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slasherscream · 4 months

Note

I don't normally like make requests from people if it's obvious I'm sorry for my awkwardness.

Anyway you were saying how you were really into Jordan li recently so am I and I've read every single fanfiction or every rant there is about them and I crave more. I have been in a angst/fluff mood and I haven't seen anyone do this idea either. I was thinking thinking maybe Jordan and reader gets into an argument (not really picky about what) and the argument gets really heated (you know how jordan shifts into their male form to Intimidate or get their point across) Jordan shifts into their male form which scares reader (I'm thinking reader doesn't have a good past with angry men) and reader backs away from them in fear Jordan notices and tries to comfort them but reader flinched when Jordan touches them. Reader then asks them to leave so they do but Jordan spends like a week trying to make the situation better.

(I would also like to put reader isn't scared of Jordan more so the action of the blatant Intimidation tactic they tried to use against reader. Reader is angry that jordan would try to scare them even if it wasn't on purpose it still hurt)

Jordan sorta just spends a week following reader around Like a lost puppy trying to treat reader like a absolute queen even if reader won't really acknowledge them until Jordan has an breakdown while drunk coming to readers dorm begging for forgiveness.

Again if its obvious I don't know how to make requests I'm sorry this has just been on my mind for so long.

A/N: this request is absolutely perfect, and exactly to my tastes. thank you for sending it, doll!

WORD COUNT: 4k+ under cut | hurt/comfort and angst/fluff

It’s hard sometimes, knowing when to push and when to just let Jordan be. Not at all a skill you learned over night. You’d gotten good at the push and pull of bringing them out of their shell back when the two of you had just been friends. Better at it than anyone else, at least. It was a slow process, but every second was worth it.

Now on the good days you don’t have to push at all. A hand on their arm. A coaxing smile or two. Any act of connection, no matter how small, enough to make them tell you what’s on their mind. Even if they scowl the entire time they let it out. It’s the letting it out at all that counts. Progress!

Today you miscalculated. It’s been a bad week. Jordan hadn’t dropped in the rankings, but their points took a small dip. They hadn’t been very active on their socials, busy doing work as Brink’s TA. But the point gap between where Jordan sits at #2 in the rankings, and where Andre sits at #3 is still a wide open chasm.

It’d take something truly disastrous to knock Jordan from the spot they’ve held for three years now. But the rankings are more important than anything to Jordan. No matter how gently you try to bring logic into the situation, Jordan gets irritated quickly, accusing you of not taking it seriously. You often wonder how that could be, considering you’re in the top eight yourself, but you bite your tongue and don’t bring it up.

The group had tried to go out for lunch. It was okay at first, everyone making an effort to ignore the storm cloud Jordan cast over the table as they picked at their food. Then Andre had made some type of stupid joke. Not even about the rankings, but enough to make Jordan snap at him. The situation escalated so quickly that Cate had threatened to take off her glove and make everyone shut up. You paid your portion of the bill and dragged Jordan out before anyone could start up again.

And now you’re here, somehow also on the shit list for not being supportive enough. As if being supportive isn't everything you do. Day in and day out.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side. You don’t honestly think it was an innocent comment, do you?” Jordan snaps, standing up from your couch to pace the length of your dorm room.

“You know how Andre is. He gets sarcastic when he’s hungover, and he was packing a double whammy. He did coke and got drunk last night. He was just a little off. He wasn’t making a real dig at you.” You defend your friend, knowing Jordan will regret what she said at lunch once she’s calmed down.

“Oh, so we’re all just supposed to tiptoe around his highness? If he was gonna be a dick during the entire thing he should have just skipped coming out with us.” Jordan’s eyes narrow in on your expression, the sudden pursing to your lips and looking away. “What?” She snaps.

You take a deep breath at the tone, “Well, Jordie, if you want me to be honest Andre wasn’t the only one who wasn’t on their best behavior today.”

A beat of silence.

You look up and there goes Jordan rolling her shoulders back, eyebrows practically in her hairline and you sigh. You definitely should have brought up her attitude later.

“You really are taking his side!” She scoffs in disbelief.

“Nope. No, I am not, there are no sides. We’re all friends. Friends fight. I’m just trying to remind you that you actually are friends. You can’t just…” You trail off, uncertain.

“I can’t just what?” She throws up her hands, volume raising.

“You can’t act like this every time the rankings do something that isn’t spectacular for you. I know they mean a lot to you but you can’t take the numbers out on the people who care about you.”

“You just don’t get it-”

“But I do get it! We talk about it all the time. Your feelings are completely valid, the way you react to them isn’t. You’ve been giving Andre looks that could kill all week and he didn’t even do anything. If he was a little snappy at lunch, maybe he’s upset that his friend has been treating him like shit over something he barely cares about.”

“Well if I’m so-” Jordan shifts, pitch of his voice deepening, on the verge of yelling, “-fucking awful why don’t you go run to Andre and cry about it together?”

He only takes two steps towards the couch before you use your powers. It’s instinct, the way the forcefield bubbles up around you.

Whatever Jordan was going to say next shrivels up and dies on his tongue. The only sounds in the room are the quiet hum your powers make when you use them, and the scared, panicked gasp you make from inside the forcefield you put up to protect yourself from him.

There’s a second where the two of you just stare at each other. Both in shock.

“Baby-” Jordan tries taking another step forward, a small, barely there shuffle of his foot. His face falls when the forcefield gets a little louder, glows a little brighter.

Jordan looks close to tears. It’s that expression that pulls you out of the animal state of fear you’d fallen into. You look away from them. Take a few heaving breaths. Do your best to not mix up faces of the past with your present and future.

Your forcefield flickers out slowly. A concentrated effort.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- I would never ever-'' Jordan shifts again. She rushes too fast into your space to kneel on the ground in front of you, her hands reaching for yours, desperate and clumsy.

When you flinch away, moving so you’re perched on the armrest of the couch, still trying to calm yourself down, she’s left with her hands grasping at air. “Baby, look at me. Please? Look at me, I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry that I… I’m sorry. I would never hurt you. I fucking swear I wasn’t-”

“I know, Jordan.” You shake your head, trying to stay calm. “Could you please….leave? I… I can’t calm down right now. I’m trying. I know you didn’t mean to… to scare me, but I need you to go.”

“Baby, wait, fuck. Fuck, wait! I’m sorry. Let’s just talk. I can’t leave you alone like this. I’m sorry.” She’s panicking now, throat feeling like it’s closing up.

She doesn’t try to reach for you again, but her hands feel like they’re burning from the effort it takes to keep them away from you. It’s instinct to hold you, to make it better, to pull you closer. She’s always been the place you run to when you’re scared, the shield you step behind when you need to feel safe. She doesn’t know what to do when you don’t even want to be near her.

“We’ll talk later. I’ll… I’ll have Cate come over so I’m not alone. Just.. leave.” Your voice breaks on a sob, and you’re begging her to leave, and that’s what makes Jordan head to the door, legs shaking. She’s never made you cry before.

She’s glued to her phone the rest of the day, waiting for you to call. You don’t.

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You’ve been best friends since you were freshman. You haven’t gone longer than two days without talking in all that time since. No matter how busy you are. No matter how shitty either of you feels. Jordan doesn’t know what to do with the hours of the day that you usually fill.

She breaks on the second day when you show up to class and move to sit by Luke on the other side of the room instead of with her. You don’t even look at her as you walk by.

Class doesn’t start for another five minutes. The teacher isn’t even here yet, and she’s always late. Jordan moves to get up, already feeling like she’s choking on all the words she needs to say to you to fix this, but is stopped by a firm grip around her wrist. She’s about to snap when she realizes it’s Cate, taking up your usual spot in the seat that isn’t up for grabs because it’s Your Seat.

“Don’t make the situation worse. She just wants to go to class. Don’t hound her, Jordan.”

“Hound her?” Jordan’s voice raises, incredulous. “She’s my girlfriend. I need to talk to her.”

“You need to apologize.” Cate bites. “Dick.”

“That’s what I was trying to do before you stopped me.” Jordan speaks through gritted teeth.

“How about you try apologizing after she’s done all her classes? That way, when you inevitably upset her, she doesn’t hole herself up in her room all day crying. And feel bad about missing class on top of it. You know… the way she spent all of yesterday?”

“She cried all day?” Jordan’s shoulders sag, voice getting smaller.

Cate softens, patting Jordan’s hand. “It’s not just about you, and you know that. Triggers like this really fuck with people. And she’s also pissed that she’s triggered in the first place. Let her cool off.”

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He makes it a few hours before he’s trailing after you.

He can tell by the tension in the line of your spine that you know he’s there. But you don’t outright tell him to get lost, so Jordan can’t stop himself from following you around. Even if you don’t want him there.

He sits across from you as you study in the library. Makes puppy dog eyes at you the entire time. He can’t be bothered to unpack his bag. It’d be useless to pretend he’ll do anything besides watching you.

Two hours in, he gets up and leaves, hating the way your shoulders relax as he turns to go.

He comes back twenty minutes later with your favorite foods and drink from the best local coffee shop. You don’t reach for any of it. He’s always loved how stubborn you are, how you stick to your ideas. Your principles. How steadfastly you make up your mind. Right now he’s just a little terrified of that same stubbornness. Remembers when you’d only been friends, that first year of peeling one another open, feeling each other out.

(“I’ll never do it, Jordan.” You’d whispered vehemently, drunk and mad and beautiful.

“Do what?”

“Be with anyone who tries to fucking cow me into submission. It’s fucked. I won’t do it. I’ve had enough of it.”

You’d passed the bottle you’d just had pressed to your lips and Jordan had tried not to think too hard about it, even when he tasted the remnants of your sticky, sweet lip gloss beneath the vodka.)

He doesn’t get up to leave again until you do.

Jordan walks you to your dorm, but trails a few steps behind you. He tried walking directly beside you at first, but your hands brushed together and the look you gave him was cold enough to freeze blood.

So-

-behind it is.

Jordan doesn’t get the chance to say goodnight before you slam the door in his face as loudly as possible.

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Jordan doesn’t push her luck by trying to walk you to your classes the next morning. She does wake up extra early to buy you the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers she could find. She leaves them outside your door and goes to class, hoping you’ll at least acknowledge her, the next time you see her.

During your first shared class of the day you walk in holding the bouquet of flowers. Jordan perks up in her seat, holding her breath. You do finally look at her. You make direct eye contact as you throw the flowers into the trash can at the teacher’s desk.

Jordan does not break her pen in half when Andre whispers “yikes” under his breath.

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Two more days and Jordan feels like he’s going insane. He knows you feel worse. One glance at the carefully nonchalant expression you’ve worn all week tells him that. Putting on a mask is nothing for you. That look is the first thing you learned how to do in the top ten.

You’d never hidden the way you felt around him before. Not like this. His skin keeps buzzing with the urge to corner you. Jordan needs the two of you to talk about what happened. But he’s already walking the world’s thinnest line.

And he knows he can’t force you, if you’re not ready.

Another thing he knows: when you’re this upset you don’t clean. Simultaneously, when your room gets messy your depression gets worse. He skips one of your mutual classes of the day and lets himself into your dorm with the key you gave him during first year.

Jordan looks around, wincing at the chaos. You never let it get this bad. Not even during your most soul crushing finals. He starts by throwing away the trash. The tissues you wiped your tears with. The takeout containers. Pages of your notebooks you ripped out, carelessly thrown around the room. You take awful notes in class when you’re distracted. He hates that he’s distracting you.

He wipes down every surface with your favorite scented cleaner. Dusts your books. Sweeps and mops. Changes your sheets and grabs the brightest, happiest color comforter you have stashed in your closet to put on the bed. As he adjusts the pillows he thinks about how often you spend the night at each other’s dorms. Jordan wonders if you’ve been struggling to sleep like he has.

He hesitates, but goes to his room down the hall to grab his cologne. He spritzes it lightly over the bed and hopes you still find the way he smells comforting.

Next is your laundry. He starts up a few loads, irons and puts away the clothes that were sitting in a wrinkled heap on your couch. You’ve always hated doing your laundry.

He’s heading back to your room, a full laundry basket of clean clothes under each arm when you run into each other.

“Are those my clothes?” You ask, forgetting that you aren’t exactly speaking to him in your moment of confusion.

“Yeah… I’m… I was cleaning my room. Doing some stuff. Figured I’d do a few of your loads too, while I’m already at it.” He shoots for casualness, knows he fails miserably.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say, words stiff and uncomfortable.

“I know I just…” Jordan shrugs, relieved to be standing within a few feet of you after days of silence, and feeling pathetic over how happy something so small makes him. “Why don’t you go get something to eat with Cate while I finish up here?”

“Finish up what?” You ask.

“I still gotta put these away.”

You sigh, wanting the conversation to end, “You don’t have to put my clothes away, Jordan. Or wash them. I’m quite capable of doing it myself.”

Jordan takes a step back when you make a reach for one of the baskets under his arms. “I know that! Just let me do it. Doing your laundry always pisses you off. I’ve got it.”

A battle of wills ignited. You, staring him down. Jordan, trying not to squirm. He wants to try apologizing again but doesn’t know if he’ll only make it worse.

“Please, baby? Go somewhere nice with Cate. My treat.” He puts down a laundry basket (behind him, so you can’t take it) to grab his phone from his pocket, and does something you can’t see.

When you hear the particular chime your banking app makes when you get a Zelle deposit you roll your eyes. You don’t bother checking your phone and seeing how much he sent. You know it’s too much. But if you say anything he’ll just say you and Cate have expensive tastes (which…true.)

“Maybe you can catch a movie too? I still gotta finish up with your bathroom.”

“Jordan.”

“Just,” Jordan shifts, putting down the other laundry basket and slowly reaching out to grab your hand with hers. She could almost cry when you let her touch you. “I know you’re fucking pissed at me. And I know you’re still too upset to talk about it. But…. fuck, please just let me take care of you. Please. I have to do something. I can’t just sit around, after I made you feel like this. It’s driving me nuts. I’m supposed to-”

You stop her, putting a hand on her cheek and sighing, “Okay, Jordan. I’ll go hang out with Cate while you finish.”

“Don’t ‘hang out’, go get dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.” She says, sullen and staring up at you, playing with your fingers while you’re still letting her touch you, the first time in days.

“I’ll head to Cate’s.”

“Nah, head to Luke’s. They’re studying together right now.” Jordan takes a risk, stepping into your space slowly, giving you the time to move away. She leans in and kisses your cheek, gentle. When you don’t move away she can’t help herself, kisses the edge of your lips too.

You don’t kiss her back, but you give her hand a squeeze as you pull away. You stop halfway down the hall before you turn back to look at Jordan. “Call Cate and tell her she better not be fucking Luke by the time I get to his dorm.”

Jordan laughs. Your face is a little more relaxed as you turn away this time.

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On Friday the group goes out to the club. They chose one of your favorite haunts, hoping it would entice you enough to join. You still declined the invitation. Everyone knew you would. They still wanted to try.

You claimed you had a lot of work to catch up on.

“She hates me. She fucking hates me.” Jordan groans into his hands, already three drinks and two shots in.

“Well, let’s not panic.” Luke says.

“Or be dramatic.” Andre snorts, taking a shot of his own. “You two are obsessed with each other. Relax.”

“Relax?!” Jordan tenses, “My girl won’t fucking talk to me. How am I supposed to relax?”

“She talked to you yesterday.” Andre drawls.

“That wasn’t anything. We usually-”

“-Spend every free second of the day together? We know.” Luke teases. When Jordan doesn’t even smile he winces and slides him another shot.

“She’s not even that mad. She’s more upset than anything.” Cate says, cuddling into Luke’s side.

Jordan’s eyes follow the movement and he swallows at the distinct lack of your own weight leaning into him. You always get touchy when you’re tipsy. Climbing on top of him, clinging to him like glue. It’s his favorite part of nights out together. That and the playful booing you guys get from the group.

Andre cuts back in, “I’m serious, dude. Relax! You guys have been together for how long now-”

“Three years.”

“-yeah, exactly. Since the fucking building of the pyramids. You two will be fine. She knows you didn’t mean anything by it. One fight won’t kill you.”

“This wasn’t a fight, though. I fucked up! You didn’t see the look on her face. When she used her powers… I mean, fuck! You know? She was scared of me.”

“You know that’s not true, Jordan.” Luke protests.

Jordan runs his hands through his hair, ruining the carefully slicked back style.

“Let’s just get you another drink. Come on, dude.” Andre wraps an arm around Jordan, hauling him to his feet and pulling him towards the bar.

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You get woken up by the sound of knocking on your door. Loud knocking. You keep your eyes closed, hoping whoever it is will go away. You don’t even want to be awake. Let alone socializing.

The knocking gets louder. Exhausted, you drag yourself out of bed. You glance at your phone on the bedside table as you get up. It’s three in the morning. Now you’re exhausted and pissed.

You stomp over to the door, wrenching it open, prepared to cuss someone out. You deflate when you see who it is. “Oh, hey.”

Jordan is leaning heavily on the door frame, staring at you with watery, red eyes. She looks like the walking dead. “Baby. Fuck, did I wake you up? I thought you’d still be awake. You said you were pulling an all-nighter.”

“I was tired. Just wanted to sleep.” You shrug. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Still at the club, took an uber back. Too fucked up for anything else.” She mutters.

“That’s good, Jordan.” You say.

“You haven’t called me Jordan since freshman year. What happened to Jordie?” She sighs.

Your face softens. “Baby…”

“No, wait, just let me…” Jordan leans her forehead against the door-frame, closing her eyes tight. “I’m sorry. I fucked up big time. I’m sorry that when I get pissed I take it out on everyone around me. I’m sorry that I don’t fucking listen when you’re just trying to make me feel better. I’m sorry I yelled… I’m sorry I shift-”

“Whoa, hey.” You cut her off, shocked. “You shifting isn’t the problem, Jordan. Fuck, come inside, honey.” You say, taking her hand and pulling her inside.

You sit the two of you on the couch, clicking on the light so you can see each other. You move so you’re facing each other, pulling her hands into your lap. “First off let’s set one thing straight. You shifting is never the problem, okay?”

“You got so fucking scared.” Jordan looks away, hair falling into her face.

“Not of you.. Just the fucking… optics of it! I don’t ever want you to be something you’re not. And you’ve got the incredible gift of being able to be whatever you feel like being any time you want to.” You reach out and touch her cheek, guiding her to look at you, “I don’t want you to not do that. I wouldn’t ever want you not to do that, okay?”

“Okay.” She says. There’s a moment of silence, then Jordan shifts. He looks for any sign of fear or hesitation, holding his breath. When he doesn’t see any he relaxes. “But I scared you so bad you used your powers.”

“Yeah, that did happen.” You nod, caressing his cheek with your thumb, “Maybe it’s just a little scary when someone bigger and stronger than me starts yelling like that. Also, invulnerable. Let’s not forget that. Food for thought.”

He closes his eyes, “I’m an idiot.”

“For yelling at me? Yeah, just a little. Don’t yell at me like that no matter what form you’re in. That's always scary. Couples talk. They don’t yell. Most of the time. We can’t be the couple that does that.”

“I’ll never yell like that again. Either form. I promise.” Jordan says, “Can I hold you? It’s been a fucking week. I’m losing my mind.”

You laugh, climbing into his lap and Jordan sighs, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can. He tucks your head into his neck. “I missed you like fucking crazy.”

“Missed you too.” You sigh, “Stay the night?”

“You’re not leaving my sight for the next two months.” He laughs, pulling you closer.

“Only two months? That’s fucked up, I thought you missed me.” You tease.

“Shut up.” He scoffs, kissing the side of your head.

You snuggle closer, letting the tension of the week drift away.

“You yell at me like that again and your only hope is being invulnerable, actually. I’ll put you through a wall.” You kiss his shoulder cheerfully.

“I’d do it before you got the chance.”

You burst into laughter and he pulls your head away from his shoulder so he can see you the way you’re supposed to look around him. Happy. Content. He can’t stop himself from kissing you. You can’t stop yourself from kissing back.

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #jordan li #gen v x reader #black!reader #first full jordan li fic! super fun to right nonny i am kissing you on the mouth this was INSPIRING #if you see any grammar or spelling errors no you don't lmao

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nonbinaryhatboxghost · 1 year

Text

Thoughts on the State of Trek

I would be less upset about Discovery ending if they had known going into season 5 that it would be their last. But that was not the case. The additional filming to give it an actual finale is good and I have no doubt that it will be as good a finale as they can do under the circumstances.

But recently I’ve been more observant of Trek fans online and there is a thing happening where I’ve seen far more immediate praise of Strange New Worlds and the current/final season of Picard than any other new Trek show has gotten.

Strange New Worlds is a good show! It is also specifically emulating the original series and has a straight white male captain as the lead. (yes, Pike rocks, that is not the point here)

The current/final season of Picard (which I do think is good!) has radically altered the tone of the show into a revival/sendoff for The Next Generation, as well as emulating and referencing Star Trek media of the ‘80s and ‘90s. And again, straight white male lead.

Both shows, particularly this season of Picard, have been pretty immediately praised by certain types of Trek viewers. Specifically longtime straight white male fans.

I’ve also noticed less diversity behind the camera of Strange New Worlds and Picard compared to Discovery. At least if one watches all the behind-the-scenes stuff for those shows (which I’ve been doing a lot lately). There’s not zero diversity, but Picard especially has been putting more emphasis on bringing back legacy crew members who are majorly, you guessed it, straight white males.

Contrasting that with how Discovery was met with skepticism from the get-go and is openly dismissed by certain older fans (one I talked to at work said something like “I guess I don’t get it because I’m not a millennial.”) makes me a bit angry because a lot of these same longtime fans watched and stuck through the first two seasons of The Next Generation. Those two seasons are some of the roughest television I’ve ever seen, and the handful of good episodes hidden throughout do not make up for it. But fans at the time stuck through those seasons anyway.

