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fratricideknight · 1 year

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hello sweetie!! i wanted to ask you if you could give us your take on john winchester ? people have very different opinions on him and i’d love to hear yours.

hi!!! thanks so much for this ask. it took me a while to gather my thoughts, so there's a relatively long post ahead.

i think that people in fandom tend to go the route of woobifying a character until they can do no wrong in their eyes, or demonising a character until everything they do is wrong. this not only doesn't allow for nuanced takes, which should be possible to make for any well-written, complex character, but also leads to attempts to push blame onto characters instead of just... accepting that the circumstances themselves are shit.

maybe john and sam are similar after all, considering the way that neither of them are extended any due sympathy whatsoever by certain individuals. john, who knew nothing of the supernatural, on an otherwise normal night during which he fell peacefully asleep in front of the television, witnessed his wife be psychically pinned to the ceiling of his baby's nursery and explode in front of both him and his six-month-old. that's bound to change anyone. blaming john entirely for becoming incredibly paranoid over and controlling of his children, and not acknowledging the role of, i don't know, azazel? prince of hell? who engineered all of this?? is so ridiculous i can't even comprehend it. the circumstances are absolutely dreadful, and john wasn't left with much of a choice in the ways he could respond to it. not only would he most likely be driven partially insane by what he witnessed happen to his wife, he would also be led to worry about the safety of his children. killing azazel wasn't just about avenging mary, it was about extinguishing the threat that, for all john knew, could be out to kill his infant sons! what do you want him to do?? shrug it off and go on like nothing happened? cut his losses and get another mother for the boys?

as for how john specifically responded to this: he became a controlling douchebag, yeah. i have someone in my life who can be the same brand of peremptory dick as john, and there are times when i want nothing more than to punch john winchester in the face. it's one of the reasons i relate to sam so much. however, not once in my viewing of season 1 before i entered fandom spaces, did it occur to me that john might be an irredeemable monster and abuser. john trained his boys like soldiers rather than treating them like the children they were, but it's not like he did it for the hell of it. he thought they would literally die if they weren't prepared to fight off the supernatural threats which he was suddenly, in the worst possible way, made aware of. john was an ex-marine, which would of course influence how he would go about this. i'm not saying that john didn't do horrible things at times and that sam and dean's upbringing wasn't awful. he did, and it was. telling sam to not come back if he went to college, trying to punish him for having dreams of his own? making tween dean feel bad for not staying in a motel room 24/7 to take care of his younger brother? dick moves. the boys' childhood was claustrophobic, toxic, and miserable, and i do not blame either of them in the slightest for wanting to get out. however, it comes down to the matter of circumstance again: it's not like john did any of this for the hell of it! let me repeat myself: he thought. they were going. to be murdered. moving frequently probably wasn't just for the sake of cases, it might also have been because he was scared that they were being pursued by something.

as for some of the abuse claims that people make. ugh. please stop just making stuff up. if you want to take the idea that john was a monster and run with it, whatever. i don't care. but acting like that's actually canon? you're just shouldering your way into spaces where people who actually want to discuss canon can do so, and that's incredibly annoying. there is no canon evidence in the seasons which actually involved john as a character that he beat his children or was homophobic. they literally go out of their way in the episode 'Nightmare' to show that sam and dean know their childhood wasn't like max miller's. as some people have said, he doesn't need to have hit his kids for their childhood to have sucked; it was bad enough already! as for the homophobia claims. ughhhhhhhh. i feel like they come from a... specific sector of the fandom, who want to take any reprehensible trait of dean's and make it someone else's fault. like i said earlier, woobifying a character until they can do no wrong. "oh, dean can be a misogynistic and homophobic douchebag at times? clearly, this is all john's influence. oh, he treats sam badly at times? actually, sam is the one who abuses him!" i can somewhat get behind the idea of john expecting the boys to repress their emotions on some level; he was literally a marine in the vietnam war, and he raised his kids in the eighties and nineties. he expected them to put aside any issues they might have had about giving up an ordinary life and hunting azazel and just follow his orders. but the idea that he's some queerphobic monster who would beat dean upside the head for shedding a single tear is hilarious.

look at this fucking fruit. he never stops tearing up.

as a final point, let me just address that jdm is incredibly sexy. if you have a problem with me liking john, take it up with whichever higher power or force of nature made him so <3

#john winchester #pro john winchester #spn discussion #fandom wank #supernatural #spn #askbox #mine #ginkgo-shaw #thanks lovely <3

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seeds-and-sins · 2 years

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Don’t Say Goodbye

Pairing: Eduardo “Lalo” Salamanca x GN!Reader

Rating: PG (Mutual Pining, relatively tame romantic energy)

Description: You’re relaxing after a long day, it’s late, and then someone comes knocking at your door.

Author’s Note: This is kind of short, but I am willing to elaborate if anyone wants. I wrote this to incite some inspiration in another work of mine, also Lalo related.

From Mexico With Love

Wait for Me

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You flinched, but only because you hadn't been expecting any visitors this late at night. You slowly put down the bowl of popcorn you had been snacking on, eyes trained entirely on the door. The only light to rely on streaming electric blue from your television.

Knock. Knock. - Knock. Knock. Knock!

Your hand snuck under one of the fluffy pillows on your couch and you stoically procured the handgun you always kept within reach. You inhaled a deep breath, keeping the gun close to your hip as you rose to approach the door. The TV played loudly in the background, muting each creak and patter of the floorboards beneath your bare feet. Your finger toyed at the trigger and you tucked behind the door as your free hand grasped as the knob.

Uno. Dos. Tres.

You swung the door open, holding your body behind it for a decent amount of cover, the gun still pinned at your hip. You felt instant relief at the sight of a familiar face. You pulled the door open completely and rushed into him for a hug.

"Eduardo!" He chuckled, arms wrapping around you. Swiftly one of his hands dropped down the length of your arm to swipe the gun from your fingers.

"What the hell were you doing with this? Huh?" He grinned, teasing you with it when you tried to reach for the gun.

"You could had been anyone!" You laughed, feeling like a bullied child as he dangled the loaded weapon over you. "Lalo, stop making fun of me." He conceded, lowering the gun back into your grasp. You then gave him another hug. Eduardo made you feel secure, warm, you knew that if he was near, nothing could hurt you. "I'm so happy to see you got out, those pigs are too stupid to get one up on you."

"You gonna' shoot me with this thing?"

"Of course! Nothing can keep me, I'm a Salamanca." You tucked your arm around his back and attempted to guide him into your home. He wouldn't budge. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you withdrew slightly to send him an expectant stare. He was frowning now, so suddenly the delight of seeing you again was absent from him.

"What's wrong?" It was then you noticed Ignacio, waiting in his car that was parked out by the curb. "Did something happen? You want me to go get dressed, I'll check it out with you guys?" He didn't answer, he didn't make a move, his sharp brown eyes burned two holes straight through you. You hesitantly stepped back from him, nodding your head in understanding. "You're leaving." You knew this day would come, you just didn't think it would happen so suddenly. You wished you had more time.

"It's only a matter of time before they find out who I am..." He cocked his head from side to side. "But this won't be the last of me." He pointed to punctuate his words. "It will only be a few months, until the heat dies down.”

"Well, uh..." You smiled, patting a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be missed." You cared about Lalo, but you knew this business and attachments were never a good idea. You needed to let him go, it was your job. You tucked your gun into your shorts, wedging it between your belly and the waistband of your underwear. When your eyes met his again, his lips were quirked up in a soft smile and he was considering you with a certain fondness. The same smile that made your heart skip a beat and heat blossom in your cheeks. "I guess it's back to Nacho Nada." You gestured loosely in Ignacio's direction, waving awkwardly at him when your eyes met from a distance. He didn't look too comfortable, or happy.

"Nacho Nada?" Lalo laughed, one eyebrow lifting in question.

"Yeah, it's what Tuco and I call him: all work, no play, nada divertido." Lalo glanced back at Nacho and smirked, turning back to you.

"I like that. Nacho Nada." You crossed your arms and diverted your gaze to the concrete path leading up to your home. "Hey..." The soles of Eduardo's expensive shoes scuffed at the pavement as he stepped closer. His fingers pinched delicately at your chin and lifted your gaze. "I would ask you to come with, but there will be a lot going on. That doesn't mean you can't always come visit another time."

"I would like that." You grabbed his wrist and turned his palm up to lay a tender kiss there. "You can finally teach me how to cook the Salamanca way." He snorted, making no effort to remove himself from your touch.

"Maybe. A good magician never reveals his secrets." You both laughed at that, until it died down to a stark silence. You rose your other hand up to cup his cheek and he leaned into you.

"You'll call me, right?" You whispered, caressing the dimple alongside his lips with your thumb.

"You know I will." You watched his Adam's apple bob, his hand twisting to grab yours and caress your knuckles. "Nacho will be coming with me for a few days. You'll be okay taking care of everything?"

"You know I will." You recited his words back to him. Part of you burning to crush those few inches that separated you both. All the time spent together, all the bonding, the growing trust, the unrelenting protectiveness over one another, and neither of you had shared such an intimate moment as this.

"Take care of yourself, cielito."

"I promise." He nodded, reluctantly withdrawing himself, his expression hardened and he slowly turned to walk away.

He looked at you one last time before entering the vehicle. Little did you know, that would be the last time you ever saw Lalo Salamanca.

