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venhedish · 3 years

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Ven’s Masterlist of SPN Fic

I write mostly pre-series and early seasons Big Feels™ Wincest fic. There’s a lot of angst and pining here, but plenty of love and devotion mixed in with the darkness.

I always deeply, deeply appreciate likes, kudos, comments, and reblogs!

Wincest Fic

Stand-Alone

Yesterday is a Ghost I Believe In ~4.1k, Teen, Pre-series, Epistolary, Multimedia, Experimental There's an old shoebox under Sam Winchester's bed. It's been there almost as long as he can remember. He doesn't look inside it very often, but when he does, he takes his time. A multimedia collection of letters, journal entries, pictures, and other ephemera from a life on the road. .

That Monster, Love ~2k, Teen, Pre-series, POV Outsider, POV John Winchester, John Finds Out, Angst “You think you’re doing your boys any favors, raisin’ ‘em like this?” .

To Cure My Lonesome Blood ~8.8k, Explicit, Pre-series, Pining Dean, Angst, Bittersweet Ending Dean’s been sick since before either of them was born. The disease is incurable, written into his blood – the same blood he shares with his brother. If he’s not careful, the fever will spread like a fire and consume them both. .

Like Sand, Like Water, Like Sunlight ~1.7k, Gen, Pre-series, Mutual Pining, Angst, Pre-Slash Sea birds circle overhead and Dean wishes he had a camera. Sam looks so young, all of twelve years old, and exhilarated. Dean wants to hold this image in the chambers of his heart, but his pulse just carries it along; time is cruel that way. .

The Space Between Sense and Memory ~4.8k, Teen, Pre-series through Season 1, 5-and-1 Things There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t. .

Every Goodbye, all at Once ~900, Teen, Pre-series, Stanford Era, Pining Dean, Angst, Epistolary "Hey, It's Sam. If you're looking for my dad, you can reach him at 866-555-9352. If you're looking for me, leave a message." A series of voicemails Dean leaves at the number Sam left behind. .

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) ~6k, Explicit, Season 01, PWP, Scent Kink, Guilty Dean Winchester Once Sam was gone, Dean missed him in a way that was all-consuming, all the way down – so deep in his bones that he shook with loneliness some nights. And it was the familiar scent of his brother’s hair where it tangled warm against the pillows, his pulse beating under his skin and sending the fear of the hunt wafting off of him in waves that Dean struggled to hold onto the hardest. Dean really likes the way Sam smells.. .

Dawn is Coming (Open Your Eyes) ~5k, Explicit, Season 01, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together In which Sam and Dean suffer new wounds and stitch old ones back together. There’s an awful storm, a dead monster, an injury, and a whole lot of feelings. .

You put the Magic in Me ~9.1k, Explicit, Season 02(ish), Sex Pollen, Porn with Plot, Casefic “This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done for a case,” Dean says under his breath, leaning into Sam and scouting the crowd gathered around a dozen tables inside the little café. “Dude, relax,” Sam says back, eyebrows raising at his brother’s nervous energy. “I thought this would be, like, your thing.” He gestures vaguely to the women milling around inside. A long, vividly red banner hangs across the open french doors that lead into the space, emblazoned with the words The Oolong Tea Room Presents: Lonely Hearts Club Speed Dating! Feb 11-14th! Or; in which Sam and Dean learn a thing or two about chemistry. .

The Stars are not Wanted Now ~2k, Teen, Season 02, Episode Tag: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Angst, Death Rituals There was a body on the bed. It had been there long enough that the slanting light of morning crept into the room like an unwelcome invader and washed the world in a dream-shade of palest blue. But there were no dreams here; only death, only memory. The body on the bed was all that remained of Samuel Winchester, who had died in his brother’s arms the night before. .

Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts ~5.8k, Explicit, Season 03, Episode Tag: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Dark, Dub-con, Hurt No Comfort This dream-state of living on pause and rewind leads to some interesting avenues of thought that Sam doesn’t mean to travel, but after a certain number of unrelenting Tuesdays, they just become inevitable. If Dean dies every day—if his memories are wiped, or if they never happen at all—what could Sam get away with, if he wanted to? Could he dare to find out? .

In Sanguine Vita Est ~5.2k, Explicit, Season 04, Knifeplay, Dean’s Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort Everything was different now. Dean was here—back from the fucking dead—but he was a stranger in his own body. Scars gone, aches from broken bones that hadn’t set right vanished back into the void as if they’d never existed at all. He’d become a stranger to the whole world. He’d become a stranger to Sam. _ Dean asks Sam to help him heal after he returns from Hell. .

All Heartless Spectres, Happiness ~5.7k, Explicit, Season 06, Episode Tag: s06e06 You Can’t Handle the Truth, POV Outsider, Angst, Soulless Sam Lisa Braeden receives an email with the subject line, "You Deserve to Know." It contains a single video file and nothing else. .

The Rungs of Me be Under You ~1.6k, Teen, Gencest, Post-Bunker, 2nd Person POV, Queerplatonic Sam and Dean, Non-Sexual Kink What they share has never been easy to define. Why should this be any different? .

Wincest Series The Top/Bottom Discourse Series (Ongoing) [Each story is canon compliant and listed chronologically, but they can all be read as standalone works.] This series was born originally from a silly meta post I made on Tumblr as a response to some very angry top/bottom discourse I was seeing about how only Sam could truly be A Top™, or how only Dean could truly be A Top™. I personally like to kink and let kink and not drag outdated gender politics into my fandom (Dean can't be a bottom because he's too masculine? Ice cold take, bro), so I wrote a filthy little tongue-in-cheek post about all the ways I think Sam and Dean have fucked each other over the years.

I’m Thinking About Whatever You’re Thinking About ~5.1k, Explicit, Pre-series, PWP, Bratty Sam, Exhibitionism, Fear of Discovery Sam is such a brat, sometimes. .

Shoot to Thrill ~6.7k, Explicit, Season 02, Porn with Plot, Hustling, Getting Back Together It's just like riding a bike. .

Burn Out The Night ~4.9k, Explicit, Season 08, Porn with Plot, Car Sex, Light BDSM, Fluff What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. .

Destiel Fic

Love Made a Martyr of Me ~500, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Past Sam/Dean, Angst Sam says yes in Detroit, and in the space of a single syllable, there's nothing left in Heaven or on Earth for Dean to love. Cas doesn't seem to care. .

The Sharp Teeth of the One You Love ~2k, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining “Quit bein’ a baby, Cas.” Dean’s hands were covered in blood, but they were steady as always while he worked to stitch Castiel back together. “I’m sorry,” Cas growled between gritted teeth. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience feeling pain.” He hissed again when Dean slid the curved needle back through the eight-inch-long gash that ran deep and bloody down Cas’s bicep. Castiel learns something about what it means to be human. .

Wincestiel Fic

Temerate ~700, Teen, Season 05(ish), Past Sam/Dean, 2nd Person POV, First Time Your brother is sitting in the corner of the motel room. His big hands are worrying at each other; he squeezes them together, fingertips white from the pressure of his grip. He meets your eyes and his gaze is like a lightning strike. .

Dean/John Fic

Cruore ~1.1k, Mature, Pre-series, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood, Intrusive Thoughts Bites, Dean could deal with – claw marks and broken bones. But this- ... a bullet was a different kind of monster altogether. .

Supernatural RPF

Il Cielo in Una Stanza ~4.4k, Explicit, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Getting Back Together, Prequel-Gate, Polyamory, Non-AU Jared Padalecki receives a present he wasn't expecting at all for his 39th birthday. .

Other Supernatural Fic

Bad Things, Better Reasons ~2k, Explicit, Pre-series, Dean Does Sex Work, Angst, Brotherly Love. Dean does whatever it takes to keep the bills paid while John is gone. The kid waiting for him back at the motel room is all the justification he’ll ever need. .

