours. Consider it a good gesture of faith,” said Butcher giving him a sly glance.

“Good faith for what?” Ben asked in an arrogant voice, ignoring his little stupid comment about Countess. Ben didn’t even know that cocksucker, but he had a lot of things to do, and he didn’t have time for games. He couldn’t rely on anyone either.

“I was thinking, you and I might come to an arrangement, you know.”

Ben didn’t say a word as he walked by him and went inside the trailer.

“Ben?” Crimson called him with a shaky voice. Her hands were in chains, and she was looking at him with fear. The place she lived looked pathetic to his eyes. Ben’s heart was filled with immense hatred seeing her face after all those years. How could he even spend a minute with her? “You look so young.”

“You don’t.” Without letting her talk, he inhaled deeply and asked with a calm voice, “Why did you even sell me out? How much did Russians pay you?”

“I wasn’t paid,” Countess said, closing her eyes with shame and fear. She never thought this day would come.

“What?” Ben blinked his eyes in confusion.

“What did you thought would happen? Everyone hated you so fucking much,” she went on while she was looking at him with despise. “It wasn’t my idea, but I wish it was,” she said cruelly. Ben’s grip on his shield grew tighter as she spit hatred towards him.

You also warned him that Countess would be the first to betray him if he continued to behave as he used to. It felt like it had been a day ago when you had that talk, and it was painful to realize how correct you were. He bet you would die to see his face right now.

He didn’t care what she or others felt towards him at that moment, though.

“Where is Y/N?” he asked with a firm voice as he got closer.

With a sly smile, Crimson raised her eyebrows, saying, “How could I know this? But she’s most likely napping. Perhaps in China, perhaps in Russia, who knows.”

Every time she spoke, Ben's chest grew warmer, but he had to maintain his composure in order to get to know your location. “She was already off the team. What the fuck have they done to her? And Why?”

“If anything bad did happen to her, it was due to her own naivety,” Crimson snapped. “You were the only person they intended to capture, but they also wanted to ensure that no one would come to your rescue. She tried to save you, and that was a big mistake.”

With one quick motion, Ben grabbed her throat, his glowing chest continuing, he knew it was getting out of control, but he couldn’t stop it. “I asked you a fucking question, and you'll fucking answer me,” he repeated while still strangling her.

She was attempting desperately to free herself from his strong hold, but she remained helpless, his strenght was unmatchable. Ben continued to choke her and ask the same question, and she closed her eyes in misery.

“You’ll never know. You lost the only person who wanted to rescue you. Good luck with living with this,” Countess whispered with a weak voice. Not being able to control himself anymore, Ben exploded with an angry growl.

He walked out of the trailer with a heavy heart. He considered the awful experiences you may have had for decades because of him. Despite everything he had done to you, you still loved him and attempted to rescue him. However, all he gave you was pain and suffering. You may be in a container of metal or suffering from torture right now while he was free. Feeling his shield becoming heavier in his hands, he tried to process what was happening. He fucking had let you down. He has never felt so lost.

He didn't know where to look for you because he was unfamiliar with the modern world. Even if he was still the strongest supe, he didn't feel that way at that point in time. He knew he would never give up looking for you, even if he had no idea how to find you. There was nothing that could stop him.

Ben turned to face the cocksucker who had been following after his balls since yesterday after sensing that someone had been observing him.

“It seems that you require a place to stay, don't you? After all, you are currently the state's greatest enemy.” With an encouraging smile, Butcher added, “You need our help.” He was closely gauging Soldier Boy's facial reactions.

Ben nodded and followed him out to his car. Hughie and Butcher exchanged a look and both sighed with relief that Soldier Boy wasn't hostile or anything.

Ben was given a cheeseburger and anything he wanted, including cocaine, some pills, and a drink, by Butcher in the morning. Ben needed to be in business and in shape, and he needed his fucking energy back. 

Ben continued eating his hamburger and said, “So, what exactly in the world do you two fuckfaces fucking want from me?”

Hughie turned to face Soldier Boy's enormous shield and used all of his strength to try to raise it. It was so freaking heavy that even with his best efforts, he could not get it to move an inch.

Ben angrily commanded, “Hands of the fucking shield,” to which Hughie responded with a shy smile and a mumbled apology. 

“We will assist you in locating your former teammates who betrayed you,” Butcher stated bluntly as he settled into the seat. “so that you can take your revenge.”

Ben instantly dropped the hamburger and furrowed his brows in suspicion. “But how can you manage to track them down?”

With hesitation, Hughie walked up to Ben and smiled slightly, saying, “Internet, GPS, Google Maps—you can find anyone with those things.”

Ben’s heart paced with hope as the bottom-faced guy said strange words. They could find Crimson even before him, after all. Maybe finding you wouldn’t be so hard. He had no other choice after all.

“You made those words up,” Ben said, not sure if they were talking true shit or just trying to deceive him.

“Those words are real words.”

“The kid’s right,” Butcher said as he gave a sly smile to Ben. “We will find every single member of Payback, so you can have your revenge.”

“And what do you cocksuckers want in return?” Ben asked rudely.

“We just want you to add one single person to the list. The cunt’s name is ‘Homelander’”

“Alright,” Ben responded without raising any further concerns. He wouldn't bargain when it was your life he was talking about. He could easily kill one more jackass; he'd killed plenty already. “But who is he? I’ve seen his pictures.”

When Soldier Boy didn't even hesitate, Butcher and Hughie sighed with relief and were unable to control their big smiles.

“He’s the new you,” Butcher said with a smirk.

“No one’s the new me, pal,” Ben answered with pride and arrogance, but deep down, knowing he was betrayed by his own country and team, he couldn’t help feeling a bit insecure. Nevertheless, he surpassed his feelings with a smile.

So, that was it. His nation used him in every operation, every war, and anything that required a supe, but they treated him like a worthless piece of trash in return, repaying him with disloyalty. Despite everything he had done for his nation, he was ignored and treated like a rat in a lab. He realized at this point that you were the one person who had never betrayed him and that you were the only one who would care about him. He made a promise to himself that he would make everyone pay for how they treated him and you, and he would make sure you and him would rule this modern world together.

“Let me to test you. What functions does your so-called internet offer?” Ben asked Hughie seriously, changing the subject.

“Alright. It can display images, films from all eras. You can even see the space through Internet,” Hughie answered, attempting to seem straightforward and sound simple like he was talking to a child so as not to confuse him. “You can learn everything from it. Billions of people are having their job done through Internet.”

Fuck, Ben thought. How the fuck he was supposed to save you through Internet thing? He was so fucking unfamiliar with that bullshit.

“Is there a way to see a photo of a Payback member?” Ben got up and asked. The excitement in his voice was obvious. 

“Absolutely. You can even find more information about them on several websites.”

Soldier Boy was watching very carefully when Hughie asked him the name he was interested in, and Hughie then showed him your images, saying “Here.”

Ben quickly grabbed Hughie's phone and gazed at your photo with a heavy heart. Fuck, he thought to himself. Undoubtedly, the term ‘internet’ was real and it fucking knew everything. He felt helpless at that point, since he had missed you so much. To find you, he would kill anybody those fuckers needed him to.

“I need to find her,” Ben whispered, showing your picture to both of them right to their eyes like they were blind or something. “If you help me find her, I’ll help you two fuckers kill that guy, Homelander. That’s the fucking deal.”

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

A/N: Consider this chapter as a transition chapter. Sorry, if it is bad. I kinda didn’t like it personally, but here we are. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! ♡♡♡

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto  @yvonneeeee @starryperson    @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara   @boywivlove   @stilinskisthings

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series! -`♡´-

#soldier boy #jensen ackles #soldier boy x reader #the boys series #the boys #jensen ackles soldier boy #the boys tv #the boys season 3 #soldier boy the boys #the boys amazon #the boys soldier boy #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x you #the boys x reader

[milknhonies]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 4 || Masterlist || Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: After defending your housekeeper, Sherlock takes a rough hand to your backside....

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Spanking, Domestic Abuse, rough kissing.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: I am sorry this took forever to post but I'm lucky and glad to say I should be moving to a new rental home in a month. Yayyy!!!

Inspiring Song: Partita for violin n°2 by Bach.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England

With baited breath you hurriedly rushed to push your husband out of the line of the door way. You shoved Sherlock and with some surprise, he moved. He rolled his eyes and pressed his back to the wall beside the door.

You feared an inevitable future. Mrs Hudson would enter your dwellings. And see your husband...how ironic for you to be scared of something meant to be.

Mrs Hudson knocked again and you heard the handle of your door twist.

A strike of horror whipped you into action. You fluttered to the cracking door as the old woman announced in a hushed whisper.

“Y/N dear, are you awake? Your mongrel of a groom is gone if you would like to come out now!”

Your fingers clenched into fists behind you and the offended snicker from Sherlock from next to you beside the opening door didn’t help your embarrassment. He knew you didn’t approve of his past behaviours but to be made apparent how much you deplored him was humiliating.

You forced a tight smile for your landlady as she took a step closer into the doorway. How you wished you could’ve asked her to leave, but how could you, it would seem rude after all her kind hospitality and assistance.

She greeted you with a happy wink while still under the belief her original tenant was no longer in the house. But her eyes did flutter after she glanced you up and down, surprised by your prepared dressed state.

It was a unspoken question, ‘Who helped dress you?’

You gently interpreted aloud, “Oh...he is still here...and...” your lips became dry. Why did Mrs Hudson have to be so invasive as landlady even if under pure intentions?

The old woman grew pale with her wide grey gaze. Her lips smacked open. You looked over your shoulder and gasped with a jump at the ridiculous state of your husband standing directly behind you, with a naked torso.

“Mrs Hudson,” he smirked, “Good Morning,” he said rather proudly with his hands settle on his finely shaped hips. His tongue lazily licked his bottom tongue with his eyebrows raised.

He found the lewdness incredibly hilarious. ‘Great, my husband is not only arrogant, rude and mean- he is also childish one would gather.’

“Quite...” she said as colour grew quick to her face in the shade of a wet red rose. Her wrinkled throat tightened. Her fingers gripped at her apron while her lips pursed disapprovingly.

Your husband briskly moved you aside by holding your hips and directing you out of his path before he strutted out from your door frame entrance.

You and the elder woman did perhaps inspect the curve of his bottom in his trousers for too long as he swaggered back to his bedroom. A plump arse in a husband has never been known as a requirement, but for the advice of a future generation you were sure to note it.

Mrs Hudson somewhat breathless and at a disadvantage twisted her head back and leant to your ear inquisitively, “What happened?” her eyes darted back and forth.

It was then as you saw her forehead shrink, you realised, she was concerned for your safety, for your health and wellbeing.

You could only imagine the distress the dear Mrs Hudson experienced when she found you in a puddle of blood on your bed only two days prior.

Your own lips parted and you raced to find the words. You struggled and stuttered to explain how on earth you came to lay in your bed with your own husband. It felt challenging and at half your conscience considered lying for the sake of modesty and privacy. It shouldn’t have been so difficult to say; you and Sherlock were bloody husband and wife. A small laugh in the back of your head jingled.

“Well...ugh...as husband and wife we...came to an agreement.”

Your fingers came up to touch your lips. A small smile was upon them. How else could you say your husband showed you terror and bliss all in one night. You knew it was not custom for a groom to tie up his bride and ravage her to a mindless state of ecstasy.

It had been so terrifying and exciting. The debate crossed your mind, ‘should I fear him, or submit with praise?’

He had treated you so awfully until this morning. You raced to wonder what had changed his mood so speedily in your favour...’Was it the deal? The debasing?’ In which you relinquished your pride and dignity to him that you already had so little of.

Her eyes narrowed at your wording, “An agreement?”

Those shrivelled pink lips settled in the shape of a pondering ‘o’ for sometime until Sherlock stuck his head back out from his rooms while buttoning a white shirt.

“We fucked Mrs Hudson,” he bluntly muttered startling you both in the midst of shock. It was uncouth to swear as he did, especially as a gentleman, especially in front of women. He was so unlike his high browed brother.

The older woman clicked her heels together and sputtered, “Sherlock!”

“-now if you aren’t too busy gossiping with my wife,” he sneered, cutting Mrs Hudson off, “I would very much like a cup of tea!”

“Well I never-!” the elder woman crossly huffed with her blushed face still blooming.

Your girlish grin disappeared. There he was. The rude and demeaning man.

Your fingers clenched to fists. The disrespect to Mrs Hudson was an insult to you. After all these hours in this new home, this woman sacrificed her time to help you. She did not deserve foul treatment from your husband even if he had always behaved that way to her in the past. You were now living here and wouldn’t stand for it.

You couldn’t allow this treatment to continue, “Sherlock!” both of their heads snapped at your raised tone, “Do not address Mrs Hudson in such a manner again!”

The man deemed London’s greatest detective looked bewildered, as if you slapped the man himself in the face. That masculine confidence fleeted from his face. Your landlady fluttered her eyes at your outburst. Perhaps you appeared aggressive, your knuckle pressed to your lips.

Your chest felt tight. You were panting. Yes, you had yelled so loudly it would be no question if those on the sidewalk below in Baker Street heard your bellowing.

You were angry. Resentful. The spell of his magical touch and charm had worn quickly off. Back you were to being a forthright wife.

His tongue stabbed the inside of his cheek. His eyes narrowed. Whatever was he thinking?

“Very well,” he said and he nodded once, “Mrs Holmes.”

He began fiddling with the buttons of his trousers, tucking his shirt in.

You lowered your hand and placed them on your exaggerated hips.

You gave a little huff to add on, “And say please to Mrs Hudson when asking for tea.”

Mrs Hudson glanced between you both before scurrying back to the dining table where breakfast had been so generously laid out. She clearly was smart enough to know not to intervene in this rising argument.

The smell of cinnamon and porridge filled your nose. Mrs Hudson quietly poured you a cup of tea. From the corner of your eye you watched the steam rise.

“For god sake woman,” Sherlock grumbled with exasperation and waved his hand in front of himself, “She is merely the housekeeper.” 

You stood between them and wagged a finger at him, “And landlady.”

He sighed with annoyance and rolled his eyes. His lips pinched. Accepting his defeat in his stubbornness he spun on his heels and re-entered your room. He left his door open.

You took a step forward and remembered yesterday how cross he had been when you entered his space without permission...’permission be damned.’

You swallowed down that cold prickling fear and followed him in and took note on how he sat on the trunk with deviant tools within. He hiked up his trouser legs up. He sighed at your presence- not fully annoyed but not fully relieved either. 

You knew where he kept his shoes and what type after your savage pilfering clean the day before. You selected for him a dark navy cravat to match his chosen blazer he pointed out to you. You selected a golden pin and black dress boots for him.

He cleared his throat and muttered a soft “Thankyou,” as you handed him the cravat and pin while you silently knelt to the floor and began slipping on his garters, socks and shoes onto his feet.

He looked like stone. His face unreadable. You could not tell if he was annoyed, amused or just plain bored by his lack of emotion.

Maybe you had shut him up and taken him down a peg. Indeed, perhaps you had really humiliated him in front of Mrs Hudson to the point of expressionless silence.

6:40am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England

He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or if he was to be frightened by it.  Your quick submission, your gentleness after such a loud scolding. You had such a voice. You had a fearsome outburst that you used said voice with.

So seeing you play demure wife with the snap of second put him on a strange edge...what game were you playing at?

He sat back on his hands and stared at you struggling to button up his buttons he did the only thing he knew how in regards to people. He analysed you.

Your hands were clammy...sweaty and warm indicating either your heighten blood from your outburst or the after affects of your embarrassment when Mrs Hudson discovered his existence in your bedroom.

Your breath was slightly ragged. You were nervous he decided.

He glanced at how every few moments you wriggled your hips. Very faintly. Disguised as an attempt to readjust your sitting position, whereas in fact...you appeared to make soft rocking motions...

Oh, he smiled internally...you were aroused and embarrassed. You were helpless and desperate. Poor little lamb.

He looked around his room and back to you on the floor. You both were in rather a similar pose last night before he blackmailed you into sucking his cock. He twitched his head to the side and wondered how scandalous and quick he could pull out his cock and shove it past your teeth; all the while Mrs Hudson stood only a few feet away past the door with her back turned to you both.

How naughty...

