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callme-holly · 1 month

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Can you do a three times the gang almost caught and the one time they did with two dal or steve

But the reader is also a Curtis? Like their sister?

𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 [𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - i'm so sorry this took so long omg. I'm really trying to be faster but my attention span is so short and I just can't sit down for longer than 10 mins. I will probably also end up writing this sort of fic for Two-bit and Steve too, only bc I have literally nothing for them yet lmaoo. Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing, mentions of fighting

0.1 - more charm than sense

The Curtis home is unusually quiet; everyone either out or at work.

The radio plays on low, some commercial station that only seems to play the same ten songs before switching back to the first and replaying them all without end.

You’re standing in front of the sink, towel in hand, and as you clean up the remnants of breakfast, your brother’s dirty plates are dumped haphazardly atop the counter in a less than neat pile. The water runs clear under your steady hands, and for a moment you forget that you aren’t entirely alone in the house, too focused on cleaning up to notice anything further than the sound of your own breathing and the light static of the radio.

You're so lost in thought that you barely register the lingering presence behind you, only startling once a familiar pair of arms wind themselves around your waist from behind, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cheap, most likely stolen, cologne filling your senses. Lips are pressed against the base of your neck, and a chin rests on your shoulder. The sudden weight is warm and familiar.

“I thought ya invited me over to spend some time with me, doll, not clean.” Dallas drawls, his voice rough and his accent heavy. You can feel him smile into your skin as you sigh, letting go of the cloth in favour of turning towards him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall to your hips, and his thumbs trace lazy patterns into your skin.

“I didn’t invite you, Dal,” You raise your brows, “You climbed in through my window.”

Dallas laughs lowly in response, shrugging nonchalantly as he drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Didn't expect ya to be so preoccupied.” He trails off, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and nipping lightly along your jawline. “Thought I’d be gettin’ more attention than this.”

You roll your eyes fondly in response, but don’t move away as he continues peppering kisses down your jaw and collar, your hands wandering idly to the hem of your shirt. You’re quick to slap him away, fixing him with a warning look. He just grins lazily, leaning in close enough to press his lips just below your ear.

“Dallas.” Your tone is stern, and it has absolutely no effect whatsoever on the greaser, who merely hums in reply, hands moving back to your waist to pull you closer. “Not here.”

Dallas’ grip tightens for a moment, and he pulls back, tilting his head to the side. “C’mon, doll… You’re brothers are gone; what’s there to worry about?” There’s a wicked grin on his lips as he steps away from you and leans against the kitchen counter, watching you carefully.

It had been a mutual agreement to hide your relationship from the gang, a decision made to spare you from the headache Darry would no doubt give you and the black eye Dallas would receive for even thinking about touching you. You knew it was stupid to try hiding things from the gang, especially when they could see right through you like nobody else did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell them.

Darry would probably skin you if he found out you were dating a hood like Dally, and you didn’t want to risk it.

“There’s plenty to worry about,” you conclude, turning back to the sink. “What if Two-Bit or Johnny decide they wanna pay little old me a visit, huh, and they catch us here in the kitchen?”

Dallas chuckles before placing his hands on your shoulders, leaning in close to whisper directly into your ear, “They won’t catch us, darlin’. They haven’t yet.” His hands begin to wander once more, and you drain the sink with a sigh, trying to find what little composure you have left to resist him and his words. He's relentless, damn him, and you know better than to hope for any sort of peace and quiet when you're home and alone.

His lips continue to trail a line down your neck, mouthing teasingly along the sensitive skin before moving back to your lips. This time, however, you give in, your fingers threading into his hair as you meet his eager advance.

It's almost too easy to lose yourself in the haze of the moment, so much so that you hardly notice the thumping of footsteps on the porch until the screen door opens suddenly and Sodapop’s voice rings out.

“Y/N! You here?” His voice is loud with excitement as always, and you’re quick to jump away from Dallas, your eyes wide with surprise.

“What the hell?” You hiss, glancing around the room frantically before spotting before your gaze lands on the bathroom door. You shove Dallas towards it, mumbling under your breath as you do so. “Get your ass outta here.” He snorts quietly, following your gaze and pressing a kiss to your cheek before closing the door behind him just as Soda rounds the corner in search of you. He beams brightly, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re home early…” You start, and he shrugs, heading to the dining table to grab his lunch which is still sitting where you’d left it out this morning.

“Forgot this,” He holds up the bag and you roll your eyes internally. Typical.

“You know,” You head back to the sink, taking out the now-clean dishes and stacking them back in the cupboard. “Sometimes I wonder how you’ve lived this long.”

Soda smirks and raises an eyebrow, backing towards the door, lunch now in hand. “What can I say? What I lack in sense, I make up for in charm.” He winks, flashing a cocky grin as he leaves the house, the door banging shut behind him.

You watch to make sure he's completely gone before jogging to the bathroom and throwing open the door. “I told you this would happen.” You start, but stop short when you see that the room is empty.

The only sign that anybody had even been in here in the first place is the open window, the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, and that stupid cheap cologne that lingers in the air.

“Goddamnit, Winston…” You huff, shaking your head and walking over to pull the window shut.

0.2 - some unwanted visitors

There’s a slight chill in the air; the summer nights slowly beginning to turn cooler as fall begins its slow, sleepy crawl across the state.

Dallas has an arm thrown lazily over your shoulders, a cigarette dangling between his lips as he presses close, and a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. You lean into him slightly, savouring the warmth surrounding him and feeling content in his hold. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, neither wanting to break it nor quite being comfortable staying silent either.

“So... I suppose you're wanted back before curfew, huh?” Dallas eventually drawls, shifting slightly to lean his head against yours. You let out a small laugh, leaning further into him and allowing your cheek to rest against his chest.

“You know it,” You murmur, and he hums, his fingers tracing little circles on the small of your back absentmindedly. “Darry thinks I'm out with friends again, so you’ll have to drop me off at the end of the street.”

The greaser frowns at that, a faint crease forming between his brows. “I ain’t lettin’ you out of my sight, doll, 'specially not this late.” He looks almost offended that you'd even suggest such an idea, and you shake your head, looking up at him.

“Dal, I can handle myself. I don’t need you watching my ass 24/7.”

He rolls his eyes, giving you an indignant scoff. “You ain’t got to act all high and mighty, doll. You know I ain’t going to let you walk alone.” He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers the next part. “Besides, we both know you like it when I watch your ass.” He pulls back then, grinning wildly when you roll your eyes dramatically, pushing him away.

“Whatever, Winston,” You mutter, a coy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as he reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together loosely. “But seriously, though, I’ll be fine.”

Dallas simply grunts, choosing to drop the subject, giving you no further argument. You know he’ll still insist on walking you to your porch, regardless of whether your brothers spot you or not.

He thrives on adrenaline and the thrill of getting caught is just too much for him to resist.

You both turn back to the movie playing on screen—some old beach movie with a plot no different from every other. It's cliche and unrealistic, but you're willing to put up with it just so you and Dallas can spend time together without hiding.

It's not until halfway through the movie that you spot a familiar pair of faces making their way towards your row of seats, too caught up in their debate to spot you. Dallas currently has his head buried in the crook of your neck, the movie long since forgotten as he trails kisses along your jawline, and you're barely keeping your attention focused on the screen.

“Dal,” Your tone is hard, and you elbow him sharply in the ribs, eliciting an annoyed groan. “We’ve got company.”

Dallas turns to glance towards the end of your row, and, sure enough, there stands none other than your brother Ponyboy Curits and Two-Bit Mathews, both of whom are yet to notice you both.

“Shit,” He growls under his breath, arm slipping from around your shoulder as he turns his body away from them. “What’re they doin’ here?”

You give him a half-hearted shrug, scanning the area for a way out and coming up short. The closest exits are the ones closest to your brother and Two-Bit, and you have no doubt that they’ll spot you if you try to make a break for it.

You're about to suggest going the long way and cutting through the crowds when suddenly someone comes up behind you, hands slamming into your shoulders and your voice cutting through your internal panic.

“Y/N Curtis!”

You whip your head around, meeting the gaze of Two-Bit, who is grinning like a madman. Dallas lets out a grunt of irritation, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting the two boys a cold look.

“What’d you want?” He snaps, and Ponyboy frowns, looking over at you curiously.

“I thought you told Darry you were out with friends tonight?”

Your eyes widen, and your face heats instantly. “Well…” You trail off. “There was a change of plans.”

Pony raises an eyebrow, seemingly sceptical at your words, as Two sits himself down in the seat beside you, stretching out and taking a sip from his drink. Dallas says nothing, his expression darkening, and you feel him tense up beside you.

There's an awkward pause, broken only by the crackling audio of the movie, before Dal huffs impatiently and rises from his chair. He shoots you a look, and you instantly understand, standing in your own chair.