#eduardo salamanca x reader #lalo salamanca x reader #gender neutral reader #ignacio varga #bcs #Better Call Saul #eduardo salamanca #lalo salamanca #one shot

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mayakern · 1 year

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thank you for the advice on pins ! i am in the process of researching how to set up my shop and i have a couple more questions if you don't mind- at what stage did you feel it was time to open your shop, follower-wise? did it take a long time to become profitable ? i saw you go through a manufacturer for your prints, is it because making them is too expensive? i see you don't make stickers, is there a reason? is a laser cutting machine worth it when debuting ? or superfluous? what did you use to design your website (it's very pretty btw)? do you have advice on getting people interested in checking it out?

how does one deal with sales being down, mentally, and how to be patient in the beginning?

does managing orders require a lot of organization? is a label maker worth the time it saves? in general, do you recomment buying your own machines (printer, or button maker) or stick with manufacturers? also, do you have advice on reconcialiting it with anticapitalism because im feeling conflicted about outsourcing labor and adding products to this world... is setting up shopify very hard ? are taxes a hassle ? sorry if it's a lot, i have trouble wrapping my head around every step i'll have to do and want to avoid beginner mistakes if i can. if you have any other advice and traps to avoid i'd be very grateful

dude this is SO many questions.

the short answer is: everything is hard and takes work.

there is no “right” time to start a shop or start selling stuff. you just kind of do it and hope. i opened mine in college (around 2012 or 2013) because i had already made some merch for a local convention and i wanted to sell the leftovers. my store didn’t become viable as a full time job until around 2017—it was a means to subsidize the income i had from working as a freelance artist.

also i never went into debt for the store so there was never a moment when my store “became profitable.” unless you’re willing to go into debt for this (not something i’d recommend), it’s a slow slog to get to a point where you can afford to sell items with a higher price point at a high enough volume that it is viable as a full career. inventory costs money and the more profitable items cost more money. it takes a lot of time and work and momentum to make this your whole job.

buying your own equipment is only worth it if you plan to use that equipment for multiple years to get a good return on investment.

however a label printer is almost always worth it, but i wouldn’t buy one until you’re getting at least 20 orders a month.

low price point items like buttons and stickers can be good to start out (i used to sell both) but at a certain point, unless you’re selling a massive amount of them there is a limit to how profitable a $3 item can be.

managing a store takes an amount of work/organization that is proportional to the number of products you have/sell. i will say i was an absolute disaster at this when i handled everything myself, which is why the store only became viable as a full time job once devin joined me.

i use squarespace for my portfolio site and shopify for the store. they’re relatively hassle free.

if you’re making most of your income from store or freelance work, find a local CPA to help you do taxes. also keep a running spreadsheet for all your expenses and income. separate your expenses into groups based on the different types of deductions (i.e. office equipment, travel, etc.) and update that spreadsheet, at minimum, once a month. then taxes are easy.

as far as anticapitalist mindset goes… do your due diligence when it comes to sussing out the manufacturers/companies you work with and try to create thoughtfully.

anyway next time you ask for advice please just pick like 3 questions at a time. this was… a lot.

#ask #art tips #long post

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soulsxng · 2 months

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Will there be any lingering effects afterwards in the people who were corrupted?

...I could have sworn I answered this already, but because it's in my askbox again, and dated from way back, I guess I didn't? Idk, I feel like tumblr just like...added a bunch of old asks back into the box or something today, because I only had 2 left before (Hooray for getting that mostly cleared out!) only for like...5 more to show up and bump me to 7. It was weird.

But I digress!

Ultimately, it's going to depend on how long they were Corrupted for! Like, what stage they made it to, essentially, (which is 100% up to you, if you decided to have one of your muses be part of the whole shindig) before they were cured of it. Unless they were in the first stage though, there's going to be some type of linger effect from it. Some that will pass by relatively quickly, and others that could potentially last for months, or even years. And those at the final stage? After they've been cured, those people will never go back to who/what they were prior to the Corruption. The only thing for them will be to...more or less be culled, and sent through Zhrun to become creationary energy again.

Early stage:

- Might still occasionally get the sudden feeling of something inside their head...be it lingering traces of the voice, or just lingering traces of its presence, or a very diluted feeling of dread and fear that came with the Corruption. It won't be debilitating or anything, and it won't be very often that it crops up, but it can induce a mild panic/anxiety reaction. How long this continues on for can depend on the person-- it could be a few days, or it could be up to a few months. - The "spaciness" can stick around on and off for a couple weeks, but the person can be snapped out of it much easier. - Headaches and body aches that come and go for a couple weeks as things settle again.

Early-mid stage:

- Everything previously mentioned may occur, at similar duration. - Body spasms, or certain muscles "locking" for short periods of time. Might happen three or four times a day at first, but will slowly die down over the period of two or so weeks. - Powers might still be a little iffy the first few days. Not responding exactly as expected at first, or being slightly erratic. (but still controllable)

Mid stage:

- Everything previously mentioned may occur, at slightly longer duration. (+ 2 weeks, approx.) - "Staticky" or "pins and needles" feeling in extremities. - If the being is one that needs to eat, sleep, hydrate, etc, their body will not tell them that they need to do these things, at first. - Feelings of emptiness, loneliness, and listlessness, as though a part of them was taken away. This is because of their sudden disconnection from the hivemind. At this stage, it's a constant back of the mind hum, but will occasionally spike to be more overtly noticeable to the affected. This is also one that will last longest out of all the lingering effects; taking at least half a year or more to completely fade.

Mid-late stage:

- Everything previously mentioned may occur, at slightly longer duration, and more severe in nature. (Again, +2 weeks, approx.) - In the case of their body not telling them they need to sleep, eat, hydrate, etc, it also won't stop them from doing these things, at this stage. For example, their body won't tell them that they're full, so they could potentially eat enough to make them sick, or otherwise harm them. - This is the only stage that will retain a good bit of the pain that was felt during the Corruption. It'll take a couple months to completely go away, but it's because the body is struggling to get used to the Trio's energy again, as opposed to the One True Voice's. - I feel like this might be present very rarely in the previous stage as well, but occasionally a cured individual will have bits of odd scarring and similar things on their bodies where the "glitchy" appearance was worst. I'll leave it up to y'all whether these will eventually go away, and the severity of them, since I figure it'll be mostly case-by-case anyway.

Late stage:

Like I said above, at this point it won't matter what the lingering effects are, because the person won't even be able to tell. I guess you could say that at this stage, the being/whatever was cured is dead.

#[Corruption arc]#That stuff at the top could be put into the tags but I'm /lazy/ alskdfna

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fnafgamer4373 · 1 year

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TW:⚠️Talks about blood, murder, and death (lots of death)

Surprised I went quiet for so long-

Anyways, it's time to talk about:

My Silly Apocalypse AU!

First off: Who in the ever lovin' hell is Silly? Well, gather around, as I tell you about him.

This is the only drawing I've done with him, but anyways (we're going to ignore the orange belly I gave him without realizing Tinky had it already, if you have color suggestions let me know please)

Sligamore, or Silly for short, is the fanmade Lord in Black character I was talking about in my last post. Silly can manipulate emotions, but instead of pushing them to anger and rage like Blinky, he pushes them to insanity. He toys with them, and almost like Pokey, can control them, hence the puppet face. This level of insanity can lead to something doing something very out of character, leading to arson, murder, and many other crimes.

So imagine he takes over almost all of Hatchetfield?

Now, before I go explaining my entire apocalypse, let me first explain some VERY important details:

This AU is entirely focused on me and my friends own universe. Most of the characters I'm going to mention are OCs of ours, and a lot of those OCs have important connections to certain characters. One of the biggest ones is definitely Alexa Sutton, who belongs to my best friend. Alexa is Henry's spouse in our universe, they live together under the same roof, and all of that. Another OC I should mention is Harper Kennedy, who also belongs to my best friend. Harper is relatively Alexa and Henry's adopted daughter (in their eyes). There's also my main OC Piper Lovelock, who has a very mother-daughter relationship with Charlotte.

Another thing I'd like to mention is that some characters (Nora and my OC Astra for example) use neo pronouns, and you may see me using them a lot. Nora uses She/It/E/Em pronouns, and Astra uses They/Star/Sun (And star is mute).

I figured I'd tell you guys that since it's very important in the Silly Apocalypse AU.

Now onto the AU:

It starts off with very few people: Sam, Mr. Davidson, Emma (no main character moment this time lol), Henry, and Astra (a Beanies OC of mine). It takes about two months to finally realize something isn't right with these people, but the signs have been clear from the start: Glowing red eyes, fits of laughter (random singing if you're Henry), erratic behavior, etc.

The first victim to die is Nora.

Nora is in eir office, wondering why Astra has been so unresponsive, and whats wrong with Emma that she isn't coming into work. It's going through some paperwork, planning a schedule out, before she feels a sudden pain. Sharp pain. Looking down, it sees a blade sticking out of its stomach. E spits out blood, shakily raising her hand to the blade, which is ripped out from behind. Nora bends over, still in shock about what just happened. Turning around slowly, e finds Astra, a bloody kitchen knife in hand, staring at her with a wild grin and red eyes.

Before it can react, it's suddenly pinned to the desk, being stabbed repeatedly until they pass out (and die). Astra is completely oblivious and keeps stabbing Nora, unaware of a horrified Zoey standing by the entrance. Zoey locks sun in the office, before running back to the front in tears, where Piper and Ryan (another of my friends OCs) are currently.

They try to ask what's happening, but Zoey is too shaken up to properly talk, simply telling them to call the cops. Which was their first mistake. Sam (we'll get back to him in a moment) had already infected the other cops in the station months prior, and once they reach Beanies, they kill and infect whoever is there. Piper is the only one who escapes, running back to their apartment where Emma is.

Focusing on another character now. Charlotte is at home, getting lunch prepared when she's attacked by Sam. She's confused, and she doesn't know what exactly is going on or why her husband is trying to murder her. In an act of self defense, she kills him with his own pistol. Scared and in shock, she takes the gun and runs off, trying to find her friends.