And your sweet eyes looked up from his shoes...if only you weren’t sitting on your skirts. He mourned for all he waited more than ever was sneak it  beneath your shift and between your thighs.

‘How charming,’ he larked in his mind, ‘Polishing my shoe with her pussy.’ Your hairless pussy in fact.

Sherlock didn’t not hate body hair. But rather he liked the satisfaction of making pain in doing something as torturous as ripping hair from a sobbing woman. And the softness was something that never ceased amazement.

He did once mention to John before his comrade met Mary how on occasion, cunnilingus on a hairy woman was comparable to kissing a man on the face. John, he recalled, laughed at Sherlock and announced he had never eaten a cunt, so why bother eating one covered in hair... now it was all the man could ever speak of when it came to his wife that he worshipped.

When you finished folding his trouser paints so that mud would not soak the hem, he leant forward and place a finger under your chin.

Your pupils flickered. Oh yes. You were definitely aroused, he concluded.

And he felt somewhat generous. He cupped your cheek and lifted you higher to your feet.

“Come here,” he whispered.

He almost burst out laughing watching how your eyes fluttered. His thumb scraped over your lip. He pinched your cheeks and pulled you into his face before he slowly stood off his bed.

He pushed his tongue inside and moaned. With how you tried to return the movement he smirked. You were desperate and he knew you wanted to please him. He flicked around and sucked your bottom lip.

Pulling back you were panting loud and your eyes wide.

He gave you passion, so what were you to do with that?

“Now Mrs Holmes, go sit down for breakfast,” he purred, “I will be out shortly.”

His cock was getting hard and he needed to give himself a moment or else he felt compelled to fuck you right there, Mrs Hudson could rightfully fuck off down stairs if she didn’t want to see the show....

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:46am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England

On weak, shaky legs you turned away from him. Your hand stumbled along his door frame. You could feel the hot buzz still on your lips. You felt hot all over. Behind you, he softly shut his door. You needed to sit down and so you reached out to your side of the dining room. You hobbled into your chair and reached for your warm tea.

“Well you must’ve done something right,” the landlady chuckled under her breath, wiping her hands lazily on her apron, “I haven’t seen him so caught off guard since his mother last visited. Put him in his please, she did.”

You nodded slowly. Sherlock Holmes would always be a true enigma. You sipped carefully. He kissed you with great heat, after you had scolded him? It made no sense.

“Is it within the best interest that I remain rather than leave you alone with him?” Mrs Hudson whispered as she saw your gaze staring off at the nothingness of the room.

Your eyes fluttered to focus and you smiled up at the kind woman. You squeezed her hand and shook your head.

“No, I am sure I can manage my husband Mrs Hudson,” you rose and carefully took the tea pot from her hands, “I think I shall pour his tea.”

Your land lady peered at you suspiciously as she relinquished the china. She smiled grimly and nodded before walking off and departing the apartment.

Sherlock wasn’t so scary now that you knew he wasn’t cross. And surely...if anything occurred, Mrs Hudson might intervene? Yes?

So where the hell was she last night? The thought wasn’t really your own, it just came up in the back of your mind watching as she left the apartment.

Your husband didn’t take long to come out, fully dressed. He sat down and searched over the table.

Mrs Hudson had brought up warm croissants, fresh butter and a scrumptious jam to lay on top.

You stood over him and poured tea into his cup. You felt his eyes rolling up and down your body. When you stood away, he poured in his own cream.

You placed the pot down gently and returned to your seat.

In those few seconds there was peace and power, submission and dominance. And you didnt even know it...

You folded the napkin over your lap and spread a fine line of jam over the bread like treat.

Sherlock? He sipped his tea and wouldn’t stop staring, to the point where it made you feel intimidated. What was he looking at? Was there jam on your face?

He clear his throat again and shook his head. He tore a piece of a croissants with his fingers and stuffed it into his mouth. It was something you disapproved of. But you didn’t have the patience to teach a man almost twice your age on the art of table manner etiquette.

And after an eternity of silent air filled with chewing and sipping...

“Finished your breakfast?” Sherlock smiled, rising from his chair, you nodded and patted your lips. You needed to return to your room and find some hair pins along with a hat if he expected you to join him.

“Good...” Sherlock said coming around to your side and helping you out of your chair with a single lending hand...and he led you to the main sitting room.

You tried to turn around go back to your room, maybe he forget the negative propriety of a woman wearing her hair unfixed in public.

He caught your wrist and tugged you to the side of the chaise.

“Bend over,” he purred into your ear.  You blinked.

“What ever for?” you audibly pondered before hearing him sigh frustrated.

You looked between him and the lounge.

His voice was coated in a acidic hiss, “Bend over or I’ll make you.”

You didn’t understand. Naively you bent over the arm. Had he lost something between the soft mattressing? Your fingers reached for the small cushion to look under when you felt him start to lift your skirts. Your eyes widened. What the hell was he doing!?

You went to stand up straight before he pushed his hand on your upper back and pushed you down again. You grunted and grizzled.

He tossed your skirts up over your backside to your waist. His hand softly rubbed across your drawers. The weight of his palm made you jump in surprise. His finger traced the splitting fabric. He pushed the pieces aside.

You held your breath. Your fingers clenched the chaise as you tried looking over your shoulder.

He couldn’t have been suggesting that he would mount you like this...here.. out in the open of your home...surely not...

He smirked at the alarm written all over your face. He bent his head down to you...he kissed your cheek and peppered small pecks to your ear.

“I’m going to strike you ten times,” his hot breath came.

Your eyes widened and your nose curdled.

“What ever for!?” you repeated with a sneer while you tried rising up again. This time, he shoved you down harder.

Sherlock smiled mockingly, his voice was sweet and high but beneath it was hate and sadism, “For speaking against my authority in front of Mrs Hudson.”

He cupped your backside and you swallowed hard.

It wasn’t right! He didn’t need to be so rude to the house keeper. You felt the coming punishment to be unwarranted.

“Such a pretty bum...” he sighed pawing at each unmarred cheek, “Such a disobedient wife...” He awed slightly...you were trembling. You shut your eyes and prayed to turn back time.

The first slap took you entirely by surprise, a sob tore itself from your lips instantly as his hand made contact with your backside.

You stomped your foot and tried twisting around to stop him but he flung you back over the chaise. And then the woosh of a flying hand swatted you. The burning crack of his palm left you feeling choked and brought to tears faster than ever before.

You cried immediately. And do you know what your torturous husband did? He let you cry...he let you catch your breath. He waited until you quieted...and then he hit you again. The third time hurt as well yet, felt stronger. It was the force of the hit that was more like a punch then a slap to your rear end bringing you into a shocked gasp.

You stomped your foot and whimpered, “Unhand me! You brute!”

He chuckled and smacked his palm fast against your bottom, the rising flame of nerves made you whine pitifully.

“Stop!” you pleaded, “Sherlock please!”

The soft touch on your abused arse cheek did little to soothe the stinging pain and the third slap made it far worse. Your skin was turning a shade and felt indescribably hot.

“We are almost finished Mrs Holmes, take a deep breath for me,” he asked.

You sniffled terribly trying to clean your sobs. Your eyes were watering while Sherlock’s pale hand rubbed up and down your sensitive thighs. Your belly jumped and butterflies fluttered. You felt tingly and in need of a cold cloth. You attempted to wriggle away once more but that only made Sherlock grasp on you tighter.

By the sixth slap your whimpers evolved into breathy pants. You felt his run his fingers soft and slow on your hot skin. They were cold and like a balm to the suffering he inflicted. You felt the swirls and managed to feel him draw an S and a H.

It became a vile pattern where he allowed you to compose your crying and fall quiet before delivering hell by his palm.

You could only recall the last spanking you received was from a school teacher when you were nine years old because you spilled ink down the dress of a girl bullying you.

The next whip made you gasp and continued to lessen the soreness you tried breathing through your lips shaped in a ‘o’ which made a most heinous noise...a moan.

“You are taking this very well my pretty Baker Street whore.”

You knew it had to be Sherlock’s voice but it felt so far away now. Your lower body felt incredibly warm and light.

“Never again will you humiliate me In the presence of our housekeeper, do I make myself clear?” his voice became a lifeline.

You were trembling beneath him. You felt him step closer and the side of your neck.

You didn’t agree with him, you didn’t humiliate him, he humiliated himself with his lack of manners. You were tired, relaxed, starting to accept the burning heat of his hand. You heard him chuckling in your ear. Your mind was falling to pieces.

“Yes s-sir,” Your voice shook which fell into a voice a new moan as the next strike connected to your bottom.

“Very good little lamb,” he said pleasingly. He slowly released his grip on your back and ran his hand lightly over your displayed flesh.

He rubbed his thumb into your muscle and took glee in your snarling hiss. He tapped your exposed hip softly.

“There,” he said slowly lifting you from the lounge and letting your skirts fall back to your ankles. He wiped away the tears with his thumbs, kissing each cheek as he went.

When reality crashes hard like a stormy wave, you flinched and moved away from him. You cupped your mouth and tried not to cry but the tears fluttered fast.

You felt him stand behind you and you wished you could’ve run away. You felt so embarrassed and ashamed you made such lusty tones. He wrapped his hands around your waist and towered above you.

He asked quietly, “Are you sure you want my fidelity now?”

It felt like a open wound that he was digging inside further. It was cruel, his smugness.

And this was a really trap. You could swear it. He wanted a reason to be allowed to return to Mayfair Row.

He wanted you to waver, to give in, to let him betray the wedding bed. It was like a candle filling the room with light. He didn’t spank you because he was embarrassed that you scolded him in front of the housekeeper, oh no, no, ‘twas a beneath the layers. Sherlock was trying to break you into letting him do as he desired, to continue his habits before your marriage.

You gulped and squeezed his hands; the tools he just beat you with. You felt sick. You felt angry. You felt like you had successfully figured out the solution to an ancient problem...

You could’ve caved in...you could’ve let him ruin the marriage entirely...the shame...you were fragile and almost let him.

You almost, but you didn’t.

You swallowed hard and fluttered your eyes and stated tightly, “It will take more than a whipping by your hands to make me let you go back to whoring, Mr Holmes.”

You turned your neck to glare at him. And instead of a snarl or a frown or disapproving look, he was smirking. His brows were raised in pleasant surprise.

“Marvellous,” he whispered, “an utter spectacle, you are.”

You scoffed and wiped your eyes again of a burning tear and shoved to move past him to go retrieve your hair pins and hat.

He followed on your tail and cackled, “Oh don’t be so prudish...I too heard that little moan.”

Your throat tightened as you tried ignoring his relaying fact.

You came to your room and saw him through your mirror leaning on the door frame, watching you. You perfected your usual modest style while you snapped, “If you honestly believe I under any circumstances enjoyed that, you are truly-  terribly mistaken.”

He was chewing his bottom lip and racing his eyes over your entire body. He was comically a wolf starved for his lamb.

You couldn’t even sit down at your vanity with the heat radiating on your backside under all your skirts. You didn’t even want to come out with him today, you almost dared state you would stay home after his assault.

However, lord only knows where Sherlock would really gallivant off to if you didn’t chaperone him today. Any man can break a promise.

He came into your room slowly and went to your hat box. He handed you the straw brim and cleared his throat, “Get your gloves, we must make haste.”

You rolled your eyes at him and snatched your hat from his hands, “If we were in such a hurry it might’ve deterred you from your unnecessary beating.”

He was fast as lightning and holding your jaw tearing out a gasp from you as he huffed, “Indeed, If we weren’t in such a hurry, I would have my cock down your throat for that comment Mrs Holmes.” His eyes turned a shade darker that dragged a bolt of fear back down your spine.

His smile was not as cheery, it had transformed into a sneer in lilt, “Gloves. Now.”

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #Dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!henry cavill #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #dead dove do not eat #henry cavill x #henry sherlock #enola sherlock

[reallyromealone]

Tenjiku x male reader x Toman part 7

Part 6 🌸 current 🌸 part 8

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

It had been two days of fending off alphas and Shinichiro was ready to throw in the towel when he heard it.

Emma had arrived.

The eldest sibling smiled and felt his body relax slightly, thankfully (name)s heat has subsided considerably to the point he was coherent and he could comfortably leave his sister to deal with the hooligans. The brothers looked on in horror as Emma walked with her two mates, elegant robes and delicately styled hair, pins in it making it look like a waterfall of flowers.

Yazuha and Senju beside her in less frivolous clothes, Senju in a more millantant approach and Yazuha simply preferring simple tastes "you two idiots have been harassing a poor Omega?! Thank goodness Shin kept him away or you guys would kill him!" She chewed them out and no one dare argue with the blond omega who was currently giving the two most feared demons absolute hell on the front steps to Shinichiro's estate, said beta checking in on poor (name).

The three pups perked their little heads up as they smelt the air, takemichi doing a little dance in excitement as he balanced on (name)s knee "Emma!" Koko chewed on his knuckles happily and (name) looked confused "Emma?" He asked softly and the tots smiled "she's our aunty!" And (name) nodded in understanding "can we go say hi?!" Takemichi asked loudly and excitedly and (name) was contemplating, the door suddenly opening with three knocks "not without this... Emma brought it" Shinichiro said kindly and (name) snapped his head up to see a collar with inscriptions all around it "it's one that demons can't snap like thread, it has spells written on it so if one tries to break it... It will cause them harm" he explained and (name) smiled "why don't you three go play and see aunt Emma while I help (name), alright?"

The tots ran off and the black haired demon smiled at them "my... My apologies for kidnapping your pups" (name) said genuinely apologetic and Shinichiro laughed "don't worry about it, an omegas touch is what those roudy pups need" he joked and gently helped (name) put it on, gentle but callused hands touching his skin "I'm also sorry that they dragged you into this, I'm sure "protecting an Omega from a bunch of alphas" wasn't even remotely on your to-do list..."

Shinichiro liked (name), not in a romantic way but... He was good company, hard working and despite it all genuinely did care.

Those idiots didn't deserve him truly.

"Well, I had a few outfits made for you to wear" Shinichiro stepped out and returned with a few boxes "no doubt you wouldn't want to wear the ones previously as those idiots scented it to death"

(Name) felt his eyes water up, never experiencing such kindness from someone who didn't want something back--- hell he wasn't even mad (name) scented his pups!

Never had he experienced this kindness from his village.

"T-thank you..." He managed to choke out between tears and shinichiro held him close, the demon understanding he had gone through great struggles and his brothers clans were absolutely not helping.

By time Emma finished tearing everyone a new asshole, the sun was high in the sky "now... Let me meet him"

Most omegas wouldn't dare speak to alphas like that but Emma was the one entity in this universe that her brothers and by proxy their clans didn't fuck with, parting way for her as she walked in the direction of the Omega "Aunt Emma!" Three little voices chimed out and the blonde smiled at the itty bitty pups "my my~ aren't you three growing like weeds" Senju teased and Yazuha smiled as little Inupi asked to be held silently, lifting the boy "come meet our friend! He's a little weird but he and papa are friends!"

The trio let them lead them through the grand palace Emma grew up in, talking about how "silly " their uncles were and the new game they invented "papa! Aunt Emma is heeere!" Takemichi said happily and Shinchiro smiled as the three women looked at the crying Omega "those idiot's..." Yazuha was tempted to go back out there and lay havoc upon them but held back knowing it would make her beloved Omega upset.

"Truly barbaric" senju shook her head "(name), this is my youngest sibling Emma and her mates" (name) felt at ease with another Omega, he didn't know why he felt so safe but he did and Emma offered him a reassuring smile "I'm so sorry about my brother's, they're idiots" she knew he wouldn't be able to just walk away but comfort is something someone needed especially at times like this.

Emma helped (name) get ready, Senju making him laugh and Yazuha spoke of their trip as the pups wandered off to go play.

(Name) sighed when he was finally left alone in the evening and sat in the gardens to breathe, parts of each clan having to return to tend to things needed.

He heard whispers of some moon, the demons tense as they spoke.

He hoped all would be well.

Mikey was antsy, watching (name) from a distance.