“We’re going to go grab some drinks.” You state this before turning on your heel and following Dallas away from the seats, weaving through the rows until you find a secluded spot, away from the larger crowds and the prying eyes of the two greasers.

Ponyboy and Two-Bit watch to both go, frowning in confusion before Two raises a brow. “They seem pretty close.”

Pony shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “My sister isn’t stupid enough to date a hood like Dally.” Oh, how wrong they are…

0.3 - who’s jacket is that?

You’re at the DX, leaning back against one of the gas pumps as you listen to whatever wild story Steve is telling you. His hands flail around dramatically, and you nod along slowly, only half paying attention as Dallas comes to stand beside you, a cigarette hanging lazily between his lips.

He doesn't speak, simply resting a subtle hand against your lower back, his fingers drawing lazy patterns into your skin. Your mind races, and you take note of the people around you. How could any of your friends notice the small display of affection happening between the two of you? But they all seem too caught up in their own conversations to notice.

Steve’s voice cuts through your thoughts just then, drawing you from your reverie and your attention away from Dallas.

“And then she tosses her milkshake right in this asshole’s face and leaves!” You have no idea what he's talking about, but let out a small laugh regardless, at least trying to look somewhat interested in what he’s saying.

Dallas shifts a little next to you; the pressure of his hand is now more noticeable against your lower back, and you know that he knows you're distracted. You can almost sense the smirk he’s holding back, and you resist the urge to turn and glare at him, instead focusing back on Steve and the other boys, their mindless chatter continuing for a few moments longer before Johnny speaks up, his tone laced with curiosity.

“Hey, Y/N, is that a new jacket?”

You turn to stare at the boy, brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?” You glance down, and you swear your heart stops for a moment. You're still wearing Dallas' jacket. Shit.

Quickly, you clear your throat, hoping that the colour flooding your cheeks isn’t too obvious. “Oh… Uh–” By now, all eyes are on you; the previous conversation has long been forgotten in favour of watching you intently. It’s uncomfortable, and just as you’re about to offer up a poor attempt at an answer, Steve pipes up again, his brow furrowed.

“Ain’t that your jacket, Dal?” He looks over at the greaser beside you, and Dallas hums, taking another drag of his cigarette. There’s a small smirk on his face, his eyes flickering down at you before he gives a shrug, blowing out a thin cloud of smoke.

“Dunno. Could be.” He states this nonchalantly, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and slouching against the gas pump. “It looks awfully similar.”

You swallow hard, averting your gaze as the gang glances back over at you, all sharing the same confused expressions. It seems Dallas isn't going to offer up any more on the subject, so with a few heavy sighs, everyone seems to drop it, returning to their previous conversations.

Letting out a small sigh of relief, you turn to look up at Dallas, who is still grinning smugly. His hand rests comfortably on your back once more, your fingers resuming their rhythmic pattern, and you allow your shoulders to relax a little, knowing he’ll tease you relentlessly later on.

“They look awfully comfortable.” Steve remarks quietly, nodding his head in yours and Dallas's general direction. It seems your fond expression for the hood hasn’t gone unnoticed, and Soda snorts, nudging his buddy in the ribs.

“What’re you talking about?” He raises a brow, taking a rag from his pocket and wiping off the oil staining his hands. His attention moves to you and Dallas, a knowing look spreading across his features as he watches the two of you interact and an impossibly soft look in Dally’s eyes as you talk to him.

He can’t help but notice the jacket once more, how it’s just a little too big on you, and how it looks a little too much like Dallas’'s to just be a coincidence. No, there’s no doubt in his mind about who exactly owns it, and if the smug smirk tugging at the corners of Dallas’ lips is anything to go by, then maybe, just maybe, Steve is right.

Things are slowly starting to add up.

0.4 - caught...

It’s early evening, and the sun is sinking low in the sky, casting dim rays of golden light throughout the room. It’s peaceful; the excitable chatter of the gang in the living room fills the air, muffled by your closed door.

Dallas has his head resting in your lap, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers as he blows smoke out through your open window. His eyes are closed tight, bruises and cuts litter his face, and his skin is stained with blood and dirt. He doesn’t speak, merely wincing as your fingertips trail over his wounds, stopping occasionally to press gentle kisses to his hair.

There’s a nasty gash above his eye, the blood trickling freely in little rivulets, and you wipe at it lightly with a wad of gauze, the sting of the alcohol drawing a pained grunt from the greaser.

“Do ya have to do that?”

You give him a sympathetic smile, brushing your lips over his forehead tenderly. “Sorry,” you mutter, running your fingers through his matted hair. “I’m almost done.”

Dallas doesn't move; he just stays silent, letting you dab gently at his injuries, his expression unreadable.

You never know how he's going to act after a rumble. Sometimes, he's fine, joking around and teasing with the others, but then there’s those small moments where the tension from the fight doesn’t dissipate, where he sits in complete silence, letting you work without complaint.

These are the times when you worry, when it becomes obvious that he is hurting. He won’t tell you, not directly at least, but you know something's wrong. You can tell in the way he holds onto you, his face hidden from view, as his hands grip desperately at the fabric of your shirt.

“Dal,” You murmur softly, and your tone is soft and soothing. “Talk to me.” Your fingers trail softly through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, and you notice his shoulders drop a little. He exhales heavily, pressing his cheek against your thigh, his eyes closed tightly.

“Not right now,” His voice is thick and rough, and words slurred slightly as he struggled to stay awake. Your eyebrows furrow as a soft sigh escapes your lips, reaching your free hand out to brush over his bruised jaw. It's rare to see him so vulnerable and obviously upset, and it hurts knowing that he will bottle things up and hide them away until he’s forced to let it all out.

You don’t push, though. Instead, you take his hand in yours, running your thumb over his bruised knuckles as you lay back against the pillows. The movement causes Dallas to shift slightly, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close, and he drifts off within seconds.

You let your slip shut, allowing yourself to drift easily along with him, content to lay here with him and wait patiently until he’s ready to talk.

“Hey, where’s Dally and Y/N?” Pony’s voice breaks through the cheerful laughter of the gang as they bounce around the living room, most still high on adrenaline and excitement, only slowing down slightly once the question reaches their ears.

They all glanced about the space, their eyes scanning over every possible corner, before coming to rest with each other, sharing the same look of confusion.

Darry pushes himself up from his chair with a sigh, tossing the first-aid kit in his lap to Soda, who catches it with ease. “Y/N is in her room. She might know where Dallas is.” The gang all watches as he heads down the hall, stopping just outside your door to knock softly.

When there's no response, he frowns, glancing back towards the gang before knocking again. Still nothing. With a quick shrug, he turns the doorknob gently, pushing open the door and peeking inside.

Your bedroom is dark except for the faint glow emanating from your desk lamp, which illuminates the walls with a soft pale glow. Darry is about to call out to you, about to question you on where Dallas is, when he spots the hood in question asleep with his head in your lap.

His breath hitches, and he pauses, his gaze wandering to you, your fingers threaded through his blonde locks.

“Soda. Pony.” Darry calls quietly, catching both brothers’ attention immediately as he speaks. “Get over here.”

The two boys scramble up from their places on the couch, racing across the room and peering into your darkened room curiously, their eyes widening at the sigh before them.

“Well, damn.” Sodapop lets out a low whistle as the rest of the gang come up behind them. Two-Bit lets out a short laugh, and Steve cuts him off with a sharp elbow to the ribs. “I told you,” the former whispers, grinning broadly. “I told you they had something going on!”

The group all share a look, the sound of Darry clearing his throat echoing in the quiet house. Slowly, he backs out of the room. closing the door once more and letting out a breath.

There are words that will need to be had, promises that need to be made, but he supposes that can wait for another time. Right now, he'll let you and Dallas have your moment because it seems it's been long awaited. And it certainly has.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders preferences #the outsiders imagine #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston imagine #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #two bit mathews #steve randle

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keresnotceres · 11 months

Text

TF 141: General Headcanons

[sfw] cw: substance use, mention of injury

some of these are so stupid i’m sorry

Has never taken a nap in his life. Literally never. If he says he’s “going to take a nap” no he’s not. He’s going to lay in his bed and talk shit about people to himself.

Is not allowed to watch any war movie whatsoever. Will either complain about how inaccurate the warfare or death scenes are or will pass the fuck out. Head tilted back on the couch, arms crossed, legs spread. Neck pain for DAYS.

Prefers handheld consoles like the DS or Gameboy to any home consoles. Likes to feel that it’s his and if anyone wants to take it away from him, they’ll have to pry it from his strong ass grip.

SPEAKING OF. If you hand him like anything to hold onto he will have the tightest fucking grip on it. Bro it’s not gonna run away from you!!! Be gentle!!!