No Was Her Name ~1.3k, Teen, Season 12, Dean/Mary, Light Angst, First Kiss Mary Winchester was alive. She was solid—made of skin and blood and bone—and she existed in the same world as Dean. It wasn’t a dream; she walked and talked and breathed. She ate, she slept, she wandered the halls of the bunker at odd hours. She was a ghost made flesh, and Dean was haunted by her presence. .

#ven creates #wincest #wincestiel #destiel #J2 #daddycest #spn fic #fic masterlist #my fic #long post #sorry #i just wanna be able to link to it in my bio

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Dark Antoni: The Job

In another universe, Antoni took out Mr. Davies - and set himself up as a talented, discreet hitman-for-hire. His latest assignment takes an unexpected turn. Features @comfy-whumpee‘s Jax Gallagher, used with permission.

CW: Intimate whumper, character death, severe trauma dissoci@tion, noncon touch, noncon kissing, implied noncon (interrupted), referenced noncon, long-term captivity, conditioned response

---

Antoni watches through the scope as the target's husband gives her a kiss, a faint smile, places the drink in her hand. Through his earpiece, he hears her voice, low and sultry, as their fingers brush. “Come sit with me.”

The husband moves like a man pulled by someone else’s invisible strings, sitting next to her on the chaise, letting her turn his head with the barest brush of fingers over his chin. She pulls him in for a kiss.

Antoni’s well-hidden, and not worried they'll see him, finger hovering over the trigger. They’re lined up perfectly like this. He could kill them both, one-two shot, drop the target before her husband’s body even hits the floor.

Something in the way the husband moves, though, stops him.

He bugged the house two days ago - or rather, he has the existing bugs feeding into his own earpiece now, the target’s own obsessive need for total control and security turned against her. The cameras are off, he took remote control of those and switched those screens to black.

He wonders if the husband knows about all the cameras, or if Savannah Marcoset had them placed without his knowledge. Maybe she’s worried about infidelity. Maybe she’s suspicious about assassination.

If she is, he hasn’t heard her say anything about it.

He's listened to them for two days while he planned the kill. Antoni has been privy to every gentle I love you, every moment they spend together, more than a few moments he would rather not have heard at all.

The husband is to all appearances utterly devoted, entirely in love, and…

Something isn't right.

He needs to pull the trigger and finish the job - his client specifically wants them both out of the picture. If she goes, he goes. They’ll be together, they’re never apart, but I can’t have any witnesses who can be questioned after the bitch is dead.

Too great a chance of retaliation by the family, and the client was sure the husband would be little more than a liability. Antoni doesn’t like liabilities, and he doesn’t leave witnesses.

Still… his instincts are screaming at him not to drop the husband, too.

He hesitates, equivocates, waits far too long as the woman downs her drink and lays back, laughing softly, pulling her husband down on the chaise with her. Her dress, a flimsy, filmy thing she wore to the gala they have just returned from, drapes just so against the velvet fabric of the chaise. Her husband’s suit is perfectly tailored, and she undoes his jacket buttons with one hand while they kiss, her other hand behind his neck, tangled in his brown hair.

She murmurs something even the bugs don’t pick up, and laughs. The husband smiles back, and drops his head, kissing along the column of her neck, pale and draped in heavy jewels that contrast with how thin her dress is. She hums, tightens her fingers against his nape, arches her back to press against him.

He makes a sound, an exhale with just a touch of voice, and an alarm goes off inside Antoni’s head, one that stubbornly refuses to explain itself.

Antoni can’t figure out what he’s missing here, crouched up at the railing of the stairs with his rifle still aimed, watching as she slides the jacket off her husband’s shoulders, nips playfully at his lips, his nose, his chin.

“I love you,” She whispers against his lips, and even from here Antoni can see his responding shiver.

“I love you, too.” His voice is low and soft, barely audible. The hand at his neck pushes his head down towards her chest, her other making quick work now of the buttons on his crisp white shirt. She rolls her hips up against his, her hair a waterfall of shimmering dark brown, nearly black, curls and waves. She looks like a Renaissance painting.

They look like a portrait of two people madly in love.

“Do you want me?” She asks, in a tone that says she already knows the answer, head tilted to watch him, hand slipping into the open front of his shirt to run down his stomach. He exhales loud enough for the bugs to pick it up and translate the sound into Antoni’s earpiece.

“Of course.” The husband’s accent is faded, but there - English, fits with what Antoni saw in the description of the assignments, his research files. “Of course I do, Savvie.”

Finger still hovering millimeters from the trigger, Antoni thinks over his files again.

Savannah Marcoset, queenpin of a human trafficking empire.

Run by her father's family until her paternal uncle's sudden death by car accident six years ago, shortly after Savannah married her longtime partner.

Savannah Marcoset, a violin prodigy that burned out young and faded away from the spotlight, reclusive until she took control of the family business, now a sparkling socialite. Married to one Jackson Marcoset, neé Gallagher, UK resident by birth. Unclear how they met or became romantically involved. Estranged from family.

Something is wrong about this picture.

“Of course I want you,” The husband says, in a low voice that could very nearly have passed for desirous. “I always want you.”

Antoni knows, all at once, exactly what his intuition is trying to tell him.

Jax Marcoset is just like Chris, and he has been like Chris for a very long time.

Antoni makes the decision in an instant, following his instincts where they lead him. When Savannah Marcoset hikes up the skirt on her dress and pushes her husband’s head down between her legs, Antoni aims and fires in a single silenced shot.

Savvie’s body jerks as the bullet goes right between her eyes.

The husband looks up, staring blankly, then scrambles back in belated panic as he sees the single small hole in her forehead, empty glazed eyes. “S-Savvie? Savvie, what-... what’s-”

“Hands in the air,” Antoni calls out, pitching his voice low and authoritative, standing slowly and keeping his rifle aimed just in case he’s called this wrong, in case the husband will attack him or try to call for help. “Move away from the body, Jackson Marcoset, now.”

The husband pushes slowly to his feet, hands up, standing in his suit pants and unbuttoned shirt. Antoni can hear his heavy breathing through the earpiece, echoed faintly even across the room into his other ear. He turns, very slowly, to look up at Antoni-

And the soft, supple black leather collar buckled tightly around his neck is suddenly visible, no longer hidden by the high neck of his shirt, the bow tie he’d been wearing when they came home.

I was right, Antoni thinks, a lick of violent triumph running up his spine. I was right, he’s like us, I was right.

He keeps the gun trained on Jax Marcoset, anyway, walking slowly towards him down the stairs, each foot placed carefully, one by one. Neither of them speaks, although Antoni catches Jax Marcoset looking over at the body of his late wife, hands fallen limp to the side now, skirt still hiked high up on her thighs. It’s indecent, really - Antoni tells himself to pull her dress back down before he leaves.

He tries to give the bodies a little dignity - after all, every death since the first one has been strictly business and nothing more.

He left so little of Mr. Davies.

He’s tried to improve on that, ever since.

“Are you going to be a problem?” He asks, keeping his voice level, his accent smoothing off his vowels, sharpening the consonants. He reaches the landing at the bottom of the grand staircase in the entryway, rifle aimed through a large open doorway into the sitting room where the chaise was, right at center mass. “If you are a problem, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

Jax Marcoset seems to struggle to speak, or operate on a delay. For a beat there is a weighty silence, and then he says, just barely audible, “I won’t… be a problem.”

Antoni can see scars that run down his stomach, like he was clawed until he bled, again and again, to make them. The collar, the way the husband isn’t looking back at his dead wife any longer, wholly focused on Antoni, shifting submissiveness trained by violence and fear immediately to the next threat, to appease, placate, and hopefully survive.

It’s all familiar, sickeningly so.

It’s the way Chris acted, when they met. Antoni’s assignment then had been to take out a household of drug runners. He’d found Chris in the alleyway bartering a place to sleep, trading his body because he had nothing else to offer them. Antoni had started firing just after hearing them agree to the trade, but only if Chris would take them all at once.