Going back to Piper for a moment, Piper has made it back to the apartment, trying to tell Emma about everything that happened at the Cafe. Emma, however, seems out of it, holding herself back from attacking her friend. Emma tells Piper that they need to run, and how a mysterious 'he' has taken over. Piper is confused, and wants to know more, but Emma is already gone. Piper takes a baseball bat and runs, knowing that she'll need something to defend herself with. Eventually, she finds Charlotte, and the two of them stay together.

Switching to the office crew: Ted, Paul, Bill, Melissa, and Ken Davidson (yes, his name is Ken, and I will call him such). The crew is wondering what's going on outside the office, and wondering what's happening to their boss. Melissa informs Paul that he is needed in Ken's office to have a little talk. Nervous, Paul obliges, and everyone else waits. After waiting for quite a while, Paul stumbles out, being chased by Ken. He's been infected, and he's shouting at everyone else in the office to run. People left and right are either dying or being infected, and the crew have no choice but to run. In the heat of the moment, Melissa is separated from everyone else. She finds Charlotte and Piper, and the three of them decide to stay together to find the others.

Now for the final character: Henry. Henry knows something is wrong, that some kind of apocalypse is going to start. Alexa is trying to get through to him, while Harper is begging for her to run. Henry tells them both that they need to get away from him before he accidentally hurts them, as he struggles to fight off the infection. Reluctantly, Alexa takes Harper away, grabbing her cane (also a sword) and her mobility aid dog, Bear. The three of them are left on their own, forced to face the horrors of their once loving (that's a stretch.) town.

Back with the office crew, Ted and Bill are hiding away in an alley, trying to think of the most logical (well, Bill is at least) reason as to everything happening around them. What they didn't know, was that there were other people hiding as well. At least, until a girl in a red flannel and orange beanie pops out, threatening to hit them if they get closer. You guessed it! Deb is in the alley, and she isn't alone. Alice peaks out from behind Deb, and runs into Bill's arms. The two girls explain how they were on their way to Beanies when they saw everything that happened, and they ran to the alley to hide. The four of them stay together for the remainder of the story.

And that's basically how the story starts!

Bill, Alice, Ted, and Deb are all one group, and the second main group to focus on. Melissa, Piper, and Charlotte are one group for now, until they end up finding Harper and Alexa; these 5 are the main stars of the story.

I really do have so much more to explain, and so much more to talk about in this AU. There's death, betrayal, fury, and so much more (and in true Starkid fashion: some comedy). I would be happy to talk more about this if anyone really wants me to, along with making art and designs for the characters!

Thank you to those that actually read through this whole thing 💜

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msommers · 1 year

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👉👈 if I can make more requests, 6, 19, 37, 49, and 59 for meredith, maeve and valeriya?

takes ur hands in mine and swings them around a lil // sixty-nine questions for your ttrpg characters

6. how have they changed in the last year? how about the last five years?

MEREDITH — we’ll go with the 9:41 dragon~ area for the purpose of this question, in which case: not a lot for the last year. she’s well settled into her being by that point after a decade of working towards it. as for the last five years she’s grown Considerably in the emotional management department, nowhere near where she was pre-blight but drastically improved from where she was in the time following its end. she’s also become more confident in her decision making. she was always good at making choices and liked the work of putting them into play, but the changes she made to ferelden weren’t exactly little in the eyes of some and she had a constant fear they’d cause serious troubles. ten years into her reign and she’s gotten comfortable, no longer fretting over the reaction of the few and more pleased by the joy of the many who benefit from her efforts.

MAEVE — she’s gotten even sexier, if you can believe it. hard to manage. incorporated more dark shades into her wardrobe. i’m putting stupid goofs here because i simply have no idea where to pin in this clown’s timeline for this one because her shit’s all over the place. i’m using the once a year “ummm, i skip this one” pass.

VALERIYA — well, the most glaringly obvious change was her becoming a legitimate fugitive after fleeing cumberland. that’s a pretty big one in the fact that she’d been the same diva for the last,,,,entirety of her life?? she’s not made any character development, but she’s added some fun titles to the mix: champion, murderer, criminal, maleficar, others she won’t repeat. all very dramatic after the first if you ask her 🙄

19. what sparks genuine, unadulterated rage in them?

MEREDITH — a great deal of things. spending so many months sitting on rage stemming from numerous sources which weren’t all able to be worked through in a timely manner over the course of the fifth blight, she unfortunately developed a bit of an anger problem that’ll be with her for the rest of her life. (thankfully she has a handful of people close enough to her that can help calm her down with relative ease as the years go by.) the most notable would be any hint of betrayal, be it tiny or large. rendon howe left a lasting mark on her ability to think through motivations or consider forgiveness when it comes to anybody making a move against her or her allies.

MAEVE — it is,,,so strange to think about an angry maeve. class that under very rare status tbh. probably people with black hearts. the truly despicable who not only inflict cruelty on others but actively enjoy doing so, something that maeve can’t and won’t ever be able to understand. usually she reacts with sorrow to such acts because she’s more worried about those who they have harmed, but under the right circumstances i could see her dipping a toe in the rage pool. indulging in the catharsis of letting yourself feel some good Fury for a few minutes.

VALERIYA — getting disparaged. she can take some trash talk and certain levels of teasing, but will start to fly off the handle if somebody’s insulting her skills/intelligence/intentions/etc. she can be touchy when somebody starts having a go at her for only caring about the frivolous and material things of the world, because it’s almost always with the assumption that she doesn’t give a fuck about anything else at all and that’s simply not true. people love to judge a cocky noble by the cover, y’know.

37. if they’ve had one, what was their first kiss like?

MEREDITH — simply put: chaste and quick. even the dignified little lady of highever isn't immune from the curiosities that arise as part of being a growing girl, and fortunately she had a loyal friend in ser gilmore who she trusted to explore that curiosity with. their giggles and nervous smiles prevented any romance being found in the moment, but it was still sweet. she considers herself lucky to have the gentle memory when so much of the world is very much not that lmao.

MAEVE — speaking of not-so-gentle memories!! poor maeve here had her first kiss with carden. it was syrupy sweet and in the moment she believed incredibly romantic, but with time she came to recognize it for what it was—him planning every aspect of the scene to ensure it was the type of fairytale moment a girl like her so plainly desired. just another instance of his acting the gentleman while he still had the care to do so. a bitter memory, one she’s happy to part with as the years pass and she replaces it with kisses that mean much more.

VALERIYA — probably not good, though she doesn’t care because it wasn’t the point. i haven’t a single doubt that her first kiss was motivated by spite, just her wanting to act out against the enchanters telling her to settle and her mother insisting that she behave like a proper lady. a messy makeout in some dark corner of the college with some boy she’d never give the time of day to again, only showing fleeting interest now because it took so little to convince him into the act.

49. how often do they cut their hair, if at all?

MEREDITH — rarely, outside of having the ends trimmed here and there. she likes having the hair for those fereldan winters! has it up in hairstyles so often that she hardly remembers its length anyhow.

MAEVE — only really cuts it in modern aus. long ass hair fits her entire vibe in fantasy, but i can see her chopping off some inches for practicality in say witcher apoc and twc aus. she's hesitant to do so because she Loves her long hair and it's a bit sensitive, but she'll still do it.

VALERIYA — she wouldn’t even remember the last time she'd had it cut, it's been nearly to her waist for years. i think she's very bratty about the idea of getting it cut, but wouldn't be able to verbalize why it's such a bother lol. looks fabulous when she whips around and twirls so honestly who cares let her be a baby about it

59. what’s an element of their philosophy that you disagree with?

MEREDITH — some people deserve a second chance but she’s too blinded by her past and the anger issues that she struggles with to see it. i tend to agree that people deserve your openness if they apologize and put genuine effort into changing what was wrong, but meredith has her scissors out at the moment of betrayal/hurt/etc. snip snip bitch you’re cut out of her life bye bye

MAEVE — i don't necessarily disagree with any part of her philosophy tbh. i have a more difficult time believing in it though, because her faith in “it’s all about love everything’s about love” is so absolute and unwavering it’s crazy tbh. she sees the beauty and hope in the world and its people, which is something that i’m more likely to aspire to than disagree with.

VALERIYA — i simply don't agree with the "fuck you, i'm going to do whatever brings me pleasure/joy/vibes" style she has going for her. she can be generous and selfless and helpful, but it's almost always when being so doesn't inconvenience or derail her from her own current desires. couldn't imagine ignoring studies or other responsibilities to go party or smth

#ch: meredith cousland #ch: maeve sommers #ch: valeriya de clairmont #carden perish hours are around once again who let this guy be a thing #these were so fun tho i eat up any chance to think about mere's anger issues lmfao #baby girl find a fantasy therapist please 💜

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hippography · 2 years

Photo

FIG. 1

"Fjordhest," Bergen, 1905. This animal, which was scarcely more than one-half "Celtic" in its characters, was regarded as having all the points of a pure Fjordhest.

The "pure" Fjord horse is found in all the fjord districts of Western Norway. The largest specimens are said to occur in the Romsdal and in the neighbourhood of Laerdalsören. These may reach about thirteen hands high. The Fjordhest of Northern Norway is considerably smaller and more roughly coated.

So far as I have observed, "Celtic" characters predominate in all the existing Fjord horses. The forehead is flat, and the ears are relatively short, while the limbs are much slenderer and the joints much smaller than in the Gudbrandsdal horse. The hoofs are generally wide at the heels, and almost circular in outline.

