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f4ll-for-you · 6 months

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jealousy, jealousy

warnings: smut, degradation, slightly dark! rafe?, overstimulation

Three months you’d been dating Rafe Cameron, your best friend's older brother. After a year of pining after you, you’d finally given in and let him take you on a date, which of course, ended up with you in his bed the next morning. It took a month for you to believe he actually cared, given his fuckboy reputation that he needed to uphold. Luckily, you were happy to keep your relationship secret to avoid hurting Sarah’s feelings, she didn't get along with her brother, and if she knew you were dating him you were sure she would feel betrayed.

However, that was only the tip of the iceberg with Rafe's family. Rich, well connected, always throwing fancy dinner parties, nothing like the life you’d experienced growing up. To earn extra cash while at university, you’d often waitress at the parties, tending to Rafe's family and friends whilst they looked down on you, treating you like you were nothing and constantly forgetting your name. Yet another reason to keep your relationship secret.

Tonight, both you and Rafe were getting ready to go to the annual ‘Cameron Family Gala’, both to attend in very different ways. You arrived at the house, through the ‘staff’ entrance, dressed in a white shirt and short black skirt, your apron basically covering it. You smirked to yourself, knowing Rafe's eyes would likely be on you most of the night. You wished Sarah could be there, even if she was ‘one of them’ she always made things more bearable, but as usual she’d escaped to see the pogues.

As the party began to liven up, you circled the guests, handing out champagne from the tray you were carrying. You watched Rafe in the corner with his father, Ward watching him talk at Rafe as if he were a child whilst rolling his eyes, looking up to the ceiling as if to ask for help, anger coursing through his veins. Making your way over, you offered them both a drink, smiling politely at the pair of them, Rafe’s cheeky wink going unnoticed by his father.

You continued gliding around the party, slipping in between slightly drunk, wealthy men and women. Readying another tray of drinks, you recognised two familiar voices speaking in a hushed tone, angrily going back and forth in conversation.

“Rafe look, you are twenty now, you are to carry on my legacy and you must have someone suitable by your side to do it with,” you heard Ward whisper-shout.

“I don’t want to settle down, I’m enjoying myself,” Rafe said nonchalantly, enjoying winding his father up as usual.

“Anyway, there’s far too many options out there to settle for one,” he joked, making Ward scoff in disgust.

“There’s one now,” Rafe spoke, looking a tall blonde girl up and down, “I’ll be off.” He turned to smirk at his father before walking away, he was tired of doing everything his dad asked, and tonight, he wasn’t going to let Ward get to him.

Your heart dropped in your chest, you knew Rafe liked to keep up appearances, but you’d never had to watch it firsthand. A wave of anger filled your system, seeping through your body as your hands began to shake. You took a deep breath, two can play that game, you thought to yourself.

For the rest of the evening, you flirted with each and every boy you came into contact with. You smiled innocently at Rafe every time he noticed, watching him clench his jaw at your actions.

Once his friends took an interest in you, it was game over; Rafe stormed over to you, grabbing your arm tightly. He didn't care about the eyes of his family and friends staring at him in confusion as he dragged a waitress out of the large ballroom. “What the fuck was all that,” he growled at you, not even stopping to look at your expression before pulling you into the nearest room.

He let go of your arm, walking further into the room, running his hands through his messy blonde locks. “Are you going to answer me Y/N?!” he shouted this time, still with his back to you. You smirked, enjoying how riled up he got because of your actions.

“What did I do?” you shouted back, your anger from earlier refuelling. “What did you mean, Rafe, when you went off to ‘get to know’ that beautiful blonde earlier?” You asked, your words laced with jealousy.

Rafe turned, meeting your eyes, looking shocked for a moment, before his usual cocky attitude resumed. “We agreed to keep this secret, I was merely acting the part,” he remarked, smirking at the redness in your cheeks caused by your rage.

“As was I,” you spat, “so if you don’t mind, I’ll be getting back to my job.” Spinning around where you stood, hand reaching for the door handle.

Before you could turn the handle, a rough hand grabbed your ponytail, pulling you back into his chest. “You’re not going back out there until everyone realises you’re fucking mine,” Rafe whispered into your ear, his breath hot on your neck, as wetness pooled between your legs.

Keeping one hand tightly around your ponytail, his other hand grabbed your hip, guiding you towards the back of the sofa and bending you over it. Your cunt clenched with anticipation as he palmed your ass, ripping your skirt up in one motion, making you almost bare in front of him. “Already wet for me, little slut,” he purred, looking at the damp patch of your panties.

He slid one finger lightly up your clothed slit, making you stifle a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction he craved. Rafe pulled his hand away in response, quickly coming down to slap your bare ass. You jolted at the action, only making you soak your panties more. “I will do this until you moan for me” he threatened, you clenched again at the thought, rubbing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

“So desperate, so stubborn,” Rafe crooned before landing another heavy slap to your reddened skin.

Two, three, four more came before you broke, whimpering at his touch. “Are you going to be a good girl for me now?” he asked, leaning down towards your ear as he spoke.

“Yes,” you whined, barely louder than a whisper, your eyes glassy with desperation.

Before you could even think, you felt Rafe shove his fingers into you and began to pump them into and out with precision. The familiarity of his touch brought you close to your first high and you bite your bottom lip to try and stop the noises you desperately wanted to make.He released his harsh grip on your ponytail to your throat, lightly squeezing each side. The combination of his long fingers curling into you and his hand around your neck had you seeing stars, your first orgasm approached as you moaned loudly, tightening around him, his hand dripping with your juices. Rafe brought his fingers up to his mouth, savouring your taste like fine wine.

He then knelt behind you, barely giving you enough time to recover before attaching his mouth to your centre, licking up the juices he’d missed. “Mhm no, Rafe, too much,” you whimpered in response, trying to pull away from the overstimulation.

Rafe moaned into you as he grabbed your hips, pulling you back into his mouth as he dipped his tongue inside you. You were sure his fingers would leave marks, just like he wanted. “Fuck Rafe,” you couldn’t keep your moans at bay as he kitten licked you clit, brining you towards yet another orgasm.

“So, fucking, perfect,” he spoke against you, the vibrations of his voice making you scream out in pleasure.

He added two fingers into you once more, curling into your sweet spot as he lapped and sucked at your clit in unison. Your body began to shake as you came, screaming his name as you clutched onto the back of the large sofa. “That's it baby, let them know who owns you,” Rafe spoke as you rode out your high.

Rafe unzipped his trousers, his cock slapped up against his chest, his tip leaking precum. You looked back at him, eyes wide knowing what he was about to do, already feeling exhausted from your previous two releases.

He pushed into your dripping cunt, giving no time to adjust to his size. The grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Fuck, so tight, you were made for me princess,” Rafe moaned and his hand returning to your hair, pulling you back into his chest to find a deeper angle.

The new angle allowed him to once again reach your sweet spot. You could feel your cunt begin to flutter around his length. He moaned, relentless to chase his own release with a desperation to fill you with his pearly spend. Trembling, your climax washing over you, coaxing his own as he spilled into you. The pair of you scream each other's names in pleasure, forgetting the party down the hall.

Rafe pulls out of you gently, caressing your cheek. “Do you think now is a bad time to tell my father we’re dating?” he jokes, looking into your eyes. You look wearily up at him, a wide grin appearing on your face, “at least you’ve settled down.”

#rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #dark rafe #rafe cameron x smut

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bonefall · 4 months

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So why's BB!Skystar like That? I'm not looking for a justification or excuse mind you, and I understand he completely refuses to better himself, but not even someone like him is born evil.

I'll get to his origin and tell you exactly how he grew up, but lemmie be clear about something. I don't think people respond to what they experience in a proportionate, 1:1, "hard times go in, bad guy comes out" sort of way.

People aren't bread and yeast. We don't follow a recipe for "becoming a bad person." You don't add trauma and then from there they choose to be a bad person because of their pain or not. No one is born evil, and the other side of that coin is that EVERYONE has the capacity for it.

Extremely privileged, charmed, blessed people with wonderful home lives can also become awful people. Violent, demanding, murderous ones. The "why" is "choice."

That answer's not satisfying because we want it to be deep and interesting. Like it makes it "mean" something, or adds some kind of "logic" to it. But you won't get it.

EVIL is simple. It feels good to get what you want. It feels good to hurt the people who keep it from you. POWER is even simpler. It is the act of making others do what you want. It's as simple as childish entitlement, indifference, or spite. Gratification that outweighs guilt.

If you're looking for some grand tragedy, you won't find it here. Nothing he went through was particularly unique and there was no grand ideology at play. His dad vanished when he was young and so did Gray Wing's. The Tribe dealt with a famine and several people died, including members of Bright Storm's family.

The only thing special about his birth and upbringing, in particular, was that he was quite privileged from the start.

Clear Sky and Gray Wing in the Tribe

From their very birth, both kits were welcomed and celebrated. They were destined for greatness from the start. Their mother was Quiet Wing, a direct descendant of the Stoneteller, Half Moon, and the father was a respected leader and political figure, Tempest Sky.

(This was before the Tribe would eventually become three camps, "Wards," united by a river. Tempest might have been considered an early leader of such a Ward.)

The older kit, a perfect image of xeir mother, was said to be the inheritor of her legacy as a relative of their founder and holy speaker. Xey were named Gray Wing. The younger, who would surely become the natural leader his father was, got the name Clear Sky. In their language, Koof Yaawrl-- Not just a sky without clouds. A perfect, flawless sky.

The two of them grew up with great opportunities. Connections are everything to their culture, and they had their pick of any amount of interests they wanted a paw in. The hunters would happily bring them along if asked. The crafters had extra patience set aside just for them. A good deployment of a mew and baby eyes could get them some extra scraps at dinner. Everyone wanted to make their little mark on such special, talented kits.

Clear Sky was a little general type. He wanted to be a leader right away. He loved hunts, he loved being in charge of other kids, he loved the way people listened to him. He wasn't familiar with the word No and was almost always the top banana of a group of other children. Even if they were older.

(Gray Wing in contrast was more of the game-creator, the "old soul," the kid who got along better with adults than other kids. Less of a leader and more of the guru, good at networking and settling disputes between people.)

While they were still kids, Tempest Sky vanished.

He was missing for days, and was assumed dead. There's plenty of ways to vanish in the mountains, but no remains were found. The Stoneteller tried to contact his spirit over and over to confirm his death, and he never came. So it was most likely that he just... left. Or maybe was taken.