Once they were all dead, Chris - terrified and teary - had started trying to trade himself to Antoni just to keep from being slaughtered.

It’s all exactly the same, no matter the differences on the surface.

“I cannot leave you here alive. Do you understand?” He expects fear, or begging. Some kind of plea. But all Jax Marcoset does is slowly nod, hands still held in the air, and stay right where he is. He doesn’t ask to be spared, or for one more goodbye to the dead woman six feet away. He doesn’t beg, or go to his knees, or do anything at all.

He looks exhausted, emptied of all feeling, incapable of bringing anything up but resigned certainty. “Yes, sir.”

Too far gone, maybe.

But Antoni has to try.

“You may lower your hands.”

Jax’s hands drop like weights, down to his sides, where his fingers curl into fists. Antoni knows, from his own experience, that if he were to tell Jax to show him his palms, he would be obeyed, and there would be a row of half-moon scars there.

Just like Antoni has.

He lowers the rifle, slowly, ready to aim and fire again if Jax moves, but he doesn’t. Just stares dully at Antoni, waiting for whatever happens next, utterly incapable of making a choice for himself. Antoni moves over to Savannah Marcoset’s body, pressing two fingers to where her pulse would be and finding none. Not that he expected her to survive a direct shot to the head, but you never know.

He pulls a wipe from one pocket and wipes what might have been left of his fingerprints from her neck, then turns.

Jax Marcoset hasn’t moved a single muscle except to turn his head to watch Antoni’s movements around the room.

Antoni hums - job done, more or less, and no one needs to be the wiser that he’s left one of the targets alive - and turns to leave. He pauses, and gestures. “Come on, then,” He says, and Jax Marcoset falls in beside him, almost jerking into motion like a puppy trying to find someone new to hold his leash.

The night is dark and silent except for the crunching of Antoni’s shoes on gravel, and even that is barely a whisper of sound. Moonlight glints off the platinum wedding ring Jax Marcoset wears, off the matching lip ring and ear piercings. It briefly illuminates the buckle of the collar at the back of his neck, his eyes focused firmly on the ground in front of him, never looking up.

Antoni’s car is hidden, of course, and it takes them some time to walk there in silence. He keeps expecting Jax to ask a question, or cry, or do anything. But all Jax does is remain perfectly quiet, pliant, and empty.

He slips off his shirt willingly enough when they reach the car, lips thinned a little, and looks maybe mildly, just barely, surprised when Antoni hands him his spare shirt to put on instead. Their hands brush and Antoni feels the telltale roughness and scarring he expected.

Through it all, his intuition whispers, he’s like Chris, and he needs help.

Once they’re in the car, driving down a small two-lane highway, cutting through the late-night darkness, Antoni says quietly, “You are coming home with me. I cannot have you questioned, or have you speak to police. You will stay with me for now.”

“Yes, sir,” Jax mumbles, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. He hasn’t tried to remove his collar or his ring, and Antoni knows how hard taking off your collar the first time can be for someone like them, and he doesn’t ask.

Instead, he offers, “Would you like to choose a station on the radio?”

There’s a long silence, Antoni aware he is being studied, Jax Marcoset watching him with utmost care, deciding what he will do or say. What he wants, Antoni thinks. Appease, placate, survive. It’s all the same, in the end. Even though he noticed Jax has no barcode when he changed shirts. If Jax is a pet, he isn’t a legal one and likely never was.

Jax slowly moves his hand, hesitating before he touches the dial as though he thinks his fingers will be slapped away. He changes the station, scanning until he reaches 90.1 FM.

Classical music drifts from the speakers, and Jax pulls his hand back quickly, folding them back in his lap, and closes his eyes.

“Will you miss her?” Antoni asks.

“Yes, sir.” His voice is barely audible, underscored and nearly overwhelmed by the sound of a single violin.

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tarithenurse · 4 years

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Nightingale - 19

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: Yeah...this gets darker with some violence, a torture-ish situation, angst, sadness. A/N: Gotten to 347 of Shippuuden, btw. What a ride! As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag!

Ch. 19

Her restraints haven't been altered, so Uguisu sits straight in the chair – the only display of freedom being a leg daintily slung over the other, allowing a foot to tap along in the air to an unheard melody as if she's bored. There is no fear in her face, just mild curiosity as she regards the towering man who has turned to her now. Gloved fingers move nimbly to release the gag.

"How are you feeling, Minami-kun?"

If she's surprised at the question and the (relatively) kind voice, she doesn't show it. "Much better, thank you. I don't believe I've slept this well since I was a teen."

"I suppose not..." Ibiki concedes, "but how come you managed to tonight? I would expect someone with your claimed experiences would have nightmares."

"Normally, yes. I guess I was too exhausted even to dream." The interrogator has begun circling the chair where she sits so her gaze lands on Kakashi instead.

"It can be a relief to finally tell the truth."

She nods. "Might also have helped that establishing the seal burned through all my chakra."

"The seal...yes." Pausing, he lets a hand brush against her shoulder, and while Kakashi holds his breath in anticipation, the woman merely tenses. "Do you feel...different with the seal?"

Uguisu purses her lips slightly as if in deep thought. "Well, apart from the physical effect...I'm not sure. It might be psychological that I feel free...like a looming shadow has been chased away...it probably is...but it's the best metaphor."

"You mentioned a physical effect?"

"It throbs, hurts. Not the worst I've ever felt but enough to be annoying." It’s impossible to tell she’s experiencing any discomfort when looking at her.

"Last night, you told us how the Curse Mark would be triggered if you used too much of your chakra or kekkei genkai." She nods at his words. "Is that the same now?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Why not?"

The little bit Kakashi knows about the woman, he can easily imagine that she's biting a sarcastic comment back rather than the calm reply she gives: "It seemed unwise to do anything without proper approval first...and I'm afraid to try."

"Explain."

"...which part?"

"The latter," Ibiki prompts less patiently but adds, "if you'd be so kind."

"When the mark activates, it's as if Orochimaru takes over mind and body and I...don't...want that."

Kakashi fears for one short moment that the woman will be asked to continue explaining, to retell in gruelling details what exactly she has suffered through at the hands of Konoha's enemy, and maybe that was Ibiki's plan as he bends over her to scrutinize her eyes and face because to the careful observer there's a subtle change in his stance.

He signals Inoichi who brings out a backpack together with a bundle containing the gear she’d carried last night.

“Is this yours?” The man with the long ponytail lifts the backpack.

“It is.”

“What is in it?” He places it on the end of the table that’s free.

A shrug. “I suppose that depends if anything has been added or removed since last I packed it.” Undoubtedly, Uguisu doesn’t trust the men very much. “There should be some tools, weapons, and clothing of mine. You’d also find a book from the Academy’s Library, a necklace, an alarm clock, someone’s favourite cup...washed, I might add...ehm, an also-washed sock, a photograph, and a pretty stone.”

Every item mentioned is procured from the depths of the luggage and lined up on the table.

Morino takes over again: “You have stolen these things, true?”

“Is it still considered stealing if the intention from the beginning is to return them?”

“Then why take them at all?”

A grim smile dances across the woman’s face. “The note explained why I borrowed the book. The rest? Proof that I could’ve killed but chose not to. I’m not the enemy.”

A smile is tugging at Kakashi’s lips behind the black fabric of the collar as he sees the interrogator momentarily at a loss for words – the skills he has honed over the years are telling him the explanation is true or at least not detectable as a lie.

"Then tell me," he recovers, "what you can do with your skill. Why was it so important to Orochimaru?"

