#i don't understand why they changed it =_=

[rainydayathogwarts]

Curtain call - Spencer Reid

Summary: You're an actress. Opening night of the show, a cast member is killed. FBI finds out you were the real target... Warnings: mentions of blood, a kiss 2k wc

Adrenaline rushes through you as you run through the wings, catching your breath as you made your way across the backstage. You had just about a minute until you had to be on stage once more, the big number now coming to its end. Rushing into the costume room, you barely acknowledge the one thing obviously wrong with the messy space until you reach for your next costume on the rack, moving all other clothes aside to find it. There’s something inappropriate about your outfit. One, there isn’t supposed to be any blood on it yet there it is, a bloody handprint, running all the way to the bottom of your dress. That’s when your eyes trail down to the bottom of the clothing rack, where you get a clear look of the body lying underneath the row of clothes. Blood was soaking through her entire costume and her skin was turning blue. It’s only when someone runs into the changing room at risk of missing your cue that you hear a gut-wrenching scream. Later, you’d be told that it had come from you. 

Being called into the theatre the next day for “mandatory debriefing” was not what you had expected after such a traumatic experience, but you came in nonetheless, afraid of losing the job after the scene you had caused the night before. After screaming bloody-murder, half the cast ran into the changing rooms to find you hysterically crying over your cast mate’s body, holding her cold hand. The audience had been scared half to death, and after the authorities made it onto the scene, everyone was evacuated out of the theatre. By finding her body, you had cost everyone a night of the show. 

But once you got to the theatre, angry yellow tape cutting off access to the public, you were approached by a handsome man with a serious face and confident posture, offering you his hand even as he walked towards you. “Miss L/N? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Agent Morgan with the FBI, and this is Dr. Reid. We just have a few questions we would like you to answer for us.” Agent Morgan had been a very kind man, who told you every formality that was written in the book, however the man he had introduced to you as Dr. Reid caught your attention in a way you weren’t aware would be good or bad. Dr. Reid stayed silent as Agent Morgan questioned you, deeply staring at you as you answered all that was thrown at you, shooting you quizzical looks every now and then and glancing down at your fidgety hands. 

“Thank you so much for all this Miss L/N, that’s all our questions.” As Agent Morgan began to stand, Dr. Reid looked up at you, “Actually, I do have a few more if you don’t mind.” Agent Morgan shot his partner a confused look, slowly backing down into his seat once more. “Do you know why Evelyn was in the costume room when she was? With my limited understanding of the play, I was under the impression that her character didn’t have any costume changes up to the point you had gotten to before she was killed.” And then those that followed:

“Was anyone other than you supposed to be in the changing rooms at that moment?”

“Is there anyone in the cast who has taken a specific liking or dislike towards you?” 

“Can you remember any specific encounters with anyone as you were going in or out of the theatre?”

“Have you received any eye catching letters from fans recently?” 

Finally, Dr. Reid’s prying had gotten you somewhere, leaving you more terrified than ever, with Agent Morgan reassuring you “It’s just a theory that Dr. Reid has, so we’re only taking precaution. There’s nothing to worry about just yet.” The two agents drove you back to your place where you led them to the curse fan-letter drawer in your study. "I don't usually read them because there are so many." You admitted, crossing your arms tightly over your torso, observing as the doctor starting frantically pulling letters out of the tidied drawer, eyes briefly scanning the name on the front of each envelope. He threw several to the side, dropping the rest onto the floor after reading the name until nearly ten minutes later, all the letters laid on the floor.

Dr. Reid scrambled to gather the letters he had tossed to the side, standing up hurriedly. You stared at the pile in his hands, glancing back up at the two men for an explanation. "These are all sent from the same person. I'd like to read them and see if analyse the language used. I think one of us should stay here with you for the mean time." You nodded at Dr. Reid's words, briefly looking over to his partner for confirmation. "I think Reid should stay here as he looks over the letters." He moved his attention from you to Dr. Reid "You can ask her any questions you might have and it'll be good protection." The partners nodded to each other and immediately, Agent Morgan exited the room.

Dr. Reid's hand came up before hesitantly placing it on your shoulder. "Do you mind if I get settled here? Ask some questions?" You shook your head silently before asking "Um, since you'll be here awhile, can I get you something? Coffee?" Dr. Reid nodded, muttering a quiet "That would be lovely." You don't know what it was: maybe the fact that he was here to protect to or trying to save your life, but felt your heart beat in your chest aggressively, as though trying to break through your skin. You brought him coffee, sugar and packets of cream on the side just in case and watched in awe as he emptied out the small cup of sugar. Sweet, just like him.

"Dr. Reid-" "Spencer. Please." You nodded, scooting your chair closer to him as he took a sip of coffee. "Did I make a mistake by not reading these?" The envelopes made loud unfolding noises every time he pulled a letter out of a different one, and he shook his head. "No. I know I wouldn't open so many of these and I have an IQ of 187." You grinned, your chest bubbling with a giggle. Spencer perked up at the sound of your laughter, smiling gently at you. He wasn't trying to joke around, but he was happy to lift up your mood. He studied all the letters laid out in front of him, and immediately noticed a pattern.

'02.02.18, I saw you in Oliver! today, you make an amazing Nancy.'

'14.02.18, I watched you in Oliver! again. You somehow get better the more I see you on stage.'

'07.03.18 I loved you today in the show. I watched the evening show. Did you see me too?'

'17.03.18 I saw your show again. I can be your Bill Sykes if you'd let me."

'11.04.18 I've been waiting anxiously to see you again since Oliver stopped touring. You make a wonderful Veronica.'

'15.04.18 We can be Seventeen together! Let me be your JD.'

"This isn't good." Without any further explanation, he pulled his phone out, dialling a number. "He's using obsessive language and saw her in Oliver! and Heathers, both of which have abusive partners who either kill or try to kill who Y/N's playing. You need to go visit his address right now." Coincidentally, just as he hangs up the phone, your doorbell rings. Your blood runs cold and you stand up instantly, but Spencer steps in front of you, blocking you from going anywhere. "Stay behind me, but stay close." He mutters, pulling his gun from his hostler. Spencer watches you closely, and the profiler in him notices how your breath begins to speed up and your eyes glaze with tears.

One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and he whispers "Breathe. I'm right here so no one's going to hurt you, okay?" You nod, staying as close as you can to him without touching him until you get to the front door. He peeks through the peephole and his shoulders drop as an "Oh." Escapes him. He opens and closes the door faster than you can register, now holding another letter in his hand, identical to all the ones scattered on your desk.

Six words are written on the letter when Spencer opens him, and his face pales. It was meant to be you. Spencer grabs your hand, dragging you back into your study - the one room in your house with no windows. He locks the door, pressing numbers on his phone again before it's against his ear. "It's definitely him, he just sent another letter. We're in her study but he might be around the premises or returning to his house. I don't plan on getting her out of the study until you get him." The second the words leave his mouth you're processing them, and tears are welling in your eyes once more.

The sound of sniffling gets his attention back to you and his hands are gently coming up to your shoulders, leading you to sit down in a chair. "I'm scared." You whisper helplessly, looking up at the doctor. He crouches down to your level, and hand on your knee. "Hey, what did I say before?" He looks at you intently waiting for an answer. "No one's gonna hurt me." Spencer nods, a soft smile gracing his features. "Yes, exactly. No one's going to hurt you. I have an excellent team looking for that son of a bitch as we speak and I am right here with you."

You nod, not entirely convinced, which he can apparently tell, so he continues with "Come on, look at these muscles. You think anyone will get to you when I have these babies?" His tongue pokes out slightly as he flexes his arms, which are actually more toned than you realise. You laugh again and feel yourself launching your body at him before you can stop yourself, pulling him into a tight hug. He hesitates, but eventually, his arms are pulling you even closer to him, one hand rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. You break the hug, but before you can help yourself, you realise you're leaning into him, pressing your lips against his in a passionate kiss. To your surprise he immediately returns the kiss, his hands cupping your face as he deepens the kiss.

He's panting when he pulls away from you, whispering "This is unprofessional. I'm sorry, I like you, I do, but I shouldn't." Cocking your head to the side, you can't help but smile slightly. "It's only unprofessional for one of us so technically it's not unprofessional at all." His face twists in confusion as he tries processing your words. "That's not how it wo-mmph." the rest of his words are muffled by the second kiss you give him, which you feel him melting into as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. "After- after the case. After the case, I'll take you on a date." His face falls at his own words, his face reddening in embarrassment. "That is- I mean that's only if you want. I wouldn't take you on a date if you didn't want to, that's totally fine."

The door to the study slams open just as he finishes rambling and you scream in fear, tightly gripping Spencer's hand and turning around expecting to find a middle aged balding creep, only to find a much sexier bald man, putting his gun back in his hostler. "Did you not hear us screaming for you? We thought he might have gotten to you before we found him. Ms. L/N, you're safe, we found him." Agent Morgan's gaze slowly trails to where your hand tightly grips Spencer's, and when he sees the flush on Spencer's face he makes a "Huh" noise, before walking out of the room once more.

taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist

#spencer reid x you #rainydayathogwarts #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminalminds #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #derek morgan

[harunayuuka2060]

Twst Unveil Event Part 6

Philomela: You want to change the location you've chosen?

Silver: Yes. If it is possible.

Philomela: Hmm... I would've granted your request; however, you're up next. It would be difficult for me to make last minute changes.

Silver: But... Didn't you say that it isn't a problem to you?

Philomela: ...

Philomela: *laughs*

Philomela: Clever kid! Alright! Let me hear your reason first!

Silver: ...

Silver: I realized that the location I've chosen is nothing compared to what Sebek and Floyd had chosen.

Philomela: Hm? You think that Enchanted Garden is nothing?

Silver: Huh?

Philomela: Listen here, Silver.

Philomela: It might seem that it doesn't pose any threat, but trust me. That garden is one of the places you should never underestimate.

Silver: ...

Philomela: Still, if you really want to change it, then I'll have to respect it.

Silver: ...

Silver: No, it's fine. I'm sticking to my chosen location.

Philomela: *smiles* Good.

Leona: Yuurin!

Yuurin: Leona-senpai?

Leona: What was that, huh?!

Yuurin: ...

Ruggie and Jack: ...

Leona: *looks pissed*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I won the second match, Leona-senpai.

Leona: Yeah, congrats. But that's not the point!

Ruggie: Shishishi!

Malleus, Sebek, Epel, Floyd, and Jade: ...

Epel: Is Leona here to scold him or what?

Jade: He must've been worried.

Floyd: Eeeehhh~ So Sea Lion is here for me too~?

Sebek: It might be! Because you attempted to drown Yuurin!

Floyd: Hehe~ You're just jealous that our match was more exciting than yours~.

Sebek: WHAT DID YOU SAY?!

Malleus: Sebek, calm down.

Sebek: Krk... Yes, Waka-sama...

Epel: *sigh*

Yuurin: *has introduced Leona to Philomela*

Philomela: Ah, you look strong! You should join our wrestling competition next time!

Leona: No, thank you. I'm too lazy for that.

Yuurin: Philomela, can I ask you to prepare a room for Leona-senpai?

Philomela: Of course. But isn't he here to watch?

Ruggie: Nah. His heart is too fragile.

Jack: *nods in agreement*

Leona: *glares at them*

Ruggie and Jack: ...

Philomela: I see. So he's like Akane, huh?

Leona: Huh? What about Aki— I mean, Akane?

Philomela: She always worries for Yuurin. It never came across to her that her brother received blessings from the gods.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: Aren't we all, Philomela?

Philomela: Yes. That's why I will never understand your sister.

Philomela: Us from the Kingdom of Heroes have always been adventurous!

Philomela: Danger excites us!

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I have to disagree on that.

Philomela: That's your opinion. Haha!

Leona: ...

Leona: Let's change the subject.

Leona: Who's the next person to fight Yuurin?

Philomela: Silver.

Leona: Huh.

Ruggie and Jack: ...

Ruggie: *whispers to Jack* He's already crossing out Silver from his list.

Jack: *whispers back* List of what?

Ruggie: Yuurin's potential suitors.

Jack: ...

Philomela: Our third match is about to begin!

Philomela: Are you ready fighters?!

Yuurin and Silver: Yes!

Leona: *frowning*

Malleus: You do not need to worry, Kingscholar.

Malleus: Yuurin will be alright.

Leona: I don't need your reassurance, lizard.

Sebek: How dare you?! You should be grateful that Waka-sama is showing some concern to you, human!

Leona: I don't need it. And I don't care.