Among the suggestions and regulations drawn up for the guidance of judges at the horse show at Lillehammer in 1857, it was recommended that in the Fjord horse "the head should be comparatively small, with well-shaped and well-placed ears, the eyes should be large and the nostrils wide, and the neck must have a suitable arch, and be broad, but it should be fine at its junction with the head." "The colour should be preferably light dun (borkede) or light brown (blak), with black mane and tail, the legs black below the knees and hocks, and the ear-tips black, with cross stripes on the knees and hocks, and with an eel-mark down the centre of the back." This colour is probably the commonest amongst Fjord horses at the present day. Other colours— browns and greys— and a darker shade of dun are not infrequent, and I have also seen mouse-coloured ponies. Black Fjord horses are said to be extremely rare, and it is doubtful whether any pure ones exist. Nearly all the light-coloured ponies have a black dorsal stripe, and a large proportion of pure and partly bred Fjord ponies. (probably considerably over 50 per cent. of those which I saw) have cross stripes on the legs. Shoulder stripes are also occasionally present, at any rate in certain of the partly bred Fjord horses. Professor Ridgeway, however, says that Dr. Venn, F.R.S., and Mr. J. A. Venn, who, on a visit to Norway in 1904, examined for him a large number of ponies at various coast towns, did not meet with a single instance of striping.

In typical specimens of the Fjordhest, there is in winter time a well-marked caudal fringe or tail-lock. This is not shown in the pony in the photograph (fig. 1), which was taken in the month of August, since the fringe is shed in the summer time, leaving only a bunch of very short hairs in the upper part of the tail. I was informed, however, that in this particular individual a tail-lock consisting of hairs about six inches in length was present in the preceding winter. This pony, like several other Fjord horses which I have seen, had no trace of ergots, but a small callosity was present on each hind leg. In numerous other Fjord horses which I examined, the hock callosities were extremely small, being frequently scarcely larger than a pin's head, but I only succeeded in finding a single case in which these British Veterinary Journal vestiges had disappeared altogether. This was in a pony at Tonsaasen.

In other characters, and more particularly in the length of the body, in the roundness of the quarters, and in being much "tied-in" at the elbow, the Fjordhest of to-day is frequently similar to the Gudbrandsdal and other horses which belong to the "forest" type.

The Fjordhest has been much intercrossed with the Gudbrandsdal horse, and the great majority of the ponies seen in Christiania and the Norwegian towns, and those usually employed to draw the carrioles and stolkjerre are partly-bred animals, the Fjord characters generally strongly predominating. I have found no positive evidence, however, of fjord horses having been crossed with any other breed than the Gudbrandsdal; but since, as I shall show later, the latter breed has from time to time received in fusions of foreign blood, it is probable that the fjord horse has been at least indirectly influenced, but probably to no great extent. The ponies used in the sledge races, which take place in winter at Bergen and Vossevangen, are stated to be pure-bred (according to modern ideas), and only such are eligible.

In 1844 an attempt was made by the Norwegian Government to establish a stud of Fjord horses at Hjerkin, on the Dovre fjeld, with the object of improving the breed by judicious selection, but without having recourse to intercrossing with foreign blood. Horses were advertised for, and it was announced in the advertisement that dun- coloured (borkede) animals would be given the preference. Next brown (brun) horses would be considered; and lastly, yellow (gul) horses with white mane and tail would be accepted. Great difficulty was experienced in obtaining animals considered sufficiently good for the purpose, and in the end the scheme proved a complete failure. The stud was broken up, as was also a branch establishment at Foktuen (Dovre), at the end of 1858. The report on the experiment states:— "It is the usual experience that the Fjordhest does not thrive on coming to the mountains; it is, without exception, attacked by strangles, and for the first couple of years is unfit for hard work. Subsequently it becomes enduring and strong in proportion to its size, but the general opinion in these parts is that it is in every respect far inferior to the Gudbrandsdal horse."

Francis H. A. Marshall, ‘The Horse in Norway’, in The British Veterinary Journal, 1906.

#hest #Fjordhest #Fjord horse #Bergen #Norway #1905 #British Veterinary Journal #1906

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wilquinones · 8 months

Text

Then, now, next

Museums, with all their faults and shortcomings, have always, in some form or another, been about educating the public. Therefore, they have always engaged with their respectives communities. In the article “Where does the history of museum education begin?” Nathaniel Prottas tries to (as the title suggests) pin down when and where museums started focusing on providing an educational experience for its visitors. Prottas argues that this has always been the case, beginning with what he considers to be the first museum, the Belvedere, in Vienna, founded in 1781. Its first curator, Christian von Mechel, believed that the Belvedere should teach its visitors about the history of art. He also “...chose to write short entries that helped direct visitors to look at the paintings, with the goal of having them look closely and for extended periods… It received praise for helping the uninitiated understand the works on display and the history of art” (Prottas, p. 338). This was then replicated throughout all of Europe, which exemplifies how successful a museum becomes when it actively engages with its participants. I admit this is viewing history through rose colored glasses. If this was community engagement in 18th century European museums, it is safe to say that the engagement “...smacks of the kind of social control that defined Vienna under Empress Maria Theresa and her son, Joseph II” (Prottas, p. 338), and being that the Belvedere was a royal palace, the community mostly consisted of wealthy, white individuals. Or at least, only felt welcoming for those individuals.

(pictured above: engraving of Christian von Mechel by one of his students, c.1770)

A modern example of successful community engagement, which I love, is the Camilo Egas museum in Quito, Ecuador. Egas is an Ecuadorian artist who portrayed indigenous people frequently in his work, becoming one of the most prominent artists in the Indigenism movement. His work is being viewed under a more critical lens as of late (if you want to read more, click here), however, the museum founded under his name has created a completely different legacy, I believe. The building itself is a colonial house within Quito’s historical center, relatively removed from the rest of the touristic attractions, and surrounded by what Cisneros calls “fuertes problemáticas sociales” or “strong social problems” such as prostitution and delinquency (p. 1). Since the museum could count on little funding from the government, and being that the only staff members were Cisneros herself as the curator, security guards and concierges, they relied on a “bricolage” of methods in order to engage with their community. Cisneros managed programs, guided tours, as well as working with nearby schools and universities; but the method that gave the most results was the simple act of security guards inviting passersby inside. According to visitor surveys, there were certain months where it was the most prominent reason as to why participants stepped inside the museum.

This is how it works: the guard stands in the doorway of the museum and tells people that the museum is free and that it only takes ten minutes to see the collection. This was proven to be the most effective way to entice people, since by offering to see the museum for free, it meant that anyone was welcome. It also meant that participants didn’t feel like they had to give up more than ten minutes of their time, making it more convenient for their day to day, all of which means that the museum truly turned into a public space for the community. For the most part, after people came in, they stayed longer than the projected ten minutes, admiring the architecture, the art, or simply conversing in the patio (Cisneros, p. 10). My favorite story is Cisneros rushing downstairs to find an elderly woman being guided inside by the security guard on one of the days the museum was closed, offering to plant flowers in the patio as thanks for being invited inside the day before.

I don’t mean to romanticize this example either. This museum could do and provide so much more for the community if they had more sufficient funds and bigger staff, which it deserves. But the way this institution simply opens its doors, and invites you in, is I feel the core of community engagement; which can be done by the Smithsonian or by an old house placed in a narrow stretch of road in Quito.

(pictured above: Camilo Egas Museum, photo credits to Encircle Photos)

References:

Cisneros, Lorena. "Etnografía de una práctica de mediación en el Museo Camilo Egas." HISTOIRE (S) de l'Amérique latine 10 (2014): 14-14.

Prottas, Nathaniel. “Where Does the History of Museum Education Begin?” Journal of Museum Education, vol. 44, no. 4, Oct. 2019, pp. 337–41, https://doi.org/10.1080/10598650.2019.1677020.

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luminescentwind · 1 year

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920.

I’m writing this earlier than usual. It’s almost half past three in the afternoon.

The reason I’m writing is that I feel weird, like I’ve got a mixed bag of feelings.

I should be going to the gym three times a week, but I haven’t been going on Fridays for at least two months now. I feel terrible about it, but I really can’t manage to gather the energy when I wake up on Fridays. I know that my days are relatively long, but at the same time I feel I should be able to keep up with all of it. I suppose I don’t feel very capable.

It’s very easy to judge oneself and start using labels such as “useless”, “stupid” or “incompetent”, but I feel that would be a disservice to myself, and I don’t even have the objectivity to say something like that with confidence. So, the only option I suppose is to accept that I’m feeling a certain way, take care of that feeling, and wait for it to go away on its own.

I also feel a bit empty from time to time. It’s not nearly as usual as it was when I was a teenager or in my university years. But every couple of weeks or months I feel a lack of something, so to speak. It’s very difficult to put into words, but it feels like a kind of loneliness, except it’s really not that either. Difficult to pin down.

Again, as I’ll do with the frustration I feel for not being able to keep up with all my goals, I’ll try to take care of this other strange feeling. Treat myself kindly and with compassion. The feelings will either go away on their own, or they will perhaps teach me something. I’ll wait it out.

#writing #journal #diary #feelings #self awareness

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inluxeking · 1 year

Text

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impostoradult · 3 years

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I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)

I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me:

- the queer-baiting - the bury your queers - the undermining of Dean’s character arc - the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure - the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles

All of that bothers me tremendously.

But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up.

*** This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out)

But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday.

I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered?

Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all.

***

A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).

One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™.

Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)

Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written.

But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this.

And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER.

I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:

There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV.

Not ever.

I can’t think of ONE example Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna.

Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.

That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes.

***

Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing.

And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct.

There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.

A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough).

B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough).

C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough).

D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough).

But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging.

Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents.

All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely.

But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!)

Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail.

***

Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place.

And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.

Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.

That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.

But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again.

All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime.

So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn.

***

Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:

1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)

2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder)

3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings

#Supernatural #Destiel #queer representation #sorry this is long

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myherowritings · 3 years

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PART 6. FUCK THE RICH, STEAL THEIR CANDY

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 3.7k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. enji...ew, some judgmental rich people, just a little bit of sexual tension and suggestive content to prep for the next part ;3

A/N. gala time omg let’s gooooo writing this made me 100% ready to fight rich ppl fjhjkgf and want to give shouto all the kisses ;p i hope you enjoy and tysm for reading!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

The only thing you hoped for this past week was for Shouto not to regret the events that happened in the dressing room. (Or, more precisely, the events that didn’t happen because of an interruption but you both had very much wanted to happen at the time.)