"Because it can force people to go against their very nature." Only silence answers her. "One order from me, worded carefully, and the person will have no choice but to follow it to their best of their abilities. They will want to. Like an obsession or addiction nagging their mind until they give in to it because it's the only thing that matters to them. Orochimaru sought to use it to gain access to restricted places or during interrogations if a prisoner refused to tell him what he wanted. At the time, it wasn't necessary for the sake of carrying out murders but I'm certain he considered that as an option too," she sighs, "and probably more."

"Show us."

The onlookers were already silent but the hush that falls in the room makes it feel as though all air has been sucked away – a feeling that's intensified when Uguisu stares at the man with open mouth.

"Show? Are you...you don't mean that," she gasps, "or are...you volunteering?"

"Hm," Kakashi knows something's brewing when the interrogator begins to smile, "not me, no. However I'd recommend you demonstrate your skill on someone who has stated their devotion to you." Yeah, that makes sense. "Kakashi."

Even before Ibiki has finished saying his name, the jōnin in question has pushed to his feet. If Asuma had been there, he’d probably look at the white-haired friend in a way which would mean something along the lines of "told you so". The only Sarutobi, the old Hokage, shifts in his seat but doesn't object, allowing the addition to the people in the arena.

"Order him to follow the first order I give him."

Just do it. Kakashi nods to the woman, hoping to banish the fear from the doe-like eyes as she shifts her attention between the two men. I got nothing to hide.

“I must be able to sign,” she protests.

Without hesitation, the tall man in charge cuts her bonds and even allows her time to rub some life into hands and fingers before he motions towards the test-bunny. Is she hesitating? Just as Kakashi begins to wonder, Uguisu’s hands flies through a series of signs.

"Kakashi..."

Everything changes. The surroundings seem to fade away along with the people in it – even the shadow that once was Ibiki is unable to take form or speak audibly as it leans closer to Uguisu. Uguisu. She's washed out too, but her voice rings clear, somehow guiding him as she speaks again and he just knows that anything she says is important. Follow the order Ibiki gives me. It's a strange thing to say, but if that's what she wants then he'll happily do it and as he nods, the man in question begins to stand out clearer in the blurred world.

"Strangle her until she passes out."

A part of Kakashi tries to object, but his body moves on its own accord until he's leaning over her because this is what she wanted. She told him to follow the order. So he does.

The skin is soft and smooth under his fingers, the little hairs in the neck obediently bend under the pressure and it tickles a memory of having touched the blue strands before but in a different way. Above his hands the usually pretty face is distorted: mouth open, eyes watering and huge. She's afraid? But she wanted me to do this. It doesn't make sense, really, but he clings on to the one thing he knows for sure. Do as told. Her eyes roll backwards and the whites contrast the flushed skin. Almost there. Almost done as you wanted. Something wet lands on her face. Drops of something unimportant. She's resisting a bit now, but it's easy to avoid the instinctual flailing. Almost. And then she stops. The haze of the world lifts as Kakashi's hands fall to his sides and he realizes what he has done.

It takes four seconds to lower her onto the floor.

It takes five before he can hear the heartbeat, sluggish and faint.

It feels like an infinity before she gasps and coughs, each intake of breath shuddering through her body. It nearly breaks his heart to feel Uguisu stiffen as he pulls her into his lap.

"Truth..." Ibiki’s standing with his arms crossed, glaring down at the woman and smiling lazily as he takes in how she reacts even in her ally's arms. "Gotta admit I'm impressed it actually worked...maybe you're not completely useless after all."

"You wanna...see...usefulness?" she wheezes, pushing off of Kakashi and onto her feet. She's shaking, whether from the underlying trauma or the near death experience itself is unclear.

The man who ordered the attack strolls around the arena. "You didn't even try to fight him."

"Why should I...an order cannot be annulled..." Slender fingers tentatively stroke the angry marks left behind on her throat, making Kakashi’s gut tighten.

"Aï...The only thing I've seen so far is a scared woman crying and snivelling."

Something ignites within Kakashi almost as if he had been the target of the insult. But if I butt in...no...He knows the senior well enough to understand that this is part of the tactic, one move of many in an elaborate game of chess between him and the blue-haired girl.

Maybe she knows it too, at least she doesn't hide a tiny smile. "Fight back." Now her smile has grown into a full grin. "Perhaps a duel? Unless it's beneath you to fight a snivelling, scared girl like me? Hmm?"

"No involvement of others."

"Hm," she agrees.

Getting the hint, her white-haired friend retreats to his seat from before, only now realizing that his mask is wet.

Below, Uguisu is equipping the gear she normally wears and meticulously checks the contents of each pouch and sheath. Her hands are shaking. The sound of her breathing still has a slight creaking to it. Maybe for that reason, the scarred man is allowing her to take her time. He wants to see how capable she is.

Ibiki squares off at one side of the sandy floor. "The opponent must yield."

Again, she hums in agreement, taking her own place opposite of him. "Before we start...you might want to have a look in the book," she sweetly offers, "first page."

"Hah! Such a low trick won't work."

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marvellovegalore · 5 years

Text

To do what Lovers do.

Anthony Stark.

requested prompt: fluff no.10 ‘i owe you everything’

synopsis: you and tony have dinner together, you both truly realise the extent of your devotion towards one another.

author’s note: there’s truly not plot, i was just excited to put something out for you guys after so long - anon that requested probably forgot about this - i’m sorry.

warning: Explicit Language

“I wish I could stop this moment in time.” He says suddenly.

She lifts her eyes from her plate and is immediately transfixed by the dewy, mahogany pools that are his eyes. “What?” there’s a tinge of laughter to her question.

He licks his lips and takes a soft sip of his red wine. “I wish I could stop this moment in time.” He smiles, an assured and loving smile graces his pink lips. “I want to stay in this moment forever, you know, just you and me.” He sighs, an almost desperate look paints his eyes. “We’ll just stay here, and the rest of the world - it can go fuck itself.” He chuckles and reaches out for her hand.

Their fingers tangle together as she laughs at him, the notes that roll off of her tongue are sweet music to him. The type of noise that sounds like a newly discovered favourite song. He wishes he could hear it again for the first time and fall in love all over again.

Her eyes cast briefly to the city across the darkened ocean, “Maybe that’s a good idea, Stark.” She chuckles and strokes his knuckles one by one. “Right now though?”

The boat sways twice as Tony ponders, “We’ll just have to pick up the dogs. And the dummy.” He adds at the end quietly causing his girlfriend to laugh. “But I really wish we could. You know, being an Avenger,” he sighs and his free hand goes to hold up his chin, his eyes never leaving her, “it really does take a toll on you. God, your back rubs are heavenly but they can only do so much after a pounding from an alien army.” He laughs, but she can sense the pain he’s feeling.

She sighs, a deep desire to heal him and being unable to hurt her. She bites her lip before sighing, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “No doll, it’s absolutely not your fault, you have absolutely nothing to apologise for. I apologise to you.” The hazy look in his eyes deepens as he continues to admire her, his ankle brushing up against hers. “I’m not there as much as I should be, I’m not present for some of the most important times and I come back with ugly scars and more traumas. I’m a mess.” He takes a deep breath and a light cloud of tears floats over her irises. “But you accept me.”

He leans back in his chair, their hands still tangled together. She smiles sweetly, “It’s because I love you. I love you more than anything. Maybe even more than I love the dogs.” They both laugh, their faces reflecting each other. Her lips continue to hang open, immaterial professions of love wanting to leave her lips.

She should say more.

But it’s enough for Tony, even if she doesn’t know it. He feels his heart melting and his organic operating system halt for mere seconds. He’s sure he’s never felt love or devotion from anyone like he has from her.

She has, in fact, arranged a completely secluded dinner for them both. A luxury yacht, not belonging to him, floats kilometres away from the west coast. It’s just them, dining atop of the Pacific Ocean in the dead of the night. Candles surround them, with petals of soft smelling flowers scattered on the floor. No one has ever even thought of doing that for him.

