#even if they don't fit the description perfectly <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nariism · 4 months

Text

*ੈ✩ LAST WORDS OF A SHOOTING STAR

pair. itadori yuji x reader

synopsis. in the 3 days following the shibuya incident, itadori yuji emerges as a husk of his former self. with his immediate execution resumed, you both grapple with the feelings you have for each other and come to terms with his impending death.

content. hurt/comfort (lots of comfort, thank art because i was gonna be mean about this and they convinced me not to), slightly canon divergent (taking place between shibuya and the culling games), fluff and minor angst, yuta is the best wingman

wc. ~4.4k

NOVEMBER 1 2018

You imagine that your face was rather ghastly when you received the news.

"Execution?" You repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. No, that was the wrong description. It tasted of death—like iron and the depths of Hell filling your mouth until you were gurgling on it.

Unlike the rest of the Jujutsu Sorcerers from Tokyo, you had been ordered to stay back with Shoko in case of an emergency. You remember your exile from battle had left a similar rotten flavour in your mouth.

You vanished off the face of the earth after the incident was over. Most probably presumed you died in the aftermath. Devoured by a curse, they would say and shake their heads. You were always troublesome. And then they would move on with the rest of the world, all the same.

Lives were only temporary in the world of curses. Focus on who you can save, not who is already gone. They'll only end up a curse in your sleep. What a horrible notion to have.

The truth is that you'd been whisked away with Yuta, who seemed to be scheming a plan of his own. Perhaps as a middle finger to the higher ups he hated so much, or perhaps just for his own selfish reasons. You wouldn't know until he was finished carrying it through—he's too good at keeping secrets.

He wanted your reverse cursed technique, you knew that much for sure, even though he could do it himself. You were useful by his side, fitting into his plot in a way you could not in Shibuya. Feeling some sort of obligation and satisfaction, you followed him like a lost puppy.

And now here you are, seated by a dimming fire in the abandoned part of the city. Yuta was too clever for his own good. You suppose Gojo taught him some things well. This was their plan after all.

Yuji was safe, if only for this moment in time.

"Now with Gojo gone, it would have been easy for the higher ups to send assassins your way."

Ruthless and truthful, you flinch, but Yuji does not. He remains perfectly still in your hold, with your hands rotating his face around to get a better look at his wounds. You pour your cursed energy into him, hoping to breathe life back into his eyes, but they stay dull and empty.

"We'll find a way to stop this," you assure, reaching over to take a sanitizing wipe to clean an open cut. Yuta was too rough on him, but it was at least believable that Yuji was dead. He doesn't even recoil from the alcohol stinging his flesh, too engrossed in his own thoughts.

"Why?" He asks weakly. You gawk at him, but then it melts away into a softness that finally makes him blink up at you. "I'm evil."

"You're not evil, Yuji."

"I am. I killed those people. I did." His voice comes flat and defeated, nothing like the one you used to listen to over dinner while he reenacted shitty western films.

You never realize what you'll miss until it's gone. It's hollow, the ache in your heart.

"You don't understand. How could you? All this blood on my hands—"

"It was Sukuna," you quickly refute.

"And Sukuna only lives because I do!"

His voice raises at you, causing the flames behind you to flicker and crack. It's enough for Yuta to step in, acting as a barrier between your tense bodies. Yuji seems to shrink at this, realizing his emotions have run amok and that he has yelled at you.

You only stare back at him in bewilderment, like a frightened animal. Your upperclassman shakes his head.

"Enough of this. We need to start making plans."

You lay awake that night, alone and anxious. Yuta has taken the first shift of watching and patrolling while the two of you rest, though hesitant to leave you alone. He told you it’s another reason he dragged you along: having three people to rotate shifts instead of just two would be easier on your bodies and minds. The city is not what it used to be, now overrun with curses of all grades.

You reassured him it would be fine, that you would fall asleep quickly and so would Yuji—his body has to run out of steam eventually, right? Oh, what a fool you were.

The tension is so heavy that it's awkward, even though you're sleeping on opposite ends of the tunnel.

"Sleep," you demand as if you were Inumaki, like you have the power to curse him.

His eyes flutter open. Even in the firelight, you don't see any shine in them, seeming as if they had been extinguished of life. "Why don't you?"

"I can't until you do."

"That's stupid," he tells you.

It's not the first time you've argued like this. Back when the world felt right, you would sneak in through his dorm window well into the hours of the night. Platonic, you had convinced yourself. You snuck into his bed seeking companionship as a friend. That's the lie you gorged on.

A piece of you knew, and you're sure he did too, that the way your hands explored his arms was unnatural for two friends, and that friends wouldn't sneak into each other's rooms like this with such severe punishment on the line.

It was safe in his arms, with the dull hum of his television running an old horror film in the background. You didn't have to think about much other than his warmth when you sat between his legs with your back to his chest. Or when his arm was draped over your shoulder and you were pressed into his side—actually, you think you preferred this one though you felt sorry for his sore arm.

You would bicker about dumb, pointless things. Which movie is better, or which character deserved to be mutilated more. It would go on for so long that Megumi would bang his fist on their shared wall to get the two of you to shut up.

There was no curse strong enough to change time itself, so you keep your thoughts and memories to yourself when you respond.

"You'll be too tired to function on your shift," you reason.

"You both will be fine without me." Better off without me, you know he means. You've gotten good at reading between his lines.

You slowly sit up in your sleeping bag, eyes never leaving Yuji. He seems so frail right now, even though he looks more adult than he ever has before.

"Human Earthworm 4 was better than 2," you suddenly say. His eyes peer open again in confusion.

"Huh? 2 was way better."

"I liked the love story in 4," you argue, slowly getting out of your bag to shuffle to his side of the concrete tunnel. He looks at you as if you've said something outlandish, too preoccupied with his thoughts to wonder why you've come so close.

"2 had the best special effects though."

Your body shifts under his blanket.

"But 4 had a happier ending." (As far as 'happy' goes in the Human Earthworm series, at least.)

His arm falls around your waist as it has a hundred times, pulling you into his chest.

"Whatever," he huffs. The next topic comes fast and you're thrown into a full blown conversation with him. If you concentrate enough, you can imagine your bodies being tangled together in his bed, safe and sound.

Concrete and fire and the stench of curses melt away until he's all you can focus on.

"You have weird taste in movies," he concludes with his eyes drifting shut.

NOVEMBER 2 2018

You think you know how to fix broken people until you find that they are more than skin and bones.

You learn one thing after the Shibuya Incident: there are wounds residing within Yuji just as much as there are marking his flesh.

Yuta, you realize, had left the two of you alone to sleep and has protected you all night. You'll make it up to him, you reason. Yuji deserved to sleep.

When you wake up to his sleeping face, you think his cuts are healing nicely. But then his expression twists up in terror—a nightmare, if he even had enough energy left in him to conjure up dreams. He murmurs in his sleep, shakes his head a few times and thrashes around so much you're surprised you slept through the night by his side.

"Sukuna," he's whispering. Sukuna, Sukuna, Sukuna. King of Curses. The second voice tormenting him that lives in his own brain like a parasite. You bury yourself into his chest and hold him as tight as you can. He relaxes, body releasing its rigid form, but the murmurs continue.

He is shattered beyond repair. No amount of cursed energy could fix that, even if you tried.

You had once watched Yuji electrocute himself trying to set up the janky old television in his dorm room.

He fell back onto the floor with a loud crash, head hitting the wood so hard you thought he might have a concussion. It caused such a racket that Megumi came running into the room asking what happened, demon dog ready behind him in case of an ambush.

You rushed to the floor, discarding all the food you had settled in your lap and crumbled beside him to scoop him into your arms.

"Yuji!" You called him. People rarely used his first name. You felt special, like you knew him better than others did and for some reason that was a privilege. "Are you okay?"

He laughed in your arms, seeming unfazed by the fact that electricity had run through every vein in his body. "I'm fine, see? My finger just slipped."

You and Megumi both sighed in relief, though you always thought it was strange when you reflected on it. Yuji was a funny guy, yes. He was equal parts humour and destruction but not a klutz. Mistakes happen, so you let it slide until now, but some part of you was nagging to ask.

"That day," you start while rolling up your sleeping bag. "You electrocuted yourself. Remember?"

He looks at you funny over his shoulder. Yuta has already started cracking open cans of food for breakfast, embers of your dead fire cracking.

"Hmm, yeah. I remember. Why?"

"I just thought..." you trail off. "Well, Sukuna makes you tough to a lot of things. I'm surprised small electric shocks aren't one of them."

Sukuna. A name you'd been avoiding since this morning. Sickening silence settles between you. It's so heavy that you pause in your cleaning to look at him, brow raised.

"Yeah," he coughs. "Well, maybe I exaggerated."

"Huh?" You sound annoyed now. "You scared us half to death!"

Yuji only falters in his own chores. When he looks at you again, there's a longing in his gaze that you don't know how you could have missed. Or perhaps it was never there until now.

"It was nice to have you fawning over me," he admits.

The day goes on and all you feel is a terrible grief.

You become painfully aware of each millimeter the sun glides across the sky, from one horizon to the other. Time slips through your fingers fast as sand.

Horrifically, you can't find anything to talk about to fill the emptiness—Nobara and Megumi feel off the table considering the extent of their injuries. You don't even dare to breathe Gojo's name, let alone speak of him so boldly as Yuta is.

You're afraid that Yuji will spiral again, confused and unwilling to cooperate with his judgement clouded by loss. It's not your fault, you would say. It is, he would argue. It would do neither of you good, so you idle around while he and Yuta devise plans to tiptoe around the higher ups.

A part of you knows that if either of you told him to submit and die, he would. He's already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

On the outside, he seems perfectly indifferent. Gaze steady, face stone and unchanging as he speaks. He's doomed, ill-fated, someone full of misfortune. He looks so lonely that the air itself parts for him where he stands.

To shoulder so much responsibility, so much death, maybe he truly is alone. Some fraction of him, at least—a piece of himself only he would ever understand.

Your hand snakes into his without a second thought. You don't know why you did it, nor do you have any reasoning that he doesn't yank away from you. His hand trembles, and it's then that you realize his whole body is wracked with tremors that don't match his distant disposition.

The second thing you learn is this: when Yuji self-destructs, he does it from the inside-out.

Itadori Yuji loves chocolate cake.

He loves all food, really, acting like your friend group's personal food dumpster whenever any of you were full. But chocolate cake you knew he had a sweet tooth for.

You used to bring it with you to his dorm, stopping by the convenience stores on the way home to grab a pre-packaged slice from the fridge for him to eat.

"You're making a mess," you would tell him with a frown, using your thumb to wipe up frosting from the corner of his mouth. You would lick the pad of your finger clean after that, and he would watch almost in a trance.

It's the reason why you stop on one of your patrols, poking through the fridge section of a convenience store. The power has been out for a long time in this part of the city, all the food is already room temperature, but you figure this is fine as long as it smells okay.

The way Yuji's face lights up when he sees you is all it takes for the worry to go away.

It briefly feels as though nothing has ever gone wrong—that after this slice of cake the two of you will tumble back onto his mattress and turn on another showing of Titanic. (He groaned about it once, saying he got KO'd too many times during this film. You only laughed in confusion.)

At the end of the day, you know those days will never come back to you, lost forever in the wind.

Fire dances before you and you watch, enchanted by the flames. You remember last night, how not even the firelight could make Yuji look the same as he did before. You turn your head to look at him, to see if it's any different tonight, just for your cheek to be caught in his palm.

His thumb traces your lip, the way you used to do to him. You recognize the pull of his finger against your flesh, the swipe of it to get frosting off, but he still seems dissatisfied.

"What?" You ask.

"It didn't come off," he mutters, leaning in dangerously close to observe. Heat rises all the way to your cheeks and makes your hairs stand on end. His touch is like molten lava. You wonder if it has something to do with the monster living inside of him.

"I can't see it," you whine without a mirror.

He draws a little closer, until he's inches from your face. "Let me..."

You've suddenly been dropped into cold, unknown waters. This is all unfamiliar. He's rushing this, as if making up for all the time the two of you lost pretending you were only friends. As if he can cram all the things he's wanted to tell you into one night.

Recoiling away, you find yourself hesitating. If he kisses you, this all becomes too real. It's an acknowledgment of his impending death. That the thread of his life is finer and further stretched than yours is.

An unpleasant thought rings through your mind. What if I become a curse on him?

"This only ends badly for us," you whisper, but the conviction is missing from your voice.

He doesn't care. At least, it doesn't look like he does. Who knows what he's thinking right now?

"Who cares?" He says. "We're Jujutsu Sorcerers. Everything bad happens to us no matter what."

You don't have any rebuttal to that, no argument that forms in your mind that could challenge his words. He was right. Only disaster befalls Sorcerers. Disaster and grief.

For a while you had forgotten, living these idyllic months watching the days pass by. You feel like you wasted that precious time worrying about stupid things, like what to have for breakfast or what kind of snacks you should pick up for movie night.

(It ended up being popcorn every time. He liked to piss off Sukuna with it, saying the King of Curses would never get to experience the pleasure of picking out kernels from his teeth. You scoffed but bought it anyway.)

Another thought crosses your mind: Yuji is more fit to be in a rom-com, or a television series where the good guys always win. Not this tragedy. Not this massacre.

You wonder if he's ever felt the same way. If he ever wished he could reach into the sky and turn the sun back to a time before he even knew what a curse was.

If you’d met each other under different circumstances, would this have been a different story? The thought makes your heart ache, a part of you so deep that even if you reached into your chest and plucked it, you'd still wail.

"Can I?" He asks you, eager but quiet. Had this been a few months ago, you imagine that he would have had this spark in his eye. That his lips would be crashing into yours with no inhibition.

But Yuji has always been selfless, you think he always will be. He doesn't want to drag you down if you don't want to—an out, they call it. An escape route just before he careens into a ditch.

Hope has drained from every inch of his expression. This is his loneliness talking.

Despite the dread that licks up your spine, you cup his face. You swear he jolts slightly beneath your touch, as if you've reached out to strike him down. A retribution he believes he deserves.

He kisses you like it's his last day on earth.

You learn one last thing: Itadori Yuji tastes familiarly of death.

Yuta decides to leave you alone for a second night in a row. His presence is so crushing that you know he's alive, but he stalks off somewhere else, leaving just you and Yuji huddled by the pitiful fire you've built.

He once claimed himself jokingly to be a love expert, and then ran off to Kenya for so long that you lost track of how much time passed. You wish you'd asked him before he left what he meant, but at the time it seemed irrelevant. Insignificant. The name Itadori Yuji had not yet been impressed into your heart like a seal.

You're busy setting up the sleeping bags, this time pushing them flush together. They're so close you can barely see the seam between them. Yuji stands on the other side of the fire, watching.

It reminds him of all the times you'd ever scolded him for not making his bed in the morning. I'm gonna crawl back in tonight anyway, he said. Who cares if it's messy?

Idiot, you would call him. But there was no malice behind it. He treated it like a pet name, a badge of honour to be your idiot.

Life felt so simple back then. He was full of determination and life and stuck to his morals as best he could. When he wavered he would text you to come over so you could fall asleep on his chest and suffocate any other thoughts out of his head.

"I've never felt so powerful before," he admits quietly. You turn to look at him, curious. "Like I could do anything in the world."

There's a negative connotation to that, you know. He could do anything. The world would crumble at his feet and there he would stand, laughing at it all. It isn't his will, not even slightly, but the demon taking refuge in his body would love to see the blood pool.

"Like I could just... reach out and—"

"Yuji!" You hiss, lurching forward to take his hand into yours and retreat from the flame. The skin is already pink and blistering, scorched by the embers. You twist his wrist around, observing where the fire licked the deepest, and pour your energy into him.

When you look up to see if he's crying, or at least grimacing in pain, you find only his smiling face—warm and adoring. For a second it feels like the world isn't burning around you.

It was nice to have you fawning over me.

You wipe that stupid smirk off his face, leaning in to smear a kiss along the scar on his lip.

"Idiot," you say, and he laughs for the first time in so long that it sounds foreign in your ears.

(He doesn't fall asleep that night. He would rather savour the sound of your soft snores, memorize the form of your body in his hold, and try his hardest to burn this into his brain.

So be it if you come to curse him one day. He would welcome you with open arms.)

NOVEMBER 3 2018

The day comes when Megumi sneaks into your hideout, asking for help.

His sister, he explains. He needs help saving Tsumiki. For some reason, resentment boils in your stomach, but then it's snuffed just as fast.

Two days and two nights you've spent pretending Japan isn't collapsing, content with sitting idly by as curses overran Tokyo. You're sure Megumi thought you to be cowards, that you were all hiding under this bridge to wait out the hellstorm that was raining down on your homes.

It was true to some extent. Once Yuji stepped out into battle again, that was that. You're not sure things would ever be the same again, though you suppose you lost the privilege of routine days ago.

"Let me come too," you urge. Three pairs of eyes land on you.

"No," Yuji pushes. "It's dangerous."

"I can fight!"

"You can't," he pauses, then corrects himself, "You won't."

Awkward silence settles over your encampment. Yuta stirs, standing to hold you steady by the shoulders.

"If we need help... if one of us is hurt, we'll need you unharmed. Do you understand?"

Ah, ever so wise, your upperclassman. So easy to persuade you. There's a reason why he's the chosen one only second to Gojo.

You swallow the bile that fights up your throat. "What if you don't come back?"

Yuji steps in this time, knocking away Yuta to hold you by the face. Get a grip, this means. Pull yourself together, don't you dare fall apart in front of me.

"We will."

You once considered telling him how you felt, letting it eat away at you until Nobara groaned in disgust.

“If Itadori starts dating before I do, I’ll puke.”

You remember that you laughed, thinking she was so dramatic. You loved that about her. “I think you would do worse.”

She glared at you, foot lightly kicking at your shin under the table. Still, she made sure to push equal amounts of rice to your side of the plate. “I might burn a village down,” she huffed, placing her chin on her palm.

“You’re fine. Even if I told him how I feel, I don’t think he’d accept.”

“Huh?” Nobara sounded genuinely confused, raising a brow at you. “What makes you think that?”

You didn't know how to answer that. Maybe you were just afraid that you had misinterpreted everything, that the way he held you was protective in a familial manner and that he would slam his door in your face when you tried.

Looking back on it, you can imagine him in the next room ranting about the same things to Megumi.

“He still has posters of Jennifer Lawrence on his wall,” you argued weakly while shoveling rice into your spoon. She watched you take your bite with her lips parted in disbelief.

You wish you had told him, then. Not that it would have changed where you both ended up.

You watch as they pack up their things.

Megumi's demon dog keeps you quiet company, tail thrashing against the ground as you slick back its fur. They talk around the dying flames, devising plan after plan. None seem safe. None would be.

Yuta and Megumi leave first, taking the lead in front of the pack. His dog melts into the shadows and disappears, leaving you sitting alone.

"I want to take you back, but..." Yuji glances over his shoulder toward his death sentence. "Will you make it okay on your own?"

You get up slowly, as if to draw out the time he stands before you. A thousand questions run through your head: what if you never see him again? What if this kills him, not by body, but by his already damaged soul?

He must sense the racing of your mind, so he leans in to engulf you in his arms. In an instant, memories of those days spent lounging in his bed, shoveling your food onto his plate, and purposefully talking louder to tease Megumi come flooding.

A year you would never forget. You're sure it'll become a curse if you dwell, so you tell him: "I'll make it. You go on, they need you."

I need you, too. Stay. If only it were so simple.

He smiles at you, warm like the sun that's hidden behind the barrier. Itadori Yuji looks like a ghost of his former self, battle-worn and covered in scars where his skin used to be smooth. He kisses you again for good measure, making sure he remembers the way you sigh into his mouth.

When he pulls away, there's life gleaming in his eyes.

"Let's watch Human Earthworm 5 when I come back."

Your thumb brushes the corner of his lip. You open your mouth to speak, to finally tell him the truth after all this time. You'd rather not die regretting you never said it, after all.

But you stop.

"I prefer Titanic," you confess. He shakes his head and kisses your forehead. Then he’s gone, taking all the warmth with him.

You'll make up for lost time one day. It won’t be today. You can tell him all about your feelings when he comes back to you.

915 notes · View notes

lafemmemacabre · 1 year

Text

Goth 101

🦇 tl;dr version for those who prefer that format

Goth is a music-based subculture that started out in the UK in the late 70s/early 80s and spread internationally from there. It spawned from the UK Punk scene, keeping the DIY ethics but turning the music more melancholic, introspective and experimental.

The music genres that the subculture was built around are (dark) Post-Punk, Gothic Rock, Darkwave, Ethereal Wave and a few other smaller subgenres.

While the fashion and other non-musical aesthetics are very prominent and beloved by goths, they're non-essential to the subculture. What defines a goth is the music we listen to.

Our "big 4" bands are The Cure, Sisters of Mercy, Bauhaus and the Banshees. However, 3 out of 4 of those bands are Post-Punk acts (Sisters of Mercy being the exception Gothic Rock band), and while very influential to the rest of the goth music scene, they by no means are the end-all, be-all of what goth music sounds like. The genre has evolved through its over 40 years of existence, creating diverse sounds. Anyone darkly inclined can find something to love, even if it takes a bit of research.

The Dark & Gothic playlist on Spotify is a pretty decent way to get started into goth music. In my old blog I had entire tags dedicated to goth music as a whole, and separately to Post-Punk, Gothic Rock, Darkwave and Ethereal Wave too. I had a few playlists based on popular goth aesthetics here.

The longer description of goth music will include playlists for each bigger goth subgenre, but please keep in mind they're made by me in a way that appeals to my personal tastes for each subgenre. I don't know every band that exists and my personal taste is biased towards the 90s.

Now, to a more detailed introduction to the goth subculture...

🦇 Dark alternative vs Goth

What a lot of people need clarified is that the goth subculture doesn't have a monopoly on the dark alternative world, nor are we the home for everyone sad, spooky and weird who doesn't fit in and might listen to any sort of sad, spooky or weird alternative music.

There are SO many dark alternative music scenes that have nothing or very little to do with the goth subculture. We've influenced a lot of them fashion-wise, but just because they copied us we look alike doesn't mean we're interchangeable.

There's no scale that goes from Prep to Goth and measures how Valid™ your inner darkness is, in which if you're anything below goth then you're a poser and lame. It's perfectly fine and cool to be dark alternative without being a goth. Goth isn't a badge of legitimacy or honor, it's just one specific flavor of dark alternative among so many.

Goth is a very small and obscure subculture despite our superficial hypervisbility (our looks and infamy are hypervisible, what we're actually about is extremely buried underground), and most dark alternative people aren't goths.

🦇 What does it take to be a goth?

There's one rule, and one rule only: LISTEN TO THE MUSIC. You wouldn't call yourself a metalhead without being a fan of Metal music, would you? The same principle applies to goth.

There are many types of alternative subcultures; some examples are fashion-based subcultures, another are lifestyle-based subcultures. A third type of subculture that's very prominent (especially in the West) are music-based subcultures.

Goth is a music-based subculture, just like the metalhead, punk, emo, rivethead/Industrial, hip-hop, rave, K-Pop and grunge subcultures are.

This means that, while the music isn't THE ONLY aspect the subculture has, in order to be a goth you have to listen to goth music, and we have a specific set of music genres that our subculture was built around, so not just anything dark and melancholy will do, as we don't have a monopoly on that, but we do have something closer to a monopoly on a specific sound and musical legacy.

You don't have to listen to goth music EXCLUSIVELY to be a goth, that'd be insane. You don't even have to limit yourself to dark alternative music either. You just have to listen to goth music to a relevant degree and be passionate about it and you're in, the rest is up to you.