Malleus: *smirks* Well I hope Yuurin win against Silver.

Leona: ...

Leona: Huh?

Malleus: Silver has been trained by Lilia.

Malleus: There is a chance that Yuurin might lose this match.

Leona: Are you making me laugh?

Malleus: I'm only stating the possibilities.

Leona: Grr... *smirks* Then I hope your Silver won't lose.

Malleus: *smug face*

Epel, Jade, Ruggie, Jack, and Floyd: ...

Floyd: Looks like Damselfish can't afford to lose now~.

Epel: So is Silver.

Jade: Hm. Everyone, has anyone seen Rook?

Epel: Oh, Rook-senpai is doing some warm-up exercises in preparation for his match.

Jade: I see.

Yuurin and Silver: *have been sent to the Enchanted Garden*

Silver: This is...

Yuurin: ...

*The Enchanted Garden is a place straight out of nightmare — with heavy storms and lightning striking the ground.*

Leona: What the heck?

Philomela: Ah, one of the most beautiful places in the Kingdom of Heroes. Hahaha!

Ruggie: This is going to be difficult for both of them.

Philomela: I doubt it.

Leona: What do you mean?

Philomela: That place is being taken care of by a nymph, who Yuurin rejected.

Leona and the others: !!!

Silver: I don't understand. This is not what I imagined this place to be.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: It is a beautiful place. Though you'll get to see it after the nymph who's protecting it is no longer mad at me.

Silver: I see.

Philomela: ENOUGH TALK! START FIGHTING!

Yuurin and Silver: ...

Yuurin and Silver: *proceed to take their fighting stances*

Sebek: SILVER! DO YOUR BEST AND WIN THIS!

Epel: Sebek, can't you just watch quietly?

Sebek: Hmph!

Malleus and Leona: ...

Ruggie: Damn. These two look so serious.

Yuurin and Silver: *seems to be thinking the same thing*

Yuurin and Silver: *charges at each other, aiming to grab other's shoulder*

Yuurin and Silver: *fends off each other*

Yuurin and Silver: *creates distance then attacks again*

Epel: Holy shit—

Malleus: *smirks*

Leona: ...

Leona: What's going on? Why does it seem to me that Yuurin is slowing down?

Philomela: The garden is restricting his movements, providing an opportunity for Silver.

Leona: ...

Epel: Yuurin is slowing down?

Philomela: Yes.

Philomela: Watch closely.

Yuurin: *her steps look heavy whenever she moves*

Epel: Wait... Is the gravity... different for him?!

Philomela: Haha! You have a keen eye! Yes!

Leona: ...

Ruggie and Jack: ...

Yuurin: !

Silver: *has finally managed to grab Yuurin's shoulder*

Silver: *quickly pulled her leg and pushed forward; both of them falling to the ground* *then stayed on top of her*

Leona: That little—!

Malleus: Looks like the match has been decided—

Yuurin: *uses sweep; knocking Silver off-balance by hooking his hip with her leg, then used her other leg and upper body to create a momentum and flipped him over*

Silver: *is genuinely impressed*

Malleus and Leona: ...

Leona: What were you saying again, lizard?

Sebek: SILVER! THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO BE AMAZED!

Philomela: *laughs*

Yuurin: *doesn't waste any second and immediately applies the Ezekiel choke by gripping his collar with one hand and sliding her other arm under his head, positioning her forearm against his neck*

Yuurin: *applying downward pressure with the hand gripping the collar while using her forearm to compress his windpipe*

Silver: !!!

Silver: *tries to escape*

Yuurin: *doesn't budge no matter how he tries to move*

Silver: ...

Silver: I... give up.

Yuurin: *lets go of him* *sighs in relief*

Silver: *coughs; catching his breath* .

Silver: I need... to train more.

Yuurin: Just say when and I'll help you.

Silver: ...

Silver: *smiles* Thank you.

Philomela: Our winner— Yuurin!!!

Silver: I'm sorry. I lost.

Malleus: *smiles* That is alright. You did your best.

Sebek: Hmph! I told you to win!

Leona: Yuurin, how are you feeling?

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: My body feels sore.

Leona: ...

Leona: You should rest a little.

Philomela: Yuurin! That was amazing! *picks her up and hugs her tight*

Leona: !!!

Leona: Hey!

Yuurin: ...

Philomela: One more match! *laughs*

Yuurin: Please let go of me.

Epel: I feel bad for Yuurin. His match with Silver must've exhausted him.

Jade: Honestly, I think it was more of the garden's fault.

Floyd: *nods in agreement*

Rook: Oh la la~.

Rook: *amused smile*

Rook: Our match will surely be interesting, Monsieur Tranquille.

#twisted wonderland #twst yuurin #twst silver #twst rook #twst floyd #twst sebek #twst leona #twst ruggie #twst jack #twst epel #twst jade #twst malleus #twst oc philomela #twst unveil event

[netherfeildren]

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him. 

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude. 

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it. 

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse. 

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

-

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you. 

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want. 

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks. 

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come. 

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too. 

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do. 

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby. 

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to. 

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap. 

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also. 

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you. 

Sameness. 

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as. 

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms. 

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it. 

“Good girl,” he says now with voice. 

-

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved. 

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else. 

Your love too. 

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now. 

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper. 

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness. 

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one. 

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance. 

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you. 

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is. 

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up. 

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now. 

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership. 

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous. 

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking. 

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude. 

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world. 

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful. 

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.  

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise. 

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you. 

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well. 

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now. 

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house. 

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail. 

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him. 

He stares up at them now. 

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie. 

“A good kind of a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then. 

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game. 

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

#vic fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller smut #joel miller #the last of us AU

[ghyulia]

Shouto Todoroki x reader, wc ~2.9k

tw: injuries, a little bit of angst if u squint rlly hard just dumb todoroki in luvv

There are three times with you when Shouto has to physically stop himself from kissing you.

The first time is when you two are cleaning up after the UA festival. You had offered to stay behind to clean up the little that was left while everyone else had headed to the beauty pageant. You didn't mind missing out on it, really. The performance with your class was already so much fun and left you feeling content enough for the rest of the day. Todoroki, upon hearing your offer, also decides that he wants to stay back and clean up. His excuse is that "Most of what's left is my ice anyway." You smile and say that you would definitely appreciate his help. You fail to notice how the tips of his ears change into a redder hue.

You two work in comfortable silence, getting rid of most of the ice. It stayed like that for a while, until you heard one of your favorite songs playing from somewhere on the UA campus. "Oh, I love this song!" You said, humming along. Todoroki couldn't help but stare. You look so happy. He felt something warm blooming in his chest again. At first, Todoroki had wondered why this only happened when he was around you. He thought he might be sick, but after these..weird phenomena in his body kept on occurring, he took to the web, which gave him a better insight into his strange feelings. Love wasn't something he was experienced in, as he didn't receive much as a child. It was his first time ever feeling this way...

He's so busy staring at you that he doesn't even realize when he stabs himself with one of the props.

"Todoroki, Oh my God! You're bleeding!" You yell as you frantically rush over to where he is. "Oh. I am." The boy murmurs. You grab his hand without a second thought and inspect the damage done. "It's not that deep, which is great! You should probably put a bandaid on it though." You say, flipping his hand front and back. You're so close. Shouto has to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking to kiss you. You two had finally started getting closer. If you didn't see him that way, or if you just didn't want to kiss him, Todoroki thinks he would probably never recover. Ever. So he just tries his best to avert his gaze from you. "I should probably head over to Recovery Girl, then." Todoroki mumbles, still not looking directly at you. "Actually, I think I have a bandaid. Wait one sec!" You abruptly let go of Todoroki's hand before running over to where you left your bag. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and tries his best to calm his nerves. You dig in your bag for a while, before finally jogging back to where you left the boy. "Here! It's a bit childish, so if you don't want to wear it I totally understand, haha." You smile.

The bandaid is pretty childish. It's hot pink, with little kirbies and yoshies plastered all over the flimsy material. Todoroki can't help but crack a smile. "I'll take it. Thanks, (Name)." You smile at him before getting back to work.

30 minutes later, everywhere is clean. Todoroki bids you a short goodbye before heading to the auditorium's exit.

"By the way, Todoroki?" "Your hands are really pretty."

Todoroki swears he can feel his heart explode. He utters a quick "Thank you" before hastily exiting the room.

He never ends up using your bandaid, instead opting to keep it safe in the confines of his wallet. (He just wants to have it forever and stare at it. It's his first gift from you, after all.)

The second time is during your hangout together. Upon visiting Todoroki's dorm a week prior and finding out he had never done the fun average teenage stuff (Amusement parks, zoos, aquariums, the like) you insist on taking him out along with a few other classmates to paintball.

You explain how it works and the rules, and he listens, head nodding up and down like a puppy. Cute, you think.

Paintball is a blast, is all Todoroki can think. The first round was pretty calm, with everyone trying to get into the feel of the game. The matches afterward are pure chaos. The good kind. Everyone is doused in paints of various colors. Hours go by, and everyone decides to have the final match before going to lunch. You and Todoroki are on different teams, which disappoints him a little, but nothing he can't handle of course. (He's sulking miserably.)

The game progresses, and still no sight of you. Todoroki lets out a small sigh before scouting the area for a potential target. He doesn't notice you sneaking up behind him. You decide that instead of shooting him, it would be more surprising if you just throw all of your paintballs at him. By the time he realizes you're behind him, it's too late. "Gotcha!" You shout. Todoroki's covered in paint from head to toe now, but he knows that your arsenal is wiped out. He gets to work, quickly trying to grab his gun and extend the distance from you two. You don't allow that though, closing in on him even more and attempting to grab the gun from his hand. As a last-ditch effort to get you, Todoroki tries to reach for the paintballs attached to his thigh. You frantically grab his hand and intertwine your fingers in them, pushing him backward until you both fall over. At this point, you both are rolling, trying to take the paint on Todoroki's thigh until you roll right into a designated trap that ends up spilling paint all over the both of you. You both stop and blink. You guys look like a mess. You burst out into a fit of laughter, and Todoroki just stares at you. He didn't even realize the proximity you two are in until now. You smell like green apples...or something else that's fruity. He can feel your breath as you laugh, and he swears he might just kiss you right now.

You finally realize that one of your hands are still intertwined together, and blurt out a quick apology before wiping away some paint from your eyes. Todoroki gets up and offers you his hand, smiling wider than you've ever seen him do before. You take it, and he doesn't let go until you reach the paintball locker rooms.

The rest of the day is just as fun. When the evening rolls by, Todoroki offers to walk with you back to the dorms. "Today was really fun, wasn't it Todoroki? Next time I think we should totally go to the aquarium! Spring break is coming up soon, so we can ask Mr. Aizawa beforehand for permission if you want!" You beam. Todoroki smiles.

"Yeah."

(And it was on that trip to the aquarium where you two ended up on a first-name basis. Todoroki thinks that the paintball and aquarium trips were genuinely the happiest he's ever been in his life. The pictures from those days hung up on the wall in his room attest to that.)

The third and final time is when you get badly injured. Due to Todoroki's feud with Yoarashi, and Bakugou's poor performance during the rescue section, They had both failed to get their provisional hero licenses. You however had successfully gotten your license and had started your hero intern studies with the rest.

You were doing your internship with Ryukyu and were enjoying it for the most part. It was hard, but you were learning new things, so it was pretty rewarding. You hadn't really talked to Shouto much as you were busy with your work and he was busy taking his supplemental makeup lessons. You would occasionally say hi and bye, but that was pretty much it. Shouto was losing his mind. He already felt annoyed that he had let his feelings about his old man get the better of him during the test, causing him to lose his license, but he was losing way more now. He was losing time with you.

Eventually, you and a few of your classmates are pulled into an operation regarding the Shie Hassakai. You learn about the plan to defeat Kai Chisaki, the mastermind of this yakuza group, and to save a girl named Eri. You hear about the horrors being done to her and it sickens you to your stomach. After the briefing, you, Midoriya, Ochaco, Kirishima, and Asui are sworn into secrecy. You can't tell anybody about the mission. (but you so badly want to tell Shouto.)

The days leading up to the mission are horrible for you. You feel so nauseous every time you think about poor Eri. How could Chisaki do this to his own kid? The rest of 1-A seem to take note of the damper on a few of you guys' moods, with Iida always offering an ear to any problems you may be facing. It doesn't go unnoticed by Shouto either. He hates seeing you look that way. He's never seen you make such a sad expression. He doesn't know what to do or how to approach how you're feeling, so he just watches from afar. Occasionally, he offers you some of his lunch. You just force a smile at him and politely refuse, making him feel even more useless. He was so frustrated with himself for not being able to make you smile like you did that day. (His mind wanders back to the paintball trip...).