“I love you too.” He almost sings those four words. He feels a pressure on his heart, and he knows it’s not from the threat of death, but it’s in fact from feeling more alive than ever before. “Let’s dance.” He stands and lifts her up, their hands never departing from each other.

Her smile adds an extra dosage of light to the atmosphere. He leads her away from the table and to the area with more space, his arm encircles her silkened waist. The silk dress feels like water against his fingers and it’s divine to him.

Her arm wraps around his neck and her fingers grip on tighter to his. Her fingers at the nape of his neck sliver to his hair, they swim in the gelled mahogany locks. She steps closer to him as he softly commands for the music to get louder and change to something more complementary. His attention is quickly back onto her and they’re trapped into their own little space again.

They sway, as if they were on ice, their feet move effortlessly on the floor and tangle together in perfection. Her fingers slip slightly from his as he spins her around.

She should hold him tighter.

He finishes spinning her around and holds her tightly again. His arm locks against her body and he wished he could really keep her here forever. Instead, he finds himself being trapped slowly into her eyes, there are galactic stars dancing in them.

As he lowers himself onto one knee, the stars in her eyes brighten wildly. The light fog of tears that misted over her irises before comes back and this time the tears fall.

“If there is a time and a place, it’s now, isn’t it?” The question that slips past his lips is rhetorical. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I stopped waiting for the admiration I feel for you to die. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll never finish loving you.” He pauses for a mere few seconds, their fingers still interlocked. “I tried to figure out for countless hours in different labs in the world, how you make me feel the way I do - so strongly; never got anything conclusive. And I guess I have to hold on tight to that, keep that only person that I’ve ever truly fallen in love with, with me.

And y/n, I can conclusively say that marrying you is the only answer I got from those countless hours of research. I owe you everything. Absolutely everything.” She shakes her head at his last words but he nods in contest.

“Marry me?” He brings out a maroon box from his inner blazer pocket.

She recognises the ring. It’s his mother’s ring.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” The tears roll down her cheeks.

She should accept quicker.

Maybe they should finish their dinner early.

So they won’t wake up late tomorrow. So that won’t set out late to jog together. So things don’t pan out wrong for some reason.

“Yes, yes, of course, Tony.” The tears fall from her eyes.

Suddenly the boat rocks aggressively, his glass of wine falls off of the table - causing a ringing noise to strike their ears. Their hands part from the sudden shock - and Tony feels like he’s lost his oxygen.

Her vision gets blurry, as suddenly Tony closes his lips around her cheeks, leaving countless kisses on her face. She bats her eyelids, a sudden harsh light impacting her view and blinding her for a few moments.

A ceiling comes into view. Her bedroom ceiling. It’s always the first thing she sees after her recurring dream. The white bedroom ceiling. And then her dog’s snout enters her vision as he licks the side of her face. She pushes his face away and wipes his saliva off of her face. “Christ.” she huffs and sighs.

She swings her head to the side, looking outside of the window.

It’s as if the sun decided that since Tony went missing from earth, it no longer had a purpose to serve. The deaths of billions of people and disappearances of loved ones plunged the world into disarray and when the Avengers were nowhere to be found - chaos ensued.

People turned to dust. Without explanation. No amount of research from scientists or reassurances from politicians - those that were left - gave humankind the necessary satisfaction.

Without Tony, everything went to shit. As soon as he left earth everything started to go black. Half of the Avengers were dead and she never ventures into the shallow waters of thinking of Tony’s demise in outer space. She’s already died enough solely from thinking about how he’s missing and suffering.

A bark from the dog makes her snap out of it. It takes her fifty minutes to get out of bed, as it usually does. The look of hunger in the dog’s eyes as she walks into the kitchen hurts her. Maybe she hasn’t treated him as well as she used to since Tony’s been gone. There are still four bowls for her to put food in. She fills up one with water and the other with food and watches as her oldest pup devours his breakfast - at three o’clock in the afternoon. She stares longingly at the other two bowls that belonged to her youngest dog, who was also a victim of whatever killed half of the earth’s population.

She wants to die.

But she can’t because she has to feed her dog.

Her thoughts often drift to the desire she has deep down to have also been a victim of whatever killed billions of people. She curses whatever natural selection chose that she’s worthy of living. She just wants to die - especially since he’s not here to suffer from her death, he won’t have to mourn if he doesn’t know she’s dead.

“Is this thing on?” It’s a tiny, muffled sound. It plays from the ajar door of her office. Her eyes squint in question but her feet remain planted to the ground. “Hey, Miss y/l/n.” She gulps.

It feels like her entire world has stopped, halted suddenly by the command of his voice. But she puts it back into motion when she runs into her office and tries to identify where the muffled noise is coming from.

“If you find this recording don’t feel bad about this...”

It’s him. It’s Tony. His voice plays from his helmet on her desk, that he gave her years ago.

She can’t stop the tears, they fall on their own accord as she holds the helmet. They fall ceaselessly as he tells her of his plight, she feels useless. She can’t do anything. She begged him, begged him to get off of that ship.

And now he’s dying. And what can she do? She’s not heroic like him. Her back can’t withstand the pounding from an alien army, she’s weak unlike him.

His voice dies out. She can’t figure out when he recorded it. But she doesn’t want to think that it was from long ago. It can’t be. He can’t be dead - he’s Anthony Stark. The love of her life. He can’t be dead.

A sensation of not being totally ready to give up rips itself through all the clogged up sadness in her body, the motivation fights its way to her heart. She feels a purpose all of a sudden.

She holds up the helmet, the eyeholes glint with Tony’s technology. And she knows what to do. She’ll do what lovers do.

Save him.

#tony stark #tony stark imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #avengers #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fluff #tony stark one shot

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perfectisme-georgette · 5 years

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Archetype — The Ruler Birthday — October 25th, 1993 Zodiac Sign — Scorpio Sun, Pisces Moon, Leo Rising MBTI — ESTJ Enneagram — 8; The Challenger Temperament — Choleric Hogwarts House — Slytherin Moral Alignment — Chaotic Neutral Primary Vice — Wrath Primary Virtue — Diligence Element — Water

Overview:

Mother — Addison Midler nee Windham Father — William Midler Mother’s Occupation — Stay at home wife. Ex ruler of all things pageantry. Hails from old money. Father’s Occupation — Highly famous News Anchor in the east coast USA. Also, hails from old money Family Finances — Very rich. They upscale. They have a lot of money. Birth Order — Only child. Addison wasn’t going to go through the ordeal of pregnancy more than once. She had her kid for the ideal appearance sake of a family and that was that. Brothers — None Sisters — None Other Close Family — None. Georgette never grew up knowing much about her extended family, except that they were spread about all rich too. Best Friend — Before she really didn’t have any best-friend, except Perdita. She then messed that up. Now, she considers Melody and Rory to be her best friends. Other Friends — She doesn’t really have any other friends. All of her past friends weren’t true friends. They were just friends with Georgette because of her wealth and status. Enemies — Her ex-boyfriend, Ryan Warren. He was the one that planned her rape and got it all rolling. If he can, he would make her life a continual misery. Pets — Peaches!!! She is a Maltese and Toy Poodle mix. Georgette is absolutely in love with her!! Home Life During Childhood — Georgette was very spoiled!!! If anyone would look at her from the outside they would believe she had the golden childhood. Anything she asked for she was given. The thing was, Addison wasn’t the best of mothers. She was cold and only cared about what she was able to gain. That being said, Georgette grew up with many nannies so there really wasn’t much of intimacy in her childhood. She was placed into pageantry the minute she was able to compete and that was all Addison cared about. The older she grew the more intense and strict her training became. It was basically what her world turned into much without her choice. What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — BEAUTIFUL!!! There was definitely a lot of pink!!!! Georgette enjoyed pink and white so her room was those colors. Very organized because Georgette is herself. Everything in her room was definitely named brand. She had an enormous walk-in closet, practically the size of a whole other room and she also had an en-suite bathroom. She really had the dream room. Any Sports or Clubs — SInce Addison was very adamant about her daughter’s pageant career (more for her sake than anyone else) Georgette really didn’t have time for extra-curricular in school anyways. She is, however, AHMAZING in Gymnastics. Addison placed in her such because it was perfect for the talent section of the pageantry competition, plus Georgette has been double jointed since young. Favorite Toy or Game — When Georgette was very little, like toddler age, there was a unicorn plushie she absolutely ADORED, but once she grew older there was no time really for toys and games so that was it. Schooling — Georgette graduated from Elementary, Middle and High school in NYC as well as college. She went to Columbia University in NYC and graduated with a bachelors in Business (again on her mother’s insistence) and a masters in Chemistry (this was the degree she actually loved). Favorite Subject — Science more so Chemistry and that is because she loved learning about the components found in what she eats and what she puts on her skin xD Popular or Loner — Popular of course!!!! There wasn’t a soul who didn’t know who Georgette Midler was in school pfft Important Experiences or Events — All of her graduations because she is educated!! All of her pageants wins because she has never really lost any so of course, she has to have them as important experiences. She was raped, not an experience she would want to be mentioned but an important one that has changed her life. She entered quite a tragic low after the rape turning to alcohol for her remedy to the pain. Thenn she has DIED and is now UNDEAD so she is navigating those waters. Nationality — American Culture — British now but was born into American culture Religion and beliefs — Georgette’s family are practicing Catholics, so she has grown up knowing their religious rituals and the classic Bible stories. However, she sure as hell doesn’t practice any of it currently in her life.