This means too that the way you dress has no impact on your validity as a goth, whether you don't have the gothic wardrobe of your dreams yet or you just don't want to dress goth at all. I'm TikTok mutuals with a girl who dresses exclusively in pink-white sweet lolita coords, but who's passionate about goth music. She's a goth, no questions about it. On the other hand, a lot of the influencers you'll see online who look like a lost Addams cousin aren't goths at all, and no house decor or outfit will make them gothier if they don't listen to the music.

🦇 What music counts as goth?

From the previous points I made you probably gathered that Industrial and Metal ⁠– both genres that outsiders usually associate with the goth subculture ⁠– aren't actually part of the goth genre. So, what is goth music?

Goth music developed initially in the UK in the late 70s/early 80s off of dark Post-Punk. Post-Punk itself developed from UK 70s Punk Rock, being also influenced by Glam Rock, experimental electronic music, and many other influences more specific to each band that took part in this musical development (Bauhaus were very influenced by Reggae!).

What characterizes the goth sound are elements such as; being bass-driven rather than guitar-driven (in almost every case), guitars playing more of a decorative or atmospheric role instead of being the main focus (which contrasts starkly against genres such as Metal), preference for voices with a lower vocal range (altos, this is your genre to shine in!), optional use of synthesizers, recurrent replacing of human drummers with drum machines, and common use of lots of reverb and delay effects everywhere for an extra sensation that you're listening to music recorded in a catacomb.

Dark Post-Punk was the starting point of the goth subculture, and from it, all other goth music subgenres developed. Depending on who you ask there's a billion goth micro-genres. In my opinion a lot of those subgenres are rather meaningless (a lot of them are just specific flavors of Post-Punk or Darkwave) but the main 4 subgenres of goth music are:

(Dark) Post-Punk

Gothic Rock

Darkwave

Ethereal Wave

POST-PUNK:

Post-Punk took the standard sound of Punk Rock and its DIY ethics and made the sound more melancholic, romantic, experimental, less angry, and more introspective. Dark Post-Punk in particular was influenced by gothic literature and old horror movies (including their soundtracks, the Banshees created their characteristic guitar sound after the violins in the Psycho soundtrack).

Besides the 3 Post-Punk bands I listed as part of the goth "big 4", there's bands such as Skeletal Family, Twin Tribes, Specimen, She Wants Revenge, Sex Gang Children, Xmal Deutschland, Lebanon Hanover, Cruex Lies, The Secret French Postcards and The Birthday Party.

GOTHIC ROCK:

When goth became slightly more established in sound, Gothic Rock is what happened. Less experimental than Post-Punk, a bit more Rock-based, more decidedly dark and miserable than Post-Punk necessarily is, and finally severed from goth's punk roots. Sisters of Mercy is THE most popular and influential Gothic Rock band; they popularized the use of extremely low baritone vocals and drum machines. Despite existing since the 80s, its popularity peak was in the 90s.

Goth as a whole has its "big 4", but the subgenre of Gothic Rock has its own "big 3", which are Sisters of Mercy, The Mission (UK), and Fields of the Nephilim. Other Gothic Rock bands are Rosetta Stone, Corpus Delicti, Inkubus Sukkubus, Mephisto Walz, Angels of Liberty, Two Witches, Nosferatu, Wisborg and Soror Dolorosa.

DARKWAVE:

Goth going electronic! There's basically two types of Darkwave; the one that's more a combination of Post-Punk + Synthpop (very popular in the past decade), and the one that's more a combination of Gothic Rock + electronic music in general (most popular in the 90s). EXTREMELY danceable, but then again goths can dance to literally anything. This genre has existed at the very least since the second half of the 80s and has never stopped being relevant in the goth scene, save maybe during the Deathrock revival phase.

Clan of Xymox might be the single most influential Darkwave band. There's also The Frozen Autumn, The Crüxshadows, Switchblade Symphony, Collide, Dark, Ghosting, London After Midnight, She Past Away, Drab Majesty and Boy Harsher.

ETHEREAL WAVE:

This genre is heavily linked to Dream Pop, Neoclassical Darkwave and Shoegaze. Like with Darkwave there's basically a few styles of Ethereal Wave, I can pinpoint three; the one that's like, regular Goth Rock/Post-Punk but with a lot of extra delay and reverb and other stylistic choices that make it sound, well, Ethereal, dream-like. There's the type that has lots of Folk influences (be it Medieval/Rennaisance-ish type of Folk or "ethnic" type of Folk), and there's one that's synth-based but, unlike Darkwave, sounds like what ketamine must feel like. This genre has existed since the mid 80s but its peak in popularity and relevancy in the scene was in the 90s.

Dead Can Dance is THE most influential Ethereal Wave band, but there's others such as Cocteau Twins (started as Post-Punk, ended up as Dream Pop and Ethereal Wave), Miranda Sex Garden, Faith and the Muse, Lycia, Claire Voyant, Hamsas XIII, Love is Colder than Death, SRSQ, Black Tape for a Blue Girl and Mors Syphilitica.

What about Deathrock, Gothic Metal and Industrial?

Deathrock is goth's American twin, basically. While in the early 80s in the UK morose ex-punks were playing Post-Punk, in the early 80s in the LA Punk scene morbid and brooding punk kids were playing Deathrock; it's closer to Punk Rock in sound than Post-Punk, being more about being spooky and brooding than about being eerie and romantic. Goth is to vampires and witches what Deathrock is to zombies and werewolves.

To summarize the consensus on Deathrock and its place within the goth subculture; it's rare to find a goth who's not also into at least some Deathrock, and even rarer to find a deathrocker who's not into goth. Personally, I think Deathrock is its own separate though very similar thing, but I don't mind Deathrock being lumped in with goth music.

I made a whole TikTok video on why Gothic Metal isn't a goth subgenre, but in summary; Gothic Metal is a Metal subgenre that was somewhat influenced by goth music in its earliest stage of development, but is for the most part a cross between Doom Metal and Death Metal with lyrics inspired by gothic literature. By adhering to a Metal sound it doesn't fit the type of sound goth music has. The goth influences in Gothic Metal were mostly only present in the earliest bands and a majority of the newer acts are completely disconnected from the goth scene.

As for goth's ties to the rivethead subculture (and thus, Industrial music): We've been sibling subcultures since at least the early 90s. Both very, very small and underground scenes that despite being different, had enough similarities in music, idiosyncrasy and aesthetic sensibilities to comfortably band together for the sake of scene viability. That's why you might hear people talking about the "gothic-industrial scene".

Keep in mind too that 80s and 90s Industrial music sounded very different from how it does now (compare your average Grendel or Combichrist song to your average Skinny Puppy or Die Form song). There was a lot less influence of raver music in the rivethead scene back then, and a lot more influence from 80s dark alternative music and New Wave, which are key influences for the goth scene as well.

As told by goth YouTuber Angela Benedict (goth since 1995), every goth back then listened to at least some Industrial, every rivethead listened to at least some goth music, and they all loved 80s New Wave, so DJs at shared club nights had a very easy time entertaining both audiences simultaneously.

🦇 Trivia & other things to know

The term "gothic Rock" was being used in music journalism as early as to describe releases by The Doors and The Velvet Underground, but the word "gothic" there wasn't so much used to point to a specific type of sound at that stage, it was used to imply the mood of the music and that's not where the subculture gets its name.

We don't know for sure why this subculture began to be referred to as "goth", initially the music was called either New Wave (just a darker and more underground variety of it) or Positive Punk. However, one of the potential roots of this name for our subculture is that it comes from an inside joke from members of Southern Death Cult/The Cult about Andi Sexgang (Sex Gang Children) about how he was a creepy little guy obsessed with the macabre and dark romanticism living at the Visigoth Towers, so they called him a "goth goblin" and if he was a goth, then his fans were goths too.

From the comments that the goth bloggers/vloggers I follow get, apparently it's common for baby bats and people interested in the subculture to think that they HAVE to find a goth "type" to lock themselves into, like "trad goth" or "romantic goth" or whatever else, and if they don't, they're a poser. This isn't true at all. Most goths wax and wane between fashion styles and goth music subgenres. These terms are far more useful to describe aesthetics rather than people or music.

If you ever hear people talk about "1st/2nd/3rd wave goth/Gothic Rock"; that's an (in my opinion) outdated and not too functional terminology to differentiate between "eras" of goth music, 1st wave being between 1975-1985, 2nd between 1985-1995, and 3rd between 1995-? That terminology was used widely when I was a baby bat but not so much anymore.

"Baby bat" is what a lot of more established goths call newbies! It's NOT meant as an insult nor to be condescending. It's a loving cutesy term and while of course most baby bats are very young, it's perfectly plausible to be a very grown adult and a baby bat if they just got into goth instead of getting into the subculture as a teen.

Most goth bands are easily found on Spotify except for more underground ones that haven't been active for a while (I have so many beloved bands and songs that just don't exist on Spotify), but the real goth jackpot is at Bandcamp.

Facebook is still useful for one (1) thing and it's for finding goth events; that's where I've found out about gothic fairs, goth nights and gigs; from the largely popular ones in my local scene to the very underground ones.

The song most of the subculture agrees is THE first official goth song is Bela Lugosi's Dead by Bauhaus, which was recorded as a singular take. It was the first track the band recorded together, too.

The Batcave is infamous nowadays as a huge goth night club in Soho (London) during the early 80s, owned by the band Specimen, BUT as told by the very people who used to frequent the nightclub, the whole thing has been a little overblown and its current reputation is more legend than fact. YouTuber Gothcast has a great video on the subject that was praised by members of Specimen itself!

youtube

Most of the most iconic pioneer goth musicians HATE being referred to as goths or to have their music referred to as such. When the term "goth" was first starting to be used to describe our music and scene it was a pejorative used by outsiders and/or mostly associated with the campier and more "low brow" bands (Specimen and Alien Sex Fiend come to mind). Andrew Eldritch from Sisters of Mercy especially hates it, to the point he refuses to even say the word and refers to it as "the G word". Which is hilarious since he sounded the most stereotypically gothy out of the big 4 and looked like this at the time he started to be a piss baby about it:

Goth isn't really a "youth" subculture anymore if you ask people within the scene. Unlike people from many other subcultures, goths have a tendency to stay goth far into adulthood (even if covertly). When you go to any events, besides teens and people in their early 20s, you're gonna see plenty of goths in their 40s and older, a few of them will bring their kids along if the event is family friendly.

Besides the obvious chance of many goths being professional creatives (musicians, writers, artists, etc), for some reason A LOT of goths work in tech and healthcare!

Metalheads headbang, they and punks also mosh. What do goths do to vibe to our music together? We dance! We don't dance the same as non-goths but we LOVE to dance to our music, together or solo. There's no established dance styles to adhere to; it's just letting your body flow to the music. Some goth dancing is very intricate, some of it is very simple, it depends on the goth in question. Just in case, this is NOT like the dance gifs of cybergoths/rivetheads under that damned bridge. Think less that and more Wednesday Addams dancing to The Cramps, or the girl from the Night of the Demons movie. Here's some videos about how goths dance:

youtube

We fucking love 80s New Wave. No, Depeche Mode isn't a goth band; yes, you'll have to dig deep to find a goth who doesn't ADORE them. The only one I've come across who disliked Depeche Mode liked Soft Cell instead.

Goth IS international! Not just in the sense that there's fans of goth music basically everywhere, but that there's local goth scenes with their own local goth bands everywhere. Outside of the US + Europe + Canada, there's huge goth scenes all over Latin América (our Deathrock and Post-Punk are at times even popular among 1st world goths), and there's also smaller but still present goth scenes in Africa, Asia and Oceania. She Past Away is very much one of THE most popular goth bands in recent years and they're from Turkey.

The goth scene has always been in friendly terms with the LGBT community. Not only are many of our biggest icons LGBT themselves (the whole band Specimen, AVC from Sopor Aeternus, both members of Diavol Strâin, the vocalist from Male Tears, Cinnamon Hadley, and many more) but plenty of cishet goths (especially the men) embrace gender non-conformity and/or androgyny. In most local scenes, goth club nights are held at gay bars/nightclubs, as they don't tend to have privately owned venues. And either way, at any goth night there'll be tons of gay and gender non-conforming goths no matter where they're held. To varying degrees depending on the locality of the scene, gay and bi people are completely normalized in the goth subculture, and gender non-conformity and androgyny aren't just encouraged, but praised and coveted.

There's goths of any religion you can think of, but Neo Pagans are somewhat over-represented in our community compared to the rest of larger society (for better or worse). Funnily enough, very few goths are actually Satanists of any sort. I'd say the numbers go more or less similar to our local non-goth peers. In the West and westernized countries I'd say it goes; majority culturally-Christian atheist or agnostic goths (usually not militant about it), a few practicing Christians of whichever denomination (usually whichever is dominant in the country they inhabit), the rare but entirely plausible Jewish, Muslim or Buddhist goth, and a bunch of Neo-Pagans. Probably one (1) or two (2) actual Satanist goths per state/province/etc, tops.

World Goth Day is celebrated every year on May 22nd.

"Mallgoth" isn't a type of goth in either a musical or fashion sense. I made another TikTok about it, but in summary; it was originally hurled as an insult towards a very specific type of poser; the American kids in the late 90s and early 00s who imitated how goths dressed and called themselves goths while only listening to Nu Metal and maybe the most mainstream Industrial Metal. They tended to congregate at malls and behave particularly obnoxious to everyone there, further ruining our already delicate image (especially at that time).

Cybergoths aren't really goths either. Their music scene is centered around EBM, which is basically slightly darker and slightly more aggressive raver music that may or may not have Industrial influences. And to be honest they behaved like a rapacious invasive species in goth club nights to the point that they almost decimated the actual goth scene and it took us a while to recover from that.

Goths are sometimes perceived as too self-serious but honestly? We love making fun of ourselves and we tend to have a very silly or dry sense of humor. We're just tired of the same cheap and inaccurate jokes made by people who don't know anything about us. The best jokes about goths will often come from goths ourselves; you can only properly make fun of something you understand well! The few times outsiders get it right though? (Sad to confirm that the South Park goth kids are hilarious and I wish they were in a better show) You'll see goths sharing the SHIT out of it, such as me being obsessed with the goths from Ridonculous Race, or the clip below:

youtube

#goth music #music #goth #gothic #gothgoth #goth subculture #trad goth #gothic rock #post punk #darkwave #ethereal wave #Spotify #goth 101

1K notes · View notes

loverickyys · 1 month

Note

Maybe gunwook x f!reader first time smut?

He would be so sweet :33

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹ First time with gunwook!

Minors dni

- gunwook and you have been together for almost 3 years by now, when you express the wish of wanting to take your relationship further. ofc you both make out here and there, but this is a big deal.

- gunwook freaks out cuz u are way more dominant in these matters compared to him.

- goes on to read and opens at least a hundred websites about first time sex. he is doing his best to gather as much as info, and he is freaking out in the process

- you mean the world to him, and he wants this to be perfect for you but he is just way too innocent and under informed.

- seeks help from his hyungs (not the best idea when the said hyung is kim horny 24/7 gyuvin)

- gyuvin ends up making him more flustered with his extremely graphic descriptions of various sex positions. gunwook is blushing like crazy, probably having a culture shock when jiwoong decides to step in and actually give some good advice.

Now to the actual first time.. :)

- you guys are at his house, just a normal date night, curled up in the bed watching movies. his mind is running in different directions on how to approach you. finally gains enough courage to pull you closer against his chest.

- one thing leads to another and you end up straddling his lap, your lips connected. the movie completely forgotten. a sudden confidence boost in gunwook, as he lets go of your lips and asks if you are completely sure about this. (consent is very sexy for gunwook everyone.)

- you smile against his lips mumbling a soft yes before tugging at his shirt to take it off. once you both are left in your undergarments, things start to hit him again. he stares at you blankly and you have to kiss him out of the trance.

- "what's wrong wookie?" you say cupping his face. he melts in your embrace, and wraps his hands around your waist tighter. "it's just that you are so precious to me and I don't want to do anything which is not pleasurable for you. what if something goes wrong." he admits shyly.

- you chuckle lightly, bringing his face closer to yours. "oh wookie you don't have to worry about that. there is no one I would trust this more than you." you say lovingly to which he responds by attaching your lips again, all messy. you can feel his hand going down and tracing the elastic of your underwear before pushing his digits inside it, moving in small circles against your clit.

- you let out a moan, making him go faster and going further by putting in a finger, teasing your hole. he is completely concentrated at your face and the way your eyes roll a little when he adds another finger, scissoring you open. you have to hold down to his broad shoulders, your hips now moving on their own, riding his fingers.

- his other hand reaches for your bra strap and slides them down to release your boobs. staring at them intently he gives your right nipple a reluctant lick. you moan even louder making him fully suck at them.

- you are practically a mess right now, and gunwook is super hard to the point his cock is begging to be released from the confinements of his black briefs. you do him the favour by sliding your hand and wrapping your fingers around his cock, pumping lightly making him groan.

- he retracts his fingers from abusing your hole as you clumsily try to get the condom on his cock. both of you sweating and feeling too up in your heads. once the condom is on, he pulls you up and helps you down on his cock.

- it's painful for you to fit him fully and the moment you are able to bottom out, you have to rest your head on his shoulder. core burning from the stretch.

- gunwook feels like he is going to explode. your walls are wrapping around his length so perfectly. he gives you time to get used to the uneasiness before dragging your hips very slowly.

- both of you moan as the pain is replaced by pure bliss of being stuffed like this. he helps you ride him and it doesn't take you long to reach your climax, letting out a cry of his name and biting his shoulder.

- he cums just after you. orgasm hitting hard, groaning your name and pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, muttering I love you against your lips.

- both of you are quite wasted after the respective orgasms, just basking in each other embrace. you whine as he pulls out of you already missing the sensation of him inside you.

- aftercare is just him spooning you followed by both of you falling fast asleep, still naked and too tired to clean up.

#zb1 smut #zb1 hard hours #gunwook smut #zb1 gunwook #gunwook x reader #zerobaseone smut #skyasks🪐

301 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 6 months

Text

Guilt | Greed | Grace

[ modern! • Aemond x stepsister! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, sexual tension, angst, smut, kind of incest but not really, brat taming ]

[ description: After one night together, he and his stepsister remain amused by the whole situation and that they have taken revenge on their parents in some way. Aemond begins to wonder if his relationship with Alys makes sense when their parents decide to go away for the weekend and leave them alone at home. The power of angst, ironic, bitchy Aemond. Anon request. ]

Series & Characters Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

After what they had done, they both began to fall asleep in his bed, exhausted after their physical exertion and fulfilment. His stepsister woke up before dawn − she slipped out of his embrace and stroked his hair before she left, quietly closing the door behind her.

He surprised his mother and the rest of the family by coming down for breakfast in the morning; Criston stood up, startled, and walked over to him, extending his hand to him. He shook it, trying to hold back a grimace of satisfaction.

"Criston. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He said with the clear hope that he had finally broken through, that there would no longer be such a tense atmosphere in the house.

He looked at him forcing himself not to smile.

I fucked your daughter yesterday, Criston.

And it felt so fucking good.

"Aemond. Me too." He said low and matter-of-factly, turning away from him even though he could see he wanted to say something more, surely to ask how his studies were going or what he was planning to do today.

He sat down at the table taking a seat opposite his daughter, who for a brief moment pretended to be extremely focused on cutting pancakes with jam. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to take a bite into her mouth and swallow it, and she finally lifted her gaze to him.

"Hi." He hummed and she pressed her lips together, her eyebrows arched in amusement − she was all red, her innocent embarrassment making him feel a pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen.

"Hi." She whispered, immediately leaning over her pancakes, trying not to laugh, and he reached for the toast with a smile of satisfaction.

His mother and Criston watched them with astonishment, Daeron being the only one who seemed to notice nothing and simply ate his cornflakes with milk, surely focused with his thoughts on some test that awaited him at school.

"Why are you laughing? Is something wrong?" Asked Alicent, clearly amused herself, suspecting that this was clearly not the first time they had spoken.

She and he shot each other a quick glance over the table − she didn't seem terrified and he figured she wouldn't mind if he played with the situation a bit.

"Nothing. Something funny just happened yesterday. Right, kid?" He asked indifferently, throwing her a defiant look, biting into his toast with a loud crunch.

She almost choked on the sip of tea she had just taken from her mug in the shape of a dog's head and looked at him with big eyes, hearing her pet name that he had used earlier in the night.

He thought with amusement that her mug fit her perfectly.

"Yes. Very funny." She muttered wearily, pressing her lips together and quickly taking another bite of pancakes, trying with the last of her willpower not to smile or laugh, looking at him pleadingly.

"Don't you want to tell your daddy what you did?" He asked ironically and she burst out laughing, looking at him with her eyebrows raised high, accepting his challenge.

"Maybe you should brag to your mum about what happened first." She said defiantly and lightly, taking a loud sip from her cute doggie cup, and he bit his lip, deciding that he probably needed to say enough so as not to overdo it.

"I see that whatever happened you two quickly found common ground." Said his mother with a sort of expression of contentment and relief, as if she understood from all this that something funny had happened in their absence which had made them, willy-nilly, grow closer to each other.

In a way, it was true.

In a way.

"Yeah. We got closer." He said lightly, and she just threw him a calm, happy look without saying anything else, eating the rest of her pancake contentedly.

"Okay, I'll drive Daeron to school and come back to drop you off at the university, okay?" Criston asked her, but before she could answer anything he interrupted him with a word.

"Big brother will drive his little sister to school. Get yourself together, I'm leaving in ten minutes." He hummed, putting the rest of his toast in his mouth, walking over to the machine to make himself a quick coffee. Criston wanted to protest, saying there was no need, but his daughter ran quickly to get her backpack without even listening to him.

He drank his coffee and started to put on his shoes, waiting for her when his mother came up to him, an expression of gratitude on her face.

"That's very kind of you, Aemond. Thank you for trying, you don't even know how much it means to me. I know it's hard for you, but…"

"Mhm. Ready?" He asked completely uninterested in what she was saying to him, noticing his stepsister behind her − she quickly put her trainers on her feet and nodded.

They moved to his car, which he opened remotely with his key, and settled comfortably in their seats, buckling their seatbelts. He turned on the engine and played a Guns N' Roses record, backing out of the driveway, neither of them speaking to each other as they drove.

He caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye as they stood at the traffic lights − he looked at her dress, light, girly, revealing part of her thighs, on top of which she had thrown on a thick, short, light-coloured jumper fastened at the front with big buttons.

It seemed incredibly fluffy to him, from a distance he could sense that it smelled like a pleasant laundry softener.

He shuddered when a driver in the back honked at him, frustrated that he hadn't moved off despite the green light being on. He looked in the mirror, furious, driving off with a squeal of tyres.

"Fucking old prick. Where the fuck is he in such a hurry?" He growled more to himself than to her, but felt her glance back at him with a smile, twisting in her seat, hugging tighter her material backpack lying on her lap.

He felt odd about the fact that she hadn't spoken to him the whole way − for some reason he had a feeling she would flood him with questions about what had happened between them last night, or who he was, what he did for a living, if he had anyone.

He parked in front of her faculty without turning off the engine, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye; only then did she look at him, her eyes big, her gaze calm, her face gentle and full of some kind of gratitude and understanding.

"Thank you very much. Have a nice day." She said softly and he swallowed loudly, looking at her with his jaw clenched.

"… you too."

He watched with indifference as she unbuckled her seatbelt and walked out, closing the door behind her, running towards a group of people, a couple of guys and one girl, hugging them one by one.

He licked his lower lip wondering if any of these boys had fucked her before him and rolled his eyes, deciding he didn't give a shit and drove off, not wanting to be late for his own classes.