He didn't like his Omega being out of his line of sight for long, especially with threats and whispers in the air. The moon was high when he noticed (name) had fallen asleep on a stone bench in the gardens and decided to bring him back to his room, lifting him and cradling him close "Hmm?" (Name) mumbled glancing sleepily to the blond "don't worry... Go back to sleep" he said softly and (name) subconsciously snuggled in his chest and the smell of matcha and chocolate filled his senses.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #omegaverse #omega male reader #toman x male reader #tenjiku x male reader

[kittyamore0]

HEY IVWAS WONDERING IF YIU CAN WRITE y/n is pregnant with Ethan’s kid and Quinn had stabbed her in the stomach not knowing and when he finds out in the theater with Tara, sam, his dad, and sister he feels bad for what he’s done. But y/n is furious with him and heartbroken. AND YOU CAN ADD MORE IF U WANT IF NOT ITS PERFECTLY FINE!!

A/N: me wanting to beat Quinns ass now A/N: IM CRYING....

My sweet baby...

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RATING: SFW

FANDOM/GENRE : Horror, dark romance, scream 6, ghost face, angst

TAGS: @kittiescrownedsoul

POV: 2nd person

WRITING STYLE: one-shot, angst

PAIRING: Ethan Landry x Fem! Reader

REMINDER: Do NOT transfer, translate, modify, copy or steal my ideas! READER: You will not be called 'Y/N' you will be called '[Name]'

CW: Blood, murdering, stabbing, knives, fractured fetus, crying, angst, fem! Reader, pregnant reader, mentions of unprotected sex, pregnancy test, passing out, vomiting, etc..

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You felt such a rush when you found out just 2 weeks ago. You had been experiencing stomach pain, nausea, vomiting, cravings, late period timelines, tiredness, all signs of pregnancy.

Thats when you took a pregnancy test. It came out positive. You were both happy and worried, afraid for the future, but just excited for it as well. You knew who the baby belonged to. Ethan Landry, your boyfriend for about 3 years.

You only slept with him, and recently, you both had unprotected sex. It had to be his, so you got a DNA test. He wasn't aware. You weren't going to tell him just yet, and with the ghost face impressions? Hell no. You didn't tell anybody, which is what you should've done.

Maybe then, would Ethan warn Quinn to be so careful with you, but no. The world had to curse you.

You felt so heartbroken when Quinn, detective Bailey and Ethan turned out to be ghostface. It wasn't supposed to be that way. No.

You were supposed to catch the fucker with Tara, Sam, Anika detective Bailey, and everyone else...Then get your happy ending by telling everyone you're pregnant and it was your boyfriends, Ethan.

But all those plans were dropped when you felt a sharp blade force its way into your stomach, where your baby laid.

Quinn had stabbed you in your stomach, due to the way she saw you hold your stomach. Not thinking too much about it, she thought you had an easily disturbed stomach so that stomach became her number 1 stabbing spot for you.

"[Name!]," Tara shouted. "Not one step, Tara," detective Bailey pushed her away., to which Sam caught her.

Ethan winced at the sight of Quinn stabbing you. "Quinn, maybe you should " Quinn cut him off. "Not now, Ethan!" She chuckled and twisted the knife in your stomach. No...no...no, no, no, no!

"Pay back for stabbing me in the shoulder, bitch." Quinn's smile grew further, and with all your strength, you pushed her back, causing her to loosen her grip on the knife and stumble back.

You let out an ear piercing shriek, to Quinns satisfaction. Ethan felt otherwise. He felt sick. His own girlfriend, getting stabbed right before his eyes. It felt...wrong.

You sobbed and pulled the knife out of you, dropping down to the ground in an instant while muttering, 'No, no, no, no, no's...'

Though, Quinn didn't expect you to drop down like you're giving up after putting up a hell of a fight, and muttering, 'no's'

She expected you to scream, scream at her, Ethan, anything, but you seemed more focused on your stomach. Why? She shook her head along with the thoughts too.

She grabbed the knife and moved forward, not wanting to waste any time killing you. Ethan had other plans, but both of them halted their movements when they heard your shouts.

"MY BABY!"

What..? Did Ethan hear that correctly? Did ALL of them hear that correctly? "My sweet baby..." Sam stepped forward, detective Bailey didn't stop her though.

"You're...pregnant...?" guilt struck Sam, Ethan, and Tara. "I found out 2 weeks ago. Oh, god...no..." you continued to sob even more as you rubbed your wounded belly.

Ethan pushed Quinn out the way and tried to make his way towards you. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" He flinched away. Sam pushed him, and he tripped on his feet, landing his ass on the floor.

"YOU FUCKING POOR EXCUSE OF A BOYFRIEND. YOU COULDN'T EVEN NOTICED SHE WAS PREGNANT?" Quinn seethed with angry. "Don't talk to him like! " Tara banged the nearby metal. "Shut the fuck up! You're the one who stabbed her! Our friend...WHO IS PREGNANT!" Tara screamed, shutting Quinn up quickly.

Detective Bailey just stand there in shock, trying to process the fact that you were pregnant. I mean, he doesn't care. He still wants to kill you, but the shock just hits him.

"The fact you're the fucking father too.." Tara sneers at Ethan while tears build up in his eyes. He never meant to hurt you. He told Quinn to be careful around you so many times. She didn't listen, always calling him a 'pussy' for simply asking her to be more careful with you.

Now not only had he hurt you, the love of his life, but his child too. "Im sorry...[Name]...i i really am...im so sorry..." you just shake your head, which he starts sobbing to at your response. Quinn scoffs. "Why should you be sorry for this bitch! " Quinn falls back when Tara's fist comes straight for her face.

"I trusted you...I let you into my home, let you touch me...I was happy to have your baby, but now, NOW THAT CANT EVEN BECOME A POSSIBILITY!" Ethan sobs even more, averting your heart broken gaze.

Sam's by your side rubbing your arm. Ethans on his ass sobbing. Tara and Quinn are fist fighting, and detective Baileys still standing there in shock like a slow dumbass.

"I hate you..."

Your words hit him like a bullet, shattering every part of him. "No...no...no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO, NO!" He sobs even more, a cry that would usually be so pretty, but now so ugly when his tainted true colors show. "Tha thats a lie! it has to be...!"

"Im sorry, Sam, Tara," You leaned into Sam as black dots danced in front of your vision. "[Name], stay with me. please!" Your body went limp, eyes closed, your breathing slowing down.

The last thing you heard was Ethan screaming your name.

˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚ʚ✰ɞ˚˚

Your eyes flutter open. Police sirens stung your ears, while a crying Tara and relieved Sam hovered over your body. "Wha....what happened...?" Tara smiled sweetly. "The doctor said the baby was very protected, and that the knife didn't hit the baby...!" Your eyes lit up and you looked down at your stomach.

"The baby will be okay, as for Ethan, Quinn, and detective Bailey...Quinn, and Bailey are dead. Ethan...he helped us after you passed out, but he ran away after, and told us to tell you that he said he loves you."

You hummed and closed your eyes, while a lazy smile was placed on your lips.

Thought, you do wonder where Ethans might've ran off to. That was...until you got a note , and a phone call 9 months later...

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#ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ghostface scream #scream 6 #scream movies #scream #quinn bailey #detective bailey #anika kayoko #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #angst tw #pregnant reader #female reader #reader x character #reader fic #reader insert #horror movies #horror #pregnancy

[snippychicke]

It's Just Business-- Part Two

Ya'll have seen that gifset of this man's smile, right?

Addicting.

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen so far

Pairing: Sanji/Reader

Warnings: No real warnings, but god, I hope you like pining

Summary: You felt like you had known Sanji forever, considering your family had been the main merchants Zeff used to supply the Baratie. You had a small crush on him, but knew it was hopeless considering you were the one woman he didn't seem to pine over. 

It was fine. Or so you thought until you ended up on the Going Merry as a bookkeeper and supply manager. Being around him 24/7 was a lot more difficult than just a few days a week.  

(Please note 》°《 denotes a scene in the past while -*- will be a regular scene break. Because yeah, I like my non-linear story telling.)

Masterpost | Ao3

Voyage 

You had been raised on a ship. Solid land was unnatural to you compared to a swaying wooden deck. And you were well aware Sanji was the same, except one crucial thing: the Baratie was free-floating for the most part. Sailing and navigating had not been a large part of the chef's education. 

And looking at Luffy, Zoro, and Usopp, you had your doubts it had been theirs. None of them struck you as experienced sailors. "Do any of you know how to sail?" You bluntly asked as you watched them prepped their ship to leave the Baratie after Nami. 

You definitely hadn't followed Sanji down to the docks, your stomach in knots because he was leaving the Baratie. And joining the upstart pirate crew that had both fought the legendary Mihawk and the infamous Arlong. It didn't bother you. You weren't worried at all. 

It was bullshit and you were fuming underneath all the fear you couldn’t shake. There were too many emotions that it was far easier to just bottle them up and focus on the problem at hand.

As you suspected - and feared - none of the men looked completely confident as they shrugged their shoulders. "Kinda?" Was the general consensus between the three men you didn’t know, which is not what you wanted to hear. 

You looked at Sanji, who had already stepped onto the deck. But he was hardly helpful considering he simply shot you an impish smile as if he knew what you were thinking and was all for it. The look in his eyes was virtually daring you. 'Come on. You know you want to.'

Granted, you weren't even sure what you were doing. Or why. (You did, you just didn't want to admit to it.)

You groaned as you rubbed your forehead. Men. "Okay, follow up question. Do you even know where Arlong's base is?"

Luffy lightened up at that question, giving you a moment of hope. "I don't, but Binky does!"

Binky?

To your horror, the wanna-be pirate captain led you along with the others into the cabin where a black bag sat on a table. Before you could even question what was going on, Luffy pulled a decapitated head out of that bag. "Bendy knows where Arlong is, and will tell us as long as we get his body back!"

You had a moment of severely doubting Luffy’s sanity before the head moved. And spoke, glaring up at Luffy. "The name's Buggy. Not Bendy, not Blinky, Buggy."

The only reason you didn't fall over or bolt was Sanji's arms suddenly wrapping around you as soon as you screamed, pulling you close in an attempt to reassure you. 

"WHAT THE FUCK!" 

The clown's grin grew, amused by your reaction. "Hello to you too, gorgeous. You boys didn't waste any time replacing the redhead, did ya?"

"She's not replacing Nami," Luffy stated firmly, which was at odds with his smile. "But she's going to help us rescue her, right?" 

Rescue. Right. Because that is what comes jumping to your mind when you heard Nami apparently left with the towering fishman of her own volition, as well as a map to the Grand Line. Why was no one else freaking out over the living bodiless head?

"She's one of the best sailors I know," Sanji said, his grip tightening slightly around your waist. "And could punt your head off the deck like a ball if you insult her again." 

Oh. You felt a blush rising to your cheeks despite yourself. "And she is right here and able to talk for herself. Besides, I know where the Conomi Islands are, it's just that most avoid it like the plague since Arlong took over." Including yourself. Because you liked living.

Gods only know why. 

-*-

Which is how you ended up as the in-term navigator of the Going Merry, and seriously considering jumping overboard after just a day of sailing with the Strawhat pirates.

Luffy was both obnoxiously optimistic and bullheaded. It probably wouldn’t be too awfully bad if he wasn’t determined to find out what your dream was, and the fact he was absolutely certain you were now part of his crew. 

You never agreed to anything of the type. You just didn’t want the idiots - mainly your idiot - getting lost at sea. 

Zoro was decent on his own, except he was also being rather bullheaded for an idiot that was just on death's door days earlier. Either he was green with seasickness, or from the combination of blood loss and pushing himself too far. And then there was the fact that when he was around Sanji the two were constantly moments away from throwing punches. Well, kicks and swinging swords, to be more accurate.

Usually you would instantly be on Sanji’s side, but considering Sanji was currently smitten with Nami you were about ready to take one of his skillets and knock some sense into him as well. 

You knew he flirted with girls. Ever since you were both teenangers, he'd been a massive flirt with every female-presenting person that walked through the doors of the Baratie. Every week you heard the stories that were romanticized by Sanji, incriminating from the rest of the crew, with the truth probably somewhere in between.

But you had never seen it up close like this. Usually it was an hour or two at kost before he moved on to the next. 

Nami was beautiful; there was no denying that. You had met her briefly while you helped Zeff stitch Zoro up - being a merchant meant pirate attacks, which meant first aid was a necessity to survive - and you could get why he was infatuated. But god, it made you ill to hear Sanji be as determined as Luffy that she had done nothing wrong and was incapable of being a traitor. You weren't jealous. Not at all. Nope.

Then there was a talking head of Buggy that was thankfully usually handled by either Zoro or Sanji. And actually, Usopp was pretty decent other than either being a compulsive liar or just enjoying telling tall tales. Sailed the East Blue by himself? You called that bull within seconds of watching him trying to manage the sail. You'd be surprised if he had more than a week's worth of sailing experience.

-*-

You managed the helm, noting the direction of your trusty compass when a shadow fell over you. Your stomach twisted, hoping it wasn’t Luffy again asking how much longer. 

"Figured you could use a little afternoon snack," Sanji offered when you looked up, causing a moment of relief. There was no denying the warmth that filled your chest at seeing him, or to see an assortment of finger-foods --each more appetizing than the last-- on the small plate he offered.

"I shouldn't… I'm still pretty full from lunch." Yet they looked so good, and smelled even better. But god, you had eaten so much at lunch, far more than you usually did. One of the perks of having a chef aboard instead of deciding how much energy you wanted to expend on cooking. 

Sanji didn't seem convinced as he leaned closer so he could faux-whisper: "If you don't accept them, I'm pretty sure Luffy will inhale them before you get a second chance." 

Fair. The boy had an appetite more legendary and unbelievable than his gum-gum fruit abilities. He was thin as a rail, but you had seen him eat more than his own weight already.  

As if sensing your waivering judgment, Sanji picked up one of the treats and held it to your lips. You hope you didn't look as red as you felt as you hesitantly opened your mouth to accept. Especially when you glanced up at his eyes while you did so. It did nothing well for you seeing that pleasant faint smile on his face as he fed you, his fingers brushing your lips slowly and softly. 

"I'm glad you're with us," He confessed as he pulled his fingers away. "I'd hate to have to rely on a clown for directions." 

You smiled despite a full mouth, taking your time to enjoy your treat - and maybe enjoying watching him relax against the nearby rail, indulging in one of the finger-foods himself. Seeing him relaxed and set against the open sea, wind teasing his blonde hair was quite the sight if you were to be honest.

"Well, that's what friends do," you offered once.you were finished. "Back each other up even if the other is being incredibly stupid." 

His eyes narrowed though his expression was playful. Which did not help your heart fluttering any. 

Oh yes, this was a very stupid idea. On both parts. 

You were not going to join once they got their navigator back. No way. You couldn’t stand being around him day in and day out. 

》°《

You frowned as you saw Sanji leaning against the railing overlooking the main floor of the Baratie, the young teen looking like a love struck idiot. You adjusted the plastic tote of used dishes and silverware in your hip as you approached, looking over the railing.

A group of girls - probably a few years older than you - sitting at one of the center tables. Dressed in beautiful gowns, hair sleek and shiny, and all laughing as they talked amongst themselves. 

It had been the running theme since your parents left you in the care of Zeff while they sailed to Logue town for some convention - apparently not trusting you enough to take you to one of the largest cities of the East Blue. 

You weren't bitter. Not at all.

"You'll just make a fool of yourself," You sighed as you returned to clearing the empty table from the lunch rush, well aware of Sanji's eyes glaring holes into your back. 

"What do you mean by that?" He shot back as he followed you, setting out new dishes and silverware from his own tote. 

"I mean exactly that. If you go down there and even try to talk to them, you'd end up making a fool of yourself. They'll be laughing their heads off." 

"They would not," He defended hotly. "And I would not make a fool of myself. I'd be absolutely charming." 

You laughed at that. Stuck between a kid and a teen, Sanji was anything but charming in your eyes. He had reached a growth spurt, losing some of the baby weight from when you had met him, but now looked like a bean pole with gangly limbs. "Sure, Sanji. Be honest, you haven't even kissed a girl before. How are you going to sweep them off their feet if you have no idea what you're doing?" 

It was fun to watch him turn bright cherry red as he spluttered. "You haven't exactly kissed anyone either, I bet!"

You could feel your own cheeks brighten as you huffed. "That's besides the point! You're the one doing the fawning, not me." 

There was a lull of silence as you worked until the rest of the tables were cleaned and ready for the dinner rush. "You know," Sanji said as you both surveyed your work. "There's an easy solution to our problem." 