(Or so you hoped he did. It seemed like he did…)

You groaned, burrowing your face in your pillows after flopping back onto your bed after a shower. Why was this so confusing?

It wasn’t like Shouto was ignoring you or pretending nothing happened, but he’s just been so busy with work neither of you had time to sit down and really talk. You briefly got to see him for his daily morning coffee runs but you didn’t want to accidentally ruin what little time throughout the work week the two of you had by bringing it up. And now it was the weekend, which would have been the perfect time to talk about it, if not for the fact Shouto was picking you up to get ready at his place and then head to a super fancy gala in less than an hour!

With a charity ball full of strangers you had to prepare for, you supposed your potential romance could take the back seat for a little while longer.

At least the fruity little candies would be there waiting for you.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, your phone buzzed with a message from Shouto telling you he was less than 20 minutes away from your place. Within the last few minutes, you double checked you had the necessities, like your makeup and clothes and hair supplies and shoes and possibly every ‘getting ready’ product you could think of under the sun, all ready to go. Your dress was already hanging in Shouto’s house, ready for you to change into.

Apparently, there wasn’t a moment left to spare since you soon got a call with him telling you he had just arrived. Taking deep breaths, you walked out your door, lugging your bag of belongings in tow.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” Shouto greeted as you settled into his car. He smiled as you reached over to give him a quick side hug. He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Nervous about tonight?”

You tried to calm the tapping your fingers were doing against the inside of the car door. “Is it obvious?”

“Not really,” he assured. “Regardless, you shouldn’t worry. You’ll be an amazing date and we don’t even need to stay the whole time if you would rather not.”

Amazing date date? Or amazing fake date?

Would it be too forward of you to ask? (Not that anything could’ve been more forward than Shouto pinning you against a wall and almost kissing you just a few days ago.)

“You’re right, it’ll be fine!” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “After all, you’ll be there.”

A smile. “Hm.”

It didn’t take very long for you to get from your place to his seeing as he lived relatively close to his work and therefore yours. He parked in front of a luxury high-rise apartment that was characterized by glass windows and angled architecture. It looked like something straight out of Portfolio Magazine.

“All those ‘Japan’s Youngest CEO Bachelor’ tabloids are starting to make sense now,” you said with a teasing whistle, following Shouto into the building after being greeted by the security guards and receptionist.

He held his hand out to you and you placed yours in his palm as he led you to the VIP elevator that brought you all the way up to the top floor. His hand gave yours a soft squeeze when he noticed your gaze darting around the area nervously.

When the elevator doors opened, your eyes widened as you took in the ceramic floor tiles, the spotless walls, floor-to-ceiling mirror columns, and the natural light pouring in through the bare, glass windows. “Whoa— This looks like a wealthy bachelor pad if I’ve ever seen one.”

Letting go of your hand, Shouto offered to take your bag of belongings and brought it to a room for you to get ready in. “Do you...not like it?”

“Oh, that’s not it at all!” You shook your head earnestly. “This place is so beautiful! And a little cold.”

Both literally and metaphorically.

His penthouse was elegant and sleek, with tasteful decor that probably cost more than a month’s salary for you. But it seemed a little...empty. Not like a home.

Apparently, Shouto agreed.

“I live here because it’s close to work. But it’s a little unwelcoming,” he admitted wryly. “Not something I ever really settled into. Though my mother and sister did try to help decorate.”

You looked at the finely chosen contemporary paintings displayed on some of the walls. “They have good eyes.”

Shouto nodded but appeared to be in pensive thought. “If I were to ever settle down with a family, it wouldn’t be here. But this is what’s most suitable for now.”

Running your fingers against the cold glass windows, you peered down into the city in an attempt to calm your fluttering heart having just learned Shouto valued having a family in the future. Something in you just liked hearing he one day wanted to settle down with someone. You bit your lower lip to stop a hopeful smile from spreading.

“I’m sure you’ll be a great husband and father when the day comes,” you said quietly, still gazing out the window to avoid looking into his eyes. “But, um, anyway— I should start getting ready now! Don’t want us to be late for tonight.”

His hand that was reaching out to hold you suddenly dropped to his side as he stepped away at your words. “Of course.”

You silently cursed yourself under your breath, wishing you had waited a few moments to talk so you could’ve seen what he was going to do. Would he have tried to kiss you again? You hoped that was the case, but it was too late to know for sure now.

“You can get ready in here,” said Shouto, opening the door to what looked like a guest bedroom, your dress hanging on an armoire inside. “There’s your dress. And the bathroom is right there if you need it.”

“Thank you, Shouto.” You resisted the urge to plop right on the huge bed and jump on it while he was in the room. “I’ll try to be quick!”

“No need to rush; we have time.” He checked the watch on his wrist before turning to you. “I’ll be in the shower for a bit but if you need anything just let me know.”

In the shower? While you were under the same roof? Your stomach did funny flips at the thought.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind,” you said playfully, glancing over at the dress. You’d need his assistance sooner or later buttoning the dress up, but there was sadly no time for funny business if you wanted to make it to the gala in a timely manner.

When Shouto left the room to take a shower, you began getting ready yourself. You did your hair and makeup in a way that made you feel confident and happy, and by the time you were done about two hours had passed. All you had left was to change into the dress and throw on some fancy shoes and you’d be set with time to spare.

You were just wondering if Shouto was almost ready when you heard a knock on the door.

Speak of the devil. Or angel. He was much too sweet to be the devil, after all.

“Everything okay in there?” he asked, voice muffled from the outside of the wall.

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yeah! Just putting on the dress now.”

There was a shuffle outside then a pause. Then, “Did you want any help?”

“Yes, please.” You slipped into your outfit and pulled the front over your chest. The fabric was light against your body, making it feel almost ethereal.

After a while, Shouto cautiously opened the door to the room and you turned to catch sight of him. He was dressed up in a fitted black suit with silky red trimmings and a tie that matched the color of your dress. His hair was combed back and to the side, pulled out of his face and giving you a clear view of his forehead. That was one pretty forehead.

All in all, he looked as handsome as ever, but with some extra pizzazz.

“You look great,” you both said at the same time.

There was a beat of silence, then you both laughed.

“I’m only half in my dress and I’m sure I look a bit unruly, but thank you,” you giggled as Shouto walked over to grasp at the fastens on the back of your gown.

He shook his head. “You look beautiful like you always do. The dress just helps compliment it even more.”

His words brought warmth to your cheeks and you were glad you were faced away from him so he couldn’t see your all too pleased expression. “Smooth talker much?”

“Not flattery. Just the truth.”

Your smile grew even wider. “Hm.”

Shouto nimbly fastened the buttons on your back, cold fingertips lightly grazing your skin in ways that sent shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes and hoped that was only a phrase and that he couldn’t actually tell how much your body was affected from such a simple touch by sensing shivers in your spine.

You held your breath as he travelled up your back, skin sparking against skin. Time seemed to slow down as he closed the last few buttons.

“Finished,” he said quietly, though his hands didn’t move from their position on you.

Turning around, you caught his palms in yours, lightly stroking his knuckles with your thumb. Shouto looked down at your hands joined together then back at you.

You murmured, “Thanks for your assistance.”

The tips of your noses were almost brushing together as you stared up at him. If either one of you were to lean forward a few centimeters more, your lips would be touching. Just like in the fitting room last weekend.

And just like in the fitting room, Shouto’s hands encircled your waist and toyed with the buttons on your dress while you tugged at his color.

But just like in the fitting room, there was an interruption mere seconds before the kiss. It’s just that, this time, the interruption was from you.

“Wait! I have makeup on!” you cried, pulling away in despite the dissatisfaction you knew the both of you were feeling. “If we kiss it might get messed up and I’ll have to redo it and then we’ll be late to the gala.”

He made deep a sound of frustration. “Fuck the gala.”

You wanted to. In this very moment, you would much rather ditch the gala and fuck something else, but you had to remain somewhat rational. “But we made a commitment to show up, didn’t we?”

Shouto looked down like he had just been chided. “We did.”

“Plus… The candy!”

He blinked before a grin took over his face. He chuckled, “Of course. Can’t forget the greatest candy heist of the year.”

“Exactly!”

His smile was amused but his hands rested intimately on your hips. “Besides, you put in effort to get ready for tonight, it’d be a disservice to keep you from showing it off.”

Your cheeks warmed at his compliment as you let out a laugh. “Flatterer,” you accused, though your tone had no bite to it. Instead, it was teasing as you brought your palm up to cup his jaw. “We should probably get going if we don’t want to be late, hmm?”

“Mm.”

“But first—” You planted a kiss on his cheek, giving him just a small hint of what could come later that night. When you pulled away, there was a lipstick mark in the shape of your lips where his jawline met his cheek an you smiled, satisfied with your work.

His grip on you tightened as his gaze turned hooded. “If I’m a flatterer, you’re being a tease.”

“Sounds like a good combination to me.”

— ✩ —

Oddly enough, the Naruhata Charity Gala was going quite well.

The food was yummy, there were cute places for you and Shouto to sneak off and take obnoxious selfies, and—most importantly—there were bowls of free candies scattered throughout the entire premise.

A whole building was rented out for the charity ball to be held and the venue even had an outdoor pool and with complimentary champagne (not that anyone was exactly prepared to take a dip in the middle of the night, but the only thing that mattered to the guests was that you could).

Both of you were having fun.

You met some of Shouto’s friends, got complimented by the DJ for your...enthusiastic dance skills on the dance floor, and, for most of the night, Shouto was successful in avoiding making conversation with his father.