Why didn’t Discovery get the same treatment from those vocal longtime folks?

Why did The Next Generation, which is a very different type of show compared to the original series, ultimately become a beloved show? I’d like to believe it’s because people accepted the show for what it was once it found its footing.

But when I see comments like “Picard season 3 is the best Trek in 25 years”, I get mad. You gave Picard, a show that has two seasons with a mixed reception at best, a continued benefit of the doubt because of nostalgia for an older show, and because this season is essentially a Next Generation reunion. But you dismissed Discovery because it wasn’t “your” Star Trek show.

Literally part of the purpose of Star Trek is infinite diversity in infinite combinations. Discovery not only gave us an incredible lead character played by a Black woman, it gave us representation across the entire cast of both people of color and queer folks. As a nonbinary person, Adira’s quiet coming out scene had a profound impact on me, and later served as a helpful reference point for coming out as NB to my dad, who watches and enjoys Discovery.

Discovery spends an entire season depicting a debate between multiple characters/factions about how to handle a situation that threatens all Federation members. It does so with empathy for all points of view, and ultimately resolves this threat not with an action sequence, but a conversation. That season of Discovery (season 4) is Star Trek as fuck, and some of the best Trek ever.

Hell, Star Trek Beyond is so good that it manages to take the flashy action J.J. Abrams approach to Star Trek (which I have mixed feelings about because Trek ’09 is fun and despite his storytelling problems, Abrams is by all accounts a genuinely nice person so I won’t be shit-talking him here) and make it more properly Trek by introducing a villain who believes conflict is necessary for human evolution, which is the antithesis to Roddenberry’s whole vision for Trek of being a future where we work to resolve and avoid conflict rather than seek it.

Strange New Worlds and Picard (seasons 1 and, so far, 3) are both good and also contain great Trek. But they are also fundamentally more appealing to the nostalgia of middle-aged straight white male fans. And they are the shows that are getting more visible attention and praise.

Lower Decks is awesome and has a fantastic Black female lead in Tawny Newsome. But it meant something to have Sonequa Martin-Green and Newsome be the leads of two Star Trek shows airing at the same time.

And it means something for the live-action show with a Black woman as the lead to be cancelled while the animated show with a Black woman as the lead but a straight white male as the head writer is allowed to continue.

I don’t want Star Trek to become like Star Wars and turn into an endless cycle of fan service. Star Trek has had a huge impact on our planet over the 55+ years of its existence. Don’t make the mistake of turning it into another franchise that exists as a way for whiny white dudes to center themselves over the global majority.

(PS, Paramount, how the hell have you dragged your heels over Michelle Yeoh’s spinoff for this long? She has an Oscar now, what the hell is your excuse?)

#star trek #rant #star trek: discovery #star trek discovery #star trek: picard #star trek picard #star trek: strange new worlds #star trek strange new worlds #star trek: lower decks #star trek lower decks #star trek: the next generation #star trek the next generation #yeah I'm mad about a lot of stuff going on in the world but this is the only thing I felt knowledgeable enough to comment on

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

ascendance - 01

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: violence, dark themes, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

SUMMARY: she was at the wrong place at the wrong time and a misunderstanding dooms her to a life as an ascendance card under the watch of the executer.

A/N: i’m so excited to go back to my mob writing roots with this one. there’s a bit of a few twists and changes to the traditional mob writing i’ve done before and i am really excited to be sharing chapter one with you. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER

The ambience was dark, badly lit by the yellow flickering lights in the halls with echoes of the buzzing of the hot old light bulbs. There was no sound but that buzz and the heavy sound of his boots hitting the rotting wood floor boards. The scent in the air was putrid, a mix of what seemed like life meeting its end stage, cheap cider and weed. It was definitely different and he didn’t trust it.

At the end of the corridor there it was. 107. The 107th flat in purgatory with the door slightly opened. He pushed the door open, the smell getting more intense and his boots sticky with the liquor spilled on the floor.

- What did you do? - each word was punctuated with intense disbelief, as if this was all a nightmare.

- Bucky, help me!

PRESENT

The wind brushed and pulled her hair into different directions as she stepped off the train’s step. She rushed through the streets of New York, hair pin stuck in the middle of her teeth as she fought the winds to try and set her hair into an appropriate hair do while running down the street at the same time. The chattering people and the sun peaking through the clouds was hopeful as she grabbed her coffee from the same vendor off the side street as her eyes gazed upon the Metropolitan Opera House which had been gracing the New York landscape for longer than she had been on this earth and now she was part of it, she was a small speck in an almost 60 year long history.

Her smiled widened as her sneakers hit the pavement, eyes gazing over the fountain and the flags of the production coming down from the opera house’s arches. The same production she was part off. Sure, she was a chorus girl but the mere thought of singing on that stage, of watching that public in those red velvet seats under the chandelier just made it all more exciting. She walked inside the theatre through the stage door, meeting the manager at the door.

- Hi. - she leaned her hands against the desk where the manager was surrounded by attendance and cast sheets as well as a big laptop shining a blue light onto her face. The woman didn’t even look up, instead putting up a board with the names of all people in the production in front of her. - Do you need to see my ID?

- Just sign in front of your name.

Y/N giddily looked at the list of names, hers closer to the bottom but there, written in bold Arial font. She signed her name in front of her printed one with the barely working pen, before pinning it over the board and handing it over to the manager who pointed inside the opera theatre. She held onto her gym bag harshly, padding the sublime floors and looking around with such wonder one would believe she’d never been here. She’d been here before, she was here every month to watch a performance but now she was not guest, she was not just another person walking in with a ticket, she was part of it, she was part of the show. After years of doing community plays, workshops and failed auditions, she had gotten here and suddenly all those days spent in bed feeling miserable in bed after getting rejected yet again didn’t matter anymore she was here.

Her eyes glanced at every tiny little ornament in the opera house until she entered the theatre room. Her heart filled with joy and happy nostalgia as the red and golden tones of the room involved her. There wasn’t anyone in the theatre yet except for a few musicians from the instrumental pit and some cleaners so she was free to roam around. Her fingers traced the suede velvet of the red seats, finding a few missing binoculars on the grounds but not really caring.

- You! - she whipped her head towards the voice which came from a woman, probably in her mid 40s all dressed in black with a gold name tag slightly above her left breast.

- Hi. - Y/N smiled, extending her hand towards the woman. - I’m Y/N, I’m the new ...

- I don’t care, we need silk ribbons, now.

- Oh, I ... I’m new, I don’t know where I’d get silk ribbons, m’am.

- The costume room? Go, stop looking at me as if you were Bambi and go.

- Oh, okay.

She made her way hastily out of the theatre room wondering how she was going to find silk ribbons, where she was going to find them and why she had to find them. Maybe it was a hazing ritual for new people, after all, she had been into various hazings during her career, including downing a whole bottle of honey which she couldn’t even finish, only eating one fourth of it before becoming nauseous.

She stopped in the middle of the hall, wondering where the costume room could be. It couldn’t be on the top floor, that was usually where the bars and common rooms were so if the building followed regular construction protocols for opera houses, it was probably on the underground section of the house where the dressing rooms used to be. Y/N ventured into the lift, pressing the lowest number on the number chart of the panel until she reached the underground floor. Y/N looked around, people running in and out yet no one stopped whenever she tried to question where the costume room was. She had managed to find the costume shop but no luck finding the costume room until she was pretty much pressed against a dark door with those exact words by the passing crowd.

She twisted the knob of the costume room door, tumbling onto the dark room as a result. The room was filled to the brim with costumes on each side of the room, a plexiglass divider between the two sides which stopped every meter or so and also appeared to be divided onto female and male costumes with the ensemble costumes at the back. She padded across the concrete floors, looking through dresses and accessories for ribbons but no successful attempt. The ruffling from the other side of the room had her turning around, forehead furrowed as she walked towards the plexiglass divider.

- Hello? - she questioned, wondering if there was someone in this room who could help her find silk ribbons. Great, she had barely joined the company and was already screwing up. Great, Y/N. Way to go, Y/N.

She saw someone all dressed in black just like the women before, yet there seemed to be something which didn’t match up; black jeans, black shirt and black leathe jacket as well as a pair of also black boots, scruffed and probably entirely too old to still be holding up together. Her eyes caught his which despite the low almost non existent light of the costume room, were light, a sort of greyish blue like the calm sea before of storm. His gaze pulled hers in, like gravity and she couldn’t help but clutch the jacket next to her as a bad feeling along with something she’d never felt before settled in her stomach.

His hair was mostly pushed back yet the ones which framed his face fell like dominos. She moved along the side where she was to one of the plexiglass gaps and he did the same still maintaining eye contact with her, until the two reached the gap. She didn’t notice she was holding her breathe in until she breathed out.

- Hi. - her own hand gripped her wrist, shoe grinding against the floors. - Uhm, I’m new here and this lady sent me down to find some silk ribbons but I can’t find any. Do you ...

- I... uh ... I don’t know where they are. - he faltered for a few seconds before regaining his posture.

- Oh, I thought since you were here, you might be one of the stage managers.

- I’m not. - his tone was monotonous, almost as if he had the answer to her question before she even made it.

- Oh ... - she rubbed her neck. - Are you also looking for silk ribbons?

- I’m looking for the dressing rooms, actually.

- They’re down the hall. - she pointed at the door as if it was the “down the hall”. - Hum ... Are you new here too?

- Yeah. Thanks. - he walked towards the door, opening it and stepping out before catching her gaze once again.

Y/N remained in the middle of the room as if she were in a transe and maybe she was. It felt like she was falling yet she was firm on her feet and she did not like that feeling. She did not like that feeling of falling, it wasn’t feeling, it was hopeless falling and she wondered why looking at a man who looked like an 80′s glam rock reject made her feel like that, so lost. Maybe it was the respect he appeared to command by merely looking at her or maybe it was the nerves about being new and not being able to find some goddamn silk ribbons. Damn it.

- Call for 30 minutes before dress rehearsal. - the voice came from the intercom and immediately her mind dropped the idea of finding silk ribbons and moved to finding the ensemble dressing room and get dressed and ready. Damn it, this was going well.

She rushed down the hall, bag almost slipping off her shoulder until she saw the door with the ensemble plaque on it. The young woman peaked inside the room where pretty much everyone with a role on the ensemble were already sat down. She shyly walked in the middle row until she found her own little corner, her name written on a sticker on the mirror along with photos of how the makeup should be done as well as how to get the costume in correctly. The same goofy smile returned as she sat down and saw her name above her. It was fine, she was here, she was part of a company.

- Hey you’re new. - the girl next to her twirled her chair to face her. She already had her makeup on and hair pinned curled up and ready to put a wig cap on. - I’m Elliot but people call me Elle.

- Y/N, I’m the new chorus girl. First day.

- Aw, welcome. - she had a bright smile, inviting and almost as exciting as the whole experience of being there. - Do you want help pincurling your hair? I can get it done while you do your makeup.

- Yes, please. - she pulled out a big box from her bag which had all her makeup and pins.

Elle started pin curling her hair up while she put an inappropriate amount of blush on which was just appropriate to get on stage under the bright yellow lights. Turns out half the practice for opera is learning to do your makeup under bright yellow lights and then learning to sing. 10 minutes to rehearsal start, she was along with Elle going down and up to the main stage where most dancers were warming up. Elle left her to do so, leaving Y/N once again to just stand there, looking around like a little sheep in the middle of wolves.

- I’ve never seen you around. - her shoulders almost went up as he turned to see one of the principal sopranos, if not the principal soprano. She had seen all of her shows ever since she was a teenager and she had even wrote an essay for university on her for a module. Catherine Vargas, the best New York could offer, if not the best the world could offer. - I didn’t know they were still casting dancers.

- Oh, I’m a chorus girl, Mrs Vargas.

- A chorus girl? - she furrowed her brows at her, looking her up and down. - What type?

- The type who ... is in the back with the ensemble. - her voice lowered at least a few volumes down, back curved as if she were bowing.

- I know what chorus girls do. I asked what vocal type.

- Lyric soprano, m’am.

- A lyric soprano in the chorus. Interesting. Where did you train?

- Julliard, m’am.

- Julliard? - she looked her up and down again. - That is a great school. What is a Julliard graduate doing in the chorus line?

- Everyone starts somewhere. - she laughed nervously, scratching her arm as she did so.

- Not a lyric soprano from Julliard. Composers sure do love an ingenue, don’t they? Don’t worry, a few months with me and you’ll be supporting.

- That’s ... that’s really kind, Mrs. Vargas. Thank you.

- Don’t thank me. Could you get me some honey from my dressing room? I’m feeling a bit strained.

- It’s 5 minutes until rehearsal starts.

- It’s okay, chorus normally doesn’t do much during rehearsal. Can you get it?

- Yeah, I think so.

She straightened her crinkled skirt, looking behind her back before going down the stairs which led down to the dressing rooms. This was good, right? Getting into one of the main star’s good graces besides she was right, the chorus didn’t really get much attention during rehearsals, at least not as much as the main characters. It’s easier to get away with screwing up in the back than in the front, her teacher would tell her which would always earn a few laughs from her colleagues. Yet, Y/N hated to make any mistakes. She would stay up all night in front of a cheap piano she had bought from a charity shop, playing and singing the same 5 note progression until her flatmate yelled at her to shut up. For her, if it wasn’t perfect and if she didn’t get any criticism while performing it, she hadn’t done it right. It didn’t matter at the end of the day but what did matter was to climb up the ladder. She didn’t want to be a star, all she wanted was to be able to be on that stage forever with the spotlight shining on her and she knew there was only one way to climb up. Actually there were two, extreme luck and connections. Now, she didn’t have the best of luck so her major choice was to make connections and reach that status.

She made her way into the principal dressing room. It was probably one of the biggest she had ever seen, with expensive decor and various flowers covering it. She wondered how many flowers she received on opening nights if that was the number she had on regular days. Y/N made her way to the desk, opening drawers and more drawers to find honey until she found it on the lowest drawn. She went down on her knees to grab it, mindless and careless to everything that was happening until she felt a sharp pain on the side of her her.

Then everything went dark.

TAGLIST: @lookiamtrying @buckyswillows @blossomslibrary @juliesland @iloveshawnieboi @unmagically

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Petal

college!sebastian stan x reader

masterlist

Summary; Your boyfriend Sebastian has been spending much time studying, hardly sparing himself a break. Finally, he sees the pros of taking one

Warnings; smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, fluff

divider by @firefly-graphics

Sebastian was to be home any minute, he had been prolifically stressed from his classes regarding his law certification, and you had decided to exhibit him a well deserved distraction that would surely take his wired brain off from the course that was practically running through his veins at this point.

It seemed that at every waking moment, he was doing something to aid his studies, and whilst that was great that he was so dedicated to passing for this insane qualification, he did need to take breaks here and there. He wasn't the only one suffering from his late nights, and his resurrection from slumber at the crack of dawn, no. You were too, you missed him, despite being in the same apartment and room as him for the majority of his spare time.

He acted as though he had no time to spare, but you were well acquainted with his schedule, especially by now. The only difference was, that he had no occupation for a moment to relax with you, or by himself. His showers took five minutes every morning and evening, it was as though he were rushing to clean himself so that he could proceed to go back to putting his nose in a book, or searching specifics online.

But tonight, you were going to cut him off. If he didn't endure a moment of mindlessness, then you were sure to go mad yourself. You were keening for his touch, all you had received in the past few weeks were chaste kisses on both your lips and forehead, as well as verbalised 'I love you's. Perhaps it was selfish, he was striving towards a great achievement in his life, and you wanted a little bit of attention, but you knew he was holding himself from any relief also.

From the minimal time that he spent under the cold stream of the showerhead, he didn't have enough time to rub one out, and there was no fear that you had of him seeing another woman. Sebastian was not like that at all, and you had the clarity of him being in the kitchen half the time, typing away on his laptop, as he ran over some old notes and updated them.

Currently, he was out, he was in his lecture. There was a span of fifteen minutes from the time that he would be on the walk home, and you knew that was exactly how long that took in your shared student apartment, because you too endured your studies. But once more, your own were pushed to the side as you speculated your appearance in the silver tapestry of your mirror.

Your hand steadied on your right hip as you posed in front of it, twisting your waist to find the most attractive angle for you in your new wear. The underwear was tight, and not to mention, completely sheer. It's see through nature made wearing it practically pointless, but considering his current frustrations, it was only fair to give something to rip off of you.

Truthfully, you had to admit, you looked damned good. There was no way he would choose studying law over ravishing your body, a spark jolted through your body as the door behind you opened, and with a seductive bite to your lip, you turned around, only to scream and cover your body with your hands, or at least to the best of your ability. "Holy fuck, don't you know how to knock?!"

"I didn't think I'd have to because your human dildo isn't here!" Anthony defended himself, having turned around, as the image of you, one of his best friends, practically in the nude, burned behind his eye balls. The fact that he had seen you made you feel sick, this was not how you had intended the afternoon to go.

"Is there a reason that you burst into my room looking for me Mackie?" The question was indeed one that you wanted to know the answer to, you still felt so exposed, although he was not looking at you. That was certainly something that you were going to avoid telling Seb, that would definitely be a big distraction from his work.

And of course, alongside that, he would have an intent to possibly murder your flat mate, and whilst Chris would be laughing at that, there would be a heavy hotness to your face, as you watched them immaturely battle. Anthony cleared his throat thoroughly, directing towards the face that he was about to speak.

"Definitely not to see you like that." Retorted the math major, shrugging the shiver off his shiver as the memory tormented him once more. "But... me and Chris were going to meet with Scarlett, Takia and Brie, we were going to see if you and Seabass wanted to join, but as I saw against my own will, you have something already planned for your dinner."

“Um yeah, no, we’ll pass. Thanks tho buddy.” Oh god, to say you felt awkward was an understatement. If you were wearing clothes, or at least more socially appropriate ones, you’d go to him and give him a typical punch on the shoulder. Though, if you were clothed more body wear, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Only things like this happened in college flats, that was one thing that could be confirmed.

“Okay then. Good to know...” Anthony closed the door and proceeded to enter the kitchen. He went grab himself an apple, and realised then that it was an unfortunate consequence, but he had lost his appetite. There had been nothing wrong with your appearance - nothing at all - but you were his flat mate and friend! And, you had a boyfriend, whom was also a great reference of social interaction for him.

The sound of keys interlocking with the outside of the door echoed through the kitchen, someone was outside, and he’d be write in assuming that it was Sebastian. Chris was presently occupied by scouring the internet for ways to surprise the girl he was currently hanging with, and honestly by that, Anthony was scared to enter his room.

It could have been anything that he was searching, but to his contrasting luck, the last resident of their flat entered, creases firm on his brow, from thinking too hard. Sebastian was mulling over the lecture that his professor had given his class. Remember to take a break every now and then. Maybe he was right, a break couldn't postpone him from graduating him that much, could it.

Perhaps he was putting it all off, because after receiving his degree, the four of you would have to find somewhere else to live, and a part of Seb was inclined to ask you individually to move in with him. A one bedroom apartment would be cheaper than one with three rooms, and atop of that, he wouldn't have to be cautious of minor things like walking around the flat in little to no clothing, or fucking you on the kitchen counter.

They were all coupley things that he had wishes to do, but because there were another two men residing with you and him, albeit them being your friends, he didn't allow you to do so in anything less than one of his shirts that cascaded down your thighs, so that if you weren't wearing panties, everything would be concealed. Anthony gulped, remembering he had seen you in your surprise for this man, and gosh, did he want to keep quiet about his accidental peek.

Sebastian wasn’t the jealous type, it was rather refreshing how he found that to be an unappealing trait, however, it would still not settle well that someone saw his girl, in a compromising choice of wear that was supposed to be for his eyes only. He would surely make it clear that you were his, and thus the fucking in the kitchen that he dreamt about would be more than likely to unfold, as he rammed you against the cupboards, caring not if guests were due.

“Hey.” It was a breath of fresh air to speak to someone who was not on his course, it was as though he had become estranged from the people closest to him during this part of the term. Thus a striking pang of guilt landed in his chest as he wondered how you must have felt. He hadn’t touched you in any intimate sense in weeks, it certainly felt like years.

That truth gave him no pride, he dropped his items on the counter, planning on returning to them after he had tended to greeting you. A long kiss sounded nice, strung by a chord of untwined tongues that groomed the insides of your mouth, as you reciprocated. If he was very generous to himself, he’d perhaps lay down for a moment, and allow his pianist hands to wander for more than a moment, stroking them up and down your thighs, until he gave supple attention to your sweet delicacy, dipping down to kiss it and run his fingers over the beautiful gates that only he was allowed to surpass through.

Anthony muffled a reply to him, before shuffling out the room, casting him a weird side eye, but Sebastian thought little of it as his mind was preoccupied with something other than his studies. Oh, and how he didn't mind. The mental image of your nude portrait blessing his eyes was enough motivation to have him striding at a fast, yet considerable pace, towards the door to your shared bedroom.

He knew you must have been inside, he saw your lanyard hanging on the coat rack, that was literally a makeshift piece of wood that you had drunkenly returned with one night, along with a very much intoxicated Paul Rudd. There had been construction nearby, and you thought that it was possible to turned the sharp edged plank with nails sticking out as a bedframe. Least to say, Sebastian did not allow that to happen, knowing that one morning, you would end up spiking your scalp against one of the rusted nails.

People had gotten hurt by it from where it was already, there was that time that Tessa had tried to lean on it for a photo, that in retrospect was an applicant towards your photography course, but that didn't end well, you were pretty sure there was still a streak of her blood stained into one side. That may have been why Chris had turned its weight around after that. However, none of you had the money to spare to invest in a real rack, so for now it stayed.