You frowned as you looked up at him. "Our problem? I wasn't aware we had a problem." 

There was a pink tinge to his cheeks as he avoided your gaze, itching his neck nervously. "The fact we've never kissed anyone." 

Oh. 

You blushed as you looked away. "I think that's more of a you problem, more than anything." Still, your stomach twisted with butterflies at just the mere thought.  Surely he wasn't implying what your mind was jumping to. 

"I'm just saying if we kissed each other, then that's one less thing to worry about." 

Nope, he was. 

Up until this point, that was something that you had never worried about. Yet here you were, questioning if that was something a girl your age should be worrying about. You hadn't been around a lot of other people in your age group, except Sanji really. 

Did those girls down there already have their first kiss? Were they talking about their boyfriends or girlfriends or whatever? 

You screwed your eyes shut, annoyed at the sudden onslaught of questions your own mind was coming up with. 

"Fuck it," You swore - your parents were going to regret letting you live on the Baratie for a few months because of your new colorful language. 

You sharply turned towards Sanji, grabbing his tie and tugging him closer to press a kiss to his mouth

 Well, you were aiming for his mouth, but being as flustered as you were, it was equal parts his lips and cheek. But it still counted, right? 

"There, happy?" You bit out despite the burn in your cheeks as Sanji stared at you. It didn't help that he looked as startled as you had ever seen him.

"Y-you…"  He stammered for a moment before his brain finally started to work, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "You call that a kiss?"

"My lips touched yours!" You defended huffily. "So yes, I do."

“That was not a kiss,” He argued. “At least, not one that counts.”

“Oh? And who made you the kissing expert?”

As if you weren’t feeling flustered enough, Sanji stepped closer as he cupped your cheek, pinning you with those light blue eyes of his. You couldn’t move as he leaned in, gently pressing his lips to yours. And, okay, it wasn’t bad, but you still didn’t quite see the appeal of it as he pulled away. Granted, the way your heart was pounding painfully in your chest didn’t help matters much.

“That’s a kiss,” He murmured after a moment.  

Your anger rose to protect your honor as you took a step back, “Same thing as what I did. Just slow, like yourself.” 

The soft expression on his face changed as he crossed his arms, “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, “I mean, it was nothing special.” Honestly, him touching you had made your heart quicken more than the actual kiss itself. It was nothing like the earth-shattering experience your books made it out to be.

“Let me try again,” He insisted, causing you to scoff. 

“No,” You stated, already turning away. “You got two kisses, that’s more than enough.” 

Sanji whined your name as he followed you back towards the kitchens. “C’mon. You’re practically saying I’m a bad kisser!” 

You smirked to yourself as you shot a look over your shoulder. “Well, I mean….” 

The stricken look on your face made you laugh. “I’m kidding, Sanji. It wasn’t bad. I just don’t see the appeal. You’re a playboy, so of course you’d like it. I’m just different from you.” “I’m not a playboy,” He huffed. “Finding women beautiful does not make me one of those. Once I find the one, that’s it. I just… have to find her, is all.”

#one piece #one piece live action #sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji

[slutforsnow]

New Beginning

(Part 1)

Tw/CW: Guns, talk of whoring, Violets SA trauma

Summary: Violet and Billy starting their new lives as outlaws

A/N: I've had a pretty bad headache lately so I'm splicing this chapter in half & bc i wanna work on my other drafts🫡

Violet stretched as her horse and Billy's trotted by the river of the Arizona territory. She was tired, hungry, and in need of a bath but she didn't complain. She knew what she was getting into when Billy agreed to try and rob the Chinese Laundry place back in Silver City. The question was if she would accept it, and she did without complaint. There was no room for outlaws who complained about the life they chose.

"Hey, Billy," She called, grabbing his attention from his thoughts to her. "You ever reckon why other women whore their bodies to other men?"

Billy blinked, scowling in confusion.

"No.... why?" He asked slowly while raising a brow at her. As the days went on, just ridin' away from their home, more Violet's than his, Billy was getting used to the random questions from Vi. The questions he never thought of until Violet would ask it. He didn't mind it, though, as he learned she was a very closed off person growing up.

Hidden away from everything else, raised to be a housewife and nothing more, Violet only started to explore the outside when she was 15. She had met Antrim while he was on a so-called "business trip," and he began to seduce her. Convince her that he was the one for her. Hearing how easily Henry had fooled Violet made Billy's blood boil.

Violet was a good person, and Henry tried to trap her into a marriage when he was married already with a child of his own.

The thought alone of Violet being forced to carry a child she didn't want pissed Billy off. He wanted to find Henry and shoot him between the eyes. He didn't deserve life.

"Billy? D'you hear me?" She asked him, bringing her horse, North, to a stop.

Billy stopped his horse as well and realized he hadn't heard her at all. "No, sorry, what'd you say?"

"I said the reason I think they do is 'cause men typically won't take 'em seriously. 'Specially if they have a real pretty face," She told him with a gentle shrug. "Unless they prove themselves worthy of workin' hard, a lot of men won't take 'em seriously and pay 'em less-hell, maybe even pay 'em nothin', so they'd choose to be a whore instead because that pays more if you're a good and experienced fuck."

Billy nodded in agreement with her explanation. It was no secret that women were paid less, almost nothin', compared to men unless they were a good fuck and real good one.

"Seems reasonable 'nough. You've given this a lot of thought though, Vi," He replied, a tad curious. "May I ask why?"

Violet blushed a little, looking at her hands embarrassedly.

"I, uh... considered goin' down that path after what happened when i turned seventeen" She admitted, looking back at Billy, whose curious expression grew to horror and anger.

"Vi-" He began, before Violet held her hand up, quieting him.

"Calm down, cowboy, I ain't thought about that no more. Trust me, the next time anythin' intimate like that is happenin' if and when I get married," She reassured, letting North continue down the path with Billy in tow.

"Good. I don't want you to ever have to do that; some of those men ain't the most polite," He replied, letting his body relax after she assured him that she wouldn't go down that path. She had blushed at his words, tucking some of her curly locks behind her ear. Billy had a way with words that made Violet's heart flip and twist in so many ways that made her feel as if she was spin dancing.

They sat in a comfortable silence as their horses continued onward, having small talk happening to avoid losing each other or going to far from the other, when they both suddenly stopped.

"You hear that?" Billy questioned, glancing over at her as he slowly reached for his gun.

"Yeah. Think it's a critter?" She answered, going to grab her makeshift dagger from her belt when they both stopped, hearing someone shut the safety off their rifle.

They slowly looked towards the newcomer. Violet's eyes softened seeing him, the older man (who looked maybe 40 or 50 years old) and was relieved it wasn't some guy like Antrim or a small critter. She wasn't fond of killing animals for food and understood it was a necessity to live, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Violet's eyes switched between Billy and the mysterious man as they exchanged words. More focusing on the rifle that was still pointed towards Billy.

"And you? What are you doin' with him?" The man inquired, pointing his rifle to Violet. She took a deep breath, putting her dagger away slowly.

"He's my friend. I helped him get away and outta jail. I'm stayin' with him to keep his ass in check," Violet explained calmly, taking her hat off to the older man, showing him respect. The older man looked at both of them before lowering his gun slowly, believing them.

"You two hungry?"

Violet sat next to Billy as he watched the chicken cooked over the fire, spinning her hat on her finger as the three of them sat in silence; well, Violet wasn't really sitting. She was leaning back against Billy, whom was sitting a log. She occasionally glanced back at the horses, smiling softly and seeing North chilling with Billy's horse. She hadn't been sure if North would get along with the horse she had stolen for Billy but was happy to see that he was just chilling.

"You two got names?" The older man asked as he rotated the chicken.

"Sure do; I'm Billy the Kid," He introduced, refusing to use the name Antrim. Violet quirked up a smile towards Billy, a mutual understanding passing between them to never speak of or use the last name.

"And I'm Violet Evans," She finished, setting her hat on the ground next to her and sitting up properly as the old man offered them each a piece of chicken, which they took gratefully and ate.

"I'm Alias," the older man said in response, earning a puzzled look from both of them. Neither of them questioned it, but were a little bit concerned.

"So what's your plan now that you're living the life of outlaws?"

The duo looked at each other, realizing they never discussed what they would do now.

"Well, shit."

Tags: @etfrin @hearts4court @snows-wife @delusionalbunni @kiraflowersworld @victory-scream0462 @curled-hair-red-lips @morallygrayboys @phoward89 @xoxo-eyeballs @thereeallink @graciouslyc @acidaciruela @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast @firstworldproblemthings @nowitsmissing

#billy the kid x reader #billy the kid #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x you #billy the kid icons #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid gif #billy mccarty #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x reader fluff #billy the kid x oc fluff #billy the kid x oc angst #billy the kid x oc smut #billy the kid x oc slowburn #billy the kid x black!reader #billy the kid x oc eventual smut #billy the kid x oc #billy the kid x violet evans #violet evans #villy #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #coryo snow #coryo smut #tom blyth x reader #coryo #coryo x reader #coryolanus snow

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Capitol Punishment XIV

Haymitch x Reader ~ Completed

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape, alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage, torture, sexual torture, medical stuff

Word Count: 2.6K

Part XIII | Masterlist

A/N I’m radically changing the ending because I hate the ending of Mockingjay

You didn’t watch most of it, too terrified to see your friends be maimed by whatever fucked up creations the game makers could come up with. Plutarch told you, Haymitch, Beetee, and Johanna horror stories of all the planned mutts they had sitting in archives that would likely be brought out for this.

Those four days were some of the worst you had experienced. The only words that released the tense hold of worry on your mind came from Coin. “We’ve taken the Capitol,” she announced to the remaining victors in 13. “Katniss, Peeta, and Finnick are all okay,” she mentioned with a kind yet forced smile.

But you didn’t care to read into that. Your friends were okay.

~

The next day you were entering the president’s mansion again. The first time in two years when Haymitch the was brought here and nearly executed for punching a Capitol man. Remembering the circumstances of being here last time Haymitch pulled you a little bit closer.

As you entered a grand meeting hall you were greeted by Coin and Enobaria. Beetee immediately got defensive. “What is she doing here?” he asked, remembering the knife in the back he had received from one of her district partners.

“Enobaria here is the last victor alive apart from the ones that made it to 13. The rest were killed shortly after 12 was bombed,” Coin explained calmly as if she weren’t explaining a massacre.

“I was the only one left in the arena that wasn’t a part of your alliance. They knew I wasn’t a part of the rebellion so they let me live if I did propo,” Enobaria explained with a shrug.

The doors then opened, revealing Finnick and Peeta. Annie immediately went to her new husband, embracing him. Peeta, now de-muttified, came to you and Haymitch. You hugged him first. “Thank god,” you whispered, having feared for his life and mental state.

“I’m okay,” he assured you, pulling away gently. He then faced Haymitch, his mentor bringing him into a quick hug.

“Where’s Katniss?” you asked as Johanna and Beetee approached to greet Peeta.

“Talking with Snow in the greenhouse. He had something to say to her I guess,” Peeta explained.

Nodding at his explanation you turned to Finnick. He was already two steps away from you, pulling you into a hug. “I guess you win shittiest honeymoon of all time,” you joked.

“Yeah, we do,” Finnick laughed, pulling away to greet the others.

The door then swung open, bringing everyone’s attention to Katniss. You were first in line to greet her with a hug.

“You did it,” you muttered against her shoulder. You felt her wrap her arms tightly around you, enjoying your comfort.

“Snow wants to see you,” she said.

You were a little taken aback but nodded anyways. You looked over your shoulder at Haymitch who looked hesitant. “I’ll be okay,” you assured before exiting, headed for the garden.

An armed guard followed you wordlessly, never averting his gaze towards you, only staring straight ahead. Shrugging it off you continued on until you reached the greenhouse, another two guards allowing you to enter.

You were immediately met with warmth and a very strong scent from the thousands of white roses that grew around you. “Ms. L/N, I’m glad you came,” Snow smiled.

“It’s the least I can do to honor a dead man’s final wish,” you returned his smile.

“Ah yes,” he chuckled. “And I’m sure Katniss will be the one to do it. Tell me, does that bother you that she’s the one to do it? After all I put you, Haymitch, Peeta, Johanna, and Finnick through much worse. Don’t one of you deserve to do it more?”

You practically spat a laugh out. “You really are desperate aren’t you? You’re not going to turn us against Katniss. Her executing you as The Mockingjay is bigger than our grievances with you.”

“Still, I bet you’d like to put a knife in my throat after everything you’ve endured.”

“The knowledge that you’ve been brought down to your knees by the people you considered to be less than the dirt on your boot is enough for me. And you’ll be executed by the girl I trained for the games, the very same girl who started all of this,” you sneered. “You know you could still be in power. You could’ve just stopped the games, said the districts paid their penance and been done with it. Or at the very least let the victors live in peace, treat them well. But no, you just had to have a group to be a scapegoat for all of the Capitol’s and Panem’s problems in order to harbor as much power as possible.”

“Do you really think Coin will be different?”

“I’m not interested in the politics. If she fucks up like you did, well the country’s so bloodthirsty right now I’m sure she’ll be gone within an hour of he decision. Goodbye Coriolanus.” And with that you existed, leaving in his prison of roses.

As you approached the meeting hall again you saw Katniss and Gale walking in the same direction as you. “Do you know what this is about?” she asked you.

“What what is about? I just left Snow’s greenhouse.”

“Coin has asked all the victors to meet,” Gale explained.

Shrugging, you followed them into the meeting hall, being greeted with all the victors plus Coin sitting around a table, two spots left for you and Katniss. You took your seat next to Haymitch and Coin began.

“I have invited you all here for several reasons, but first, I have an announcement. I have taken the burden and the honor of declaring myself interim president of Panem.”

“Interim?” Haymitch interrupted with a scoff. “Exactly how long is that interim?”

“We have no way of knowing for certain. But it's clear that people are far too emotional right now to make a rational decision. We'll plan an election when the time is right.”

Haymitch sent an astonished look towards you, as if saying, ‘Can you believe this?’

“But I have called you here for a far more important vote. A symbolic vote,” Coin continued. “This afternoon, we will execute Snow.” Everyone’s gaze slipped towards Katniss, including yours. “Hundreds of his accomplices also await their deaths. Capitol officials, peacekeepers, torturers, game makers. But the danger is, once we begin, the rebels will not stop calling for retribution. Thirst for blood is a difficult urge to satisfy. So I offer an alternative plan. Majority of five may approve it. No one may abstain. The proposal is this:” A pregnant pause mad everyone hold their breaths, “in lieu of these barbaric executions, we hold a symbolic hunger games.”

Everyone was taken aback, Haymitch even having his mouth wide open. Well everyone except for Johanna who was laughing. “You wanna have another Hunger Games with the Capitol’s children?”

“You’re joking?” Peeta calmly asked, a touch of outrage in his voice.

“Not in the slightest,” Coin answered.

“Is this Plutarch’s idea?” Haymitch asked.

“It was mine. it balances the need for revenge with the least loss of human life. You may vote,” she declared, settling back against her seat a little.

“No,” Peeta said immediately. “No, obviously not this is crazy.”

“I think it’s more than fair,” Johanna jumped in eagerly. “Snow’s got a granddaughter. I say yes.”

“So do I,” Enobaria agreed. “Let them have a taste of it.”

“You guys, this way of thinking is what started these uprisings,” Peeta protested.

“I vote no, with Peeta,” Annie chimed in.

Next to her Finnick was staring at the table, uncomfortably. “I vote yes,” he said softly. “They’ve taken so much from the districts. They should know what they did to us.”

“No,” Beetee answered. “We need to stop viewing each other as enemies.”

Everyone was looking at you now. You weren’t sure. On one hand these were innocent children who did nothing wrong and who had happened to be born into the Capitol. But you also wanted their parents who were so complicit, and even perpetuated, your torture to feel your and the the districts’ pain. You turned to your husband, completely unsure what to say. He gave you a nod, his expression telling you to vote however you feel. “No,” you answered. “Those children are innocent, the same way we were. They don’t deserve to pay for their parents’ sins.”

“It’s down to Katniss and Haymitch.”

Katniss sat there for a minute, an unreadable expression on her face. “I get to kill Snow,” she declared.