Casual smoker. Picked up the habit from being around Price too much and now he likes to smoke away stress with a cigarette or two.

Constantly hits his head getting out of cars. Literally cannot catch a break due to underestimating how tall he is compared to any vehicle.

Finds it very difficult to smile, even if he’s happy. Showing emotion in general is really hard for him, usually will only do it around people he trusts the most. Showing emotion to someone makes him feel vulnerable and weak, the complete opposite of how he presents himself.

Finds comfort in making tiny wood trinkets. Likes the motions of carving and having complete control over the little statue. Usually makes them when he’s on leave so that he doesn’t have to go out and that he isn’t distracted on base. He often gives carvings as gifts to his teammates/loved ones.

Shows affection through smaller, less noticeable gesture. Remembers small details about yourself or stories you tell; likes to bring you small trinkets he’s made that resemble things you’ve mentioned you like. Will talk to you about your interests, like what books or movies you like, and will have in depth conversations about your favorite parts of them.

Cracks his knuckles like way too much for it to be normal. He’s gotta have joint pain, because god damn the entire team hears it throughout the day. Just woke up? Cracking his knuckles. Doing paperwork? Cracking his knuckles. Does it on purpose to tick off Soap sometimes.

Absolutely LOVES making playlists/mixtapes for his friends. If you ask him to compile a list of songs that reminds him of you it will be in your hands in less than a day.

Is the friend that you go to when you don’t know what you need, but it’s something. You wanna go out and drink? He’s down. You just want to hang out at home and watch something? Get cozy! You need to gossip about someone? Fuck yeah.

Was probably the kid in school that everybody knew of but nobody was like good friends with. Like everybody liked him, he was cool, but he just didn’t like anyone else.

The only person in the 141 who can somewhat dance. Can he bust a life-altering move if the dance floor? Not really, but he definitely can do a few basic moves and can actually get with the rhythm. Prefers to listen to music than dance to it.

Probably called Price ‘Dad’ accidentally when talking to his civilian friends and had to backtrack so hard he almost choked on a saltine cracker.

Mastered the art of looking like he’s paying attention when he’s really not. Useful when it comes to the boring ass stories some of the COs go off on tangents about.

Terrific at word games, especially Scrabble. Catch him with only vowels and he will be making words you didn’t even know existed. However, he’s not the greatest at Monopoly. He thinks he’s going to win when he doesn’t buy much first round but ends up going bankrupt after having to pay everyone for their properties.

Will not let you live any embarrassing moment down. Never. He is no man’s peace. You tripped over nothing? He’ll remind you of it for the next four days. You misspelled a word in a message or on paper? He’s repeating it until he forgets it. You opened a cabinet and proceeded to whack yourself in the face with the door? He’ll be laughing at the image in his head for WEEKS.

Can braid like a motherfucker. You have no idea how he learned how to braid, but holy shit he’s good at it. Literally just loves playing with your hair regardless of length. The feeling of twirling little pieces between his fingers his just really calming to him.

Was absolutely a Pokémon kid. Has an obnoxious card collection at his parents’ house that he constantly sorts through whenever he goes to visit them. Can and will show off pictures of the rarer, expensive cards he has to anyone who understands.

Likes people-watching because he likes to make up random stories about everyone who walks by. The woman talking aggressively on the phone? Her fiancé is trying to get her to sign a prenup.

Can only cry if he’s watching a really sad scene from a movie or show. Marley and Me had his ass sobbing in the theater.

Likes babysitting his nieces/nephews whenever he’s on leave. He likes having some sense of normalcy and the feeling of having a family of his own, even if they’re just his siblings’ kids.

In his flat, he sleeps with like six blankets year-round. Even in the midst of a heatwave he’s got all six just piled on top of him, sweating his damn ass off.

Likes picking up random bullet casings he finds when on missions. Like a crow.

Hates the beach with a fiery passion. No, he doesn’t wanna go get sand in every crevice of his skin and article of clothing. He also doesn’t want to feel that weird mixture of sticky and smooth for an uncertain amount of time after getting out of the ocean.

Will NEVER be caught lacking when it comes to working out on leave. Rises with the sun and hauls ass to the gym so that he can keep those tasty biceps looking good. Has Ghost’s leg day routine memorized due to being subjected to it for so long.

Likes to be close to you no matter what. Eating? Sat right next to you, eating his own meal. Debriefing? Standing halfway behind you. On a mission? Standing right next to you, gun in hand, just a hair away from physical connection.

Loves going shopping, especially when it’s with you. Will pick out the most obnoxious shirts, put them to his body, and ask “would this look good on me?” Gives constructive criticism on anything you pick out, uses it to comment on how good he thinks you look lmfao.

Almost burned his house down after burning a candle and is now afraid of ever lighting a candle ever again. No, he doesn’t care if it smells good. Do not light that damn thing in his house!!

Had a lighter collection when he was younger, but somehow managed to lose all of them except the most boring, plain white one. Has never bought any other color of lighter since.

Is not allowed to recommend movies because it will either be a boring war movie, a really old movie, or a really old and boring war movie. His music taste is somewhat better than his movie taste.

Can hold his damn liquor but refuses to get involved in drinking games because he doesn’t want to partake in “alcohol poisoning the game.”

Has the dad sneeze. It could be nice and silent and then all of a sudden there’s just an ungodly noise coming from Price’s general area. It encompasses the entire room. It strikes fear into new recruits. It’s not until Soap says ‘bless you’ that anyone realizes it was even a sneeze.

Has gotten drunk in his office with Laswell on more than one occasion and ends up talking about dumb shit he’s done in the past. Gaz walked into Price’s office to scrounge up a pen and instead left with the knowledge that Price split his head open when he was 15 after riding his bike straight into a wall.

Calls you names like “Love” or “Dear” by reflex. You don’t even have to be together for it to happen, it just slips out of his mouth. He apologizes more often than not until you tell him that you’re okay with it.

Literal heater. Exudes heat like no other. Oh, you’re cold? Stand next to him for like five minutes and you’ll be warm in no time. 9 times out of 10 his hands are warmer than yours.

Isn’t really into soccer/football but will always watch a game if it’s on. Is always stood up, hands on his hips, watching intensely and making weird noises at every move made on the field.

Is like, astronomically good at cooking but only when it comes to basic foods. Makes an absolute banger grilled cheese but dear god don’t let him attempt any sort of casserole. His fettuccine alfredo? Fantastic. His steaks? Phenomenal. Any baked goods however… Good luck.

Owns a shirt that just says “Father.” and will wear it out occasionally when he’s on leave. Has never told anyone about this shirt, he doesn’t even know why he has it.

#cod headcanons #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader

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ninapi · 11 months

Text

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Wind Pillar ╝

Premise: A life without the demon corps was just meaningless. Living with a heavy survivor guilt can really eat someone from the inside. That was until a weak light arrived in the most unexpected way possible, breathing life back into his lungs, making him feel needed once more.

Word Count: 5081

Warning: spoilers, the story takes place after the manga’s original timeline.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shinazugawa Sanemi was not the wind pillar anymore, he wasn’t Genya’s older brother anymore either. There was nobody left in this world that needed him.

After losing his family and dedicating his youth to demon hunting, losing the corps was the final blow for him.

Why was he the only one left?

He should have died if not with his family back in the day he should at least have died defending his brother’s life, Genya should be the one alive right now, not him.

What is the point of being alive when everything you care for was now gone?

He wasn’t particularly good at anything else besides demon hunting, getting a regular job and settling down was definitely not his style. He walked around the neighborhood he used to live in when his family was still alive, the thought of moving back into his old house crossed his mind, maybe do some renovations, hopefully he could drown in his good memories until time would come to give out his last breath.

But the house was now taken by an unknown family. A lot of people lost it all to demons and the destruction they brought with them, it wasn’t uncommon to see abandoned houses here and there, it made sense the house was deemed abandoned, they did leave to never come back.

He had nothing left, not even his old house.

Starting fresh could be encouraging to others, but for Sanemi it was torture.

None of the dojos he visited needed new instructors, majority of them were terrified by his looks alone, if a bunch of guys hitting each other for no apparent reason didn’t want him there what type of job was he supposed to get? It’s not like he was well mannered and literate like Tomioka or had a support network like Tanjiro. What’s the point of being the second strongest pillar if the demons were now all gone.

Sanemi’s lunch was now being given to stray ducks as he had no appetite whatsoever, feeding them was more productive than remaining in such a depressing head space, that’s when an orange rolled in between his feet. He didn’t think much of it, maybe someone dropped it while shopping, but then another orange came rolling next, and then three, making him look back in confusion.