Either way, they didn't really get closure for it. It was an awful thing to happen to a little kid, and Clear Sky took it really hard. A while after that, their stepdad entered the equation. Stone Peak wasn't big or strong or special, he just made their mom happy.

Gray Wing LOVED this man. After some friction, him and Stone Peak became excellent friends. They had a deep sense of respect and camaraderie. Clear Sky hated this. It was like Tempest Sky was being replaced before his eyes.

It was years before Stone Peak and Quiet Rain had a litter, well into Clear Sky and Gray Wing's adulthoods. It burned Clear Sky a new one to think that she was moving on from his father, who could still be alive. Maybe it's part of why he was so willing to throw his half-brother out into the snow, that fateful winter.

When Jagged Peak and Fluttering Wing were about half a year old, there was a terrible drought. It wasn't "overpopulation." It was a bad season. NOTHING could have stopped it. Lots of cats died.

Fluttering Wing was one of them-- along with some of Bright Storm's immediate family, Fox Claw and Petal Claw's mother during a hunting accident, and many more.

At the height of this drought, the southern river's level was so low that it became a scorched, crackled path with only a wet scratch of mud running along the middle. This dry riverbed beckoned to be followed downwards, until the water could be found again. THIS is the "Sun Trail;" a path carved by the sun.

It was Gray Wing the Wise who interpreted this as an omen. Xey believed it was their ancestors showing them the way to safety. The rest is history.

But the bottom line is...

Skystar's upbringing wasn't a supreme tragedy. He faced adversity just like everyone else, but he'd NEVER bring up the privilege that he had when he was young as something unfair to be examined. Tempest being a respected leader whose connections gave Clear Sky lots of opportunities is only spoken about in terms of Clear Sky being a "born leader" or "coming from greatness."

All of his charisma, his achievements, his command over other cats, that's all something he's "worked for." All of the adversities are examples of how strong HE is, in contrast to other cats, even if they went through the same exact struggles.

Why is he the way he is? Why is he so controlling? Why is he violent? Because he will take what he wants, and no one can stop him. He likes power more than he cares about the consequences of treating people poorly, so he cries "unfair!" if you take his toys away.

Stand by him and the rewards are sweet and delicious. Deny him what he wants, and he will crush you. He chooses how he treats you based on how much he likes you, and at the rotten heart of his behavior, is the simple choice to be this way.

#better bones au #BB!DOTC

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 5 months

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I'd imagine when Childe is away for Harbinger duties, you send letters to eachother, right?? Like everyone in Teyvat does. But Legacy cannot read and Ajax has a little difficulty relaying your messages to him without being able to interact with him (other than like,, shared feelings that Legacy can distinguish as something associated with you). :(((

So instead you figure out to send something for both of them each time. So it's always something like:

A letter and a few photos of you.

A letter and a homemade food (if distance allows it).

A letter and a few trinkets that reminded you of them both.

A letter and a sweater of yours, if only for cuddling and carrying your comforting scent to them, since Legacy definitely cannot fit into human clothes haha. (Childe can and will wear it around for extra comfort though, to Legacy's delight.)

A letter and a few handcrafted origami from the lady that taught you today down the street.

A letter and a plead suggestion to buy Legacy a specific thing on your behalf because he's too far away and only letters can be delivered to his current location, to your dismay.

It's always a letter for Ajax and a little treat for Legacy. So he doesn't miss you so terribly while they're both away from home.

Also I'm really sorry for flooding your inbox dear Wifi I just got really excited you answered my ask and good ideas happen to come to me all together<3

this is absolutely ADORABLE, i'm eating this like a delicious meal

you can bet your life that Childe and Legacy keep all the letters and items you send them, even if it's completely inconvenient due to being on a mission or something- Childe even has a small box he brings to store everything you send so he can keep them safe. Legacy's not let out much apart from battle, especially if they're on a mission or back at Fatui HQ, so he cherishes the moments in the evening where he's allowed to stretch his limbs and admire the gifts you sent. if they're anything handmade, like origami or cards, he'll try to make one for you in return; or he'll find you some sparkly stones in exchange for flowers you've pressed! Legacy and Childe definitely sleep hugging the sweater you sent, it wards off the nightmares that plague their minds

Childe also makes sure to read your letters out loud so Foul Legacy can hear what you've written, always met with a symphony of delighted trills and chirps in his head when you say you miss both of them. they miss you so much, the void left by your absence not even filled by the thrill of fighting and bloodshed, and when you're reunited you get one of the tightest, warmest hugs you've ever received in your life. Childe manages to tell you everything that happened before Legacy hijacks his body to snuggle up to you, purring and smushing his cheek against yours. you help him put all the objects you sent on his favorite shelf- he insists that he wants them displayed there- before tugging you into his arms and falling asleep hugging you, head carefully positioned so his horns don't poke you. even when you wake up the next morning to Childe sleeping beside you, the arm that's wrapped around your waist is still sheathed in violent and black armor, the claws sharp but oh so delicate when against your skin

#genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #foul legacy #foul legacy childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #chit chat #childe does a running jump and hugs you so tightly #and the MINUTE you get home legacy snatches his body #because he MISSED YOU AND LOVES YOU AND WANTS TO SNUGGLE #HE HAS BEEN CUDDLE DEPRIVED DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM HERE #short scenario #other's stuff #good evening :)#never apologize for sending me brainrot i love it all

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strangelittlestories · 7 months

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Do you know one of the things I hate most about being an exorcist? Capitalism.

Hear me out - financial instability is one of the most common risk factors for a malevolent haunting.

Got disposable income? Good news - you move into a haunted house, and you hire an exorcist. Or, if you can’t find a good recommendation, you just move house *again*.

Come from old money? Even better - you probably live in a generational home and - barring any literal skeletons in the closet - you’re probably haunted by family members. Their unfinished business is probably some *literal* business and they’re just gonna give you financial advice. Sure, they might be pushy and lowkey toxic, but they’re invested in your success - you’re their legacy after all.

There’s a metaphysical reason why rental accommodation is riskier too. It’s way harder to make an evil spirit leave your home when you’re not the home-owner.

First off, having the right paperwork can really add some extra oomph to an exorcism. Secondly, most landlords really don’t invest in salting the foundations or decent silver glazing, so guess what? Your shitty apartment isn’t just damp and cold, it has bad spiritual insulation too.

And especially *smart* ghosts can take advantage of your housing insecurity. Want to get your ghost out of there? You might be able to use rental protection law as the basis for evicting your unwanted ectoplasmic squatter (especially if there’s a ‘no spiritual subletting’ clause in the lease). *But* that gets way harder if it turns out the ghost has been secretly paying your landlord rent! Even a bit of change it scrounged up from your sofa is enough - BOOM, it lives there now.

So the best advice I can give you as an exorcist if you’re one of the unlucky masses who’ve been borked by the housing market? Join a housing cooperative or a renters’ union or go live in a hippy commune. Anywhere you have that extra protection - ideally with a bit of paper that says you own the house.

And if you’ve got that bit of paper, and you start to have ghost trouble, your first step is to get a legal copy made on silver paper and with salted ink. It gives your magical protections a quick and easy refresh.

It’s true what they say: a good deed is its own re-ward.

#writing #microfiction #short story #flash fiction #puns #feghoot #capitalism is the bad guy #honestly the ghosts probably need rental protection too #we need government housing for ghosts is what I'm saying

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whyareyouhere66 · 1 year

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JJ Maybank x Male Reader - You Are Home.

JJ Maybank *Outerbanks* x male kook reader [Sarah’s brother]

I did it, just like I said I would. Enjoy y’all. [Two more days till season 3!]

“It's always have and never hold

“You've begun to feel like home…”

[-The Fray, I’ll Look After You, 2005]

Outer Banks, North Carolina. More specifically, Figure Eight.

The air that whirled around him was warm, the island’s nonchalant charm lulling him into a sense of calm. Sure, the faint arguing that drifted in from downstairs was distracting, but alas- in Y/n’s tired state he wanted nothing more to ignore it, and stay in the welcoming breeze from the window sill of the large, white house.

In his hands he twisted and untwisted the cap of his water bottle, eyes still watching over the navy blue shadow reflecting from the sky. He tried focusing in on the sounds coming from outside, the wind’s song flowing through the ocean waves around the corner. However this proved to be more and more difficult, when he repeatedly broke out of his zoned out state and was dragged back into the growing yelling coming from Ward and Rafe downstairs.

Rafe’s persistent arguing, the frustration becoming more and more clear in Ward’s normally calm, manipulative tone.

“Hey, please let’s just-“

“No- no I’m done talking about this.”

“Let me finish, Rafe….”

Y/n let out a frustrated groan, after Rafe had blown yet another college interview it seemed Ward’s patience was bubbling down to the final straw, dragging the rest of the family into it as they heard and watched it all in the emptiness of the house.

Y/n forced his gaze away from the outside world, looking around at his dimly lit room. Perhaps he should go to see Wheezie, check on Sarah. He knew how the latter especially hated conflict, though Wheezie herself seemed more drawn into her phone recently.

But it was never a waste to check in.

The h/c boy steps away from the white window sill, closing and locking it as he’d been taught.

The bright lights from the hallway jumped at him, his eyes taking an extra moment to adjust as the downstairs argument became more clear. It seemed everyone in the house had been more on edge recently, Ward tensing at short conversation and Sarah beginning to pull away more and more.

Y/n himself had always found himself closer to the side than anything, both him and Wheezie often being sat on the bleachers while the rest played at the game. Ward could acknowledge them as his kids, drag them around to events and all, but they each knew that they were never his first priority.

Sarah, center of attention of course, had it all laid out for her since day 1. A legacy, a throne of you will, being built for her the day Ward laid eyes on her- his daughter, his child. She was his pride and joy, leaving the rest of the family to sit and applaud as he spoiled her.

Y/n used to fight for it, too. Being born solely a year prior, his naive, 6 year old mind could never grasp why Sarah had been deemed the golden child. He still couldn’t really, but overtime it became more and more clear that nothing would ever change. And while he still found himself there, by the same window sill he had been today, he looked out at the family’s extravagant garden and wondered- “why?”

Rafe was the same way. Being born first in the family he still found himself pushed off to the side, set to watch his father grow instead of growing there with him. However, unlike Y/n, he never accepted it. He clung to any bits or pieces of his father he had, wanting nothing more to impress the man.

But Ward Cameron was a hard man to impress, especially when it came to the majority of his own blood. And when you stumble as often as Rafe himself had, another rung in the twisted, family ladder falls.