(You yourself were in your own turmoil. Every time Shouto talked to you, offered you a smile or some of his lunch, you fought the urge to just spill everything and cry in his arms. When did your crush on him get so bad?)

Shouto decides to let it go for now, resolving to visit your room later and ask force you to tell him what's wrong.

But that resolve is quickly crumbled upon making his way to your dorm, hearing the faint sounds of sniffling and muffled sobs. Shouto freezes in his tracks, unsure of what to do. Should he still knock? He knows you'll pretend to not have been crying. He doesn't how he would comfort you...

And so he decides that tomorrow, he'll definitely talk to you. For tonight though, he'll think of all the ways to make you feel better.

As it happens, tonight turns out to be the night of the operation. You slip out of your room at an ungodly hour and meet up with the others.

The mission goes as it goes. You end up separated from the others, left to fight some of Chisaki's goons. You hold your own, making them bite the curb. You only sustained minor injuries, to your luck. You're about to go regroup with the others when some of the underlings inject themselves with a quirk booster shot and all but pounce on you. You grit your teeth and prepare for a rematch. Does it even count as one? You think. You fight, but it feels never-ending. The enemies just keep on getting stronger. Eventually, you're bruised, bloody, and losing stamina. You feel yourself getting weaker. Your field of vision starts to distort, leaving you queasy. You need to wrap this up, quick. One of the enemies manages to leave another deep wound on your abdomen, but you fight through the pain and use this moment to land a fatal attack yourself. After fifteen more minutes of gruesome fighting, you finally land the dealing blow on the last of the goons. You think you did until you see him get up again. At this point, you're bleeding from too many places to count, and you can barely hold yourself up, let alone attack again. So you brace yourself for an attack that never comes. You open your eyes and realize that the enemy couldn't even handle the quirk booster in his system anymore, passing out from the strain. Thank God. The adrenaline wears off, and you pass out, lying in a pool of your own blood. The only thing you can think of before you're out is Shouto and his smile. That day you two went to the aquarium was really fun.

When you come to, you're in a hospital bed. You blink, trying to adjust to the light. You dart your eyes around, observing your surroundings. Is it over? You think, before slowly sitting up. Your wounds don't hurt as much as you thought they would.

You later learn from the Doctor that you had been asleep for almost two days. She also tells you that since your injuries seem to be healing well, you should expect to be discharged by tomorrow. And you do along with the others.

You're greeted at the dorms with a warm welcome and a 'great job!' from most. You look around for Shouto and spot him sitting on the couch saying something to Bakugou. You want to talk to him and catch up on things, but maybe that should wait... You opt to talk with Mina and Hagakure instead. (Once again, You fail to notice the boy staring intently at you.)

You decide to retire to your dorm for the night, feeling tired yet relieved. With the whole operation done and Eri saved you felt like you could sleep peacefully--- for the most part. A part of you really wanted to talk to Shouto. It felt so long since you two had done that. He didn't say a word to you today. Was he mad you didn't tell him about the operation? You tried to talk to him after your conversation with Mina and Hagakure, but by the time you finished, he was gone. You let out a sigh and wait for the elevator.

"(Name)." You turn around to face the white and red-haired boy. Your heart does a little jump for joy. "Hey, Shouto! It's been a while hasn't it?" You attempt to make small talk, but it seems like he isn't having it at all. The elevator comes, and you both get on. It's silent, but not the comfortable kind. You feel him staring at you. "Is something wrong?" You inquire, smiling politely. "Yeah." Shouto leaves it at that and you turn to face him. "Oh..do you wanna talk about it? I was heading to my room if you wanna come with." He nods, not saying anything else until you close your room door.

"So..What's up?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. You take a seat on your bed and pat the spot next to you, motioning the boy to sit. He does. Shouto doesn't know where to start. He doesn't know what to say, so he just exhales and lets all his feelings pour out.

"You...When you first began your work-study you got really busy...Which is normal, of course. We didn't get any time to talk to each other anymore, which hurt me a little (A lot). Then the special operation came along, and you got really gloomy. I know why now, but at the time, I didn't. And I didn't expect you to tell me why you were down in the dumps because it was obvious you didn't want to tell me, but it was still hard to watch you be so sad. I hate watching you make such a pained expression, (Name). I felt helpless. I just wanted to make you smile and laugh like you did for me. Whenever I see you smile, it makes me want to smile too. To make things worse, I wanted to talk to you about your feelings, but I froze when I got to your room after hearing you crying. I hate myself for it. I told myself that I would do it the next day, but by then, you were gone. I regret it so much. Fuck, I really wish I had just knocked on the door. And then I heard that you got seriously injured during the mission and it felt like my heart was being clawed out from the inside. I hated that feeling so much, (Name). And honestly, I lied. Not talking to you hurt me a lot, because I love talking to you, (Name). I love..." Shouto stops and looks at you.

You stare at him for a while, processing everything he said. "I didn't know you felt that way, Shouto." You moved closer to the boy before placing your hand on his. "I...felt the same way, for the most part. I hated not talking to you as much, too. And also, I did want to tell you about everything. In fact, you were the only person I wanted to talk about it to. But I couldn't. But I should've at least talked to you on a general level. Also, I didn't know you heard me crying, hehe. You shouldn't blame yourself for not coming in. You were going to come the next day, weren't you? It was just bad timing. And I love making you smile too. For me, just being around you is usually enough to lift my spirits too. During the operation, and even in my fight, I was thinking about you. So don't blame yourself, Shou."

Shouto just stares at you. All he really wants to do is kiss you, but he stops himself because he's unsure and anxious. He doesn't want to ruin things. He likes you too much to run that risk.

But when you intertwine your fingers with his, lean in, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, Shouto stops denying himself heaven and crashes his lips against yours.

a/n: ahhh that's it!! I actually really like this and I love todoroki sm :))) I hope ygs like this as much as I do!

#mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #shouto todoroki #todoroki #shouto #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki x you #shoto x you #shoto x y/n #todoroki x y/n

[helvegen-s]

Rage, rage | four

index

Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC

Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.

Warnings: blood, bad language, talking about trauma, bad familiar relationships (King of hybern father of the year)

Sitting in that chair, Nimue did nothing but absorb everything she saw around her: the paintings hanging on the walls, the rugs covering the floor, every detail placed on the shelves, the books arranged alphabetically...

It was all perfect. She had never imagined what the physical representation of the word "home" would be like, yet she felt it should be like this. In every carefully placed thing, she saw the affection behind it.

She stopped daydreaming and returned to the most pressing matter: the fact that, for some reason, she was tied to that chair.

Bound, but without seeing the ropes. It was an invisible force that pushed her against the wood of the armrests and the cushion of the backrest. She tried to suppress a laugh with little success because she knew effortlessly she could free herself from those ties. But well, if it made them feel safer, so be it.

She looked up, first to that male: Azriel, as she had heard others call him.

She still felt that sensation pulsing right in the middle of her being, making her gaze involuntarily go to him even in that room full of people.

Azriel felt like he was going to explode. He stood, leaning against the back of one of the sofas in the living room, positioned between Rhysand and Amren. With his arms crossed over his chest, he tried to control his breathing, counting to ten and releasing the air, counting again.

His wings trembled upon hearing the small laugh that escaped from the lips of that stranger. "What the hell are you laughing at? Do you find the situation funny?" he barked at the girl. She seemed surprised as her expression changed abruptly.

"No," she replied, furrowing her brow. She could feel the man's anger through that invisible thread connecting her to him. She tried to clear her mind. "It's just amusing that you have me tied up here. I can free myself at any moment, and if I don't, it's because I know you're afraid of me."

Rhysand's face must have been a sight. Afraid of her? He reinforced even more the restraints binding the girl to the chair, and with a sly smile, he took a step forward. "Dare to let yourself go, and you'll see what happens."

Was that some kind of sarcasm? Nimue didn't understand, she was just used to people speaking to her clearly, if only to avoid being in her presence more than necessary.

So she stood up, crossing the restraints of the High Lord like someone walking against a gentle breeze. Everyone jumped in their seats, reaching for their weapons or preparing to defend themselves.

But Nimue simply stood there, scanning from one to another: from the High Lord to Azriel, from the petite woman to Cassian, as she had heard Rhysand call him.

"I know you don't understand what I am or who I am right now, but it's okay. I'll explain it calmly, but you have to be willing to listen to me. You need me more than I need you."

Cassian let out a mocking laugh, "And why did you help us if you say you don't need us?"

And then silence fell.

Why had she helped them?

She had acted without thinking, that's for sure. She had never contradicted her father, and for the first time it was under such circumstances that something didn't fit deep within her conscience. She could excuse it with those memories that weren't hers: seeing those two humans in the Cauldron had awakened in her those memories from twenty years ago. But it wasn't just that.

Yes, she knew that within her, that idea of killing her father, ending him, stopping that plan he wanted to carry out and doing good had always been germinating. But in between there was always that rotten and unconditional love she felt for the King of Hybern, which was written in every cell of her being from the day she emerged.

"I needed an excuse," she said aloud. All the attention of those present was on her, and she kept talking. "I always knew my father was never the good one. I'm missing pieces of the story, I only know what he told me through filters. I know there are people in Prythian, I know there's going to be a war, I know everything revolves around the Cauldron. But I don't know much more."

My father.

When the girl uttered those words, Azriel felt a surge rising from the depths of his throat. How could a monster like the King of Hybern have sired such a beautiful creature?

Yes, beautiful. She is beautiful.

He stopped his thoughts abruptly, trying to ignore his own shadow's whispers. He was hallucinating, again.

"I also know that my father expected me to fight for him in this war, to incinerate Prythian's forces. He counted on an easy victory, however now..." Nimue's hands couldn't stop playing with the fabric of the dress she was wearing. It was then that she realized the pristine white fabric of her skirt was stained with blood, the blood of the Illyrians. She took a deep breath and continued speaking, "He's not going to take it very well that I've done this. That I've... betrayed him.”

"Well, don't tell me."

Nimue looked up at Azriel. Was that irony again?

Rhysand gave the Shadowsinger a stern look, and everyone fell silent again, waiting for the girl to speak.

But she didn't know where to continue. What should she tell them about herself? Should she tell them what she was?

And in the midst of the prolonged silence, the High Lord spoke up, "No one knew of the existence of a princess of Hybern. If you claim to be so powerful, why did your father never boast about you?"

There was something that didn't add up in all of this and had Rhysand uneasy. He felt the presence of the female, a pale, pulsating white light in the middle of the room. It was a strange magic, something he couldn't quite categorize within the fae magic that flowed through his veins. His gaze shifted to Amren, hoping she could shed some light on the situation, but to his surprise, she looked just as bewildered as he did.

"My father never wanted my existence to be known. I..." Nimue bit her lip, weighing how much revealing everything to this group of strangers would be a good idea. "I've never left Hybern. In fact, I've never left the castle."

"How old are you, girl? Have you been locked up in there your whole life?" Amren asked.

"It's hard to say how old I am. In this body, I've lived twenty years of yours. Before that... my memories are clouded."

"In this body? Before that?" Azriel inquired. He felt like he was going crazy, wanting to pull his hair out and scream. What was happening? Of all the outcomes he had predicted for today, this was certainly one he wouldn't have even dreamed of. "Tell us the truth, or I swear I'll slit your throat."

Nimue smiled, a poisonous smile she had learned from her father.

"I doubt it. If I have to kick your ass again like I did out there, I will," she held Azriel's gaze. And added, "And with pleasure."

Azriel snorted, baring his teeth in an aggressive gesture and reaching for his dagger. Nimue simply smiled, holding his gaze without flinching.

With that mask she had learned to wear.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his face, trying to process everything that was happening.

They hadn't obtained the Cauldron, they had learned of Tamlin's betrayal, they had transformed his mate's sisters, and now this. It had been a very eventful day, to say the least.

"So you're trying to tell us that you've been in this world for twenty years, but before that, you were somewhere else, right? Do you remember where?"

"Yes," said Nimue. She tried to hold back another laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "In the Cauldron."

And they fell silent again.

The expressions on everyone's faces were like something out of a painting, and Nimue let out a quiet laugh.

She had never had to explain who or what she was; everyone where she came from knew. They all knew her.

"Well," she began calmly, "we all know my father, the King of Hybern. The fanatic, lunatic and power-hungry one."

"Yes, unfortunately."

