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smusherina · 20 days

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yard work - chapter 9 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warnings(s): use of the d-slur, the one for lesbians. use of the q-slur, the one that’s been taken back.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 10

You lost track of time, mind consumed by Regina's mouth on yours. The feel of her lips, her hands playing with the hairs at the back of your neck, made you tingle. You didn't know much about actual technique when it came to kissing, but taking cues from and mirroring Regina seemed to work. When she opened her mouth and bit your bottom lip, you chanced a little tongue. Met with welcome, the kiss deepened. The sensations had you shivering, hands gripping tightly at Regina's waist.

"Bed, now," Hazy and a little slow, you chased Regina when she pulled away, making a pathetic little sound at the loss of her. She stood up and pulled you with her, roughly pushing you onto your back. Sprawled on the bed, you could only watch as she climbed over you. Soon, her lips descended down on yours again and your eyes blinked shut.

Then, startling you like a bucket of cold water thrown onto you, her hands snuck under your shirt. Her nails brushed at your ribs and you, despite the nervous excitement bubbling, began to feel apprehensive.

"Reg," You mumbled, hands moving from her shoulders to her upper arms. "Reg, I- hold on."

"What?" She kissed down your cheeks to your neck.

"Hold on, I-" Your breath hitched, the tickle of her lips in such a sensitive place hindering your ability to speak. "I don't wanna have sex."

As if shaken from a trance, Regina pulled away abruptly. Her hands slid out of your shirt and rested on either side of your torso, looming above you. The dim, warm tinted lamp light from the nightstand made her hair, hanging around you, seem like a halo. Or a canopy.

"You don't want to have sex." She said, voice a little hoarse and eyes betraying something until she pulled the shutters closed. "You're lucky I'm letting you get this far."

You stared up at her, stunned. "What? Letting me? You're on top of me."

"I know you want this. You've been wanting this for a long time. I've seen the way you look at me, the way you act around me." She spoke fast as if she was trying to convince both you and herself.

Panic was beginning to constrict around your throat. It took a while to find your voice.

"Reg, I'm sorry, but-"

"You should be sorry." She crawled away from on top of you and stood up. You leaned up on your elbows to keep looking at her. "You should be so sorry."

"I- I am," You tried to reassure her, tried to hold down your own hurt. "I just thought this was a little fast."

She rolled her eyes at you, though the action seemed jilted. "You've been pining the whole time we've been friends, I'd say it's been long enough. And now, when you have all you want offered to you, you reject it."

"Is this what this is about? Rejection? Regina, I just meant not yet."

"You're so fucking full of yourself." She accused, pointing a finger at you. The whole display was made weaker by the glistening in her eyes and the redness covering her from neck to ears.

"You think you can walk into my life, cause all sorts of chaos, take my family from me, and then reject me?" She hissed, gesturing with her arms all the while. You swallowed, unsure of what you should do.

She was firing insults at you and the only thing you could think to do was sit there and take it.

"Chaos? I'm not trying to take your family from you, Reggie, where's this coming from?" You stood up, feeling too awkward to be on the bed.

"You think I haven't seen the way you act around my mom or my sister? You want to be me so bad, you're acting like they're your family. They're mine and you're never gonna have them! You're never gonna have a family!"

You reeled back, offended by the uncalled-for insult.

"You have the gall to come to my home, my family's Thanksgiving dinner, acting all holier than thou meanwhile Kylie fawns over you and mom dotes on you."

"Are you jealous? They love you, Regina." Your ability to argue was getting flimsier by the minute, the stinging in your eyes inhibiting any power you could've drawn from.

"Jealous? You think I'm fucking jealous? I have everything and you have nothing!"

"I don't think that's true, Reg. I think that you're hurt and saying things you don't mean."

"You always put words in my mouth, try to manipulate me and change me into someone you think I should be. I'm good the way I am!"

"Change can be good, Reg, I just-"

"God, you're actually so insufferable. Genuinely, I cannot stand to be around you. I hate you." She turned away from you, hands going to her hair and tugging. "I don't need to change. I hate that you try to make me. I hate that you've already done it, with your fucked up mind games."

You blinked rapidly and breathed in deeply, trying to stay calm. She was just being destructive because she was hurt. She didn't mean any of it. She was just earlier kissing you. Didn't that count for something?

"I don't play mind games. I just wish you were kinder."

"You wish I was this and that, and what about me?" She whirled around and strode up to you. "I am this way. I am not kind, I'm not soft, and I thrive."

"Are you thriving, Reg?"

"Do not call me what stupid name!" She yelled, getting right in your face. You flinched back, startled and scared. "Oh, you're gonna cry now that your other tactics don't work anymore? I see right through you, you freak."