“I expected no less of you,” Coin agreed.

“Then I vote yes,” she answered, shocking almost everyone. “For Prim,’ she explained.

“Haymitch?”

He and Katniss shared a look before he turned his gaze to you. His expression read something along the lines of ‘trust me.’ “I’m with the Mockingjay.”

“That carries the vote,” Coin said. “Excellent. We’ll announce the games tonight after the execution.”

You were all then dismissed, everyone leaving without a word. Unsure of where to go you just followed Haymitch into what you presumed was your bedroom for as long as you were in the Capitol. “What the hell is going on?” you asked as soon as the door was closed.

Haymitch breathed deeply before answering. “Coin isn’t trustworthy. She’ll become just like Snow.”

“So why’d you let her have her games?” you asked. “The Capitol will be rising up against us in a couple years.”

“I needed to back up Katniss so she knows I’m with her. Coin is already distrustful of Katniss, that wasn’t a vote to see if we wanted another games, that was a loyalty test.” Suddenly all the pieces fell together. “Right now Coin thinks her biggest threat to her power is Katniss. The best thing she can do right now is to play her part as Coin’s Mockingjay.”

“So what does that mean for those of us who voted no?” you asked, afraid of Coin’s ambition.

“Don’t worry, she’ll feel safe as long as she has Katniss’ loyalty. And even if she tried anything, I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you again.” He paused, struggling with the next words. “I couldn’t protect you from Snow, and for that I’m sorry. But I can protect you from Coin and I promise nothing will happen.” He sealed his covenant by pressing his lips to yours which you melted into.

When you both pulled away you rested your hand on his jaw. “Don’t do anything to get yourself hurt.”

~

Later that afternoon you and the other victors were marched out onto the Avenue of the Tributes, where you had been paraded around 8 years ago as well as just over a month ago.

Snow was strapped to a whipping pole in the center of the ring at the end of the avenue. Above you in the stands were both district citizens and Capitol citizens who were being forced to watch. Stood along the avenue, waiting for Katniss were the surviving rebels who had fought in the Capitol and the Districts. On the balcony overseeing everything were the other leaders of the rebellion, including Plutarch and Paylor. The eight victors were divided on the ground, they would be flanking Katniss as she fired her shot at Snow. Peeta, you, Haymitch, and Johanna all stood to one side, facing Snow. On the other side were Enobaria, Finnick, Annie, and Beetee.

As the drums began you could see Coin above you, walking onto the platform with her arms open, reveling in her victory. Down the Avenue was Katniss dressed in battle gear, the rebels following her as she passed.

Haymitch took your hand, squeezing it as Snow took a second to meet every victors’ gaze. You stared back coldly, fulfilling your promise to him that this was enough for you.

You all gave Katniss nods as she finally reached her spot, a silent promise that you’d follow her no matter what. You watched as Snow and Katniss met each others’ gazes, a silent understanding of hatred between the two.

“Welcome to the new Panem,” Coin announced, her voice echoing over the ave making you shiver. “Today, on the Avenue of the tributes, all of Panem, a free Panem, will watch more than a mere spectacle. We are gathered to witness an historic moment of justice. Today, the greatest friend to the revolution will fire the shot to end all wars. May her arrow signify the end of tyranny and the beginning of a new era. Mockingjay, may your aim be as true as your heart is pure.” With those words she opened up her arms, as if embracing the moment.

Katniss wordlessly and flawlessly pulled an arrow from her quiver, notched it and took aim. The entire stadium held their breaths as she paused before suddenly aiming up, firing the arrow into Coin.

You heard yourself audibly gasp as Coin fell from her platform with an arrow sticking out of her heart. The crowd was clamoring in shock, you began to look around worriedly. ‘What the hell did Katniss just do?’

You could hear Snow laughing as Haymitch began tugging you away from the crowd that was now rushing at Snow, determined to finally kill him.

You could see some guards dragging Katniss away, the rest pulling the other victors towards you and Haymitch who was leading you into another room. The room was immediately filled with the sound of a million questions, trying to figure out what was going on and what would happen next.

The sound was only ended by Plutarch entering, letter in hand. “What is going on?” Finnick asked.

He took a breath, holding up his hand in a pause. “With Coin and Snow both dead the district leaders and I have agreed to hold a free election. Katniss will be sent away for now and will be pardoned once everything has calmed down. For now I need you,” he looked at Haymitch, “to give her this letter for me.”

“What about us? Where do we go?” Johanna asked.

Plutarch shrugged. “Your job in the rebellion is done. It’s time to form a government now. You’re welcome to stay in the Capitol now or return home.”

“What even is home anymore?” you asked, remembering what Katniss told you about 12.

Haymitch wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side with a kiss to the top of your head. For the first time since you met him, he didn’t have an answer for you.

“I’m sorry,” was all Plutarch said before exiting.

“So what now?”

~

7 Years Later

You sat on a bench, facing out into the harbor of District 4, Haymitch by your side with his arm around you. Peeta and Katniss were sat together on the other side of the bench, cooing at their new baby as their older son played on the beach with Finnick and Annie’s son. The couple inside preparing drinks for you and the other victors. Johanna and Enobaria sat at the table together, discussing the furniture that would go in their now shared home. Across and to the side of you was Beetee with his two year old daughter in his lap, playing with a small metal logic game as she tried to figure out the puzzle.

You smiled in content, enjoying the future you fought for. You had fought for this in the arena for the first time 15 years ago and you had fought for it again during the rebellion. You felt a finger reach under your chin, pulling your gaze towards your husband. “I love you,” he whispered against your lips before pressing his lips to yours.

A/N And that’s the end of Capitol Punishment. Thank you so much for everyone who read and supported this, I had absolutely no clue so many of you would love this so much

Part XIII | Masterlist

#haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #Haymitch #haymitch x reader #THG #The Hunger Games #the hunger games x reader

[ratsoh-writes]

Hey y’all! Say hello to flavortale!

These monsters are a relatively simple au! Like the dance and theatre monsters, after being trapped underground, they experienced an artistic revolution to cope. For this au, they discovered the joy of putting their art into food!

Now how did they do this when every other underground au struggled with food shortages? The answer is the barrier, or how the mages in the Great War made a very big mistake. They did in fact trap the monsters under the barrier, but they failed to put a limit on the barriers shape and size. After the entrapment, the monster kingdom quickly discovered this and just simply increased the barrier any time they needed space. They even broke the rocks above, claiming sections of land on the surface. No one could get in, or out, but no one could also stop the barriers movement from the outside even if they wanted to. The humans abandoned that area and left the monsters to themselves

With the ability to expand a certain amount every year, the royals biggest concern was making their people self sufficient as they could no longer rely on or even receive imports. Most expansions were made for farmland above whole underground, monsters made their homes. Over time they grew bored though with the same palate of food each day, and they began experimenting new ways to cook, leading to a culinary revolution!

Now here are the girls:

Taffy (flavortale sans):

Taffy is a freckled skeleton monster aged 60 with dual colored magic. She is mostly mint green with patches of peachy ecto scattered around her body. It’s best seen in her freckles, which show the different colors. She stands 5 feet tall. She has a pleasantly plump and curvy ecto.

Taffy is a motherly kind monster who seems to adopt anyone who enjoys her foods. She’s a both a scientist and artist dedicated to the art of creating new flavors and textures with sugar! Shes incredibly creative! She’s affectionate and enjoys the company of her loved ones, but can be a bit overbearing when it comes to wanting to baby them. It’s quite funny given how most of said friends are much larger than her, but she finds a way.

Taffy owns a prestigious candy shop in inner ebott with her sister and best friends. They’re a four monster team determined to amaze everyone’s minds with how delicious their sugary treats are! She’s also leased out some of her more popular recipies and treats to be mass produced and sold in mellowmarts around ebott.

Taffy despite not knowing how to conjure a weapon before the crash, did go back and learn in adult classes. Her magic weapon is a massive battle axe nearly double her height. She named it sugarcane

Taffy’s special ability is stretch. As long as the object is hand sized or smaller, no matter the material, if she concentrates she can stretch and mold that material to her desired shape

Things she loves: candy of course! But her favorites are chocolate truffles with a flavored cream on the inside, bubbly grape soda, very brutal gory horror movies, stuffed animal bunnies, dance pop, leg warmers, frilly aprons, little kids, stickers, fancy wrapping paper, fairy roses, light up shoes, novelty candies, the color black

Pudding (flavortale papyrus)

Pudding is a freckled skeleton monster aged 39. She has a peachy pink magic and stands at 6 feet tall even. Her ecto is curvy in all the right places making her look very soft and cuddly. She’s a beautiful monster.

Pudding is a total babe. A very spunky kind and goofy skeleton who loves a bit of soft teasing and jokes. She’s one of the only papyrus’s who enjoys puns. She looks up a lot to taffy and is determined to live up to her sisters reputation although she has no talent for cooking. She’s a flirt, but panics when they flirt back. She’s very easily flustered. All bark no bite

Pudding works at her sisters candy shop as a cashier, stocker and taste tester. She has zero talent for cooking but an amazing taste palate so she’s trusted to confirm if the new candies are any good. Pudding wants to become a professional food critic someday but needs to build up a reputation first in the culinary field.

Pudding, eager to follow her sister, also took adult classes to learn to form a magic weapon. Her weapon is a simple spear with a cute star shaped blade at the end. It has a crystalline look resembling many of the crystals in her collection

Puddings special ability is being able to melt. Literally. When flustered, her bones go soft making her squishy to the touch. She can do it on command too to fit into tight spaces, but the effect is very temporary making that dangerous

Things she loves: the color green, rock candies, cute crystal carvings, dance dance revolution and just dance games, cheesy pick up lines, orange sodas, cute headbands and bandanas, kpop and pop music, tulips, Mary Jane shoes.

And side characters!

Cookie: (flavortale alphys), cookie is an adorable orange lizfolk monster with dark brown magic and large eyes. She’s the best friend of taffy and co-owns the shop with her and her mate bonbon. They had gone to school together, invented many of their recipes together and even lived together for several years until she and bonbon got married. Now the besties are neighbors on the same street. Cookie is a shy but sweet monster with a love for chemistry and sugar. She is the big inventor along with taffy in their business

Bonbon: (flavortale undyne), the best friend of taffy and mate of cookie, bonbon is the third co owner of the candy shop. She’s a strong muscular river monster with tan scales and cute cream eyes and hair. The three things bonbon loves most in the world is her mate, chocolate and her friends of course. She has a head for numbers, handling the budget of the little candy shop, and doing her body building exercises in her free time. She’s a cheerful and bubbly monster.

Cheesecake: (flavortale Asgore). The youngest royal at only 300 years old, and a tad embarrassed by the nickname the press gave him when his adoration of cheesecake was discovered. Cheesecake is the newly appointed representative of the flavor monsters. His father, Mordac, had retired as soon as ebott was organized, and cheesecake was voted in over two other candidates. He handles food regulation issues mostly, as well as overviewing the methods of quality testing for ebott produce.

Meringue: (flavortale toriel), the aunt of cheesecake and appointed as the second representative long before mordac, her brother, retired. By seniority, meringue is now the first representative of the flavor monsters and works with sanitation standards of businesses. She’s a jolly playful royal and loves teasing her nephew.

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #worldbuilding #ratsohart #flavortale

[ashyybashy]

irreplaceable by @ashyybashy

Irreplaceable: part one

paring: five hargreaves x reader

warning: cursing, drugs, alcohol, overdoses, violence, death, knives, blood, blood pact, and five and reader are aged up to 19.

prologue

You step out of your taxi and stare up at the horrid building you thought you’d never come across again. A growing pit in your stomach as you thought of the horrors that your favorite unstable family had experienced.

Your father. You loved him more than anything. He was all you had. Your mother had passed from child birth and your father gave you the world. He was more than you could ever ask for.

You take a step inside the building with a small sigh and look around to see if anything had changed. Nope, still the same. You knew that Reginald was no stickler for change.

Every single thing reminds you of Five. Everything. You never stopped thinking of him. Never fell out of love- I mean who could? He was perfect. Not only was he your- what was he? I mean you two never made anything official, but you sure did do things that people did when they date. You knew he loved you and he was your best friend. A piece of your heart died that way. And no one can fix it.

You were on your way to Five’s room, because you know…fuck it. You were never gonna move on so why did it matter? On your way you came across Alison and Vanya. Once they noticed you, you gave a small smile and wave. “Y/N? Oh god-“ Alison gaped and pulled you into a warm hug. “It’s been forever- you grew up so beautiful-“ Vanya cut her off. “It’s truly great to see you…but, why didn’t you ever come back?” She said quietly yet you knew that she was upset. You don’t blame her. You left her there alone with that terrible man. “I’m sorry Vanya. I thought it could help…” Vanya let out a small breath and walked away. “We missed you.” Alison reassured you before walking off.

Your hands grasp the door hands and slowly turn it and push the door open. Your stomach churned and you closed your eyes before walking in and shutting the door behind you. You sat down on the edge of his bed and looked around. God, so many memories here. Good and bad you cherished them all. If he wasn’t dead…did he still think of you? Did everything remind him of you? Did he still care? Multiple thoughts were running through your head. Maybe you can take a small nap to clear your head. You lay down on his bed, holding one of his pillows to your chest and burring your face in it as your eyes got heavy.

The room and bed began to shake and that made you jolt off the bed and to the window. You saw everyone out there and immediately rushed as fast as you could down there and outside. Once you did you rushed toward them. “Anyone else see a little number five- Y/N!” You heard klaus, but your eyes were locked on the boy in front of you. Your throat closed, mind hazy, and your eyes got droopy as your body weight had fallen back onto the nearest person. That happened too be Deigo.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized you were in the infirmary. You slowly sat up and rubbed your eyes before zoning out on a random spot on the wall for a minute before getting up. You looked down and saw it. Your clothes were much bigger than before. You looked in the nearest mirror and let out the loudest blood curdling scream ever. You were 19 again.

The whole fam rushed in the room- including five. You knew exactly what happened. “Honey- it’s okay!” Alison tried to calm you down. “Honey?! I’m not a kid! I’m 31!” You freaked out and your hands flew to your face before your eyes spotted Five and widened. He muttered something inaudible with the same look as you. It didn’t take long for you to spin around but he caught your arm just in time. “Y/N.” He struggles to keep you still so he spatial jumped to his room.

He shut the door and locked it. You backed up into the foot of his bed. You narrowed your eyes at the familiar figure. You both stared at each other. I mean what do you do when your ex-situationship shows up after being missing for 17 years? You finally broke the silence with a stern,

“What the hell.” You utter as you watch him walk to his closet and open doors and sigh seeing the only options of clothing he had. “Long story.” He responds to your statement. You made a face as you sat at the chair by his desk. “I have time.” You stated clearly as you glanced at all the dusty old binders and tapped your fingers on the wood.

He grabbed the familiar outfit from his wardrobe and placed it on his bed with a deep breath as he loosened his tie. You raised your brows and turned your head away, “Where’s the warning?” you groaned at him. “Not like you haven’t seen it before.” You rolled your eyes at his response.

‘So Five of him to say’ You thought, you missed him. I mean you miss the old him. You have no clue who this Five is. He’d grown up, you don’t know him anymore.

After Five finished getting dressed he sat on her bed. “How come you look like you’re 18?” He asked with his brows furrowed in confusion as she grimaced looking down at her youth form. “Blood pact.” He made a face. Blood pact? “Remember?”

The sun shone down on the duo as they sat underneath the tree. Five held the book between them as they took turns reading each paragraph on the page. Your father had meeting with his, in which included you having to hang around the mansion. This was a usual thing that has happened for as long as you could remember so obviously you had gotten close with the academy. “Wanna do something fun?” You nudged Five where he raised a brow and nodded “What?” You reached in your pocket and pulled out a small pocket knife. He grimaced at the knife. “We should make a blood pact, that me and you will be best friends forever.” You smile widely at him. “You and I.” He corrected as she groaned and rolled her eyes. “Wanna do it or not?” “Sure.”

So that was why you looked 19. “Why do you still look 19?” You asked him, turning around to look at him directly. You watch as he took a deep breath and sighed. “Guess what I found when I jumped to the future….nothing.”

You had a growing pit in your stomach. It hurt that he hurt. You truly cared for him. He didn’t deserve that kind of pain and more trauma on his shoulders. You stood next to Vanya as the rain poured and the funeral began.