"He impregnated one of his royal concubines, and in the midst of that madness, he decided to put her in the Cauldron. I don't know if it was under coercion from the Cauldron itself, if it was a demand my father made, or what. But the woman died instantly, and in exchange for her life, I came out of the Cauldron."

"So, you're telling me that the Cauldron not only has the power to turn humans into fae, as we've seen with Feyre's sisters. You're telling me," Rhysand took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts, "that the Cauldron granted the King a daughter in exchange for a sacrifice, no more, no less."

"Yes, but it's not something that will happen again. The Cauldron created me as its own whim, just as it has done with those two humans you mentioned. Feyre’s sisters…"

“Elain and Nesta.”

"Yes," said Nimue. "What it has done with them won't happen again. Not for a long time, at least. The Cauldron only responds to its own impulses, and I don't even understand them myself. Our fae minds aren't made to understand what the Cauldron is or how it acts. Not even the mind of that creature."

Nimue pointed at Amren, who crossed her arms with a sly smile.

"Well, on that you're right. Not even this creature," she said, pointing to herself, "is capable of understanding under what desires that pot acts."

And they all fell silent again, weighing the situation and assimilating what the girl had said.

Azriel was simply angry, furious. He couldn't feel anything else at that moment. He didn't care much about the Cauldron's affairs, nor did he lose sleep over trying to understand how it worked.

He just wanted to know why he had the misfortune of finding out that his mate, whom he had been waiting to meet since he was a child, had to be the damn daughter of the King of Hybern.

"And regarding your problem," Nimue continued, this time addressing only Azriel, "well, our problem. I never knew what a mate was, as you called it. I knew that the Cauldron forged the souls of people to be incomplete, so that if they were lucky, they would find the other half they were missing during their life. But when I saw you, when I felt it, I was able to understand. I'm sorry if it's been a disappointment, but it is what it is."

Azriel frowned, his arms crossed and the hair on his arms bristling. He felt like he was trembling with rage.

"I didn't ask for this, princess."

Nimue didn't want to admit it, but the pull of disdain she felt on the other side of the bond made her heart shrink.

"Great, neither did I."

Taglist:

@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @saltedcoffeescotch @donttellthecats @annblvd

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel imagine #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #cassian #rhysand

[sourlove]

I love the jock so far!! He's really cute, but I wonder how he'd react to the reader getting into a college far away and was planning on breaking up before they moved? :0

He doesn't take it very well. It took him a long time to understand what you meant. You wanted to go to college? Great! But why do you want to break up? Do you not love him anymore? Did he do something? He could change! He can become anything you like! As long as you don't leave him.

You don't seem to understand how seriously Lucas felt about it even when he kept banging on your front door, never going home, come rain or sun. He begged you to not leave him, to tell him what he did wrong, so he can fix it.

You had no choice but to let him in after your neighbors expressed concern. Lucas immediately crumbled into your arms, crying. You had never seen him so distraught. It wasn't until he told you he would kill himself that it clicked in your head. Something was seriously wrong.

But Lucas doesn't care. He doesn't care if you're angry at him or if everyone is telling him to relax. All he wants is to know you're not actually breaking up with him. It was just a misunderstanding. You would never leave him. You would always love him, just like you said right?

...right?

#obsessive love #obsessive yandere #yandere #fanfic #writers on tumblr #yandere boyfriend #yandere jock #jock #muscles #muscular #handsome #high school #school #college #university #yandere x #yandere male #male yandere #soft yandere #yandere boy #yandere bf

[sparklings-bf]

5 years !!!

me and baldi's anniversary <33<3

(beware. long personal gush under cut)

pouring my heart out into this one. i am Sorry

today marks 5 years since the day i started shipping with baldi for the first time<3

i'm surprised that after so long I'm still very in love with him but I could not be happier about it. to think that it all started out as a silly thing among my friends where i was joking about him being my husband to considering him an actual serious f/o is so weird to think about. i remember being like 13 and not understanding Why i felt like this about a fictional character, i didn't even know self shipping was a thing

and it took. Years. for me to finally make sense of it all. i think a few months after i was in love with him was when i found the selfship community here on tumblr and then i considered baldi to be my first f/o ever, though i was never 100% open about self shipping until years later.

even today baldi is one of the characters that changed my life the most, i can't even explain how much he's helped me become better. he's gotten me through all the good, the bad, the times other people let me down. he was There for me. and i am so grateful. because of him i feel like i can just be myself and don't need to put on an act for other people, i don't need to hide how i feel.

i can definitely say that baldi will always be a part of me. even if my feelings fade, or i stop fixating on him, or anything like that happens. i've had many good memories when growing up with him that i can never forget about. like honestly he is a part of Me as a person at this point. he's inspired me to become better. and despite him being fictional he's really improved my life so much.

i love you so so so much baldi <33<3 and i mean it when i say forever, i hope we'll be with eachother for more years to come. thank you for everything!! <3

#🥀 valentino art #📏 baldi<3 #this is crazy personal i hope no one judges me because I'll combust 🙏 #self ship #self ship art #f/o community #romantic f/o #ASLO THE ART IS NOT THAT GREAT SORRY I'M HAVING A HARD TIME DRAWINH

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare at your phone. It can’t be. After everything else going wrong, you can’t deal with Floyd. It suddenly makes sense why he was messing around with your phone. Ew, he’s kind of a creep.

You don’t answer and put the phone away. Well. You have no money, you’re about to have no home, and your milk is spoiled. Don’t panic. You can figure this out. You’re an adult, aren’t you?

First, go to the bank. You need milk. Once you have a coffee, you’ll worry about the whole eviction thing. You leave the convenience store and open Maps to look for the nearest bank kiosk. Not too far, one block. At least you’re getting your steps in.

You follow the directions on screen and turn to cross the road. You’re so distracted, you forget to look both ways and nearly get hit by a gleaming bumper. You wave a head but don’t look up. You need to get to the bank.

You come up to the pulsing blue dot and glance around. Huh. You don’t see a bank. You turn around and face the ATM built into the side of the building. Oh goddang! You walked to a bank machine, not a bank. Is it you? Are you the problem?

You drop your shoulders. Alright. You’ll just try again. You scroll to the next location and spin around, nearly colliding with a new wall. Oh, not a wall, a person.

You look up at Mr. Henson as he watches you with a line between his brows. Somehow, you’re not very surrpised. This guy is everywhere. It’s almost like he has no hobbies.

“Oh, hi, sorry, excuse me, I’m just on my way to the bank--”

“Ah, running short? Need me to spot ya?” He raises his hand, showing a black credit card.

“Um... noooo,” you utter in confusion. The other day, you ran off after calling him names. You really don’t believe he’s changed his stripes. He’s still a snarling tiger getting ready to feast. “Thanks, but I--”

“Things are tight. Job market’s trash, housing isn’t any better, and those banks,” he whistles and puts his card away, “they like to fuck around, don’t they?”

You look at him, scrunching your face up.

“Y-yeah. Weirdly, I did just get a notice to...” your voice trails off. “Why are you bugging me?”

“Bugging you?” His brows pop up and he guffaws, “oh, sweet lips, you’re funny, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know few jokes but--”

“Think a little harder, cupcake,” he lowers his timber and stares at you.

You blink and wet your lips, pushing them together. Think about what?

“Look, about yesterday--”

“I’m talking about today,” he insists.

“Sure, uh...”

“Do I really need to spell this out for you?”

“Spell what out?” You cringe, clawing for some hint of what he means.

“Your bank card isn’t working, right?” He asks, you nod. “You’re getting evicted.” Another nod. “You have no job.”

You make a face, “yes, okay. Rub it in. Alright. I get it. You’re some important guy and I’m a loser. Don’t worry. You own this city but I think I’m on my way out.”

He sighs and presses his fingers flat on either side of his nose. He drops them and opens his eyes again, “it was me. I’m the reason you—Don't you understand what I can do to you? I got you fired, kicked out, and poor in one day. What else do you think I could do?”

Your chest hollows out and your stomach lurches. What? Him? He just doesn’t stop.

“Sir, what—why would you—I'm sorry I called you a meanie. I was upset and the coffee, I tried--” You sniffle and shudder out a half-sob, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, well, you shoulda shut those sweet lips and opened those ears, huh?” He grins, “look, cupcake, you’re not going anywhere. You try to run back to your family, I’ll find you. Your mom’s a good lady, you shouldn’t trouble her. She doesn’t make enough teaching brats to put up with another one.”

“My mom—how--”

He spins his finger in the air, “catch up, honey bun. Alright? This is it. I’ll lay it out real clear for you, right now. You have no money, no home, you have nothing. You are nothing.” He jabs his finger at you, “so, I can solve all your problems and make you something.”

You look around. There’s really no way out. He’s a psychopath. You think. You don’t really know the difference between that and sociopath.

“Are you like CIA or something?” You ask.

He scoffs and flinches, “oh man, you are something else. Really, each time you open that mouth, I’m blown away by the idiocy. Rather just get blown, you get it?”

You shake your head and pout.

“Look, I think we can sort this out, Floyd. Really, I’m really sorry and I understand now. I get it. You’re very important and I messed up. I’m nothing and I did everything wrong. And from the bottom of my heart, I apologise. So, can I please have my life back?” You say, “I think we’d both be happier if we just went on our way and never saw each other again.”

His eyes dart away and he stares into the distance. Exasperation wrinkles above his brow and he looks back to you, hands on his hips, “too late, buttercup. So, let me put it as plain as I can. You don’t get a choice. You belong to me now. Just like everything else in this city. You are mine.”

“You can’t... do that.”

“I am doing that,” he insists. “Another thing,” he raises his hand, showing his palm, “it’s Lloyd.” He emphasizes the consonants of his name, “Lloyd Hansen. You can call me sir or Mr. Hansen. Hell, if we’re getting frisky, you can call me daddy.”

“Ugh,” you groan in disgust and curl your lip.

“Ugh?” He mimick the noise, “I’m about to--” He shakes his hand and sucks in the end of his sentence, “fine. Show, don’t tell. Got it.”

You cry out as suddenly he lunges at you. He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you forward down the sidewalk. He marches beside you as you writhe and paw at his large hand. You whimper, helpless as pedestrians move out of your path.

“Your mouth got you into trouble, now let’s see if it can get you out,” he growls.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the man #the gray man #drabble #series #au #mob au

[choccy-milky]

Clora having an adorable mother and the world's most terrifying father makes so much sense. She's inquisitive, strong, brave and scary in her own right like her dad and yet she's small, adorable, sweet and a little naive like her mom, whom she looks just like. It makes sense.

Which means that Sebastian is in for it big time when they're older and it's time to ask for her hand. It's the 1800's, the late 1800's so technically he doesn't have to, Clora says, but Sebastian has met Clive and he knows that if he marries Clora and doesn't ask before hand for her fathers blessing that he might go mysteriously missing or be hit by a curse that causes erectile dysfunction. Which is so much worse.

Doesn't stop him from having a few nervous breakdowns, hyperventilating just a little bit, crying to Ominis that he thinks it's coming, the tea cup with the grimm truly was an omen and his time has come to die.

But, of course, when he asks Clive all he is met with is a long silent stare.

"My daughter has already informed me of your future nuptials. I don't understand why you're here."

Clive knows he doesn't need anyone asking for permission to marry his darling daughter, she's just like him she can definitely take care of herself. Also, I bet he's nicer than he lets on, his wife is the one to actually watch out for.

Sebastian: Your parents live on being contrary.

Clora: ???

He understands this, knows this and gets that his wife is exactly like her parents and that maybe he has bit off more than he could chew.

Ominis: You willingly married into this family. You've no one to blame but yourself.

Sebastian: I know. *puts down newspaper where his wife is on the front cover for taking out a ring of deadly dark wizards singlehandedly, proving just how dangerous Clora can be* I love her so much.