He sat in the ancient history lectures thoughtfully, unable to concentrate on what his professor was talking about despite it being his favourite class.

He had already managed to get a few messages from Alys − she was asking him when they were going to meet again, sending him a picture of herself getting ready for work, saying that last night had been wonderful.

He stared at her messages with a blank stare, thinking only of the fact that he had been dating her for several months, and was only able to think about Criston's Cole's daughter.

About her warm, tender hands holding him close to her body, stroking his hair, neck and back with her soft fingers until he fell asleep while being still deep inside her.

He felt a sort of tightening in his pit, a discomfort, an unpleasant sense that something was wrong; he ran his hand over his face, sighing quietly, putting his phone aside and closing his eyes.

He didn't know himself what he thought of this relationship.

He felt that he had got into it because it was his way of taking revenge on his mother, because it allowed him to get physically off, to feel mature, to feel desired, to have somewhere to run to.

But now that his final revenge was done, now that he felt he had his mother and Criston in his grasp, that he had mentally regained control of the situation it all lost its meaning.

He felt nothing for her.

He wasn't even sure if he really liked her.

He felt some kind of shame and embarrassment at the thought that he had devoted months of his life to someone who was so indifferent to him, fucked her for hours like some kind of animal.

Looking at his stepsister, he felt empty, because she was full of everything − warmth, peace, understanding, joy, courage, humour.

Everything he was missing.

He decided to take a break from Alys for the time being and focus more on his studies, which he had neglected in recent months; he pretended not to listen at all if and when Criston's daughter came home, if she went out in the evening or not.

He noticed with interest that she had caught a close relationship with Daeron very quickly, being able to give him what he was unable to − she listened to his childish problems at school when they ate dinner and gave him advice as if he were an adult.

She was the only person besides Daeron he spoke to when he passed her or if they were at the table together − she usually asked him to hand her something, or asked if he would pour more water in the kettle so she could make herself a cup of tea too.

He was used to dropping a bag of Earl Grey into her doggy mug; each time she looked at him gratefully when he handed it to her already poured with boiling water.

"Thank you."

He would sometimes see her sitting on the sofa in the living room watching TV, texting with someone on her phone and involuntarily wonder if she was in love with some boy.

For some reason he felt discomfort at the thought, as if he had really stepped into the role of her older brother and wanted to know who she was talking to and where she was going out.

Of course, he would never dare to ask her about it and kept his frustration to himself.

She didn't impose on him or try to talk to him by force knowing it was pointless, something his mother and Criston couldn't comprehend, barraging him with questions he didn't feel like answering.

Some part of him was curious about her, about what she had read and what she had listened to, about what she thought about it all, what she thought about him.

From that day on, he drove her to her classes every morning even when his started much later just to be alone with her for those few minutes.

He once dared to put his hand on her thigh as they stood at the traffic lights, unable to contain himself any longer, stroking her soft, smooth skin with his thumb.

He felt a shudder pass through her, felt her looking at him, but didn't dare reciprocate her gaze fearing what he would see in it.

Disgust, condemnation, mockery, sympathy.

He swallowed hard when he felt her fingers gently stroke the skin of his hand and did so until they reached the car park.

Only then did he look at her with an indifferent, cold stare hearing only the loud pounding of his heart in his ears.

She looked at him with that warm look of hers, the worry on her face coming from some kind of tenderness and affection.

He touched her cheek, her full lower lip, soft and shiny, and she parted it slightly. Driven by some strange, natural reflex, he slid his thumb deep between them, her pupils dilated, her flesh clenched on his finger, sucking it.

He felt it in his cock so hard that he flinched.

He pulled her to him by the nape of her neck in one sure movement, pressing his swollen lips to hers in a wild, loud dance of tongues, teeth and saliva − she threw her arms around his neck, his fingers sliding into her soft hair.

His hand was already sliding down her body between her thighs when they both gasped and pulled away from each other, hearing someone approach the car beside them − he involuntarily licked his lips feeling her wonderfully sweet taste.

She looked at him with wide-open eyes, her breathing sped up and uneven, making the glass on her side steam up.

"See you at home. Have a good day." She mumbled warmly unbuckling her seatbelt and walked quickly out, closing the door behind her.

He ran his hands over his face and slammed the dashboard of his car with all his might, furious at himself for being so desperate.

He kept repeating to himself that this was only supposed to be one time, a simple fun, sweet revenge, but nothing more.

She was a good kid, she wasn't to blame for the situation between Criston and his mother, he didn't want to hurt her.

However, what he felt in his trousers told him exactly what he thought of her and what he wanted.

The worst part was that it didn't look like she was going to stand up to him if he came to her to take it.

He sighed heavily, recognising that they were both fucked up, though she was certainly less so than him.

At least she wasn't a fucking sociopath.

During his lectures, he realised that his mother had texted him a few weeks ago the phone number of Criston and his daughter in case he needed something from them, had to leave them the keys to their house or just wanted to contact them.

He knew that his mother and Criston had decided to take a weekend away to relax together from all that was going on, and Daeron had taken the opportunity to spend that time with his favourite friend.

He felt throbbing in his trousers at the thought that they would be staying home alone.

That they could fuck all night long if they wanted to.

He licked his lips, wondering with a pounding heart whether to show desperation, whether to text her or not.

Since he had her number, she had his too.

After a few hours of pondering, he gave up, deciding that he couldn't take it any longer, that he needed to talk to her, to make sure she was thinking about him too.

After all, it was impossible for what they had done to be completely normal and meaningless to her, wasn't it?

Once the decision was made, he felt some kind of excitement. He wrote her into his contacts as Little Sister 🐶 with a smile of amusement and after a while sent her a message with his heart beating fast.

He shuddered when after a few minutes he saw the new notification on his phone, unsure if he wanted to read it, feeling horrified at the thought that she might have thought he was a pathetic little boy craving her attention.

He unlocked his screen after a moment and went into the messages with his heart beating fast and his throat clenched.

He felt relieved at the thought that her answer was perfectly normal, without a trace of mockery or discomfort − for some reason, the fact that she answered him pleasantly flushed his ego.

He stared at his screen with his heart beating hard, tapping the side of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the thought that he might be able to spend the night with her again.

Although he hadn't been home for dinner for weeks, this time he appeared back straight after class, startling his mother, who looked out to him from the kitchen.

"Aemond! I thought it was Criston. How good you are here, will you eat with us before we leave?" She asked softly and he shook his head, taking an apple from the bowl on the table in his hand, running up the stairs and locking himself in his room.

He didn't feel like sitting there looking at his face.

He heard the sound of the front door opening, the voices of Criston and his daughter, from which a shudder went through him − he felt excitement and some kind of anticipation.

He was browsing the internet on his phone, eating the fruit he had brought with him with a loud crunch of flesh, when suddenly Alys started calling him.

He stared at the incoming call from her chewing slowly, wondering if he should pick up and think of something quick, say he felt bad or just admit that it all made no sense.

He did nothing feeling his heart pounding and sighed heavily when he got a text message from her a minute later.

He decided that keeping her in the dark was cruel even for him, so he decided to write her back.

He sent her a reply, sighing loudly, and rolled his eyes when the message from her popped up practically immediately.

He pressed his lips together feeling an unpleasant squeeze in his chest − he was sick to his stomach at the thought that they might be getting back together again, but it wasn't her fault.

It was him.

All he had left was shame.

He wrote back quickly and blocked her number so that she could no longer send him any messages or call him.

He thought that only this would make her realize that he was serious.

He shuddered when he got another notification of a new message and thought she had written to him from another number, but was surprised to see that someone else wrote to him.

He got up immediately, walking out of his room, running lightly down the stairs, seeing her searching for something on his TV with the remote, probably looking for a movie already.

She was wearing a top with characters from The Lion King and shorts, her hair loose, pretty and shiny, its dark curls falling over her shoulders.

"If we start now, we might be finished by five in the morning." She said with amusement and nodded at the table top. "If you want, unwrap the crisps and put them in the bowl. Shall I spread out the sofa so we can lie down comfortably?"

She asked, looking at him questioningly, getting up from her seat. He nodded, opening packet after packet, pouring their contents into plastic bowls, trying not to think about her naked stomach, her nice long legs and the fact that she wasn't wearing a fucking bra.

They brought a couple of glasses, bottles of drinks and bowls of crisps close to each other and spread out comfortably, covering themselves with blankets and laying their heads on the big soft pillows she had apparently brought for them from upstairs.

They watched the first fifteen minutes focusedly, paying amused attention to scenes that had become memes − he pressed his lips together when he felt her lay her head on his shoulder, her hands embracing his arm, he could smell the pleasant scent of her shampoo.

He took a loud sip from his glass, trying not to think about the fact that he had been completely hard for about half an hour, that he felt like he was about to go fucking crazy because of her.

His hand under the blanket involuntarily slid down to her bare legs, running it up her knee; he felt her flinch, but instead of moving away she pulled closer to him.

He bit his lower lip feeling his heart pounding hard as his fingers slid between her thighs, teasing her through the material of her shorts in slow, circular motions.

He felt her press her body tighter against his shoulder, her hips began to rock to the rhythm of his hand, a quiet, blissful sigh escaping her lips that told him everything.

He pressed his lips together holding back a groan of surprise as her small hand slid down to the bulge in his trousers, her fingers began to press against his erection, massaging it up and down in a calm, slow motion.

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling that he was terribly hot, the dialogue from the film seemed to him to be just background and he had completely lost interest in it.

He looked up at her with his lips slightly parted as she rose and with a light, sure movement pulled her top off over her head − he immediately reached to the belt buckle of his trousers to undo it when she took off her shorts and underwear, no sign of shame or embarrassment on her face, only shy smile.

She sat on top of him without hesitation as soon as he slipped his boxers down a little, stroking his scarred cheek with her warm fingers, placing her other hand on his shoulder to keep her balance.

He guided his swollen cock, throbbing with impatience, to her entrance and licked his lips, dry with desire, feeling that she was already all wet. She slid it deep inside her with ease, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He groaned low and tilted his head back, panting along with her as she began to rise and fall on top of him, stretching her fleshy, hot walls with his fat length, feeling how wonderfully tight she was, how loudly her naked body slapped against his.

"− fuck, little one −" He gasped helplessly, desperate, with sure thrusts impaling her on himself; she mewled sweetly, her hands slid under the material of his black Tshirt and brushed across his naked chest, making him shiver.

He ran his hands over her buttocks, her back, her waist, wanting to savour the feel of her bare skin under his fingers, until finally he grasped her soft, plump breasts in his hands, teasing her hard nipples with his thumbs.

She gasped as she felt it, her walls clenching against him making them both sigh helplessly, speeding up − she slid her hand into his hair and kissed him, her lips so warm, her tongue so wonderfully moist, that he purred loudly into her mouth.

"− it seems you have missed me, big brother −" She cooed warmly, innocently, stroking his neck, hair and cheeks, looking at her so closely he could see how pink, puffy and glistening her lips were.

He felt his cock throb hard at her words and began to thrust it into her faster, clamping his hands on her waist and on the back of her neck, sitting up so that her whole body was pressed against his, his face at the level of her chin.

"− me? − you're fucking leaking, kid −" He scoffed with a grimace of amusement, moving inside her more aggressively, forcing her body to fit all of him in, deliberately sliding into her with lewd, loud click of her moisture, a pathetic whine escaping her lips.

"− look what you did to your big brother − how fucking hard he is because of you − have you no shame? −" He hissed and she sobbed with an expression on her face as if she was very sorry to have disappointed him, her lips parted slightly, a moan escaping from them each time his thighs slapped against her buttocks again, her breasts bouncing lightly.

"− I didn't mean to −" She mumbled with difficulty, embracing him with her arms − she gasped and moaned when he pressed her against him and grabbed her breast in his mouth, sucking and licking her nipple for a moment, releasing it with a loud plop.

"− you didn't mean to? − putting on that fucking slutty top without a bra? −" He growled and bit her neck − she sobbed and whined loudly, clenching her fingers painfully tight on his back and hair, letting him fuck her as fast and hard as he wanted.

"− I'm − I'm sorry −" She mewled as if she really felt guilty, cuddling her face into his temple, trailing her warm, puffy mouth over his cheek until their lips clung to each other again in a greedy, sticky kiss, his hips spreading her wide on his thick cock with quick, sure, deep thrusts.

"− you need to be taught a lesson, hm? − you need to be fucked more often so you'll behave properly −" He exhaled and she nodded her head as if she dreamt of nothing else, their lips and tongues rubbing and brushing against each other in moist, dirty kisses, he could feel her walls squeezing him faster and faster, that they were both on the edge.

"− yes − yes, yes, please, oh-fuck −" She mumbled and tilted her head back with her mouth parted wide as her body trembled in strong orgasm − she tried to push him away, moaning loudly, but he held her close, fucking her brutally through her peak until he came inside her with a loud sigh of pleasure, his warm semen filling her insides.

"− that's it − take it − take your brother's cum like a good girl −" He breathed out into her mouth, with thrusts of his hips pushing his seed deep inside her, her hands stroking his hair and back, their bodies all sweaty and hot.

He fell backwards, leaning back against his pillow, laying with her in a semi-prone position, breathing loudly as she did, their fingers trailing over their bodies as if they were blind and wanted to remember what they had done with senses other than sight.

"− fuck − oh God −" He gasped, completely relaxed and satisfied, lazily opening his eyes, looking at the screen again, noticing that by some miracle the action had moved to Rivendell.

They both inhaled loudly when the light in the driveway turned on, and after a moment they heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.

They looked at each other in horror, his stepsister quickly got up from him with a loud splat of his cock against his stomach, grabbing her underwear, shorts and top.

He stood up zipping up his trousers, wanting to give her a bit more time occupying whoever came in, fixing his hair in the mirror and suddenly Daeron walked in, all weepy. He swallowed loudly in relief, looking at him in disbelief.

"What happened?" He asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice and the loud pounding of his heart. Daeron shrugged his shoulders.

"Nothing. Thomas is not as nice as I thought. He only gave me his worst toys to play with and we only played the games he likes." He mumbled pulling off his shoes − he licked his lips, glancing quickly over his shoulder, hearing the rustling of the fabric, looking back at him.

"And what are you doing? Watching The Lord of the Rings?" He asked curiously, apparently hearing the dialogues, going deeper − he wanted to stop him and went after him, but their stepsister was already sitting on the blanket, dressed as before, only slightly more red, scared and smiling at the same time.

"Hi. Yes, we are watching The Fellowship of the Ring. Do you want to join in?" She asked softly and he nodded wiping his cheeks, pulling his backpack off his back and laying down next to her, taking a handful of crisps in his hand.

"I'm going to go to the toilet for a while, you keep watching." She mumbled, and he led her away with an amused look, thinking only of the fact that, sure enough, his semen was just running down her thighs.

She came back after a few minutes and lay down between him and Daeron, slipping under the blanket, his hand immediately going to her thigh − he felt her flinch and swallow loudly, her fingers slid down to gently stroke his bare skin.

They gave up after watching the second part, deciding that they would finish together the next day, and covered themselves with a shared blanket, with the other enveloping Daeron, who had already fallen asleep a few hours earlier.

He embraced her from behind, deciding that he didn't give a shit if his brother woke up and saw it, or if he told their parents about it.

All he was focused on was the pleasant warmth of her body and the smell of her hair, his nose pressed into the hollow of her neck, her fingers entwined with his.

"− wanna be my girlfriend? −" He hummed softly into her ear, just thinking about how both wonderful and fucked up this vision of a relationship was.

She nodded silently, wrapping herself more tightly with his arms, pressing her back and buttocks against his body − he could feel that she was smiling. He murmured contentedly and snuggled into her closing his eyes, finally falling asleep.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

413 notes · View notes

hepbaestus · 3 months

Text

A letter from Ramon (with description)

[Start ID: Eight screenshots of a letter from Ramon the egg to Fit, his father on the QSMP

Dear Dad, I struggle a lot writing letters, something about the permanence of letters has always bothered me, I don't know what it is but that's unimportant because I worked hard on writing this one.

2. This day has been in the making for over a month now. A lot of ideas were made and a lot of ideas were scrapped. I wanted the best for you and while this is a lot more extravagant than what we are use to, it seemed fitting to me because I only want the best for you.

3. To be perfectly honest, I don't really know what to write. I want to express how much you mean to me and I want to tell you how being your son has impacted me but I feel like I wouldn't be able to word how big my admiration for you is.

4. I admire you a lot for overcoming every obstacle that has been put into your path. I admire you a lot for overcoming the darkness of a wasteland looming over your shoulders. I admire you a lot for facing danger head on, for surviving that long on an island that wants us dead.

5. I love the dungeons we conquer together, the frequent theft we commit (passa tudo (everything passes) :D). And the way your voice softens when you say my name. I also love how you let me have my tantrums and let me have my fun.

6. I want to express that I love the lullabies every night, even if I've been your son for 10 months now. I want to express that I love every nickname you give me, even if some would probably get me ridiculed (but that's okay because I like them), I want to express that it's an honour to be your son.

7. Thank you, dad, this opportunity to be a part of your life and accepting me as your son. As you have given everything to me, I would give anything to you.

8. te quiero mucho (I love you a lot) dad, happy birthday :D your son, Ramon. /EndID]

#who's cutting the onions?????#qramon #qfit #qsmp #qsmp liveblogging #fitmc liveblogging #fitmc birthday bash

252 notes · View notes

harunovella · 2 years

Text

who's your daddy? ; t.f.

synopsis: lone missions weren't new to you, having completed a dozen without losing a limb or your life... of course, that was due to a certain fushiguro man who couldn't seem to stay away when you were in the face of danger... and, of course, with every successful rescue came with a back breaking thank you

cw: fem!reader, aged up characters (18+), age gap (isn't really specified), very subtle mention of blood, bratty!reader (but we all know that's on purpose), mentions of handjobs/blowjobs (but nothing too descriptive, daddy kink, dilf!toji, exhibitionism, fingering, oral (m → f), spanking, slight name calling?, dom!toji/sub!reader, mating press, creampie, srry if i missed any! MDNI!

wc: 4.4k+

an: this is my first ever toji fic, i'm so hooked on eren it's hard to write any other man other than him (oops i just love my emo hobo rockstar), anyway i had sm fun writing this and plan to write more for him... esp now that he'll be animated??? also i wanna write for jjk men (potential gojo fic and... maybe choso fic... coming soon!) anyway enjoy everyone's fav dilf breaking your back! p.s. this fic was originally gonna be called big man with a gun based off of this song bc it literally is toji to a t but i'm saving it for another time bc this title fits better... p.s.s. i always confuse myself with the whole 1 grade/grade 1 so i went by what i hear sorry oops ok anyway enjoy!

Megumi never understood why Gojo had to send you on lone missions, even if you technically were perfectly fine to handle them on your own. However, Megumi always felt a sense of responsibility for you as he was the one who brought you to Jujutsu Tech. Much like Yuji, the way you met Megumi wasn't under normal circumstances... Instead, you were in the middle of protecting a pair of little boys from—what you eventually learned to be—a Grade 2 cursed spirit. You managed to handle it with sheer luck on your side (and what you also eventually learned to be your own cursed energy). Long story short, Gojo was very intrigued by you and was happy to take you under his wing, especially after you were labeled Grade 1.

Yes, you were a Grade 1. Yes, you could handle yourself. Yes, you've been on a handful of lone missions and you have come back safe. Still... it worried him, and he knew he couldn't do much about it. Especially when you did not like being coddled: something you constantly reminded Megumi of.

"What's gotcha panties in a bunch, Meg?" The sound of his father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he trudged through the living room of his home. Toji watched from the kitchen as his son pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gojo did somethin'?"

"When doesn't he?" Megumi sighed before bringing up your name. "He sent her on another lone mission." Bringing his hand into his hair, he continued, "it's in that abandoned subway station where they always hold raves. I wanted to go—"

"Doesn't she hate when you babysit her?" Toji interrupted, earning a glare from his son.

"I have a bad feeling about this mission, alright? Gojo didn't want to listen and both Yuji and Nobara said I was being over the top—"

"You are—"

"Shut up, old man," Megumi snapped as he shot his father a deadly look. "I am being serious. Gojo said it was a Grade 3, but it isn't sitting right with me."

Sighing as he served himself and downed a glass of water, Toji settled it in the sink before speaking up, "she'll be fine. She's a Grade 1."

"I don't care—"

"Look, kid, you do plenty of missions on your own and you're a lower grade than her. You sexist?" Toji tilted his head, earning an eye roll from Megumi. "Relax, she'll be fine." Walking past his son as he patted his shoulder, Toji made his way to his bedroom.

In all honesty, Toji trusted his sons instincts. Megumi was almost always right about his gut and if he believed you to be in trouble, then there was a chance you could be.

Toji eyed a photo on his bedside table. It was Megumi's birthday last year and you had Nobara help you set up a small gathering with your small team (Gojo included, to Toji's dismay) and Toji himself. Megumi was at the center with a flat face and a party hat, Yuji had an arm around his shoulders with a peace sign, Nobara and Gojo stood behind him with wide grins as you took Megumi's other side. Your grin matched that of everyone else's in the photo, except that of the two Fushiguro men. Behind you stood Toji with his arms crossed and a subtle smirk on his lips. Neither Fushiguro were photogenic, but Toji kept the photo solely because you were in it. To everyone else who saw it? He just liked having a photo of his kid and the people who made him happy.

Deep in thought as he remembered that day, how you were in that cute little skirt and turtle neck, those stockings and how none of it did you justice for the cold weather in Tokyo, Toji heard the sound of Megumi's door slamming shut. His reminiscing was cut short, knowing very well if he didn't do something, you were going to be nothing but a memory.

"Fuck, this kid is going to be the death of me," Toji huffed as he walked out of his bedroom. Peeking over at his son's door, the man then walked past and grabbed his keys from the coffee table before walking right out. It wasn't like Megumi ever questioned what his father did or where he was going, he was always leaving the house at odd hours of the night and returning whenever he pleased. Either way, his son didn't need to know. Especially not now.

Toji hated loud places, he found them rather obnoxious. The heavy beats pounding, vibrating against the floor beneath his feet. The smell of alcohol in the air, mixed with that of all the bodies grinding up against one another. The flashing lights. The obnoxious men flirting with tipsy women. If it wasn't a cursed spirit that was going to get you, it was going to be some drunken bastard.

Making his way through, using his height to his advantaged as he pushed through the crowd, Toji looked down at the abandoned track and turned his head towards the dark tunnel. He was sure you were down there, somewhere. "You better be in one piece," he huffed to himself before he hopped down onto the tracks, making his way over to the darkness.

"That wasn't so bad..." You breathed, sheathing your twin sai onto your thigh holsters before wiping your hands clean. For a Grade 3, the cursed spirit wasn't all that difficult. You wondered if the classification was right or maybe you were just having a good day. Either way, you weren't complaining. You completed your mission and you were ready to sink yourself into a bubble bath. Me time was a great reward for a successful mission! That's what you always told yourself.

Pulling out your phone from the pocket of your skirt, you unlocked it and scrolled through your contacts, tapping on Gojo Jojo. Placing the phone against your ear as your free hand settled on your hip, you patiently waited. "Yo!"

"Mission completed," you nodded, "curse has been exorcised and now the world can worry a little less about unwanted, negative energy."

"And Megumi was worried you couldn't complete your mission," Gojo let out a tsk on his end. "I knew you could do it! You are probably— student— had— from Okkotsu— know— tell—"

"Huh?" Furrowing your eyebrows as your phone was cutting in and out as static suddenly buzzed in your ear, you pulled your phone away to look at your screen before placing it back against your cheek, "hello? Gojo? You're breaking up, I can't hear what you're saying!"