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim — Candice Accola/King Complexion — Georgette has clear and clean skin, currently without acne or any blemishes. She’s very into skin care and keeping on top of her own skin. Now though she really doesn’t have to do much with it because of the regenerative power of the Fountain Youth. It keeps her skin and complexion flawless. Hair Colour — Blonde Eye Colour — A beautiful gorgeous oceanic blueeee <3 Ughh I LOVE her eyyess Height — 5ft. 7 inches Build — Slim to average build Tattoos — Georgette originally did have tattoos. She had three. She had a large beautiful dream catcher that basically covered her entire right torso. That one was done to cover a scar she had received from her rape. She then had a star on her left foot and cherry blossom on her right wrist. She doesn’t have any of them now though because the Fountain of Youth washed them all away, including her scar. We are still figuring out if she’ll get a new one again, but it’s complicated since the magic of the fountain changed her skin. Piercings — Yes, just the standard two ear piercings. Common Hairstyle — Georgette lovess doing her hair so it can normally be found in some sort of up-do, or an half-half do. She also though, leaves it down and loose frequently especially now since she’s still figuring out her newfound strength. Clothing Style — Good thing I did the closet task on Georgette so here you go this is her closet!! Mannerisms — Georgette is very expressive with her hands and talks with them a lot especially when angry. She’s very horrible with having patience (we are working on that haha) and you can tell when she’s reaching her limits because she starts tapping her fingers on the nearest counter. If she’s very nervous, aside from the normal body tensing, Georgette tends to incessantly turn whatever bracelet or hair tie she has on her wrist.

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — Nope. Georgette has always been a health nut and always took care to pay attention to what was going in her body, which definitely helped. Now though, it’s even harder for her to get sick if at all because of the magic of the Fountain. Physical Ailments — None. Neurological Conditions — She has to have some undiagnosed PTSD from the rape. Her therapist needs to get on that!! Allergies — None Grooming Habits — Georgette never steps out of her place without looking completely immaculate from head to toe. She is hugely into make-up. In fact, she does her own make-up, rarely did/does she like when make-up artist had/have to do it for her during photo shoots and/or commercials. There is never a hair out of place or a nail undone. Her clothes are pristine and Georgette showers a lot!!!! Ever since the trauma, she can’t find herself clean enough. Sometimes are worse than others like when she’s triggered it gets bad. Sleeping Habits — Complicated lol!! Her body isn’t in need of sleep because of the regenerative magic of the Fountain. She can sleep but it will be more out of a force of habit than anything. Some night she just isn’t able to it all because her body says “screw it” and doesn’t let her sleep. Eating Habits — Georgette was always a health freak. Can’t look amazing eating crappy!! She was very into organic and local sourcing. Gluten free too. Now, however, Georgette doesn’t have the need for eating and her body never really feels hunger so, she forgets that she should eat. She will always indulge in chocolate though!!! Exercise Habits — It was on point!!!! Look she always had to look fabulous so she was a firm believer of working out!! She was faithful to hitting that gym!!! Now, you guessed it, not needed!!! At the same time, with her new strength, a gym probably wouldn’t even cut it. Emotional Stability — Hahaha I don’t think Georgette has ever been emotionally stable xDD. Georgette is one that feels all of her emotions. She’s not that best at holding them in and when she has to it often times blows up in her face and flares out stronger than before. Body Temperature — Warm. I know she’s undead, but she’s not a cold corpse!! Sociability — It swings. Normally, Georgette is a social butterfly. She LOVES talking to people, being the center of attention and having everyone devoted on her, but if she’s triggered that all dies. She will keep more to herself and not really speak with anyone. This happens at times when she’s in the company of men she knows nothing about. They make her uncomfortable because of her trauma. Addictions — None. Drug Use — Nope. Alcohol Use — Literally none. She intentionally chooses not to drink because of the fact that she had once leaned on alcohol to help heal her trauma wounds and that left her with choices she completely regrets now.

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Qualities — Tapping on surfaces when angry, she can definitely have an attitude, not very good at swallowing emotions, impatient, can have a temper problem lmao Good Qualities — Always determined, loyal, bold, intelligent, feisty, she can be nice but it’s not a like very strong quality of her lol Best Characteristic — Her determination Worst Characteristic — Probably her temper Worst Memory — When she was raped. She has also DIED and it was a pretty traumatic death too, so she can’t honestly tell you which one was worse lmao Best Memory — Her happiest memory was her very first pageant win because after that very first win Georgette practically took the pageant world by storm and even broke the record for the most wins to date. Her first kiss with Hercules. She won’t admit to that out loud though Proud of — The fact that she is somehow still relatively sane enough to live life after all of her previous trauma loool. Also, her very successful and continually rising make-up industry back in the states. The fact that she was able to face and go through the trial that placed her rapist away in jail. Embarrassed by — Her past, more so at the fact that she leaned on alcohol so heavily as a healing mechanism. While drunk, Georgette made many, many, many regrettable mistakes. A lot of those mistakes have been videotaped and aired by social media and paparazzi, was even shown in her trial. Driving Style — Georgette doesn’t really drive. No need for it in Swynlake and everywhere else she just gets driven to soo haha Weakness — I would say it’s her view of her herself. Georgette has a very low and sad view of herself. Even though she has a strong determination and on the outside, she exudes confidence, on the inside, it’s a totally different story. Fears — That she could get raped again it’s her biggest fear. Phobias — None Secrets — Georgette doesn’t really have a lot of secrets because social media and paparazzi have basically placed her entire life out for the world to see. However, she hasn’t publically released her current condition: that’s she’s undead and now has crazy super strength. Regrets — Gawwwd a lot. They all stem from when she was depending on alcohol. She made stupid choices while drunk including hookups and one night stands. Wild acting and everything. She regrets all of that and how low she allowed herself to drop. Feels Vulnerable When — Triggered. She’s still learning through therapy what are specific triggers for her, but they bring her back to the rape and then she’ll get serious flashbacks. She’ll legitimately forget that she has super strength, so getting harmed would be a very low possibility. She’s very fragile when triggered. Pet Peeves — Gahhh I’m sure Georgette does have some pet peeves but I can’t think of them right now xD Conflicts — There is the situation with her ex-boyfriend Ryan. He’s out to make her life miserable and is like wealthy rich in both money and influence so like Georgette feels like he’s someone that can’t really be touched. Her undiagnosed PTSD. Then there is her gaining control of her new strength and living with the fact that she’s not technically alive but neither is she technically dead too. Motivation — It’s kind of sad, but Georgette doesn’t really have anyone or anything that she can hold onto for motivation. Besides, like self-preservation and her own will, there is nothing tremendously great that she holds onto. I mean she does love her make-up industry but it’s not like that’s what keeps her waking up the next morning. Short Term Goals and Hopes — To keep excelling in her make-up industry, and maybe have it go international although she’s very happy with where it is now. Long Term Goals and Hopes — Georgette really wants to fix her reputation publically. It has gotten so tarnished after the rape and she had made it worse by fixating in alcohol. Right now, it has gotten better and people are aware of the true story, but still, she has shot a lot of her own creditability by her drinking. She hopes that one day she’ll be able to settle down to have a family, but like wayyy in the future. She knows she needs to fix herself first. Sexuality — Heterosexual butt that’s more because she really hasn’t experienced a bi-wakening moment. I can see her being attracted to females too but with all the shit that has happened to her life, sexuality hasn’t really become a priority with her. Exercise Routine — Georgette used to have a very rigorous exercise routine, even during the downward spiral she was still very faithful to her exercise routine. She used to work out daily and focus on a different aspect each day ie. cardio, abs, thighs, arms etc. Now she’s in the works of trying to figure that out with her strength haha Day or Night Person — Both Introvert or Extrovert — Primarily extrovert, but if she’s triggered then that switches drastically Optimist or Pessimist — Neither. Georgette is more of a realist but if I have to choose she probably leans more toward the pessimist side