A lone cart full of oranges was coming full speed down a hill with no one pushing it. He had to do something otherwise the villagers could get hurt, he saw small children playing around the area not long ago. Running towards it he was able to stop it before anything major happened, only a few oranges were lost, and the cart was still in good shape. A young woman came running in his direction panting for her life, “Thank you so much, good sir. My cart, it was so heavy, I lost control of it on my way home.”

Not trusting your current strength, he kept on holding the cart, still thinking of the kids running around and how exhausted you looked. “Were you heading down hill?”

“Not really, I was actually supposed to go up the hill behind us, but the cart was heavier than I expected, and it wouldn’t listen to me, so it rolled backwards.” Sanemi stared at said hill with a worrisome expression, that was no hill, that was a full-sized mountain. You were small, looked frail, pale even, little cuts and scars littering your hands. There was no way you could take the cart up that mountain, and it was not like he had anything else to do.

Somehow you reminded him of his mother and how they always needed to help her move heavy stuff around and reach tall places, wanting to help you came out naturally from his heart. “Lead the way.”

“Eh? It’s ok, don’t worry about me. I can take it!” your blushy surprised looking face caused him to scoff, turning the cart around and walking up the first hill. “Like hell you can. Now shut up and tell me where to go.”

“How can I tell you where to go if I shut up?” you were doing your best not to grin at his constipated looking scowl, but instead of teasing him further you just walked beside him in silence. The climb up to your house was steep, but he didn’t even sweat, before you noticed you were now at the entrance of your property, all over way too fast.

“Thank you, good sir. You can leave the cart there I will unload the oranges.” you ran into a small shed, bringing a cloth to wrap them up and bring them all inside. If the cart was heavy, the load was even worse. You couldn’t even lift them from the ground, causing Sanemi to heave a deep sigh. “Don’t you have a husband to help you? Or someone else like a father or brothers? There’s no way you can take all those fucking oranges inside unless you take one at a time and that would take a stupid amount of time.” He grabbed the load with one hand, swinging it over his shoulder like if it weighted nothing, waiting for you to open the door to your abode.

“I do not. My entire family was devoured by a wild beast while I was being treated in a hospice, far from here. Once I regained my strength back, they were all gone. My brother was the one who did all the heavy work around here, my mother and I would pick up the harvest and take care of the animals.” you had a pretty large farm, it wasn’t well tended now but it had several crops still growing and remains of what it used to be an area for livestock. “So, I do most of the work now that I’m alone.”

He knows how uncomfortable sympathetic comments are, so he doesn’t address the information gained, “Why do you even need so many oranges?” a loud thump could be heard as he set them on the kitchen floor, making the wooden floor tremble at the weight. “I was thinking of using them to make some marmalade and sell it at the markets, growing crops is harder than I thought, and I still need to eat, so had to figure something out.”

It was somewhat comforting for Sanemi hearing about the struggles of someone with a similar background. You both couldn’t protect your family, both had to worry about an uncertain future ahead of you. Both had things the other didn’t, but it felt good knowing he wasn’t the only one out there with similar problems.

“Do you like marmalade? I got some bread earlier, come sit down. Let me make you some tea, I still need to thank you for your kindness.” he nodded looking around for a place to sit down, the climb and the lack of food were starting to get to him, it sounded like a good idea.

He never thought making marmalade could be as complex, he had nothing better to do so he just looked at you from where he was sitting. Your hands were so small you needed both of them to stir the mix in the pot, it was amusing. The focus you were putting into making the treat, the tip of your tongue poking out passed your lips in concentration, it was all very eye catching. He’s always admire people that are good at cooking, always wanted to make delicious ohagi for himself, but he wasn’t the best with his hands unless it required brutish strength.

Once the marmalade was ready, you brought it to the small table in front of him, setting down a loaf of bread, a knife and two cups of steaming green tea.

Sanemi thinks back of the last time he was able to relax this way, sad thing really, he hadn’t ever since his mother left this world. Thinking of having afternoon tea without a worry in the world, it’s been over a decade since he had the luxury to do just that.

“Is it good? Do you like it? If you don’t, I can bring out something else.” the expectant look in your eyes made him contemplate what was in his mouth. It was sweet and very refreshing, he’s never had orange marmalade before so he couldn’t really compare it to any other, but he definitely didn’t hate it and wouldn’t mind eating some more. “It’s good, I’m sure it will sell well.” happy with his reply, you tried a bit yourself making mental notes of how to improve it even more.

Teacups were empty, plates clean, it was time for Sanemi to go back to wonder around town, maybe even try to find that one inn he heard about the day before. As he was getting up from his seat heavy rain came pouring down, a loud thunder making you jump. “When it rains this bad around here it takes a while for it to go away; would you like to stay for dinner? Um…sir?”

“Shinazugawa. Shinazugawa Sanemi.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner, Shinazugawa-san? I’m (Y/N) by the way.” he was starting to worry for your well being, you were deliberately letting an unknown man into your house and didn’t even know his name, that was not safe, even without demons around. “Tch, not like I have a choice.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The rain was just not stopping, dinner was done for, and it was pitch black outside, the mountain’s treacherous paths were not places to wonder around in a stormy night like this one, “Shinazugawa-san, how about you stay for the night? You can stay in my brother’s room; I can even lend you some of his clothing so you can take a bath.”

A bath, it’s been days since he took one of those, an alluring offer indeed, but somehow the way you were taking the situation didn’t sit right in his stomach, rage was now bubbling inside his chest at your disregard for your own safety.

“Are you dumb or what? Do you not see me as a man? Hell, you do know you shouldn’t bring men you don’t know into your house, right? Specially not at night.” his angry outburst made you giggle, closing the front door shut to make a statement. “You sound like my brother, he used to say things like that to my mother. I do know you though, you’re the very kind young man that helped a woman in need without asking anything in return, I even know your name now.”

“So what? Is not like I couldn’t just do something to you now that it’s dark, it’s just the two of us here in the mountain, no one would hear if something was to happen, nobody would come even if you screamed for help like a damn pig. Don’t do stupid things like that even if you think you know someone, you don’t know a fucking thing about me.” he was shouting at this point, his fists shacking. He was really a kind man, all he wanted was for you to understand how evil the world out there could be, to others it could be overwhelming to have a figure like him shouting so angrily at them but you could see he was just worried.

“I won’t do it again, Shinazugawa-san, I promise. Now please come with me, I will show you where the bath is.” your attitude and gentle smile were infuriating. All he could think of was how his sweet mother got beaten down by his own father and the men he would bring home sometimes for drinks. How she could barely defend her children and would always ended up hurt, how she had no chance whatsoever to fight stronger men. You wouldn’t be able to defend yourself either, you needed some sense put in that head of yours before it was too late.

He pinned you against the bathroom wall, one of his muscular thighs going in between your legs, rendering you useless against his grip, he was glaring down at you in a strangely attractive way triggering many things within you, except fear, “See how easy it is for me if I wanted to hurt your ass? Take me seriously dammit, take every man fucking seriously, you can’t trust someone you don’t know so easily, it will get you killed.” he let go off your wrists roughly, wanting you to learn your lesson, but one of your hands reached for his, “You have a blister. Let me bring a bandage so we can clean it, it was probably the cart, it tends to do that.”

“No, stop. Why are you acting this way? Are you out of your mind? I could have assaulted you just now, open your eyes woman!”

“But you didn’t. You had more than one chance to do as you pleased with me, but you didn’t. Instead, you ate my food, laughed at my jokes, helped me when no one else did. You are a kind man Shinazugawa-san, wether you want to accept it or not. I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t invite someone over to my house if it could do me some harm.”

Sanemi was speechless. You didn’t consider him dangerous? He couldn’t even get a decent job because everyone would look at him like the killer he is. If there was someone dangerous out there it was him, he could kill you without even trying, in seconds, painfully, he was the second strongest in a chain of the strongest people humanity had to offer. There was something off with your view of the world.

“Now, stay still, I’m going to clean it.” his hand has never been held that way before, of course he’s had his wounds tended to, he’s always needing some patching up after his many battles, but your touch was different, it was so gentle, he could feel how you were really worried about him, about his tiny blister hurting with your touch, like if he was as frail as you were. “You gotta make sure the wound is properly cleaned before you apply bandages, look at yourself, all those scars…I bet they were all so painful…you need proper care if you don’t want them to get infected or leave traces. You tell me to take care of myself but wouldn’t look in a mirror first.”

Nobody talks to him like that, specially not females. The girls of the butterfly state were always scared of him and just looking their way would make them run away. The only active women in his life were his mother and sisters, he never had time to mess around with girls or to get his wounds properly taken care of, there were demons out there that needed to be killed and that’s all that mattered to him back then.

“Are you seriously not afraid of me?”