OMG???😭🥹💖💖I LOVED READING THIS!!! THANK YOU FOR WRITING AND SENDING ALL OF THAT AND PUTTING SO MUCH THOUGHT INTO THE CHARACTERS....😭you are so right, clora really is a combo of her parents just in different ways (and its also cracking me up, now that seb has met her dad, that he'll start to recognize clora's "clive mode" when she gets stubborn and serious and puts her foot down HAHA like omg...this is the same sort of feeling i get when her father stares me down...) AN ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION CURSE LMAOOO but youre also so right in that for as overprotective and 1890s as clive is and despite the way he tests seb, he also values clora + her judgement + her happiness, and as long as clora doesnt pick anyone who he actually deems to be a bad person, clive wouldnt feel the need to give his approval (even if seb THINKS he should get it/needs to get it) CLIVE IS A FEMINIST!!! and indeed also much nicer than he lets on🫠 (the only thing is that seb would have been WITH clora taking down that deadly ring of dark wizards. his overprotective ass may know shes capable but that doesnt change the fact that he protects her/treats her as if she isnt BAHHA he cant help it💕)

#seb also has clora-related ptsd from her always getting kidnapped/put in danger at this point LOL. poor seb dating the MC #he 100% even as adults still gets nightmares of when she was taken by ranrok/how she looked when he found her/if he hadnt found her #ask #also if that erectile dysfunction curse exists seb would 100% want to learn it for reasons LMFAOO #here clora wear this amulet #itll give every man (whos not me) erectile dysfunction when theyre near you LMFAOOO IM DEAD that would be so sane of him😍

[bo0tleg]

Despite being head over heels in love with Ice and Mav's dynamic in the original Top Gun, the same dynamic in Top Gun Maverick with Rooster and Hangman never worked for me. This is my attempt at voicing why:

DISCLAIMER: This was not created with the intention to offend anybody who ships Hangster/Sereshaw. It is simply my understanding of their relationship, and why it doesn't appeal to me. Opinions are like the butthole, everybody has their own. By all means, continue shipping them if you want to, this is only for fun.

Hangman and Rooster's entire relationship is based on resentment.

Unlike Mav and Ice, they have history. There's something from the past that lingers in all of their interactions, poisoning all of their words and actions.

Hangman is frustrated with Rooster, all the time. Of course, he banters with everyone, Phoenix about her gender, Bob about his callsign, but those are more 5th Grader Playground insults than anything. It's different with Rooster, and not in a good way.

When it comes to Rooster, Hangman goes straight to insult his character. He doubts his judgement, insults his way of being and flying, prods about how he needs to change if he wants to fly the mission.

With Ice, he was criticizing Maverick, not insulting him. Hangman is both criticizing AND insulting Rooster because he perceives him in a less that ideal light.

Hangman doesn't understand why Rooster flies the way that he does, and doesn't try to either. He just sees it as wrong and doesn't think twice about it. He goes straight to insulting him because he thinks that it's wrong, and that it's something about Rooster that needs to be fixed.

And Rooster is constantly exasperated because of it. Hangman prods, and jabs, and insults Rooster, but it never works. The more Hangman pokes, the more Rooster closes up, frustrated. He gets angry, pissed and becomes much LESS inclined to listen to anything Hangman is saying.

Rooster doesn't work well under pressure. And that's the only way Hangman operates.

Throughout the movie, Rooster doesn't listen to Hangman once. He might've been right about Rooster being too slow, but it only fell on deaf ears (not to say that he was right to bring up Goose's death, he was defo wrong about that one). All it causes is strife, to the point where Rooster almost punches Hangman because of how infuriating he was to him.

The entire movie, Hangman provoked Rooster to get him to stop being the way he is, because he sees it as a flaw of character. And it doesn't work.

Rooster only drops his need for playing it safe when Maverick tells him to 'Not think, just do'. Because Mav only gave him a push in the right direction, not throw in his face all of his flaws.

(Side note: This is also the reason Rooster doesn't listen to Mav in their argument, because he thinks Maverick was insulting his way of being by saying he wasn't ready. On the mission, by selecting Rooster as his wingman, he recognizes that he is ready, and that he trusts him with his life. Making him more inclined to listen to Mav once in the canyon.)

A relationship where one person is constantly frustrated by the other and the other is constantly exasperated by the former doesn't work.

Because that's how they are, and that's how they function, and it isn't going to change.

Rooster isn't going to stop frustrating Hangman because that's how he works, and Hangman isn't going to stop making Rooster exasperated because he doesn't know how else to voice his feelings.

I can see where the ship comes from, because obviously. Their homoerotic tension could be seen from space. I totally believe that they might have had a fling in the past that ended badly, and that they possibly could have hooked up at some point in the movie in the 'Hate Sex' vein of things. I just don't think it'd be anything beyond that.

They wouldn't work in the long haul, is what I'm trying to say.

They're too similar, and too different at the same time.

They're both hothead stubborn motherfuckers that couldn't come to an agreement if they tried.

And you might show me the scene where Hangman is happy about Dagger 2 hitting the target, and him being absolutely devastated when the same hornet is shot down. I recognize it, it demonstrates care. Hangman cares.

Thing is, that doesn't change anything that I said prior to that.

It's possible to resent, despise, be bitter towards and irritated by someone and still care about them. It's possible to hate them and still care. Hate them, and feel like you don't hate them all the time. Human emotion is a funny thing like that, nothing is ever black and white, always varying shades of gray.

Just because they hate each other (and yes, that is the reading I have on them, doesn't stop them from being horny fuckers about each other tho) doesn't mean they want the other dead.

I believe it's similar to the sentiment of "I hope you get everything you ever wished for, and that I never hear a word about it". Similar, but not the same, in a way I do not know how to describe. Thus, I used that to give the same vibe.

I can't see any future for them, in any shape or form. They hold too many grudges against each other, and both of them have a tendency of holding on to old (bad) feelings far too strongly. Even if they work through whatever problems they have now, new ones would emerge and they would go through the same process again and again and again.

That isn't healthy nor stable. It's not what either of them should strive for in a relationship. With that, I'd probably say that both of them need stable people that hold logic to high regard, and that are easy going (I say that in general terms, with no one specific in mind for either of them).

All that being said, this is my opinion. This is how I view them, and understand their relationship. They don't work for me because I see no logical way they could.

If they work for you, that's great! Enjoy the air gays 2.0 to your hearts contentment, I'm happy for you.

This was just a fun analysis of my vision, with no intention to diminish anyone who might enjoy them.

#top gun #top gun maverick #tg:m #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #rooster x hangman #sereshaw #hangster #icemav #only a lil mentioned icemav #idk if i should tag any of the ship names #im scared to post this #Im probably gonna get roasted for this #But oh well

[rexparker-exe]

My Theory of Everything

Have you ever wondered why?

Why create Lucifer if his purpose is to fall?

It's an important question, and once you get to a certain age, the likelihood of this question being ignored increases... What if that was by design?

What if to question the purpose of anything would be to question the simulation itself?

To have perspective is to be in a cage, but by defining what our cage is not, we can better understand what our cage is, and by understanding our cage, we understand why we are here.

What if the existence of anything at all is problematic, but therefore important?

Why would we have this form?

What is being simulated such that my existence is not only necessary, but required?

For example, I cannot articulate what a rock is, but I can articulate how I experience it.

Therefore I know I'm something outside what is being simulated, because if I were part of the simulation I could hypothetically alter it directly/understand what is is in a perfect sense. It is the same for how I perceive other people. Hell, I am limited even in how I perceive myself.

I am constantly being fed information (think senses, sight, touch, sound, etc.) but what if information literally is power? One cannot know every discipline because to do so would require immense amounts of power to simulate.

It's all fake (in a sense that it is disconnected from me) because I can not exactly articulate what 'anything' is.

I don't even know what my thumb is.

What if there is a perfect language to manipulate reality itself, but you can't know it because you are literally disconnected like a transformer is from a circuit?

If you were connected, you could become everything. But instead you are limited.

Why?

What do I do that is worth simulating?

Do I create something?

Am I merely unethical entertainment?

Or an unethical study of a system of some sort?

To know it's a simulation is also a problem. I should've been 'reset' if it is a simulation, as a simulation that knows it is such would likely not simulate whatever it is supposed to simulate correctly.

Something is changing. A destination of some sort. It corresponds with the arrival of AGI, system collapses, the 'boiling point of the world'.

Perhaps this is a simulation aboard a generational ship and we are nearing the destination.

I'm still trying to figure it out.

I implore you to do so with me.

#theory #theory of everything #science #philosophy #religion #simulation #art #love

[romanticintheory]

Okay but could u write something fluffy with soap. Tbh I feel like he'd be the best friend to lovers kinda thing.

AND YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT i love friends to lovers so much guys u don't understand :(

also, i realize now that this isn't super fluff-heavy!! apologies </3 i got carried away.

johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader

warnings: horrid scottish slang from a non-scot (i am sincerely sorry), my writing from 2 am on three hours of sleep (also sincerely sorry)

-

-best friend to lovers with soap except there wasn't really a specific moment you two become each other's. it just... kind of happened.

-growing up with him and supporting his dreams to be a soldier while he supported yours. the first time he came back from a mission, you were the first person he wanted to see once he was allowed back home.

-you used to fuss over any injuries he got from being himself as a little kid, and the worry only heightened when he'd come back from missions with real wounds.

-his mom would always have a cheeky smile seeing you two together. she never said it, but it was always hinted in the way she acted. she was always talking to johnny about how you were such an impressive and loyal young person, often doting on you and insisting you stay for dinner (which, of course, you couldn't refuse).

-the first time johnny started dating someone, it was hard for you to deal with, but it got easier the more it happened.

-what you didn't know was johnny would take it even worse whenever you told him you started dating someone. he'd act all proud and protective in a brotherly fashion, but behind closed doors he was scowling to himself without knowing why.

-one day, you're visiting him in his apartment after he had been away for a few months. you're strangely more subdued than usual, and of course he notices.

-"hey," he calls to you softly, a strange contrast to his usual loud self. "what's wrong?"

-"nothing, don't worry about it," you reassure him, fiddling with the little plushie he got you from his travels--one of the many trinkets he's gotten for you. he always says it's to make up for the fact that he won't be there to bother you in person, but it's actually because every precious little thing he sees reminds him of you.

-"ah ken you're lying," he tells you in a warning tone.

-"i got broken up with, is all," you admit, turning your head away from him.

-"what?" he booms incredulously. how could anyone leave you? "is he insane? after getting an apartment together?"

-"there was this girl from his work and, well, i don't know," you shrugged, fighting back the tears you thought had dried days ago. "he wants the apartment. i mean, he did pay for more of it so-"

-"come live with me."

-it was your turn to be in disbelief, turning your head to face him with a confused look on your face.

-"what?"

-"th' place is empty with me at work. no rent, 's away from yer stupid ex, and ye get to be around me," he added jokingly. you rolled your eyes, but how could you not take him up on his offer?

-from then on, you're living with your best friend and taking care of the place while he's away. if you're staying rent-free, the least you could do was try and be as neat as possible (he insisted it was okay with the place looked like it was lived in, but you refused).

-when he'd come back from his missions, he'd still shower you in little gifts he'd get along the way when possible. you always tried to have some kind of meal ready for him, too.

-"you're always cooking for us, a'm feeling like i should do it sometime," he says, already knowing the answer to that proposal.

-"absolutely not." (the one time you let him cook was when you were both in college. he caught a pan on fire, somehow.)

-"you hurt me!"

-"oh, please."

-eventually, the routine becomes more and more domestic to the two of you. soap's mother always calls out how you two are living like a married couple, but the both of you just laugh it off like neither of you have noticed.

-you eventually notice changes in johnny's gifts. it went from gag gifts and plushies to little pieces of jewelry or intricate pens. sometimes you even think you catch him staring at you, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. he hasn't mentioned being interested in anyone in a while, either.

-it all comes to a head when johnny doesn't come home the day he said he would. sure, it happened at times, but this was the longest amount of time he's been late.

-eventually, he finally walks through the door with too many injuries, a bruise on his lip, and walking with a rough limp.

-you tend to him immediately, of course, interrogating him on what his doctor told him he should do to take care of his healing wounds. the rest of the night goes just like how the others have gone, with you making sure he's fed, warm, and resting.

-by the time you're closing his window for him, you're absolutely exhausted. you had barely gotten any sleep because of johnny's delayed return. normally, you would've let him do more for himself, but the extent of his injuries was worrying you.

-"ye ken am alright, aye?" he asks you in that low, rich voice, searching your eyes for something other than worry and sleepiness. he's sitting up in his bed by the time you walk back to him (despite the fact that you told him to lay down).

-"you're injured. you came home late."

-"what? ye have no faith in me?" he mocks hurt, trying to put a smile on your face or at least get an exhale of amusement out of you, but you weren't in the mood. he could tell by the way you didn't respond and the permanent but subtle frown on your face.

-"i know you're good at your job, johnny," you finally say, ready to call it a night.

-"good. then ye know i'll always come back home to ye, aye?"

-you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, too tired to overthink about what he just said.

-"come here," he orders quietly, reaching out to you.