Likes and Styles:

Music — Georgette is very 80′s trash!!! She loves all the 80′s songs except for the heavy metal ones. Her absolute favorite is I Wanna Dance with Somebody by Whitney Houston Books — She is a romance novel fan lol. The typical girl answer but for Georgette it’s more because she’s never had the love she would read about like she never even had love from her parents. She also loves reading about Myths. It’s a past time favorite of her, particularly about the Heroes of Greek Mythology. Her favorite book though is on neither category it’s The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne Magazines — She practically reads all the American ones to see what they have written about her, and she’ll also receive copies of the ones where she’s featured in the front cover and/or featured in a spread. She’s been in a lot more lately since the trial and the rising of her make-up industry Foods — Georgette doesn’t exactly each much at all nowadays but her absolute favorite is CHOCOLATE!!! No surprise there xD Drinks — She was definitely into those healthy protein shakes and smoothies but her favorite drink has always been water!!! She still drinks water frequently. Alcohol though is Tequila. Animals — Peaches!!! She loves dogs and absolutely hates cats. Georgette does have a thing now for horses too. Sports — Gymnastics that’s it. Social Issues — Now that things are heading on the upside for her publicity-wise, Georgette is getting more involved with Women’s rights and rights and protections for rape victims. She doesn’t want anyone to have to go through all that she did with her own. Favorite Saying — “If you want something done perfectly, you have to do it yourself.” Color — Pink!!!! Jewelry — Yeaass! Georgette loves jewelry!!! But she isn’t gaudy about it. Her favorite piece of jewelry would be bracelets. She always needs something around her wrist and she never leaves her place without one, so they easily became her favorite. Games — Georgette really isn’t much of a game person. Websites — Very social media savy. Before, while in her downward spiral, Georgette was avidly avoiding social media and had even de-activated almost all of hers. Now, she back in the world, not so full-fledged like before, but back to where she knows what’s going on and bringing back her Instagram. TV Shows — Georgette doesn’t really watch a lot of TV. She does enjoy Gilmore Girls and Friends but that’s about it. Movies — Georgette’s favorite movie used to be Mean Girls, but she’s over that now. She’s currently in the process of rediscovering her favorite. She does like rom-coms. A favorite right now has been The Time-Traveler’s Wife. Greatest Want — For the trauma of her rape to finally be all left behind her and still not torment her present day. Greatest Need — To work on her mental health.

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — Georgette currently lives in the Castle Suites. She’s only one person so she didn’t want anything huge. Plus, her revenue wasn’t the best when she was first dropped into Swynlake. Now it’s amazing, but even still she doesn’t want anything big. Household furnishings — It’s constantly changing because Georgette needs to replace something every time it gets broken because of her strength, but know that she’s very organized and her furnishings are definitely up their price wise. Neighborhood — The NorthEast side of Swynlake Town or City Name — Swynlake, England Details of Town or City — We all know how Swynlake issss Married Before — Nope. Significant Other Before — There was Ryan Warren and Hercules for a brief time lmao. Children — Nope. Relationship with Family — Shunned. When Georgette went to NYC for the rape trial, she had stopped by home before coming to Swynlake and literally told her mother OFF. I mean she cursed this woman out lmao, so yeah she’s shunned xD Car — Nope. Career — An American media personality, socialite, model and a businesswoman as she is currently running her make-up industry. Dream Career — In a past-life, she would have loved remaining in the Pageant world, now not at all. She currently has her dream career with her make-up line. It was something she always wanted and why she majored in Chemistry. Her make-up industry is her BABY Dream Life — Oh gawwd, one where she hadn’t been raped, and like DIED. She would have been Miss America and more continuing through the pageant world. She would be married with kids, but now she needs to change that dream lmao Love Life — Complicated. Going to just leave it at that Talents or Skills — Georgette is awesome at Gymnastics, she’s super flexible, she has a beautiful singing voice, very business savvy, AHMAZING with doing make-up!!!, Intelligence Level — Quite intelligent. She did go through all the educational levels. Finances — She has a wonderful flow of revenue that constantly runs her way lmao

Your Character’s Life Before Your Story:

Past Careers — Pagentry Past Lovers — Some as above. Biggest Mistakes — Turning to alcohol to help heal her from her rape trauma as well as never initially reporting her rape Biggest Achievements — The fact that she’s still managing to keep her head up after everything that has happened to her.

#knowing georgette #tw: rape #tw: alcohol #the words are just mentioned #there are no details written about either topics #ik Georgette already had a character sheet donnee #but she didn't have this one done and I want all my characters to have this onee #plus so much has happened to her and she has changed bc of it all #that I felt like she needed a new one done tooo #end rant

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nolongeractive---sorry-blog · 7 years

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i’ve avoided talking about this my entire life, but like, i’m an adult now and this is my blog and i want to open up about my trauma for the very first time, okay? so um,

when i was a child, i was brainwashed and recruited into a cult. they call themselves all kinds of shit– apostolics, pentecostals, church of god– but they’re not christians no matter how much they want to believe they are! it’s a fucking cult, and like i said, i’ve never talked about this before so i’m going to use some “characteristics of cults” to help me explain my experiences within the cult

The group displays excessively zealous and unquestioning commitment to its leader and (whether he is alive or dead) regards his belief system, ideology, and practices as the Truth, as law.

while they don’t have one leader, each church’s pastoral line (yes, it’s usually biologically inherited) is viewed as the Truth, law, their word is 100% correct and they have no flaws (at least not flaws that can’t be corrected by Jesus)! the pastor is a healer and can make a paraplegic rise from their wheelchair and dance! the pastor can wish financial well-being on you and you’ll magically come into large amounts of money! the pastor can put his hand on your head and your headache will disappear instantly!

Questioning, doubt, and dissent are discouraged or even punished.

you are not to speak of doubt/questioning/dissent. all other religions and beliefs are wrong. only the beliefs of the church will save you. any doubts were very, very, very unspoken of and i would’ve been terrified to speak out against them.