The hallway, covered in old paintings and dainty floral wallpaper, led Y/n down its paths until he found himself at Wheezie’s room.

2 knocks, 3, and Y/n stands awkwardly in front of the tall white door.

“Wheezie?” He calls, looking at the floor with his hands shoved into his pockets. A ringing silence fills the hall, as he receives no answer.

“Wheezieeee, you alive in there?”

Curiously, the h/c grabs the golden handle and twists- peaking his head into the room.

Lights still on, he found his sassy little sister asleep on her bed- curled into a ball blended with the comforter. He paused for a second, wondering how she managed to sleep through the houses overwhelming ringing, as well as the mindless and repeated shouts from all around. But when his eyes landed on the small, white buds poking out of her ears and tangling with her hair he put it together.

“Smart kid..”

His hands slide up the wall, reaching the light switch before he flips it off.

“G’night, weirdo” he mumbles, closing the door behind him as his bare feet pad down the hallway once more.

It was at this point that Y/n decided against checking in on Sarah, knowing that not only their somewhat strained relationship would create an awkward tension, but also that the chances of her sneaking out her window again were far over likely.

So instead the teen trudged down the stairs, making a beeline to the kitchen to replace the water bottle he’d been fidgeting with just minutes before.

The further down the long staircase he walked, the more he was able to see of the rest of his family.

The tense fighting between Rafe and Ward had settled into the living room, stray documents and pamphlets scattered across fancy glass coffee tables as one man stood on each side.

They went back and forth, back and forth with the blonde boy starting, his father following closely in suite.

With the roll of his eyes, hand sliding down on the wooden banister, Y/n neared the bottom of the staircase.

“Dad I don’t need to go to college- I’m fine here.”

“Yeah? Yeah well I’m not Rafe. This is not…”

Rose watched on uncomfortably, sat in a stool next to the kitchen’s island. With an open laptop in front of her, and a half empty glass of wine, she stared on at the two with her eyebrows furrowed. Y/n could see her now, stepping off the final stair as he untwisted the lid of his water bottle. Back now turned to his father and brother, he could only see her in front of him.

The h/c heard voices rise, the urge to go back up to his room growing stronger in his mind.

“I knew I should’ve checked on Sarah-“

Just as he steps forward again, no less than 10 feet from the staircase, he heard it.

The painful slap, a harsh hit of skin on skin contact, echoes through the now silent room. He could see Rose’s eyes widened, sitting up straight suddenly as she stared in shock.

Y/n freezes, slowly and almost hesitant as he turns around in his spot.

Rafe’s face was turned away, mouth agape. Ward’s hand was still outstretched, a soft and lamented look filling his eyes as he seemed to finally realize what he’d done.

The fights had been happening for weeks now.

But never had it ever gotten physical- not once. Ward always took Rafe for granted, this was well evident in the claustrophobic walls of the Cameron house. But Ward had enough sense to not bring it to a physical level, his heart belonged to his family, he never purposely damaged that.

In a small moment of panic, Ward stepped away. His hand retracted, firm against his chest as he cleared his throat.

“Rafe-“

“Wow, dad…wow.”

The blonde’s voice is full of malice, chuckling deeply as he turned to look at the man. His voice lowers to a whisper again, eyebrows furrowed down.

“Wow.”

In the matter of a minute, perhaps two, Rose is up and rushing forward to stop the fight like she’d been wanting to for minutes on end. Blood rushed away from Y/n’s knuckles, his grip on the bottle tightened extremely. In the back of his mind he still heard them, Ward rushing to his own defense as Rafe riled himself up more. Rose’s desperate, annoying pleads as she stood between them.

But he wasn’t truly there, not present in the moment. His head screamed at him to leave, the need for fresh air bubbling over as he felt too fed-up with his family to stay another moment.

And so Y/n left, stormed out of the building before the other 3 could do more than notice him.

Swiftly grabbing the car keys off the counter, stuffing his feet into his shoes, the h/c rushed out to his car and ducked into the drivers seat.

He knew he hadn’t been the one to get slapped, the one to yell and scream in the fights. But if he had to sit in his room one more night, the air thick and heavy from this scrambled family’s tension he just might suffocate.

Trees blurred past him, eyes zoned onto the road ahead of him as his brain went into autopilot- driving him to the one place he felt he must be.

“JJ…”

The blonde boy, although a Pogue, offered him an embrace like no other. It should feel wrong, it’s supposed to be, but for whatever reason it didn’t, it felt right. Y/n could never recall how they’d come to be- in fact at the beginning the boys tried keeping it at “no strings attached”. But, they couldn’t help it- he felt like home.

JJ’s laugh, his voice, the warmth that would emit off his body whenever Y/n got too close. He wasn’t supposed to love him, his family’s reputation laid on the line- but he just didn’t want to stop himself. This wasn’t the first time one of them had run off to meet the other in the heat of the moment, sometimes in the middle of the night, others simply in broad daylight. It seemed the small compass engraved into Y/n’s brain was constantly pointing in JJ’s direction.

The more these thoughts flowed through Y/n, the more agitated he grew as he sought out the comfort he needed. His grip on the wheel was firm, mind a haze as he could see JJ’s near empty house coming into view. After the seemingly hundreds of times driving here, as if it was muscle memory, Y/n had barely realized he had made it to the Cut.

Y/n came to a stop in front of the house, taking a sharp breath. He snatched the keys from ignition, hopeful eyes leading him out of the car and onto the porch. That house, so different from his own, lured him in yet again.

All his thoughts seemed to fizz inside his head, bubbling and sizzling away so distantly, yet so present he could hear them still. Keys gripped in his hand tightly, fist knocking against the old door no more than 3 times before he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Answer the door, Maybank…” the teen mumbled, running a hand through his hair as his felt his muscles tensed in his shoulders.

Inside some shuffling was heard, the squeaks of door hinges alerting Y/n as he spun around to meet the blue eyed boy.

“Y/n? What-“

He looked confused, immediately taking note of Y/n’s dazed face and disheveled appearance. In the back of his mind, he felt he knew why Y/n was there.

Y/n opened his mouth to talk, stepping forward. JJ didn’t wait for him, jutting his head towards the door as to invite the h/c inside.

It wasn’t too long before Y/n was situated at the couch, fed up and frustrated. JJ followed close behind him, stopping at the door way almost hesitantly, for he’d only seen the boy act that way a handful of times. It was more recent that the two began to open up to each other, the intimacy they would share building an odd sense of trust, a safe space within each other that before they didn’t know they were capable of.

Though JJ had noticed that almost each time, it was due to something from that of the Cameron house. And so, he had a feeling he already knew what this was about.

The blonde moved forward from the door way, until he was standing in front of Y/n on the couch. The latter was almost doubled over, curled into himself with his elbows on his knees to hold his head up. His chest rose up and down heavily, fingers tangled with his h/c hair. JJ raises one eyebrow, sitting on the small table just a foot or so in front of the sofa.

“Y/n? Hello, you with me? What happened?”

Y/n sucks his teeth, hands sliding down his face.

“I’m so done with them, JJ.”

He didn’t have to say any names for the blonde to understand, it was almost always the same 2 or 3 people. And so he doesn’t ask any more questions, instead leaning closer to the boy in an attempt to give any sort of comfort.

JJ Maybank didn’t know too much about comfort, after all.

Years of not having the right comfort, not knowing how to give it, etc lead him to taking guesses, cracking jokes until one of the Pogues finally told him he wasn’t being helpful.

Perhaps, that’s why he always felt so attracted to Y/n Cameron.

“-I’m so fucking sick of it, they don’t,” Y/n pauses, trying to think of the right words to describe his mess of a family, “they fight, then pretend it’s all fine. And I normally can suck it up, or whatever, but I just- right now-“

He stumbles over words, frustration building up until he’s saying too many things at once to finish one thought, before another starts.

However he’s cut off, rambling suddenly turned silence as he feels JJ’s hands now cupping his face. The boy had leaned forward, sitting just on the edge of the coffee table, his face a mix of confusion and worry. Y/n’s shoulders drop, melting into the warmth of JJ’s hold.

“Hey, hey it’s alright-“ JJ comforted, finally getting a voice over Y/n’s thoughts. His e/c eyes finally move to meet the bold blues of JJ’s, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. “Just breathe, ok? I’ve got you now..”

Y/n listened, his shaky hands moving to rest on top of JJ’s, his face sandwiched in the middle. Eye contact never breaks between the two as the blonde coaxes Y/n into steady breathing, thumb shifting gently to rub comforting circles into his cheeks.

As Y/n finally feels a sense of stability, now much more aware of the floor under his feet and the walls that surround him, he laughs. It’s not awkward, much closer to embarrassed than anything, and it’s just enough to bring a small sense of relief into JJ’s system.

“I’m sorry, that was, sudden.” He laughs out, tilting his head up to the ceiling. But JJ doesn’t accept that, shaking his head.

“Nope- no. No saying sorry.” He states firmly, his blonde hair falling messily across his forehead. He stands up, bringing the h/c up with him. Their hands have now separated, leaving a lingering warmth across the other teen’s face where they had been before.

Y/n doesn’t even get a moment to protest, as JJ has already swung an arm around his shoulders and leads him to his bedroom.

“JJ-“

“Nope, nah uh.”

He turns around, them now standing in the middle of JJ’s messy room. “You-“ he jabs a finger into Y/n’s chest, “-just had a panic attack, amigo, you’re staying over here tonight.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, a smile plays at his lips, amused. He no longer had any intentions of protesting, knowing that he didn’t want to leave anyways. Instead he turned around to watch JJ scrummage through his closet, following the boy’s figure with his eyes.

A minute passed, standing in comfortable silence. And as Y/n continued to stare at JJ, a playful grin pulled the corners of his lips.

“You just call me ‘amigo’?” He asked, tapping his fingers on the dresser.

JJ paused, turning to look at him over his shoulder.

“Yes, actually, I did.” He replied, grabbing a sweatshirt from the closet and tossing it to Y/n. Neither boy made a move to change, though, nothing else than Y/n pulling the old “North Carolina” sweater over his head and running a hand through his hair.

“And you’re giving your ‘amigo’ a sweatshirt? How sweet-“ he teased, JJ simply rolling his eyes as the incident merely a few minutes prior seemed to be left behind. JJ didn’t know why he gave Y/n that sweater, this was the first time he had done that. Perhaps it was something in the way Y/n:s eyes had been so red and wide before, he wanted to see comfort instead.

The blonde settled onto his bed, Y/n following close behind and kicking off his shoes. He laid down next to him, shuffling around as he falls into the pillows.