You looked up into his eyes, staring at him in disbelief, his tone was a lot tamer now you could hear the honest confusion lacing his words, “Why would I? You look tough, that’s true. But I am nobody to judge others. My brother also had many scars from taking care of the farm, even several of his toes were missing from when he stepped on a saw by accident, you’re not the only one around with a couple of fingers missing in this violent era. People used to say he was scary, all big and full of scars, skin tanned by the long hours of working in the fields, but he was a gentle man, always took great care of me and my mother. You strike me as the same type, you don’t feel like someone who would hurt the weak, you feel more like someone that protects them.”

Sanemi was left speechless once more as you left for him to enjoy his bath, you made sure the water was warm enough from the outside, blowing on the fire constantly until you heard him come out. He’s never been able to relax this much, he knew demons weren’t a threat anymore but that didn’t only mean he was unemployed, he didn’t think of what that meant fully until now. No demons meant less danger, meant being able to take his time to live life, to breathe, to relax. It was a strange feeling, not having to worry about someone bursting the door open and slaughtering the woman outside, but it was a good kind of strange.

He felt awfully relaxed that night and after years of nightmares, he was finally able to sleep peacefully.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s been three days and the rain just wouldn’t stop. Sanemi had helped you covering the crops so they wouldn’t die out in the rain but there was no sign of it stopping any time soon. It was typhoon season, and it was heavily hitting you this year.

Not only did he help with the crops, but the roof also had holes in it which you two didn’t notice until you woke up to a flooded floor, so he repaired it. Your front door wasn’t safe enough for his liking, so he used his extra time to take care of that as well. He didn’t even notice time was moving this fast and days had gone by. It wasn’t as bad having something to do, keep your mind busy and your body active, regular people life wasn’t as boring and dreadful as he originally thought it was.

There was so much to do around the house that he wondered how you’ve managed to live up here in the mountain by yourself all this time. He got to learn you’ve been living here all alone for a couple of years and you have been doing all you can to not let the farm fall, your determination was admirable and made him question his own future.

“Shinazugawa-san, I enjoy thoroughly having you here, but isn’t your family going to worry? It’s kind of been a while now.” the back of his neck was strangely hot, your comment taking him off guard. He enjoyed the simplicity of the last few days comparing it to the rest of his life, he’s never been able to just sit down and listen to the rain fall on the roof sipping on a hot cup of tea, but he didn’t know you were enjoying it just as much.

“I don’t have a family. They also got killed by a wild beast long time ago, the only brother I had left passed this year, so no, nobody is going to worry about me not returning home, I don’t even have a home.” the stoic look on his face while he was retailing his life tragedy worried you, it’s something he should feel sad for, but he didn’t look sad, he looked angry, and you could understand that feeling, your family was taken away from you in the very same way.

“I bet your brother looked like you.” he wasn’t expecting that, usually people get uncomfortable with the thought of having to empathize with something they can’t understand and start apologizing, but you did go through the same, you stirred the subject around like he usually does when facing the same situation and he was grateful. “Hm, he had less scars than me, was taller, dark hair. But he did kind of look like me.”

“I bet he was kind too.”

“He was.” you were now pouring more tea in his cup, admiring the heavy rainfall through your window. “My brother didn’t look like me at all, he was way kinder, very smart, had the prettiest face I’ve ever seen with beautiful large eyes.” this made Sanemi look at your face, it was difficult to imagine a big muscly guy that looked anything close to the delicate tiny woman in front of him, but then again, he used to see his mother in Genya all the time. “Sounds a lot like you.” blood was flowing at full speed to your cheeks, decorating your lovely face with tinges of reds.

“Sometimes I wish I was the one the beast ate instead of my brother, the farm needs him, he was so good with animals and with the people at the market too, everyone loved him, he was the best of the two of us, it’s a shame really.”

Sanemi was lost in your face, the way your eyes watered at the memory of your brother, the way a soft defeated smile crept on your face signalizing guilt, he felt understood in a very deep level, strangely. “Same. I did all I could to protect my brother, I wanted him to live a normal life, get a wife, have some kids. But he ended up following me around and dying before me anyways. All my efforts were completely useless. I should have died, not him.” his fists were now shaking against the coffee table, veins popping all around his body as a rush of anger and despair rushed through him at the thought of his dying baby brother.

“I’m sure he just wanted to be with his beloved older brother. I used to follow mine around as well, wanted him to teach me how to get milk from the cow and got myself a kick to the face, turns out they get quite stressed if you’re too excited.” the absurdity of it all felt like getting some sort of medication for the illness that consumed his heart, like a serum being injected into his blood stream, cooling his anger down.

“Dumbass.” the sound of your laughter brought new air into the house, a house that is rather quiet all the time was now loud, and it smelled like a proper home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After two stormy days more, the sun was finally out. There was a lot of work to do in the fields to fix the damage caused by the storm. Sanemi started working on it as soon as he woke up without even asking you, and it took you both all day, something you thought would take an hour ended up extending throughout the entire day.

He was better at this than he thought he would, you even ended up planting some pumpkin seeds you got from the market a while back upon his suggestion of adding different types off crops. The front of the farm looked like a proper one afterwards bringing a powerful sense of completion to the both of you. It was hard work, but teamwork does really make a difference. And you two made a good team.

The sun was setting, all there was left to do was water the crops and prepare dinner, fresh rice already cooking in a pot inside the house. “Maybe you can grow some berries and do your marmalade using them instead of having to buy oranges, growing orange trees seems like a pain in the ass and there are wild berries in the forest, should be easy to find some and bring them here.” you were giving it serious thought, you’ve never thought about changing the ingredients, you were just replicating the treat your mother used to do for you and your brother when you were little. Being so lost in your head doing ingredient calculations and noting ideas for the recipe, you didn’t see the frog that was comfortably resting on your foot. Once you did though, panic filled your insides, you hated frogs and would always stay as far away as possible from them.

“Shinazugawa-san…there’s…there’s a-“ you looked like you were about to faint so he walked closer to you, spotting the aggressor, “(Y/N) is just a stupid frog, move your foot, it’ll go away on its own.” you shook your head closing your eyes shut, you didn’t want to hurt the poor animal out of your own silly phobia.

Sanemi crouched down to your feet, grabbing the little troublemaker and took it over to the edge of the river near your property. When he came back you were still frozen in place, sweating. “It’s gone now.” You were ridiculous, it was just a tiny frog, you couldn’t even defend yourself against a frog, how were you going to defend yourself against the odds of life. You let out a long-held breath, taking his hands in yours as a token of appreciation, quickly forgetting the hose was in your hand and getting his face completely wet.

“(Y/N)….you little piece of shit….” his face was red, a deep snarl on his face. You threw the hose to the ground and ran for your life, laughing in the process. “I’m so sorry!! Kyaaaaa, how are you this fast!” one step of his was five of yours, he caught up to you in no time and the look on his face was a sight to behold.

He wasn’t angry, his wet hair was sticking onto his face, and he was laughing. He looked way younger this way and it made you feel relived to see he was having as much fun as you did these days. Your hand reached his face, caressing the droplets of water away, a loving smile gracing your lips. He wasn’t sure when things started heading in this direction but he’s never felt that way before and he didn’t hate it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There weren’t more excuses for Sanemi to linger around, the rain was gone, the farm cleaned up from the storm, even the marmalade was ready to be sold. He offered to help you with the cart since it was even heavier now that the load had increased.

The idea was for him to take you downtown and then leave and move on with his life, find a job and a place to stay.

But you didn’t even know how to build the display table in the market and then unloading the cart is faster between two people. Then an old lady asked him for three jars of marmalade and by mid afternoon he was still by your side selling your goods.

“Sir, could I convince you and your wife to trade two of your jars for one of my chickens? I don’t have any money left but I would really like to take some home for my kids.” His what- the cloth he was using to clean the table ended up on the floor at her statement, taking him off-guard, you also didn’t say anything to deny it. “What do you think, dear husband? I think it would be a good idea, we could look around and see if we can find her a mate and get eggs from them.” so you were seriously not just going to ignore it but also go along with it-

“Um, yeah. There’s some spare wood in the shed, I could use that to build them a house.” the lady was now handing him the cage with said chicken, waiting anxiously for the last two jars of goodness to be her own.

“You make such a lovely couple; I wish my husband was as understanding and loving as yours. Thank you, my children and I will be forever in your debt, my youngest is celebrating her birthday today, I wanted to bring something special home.” it somehow warmed both of your hearts, you both think of days when you had a large family and how much fun you had eating delicious treats with your siblings, children laughter filling out every corner. “Thank you for your kind words, we’ll take good care of your chicken. I hope you and the children have a lovely evening!” and just like that the marmalade was officially sold out.