"Hey— Hello?" Hearing his voice come in and out as he called your name, your eyebrows furrowed. Just as you were about to give up, your heart sank. Something in the air shifted and your body grew stiff. Goosebumps took over your body as you blinked. Lowering your hand as you turned in your spot, a subtle gasp left you.

It happened much more quicker than you perceived. One second, you were on your feet, ready to grab your weapons, the next, you were tossed across the way and slammed violently against one of the subway walls. A rough cough left you as the wind was knocked right out of you. Your body ached as you swore every bone within you snapped. Hearing clicking sounds in the distance, you lifted your blurred vision before pushing yourself off of the wall. A huff left you as you landed on your feet, clutching your side as you felt your own blood trickle down the side of your face. There before you, in its twisted and demonic ways, stood another cursed spirit.

And it clearly wasn't a Grade 3.

"I just wanted my bubble bath..." you mumbled to yourself, reaching for your twin sai, ready for a round two.

If someone asked you if you could stand against a Special Grade, you probably would have said "not alone, at least not for long." It wasn't like you had doubt in yourself... but Special Grade's were categorized as such for a reason. Most were handled by multiple sorcerers at once, unless you were that lucky 1% who could defeat one on your own (either without breaking a sweat or on the verge of bleeding to death). Either way, the former was near impossible.

At this rate, you definitely weren't in the lucky 1%.

The Special Grade was much more smarter than you had believed it to be. It was fast. It almost knew your moves before you even knew them, yourself. Instead of wearing it down, it was wearing you thin. You were littered in wounds, your uniform all torn up—your jacket now open, your blouse now with holes, your skirt looking mangled. Your stockings looked like they've been through better—and you didn't even want to get started with your hair. You've seen better days. But your appearance was the least of your concern when all you got was the arm of the Special Grade as it's about to take your life.

This was not how you wanted to go. Not like this. Definitely not in a place so revolting. How did Gojo—or anyone—not know about this anyway?! You were sure someone would've known and definitely wouldn't have sent you without a warning... or help!

With its various hands clinging onto you and lifting you in the air as you weakly struggled to escape, a sudden flash swooped past you as you fell to the ground. With a rough landing as you hissed, rubbing your back and trying to catch your breath, you looked up to see who or what it was that managed to get in between you and it.

Recognizing those godly movements that were much too fast for the human eye to easily catch, your racing heart only picked up its pace as your savior so violently—yet so calculatedly—attacked the Special Grade.

"You gonna keep sittin' there, kid? Or you gonna help?" Your savior—the one and only Toji Fushiguro—spoke as your eyes widened.

In its now weakened state, you watched as Toji managed to keep the Special Grade down before it could even retaliate. Reaching for your twin sai—that got tossed along the way—and embedding your cursed energy into it, you came in with the final and fatal blow.

Watching it disintegrate there before your eyes, you took in heavy breaths before turning to face the elder Fushiguro. "Why are you here?" You glared. "You always appear on my solo missions as if you're keeping tabs on me!"

"A thank you would suffice. You should be grateful," Toji clicked his tongue before he fed his weapon to the worm latched to him.

Rolling your eyes as you tightened your fists around your weapons, you shook your head, "stop treating me like some defenseless child every time I go on a lone mission! You're worse than Megumi! At least he doesn't just show up!" You huffed. "I am a Grade 1!"

A small laugh left Toji, almost condescendingly. "'m not even a curse user and I had to step in—" seeing you toss one of your twin sai his way, Toji swiftly caught it and easily fed it to the worm nuzzled against him, earning a gasp from you.

"H— Hey! Give it back!" You pointed with your now free hand, but just as you blinked, he appeared before you. With his hand clutching onto your chin, you glared at him, instinctively slapping him across the face.

A snicker left Toji as he shifted his jaw, his free hand moving up to rub his cheek at the subtle sting that almost felt like a child slapped him. "If you weren't my son's best friend I would've cut your fuckin' hands off, but then who'd give me those delightful handjobs?"

Gasping, you shoved him, hands pushing against his chest as you took a step back. As furious as you were, you couldn't deny the heat building up within you. The ache between your thighs each and every time the elder Fushiguro came to your rescue. It was ridiculous how often he went to save you but almost never for his own son when he was on his solo missions. "Why are you always interfering?" You asked as Toji stalked towards you, backing you into a wall.

"Why're you such a damn brat?" He countered. "Can't say thank you for shit, huh?" Tilting his head, he pressed his hands on either side of your head as he leaned in, his nose just barely touching yours.

"I don't need your help, old man," you seethed, looking him in the eyes. You hadn't realized it, but he had—your voice had grown softer. Your attacks, less aggressive. He was getting to you. He knew it. He always knew how to.

"This old man saves your life time and time again," Toji said, that infuriating smirk dressing his lips as your eyes flickered from the scar to the sudden fire in his eyes. He knew he had you, trapped with no way out. It always took one look and one touch—just one little gesture and you were instantly putty in his hands. Molding you in any shape or form he wanted.

"Why? I never asked you to," you frowned, eyebrows narrowing as you felt your chest rising and falling with each deep breath you took.

Rolling his yes, Toji sighed, "isn't it obvious?" Seeing you shake your head, Toji then leaned in to your left ear, lips grazing the skin as he whispered, "I'm not letting anything take away what's mine." With a gasp leaving your now parted lips, Toji's hands instantly latched onto your face, slamming his mouth against yours as an instant squeak left you.

Your heart skipped a beat as his tongue pried your lips apart, gliding and exploring the cavern of your mouth. He was hungry and desperate, it had been so long since he last tasted you. And, as always, these moments happened when you needed saving... just to reward your savior with your lips around his fat cock.

You could never forget the first encounter, when you were almost in the hands of death... how Toji swooped in and saved your life as if he were you knight in shining armor. Of course, he wasn't going to take a simple thank you. No way. Not when he had his eyes on you. He wanted a thank you gift in the shape of your pretty, little mouth, around his aching cock.

And, of course, you gave it to him. You did as told because you secretly were lusting over him, too. He fucked your throat and coated your face with his release as a sign of his gratitude. He swore he had never seen anything sexier than that. His pretty baby with her gentle face splattered in his seed. Probably why he got off so easily to the thought when he was alone, having taken a photo for personal use.

One of Toji's hands held the back of your neck, fingers entangling in your hair as he tugged on it, forcing your mouth to open more. A breathy moan left you as Toji sucked on your tongue before pulling you back into the kiss. His mouth slotted against yours, saliva spreading, lips moving sloppily. He parted for a moments worth, allowing you to catch your breath as a string of spit connected the two of you.

"You wanna be a good girl and give daddy what he wants?" Toji breathed as you let out a desperate moan, a subtle nod as you couldn't move your head much with the grip he had on your hair. "Yeah? Gonna let daddy fuck you dumb for being a little bratty, ungrateful, bitch?"

"Y— Yes!" You breathed out, tearing up from the sting of his grip on your hair. "Wh— What ever you wan'!"

Laughing, Toji's hand's moved to your jacket and blouse, using his sheer strength to rip them off your body, exposing your bra cladded chest. Lowering his lips to your neck, he left a trail of sloppy, open mouth kisses to your tits. In his wake, red marks were left behind as his teeth sank into your skin, biting deeply and earning squeals from you. Your hands pressed against his chest, trying to push away when he bit too roughly, but Toji shoved your hands away. Gripping onto your wrists with one hand and pinning them above your head, his free hand slid up your skirt and dipped beneath your stockings and panties.

Toji didn't know what patient meant, always too eager to get what he wanted, so the moment he felt your slick cunt, he was quick to tease your hole. "So fuckin' wet f' me already..." he grunted as you whimpered, wiggling your hips, wanting to feel his thick fingers in you.

"Please..." you begged, eyes squeezing shut as you took in deep breaths. "Toji—"

"Now you wanna behave? Wanna act like you weren't bein' a bitch a few moments ago? All because my fingers are teasing your tight pussy?" He said, forehead now pressed against yours as he slid his fingers along your folds, coating them with your juices. "Tell me..." he grinned, forefinger and middle pushing into you, "who's your daddy?"

And just like that, your mind went blank, body falling limp. His fingers fucked into you at an unforgiving pace, thumb pressing and circling your sensitive nub along the way of you chasing your orgasm. He panted with you, nearly getting off to the sound of your wet pussy and the desperate mewls that left your parted lips. With his knuckles deep in you as he curled his fingers and pressed into that spot that had your eyes nearly rolling back, Toji suddenly pulled away.

"N— No!" You cried out.

"Oh, baby girl, don't worry," he huffed, letting go of your wrists before kneeling and yanking down your tights and panties. He was aggressive and fast, tossing your shoes to a side and completely removing the two layers that separated him from your sopping pussy. "You can come all over my tongue."

A gasp left you as Toji lifted your legs over his shoulders, keeping you balanced and pressed against the wall as his hands pressed against your ass cheeks. Your bare pussy was now exposed before him, your chest heaving as your hands instantly flew into his hair. Toji's tongue pressed against your cunt, lapping up your essence as he licked a stripe from your entrance, to your nub. Repeating the process over and over as your heart raced faster and faster.

Your head fell back as his tongue fucked into you, moving between your hole and aching clit, causing your thighs to shake. You tried pressing them together, but Toji's hands were quick enough to keep them apart. His laughter was felt against your pussy, enjoying the way you came undone for him not too long after berating him for saving your damn life.

"T— Toji! Toji! Toji, please—" you begged and panted, fingers tugging and pulling on his hair as he practically made out with your pussy. The sounds that emitted from him made it seem like he were a starved man who hadn't eaten in days. The way his eyes were hooded, watching how you could hardly keep your own open. If it weren't for you being so focused on the feeling of his mouth on your cunt, you would've noticed the way he was practically humping the air.

Biting down as you gave his hair a particularly harsh tug, your toes curled as you came all over his tongue. Your eyebrows furrowed upward with the ecstasy that filled your veins, head falling as you tried catching your breath. If you didn't know Toji any better, you would've believed it was a one and done... but this man wasn't like any other. He didn't know when to stop. He only knew how to keep going until you practically passed out and he felt satisfied.

Lowering you from his shoulders and turning you around, Toji pressed your face against the wall as he pulled your hips towards him. Undoing his pants before pulling his aching, leaking length out, Toji's hands grabbed your ass cheeks before giving them a harsh spank. Watching your ass jiggle as he did it again and again with a sinister laugh, you looked over and felt your heart race faster than it already was. You nearly forgot how big he was, remembering your fast time with him leaving you practically bone and brainless afterwards. A sensation only he gave you. A sensation you missed...

Pulling your cheeks apart as you stayed with your back arched for him, Toji pushed his cock into you, groaning and hissing at your tightness. Incoherent words left you as you tried adjusting to his size, only to gasp as he pulled back where just the tip was in, only to slam back into you. Toji didn't know what being gentle was like, thrusting into you as if he planned to break you in hard... and, in all reality, you wanted him to. As much as he annoyed you when he constantly came to your rescue (which wasn't true, you really owed him your life), you enjoyed these moments the most. And, sometimes, you behaved the way you did so he would fuck you ruthlessly. After all, you knew how to push his buttons.

"Fuck— Fuck— Fuck—" you panted as the sound of skin slapping and Toji's heavy breathing echoed in your ears. His was fucking you at a deadly pace, so fast and rough you were sure you were starting to see stars. So deep that you were sure he was going to burst right through you. "Toji— Toji— Toji—" Feeling tears slip down your cheeks as you nearly drooled, lips parted with heavy moans and desperate cries of pleasure, Toji threw his head back as he let out a hefty laugh.

"Always... so fucking... tight! Fuck— I missed this... pussy!" Panting as he roughly pressed his fingers into your hips, slamming himself into you as your cunt sucked him in, you desperately moaned. "Sounding like a fuckin' whore... bet no one fucks you this good, huh?" Slamming his dick into you with a hiss, Toji took in sharp breaths, fingertips digging deeper into your hips, leaving red marks behind. "Bet you.. don't even.. let anyone else.. fuck this... fuck— tight—"

Shaking your head as you felt yourself climaxing, you cried out, "T— Toji—! I—"

"Not yet, baby," he grunted, leaning over you and whispering in your ear, "that was one helluva special grade you had me save you from. You think... I'll let you off... that easily?"

"P— Please... Toji..." you begged, hips aching from his grip as your knees nearly gave out. You tried reaching back, but Toji suddenly pulled out and pushed you down. You let out a whine at the lack of him, but Toji was quick to get on his knees, grabbing the back of your own before pushing them into you. Leaning in and spitting on your fluttering hole, Toji filled you again with a lengthy moan, balls deep in you as you clung onto his shoulders. Digging your nails into his skin, Toji pulled his hips back and rammed into you, picking up his previous pace and making a mess out of you.

The way your tears spilled, how you were weeping and looking like a fucked out mess had his stomach clenching. Your palms slammed against his shoulders as he fucked you throughly, balls slapping your ass as his hair began to stick to his forehead. Leaning in and slamming his lips against yours, practically breathing into your mouth with open kisses, Toji then sucked your bottom lip before kissing your chin and cheek. Licking up your tears as you whimpered and whined beneath him, Toji pulled out again and flipped you on your stomach.

"Toji— I can't— I can't take it—"

"Oh, I know you can," he nodded as he lifted your hips, filling you up once against before spanking your right ass cheek once, twice... multiple times until there was a print of his hand left behind. In seconds you were creaming around his cock. Your drool pooled beneath you as your face was pressed into the filthy ground below. Toji kept your hands pulled back behind you before he lifted you up.

Wrapping a hand around your neck as his other slid between your thighs and gave your clit a pinch, you yelped. He rubbed at it, fast circles, anticipating your third orgasm. It didn't take long for him to get what he wanted, after all, this was your punishment for being an ungrateful brat. Fucking into you deeply, Toji soon found himself filling you to the brim. You felt like pure jelly, truly being fucked dumb as you couldn't think straight.

Feeling him pull out as you whimpered, your body nearly fell forward before Toji caught you. Falling onto the balls of his feet as he turned you enough to face him, Toji held your chin before leaning in to kiss you, tongue slipping past your lips lazily. Kissing you deeply and slowly, Toji nibbled on your jaw as he pulled away before whispering in your ear, "say thank you to your daddy."

Taking in deep, shallow breaths as your eyes could barely stay open, you mumbled, "thank you... daddy..."

Grinning, he licked your neck before biting your earlobe, "now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"What's up with all the bruises on your neck?" Yuji asked as you sat before him, besides Nobara and across Megumi.

An instant blush crept on your cheeks as you lifted the collar of your jacket, trying to hide what was already seen. Now gathered together for your morning meet up, Gojo tilted his head as he eyed you. "Are those hickeys?"

"No way," Nobara gasped as she leaned in with squinted eyes, causing you to lean away. "Did Mr. Fushiguro save the day again?"

"Again?" Megumi asked before stiffening in his seat. Looking at you with wide eyes as you mirrored his expression, the younger Fushiguro then exclaimed, "that fucking old man!"

an: okay popping in to say that ending was sm fun, idk if I'll be willing to write a part two or to just let your minds wander... also i will make a masterlist eventually as this is my third one shot xo

2K notes · View notes

intimacyequalsdeath · 2 months

Note

Bo with the prompts 5, 11, and 14? 😶🩷

Of course you can! Thanks for the request and I hope you enjoy what I whipped up for you! <3 The prompts chosen for this request are as follows: Prompt 5: "You're not wearing that" Prompt 11: "Eyes on me" Prompt 14: "Maybe I need to remind you who's in charge"

Notes: Minors DNI, NSFW, No specific character descriptions or pronouns used.

TW: Sexual themes. Reader wears a sundress but isn't ever labeled as AFAB nor do they use she/her pronouns.

"Bo come tell me what you think of this outfit!"

You called out from the bedroom as you looked at yourself in the mirror. In your recent trip to the next town over for supplies you had gotten to go along and pick something out for once. You were delighted to find that a small clothing store was having a sale and the cutest sundress you had ever seen was on sale.

You had went with Lester so Bo had yet to see the garment you had chosen and he really didn't even know you bought it. You had rushed back to the house when Lester pulled into Ambrose nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement to show your new purchase to Bo.

"Darlin' you know during days like today I'm busy, I can't just-"

Bo's mouth snapped shut as he walked into the bedroom and laid his eyes on you. The dress fit you perfectly, leaving little to the imagination when it came to your body.

"Do you like it? I bought it when I went to town with Lester!"

You grinned at him before turning and giving yourself another once over in the mirror. Bo stood in silence, just staring at you from his spot in the doorway. His face was unreadable as he stood in silence.

"Bo? You ok?" You finally asked, confused.

"What did ya get that for darlin'?"

"I got it to wear around here silly, duh"

"You're not wearing that"

"What?! Bo I just bought it! What do you mean?"

"I mean you ain't wearin' that! Don't want anyone to look at ya like that besides me"

"Bo Sinclair, It's literally just you, me, Lester and Vincent here. Who's going to look at me?"

"I don't care darlin' if you think your leavin' this house lookin' like that you got another thing comin'"

"Fuck you Bo, You can't tell me what I can and can't wear"

"Watch your mouth when you're talkin to me'"

"Why should I? Who died and made you head honcho Bo?"

"Maybe I need to remind you who's in charge"

You rolled your eyes at him, knowing that he was mostly just blowing hot air cause you had pissed him off. Your eyes moved back to the mirror to check yourself over once more before putting the finishing touches on your outfit.

"Nuh uh darlin' Eyes on me"

You turned back to him to give him an unimpressed look.

"Yes Bo?"

He pushed himself off the door frame and began to stalk toward you. Once he got close enough that you could feel his breath on your lips he kept his eyes on you as he spoke.

"I'm not gonna ask you again darlin' change your clothes"

You smirked, loving a good challenge. You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before making your way over to the door.

"If you want me out of these clothes Bo, your gonna have to catch me"

You said before turning and hurrying down the stairs. As you did so you could of sworn you heard a dark laugh coming from Bo as like you, Bo Sinclair loved a challenge, maybe that's where you got it from.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax

69 notes · View notes

victimsofyaoipoll · 8 months

Text

Round 3

Propaganda Under Cut

Allura

Lots of people (myself included tbh) ship klance (Keith and Lance). In s8 the creators made Allura/Lance canon (but then they killed her off and left the ending ambiguous it was weird). Anyway the fandom treats her like she's the most terrible bitchy woman ever but all she wants to do is end the war and avenge her destroyed home planet. Yeah she wasn't always the nicest or always the best, but you could argue some other characters in the show aren't either and they aren't treated near as bad as allura. people really just hate her bc Lance liked her. I don't think allura/lance are good together, but I still liked her as a character and thought she was interesting and had a lot of growth during the show. she DEF is not evil like some people portray her as in fic or talk about her in captions on posts. I've seen people say that they HATE her and that she's the worst and I'm like ??? let her live (well sort of ig she is dead now). lots of fic writers use her as the villain which is so interesting to me bc the show literally has villains like use them. anyway allura so perfectly fits the bracket description she deserves better.

I hate to acknowledge my time in this fandom but I hate the way the fandom treated her more. Allura was treated like shit no matter what side of the Great Ship War you were on because she was always a threat to the biggest ships (klance and sheith). At best she got put into Background Lesbian or Consolation Prize Shallura (Space Mom-zoned) (She was not a motherly figure btw. She was just Black). At worst she was violently demonized for being ~racist~ (kinda not cool with the alien race that blew up her planet for a few episodes), complete with misogynistic language hurled at her (she got called a bitch sooo much). Allura was a good and cool character and the show did her dirty but the fandom was somehow worse.

i apologise for speaking the dark magicks, but amidst the voltron fandoms many, many transgressions, there were a particular subset of people who just hated this girl. the infamous klance wars of the 2010s kept this perfectly fine childrens cartoon character in the sights of shippers everywhere, and she (and her voice actress im sure) were subjected to years of petty squabble blown up to global perportions. ive seen hate, ive seen rants, ive seen fanfics that made her homophobic. girls been through the ringer, and even though voltron was never the show its fandom wanted it to be, i believe allura deserved better

Every Supernatural Woman

Supernatural is so mean to women and committed to queerbaiting but it still gives Sam and Dean lovers to kill. The writers kill and villainize them and the fans get the few that remain

wincest and destiel shippers cannot handle the idea of their blorbos having a Woman THREATENING their SHIPS god FORBID

It literally used to be a running joke that if a female character got introduced you knew she was going to die soon because fans would react so negatively to her "stealing" one of the boys away from the big ship, whether it be destiel or wincest

#round 3 #poll #princess allura #allura vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #supernatural #cw supernatural

182 notes · View notes

1000roughdrafts · 2 months

Note

hey! if you take requests, i’m just wondering if you’d consider a sister winchester one? maybe her at 18? i love your writing so much, and i’d really love something like a hurt reader/dying reader?? something super angsty ahaha

Oh, for sure! Angst is my favorite! (as I'm sure you can tell by the word count lol) sorry it’s taken me like 3 years to get to this 😞

A/N: this was meant to post 2/28/24 because I wanted to ease into coming back with an every other week posting schedule BUT I’m just too excited and antsy for that lol also it’s set in Season 1, Episode 1

Thank you by the way!

Title: Please Wake Up

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of injury and illness, blood angst, hurt/dying reader, depiction of medical procedures, takes place in season 1 episode 1 :)

Word Count: 5.8k

Being third born after two boys, Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill. Despite her best efforts to impress the man, she never really formed a bond with John. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever was or could be.

Until her eleventh birthday, Dean did her hair into pigtails every day, partly because he hadn't learned to do any other hairstyle but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He'd pack her and Sam's lunch with snacks he'd bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew she wanted to be exactly like him.

When she wasn't learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she spent time with Sam. He'd help her with her homework or play board and card games. They have as much in common as Y/N and Dean. Neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither remember their mothers.

Y/N's mother was a woman John met in Nebraska three years after the boy's mom died. The affair only lasted a night, but to his surprise, he heard from her again six months later with the news that they had a baby girl on the way. John was shocked and heartbroken. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another child into the life of hunting.

John kept his distance, adamant that Y/N would be better off without him, and when another three months of silence went by, he figured that Y/N's mother came around to see it his way. Unfortunately, her pregnancy was complicated, as was the birth, and it turned out that having Y/N is what killed her.

When John got the call, he had half a mind to let the state take custody of little Y/N. Indeed, they would provide her with a better life than he could. John decided to meet her at least, and when he laid eyes on her perfect little face, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her.

Y/N was barely sixteen when Sam left for college. While she was proud of him for putting himself first, it broke her heart for him to go the way he did. She missed him more and more every day, often keeping Dean up at night with her sniffling and crying. After a while, he would get into bed next to her when the tears started and sing Hey Jude while playing with her hair to help her fall asleep. That went on for another six months before she finally started to fall asleep without crying.

For her seventeenth birthday, Dean came across a necklace he'd wanted to get for her since Sam left. From his wallet, he took out the only picture he had of the sibling trio, representing the single moment of their life where John treated them like regular kids, and using his pocket knife, he carved around their heads and bodies to match the exact size of the locket, smiling proudly at himself when it fit perfectly.

Now at eighteen, she stands next to the Impala while Dean lugs their bags out, drops them into the trunk, and slams it shut. He heads for the driver's door but stops when he realizes Y/N hasn't opened hers yet. Eyebrows raised, he twirls a finger in the air as if to say, 'Let's get a move on.'

"Are you ever gonna teach me how to drive, Dean?" she asks. "I mean, you've got to, you know?"

"No, I don't. Get in," Dean says. She does so with a huff. Dean checks the mirrors before backing out of their parking spot. Turning to Y/N, he says, "Besides, as long as I'm around, you don't need to," but softens his face into a smile when he looks at her. "Cause there's no way in Hell I'll ever let you drive my car."