"Don't yell at me, Reggie." You said, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. You wiped at your eyes furiously. "I'm sorry, okay, for rejecting you, for trying to change you. I didn't mean to manipulate you."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want to you." She hissed. "I'll fucking ruin your life. I'll tell people you're a lesbian and what you tried to do to me."

"What?" You breathed. "What do you mean? What I tried to do to you- do you hear yourself?"

"I hear myself, jorts, and so will everybody else when I tell them what a disgusting, perverse little dyke you are."

You wouldn't have described it as something snapping, but you'd had enough by then. It stung, hearing that from her, of all people. It stung more than you liked to admit because you knew her.

You knew she didn't mean it, she was lashing out, and desperately trying to cling to the power she'd lost the moment she'd been vulnerable with you- kissed you.

You didn't want to feel it, so you were mean instead.

"Just like you did to Janis then. Did you kiss her too and when you got scared you decided to ruin her life. Is that how it went?" You laughed bitterly and before she could interrupt, went on. "Is that how you're gonna live your life, Regina? Anytime you feel those dirty, lesbian urges you'll use some innocent bystander to sate your lust and then, because they know too much, you ruin them? Sounds very sustainable."

"How dare you accuse me of being that," Her face was scrunched in anger, red like the devil.

"Oh, I dare, I seem to recall you were just kissing me, on top of me, hands up my shirt. You're not fooling anybody, Reg, you're a filthy queer just like me." You were aiming to hurt now, wanting her to feel like you did. "The truth is, Regina, that you fucking hate yourself. You hate yourself and you just don't know what to do with yourself so you make everybody around you feel the exact same way."

"No, that's not true, I-" Seeing her face crumble, her posture turn defensive, stoked the fire of your anger. You wanted her to hurt, wanted to punish her for leaving you back then and insulting you now.

"You're like some shitty reincarnation of Heather Chandler, all high and mighty until you're inevitably toppled by some nobody you were so sure was so below you that they couldn't even pose a threat."

"Great film analysis there, loser." Regina quipped weakly, already backing down. You weren't done, though.

"It's only a matter of time before Cady Heron pours you a glass of drain cleaner too, and I'll be looking forward to the day." You sniped, watching as Regina's lip curled in an exaggerated show of being unaffected. You knew her. You knew she'd seen Heathers and you knew the parallels weren't pleasing to the eye. You knew you were going too far, but you couldn't stop.

"You think you're such a martyr, you think that-"

"I thought we were friends, Regina! All I wanted was to be your friend. Sure, I liked you, but that didn't have to mean anything until you kissed me."

"It meant something the whole time! You can't act like it was nothing, our whole friendship is tainted by it!"

"Get over yourself, Regina, you could've ignored it like you do every flaw you have!"

"I don't have flaws, I'm above that." She scoffed, but the tremor in her voice told you that even she didn't think that was true. "I'm doing everyone a favour by showing who's on top."

"Who are you? A fucking dictator? Is that how you truly see yourself? Because I see a scared little girl, confused and angry, taking it out on the easiest targets."

"Nobody gets to feel okay when I feel like this! It's not fair! It's not fair they get to be happy and I have to be like this all the time! I hate this and they deserve it!"

You fought to ignore your heart breaking for her, how her words and obvious cries for help made you want to bleed for her. You'd stood idly and let her hurt you for long enough, it was about time you stood up for yourself.

"Oh, well, I'm so sorry then. I'm starting to fucking get Janis. Maybe I could've come up with the Homecoming sprinkler prank myself. Maybe I should've let you use the lard for your face."

You regretted it the moment the words left your lips.

A beat, both of you staring at each other, faces slack and chests heaving from all the screaming, regret and betrayal swirling in the air like a toxic tornado, passed.

"You knew?" Regina whispered, suddenly so quiet the wind from your sails wooshed away. "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"I... I did." You looked down. Fuck. You'd fucked up. You'd insinuated you wanted to see her die. You didn't want that at all. Tears sprung to your eyes again and you pressed the heels of your palms to them.

Could this even be fixed at this point? You should've just shut up and it wouldn't have escalated like this. You knew why she'd reacted the way she did, you knew, but you hadn't been able to stay level-headed when she'd started coming at you.

"Get out." She spoke normally, volume steady. She was shaking, you could see that even with your faltering vision.

"I'm sorry, Reg, I really am. I should've told you. I shouldn't have said those things to you. I'm sorry."

"I said get out."

Unable to hold it any longer, a sob burst out and you decided to leave before you humiliated yourself any further. You grabbed your overnight bag and practically ran out of the room.

You should've been quieter because Mrs George came to see who was stomping down the stairs so late. She had a wine glass in hand, a silken robe tied at her waist, and a worried look on her face.