It sure as hell wasn't coming with you guys when you moved out, that was one thing that Sebastian was going to ensure. If Anthony wanted it, then so be it, if all went to plan, the pair of you wouldn't be living with the lovable goof when the time came. Turning the knob to the room, Sebastian heard a gasp, and thus after he shut it, he saw you wrapped up in your robe, your head cocked to the side as you seductively tried to settle on your small double bed.

"You made me jump Sebba." No, he could tell that you had been taking a short nap, as though you had wanted to forget some details from your day. And that you did, and you hoped that Anthony did as well. "Have you got much work to do bubs?" You raised yourself on your elbows and shuffled towards him as he came to sit on the side of the mattress.

"Think I'm going to take a short hiatus from it for a few hours." Now that certainly sounded pleasant, you hummed at his words, stroking his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his hand that moved cup your cheek. "Have I been neglecting my little petal?" It was a name he used whenever he was seeking forgiveness, but this time, you shook your head, frowning, as you settled a small smile on your face.

"You've been understandably busy, I get that. I'm not going to go as far as to use that word babes, you've just had a little time to yourself and your schoolwork, and that is fine." He tapped your chin, cocking his head to the side, inviting you to straddle his lap. You'd have been stupid if you refused after all the time that you had spent mentally apart from him, so without another hint, you clambered over his thighs, a giddy expression corrupting your face.

"This is why I love you. So open minded, and not to mention, that mind of yours has had me doing some thinking." Nodding in a current to prompt him to continue, his hands eased their lodging onto your bare thighs, stroking the skin with large soothing swipes, making any hair on your body stand on edge, as he averted his eyesight to the split of your gown that crisscrossed around your chest. It wasn't a sexual focus however, it was more so as though he feared a rejection of one kind.

"Hope you're not gonna propose us having a kid or something, because now is certainly not the time." At your humour, he sincerely laughed, causing a calm to wash over you and him, as he finally looked you in the face. “Unless you mean buying a plant, our last one died, and now you use the old pot to stub out your blunts." You could see the improvisational container as you turned your head to the side, seeing its white exterior be a gradient of light to shielded grey.

"I want you to move in with me." Sebastian responded straightly, bracing his slightly nervous palms to the divot of your waist, as he grasped the skin below your ribs, swirling the pads of his thumbs across your skin, caressing each nimble pore on that part of your body. His breath captured the side of your neck, as he licked a sweet line across a vein that he specifically picked out using his

"We already live together silly. Unless we're gonna move to mars." As you spoke, your brows optimistically raised, as your forearms found a home around the back of his neck, as you pressed tentative kisses to his clean jaw. A series of giggles evicted from you as you darted your tongue out to taste his sharp skin, your hand slipping down to control his own, trailing his touch beneath your gown so that the tips of his fingers were brushing the mesh of your underwear that was poised in a curve upon your hipbone.

"As much as the space nerd in me would love that, and not to mention you would make one foxy astronaut, I meant, after this, and here, we find a place for just you and me. I get if you don’t-“ you pressed your left forefinger to his lips, humming with a smile as he shared a gentle kiss upon your skin. He took the digit into his mouth, sucking the skin and swirling his tongue around the crescent of your nail.

“That sounds... perfect.” Ushering your finger from out past his lips, and the barrier of his nipping teeth, you languidly stroked his bottom lip, spreading the small extent of saliva that had coated your finger. “I’m so happy you’re taking a break Sebba, you deserve it. There’s something I want to show you baby, I know you’re going to like it.”

“Is it under this robe by any chance?” Obliging his answer with a supporting action, you allowed his hands to remain beneath the sleek material, as you untied the thick strand that tied the two sides together around your body. Pushing the dark silk from your shoulders, you revealed the design of petals that prompted through the thin material of your undergarments, everything exposed through the sultry and intimate pieces.

“Do you like it?” You seemed to have forgotten about Anthony seeing you in the internal wear, and from Sebastian’s honed gazing at your full breasts, your nipples sternly grew hard, telling him without need for word that he was silently turning you on. A sigh escaped from him, as he plucked at the seam of your panties, tugging lightly at the side to drag the material up your slit, grasping a light moan from your intimately affected lungs.

“My lovely petal, like is an understatement. You do all this for me, I don’t think I’m going to know how much this was, especially where we’re supposed to be budgeting.” Seb quirked his unbrushed brow, pressing his lips against the column of your throat, intaking the smell and pungent taste of your floral perfume. “But I’m not going to complain, because seeing you like this is certainly worth a fine penny. Is it ungrateful for me to want it off of you though?”

“Wait.” You instructed him, pressing your tongue into the divot of his chin, swiping a line of saliva through the bone structure. “I think we should get my money’s worth. First, I want to get my fill of your appreciation, and then maybe, maybe then I’ll allow you to discard piece by piece from my skin.” Your dominant hand pressed against his growing bulge as a you slid off his lap, running your nose along his thighs, as you fiddled with the purchase of his jeans, him helping you tug the denim off, and down his thick thighs.

“You’re so good to me.” He leaned back, curling his fists into the sheets, as he watched you enduringly pat him over his boxers, drawing a spot of precum to seep out onto the white cotton. “My beautiful petal, hungry for my cock, you want it, don’t you? Want to suck my hard cock, practically starving for it, ain’t ya?” Profusely nodding, you drooled as he twitched, and pushed down his underwear, revealing his uncut, and growing cock.

“Holy shit.” Escaped you as a breathy conjunction of two words, your palm reaching out to rotate his foreskin in your hand, pushing the layer back gently to reveal his hidden slit. Your tongue darted out over the flushed head, suckling on the sensitive portion, spoiling yourself with the salty taste of his aroused skin. “You have such a pretty cock baby.” Pressing a kiss along the length, you dragged your tongue up his shaft, before returning to the tip, swallowing down his cock in your throat.

“Fuck.” Your boyfriend revelled in the pleasure, one of his hands capturing your hair in its hold, running his fingers through your locks as you bobbed your head. Gargled sounds choked out from your easing throat, as you continued your administrations, making Seb squeeze his eyes shut, as he endured the pleasure that you pledged him with. “Baby...”

You moaned around his cock, your glazed irises peeking up at him, before pulling off, a strand of saliva connecting you to his hung length. “Say it.” Was his demand as his hand pressed the cheeks of your face together, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pout. It was a notion of past experiences that reminded you of what he was speaking of, you blinked your lashes innocently towards him, steadily breathing through your nose as he patiently awaited for you to carry out his order.

“I’m your cockslut.” You mumbled out, spit pooling out of your mouth and rolling down the cleavage of your lips, descending onto your chin, and slipping to be a river down your chest, playing hide and seek in the cups of your sheer bra. “Love your fat cock, and your large balls, and the way your mouth exhibits complete bliss over my pussy.” He tilted your head to the side, as he leaned down, his spare hand reaching behind you to remove your bra, leaving it hanging loosely off from your shoulders.

“How about I eat your cunt, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you petal?” A whine slipped from your lips as you shouldered off the floral laced bra, discarding it on the bedroom floor, as you waded your legs about so that you could do the same with the slim lined panties. “Come on then, get up on the bed pretty girl, let me at that pussy.” Doing as he said, you clambered onto the mattress, your front against the sheets as you tried to position yourself. A slap rumbled off your ass cheek, as Sebastian struck down on the globe of fat, straggling a surprised moan from your lips.

It seemed like he wanted you to remain on your stomach, and so you did as he breathed a swab of cool air upon your clenching lips, swiping his tongue from your heavy clit to your soaking entrance. “Sebs, do something, please.” You collapsed your face into the bed, wiggling your ass towards his face, earning yourself another spank to your behind. It stung, but it was a hot heat that granted you a minor bit of relief; it was certainly better than nothing.

And then, his tongue probed at your entrance, test tasting your cunt as his muscle flicked deliriously over your clit, his forefinger prying at your slit, and slipping without struggle inside of your walls, evoking a withering moan to collapse out from your chest. Another digit slunk through your folds, filling your further, as his pace increased, his mouth surrounding your clit, and rolling the bud around with his instigating tongue. “Petal, pass me the lube.”

With a light head, you blindly reached your hand across to on top of his bedside table, locating the bottle with your fiddling hands, tossing it back towards him. A thump indicates that it did not land on the mattress as planned, instead the container of lubricant hit him in the forehead. A frown covered his face as he shook his head, removing his fingers from your folds, as he grasped the bottle, splurging some of the clear and slippery liquid onto his fingertips.

Seb spread it around his fingers, rubbing it onto his skin, as he applied a little onto your tight hole, prying at your puckered entrance with his lubricated digits. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You gently rubbed your face against the sheets as Sebastian entered his fingers into your ass, quickly thrusting them in and out of you. “Feels so good Sebby, shit.” He continued his administrations with a clenched wrist, evicting pleasure upon you as you practically sobbed onto your shared bed. “No, no-“

He removed his fingers, as well as his own shirt that was still covering his chest. Seb clambered off the bed for a moment, locating a condom, as he gave his cock a couple of jerks, rolling the avast protection onto his length, as he positioned himself on his knees behind you. He entered you swiftly, returning his fingers back into your tighter hole, as he began to thrust into both of your entrances. Sounds of pleasure were compelled out from your lungs, as you half screamed his name; there were tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as you endured wafts pleasure from both intimate angles.

He curled his fingers within you, picking up his pace as his hips profusely clashed against your own. He was chasing a high, whilst simultaneously reducing you to nothing but a racer to your own. “So fucking tight; in both holes.” His teeth clenched as he moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching harshly around him, as he filled the condom with his white and warm seed. He remained inside of you as he brought one hand down to your cunt, playing with your clit, as he sternly thrusted his fingers into your ass.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, cumming around his softened cock, and mewling into your own wrist. Sebastian extracted his tender cock from within you, also removing his fingers, as he swiped off the condom, tying to open side so that no cum would spill out, and then discarding it in the bin. “Shit, I was wanting some attention from you, but I didn’t know I was going to get that.” You laughed lightly, feeling a little hazy and drunk from your numbing orgasm.

In turn, your boyfriend laughed too, grabbing his shirt from off the ground, and lightly pulling you up, helping you into the baggy material. He pressed a sweet kiss upon your forehead as he rolled to be laid beside you, bringing your sweaty body into his matching side, watching through appeased lids at how you curled yourself into him. “I love you darling.”

“I love you too Seb.” You replied, pressing a kiss to his soft nipple, as his arms locked adoringly around you. “And I’m so proud of you for putting your all into your course.” Your nails stroked down his stomach, as the two of you laid upon the sheets, rather than underneath them.

“Of course I would, it’s for our future in the long term of things.” He stated, brushing any loose strands of hair out from your face. “But I guess it’s okay to take a break sometimes. And that, well that was certainly worth the time away from studying, it always is with you.”

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aressss1 · 3 years

Text

Sweet Nothings

(God!Technoblade x Male!Reader)