Y/N lets out a soft chuckle. "It doesn't have to be this car, Dean!" She rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze hit her face. "What happens if we get separated and I'm being chased by… I don't know, something that has super speed, and my only way back to you is to steal a car and -"

"Stop. First of all, you should know that I'd never put you in that kind of danger," Dean says, disgusted by the mere thought. He lets out a long sigh. "I'll teach you," he says, looking at her gleaming smile. He tries his damnedest to see her for the adult she's becoming, but he only sees the happy baby in pull-ups he used to feed marshmallows and jello to on a motel room floor. "Just… not yet, okay?"

She scoffs, "Most people learn to drive when they're only fifteen. I mean, you took me to freaking Vegas with a fake ID for my birthday, for fuck's sake!"

"I said not yet, Y/N!" he says, shooting her the 'dad look' he's been perfecting since she was four.

"Fine," she grumbles. She clasps her hands, "So I was looking through news articles, and there seem to be vamps in the next town. Should we be on that?"

Dean clears his throat and needlessly adjusts the rear-view mirror. "Actually, kiddo, we're on something else right now." He keeps his head straight but glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. Whispering, he says, "We're gonna go get Sammy."

Y/N's eyes widen as her head whips to look at him. "What?"

He keeps his eyes on the road, "yeah, uh, with Dad missing... we could use the help," he says, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"But Sam's at college!" Y/N scoffs, "he wanted out!"

"He abandoned us!" he shouts, shaking his head at himself when he notices her shoulders tense. Her eyes peer into her lap, where her hands lie folded. “Look Y/N/N, I just… I can't shake this awful feeling that something is wrong." He waits for a response from her, but she only nods with thin lips. She tunes him out and focuses on the wind hitting the window. "I gotta make sure they're okay," he says softly.

Over the years, Y/N has learned to trust Dean's intuition, but right now, it just feels like he's being selfish. She opts to stay quiet, even if it makes a long drive longer.

Y/N jolts awake at the sound of the trunk slamming shut. She takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She doesn't see Dean next to her, so she scans her surroundings through squinted eyes, hoping for a clue about her whereabouts. She finds a gas station receipt in her lap and flips it over to see the scribbles of Dean's handwriting telling her to 'stay put or else.' She rolls her eyes, crumpling it into a ball to throw it into the backseat.

She hears the voices of two familiar men, one of whom she hasn't heard in two years. Her heart races, and she fumbles with the seat belt, trying to unhook it with shaky hands. She jumps out of the car and turns in time to see Dean leaning on the back of the Impala.

"It's a law school interview," Sam says, "and it's my whole future on a plate," he glares.

"Law school?" Dean asks with a smirk. Y/N walks over to stand next to Dean. He shoots a quick, acknowledging glance her way. Sam's eyes shift between Dean and Y/N, softening when they land on Y/N, "so we got a deal or not?" he asks flatly.

Dean says nothing but lightly nods his head. Y/N runs towards Sam, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"Y/N/N," he smiles. Pulling her even closer to him, he wraps his arms tightly around her back and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. Sam looks at Dean just in time to see him press his lips together with an 'I told you so' in his eyes. Sam shakes his head, squinting at Dean just before he lets go of Y/N.

"Kay, I gotta put a bag together," he sighs, "I'll be right back."

He turns to head for the door, and Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him until he disappears into the building. She blinks her eyes and turns to face Dean. He pushes himself off the back of the car and silently heads for the driver seat.

Sam and Y/N sit in the car at a gas station while Dean heads for snacks. Sam opens his door but quickly looks over his shoulder to check on Y/N. This is when he notices the box of tapes sitting next to her. Intrigued, he shifts in the chair and asks her to hand them to him. Y/N is hesitant because it's hard to say how Dean would react, and she's always hated being in the middle of their fights but does so anyway. Sam rests his tongue between his lips as he takes the box from Y/N. Stretching his legs out of the car, he rests the box in his lap to filter through them.

"Hey," Dean says from behind the Impala, his mouth wrapped around a candy bar, "either of you want breakfast?" he asks, holding a soda and a bag of chips.

Y/N waits for Sam to answer first. "No, thanks," he says, glancing Dean's way momentarily.

"I do," Y/N smiles.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff? Three of you still running credit card scams?" Sam says, going back to looking through the cassettes.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, putting the gas nozzle back into the pump.

Y/N chimes in, "Besides, all we do is apply," she shrugs, "it's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the applications this time?" he asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Y/N answers. Dean gets into the seat, handing Y/N the drink and chips. "Thank you," she chirps.

"And his son Hector," Dean adds, "scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right. I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean frowns, nearly offended. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two," Sam holds one up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead?" he says, dropping them to grab another, "Metallica?" he laughs, "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," he says as Dean rips the Metallica tape from his hand with a glare.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape into the player with a tight smile, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake-hole," he says, dropping the empty case into the box. "Isn't that right, Y/N?" he smirks into the rear-view mirror and smiles when he sees her roll her eyes.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam scolds, "it's Sam, okay?"

Turning the volume up, Dean cocks his head to the side, "sorry. I can't hear you. The music's too loud," he says with a slight chuckle.

Crashing a crime scene where police are still investigating is just another Saturday with Dean for Y/N, but seeing Sam's eyes widen at the box of Dean's fake IDs calls attention to how out of the norm this life is. Dean makes wise-ass comments to the cops, as usual, and Sam stomps on Dean's foot. Dean responds by smacking Sam's head as they bicker on the way back to the car, but Y/N can't help but grin from ear to ear.

Even when her brothers are arguing, Y/N couldn't possibly be happier. Today is her first hunt with both of her brothers and the first time in far too long since the three of them had been together for any reason.

They make their way to find Amy, who they learn is the girlfriend of the victim from listening to the cops on the bridge. They stop her while she's putting up missing posters, and after lying about being distant relatives of her boyfriend, they ask if she'd be willing to answer some questions to find him.

… "It's kind of this local legend," Amy's friend says after a few minutes of chatting. Massaging her thumb with her other hand, she continues, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean glances over at Sam and Y/N, who listen intently, "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

At a local library, Dean searches the archive page for any murders on Centennial Highway with no results. Sam shoves Dean's chair, and when it rolls back, he scoots his chair to the computer to take over, earning him a slap from Dean. After replacing 'murder' with 'suicide,' a news article pops up.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river," Sam reads.

"Does it say why she did it?" Y/N asks, scooting her chair closer to Sam to try and read the screen.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"What?" Dean says with raised eyebrows.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing." Sam lets out a breath, "both die," he says in a whisper.

The air grows thick around them, and Y/N frowns. "That's terrible," she says, shaking her head.

"'Our babies were gone,'" Sam reads, "'and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

"Hmm," Dean points to the picture on the screen, "that bridge look familiar to you?"

They hit the bridge at nightfall. Crickets sing to water drumming against the rocks as it rushes under their feet. The clouds hang low in the sky, giving the air around them a haze.

"So," Dean says, peering over the bridge at the water, "this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, leaning against the rail next to Y/N.

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking over at Dean.

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugs, turning to walk down the bridge.

Sam turns to follow. "Okay, so now what?" he says, forcing a breath through his nose. Y/N walks right next to him, still scared to let him out of her sight.

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean grumbles.

Sam stops walking, "Dean," he says, raising his hands before dropping them. "I told you. I've gotta be back by Monday."

"Monday," Dean says, pivoting to make grueling eye contact with Sam, but only turns his body enough that he's still facing the bridge's railing. "Right," he says, shaking a finger, "the interview." The bridge creaks under him as he turns the rest of the way.

"Yeah," Sam nods.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean says, shifting his weight between his feet. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks, the animosity growing with each word.

Sam shrugs, "maybe. Why not?"

Dean's voice roughens, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know the things you've done?"

Sam takes a few threatening steps toward Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know," he scowls.

"Well, that's healthy," Dean sneers. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he says, turning around to continue walking.

Sam huffs, "Who's that?"

"You're one of us," Dean shrugs, a hand gesturing towards Y/N.

"Hey! Leave me out of this," Y/N grumbles from ahead.

"No," Sam says, speed walking towards Dean, "I'm not like you," he says, turning around as he stops in front of Dean. "This is not going to be my life."

Dean keeps his jaw tight. "Well, you have a responsibility to..."

Y/N feels the tension rising and tries to plead with them to stop arguing, but they ignore her. "Guys!" she shouts again.

"To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam scoffs. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like! And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her," he shakes his head, "Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back."

Dean grips Sam's shirt and swings him around and against the bridge's railing with a clunk at Sam's weight against it.

Y/N flips around and runs to their side, "Dean, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" She panics. But Dean continues to ignore her as he glares at Sam.

After a long, breathless pause, Y/N shouts again, "Dean!"

The misty air is still between them, and even the wind seems too frightened to move. It's as if the world is put on pause.

Dean's eyebrows raise, and he keeps a firm grip on Sam's shirt. Under his breath, he says, "Don't talk about her like that."

He throws Sam's jacket from his hands and takes a few stabilizing steps backward in one movement. Y/N runs to check on Sam, who shakes her off with an "I'm fine" that sounds muffled compared to the pounding of her heart. A few tears escape her when she looks over at Dean walking away from them, but she doesn't realize she's crying until the taste of salt hits her lips.

Her eyes return to Sam, shaking her head in disgust that Dean would treat him like that. She knew it had been rough for Dean since Sam left for college, but hell, it's been hard on her, too, and she's not throwing anyone against the side of a bridge!

Dean halts, “Sam. Y/N!” he calls. Y/N turns with a full-body glare, but her eyes widen when she sees a woman in a long, white dress standing on the bridge's railing. The woman looks over at them, and Y/N can see the resemblance to the picture of Constance. The woman's hair and dress sway in the wind, and she keeps her eyes on them as she allows herself to drop from the ledge.

With a grunt, Sam rushes to the railing to look over it for her, Dean and Y/N not far behind him.

"Where'd she go?" Dean barks.

Breathless, Sam pushes out an "I don't know."

The roar of the Impala's engine turning on startles them, their bodies whipping around just in time to see the headlights flick on.

"What the-," Dean says.

"Who's driving your car?" Y/N asks.

Without taking his eyes off of the car, Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and jingles them, stealing Sam and Y/N's attention to them in unison. The engine revs, drawing back their wide eyes to the Impala. The tires squeal as the car begins to speed towards them.

"Y/N, go! Go!" Dean says with a hand on each of his siblings, spinning them around to run in the opposite direction. Dean presses his hand firmly on Y/N's back as they run, keeping himself between her and the car. They run as fast as they can until Dean can feel the Impala's breath on his ankles, and he guides them towards the bridge's railing.

Y/N's heart feels like a brick in her chest, weighing her down at the thought of jumping over. "I can't," she says in a breath, and all in a split second, she feels like her feet are cemented into the bridge's planks as Sam jumps over. "No!" she screams as Dean grips onto her arm, pulling them both over the bridge.

Sam hangs from the ledge of the bridge, shouting for Y/N as her screams are washed out with a big splash. "Y/N!" he calls again from the back of his throat, climbing up the bridge to get on his knees. He looks over the bridge, scanning for Y/N and Dean, calling out when he sees his brother, "Dean! You alright?"

"I'm super," Dean grumbles with an outstretched thumbs up. Lying on his back, half submerged in the muddy water.

"I can't see Y/N! Where's Y/N?" Sam panics, and when the words hit Dean's ears, he springs to his feet in a second. He whirls around in a circle as he searches for her.

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, wiping mud from his face. He paces around, "Y/N, where are you?" he yells, half-expecting her to pop out from behind a bush to scare him.

The world spins around him for a moment, utterly void of sound aside from a ringing in his ears as Dean tries to comprehend what is happening. He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head to clear away the fog that covers him. They open onto the water, catching the moon's glimmer reflecting off something. He runs towards it, hopping from rock to rock until he finds Y/N's broken locket stuck in algae. Dean picks it up with shaky hands, recalling how her face lit up when he first gave it to her. She'd be devastated to see its state now. Fear spills down him in an icy chill.

His head swivels around in search of her. Tears, that he refuses to let fall, poke at his eyes when he sees her lying face down in the water, a bloody rock next to her.

“Y/N!” He shouts, rushing to her. He kneels to pull her out of the water by her shoulder, turning her over so that her back rests against his knee. "Y/N!" he yells again, and when she doesn't respond, he grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. He grunts, shifting his weight before jogging for the shore. "Sam! I got her!"

"Dean! Is she okay?" He calls out as he sprints down the side of the hill to catch up to them. The brothers reach the shore simultaneously, and Dean drops to his knees to gently set Y/N on the ground in front of him, Sam following suit.

"Come on, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay," Dean pleads softly, placing two fingers on her neck. His heart is beating so hard that he can't tell if it's her pulse he's feeling or his own. "Sam, I can't feel anything," he says. Dropping an ear to her mouth, he adds, "And I don't think she's breathing."

"Call 911," Sam demands, ripping his jacket off to tie around Y/N's bleeding head wound. He quickly inspects the rest of her body for any bleeding before placing a hand on her chest. Looking up at Dean, who stands frozen, Sam puts his free hand on Dean's shoulder, "now, Dean!" he shouts, shoving him.

Sam tilts Y/N's head back, checking again for a pulse, a breath, a twitch, a shudder, anything that meant he wouldn't have to perform CPR on his baby sister. He places his hands on her chest, one over the other, pausing in case her heart miraculously started again, but all he feels under his palms is the stillness of Y/N's wet and cold chest.

Sam begins chest compressions, and the tears he'd been holding back rush out uncontrollably when he feels her ribs break under his palms. It makes him want to pull away, but he forces himself to continue. Dean watches in wide-eyed horror as he gives the 911 operator their location when asked, keeping his free hand pressed against his forehead.

"Anything?" he shakily shouts at Sam after what feels like hours. Sam ignores him, counting out loud until he hits thirty again. He stops compressions to blow a shuddering breath into Y/N's mouth, watching her chest rise and fall before delivering another. "Hello! Is anybody on the way? My sister is dying here!" Dean shouts into the phone, but all that meets his ears is static.

"Dean," Sam says with a heavy breath, beginning compressions again. "You gotta take over," he says between breaths.

Without question, Dean drops his phone to the ground as he falls to his knees next to her, "come on, Y/N," he pleads, ignoring the burning in his knees as he places his hands together on top of Sam's. Sam leaves his hands under Dean's for just one compression before pulling away.

"Okay, that's ten. You've got twenty more before breaths," Sam says before they count out loud together with every push into Y/N's chest.

Dean is growing tired by his third round of compressions, but the sirens in the distance electrify him, giving him the energy he needs to continue.

His face scrunches up as he musters the emotional and physical strength to keep going. Sam hurries to his feet, "don't stop, Dean, you're doing great!" he says with a palm at him.

"Don't stop," Dean repeats mindlessly, "don't stop."

Sprinting towards the paramedics, Sam waves his arms, shouting, "Down here! We're down here!" before he knows it, a group of professionals sprint down the hill, the gurney in tow. One takes a story from Sam as one tries to pull Dean away so the other two can take over caring for Y/N.

"No, I can't stop!" he cries, which grabs Sam's attention, "don't stop," he nearly whispers, hands pumping into Y/N's chest.

Sam rushes over and lowers himself to Dean's level. "Dean, let go. It's okay, they'll take it from here," he says, grabbing onto Dean's hands to pull him off of Y/N. They watch the paramedics in shock as they cut the shirt, bra, and pants off of Y/N, inspecting her skin. The first responders put what look like stickers with wires attached to them onto her chest and pull out the AED, telling everyone to stand clear before delivering a shock with a beep. Then, there was a pause and the silence that follows is deafening. Nothing. They check for a pulse and call clear again, shocking her. Then, nothing. Again.

In the hospital's hallway, Dean tries to tune out the surround sound of constant beeping. His elbows rest on his scraped and bloody knees with his head held in his hands. He rocks back and forth, battling with himself. He sheds tears both out of fear for his sister's well-being and of guilt that he did the very thing he promised her he wouldn't: put her in danger.

The clacking of Sam's shoes pulls Dean from his homemade mental Hell. Dean lifts his head, quickly wiping his eyes before grabbing the cafeteria coffee. Sam's familiar smell of motel soap and deodorant washes away the torturous smell of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks," Dean mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before placing it next to him on the cold tile floor.

Sam's eyes are red and puffy. Dean struggles to comprehend how Sam doesn't even try to hide the tears coming down. He often admires his brothers ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, though he'd never admit it. He wonders who he's being 'strong' for in this moment because it's certainly not himself.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulls his pants up slightly at the thighs before sitting on the bench next to Dean. He glances up at the ceiling momentarily, waiting for the announcement to end before asking, "Any news yet?"

Dean shakes his head. "No," he says in a raspy voice, forcing his eyes to look up and down the hall. "Excuse me," he says, standing to interrupt a nurse before she can enter a different room. "Would you mind helping us find whoever we need to talk to for an update on room 221?" he asks, gesturing to the door he hasn't been able to even look at since arriving.

Her eyes flutter to Sam, then the door, and back to Dean before she somberly nods. "Of course," she says, setting her pen back onto the clipboard as she turns to head in the direction she came.

Dean wants to return to his seat, but his body feels like an anchor. He sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders tighten into his neck and with weak arms his hands fall to his hips. He hangs his head, clenching his teeth and pulling his face to suppress the tears. Sam jumps up to Stand with Dean, placing a hand tightly on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Sam says, not fully believing himself, "she's a Winchester; she has to be."

Dean quickly straightens himself out because damn it, he's the one that's supposed to be taking care of his younger siblings - not the other way around.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" a deep voice echoes the hall and they whirl around to greet the doctor. Dean quickly slaps the tears from his face. "I'm Dr. Ferguson," he says, holding his arm up to shake hands with Sam, then Dean. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk."

"We're good here," Dean spits.

"Very well," the doctor sighs, looking down the hall behind him. He shuffles them closer to the wall and out of the traffic flow. "Well, while we were able to restart her heart, I'm afraid your sister has sustained a substantial injury to the head," he says, "the trauma caused the tissue around her brain to swell quite rapidly, and well, we have her on a ventilator, but," he lets out a breath, "we haven't seen as much progress as we were hoping for. She's technically in a coma right now, but we hope to see her come out of it in the coming weeks."

"Weeks?" Dean bellows.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's standard recovery time for an injury of this magnitude. Although, we'd be having an entirely different conversation if not for your quick thinking in the field," he says with a tight-lipped smile, eyes jumping from Dean's to Sam's, "it's a long road to recovery, but this is a good start."

"And what happens if she doesn't wake up?" Sam asks.

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that doesn't happen," the doctor nods.

"Thanks, doc," Sam croaks. "Can - can we see her?" he stutters.

"Of course," he says, pushing the door open with his fingertips, "go on in," he says.

Sam immediately notices Dean's hesitancy when they exchange a glance, so he nods before taking a few steps into the room. He covers his mouth to stifle a sob when he sees his little sister with a tube down her throat and one in her nose. When he's close enough, he reaches for her hand and sits in the chair beside her, startled by the sound of the door shutting. Dean slowly enters the room, but keeps his distance.

Dean feels like the air is void of oxygen and tells himself to pull it together enough to stand by her bed. "Hey kiddo," Dean says to Y/N with a shaky breath. "God, please be okay," he says, forcing a smile as he grips onto her hand.

The two sit with Y/N for days, only leaving for bathroom trips and snack runs, but when one goes, the other stays, and when one is napping, the other is awake. Dean has grown slightly more self-composed but is still anxious as they stay by her side, even when the nurses come to deliver medications, chart vitals, or empty her catheter.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says, clearing his throat.

"Yeah," he replies, keeping his eyes on Y/N.

Sam looks down into his hands, "about my interview-"

"Wait, what?" Dean says, cutting him off, "you're still gonna leave after all this?" he shouts through a clenched jaw. The chair scoots back in a screech as he quickly brings himself to his feet, "you don't wanna be here when she wakes up?" he asks, aggressively gesturing at Y/N.

"Dean, we don't even know if she'll wake up," Sam quivers.

"Man, you are a piece of work," Dean shouts, shaking his head.

"If you would've let me finish," Sam growls with narrow eyes, "I was going to say that I called earlier… to reschedule it," he sighs, looking back at Y/N, "they were very understanding of the situation."

"Oh," Dean says, turning on his heels to face away from Sam. He swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head when his eyes open to the white walls of the hospital's room. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he says, palms open and facing Sam. "This just has me on edge."

Taking a few steps towards him, Sam holds back the urge to get nasty with Dean, telling him he's not the only one feeling 'on edge' about their sister's condition. Instead, he raises his palms and softens his face, "Me too. Believe me."

By Thursday, Y/N had graduated from a ventilator to an oxygen mask. Though still needing the feeding tube, she's shown glimpses here and there of the Y/N they know and love, but overall, she struggles to remain conscious. The doctors are calling it a 'Minimally Conscious State' and "completely normal with this type of recovery."

On Saturday, Sam heads out for food from a local restaurant at Dean's request - something about them having good pies - but Sam has a sneaking suspicion that Dean needs some time alone with Y/N, and Sam could use the fresh air anyway.

Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Dean holds one of Y/N's hands in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Y/N," he cries. "I should have been protecting you," he whispers, letting the tears fall freely now, "but instead of doing that, I got you into this mess."

Looking up at Y/N's face, he swears he sees a tear slip down her cheek. Despite being convinced he's imagining it, he reflexively draws his hand to wipe her tear away, gasping when it comes back wet. His heart races as he gently stands to get beside her in the bed. "Shh," he coos, wrapping his arm around her.