Mind-altering practices (such as meditation, chanting, speaking in tongues, denunciation sessions, and debilitating work routines) are used in excess and serve to suppress doubts about the group and its leader(s).

they “speak in tongues”– meaning everyone has to pray by blabbering nonsense, and sometimes we would all stand in a circle and people would take turns blabbering nonsense, and they called it “Jesus speaking directly through [those people]”. speaking in tongues happened at every service. sometimes people would say “that person’s tongues are in [language] even though they can’t speak that language!” “that person’s tongues sound like they must be an ancient version of [language]!” they taught that tongues was the holy spirit speaking through us and they were an actual language somewhere in the world. i can literally guarantee you it was entirely gibberish!!!

The leadership dictates, sometimes in great detail, how members should think, act, and feel (for example, members must get permission to date, change jobs, marry, or leaders prescribe what types of clothes to wear, where to live, whether or not to have children, how to discipline children, and so forth).

we were not allowed to date outside of church. women could not cut their hair or wear pants, and men were encouraged to dress like they were going to church even if they weren’t. homosexuality was the ultimate abomination. you couldn’t have certain jobs. you couldn’t do drugs or drink alcohol, and those things were extremely wrong and made you a horrible person. you needed permission from your family (and sometimes the church) to date and marry.

The group is elitist, claiming a special, exalted status for itself, its leader(s) and members (for example, the leader is considered the Messiah, a special being, an avatar, or the group and/or the leader is on a special mission to save humanity).

they believe they’re the only people who are going to be saved and hold themselves up above other christians and other religions. people outside of the church aren’t truly happy and don’t truly love one another. i actually remember being taught that relationships outside of the church were doomed to fail because they couldn’t truly love one another if they weren’t pentecostal. it’s the church’s purpose to “save” as many people as possible because the rapture (end of the world, where all pentecostals are saved and all non-pentecostals are doomed to destroy one another and burn in hell for all eternity) is coming soon!! soon!! very soon!! perhaps obama is the antichrist!!

The group has a polarized us-versus-them mentality, which may cause conflict with the wider society.

again, we couldn’t date outside of the church. we were taught that we were the holiest of people. there were good people, and there were bad people, and we were the good people. everyone else was bad, evil, corrupt, sinning! our church was perfect and happy and nothing bad ever happened within it. everything outside was tainted and evil and scary. we were actually taught that people who believe in evolution were inherently racist because it meant they believed that nonwhite (more specifically, black) people were closer to apes than white people! yeah, seriously! we were taught that shit! we were also taught that Harry Potter was of the devil and rock music and shit was about satan lmao

The leadership induces feelings of shame and/or guilt in order to influence and/or control members. Often, this is done through peer pressure and subtle forms of persuasion.

the church would spread rumors about you if they didn’t think you were being “pure” enough. this happened to me and became the final straw in my leaving the church, actually. i wasn’t tithing (donating 10% of your income to the church, which was thoroughly documented btw) because 1. i was a fucking child and 2. i was dirt poor!! and they started spreading it around that i was cutting my hair and wearing jeans outside of church, which i wasn’t. they were constantly pitting members against members who weren’t “doing well enough” to serve the church

Subservience to the leader or group requires members to cut ties with family and friends, and radically alter the personal goals and activities they had before joining the group.

if you’re truly part of the church, you can’t be in contact with friends and family who aren’t, because they’re corrupt and will try to corrupt you. people were constantly pressured to stop talking to their family and friends who weren’t pentecostal. you had to minister to people and/or go on a “mission” (you go to poor countries and brainwash desperate people into believing in God). you were supposed to go to bible camp, retreats, etc. and you were supposed to attend church at least three times a week (mine usually met four times per week, and that’s excluding times we would visit sister churches in other cities)

The group is preoccupied with bringing in new members.

again, they center around brainwashing children, the poor, the weak, the vulnerable in any way, shape, or form

The group is preoccupied with making money.

they excommunicated A FUCKING CHILD for not donating 10% of my income lmao??? literally you had to donate birthday money, christmas money, your paycheck, mortgage/loans, whatever, any kind of income you had, 10% had to go to the church. and btw the church looked like shit but the pastoral family had 10 acres of land and nice, brand new, expensive shit, none of them had jobs outside of the church. i wonder where all the tithes went??? :-)

Members are expected to devote inordinate amounts of time to the group and group-related activities.

i touched on this one a bit ago but yeah basically all of your extracurricular activities were within the church and they discouraged you from participating in extracurricular activities at school or elsewhere

Members are encouraged or required to live and/or socialize only with other group members.

touched on this already

The most loyal members feel there can be no life outside the context of the group. They believe there is no other way to be, and often fear reprisals to themselves or others if they leave (or even consider leaving) the group.

this is extremely true and leaving them was, and still is, soooo fucking hard!!! they literally had me convinced that nobody outside of the church could be kindhearted. nobody outside of the church had the capacity to love. nobody outside of the church was trustworthy. nobody outside of the church wasn’t evil, and all of their thoughts/actions/etc. were tainted by the devil. you would never love or be loved. you would never find happiness. you would never be financially secure. you would never be healed if you were sick. oh, btw, a lot of people didn’t get treatment for their or their childrens’ conditions. like i said, we believed the pastor was a healer!

they also taught that people could have special abilities. one person could see a word over someone else’s head, that was whatever sin they’re struggling with. as mentioned, another person could put their hand on you and heal you, or another person could magically know another language. i remember a speech where a woman talked about how she had an abortion and she could hear the baby scream and stuff, and looking back, i now know that it was a performance based entirely around fearmongering. i remember so many fearmongering sermons, honestly. i used to take notes, so they’re really ingrained in my head, even after all these years

this is so cathartic but at the same time i’m anxious and shaking lmao! like, it’s been years, i know that none of what they taught is true and they can’t hurt me, but i left the cult scarred with PTSD, OCD, and anxiety. the reason i’m talking about all of this for the first time is because my new manager is in the cult. i saw her and just knew. i see people out in public and just know. it fills me with a feeling like i’m going to puke and i get overwhelmed and usually i can just go home, but this time, i can’t bc i’m at work :-)

it prompted me to read stories from other ex-members of the cult and i was reminded of things like the term “backslider”, which was used to describe people who left the church and “went back to being ~worldly~” or whatever? and that children were conditioned to being afraid of the dark, afraid of being alone, afraid of demonic activity (especially in scary movies, which i still can’t watch to this day because even though i know they’re not actually scary, i was brainwashed into believing they were evil and if you watched them you’d be letting demons into your life and they would corrupt and kill you)

they made it impossible to make friends because all of your friends were in the church, so i and many other ex-members had and/or have a very difficult time developing and perfecting social skills. i was taught that swearing was evil. we were taught to say “oh my word” instead of “oh my god”, or other phrases. i’ve noticed that myself as well as other ex-members swear a ton and used “oh my god”, “jesus fucking christ”, etc. deliberately taking “god’s” name in vain and swearing to excess, as a means of therapy, or maybe defiance, or a combination of both from being so demonized by the church

apparently we all still struggle with flashbacks to the brainwashing songs we heard, learned, and sang. in general, we all seem to experience varying levels of PTSD, OCD, and anxiety as a direct result from the cult, which isn’t uncommon of cults, but it’s only recently that i’ve begun to allow myself to look back on it and recognize that it was a cult, it did this to me, and it’s fueled…many of my beliefs and interests, to put it quietly. i’m still not ready to talk about all of it. this is literally the most i’ve said about it in the last six years. i’ve never discussed it in detail. i’ve rarely allowed myself to think about it in detail. i have never told anyone about it directly– not friends, family, partners, therapists…nobody :-)

so yeah here’s a lot of baggage unloaded lmao i’m going to try to relax now!!!! this is more than enough for today!!!!!

#yikes #phew #cults #religious cults #ex cult #ptsd recovery #ocd recovery #brainwashing tw #pentecostal #apostolic #tagging so that if anyone in the cult now is questioning #they'll see this and hopefully make note of it as a red flag #when i wanted to leave i found a website #fully sourced about how wrong the church was #and even though i didn't believe it at the time #i definitely noted it

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