“So where do you think we can find Mia’s future husband?” he wasn’t sure how or when you and him became a ‘we’ but he wasn’t mad at how it sounded like and the intentions behind it. “Did you just name the fucking chicken?” he was used to your silly antics by now but it was still very much amusing to him, your quiet giggles confirming he was right. “I saw someone selling some chickens by the entrance, let’s go see if they have one after cleaning up.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Time Skip~

It’s been ten years since Sanemi started coming to this market every morning. He still misses the fun days of demon hunting, but mostly he still misses his brother. Life wasn’t as good to Genya as it was to him, and he still felt guilty from living the life he wanted his brother to have.

Having a permanent stall in the market came with a lot of responsibilities and a lot of hard work, but his strength was put to good use by the smartest person he’s ever met.

“How much for the corn?” Sanemi, who was now cleaning the small worktable looked up to tend his first customer of the day. “If you take two you get one fr- Tomioka???” Giyuu was smirking at him from the other side of the table, a knowing look in his eyes. “That apron looks good on you, Shinazugawa.” Leaving the stall behind, he walked over to his old pillar mate, it’s been years since the last time they saw each other.

“Heard your stupid ass went to live with his old master like a sissy lost baby, near Tanjiro and the gang of brats.”

Some things never change.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, we didn’t even know you were still alive.” the conversation got cut short by a child clinging onto Sanemi’s leg, getting Giyuu’s attention. “Father, mother needs your help unloading the milk crates.”

Crouching down to his size, Giyuu stares into the child's eyes, lost in the memories of his lost friends, painful days of loss came right into his heart, “You look just like your uncle.” patting the child on the head, he smiled, the ghosts of his lost comrades shining behind the toddler. “I know, I was named Genma after uncle, but my hair is like this because of mother, the rest have father’s hair.” As if on cue you came out of the back with a baby tied to your back, an older looking boy than the one before him holding a sleeping girl in his arms. “Nemi, the milk!”

“I see you’ve been busy.” Sanemi’s face was red as a beet, making him grumble insults quietly for his child not to hear.

“I’ll do it in a second, come here, I want you to meet an old friend of mine.” this was the first time any of them had addressed the love-hate relationship they had in the past as friendship, but now being older they both agree that’s what it was. “Tomioka, this is my wife (Y/N)”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you…and your four children…” the smirk on his face was so sly nobody would notice it but Sanemi, it made him want to punch his guts like he would do back in the day when they were younger.

“Is that your wife over there, Tomioka-san? I see you also have a little one, take some of our milk, our kids love it!” The child looked just like him, it was an easy guess. You were doing your best to move around with a child on your back and a swell on your stomach, a promise of another youngster arriving soon. The woman behind Giyuu came holding his son and after a long chat and bunch of laughter they promised to go to your place for dinner soon.

Ten years ago Sanemi thought he had lost it all.

And he did.

But he made a silent promise to Genya after meeting you, he would live as long as he could, never waste the opportunity to live his brother gave him, never let his sacrifice be in vain, he would live for the both of them, he would bring life to this world and protect it the way he couldn’t protect his siblings, he would protect his family until his last breath and once that moment comes and he gets to see him again, he will have many stories to share as they embrace eternity together, as family.

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Tagged babes: @doumadono

Masterlist Bonus Chapter

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myfandomrealitea · 5 months

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I would genuinely love to know what kind of mental gymnastics antis do to hold mainstream media/producers and fandom media/producers to different standards and accountability demands.

Like the guy who wrote Game of Thrones isn't questioned whatsoever but the moment I write incest fanfiction about the incest characters, I'm a degenerate awaiting the noose?

"But you're doing it for gratification!"

How do you know George R. R. Martin doesn't play the pink maraca to the Lannisters, huh? How do you know he isn't AO3 user GoldenManeGlory writing 14k of incestual cumplay and breeding kink?

"But his smut wasn't explicit and clearly written to be arousing!"

50 Shades of Grey was considered groundbreaking in terms of explicit smut in professional publishing, and I would like to remind you that these quotes constitute as groundbreaking.

And these.

"You write it because you want to do it in real life!"

My brother in christ if I went to hook up with a guy and, without asking my safeword or even my name, he pulled out a taser and a gun, I can assure you the literal first thing I would do is phone the cops.

Say it with me; what is arousing in concept is not always arousing or wanted in real life.

Or even realistic, for that matter.

And again, I seriously doubt George R. R. Martin wants to bang his relatives and mass murder people with green fire.

(Although he does probably want to run around with cool swords and wear fancy outfits. He both looks the type and, lets be honest, most of us want to run around with cool swords and wear fancy outfits.)

"Nobody gets aroused by the things shown in mainstream media!"

Most of what is shown in mainstream media is specifically orchestrated to be appealing. All those slow-mo shots of half-naked women and men getting out of pools? All those ten minute long sex scenes? All those vaguely sexual fight sequences?

They. Want. You. To. Enjoy. It.

'Sex sells' is not just an off-hand observation.

So, again. I'm asking you. What's the difference between mainstream media, and fandom content?

#sephiroth speaks #myfandomrealitea #fandom #discourse #reality #proship #proshipping #ao3 #fanfiction

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darklinaforever · 5 months

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I need to get this out of my system. What are these fans of Rhaenyra, Daemon, Daemyra, or even the three, who hate the Velaryon boys ?

Already, from 1, Rhaenyra will hate you for hating her precious children.

Second, no one on Team Blacks cared that Jace was a bastard. Nobody had a problem with that. So why did you, a fan of this so-called team and these characters, have one ?

Then... where does this idea come from that Daemon didn't like boys, and would have harmed them if the war hadn't broken out because he wanted his sons to inherit the throne in their place ?

Literally, it's based on nothing. Well, in fact yes. Rumors that Daemon was obsessed with the throne. You know, literally the information from the maesters who hated him. Because in fact, in the story itself, Daemon did nothing active to really have the throne, unlike the Greens or Corlys.

But beyond that, Daemon's blood would have ended up on the throne anyway, because Baela was Jace's fiancé.

However, I see people saying that Daemon didn't care about his daughters in general and were too sexist / misogynistic to accept that his blood to the throne would run through one of his daughters, rather than one of his sons.

Are we talking about the same Daemon who first extended the hand of reconciliation to Viserys so that his daughters were properly introduced into the world after their birth ? The same Daemon who fully accepted that his daughter Baela was a tomboy and let her do whatever she wanted ? (Also, in the books, there is no evidence of any discord whatsoever with Rhaena, so that argument is bullshit too) The same Daemon who accepted Rhaenyra as queen and defended it until the dead his position ?! Ok... I don't know why, but I have the impression that your Daemon is not the same as mine.

Then, from what I remember from the book, Daemon avenged Lucerys' death. Twice. Not one. Twice. The first time in "Eye for an Eye, a son for a son, Lucerys will be avenged" mode by killing a child of the Greens, and the second time by planting Dark Sister in Aemond's eye... Literally a tribute to the old gesture by Lucerys. And as for Jace, I remember that Daemon seemed to fully get along with him on a military level.

But apparently all that meant nothing !

Revenge for Lucerys is apparently for these people just an excuse for Daemon to satisfy his violent impulses and attack the Greens... (Whereas if that were the case, he would simply have to send assassins for each Greens ? What he didn't do ?) Also, if it's just a matter of satisfying an impulse, why kill Aemond the way he did ? Apart from a direct homage to Lucerys, what does that bring to Daemon in a selfish personal way ? Why not just kill Aemond by stabbing his sword somewhere else in his body ? The result would have been the same. After all, Lucerys had already been avenged. Also, the agreement with Jace was just a mask to better fool him and try to get rid of him later.

In fact, all this opinions have no support with Daemon's canonical actions. And I don't understand them. They are based solely on negative rumors against him by maesters for the throne, that sought to tarnish his image.

It's still crazy that people read Fire and Blood, especially the part about revenge for Luke and the way Daemon killed Aemond, and come to say that : Yes. Daemon would have totally sought to kill Lucerys himself if there hadn't been a war. He probably hated him for being a bastard and being a threat to his blood sons !

Basically you're accusing Daemon of being a misogynist and a blood purist... Basically what the Greens are.

You know... the ones who usurped the female heir that was Rhaenyra, refusing to accept a woman in power, and actively trying to harm her children for years without hiding the contempt they had for them ?

No, really, I find it ironic that members of Team Blacks, fans of Daemon, Rhaenyra and Daemyra are basically saying that Daemon is like the Greens.

The same guy who never actively tried to have the throne (And if anyone tries to tell me that Daemon's marriage to Rhaenyra was to try to gain power as her husband... Why was it never in fact against of Rhaenyra once she crowns Queen ? Seriously, be consistent), accepted Rhaenyra, a woman, as Queen, who let one of his daughters be a total tomboy and do what she wanted, help to educate the Velaryon boys over 10 years, having twice avenged the death of Lucerys and described as having gotten along well with Jace.