Read Me on AO3!

~~~~~~

You were very content with your life in this tiny village. Business was at its peak, and you were well known amongst the people. You had your regulars that came in daily, and you even had found an apprentice to help you out around the shop. Niki, was a great apprentice, learning how to bake and tend to the bakery on her own. The eagerness in her actions made you confident that she would be just fine taking care of the place in your stead, when you needed a break once in a while.

One early morning, when the world was still dark, you walked the cobblestone streets to your bakery. The warm glow of the over hanging lanterns washed over your form. There was a cold nip to the air as you walked. Letting your eyes wander, your eyes spot the decorations overhead. Festival decorations, for a festival made in celebration of the era of peace among your lands, and for the blood god.

Today was Niki’s first day alone in the bakery. Your job today was to set up a booth and run it for the festival. You had the perfect spot to entice travelers from across the world to eat your delicious baked goods. Town square was the perfect place, but you… had scored the place closest to the entrance of the town square to set up your booth. The area that had gotten the most foot traffic in festivals. You were excited for what could come of this. Your bakery could very well thrive off this one day alone!

The bakery before you was already lit up. You smirked knowing that your apprentice had beaten you to the punch. You twisted the doorknob and walked in whistling a familiar tune, signifying to Niki that you weren’t some stranger just walking in.

“Morning boss!” Niki leaned out from behind the doorway of the kitchen as she said it. “You’re looking really handsome today!” Her eyes sparkled and you smirked. The garb you had chosen for the festival cost you a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

“Well, a man has gotta look his best for his business don’t you think?” You ran your fingers through your hair, before putting your chef’s hat on. “How many goods have you made so far this morning my dear?”

The beginning of the morning went by smoothly. You had set up your booth while Niki had made quadruple the amount of baked goods that you normally made on a regular day. Festivals were good for business and you didn’t want to keep the people waiting. Now… You wished the middle of the day went just as smooth.

More foot traffic meant more problems… Thieves taking from your stock, people touching everything they didn’t intend to buy, people who weren’t satisfied being rude, and so much more. You had your hands full with everything. By the end of the festival when lanterns were sent into the sky to celebrate the blood god keeping peace across the land, you were out of breath. Your booth had seen it’s last customer of the day, and your head was still reeling. But that didn’t stop you from lighting your own lantern. You let it go as you still stood next to your booth, unaware of the fact that eyes lingered over you, as you closed your eyes uttering your thanks to the very blood god who watched you with curious eyes.

His eyes spotted your lantern ascending into the sky, he didn’t make himself known to you, He scanned over you once more before he followed the lantern’s light, awaiting the moment that it would come down. When it did, he looked at your handiwork adorning the material. Drawings and script told a story of your gratitude, that, without the peace that he had given, you would be a broken man with no passion in life. This peace gave you enough to stand on so you could pave your way into a successful business.

A slight smile pulled at his lips, a mortal had piqued his interest, there was definitely more he wanted to know about you. He would rest now and make himself known to you later. He held onto your lantern, keeping it for himself.

Days passed, and you struggled with the volume of customers who had come in. So each day you adjusted your inventory, to keep up with your customers. There were times when you could breath in between bursts of people. You could cry at the success from the booth just days before.

On one of your breaks, you sat down on a stool to help ease the discomfort in your back. You had been on your feet the entire day and you needed this break. You reveled in the silence and peace, you closed your eyes, letting out a little sigh. When the door opened, and you heard the bell sound off, signifying a customer, you gave off a small, tired grunt.

“Welcome to my bakery, how may I help you-” When you opened your eyes all the air left your lungs, and you couldn’t say any more. In front of you, stood a very tall man, with long pink hair, a golden crown that reminded you more of a circlet gilded his head. His ears were pointed and downturned, making it obvious he wasn’t human. His eyes rivalled the gold that sat atop his head. Deep purple to black armor hugged his body and a royal red cloak spilled from around his shoulders.

His eyes studied your face, and you felt a blush redden your cheeks. He moved around your bakery in the most graceful way you had ever seen anyone move and you fought to regain your composure.

“Make yourself at home, take a look around and if you need anything you can just ask.” You bowed your head to offer your respect to him. When his eyes searched over you once more you cleared your throat. Was this guy a soldier? A commander? His aura was one that suggested he was a man of power. Even so, this guy didn’t know what to get… His eyes wandered around looking at all the pastries and other baked goods, it was obvious he was having trouble deciding on what to get.

“Would you like a sample?” You offered, you almost shrunk at the man’s gaze, but you didn’t let yourself falter you held out a cupcake for him to take, and when he took it, you felt your heartbeat in your ears. When he hesitantly took a bite, you visibly relaxed when he gave you a smile, crumbs falling from his lip.

“I’ll take some more of these.” His deep voice shook you to your very core. Strangely, as much as this guy was intimidating… He was alluring, and you packaged up more cupcakes for him, giving him an extra one, because he was a first-time customer. Or… At least you told yourself that.

“Thank you very much! Here is your order and should you come back you will be welcomed with open arms!” You told him your name as he held his hand out with his payment. When he dropped it into your hand your eyes widened and in the palm of your hand were three gold pieces. Your heart dropped and when you looked back up, he was gone. You charged mere copper for your goods, not gold??? You were dumbfounded.

Months had passed, and the mysterious stranger came in each and every day. Ordering and trying new things from you. He had become a constant in your life, and you found yourself growing closer to him. You found out his name was Techno, and he was a war hero. You could tell he was leaving bits and pieces from you, but you figured if he wanted you to know he would tell you.

One night you locked up your bakery, and you were just about to head home. Your steps echoing off the cobblestone path once more. You looked up to see Techno, knelt down in front of someone, holding out a loaf of bread out to a straggler down on his luck. You had sold Techno that bread earlier. You couldn’t help but feel the smile tug on your lips. Techno stood tall after the straggler thanked him profusely, his eyes finding yours. You felt your heartbeat faster, as he towered over you.

“You have brought beauty into this world and it’s a crime not to share it.” Techno cocked his head at you, his hand resting on your cheek. “I would like to see more of the beauty you create.” He drops his hand from your face, holding it out for you to take.

You sigh happily, intertwining your fingers with his, happy to follow him wherever he would lead you. He led you to a place where you could see every star, away from the village. Foliage surrounded you and it was a nice change of pace rather than the buildings around you.

Techno looked at you, as you marveled at the scenery before you. He basked in your presence; you were such a breath of fresh air opposed to every other mortal around. He watched you make your way to a nearby stream, kneeling letting the cool water flow through your fingers. Techno summoned forth your lantern. When you stood and faced him again, you were shocked at the lantern in his hands.

“How did you get that?” You felt heat rise up to your cheeks.

“It tells a beautiful story.” He ignored your question, “Of a man, who was cast out based on his preferences… Going on a hard-earned journey to make a bakery. Determined to be successful, while hiding who you truly are, is… Tragic.” Techno cupped your cheek, his eyes boring into yours. “I do not wish to take credit for your hard work because I slaughter those who wish to upset the peace.”

Your eyes widened; the blood god was real… And he was standing before you, gazing at you with a fond expression. This beautiful man before you stroked your cheek with his thumb, and you felt your tears coming forth. You were scared, scared to tell Niki of your preferences, in fear she would abandon you. If any of your patrons knew, your business would be ruined…

“This world is filled with cruelty.” His words caused shivers to go up your spine. “I… want to shield you from that cruelty.” He leaned closer and closer to you, his lips just barely grazing yours. “If you’ll have me.” He barely whispered, but you heard him loud and clear. You threw your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tip toes to push your lips against his. That was when your tears spilled forth.

The two of you, melted into each other, the moon above shone down on you. Before too long this towering blood god cradled you in his arms, your head resting on his chest plate. You thought you were content with your life before… What you had before couldn’t compare to what you had now. Technoblade the Blood God had fallen for a mortal, and no one could take you away from him.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade/reader #c!techno x reader #techno fanfic #c!techno #god!techno #male!reader #fluff #mcyt x reader

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barnesbabee · 4 years

Text

Like A Pornstar || C.S

Summary: Among all of the sex professionals, San takes a liking in you, the most unexperienced person in the room.

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Words: Several I’d say

Genre: Smut

⚠ spanking, choking, sex worker!au, pornstar!au, dirty talking, teasing ⚠

A/N: Idc, San gives off pornstar vibes. Enjoy 💖

ᴄʀ: ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱʙᴀʙᴇᴇ

Seonghwa ver. || Hongjoong ver. || Jongho ver.

You watched as the man laid on the bed and guided the woman on top of him. His fingers were buried in the woman's waist and his eyes watched her movements carefully, beads of sweat falling from his forehead and small moans escaping his agape mouth.

"Cut!"

You had been so immersed in the action that the yell almost startled you.

The way his pleasured expression immediately fell off his face and was replaced with an almost bored one was astonishing to you. Once the cameras stopped rolling the actor's face and body stance immediately changed into a more relaxed stance, as if he hadn’t just been inside a woman, fucking her relentlessly. He wrapped his body in a rope after the woman had gotten off of him and headed towards the director.

"San that was perfect, we're going to try some shots with her on all fours and then we wrap it up with a facial."

San brushed his sweaty hair back with his right hand whilst the other held the robe's furry belt, and he nodded at the instructions. The director gave the actor a pat in the back.

"Take a break, we'll keep rolling in 30."

San left the set and headed to the little room reserved for him.

It was truly entertaining to watch that man work. It was like he turned into a whole different person when the cameras turned on, and the way he shut out the world around him when the lights flashed upon his skin was admirable. He was so embedded in the act that the entire crew surrounding him seemed to disappear... Mesmerizing.

"Assistant!"

"That would be me... " You whispered to yourself.

You plopped off your chair and made your way over to the director who had called you. You didn't know men could be bitches until you met this old, horrendous man. You had to admit, you felt a little uncomfortable by the environment and people around you in the beginning, but then again, money doesn't grow on trees, and college doesn't pay for itself.

"Y/N," The director started, once you'd made your way close to him "San requested some water and he just told me there is no water in his dressing room. Could you be any more useless!?"

Had that been months ago, tears would've brimmed in your eyes and your voice would've become shaky, but at this point you were used to it.

"My bad, I'll get that taken care of..."

You walked away without another word and headed to the small warehouse under the building, which was the only place on earth where they stored dildos next to water bottles. You sighed and grabbed one of the packs which contained nine bottles of water, since you wanted to make sure you didn’t have to go through all of this trouble once more.

You then made your way to the small room where the casted male pornstars would stay in, to rest and fix themselves. You knocked on the door softly, and when you heard a small ‘come in’ coming from the inside, you turned the handle and entered the room.

“Here’s your water Mr. Choi.” You told him and put the waters down on the coffee table behind him.

The male was sitting in his vanity, scrolling on his phone. He stopped what he was doing and looked at you. The smile on his face could trick anyone... He looked like a little kid that had just gotten a lollipop whenever he smiled. His eyes turned into two crescents and his dimples enticed anyone who laid eyes on them. Even you, who had seen every part of this man (literally) almost got fooled by those innocent eyes.

“Miss Y/N I think anyone who has seen my dick up close can call me on a first-name basis.” He said and giggled.

How did he do it? How could something like that just slip out of his lips while giggling? You chuckled at his silliness and shrugged.

“I guess you’re right, but I haven’t seen it up close, I’ve seen it from afar.” You defended, victoriously crossing your arms in front of your chest.

San licked his lips and stood up. He settled his phone on top of the vanity and stepped closer to you.

“Well, would you like to?”

You eyed him weirdly and pushed him away, with your index finger placed on his chest.

“Don’t joke like that!” You whined, wearing a soft frown on your face.

The smiley face that made anyone comfortable under its presence faded quickly, and was replaced with a serious look. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly much heavier, and you could hear his heavy breathing. His eyes, although almost fully hidden by his dark fringe, had a new feeling to them, and intimidating, almost scary one.

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, so close that his hard-on began poking at you.

“I’m not joking.”

“But... Me? San, you have sex with professionals for a living surely they’re better than me...”

You weren’t insecure about your body nor about having sex, you were insecure, however, when the partner in question had a wide range of previous sex partners who were professionals in the matter.

“But that’s exactly why... They’re professionals, they’re the same as me, we have fun but at the end of the day, there’s nothing new. But you...” His head dipped in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, and licking a long strip from the bottom of your neck to the spot below your earlobe “you’re so new. You look so innocent, so breakable. God, I wanna destroy you.”

He applied more pressure on the grip he had on your waist and you shivered at his dominant tone. The fact that you knew he was naked and hard under the robe didn’t help you calm down. You looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, not knowing what to respond.

San chuckled and held your chin.

“Don’t look at me like that... I don’t have much self-control baby, I’ll fuck you against this wall.”

The director called everyone on set, obliging San to pull away from you and make his way toward the door. As he turned the knob he looked at you over his shoulder.

“You better be watching what I do, cause the whole time I’ll be imagining it’s you under me.”

He winked and left the room. You stood there, frozen, still processing what had happened. It was almost inconceivable that such a man wanted to fuck you, yet his actions proved his intentions. Remembering his words, you turned on your heels and headed over to the set.

You watched each of his moves with twice as much willingness and attentiveness now, and not long after, both you and San were imagining the girl being taken by the man was you. You bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together, his sentences and his deep, sensual voice replaying over and over in your head. San stole a little glance at you, and you could tell he noticed your stiff body stance by the smirk that appeared on his lips. San gripped a handful os the poor girl’s hair and picked up the pace, as if telling you ‘be ready for later’.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through your body and you could feel wetness spreading between your folds. You couldn’t help but envision what he could do to you, if only a couple of words and glances had gotten you like that, your body begging for his.

When the woman finally sunk to her knees on the floor and San came all over her face with a loud moan, the cameras stopped rolling and the lights were turned off.

The director told everyone it was a wrap and gave the staff and the actors the green light to go home. You walked over to the back of the room to grab your purse, when you felt a big pair of hands grab your hips and pull you back. Your back hit what you assumed to be San’s chest and you blushed.

“Wait for me outside, okay baby? We’ll have a good time today...” He whispered in your ear.

San teasingly bit your earlobe and left, presumably to get dressed. Your legs trembled and your nubs hardened at the sudden neediness and craving for his touch.

You did as he had told you, and once you had gathered all of your things you headed outside and waited for him by the door. Not long after you heard heavy footsteps behind you, and a cheeky hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hm, you waited for me like I told you? What a good girl...”

The praise and the little squeeze he gave your ass almost forced a small whimper out of your mouth, but you contained yourself.

San walked you to his car, and once you had settled in and he had started the car, you started feeling nervous.

“Where are we going?”

“My place, love. I don’t have a sex dungeon to fuck you in.”

Your cheeks flushed a little and you mentally slapped yourself for the idiotic question. San placed a hand on your thigh and squeezed reassuringly.

“Don’t be nervous Y/N.”

His loving smile was back, and you couldn’t help but ease a little at the sight of it.

The ride was silent, with nothing but the faint background music playing, which was exactly what you needed to get your thoughts in place. When the car came to a halt, a new wave of nervousness and doubt hit you.

You stepped out of the car and followed him nonetheless.

His house was not one bit less intimidating than him. It was a big, futuristic-looking house and as you paced your way inside it and looked around, you realized how much money a pornstar really must make.

San caught a hold of your wrist and pulled you inside of one of the rooms, immediately shutting the door behind you.

“Safeword is Purple, okay baby?” He told you, as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

You nodded, as you stood in the middle of the room with your hands clasped behind your back. You were already scared, and the safe word ordeal did no good.

His shirt fell to the floor and soon his jeans joined, and no matter how many times you had seen his naked body, every time you laid eyes on those broad shoulders, his protruding six-pack and his gorgeous thighs, your mouth would water.

You allowed him to push you down onto the bed. His fingers played with the hem of your t-shirt as he looked at his own fingers playfully.

His head lowered and he connected his lips to your neck. He left small kisses at first, but the innocence soon washed away and the soft pecks were replaced by rather harsh bites and some sucking.

San pulled your shirt off of your body, taking a second to appreciate the nice shape of your breasts. He cupped both of them in his hands and gave them a squeeze.

His fingers experientially unhooked your bra and threw it somewhere. Before you could cover your breasts with your hands, San, who had seen that coming, grabbed your wrists and pinned each of them beside your head.

“Don’t try that baby, your body is mine to take now.” He whispered in your ear. Your body quivered under his touch and never before had you been so desperate.

San’s tongue danced along the curves of your right breast. He took his time teasing you, before taking your hardened nipple in his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he sucked on it. He left no piece of skin unattended, as he gave you a hickey in the skin between your breasts when his mouth made its way to your left nipple.

He let go of your wrists, allowing you to tangle your fingers in his hair, while his own fingers traced a pattern down your body, making their way to your jean’s button.

Every touch, every bite and every moan drove you crazy, and San slowly uncovered a new façade of yours.

San undid said button along with the zipper. He pulled away from your breasts so he could hook his fingers on the waistband of the pants and pull them down your body, however, being the cheeky man he is, as San’s fingers caught your pants, he made sure they’d also get your panties, and so they disappeared somewhere in the room with the rest of your clothes.

Suddenly you felt very exposed, and the feeling soon became bigger when San took the liberty to spread your legs for him.

His fingers hovered over your womanhood for a second, before two of his fingers parted your folds. He hummed and bit his lower lip at the side.

“You look so good baby...”

You hissed at the contact, as his middle finger easily slipped inside of you.

“I thought I was going to have to prepare you...” He pulled out his finger, glistening with your cum and held it in the air “But it seems you’re already wet enough.”

Remembering how much your innocent, puppy eyes had affected him you decided to tease him. You looked him in the eye, with the exact same expression.

“Does that mean you’re going to fuck me now?” You asked, purposely pulling the clueless card.

San’s jawline tightened and he settled between your legs. He slapped your thigh and gripped it harshly, as his lips came down to meet yours in a rough kiss. It was a type of kiss you’d never experienced before, there was a mix of hunger, lust, and somehow desperation.

His teeth took your bottom lip between them and bit it lightly. You moaned at the harshness, and he pulled away. San stripped from his boxers and let his tip hit your bare pussy, rubbing it between your folds teasingly.

“San please... Don’t tease me...” You begged.

His hand, that was placed on your hip, traveled up your body, and wrapped around your throat, squeezing it.

“Oh, baby, whatever will I do to you. I’m going to wreck you...”

He followed his sentence by entering you. His thrusts were strong and slow at first, but the pace soon picked up.

You couldn’t help but wonder how he still had so much stamina after a shoot like that... But he sure spared no mercy. He pounded into you until your hands were gripping the sheets and the headboard hit the wall loudly.

The sounds of your moans and his groans echoed in the room, however, your main focus was on the lewd sounds his dick made as it rammed inside your pussy.

Suddenly he pulled out and stood up from the bed.

“Turn around princess, ass up.”

You did as you were told and quickly perked your ass up for him. San shuffled with something in the room for a second and then you felt the bed dip by your feet. His hand caressed one of your cheeks and squeezed it.

“Good girl...” He praised you.

You then felt a sharp pain in your ass and you yelped. By the sound of the buckle and shape of the item that had hit you, you assumed he had fetched the belt he previously wore.

You felt another whip to your ass, this time on a different cheek and you yelped louder. You didn’t know this about yourself, but you enjoyed the way the pain turned into pleasure, and whip after whip, your yelps morphed into moans.

San loved the pink tint on your ass, and he would’ve loved to spank you for as long as you could handle, but his cock was already twitching and he wanted to come either in you or on you.

He knelt behind you and lined up his tip with your entrance, carelessly and violently pounding into you. He would often smack your ass, reminding you of how much you’d loved the belt.

“Fuck San, you’re so good...” You moaned.

San gripped some of your hair in his fist and tugged on it.

“You like it, hm? You like being fucked like this?”

You moaned a loud ‘yes’ in response, earning a groan from the male behind you.

“Be a good girl for me and cum on my cock Y/N... Please.”

A couple more spanks and thrusts and you happily obliged to his wishes. Your arms gave in and so would’ve your legs if San didn’t hold up your waist. Your head was buried in a pillow and your back was arched as you moaned San’s name.

Your beautiful sounds and your tightness almost sent San over the edge. He pulled out of you and jacked himself off to the view of your ass, cumming all over it soon after accompanied by a loud moan.

San collapsed behind you on the bed and chuckled at your fucked out state. The man sweetly played with your hair and kissed the top of your head, as if saying ‘you did well’.

“So, did you enjoy being fucked like a pornstar?”

#san #choi #choi san #san smut #choi san smut #ateez #ateez smut #ateez san smut #kpop #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez scenario #san scenarios #kpop scenario #choi san scenario

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littlewetbeast · 3 years

Note

so this is coming from your tags on a post about s8 and 9. as someone who only joined the fandom after nov 5, I'm always curious about what the fandom was like when the show was airing. can you talk about that a little bit more? maybe elaborate on your tags? thanks a lot <3

i can only really tell you what it was like from my perspective back in the day, and what i can say is that there was SO. MUCH. HYPE. when season 8 was coming out. people were pointing to the source material and going, wait! that shit isn’t just a gay sex joke, that shit is like - textual romance! and that’s what made people begin to argue that this time, it wasn’t bait, but a narrative that they surely wouldn’t drop the ball on. of course, now, in hindsight, we all know spn is the baitiest of bait and supreme trashfire, but at the time it truly did seem like things were headed in a new direction - and we had the textual evidence to back us up on that. i mean, i was there watching it all live throughout season 6, 7 and 8 - most of my close friends watched it, and the destiel tumblr community was on fire by the time season 8 rolled around. i wish i could find some of the old meta posts, but essentially, season 8 truly got so many people thinking that this time, the tides were changing. charlie and kevin were now part of the main cast, and there was undoubtable intent in season 8, not just from cas' side, but from dean's as well. people went bonkers over the aaron scene. this was a time where queerbaiting was at a an all-time high amongst so many popular tv shows, but there was simply no one that went the length that supernatural did. and it wasn’t just the undoubtably gay shit - it was the introduction of kevin and charlie, that incremental effort to include more characters outside of a white, male cast, which bolstered the argument that spn was finally headed in a new direction. i mean, they’d done the same shit over and over for years, surely this was a sign that they knew they had to switch things up. i remember being so genuinely hyped, along with my other queer friends, because we started to believe that perhaps spn truly was going to follow through on this. it was literally all there, in the text! one of dean’s closest friends was a lesbian. dean was in a love triangle with two men. dean got romantically flustered when a gay guy hit on him. dean hallucinated cas and altered his memory to cope with him leaving. dean was on his knees telling cas he needed him, and it broke the connection. there was just so much. anyway. having had that experience, the unfolding of spn’s ending and cas’ confession literally felt like a ‘classic spn’ moment for so many of us. we’d already been burned before by having the naïve expectation that spn could... you know, actually be normal about queer people, and write fulfilling narratives for them. throughout season 9 through 10, a huge amount of things that season 8 set up were undone - kevin was killed, charlie was killed, cas and dean were separated and no homo-ed repeatedly. there wasn’t an outrage that i could see on my dash, but myself and all my close friends just... stopped watching. there were crickets on my dash, maybe a few gifs here and there. the interest completely plummeted. there was a silent deflation and quiet acceptance from those of us that had actually gotten our hopes up that spn really was that show. when i discovered they’d killed off both kevin and charlie, that cemented the knowledge that supernatural was never going to give us what we wanted. i can’t even fully describe how fundamentally that experience changed me, but my attitude towards media and queer representation was completely altered as a result. spn has refused to move with the times, but they had already demonstrated before that they were never going to make that leap. they were in the stranglehold of the network, and the desire to retain their conservative viewership overrode every attempt to move beyond the gun-slinging sam-and-dean bro show. so yeah, in the end, i have such sympathy for newer fans that got burned so badly by the finale, but as an older fan, i looked at it as it was all unfolding and just went - yup, been there, done that. it’s a classic spn move. i stopped giving credit to those who were throwing out crumbs of representation, when what we actually deserve is to feast. anyway, in summary, spn has expertly burned its queer fanbase for almost a decade. in response, i reject many parts of the canon and simply enjoy the fanon content, because it’s stupid and i do what i want.