Things were going well. Until they weren’t.

You and Shouto were standing in a hallway just outside the main ballroom, exchanging jokes and talking about how many crabcakes a person could fit in their mouth. Totally business as usual, until you heard a group of people whispering only mere feet away from you.

“Are you sure that’s them?” a woman in a red dress whispered—and you used that term rather subjectively since the whisper could be heard by practically half the room—as she glanced at you.

Seeing their gazes, you froze in your spot. Shouto must have heard them to since his brows furrowed as he held you closer to him, protectively.

“And you really heard them, right? Mr. Todoroki has a… You know…”

Another girl who you recognized as another customer from the dress store the other day nodded her head. “Yes, I overheard it with my own two ears when I was getting my outfit. That’s Mr. Todoroki and his sugar baby!”

You almost choked on your crabcake.

Shouto rubbed circles into your back. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” you said sheepishly, trying not to draw even more attention to yourself than there already was. On the plus side, at least more people would notice how hot you look in this dress with your hair and makeup done. (Though it might be for the wrong reasons…)

You vaguely recalled teasing Shouto about looking like a sugar daddy, and he joked back. But you didn’t think anyone would want to gossip enough to overhear a joke and spread it around as a rumor!

The group began chattering some more and seemed to gain a crowd. You even saw a large figure you recognized as Todoroki Enji walking towards you.

“I’m going to have to clear things up, aren’t I?”

Shouto shook his head, a frown present on his face. But you knew his displeasure wasn’t directed at you. “You don’t need to pay attention to this nonsense. People can think what they want.”

“It’s okay! I don’t want to ruin your reputation with the media when I was initially here to help it get better. Besides, they don’t seem to be doing it maliciously. They’re just curious.”

He looked at you, but before he could think of the words to say, you walked over to the group of gossiping partygoers.

You tapped on the shoulder of the one you saw at the store. “Hi! Excuse me…” All eyes turned to you and you tried not to shrink down. “I, ah, I know what you overheard that day at the dress retailers, but I just wanted to clear it up and say it was a joke! Funny right? Well, maybe not so funny to you guys, but it was just an inside joke between me and Shouto.” You laughed, growing nervous at the lack of response. “You see, I’m not actually his sugar—”

Just then, a booming voice interrupted, “Shouto! What are you thinking, son?”

You almost jumped at the sound and turned towards the direction of your date. As you whirled around, you made eye contact with him. Shouto had a furious expression on his face, but when his gaze met yours he tried giving you a comforting smile. Seeing his distress, you immediately made your way back to him.

“A nice woman to boost your media image,” Enji whispered, trying to lead his son to a less crowded area, probably so no one else would overhear or spread more rumors. “That’s all I asked for. Not a…a…you know!”

Was it a criterion that rich people must not know how to whisper? you asked yourself. Either, one, no one was actually trying to whisper, or two, they could not control their volume very well.

“Actually,” you spoke up from behind him. When Enji turned to look at you, you gave him a wave before walking over to Shouto’s side. “I’m not his sugar baby. But even if I were, what’s it to you?”

There was a hush of silence that settled around the room and you almost had to laugh at how comical it was.

“As long as it’s an agreement between two consenting adults, there’s nothing wrong with it,” you said, hoping it didn’t just go in one of his ears and out the other. “You could think of it as like a business deal, but...with more of a relationship aspect.”

Enji’s face turned a shade of red. “That’s not the sort of people someone with Shouto’s upbringing should hang around with. I don’t know how you were raised, but—”

“Stop it, father.” Shouto’s voice was angry as he clenched his jaw. But his arm was wrapped around your waist. You gently squeezed his hand with yours. “You don’t get to make assumptions about Y/N without ever even talking to them.”

“Shouto,” he said in a warning tone when he noticed more and more people were paying attention to them. This didn’t exactly seem like the attention he wanted. “We can talk about this later.”

Shouto frowned. “There’s nothing to talk about. All you have to do is say sorry to Y/N and then we can leave.” He turned around to the crowd trying to pretend they weren’t listening in. “And everyone else, you can stop eavesdropping.”

They look startled at the forward confrontation and you stifled a giggle, leaning into your date with a smile.

He gave you a chaste kiss on your forehead before murmuring under his breath, “Everyone attending a charity gala just to brag about how generous they are but then turning around to judge everyone who might not be in the same circle as them? How shameless.”

Although it seemed like he was whispering it, your hypothesis that rich people really didn’t know how to whisper was right, since it was loud enough for the whole room to hear. Not that you or Shouto seemed to mind.

“You know, if you’re not going to apologize to Y/N, there’s no reason we should stay any longer,” he told his dad as a stiff goodbye.

You nodded in agreement before taking a handful of candy from a nearby bowl. “Well, now there’s no reason to stay.”

Spinning on your heel, the two of you headed for the exit, somehow not caring but all too aware of the eyes on you at the same time. Before reaching the door, Shouto grabbed two bowls of candy in the reception area and walked out the door with it, everyone too stunned to say anything about it. You walked into the parking lot smothering fits of laughter the whole way, still in disbelief about the events that had just occurred.

“For you,” said Shouto as the two of you reached his car, still carrying the candy in his arms.

You choked out a laugh at the audacity of it all. He even took the bowls? The candies were free for the guests, but you weren’t so sure the bowls were. “I… Thanks, Shouto. I’m never going to run out of these candies now!”

“Hm,” was the approving noise he made.

When you both got into his car, he looked at you before turning the engine on. Now that the adrenaline had passed, he had a much more solemn expression on his face.

“Y/N,” he said, sounding apologetic, “I’m really sorry about my dad. And about the gossip. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t too bad, and none of it was your fault! Besides,” you said, giving his hand on the gear shift a squeeze. After pulling out of the parking spot, he let go of the stick and interlocked his fingers with yours. “I had the best date ever to make up for it.”

“I have to disagree with that because I think I was the one with the best date.” Shouto smiled playfully, squeezing your hand in his.

“Agree to disagree, then.”

He chuckled and you grinned. Tonight was going great until the last hour’s mishap, and while it was uncomfortable and disheartening to hear gossip about you from people who were supposed to be sophisticated, grown adults, you weren’t lying when you told Shouto he was enough to make up for all that bullshit. You were grateful for him standing up for you and basically saying fuck rich people and charity galas in front of them all.

Oh, and for getting you enough candy to last you at least a few months, of course.

He really was the best date ever.

As Shouto signaled to get out of the structure, he asked, “Now, should I take you back to your home or…?”

You shook your head, already knowing where he was going with this (and very much liking it). “Hmm,” you drawled, pretending to think about it. “How about we go back to your place to finally finish what we started?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

In all honesty, you were quite surprised yourself that you asked. But, damn, would you be glad you did.

a/n: woOO EAT THE RICH STEAL THEIR CANDY STEAL THEIR BOWLS HGFJKS, i’m already so in love with shouto but i have fallen in love with one (1) rich boy even more :3

what to expect in the next part:

yes. it’s time for u know what ;)

y/n and shouto finally……high five <3

jkjk

THE NEXT PART IS THE FINAL PART AND YOU WILL SEE WHY THIS SERIES OVERALL HAD TO BE 18+ KSKKFG

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Text

Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome.

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

---

Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskag fanfiction #werewolf smut #monster boyfriend

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Note

shoto and 'when i find out who is responsible for this...' IM A SUCKER FOR OVERPROTECTIVE SHO LMAO

This one was one of my faves to write, I really hope you like it!

Damage | Todoroki/Reader

Prompt: “When I find out who is responsible for this...” Word Count: 1600 words Tags/Warnings: SFW, ye olde quirk accident trope Notes: Special thanks again to my lady love @bobawithpomegranate for beta-ing me!! Also, for anyone who hasn’t suffered a corporate job: KPIs = key performance indicators, which are a set of business metrics used to measure success in certain areas.

The first sign that something was wrong should have been in line for security.

Ayako—your favorite member of the Todoroki Agency security team—was waving a detector wand over your clothes when she asked casually, “How’s it going?”

Any other morning, your response was something along the lines of, “Oh, it’s going. How are you?” This morning, however, you blurted, “Good! Except that I bumped someone on the train and spent ten minutes trying to get a coffee stain out of this shirt, and I feel a little sick when I think about leading the KPIs review because Shouto’s property damage numbers are up again which doesn’t look great, so I skipped breakfast but honestly I’m super hungry right now, that was a bad choice, and—”

You cut yourself off, utterly bewildered. Ayako looked similarly nonplussed, raising a slim brow.

“Uh, nevermind. I’ll just be going,” you said, and hared off to the rest of the security checkpoints before she could give commentary.

So you might have known that something was wrong even before you let yourself into Shouto’s manager’s office, armed with your monthly spreadsheets and performance slide decks. But you hadn’t given it more thought since then, a move which proved to be a complete mistake.

Shouto was already there, lounging in the set of chairs in front of his manager’s desk, looking less like a hero waiting for a meeting and more like some airbrushed ad for his dark turtleneck or his close-fit grey slacks. Your heart shot into your throat at the sight of him, like it usually did, and you had to remind yourself to relax.

Though he was unbearably handsome to the point of distraction, Shouto was relatively easy to get along with, something that should have made you calmer in his presence. He was straightforward, possessed of very little ego, thoughtful, and a very linear and strategic thinker—you’d worked extremely well with him the past couple of years, and Shouto, though he had less to do with the daily operations of the agency, had helped push your promotion last year to Director of Public Relations. It should have added up to an easy and uncomplicated work partnership, but his personality only made your unfortunate crush on him even worse.

He was so horribly, horribly perfect. And you were an awful little metrics gremlin, called in to roast him over the open flame of public opinion once a month. Really not something Shouto might be interested in.