No really, I find it crazy that some people are convinced that Daemon despised his boys and planned to harm them one day.

Especially since such an argument quickly collapses when we realize that he spent 10 years with them before the war without any problems being recorded ? Seriously, if Daemon was planning to kill the Velaryon boys... why wait so long ?

Seriously, people who think that are just idiots in my eyes.

Even maesters who actively hated Daemon didn't have the guts to insinuate such a thing !

Nothing in the text indicates that Daemon hated the Velaryon boys, planning in any way to harm them. We have to stop talking stupid things now.

Even the series, which didn't understand much about the real Daemon Targaryen, doesn't suggest that Daemon has a problem with these boys !

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foursaints · 19 days

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hi <3

first of all, i wanted to tell you i'm always stalking your blog (in a non creepy way) because i love everything about it. mostly i love how you use your big brain™️ to share some insanely detailed headcanons about some silly dead gay wizards (i mean that in the nicest way possible. i'm a little bit in love with you actually . anyway i'm digressing)

second of all, i wanted to know if you could share some of your thoughts about bartylily🤲🏻 because i'm fairly sure you're the main reason i'm hooked on them

much love <333

ANYTHING for bartylily... lately i've been attached to the idea of a college au where they're Rival Campus Radio Station Hosts.

barty is a spectacularly unmotivated senior who dropped out of a prestigious engineering degree to study practical SFX for horror movies instead. everyone has vague, peripheral knowledge of him after an incident where he was found passed out naked in the campus fountain. his apartment with the slytherins isn't technically a frat house but there's a structure in the kitchen affectionately referred to as the "Leaning Tower of Miller Lite" & barty has a nearly imperceptible crescent-shaped chip in his front tooth from a keg-standing mishap. he wears a lot of chains and has several john carpenter themed tattoos and he REEKS like cigarettes. so many pairs of mystery panties turn up in his laundry hamper that his housemates have started calling it the Lost And Found.

he has a deeply beloved & charmingly unpolished radio show in the primetime spot which mostly consists of him having his friends on, spotlighting terrible underground bands, and making drily ironical, beautifully mean jabs.

lily is an overzealous sophomore who's triple-majoring in three equally unmarketable degrees (it's, like, polisci & international affairs & communications) who's blessed with the gift of taking every single thing that happens on campus WAY too serious. she runs their Model UN like it's the navy. she's the RA who is always marching around her floor in a spaghetti-strap tanktop & bunny slippers with a scrunchie on her wrist, shaking her fist at people. there was a period following her breakup with james where she was literally reading Machiavelli for inspiration. she's right on the precipice of the cool-girl academic meltdown that will lead to Serious Character Growth, but she isn't quite there yet.

her well-made and well-researched radio show is relegated to the midnight timeslot, and even though all her friends listen to it she probably got into a spat with them for saying something along the lines of "obviously i dont care if its just YOU listening to it, remus!!!". she hate-listens to barty's show which she considers (lily voice) An Affront To Collegiate Journalism

they trade barbs at every function and absolutely nobody but the two of them takes their insane imaginary Radio Beef even remotely serious whatsoever. but it's dead serious TO THEM!!! lily is probably camping out in actual bushes with actual binoculars to sabotage his show, and the worst part is that it's actually working. she ISN'T obsessed with him (shut up!!!!!), and barty is mostly just aggravated on principle that the Uptight Lowerclassman Ruining His Life has such nice legs.

and they absolutely bone like crazy about it

#a #this anon made me emotional... warming my ice cold heart #im in love with you too. sorry for getting carried away... they inspire me.#bartylily #t #my lily is usually kind of burnt out & has a shoplifting problem so its nice to have an au where she can be dorkier.#barty is the same as always & i need to **** *** **** about it #one thing about my bcj is that he will always be the worst man on this earth and i'll still love him despite #still a better boyfriend to her than james. sorry #im posting this one a bit late but I always trust that bartylily will find its audience #+ nobody come at me for calling those degrees unmarketable! i am an English major so it's friendly fire !!!

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aestariiwilderness · 21 days

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Bad Batch -- Actually Probably Not Spoilers?

But Just In Case:

Like, for plot reasons, I see why they couldn't do it. But my biggest (and possibly the funniest) peeve I have with Bad Batch is this: Canonically, Tech is some kind of master hacker. Can forge chain codes after learning about them five seconds ago. Hacks battle droids -- presumably, you know, SECURED in some way -- on the regular. Masked a ship's signature or whatever. Calculates percentages of plans' successes on the fly while hanging upside down from a screechy flying reptile. Has zero fear (except when Omega is driving the Marauder or someone is doing the Wikipedia entry who isn't him) ("it's not affecting life support. We're fine"; riot racing; everything he's ever done). The moral heart of the Batch pre-Omega ("the systematic termination of the Jedi was a big one for me"; "I understand. I do not agree with you"; "of course we are a family"; "we have not always seen eye to eye with Crosshair but he is our brother and we do not leave our own behind"; but has no issue being pragmatic when it's called for (see: Cid, riot racing again, missions for Rex, interruptions thereof, etc.). Seriously. Wack job of a man. Crazy. Strict moral code arranged almost solely around his family that absolutely nobody sees coming and that, specifically, does NOT preclude massive destruction, property damage, and lethal measures. Ridiculous man. Homeschooled. Genetic Mandalorian. COMPETENT. (Usually.) Bona fide, literal, genetically-engineered test tube genius who is also biologically nine years old. Has no concept whatsoever of overkill. Point being -- he is EXACTLY the kind of person I would expect, once it sunk in that: 1. They are no longer Kaminoan/Republic property 2. They are, in fact, on the run with fam + new baby and - cranky but nonetheless beloved sniper bro who picked a terrible time to be stupid And 3. that "money" is now a thing they must Account For.... Give him two days to study finances, economy, and the various mafia; send him on a weekend trip to Nal Hutta to observe gangs, and hey presto -- the Hutts? overthrown in a year. Black Sun? Under new management. Pykes? A thing of the past. The Senate? Convening emergency sessions to discuss Where All the Money Has Gone. Palpatine's Secret Slush Fund #43? Drained. Hemlock's Science Budget? Currently funding the clone rebellion. ISB 401ks? Being used to pay someone to "retrieve" (read: kidnap) Crosshair from Rampart. Cad Bane's baby-stealing revenue? Currently outfitting the Marauder with gold plating. My point: WHY ISN'T TECH HACKING STAR WARS ATMs Story would have been over six episodes in. Tech would have foreclosed on the Palace; the Death Star would have fallen prey to insurance fraud; Omega would have grown up with more gowns than Padme. The Banking Clan bows to their new and, uh, eccentric overlords. Wrecker has thirteen new Z-6 cannons. Echo has thirteen natborn employees and is thoroughly enjoying himself. Hunter took an actual shower (still didn't get a new bandana). The Empire is turning over the empty coffers and shaking them out, wondering if they have rats. Mas Amedda is standing on street corners with an upturned hat. Crosshair is happily occupied with suing the Kaminoans for emotional damages. The end

#tbb spoilers #just in case #tbb tech #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #funny #star wars #the bad batch #bad batch season 3 #the bad batch season 2 #the bad batch season 1 #tbb echo #clone force 99 #tbb wrecker #alternate universe #how it should have gone honestly

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patcaps · 4 months

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you can read my other thoughts on the finale here so i’m not gonna just say all the same things again but

the ending was always gonna be divisive with people loving it or hating it, liking it but wishing some things were a bit different. it’s the ending of a beloved show and nobody is ever gonna agree on what the right ending would be. it sucks to have folks outright rejecting it but it also sucks to see people like “you are wrong for having any criticisms whatsoever” like, i’m all for being able to discuss aspects of media and what we liked and didn’t like. it’s not always a bad faith interpretation, or cynicism, or being poor at understanding the writing and intention. and i love meta and analysis that doesn’t completely pick apart something and refuse it any grace or leniency. i think sometimes we’re way too hard on stuff that is ultimately heartfelt and from a place of love and joy, and unraveling them dampens the magic.

anyway. that aside. i love this show so much. there are things i’d have done differently, pacing choices that made it fall flat in places, but it’s not my show and these guys know their characters and love them as much as we do. and the ghosts and mike and alison never stopped being family - which is, ultimately, the biggest thing that matters. not the house, not where they are, but how they’ve helped each other for the better. alison and mike spent their entire lives making sure the ghosts were never forgotten, always went back to catch up. they got to enjoy all the fun and love of visiting family without the stress of living under each other’s feet 24/7 - and relationships with family often improve tenfold with that breathing space.