His eyes fall shut, and he's transported back in time to the almost seven-month period where she would only fall asleep if Dean were right there in bed next to her. Through tears and voice cracks, he sings Hey Jude in a whisper, occasionally reaching over to wipe her tears away.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I don't know how to live without you," he says, his tears turning into sobs. "Please wake up," he cries, arm wrapped tightly around her, "I promise I'll teach you how to drive if you just please wake up."

~~~~ If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

Everything Tags <3

@wayardblueshun @81mysteriouslyme @drakelover78 @soab1967 @shutupandfeedmethings @pollywantacracker666 @sonnierae26 @obsessed5sosfreak @tlovescoffee @noodledoodlebug @hobby27 @cluz1babe @emptycanvasposts @suckmyapplejacks @signrunsavestheday @flamencodiva @roseblue373

Dean <;3 @akshi8278 @squirrelnotsam @laxe-from-outer-space @ellewritesfix05 @cluz1babe @lyarr24 @mrspeacem1nusone @idksupernaturl @fandom-princess-forevermore @stoneyggirl @chaospossum @nachofriess

Sam <3 (not including the tags already above :) ) @fangirlxwritesx67 @immafangirlmess @sizekinkshawty

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fandom #supernatural fan fic #little sister Winchester #angst #supernatural dean winchester #sister!winchester #3rd person pov

38 notes · View notes

i-am-the-niche · 18 days

Text

Percy Jackson Analysis ep.1

(did that sound vaguely pretentious? I feel like a need a funny name for this)

SO SORRY it took me this long. To be truthful I put on My Happy Marriage to listen to while refining my notes, I'm not a huge romance lover so I didn't think I would get that invested but then I proceeded to binge the whole thing...

anyways go watch My Happy Marriage, it messed me up in the best ways

On to my children, the way I wrote these notes was chronological, including lines I thought were powerful and thoughts I had while watching, enjoy my sub-tier analysis

To start with I think the casting, as well as most of the acting in the show, is phenomenal. There are some acting scenes which aren't great, but the nice things about child actors is that they grow and improve

iconic opening line 10000000/10

blackjack cameo? *chefs kiss*

One thing that really stands out to me regarding young Percy in school is that the bullying is portrayed so well. Like, sure some kids get punched but more often it's whispers, snide comments, teachers not doing enough to stop it. Not to mention when you have mental health problems or neurodivergency on top of that it makes it even harder to fit in and gain help from authority figures. There's no way teachers weren't aware of how Percy was being treated (we even see this in the books with mortals that don't care about him getting picked on by other mortals, think sea of monsters)

GROVER!!! I know I already ranted about the casting but Aryan just does such a good job. I hope in later seasons we see him more than we did in the books.

I'm UNHEALTHILY OBSESSED at the idea that mythomagic cards are to help train halfbloods. It also gets me thinking about season 3 interactions between little Nico and Percy. But it's incredibly clever to have a game that would entice children to learn more about the monsters they're likely to face against. It's also a clever marketing move irl.

Once again great portrayal of bullying while still keeping the show appropriate for kids

UNREALISTIC their paper would never be printed with color ink /lh

I really enjoy how they displayed dyslexia, it seems very accurate to descriptions.

"how it makes you feeeeel"

The lines about not everyone who looks like a hero being a hero and not everyone who looks like a monster being a monster is some of the best foreshadowing I've ever seen. It perfectly foreshadows Luke, Medusa, and generally captures one of the major points of Uncle Ricks books.

the hold fast line being used through the series *chefs kiss*

One thing I stand by in both the books and series is that I was incredibly disappointed in how little Chiron directly stood up for Percy- even in regards to mortals. Like yeah ok he's gonna be a hero but he's also twelve, help the poor boy!

The bullying Dodds shows Percy is also very accurate to real life. I've had many teachers who straight up bully kids just like this and are never called out for it.

The utilization of the word 'Special' thought the series is a great example of how "PoLite EUpHEmiSm' and often weaponized and used as derogatory terms and serves as an example of why many push for using terms like disabled over differently abled.

"childhood trauma, feelings of inadequacy" DAMN GROVER just going for the jugular, pop off. love how the show incorporates realistic convos kids would have. This instance and other little side bars we see throughout the show add something that I often find missing in television throughout all generas. it's incredibly important to have realistic convos to help solidify characters as people.

"Never ever stand up to them" "that doesn't sound right" THIS LINE 10000000/10

"there you are" we're not fools Percy Jackson

I did feel like this should have been Perseus Jackson seeing as how it's pretty canonical that monsters and gods alike only refer to him using his full name, adding on the the names have power theme that permeates throughout the series.

trauma for days

"is he dead?"

Chiron low-key being the embodiment of gaslighting, girl boss, gatekeep

UNCLE RICK CAMEO!!!

realist portrayal of adults already having their mind made up and children being unable to do anything except tell their story over and over

(also does Kronos speak to Percy in his dreams as the school principal? I genuinely can't remember, if so Kronos sure knows how to embody nightmares)

I honestly wish they would have expanded more on both how guilty grover would have felt rating Percy out (even if it means protecting him) and also how betrayed Percy would have felt. his fatal flaw is loyalty, grover was his very first and very best friend, he only really has his mother, this would have been a huge punch in the gut.

anyone else feel like grover and Percy should have been interviewed separately?

I'm sorry, I have to complain about the lighting in this show. WHY IS IT SO DARK? THIS ISNT SHOWN IN THEATERS! MY EYES ARENT THIS GOOD. IM SQUINTING TRYING TO FIND OUT WHAT IS ON THE TV!! WHYYYYY??!?!

"at least I know you think you didnt" -not helpful Chiron :/ shame on you

"you might have the most difficult journey" great foreshadowing

'SPeCiaL'

I know there was lots of discussion about how Gabe wasn't abusive 'enough' but often times abuse isn't easy to see or what TV leads you to believe. The show keeps it age appropriate while also showing how much of a leech and how controlling he is (answering Sally's phone, not wanting her to leave to the beach). Honestly I might make a separate post on this but at the moment I'm tired of seeing ignorant people claim that Gabe wasn't aggressive enough or that Sally wasn't meek enough to be abused.

I was disappointed that Eddie became a 'good' character instead of showing how abusive adults often have buddies backing them up

It's realistic Percy would talk to Gabe even though he's a dick, kids want to make connections

Sally in the rain- reference to Poseidon 10/10

Sally is just happy to see him :')

"all that matters is that your here, ok?" aww

BLUE FOOD!!!

"Is there something else you wanna talk about" mom knows

"I'm scared" damn does that resonate

once more just because Sally isn't portrayed as meek doesn't mean that that whole interaction wasn't unhealthy and abusive

di angelo reference! even if it's not our di angelo the name choice was incredibly purposeful

"it's getting angrier" personification of the storm lends well to Zeus and Poseidon

love PJO dream sequences

"who are you" does Kronos not know who Percy is? Gonna be real this confuses me, am I missing something obvious?

Sally was crying??!?!

the race from the car to the cabin is another example of the writers (and actors) creating realistic people you can connect to. the nostalgia that hit me in this scene was POTENT

It's so so so important to have a place to escape to as an abuse victim, and as a teen in general. Scratch that, just people in general need places to escape to which makes the cabin even more significant

Percy's self deprecating marshmallow talk :(

"I'm used to the world feeling weird to me" neurodivergency and mental health issues can create very isolating atmospheres making community important -camp is that community

Uncle Rick does a great job creating metaphores regarding discrimination and ableism

It's so hard to tell someone you trust and love that you think something is wrong, especially as a child. Walker did a fantastic job capturing all the mixed up emotions that occur.

"something that felt real to you but no one else could see" once again significant to neurodivergency and mental health

I don't personally like the choice to have Sally tell Percy that his father is a god. The acting in the scene also just rubs me really wrong - it feels fake. I think I enjoyed the book version better with him never receiving a clear answer until camp, and even then you can debate on how "clear" it was.

I would be freaking out so much more that Walker if my mom approached the subject like this. It would be incredibly frightening to think your mom was going insane alongside you.

"there is something wrong with my brain" once again, uncle Rick reaches out of the screen/pages to hit me where it hurts

"I don't want to see him" the betrayal he feels :(

grover pants scene (I feel no need to elaborate on this note, it was by far the funniest scene of the episode 1000000000+

"so the important thing is not to panic"

"who are you" nooo he's ur friend don't do this to me :(((

I love grover

very nice natural lead into explaining the mist

The show is unfortunately hit with the complex issue of trying to provide context to an audience who already knows and is eager to see the action. I know there were many criticisms about it but I will say my mother, who didn't read the books, felt she had a firm grasp on the lore of the show, so that counts for something?

"what else haven't we talked about, what else haven't you told me" broken trust :(((

"I'm actually 24" NOW IS NOT THE TIME GROVER

"won't all of us be safe" ha... about that

"swear it, SWEAR IT GROVER" damn, okay sally

again, WHY IS THE LIGHTING SO DARK?!?! I know it helps hide cgi but we know there's gonna be CGI in a show abt monsters and myths

"you are not broken, you are singular" amazing foreshadowing

Sally is bamf

trauma

the choice to make things silent after Sally 'dies' *chefs kiss once again

I just really love the shot of Percy surfing down the monster dust

"he must be the one" :)))

hope y'all enjoyed :)

#annabeth chase #annabeth pjo #disney plus #disney+#grover pjo #grover underwood #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy pjo #disney #pjo season 1 #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #pjo spoilers #pjo show

23 notes · View notes

oceansmotion · 1 year

Text

The sleepy town of Wormwood

A powerful witch has cast a spell over the town, isolating it from the rest of the world. Perpetually 1956, it exists in a stasis, unchanging over the years. No one has ever questioned the way things are, never thought about why nothing seems to change from year to year. Will anyone ever break free of the curse and bring Wormwood into the present or will it forever remain the same? I really love this hood and despite having so many issues with it, I still love playing it (and so does @nonsensical-pixels who is the one that inspired me to dig around to get most of the original files back because she was making me jealous). It's a little more silly but there are some pretty dark undertones as well. I know there's a couple issues but they really aren't a problem if you play the hood as a standalone or with non-PV subhoods. There is an overarching mystery/plot :) Who really is Moira and...is she really that bad? Is she actually evil or is there more to it? What's going on in the Moore house and why is there a strange smell wafting from it? The Tegan's sure are an odd bunch, is the picture perfect family of blonde hair and blues eyes a coincidence or something more sinister? Will Olive Specter finally find some good luck and love in Ocean Grisly? Sam Spyers is determined to figure out what's happening in Wormwood, but can she figure it out before it's too late?

There are 3 files included: Required, Highly Suggested, and Wormwood itself. The Required folder contains various CC that I used, almost entirely from Michelle's recolors from MTS (merged) + the Bespoke build set (merged), the (optional) Prison mod from Simlogical is not required but sort of ruins the immersion for two families, there are various plants from Parsimonious, fences from Smug Tomato Basket, more plants from the Castaway conversion site, the Sims 2 store sets, and unfortunately a really old merged buy mode folder that I genuinely do not remember what's in it other than a ton of Veranka's stuff. I don't think I used too much from this folder and most of it has the creator in the item descriptions. In all, it's about 1GB of CC, so it's not exactly that much. CC lite, I guess? Most of it is just to get the general vibe of the hood and can be replaced and even then, the bulk of it is simply recolors or bespoke wallpapers. I used this template from enchantedw0lf on MTS to create the hood. Townies may or may not be bald. No, I will not explain. As the first hood I've ever made, it has been through hell and back. I actually completely finished a more complex and involved version of it before managing to corrupt it due to a simple misclick in simpe and thinking I had a backup but not actually :):):) Then entirely remade it from scratch again but it was a hacked down version with fewer sims and simpler plot lines (rifp cowboy farmer who secretly wanted to be a pretty ballerina and had a room full of mannequins facing a stage where he'd dance for them). All this to say that I didn't make this hood 100% correctly and it has some...quirks. When I remade it, I forgot to disable stealth hoods (you'd think I'd have learned my lesson from this when I decided to make Natosi later lol), and I simply can't be bothered to delete townies n stuff. I don't have the energy or willpower to clean it up. The hood itself is still very pretty and fun to play, I think the odd quirks actually fit in perfectly and helps give the vibes I wanted for it!

Download || Mediafire

#sims 2 #sims 2 maxis match #sims 2 download #sims 2 creator #sims 2 simblr #sims 2 custom hood #Wormwood #Oceansmotion #OceanLivesHereToo #shemighthaveissuesbutshesworthitanyway

135 notes · View notes

joaneunknown · 1 year

Text

Eight steps in making the editing process of your book easier

It is that time again. You have finished telling the story and now, you have to edit it, so that your novel will be perfectly edged like a diamond. But, although it may seem easy, it is not. I have gone through it three times and a new editing process is coming way soon and, honestly, editing the first draft of the novel you have written sucks. I would describe editing your novel as a non-editor the work of the fucking devil, and I am not speaking about its grammar. I am speaking about the plot and the storyline. Just think of how many things you have learnt since you have started writing your book, and with the more things you have learnt, the better your writing became Unfortunately, no one knows everything from the first page and your writing style can also change throughout the book which makes everything even harder than it already was. So, now that I have finished procrastinating, I am going to show you eight steps into making the editing process of your book more bearable and less terrifying.

Step 1: Make a list with the editorial changes while writing

Writing a book takes a lot of time and during that time, you learn a lot of things. Your writing fluidity changes, the book's ideas start having a clearer form and your entire writing style changes. Since your ideas become clearer, you have to edit each chapter, from the beginning to the end, which means that once the writing process is done, you will have to start from the introduction and change some things. Those things could be names that you have changed throughout the book, wrong dates, different descriptions of the same characters or places and so on. My advice is to make a list of all the tiny things that you will have to fix during the editing process, while and after writing your draft. Tiny things can also include formatting changes that you think are necessary to make your book better. Maybe, it can be important information that you might have altered which should stay intact during the plot. Remembering specific information is vital when editing your draft. The main point of this step is to know the tiny details you will have to either clean up or rewrite, besides the more important information that your future you shouldn't forget while editing.

Step 2: Read your book after finishing it

I consider that reading your unedited work is also a very important step because it can give you an idea of what must be changed and how the book looks so far. I would personally give it a few days after finishing the last chapter to start reading it, so then the story wouldn't be so fresh in your mind. Also, while reading your book, whether that would be on paper or on a device, I would recommend having the list that you have made at step one next to you, so then when you spot a mistake, you'll write it down right then.

Step 3: Make a list of the chapters/moments that must be rewritten

Unlike step one, this is more serious because if there are holes or discontinued chapters that just don't fit the book, you should not only acknowledge them but rewrite or cut them off completely. I, for example, am going through this right now. My introduction is not only awkward and cringe, but it doesn't fit the book at all, and in a couple of weeks when I will be done writing the book, I will have to take out the introduction and write another one to fit the whole. So, find the biggest problems and resolve them.

Step 4: Rewrite what has to be rewritten in another document

I believe that writing those parts in a separate document is going to make your official draft look cleaner and give you more freedom in rewriting or just writing the problematic chapters. Obviously, after you have written those chapters/parts/moments, you must insert it back into the official draft and that takes us to the next step...

Step 5: Make the rewritten parts fit into book

Now that you have got rid of the parts that didn't fit the book, you should make the rewritten parts fit with both the pages before and the pages after it. I don't think it is a problem with gluing the rewritten parts back into the official draft just as long as they are on a straight line with the other pages before and after them.

Step 6: Edit the details in your editorial notes

I would call this the easiest part of all. You already have the direction, now you have to stick to it. Besides those details, it could also be grammar problems that you could solve easily with a few changes.

Step 7: Delete the useless and fill what hadn't already been filled

Just like an editor, you must know what parts have no chance of being entertaining or important to the book. You must read all your pages and edit them like a critic. What is useless and bores out your readers goes out into the trash pin and what could be fully developed must be fully developed. If you feel like a paragraph just didn't fulfill its potential, then you should grow it out until it becomes the best you could have ever made it.

Step 8: When you finish editing it, leave it off for a while before reading it

I heard this advice from Neil Gaiman during one of his masterclasses on Masterclass and since then I have found this advice extremely useful. After a while, the story will no longer be as fresh as before and when you will read it, you will feel like the reader.

I hope those steps will make you feel less frightened by the editing process that is standing on your shoulders. All you do is to make your book better and even if that could annoy and bore you, that is part of a writer's job. Just because you have written it doesn't mean it is ready to be published. You may edit your book a couple of times before feeling as if your book is ready to be posted and I think that is also fine. All that counts is to get your book edited and ready to be given to your readers.

"Most of writing is editing...It is the responsibility of the writer to provide the reader with the best material possible"- Harry Heckel

This was Joane Unknown for #TalkingUnknown, more like these on my profile and at the link in my bio. Have a good writing day and see ya next week with another one of these!

243 notes · View notes

lysenfeu · 11 months

Text

Pair of Aces - Chapter 3. Day Three

Pair of Aces

Chapter: 3. Day Three

Rating: M

Word Count: 5.6k~

Summary: Our pair finally head out into the field to track Butterflies and Vigilante gets the opportunity to demonstrate his skills.

Chapter Content: Descriptions of violence/Canon-typical Violence, Weapons (Guns, Knives), Mild Blood/gore

A/N: Whoops this took way longer than expected to finish but it ended up way longer than I originally planned so here we go! More tension and some much-needed mission action where Vig finally gets to show off a bit. I hope you enjoy it~

[Read Previous Chapter] [Read Next Chapter]

[Read on AO3]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

She woke up late the next morning, grateful to actually have gotten some rest for the first time since she arrived in town. Vigilante was already awake. He was puttering around the room, focused on sorting out his armour pieces on his bed with his mask already on.

“How long have you been up?”

He jumped, not realizing she was awake. He turned towards her and shrugged. “A while, I don’t sleep much.”

“Have you eaten?” She pulled out two packets of instant oatmeal and two travel bowls from her pack.

He eyed the packets suspiciously as she held them up to him. “What flavour?”

“Maple and brown sugar, duh.”

He nodded his approval and she moved around him to fill the bowls with water and pop them in the microwave. She carefully handed him the warm bowl with a spoon and sat down on the edge of her bed to eat. He turned his back to her and rolled up the bottom of his mask before popping a spoonful of oatmeal into his now-exposed mouth.

“Seriously dude? You won’t even let me see you eat?”

“Safety precaution, I told you.” He huffed, blowing on his spoon to cool down the hot breakfast.

She rolled her eyes. “I can’t identify you in a lineup from just your chin.” He didn’t respond and continued to eat with his back to her. She was annoyed but decided not to press the topic. He got weirdly defensive every time it came up and she didn’t want to push it this early on.

She quickly finished her own bowl and rinsed it off in the sink. She walked around the motel room to grab her gear bag and unpack the equipment they’d need for the mission. She pulled out a gun case and several smaller attachés filled with blades. The second she unlatched the case, Vigilante popped up over her shoulder.

“Oh cool, a Walther PPK! Kinda small though isn't it?”

She rolled her eyes and tried not to snap at him. "It's not small, it's perfectly normal-sized."

"It's totally not normal, it's tiny." He looked down at the gun with a judgemental tone.

She gently removed it from the case, showing him how it fits perfectly in her grip before placing it back down.

"See, normal size! Don't shame me!"

He grabbed her wrist and held her hand still as he raised his own palm and pressed it against hers. She hadn't paid much attention to his hands before, she'd barely even noticed he hadn't put his gloves on yet.

But now she couldn’t help but stare as his large palm dwarfed hers entirely. His long thick fingers folded over the top of hers, covering her hand.

"See? Definitely not normal, you just have tiny hands."

She yanked her hand out of her grip and scowled at him. "I have normal hands, shut up.”

She rolled her eyes at him again and stepped back to make some space between them. “Let me guess, you use something insanely impractical like a Desert Eagle."

He laughed and shook his head. "Nah, that's more Peacemaker’s style. I keep it simple." He pulled out his gun belt from his pile of gear and snapped his pistol out of its holster.

He held it up for her and she immediately recognized it. A Walther PP, the same line as hers but a bulkier original model. The pistol was modded with a custom bronze-tinted shell, an understated look that she thought was surprising for Vigilante.

"Bronze? What, did they not come in teal?" She couldn't hold her tongue on that one, friendship order be damned.

His shoulders sagged as he sadly replied, "No! They couldn't even custom order it for me and I definitely asked. Like, a lot."

Of course, you did.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the snark to a minimum.

"Well, it's a decent weapon regardless of colour. You seem well equipped." She gestured towards the assembled pile on top of his mattress. His second pistol, an assortment of knives and his sword lay on top.

He cocked his head to the side before he realized she was looking at his weapons stash.

"Oh! Yeah, uh. I like to have options."

She laughed lightly. "Well, that's another thing we have in common."

She grabbed one of the attachés and opened it up for him to see. It was neatly packed with a variety of blades. The selection included a set of black throwing knives, several fixed blades with serrated edges and a pair of push daggers. She quickly unpacked the other case to reveal an assortment of folding blades, smaller throwing knives and a purple satin pouch.

He immediately reached over to grab one of the serrated blades and she smacked his hand away, shooting him an annoyed look.

"Watch it! Didn't your mom ever teach you not to grab things that aren't yours?"

"Nope." He reached back around her to try and grab it again so she smacked him a bit harder.

He yelped and pulled back his hand. "Hey, that hurt!" She's not certain but it sounded like he was pouting behind his mask.

"If you want to touch something, ask nicely first."

He sighed and crossed his arms childishly. "Fiiiine. May I touch the cool knives?" He hesitated for a second and then added a rushed 'please' at the end.

She chuckled at his petulant tone. "Okay, fine. But I'm not responsible if you hurt yourself."

He scoffed. "As if! You were the one who called me an 'impressively talented marksman', thank you very much!"

She raised an eyebrow. "That was with a rifle, not knives."

"Yeah well, I'm good with blades too."

She started to fire back a snarky response but was caught off guard as he deftly picked up a short-handled serrated blade. He spun it between his fingers, effortlessly flipping it around in his hand.

Okay, maybe he was right about being good with blades.

She watched the expert movements in shock, observing how he made the razor-sharp edge glide and twirl through the air with delicate precision.

Good might be an understatement, actually. Damn.

For someone who had never previously cared about hands, she was certainly doing a lot of staring at them today. She shook her head to clear her distracted thoughts.

“Alright, enough screwing around." She gestured for him to give back the blade. "We’ve got to head out soon. Did you get the coordinates from Harcourt?” She was back in business mode, mind focused on sorting the rest of her gear instead of his large and talented hands.

Vigilante sighed in disappointment but dutifully placed the knife back in the case and pulled out his phone.

“Yeah, the location isn’t far from here. Maybe a fifteen-minute drive? The road access cuts off and there are some woodlands nearby. We can set up there, it has a decent view of the place.”

Their assignment was simple. There was a rural farmhouse sitting on a large acreage outside of Evergreen. ARGUS had tracked some activity in the area and their intel indicated a group of suspected Butterflies were using it as a hub of some kind. The pair were supposed to set up onsite surveillance and confirm the presence of Butterflies in the house. At any sign of trouble or Butterflies on the move, orders were to shoot on sight.

She buckled her pistol into her belt holster and picked out a selection of knives to bring, carefully sliding something small out of the purple pouch and tucking it into a belt pocket when she thought Vig wasn’t looking. Her pack had the rest of the essentials needed for field missions, including an ample supply of granola bars, a GPS tracker and first aid supplies. After confirming Vigilante already had the Task Force X-issued rifle, scope and cameras in the car and triple checking her weapon selection, she was ready to go.