“Y/N,” he said, looking up from his phone and fixing you with an intent look. Your heart stuttered under those heterochromatic eyes.

“Hi, Shouto,” you said, setting down your bag and digging out your laptop for something to take your attention off of him. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” he answered in his deep tone. “How are you?”

And that was it. The damning question that sent it all to hell.

“My heart feels like it could explode any second, and I feel kind of faint, weirdly weak, and incredibly distracted,” you answered, naming the symptoms of his very presence.

There was a beat of silence. You froze, crouched over your bag, laptop halfway out of it. Then it hit you what had just been said, and you slapped a hand over your mouth in horror.

Shouto was up out of his chair in the blink of an eye, kneeling in front of you with cool fingers on your face, angling it towards him.

“You’re not well?” he asked, those eyes locking on you with an alarming intensity.

His attention only made things worse. “I feel like I might pass out,” you said, cringing even as the words left your mouth.

Fuck, what the hell were you saying? You were making it sound like you were some Victorian maiden, ready to swoon in the mere company of a gentleman. And why were you saying this shit? You’d worked with him for years and you’d never let slip the effect he had on you—what was wrong with you this morning?

You thought back to the coffee incident on the train this morning, the way the girl whose drink you had spilled had startled, the way she had weirdly apologized to you even as you were in the midst of your own apology.

A sense of foreboding settled over you.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“I think I’ve been hit with a quirk,” you blabbed.

Shouto’s features shuttered, a hard look you’d never really seen before entering his eye. He went over to his manager’s desk, dialing a number on her office phone, and then he was talking in low tones, asking someone from medical to come up to her office immediately.

Then he was back at your side, easing you carefully to the floor like you actually were in danger of passing out, and not just a huge idiot with an incredibly fat crush that made you say the world’s most ridiculous things.

“When I find out who’s responsible for this,” he uttered, low and dangerous, “they might never be able to use a quirk again.”

For some reason, the threat warmed you, even as it sent a little shiver down your spine. Was it weird to find him hot when he was angry?

You clamped your mouth firmly shut, lest you tell him exactly what illness prevailed you, but your silence was all for naught.

Because when one of the medical staff made it up to the office, pressing a quirk testing strip to your skin, she pronounced, “A truth quirk.”

Shouto caught your hand before it could smack into your forehead, looking surprised that he had done so. And then even more surprised at the pronouncement.

“A truth quirk,” he echoed, looking down at you curiously. His fingers were gentle where they held your wrist.

You squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“But then, you’re still not well,” he said. He looked up at the medical staffer. “She’s feeling faint, and having problems with her heart.”

“She’s fine,” the staffer confirmed, holding up a scanner with your vital readings. They were embarrassingly perfect—incredibly, perfectly, damnably normal.

You could have died. You literally could have died.

Shouto looked down at you with a little wrinkle on his perfect brow, obviously wondering how you could admit symptoms like that given a truth quirk, only for there to be no physical sign of them. You tried to hold down the truth, but another question from him doomed you.

“But how?” he asked, clearly concerned, cool fingers smoothing over your cheekbone.

“I have an insanely huge crush on you,” you blurted. Then you unleashed a string of colorful swears, flushing so hot you thought you might catch fire.

Those heterochromatic eyes went a little round at the edges.

The medical staffer looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh as she bade a quick farewell. She was out the door before you could catch her sleeve and hold her like a shield against Shouto’s incredibly penetrating stare.

“I’m. Um. You know, sorry and everything,” you added. “I won’t let it interfere with work. I mean, I haven’t, any of the past couple years—fuck, oh my god, I just said that—”

Shouto was watching your mouth like he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of it.

“Say it again,” he said.

You paused, staring at him. “What?”

“Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“My heart feels like it could explode any second, and I feel kind of faint, weirdly weak, and incredibly distracted,” you answered obediently.

“Because of me,” he said, like it was a wonder.

You gave him an annoyed look. Obviously because of him, who the fuck else did he think wielded that combination of attractiveness and straightforward appeal like an S-class quirk of its own?

Shouto choked on a laugh, and you realized with some horror that you’d said all of that out loud.

Damn the fucking truth quirk.

“I don’t know,” Shouto said, sounding amused. “I think I rather like it. When I find out who is responsible for this, I might have to thank them instead.”

This stopped you short.

He what now?

“I’m sorry, what?”

Something a little like a smirk curled the corner of Shouto’s mouth. “It is generally gratifying to know one’s feelings are returned, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I wouldn’t know—” you started, feeling annoyed with him again. Then you choked when the implication of his words sank in.

Shouto’s fingers slid down to cup your chin, and suddenly it felt like every nerve ending in your body was concentrated there, the touch magnified a thousand-fold into an all-consuming sensation.

“Would you like me to kiss you?” he asked lightly, looking smug.

“Oh my god yes—” The answer was out of your mouth before he’d even finished the question.

Shouto laughed, and then he was leaning in. You could feel the smile still on his mouth when it met yours. Shouto’s kiss was careful and attentive, but you could sense something deeper beneath, the same kind of restrained sort of passion that underlaid his quirk. Having that kind of controlled intensity turned on you was something you could have never prepared for.

The kiss became deeper and more heated, and Shouto was just easing you backwards again, still pressed firmly to you, when the door opened and his manager blew in.

“This is a fucking office,” she said, stepping over the two of you like you were a grimy puddle in the street. “Now hurry the fuck up, we have KPIs to review. Shouto—don’t think this will derail me from your property damage numbers increasing.”

Shouto huffed into your mouth, slumping against you.

You couldn’t do anything but laugh.

Current event masterlist in pinned!

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha #garbage fest 2021 #garbage fest fics

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rubysunnday · 3 years

Text

driver’s licence

Dear Gentle Reader, tonight is a grand occasion. It is a rare feat for Lady Danbury to throw a ball for the ton but it is even rarer for the Duke and Duchess of Hastings to be able to attend, what with their ever-growing brood.

Tonight, however, Dear Reader, these two things are happening in concession. Not only are our beloved Duke and Duchess of Hastings returning to us, but the eldest Bridgerton daughter, Y/N Bridgerton for those who struggle to remember the numerous children’s names, has been seen promenading with Lord Barclay in Hyde Park.

Perhaps tonight will be Miss Bridgerton’s lucky night and will fulfil the Dowager Viscountess’s wishes of seeing all of her children married. The Viscount Bridgerton has recently been married to, formerly, Miss Kate Sharma - a marriage that seems to be a perfect love match.

Could the 1814 season see two Bridgerton children married in a matter of weeks?

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, 4th June 1814

If she was being entirely honest with herself - something Y/N rarely did because most of the time it meant that her mother had been right and it meant admitting that she’d been right - she wasn’t expecting to be married off anytime soon.

Unlike Eloise, Y/N wasn’t entirely opposed to marriage. She wasn’t going to marry just for the sake of it, however. Whoever it ended up being had to be perfect and had to be someone she would happily spend the rest of her life with.

Y/N had two excellent examples of marriage to live up to. Daphne and Simon and Anthony and Kate - both love matches and both couples completely and utterly obsessed with their spouses.

Lord Barclay had been nice to her. He’d danced with her, promenaded with her and had bought her - and her sister’s and mother - flowers. He was relatively knew to his lordship, his father had passed away the previous year and left his estate and title to his first son.

Lord Barclay - Matthew, he’d told her to call him Matthew - had a younger brother who was nearer Y/N’s age but she hadn’t seen him anywhere in London. If the ton’s rumours were to be taken as gospel, he’d fled to America to get away from his father and his older brother.

But Y/N didn’t care about him. She liked Lord Barclay and after almost two years out in society and no sign of any marriage offers... well, her mother had always wanted to see all of her children married.

And if he asked her to marry him - which she suspected would be coming soon - she wouldn’t say no.

But there was a niggling voice in the back of her head (one that sounded suspiciously like her mother and her brother, Colin) that kept asking if she was happy or if she was just settling.

Colin’s displeasure and hatred of Lord Barclay was evident. He wasn’t admitting why he hated the man but every time his name was brought up or he came over to offer Y/N a dance, Colin would step forward protectively and pull Y/N away - unless another member of the family was around.

Colin was part of the reason why Y/N was having doubts about agreeing to marriage. He’d confided in her one night about how he didn’t want her to just settle and wanted her to be happy.

But Lady Danbury’s ball was going to be the night she finally decided. Y/N could feel that something was going to happen that night. She was excited to see Matthew again and to, maybe, become his fiancee.

It’d been a wonderful day. Daphne had joined Y/N, Eloise and their brothers for a ride through Hyde Park. They’d had picnic and then returned home to prepare for the ball that night.

Y/N had chosen one of her favourite new dresses to wear - Matthew had suggested the fabric when he’d accompanied her to the modiste to pick up some new dresses.

She was excited to see him at the ball and talk to him. He’d been a bit distant, lately, but Y/N put it down to stress about his lordship. But there was still something niggling her in the back of her mind. And it wasn’t Colin, who was yelling up the stairs for her to hurry up.

The dress was a beautiful lilac with silver flowers and pearls. She had her maid curl and pin her hair up with a circlet of flowers around it and wore the earrings Daphne had given her for her birthday a few months ago.

“You look beautiful, dearest,” Violet said, standing behind Y/N.

Y/N smiled at her mother in the mirror and brought a hand to the necklace around her neck. It’d been a present from Matthew a few days ago. “It does suit the dress.”

Violet paused, looking as if she was contemplating saying something. “Y/N... are you sure about Lord Barclay?”

Y/N looked around at her mother and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Are you happy with him? You’re not just settling?” Y/N paused. She’d been so certain and now, with her mother voicing the doubts she’d been having since... well, since Monday’s Whistledown had come out and since Colin had spoken to her.