the show ended where it started with the plans to turn it into a hotel, but this time instead of the ghosts panicking and being like “drive her out, kill her” they loved alison enough to take all of that change on, safe in the knowledge that alison would never ever just abandon them. that’s such a neat way of showing how they’ve all helped each other. like, robin’s seen that house and the houses and land before it change so much but he felt so good about this change, literally said he felt christmassy finally, because they could do this. for her. for their friend, their family member, their alison.

they existed before alison and they’ll exist after her, but in the meantime they get to enjoy being her family and also know they’ve given them a more stable, secure, less stressful living arrangement that works for them all. they aren’t fully dependent on alison anymore and alison was no longer fearful of leaving and losing them because she knew they’d still be her family no matter what. i’ve seen some people interpret this as “they’re saying having a baby meant her found family weren’t important anymore, they have to go be a traditional family alone” and that was my kneejerk response too, but then i sat with it. and actually, alison goes from being a (presumed) orphan with no family besides mike and his side, to having all of that plus the ghosts, people who love her and always welcome her back to visit whenever she wants. how lovely for her to have her very own family she can go and see, who did such a kind thing for her, however bittersweet a decision it was initially.

and yeah, it’s true that the ghosts have less of alison there to take care of things like personalised entertainment, but that’s the whole point of them leaving - alison wasn’t in a position where she could worry about entertaining them all the time whilst also being with her husband and raising a newborn. it wasn’t fair to keep asking her to run around after a houseful of ghosts when looking after yourself and a small child is hard enough. she could have stayed and ended up resenting them, getting frustrated and angry the way they did with mike’s mum, potentially souring that relationship with the ghosts. instead she moved out and gets to go back and see them and love and enjoy them fully without that responsibility 24/7. i’m sure she took them new things, gifts, let them watch tv and read books, i bet they had requests for whenever she visited which she was more than happy to supply. and i bet they always had new anecdotes and things to catch her up on.

the more time i have, the more i warm to it all. it’s easy to say “they should have stayed together at the house” but this show is about being human, about life and death, how existence is both cruel and kind and beautiful and unexpected and it changes you and you change it. they did stay together, just not under the same roof. home is more than just button house, more than just a dream because dreams change as we go, and belonging is about more than just a destination. alison found home and belonging in the ghosts, and they found it in her too. the rest is just bricks and mortar.

#bbc ghosts spoilers #bbc ghosts #quill to paper #ghosts meta

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la-pheacienne · 1 month

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I will never understand people insisting that it was Jaime's fault Elia and the children died and that he didn't do his job. I don't understand why people cannot acknowledge that the multitude and diversity of factors working simultaneously and opposite to each other is precisely what creates the tragedy of the event(s), these factors being slowly morphed into a mechanism functining on its own accord, beyond any power individual decisions could have. Every single individual in this tragedy (the sack and the rebellion in general) had entirely different motivations and aspirations, and no individual had the full picture at any occasion whatsoever, and this is precisely because of the broader mechanism that was in motion that I mentioned above. And there lies the whole point, the concept of not knowing, not being able to know in advance. The idea of actions, choices, decisions having unexpected consequences that a character could not be able to imagine in advance. Things could have been different if at any point any of the individuals implicated in this event(s) knew the whole picture, or at worst, if they were more careful, more diligent, if they had made a better assessment of the situation at hand. I don't believe what happened was technically inevitable of course. It could have been avoided, which is something that amplifies the tragedy. Of course the individual decisions of any of the factors involved shaped the result. But we need to take into account all these parameters that were at play leading to each and every decision, prior to the decision itself, in order to avoid a bad faith reading of the text. We know everything that happened. The individuals did not know what would happen prior to making the decisions they made.

Rhaegar running away with Lyanna seems suspicious in general and there is definitely a lot of info missing there (which has been confirmed by grrm, meaning there was probably a reason they run away together - and i'm NOT talking about the braindead fanon theory of rhaegar collecting dragon heads like pokemons). Aside from that big hole of info we don't have that would give a solid context for this otherwise pretty inexplicable action, R and L could not have expected in advance that the events would play out in the way they did, they could not know in advance that someone (Baelish?) would spread the news of a literal kidnapping, they could not know in advance what Brandon would do, what Aerys would do, and so forth, and we don't even know when exactly they found out that all these things happened since they were isolated. They for sure could absolutely not know that Tywin, who didn't even take part in the rebellion, would eventually think it would be a great idea to randomnly order the rape and murder of Elia and the murder of the children. Nobody could ever imagine that in their right minds, yes, not-even-jaime-hello, which is precisely why this is an act of TREASON (and treason is an understatement), which is precisely why that act has such an impact and such an aura of horror and shock surrounding it, because of how unexpected and inconceivable it was, and also, how unneccessary it was, at a moment where the war was already won.

The power Rhaegar had in changing these events in any way shape or form was minimal to none, faced with the mad king that could go off the rails at any moment, the treason, the unprecedented cruelty of his enemies that were supposed to be allies, and more than that, the general mechanism already in motion leading to this tragic outcome.

Which leads me to Jaime. Jaime feels guilty for what happeend to Elia and her children, of course he does. He was there, in KL, he was sitting on the iron throne (i think that's when it happened) while the events took place and he didn't prevent them. I would also feel guilty if I were him. Who wouldn't? He was there. If he had thought this through, if he was more diligent, smarter, quicker idk, more perceptive maybe he would have figured this out sooner, maybe he would have done something, maybe he would have been able to save them. That's undoubtedly what he tells himself. Rhaegar would undoubtedly feel extreme guilt if he was alive after the sack of KL (which is a mere hypothesis since the sack of KL wouldn't have taken place had he been alive). Hell, even Ned feelts guilty for what happened to Elia and her children. That doesn't mean these people (i'm talking mainly about R and J) are actually responsible for what happened. That it is their fault that it happened. That they willingly wanted it to happen, or expected it to happen and didn't care, or let it happen in Jaime's case. Jaime's guilt stems from an error of judgement at worst, the fact that had he known every single parameter at play, had he imagined the exact motivations and intentions of a multitude of people and how far they were willing to go, had he expected what would happen in detail, he would have acted differently and maybe, maybe the result would have been different. That's not even certain, given, again, the multitude of factors at play that were beyond Jaime's power. But Jaime of course cannot help but think about the what if. The result could have been different had Jaime acted differently but Jaime acted according to the specific situation he had at hand, according to the specific problem that he had to face. He did what he thought was right in that precise moment. He didn't and couldn't possibly know what was going on outside from his sphere and if he did, we do not know for sure that he could have actually prevented the worst from happenning.

And I'm being exceptionally strict here by attributing an error of judgement to Jaime because I could have just said he was entirely innocent for what happened to Elia and the children, and it wouldn't be false. Again, error of judgement doesn't equal responsibility for what happened, it doesn't equal "moral flaw". An error of judgement does not give the reader a reason to morally judge a character. It is an entirely different thing.

I got this from Britannica :

I don't get how people can be so dense when reading anything related to the sack of KL and/or Robert's Rebellion in general. "Jaime didn't do his job", "Rhaegar led Elia and their children to their deaths" like, can you actually read? I was unnecessarily thorough here for something that is not all that complicated. It is pretty straightforward actually. It's sad that people do not get it. Like, I see BNFs being all deep and analytical about Jaime's moral struggles and dilemmas and overall tragedy and how he was in a situation that exceeded him and then they're like "rhaegar is the reason elia and the children died". From the other side I see people saying that Rhaegar couldn't have known what would happen and then they're like "Jaime didn't do his job!!!", guys. Guys. I'm begging you. I IMPLORE YOU : correcting a mischaracterization (Rhaegar was stupid/selfish for leaving """""all that responsibility""""" to Jaime) with another mischaracterization (Jaime "didn't do his job" because he's a moral coward) is not the way to go, it is done in bad faith, it erases the entire point of Robert's Rebellion along with a bunch of very important themes in asoiaf (the impossibility of choice, the fact that moral codes are actually a construct and don't always apply/sometimes contradict, and the feeling of powerlessness of an individual when faced with a monstrous mechanism, a system that is beyond their control).

#i may get hate from stans of either camp but i don't care #rhaegar and jaime's roles and motivations are entirely different so their degree of responsibility or irresponsibility is different #i'm not denying that #but i'm talking about the common denominator between them #and the fact that both of them are the object of utterly incorrect bad faith and unfair takes #and i am not interested in a play by play of who's more responsible for something NONE of them is actually responsible for #or a play by play of the degree of innocence each one of them has like leave me tf alone #i'm trying to be objective and avoid a bad faith reading of the text as much as possible #which is something that i rarely see from either camp #jaime lannister #rhaegar targaryen #sack of king's landing #robert's rebellion #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #aspa rambles #error of judgement

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