“Better not cuddle me, Cameron.” JJ joked, although said in a flat tone it wasn’t hard for Y/n to know he didn’t mean it. He would make jokes like that quite often, actually- Y/n already knew the outcome.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He jokes right back, getting comfortable on his side.

But then as the minutes go by, hands ticking away slowly on the clock, it was predictably JJ himself who began to inch closer and closer.

Y/n peaked one eye open, the warmth radiating from him so close, as his breath fanned lightly across his shoulder. Happens everytime.

“What were you saying, Maybank?”

“Shut the fuck up and cuddle me.”

Blunt, yes, but in no more than a split second Y/n found his legs entangled with those of the blonde, ducking his face into the crook of JJ’s neck as a strong sense of home overcame him.

This happened often, the teasing jabs that would only lead to such small space between their bodies. Though, that is how they liked it. Not even the beating heat of the summer could stop it, the restrictions that kept them apart in public but pulled them so close together in private.

Because in private, there was no one else but each other to keep them company.

#x male reader #jj maybank x male reader #outerbanks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #JJ Maybank x Cameron reader #Obx

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cyazurai · 9 months

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Evette Ward's Search for Love - A Bachelorette Challenge!

Aspiration: Good Vampire | Occult: Vampire | Age: Young Adult | Traits: Active, Loves Outdoors, Horse Lover | Pronouns: She/Her | Likes: Piano, Painting, Alternative Music, Pet Lovers, Spirited Sims, Deep Thoughts, Small Talk, and Discussing Interests | Dislikes: Mischief, Mixology, Pop music, High Energy Sims, and Potty Humor

Evette, second generation heiress of the Ward Name Game legacy, knows she needs to find someone to join her in her journey, but she doesn't know a single man that fits what she wants in a partner for life. She is hoping that by having an open "casting call" for men, perhaps she can find someone to hold her heart. She hopes to find someone that understands that while she is a vampire, she is also a lover of the countryside and longs to move to Chestnut Ridge as soon as they start their life together.

Submitted Sims/Reserved Spots

Jonas Anderson (bakersimmer)

Pierce Windstorm (cowberry-jam)

Arthur Cross (amelettes)

Trick Okeke (morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy)

Vicente Martinez (falsetochild)

Inho Mathis (daisydezem)

Info on how to enter below if you're interested. 💜

First off, a disclaimer: I have NEVER done a bachelor(ette) challenge before in my simming life. Well, I did one back in TS3, but it was literally only my own sims. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Aging will be off temporarily during the BC

Male sims only - and that means trans men can enter too

All occults allowed - except werewolves since they tend towards hatred with vampires

Young Adults only

All sims will be using my default replacements - if your sims come with replacements, just know they'll be changing

No romantic traits or aspirations so everyone's on the same playing field

I will be looking for between 5 and 7 sims

Please give sims at least one outfit per category!

On those lines, any amount of CC is welcome - I am a CC hoarder. Maxis Match hair is required (I realize that technically Evette's hair is Alpha, but it can pass as MM - Alpha hair that's MM passing is fine), but clothes can be MM or Alpha. Also, please include the CC in the download!

I have all expansions, all game packs except Batuu, Paranormal Stuff, Nifty Knitting, Tiny Living, Moschino, Laundry Day, Toddler Stuff, Kids Room, and Move Hangout Stuff packs, and Desert Luxe, Carnaval Streetwear Kit, and Incheon Arrivals Kit

You can do any amount of backstory you want to do - since the Name Game is primarily gameplay that I don't even caption half the time, I won't be talking much about their background.

Feel free to make a post about the sim, or dm me about them; the download can be private or public, doesn't matter to me. <3

Everyone is welcome to enter!

Also: Evette prefers non-exclusive relationships. She wants to find someone to share her life with, but she would prefer it to be a non-exclusive relationship. And as such, she will likely keep in contact with the contestants that get eliminated - and will likely have babies with at least 1 or 2 of them. So even if your sim doesn't win, they might still father the next generation heir. 😉

If you want to submit a sim but can't get to it right away, please feel free to ask me to reserve you a spot!

When entering, if you post publicly about your entry, please use the tag #namegameBC or #evettebachelorette

DEADLINE: August 11th at 11:00 PM PDT(may be removed if I get enough sims before then, or extended if I don't get enough sims)

If I don't get enough submissions, I will just do an extra short version of the challenge, haha.

Extra Picture of Evette -

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 bachelorette challenge #evettebachelorette #namegameBC #sims 4 bachelorette challenge #ts4bachelorette #evette ward

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akitasimblr · 3 months

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👑LEONARDO HARPER👑

HARPER LEGACY DIARIES | Heir | Generation Seven

full name: leonardo harper

nickname: leo

life state: sim | elder | non-marital partnership

parentage: virginia harper & paolo rocca

partners: alicia sasanka | judith ward | venessa jeong | tanica marcheste | brytani cho

offspring: yvonne harper | xavier harper | paris harper | queenie harper | katherine harper

aspiration: master actor | public enemy | mansion baron

main traits: mean | materialistic | ambituous

born in: windenburg

lived in: windenburg | del sol valley

career: actor career (silver screen icon - level 10)

degree: n/a

👑generation milestones illustrated👑

Aspirations: Master Actor/Actress, Public Enemy, Mansion Baron

Skills: Acting, Media Production, Mischief

Satisfaction Reward Traits: Entrepreneurial, Shameless, Professional Slacker, Needs No One

World: Del Sol Valley

Extra task: Build your sim a mansion in The Pinnacles neighborhood

Optional: Make your sim have children as a young adult, before they become an actor/actress.

EXPLORE MORE START READING THIS GENERATION

*passport template credits

#harperid #leonardoharperid

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

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Not So Invincible After All

Whumpuary 2023: Prompt 3. Shot

2023 Year of Whump: Jan 1. Whispered Reassurances

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, f!reader, Superman/Lois Lane's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Tired of living in your father's shadow, you move to Gotham where you meet Jason Todd. As the two of you become an unstoppable team (in love and crimefighting), everything seems perfect. Until something goes wrong…

Word Count: 3417

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Gun Shot, Blood, Loss of powers, Pain, Ambiguous Ending, Language

Notes: Thank you to @icarusthefoolish for this request!

Moving to Gotham City is not a hard decision to make. You need to get out of your father’s shadow in Metropolis and the heroes of Gotham could use some extra help after Bruce’s death and Dick taking over the mantle as Batman. So, it seems like the perfect spot for you to start your solo career as a superhero. However, it is only right to get permission from those already protecting the city first.

To your utter embarrassment, your father sets up the meeting for you and insists on coming. Though you are an adult, he still treats you like a child. But, as much as you try to argue against it, once your mother steps in and says he is going, all arguments are over. Not even you argued with Lois Lane when she took that tone.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside Wayne Manor with your arms crossed over the S emblem on your chest, staring down the remaining members of the Batfamily. You had known Bruce extremely well, you had never met any of his wards before, though you knew who they all were.

Damien seems unimpressed by you and quickly turns his attention to other things after his introduction. Tim is the complete opposite, practically bouncing up and down as he shakes your hand and tries to ask you a million questions. Luckily, Dick gently pushes him to the side, reminding him there will be time for that later. The new Batman is so different from Bruce and yet you can still see flashes of his late guardian in the way he holds himself and addresses the situation at hand. Which just left Jason. The formerly dead vigilante didn’t say anything while you were introduced, but his eyes never leave your face the entire time your dad is explaining the situation. There is a playful twinkle in his eyes that you can’t quite understand, but you push it to the back of your mind as your dad finishes up and lifts up into the sky, drifting back a few dozen feet to give you some space for once.

Your eyes quickly flicker across each of the heroes in front of you and you clear your throat. “So, basically what Dad said. I want to leave Metropolis, you guys seem to need an extra set of hands around here– it seems like a win-win.”

For the first time, Damien speaks up. “Who says we need ‘extra hands’? We are protecting the city just fine without assistance.”

You lock eyes with the young Robin, completely unfazed by the death stare he is giving you. “Listen, kid. You guys are doing fine, but don’t think you are living up to The Bat’s legacy, at least not yet. I might not be living in Gotham at the moment, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping an eye on things. Dick is doing an admirable job of being Batman, but it’s pretty obvious he’s just one of the birds playing dress up. And I’m not the only one who's noticed. The criminals in this city are getting bolder and sooner or later, one of them is going to do something the four of you can’t handle. So, if you don’t want my help, that’s fine. There are a million other cities I can move to. But then don’t come crying to me when you get your asses handed to you and you need someone to save you, because I might not be interested anymore.”

Damien continues to stare you down for a moment, then slowly nods, breaking eye contact. And with that, you know you have earned the respect of the one person who you really needed to win over tonight.

Elbowing Tim in the ribs, Jason grins as he mutters, “Wow. I never expected to hear something like that coming from the boy scout’s daughter.”

One side of your mouth quirks up in a sly smile as your superhearing picks up on what he said. Turning your gaze so you are staring directly into his eyes, you say, “Then you’ve never met my mother. I might get my powers from my father, but I get my spirit and my wicked tongue from her.”

You can see the gears working in Jason’s head as the response forms. The way his heartbeat speeds up slightly, the slight dilation of his pupils, how his jaw tightens as he forces himself not to make the witty comment he desperately wants to but can’t with your father still hovering feet away. And that makes the smile on your lips widen.

The rest of the meeting runs smoothly. It is agreed that you can stay in Gotham and help protect its people as long as you don’t get in the Batfamily’s way. However, they do extend an invitation to team up with them whenever you want. You doubt it will happen, but it is nice to know that option is there.

You say goodbye to your dad and watch as he flies away. Once he is out of sight of even your advanced vision, you pivot sharply and strut straight up to Jason.

He seems slightly startled by your brash confrontation, but he stands his ground. As you reach him, you lean over until your lips lightly brush the curve of his ear, and you whisper, “Maybe if you play your cards right, I can show you how wicked this tongue can get.”

With your powers, you can sense the multitude of physical reactions your words send through his body and you chuckle as you pat his cheek before flying off into the night.

As it turns out, Jason played his cards very right seeing as you end up waking up in his bed less than a week later. And you haven’t left since. Now, after almost five months of living in Gotham, you and Jason have become the ultimate team, in and out of your costumes. Despite both of your tempers, sarcastic natures, and constant desire to push back against the ideals of your fathers, the two of you balance each other out in some strange way.