#rosa answers #long post #sorry #know herstory i guess #funnily enough the experience with spn's baiting made watching yuri on ice an incredible experience #queerbaiting is rife in anime as well and i'd also... pretty much stopped anime as well at that point #but made an exception for yuri on ice #i was literally sat there going 'no way they're gonna follow through on this'#and then they DID #anyway. spn fundamentally alters your brain chemistry i guess

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undercoveravenger · 4 years

Text

A Pirate’s Life For Me

Creature Week 2020: Day Two

Pairing: Harry Hook x Siren!Male!Reader

Request: “Harry Hook rescued by a male!siren reader?”

A/N: This is set in an AU where the villains were never trapped on the Isle, so Harry grew up on the Jolly Roger with his father.

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Harry had been working on his father’s ship practically since he’d been born, but in all that time he had never seen the typically crystalline waters of Neverland become this rough. He’d seen the Jolly Roger weather storms before. He’d smelled the salty sea air grow thick with the scent of rain and watched as the dark wooden planks of the deck speckled with the falling droplets of water. He’d seen the sails billow and tear when the winds came ripping through more suddenly than the crew had been prepared for.

This was no normal storm though. The sails were being shredded up on the masts, the wind was thrashing the tail ends of the rigging around like whips and no one had been able to pull them in. Harry had abandoned his previous post almost immediately when he realized just how bad the storm was getting and did his best to help mitigate the damage.

He’d barely managed to reel in one of the flailing lengths of rope and get it tied down when he found himself slammed into by a wayward boom, the thick beam uncontrollable since the vicious winds had torn through the sail. The force knocked him from his feet and sent him plummeting over the ship’s railing and into the freezing water below.

Harry flailed, trying in vain to flounder his way to the surface but only succeeding in tiring himself out. The weight of his heavy leather coat and the sword and scabbard strapped to his hip dragged him further beneath the frigid waves as they soaked in water.

His movements had started to slow and his vision was going dark when he’d first seen it. A dark figure had flitted past him, barely discernible from the black depths around him. Then he’d felt the thickly-muscled tail brush against the back of one of his legs and, as his consciousness finally slipped away from him, Harry hoped that he would drown before the siren chose to do more than observe him.

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When Harry had woken up and found himself lying on the sun-warmed sand of an unfamiliar beach, he had been sure that this must have been the afterlife. The burning ache of his ribs where he’d been struck by the beam during the storm when he tried to sit up had been enough to convince him that the events of the previous night had really happened.

He forced himself to sit up quickly, ignoring the pain from his bruised chest in favor of attempting to identify his surroundings. He was sure that this was not the main island of Neverland, but it also had a very different appearance than any of the smaller surrounding islands that he had been to. He supposed that the ship could have drifted during the storm, but he doubted that they’d made it into a previously uncharted archipelago. But then, how had he ended up here?

The last thing Harry had known, he had been drowning and the ship had been far enough from land to have made washing up on some beach nearly impossible.

“Oh good,” came the sound of an unfamiliar voice. “You were out so long I was starting to wonder if I hadn’t gotten to you in time.”

Harry wheeled around at the sound of the stranger’s voice, eyes widening as he locked eyes with the most attractive guy he’d ever seen. The stranger was laying in the water on his stomach with his chin propped up on his hands, seemingly undisturbed by the freezing temperature of the water as waves crashed up over the bare skin of his back and shoulders. Harry forced himself not to linger on the stranger’s shirtlessness, instead shifting his attention to the damp waves of thick (h/c) hair falling over captivating (e/c) eyes and the alluring smile he was being offered.

Harry swallowed sharply, suddenly struggling to remember how speaking worked, “You? You were the one who saved me?”

The (h/c) nodded, shoulders straightening proudly, “Yeah, I was swimming nearby and saw you fall off your ship.” He ducked his head, looking almost abashed, “My sisters told me that it was what you deserved, but I didn’t agree so I dove after you.”

“Your family wanted you to let me drown…?” Harry wasn’t exactly sure what sort of people would want to let someone drown, but he had the distinct impression that he probably wouldn’t like his savior’s family.

He shrugged, rolling over onto his back so he could look up at the sky, “Wouldn’t be the first time. It’s kind of what we do.” At the baffled look on Harry’s face, the (h/c) let out a huff. Harry watched as the stranger shifted his weight back onto his shoulders a little, using the new leverage to lift his legs out of the water.

Except it wasn’t legs that emerged from the frothing waves. No, instead, the (h/c) lifted a huge, gleaming caudal fin from its previous place hidden under the water, droplets and rivulets trailing down the length of the tail toward where it merged with his torso.

At first glance, Harry had assumed he was just one of the merpeople that lingered in Mermaid Lagoon, but he quickly noticed the distinctive differences. Merpeople had beautiful, elegant tails that came in a rainbow of shades more appropriate to showing off than for use in hunting. Sirens on the other hand? They were made to kill and one good look at the (h/c)’s tail had Harry convinced that he knew what he was dealing with.

His scales shone a brilliant emerald color and the myriad of colors that made up the caudal fin nearly camouflaged the set of poisonous spines hiding along the length of the fin. Harry knew, even without seeing it, that a similar set could be found along the shorter fin that trailed up the back of the tail.

After all, sirens were deadly even without their captivating songs.

Harry scrambled back at the sight, pushing himself further up the beach in an effort to get away from the creature.

The (h/c) let out a disappointed huff, letting his tail drop back against the water with a loud slapping sound. He dropped his head back against the sand, but Harry knew he was still under observation. “You realize that if I were going to make a meal of you, I would have done it by now, right? I had the perfect opportunity before. Y’know, when you were drowning?” He sighed as Harry made no move to relax, eventually pushing himself further into the water and slipping off below the waves.

Harry knew that even with the siren out of sight, it still posed a massive threat. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it would take for the crew to find him, if they ever did, so his first priority needed to be securing himself a shelter. He wasn’t sure how large the island really was, but he decided that he would rather make his camp near the beach than in the thick jungle that loomed beyond the welcoming white sands. He’d just have to make sure to take some precautions to ensure that his silver-tongued visitor would not be visiting unexpectedly.

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It took him several hours to set up a shelter that he deemed secure enough, and several more to find enough rocks to serve as a sort of barrier. He spent the rest of the day arranging the stones in rows three or four deep around the sea-facing edge of his camp, the most jagged edges facing the water. He knew that rocks alone would do little against a siren, but it made him feel better to think that if the creature wanted him dead enough to drag itself out of the water after him, it’d at least have to risk injuring itself.

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When Harry awoke the next morning to find the siren lounging in the same spot as it had been yesterday glaring reproachfully at his meager stone barrier, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction.

The (h/c) turned to look at him as he emerged from his shelter, (e/c) eyes glinting oddly in the light. “What’s this for?”

“To keep you away from me,” Harry replied evenly, crossing his arms over his chest.

The siren rolled his eyes grumpily, dragging a claw-tipped finger along the edge of one of the rocks, “And here I was going to offer to take you back to the other humans once you were healed.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh, “And get back in the water with a siren? Not a chance.”

“Good luck meeting back up with your family then,” the siren retorted, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. “There are not many boats that come this far. There are too many of us up here.”

Harry’s eyes widened; if the siren was telling the truth, then he really was on his own. There would be no chance of rescue if he was deep in siren territory. He swore at the realization, hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Why should I believe you?”

The (h/c) shrugged, pushing himself to sit up further to watch the waves come rolling in, “I have no reason to lie. Because of you, I have no family to go home to. No one to protect but myself.”

The brunet was confused. “Because of me? What did I do?”

“I saved you,” the (h/c) replied simply. “They saw that as a betrayal. Thought that I was putting a stranger above the wellbeing of the pod and decided to cast me out.” He smiled wryly, eyes fixed on the horizon, “I have no one but you now.”

The siren’s honesty had Harry feeling a little guilty about his earlier hostility. And the (h/c) had a point when he said that he could’ve just let him drown, but instead he’d tried to save him and he was offering to take him back to the ship as soon as he was better.

Harry took a deep breath as he made his way closer to the siren, kicking a few of the stones out of the way as he approached. The (h/c) looked stunned by his change in attitude, but he chose to remain silent even as the brunet sat down beside him. “My mom died when I was little,” he started slowly, azure eyes fixed far past the boy beside him. “She’d gone out on the ship with my dad and his crew and when they came back she was gone along with almost half of the crew.” The breath he took was shaky and Harry felt like he didn’t have nearly enough air in his lungs to continue, “My dad says it was sirens; they were lured off of the ship by their singing and drowned.”

The siren’s (e/c) eyes were wide as he looked back at Harry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Harry replied slowly, “I just wanted you to understand why it’s hard for me to trust you.”

“That makes sense,” his companion nodded, the end of his tail flicking and creating a mess of tiny waves that washed up over Harry’s feet and wet the ends of his pants. “You can call me (M/N), by the way.’

“The name’s Harry,” the brunet replied, watching the light dance off his new friend’s scales hypnotically. His lips quirked up as he realized that being trapped here with him until he had recovered may not be so bad after all.

#harry hook x male!reader #harry hook x male reader #harry hook x reader #male reader x harry hook #male!reader x harry hook #descendants x male reader #descendants x male!reader #descendants x reader #male reader #male!reader #male reader x #male!reader x #male reader insert #male!reader insert #Creature week 2020

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sjmsstuff · 3 years

Text

Light And Dark

Chapter 5

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Warnings: same as always x

A/N: Here ya go folks! I rewrote this chapter twice and I still kind of hate it but it is what it is, enjoy!

Her first kiss. Gwyn kept her back pressed against the cool wood of the door. It was several seconds before she felt Azriel’s presence moving back down the hall.

She let out a long breath, and clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle that seemed to be forcing its way out.

Her first kiss and it was Azriel.

The shadowsinger, the big bad Illyrian spymaster.

It was the powerful male who cut people down without hesitation. The one who others whispered about.

The one who had held her so softly in the morning light. The one who had taken her hand so hesitantly as they walked through the halls...

The one she had to see for training tomorrow morning.

Nesta and Cassian would probably be missing, presumably still in bed. Emerie would be absent too if her friends smudged lipstick was anything to go by.

It was funny, Gwyn didn’t remember Emerie wearing lipstick earlier in the night, but when she came back after disappearing for two hours, Gwyn had politely pointed out the smudged crimson on her lips. A crimson that suited a ruffled blonde who entered the hall minutes later.

Gwyn couldn’t blame Mor, Emerie had looked fabulous in an orange gown tonight, wings gleaming, and hair braided with her Valkyrie ribbon. The blonde didn’t stand a chance.

Neither did Emerie apparently, as she disappeared with the Morrigan minutes before Gwyn herself had left the gathering.

Nesta too had been striking in a midnight gown. She had gotten ready in her own rooms. And if the the smug male air around Cassian was anything to go by, she had had to get ready a second time as well.

Gwyn was truly happy for her friends. Even if her only comforts were smutty novels, thoughts of scarred hands and her own fingers.

Alone with Azriel tomorrow. Maybe he’d pretend nothing happened. Maybe she should pretend nothing happened.

It was only earlier tonight she had been furious with him for ignoring her. It was embarrassment that truly fueled her anger, but the point remained that he had ignored her for three days.

It was Nesta’s idea to dance with another male tonight. Jurian was the first to offer, but when she looked up from her dance with the human, Azriel was simply in conversation with Rhysand.

So she drank and danced on. Only when he had slipped into a quiet hallway did she decide to follow him.

He was leaning against the wall when she rounded the corner. He had immediately uncrossed his arms, tucking his hands behind his back, under those magnificent wings.

Then she had taken his hidden hand and they had walked until her doorway. Then she had kissed him and everything seemed to fit into place.

Fit so perfectly that Gwyn had to flee before she decided to discover how other things would fit.

***

Morning dawned cold and grey. Gwyn slid into her leathers, ignoring the headache pounding through her temples. The other priestesses were attending an early morning mass, their own celebration of Starfall. Which meant it was only Azriel who stood in the early morning light.

The shadows clambered over his shoulders to reach out to her. She waved at one and could have sworn it waved back.

Azriel was fumbling with the handle of a sword, he quickly turned his back to her and Gwyn walked over to begin her stretches.

She began her own drills as Azriel ran through his. It had been about an hour and neither had said a word.

It was getting too awkward.

“Would you like to spar?” Her question cut through the chilly air like a sharp blade through paper.

Azriel started where he stood slicing at an invisible foe. “Of course.”

He replaced his sword on the rack and Gwyn quickly cast her own blade aside.

She had been suggesting sparring with steel but Azriel clearly wanted hand to hand combat.

They entered the small circle on the ground from opposite sides. A few feet away from him but she could’ve sworn she heard his heartbeat.

A blush was high across his cheekbones, probably from exertion, and it deepened as their eyes met.

Gwyn moved first, a feint, then a strike low to the abdomen. Azriel saw the move coming and his wings flared as he stepped out to dodge. Another strike but it glanced off his chest.

It was Gwyn’s turn to duck as a swing came next, then she was in close, fists ready to strike and the world tilted.

Gwyn slammed into the hard earth and rolled. She swept Azriels feet from under him, then swung herself over his hips.

Face to face, him pinned beneath her, hands bracketed in scarred hands. He didn’t even fight, just stared up at her. Breathing each other in. Feeling every inch of where they touched.

“Well done.” Azriel’s voice was oddly rough.

Gwyn unfroze and jumped up reaching out a hand to help him up. This had the fortunate side affect of placing them face to face while both vertical

Or rather face to chest as he was significantly taller than her.

Gwyn was being an idiot. He hadn’t said a word about the incident last night and she was still furious at him for… something. Her memory seemed to be impaired by his proximity.

Taking initiative, Gwyn stepped backwards, turned swiftly and snatched back up her blade from where she had left it. This occupied her hands so they would not find their way into his hair.

“With steel this time?” Gwyn’s voice sounded strained to her own ears, but Azriel seemed not to notice as he strode to retrieve his own weapon.

He fumbled slightly with the hilt again. If anything Gwyn would suppose he seemed nervous.

That was extremely unlikely. They’d sparred hundreds of times and he’d been to wars and back. Perhaps his shadows had whispered some dangerous information to him that he was still in shock over.

He seemed to gather himself, then marched resolutely over to her. She readied her stance but he didn’t even raise his sword.

Azriel merely stood in front of her and opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

Then opened it again.

This time he managed words. “I understand that you were tipsy last night, and that you may not even remember, but we kissed. You kissed me. By your door. Of your room.”

Gods was he embarrassed?

“I just thought,” He hurried on, “I’d let you know that should you want me to completely forget that happened, I will forget. Well maybe not forget but I swear I will never mention it again, and should-“

“Azriel,” Gwyn gripped his arm, “I was aware of my actions last night. I apologise if I put you in an uncomfortable situation-“

“No!” Azriel exclaimed, “No, not at all, I wasn’t uncomfortable, I just didn’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

He was blushing and that somehow emboldened her. Perhaps it was the hangover and leftover lowered inhibitions.

“Azriel, you can put me in any position you would like.”

His head snapped up, eyes darkening.

He stepped closer.

They were almost nose to nose.

“You, Gwyneth Berdara, are dangerous.”

She smiled softly.

His gaze dipped to her mouth.

His hand reached towards her cheek.

It drew back.

A noise behind her on the stairs.

Azriel’s eyes flicked over her shoulder and he stepped away.

“Azriel, Gwyn. I hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

Gwyn spun to see Nesta and Emerie climbing up the stairs.

“We can come back… if you…”

“No,” Azriel’s voice was low as he pushed past her, “I’m leaving now anyway” He turned back at the top of the stairs, “Goodbye Gwyn” Gwyn was close to punching her friends.

All malice washed away however, when Azriel had disappeared into the darkness of the house and the other Valkyries descended into fits of giggles.

Nesta was the first to surface, “Gwyn! What the fuck were you two doing up here?”

“Sparring,” came the indignant response. “Just training and drills!”

“Oh I’m sure,” drawled Emerie, “That’s why I can smell the arousal hanging thicker than cream in this air.”

Nesta snorted, “Must have been some very interesting drills.”

A/N: ooooo it’s heating up. Someone guide the two of them, they’re helpless.

Tag list: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @booksloverforlife @princessofmerchants @princessofmerchants-reads @azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @illyrian-valkyrie @lovelywordsandwine @thron3ofbooks @velaaaris @gwynkyrie @acourtofmidnightsnacks @simpforfictionalmenandwomen @bittermuire @mirubyai @velvetrays @tealnymph24 @dealingdifferentdevils @siyeoncruella @spookylightkidranch @cantkeepmyeyesoffofyou-x @claukiki @maja2801 @madie2200 @zaffydee @allisonmb2017

Chapter 6

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list for this fic or my writing in general x

#sjmsstuff writes #light and dark #light and dark ch 5 #sjm fanfic #gwynriel fanfiction #acosf spoiler

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musclesandhammering · 3 years

Text

Loki (2021) Positivity from an Anti

Ok so all of my mutuals know I’m extremely anti-Loki (2021), anti-sylki, and anti-sylvie. But at a certain point, even we antis get tired of all the negativity. So! Here’s some Loki series commentary in the opposite direction! This is a list of all the things about the show that I loved :)

Also adding a disclaimer that all of this is just my opinion and some of my fellow antis (or even people who liked the show) might disagree, and that’s fine! I’ve been planning this post for awhile. I always say in my other posts that I don’t entirely hate the show and I wanted to be a little more specific about what I think are its good aspects. Feel free to leave your thoughts!

• Mobius is a gem (Owen Wilson owns my whole heart) and his relationship with Loki is so so great. He’s not one-dimensional at all, he has conflicted loyalty and is morally complex, and he has the tragic backstory- which makes him a perfect choice for eventually becoming Loki’s first genuine friend.

• The casting was really really great. Lots of women and people of color. Most of the female actresses (as well as the males) are over 30, which isn’t very common and is fantastic!

• Superb acting all around. I can’t think of a single scene where the actors under or oversold it.

• Beautiful set design, incredible cgi, and gorgeous cinematography overall. It looked more like a movie than a tv show, which is really good.

• Kang being the big bad was a huge plus for me. Johnathan Majors was perfect in the role, his vibes were immaculate, and I was honestly pretty worried that the man behind the curtain would end up being another Loki variant, which imo would’ve been boring and predictable and counter-productive, so it was a big relief when that didn��t happen.

• I like that it sets up a bunch of future marvel movies, rather than being contained to its own little world. It gives it more importance and (hopefully) will encourage writers to not just toss Loki’s character aside in future projects.

• All the Loki variants were delightful. All of them except Sylvie. Kid Loki has my heart. Boastful Loki is a fashion icon. Alligator Loki is a savage. President Loki is the superior variant. Classic Loki became my fav character in less than half an episode.

• It showed some more variety in Loki’s magic. A lot of his powers we’ve seen before, but it feels like they were portrayed a bit more blatantly in the show. The energy blasts, the telekinesis, the teleportation… Outstanding.

• It also implied that Loki has the potential to be waaaay more powerful than he knows he is right now, which? Yes.

• Some of the quotes- and the themes behind them- are just profound as hell. Such as:

“I think we’re stronger than we realise.”

“It’s never too late to change.”

“You can be whoever you wanna be, even someone good.”

“We’re Lokis. We survive. It’s what we do.”

“Loki, God of Outcasts.”

“The universe wants to break free, that’s why it manifests chaos.”

• Technically Loki was Marvel’s first canon lgbt (bi) character, which is a win. His genderfluidity is also technically canon, even if it wasn’t really acknowledged on-screen.

• There were a lot of throwback references to Thor 1, Avengers, and Thor The Dark World. Which I loved.

• Sylvie’s so pretty. Her hair and makeup and costume were all perfect.

• Big fan of Loki finally getting Laevateinn.

• Sufficiently slutty imagery, courtesy of a female director (Loki in a collar, kneeling to Sif, President Loki looking down into the bunker, the hair flips)

• The music was Excellent Wonderful and Superb.

• I love that Loki being a good singer is now canon.

• I love that Asgardians having their own language is now canon (even if it’s basically just Icelandic).

• I also love that they disproved all of those “Loki was a shy nerdy wallflower pre-canon” theories in Episode 3. The drinking/eating/singing scene was fun, if a bit wacky.

• There’s a million different reasons why Loki does what he does, especially in regards to the New York attack (I’m literally writing a huge meta on them), but somehow I never considered that Loki being desperate for control was one of them. It makes a lot of sense, and I always love getting new insights into his motivations.

• I love that Loki finally outright acknowledged that he doesn’t enjoy hurting people. We Been Knew™️ but it’s still nice to hear it out loud from his own mouth.

• The TVA outfit wasn’t as hideous as some people make it out to be. It could’ve been A Look, even. You know, if he’d just accessorised a little better. And kept the jacket on. And not gotten sweaty. And not gotten dirty. And maybe had at least one other costume change… But it had potential, though!!

• Even though I despise the Obvious One, I did actually like some of the other romance crumbs they tossed us (sifki, Loki x the flight attendant).

• The whole DB Cooper thing was iconic idc idc.

• Loki’s hyper sort of overly excited puppy attitude in episode 2 was actually pretty refreshing and funny (for awhile). And now I can headcanon him as adhd, yeehaw.

• “We’re all villains here.” That quote was iconic, my favourite one in the show. And the entire theme that it summarised was really great as well. When you think about it, every single main character in this series has been the villain at one point or another. I mean, I know all marvel characters do bad things etc, but none of the Heroes are ever narratively categorised as Bad. This show did just that with all of them, though. . Loki was framed as the psychopath that attacked New York. Sylvie was framed as the murderous fugitive. The TVA/Ravonna/Mobius were framed as the murderous fascists. Kang was framed as the crazy totalitarian. It’s made clear that all the Loki variants were the villains of their stories.

However, every single main character in the series is also framed as the Hero at a certain point. Loki is framed as the main protagonist who throws a wrench in the TVA’s dastardly plans. Sylvie is framed as the persevering freedom fighter who wants to take down the fascists. The TVA/Mobius/Ravonna are framed as the ones who maintain order for the greater good. Kang is framed as the weird but ultimately benevolent wise man who’s just trying to prevent something worse from happening. The Loki variants are framed as generous allies who befriend the main character and help him on his journey.

Everyone in this equation is openly acknowledged by the narrative to be morally corrupt, but not entirely morally bankrupt. There are no Straightforward Hero Figures (like the Avengers) in this entire scenario at all, and that makes for a super interesting dynamic that marvel has never done before. So yes: “We’re all villains here.” But also: “No one bad is ever truly bad, and no one good is ever truly good.” I loved that.

• Even if it wasn’t really enough imo, I still treasure the crumbs we got of Loki being competent and capable (him putting the collar on B-15, him figuring out Sylvie’s hiding place, him teaching himself to enchant on the fly while fighting a giant cloud beast of eldritch proportions).