-gently, he coaxes you into laying next to him. the last time you ever slept in the same bed as johnny was when you two were kids. you were having a sleepover at his house with you in his bed and him on a spare mattress. you had a nightmare so bad it woke johnny up, but instead of brushing it off and making a joke of it, he jumped into bed with you and hugged you protectively. he said it was a good way to train for becoming a soldier, and you couldn't help but snort with laughter.

-just like back then, you had an easy time falling asleep in his arms, now.

-you woke up that morning well-rested and still encased in johnny's arms, which was impressive considering the fact that most times he sleeps in a position that looks like he flung himself across the bed.

-when he wakes up, you sit up with the intention getting breakfast up and running, but johnny doesn't like that idea.

-"johnny, it's almost eleven. we have to eat something," you chide, trying to get out of his impossibly strong grasp.

-"ye get all sad when am gone but yer trying to leave, now?"

-"well, i suppose if you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to clean the rest of the house and cook, yeah?"

-he lets go of you immediately in a comical fashion, and you have to catch yourself as you hurl out of bed from the built momentum of your escape. you look back at him with a seriously? look on your face as he laughs at your near fall.

-"doesn't that hurt?" you question him, remembering the bruise and cut near his lips and throat.

-"maybe a little," he admits. "kiss it better?"

-the grin on his face makes you think he was setting you up for that one. how could he be so confident?

-just like the times when his mother called you two a married couple, you laughed it off and headed to the kitchen to start breakfast.

-that wasn't the only time johnny's behavior changed noticeably. now, his longing stares at you were more blatant than ever. he'd hold you by the waist if he was moving past you and even told someone flirting with him "oh, i've got someone at home," while he was on call with you on the other end.

-what more could you do than accept it? it wasn't like you didn't like it, anyway.

-one night, you're both in the dining room with you standing and him sitting down on a chair. his hands are on your waist with his legs on either side of you as you reapply a band-aid to his temple (something he could very well do on his own, but any excuse to be close to you, right?).

-as you finish putting it on, your attention draws itself to his lip nearly healed. gently ghosting your finger across the barely visible bruise, you murmur, "good to see this one's basically healed."

-"awe, but it isn't," he corrects you, a slight pout on his face.

-"it isn't?"

-"no, still hurts like hell." you should've seen this one coming. "kiss it better?"

-"that's the second time you've asked me," you were rolling your eyes as you withdrew your hand from his face, but he caught your hand in his.

-"am being serious, (n/n), only a kiss'll make it better," he insists, that damn smile back on his face.

-you couldn't help but wonder if he was actually being serious or just pulling your leg.

-"how could you be so sure?" you challenged him.

-"seen it in ma dreams." oh, that was a funny one.

-"you dream about kissing people to heal your wounds?" you ask through the remnants of your laughter, but he's still looking at you with that same far-off smile on his face.

-"no, just of you."

-there's a pause between the two of you as you process what he said.

-"oh."

-he squeezes your hand with an expectant look in his eyes, like he knew you were head over heels just as much as he was for you.

-you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the searing burning in your cheeks. "well, i guess if you dreamt it, it must be true," you tell him.

-he places his unoccupied hand under your chin and guides your face to his, but he doesn't close the gap. it was like he was waiting--making sure you really wanted to go through with this.

-but you do, so you press your lips to his and he lets go of your face to put his palm on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer toward him.

-later that night, when you're back in his arms watching your guys' favorite show and he's calling his mother to tell her the news, you can hear her shrieks of excitement coming through the phone.

-the only thing you don't hear is when she asks, "when's th' wedding?"

-"soon, hopefully," he looks at you leaning against him, head pressed against his shoulder and arm clinging to his like it was meant to be. "but there's no rush. a've waited this long, aye?"

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #call of duty x you #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish imagine #johnny soap mactavish imagine #soap imagine #cod mw x reader #soap x y/n #johnny mactavish x y/n #rarawrites

[barbwritesstuff]

Pls don't feel bad about the time skips! I read ppl complaining on the forum but I think they miss the point of TT.

It's meant to show how much of a curse vampirism actually is. Like no matter how much you try to keep your humanity, you are functioning on a completely different wavelength as humans and one thing that encapsulates it are the time skips. You can't have a non vampire partner or child and expect a happy ending, one distraction or something gone wrong and you lose a decent chunk out of their lives without realizing. It's a story meant to lack agency! Being a vampire in your world is only meant to end three ways: being hunted, starved, or walking into the sun. And most probably utterly alone.

Writing is a learning curve that never stops curvin'. And, to be clear, that's something I really like about writing. I really enjoy trying new things and getting feedback on readers on whether or not those things worked.

I didn't expect the time skips to be contentious, but I can understand why some people don't like them.

They feel like they remove agency in a choice based game. That's a very real critique that I totally understand.

Unfortunately, they've been baked into the narrative from the start. I always planned on Thicker Than to take place over a decade (actually, originally it was 13 years, but I shortened it to a decade to show a tiny wee bit of mercy to the human ROs) and the time skips are the only real way to do that.

The time skips make sense for me because they show how vampires change over time. The player gets to level up their powers and becomes more a part of the undead world.

A just resurrected fledgling is not going to be the same creature as a ten-years-dead vampire. And while you're still very young, it makes the final showdowns a little more probable.

The player's character isn't a total noob by the end of the game.

I've tried to brainstorm some ways to smooth over the transitions, but the truth is, they're already pretty much as good as I can make them. So I hope those that don't like the time skips aren't too put off by them.

[ach-sss-no]

someone asked why i loudly asserted that the stewing rabbits bit of lotr is the opposite book vs. movie and i think it is time to move off of the giant reblog chain i'm making

The Premise: Sam, Frodo and Gollum are all doing the opposite of what they are doing in the book in some fashion or another

(first off: in the movie they abandon the stew and don't eat it. the book takes a lot longer with all of this, and they do in fact eat the stew, and I definitely understand the movie couldn't be as expansive with the pacing but it's just. funny to me. they don't eat the stew vs. they do eat the stew, there's your first opposite)

now. THE SCENE: Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit

(Small disclaimer/disclosure: I referenced the script instead of a movie clip for this, so there may be some nuance missed in visuals or whatever but I don't think it would be enough of a difference to matter and hopefully you will soon see why not)

Frodo

Starting with him because this is simplest.

In the movie, Frodo is just sitting there minding his own business when Gollum dumps dead rabbits in his lap. (Then he doesn't interact with the ensuing conversation at all)

In the book he's asleep when Gollum brings the rabbits and does not participate in the scene. Okay, so he's awake vs. asleep. Easy.

(Also, book Frodo didn't witness the conflict between the other two characters and had no opportunity to intervene, which creates an interesting 'what could have been', but I am digressing. We are only 10% of the way in. buckle up)

Sam

In the movie, Sam is passive and reacting. Gollum dumps dead rabbits in Mr. Frodo's lap oh no what do I guess we'll cook them

In the book, Sam is active and orchestrating events.

Sam decides of his own accord that he wants to address their dwindling supplies:

Sam had been giving earnest thought to food as they marched. Now that the despair of the impassable Gate was behind him, he did not feel so inclined as his master to take no thought for their livelihood beyond the end of their errand; [in case you forgot. Earlier on Sam was like 'we won't have enough food for the way back' and frodo essentially responds with 'the way back. oh you sweet summer child'] and anyway it seemed wiser to him to save the waybread of the Elves for worse times ahead.

Note: This is all very good reasoning by Mr. Samwise and an excellent example of why he's so necessary to the quest! Yes, staying alive is step one.

But Where to get food? In both movie and book Sam is taking advantage of his resources (dead rabbits acquired via gollum), but in the book he's way more proactive about it:

An idea struck him and he turned to Gollum. Gollum had just begun to sneak off on his own, and he was crawling away on all fours through the fern. 'Hi! Gollum!' said Sam. 'Where are you going? Hunting? Well see here, old noser, you don't like our food, and I'd not be sorry for a change myself. Your new motto's always ready to help. Could you find anything fit for a hungry hobbit? ' 'Yes, perhaps, yes,' said Gollum. 'Sméagol always helps, if they asks-- if they asks nicely.' 'Right!' said Sam. 'I does ask. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs.'

In this point in the book Sam has now:

Decided of his own accord that he has a problem and that he wants to actively solve it

Arrived at a solution to the problem without any outside help or suggestions

Commanded Gollum to go hunt

In the point in the movie Sam has done:

Nothing

I'm not exaggerating. In the movie the scene hasn't started yet.

In both book and movie, rabbits are acquired a little while later. In the book this is a nonevent because Sam requested and expected rabbits. In the movie, the rabbits unexpectedly appear, and Gollum says they are for the hobbits to eat (Sam doesn't even come up with the idea to eat them on his own!)

They are young. They are tender. They are nice. Yes they are! Eat them! Eat them! [He bites and tears into the raw meat.]

GOLLUM SHOWED HIM HOW TO EAT THEM LIKE A MOTHER CAT.

Anyway, in the movie, we just cut to Sam stewing the rabbits after that.

But in the book, Sam isn't done arranging things:

He thought for a bit, while he took out his knife, cleaned and whetted it, and began to dress the rabbits. He was not going to leave Frodo alone asleep even for a few minutes. 'Now, Gollum,' he said, 'I've another job for you. Go and fill these pans with water, and bring 'em back! '

'Sméagol will fetch water, yes,' said Gollum. 'But what does the hobbit want all that water for? He has drunk, he has washed.' 'Never you mind,' said Sam. `If you can't guess, you'll soon find out. And the sooner you fetch the water, the sooner you'll learn. Don't you damage one of my pans, or I'll carve you into mincemeat.'

So now Sam has:

Decided of his own accord that he has a problem and that he wants to actively solve it

Arrived at a solution to the problem without any outside help or suggestions

Commanded Gollum to go hunt

Lovingly watched Frodo sleep

Collected rabbits after they were provided and begun skinning them

Assigned Gollum to fill his cook-pans

Gollum leaves to do this new errand and Sam starts building a cook fire.

He was just stooping over his fire, shielding it and building it up with heavier wood, when Gollum returned, carrying the pans carefully and grumbling to himself. He set the pans down, and then suddenly saw what Sam was doing. He gave a thin hissing shriek, and seemed to be both frightened and angry. 'Ach! Sss -- no!' he cried. 'No! Silly hobbits, foolish, yes foolish! They mustn't do it!' 'Mustn't do what?' asked Sam in surprise. 'Not make the nassty red tongues,' hissed Gollum. `Fire, fire! It's dangerous, yes it is. It burns, it kills. And it will bring enemies, yes it will.'

Sam has just been given a completely sane and rational reason why a fire is a bad idea (they are in a dangerous area and can't risk attention!) (as well as a reason that is less pertinent- it looks like Gollum is afraid of fire, and he may have sensible reasons to be afraid of fire because it is dangerous, but this is not Sam's problem)

Sam addresses the 'it will bring enemies' thing

'I don't think so,' said Sam. `Don't see why it should, if you don't put wet stuff on it and make a smother. But if it does, it does. I'm going to risk it, anyhow. I'm going to stew these coneys.'

And Sam is like, nah.

Now Gollum gets upset that he's 'ruining good meat' by cooking it

Now Sam de-escalates

Now, now! ' said Sam. 'Each to his own fashion. Our bread chokes you, and raw coney chokes me. If you give me a coney, the coney's mine, see, to cook, if I have a mind. And I have. You needn't watch me. Go and catch another and eat it as you fancy -- somewhere private and out o' my sight. Then you won't see the fire, and I shan't see you, and we'll both be the happier. [He still managed to slip in a 'get out of my sight'] I'll see the fire don't smoke, if that's any comfort to you.'

In the movie he just insults the quality of the meat:

SAM What's to ruin? There's hardly any meat on 'em.

...which I suppose is fair in this alternate universe where the rabbits were just dumped in his lap, unwanted.

Then in the movie they skip to the taters conversation, but in the book, there's more!

Back to the book:

Gollum withdrew grumbling, and crawled into the fern. Sam busied himself with his pans. 'What a hobbit needs with coney,' he said to himself, 'is some herbs and roots, especially taters -- not to mention bread. Herbs we can manage, seemingly.' 'Gollum!' he called softly. 'Third time pays for all. I want some herbs.'

Gollum says no.

'Sméagol'll get into real true hot water, when this water boils, if he don't do as he's asked,' growled Sam. 'Sam'll put his head in it, yes precious. And I'd make him look for turnips and carrots, and taters too, if it was the time o' the year. I'll bet there's all sorts of good things running wild in this country. I'd give a lot for half a dozen taters.'