“Whenever you’re ready, dear boy.”

Pogo’s voice brought you out of your daze. You couldn’t stop glancing at him. You wished he’d just look at you. For as long as you’d known him you’d beg for him to love you. It’s a huge reason why you two were never official. God, Your at it again.

Luther turned the urn in which the ashes pathetically fell to a clumpy pile at his feet. “Probably would’ve been better with some wind.” Klaus stiffened as he felt Pogo’s glare. Pogo cleared his throat and spoke, “Would anyone wish to speak?” No one spoke. Therefore Pogo began to speak once more, “Very well. In all regards, Reginald Hargreaves made me the creature I am today. For that alone, I shall forever be in his debt. He was my friend, and my master, and I shall miss him very much. He was a…..a complicated man-“

Deigo’s voice cut him off and you just knew the funeral might as well be done with. You sighed and shot Vanya a tight lipped smile before walking back inside. You walked past Klaus and Five and you seriously couldn’t help but throw Five a glance. To much shock the second you did his eyes were already on yours.

This is gonna be a hell of a ride.

____________

i know that vanya is viktor but he’s not viktor just yet and i want his transformation to still be his transformation.

#five hargreeves #tua fandom #tua season three #x reader #request #five hargreaves x reader #mcyt headcanons #tua memes #youtube

[theculturedmarxist]

If you talk to an ordinary American, or, in my experience, if you talk to an average Israeli, for that matter, they don’t know anything about who the Palestinians are. They don’t know where they come from, they don’t know how they live, what they believe, and they don’t want to. Right? Because that just complicates things… – historian Sam Biagetti.

Last month, The New York Times conducted a series of interviews with a number of American Jewish families and the way they have been dealing with what the paper calls a “generational divide over Israel.”

The Times notes a trend that has been developing for a long time—younger American Jews becoming markedly more critical of, sometimes downright hostile to, Israel than their elders. The piece looks at “more than a dozen young people…[who] described feeling estranged from the version of Jewish identity they were raised with, which was often anchored in pro-Israel education.”

One such person is Louisa Kornblatt. She is the daughter of liberal Jewish parents, who grew up experiencing the cruelties of anti-Semitism in suburban New Jersey. Her grandmother “had fled Austria in 1938, just as the Nazis were taking over.” Partly as a result of this legacy, Louisa Kornblatt “shared her parents’ belief that the safety of Jewish people depended on a Jewish state” as a child.

However, her views began to shift once “she started attending a graduate program in social work at U.C. Berkeley in 2017.” As she recalls it, “classmates and friends challenged her thinking,” with some telling her that she was “on the wrong side of history.”

While in graduate school, “she read Audre Lorde, Mariame Kaba, Ruth Wilson Gilmore and other Black feminist thinkers,” who further made her re-think ingrained assumptions. Eventually, “Kornblatt came to feel that her emotional ties to Jewish statehood undermined her vision for ‘collective liberation.’”

“Over the last year, she became increasingly involved in pro-Palestine activism, including through Jewish Voice for Peace, an anti-Zionist activist group, and the If Not Now movement.” She now goes so far as to assert, “I don’t think the state of Israel should ever have been established,” because “It’s based on this idea of Jewish supremacy. And I’m not on board with that.”

Also interviewed are the parents of Jackson Schwartz, a senior at Columbia University whose education there has significantly altered his outlook on Israel:

“The parents of Mr. Schwartz…said they listen to him with open minds when he tells them about documentaries he has seen or things he has learned from professors like Rashid Khalidi, a prominent Palestinian intellectual who is a professor of modern Arab studies at Columbia. Dan Schwartz said his son helped him understand the Palestinian perspective on Israel’s founding, which was accompanied by a huge displacement of population that Palestinians call the Nakba, using the Arabic word for catastrophe.”

“It wasn’t until Jackson went to Columbia and took classes that I ever heard the word Nakba,” Dan Schwartz said.

These interviews are hugely instructive for two reasons. For one thing, they demonstrate very clearly why power centers are so critical of higher education, especially in the humanities: They are afraid young people might actually—horror of horrors—learn something, particularly something that challenges the status quo.

American culture overflows with accusations from parents that their kids went off to college only to be “indoctrinated.” But at least in these instances, the opposite is what happened—far from being brainwashed, the kids read books and learned history, and were forced to think hard about the implications. In other words, higher education did exactly what it is supposed to do—forced students to encounter and engage with perspectives and thinkers they otherwise never would have.

In reality, most parents (and certainly media outlets) who complain of indoctrination are actually worried about education—that is, that their children will develop more nuanced, critical and informed views of the world after engaging with unfamiliar viewpoints. Such aggrieved elders don’t see it this way, of course, largely because they themselves never shook off the propaganda of their youth. Indeed, they likely are not even capable of perceiving it as such. But that is what it is.

The interviews from the Times piece also demonstrate what Sam Biagetti refers to in the quote that sits atop this article: the phenomenon of older Americans who profess attachment to (and presumably knowledge of) Israel, displaying aggressive—no, fanatic—ignorance about basic Israeli/Middle East history.

That Mr. Schwartz had never heard of the Nakba until his son learned about it from Rashid Khalidi speaks volumes about the way young people in this country are “taught” about Israel, as well as how much their parents actually “know” about it. It is the equivalent of a German father professing fierce attachment to the German nation-state, but never hearing the word “Holocaust” until his child tells him about it after learning the history from a Jewish professor.

The new documentary Israelism explores this issue of younger Jewish people raised to reflexively identify with Israel and to view it as a “Jewish Disneyland,” but who changed their minds (and behavior) upon encountering the brutal realities of the Israeli occupation of the West Bank and Gaza.

It is a powerful film, one that takes a look at the too-often ignored indoctrination regarding Israel taking place in many Jewish day schools, the way younger people are starting to de-program themselves from it, and where they go from there.

Directed by first-time filmmakers Erin Axelman and Sam Eilertsen, Israelism largely follows two protagonists whose experiences mirror those of the filmmakers.

The first protagonist, Eitan (whose last name is never revealed), grew up in a conservative Jewish home in Atlanta. Typical of such an upbringing, he was steeped in pro-Israel PR.

He recounts that “Israel was a central part of everything we did in school.” His high school routinely sent delegations to AIPAC (the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, also known as the “Israel lobby”) conferences.

Outside of school, the PR continued. He describes going to Jewish summer camp, where each year the staff included a group of Israeli counselors, brought in “to connect American Jews to Israeli culture.”

This included having the children playing games designed to simulate being in the Israeli military, including the use of actual Israeli military commands.

The film intersperses interviews of its protagonists with interviews of prominent individuals who promote this Israeli PR.

For instance, Rabbi Bennett Miller, the then-National Chair of the Association of Reform Zionists of America, asks with a laugh, “does [my] average congregant understand that I’m teaching them to become Zionists? Probably not, but it is part of my madness, so to speak.”

Enamored with what he saw as the glory of military service, Eitan told his parents that he was going to join the Israeli military rather than go to college. He had always thought of Israel as “my country,” and learned from numerous childhood visits there that he “fit in” better in Israel than in the United States.

During basic training with the IDF, he was trained as a “heavy machine gunnist” [sic] with an emphasis on urban warfare. After seven months of this, he was deployed to the West Bank. His life in the IDF involved operating the various checkpoints which comprise the apartheid system, as well as patrolling Palestinian villages on foot in full gear with a bulletproof vests. He recounts that on such patrols, the mission of his unit was to make their presence felt, in order “to let them know that we were watching.”

His encounter with the occupation changed him forever. “Even though Israel was a central part of everything we did in school,” he recalls, “we never really discussed the Palestinians. It was presented to us that Israel was basically an empty wasteland when the Jews arrived. ‘There were some Arabs there,’ they said, but there was no organized people; they had really treated the land poorly. Yeah, there are Palestinians, [but] they just want to kill us all…” Furthermore, “It was always presented to us that the Arabs only know terrorism.”

His role as an occupier made him see things rather differently. He witnessed IDF soldiers needlessly abusing captives, who were blindfolded and handcuffed, thrown to the ground, kicked and beaten. He despairs that he “didn’t even speak up,” something he is visibly still struggling with. And, he says, “that’s just one of many stories that I have from my time in the West Bank. It took many years to really come to terms with my part in it. Only after I got out of the army did I begin to realize that the stuff that I did [from] day to day, just working in checkpoints, patrolling villages—that in itself was immoral.”

After great difficulty, Eitan has begun to publicly speak out about his experiences, though he notes that it took a long time, and that on his first attempt, he was not able to make it through without crying excessively. Since then, he has gotten better, and continues to pursue this necessary work.

Israelism’s second protagonist is Simone Zimmerman. Zimmerman’s grandfather settled in Israel; he and his immediate family were some of her only relatives to escape the Holocaust. Zimmerman herself was raised in a staunchly pro-Israel household, attending Hebrew school from kindergarten through high school. While in high school she lived in Israel for a period as part of an exchange program, which was just one of many visits.

These organized stays in Israel routinely involved her and her friends dressing up in Israeli army uniforms and pretending to be in the IDF. She participated in Jewish youth groups and summer camps which, like Eitan, immersed her in a steady diet of pro-Israel propaganda. Summing up her childhood experience, Zimmerman explains that “Israel was just treated like a core part of being a Jew. So, you did prayers, and you did Israel.”

Like Eitan, she was familiar with AIPAC: “AIPAC is just the thing that you do. Like, going to the AIPAC conference is just sort of seen as a community event.” Perhaps unsurprisingly, almost ten percent of her high school graduating class ended up joining the Israeli army, and many of her summer camp and youth group friends did as well. This is the power of effective propaganda instilled from a young age, Zimmerman observes. “The indoctrination is so severe, it’s almost hard to have a conversation about it. It’s heartbreaking.”

Israelism contains footage of this indoctrination in action inside Hebrew schools.

Scenes of teachers excitedly asking classes of young children, “do you want to go to Israel too?” and the children screaming back, “YEAH!!!” are reminiscent of the similarly nauseating kinds of religious indoctrination made famous in an earlier era by films like Jesus Camp.

Some of these scenes can be glimpsed in the trailer for the film. Older students are seen reading copies of Alan Dershowitz’s book The Case for Israel, which was famously exposed as a fraud by Norman Finkelstein years ago. Zimmerman herself gets to look at some of her old worksheets and art projects from her elementary school days, all of which in some way revolved around the Israeli state.

Other than enlisting in the IDF, Zimmerman had been told that the other major way to be “a good supporter of the Jewish people” was to become an “Israel advocate.” Choosing the latter path, Zimmerman became involved with Hillel, the largest Jewish campus organization in the world, when she began attending the University of California at Berkeley. Hillel, too, worked very hard to instill pro-Israel beliefs in her. She describes being trained in how to rebut “the ‘lies’ that other people [were] saying” about Israel.

The film explores the nature of Hillel’s work fostering pro-Israel activism at college campuses across the country. Tom Barkan, a former IDF soldier and “Israel fellow” at the University of Connecticut’s Hillel chapter, says, “name a university in America, we probably have a person there.” Barkan’s mission is to turn Jewish college students into either Israel advocates or military recruits. While he warns eager students that joining the IDF will not be easy, he wistfully tells them that it will be “the most meaningful experience that you ever go through.”

Former Jewish day school teacher Jacqui Schulefand works with Barkan in her role as Director of Engagement and Programs at UConn’s Hillel branch. Her love for the State of Israel is inseparable from her identity as a Jewish person, which she proudly explains. “Can you separate Israel and Judaism? I don’t know—I can’t. You know, some people I think can. To me, it’s the same. Yeah, you can’t separate it. Israel is Judaism and Judaism is Israel. And that is who I am, and that is my identity. And I think every single thing that I experienced along my life has melded into that, like there was never, you know, a divide for me.”

Schulefand describes joining the Israeli armed forces as “the greatest gift you can give,” and notes that “we actually have had quite a few of our former students join the IDF—amazing!” But her demeanor sours when she is asked about criticisms of the country. In a tone combining incomprehension with a hint of disgust, she laments that “somehow, ‘pro-Palestinian’ has become ‘pro-social justice.’”

It was this sort of pro-Israel advocacy network that organized Simone Zimmerman and other students to oppose what they perceived to be “anti-Semitic” activities such as student government legislation favoring the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) movement against Israeli occupation, and other measures critical of Israel.

To prepare for such confrontations, she was handed talking points that told her what to say—accuse critics of being anti-Semitic, of having a double standard, of making Jewish students feel unsafe, etc. Describing her feelings about BDS and the Palestinian cause at the time, Zimmerman says that “I just knew that it was this bad thing that I had to fight.” She remembers literally reading off the cards when it came time for her to make the case for Israel.

However, such work inevitably brought her into contact with people who challenged her views. She encountered terms like apartheid, ethnic cleansing, and illegal occupation. “I thought I knew so much about Israel, but I didn’t really know what anybody was talking about when they were talking about all these things,” she said.

Growing up, she was barely taught anything about Palestinians, much like Eitan: “The idea that there were native inhabitants who lived there [when settlers began to arrive] was not even part of my frame of reference.”[1] To the extent that her upbringing provided her with any conception of what a Palestinian was, it was that a Palestinian was someone “who kills Jews, or wants to kill Jews.” But now she was dealing with actual Palestinian students and their non-Palestinian allies, who told her things she found alarming.

Zimmerman went back to Hillel, embarrassed that she and the other pro-Israel advocates were not doing a good job refuting the information they had been confronted with. When Zimmerman asked what the proper responses were to specific criticisms directed at Israel—other than shouting “double standard” or “anti-Semitic”—no one provided her with any. “That was really disturbing for me,” she says. She was flabbergasted that “there are these people called Palestinians who think that Israel wields all this power over their lives and don’t have rights, don’t have water. What is this? How do I respond to it?” “How is it that I am the best the Jewish community has to offer—I’ve been to all the trainings, all the summer camps—and I don’t know what the settlements are, or what the occupation is?”

This anguish led Zimmerman to see the occupation for herself, the summer after her freshman year. This was her first time “crossing the line” into the West Bank. The film movingly details her experiences there. She listened to Palestinian families describe routine instances of being beaten by the IDF, and the harsh realities of life under military rule.

She befriends Sami Awad, Executive Director of the Holy Land Trust, who works to give Americans tours of the territory. An American citizen born in the U.S., Awad describes encounters with American kids who have joined the IDF, people “who just moved here to be part of an army to play cowboys and Indians.” He remarks on the absurdity that “Somebody…comes here from New York or from Chicago, and [claims] that this land is theirs.”

Awad’s family was originally from Jerusalem. His grandfather was shot by an Israeli sniper in 1948, and the rest of his family were evicted by Israeli forces soon after during the Nakba. They have never been allowed to return, and have lived under occupation ever since. Nevertheless, Awad is an extraordinarily empathetic person, having made a career out of trying to teach Westerners what life is like in the West Bank, in the hopes that they will use what they learn to effect positive change. He recounts visiting Auschwitz, and says that the experience gave him an insight into “inherited trauma” and how it shapes the conflict today. In the film he comes across as optimistic:

“I really believe that there is an emerging awakening within the American Jewish community…From American Jews, coming here, and listening to us, and hearing us, and seeing our humanity, and understanding that we are not just out sitting in bunkers, planning the next attack against Israelis, that we do have a desire to live in peace, and to have our freedom, and to walk in our streets, and to eat in our restaurants, and like we – I mean it’s crazy that I have to say this, that we are real human beings that just want to survive and live, like all other people in this world.”

Zimmerman also meets Baha Hilo, an English speaker who works as a tour guide with To Be There, another group that helps people understand the reality that Israel imposes on the West Bank. His family was expelled from Jaffa in 1948 during the Nakba. They were forced to settle in Bethlehem, sadly believing that they would eventually be able to return to their homes.

Hilo discusses his frustration that Israelis get to live under civil law, whereas Palestinians like him must live under the humiliating military law of the occupation: “When an American goes to the West Bank, he has more rights there than I have had my entire life!” The film takes care to note that Americans play a major role in such realities: “Of the roughly 450,000 [illegal] Israeli settlers living in the occupied West Bank, 60,000 are American Jews.” Some readers may recall the famous viral video of an Israeli named Yakub unashamedly stealing Palestinian homes while conveying a breathtaking sense of entitlement.