And Jason is never intimidated by your powers or your nigh invulnerability. In fact, he is nothing but supportive of them. In fights, you quickly find a rhythm where you go after the strongest opponent while Jason covers you or takes out the weaker opponents. It’s a system that never seems to fail, and the two of you seem unstoppable.

Until one night….

Jason is chasing two men through the streets. They just robbed Gotham National Bank but for some reason, ditched the bags of money fairly quickly as they tried to lose Jason. But he just let you gather up the forfeited money and fly it back to the bank while he continued his chase.

By the time you return and spot him, he has chased the men onto the roof of a building. Just as the men realize they are trapped and this will be a fight, you land next to Jason with a grin.

“Hello, boys. What seems to be the trouble here?”

The men exchange angry glances and one of them hisses loudly to the other, “What do we do? We wanted Superman, not Superbitch.”

“Hey! Watch your fucking mouth!” Jason growls, taking a step closer, but you place a hand on his chest, halting him.

“Well, you shitheads are in the wrong city then. Superman doesn’t come here. This is my turf. So, does that mean you want to just give up now, or are we going to have a little fun tonight?” The men exchange glances then pull out their guns. You nod. “Okay, then. Fun it is.”

Before they can react, you have crossed the distance between you and grab one of the men by his jacket and soar up into the air. The man immediately drops his gun as he frantically clutches at your arms, trying to hold on as tightly as he can. But it makes little difference. With a cheeky grin, you release your grip. The man only has a fraction of a second to realize what is about to happen before he plummets towards the ground.

You continue to hover in the air as you watch him fall farther and farther, his screams of terror slowly growing fainter. Finally, when he is just a few dozen feet from the ground, you sigh and soar downward. You reach him just before he hits the ground, wrapping your arms around his chest and holding him about a foot in the air.

He continues to scream even once you set him back on the sidewalk, his legs giving out from under him as he collapses in a heap. Bending over to peer down at him, you ask, “Now, are you going to be a good boy and stay put until the cops show up, or do we have to try that again?”

He pales at the very thought and clutches your leg. “N-n-no! Please! N-not again!”

Patting his head, you say, “Good boy. Now, let’s see if your friend is as agreeable.” And you launch yourself back into the air towards the top of the building.

When you reach the roof, you see Jason has dealt with the other man who is lying face down on the far side of the building. Jason looks up as you land and even through his helmet, you can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “Did you catch this one in time?”

“One time! I missed one time! And I still stopped him before he was permanently injured. Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Nope.” He starts to cross the roof to you.

But just then, you both hear a sound behind him, and turn to look. The man Jason had knocked down has climbed back to his feet, and before Jason can react, the man raises his gun and fires three shots straight at his chest.

“Nice try,” you smirk as you streak forward at superspeed, stopping just in front of Jason as the bullets soar toward him.

However, the smirk drops from your face as the bullets don’t bounce harmlessly off you as expected. Instead, they drive deep into your chest, just above your heart. The force of the impact causes you to stumble backward into Jason, who flinches slightly in surprise at your sudden appearance and collision with him.

Instantly, it feels like all of your strength is being sapped from your body and you collapse heavily against Jason’s chest. Luckily, he has a firm grip on your waist and keeps you from falling completely. Drawing you in, he lowers both of you to the ground and allows you to lean against him with your legs out in front of you.

Neither of you saw where the gunman disappeared after you collapsed, but at the moment, it is the least of your concerns. Glancing down, you can see three distinct holes in your suit, each one gushing blood. Normally, that should be the most worrisome part of the problem. However, your breath catches in your throat as you notice the faint green sheen mixed with your blood.

But Jason hasn’t realized that yet. Ripping off his helmet to get a better look at your wound, he asks, “What’s going on? How did this happen?”

“I think– I think they were made for my father. Kryptonite bullets.”

The realization of what this means slowly passes over Jason’s face. “That’s why they didn’t just bounce off you. You have Kryptonite buried in your chest?”

“Not just there. It’s some sort of poison bullet that’s releasing it into my system. I can feel it like acid in my veins. Spreading throughout my body.” You cry out as a fresh wave of pain hits you. “God! It hurts so much.”

“I’m calling Supes. Maybe he can–”

“No, Jay, don’t you get it? Even just being near me right now will weaken him. And those guys could still be around waiting for that. I can’t d–do that to him.” You shudder again at the pain and Jason uses his hands to cover your wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers softly into your ear. But you can clearly tell that he doesn’t fully believe the words he is saying.

Jason helps you shift slightly against his chest, trying to make you as comfortable as possible. Looking down, you can see blood still spilling from between his fingers, the crimson puddle tinted with a faint green glow as it grows beneath you.

“What can I do? There has to be something I can do,” Jason pleads.

“I don’t think there is.” Suddenly, you realize everything seems different, muted. You can no longer see or hear anything clearly beyond this rooftop. Your body feels weaker than it has ever felt before, and not just from the pain or your injury. And when you put all the concentration you can muster into lifting yourself even half an inch off the ground, you can’t even manage to make yourself twitch. Everything that made you special, everything you had inherited from your father is just… gone.

Leaning your head back against Jason’s neck, you ask, “Is this…. Is this what it feels like?”

“What does what feel like, baby?” he asks, stroking your hair gently.

“To be human?”

The question catches Jason off guard. “Um, I–I don’t know. I guess so.”

“I don’t think I like it very much.” Another shiver of pain washes over you and you bury your face in Jason’s neck, hoping to muffle the moan that rumbles in your throat.

But Jason still hears it. “That’s it. I’m calling your dad.”

“No,” you mutter weakly. “I told you–”

“We don’t have a choice. I don’t know enough about Kryptonite or Kryptonian anatomy to help you, but he does. Don’t you think he would want to help you even if it meant feeling the effects of the Kryptonite?”

You are silent for a moment, but you know that he is right. Your dad would have wanted to be here the second you were hurt, regardless of the danger it might put him in. So, reluctantly, you nod.

Jason removes his hand from your chest – it hadn’t been doing much to stop the blood flow anyway – and he pulls a phone from his pocket. You allow your eyes to drift closed as you listen to him quickly explain what happened and just moments later, there is a loud thud on the other side of the roof.

Peeling your eyes open, you see the familiar red-and-blue suit reflecting in the dim light. Your dad takes a step forward into the light and you can see the concern and fear etched onto his face as he stares at you, his eyes watery and his breathing uneven. He starts to walk towards you, but he stumbles slightly as the first effects of the Kryptonite hit him.

He tries to take another step, but you mumble, “Please. Don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt too.” Your words are just barely more than a whisper but even across the distance, you know he hears you clear as day. The reluctance is evident on his face, yet he follows your wishes and remains where he is at.

Jason stares at the Man of Steel, the desperation in his voice as he asks, “What do we do? How do we help her?”

“I-I don’t know,” your dad admits, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “If there is Kryptonite all through her body like you said, I don’t know how we get it out. Normally, Kryptonite by itself isn’t lethal, but no Kryptonian has been exposed this intimately to this amount. And from what I can see, she’s fading fast.”

“But she’s not just Kryptonian….” Jason whispers, as he gazes down at you. Then his head snaps up, and in a stronger voice says, “Clark, she’s just as human as she is Kryptonian. I don’t think it’s actually the Kryptonite in her veins that’s killing her. It’s the bullets. The Kryptonite just made her lose her healing abilities. So, if we just treat this like any old bullet wound, I think she might be okay.”

Your dad considers for a moment before nodding. “It’s possible, and let’s pray it’s true because it’s her only hope. We need to get those bullets out and then get her to a hospital as quickly as possible.”

Jason nods. “Okay. How do we do that?”

“We get help from the quickest person we know.” He pulls out a device and speaks into it. After only a few words, the rooftop shakes slightly as a gust of wind roars past and when you blink, you see Barry standing there with his usual grin on his face.

“You called?” But the smile slips as he takes in the scene before him. “Oh my god! What happened? Is she alright?”

“No, but we’re hoping you could help with that,” your dad explains. “She was shot three times with Kryptonite bullets, and we need to get them out of her. I can’t do it, but can you?”

Barry nodded. “I think so.” Crossing the rooftop, he kneels down beside you. Even in his bright red suit, you are having trouble focusing on him as your vision begins to blur. But you feel the light pressure as Barry places his hand on your arm. “Hey, Kid.”

“Hey, Skidmark,” you mumble weakly.

Barry chuckles. “I’ll let that slide this time since you’re hurt.” His face turns serious as he adds, “And because what’s about to happen isn’t going to feel great.”

Turning towards Jason, he says, “I need you to hold her as still as possible in case she squirms. It might take me a minute to locate all three bullets and the more she moves, the longer I’ll have to keep searching.” Jason nods and his grip on your shoulders tightens.

Barry positions his fingers just above your wound but hesitates as he glances at your face. You nod slightly and he turns his focus back to your chest. His hand begins to move so quickly, it becomes nothing more than a blur. Then, he moves it lower, phasing it through your chest.

Instantly, you seize up. The intense vibrations reverberate through your entire body, but the proximity of his fingers to your heart and lungs causes them to freeze. Your eyes roll back in your head as you silently gasp for air. Jason is trying to hold you down but it is difficult when your entire body is spasming violently. You vaguely hear Barry, your dad, and Jason yelling at each other, but you can’t make out a single word they are saying.

Then, mercifully, the vibrations are gone. All your muscles relax and your head falls limply against Jason’s shoulder as you try to catch your breath. Jason rubs his hand over your hair as he whispers that it’s over and how good you did. You aren’t really sure you did anything, but you are too weak and light-headed to correct him.

From the other side of the roof, your dad calls out, “Barry, get her to the med bay on the Watchtower. They should be able to treat her there. Then, destroy those bullets.”

Barry nods before holding out his arms and Jason helps to ease your broken form into them. However, just as Barry is about to take off, you feebly stretch your fingers towards Jason. He takes your hand and squeezes it tightly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You swallow heavily and force the words to spill from your lips. “I need you to know… if I had known what those bullets were… I still would have taken them for you…No regrets…”

Your hand goes limp in his grasp as the last of your energy is depleted. Leaning forward, Jason gently places your hand on your chest before kissing your forehead. Then, with his lips still hovering just above your skin, he whispers, “I love you. No regrets.”

Stepping back, he nods at Barry. The speedster tightens his hold on you and says, “Hold on.” Then he takes off.

As you feel that familiar initial whoosh of moving at super speed, you finally allow yourself to succumb to the darkness.