While she had geared up, Vigilante had done the same but faster. Waiting by the motel room door in full gear, he was antsy to get going. He opened the door for her and followed her out, locking it behind them. The pair climbed into the Sebring and pulled out of the motel lot. Vigilante was right, the site wasn't very far at all and they quickly turned off the rural road and tucked the car behind some foliage.

Vig opened the trunk, shouldered the rifle bag and grabbed the cameras. She had oriented herself quickly in the unfamiliar location and started to make her way through the woods. He followed closely behind her as they walked a short way and up a small hill. Once at the top, they had a full view of the acreage below. A large weather-worn farmhouse sat towards the front of the property, resting at the end of a wide gravel drive. Peeling red paint and a rotting deck tarnished what must have been a nice building at a previous point in time.

Setting up the cameras was the first order of business. They had a great view of the house and rigged up the surveillance easily, with one covering the front door and two on the back of the property and driveway. The next task was setting up the rifle.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" She asked him suspiciously, watching him swear under his breath as he fumbled with the rifle.

"Yes! Just give me a minute." He muttered back at her.

“Alright, fine.”

She turned away from him, grabbed a pair of binoculars from the kit and started scoping out the farmhouse. The state of the place was abysmal. The entire exterior was in disrepair with several windows cracked or broken and holes in the screens. Broken appliances and other junk littered the back.

How could anyone live in a place like this?

Frankly, it looked like no one was. Nothing looked recently used or accessed. There was no sign of life in or around the building. She frowned. This didn't match the intel.

Vigilante had finished setting up his stuff and plopped down beside her.

"So what's the deal?"

She sighed and pulled the binoculars down.

"It doesn't look like anyone's here. Honestly, it doesn't look like anyone's been here in years."

Vigilante groaned. "This isn't going to be fun is it?"

She shook her head at him. "Probably not."

As the day wore on, she was proven correct about that. Several hours had passed with no activity on the entire property.

The ground was hard and uncomfortable and Vigilante was restless. He was constantly moving around, humming to himself and generally complaining about the lack of action. He was making a lot of noise and it had started to annoy her.

“This is sooo boring,” Vigilante whined, fidgeting from his place on the ground.

She sat back on her heels and looked at him with a tired glare. “It’s recon work, it’s not supposed to be exciting.”

“Aren’t there supposed to be people here? What’s the point of us being here if this place is empty?”

As if on cue, they heard a crunching noise and watched as a large white cargo van drove up the gravel path leading to the house. They saw a tall man climb out of the driver's seat and enter the dilapidated building.

“Fucking finally!” Vigilante hops up off the ground and starts heading down the hill.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She grabbed him by the collar of his chest piece and yanked him back.

“Uh, I’m going to go kill that guy? Obviously.”

His nonchalant tone irritated her to no end. "No, you're not! Do you even know what recon means?"

He paused, thinking hard for a moment. "Re…constitute?"

Her face contorted in a mix of disbelief and frustration. "What? No! Why the fuck would it be reconstitute?" She shook her head at him. "It means reconnaissance."

"Is that French? How would I know that? I don't speak French!"

She sighed. "It's technically a loan word."

"A what?"

She successfully resisted the urge to hit him. "It's a word that was originally French but it was used so much that it became considered part of the English language too."

"Man, language is weird.” His voice got a little quieter. “So…what does it mean?"

She sighed again. “It means surveying. We’re just here gathering information, waiting and watching for a headcount on potential targets and their travel patterns. You can't just run in guns blazing!”

“Really?” He seemed surprised. “It works pretty well for me.”

Continuing to resist the urge to hit him was becoming more and more difficult for her. “We don’t even know if that guy is a Butterfly or not. We just need to keep an eye on him and be stealthy. Can you do that?

He crossed his arms across his chest and nodded. “I can be very stealthy.”

She squinted at him. “I kind of don't believe you.”

“It's true!” He protested a bit too loudly. “I am a master of stealth.”

“And being quiet?”

“If I’m quiet can I kill that guy soon?”

She thought for a moment and the temptation of his silence won out. “If he’s a Butterfly, yes.”

Vigilante sighed but accepted her answer, scrambling up off the ground.

“Remember, only if you’re quiet. We’re just watching for now.” She warned him.

He mimed zipping his mouth closed and nodded silently. She raised a doubtful eyebrow but nodded in return and turned back to the farmhouse with her binoculars. She watched the man walk by one of the cracked windows and then lost sight of him. She sat down on the ground and tried to find a comfortable position on the hard dirt.

She lost track of how much time she had spent staring through the cracked windows. Even though she knew someone was now inside, there was no sign of movement. She put the binoculars down in frustration. She refocused on her surroundings and noted it was actually quiet for once. She hadn’t heard Vigilante humming or muttering to himself in a while. She glanced over to where the rifle was set up but there was no sign of him.

Where was he?

Her thoughts were interrupted by two strong arms grabbing her from behind. She shrieked in surprise as the arms wrapped around her waist and suddenly she was in the air. Vigilante had snuck up behind her and grabbed her in a giant bear hug, lifting her off the ground and holding her tight against him.

"What the hell!" She tried not to scream at him but her voice carried anyways.

Once her initial shock wore off and she realised what he was doing, she immediately struggled against him to free herself. Unfortunately for her, she was unable to break his hold at all. She couldn't help but take note of how strong his grip was and how effortlessly he had picked her up.

She tried to get out of his hold again but ended up just flailing around uselessly. She stopped moving after she realised she was basically just grinding against him. He dared to laugh in her ear at her failed attempts to escape, which just incensed her further.

“Let me go!”

His grip around her tightened. "Only if you admit how super stealthy I am!"

She flailed some more before getting even more frustrated. She finally had enough, kicked her heel backwards and clipped him hard in the shin. He groaned in pain and finally released her. “Hey, no fair!”

She spun around and jabbed him in the chest with an accusatory finger. “We're supposed to be quiet! What if they heard that?”

He waved off her concern. “They didn't, it's fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Just trust me.”

She huffed and ignored him, picking up the binoculars from the ground to check for herself.

Goddammit.

He was right. There was no sign of movement inside the house and the man hadn’t come out to check on the noise.

"Can you at least admit I'm a master of stealth now?"

She grumbled to herself but well, technically he was right. “Fine, that was very fucking stealthy. But don't ever do that again, you got lucky this time Teal.”

“Teal?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged at him. “That’s your new nickname. Everyone gets one.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone on the team." She started counting them off on her fingers. "There’s Big Red, Blondie, Dye-beard, New-girl-who’s-name-I-forget-but-seems-too-nice-for-this-job and Murn.”

“Just Murn? Why doesn't he get a nickname?”

She snorted. “Try giving that man a nickname and not die.”

“Oh. Yeah, fair.” He easily accepted her answer. “Her name’s Adebayo by the way.”

“Who?”

“The new girl. Leota Adebayo.”

“Huh." She nodded in appreciation. "Got it, thanks. I should try and remember that. She does seem nice.”

“She is! She’s my new fifth best friend. I told Peacemaker he should be friends with her too.”

“Wait, you rank your friends?”

“Yeah, obviously. Don’t you?”

“No! Who does that?”

Suddenly, the pair were interrupted by the slam of a front door. They both spun around in time to see the tall man exiting the farmhouse. They were stunned to see him being followed by half a dozen other people.

What the fuck!?

She grabbed the binoculars to get a better look at what was happening. The entire group was walking rigidly, with expressionless faces and dead eyes. One of the strangers trailed behind carrying a crate loaded with large glass bottles containing a strange liquid. The tall man climbed into the driver's seat of the van while the others filed robotically into the back.

"Shit! They're on the move." She cursed again and frantically grabbed her pack off the ground. She motioned to Vigilante to follow her and saw he had already grabbed the rifle and was headed in the same direction. They needed to get back to the Sebring as soon as possible and tail that cargo van.

"Where the fuck did all those people come from? What the fuck is happening?" She was out of breath as they ran to the vehicle and hopped in.

"No fucking idea but they're definitely Butterflies." He gunned the engine and pulled the car back around to face the road. Not a moment too soon as the white van rolled right past them. Vig started following them, slowly trailing behind to not get them spotted. After about five minutes the van pulled off into what looked like a dead end. As they followed down the turn the pair saw a wide stretch of land.

In the middle of the pasture was an open-walled barn structure. The group of Butterflies was milling around inside the structure silently. Each of them grabbed a glass jar of liquid from the case. She watched as they unscrewed the lids and extended a proboscis-like tongue and started lapping up the fluid.

"Oh, that's super gross." She mumbled to herself.

"See? Definitely Butterflies. Can I kill them now?"

She looked at Vigilante, who was bouncing around next to her waiting for the all-clear. The orders were to shoot on sight if things got weird.

"Yeah, fine. Go ahead."

He started humming happily to himself while he lined up the rifle scope.

"Think you can get them all?"

Vig snorted. "Uh, yeah. Not a problem."

She pulled out her binoculars and trained them on the targets. There were seven Butterflies in total, all standing around the open structure. She was grateful for the lack of walls, giving them both an easy view of the targets.

"Tell you what, drinks are on me if you can headshot every target." She was just kidding around. Despite Vigilante’s cockiness, she was sure he couldn’t pull that off.

He had finished setting up the rifle and was lining up his shot. “Deal. Count them for me.”

The first shot rang out and the tall male who had driven the van dropped to the ground as a bullet pierced through his forehead.

"One."

The Butterflies crowded over the body and looked around trying to locate the source of the shots. Vigilante fired again and caught another through the skull.

"Two."

The targets started to panic now, moving around and trying to scatter. Two more shots rang out in rapid succession. She watched two more Butterflies drop, one caught through the temple and one through the eye.

"Three. Four."

The remaining three had started to move faster, trying to flee the shelter. Vigilante fired again, taking down the closest one with another headshot.

"Five."

Is he seriously going to do it?

The Butterflies were running now and Vig needed to move fast. Two final shots echoed and the corresponding bodies dropped, unmoving with bullets lodged in the back of their skulls.

"Six. Seven."

Holy shit.

She spun towards him, dropping her binoculars. "Holy shit."

Vigilante leaned back from the rifle, still humming happily. "Told you I could do it."

"I didn't think it was possible. That was fucking amazing!" She grinned at him, wholly impressed with his performance. She hopped up off the ground and held out a hand to help him do the same.

“Alright hot shot, time to check your work.”

The pair quickly made their way down to the pasture. They needed to double-check check each Butterfly was actually dead and take some photos to ID them before sending a clean-up crew later on.

She trudged along the structure, looking down at the assorted bodies. Three were outside the building in the grass and the other four were scattered around inside. She left the furthest away ones to Vigilante and made her way around to the others. Dead, dead, dead. She still can barely believe he got all seven clean right through the head.

She walked towards the last body, one slumped against one of the building's support beams. She was right next to the corpse, looking at the hole in its head when suddenly something small twitched inside the wound. The body let out an inhuman screech and lurched upwards to grab at her.

She screamed in surprise as she tried to wrench herself away and not fall over. Vigilante rushed over and grabbed her by the waist, yanking her backwards and out of the corpse's grip. He slid a hand over her hip and grabbed something from her belt and flung it towards the Butterfly. A whirl of purple flew through the air and embedded itself deep into its head. Blood and some strange shimmery fluid sprayed across her at the impact, splashing across her face. Another screech sounded before growing quiet and the body slumped back over, unmoving.

“Hey, what the fuck!” She shoved him away and tried to wipe the mess from her face, only succeeding in smearing it more.

"You've got to get the things in their skulls or they don't stay down." He offered as an explanation.

“I really would've liked to have known that before now. That was fucking disgusting! And was that my knife?!” She whips around and leans down to inspect the Butterfly's corpse. With a solid yank, she pulled out the purple-handled blade from where it was embedded in the skull and glowered at him.

“What did I say about grabbing things?!” She practically screamed.

“It was kind of an emergency.” He threw his hands up in defence. “I had to think quickly!”

She scowled as she carefully inspected the knife for any damage, thankfully finding none.

Of course, he had to grab this one. Idiot.

He was annoyed with being yelled at by her. "You know I did just save you, you could say thank you. It's just a knife!"

She hesitated to answer. "This one is …special."

“Why is it unbalanced?”

She glared at him. “That's a security measure. It’s supposed to make it harder for someone to use if they steal it from me.”

“Huh.” He cocked his head to the side and looked at her. “It didn’t, by the way. It was really easy to compensate for.”

She narrowed her eyes, then stepped forward suddenly and wiped the sullied knife on his sleeve before slipping it back into her belt.

“Ew, gross! What did you do that for?” He jumped back and held out his sleeve to observe the new stain.

“You got blood on my face! Also, don’t take my stuff!” She snapped angrily and stomped out of the barn, sidestepping the rest of the Butterfly corpses. Vigilante trailed after her, muttering complaints about his ruined shirt.

They made their way back to the Sebring, slung the gear in the back and climbed in. She pulled down the passenger side mirror and inspected the smears of blood and who knows what else on her face. She grimaced at the disgusting sight and sighed in frustration at her appearance.

“Here.”

Vigilante nudged her and handed her a pack of wet wipes. She stared down at the offering for a moment before accepting the item. She opened the wipes and started cleaning her face, relaxing slightly.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry about the blood.” He meant it. He had reacted instinctively when she was in trouble, the splatter was an accident.

She finished dabbing the last spots on her face and handed him back the wet wipes. “And taking my knife?”

He huffed but continued. “Okay, yes. I’m also sorry for taking your knife.” He paused for a moment and then continued in a slightly more bitter tone. “Even though I totally saved your life. And also killed all the other people. And drove us everywhere.”

She crossed her arms in annoyance and raised her voice. “You want a thank you for doing your job?”

His shoulders sagged and the tone disappeared from his voice. “Kind of, yeah. I was trying to impress you.”

She lowered her arms and her volume to match. “Alright, theft of my property aside,” She shot him a look. “You did, in fact, impress me. You did a really good job today. I didn’t even think making every single one of those shots was possible but fuck, you killed it out there.”

He chuckled at her terrible play on words and seemed a bit more at ease after the praise. “I believe you owe me drinks now.”

She groaned, that was supposed to be a joke. “Fine. I’m nothing if not a woman of my word. What’s your poison of choice?”

He thought for a moment before deciding. “Whiskey.”

She whipped out her phone and checked their location. “Alright, the nearest liquor store back in town is closed for tonight so I’ll have to grab your victory drinks tomorrow. But there’s good news, the pizza place near the motel is still open.” She held her phone out towards him so he could see the menu. “Go ahead and pick the toppings.”

“You’re letting me choose?” He was confused seeing as she had just been very mad at him.

She rolled her eyes. “Standard protocol, the agent with the highest body count each mission picks the pizza. No sense breaking from tradition.”

He took the phone from her and selected his favourite combo, double pepperoni and bacon, before handing it back. He pulled the Sebring out of the brush and got on the road heading back towards the motel.

The ride back was quiet. Vig pulled up in front of the tiny, clearly family-run pizza place and she ducked inside to pick up their order before they made it back to the motel. Parking at the far end of the lot again, they headed inside their suite.

She placed the pizza down on the coffee table near the TV and loveseat before walking over to her bed. She grabbed a toiletries case and her pjs before heading to the bathroom.

"I'm just gonna hop in the shower, still feeling a little gross." She called out to Vigilante. He was in the middle of stripping off his armour pieces and gave her a thumbs-up before she closed the door.

The motel shower had zero water pressure and was way more cramped than she preferred but at least it was clean and had hot water. She didn't waste her time and made quick work of cleaning herself up.

She exited the bathroom, feeling refreshed and comfortably changed into her pjs. She realised she was absolutely starving and quickly walked over to the pizza box on the coffee table to grab a slice. She plopped down in the middle of the loveseat and took a huge bite, savouring the hot food. As she was chewing, she turned towards Vigilante and choked.

He was standing over his mattress packing up his gear, with his side turned towards her. That was normal. The reason she was currently coughing up pizza from her lungs was the fact that he was doing it shirtless.

The edge of his black mask contrasted sharply with his bare skin and drew her eyes down to his shoulders and arms. He was surprisingly bulky. Broad shoulders led into thick, toned biceps and down into muscular forearms, with those large hands she had tried to forget about earlier.

“Holy shit.”

She didn’t even realise she had said that out loud until he turned towards her. Her eyes widened as she was confronted with a full frontal view of his shirtless torso.

She couldn't help but take in the view, it was the first good look at him she'd gotten without his armour on. A spattering of freckles and various scars dotted his skin, decorating the expanse of his muscles. She couldn't help but trail her eyes across his pecs down his well-developed abs. A whisper of dark hair trailed into his waistband along the v-cut above his hips and she caught herself wondering what else he was hiding under his clothes.

Fuck.

"What was that?" He hadn't heard exactly what she'd said while he was turned around.

She tore her gaze away from him, trying to pretend she wasn't flustered as hell.

“Wh- why are you half-naked?” She managed to splutter out.

“You got blood on my shirt.”

"Oh. Right."

Her gaze slowly drifted back over his exposed chest. …and abs…and hips…

How the fuck did he manage to hide all those muscles under his suit?

“Are you okay? You have a weird look on your face." Vigilante was patiently looking at her, waiting for a response.

She was jolted back down to earth and tried desperately to fight the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. It was too hot." Her eyes widened at her unintended phrasing. "The pizza! The pizza was too hot, burnt my tongue. Got distracted. By the hot pizza!" She coughed into her hand and turned away from him to hide her embarrassment.

Real fucking smooth. You're here to work, not be a creep. Calm down.

"You should put your pyjamas on." She quickly added, "You know, so you won’t get cold.”

“Uh, okay. Sure.” He simply shrugged and walked over to his mattress.

When she worked up the nerve to look back at him, Vigilante had indeed put on his pyjamas. He was still standing near the beds, looking over at her.

"We can both sit here if you want, it's fine." She scooted over to make as much room for him as she could on the two-seater couch.

He came over and sat down then looked over at the pizza box. He hesitated for a moment but after a beat, he had made a decision. He rolled up his mask over his nose without turning away from her. She cautiously said nothing, not wanting to make him nervous. Instead, she took the chance to subtly examine the newly visible lower half of his face while he grabbed a piece of pizza.

Her eyes traced up the length of his thick neck and across his sharp, defined jaw. She noticed there was a hint of dark stubble across his chin and cheeks. She watched him lift a slice to his plush lips and she unconsciously bit her lip when his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

What was that about calming down?

She quickly glanced away, not wanting to be caught ogling him yet again. This was a job, he was a coworker. She needed to keep it professional.

After he had finished the piece of pizza in his hand, he turned toward her. "Hey, it's Fargo night. Do you mind if I put it on?"

She shrugged casually as he grabbed the remote and flipped to the right channel. "Go ahead. But what the fuck is Fargo?"

He froze reaching for another slice and gasped in shock that she didn’t know what Fargo was. She nearly regretted asking as soon as he launched into an overly animated retelling of the entire plot and each individual character. He was going to chat her ear off about this the entire night, wasn’t he?

Ah well, I guess he earned it for today.

She cut him some slack and smiled passively, feigning interest as he continued talking through the whole episode to explain it all for her. She didn’t want to let him know she wasn’t listening at all and was simply enjoying the excuse to steal glances at his mouth the whole time. Somewhere near the end of the night, his endless talking had lulled her to sleep.

Vigilante eventually noticed she had curled up on her side of the couch with her head on the armrest. He quietly turned off the television and grabbed a pillow and sheet from his bed. Careful not to wake her up, he tucked the pillow under her head and covered her with the blanket before climbing into his own bed and turning off the lights.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: These two are playing a game I like to call "awkward dance of the idiots", though I'm pretty sure shirtless Vigilante would melt anyone's brain lol. More slow burn, patience will definitely be rewarded soon I promise! Let me know what you think so far <3

[Read Next Chapter]

TAG LIST: @pretendfan @dallasvakarian @fatherdannydevito

#adrian chase #vigilante #adrian chase fanfiction #vigilante fanfiction #freddie stroma #peacemaker dcu #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #peacemaker fanfiction #adrian chase fic #vigilante fic #lysenfeu fics #pair of aces fic

70 notes · View notes

fandomanimatic-tournament · 3 months

Text

Fandom song animatic tournament: Bracket 1 Side B Round 3

It took me by Surprise - Maria Mena

"It took me by surprise The hatred in his eyes I've pushed this man as far as he could go But he lacked the words to let me know He acted out, now I can see it is my fault"

Left Brain, Right Brain - Bo Burnham

"I am the Left Brain, I am the Left Brain I work really hard until my inevitable death brain You've got a job to do, you better do it right And the right way is with the Left Brain's might"

Remember that we're voting on how Iconic they are for ANIMATICS, not for the song itself. In order to make things fair, the tone and mood of the song should not affect how iconic it is (for example, a serious song should not be considered more iconic than a joke song just because it's serious)

Propaganda and animatic links of the songs under the cut:

It took me by Surprise - Maria Mena

Propaganda:

It's a straight up bop, it's about realizing the effects of your shitty actions, trying to change them but because of your prior actions it's not enough, its about accountability and grey areas and it vaguely being too late. It also has a wide variety of uses. Canon? Villain au? Breakup au? A character who's development got screwed by canon gets development au?? And literally either perspective of the song could be in the wrong depending on how you play it?? It's got it all

Animatics with the song:

Aphmau Travlyn Animatic

Ace Attorney

Double Life

BNHA Villain Deku Animatic

Mystic Messenger

Left Brain, Right Brain - Bo Burnham

Propaganda:

every fandom literally every fandom has those two guys that perfectly encompass the left brain right brain dynamic and there are SOOO MANY ANIMATICS

Gave us the banger line "I like oreos and pussy" What more is there to discuss really

It's perfect for animatics. It breaks characters down into incredibly simple archetypes for a very common dynamic of "the serious one" and "the emotional one," meaning that pretty much any two characters can be fit in, even if they only vaguely matched the archetypes (especially considering that "the emotional one" and "the serious one" are very common ways fandom will oversimplify characters).

Animatics with the song:

The Owl House

Wilbur Soot and Tommy Animatic

Unus Annus

Steven Universe

Sanders Sides

Please be cautious and read the title, description and warning cards on the animatic videos if you decide to watch them. If you've got specific triggers I'd recommend even more caution when watching animatics of fandoms you don't know, since sometimes canon-typical themes don't get warnings.

#fandom animatic tournament #tumblr poll #tumblr tournament #tumblr tourney

10 notes · View notes

safely-in-vhagars-belly · 9 months

Text

Deliciously dark!Aemond x oc (SnowFalls) CHAPTER 3:SNOW DRIFTS

CONCEPT: You have become Aemonds spoils of war and his wife after he killed everyone at your home. Now he will try to gain more allies for his brother's cause, and one of your eldest enemies returns.

WARNINGS: Dubcon, non-con, graphic descriptions of sex, violence, smut, rough sex, dom/sub themes, humilation, spankings, torture, abuse, mentions of cheating, heartbreak and other tragedies.

You slept but barely. The nightmares haunted you all night. The biggest nightmare is already gone when you awake in a room that is not yours. You turn on your belly and feel a rough kick between your legs. Your muscles hurt. You groan and quickly look and there is dried blood on the spots where you were sleeping.

No wonder he left. You get out of bed and try to put on your ripped clothes. It doesn't fit anymore. Only your wedding cloak does. You wrap it around you, shielding your body.

You walk through the door and into the next area where your brother used to receive guests. There is a stern-looking woman sitting on the couch. She eyes you and your cloak. You understand right away Aemond put her there. She gets up perfectly still and moves over. Judging you.

You don't like her right away. 'So you're the new princess. I am lady Maeridth.' You don't care. You were hurt by your husband, spanked and fucked sore and your family is dead. Who cares about this lady?

Yet you introduce yourself. Very softly. 'Willa WyldeWoods.' She shakes her head and clicks her tongue.

'Willa Targaryen. You have taken your husband's name. As is custom.' You would never have taken it voluntarily. You were forced to become his wife.

You feel insulted and hurt that she makes it sound like you choose it. 'I didn't take anything.'

She ignores your outburst. 'Shall we go back inside the room? I'm afraid there are some unpleasant measures I need to do.'