Hilo laments that, “From the day you are born, you live day in and day out without experiencing a day of freedom.” His astonishment at the audacity of Israelis, particularly those who are also Americans, mirrors Awad’s: “What makes an 18-year-old American kid who was given [a] ten days’ trip for free in Palestine, what makes him want to come in and sacrifice his life? Why would a foreigner think it’s ok to have superior rights to the rights of the indigenous population? Because somebody told them it’s [their] home.”

While happy to make such friends, Zimmerman nonetheless says of her time there, “I don’t think I realized the extent to which what I would come to see on the ground would really shock me and horrify me.” This experience often changes people. The filmmaker Rebecca Pierce is interviewed on her own visits to the West Bank, and her reaction is in line with Zimmerman’s. Pierce had always been opposed to using the word “apartheid,” but once she saw the reality of the situation, she changed her mind immediately.

The protagonist of With God on Our Side (a 2010 documentary critical of Christian Zionism), a young man named Christopher, had a similar reaction, specifically at the behavior he witnessed from the Israeli settlers. Each year a group of them converges on the Arab section of Old Jerusalem to celebrate Israel’s capture of East Jerusalem in 1967. Christopher witnessed the festivities, which featured a massive crowd of settlers wrapped in Israeli flags, shouting “death to Arabs” repeatedly as they danced through the streets.

A large group identified an Arab journalist, surrounded him, began chanting at him and flipping him off, to the point where the police had to be called. Christopher was visibly shocked at all this, glumly remarking that he “felt ashamed to be there.” This same celebration is also seen in Israelism, and the Israeli chants are as deranged as ever: “An Arab is a son of a bitch! A Jew is a precious soul!” “Death to the leftists!”

Zimmerman’s experiences led her to become a co-founder of the If Not Now movement, a grassroots Jewish organization which works to end U.S. support for Israel. They have engaged in activism targeting the ADL (more on them in a moment), AIPAC, the headquarters of Birthright Israel, and other organizations which directly contribute to the perpetuation of Israel’s occupation. “We decided to bring the crisis of American Jewish support for Israel to the doorsteps of Jewish institutions to force that conversation in public,” Zimmerman says.

Israelism contains powerful scenes of younger Jewish people engaging in this work. Many come from similar backgrounds as Eitan and Simone. Consider Avner Gvaryahu. Born and raised in Israel, Gvaryahu also joined the IDF. His combat experience ultimately turned him against the occupation. His whole life in Israel, he had never been inside a Palestinian home, but was now being tasked with “barg[ing] into one in the middle of the night.”

By the end of his service, he had routinely taken over Palestinian homes and used them as military facilities. No warrants were needed, and no notice was ever given to the families who were living there. He reflects back “with shame” on how violently he often acted toward the residents in such situations. Gvaryahu is now the Executive Director of Breaking the Silence, an organization of IDF veterans committed to peace.

“There are a lot of Jewish young people who see a Jewish establishment that is racist, that is nationalistic,” Zimmerman explains. Jeremy Ben-Ami, the President of J Street, agrees. “They’re really, really angry about the way they were educated, and the way they were indoctrinated about these issues, and justifiably so.”

While such courageous individuals often receive quite a bit of hatred from their own community (Zimmerman says, “The word I used to hear a lot was ‘self-hating Jew.’ Like, the only way a Jewish person could possibly care about the humanity of Palestinians is if you hate yourself”), their numbers are growing, and one hopes that this will continue. Israelism was released a few months before the terrorist attacks of October 7th and Israel’s genocidal response, events which make the film timely and important.

Since October 7th, we have seen many of the tactics and talking points used to justify Israel’s crimes that the film depicts return with a vengeance. Chief among them is the by-now ubiquitous claim that calling out Israeli atrocities is somehow anti-Semitic.

Zimmerman is anguished that “so many of the purported leaders of our community have been trying to equate the idea of Palestinian rights itself with anti-Semitism.”

This applies to no one more than Abraham “Abe” Foxman, who until his recent retirement was the long-time head of the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), an organization masquerading as a civil rights group but which is really a pro-Israeli government outfit which has long sought to redefine anti-Semitism to include “criticisms of Israel.”

These efforts have borne fruit—“The Trump administration issued an executive order adopting” this definition of anti-Semitism “for the purposes of enforcing federal civil rights law,” Michelle Goldberg notes in The New York Times. Foxman says in the film that “it hurts me for a Jewish kid to stand up there and say ‘justice for the Palestinians,’ and not [say] ‘justice for Israelis’; it troubles me, hurts me, bothers me. It means we failed. We failed in educating, in explaining, et cetera.” Many Israel supporters seem to share Foxman’s horror that Jewish people sometimes care about the well-being of people other than themselves.

Israelism explores this deliberate conflation of anti-Semitism with anti-Zionism. Sarah Anne Minkin, of the Foundation for Middle East Peace, is deeply bothered that “The way we talk about anti-Semitism isn’t about protecting Jews, it’s about protecting Israel. How dangerous is that, at this moment with the rise of anti-Semitism?”

Indeed, the film contains footage of the infamous Unite the Right rally featuring hordes of white supremacists marching through Charlottesville, Virginia, with torches, screaming “Jews. Will not. Replace us!” over and over, as well as news footage of the aftermath of the Tree of Life Synagogue mass shooting.

One of the chief tasks of Israeli propagandists has been to conflate such acts with anti-Zionist sentiment. Genuine anti-Semitism of the Charlottesville variety is (obviously) a product of the far right—recall that President Donald Trump famously referred to “very fine people on both sides” of that incident, an unmistakable wink and nod to such fascist groups.

People who comprise such groups, the type who paint swastikas on Jewish homes, are not the same as peace activists marching to end the Israeli occupation. This should not be difficult to understand. But the Israel PR machine has done a marvelous job confusing otherwise intelligent people on this issue.

Also quoted in the film is Ted Cruz, who like Trump is a regular speaker at AIPAC events, and who like many Republicans pitches his political rhetoric to appeal to the very reactionaries who espouse genuinely anti-Semitic sentiments. This does not stop him from having the audacity to refer to criticisms of Israel as anti-Semitic, shamelessly insisting that “the left has a long history of anti-Semitism.”

The American right wing has been hard at work lately, trying to convince gullible people that the rise of actual anti-Semitic incidents is the result of critics of Israel. The New York Times’s Michelle Goldberg reports that “Chris Rufo, the right-wing activist who whipped up nationwide campaigns against critical race theory and diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives, told me he’s part of a group at the conservative Manhattan Institute workshopping new policy proposals targeting what it sees as campus antisemitism.”

Such efforts apparently convince many liberal-leaning people to agree with UConn Hillel’s Jacqui Schulefand, who as noted above believes that “Israel is Judaism and Judaism is Israel.”

If you believe this, it is understandable how you might come to see criticizing a government’s policies, or the political ideology (Zionism) undergirding them, as anti-Semitic. I do not often profess gratitude for President Biden (indeed, I am really hoping the “Genocide Joe” label sticks), but it was nice to see him publicly state that “You don’t have to be a Jew to be a Zionist. And I’m a Zionist.” This pronouncement clarifies something that the Israel Lobby likes to obscure—that Zionism is a political ideology, like “conservatism,” “socialism” or “libertarianism.”

As such, critiquing it is not racist or anti-Semitic, even if the criticism is inaccurate.

It is always important to consider the ways in which assumptions held uncritically can lead one astray, especially assumptions ingrained from a young age, before people possess the capacity to sufficiently question what they are being told. Israelism is a powerful, thought-provoking film that does this spectacularly. And it does so for a topic that does not get as much attention as it should. Discussions of Christian propaganda are fairly common (again, think of Jesus Camp, or even With God on Our Side), as are denunciations of the kind of Islamic fundamentalist propaganda that comes out of places like Saudi Arabia.

It is almost too easy to go after the Mormons or the Scientologists. But the indoctrination taking place in many Jewish schools gets comparatively little attention. I have written previously of my admiration for people, like Naomi Klein, who frankly discuss the troubling fact that Israeli PR defined much of their early schooling. It is important to have an entire film devoted to the subject. People might not like what they see, but they need to see it.

Israelism is streaming here until January 31st.

#israel #israelism #documentary #palestine #anti defamation league #aipac #zionism #antisemitism #nakba

[emyluwinter]

Lilia Dream

A bunch of my thoughts and a little theory. You know, I was haunted by the fact that Idia or Sebek in their "happy dreams" had the most ordinary life, the one that suited and pleased them. (And she also gave a lot of reasons for fans of Malleyuu and some kind of "divorce" from which I still laugh. Yuu doesn't intersect so closely with these characters, what kind of divorce are you talking about. They shouldn't be in the dreams of these two guys???)

and so…..

WHY THE HELL DOES LILIA HAVE SUCH A DREAM?! This is definitely a period of wars. because we see soldiers. We see Lilia in his full general's outfit. His attitude and manner of speech. His relation to others.

Malleus does not directly control sleep, he only WATCHES them. Lillia subconscious or self-consciousness created such a dream.

And I had a few thoughts on this.

Someone mentioned that this may be a dream related to the day in which Lilia finds Silver in the cradle

For me, this is not a very suitable theory because it does not fit with the fact that Vanruge should have already been near Malleus. As a mentor or bodyguard, or an informal "guardian". So the war should have been over by now.

Because from a logical point of view, if there is an experienced and strongest fairy military general, then you will send him to the front to end the war or conflict faster than leaving him to sit with a baby.

It may be a dream in which the war finally ended or it did not exist at all. And they can tell us that an egg with a Malleus inside appeared. (Yes, for those who do not know, the Dragonia was most likely born from an egg) I will explain further why this particular detail.

This is a more appropriate development in my opinion.

Think about it, my dear, Lilia spent a lot of time in the war or conflicts between humans and faeries. We don't know how many of his relatives or friends he lost. Also how much these events affected his life in general.

His happy dream may be that all that nightmare, horror and bloodshed is simple….didn't exist. Maybe it was a brief skirmish between different people and faeries that they need to control.

Or maybe it was the last day of the war when all this horror ended. The happiest thing that can happen is to no longer experience the events that haunted Vanruzh for who knows how long.

And from the palace from the royal family came the news of the appearance of the egg. The heir of the Draconia that has not yet been born/hatched.

Because - a new life, a peaceful life and a new beginning.

A harbinger that after dark times full of conflicts, losses, battles, the time of peace and tranquility is finally coming. Which everyone craves so passionately.

Perhaps this is another reason for the "idolization" of Malleus. His birth was associated with the onset of that period that everyone was so anxiously waiting for, which means his reign will be peaceful, bright and joyful.

Lilia himself has repeatedly mentioned that he wants a bright future for the Thorn Valley.

What if in his dream Malleus' parents were still alive and Malefecia did not need to fulfill the duties of the monarch until Malleus was ready to ascend the throne? That would also be a happy note in this dream of Vanrouge. Malleus with his family/parents, whom Lilia probably knew or even grew up side by side.

Their efforts and views would settle the conflict more quickly than it was in reality. And there would have been much fewer victims than there actually were.

If we are really shown the joyful faces of the spouses of Draconia who are eager to see their child as soon as possible, we can safely go for blue duct tape to glue our broken hearts.

+to the shock of Malleus It would be a good detail for the plot!!

After all, Tsunotaro has never seen them in person. And Lilia could remember them at least a little or pieces of certain events. Perhaps we could be shown hints of Silver's family (maybe she was the royal family that waged wars with the fae)

And this would be a good parralel. Silver's loving family that is fascinated by their little newborn prince. And the elegant restrained Malleus family, which envelops the little "dragon heir" with care and transfer of experience for the throne. Maybe the conclusion of peace will also be stipulated..

Having little information, I can only assume that we can be told about Lilia dream in a completely different way, so I can only build theories about what might happen next.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst spoilers #twst malleus #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge #twst theory #twst thoughts

[prezaki]

To Belong To Oneself - McGillis and Almiria's struggle for childhood autonomy

Although McGillis' marriage to Almiria and fervent desire to ensure her happiness are key points of the character, there is an understandable hesitance in the fanbase to discuss it in-depth. It's majorly uncomfortable to watch this adult man interact with a pre-teen in a pseudo-romantic fashion. The desire to just ignore it as best as possible is not unreasonable. But with the release of the new Almiria-focused side story, I really want to discuss what their relationship means to each of them and why it matters.

(Disclaimer: I don't think IBO does a fantastic job at disavowing less benevolent reads of the situation, but this post is about an interpretation of the text-as-is in which their relationship is, while inappropriate, not one of sexual abuse.)

The most striking thing established by "Almiria in Love" is that Almiria's desire to be perceived as an adult pre-dates even her first meeting with McGillis. It's a wish that exists de-coupled from all romantic ideas of love - a core of Almiria as an individual.

Through all of canon, Almiria is never seen playing with same age peers. Her only companions appear to be her adult maids and her adult older brother, however rarely he's home. While Gaelio, McGillis and Carta grew up around one another as playmates, Almiria appears to be fundamentally lonely. She is being raised isolated in a world made for adults, and she is painfully aware of it.

Almiria can't find anyone in the world to take her seriously. All her social contacts treat her (rightfully) as a child and there are no peer relations to balance this out. When Almiria desires to become a grown-up, it's a desire for autonomy, respect and companionship.

It's not that Almiria wants to be an adult in order to become a wife. It's that Almiria, after meeting McGillis, wants to become a wife in order to be an adult. Someone worthy of respect and consideration.

And that's precisely why she quickly becomes obsessed with McGillis once they do meet - McGillis is the only one who thinks of her wishes, her reputation, who gives her the same respect he'd give someone of the same standing. Almiria is too young to truly understand love, but she does understand the thrill of finally being taken seriously.

In a lot of ways McGillis is not just her adult fiancé but also her first friend - the childish nickname 'Macky' certainly speaks to it.

The other striking part of "Almiria in Love" is McGillis' offer to break the engagement should Almiria disagree with it. Is this a genuine offer? Is this a real possibility?

I'm going to argue that it's not. McGillis is as trapped as Almiria here - their engagement is made by their fathers, both of whom seem to see them as property and political tools. McGillis doesn't have any input here, no alternatives. He has to marry another of Sevens Stars bloodline to strengthen Iznario's position - and it can't be Carta, because Iznario is already her guardian and thus making further ties to her family would be redundant. It can't be Gaelio or Iok because the Seven Stars run on bloodlines (at least as far as appearances are concerned) - McGillis is expected to produce an heir eventually.

Yet McGillis gives Almiria a choice. Why?

McGillis does not want Almiria to ever feel as helpless and powerless as he once did. After all, if there is anybody who can understand the horror of being sold to an adult stranger, it's McGillis who has experienced it.

He treats Almiria with all the kindness he can muster in order to ensure that she feels like the wedding is, to a degree, her own choice. To give her that illusion of security and protect her from distress.

Through protecting Almiria, McGillis can protect his own younger self by proxy.

With that in mind, it's extremely important that McGillis uses "ore" as a personal pronoun for this line - a pronoun McGillis only uses on the show when he is speaking as a child or when he narrating his childhood and acting based on his childhood trauma. His usual personal pronoun is the more polite "watashi".

But here, in this moment, bathed in the golden glow of sunset, McGillis is speaking from the bottom of his traumatized heart. By meeting Almiria, he's been granted an opportunity to save himself.

But that doesn't mean that McGillis is actually in favor of child marriage. Rather, he seems to be the person most opposed to it.

When the topic is first introduced, we are treated to a near-claustrophobic close-up shot of McGillis' darkening gaze. Even as he says that it's alright, he is clearly not happy about the concept.

At the engagement party, we are shown a more obvious disavowing of the relationship forced upon them by their families. "The fate that we'll face" can only refer to their wedding in this context - chronologically, this takes place before McGillis sets any of his schemes into movement.

So then, why does McGillis play along with the pseudo-romantic aspects of their dynamic so much?

For one, he truly believes this. Almiria is the finest of all the ladies here, because she is innocent. Unspoiled by society, by vain quests for power. McGillis hates the high society he is constantly socializing in. He finds them arrogant, lazy and corrupt. Almiria represents complete purity to McGillis - the ultimate incarnation of 'something worth protecting'.