Taglist: @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @zebralover, @lolzghost, @thefictionalcharacterssimp, @venomsvl, @sugarysweetsandpainfulteeth, @your-friendly-neighborhood-al, @hellfire-fan-club, @blue-aconite

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lastleggysee · 11 months

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Beach Day with the Last Legacy M3

Because we were robbed of a canon beach episode.

Word count: 1,917

Warnings: None that I can think of, but if you notice any please let me know!

Felix didn't want to go to the beach at all, and he made his opinion well known through sarcastic comments throughout the week leading up to the event.

"If I wanted to bake myself I could just step into the oven."

"No, I love the beach. I'm especially fond of how you carry masses of sand home with you afterwards, like a second trip."

"All I'm saying is the sea beasts have a point, devouring beachgoers. I would do the same if the rancor arrived at my doorstep."

He even thought he'd be able to use sleeping in as an excuse, purposefully ignoring the sounds of his companions readying themselves for the day outside of his chamber doors. However, he was unable to carry out his plan to fruition when Sage somehow breaks through the locks (and wards) of his door, ripping the blankets from Felix's pretend-sleeping form and bringing him upright in bed. From the hallway, Felix hears Anisa yell something about having "less than an hour" before departure, and he sighs, knowing he's lost this fight.

Felix spends most of the morning choosing what books to bring along and casting anti-sunburn wards on himself. He deliberately chooses a thick, yellowed tome on ancient runes to disguise the romance novel he actually plans on reading while there (which is also conveniently beach-themed). Reluctantly, he dresses in his outfit for the day (I like to imagine his bathing suit is one of those old-timey, striped suits with a sheer black cover-up robe on top), and goes to make himself a strong cup of tea before departure.

Once arriving at the beach, Felix does not help set up a site for the day, insisting that it was Anisa or Sage’s idea in the first place, so he should be excluded from the effort on principle. This is with the exception of the umbrella, though, because Sage always stakes it in the “wrong” place. He sits under the umbrella for most of the day, enjoying his novel and sipping on the wine Anisa so generously remembered to pack for him, keeping it cool with magic. He’s not exactly relaxed, it’s still dreadfully hot out, and the chair he reclines in is not nearly as comfortable as the thick cushions he rests on at Fathom, but the day still washes easily over him, and Felix is silently grateful for the variety.

Felix has a quiet reverence for the ocean. Its vastness, its depth; it reminds him a lot of magic. The way it is both a familiar presence and unfathomable mystery, its balance of chaos and predictability; these qualities sit in a familiar juxtaposition in his mind, and Felix pleasantly watches the waves crash over the tops of his pages.

While grazing on some of the snacks Anisa packed, his back turned to the ocean, Felix felt something sink in the pit of his stomach. Before he could turn around, he felt large, strong arms envelop him, lifting him from his place on the ground. He recognized it as Sage before he even saw his face. Felix protested, threatening spells and fire and dismemberment, but Sage did not relent until Felix felt the water lapping at his ankles.

“Still want me to put you down?” Sage asked, a tinge of mischief in his voice.

“Yes, you absolute beast -” Felix started, but was cut off with a mouthful of salt water as Sage dropped him directly into the waves.

“See? S’not so bad.” Sage makes out between booming laughter, and for perhaps the first time that day Felix agrees with him.

Anisa spent most of the day before the trip preparing. This meant that she spent at least half of the day picking out exactly what could go wrong, and making plans for whatever she would be able to do about it, and preparing supplies accordingly.

First aid kit? Check. Extra sunscreen? Packed.

Weapons? Already tucked into the bottom of the picnic basket.

A spare pan and firestarter in case she finds a dolphin and finally gets the chance to try it? It was one of the first things she packed. After all, you showed up out of nowhere, there’s a chance a dolphin might as well.

Where Anisa really spent most of her time, though, was the picnic basket she prepared. Anisa genuinely believes that food is a love language, and the attention to detail she pays to each meal she prepares is a testament to this. She made little sandwiches, cut the crust off of the edges, and folded them neatly into colorful napkins. She chopped fruit and carefully packaged it in containers for herself, Felix, and Sage to snack on later. She even included some of Felix’s favorite wine (she figured anything that may sweeten his sour mood was well worth the space spent to carry it along) and some street cakes from the market for Sage. She took pride in her work and wanted to make sure she put forth every effort to make the day as perfect as possible.

She could hardly sleep the night before the trip, thinking about how long it had been since she actually had fun and enjoyed herself; much less with her group of friends in tow. It excited her, stirring butterflies in her stomach at the idea of it all, but also felt somehow strange. In her late 20s, could she still enjoy the beach like she had as a child? Could she find respite from the weights of her knightly duties upon her shoulders after carrying them for so long? Despite falling asleep later than she intended, she was the first to wake up, sipping her tea on the balcony at Fathom with a tentative anticipation for the day.

At the beach, Anisa sets up most of the site, unpacking all of her hard work and laying it out on the sand. She sits and watches the waves for a long while at first, remembering times in her youth where she’d sat on similar beaches with her mother. Anisa likes the wildness of the waves, the sounds of other beachgoers around her, and the scent of salt in the air that always seems to work its way into her skin before the day is over.

She wades into the water at Sage’s insistence (meaning, Sage yelling her name at a surprising volume from his place in the water), enjoying the cool feel of the waves against her feet and legs as she adjusts to the temperature difference. Feeling the steady pull and crash of the water against her knees, she feels a joy rise in her chest that she realizes she hasn’t felt in a long time. Anisa splashes Sage with water when she reaches him, but aside from that one act of playfulness she spends the majority of her time swimming alone and enjoying herself in the water.

After a while in the water, Anisa reclines in the sun on one of the towels she brought, resting in the warmth of the sun and idly snacking on some of the fruit she brought. She hears Felix muttering to himself over the novel he’s reading, along with the sound of gulls and other beachgoers, but she allows it to all wash over her over the sound of the waves. She needed this, she thinks.

Raising another piece of fruit to her lips, she decides that she’ll make Sage be the one to pack and carry all the supplies back.

Sage was objectively the one most excited to go to the beach; probably because he was the one who objectively did the least amount of preparation for the event. He’s always been a “go with the flow” sort of guy, so when the invitation presented itself he took it, no questions asked and no sense of responsibility attached.

Sage used to hate the beach. As a child, he used to fish from it (and steal fish from the other fishermen there) to feed himself and Tulsi. There was a time when the salty air and rhythmic crashing of waves caused similar waves of adrenaline to roll throughout his body. Nonetheless, he has just as many pleasant memories at the beach - swimming, drinking, and spending days in the sun before he joined the Starsworn. If he tries, he can still recall some drunken evenings with Lucan and other Griefers on the beach despite the haze his alcohol consumption at the time placed over his memories.

The morning of the day, Sage rolled out of bed, feeling surprisingly well-rested and ready for the day ahead of him. Having long since misplaced (or did one of his companions misplace it for him?) his admittedly tight leather swimsuit, he opts to dress himself in a simple pair of shorts and his telltale red coat. Of course, Sage still has at least two knives hidden with him for the day ahead, but he leaves his sword at Fathom.

He passes Anisa in the hallway and tells her to calm down, that today was supposed to be about relaxation, and is promptly i(playfully) hit upside the head with one of her umbrellas. Sage listens to her mutter to herself about Felix still lazing in bed, though, and makes it his business to take at least this off of her plate and wake Felix up.

When he arrives at the beach, he immediately runs into the water. He enjoys the feeling of the sun on his skin, the way it warms him completely from the top of his head to his feet. He enjoys the feel of the current, its pull against his body, knowing that he’ll still feel it long after he’s departed from the beach as he lies in bed that night. Pleasant memories of his childhood spent at the beach float to the surface of his mind as he floats on the surface of the water, more relaxed than he’s felt in weeks.

Of course, this relaxation is short-lived when Anisa decides to take a dip in the water, but the playful interaction is welcome as Sage swings his arm across the surface of the water to splash her.

Looking back to shore, he notices Felix still in the same spot he’d been in all day. Sage knew Felix wasn’t a fan of fun, but he finds it absolutely ridiculous the way Felix will spend this one day outside of Fathom with his nose buried in a book.

“Do you think he’s always been so uptight?” Sage asks, golden eyes still fixed on Felix.

Anisa scoffs. “I think Escell must’ve given him textbooks and an abacus to play with as a child.”

It’s at this moment that Sage decides that if Felix won’t have any fun on his own, maybe he could use a little help. He slings Felix over one of his shoulders and brings him out into the water, laughing all the way despite his protests.

When the day is finally over, Sage makes a big show of complaining as Anisa insists that he be the one to re-pack and carry all of their supplies back. Sage protests at first, even threatening to the others that he would simply spend the night at the beach rather than to do any of that, but he eventually agrees.

Over a series of grunts, expletives, and some admittedly poor attempts at folding, Sage repeats an exasperated question.

“Annie, how in the hells did you manage to pack all this into one stupid basket?”

#last legacy #fictif last legacy #sage lesath #felix iskandar escellun #anisa anka #last legacy sage #last legacy anisa #last legacy felix #beach episode

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cooking-with-hailstones · 1 year

Text

Writing master post

Hello!

I figured it was time to put all my writing under one big pinned post.

You can find all my fics and drabbles under the tag #emily writes or find me on AO3

That Child of Mine:

Rated T (rating may change)

What is the legacy of the child born in secret to the Hero and the Goddess in a time of calamity?

(Ongoing long fic about Link and Zelda’s son, born one week before the calamity, raised in Kakariko village.)

Last updated May 7, 2023

CW: Major character death

Silk and Moonlight

Rated G

The interminable boredom of guard duty is interrupted when Zelda's screams pierce the stillness of the evening. Link rushes to her side, only to find her awakening from a nightmare.The two of them take comfort in each others presence, in the slip of silk and the soft light of the moon.

Written for Zelinktines 2023 - day 2. Prompt: silk

It was my honour and privilege to collab with the amazing @bahbahhh for the art in this fic! Please go check out her stuff!

Is that a yes?

Rated E for sexual content (tags will make it pretty clear)

"Some unknown wellspring of courage bloomed inside her breast. Before she could think twice, the words were out of her mouth. 'You’re more than just a vessel for the sword, Link.'"

Link has been trying for months to convince Zelda that she is more than just a weapon in the war against the calamity. Zelda decides that he should listen to his own advice.

Written for Zelinktines 2023 - day 16. Prompt: "Is that a yes?"