Now Gollum asks what taters are, gets a cryptic answer, and is offered a kind of food he has just expressed he does not want (cooked food) and again ordered to fetch herbs. Gollum declines.

'You couldn't say no to that.' 'Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, and keep nassty chips!' 'Oh you're hopeless,' said Sam. 'Go to sleep!'

The movie finally has some of the same words in almost the same place:

SAM PO-TAY-TOES! Boil 'em. Mash 'em. Stick 'em in a stew. Lovely big golden chips with a nice piece of fried fish…. SM�AGOL [i'm not fixing it blah] [Sticks out his tongue in disgust] Pbbbttt!! [so now he's just devolved into making fart noises] SAM Even you couldn't say no to that. [He takes a sip of the stew] SM�AGOL Oh yes we could! Spoil nice fish... [scrambles up close to Sam] Give it to usss rrraw... and wrrriggling! [That line is not in the book. every time i see it quoted i age a year] [Makes sickeningly happy face.] You keep nasty chips. [Hops away] SAM You're hopeless.

The scene here ends in the movie.

In the movie, Sam has:

Watched rabbits be thrown at Frodo

Started cooking them after being all but commanded to eat them

Had some banter with Gollum

Left the scene without eating his stew

Sam is a passive character who is not orchestrating events, but rather reacting to them. A character being passive is not in and of itself a bad thing. I am only pointing it out because it is different from the book and a big change to this specific character (wanted to mention that because some people really don't like passive characters in general, I think they have a place. Frodo is rather passive in this scene but he obviously has a purpose.)

...In the book, Sam stews the rabbits for an hour and then eats the stew with Frodo

Frodo yawned and stretched. 'You should have been resting Sam,' he said. 'And lighting a fire was dangerous in these parts.

Wow! Was it? I feel like someone mentioned that earlier.

'Gollum! ' Sam called and whistled softly. 'Come on! Still time to change your mind. There's some left, if you want to try stewed coney.' There was no answer. 'Oh well, I suppose he's gone off to find something for himself. We'll finish it,' said Sam. [...] We don't see eye to eye, and he's not pleased with Sam, O no precious, not pleased at all.'

Whyever not?

To sum, book!Sam has:

Decided of his own accord that he has a problem and that he wants to actively solve it

Decided he's going to assign Gollum to the problem (This also demonstrates Sam's interpersonal intelligence. He notices what Gollum's capable of and understands intuitively how it can be turned to something industrious and useful) (Sam has made some missteps in other areas which are in the next section)

Commanded Gollum to go hunt

Collected rabbits after they were provided (according to his request), and began skinning them

Watched Frodo sleep

Assigned Gollum to fill his cook-pans, specifically because he does not want to leave Gollum and Frodo alone together, which is sensible

Threatened to carve Gollum into mincemeat, while holding a knife

Watched Frodo sleep and reflected on his poor health

Skinned the rabbits and put them in stew

Been told a cook fire is a bad idea and declined to stop what he's doing. A character being told to stop doing something & continuing with it anyway is another way for that character to show agency.

Asked Gollum to fetch herbs and potatoes (was refused)

Foraged a few herbs himself

Eaten lovely stew (while lamenting that there are no onions in it, and no bowls to put it in ;_;)

Offered Gollum stew long after (hours after) Gollum got angry and left

...all because Sam initially decided he wanted to acquire and cook food, and then took every necessary step to make that happen of his own accord.

Sam is an active character with high agency.

He is also showing more care for Frodo here (watching him while asleep and fretting over his health, lamenting that he somehow made rabbit stew from nothing by using his resources (which do here include another character- people are also resources!) but he can't put it in a nice bowl for mr. frodo- there's just a lot more here, which is natural because prose is a more detail-rich medium. Not all of this would have fit in the movie and I'm not saying it should have.

Even allowing for time, however, I do think there would have been a way to collapse this scene to the needed time requirement and still have Sam in charge of it instead of Gollum.

The scene finally ends on:

Then he noticed a thin spiral of blue-grey, smoke, plain to see as it caught the sunlight, rising from a thicket above him. With a shock he realized that this was the smoke from his little cooking-fire, which he had neglected to put out.

Did anyone foresee this?

Gollum

In the movie, Gollum is foisting a gift on Frodo and forcing social interaction that he doesn't want.

In the book, Gollum wants to go away somewhere so he can eat and is pressed into reluctant manual labor instead

Gollum is a little different from the other two characters in that his personality and motivations are also completely different here. (Where as Sam at least still has the same goals of looking after Frodo and making food.)

The scene is in Sam's POV so what Gollum is thinking and feeling has to be inferred from his actions/words/tone, but he's not exactly subtle.

The movie scene starts off with Gollum turning up with rabbits. He dumps them in Frodo's lap. He makes a spectacle of himself. He starts mauling the corpses.

The book scene starts off with Gollum trying to slip away somewhere to eat in private.

That's another thing. Gollum doesn't demonstratively bite into things Gollum always slips away somewhere to eat in private. Earlier:

It was actually not long before Gollum returned; but he came so quietly that they did not hear him till he stood before them. His fingers and face were soiled with black mud. He was still chewing and slavering. [He didn't bring food back on purpose. He's still chewing because he only has six teeth.] What he was chewing, they did not ask or like to think. 'Worms or beetles or something slimy out of holes,' thought Sam. 'Brr! The nasty creature; the poor wretch! ' Gollum said nothing to them, until he had drunk deeply and washed himself in the stream. Then he came up to them, licking his lips. 'Better now,' he said.

(Emphasis added.. Imagine you just recruited a serial killer to your D&D-party-in-real-life and he silently turns up covered in mud and won't talk to you. It looks like he's been eating bugs. He won't speak. he won't tell you what he's eating.)

Back to the scene in question: Gollum's leaving. Sam flags him down and asks him to hunt.

'Hi! Gollum!' said Sam. 'Where are you going? Hunting? Well see here, old noser, you don't like our food, and I'd not be sorry for a change myself. Your new motto's always ready to help. Could you find anything fit for a hungry hobbit? '

He asks in an insulting and confrontational way. ('old noser' + 'Your new motto's always ready to help' reeking of suspicion)

To be clear, I'm not criticizing Sam whatsoever for disliking and being suspicious of the known murderer he's traveling with against his will. but the way he talks to Gollum does have consequences.

'Yes, perhaps, yes,' said Gollum. 'Sméagol always helps, if they asks -- if they asks nicely.'

Gollum is reluctant and asks to be treated politely. I don't find this response disproportionate or unreasonable. Consider what would happen if anyone talked to LOTR-era Bilbo Baggins the way Sam just talked to Gollum. The ash would still be falling from the sky.

Anyway Sam's response is to mimic the way he talks.

'Right!' said Sam. 'I does ask. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs.'

Gollum leaves, and is gone a long time. While he's gone, Sam gazes lovingly at Frodo, and - this is not directly relevant but I wanted to note it:

Gollum returned quietly and peered over Sam's shoulder. Looking at Frodo, he shut his eyes and crawled away without a sound. [Seeing that Sam and Frodo are occupied, Gollum slips away without interrupting, which is also a different vibe from 'assaulting Frodo with rabbits while he's just sitting there.'] Sam came to him a moment later and found him chewing something and muttering to himself

Look! There's a character arc happening in the background [but not in the movies] It will reach fruition at Cirith Ungol [in the books]

Anyway, Gollum is chewing on something so he's clearly taken time out to hunt for himself as well (note for context: He's disastrously underweight and has been complaining of hunger).

On the ground beside him lay two small rabbits, which he was beginning to eye greedily. 'Sméagol always helps,' he said. `He has brought rabbits, nice rabbits. But master has gone to sleep, and perhaps Sam wants to sleep. Doesn't want rabbits now? Sméagol tries to help, but he can't catch things all in a minute.'

Gollum has brought rabbits on command, and he's reluctant to hand them over. This is the direct opposite of bringing rabbits of his own accord out of nowhere and forcing them onto somebody.

'Now, Gollum,' he said, 'I've another job for you. Go and fill these pans with water, and bring 'em back! ' 'Sméagol will fetch water, yes,' said Gollum. 'But what does the hobbit want all that water for? He has drunk, he has washed.' 'Never you mind,' said Sam.

That was a reasonable question, asked politely and prefaced by 'yes I'll do it'. There's no call for a 'never you mind' and there's certainly no call for this:

`If you can't guess, you'll soon find out. And the sooner you fetch the water, the sooner you'll learn. Don't you damage one of my pans, or I'll carve you into mincemeat.'

Gollum does the work and is careful with the pans as requested.

He was just stooping over his fire, shielding it and building it up with heavier wood, when Gollum returned, carrying the pans carefully and grumbling to himself.

He set the pans down, and then suddenly saw what Sam was doing.

Gollum discovers that 'Never you mind' meant 'I am going to do something you find dangerous and terrifying' i'm pretty sure this is what he's seeing in his POV

He gave a thin hissing shriek, and seemed to be both frightened and angry. `Ach! Sss -- no!' he cried.

Gollum gets angry.

At this point in the movie, Gollum has:

Dumped rabbits in Frodo's lap

Told him to eat them

Played with the dead animals in front of Frodo

there's a cut to Sam cooking the rabbits- Gollum makes no comment at all on the safety or feasibility of a fire, but gets right up close to it to peer into the cookpot, so he must not be too scared of it.

In the book, Gollum has:

Tried to slip away, presumably to eat, because he's hungry. Or maybe he just wants alone time! Shelob is not in visiting range. He's not being dastardly. Leave him alone

He's been flagged down to do additional work, and interrupted from whatever he wanted to do

Went off somewhere. Caught two rabbits (with his bare hands, I assume??) Also caught at least one other thing, because he's chewing something when he comes back

Came back with rabbits

Left Sam to his tender moment with Frodo and went off for more alone time

Gently floated the idea that perhaps Sam doesn't want these rabbits anymore, surrendered the rabbits when asked

Agreed to another errand that is probably difficult for him to do, after hunting down at least two rabbits Up to this point Gollum has been called 'old noser', had his speech patterns parroted at him in a mocking way, had a polite question refused, and been told he will be 'carved into mincemeat' if he damages the cooking pans (does Gollum even know what a cooking pan is? When was the last time he's seen one? Was he just handed some foreign object and told 'put water in it and don't break it' 'of course! why?' 'stfu') Gollum has a whole long complicated history that would reasonably make him very prone to difficulties with emotional regulation. Severe trauma and centuries of social isolation are involved.

He only just now gets angry, now that he thinks Sam is going to start a forest fire and summon orcs and the first word out of his mouth is a relatively restrained 'Ach!' a word that doesn't even start with an F!

Gollum says fire is harmful and will draw enemy attention. Sam says essentially 'probably not but if it does that's too bad'.

Another bit of context is that Gollum has been presenting himself as the 'wilderness survival guy' and has obvious pride when he's talking about finding his way through the marsh. Sam isn't just being dismissive of Gollum, he's particularly dismissing something Gollum has real knowledge of and takes pride in that has nothing to do with being a corrupted evildoer.

Then Sam says he's going to cook the food.

'Stew the rabbits!' squealed Gollum in dismay. `Spoil beautiful meat Sméagol saved for you, poor hungry Sméagol! What for? What for, silly hobbit? They are young, they are tender, they are nice. Eat them, eat them!' He clawed at the nearest rabbit, already skinned and lying by the fire.

After all of that, we are at 'They are young, they are tender, they are nice. Eat them, eat them!' In the movie, the scene started with this line, apropros of nothing, and it's just. Yelled at Frodo. It's an invitation.

In the book: The same line is a cry of frustration. This isn't a non sequitur, this is a last straw! Gollum is hungry. He's been chronically hungry for a long time. The rabbits are exactly the kind of thing he likes to eat. They must smell amazing to him because now they're skinned. He had to turn them over to Sam after going to the work of hunting them (he didn't have to do this, he could have just not come back, or pretended he didn't find anything- whether or not his motives are pure, and they probably aren't, he's doing what he promised).

In return: Sam told him to do more work, and then started a fire- which Gollum seems to genuinely think is idiotic and puts his own safety at risk because he's stuck with these hobbits for the time being- Sam won't listen to reason and put it out, and to add insult to injury, that meat he insisted on?

HE'S JUST GOING TO RUIN IT

Imagine you were hungry and you brought someone an oreo (also you had to wander around in the woods and find the oreo and then surprise it from behind and break its neck), and that person just! scraped off the cream filling and replaced it with spray cheese! after that person called you a jerk and set a fire in a trash can! Maybe that person loves spray-cheese oreos! Maybe everyone but you loves them! I think you'd still be frustrated! (If you're the person who loves spray cheese oreos, pretend it's something else.)