• I love that B-15 was the one who stepped in and saved the day in Episode 4, when we all thought it was gonna be Mobius. What a queen.

• Marvel usually has a bit of a problem with creating compelling and memorable side characters. But aside from Sylvie, I genuinely got attached to every single character in this show. Like Casey, C-20? I was seriously emotionally invested in them and they were only in like 2 episodes. Wtf.

• Introducing the TVA storyline in the Loki series specifically was a really good move. I’m not saying they executed it well, just that it had a ton of potential. A lot of people have wondered why marvel even thought to put those two (the TVA and Loki) together, when they had literally nothing to do with each other, nothing in common, and essentially no connection at all. But when you think about it, it’s a really interesting twist on both of those stories. Forcing the embodiment of destructive chaos and the pillar of rigid order to interact could make for some seriously entertaining and compelling television. And as far as meshing these two completely unrelated entities together goes, I thought they did it pretty well- at least just the bare bones of the story (loki being arrested by the TVA and being one of their most common variants).

So that’s it! If you guys (fellow antis) wanna add stuff you liked, feel free. If anyone wants to discuss (or debate) my list, feel free to do that too!

#loki series 2021 #loki laufeyson #anti sylvie #loki meta #loki odinson #loki #loki series

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purplesauris · 3 years

Text

A World In Monochrome

My brain is firing on like, almost all cylinders to pump out all of the sweet sweet ideas I obsess over. This one stemmed from playing the game and realizing that Cat causes total loss of color from Geralt’s sight until the potion wears off

Enjoy it on AO3 here!

Geralt hated fiends. Well, he can’t say that with any honesty- for as brutal and base as they appeared, there was an elegance to them. They left people alone for the most part, content to wander their forests, caves or swamps, and only attacked if necessary. They were huge yet moved with incredible speed, and if necessary, their third eye opened, stunning and allowing them a chance to escape. To be compared to a fiend among friends was almost a compliment.

What he hated most about them was how often they took him into caves; the dank, musty smell of old corpses and fiend dung clung to him for days after he’d finished the hunt, and he couldn’t carry a torch with him to light the cave. Not that he hadn’t tried when he was young and just set out on the Path. After too many times plunging into darkness without anything to light, Geralt prepared himself more carefully. Relict oil for his blade, Thunderbolt and Swallow on his belt, and Cat, choked down at the last minute to give himself all the time he needed.

He hasn’t fought anything cave dwelling in a while, and isn’t expecting anything out of the ordinary when he takes his latest contract. Jaskier had wanted to bargain for a higher price, since this was Skellige and the fare back to Velen was expensive, but Geralt couldn’t. Mutation’s took all Witcher’s feelings people claimed, but his heart had gone out to Ohden, worried over his son, and he gave Jaskier a glance to keep him quiet. Jaskier hadn’t pushed, just hummed thoughtfully and thanked the man for his account of where to start.

That was another thing that Geralt hadn’t expected. When Geralt told Jaskier he was headed to Skellige for the summer he fully expected Jaskier to disappear wherever he goes for the winter. Instead, he was met by Jaskier waiting on the docks, bag slung over his shoulder and lute clutched against his front. He’d only complained of seasickness in the first two days, and spent the rest of their trek across the sea singing bawdy sea shanties and learning new ones from the crew to delight whatever crowd he could find in Skellige. Geralt had spent his time making potions and sharpening his blade, sat atop a barrel to keep a sharp eye on the bard under his care. He tried to look casual, but half the crew gave him a wide berth and the others stared in open hostility. The only thing keeping them somewhat friendly was Jaskier and that magnetic charisma he seemed to exude.

“Stay here.” Jaskier perked up at the sound of Geralt’s voice, then rolled his eyes.

“Geralt, how am I supposed to tell of your exploits if I never get to go?”

“How are you going to if you follow me and die?” Geralt’s throat tightens at the thought, and his voice sounds particularly grating when he talks through it. “You’re staying here.”

“At least let me see you track. I’ve never seen that even!”

“No.” Jaskier gave him a look, blue eyes glancing up just so through his lashes, and Geralt’s heart gives a wild leap at that. He sighs wearily, rolling out his shoulders. “Fine.”

“Yes!”

“But-” Geralt silences him, eyes narrowing a bit. He hears Jaskier breathe in sharply, but finds him staring with that same eager intensity. “If I let you come, you have to promise you’ll run if I tell you.”

Jaskier grins, eyes sparkling, and bows low at the waist. “As you command, White Wolf.”

Geralt finds someone to care for Roach while they’re away, and only has to narrow his eyes to ensure she’ll be taken care of and their stuff won’t be plundered. Skelligers are hardy, but even they know not to mess with a witcher, let alone Geralt. Geralt heads southeast, toward where Ohden had gestured to, and it isn’t long until he finds footprints. They’re from a male, that much he can tell, and that puts him on the right track.

They hike in relative silence for a while, Geralt occasionally pointing out a footprint that Jaskier would be able to see and explaining when Jaskier seems lost on how Geralt is leading them. The dirt road becomes pebbly a couple of miles later, and it’s then that Geralt spots the crumbling castle ahead of them and smells blood.

“Quiet.” Geralt hisses, Jaskier trying his best to stay as quiet as he can. Geralt’s silver sword slides free from his sheathe with nary a whisper, and he rolls his wrist, careful not to hit the bard behind him. He can hear breathing, heavy and bovine, and he creeps forward, Jaskier at his back. Geralt slips through a gap in a broken wall, nostrils flaring as the scent of decay and musk hits him. He holds out a hand, telling Jaskier to stop, and moves a bit further into the clearing of what used to be a courtyard. The ground near the south wall is saturated in blood, and flies buzz around it, grating to his ears.

He straightens up a bit, casting a glance around; whatever caused the gore doesn’t seem to be here, and this is the best lead he’s gotten so far. Gravel crunches behind him and he whips around, Jaskier freezing as the sight of Geralt, pupils mere slits and nostrils flared. “Nothing then?”

“I told you to wait.”

“Right, except I couldn’t see anything and I-” Jaskier’s eyes are pinned on the background behind him, and the hairs on the back of Geralt’s neck raise. His medallion hums angrily against his chest, and the sharp, eye watering scent of a fiend hits him hard.

“GO!” Is all he can say before throwing up Quen, grunting as the barrier around him crystallizes and shatters, having effectively warded off the fiend’s first charge. He won’t have time for a second, and all he can hope is that Jaskier heeded his command as he dives out of the way of a second charge. It’s a narrow window at best, and Geralt rolls to his knees, throwing a plume of fire in front of him. He almost chokes on the scent of burnt fur, the fiend roaring and hopping back a couple of steps. Geralt downs a dose of thunderbolt while he has a chance, throwing the glass away. He can come back and hope it isn’t broken later.

He falls into the fighting as easily as breathing, spinning on his toes and grunting at the twinge that goes through his knee and up his thigh. So it’s going to be like that. He can ignore it for now, and a dose of Blizzard has his blood singing and muscles working double time as he whirls and dodges the blows that the fiend throws. The fiend seems slow as Geralt hacks at the black and white patterned hide, tiring with the effort of trying to hit a target that won’t stop moving. This fiend is old, Geralt can tell just by the scarred hide and brutal efficiency in which he goes after his target.

Geralt can tell that the fiend is almost done for, blood oozing out of multiple cuts that regenerate before his eyes. He finds his opening when a well placed shot of Igni has the monster stumbling back, Geralt lunging to drive his sword through the beast’s skull. A flash of red catches Geralt’s attention, and he watches with a helpless kind of fury as the fiends third eye flares open, stopping his blow in its tracks. The fiend swings a meaty paw and sends him flying back into the wall of the abandoned keep, Geralt wheezing as the air is knocked out of him. His scabbards dig roughly into his back, sure to leave bruises later, but they might have just saved his spine.

In the time it takes Geralt to stumble to his feet, gasping for air, the fiend has fled the field, out of the ruins. He’s off like a shot, following the scent of blood and decay and singed fur through the rest of the ruins and down the bank of the river. It’s there he finds a cave, reeking of gore and pitch black.

“Fuck.” Of course he’s going to have to use Cat. He downs the potion as quickly as he can, not wanting to give the fiend more time to recover than is necessary. He skids down the rocky entrance as color leeches from his sight, every inch of the cave lit up in a murky haze. The fiend is crouched in the corner, tearing away at the entrails of some poor soul. This time the fiend won’t surprise him, and Geralt leaps onto the offensive, slashing a gaping wound through the beast’s left flank. It should slow the beast down enough, and Geralt is already leaping away when the beast roars and swings wildly behind itself.

Geralt dispatches it with another quick blow to the throat, silver blade digging in so deep that he lodges against bone for a moment. Geralt isn’t a fan of denting his blades, but the fiend has fought long enough, and Geralt just wants a quick end to the fight. He pants as the fiend twitches, crashing to the ground and eyes rolling sightlessly. One last blow ends the fiends suffering and severs the rest of the head- he’ll need it if he’s going to prove he killed the beast. A quick glance around the cave shows that this was definitely what was killing all of the travelers on the road, and though he can’t see it, he highly suspects that the lighter tone of the tunic he spies has to be yellow. He cuts a swatch to bring back with him, and drags the beast’s head up and out of the cave.

-*-

Jaskier had scrambled to climb the ladder when Geralt had yelled for him to run. He’d noticed it earlier when they first came in, and figured height would be a good advantage against whatever had charged at Geralt. Watching the fight was better than anything Geralt could have described, and Jaskier takes it in with reckless abandon. The way that Geralt’s hair had flown about him as he spun, the sun glinting off his blade. The way that his shield, brilliant orange in the light had shattered after the first charge.

He’s going to have the best ballad to write when they get back to town, and already a melody builds in his throat. He hums it while he watches, nervous to see Geralt go up against such an impossibly large foe. He trusts that the witcher knows what he’s doing, and he winces, gripping the craggy wall as Geralt crashes into it just below his hiding place. A normal man would have snapped his spine from the impact alone, but Geralt struggles to his feet and runs off, following the fiend wherever it fled to.

Well, he can’t miss this, can he? Jaskier creeps down the ladder, stooping to pick up the vial Geralt had tossed aside earlier before plodding after where the two disappeared. He isn’t able to leap off ledges like Geralt can, so he has to pick his way down the side of the ruin and hope he doesn’t trip and fall. By the time he makes it down to the bank and follows Geralt’s footprints he can hear the dying bray and gurgle of a large animal. It comes from a cave in the hillside, and Jaskier is loath to go inside. Especially if it smells as bad as he thinks it will.

“Right, uh, I guess I should get a bit closer…” The bard says, not moving an inch from where he’s standing, staring down into the pitch black of the cave.

“No, you shouldn’t.” The voice has no owner for a moment, ragged and deep, and it takes Jaskier longer than he’d like to admit to recognize it.

“Geralt? Are you alright? I’m coming in, let me just-”

“No.” Geralt’s voice is sharp enough to stop Jaskier in his tracks, and he wrings his hands together in a nervous habit. “Go back to town.”

“I can’t just leave you here, what if a-a bandit or something were to come?” There’s a rough chuckle, and Jaskier thinks he spies a lock of white hair, dyed pink at the ends by blood. “Geralt, come out? Please?”

-*-

Of course the bard had followed. Geralt had asked one thing, one thing of him, and wasn’t even granted that. He had hidden at least, because Geralt had no clue where he’d gone in the rush of the fight. He doesn’t want to step out into the sun, not while everything is too much, too bright, but the longer he stays down here the worse it’ll be to adjust. And the more likely it will be that Jaskier comes in anyway, despite the stench he knows keeps the man away for now.

“Move.” Is all the warning the bard gets before Geralt tosses the head out of the cave, listening to the dull thud of its landing and the sharp yelp Jaskier lets out at the sight. He limps from the cave as his knee gives another sharp twinge of discomfort, hissing at the brightness of the sun filling his eyes. It blinds him- leaves everything in washed out shades of white and grey and he hates it. The wildflowers bunched around the rocky ground sway in the wind, but Geralt can’t see their true colors. He knows the stems should be green, the flowers a pale blue or white, given the local flora, but all he sees is three different shades of black and white.

He hears a sharp intake of breath near where he tossed the head, and his body goes taut, attention snapping to the source of the noise. Jaskier stares at him, eyes wide and pupils blown wide within what Geralt knows should be blue irises. But they aren’t. They’re so pale they almost blend with the whites of his eyes, and Geralt’s heart drops into his stomach. Jaskier’s heart pounds a frantic, steady rhythm in Geralt’s ears, and his scent, usually so dominated by lavender, has taken on an edge of what Geralt can only describe as cloying spice. He isn’t sure what it means, at least for Jaskier, and he draws in another breath, trying to sniff discreetly, or as discreetly as a witcher hopped up on potions can.

Jaskier reaches out for him then, to lend him a hand or- he doesn't know what- and Geralt flinches. He can see the hurt in Jaskier’s eyes, can smell the scent of dying roses on him, and he struggles to push words from a throat more ready to strangle him than talk.

“Potions.” He looks at Jaskier again, eyes searching every inch of him for any sign of blood or injury, and grinds his teeth in frustration when he can’t differentiate the difference between what’s the stitching of his doublet and what’s the silky chemise underneath. They’re all the same color.

“Oh.” Jaskier sighs out, breathy and soft, and that confuses Geralt more than his lack of color or his racing heart. “Do you need anything right now? Water, stitches?”

“Stitches?” He manages to mumble, taking a step back into the cave where it isn’t so damn bright.

Jaskier’s lips quirk in a soft smile, and he shrugs. “I can’t see if you’re hurt. So, stitches?”

“No. White honey?” Jaskier winces, shooting Geralt a sympathetic look.

“Back in the packs, I think. Should I go fetch it?”

The offer is tempting; Geralt’s heart is still racing and every nerve in him screams that Jaskier is an enemy and he can’t fucking see color, but he doesn’t want Jaskier to leave. Not with his humanity still crumbling within him as he tries desperately to hold himself together enough to talk. He closes his eyes, hoping that taking away one sense will help with the noise in his head, but he’s not sure anything will help right now.

“No. Gotta meditate.”

“Well, come out of the cave then, I’m sure you’d rather not smell whatever it is that’s in there.”

“Bright.” He hears Jaskier chuckle, and the soft shuffle of fabric and leather creaking as Jaskier moves toward him. The thought makes him want to run deeper into the cave, where he can’t do anything that might scare the bard off, but something warm and reeking of lavender is being draped over his head. The light burning through his eyelids lessens immediately, and he gasps as Jaskier gently takes his hands. His grip is iron on Jaskier’s poor hands, but the bard doesn’t protest or pull away, just talks soft and low.

“Do you trust me?”

Does he? He tries to think of all the reasons he shouldn’t trust the bard, but fails to come up with anything meaningful. “Yes.”

“How long till this wears off?”

“Couple hours, maybe more.”

“Okay. Let’s head back for the keep, it’s a bit safer I think. Can you carry the uh, head?”

Geralt nods, and Jaskier leads him over. Geralt can navigate by the scent alone, but he doesn’t want to let go of Jaskier if he can help it, and uses one hand to lug the head along by the horns. Jaskier leads him up the path he must have taken to get down, and settles him in the shade underneath a small ledge. He only lets go of Jaskier’s hand once he knows they aren’t going to move again for a while.

“Okay, go ahead and meditate, I’ll keep watch and let you know if I see or hear something.” Jaskier goes to move a few steps away, but Geralt’s hand shoots out, gripping his wrist.

“Stay here.” Jaskier’s heart gives a little stutter, but he laughs softly and settles down next to Geralt. It’s nice, Geralt decides, and though he doesn’t actually feel it much, he figures he has a right to complain. Blizzard has an apt name, both for making everything seem to go in slow motion, and for shooting ice through his veins. “S’cold.”

“Fire?”

“Too noisy.” Jaskier hums for a second more before suddenly leaning against Geralt’s side. It’s near impossible to notice through the leather armor he wears, and must be wildly uncomfortable, but he can feel the heat seeping into him and his heart beats just a bit faster at their closeness. Jaskier being so close also drowns out any other scents around him, and slipping into his meditation is easier when he has one thing to focus on. It's also the closest that Jaskier has gotten to him in days, and he finds he misses the contact. He tries to shut out the noises around him, bouncing through his skull, but where Jaskier has settled them has created some kind of echo around him, and he grits his teeth. It might not be so easy after all.

Jaskier reaches for something, dragging it across the ground before the distinct sound of two metal clasps pops close by. A note is hummed, a string strummed, before Jaskier begins picking away in earnest. The song is new, one he's never heard before- or maybe he has? The melody picks at the edges of his brain, and he finds himself slipping into that trancelike state he was looking for.

When he comes to a couple of hours later, dusk has fallen behind his lids, and he cracks an eye open experimentally. His heart and brain have calmed, and he doesn't feel nearly as cold as he did before. The potions have mostly worn off, except for the Cat, which should be gone in another half hour or so. He hopes.

For now, he'll just have to be content with the watery color bleeding slowly across his vision. Jaskier has stopped playing, lute tucked away, and has his jacket back on to ward himself from the cold. Now he scribbles in his notebook, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he concentrates on whatever he's writing.

"A new one?" His voice is rusty, and he clears his throat while Jaskier jumps, sitting up and clutching his book, cheeks red.

"You should warn a man you know, I could have done something drastic."

"Like what?" Geralt's lips quirk in a small smile, and he's glad he can somewhat recognize the teal of Jaskier's doublet again. Jaskier doesn't seem as amused, and pins him with a withering glance. "New song?"

He tries it again, hoping that showing interest will soften Jaskier's apparent anger. Jaskier regards him with suspicion for a moment more before sighing, nodding while also shrugging.

"I have a lovely new ballad coming, yes, but I was… drawing." Geralt hums low in his throat, nudging his companion and dipping his head toward the journal still clutched to Jaskier's chest. A silent question of can I see it? Jaskier hesitates, holding on a bit tighter before he sighs, holding it out for Geralt to take. "Don't laugh. Poetry was more my strong suit."

Geralt says nothing as he pulls off his gauntlets- they're covered in dried blood, and he doesn't want to ruin the page. Upon taking the journal and seeing what Jaskier has drawn, he almost wishes he had. It's a sketch of him, he can tell by the line of his jaw and the straightness of his nose, but he hates what else he sees. His eyes have been filled in with black, a spiderweb of inky veins creeping over his face and down his neck. His hands shake as he stares at himself immortalized in a state he never wanted Jaskier to see. He was too hopped up on potions to care at the time, but looking now, he feels his heart constrict. How could Jaskier touch him, sit beside him while he looked like this?

"Do you like it?"

"No." Shit, that's not what he meant to say. He glances up, can smell and see the hurt on Jaskier's face, and his throat tightens, strangling his words.

"Give it then, so you don't have to see it." Jaskier takes the book back quickly, closing it with a snap and standing up. He grabs his lute case, slinging it across his back and pacing a few steps away. Ready to go back to town. Geralt struggles to his feet, his damn knee cracking painfully as he rises from his kneeling position. He has to take a second for it to settle before he can bear any weight.

"Jaskier-"

"Let's go, Geralt. I'm tired of being outside." He finds that hard to believe, seeing as they've only been out half the day, but Geralt doesn't know what to say and Jaskier doesn't want to hear it. Geralt follows him in stony silence, hoisting the fiends head away from the ground and wincing at the congealed blood that saturates the ground under it. It reeks. He's not sure how Jaskier could tolerate the smell, let alone sit by it for hours.

Geralt collects his reward from the grieving father and hands over the scrap of what he can now see is mostly yellow fabric. The man laments his son's fate, and Geralt can't do more than stand there and promise he was avenged. The man waves them off, wanting to be alone, and Jaskier heads off with a brisk comment about finding an inn for the night. Geralt goes to check on Roach and gather their things, wanting to give the bard time to cool off. He's brushing Roach down, sneaking her a couple sugar cubes when Jaskier comes to fetch him, leaning with his arms crossed against the doorframe. Geralt follows without complaint, refusing to let Jaskier carry his own pack despite the hand held out for it.

The room in the inn is sparsely decorated, and there's only one bed, but a steaming tub of water waits for him, and his heart gives a strange leap. Jaskier’s doublet is off, tossed carelessly on a chair with his boots sitting nearby, and Geralt has to force himself not to stare at the dip of Jaskier’s chemise. "Bathe."

The command is rough, but Geralt complies easily, stripping himself out of his armor and the soggy clothes beneath before sinking into the water. Heat prickles uncomfortably at his skin, but he lets out a small groan and sinks a bit deeper. Jaskier perches wordlessly behind him, tugging the tie from his hair and working any blood out with whatever soap he'd managed to get from the innkeeper. It smells a bit stronger than Geralt would like, but he doesn't say anything. Maybe now he can try again, while he's relatively safe.

"It was nice." Well, that's a start at least. Jaskier's hands pause in his hair, nails digging in a bit too hard, but Geralt groans and leans up into the touch. Jaskier scratches along his scalp, nails digging in, and Geralt relishes the sensation. His vision is almost back to full color, and he stares at Jaskier's doublet, discarded on the chair. "The drawing."

Jaskier scoffs. "You don't have to lie."

"M'not. Just don't like seeing it. The monster." Geralt adds on the end, not wanting to fuck things up twice. Just saying what he feels makes his skin crawl, but Jaskier gives a soft oh, continuing to scratch at Geralt's scalp.

"So you weren't insulting me then?" Geralt shakes his head, going still when Jaskier clicks his tongue. He begins scrubbing at the blood under his nails while Jaskier talks, needing something to pay attention to. "I thought you looked… Gorgeous, ethereal, effervescent- I could wax poetry about it endlessly.”

Geralt snorts, shaking his head, causing Jaskier to press his fingers in harder to keep him from moving. “Don’t. Don’t pretend.”

Jaskier scoffs this time, fingers tightening in Geralt’s hair and pulling until Geralt is straining to look back at him or risk his scalp. A hot wave of arousal washes over Geralt at the sensation, but all he does is grunt, looking back at the bard with a mixture of annoyance and hopefully- suppressed lust. Geralt notices, faintly, that his color is back completely as the two of them lock eyes, glaring at one another.

“I’m tired of you telling me what to do and how to feel, Witcher.”

“What am I telling you to feel?” Heat creeps along Geralt’s spine, and oh he’s playing a dangerous game. Maybe those potions aren’t as worn off as he might have thought.

Jaskier looks at him, brow furrowed, and Geralt feels Jaskier’s grip in his hair loosen. He misses the sensation for an instant before Jaskier leans forward, pressing his lips to Geralt’s in an awkward, upside down kiss. It’s almost painful- Jaskier’s chin and nose dig into him at an odd angle, but his hands come up and out of the water instinctively to grip Jaskier’s hair, keeping him from moving away. Jaskier takes that as a good sign it seems, because he nips at Geralt’s lower lip before pulling back. Geralt doesn’t want to hurt him, ever, and he lets Jaskier go, breathing hard and pupils contracting to mere slits. He tracks Jaskier’s every moment, listens to the way his heart is hammering, that same cloying lavender scent oozing through the room.

Geralt leans forward as Jaskier moves around the side of the tub, a pale hand smoothing over his shoulder. He wants to know what’s going on, wants to ask Jaskier what he thinks he’s doing, but nothing escapes him other than a low growl. Jaskier laughs softly, almost mockingly, and leans forward to kiss the corner of Geralt’s mouth. The witcher moves faster than might be necessary, but just barely catches Jaskier before he leans back again.

“Bard.” Geralt warns, voice vibrating with the steady growl that’s built up. Jaskier glances at him, eyes darting down to Geralt’s lips for an instant as a smug, self satisfied smile lights up his face.

“Witcher.”

“Say you want this.” Geralt’s mind moves slow, so slow that for a moment he fears he’s drunk off of the scent of Jaskier, so incredibly close yet just out of reach. He can’t think with Jaskier so close, grinning at him like he’s a cat who’s just gotten a delightfully fat mouse, and his fingers twitch on the edge of the tub.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.” That’s all that Geralt needs, and he reaches out, snagging Jaskier by the hips and bodily hoisting him forward. Jaskier laughs as he slips against the edge of the tub, a hand splaying against Geralt’s chest.

“You’ll ruin my clothes and the floor.” Geralt grunts, not caring, but Jaskier is undeterred. “Out.”

Oh, this is dangerous indeed. He groans, impatient, but Jaskier is already stepping away and tugging at the ties on his chemise. A moment of hesitation slices through the haze in Geralt’s mind, and he pauses in the water. Jaskier has seen him naked more times than he can count, but it’s different this time. This time, he’s allowed to look, and Geralt isn’t sure what to do with that thought. He’s waking up slowly from the raging of his heart, but Jaskier reaches out, fingers brushing under his chin and tipping his head up. He kisses Geralt slowly, luxuriating in the action and nipping gently at his lower lip. The small bit of pressure from Jaskier's teeth has Geralt gasping, and he stands up blindly, stumbling out of the tub as Jaskier continues kissing him.

That one point of contact, their lips sliding against each other, is the anchor that Geralt clings to. His hands come up, fingers shaking before finding purchase on Jaskier’s shirt and gripping it tight enough that he can hear the fibers straining not to rip. Jaskier hums against his lips, hands sliding over Geralt’s chest and pushing him back and away from the tub. Geralt walks blindly, and every time he breathes, opens his eyes, the world is skewed with vibrant contrasts of color. Geralt’s calves hit the edge of the bed, and he tips back, dragging Jaskier with him and wheezing out a laugh as the bard lands on top of him. It feels good to have Jaskier’s weight on top of him, and he hardly lets him get far. He can feel Jaskier’s cock pressing against his hip, and he groans, glad it isn’t just him affected. Jaskier kisses him harder for that, and Geralt whines against his lips.