A chance encounter at the blood clinic

Rated T for blood, medical procedures

After a day spent wrangling his students on a field trip to Lake Hylia and having to skip lunch, Link is sure that he'll be fine to go donate blood that evening.He is not fine.But at least he gets to spend some extra time with the lovely nurse, and eat a truly impressive amount of oreos, so, it could be worse?

Written for Zelinktines 2023 - day 21. Prompt: "meet-weird"

For a moment, when I’m dancing,

Rated G

“Is there anything else you would rather do?”

Images flashed through his mind. Cooking dinner with his mother, evenings spent helping his sister with her schoolwork, trailing after Mipha in the healing wards in Zora’s domain. None of it had ever felt as right as when he had first held the master sword in his hands.

“There is nothing else I know how to do. All I've ever known is to give all of myself to you.” And that was true. It was one of the truest things he had ever spoken. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he had known that he would give everything and more to her, whatever she might ask.

She looked at him silently, before once again taking his hand in hers.

“Come inside. Dance with me.”

Based on the F+tM song “free”

Bright is the ring of words

Rated G

Kass and Link muse on the roles of the hero and bard, the strange ways in which legends are made, and stories are remembered.

Written for @bahbahhh as part of @zelinkcommunity ‘s Loftwing Letters event. Kass and Link centric, but there’s a hint of Zelink if you squint.

#emily writes #my writing #loz #fanfiction #legend of zelda fanfiction #zelink #zelink fanfiction #fic recs #breath of the wild #botw #f+tm #zelink community #zelinktines #zelda #link #pinned post

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izayoichan · 2 months

Note

I'd like 22, 23 and 24 for any character you'd like. And if these have been asked change then for another you'd prefer asking.

I will do these for Tyvan, he has gotten a little less attention so far.

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)? Tyvan actually becomes very quiet, he looses that part of his brain that always knows what to say, and while his mind goes over every little detail of what bothers him with it he just stays quiet. He doesn't get many reasons to be jealous luckily, and his partner knows him more than well enough to recognize it when he feels this way.

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? He hasn't much needed to feel envious in his life, he has a bit of health envy though, where he envies those that are healthy, wishing he could be that as well. He doesn't become recentful though, more melancholic. Probably linked with the fact that what he most often envy's is due to something he can't change. Otherwise I think they would actually take what they want if they could.

24. Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? Yeah, he is comfortable talking about it. Its never been a tabu thing in his family, but of course he does look at the person he is talking too if their talk end down that path, to check what they are comfortable with. He is comfortable discussing it with anyone really, but of course its most often talked about with his partner.

thank you for asking! ❤️

#oc asks #tyvan ward #the ward legacy: extras #the ward legacy #sims 4 #sims 4 simblr

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honourablejester · 27 days

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Okay. So. Thinking a bit more about that Remastered PF2e Construction Wizard. Some spitballed ideas.

I do want to just fully commit to the construction thing. Is the wizard effective in combat? Possibly not, or not as much as they could be. I want to give them building spells as much as possible. For the skills I think we build around Arcana, Crafting and Society for our three raise-to-legendary ones. This is a city wizard, a construction wizard, their magic is used to make things.

They’re a dwarf. I’m sorry, they’re a wizard who uses the raw forces of magic to build cities, they have to be a fucking dwarf. That’s dwarfy. It just is. Heh. I feel like either an Anvil Dwarf (legacy) to double down on the crafting thing, or a Rock Dwarf, to double down on, well, the rock. The stones and the building. A couple of dwarven ancestry feats that I might want to pick up include Stonemason’s Eye, Dwarven Reinforcement (strengthen objects and structures), Stonewalker (can cast One With Stone, and builds on Stonemason’s Eye), and March the Mines (gain a burrow speed and take an ally along). Dwarves are so good for construction. I told you this was a dwarfy sort of wizard.

For the background, I wanted something with Engineering Lore. Interestingly, a LOT of backgrounds with that lore are tied to either Alkenstar specifically or clockwork/guns/machinery in general, which isn’t quite the vibe I’m going for. And Alkenstar, given the whole ‘unreliable magic’ thing, might possibly be the worst city for this dwarven wizard to be from. In general, backgrounds with engineering lore are all a bit more mechanical than civic engineering.

Somewhat funny, but one of the few Engineering Lore backgrounds that actually specifically mentions structural engineering is Saboteur, which is coming at it from somewhat the opposite side we’re hoping to. There’s also Thrill-Seeker, for an urban explorer who has engineering so they have a better idea what building’s best for flinging themselves off of. But Athletics and Combat Climber might not be the worst shout here, for a construction worker at heights, if we’re not feeling the classic Junk Collector, Mechanic or Tinker backgrounds.

And then … spells. I really, really want this wizard to JUST be a construction wizard. I want to load their spell list down with everything on from the arcane tradition that you could use to build shit. Or that would be handy on a construction site. It’s an odd urge, kind of building a character for a different game than the one actually being played, but there are lot of niche spells in PF2e that work really nicely for this hyper-specialised wizard over here.

Now. Archives of Nethys hasn’t updated their spells yet for the remaster, so I was picking and choosing inside Pathbuilder, which has also updated for the remaster. So I can’t really link to the spells I’m interested in, but I’m going to mention some of them anyway.

For cantrips, Bullhorn, Telekinetic Hand, and Approximate. If you’re a site foreman, you want to be loud if you need to be, you want an extra hand, and you want to be able to eyeball a pile of materials and get a rough number quickly.

For higher level spells, some ones that jump out are Gentle Landing (feather fall is really handy when building at height) and it’s grown up cousin Soft Landing (feather fall in an AOE, for when scaffolding collapses and you need to catch a bunch of people at once). Also potentially useful for building at height is Bracing Tendrils, which anchor you to the ground, or hopefully surface.

For preparing the ground, you’ve got Pave Ground, which flattens out difficult terrain, Burrow Ward, which solidifies the earth and pushes out burrowing creatures, and higher up we have Transmute Rock and Mud, which turns mud to stone and vice versa.

For actually building by raw magic, you have the ever useful Wall of Stone.

For moving stuff around your construction sites, obviously there’s Teleport at higher levels, but I’m also looking at Airlift, which lets you pick up everyone within 10ft and anything of 10 bulk or less that they’re carrying and fly them up to 60ft. I feel like that could be handy. There might also be a case for Rally Point, which only works for you until it’s heighted to 7th level, but lets you and later up to four other people teleport back to the chosen point once each within the spell’s duration. Might be handy.

A couple of other randomly useful bits of magic would be Cleanse Air, which could be very handy if you’re building underground, digging foundations, or installing anything that might produce contaminants if damaged. Both Safe Passage and Control Water, both on the Civic Wizard’s Curriculum spell list, would also be useful here. And, a slightly random finishing note, Magic Mailbox, which creates a magic link between two containers to allow them to pass contents back and forth, might not jump out on first blush, but could be quite useful on site when you think about it? General communication and divination spells, for site communication and monitoring, could also go in our toolkit.

It is … It’s just a pleasing thought experiment. Designing a PF2e wizard, not for combat or adventuring, but for civic construction work within a city. It’s not the game we’re actually playing, but there is a fair amount of useful stuff in the arcane spell list to make it work. Heh.

This is such a fun arcane school. Useful? Don’t know. But definitely fun.

#pathfinder #pf2e #pathfinder remaster #character concepts #wizards #dwarves #engineers #construction #magic #i do just enjoy this school so much

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 year

Text

Not So Invincible After All

Whumpuary 2023: Prompt 3. Shot

2023 Year of Whump: Jan 1. Whispered Reassurances

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, f!reader, Superman/Lois Lane's Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 3417

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Gun Shot, Blood, Loss of powers, Pain, Ambiguous Ending, Language

Notes: Thank you to @icarusthefoolish for this request!

For the first time, Damien speaks up. “Who says we need ‘extra hands’? We are protecting the city just fine without assistance.”

Elbowing Tim in the ribs, Jason grins as he mutters, “Wow. I never expected to hear something like that coming from the boy scout’s daughter.”

You say goodbye to your dad and watch as he flies away. Once he is out of sight of even your advanced vision, you pivot sharply and strut straight up to Jason.

With your powers, you can sense the multitude of physical reactions your words send through his body and you chuckle as you pat his cheek before flying off into the night.

Until one night….

By the time you return and spot him, he has chased the men onto the roof of a building. Just as the men realize they are trapped and this will be a fight, you land next to Jason with a grin.

“Hello, boys. What seems to be the trouble here?”

The men exchange angry glances and one of them hisses loudly to the other, “What do we do? We wanted Superman, not Superbitch.”

“Hey! Watch your fucking mouth!” Jason growls, taking a step closer, but you place a hand on his chest, halting him.

He pales at the very thought and clutches your leg. “N-n-no! Please! N-not again!”

Patting his head, you say, “Good boy. Now, let’s see if your friend is as agreeable.” And you launch yourself back into the air towards the top of the building.

“One time! I missed one time! And I still stopped him before he was permanently injured. Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Nope.” He starts to cross the roof to you.

“Nice try,” you smirk as you streak forward at superspeed, stopping just in front of Jason as the bullets soar toward him.

But Jason hasn’t realized that yet. Ripping off his helmet to get a better look at your wound, he asks, “What’s going on? How did this happen?”

“I think– I think they were made for my father. Kryptonite bullets.”

The realization of what this means slowly passes over Jason’s face. “That’s why they didn’t just bounce off you. You have Kryptonite buried in your chest?”

“I’m calling Supes. Maybe he can–”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers softly into your ear. But you can clearly tell that he doesn’t fully believe the words he is saying.

“What can I do? There has to be something I can do,” Jason pleads.

Leaning your head back against Jason’s neck, you ask, “Is this…. Is this what it feels like?”

“What does what feel like, baby?” he asks, stroking your hair gently.

“To be human?”

The question catches Jason off guard. “Um, I–I don’t know. I guess so.”

“I don’t think I like it very much.” Another shiver of pain washes over you and you bury your face in Jason’s neck, hoping to muffle the moan that rumbles in your throat.

But Jason still hears it. “That’s it. I’m calling your dad.”

“No,” you mutter weakly. “I told you–”

You are silent for a moment, but you know that he is right. Your dad would have wanted to be here the second you were hurt, regardless of the danger it might put him in. So, reluctantly, you nod.

Jason stares at the Man of Steel, the desperation in his voice as he asks, “What do we do? How do we help her?”

Jason nods. “Okay. How do we do that?”

“You called?” But the smile slips as he takes in the scene before him. “Oh my god! What happened? Is she alright?”

“No, but we’re hoping you could help with that,” your dad explains. “She was shot three times with Kryptonite bullets, and we need to get them out of her. I can’t do it, but can you?”