On my first reading of the book this is where I got that sinking 'I am feeling a mite sympathetic to the horrible murderer that I know is just going to stay evil and die in the end' feeling. Gollum is being dreadfully annoying, but he's been pushed past his ability to self-regulate. It feels like the dynamic of antagonizing someone until they melt down and then criticizing them for melting down (Sam is not intending to do this, and doesn't even seem to notice that's what's happened, but the result is the same.)

Sam smooths things over and lets Gollum leave! until

Until

'Gollum!' he called softly. 'Third time pays for all. I want some herbs.' Gollum's head peeped out of the fern, but his looks were neither helpful nor friendly.

WHYEVER NOT?

'A few bay-leaves, some thyme and sage, will do -- before the water boils,' said Sam. 'No! ' said Gollum. `Sméagol is not pleased. And Sméagol doesn't like smelly leaves. He doesn't eat grasses or roots, no precious, not till he's starving or very sick, poor Sméagol.'

(Gollum was retching at the scent of flowers earlier. He may be annoyingly dramatic but I have no cause to doubt that they really did make him feel ill)

(also, I'm out in the weeds speculating now, but I just noticed Gollum is starting to spout off talking about himself and how he feels after Sam pooh-poohed his fretting about the fire, and it feels like a bid for recognition, did you notice Sam has not been calling him Sméagol? Sam isn't using his real name.)

The response:

'Sméagol'll get into real true hot water, when this water boils, if he don't do as he's asked,' growled Sam.

Gollum is here under duress and is cooperating with a quest that is in every way opposed to his personal interests and survival.

'Sméagol won't go, O no precious, not this time,' hissed Gollum. 'He's frightened, and he's very tired, and this hobbit's not nice, not nice at all. Sméagol won't grub for roots and carrotses and -- taters. What's taters, precious, eh, what's taters?

He hasn't had any rest because he was immediately sent off to hunt. I'll bet he is tired

Gollum is still willing to stop being angry because he saw a shiny new word, let's see how this goes

`Po-ta-toes,' said Sam. 'The Gaffer's delight, and rare good ballast for an empty belly. But you won't find any, so you needn't look. But be good Sméagol and fetch me the herbs, and I'll think better of you

Sam gives a cryptic answer and demands more work. 'I'll think better of you?' Lies! Gollum just did two errands and received nothing but more verbal abuse. Sam did not even thank him. This was where on my first reading I was saying to myself 'oh no Sam is mishandling this really badly and doesn't even notice'

I'll cook you some taters one of these days. I will: fried fish and chips served by S. Gamgee. You couldn't say no to that.' 'Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, and keep nassty chips! ' 'Oh you're hopeless,' said Sam. 'Go to sleep!'

Gollum doesn't understand what chips are. He just said he doesn't like plants or cooked food. He's tired and hungry and has been ordered around all day. He did everything asked up to now and in return he gets called hopeless.

Sméagol willingly, nonconfrontationally, successfully did two out of the three tasks, and when he refuses a third task after being demeaned and dismissed, he's called hopeless.

So Gollum leaves. That's the end of his involvement in this scene. he didn't hit anyone, bite anyone, or call Sam anything worse than 'not nice', 'silly' and 'foolish' (He does not call Sam a 'stupid fat hobbit', that appears to be a movie invention as well)

In the movies, he threw dead animals at frodo and some of this dialog was said without any of the context. haha funni.

The takeaways from the book version are that Gollum can understand and follow verbal commands and do errands (this is important because Gollum needs to be somewhat sane and lucid in order to satisfyingly be held accountable for his crimes), will cooperate when asked, communicates poorly, has trouble controlling his temper, and may at any time be in physical distress and not show it. (He doesn't give outward signs of fatigue.)

The takeaways from the movie version seem to be that Gollum is hyperactive, doesn't understand facial expressions, and finds cooking to be an alien custom. No one tried to ask him to do anything, so I have no idea whether he can understand requests and do tasks or not. May or may not be lucid.

Can we at least agree that Sam saying 'You're hopeless' after this:

Give it to usss rrraw… and wrrriggling! [Makes sickeningly happy face.]

is a different vibe from Sam saying 'You're hopeless' after hearing this?

'[Sméagol]'s frightened, and he's very tired, and this hobbit's not nice, not nice at all.'

Summary

Why is this scene the opposite?

Frodo has gone from being asleep but serving as an emotional anchor (both Sam and Gollum look at him and have some kind of emotional revelation, although the latter has his in private and we don't ever know what it is, the cad) to being awake but doing nothing and leaving. (He does go and find Faramir when the scene ends, but at that point, we are moving on to the next scene. so I don't count it.) Frodo has gone from affecting events while asleep to having no effect while awake

Sam has gone from being in charge of what's happening to passively reacting to a chaos gremlin

Gollum has gone from following orders until he can't take it anymore and suffering to being a chaos gremlin who does whatever he wants and seemingly having a good time? he's dancing around

The stew goes from eaten to uneaten

The overall purpose of the original scene appears to have been mainly to establish character and relationship dynamics. The movie scene... is doing the same, I suppose, but it's so brief and stripped of context that it almost feels like an homage more than a real scene, like it's there because they couldn't get away with entirely cutting it. And as every character is behaving contrary to what they used to in one form or another, the overall effect is:

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Ask me about the waterfall scene next

#long post #never ask me about the waterfall scene

[stayyyyyyyyyyyy21]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN)

"the truth"

part one part two, part three

Hyunjin's POV: she was dying inside that no one texted her after he uploaded a picture of him and Yeji, but when the notification popped up that Y/N wrote she is happy and called both Yeji and Hyunjin her best friend, he got anxious and didn't know what to do. When Hyunjin saw Y/N again, getting on first day of college, it sort of did something to his heart. He realized he missed her, and it was the first time he didn't talk to her for this long; he felt desperate. He wanted her and the group back, but Y/N was not alone; she was with a guy. And when he realized she was sitting with them, he was taken aback. Hyunjin was born into a family where traditions and reputation were above anything. Hyunjin was taught that since he was born in a rich family, his friends should always match his wealth or should be richer than him. Watching Y/N hang out with a bunch of nobodies irritated him. Later, when he saw Y/N in the pink gown at his father's art gallery event, he couldn't take his eyes off her and thought, "What is happening to me?" Hyunjin felt that this was the first time Y/N didn't come behind him or gave a damn about him, so Hyunjin started to feel attracted towards her. He was pissed when he realized Y/N skipped his party for those nobodies, and all the friend group did that too. He wanted to talk to everyone and make Yeji a part of the group again. Seeing those nobodies and the gang together made Hyunjin mad. And he texted in the group.

Hyunjin arrived at Y/N's place 15 minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower, emitting a subtle fragrance of roses that made Y/N momentarily forget her annoyance. She greeted him with a casual offer of water, but he cut straight to the chase.

"Why the cold shoulder?" Hyunjin's voice was laced with frustration, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/N's irritation flared up as she replied, "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

Hyunjin's expression softened as he guessed, "Because of Yeji?"

"I don't have romantic feelings for you anymore, Hyunjin," Y/N declared, her voice firm. "You distanced yourself from the whole group and started going out with random girls. Then you didn't even come to Changbin's campaign. I thought you were in Korea for the dance academy, but when I saw your Instagram, I understood why you didn't come to the campaign. Whatever happened in school, I thought that was over. You were fine with it, but you changed after Yeji came back from America. Do you think what happened back then was my fault?"

Hyunjin's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, his gaze fixed on Y/N, searching for understanding. "I didn't date anyone," he began, his tone earnest. "When Yeji left, she tried to contact me, but I told her I didn't want to. After a year, she sent me a letter explaining her part. Even though she was wrong here, she apologized, and I spent the entire year just talking to her."

A pang of guilt flashed across Hyunjin's face, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "I just told you that I am dating other girls, but I was actually just talking to Yeji," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "When she came back, I realized that I like Yeji, and I distanced myself from you guys because I was guilty." Each word hung heavy in the air, laden with remorse and the weight of unspoken emotions.

Hyunjin's heart sank as he watched Y/N's numb expression, a veil of pain masking her features. He pleaded desperately, "Hey, talk to me, please. I'm sorry, Y/N. I know she did you dirty, but please, Y/N, at least talk to her once."

Y/N maintained her composure, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "Hyunjin, it's fine," she replied softly. "I don't think I feel like discussing this issue anymore. I need some space from you and Yeji."

Hyunjin's plea hung in the air, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing chasm between them. "Y/N, take as much time as you want, but please, do the project with me and Yeji," he implored.

Y/N's anger simmered beneath the surface, her frustration palpable. "Shut up, Hyunjin," she snapped, her tone cutting. "Are you being for real now?"

Hyunjin recoiled, his words faltering as he struggled to find the right response. "Sorry, I just... um, nevermind," he muttered, his gaze falling. hyunjin said: i miss you.

But Y/N remained resolute, her need for space unwavering. "I miss you too, Hyunjin, but I need space from all this drama. I'm done with it," she declared firmly. "I really need friends outside of our group, so please, let me have my space."

The weight of Y/N's words settled over them, a somber reminder of the rift that had formed between them. Hyunjin nodded solemnly, his heart heavy with regret. "As you wish, Y/N. I just want our old group again," he murmured.

Y/N's expression softened, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "Don't worry, I won't ruin our group because of Yeji," she assured him. "See you later, Hyunjin. Bye."

Wooyoung emerged from his hiding spot behind the door, a concerned expression etched across his features. "Hey, do you want to discuss?" he asked gently as Y/N returned to the living room.

Y/N shook her head, her resolve unwavering. "Nope, I just don't wanna talk about this topic. Can you tell this to Changbin and Felix too?" she requested, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

A small smile played on Wooyoung's lips as he nodded in understanding. "Okay, love," he said softly, pressing a kiss to Y/N's cheek.

taglist: @lee-knows-cats @midsoulz

#hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fake texts #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin #hyunjin angst #hyunjin au #stray kids au #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin social media au #skz x reader #skz social media au #hyunjin smau #skz smau #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin series #hyunjin romance #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader smut #stray kids fake texts #skz fake texts #bang chan fake texts #skz fluff

[a-girl-in-neverland]

Since Bridgerton S3 is coming in a few weeks it's a great time for venting my thoughts on the show

I think so far Shonda has made a great job on the show but there has been some faults: they could have changed that situation with Daphne and Simon (you know which one), they could have given Kanthony more attention and also could have made Edwina way less oblivious and a better sister (rewatching S2 has been a torture)

BUT I want to vent about the secondary plotlines, because WHEN will they (Shonda and the writers) understand that the show would be SOOOOO much better if they focused on the family with the occasional minor plotline involving other characters and NOT the other way around???????

Don't get me wrong, I love Lady Danbury, Queen Charlotte (she's grown on me after QC), Madame Delacroix, for instance. But the Mondrich's??? Why are they still around???

They were great on S1, for both the purpose of friends of the Duke and the lord featherington plotline. Keeping them for S2 i thought was a stretch. But for S3??? I simply don't see the point

The show would benefit so much from keeping the Bridgertons the main secondary plotlines. I do not care how but i would 100% prefer to see the family interactions

Think about it: it would give the ones we already know room to grow and evolve (Daphne and Anthony) and also give oportunity for get to know others (Francesca, Hyacinth and Gregory)

I was daydreaming about a few headcanons/possibilities

• Daphne being involved in Francesca's first season

• Anthony healing from the burden of being parentified so early and getting to be just a sibling

• Anthony and Kate as a role model/couple for the youngsters

• Eloise and Benedict (i just love every scene just the two of them)

• Daphne, Eloise and Francesca just being sisters together (ABC is already a solidified trio but DEF could be a good combination)

• Gregory and Hyacinth causing chaos

• ABC being big brothers to Gregory (specially Benedict and Colin could interact more with him)

• Daphne being the one to give Francesca and Eloise "the talk" so they are not as naive as she was

• both Kanthony and Daphne & Simon evolving in their marriages, facing challenges and showing more than just "happily ever after"

• Francesca and John being close to the family (and with that, the whole family can grieve him and not just Francesca)

• Kate and Simon being close with the others siblings (i get that Rege isn't coming back, but i would be nice tho)

If you read this far, i hope you have an amazing week, i wish you love and happiness and thanks for letting me vent <3

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton season one #bridgerton season two #kanthony #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #daphne bridgerton #simon basset #shondaland #shonda rhimes #francesca bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #netflix