“The potions.” Geralt hums, glancing up at Jaskier with half lidded eyes. His hair is a mess, lips red and cheeks redder, and the sight steals his breath. He props himself up on his arms, sighing when Jaskier settles astride his hips. “Are they still affecting you?”

“I don’t know.” He admits softly, humming when Jaskier leans to lay kisses along his jaw. He arches his neck, giving the man atop him more room to work and huffing when Jaskier drags his teeth lightly down his neck. “Why?”

“I don’t want to do anything if you aren’t in full control of yourself. Not unless we’d agreed upon it before, of course.”

“It’s not like being drugged.”

“No, but how do I know this is because of sober thought?” Jaskier grinds down suddenly, and the friction of cloth against his bare skin has him hissing, hips snapping up of their own accord. Geralt chokes on a breath before glaring at the very smug bard atop him.

“Don’t-” Jaskier laughs, kissing him in apology and lifting himself up a bit. Geralt is both grateful and infuriated, hands clenching into fists. He’s definitely more affected than he thought. “What did you mean, agreed upon?”

Jaskier looks at him, humming softly and shifting to sit back on Geralt’s thighs. It sends a shimmer of pain through his knee, but the sensation grounds him further, and he sits up fully. “Geralt, if I can be frank-”

“When aren’t you?” the bard pins him with a look and Geralt raises his hands, gesturing for him to continue.

“I find you in all your witchery, black eyed glory incredibly attractive. I’m surprised you haven’t smelled it on me by now.”

“I don’t like to pry.” He can’t help himself now though, leaning a bit closer and taking a deep breath. He smells sweat, the lavender oil Jaskier uses, and most powerful, the sickly sweet, almost spicy scent of Jaskier’s arousal. “Really?”

“Really.” Jaskier shifts off his lap now, padding over to their packs and digging out clothes for Geralt. “So, get dressed before I decide to ravage you fully.”

Geralt catches the clothes as they’re tossed at him, flexing his thighs and steadying his breathing to calm himself down. He dresses slowly, skin hypersensitive and every sense trained on where Jaskier tidies up across the room. Now that the other man isn’t kissing him senseless Geralt takes a moment to think, and to admire him in full color. Jaskier catches him looking, but merely smiles and nods toward the bed. Geralt crawls under the covers at the silent request, and lays back, watching as Jaskier strips down to his small clothes and blows out the candles, leaving just the hearth for faint light and warmth. He crawls into bed and into the waiting arms of his witcher, pressing their legs together and grinning when Geralt loops an arm over his hips.

“Have I told you why I hate fiends?” Jaskier shakes his head before tucking under Geralt’s chin, cheek pressed to Geralt’s collarbone to feel the vibrations.

“Does it have to do with caves?” Geralt grunts, squeezing a bit tighter and reveling in the pleasant squeeze Jaskier gives back.

“Yes.”

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #minor sluttiness #high toxicity geralt

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aurumacadicus · 3 years

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5canon what about stucky being a normal militar couple, and tony its cute shy scientist in the base that they are protecting and they are fuckin smitten, but there is also two black widow and the male one has a botty to die for, and sass them to death, and are idiotically pinning for the same man trying to get a 4 way relationship

I choose to know nothing about the military or science so let’s see how well this goes. Especially since I have no idea what everyone’s backstory is.

Normally the Howling Commandoes don’t get stiffed with guard duty, which is how they all know that what they’re guarding is really fucking important. They each get assigned to a scientist, and Steve lucks out and gets a doe-eyed, shy scientist that keeps pushing his glasses up his nose nervously. Bucky, to his dismay, gets assigned to a woman with red hair and sharp green eyes and an innate ability to make him wish he was dead. “She hasn’t even said anything to you,” Steve points out after they’ve dropped the scientists back at their rooms. “It’s in the eyes,” Bucky tells him, and then motions toward where Natalie is curling her arm protectively around Howard and is giving them both a dirty look over her shoulder as she leads Howard away. “Also? I think she knows we want to bang Potts.” “I don’t want to just bang Dr. Potts,” Steve reminds him sternly. Bucky rolls his eyes so hard that he’s surprised they don’t just keep on rolling out of his head and across the country. “Right. You want to woo him. You want him to see you for your personality.” Steve crosses his arms defensively. “What’s wrong with that? Don’t you want him to like you?” “I want him to acknowledge that I’m hot so that we can fuckin’ spit-roast him,” Bucky scoffs, and then squawks when Steve shouts in offense and pulls him in for a painful noogie. “Steve Steve Steve no!!!!” “You said the same thing about that spy we keep narrowly missing,” Steve snaps. “I don’t want to just bang Howard! I want him to know I like him and think his accent is cute!” “Well, the spy has a body good for spit-roasting, too,” Bucky mutters petulantly, then wails when Steve goes after him again.

Tony isn’t typically shy, except that English is one of the six languages that he knows and he’s gotten enough scientific things wrong that he’s sort of embarrassed to open his mouth. “I wish they knew how smart I am in Russian or Italian,” Tony can’t help but admit. “They laugh at me.” “It is good to be--” Natasha begins. “Underestimated,” Tony continues with a sigh, frowning down at his catsuit. He picks at a frayed hem, nose wrinkling. If he was in the equipment division, no one’s uniform would look like this. “I don’t understand why they keep sending me out. I’m not--good at this undercover thing. I just want to be in a lab, working on equipment upgrades. I had some good ideas--” Natasha reaches out to cup his cheeks, and he quiets, embarrassed. She strokes her thumbs over his cheekbones gently, then says, voice soft, “You would not be here if they did not trust your skill. You’re among the few proud to be called a Black Widow, Tony. Just because you can’t kill a man with your thighs doesn’t mean that they don’t trust you.” “I could kill a man with my thighs if I wanted,” Tony murmurs petulantly. Natasha doesn’t say anything one way or the other, because Tony probably could kill a man with his thighs, but he would never actually want to. That was why she was here--he was a brilliant man, which was probably the only reason that he wasn’t killed or cast aside by the Red Room completely as a child, but his parents had left him--damaged, wanting to always find the good in people even when there wasn’t any. It would be so easy for him to be turned to another’s cause. Which was why she needed to protect him from the Commanders, or whatever the hell they called themselves. The leaders were obviously smitten with Tony, and if Tony had the chance to fall for them? They could use him for his intellect. Besides, how earnest could they be, openly lusting after a faceless body whenever they complained about ‘just missing’ one of the spies lurking around.

Aside from having a soft heart, Tony is an excellent Widow--he’s strong, fast, and quick on his feet in a fight. He’s also incredibly intelligent. So when Tony lets out a soft ‘shit’ while they’re rifling through paperwork, Natasha is immediately alarmed, eyes up and darting around. “Natasha they’re Hydra,” Tony whispers, horrified, as he looks up at her. Natasha feels her heart drop to her toes. “You’re certain?” Tony tips the file he’s holding so she can see an emblem embossed, tiny and faint, into the corner of the paper. They can only see it because they’d been looking for secret codes on the formula they’re working on. “I’ll call for an extraction,” Natasha promises, but then the lights to the room turn on, and they spin around. “You two again,” Steve says, and begins to say something else, but Tony doesn’t hesitate, picking up a chair and throwing it at him. Typically Natasha does the fighting and Tony does the fleeing, but Hydra brings out a side of him that most people are horrified to see, snarling and going in with fists raised. Bucky actually manages a vague ‘oh my God’ before he gets a chair chucked at him, too. Natasha supposes she can’t blame Tony, even as she tries to drag him out of the office so they can flee. He’d been in the car when Hydra had had his parents killed; his father had been visiting a plant in Europe, and Tony had fled while Howard and Maria had attempted to fight off their attackers, and had been found by Russian operatives who had taken him in so they could use him. She finally gets him to leave, but only because Steve had given Bucky the okay to draw his weapons, and even Tony knows that in a fist fight, a gun is going to win. She calls for an extraction as soon as they get back to their rooms, but it will be a few days before they’re ‘transferred out,’ so they just need to keep their heads down until then.

Except that Tony wants proof that they’re Hydra, so he sneaks out one last time to go get the papers. He knows he should tell Natasha, but he also knows she’ll tell him no, they were told to keep their heads down, and so that’s what they’ll do. But he knows how the rest of the organization feels about him--that he’s a liability, not worth the trouble, that he puts an end to missions that need to go on longer. This time he wants to have hard evidence that they’re Hydra and that it wasn’t his fault they had to pull out before they got the entirety of the formula they’d been studying to duplicate. He should have told Natasha, because he foolishly walks straight into a trap. Tony puts up as much of a fight as he can, but he’s blindsided with a punch almost immediately after entering the office, and he’s pretty sure his nose is broken. He gets in three good punches to someone’s kidneys before he’s wrestled down to the ground, hissing and spitting curses in every language he knows, only to stop when he hears a startled, “Howard?” Tony blinks his eyes open slowly blood dripping his face, to find Steve and Bucky hovering over him. He stares up at them, struck stupid, then croaks, “My name isn’t Howard.” Then he clams up, refusing to answer anything else. Steve and Bucky look at each other, then sigh and haul him to the guard house, defeated.

Director Fury sweeps in exactly sixteen hours later, nodding his head at the cell door. “Gentlemen, you’ll be releasing the foreign agent into my custody. “Says who,” one of the guards snaps, and when Fury shows him his badge, the guard’s face goes white, and he hurries to open the door. Tony slinks out of the cell like a dog with his tail between his legs. “Director.” “Agent,” Fury says, then turns to leave without another word. Tony trots after him nervously, keeping his head down when he notices everyone staring at him--scientists, guards, the Howling Commandoes--Steve. Bucky. Tony dips his head further, mortified, especially when he remembers how upset they’d been to have to arrest him. Maybe they hadn’t just been trying to get close to see if he was a spy. Maybe they really did like him. That doesn’t matter anymore, though. They think he’s a spy--or, well, they know he’s a spy now, even if they don’t know that it’s to keep an eye on the other government branches. They’ll never trust him now. And he didn’t even get the proof of Hydra, he laments, following Fury to the car he’d come in. “Howard!” Bucky suddenly shouts. Tony flinches but doesn’t stop from turning to face him. “Yes?” Bucky stomps up to him and growls out, “Are you Hydra?” “What?” Tony gasps, then glares at him in offense. “Of course not!” “Then what were you doing here?” Fury cuts in, casually drawing attention to his gun as he drawls, “That’s classified, Sergeant Barnes. If you really want information on Agent Stark, your superior officer can put in a request. In fact, why don’t you do that? I love using my big ‘reject’ stamp on paperwork.” “Bucky,” Steve says, voice low, and Buck backs off mulishly. Tony opens his mouth, but Fury silences him with one look, so he just quietly climbs into the car. Natasha is already there. “You’re in big trouble,” she says, arms crossed, staring out the window. Tony can’t help but droop in his seat. He hates when Natasha is mad at him. He tries to apologize, but she won’t even look at him, and Fury looks, well... furious. So he looks down at his lap, carefully folding his hands in it so he doesn’t fidget. A few minutes later, Natasha reaches out without a word, carefully taking one of his hands in hers, and he can’t help the way his eyes go hot and blurry as he whispers, “They actually liked me.” “You’re a likeable person,” is all that Natasha responds, gripping his hand a little tighter.

Bonus: The base they’d been on explodes two days after Tony and Natasha are brought back into SHIELD. The only casualties are a few scientists that had apparently triggered the explosion, but there are several injuries. Bucky was injured. Tony had heard that his arm had almost been blown apart. Natasha sighs, and rolls her eyes, and drags Tony back to the base so they can go to the hospital there. “Howard,” Steve says, surprised, and then his expression falters. “Or, um--not-Howard.” “His name is Tony,” Natasha informs him. “His heart is a marshmallow. If you hurt him, I will crush you like a grape in my fist.” Steve stares at her for a long moment before hesitantly nodding his head. “Yeah, okay, I guess.” “A grape,” Natasha repeats warningly, lifting her fist, before she lean in toward Tony and murmurs, “I’ll be waiting at the end of the hall. If he tries anything, shoot him in the meaty part of his thigh and I’ll smuggle you out of the country.” “Um. I won’t, but okay,” Tony agrees after a moment. Natasha frowns at him severely but leaves him anyway. Tony watches her go, then turns back to Steve, rubbing his arm nervously. “Um. I heard that Buc--Sergeant Barnes had been injured, and I wanted to--I’ve been developing a line or prosthetics, if he needs one.” He raises his eyebrows when Steve reaches out to grab his shoulders, looking up at him in confusion. “S--Captain Rogers? I--” “Are you a Hydra agent?” Steve asks seriously. “Wh--no!” Tony exclaims, immediately angry. “Why would you evehm!!!” He squirms uselessly, startled, when he realizes that Steve has mashed their lips together. It’s not a good kiss. But God, he wants to melt into it anyway, even as he finally lifts his hands to shove Steve away, glancing nervously at the bed where Steve’s husband is laying. “Me next,” Bucky slurs, making a single grabby-hand at him. “Next time wear the catsuit.” “Huh?” Tony says, but Steve is shunting him into the room before he can bolt. Apparently Steve and Bucky aren’t Hydra either. And they have no problem proving it to him.

#aurumacadicus answers #5 headcanons meme #stuckony #pervy-pizzaroll

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my-sherlock221b · 3 years

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Supernatural Rewatch Ramblings: Bloodlust

2020-21 has been a huge transformative time for many of us. Whether we wanted it or not, we have been forced to stop, switch gears, rethink, reflect, let go, make new priorities, discover who we really are and who we want to be in the face of adversity.

One of those transformations for me has been giving up on control and finding a way to surrender to the power of the universe. Another has been to not let perfection be the enemy of good.

You may well wonder---What does all this have to do with the Bloodlust rewatch and review??!

Probably nothing LOL except for the fact that I still have to write up my review on Bloody Mary and have been unable to write for various reasons. And then because the Bloody Mary review was still incomplete I could not write about the next one etc etc etc.

So when we watched Bloodlust two days ago in the continuing re-watch, I decided that I am going to re-start the review, and from exactly where I am right now!

If time and life permits I might fill in the gaps later. If not, well, life is unpredictable and weird and we keep calm as it carries on….Thank you for coming to my Philosophy talk….:)

Read below for the Boodlust review, Season 2 episode 3 and look out for the post from @soulmates-for-real on this rewatch too!!

The opening scene is the perfect switch and bait because we as an audience have been trained to latch on to types and identities and representations.

Woman in white night gown screaming and running--victim

Person who brutally beheads her—villain.

A few minutes into the episode we realize that we were wrong.

A good few minutes later we realize that we were wrong about being wrong.]

Haha.

We are idjits, swept away on the eddies and currents of this masterfully written and directed episode. Thank you Sera Gamble and Robert Singer!

The acting and the mesmerizing beauty of the two leads is worthy of an entire essay of its own but in order to have a life and finish this review I shall only say this—Oh my goodness HOW gorgeous is Jensen Ackles?!!

It is sometimes impossible to look at him in this episode because my eyes didn’t know where to land! That perfect face? The lips? Those eyes?? The quirk of the eyebrows? Those micro expressions that are constantly weaving across his face? The smile? The way his lips move when he talks?? His hair? The Samulet?

And then the shot pans out and includes his hand and the ring and honestly it’s a miracle I could follow the plot at all.

So the images I am going to include in this review, much as I love Sam Winchester and Jared Padalecki, are all of Dean Winchester. It’s a criminal waste to not do so when the man is just an ode to perfection.

Sheila O’Malley’s review of this episode is in itself a work of art and a thing of beauty so I will direct you most enthusiastically towards it and only add here my little pennyworth bits. Do click on this link but be prepared to sink into a one hour read which will make you feel like you were dropped into the episode itself.

https://www.sheilaomalley.com/?p=87187

Here is a quote from her review which is so insightful.

These are the details that a director like Robert Singer never misses, and at this point his relationship with Ackles and Padalecki would be almost telepathic (it’s probably 100% telepathic now). He has said before that he and Kripke were such a good team because Kripke’s primary concern is Plot/Gore/Horror and Singer’s primary concern is Character/Relationship. And they both end up in the same place. It’s a good mix. If Singer were also Plot/Gore/Horror focused, we wouldn’t have the depth of relationship which is the real point of the show, its real hook.

For a much briefer and far less technically adept and analytical review, read on here!

The opening of this episode shows us the Impala from every possible angle. Gleaming, gorgeous, road -worthy. This is mirrored by Dean. He is also gleaming, gorgeous and roadworthy. He is in a happy mood that not even Sam’s little brother snitty comments can deflate.

Here is the soundtrack of this episode for those who are interested.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0835248/soundtrack

Here is some random but fun trivia:

Dean tells Sam in one scene "If it's Supernatural, we kill it." One of the rare times the title of the show is actually spoken in the dialogue.

This is the first episode where Sam began parting his hair down the middle, the hairstyle he'd keep the rest of the series.

( I didn’t like his hair too much in this episode honestly but then again I could barely see anyone beyond Dean :D)

During the filming of this episode Jared injured his hand when he fell badly during a stunt. He thought it was merely sprained and went straight into filming the next episode without having it checked. But it got more and more painful and finally he went to the doctor and discovered that his hand was, in fact, broken. Because he had already begun filming, he couldn't bandage the hand until filming for that episode was finished. The writers ended up writing in an accident for Sam and his line "I think she broke my hand" to explain the fact that for the following few episodes he would be wearing a cast.

When Dean kills a vampire, blood is sprayed on his face, mostly on his right cheek. In the next shot the pattern is different, and notably the right cheek is almost clean. Furthermore, his mouth was agape when he made the kill, risking the blood getting into his mouth and turning him into a vampire. While the brothers didn't yet know how a vampire is made at that point, Gordon did and should have been alarmed that Dean might have gotten some of the blood in his mouth.

A random behind the scene shot from the episode:

Guess who she is? Apparently this is Jensen’s sister in a super brief role in Bloodlust!

On to the review, or rather some of my thoughts during the re-watch.

The first scene with the Sheriff they are interrogating him about the cattle mutilations is hilarious. The way they bluff their way into the morgue is hilarious. Dean always leading and Sam following.

Random trivia: When Dean enters the morgue with Sam and sees the name tag of "J Manners", it has been thought the name was to honor Jeffrey Dean Morgan and series producer Kim Manners. Dean guesses "John" - Jeffrey's character name - and the intern corrects with "Jeff"

It a testament to the way Supernatural has trained its audience that we barely blink when they pull out a decapitated head in the morgue, squabble over who is more chicken, dig into the mouth and eventually discover vampire fangs.

Yes, of course they do.

Next scene: Two hot guys walk into a bar…..

…….where the adorable Benny, who is not Benny in this episode but a random dude ( spoilers—later we find out the dude is a vampire), gives them directions/ mis- directions to a possible vampire nest.

We see the first glimpse of Gordon Walker, amazingly played by Sterling K. Brown, and making us worry about and dislike him almost right away. The way he is shown with the light and shade bars on his face from the window blinds is so menacing.

The next few scenes continue to build that sense of unease where the Winchester brothers, apparently telepathically, decide to double back and catch him following them, then he shows them his car and his weapons, where he references their dad and then refuses their offer for help.

The scene where he shows them his car is like a painting. (The car by the way is just as inconspicuous as the Impala –which is to say NOT AT ALL!! How do these people stay below the radar of the regular law enforcement is a mystery….).

The dust highlighting the rays of light, the two brothers on one side of the car and Gordon at the other, it’s all so consciously set up for a few seconds worth of screen time. Impressive!

Next comes a truly brutal kill, at Dean’s hands, which we don’t even see except as a spray of blood on his face. Poetic! But it is Dean’s expression that makes my stomach clench. His eyes are dead and he is somewhere deep that even Sam can’t reach, as we can see from the distress on Sam’s face.

Gordon of course is all chipper and full of bonhomie and offers to buy them drinks.

That following scene is the one which gives Wincest brother-wives vibes like 100%.

Sam plays the role of the disgruntled ‘wife’ to perfection. No one but hubby is allowed to use the nickname. He hates the male bonding going on with Gordon and the more Gordon seems to slip into Dean’s inner circle, the more uncomfortable Sam gets, until he finally decides that he just cannot physically be there any more.

Dean’s smug expression when Sam tells Gordon off for calling him Sammy, his instant worry at Sam going back alone, his hand raised in exasperation to convey to Gordon—look what I have to put up with-- the tossing of the keys to his car----it is all a symphony of Dean playing his part in the brother-wives orchestra.

The last line?! ‘Remind me to beat the buzzkill out of you later.’ And Sam’s expression at that? That’s exactly the way a bullying /abusive husband would react to a nagging wife who doesn’t like his toxic friends and wonders how he can be so blind as to not see them for the bad influence they clearly are.

( Bad Dean!!!)

Sam goes back to the motel and does his due diligence by checking with Ellen, gets kidnapped by vampires, released and on his return is disgusted to find Gordon inside their motel room.

The next scene is where Dean erupts, having clearly had enough of the shifting power dynamics between them over the evening. Sam has been silently judging him since the kill and Gordon has managed to ‘other’ Sam and make Dean feel validated in his own bloodlust as a hunter.

Dean clocks Sam one.

Wow. I did not see that coming. And what shocked me at this re- watch is that Sam just takes it.

Like an abused wife, he just takes it. Not only that, sometime later in the episode he tells Dean to hit him again if it is going to make him feel better.

NO Sam! NO!!! This is NOT healthy and this is NOT the way to deal….ugh. Sigh.

Then the second half of the episode swings in and the moral dilemma they face becomes clear when the victim and villain switch roles and Dean is shook enough to question his dad’s judgement!

Dean is still kind of trying to give Gordon the benefit of the doubt even though he sees him literally torturing the vampire. But of course all bets are off the instant he touches Sam. Dean pulls his gun on him. I was surprised that he didn’t shoot him just on principle later simply because he hurt Sam even if it was a small cut.

That is Dean’s definition of monsters-- Anything that hurts Sam. 😊

We don’t know it at this time, and spoilers ahead, but maybe Dean has been so annoyed and violent with Sam at the idea that he is standing up for MONSTERS is because he might also be one….and the way he looks at the end when he realizes that his whole life’s philosophy has been upended.

There are the details about the vampires who drink cattle blood so they don’t harm humans and therefore want to be treated as the good guys. Of course it is all about the inherent struggle between who you are and what you do—something that shows up hugely magnified in the later seasons when Sam is struggling with his own demon blood addiction and the knowledge of the demon blood inside him.

He needs desperately to believe in this as the utmost foundation stone of his life and its purpose—what you DO is more important than what you ARE!

So even if you are a monster, if you don’t behave like one—that is your redemption.

But it’s not just anybody whose faith he wants in his struggle to prove to himself that he is not a monster. He needs it from Dean.

Remember the dialogue from the panic room “Don’t you say that to me. Don’t YOU say that to me.”

And the fake voicemail set up by Zachariah exploits this at the time of the breaking of the last seal.

Of course he doesn’t know any of this yet, but that’s Sam fucking Winchester for you –always purer and better than his circumstances allow. Always struggling to do better, be better.😍

It is fascinating how the visuals and the roles these two play are of rugged handsome men, badass heroes-- Dean of course super macho role playing all the time. But there are so many layers upon layers and honestly if it wasn’t for Jared and Jensen’s fine nuanced and impeccable acting adding depth to the characters, the show would not have held our interest for this long.

We are shown Sam as the brains with his lore and research, but then in the very next episode (Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things), we see Dean connect dots faster than Sherlock Holmes.

Dean is shown as the instinctively violent one with the gun under his pillow, trigger happy, and in this episode even that brutal kill of the vampire on the docks. But then please remember the way Sam kills Gordon finally. Or the insane way he bites himself to get blood for drawing sigils. Or the way he just simply shoots the crossroads demon point blank!

We see Sam as the soft hearted one and he does rescue kids once in a while, but he is never shown to bond with them even a fraction of the way Dean does—so effortlessly. Also the ladies of course, all of whom have a soft spot for Dean. The exceptions being Sarah and Madison, both of whom completely ignored Dean. Oh and that doctor from Sex and Violence.

Dean has had his share of bad dates of course with Cassie, the woman who gave birth to his magical superfast growing daughter ( who was killed by Sam), and the whole Lisa arc, but somehow we are shown Sam as the one who is invested in relationships. Hello?! Sam was planning to marry Jessica without having told her a thing about his life while Dean told Cassie the secret as soon as he thought he was in love and wanted a relationship.