“Hey, Skidmark,” you mumble weakly.

Barry chuckles. “I’ll let that slide this time since you’re hurt.” His face turns serious as he adds, “And because what’s about to happen isn’t going to feel great.”

From the other side of the roof, your dad calls out, “Barry, get her to the med bay on the Watchtower. They should be able to treat her there. Then, destroy those bullets.”

You swallow heavily and force the words to spill from your lips. “I need you to know… if I had known what those bullets were… I still would have taken them for you…No regrets…”

Stepping back, he nods at Barry. The speedster tightens his hold on you and says, “Hold on.” Then he takes off.

As you feel that familiar initial whoosh of moving at super speed, you finally allow yourself to succumb to the darkness.

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @11thstreetvigilante, @merlehs,@mayhem24-7forever, @sunshineflowerchild789, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @schaarfyx, @happinessricardotapia, @wildbornsiren, @whumpuary

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toothmarqed · 7 months

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i dreamed the succession finale was insane

- opened with roman being taunted by shiv (and her group of girl friends as if this was middle school), in shambles bc they found his diaries and the letter he wrote to his bi favorite character

- roman ran out into the street because he had nothing left (logan was dead, his siblings turned on him)

- jokes about shiv and roman fucking culminated in them actually fucking

- they decided to get on a plane regardless, to go find their old house and get their inheritance/legacy sorted out

- met ken on this tiny ass plane (they flew economy so ig they were broke atp) where roman proceeded to fuck ken (i cannot get this vivid image out of my mind and it is haunting me)

- they went into a bathroom to clean up just as the plane began to land and crashed. because the bathroom was the only extra fortified high pressure cabin on the plane, they survived the crash

- all this while roman was fully losing his mind (crying, throwing up, incoherent) because he’d just had sex with both of his siblings (here’s an idea if it’s going to distress you to fuck your sister maybe don’t fuck your sister)

- they walked through a forest to get to the old house

- shiv found out she was pregnant and had a vision wherein she kept the kid and raised her into a high-achieving girl who got harvard scholarships

- they ran into a man who’d helped logan before (drove him in a horse drawn carriage to his house) and accepted his help because it was getting very difficult to walk the forest

- they rode through a horrible snowstorm

- the man showed shiv a house and was trying to convince her to stay there and raise her child when she saw that two pairs of legs were sticking out of the river (ken and roman) whereupon she realized this man’s vision included her two brothers being dead

- they all fought back against the man. he invoked the “deathly hallows” which were objects meant to create fascism

- roman smiled when he handled one of them (he took to the fascism quickly. big surprise) but did end up wounding the man and running away with his siblings

- together they turned the corner and ended up at the old house

- logan welcomed them with open arms and hugged them and was so glad to have them back

- during an outside gathering/festival of sorts at the house, he glanced at roman and ken and said that he knew

- he was completely disgusted and promptly disowned all of them

- while wandering the party in despair, roman ran into this good-looking guy who said “i fucked the inmates at a psych ward” so roman said “i fucked my brother” and the guy gave him his number and hold him to hit him up

- emboldened, roman went up to the podium where logan was going to be giving a speech, grabbed the mic, and screamed “FUCK YOU DAD! I’M GAY”

- then there was a segment where as roman left, a lady was telling the story of a dog in a painting, reasserting that roman was still a dog, still forever at the mercy of his father despite his act of rebellion. he was never truly free of the cage because of how deep it had cut as he’d grown up in it

- i thought it was going to end there

- then roman shiv and ken were all in a helicopter, leaving their father (they’d all been shunned)

- logan suddenly showed up and said he’d found out shiv was pregnant

- logan wrote IF I’D KNOWN and then I WOULD’VE on the foggy glass helicopter window, implying that he would’ve forgiven them (specifically roman)

- logan hugged roman and roman cried so hard he threw up buckets of water, as the helicopter descended into a river and the door popped open and all of them where flooded

- there was a distinct knowledge as they went underwater, that they were dying for the last time

- roman woke up to the doctor putting little sensing nodes on all their stomachs, and to realize a yellow one was pointing at him, showing that it had been his fault, that the helicopter was a sort of suicide

- that’s it

#succession #roman roy #kendall roy #shiv roy #succession finale #weird ass dream that made me alternately sick to my stomach and sobbing with pain #had to write this down at 4-5am or else i wouldn’t remember it #it was so vivid too #don’t know where tf it came from bc i haven’t not been that involved in the succ fandom recently

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ausetkmt · 8 months

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Her name was Julia Chinn, and her role in Richard Mentor Johnson’s life caused a furor when the Kentucky Democrat was chosen as Martin Van Buren’s running mate in 1836.

She was born enslaved and remained that way her entire life, even after she became Richard Mentor Johnson’s “bride.”

Johnson, a Kentucky congressman who eventually became the nation’s ninth vice president in 1837, couldn’t legally marry Julia Chinn. Instead the couple exchanged vows at a local church with a wedding celebration organized by the enslaved people at his family’s plantation in Great Crossing, according to Miriam Biskin, who wrote about Chinn decades ago.

Chinn died nearly four years before Johnson took office. But because of controversy over her, Johnson is the only vice president in American history who failed to receive enough electoral votes to be elected. The Senate voted him into office.

The couple’s story is complicated and fraught, historians say. As an enslaved woman, Chinn could not consent to a relationship, and there’s no record of how she regarded him. Though she wrote to Johnson during his lengthy absences from Kentucky, the letters didn’t survive.

Amrita Chakrabarti Myers, who is working on a book about Chinn, wrote about the hurdles in a blog post for the Association of Black Women Historians.

“While doing my research, I was struck by how Julia had been erased from the history books,” wrote Myers, a history professor at Indiana University. “Nobody knew who she was. The truth is that Julia (and Richard) are both victims of legacies of enslavement, interracial sex, and silence around black women’s histories.”

youtube

Johnson’s life is far better documented.

He was elected as a Democrat to the state legislature in 1802 and to Congress in 1806. The folksy, handsome Kentuckian gained a reputation as a champion of the common man.

Back home in Great Crossing, he fathered a child with a local seamstress, but didn’t marry her when his parents objected, according to the biography “The Life and Times of Colonel Richard M. Johnson of Kentucky.” Then, in about 1811, Johnson, 31, turned to Chinn, 21, who had been enslaved at Blue Spring Plantation since childhood.

Johnson called Chinn “my bride.” His “great pleasure was to sit by the fireplace and listen to Julia as she played on the pianoforte,” Biskin wrote in her account.

The couple soon had two daughters, Imogene and Adaline. Johnson gave his daughters his last name and openly raised them as his children.

Johnson became a national hero during the War of 1812. At the Battle of the Thames in Canada, he led a horseback attack on the British and their Native American allies. He was shot five times but kept fighting. During the battle, the Shawnee chief Tecumseh was killed.

In 1819, “Colonel Dick” was elected to the U.S. Senate. When he was away in Washington for long periods, he left Chinn in charge of the 2,000-acre plantation and told his White employees that they should “act with the same propriety as if I were home.”

Chinn’s status was unique.

While enslaved women wore simple cotton dresses, Chinn’s wardrobe “included fancy dresses that turned heads when Richard hosted parties,” Christina Snyder wrote in her book “Great Crossings: Indians, Settlers & Slaves in the Age of Jackson.”

In 1825, Chinn and Johnson hosted the Marquis de Lafayette during his return to America.

In the mid-1820s, Johnson opened on his plantation the Choctaw Academy, a federally funded boarding school for Native Americans. He hired a local Baptist minister as director. Chinn ran the academy’s medical ward.

“Julia is as good as one half the physicians, where the complaint is not dangerous,” Johnson wrote in a letter. He paid the academy’s director extra to educate their daughters “for a future as free women.”

Johnson tried to advance his daughters in local society, and both would later marry White men. But when he spoke at a local July Fourth celebration, the Lexington Observer reported, prominent White citizens wouldn’t let Adaline sit with them in the pavilion. Johnson sent his daughter to his carriage, rushed through his speech and then angrily drove away.

When Johnson’s father died, he willed ownership of Chinn to his son. He never freed his common-law wife.

“Whatever power Chinn had was dependent on the will and the whims of a White man who legally owned her,” Snyder wrote.

Then, in 1833, Chinn died of cholera. It’s unclear where she is buried.

Johnson went on to even greater national prominence.

In 1836, President Andrew Jackson backed Vice President Martin Van Buren as his successor. At Jackson’s urging, Van Buren — a fancy dresser who had never fought in war — picked war hero Johnson as his running mate. Nobody knew how the Shawnees’ chief was slain in the War of 1812, but Johnson’s campaign slogan was, “Rumpsey, Dumpsey. Johnson Killed Tecumseh.”

Johnson’s relationship with Chinn became a campaign issue. Southern newspapers denounced him as “the great Amalgamationist.” A mocking cartoon showed a distraught Johnson with a hand over his face bewailing “the scurrilous attacks on the Mother of my Children.”

This political cartoon was a racist attack on Johnson because of his relationship with Julia Chinn. (Library of Congress)

Van Buren won the election, but Johnson’s 147 electoral votes were one short of what he needed to be elected. Virginia’s electors refused to vote for him. It was the only time Congress chose a vice president.

When Van Buren ran for reelection in 1840, Democrats declined to nominate Johnson at their Baltimore convention. It is the only time a party didn’t pick any vice-presidential candidate. The spelling-challenged Jackson warned that Johnson would be a “dead wait” on the ticket.

“Old Dick” still ended up being the leading choice and campaigned around the country wearing his trademark red vest. But Van Buren lost to Johnson’s former commanding officer, Gen. William Henry Harrison.

Johnson never remarried, but he reportedly had sexual relationships with other enslaved women who couldn’t consent to them.

The former vice president won a final election to the Kentucky legislature in 1850, but died a short time later at the age of 70.

His brothers laid claim to his estate at the expense of his surviving daughter, Imogene, who was married to a White man named Daniel Pence.

“At some point in the early twentieth century,” Myers wrote, “perhaps because of heightened fears of racism during the Jim Crow era, members of Imogene Johnson Pence’s line, already living as white people, chose to stop telling their children that they were descended from Richard Mentor Johnson … and his black wife. It wasn’t until the late 20th century that younger Pences, by then already in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, began discovering the truth of their heritage.”

#He Became the Nation’s Ninth Vice President. She Was His Enslaved Wife.#enslaved people #Richard Johnson #Julia Chinn #Youtube

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