And then, of course, he wants to make Almiria happy. Almiria's happiness means saving himself, it means making Gaelio's death mean something, it means reaching his goals.

So, what makes Almiria happy? This play at romance certainly seems to! Ultimately, McGillis has no frame of reference for healthy child development. When he was Almiria's age, he already had a body count. How is he meant to interact with her? What boundaries does he need to set? It's anything but intuitive to him.

The easiest way to make her happy is to give her what she herself thinks she desires - to be treated as a full-fledged fiancée/wife.

I don't believe McGillis would ever touch her in a sexual way (he certainly knows the pain of that), but all the lip service to a romance between them? Sure, he'll play the part if it makes her smile. McGillis is a very theatrical person - give him a role, and he'll do it justice.

And even then, there is an interesting double meaning to scenes like this. When he promises Almiria a world in which everyone can love whomever they wish, Almiria interprets this to mean a world where their union is not a laughingstock. But for McGillis, who resents that they were forced to get engaged in the first place, this means a world in which Almiria could have grown up and chosen her own husband, whenever she was ready. A world in which weddings like theirs don't exist to begin with.

But of course, things can't go on like this forever. Almiria as the representation of a younger McGillis can't be kept safe forever, because McGillis is incapable of not picking at his own wounds.

His schemes, his attempt murder of her brother, all get back to Almiria.

McGillis' "then kill me" lines are, in my opinion, likewise genuine. He does not truly believe that she would, but if there is anybody who's judgement he'd accept, it is hers. She's more precious than his life because she represents the core of his goals.

For that reason, what he cannot accept is her ending her own life - that'd mean it was all for nothing. I don't think it's a coincidence that Almiria is the only person McGillis ever discloses to that he used to be suicidal. Driving her to the same point of despair that he was in as a child is the hardest hitting punishment for McGillis.

Still, he is unwilling to give up.

No matter how long it takes, he will make Almiria happy. He will save himself through her.

It is not coincidence that the hand wound he obtains in his attempt to save her almost costs him his life when it hinders his piloting. McGillis has already failed by letting it get this far. He's already tainted the one thing he wanted to preserve. It's only Isurugi's intervention that spares his life in that moment.

(As a side note, McGillis calling her a 'troublesome woman' in this moment of fleeting irritation once again speaks to how little sense he has for age as a genuine factor in anything. "What's a child? A small adult?" - part of the reason he can give Almiria the respect she craves is because he himself, in his stunted development, does not fully comprehend the gap between them.)

Almiria and McGillis are two people who seek their own fulfillment through the other. They are not in love, but they do love one another. Desperately, they crave the realization of their ideal self through their connection. Autonomy, safety. Happiness.

Naturally, McGillis dies with Almiria as his main regret.

He was going to make her happy. He was going to make himself happy. He was going to undo the past through her future.

One day, in a world where children can belong to themselves.

#gundam #mcgillis fareed #almiria bauduin #gundam iron-blooded orphans #gundam ibo

[cursedvibes]

Part of the reason I think at least for me was fixated on Kenjaku getting pregnant and being Yuuji's mom is just behind the whiplash horror, is also the underlying trill and comedy especially when you are uterus owner and grew up around a lot people who were pregnant and had little kids. And the thought of Kenjaku experiencing the " joyful" wonders of pregnancy and parenthood as payback for the suffering he did to the poor woman who he used to get the cursed womb paintings. I love Kenjaku but I also hope they had one of those pregnancies were they every symptom of the book including growing bigger feet, nosebleeds, cavities, and cravings for dirt. And that Yuuji was one of the cases they kicked hard enough to bruise ribs and the labor itself was like over three days. And they had baby blues and had to breastfeed Yuuji who was one of those biter children. Like I want them to win and get away with everything but honestly I hope they had a miserable time for no other reason than it's hilarious and I want so kind of justice for Choso's mother who doesn't even get a name. Maybe she can laugh at Kenjaku from whatever afterlife.

I think they already got pregnant and gave birth before the experiment with the Death Painting mother, but I do think that the pregnancy with Yuuji was probably one of the tougher ones, if not the worst. He was definitely stronger than your average fetus already in the womb. Good thing they know RCT and CE reinforcement or otherwise his little kicks would be like that birth scene in Twilight. Just straight up breaks their spine. That strength doesn't come from nothing of course, so they have to eat more and specific food to not get completely drained. They're still puking their guts out (more or less metaphorically). Kinda a good thing Kaori was already dead because I don't think anyone else would be equipped to handle this.

(also insert here me complaining for the nth time that we don't know more about the DP mother and that Choso never fucking brings her up in front of Kenjaku)

#asks #kenjaku

[dykejasper]

Crooked Trajectory [SU fic]

AO3 - dykejasper

Summary: Future-era post-shattering Jasper has no choice but to be alive, to exist, to find a purpose for herself while learning how to cope with a lifetime of trauma, new physical issues from shattering, and social dynamics she's never experienced with gems she doesn't understand. Many who are really down bad for her. Starts off pretty heavy but there will be fluff and fun and love and light, I promise.

Chapter One - "Free Will" - Jasper POV A dissociative trip back to where Jasper was killed and reborn. Rating: Mature CW: Suicidal ideation, self harm ideation, PTSD, minor mention of animal death (accidental collateral via Steven)

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Jasper couldn’t remember making her way back to her cave. She couldn’t remember anything said to her after the order, “Find something better to do with your life.”

Those words tumbled around her numb mind on loop, layered over thousands of years of horror that would never go away. Her entire existence had been a waste of resources, at best. Static buzzing flooded her senses and threatened to rip her apart all over again. Her skin prickled head to toe and the weight of reality crushed her chest in. She couldn’t make her lungs expand. An all too-familiar sensation in recent years.

She stared, unseeing, at the same spot on the wall of her cave for hours while that buzzing built and built until she flung herself into the cool night air, hyperventilating, feeling like she might corrupt all over again while memories tore her apart. Her knees hit the bare earth and she dug hands into her hair, gripping those hideous, detestable horns. The panic broke into a festering hatred and a hollow laugh broke through the frantic gasping.

One of them was broken now, reduced to a stump. The other remained intact, coming to a sharp point that she pressed her thumb into until pink spikes flashed across her vision and she shuddered, wondering if she could rip it off. She never actually tried.

She gripped the foul, bone-like growth while her heart raced. Won’t fix anything. You’re trash by design. Her hand fell away and she was overwhelmingly numb again, taking deep, shuddering breaths as she looked around.

This didn’t feel like her cave anymore. She never considered this place anything special, but it had been secure, if nothing else. Her eyes lingered on the little wooden hut that didn’t belong to her and the static inside her grew loud again.

It was easy to rip apart, at least, easy to fling away into the woods with very little effort or thought. And then as if by instinct, without any real decision to do so, Jasper began tracking the damage left by the fight, retracing their steps.

The thrill of it all returned as if she was reliving it in real time, delighting in the confidence and competence with which her Diamond threw every bit of his power at her, finally. Proving, after all this time, that Diamonds were just as powerful as they’d been made to believe. It wasn’t all a lie.

Part of her felt a choking, overwhelming insanity if she thought too hard about the multiple sincere attempts she’d made at destroying the Diamond she was created to protect, between Rose Quartz and now Steven. Rage mingled with guilt and she could feel the pressure mounting once again, the buzzing growing louder.

She followed damaged trees, fallen branches, occasional small craters from missed or deflected strikes. A creature Steven once called a “deer” lay obliterated in one of the pits, a gruesome mess of wrecked limbs and insides brought out. Those pink discs did some real damage now that he knew how to use them.

And then her stomach dropped when she came to the edge of a vast crater; a half-mile wide strip of decimated organic material half-buried under a deep layer of blown-up soil, clay, and rock. Pink spikes consumed her vision and she felt the terror flood her once again, the horrible realization that she was afraid of being shattered. She never expected self-preservation to kick in at the last second.

The pain of being split apart was exquisite. It lasted only a moment, but it was like remembering every sort of pain she’d ever felt, and then feeling them all again, combined, in one final flash. Ripped and torn in every direction, physically and mentally. But not erased.

No, that was the real horror, Jasper had discovered. There was no silence after shattering. There was no freedom from existence, of course it couldn’t be that simple. She assumed there would be some sort of release, craved it, at times, but she’d been so utterly wrong.

But even so, the panic came before she learned the truth, not after. That realization puzzled her. Why did she fear her existence ending, particularly when it’d been nothing but misery?

Shattered, she existed as formless energy: semiconscious but broken, detached from the corporeal world and lost. Locked in a prison of vague feelings, shadows of memories, flashes of sensation. Everything was wrong. She needed to form. She needed to be whole. She was pure fear. She wasn’t anything at all. And then, after what felt like her entire lifetime, her energy was being redirected, pulled, fused back into place, and with a terrified gasp, she was reborn.

Fear and wonder were matched in intensity in that moment. Only a truly powerful, merciful Diamond could so easily destroy a gem and then put them back together. And to be brought back at all must mean she was needed for some greater purpose, or at least to finally serve the one she was made for.

Find something better to do.

She dropped down into the crater, trekking through the raised hills of destruction and clambering over broken trees until she found what she was looking for. Freshly ruined earth surrounding a small field of flower and grass regrowth that marked where he crawled around crying, collecting the pieces of her gem. Pathetic.

She laid down in the grass and flowers, staring up at the starry sky and feeling utterly alone.

Why would he bring her back for this?

Her skin prickled and the static in her mind amplified and she wanted to rip herself apart with own claws. She disconnected from reality and felt sheer horror pulse through her every atom, more powerful than any physical pain. Her very existence and continued survival felt like some sick cosmic joke.

To emerge during a violent raid on her defective kindergarten, during a false war, with the sole purpose to protect the same gem she was meant to fruitlessly attempt to destroy… she was created to fail and cursed to endure eternity with no viable escape. She remembered a thought she used to have, long, long ago, that her fellow kindergartners had it lucky. They were all deemed off-color and shattered the moment the war was lost, her agate loved reminding her. They got to escape before the real torture began.

Or so she assumed. Now she knew better. Now she knew exactly how her fellow kindergartners felt for thousands of years. Would their shards ever be recovered? Or were they powdered and released into space, deemed too dysfunctional even for harvesting? Her agate’s voice echoed in her mind like the crack of a whip, “Only traitorous, Earth-made trash would care about the complete waste of Yellow Diamond’s time and resources that was your kindergarten. You’re not a traitor to your Diamond, are you?”

Maybe “something better” was never resting until Yellow Diamond felt every bit of pain she’s ever inflicted, directly or through her agates. Maybe it was hunting down her old agates and smashing them to powder.

Or.., you could come to Little Homeschool!

A flash of pink spikes blotted out the dawn sky and her stomach flipped and she scrambled to her feet, her heart ready to burst. The sudden panic was quickly drowned in shame at her reaction to a memory of his voice. Coming back here was stupid. Why had she done it, without even thinking?

Why was she trembling?

As repulsive as the idea was, her only option was obeying her Diamond’s expectations by going to his stupid school. Being tortured by agates seemed more fun than learning how to befriend an agate, and she was certain plenty of gems would feel the same about her. But really, what choice did she have? Minding her own business in the forest away from everyone is how she ended up shattered.

Jasper gritted her teeth and clambered out of the canyon of blasted forest, wandering away from her grave. She was broken and ready to face whatever horrible new life she’d have to endure, miserable and alone as always.

#su jasper #jasper su #jasper #su fanfic #crooked trajectory #zanfic

[insipid-drivel]

This is why we shouldn't use night vision CCTV in the swamp

As is probably well established by now, I live in a swamp that's in the same region as a lot of Bigfoot sightings. I've grown up in this wilderness my whole life, seen and experienced a whole lot of weird crap that is filed away in the "Hey, don't worry about it," part of my brain with the rest of The Horrors.

My mom also did most of her growing up here, but more in the woodlands and plural spaces around housing developments and cities. Basically, where you're more likely to encounter a homeless person or a pigeon in the underbrush than a cryptid or some cool wildlife.

I grew up so deep in these forests and swamps I stay the hell inside after dark and live in blissful ignorance of what goes on outside my bedroom window every night. Some shit I've seen looking in at me. Sometimes it's animals (which was how I found out a storm had knocked over our neighbor's horse fence one night - I suddenly had a Welsh pony pull up to my bedroom window like it was a Wendy's) - sometimes it's just eyes in the shadows that may or may not speak, who cares? Definitely not my little brother's girlfriend who confirmed she sees them too whenever she's here and goes out after dark for a cigarette and runs inside panicked every time they appear. Let's not dwell on it. Moving on.

My mom decided, after becoming thrilled with the huge amount of bird and squirrel traffic I get with my small seed-and-pollinator garden outside of my bedroom window, to set up a motion-activated night vision camera pointed at my feeders to see what may visit in the dark.

Fully-bragging here, but I pretty much have every single species of native bird (and a couple of fucking starlings) that isn't a raptor visit my garden every day. Yesterday I completed my Pokedex when a family of quail came visiting. It's not weird for there to be 15-20+ birds in my garden at once with at least 5 or more individual unique species eating and (mostly) getting along (which some of us could learn from by example, starlings).

I made the tactical decision to bite my tongue about the camera, because this morning, I found I actually wanted to see some of the footage.

Everything was fine when I woke up this morning; my feeders were still rapidly being depleted of birdseed I spend too much of my disability checks on so I can delight my cat and feel like I'm taking care of some of my local wildlife. I use a small trough that I fill will feed for squirrels and the occasional deer that usually takes a couple of days for the locals to empty.

This morning, after having just ROUNDED OFF the ground-trough-feeder with a fresh supply of food the day before, I found the trough completely clean and empty, and dragged several feet away from where I usually leave it. So I asked my mom if she'd review the camera footage, figuring it was probably the same derpy yearling buck with slightly wonky baby-antlers that I've seen eating out of it before.

Nope.

Just a mom with kids to feed. My mom was appalled at the number of them (one of the ways I know she's still domesticated), but I quietly approved and told her that it was probably a mother raccoon and her adolescent babies. I've seen raccoons raising up to 5 kits at a time in places where food is plentiful and the predator count is relatively low. I let my mom know it's totally fine; that the ground feeder is there to feed the nocturnal as well as the diurnal.

The morning quiets down for a few minutes, and I get ready to snooze to the birdsong outside. My mom is still on her phone, half-birdwatching at the foot of my bed, half-scrolling through clips of footage from the rest of that night (which usually is just moths and a stray cat or two setting the camera off), and that's when I heard what I like to wearily call the "There's A Cryptid On My CCTV Gasp".

Look. If you set up cameras in a place like this, you're GOING to see weird shit you can't explain. Part of why I like living out here is because only other people that understand this also live out here. My neighbors and I are all out of our fucking minds, but that's why The Swamp embraces us. If you don't have the psychiatric diagnostic equivalent of a ghost pepper in your brain, you probably won't do well out here. The Swamp is nature's Void: If you gaze long into it, it will gaze back into you. My System of alter personalities smile like idiots and wave into the Void while some of them full-on make out in front of the Void with reckless abandon.

My mom just stammers at first, and and then is like, "I... don't know what that is? It looks like a cat? But I've NEVER seen a cat that big..." Ironically ignoring my cat, who I rescued as a tiny "standard size" kitten from a shelter and found out the hard way that she's actually very much a Maine Coon.

My mom, shaken, shows me the best still she could get from the clip the camera took of The Creature:

She's pale, and visibly unnerved as she brings me her phone with the actual clip of this animal in it. Of course the footage is shittier than when we just had raccoons out there. Didn't you read what I just wrote? The Swamp will not abide your attempts to spoil its fuckery.

But I nevertheless watched this 2-3 second clip of this animal walking by the ground feeder. It's about the size of a medium dog, has no tail, and walks with a very feline gait. My mom is practically freaking out at this point, her voice actually trembling when she keeps asking me "What do you think it is?"

There's a long, heavy silence as I replay the clip a couple more times, just watching this thing move and confirming that, indeed, it's too big to be a domestic cat, but too small to be a mountain lion, and has no discernible tail.

"Mother, it's a bobcat."

"That can't be!"

>therewere5raccoonsthereandit'sabobcatgoodlordmom.mp4

So I pulled up a google search and showed her:

"Oh."

#swamp #cryptid #cctv #long post #true story #paranormal #this swamp will fuck with you