So anyway, just to say that a rewatch is so brilliant because we know more about them at this point than they do and the character arc is such a thing of beauty to see unfolding!

That last scene where Dean is in a thoughtful frame of mind, the sun is rising overhead ( as a metaphor for him seeing the light, maybe?)--that insanely gorgeous shot of Dean with the ring of fire and light and his absolutely perfect face in a close up…sigh.

Then he thanks Sam for pushing him to see this grey area and for the first time in that episode Sam finally smiles.

His big brother is back with him.

And then he commits to Dean too. Ah…how it warms my heart to hear this dialogue!

DEAN I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up.

SAM What do you mean?

DEAN Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives.

SAM Okay.

DEAN What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us...

SAM Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.

DEAN I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.

SAM You didn't kill Lenore.

DEAN No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all.

SAM Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters.

DEAN Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass.

SAM Guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then.

DEAN Thanks.

SAM Don't mention it.

Transcript here http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=2.03_Bloodlust_%28transcript%29

Guess Sam does stick around for the next 15 years to be a pain in the ass 😊

Some quotes from the writers about this episode:

· "The episode was really about what Dean would become if he didn't watch out: that Gordon was Dean in ten years if Sam didn't ask the difficult questions and keep him from getting too militant." - Executive story editor Sera Gamble

· "We set out to create a monster episode where you weren't entirely sure whether these monsters should be killed." - Eric Kripke

· "For me, the show is at its best when the supernatural story reveals something new about the brothers, or forces them to change in some way. Sam and Dean's realization that they've basically been raised as 'monster racists' was really meaty stuff. Exploring these characters' flaws is just as important as showcasing their heroism - these are the things that make them human, that make us invest in them." - Raelle Tucker

Check out this site for more amazing trivia and stuff

http://www.jonescave.com/supernatural/Episode/Episode.php?s=2&e=3#PopCulture

I have already finished watching the next episode ‘Children’s Shouldn’t play with Dead Things’….so let’s hope I get around to writing a review sometime soon !

#spn #spn review #spn meta #sam and dean #bloodlust #the epic love story of sam and dean #wincest #brother wives

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athenagrantnash · 3 years

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Gunpowder Milkshake review

There are four elements to a film that, when all are achieved, can elevate a film from “good” to “great”; and any film that can achieve at least two of these elements is certainly a good and enjoyable film.

These elements are (in no particular order)*:

Aesthetic

Cast (charm, likeability, acting skill, etc)

Characters

Writing (story, script, dialogue etc.)

*While all four elements are important, writing is in my opinion the most important of the four.

So does Gunpowder Milkshake achieve all of these elements? Let’s discuss. (not a spoiler free review)

1) Aesthetic

I cannot say enough good things about the aesthetic of this film. The lighting, the camerawork, the set design, the costumes, it is all top notch. There is never a moment where what you are looking at isn’t visually engaging.

One of my favorite elements is how much is said about each character based on their costumes.

Karen Gillan’s Sam wears an orange jacket for the majority of the film - a jacket she stole because she didn’t like the clothing provided for her. Early in the film it’s established she doesn’t quite know what kind of assassin she is - she is as undefined as her jacket. But there’s a sportsmanship about her, as she won’t kill the three stooges when they aren’t trying to kill her, and she draws the line at ever letting a child be in danger.

Chloe Coleman’s Emily spends the entire movie in a yellow coat - representing the optimism and joy that comes with childhood innocence, an innocence that at the end is marred by the blood red handprint across the back of her coat.

The clothes worn by Angela Bassett’s Anna May, Carla Gugino’s Madeleine, and Michelle Yeoh’s Florence are all very similar, but specific to each character.

Anna May wears dark blue - signifying depth and power - and she has more layers than anybody else - Madeleine has the sweater/jacket, Florence has the vest, and Anna May has both. And just like her clothing, she has layers. You can sense the power and ferocity, and anger that lies rippling just below the surface, only just barely kept in check.

Florence wears green - signifying serenity - , and her outfit has nothing loose or soft about it. She is exactly as she appears to be - exactly as a tiger stalking its prey appears to be - quiet, contained, serene... deadly. It’s her serenity that keeps Anna May’s ferocity in check, but don’t mistake that for safety.

Madeleine wears pink - signifying kindness - and instead of Florence’s vest or Anna May’s vest/suit jacket combo, she instead wears a soft sweater. She is kind, trusting to her instincts, and protective of Emily. But her kindness is not weakness - just look at her weapon of choice if you disagree.

And while everybody else is wearing bright and/or striking colors, Sam’s orange jacket, Emily’s yellow coat, Anna May’s blue suit, Florence’s green vest, Madeleine’s pink sweater, Scarlet - completely at odds with her name - is wearing colors that are practically nondescript. She has isolated herself from the other Librarians, and that’s shown in a beautifully subtle way through her clothing. And yet, in a further note of subtlety, she is wearing soft oranges, showing her connection to Sam (also in orange) and how that connection is what brings her back from her isolation. Her clothing is loose, but not soft, reflecting a deceptive casualness, which matches her personality perfectly.

I’m not even going to touch on the visual brilliance of the lighting, set design, and camerawork because words literally will not do it justice. You just have to watch and see for yourself.

Additionally, an argument can be made that, since “action” is not its own category, that would fit into this section too - and while it’s literally impossible to top how visually engaging the lighting/set design/camerawork/etc. are, the action is certainly on par with it. The fights are all incredibly fun and creative, and they take advantage of the setting they are placed in, the road blocks or handicaps the characters have to work with, and at no point ever feel stale, repetetive, or boring.

So where does this movie rank in aesthetic? 5/5

2) Cast

There is not a weak link in this entire cast! Karen Gillan, Lena Heady, Angela Bassett, Michelle Yeoh, Carla Gugino, Paul Giamatti - every single one of these actors has proven time and again how much talent, charm, and onscreen charisma they have. Relative newcomer Chloe Coleman legitimately holds her own, even among such a star-studded cast, and is simultaneously sympathetic, charming, likable, and absolutely adorable.

Even bit players like the three stooges that Sam takes out, Emily’s dad, the doctor, and Jim McAlester play their roles to perfection.

As a side note, am I the only one who was a little bit disappointed that McAlester’s first name was Jim? It would have been hilarious if his first name was Kevin, and then we could have drawn our own conclusions about the criminal turn Kevin McCallister’s life took when he truly embraced his childhood propensity for chaos.

So where does this movie rank in cast? 5/5

3) Characters

This is where the movie starts to falter a little bit. Every single character is likable, but a lot of that can be attributed to how excellent the cast is.

Most of the characters are fairly cookie cutter, and while there is nothing about them that is particularly annoying or stereotypical, none of them have enough depth to truly be “great” characters.

The closest any character has to having any sort of depth or complexity is Nathan, who - while he doesn’t hesitate to send an entire army after Sam - sends her a private message and provides the only help he can.

Not that any of the characters are bad - I think my analysis of the lead lady’s clothing proves my opinions on that pretty conclusively - but they could have been better

Additionally, at just under 2 hours there is barely enough time to develop them properly. Florence in particular could have been much further fleshed out in ways that are not solely inferred through the costume design and acting.

The relationships between Emily and Sam, Sam and Scarlet, Scarlet and Anna May, Sam and Madeleine, Anna May and Madeleine, and Madeleine and Emily are done fairly well. I understood each dynamic and how it worked in the larger story that was unfolding. Florence had none of that - to the point that (if not for the inferred analysis based on clothing) I’m still not entirely sure if she or Anna May was the de facto leader of the librarians. If they had added something - either her legitimately having a moment where she takes charge or (even better) establish a rivalry between Florence and Anna May over who is in charge that would have done a lot, but unfortunately as it stands Florence didn’t get the development that Michelle Yeoh deserved.

So where does this movie rank in characters? 3/5

4) Writing

If the movie started to falter a bit when it came to its characters, it faltered even more when it came to the writing. In fact it’s the writing that can be blamed for the characters not given the development they should have gotten, even if these are two different categories.

And yes, it’s an action film, so technically the plot takes second place to the fisticuffs and gunplay - and while I’m not going to hold the genre against the film, even as an action film the script could have been a lot stronger.

Most importantly, the movie should have been at least thirty minutes longer in order to allow more growth and development for each of the characters. One scene that should have been in the movie was one of Emily while she was captured by McAlister. He should have tried to turn her against Sam, not realizing that the revelation that he had killed her dad had already done that. But Emily is smart, and the more he talks the more she realizes she’s directing her anger at the wrong person. Then when Sam turns herself in so that she’ll be safe it solidifies it for her - Sam might have pulled the trigger, but she’s not the heartless killer that she should be angry at.

And that is just one example of how a longer runtime and a few more rewrites could have given the story and characters a lot more depth.

Now onto the white elephant in the room.

“There’s a group of men called the firm” (yes, I’m going there... somebody has to).

I get what the film was going for, but this is the most perfect example of why it needed one or two more rewrites. 1) If it’s a group of men, why is Sam working for them and why is she recognized as the best at what she does? The movie is trying to imply inherent sexism, but because it felt the need to slam us over the head with that line all subtlety was lost.

Sam could have just called it “a group” and then we the audience would see that while men and women work for them, the ones calling the shots are all men. And then to turn around and show how much more prepared, professional, and competent the Librarians are would make this point in a much more subtle and compelling way. There is a lot more power in using that kind of storytelling than in explicitly telling your point to the audience in so many words.

However, while most movies that go this route make all their male characters useless or stupid, Gunpowder Milkshake did manage to not do that. Other than the three stooges, which Nathan chose to send after Sam because he didn’t want her killed, therefore by design are supposed to be useless, all of the people that our mains go up against feel like legitimate threats.

And I’m glad, because as a woman I do not like the recent tendency to turn men into useless idiots and then imply that is the only way the women managed to defeat them. I want women going up against men who are at their best, and still win. And this movie did that.

Additionally, I will say that the whole “group of men” thing is a minor quibble on my part, as it doesn’t fall into the pitfalls most other movies who are making this point fall into. But it is unfortunately an example of why the writing could have been much better.

Add in some awkward dialogue that only worked because of how ridiculously charming and likable everybody in the cast is, and we unfortunately have writing that is sub par and does not live up to the standards set by the other three elements. The aesthetic, the cast, and even the characters deserved better writing.

As a side note: Where do these people get their milkshakes that they manage not to melt even after three hours? Because that’s some circa 3000 level galaxy brain and I want it.

So where does this movie rank in its writing? 2/5

Conclusion:

I said at the top that for a movie to be “great” it has to meet all four elements, but to be "good” it only has to meet two, and Gunpowder Milkshake definitely meets two of the elements.

Where it begins faltering and falls short of being “great” is in the characters and the writing, which is a shame because the brilliance of the cast and the genuinely engaging and breathtaking aesthetic deserved to be in a movie that can be called great.

I would love a sequel to this movie that does flesh out the relationships better, provide more depth to the characters, and allows for the writing to match the quality of the cast/aesthetic.

So what is my total ranking for this film? 3.5/5

It’s good, and I will definitely watch it again and recommend it to people, but it so easily could have been great.

#gunpowder milkshake #karen gillan #lena heady #angela bassett #michelle yeoh #carla gugino #look at that I managed to actually be professional and write a whole interview that didn't include simping over A ngela B assett #y'all should be proud of me

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theheavenlymoon · 3 years

Text

A flower’s growth 🌸

I just realized that Hanako is technically a self-insert oc because I use her for more than just twst i-

Also, this is my number one resource https://camp-halfblood-fanon.fandom.com/wiki/Hestia_Cabin

Its mentions one important thing that is critical in Hanako's back story. I'll show you the important thing but I recommend reading it all because its really interesting!

"i.e. Hestia takes some essence of a mortal man she takes a liking to and create her child by fire from the hearth with her essence fused to that mortal's. Hestia then proceeds to notify the father as she cannot raise the child." (13 in 'powers and traits')

Also to give you some visuals (I’ll explain the two boys later on)

So with that being said..let's👏talk👏trauma! More specifically Hanako's trauma.

(The writing style might change so just ignore it-)

WARNING: Suicidal thoughts

Virginal Goddesses like Hestia don't really have kids. Athena children are born from their mother's head. So how would a Hestia child be born? Let me explain.

A man caught Hestia's attention. He was compassionate and energetic and always tried to help when he could. Even though he had very little money, even though he had some hard times, he was still compassionate and that intrigued Hestia.

When he was more financial stable, Hestia decided to gift him a child. A perfect gift for a family man like him. Hestia took some of his essence and mixed it with her’s and with the help of some fire from the hearth, Hanako was born.

A small knock could be heard through the small house. Fumihito goes to open the door only for a baby to staring up at him while making cooing noises. Rapped in a purple blanket with flowers on it, the baby had a small name tag that said ‘Hanako’

“Welcome home Hanako.” The man said with a small smile

When Hanako was about 4, Fumihito married his best friend and moved to America. A few months later triplets were born. All of them being male. First is Kaji, Hinote, and Yakeru. Most people would think Hana would hate to have siblings, but it’s quite the opposite. Hanako was ecstatic to have siblings she could play with.

When she was told she was going to be a big sister and had to take her role seriously, that’s exactly what she did. She read the boys to sleep and keeped them entertained as best as she could. When they were a little older Hana liked to make them wear dress and have tea parties. In return she took part in everything the boys did. Sports, video games, music, art you name it she would try it at least once.

Hana grew in grace and compassion. She truly was a great balance between her parents. It was funny hearing advice that sounds like something a sage would give only for it to be a child talking. She was a bright, energetic girl and never could stay in one place for very long. She was very social and was friends with almost everyone in her school.

But some stories can’t always be fairytales and rainbows...

Hanako’s step-mother fell ill and passed away when she was about 10. Everyone was devastated but life doesn’t stop when people fall. So they didn’t either. Obviously they still mourned but they tried to have a positive outlook even though a family member is gone.

(Fast forward to where Hana is 11)

In the dead of night, when everyone was in a deep slumber, there’s a small crash. At the sound, Hana jerks up in a sweat. Call it intuition, but she had a horrible feeling something was going to go wrong.

She snuck into her brother’s rooms and hid them in a small closet in one of their rooms. As Hana was about to go wake her father she heard a noise. Hana turned around only to see a woman holding what look to be like a sword.

Without warning the woman grabbed Hana’s hair and threw her into a bookshelf. Hana let out a small shriek. The bookshelf itself was unstable and the added force made it fall. Luckily Hana was fast enough to move most of her body. Let’s just say her left leg wasn’t as lucky as her other limbs.

The woman had a feeling the father could come out any minute so she ran around the corner and waited for the perfect opportunity to strike

At the sudden noises that we’re going outside his room, Hana’s father slams the door open only to see Hana stuck under the unstable bookshelf.

In at state of panics he rushed over to her. “Hana are you alright?!?!” But Hana didn’t answer. She was to focused on the woman who was still behind the corner.

“I’m calling the police! Just hang on!” Fumihito yelled. After Fumihito called 911 he tried to move the bookshelf. While he was doing so the woman kept stalking closer. “DADDY LOOK OUT-“ but it was to late. In one swipe Fumihito’s head was cut clean off, his body falling limp right beside Hanako. No one in that neighborhood could ever forget the Bloodcurdling scream that came from Hanako’s house. Eyes wide with horror and despair Hana couldn’t keep her tears in.

Before the woman could do any more damage they heard police sirens. “We will meet again someday demigod.” And with that the woman disappeared.

After a full check of the house they concluded that only the children were left. Once they found Hana, nothing was left of the lively girl. After helping her get out from under the bookshelf the police immediately sent her to the hospital. The police told the triplets to pack stuff that was most important to them and follow the police. (The triplets also packed stuff for Hana as well. One of the things being a photo album of the family.)

The police concluded that the children didn’t have any other adults to care for them so they would have to be put in an orphanage. However there wasn’t an orphanage where they lived so they would have to be put in a new town.

It was hard adjusting to this new life. There was barely enough food for everyone, you had to share rooms with other kids. Hanako had to use crutches for a while until her leg healed. Her new school wasn’t that great either. Hana, not being as social as she once was, was bullied for being too quiet. Not to mention, no one had ever seen a kid with natural yellow eyes and violet hair.

From beating her almost to death, to threatening to cut her hair and gouge her eyes out because she was ‘too pretty’

On terms of Hana in general, she wasn’t acting like her normal self. She had gotten more reserved and became a cry baby. You could easily tell she had eye bags and her anxiety was always threatening to go through the roof. You can only assume those eye bags were because of nightmares from that night. She talked much quieter and always wore a frown with her eye brows scrunched in a worried way.

The other three were to young to understand what happened. The police had to lie to them saying “your dad is on a special trip right now.”

About 6 months later the triplets were adopted by a man who looked like he was the head of some company. Hana tried her best to run after them but the staff had to hold her back. All the while the three were screaming for her to come and save them.

What no one knew is that the triplets would be forced to become assassins. It’s not like they wanted to! The man said if they didn’t he would kill their sister! The night after the adoption they all made a promise to keep Hana safe no matter what.

So there Hana sat all alone on the swings of a play ground, with no one around to comfort her. Surrounded by people who have families and are happy. It’s like the universe was taunting her.

The only thing that didn’t change is her older sibling nature. Giving her food to the little ones. Playing dress up or soccer. Her smiles were always fake. Maybe to the blind eye she seems happy but some could easily tell she was anything but happy.

6 months later Hana finally gets her cast takin off. At this time Hanako is 12 and is at her breaking point. After another day of school, and another day of almost getting beat to death, something snaps inside of her.

(TRIGGER WARNING⚠️)

You have to understand, Hanako didn’t have anybody to talk to. Everyone was either to busy or didn’t bother to care. Which left her all by herself. It felt like she was trapped almost. No one there to listen or laugh with.

The scissors on her dresser looked quite tempting. The relief of not having to go through any more of this pain and loneliness was very appealing, but before she could touch them a huge gust of wind blew into her room. Taking the scissors away from her while she was distracted.

If that couldn’t work then running away would be the next best option. That night Hana packed her things (including the photo album) and drew out her plan. It was quite simple really.

She would skip school and go behind it, where a cliff is, to get a good view of where she could go from there.

After running around the school and into a forest, Hana reached a stream. Cupping some water to drink, Hana got caught up in how refreshing the water was. A snap of a branch snapped her out of her state and made her look around. That’s when she saw the manticore out of the corner of her eye.

Hana quickly got up and started backing away only to forget that there’s a cliff and slips. Plummeting to her presumed death tears start to seep out once again. Out of no where a boy that looks to be about 15, swoops in to save her, but the weirdest thing is that his shoes have wings on them, But she was to tired to care. So acting like she didn’t have a care in the world, she rapped her arms around him and snuggled into his neck.

The last thing she could make out was something like “ Let’s get out of here before that manticore decides it wants a 3 course Demi-god meal!” Or something like that.

When Hana woke up, she looked around and realized she was in an infirmary room. The same boy she saw was sleeping on the bed next to her. A knock on the door was heard, and in came girl who looked about the same age as the boy. “You two have been out for a while.” She said “I would’ve never suspected that a tiny demigod like you could cause so much trouble.” Hana looked confused “Do I know you? And what do you mean by demigod?” She asked.

The older girl let out a small chuckle before walking up an sitting next to Hana. “I’m Jane, daughter of Aphrodite! The reason why I called you a demigod is because, well... you’re half god half mortal.” The younger girl couldn’t believe her ears. “B-but how do we know I’m a demigod?” “Have you seen your other parent before? Can you never be in one place for to long? Those are all signs my dear, of course if you don’t believe me we can wait till your godly parent claims you as their kid.”

After that small encounter Jane took Hanako on a tour of where she’d be staying the whole summer. “W-why are we at a camp? And who was that boy w-who saved me?” The younger girl asked in a quiet voice. “This camp houses demigods, there a two from what everyone knows. One for Greek gods and one for Roman gods. The boy who saved you is my best friend Chase, he’s a child of Hermes! Speaking of Hermes, you’ll be staying in that cabin until your godly parent claims you.” The elder girl pointed at the Hermes cabin. “The gods have specific cabins for them and their children, and depending on your mom or dad you could end up housing with me or Chase.”

After the tour, there was dinner, after dinner it was time for everyone to sit around the big campfire. Everyone was laughing, talking, and telling stories. One kid asked Hana if she knew her godly parent yet, but before she could answer something flashed above her head.

The warm glow of a fireplace hung over her head. Everyone stopped talking, looking shocked. Hana was the first ever child of Hestia! From the back of all the campers you can hear someone yell “All hail Hanako! Daughter of Hestia!” And just like that everyone bowed.

After all that craziness, Hanako was escorted to her own cabin. She let out a small thank you before going inside. To her surprise there was a woman waiting inside, but this woman felt oddly familiar. Almost as if Hana saw her before! The woman turned around and said “We have quite a lot to catch up on, Hanako.” With a welcoming smile. Just like that Hana dropped her bag and ran to the woman. It didn’t take long to figure out that she was her godly parent.

That night the two girls talked and talked till midnight. That’s when Hestia tucked Hana into bed. For the first time in a year she finally felt happy, and that night she went to sleep wearing a smile. The next day Hana sat by a tree relaxing when suddenly two boy came out of nowhere! One had black hair, blue eyes, and he had some freckles on his nose. The other had light brown hair and cyan blue eyes and wore a black baseball hat.

“We h-heard you were the daughter of Hestia and w-we were w-wondering i-if you would like to-“ “What he’s trying to say, is that we wondering if you to be friends!” The brunette interrupted. “A-are you sure you want a crybaby like me to be your friend??” The boys looked at each other and smiled (the brunette smiling more brighter and the blackette smile more small)

They nodded and reached out their hands to her’s. At first she hesitated but quickly grabbed their hands, afraid they might disappear. When she grabbed their hand it was like weights were lifted off her chest. She never realized until now, how important friends and family are until recently . “I’m Xavier and the dork with the freckles is Kai!” “I AM NOT A DORK!! I’m just not that great when it comes to ladies!” “Right, Right.” The brunette said sarcastically. “Anyway my godly parent is Hermes and Kai’s Mother is Athena!”

Maybe thing we’re starting to take a turn for the better.

Once she met those two Hanako started coming out of her shell more. She was still quiet and anxious but it isn’t as bad as before. Not to mention she gets more loud and energetic with Xavier and Kai around!

Hanako HATES libraries and bookshelf. She’ll go in a library if she has to, but she avoids them as best she can. If she’s ever in a vicinity of a bookshelf she’ll distance herself as much as possible. Let’s just say she gets very anxious and nervous when she around them.

If you ever asked about Hana’s past she would never be ashamed to tell you what happened. She isn’t happy about the events that took place but there’s nothing she can do about it know. So know matter what Hanako always tries to keep her head up high when it comes to her past.

(More visuals)

🌸Some side notes here🌸

(Don’t mind the last one’s eyes being blue. I was trying to decide if I wanted to stick with yellow or try something new-)

(I can go more into depth on Hanako’s two besties if anyone would be interested)

(I’m also thinking of reintroducing her because the first one is her in twst but she’s like that in every fandom basically. Obviously I won’t delete the first one I just wanna talk about everything she’s in and what her relations are to everyone!)

#ocs #twst oc #jjk oc #twisted wonderland #obey me oc #demon slayer oc #twst #genshin impact oc #twst x reader

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