You follow her uneasily to go back to the room. You see her inspect the linen. 'Very good. That is a sign of a wonderfully consummated marriage.' She is delighted at your bloody spot.

You want to hit her. She turns to you. 'Show me your body.'

You freeze clutching the cloak tighter. 'W-what?'

She sighs. 'I need to see if I need some poppy milk for you or if you'll do fine without it. You are limping and in pain. Show me how bad it is.' You drop your cloak.

She inspects your nipples and your neck. There are some fresh bite marks here and there. You didn't even notice he bit you. She spreads your legs and it hurts before she even has touched you. She gently feels the irritated sensitive and tired-out skin.

You confess to her. 'He kept going. He didn't care I was crying. He didn't care I was tired.' You recall it that way.

She laughs at that. You come close to hitting her. 'If he won't care now, he won't care in the future. See this as a victory. You know who he is now.' A beast. An animal and a raper. He didn't care you were a maiden. It didn't matter at all.

'A monster.' You groan.

She gives you a warning glare. 'You can never say such things if anyone is with us. You are a princess now but you'll never be a Targaryen. You are disposable and they already have what they needed from you. Only Aemond saved you.' You realise that.

The door is opened and your husband enters. The lady bows for him and you minick her. You want to run away and hide. He just smiles at you. It's enough to make you want to curl up somewhere and cry. You should've fought more. You should've fought harder. You feel shame and disgust.

The cloak still covers your body. 'My beautiful wife. Finally awake? You slept deeply.' You want to make a mean comment but keep silent.

The lady scurries off like a rat in the Harbor. You keep ignoring him. 'Oh. I see. Someone is a little upset. Don't even try to blame me, you were wet and enjoying yourself too.' He grits out.

You do blame him. He rips the cloak from your body. You shiver. 'Please, husband. I am cold. Give me my cloak.' You beg. The North is unforgiven. Even he is dressed for the cold.

He walks away from you. He goes to what remains of your dress. 'Do you still have dresses here? You can't walk around with just a cloak covering up that body. That would be too tempting for my guards to resist.' You think of the two guards. How they raped that girl. And dozens of others.

You hope he is trying to scare you. 'Surely they are loyal enough-' he raises his hand and it's all he needs to do to get you quiet as a mouse.

He continues where he left off. 'They are killers and men. Never assume we won't take easy prey. We will.' You shiver at those words.

You defend yourself. You feel insulted. You are not meek. You are not weak. You are strong.'I am not easy prey.'

He laughs. 'You were an easy little conquest for me. I put more effort into putting my eye in. You are only alive because I allow you to be. Don't forget that the next time you're supposed to be pleasing me.' He remarks coldly and you feel your smile vanish and make place for terror and fear.

You quickly begin to apologise. You are ashamed that he thinks you did your job poorly. You didn't know much. 'I was just a maiden I didn't know-' you try.

He leans in and shushes you. 'That sounds like a you problem. Get educated. It won't be long before I want that Northen savage cunt again.' You never liked people calling you that.

You growl but still stutter. 'I-im not a savage. I don't fuck my family or ride a dragon.' You bite out.

He chuckles dangerously. 'Take it off or I'll rip it off.' He warns when getting closer.

He waits before deciding to get rid of your cloak himself. He grabs your wrists and pins you to the side of the bed and sighs deeply when humming and getting his belt off.

You scream and cry like a pig that's being slaughtered. You shake your head at him, instantly regretting it. Especially when he turns you and touches your behind. You whimper. 'No! No..' You softly beg.

He grins before kissing your neck. Sucking it.'I take it you've never been fucked in your ass before? It's very common under savages.' You can't tell if he's joking.

You try to save what can be saved. 'Y-you are not a savage. I am. My family was worthless and you are so good for me please don't...' the rest is just you wailing and crying.

He listens to it, pleased. He roughly rubs your folds and old blood sticks to his fingers. 'I am, aren't I? I'm such a good husband to you. I fuck your pretty pussy. I gift you nice things and I let you rest after fucking you into sleep yesterday. It is not unheard of that a wife gets woken up or that she is even hit if she falls asleep on the job.' You look anywhere but his eye.

You remind him kindly that you don't do punishment. 'I do not respond well to physical punishment. Daddy didn't spank me. Mommy didn't either and-'

He smiles. 'O, I have faith you'll pick it up eventually. I'm patient.' You try to speak sense into him.

'I don't want to become scared. You are supposed to be my husband and my protector. I-'

'Hush. I want your ass in a gown and I want you downstairs in the hall shortly. Am I clear?' You give up and nod.

'Yes...'

He pets your head. 'Good girl. Put on something pretty hm? I liked the gown you wore the other day.' He says before getting up and marching out of the room.

--- Servants clean the blood away. Bodies are carried downstairs and sometimes heads roll through the hall when someone drops them.

Your husband waits in the hall with his mother, brother and grandfather. You don't give them the satisfaction of a glance.

Aemond kisses your cheek and you avoid eye contact with any other Targaryen. Two guards are busy putting heads on the gates and you watch the heads get smashed in so they can properly put the stake in it.

You think of the Starks. Maybe they will save you. But they need to be quick. 'Edric Duskwoods wrote us.' You heard of the DuskWoods. They are friends of the Stark and helped fight the Boltons. You wonder what Edric wants.

'Who?' Aemond asks, tilting his head a bit. He almost looks cute when doing it.

Otto Hightower glares at you. You don't like it. You didn't do anything. You nervously touch your hair.

'Her betrothed.' The former queen says. Your eyes widen as you glance between her, Otto and finally back to Aemond.

Your mouth opens and closes uttering words but no sound comes out. You are betrothed. You didn't know.

Aemond sighs. 'You didn't tell me you were engaged.' He says, and you hear some jealousy in his voice.

You are quick to blurt out. 'B-because I wasn't! Mommy or daddy must have had a hand in it. The word must have reached The Willowswood that they died.' They somehow send the DuskWoods a raven. Somehow.

You realise that was not possible. Someone else did it for you. Someone else in this castle.

Aegon grins. 'Bring the cunt in. Let's see what he wants and what he brings. Maybe he wants to offer me a Northern bitch as Well.'

The doors are opened and you stop pulling your nails. Edric enters and he is even more handsome than you remembered. He is 21 summers you are 20.

Edric doesn't bow. He struts in and walks to the Hightowers. Aemond pushes you behind him, keeping his hand firmly on your shoulder. 'Dragonstealer and One-eyed Kinslayer. Shall we add wife-stealer to the list of your nicknames?' Edric asks, and you admire his courage.

Aemond doesn't even blink. Come to think of it; He does that rarely anyway. 'Why not. I quite like that one.' His brother laughs and the two of them advance on Edric.

You whimper softly. 'What are you doing here?' You ask him. 'It's dangerous here.'

He smiles sweetly at you. You feel a blush creep up and quickly hide it. Aemond notices it and pushes you even closer to him, glaring at you.

Edric presents a beautiful handwoven necklace to you. 'Lady Wyldewoods. I'm so sorry we didn't get a chance to meet earlier. This could all be prevented. I'm sorry that monster took your innocence-' You don't agree but you surely don't disagree.

'This monster was being encouraged and begged to fuck your little lady. She fucked me back.' Aemond says. He doesn't care how embarrassed you'll get or how much shame you feel.

Edric scoffs. 'Like she had much of a choice. I want back my wife, you thief. Hand her or lose your other eye.'

Aemond reaches for his sword. Edric does the same. 'Stop! Edric. We can be allies. Surely you can find a way to support your new king?' Otto asks.

Edric frowns like he just got hit by a pan. 'You want me to support the man that stole my wife?' He asks. 'Things work differently in the North. Not all our loyalty can be bought.'

Edric shakes his head and walks out of the castle. Leaving you behind. Aemond chuckles victoriously and forces his lips on your ear. He gently sucks your lobe and you sniffle in his arms.

Another visitor enters. Unannounced. You notice the black burning raven banner and nearly piss yourself. You clamp to Aemond and quickly whisper. 'That house is our biggest enemy. What are the Warths doing here?'

Aemond smiles at you 'I invited them. We need their support too.' He says. You feel nervous and uneasy. You follow your husband around like a puppy, scared he'll leave you and you'll be defenceless.

Dorren greets Aemond before he smiles at you like he can peck your eyes out one by one. You force yourself to make a little curtsy and want to disappear again. Aemond grabs your arm and drags you like a conquest to his side.

Dorren's dark blue eyes go over your body approvingly before he looks at the king. He bows before Aegon. 'My king. How may I, a humble servant, serve you?' He asks lowly and mockingly.

Aegon seems amused by that and laughs before helping him up. The two of them do a side hug and Aegon demands your servants to bring in the good wine. 'Have you met my wife yet? Lady Willa Targaryen. She grew up within these walls.' Aemond tries to steal back the attention by a desperate attempt at starting an argument or drama.

Dorren gasps dramatically. 'Willa,' He says like he is Tasting your name. 'That can't possibly be the little WyldeWoods bitch they kept hidden in here?' He put down the cup Aegon handed in and takes you properly, even walking a circle around you.

You follow him, anxious he will pull out a dagger or another weapon. When he is done he grins scoffing. 'Well, I know a WyldeWoods bitch when I see one. Good luck with her, my Prince. WyldeWoods women are .. intense.'

Aemond smiles and strokes your cheek gently. 'They sure fuck that way.'

They both laugh and you turn your head away, playing with a ribbon on your dress.'Can I go back to my rooms?' You ask your husband.

Aemond shakes his head. 'No, come. I need someone to keep our wine coming.' He says when Dorren and Aegon sit down in the seating area that was once your father's.

You don't even want to go near Dorren when he is sober let alone drunk. 'There are servants for that.' You grit out.

Aemond's eyebrows raise at your challenge and you feel fear and something unknown take over. Dorren smirks. 'Oh, so entitled too. You are so spoiled.' He says delightedly.

He continues fantasying. 'If you were mine, you'd be whipped by now, little brat.' You gulp.

'I'm Aemonds. Not yours. Thank the old gods and the new for that.' You bit out.

You are grabbed roughly and your husband forces your chin up so he glare at you properly. 'Don't make me bare your ass and spank you here in public, little fox. Fill our cups, your remarks are not needed.' You obey, taking the cups and fill them with wine.

Dorren laughs subtly when you fill his cup as well, obeying your husband loyally and faithfully. Aemond doesn't even thank you. He just grins and snaps his fingers, pointing to his chair. You come over and prepare yourself to sit on his lap.

'Tell me, my king. My Prince. Is the North to your liking?' You already hate his slimy way of talking with Aegon and Aemond.

Aemond crosses his legs so you can't sit down on him and gives a subtle. You stand, next to him like a house servant. You never felt more shame and himulation. Tears threaten to fall but you keep strong. 'It's very beautiful and the scenery is quite complex and diverse-' Aemonds description is roughly interrupted.

'It's a frozen shithole wasteland, there are barely any good women here to fuck and most of them have covers of clothing you need to rip off first.' Aegon finishes.

Dorren ignores that comment. 'The women are...rare. Most of the houses are traditional and centuries old. They are wary of Targaryens. Most of the kingdom forgets...But the North? It remembers.' You stand a long time and soon your legs start to hurt.

You whisper to Aemond. 'May I sit, or be excused? My knees hurt.'

He just grins. 'What's stopping you from sitting on the ground?' The Cold ground. The floor. Like his pet, sitting by his side and being vulnerable to him.

'M-my dignity.' You whisper.

Aemond chuckles and you already know you won't like his answer. 'My sweet; you were fucked brutally by a man you'd only known for a few hours. You were wet and encouraging me to fuck you, every servant heard your cries when I made you come. What dignity are you speaking of? You have none.' He finishes brutally.

You feel tears fall and you bow your head. He takes your hand. 'On your knees, for me.' You obey, sinking to your knees.

He is not pleased and roughly spanks you. You cry out much to Dorrens delight. Aemond sighs before playing with your braided hair. 'No; silly girl. On all fours. Like when I fuck you. Surely you remember that?' He asks. 'Or do you need a quick reminder?' You whimper.

You swallow your pride, and kneel fully. Aemond grins. 'Just how I like them. Broken.'

Dorren is a little too invested in you. He likes to hear your soft whimpers and likes the sight of you crying. You just know he loves you being miserable. 'Does she behave in the bedroom? Or is she a naughty brat there too?' He is a little too interested.

Aemond grins, he doesn't seen to mind these personally questions. 'She is very submissive to me. She knows when she has met her match. She sometimes fights a bit but its nothing I can't handle.'

You are sometimes touched or petted briefly. You feel hollow and empty like a bottle without liquid. You are just his toy.

Most of the conversation goes by without you even noticing it. You are busy keeping your head up; despite it being lowered. You are busy fighting the urge to scream and to cry and to just crawl away in a corner.

At some point, Aegon takes Dorren to see his dragon. You and Aemond remain. You are grabbed by your hand and pulled to him. He places your chin on his knee and pets your hair. 'Were you paying any attention to our negotiations?' You shake your head, at loss for words.

'I-i didn't realise it was requested of me.' You'll be in trouble now. You didn't even remember half of what they talked about. Was it about the armies that he wants to know? Or maybe he'd like to know about how long the alliance will take? It won't matter anyway because you don't have the correct answer and that means that you are getting hurt. Again.

He scoffs softly tracing his fingers over the pattern that your tears left on your cheeks. 'It wasn't. I do have a few favours to ask. Come.' He stands up and you follow his example.

'Yes?' You ask.

He sighs and curses. You tense up and look for help. But the loyal guards are all gone. And the new ones won't ever help you. 'You know close I am to just taking you right here?'

You freeze up. There are still servants. There are still guards. People that used to look up to you. 'And no one would bat an eye at it. I am your husband. I can fuck you wherever I damn well please. If that means in the living room, in front of our guests and servants: so be it.' He says coldly.

He looks at the paintings on the walls. Your entire history is there. 'Your ancestors would understand. I am the conqueror, you are my conquest.'

Aegon and Dorren return, looking close as thieves. Friends forever and all that. You feel worried before they even returned.

Aegon smacks his hands together and grins .' We made a wonderful agreement. He agreed to let us have about half his armies and some of the Boltons.'

Aemonds eyebrows raise and there is approval but also something else. Jealously. 'How did you manage that?'

Aegon leans in and whispers something in his brothers ear. Aemond pales but nods. 'My lady wife is not in the mood for it. There is blood everywhere on her body. She is a bit messy.' You start to catch on.

Your heart drops and shatters. Your legs are ready to run. Your breath is fast and you look around panicking.

Dorren shrugs with a smile. 'I am used to my bitches bleeding when I fuck them.' Them. You. He wants you. You were promised in exchange for troops.

You stutter. 'N-no. I can't. He is my enemy.'

Aegon gives you a warning glare. 'You'll survive this. We want our armies, little girl. You already are a whore what's the problem?' Something snaps and before you have realised what you've done you've hit the king across his stupid face.

'I am not a whore!' You scream. Aemond stalks up very fast behind you and before you can act he has grabbed you and smacks you so hard across your face that it leaves a red mark and causes you to fall to your knees.

You sob. You don't want this. You are scared.

Aemond stands in front of you, kicking you with his feet to get you to look up. 'Never speak that way to my brother again, wife. Go prepare yourself. You reek of Cum and blood. He will want a proper toy.'

--- You are wearing another revealing gown. Aemond and Aegon are not far from you and escort you to the bedroom you were previously sleeping in.

'I will never forgive you this.' You promise Aemond. He doesn't speak. He just ignores you.

Aegon turns you before whispering in your ear. 'Get in there and fuck him good. We want his armies.' He smacks your behind.

You are so scared.

'I am your wife!' You cry out. 'I thought I meant something to you! Is this why I obeyed you blindly?!'

He tenses up. He shrugs. 'I can always get a new one. You don't matter to me. You're just a quick fuck to kill my time with. Get in there, whore.' You are pushed and stumble into the room.

The second you are in, they lock the door leaving you alone with Dorren.

Dorren smiles when he sees your gown. You sink to the floors, clutching your knees and start to cry. 'I haven't even touched you yet. That Targaryen didn't please you, did he?' He sinks to his knees and touches your face gently.

'You know what I think, little Willa?' He adds.

'N-no?' You mutter.

He lifts your chin. 'That he doesn't appreciate what he has. That he doesn't love you the way I would love you. That annoying silver-haired cunt doesn't know shit about your needs as a Northern woman.' Your needs. Some things you'd enjoy but if you could just get Aemond to pleasure you differently it would help. Make it tolerable.

'What are my needs?' You whisper.

'Have you ever been held down?' He suggests. You think back to your first time. 'I ...I was forced to kneel.' You still feel his grip on your legs pushing and pulling you on his body. 'And to...to lick his...'

He sighs. 'You are my enemy. A WyldeWoods.'

He adds before removing his hand. 'But you are also just a girl. You could've been my sister. I wouldn't want this happening to my sister. Or any girl.'

You don't understand. 'Yet you are fine with accepting me as your price. To do the same thing he did.' You remark coldly.

He sits. 'I came to warn you. We are supposed to stay far away from the flames of Valyria as Northern folk. You included.' He says.

'You don't know what your actions can inflict in the future.' You whisper

You don't trust him. You think it's a trap to get your guard down. So you keep aware and keep your distance. Even when the Targaryens are let in.

Aemond and Aegon enter. They see you sit still untouched with your hair pretty and your gown on. You see the veins in Aegons neck nearly snap.

Aegon eyes you a little more collected than Aemond but his temper is far worse. 'You little whore-' You scream and whimper when he grabs you. 'You think yourself too good for this, hm?' He asks, and even picks a dagger from his belt. You whimper as the cold metal touches your skin.

Dorren sighs. 'Let her be! 'She didn't resist. I am not in the mood that's all. You'll get your armies. Don't worry about that.' He promises quickly. 'Let the girl be. She did nothing wrong.' Aegon walks off with Dorren, still discussing the new arrangement.

You feel your hair stand up and cower when you are once again alone with Aemond in the same room you consummated your marriage in. 'You regretted sending me here, didn't you?' You ask.

He doesn't say anything but does come closer. 'You're right. I regretted it the moment I sent you away.' He says and touches your face lovingly. You feel very loved and special at that moment.

Until he grins and laughs at you. You lower your head and understand he was being sarcastic. Your gown is pulled up, exposing your behind.

You are pushed onto the bed. You feel his warm hands touch your behind, and you feel a soft teasing squeeze.

Part of you has already figured out you are about to be touched. 'W-what is happening?' You ask confused.

Aemonds lips curl into a smirk as he touches your naked back, unhooking your dress so it falls down, baring you naked. You feel vulnerable. 'If Dorren won't enjoy you, I will.' Your head is pushed down gently, and he grabs a spare pillow so your head can rest a bit.

He is busy taking off his clothing. You turn around to face him. You watch him take off his coat and his leather vest. Beneath it all is an impressive chest with muscles that still look healthy to you. You realise you are watching him strip and quickly turn your head away. 'Dorren said something.' You start this conversation with sweating hands and little confidence.

'Hm.' Is his response.

He is not very talkative. Sadly, you are. Especially when you are nervous like now. 'He said that I as a northen woman have needs you as a southern man might not understand.' You try to guess his reaction, but his face remains expressionless. He only blinks sometimes and takes off his belt.

'Hm.' He says again before dropping his pants to the floor, kicking them off his feet. You watch. You fear him, but your curiosity is much stronger than whatever fear you feel. He stalks over to you, naked.

You are gently pushed to lay again, your head and body away from his face. You know its now ot never. 'And he also suggested something. I want to try it, if I have your consent and permission.' You blurt out too quickly. He just glares at you before removing his eyepatch. You gawk at the giant scar and politely turn your gaze away from it.

He laughs, scoffing, and forces your chin up. 'You talk a lot. Don't tell me I need to invest in some gags?'

You feel your courage die off again and are pushed onto the bed. His hands enter your body, and you are stimulated again. He won't take you dry. That's something, at least.

You try to picture things that make you happy and feel safe, but all you can think about is his body and how it will slam inside you soon. Your muscles around your pussy tighten and you feel a familiar wetness grow alongside a too familiar hunger.

Aemond doesn't say anything but stops pleasuring you. Your hands are grabbed, and you are forced to please your husband with your hand. You don't mind it but won't look at it. He wants to shove it in you again.

You roll on your back, facing him. He grabs your arm and forces you to kneel again. You break free of his grip and try to get him to understand you. He has no respect for that, however. 'No, bad girl.' He scolds, and eventually, he wins. He is much stronger, and you are forced to comply.

'Wait... I want you to be on top of me.' You admit. His good eye narrows. 'I'd like that very much.' You add with a whisper. 'As if we are regular man and wife.' 'Just us making love.' You finish.

Something changes. He leans in and touches your face gently. You pout your lips ready for his kiss...

Instead, you feel two strong hands wrap around your throat, nearly choking the life out of you. You try to get him off you.

You cry out when he releases you. 'You're funny. You are mine, little fox. I will have you how I want. Will you get into position, or do you need a spanking?' You obey, kneeling when tears stream down your face and sobs rock your body.

He rubs your back, trying to calm you down. He adds softly whispering. 'And I don't make love, I fuck. I sure as hell don't love you. Am I understood?' You feel stupid for thinking this would be different.

You hide another soft sob. 'Yes, my Prince.'

He seems that as your consent and forces you down with your head into the pillow. You feel him climb the bed and hear it cracking. You softly whisper your ritualistic prayer and pray to the old golds and the new gods.

''Are you praying?' He asks, still not inside you. He sounds surprised.

'I am.' You admit. You don't know why. You won't be saved.

He laughs. 'Like your old tree gods can help you now. If you'd like to pray, pray to me. I am your God now.' He shoves himself inside with a grunt, and you are stuffed up.

'Please be gentle.' You beg.

There is a smack on your behind, and you do not like the pain. 'You wouldn't like it gentle. You like it rough and dirty. You are a filthy little whore.' You don't like his harsh words and his insults.

'I would appreciate a softer approach.' You tell him hoping he understands it.

He just laughs. 'You have little to appreciate and even less to want.'

The fucking intensifies when you shut up. Sometimes you moan or whimper in pain out loud. Once you notice you are doing it, you instantly stop.

There is a sharp pain as he goes even deeper roughly scratching you out and impaling you. You groan. 'Argh.'

You force yourself silent for the other trusts. 'Don't be silent, little wife. Keep your grunts and moans coming.' He likes hearing it.

You moan on purpose, but it sounds very fake. 'Don't overdo it.' Is his cold remark. You feel ashamed.

'Yes, my Prince.' You mutter.

You groan and tighten your grip as his body slams against yours roughly claiming you on the spot. You feel your whole body shake on the cracking bed. He uses your hair to control and steer you.

He takes you so hard and brutally that you are worried about permanent damage. With a grunt, he injects himself in you. You relax, knowing the worst has passed. Unlike last time, there is no pleasure for you.

He gets up and walks to the bathroom, leaving you to gather your thoughts.

You roll your hips to your fingers, pretending it's Edric fucking you. But soon your mind wanders and it's Aemond who fucks you in your daydream. Not Edric. You try to force him out but it doesn't work. You imagine him spanking you roughly, pushing you under him and pinning you down when you beg him for more. He is rough and your needs only raise and raise.

You feel like you've hit a limit and softly rub yourself a bit harder.

There is a harsh smack on your exposed legs and you scream opening your eyes. Your husband eyes you.

He leans in close. 'Come here then, little greedy fox.' You obey and are grabbed and shoved on your back again. This time you get it even more painful. Black spots dominate your vision as you try to keep from moaning but it's no use. It is too good. You finish much faster than he did.

You seek comfort in his arms. You snuggle up to him and happy smile. 'What are you doing?' He asks, confused.

You smile but your smile dies when you notice his glare. 'I cuddle with you-' You are interrupted and pushed off.

'I don't want cuddles.' He groans out.

'O,' you say like a silly goose. 'I-I see..' You hope that is the end of it but its not. He lectures you on his boundaries and you feel horrible for breaking them. You just wanted some affection and kindness from him.

He even sits up to do so. 'We are not in a romantic or social relationship. Our marriage is convenient. Nothing more. I don't want cuddles. I want heirs.' He says clearly.

'O-of course. I didn't see it any different.' You lie to yourself and to him. You don't want to admit that you did think a loveable marriage was possible. One filled with love and joy.

He scoffs. 'Lying is your worst skill. You suck at it.'

You don't take effort to respond. 'Will I be allowed to find happiness elsewhere?'

He freezes before tensing up. 'Are you asking me if you can fuck other men?' You know it's not unheard of.

You nod weakly. 'I-i mean...Eventually. I want someone to love me, eventually. After I've known him for a while and he has your approval as well as mine I might share the bed with him.' You explain your plan and it sounds very reasonable in your head.

Until Aemond groans and grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you to him. You cry out confused and scared and are pushed over his legs. You already know what's next and whimper before he has hit you.

'Ow! Ow stop! Stop it!' You cry out as he smacks your ass. You break down in tears. 'I'm sorry!'

He grins feeling your breasts pinching your nipples. 'Such a little slut. You are lucky I fucked you two times tonight. But maybe my wife needs one final fucking to make sure she understands it fully.' You shake your head but it's already too late. He sinks in deeply.

24 notes · View notes