Monday’s Whistledown had mentioned Matthew and had said he’d been seen with a mysterious young woman who most certainly was not Y/N. But she’d just put it down to her being his sister. But now she wasn’t so sure. She loved Matthew, she truly did. But... it was nothing like the love Anthony and Kate had for one another or what Daphne and Simon shared.

“I...” Y/N hesitated, looking down at her shoes. “I don’t want to lie to you, Mama,” she whispered, looking up at her mother, “but I don’t know. Monday’s Whistledown has made me doubt some things. I love him, I do but... well, I doubt it would ever be anything like Anthony or Daphne both have.”

Violet sighed softly and walked over to her daughter, embracing her tightly. Y/N hid her face against her mother’s side, suddenly overcome with emotions and wrapped her arms around her waist, relishing in the comfort and reassuring she was giving.

But as Y/N walked down the stairs of Bridgerton House, her dress trailing out behind her slightly, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. Her two brother’s - waiting in the hallway for her - stared in awe at her.

There was something so special about a woman in love. She glowed and sparkled as if she was a star on Earth itself. She held herself in higher regard and felt like a queen. Everything seemed a little bit more okay and a little bit happier.

Even if the doubt was beginning to seep in about whether she did truly love him.

Y/N took Colin’s arm and let him lead her to the carriage. The night was young and the air was warm. She’d never been so excited for a ball before. Kate was coming too - her first ball as Lady Bridgerton.

Everything seemed to be going perfectly.

Y/N tried to ignore the niggling feeling in her stomach. She wasn’t going to let it ruin her night. Even if she hadn’t heard from Matthew since Monday. And even if Colin’s mere presence was making it worse.

She tried not to make it obvious that she was looking for Matthew as they walked in to the room. But he was nowhere to be seen, despite promising he would be there.

The majority of the night was spent on the edge of the ballroom, watching Anthony whirl Kate around the room in newly wedded bliss. Y/N danced with Simon and Benedict and chatted with Penelope and Eloise - who’d been forced to attend and was making sure everyone in a five mile radius was aware of that fact - and pretended not to be worried.

But she was worried. Had she been so caught up with being in love that she’d missed the red signs that screamed at her to stop and re-consider.

Anthony had noticed his sister’s increasing distress and had stopped dancing with his wife, walking over to his sister and standing next to her, shoulders touching.

“He’ll come, Y/N/N,” Anthony said, noting his sister look around the room yet again.

Y/N nodded, not really paying much attention to him. She’d seen the pitying stares from the mothers of the ton and was beginning to dread what Whistledown was going to say tomorrow.

Kate finished talking with someone and walked over to them, standing next to her husband. She looked at Y/N and then nudged Anthony’s side. “Do something,” she whispered, glancing at her sister - in - law in concern.

Anthony sighed. “I don’t know what I can do, Kate.” He glanced back at Y/N. “If he does turn up, however, don’t hold me back.”

“If anything you’ll have to hold me back,” Kate replied.

Five minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

Then another five.

Benedict joined them in what was quickly becoming knowing as ‘Bridgerton corner’. He glanced at Y/N, then at Anthony. Anthony shook his head, warning him not to say anything. Benedict simply sat down next to his sister and causally flung his arm over the chair, pretending to subconsciously drum his fingers on her shoulder when he was actually trying to comfort her.

Colin came over with Eloise and Violet and soon every Bridgerton in attendance at Lady Danbury’s ball was standing in the corner, waiting.

Another ten minutes passed.

Y/N stood up and grabbed a glass of Lemonade from the table. She took a sip of the sour liquid and tried not make a face at the tangy taste in her mouth.

Not liking the flavour of it she handed it off to Colin - her brother ate and drank almost anything put in front of him. Colin silently took it and shifted closer to Y/N, knowing his gut feeling about Lord Barclay had, unfortunately, been right.

Violet looked over at Y/N and sighed. “This isn’t going well,” she said quietly, leaning closer to Anthony and Kate.

“No, it isn’t,” Anthony replied, glowering at any one who dared approach them in their corner.

“Oh, he’s here!” Y/N exclaimed, perking up as she spotted Matthew as he walked in the main door. “I’ll be back.”

Y/N began heading over to Matthew, weaving her way through the numerous dancers and chatting guests.

“Matthew!” She called, approaching him by the door to the garden. “Where have you been? Come on, I put you down on my dance card.”

She held out her gloved hand to him to take but frowned when he turned and gave her a frown.

Matthew shifted on his feet, an uncomfortable expression appearing on his face. “Ah, Miss Bridgerton.”

Y/N paused, dropping her hand. “Miss Bridgerton? Matthew, what is going on?”

Matthew sighed, looking as if it physically pained him to have to explain. “I don’t want to see you anymore, Miss Bridgerton. I have found another woman - one my family approves of -”

“Your family doesn’t approve of me?” Y/N asked slowly, struggling to comprehend what was happening. “What -”

“I apologise for any inconvenience caused this evening,” Matthew said, bowing. “I wish you well, Miss Bridgerton.”

“Matthew -”

Y/N reached out to grab his hand but he brushed past her, walking across the room and disappearing off into the corridor, leaving Y/N standing alone in the corner, her brain trying to catch up with what had just happened.

Anthony slowly approached, having watched the entire conversation. He’d heard what Lord Barclay had said and had seen the way he stared at his sister - as if she was nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Y/N/N?” Anthony asked quietly, putting a hand on her arm. “What happened?”

“He... he’s found someone else,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Someone his family approves of. I - what...”

Y/N trailed off, stunned and in shock. Anthony sighed, clenching his hand in anger. He glanced up at his mother, who was hovering worriedly nearby, and shook his head once.

Y/N couldn’t form the words to speak. She just stood there, Anthony's hand on her arm being the one thing keeping her grounded.

The room was beginning to whisper and point at Y/N, all wondering what had happened. Anthony noticed a few beginning to wonder over and grabbed Y/N’s hand, gently tugging her forward and to the centre of the room.

Whilst a dance was the last thing either of them wanted - it was the only way to get away from the prying eyes and the endless questions and pitying stared of the Ton.

“Are you alright?” Anthony asked quietly, guiding her hands to the correct position and helping her take one step forward.

Y/N, not wanting to be seen crying in the ballroom, forced a smile onto her face and lifted her head up high, breathing in deeply despite the lump in her throat and the stinging in her eyes and the urge she felt to curl up into a ball and sob. “Of course.”

Red lights, stop signs I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Every time Anthony spun her way, Y/N allowed her facade to crack for just a second. It hurt. Her chest felt tight and every breath was constricted. Everything hurt.

He’d discarded her to the side like she was a piece of rubbish and as if she was nothing. He’d played with her and showered her with gifts and love and compliments and it’d all been a lie.

Matthew had lied. He’d lied.

The words rang around her head like a mantra and it was beginning to consume her. Anthony spun her out and back into him but she almost fell to the floor, her knees beginning to weaken as her body and mind caught up.

Anthony caught her and held her up, looking down at her blank, emotionless face as she tried not to crack.

Y/N focused on each step - the way her feet rose to the tip toes and then back down to her heel as she stepped back and forth, side to side, up and down. She focused on Anthony’s hand in hers, the warmth of his palm, the familiar, comforting scent of his aftershave.

Can't drive past the places we used to go to 'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

The lights blurred past, the numerous people dancing around her becoming one solid merge of colour.

She couldn’t breathe. Her stays felt tight and uncomfortable - even though she knew they weren’t. The necklace she was wearing felt like it was choking her - cutting off the air she need.

Her dress was too tight, too long, her gloves too thick and too heavy.

Sidewalks we crossed I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing

Y/N didn’t remember much of the dancing - she wasn’t even sure how she was moving one foot in front of the other. Anthony was watching her with concern in his eyes and was leading her and guiding her every step of the way.

The music was too loud. The candles were too bright. Everything was an overwhelming blur of orange, red, blue and yellow. Her eyes stung as finally, her mind and body came to the same conclusion.

It was over. He was gone and she was free and her entire future was non-existent and she was alone and unmarried and free.

Over all the noise God, I'm so blue, know we're through But I still fuckin' love you, babe

The song ended and before the last notes had even faded away, Y/N was pushing away from Anthony and past her mother and Colin and out the door, running down the corridor away from everyone.

Her shoes echoed loudly on the tiles and she skidded around the corner into the room that had been set aside for the women. Y/n slammed the door shut behind her and panted and sobbed, clutching the edge of the sink tightly.

She looked in the mirror, her breaths harsh and ragged, and clawed at the necklace Y/N ran down a corridor and into the room that had been set aside for women who need to freshen up or fix their dresses.

She slammed the door shut behind her and hurried over to the washroom, clawing at the necklace around her neck desperate for air and desperate for it to be out of sight.

I know we weren't perfect But I've never felt this way for no one

The clasp eventually gave way and Y/N flung the necklace to the side, taking in ragged, harsh breaths as she sobbed and clutched the sink to keep standing.

Her heart hurt. Her chest hurt. Her head hurt. Everything hurt. She couldn’t breathe, couldn't think, could barely see her reflection in the mirror.

She slowly sank to her knees, leaning against the edge of the sink as she curled up and sobbed and sobbed and hyperventilated and sobbed.

It was over. She was free and he was gone.

And I just can't imagine How you could be so okay now that I'm gone.

The door to the side room opened and Violet burst in. She took one look at her daughter - eyes red, skin blotchy, neck scratched from trying to take off her necklace - and ran over to her daughter, falling to her knees beside her and taking her in her arms.

Y/N clung to her mother tightly as if she were her lifeline in the stormy dark sea she was drowning in. She buried her face in her shoulder and cried and cried.

Anthony stood in the doorway to the room, Colin next to him, and felt his own heart break as he watched his sister fall apart on the floor.

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton!sister #bridgerton!sibling #platonic imagine #sibling!reader

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