"Oh, hi, I packed some leftovers for you to- oh, honey, what's wrong?"

"It's- it's nothing, Mrs George." You hiccuped and looked away, embarrassed by your crying. You couldn't look her in the eye. Did you want her to be your mom? Did it matter when Regina clearly saw it that way even if it wasn't true? Taking any comfort from her now felt like proving her right.

"It doesn't seem like nothing. Why don't we go sit and you can tell me what happened. Did Regina say something mean?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, please."

Mrs George sighed. "There's leftovers in the fridge for you." She lingered as you passed. "Honey?"

"What?" Usually, you didn't have the heart to be so rude to her.

"You're welcome here anytime." She smiled at you gently. Clearly, she was experienced in dealing with volatile teenagers. You turned and headed for the kitchen.

Walking home, bag on your shoulder and various containers of delicious food in your arms, you felt numb. You'd left through the garage door, grabbing your clothes from the mudroom as you went, but you still had on the sweatpants.

Tears dried on your cheeks, eyes swollen and nose stuffy, you didn't know what to do. Snow was falling and the streetlights made the scene look more beautiful than was warranted. You felt empty, hollowed out like you'd spilt your guts, heart, and most other internal organs on the floor of Regina's bedroom.

You got home, put the leftovers in the fridge, and stood in the kitchen. Swallowing on a dry mouth, throat scratchy, you figured there was little else you could do other than smoke a cigarette.

You stepped onto the porch and sank down onto the bench swing. Lighting up and inhaling, you closed your eyes as the smoke passed through you.

Regina by the poolside in her bikini, Regina eating pizza on your couch, Regina on the passenger seat of your car, Regina smoking a cigarette with you under the bleachers.

That was all gone, then.

Notes: I was a little wary of having the chapter be only the argument, but it got so long that I figured it'd be nice to have the next chapters work towards a resolution straight away. No need to stretch out the acute misery for any longer than necessary. I'll say, though, that just like IRL something like this isn't just fixed right away. So look forward to more chapters! This is getting so long. I started writing this like, hey, a cute oneshot with a butch OC! Here we fucking are.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @natashamaximoff-69, @alexkolax, @jareaul0ver, @here4theqts, @charleeeesworld, @natsbiggestfan1, @brocoliisscared, @yellowwallflowers, @scarlettbitchx, @ayoungexwife, @cyberbonesworld, @syddie-reads, @screechcat, @theenglishswiftie,@gabby-duhh, @sweetmissnothing, @masterofpuppets-10, @l1lass, @starved-mortal

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls 2004 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #lesbian regina george #mean girls x reader #wlw #fic: yard work

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daisyswift3 · 8 days

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KAYLORS I JUST DECIPHERED THE PR MESSAGES FROM PRESENT 🎁 ANON AND AM NOW VERY CERTAIN THEY’RE LEGIT TOO. So we started receiving these very interesting anon messages exactly 2 months before the release of TTPD (release was 4/19)

We were told to keep our eyes peeled for a present or gift we would be receiving and well we got it

There are P's and R's repeated in the messages. "The hint is in the words." P = PETER. R = ROBIN. Those songs are a gift to us kaylors. They're separated by just one song, the Bolter (which I'm 99% sure is related to the 8th 🎃 message bc Taylor almost drowns and a bolter is a coward which was the main point of the message); and Taylor mentions CPR in So Long, London which means they're all related. Bc Cassandra = Taylor, Peter = her second kid, Robin, = her first kid. They're related bc they're a family. I think it's possible those are the actual names of her two kids

"This is not the manuscript" i.e. the manuscript (closing track) is not the gift, it's the songs right before it! Robin is the 2nd to last song, Peter the 4th to last, and Cassandra the 5th to last. "It has been hidden well, look where the above may find you." They can be found in the track titles themselves. "Plausible deniability. Think of the one we continue to revisit"--K and T have plausible deniability since everyone thinks those are JK's kids. BUT "the volcano will soon rupture, whoever is to defame" which means that one day all the truth will come spilling out regardless of the defamation that will happen. "Restful, reticent, restraint. And PUBLISH!"--perhaps a tell-all memoir??

"The predecessor was the crumb" in other words peace "I'd give you my wild, give you a child" (see this post) was just a faint hint but now she's getting really close to revealing everything which is what the volcano 🌋 represents! THE DANDELIONS IN THE ROBIN LYRIC VID. Robin is the single dandelion floret (secret) she was so worried abt sending into someone else’s yard in the 7th 🎃 message (see this post). She was afraid that sending this song out into the world could expose the truth she’s worked so hard to protect before she’s ready but she did it anyway. “Once you blow a dandelion, you never get it back. It isn’t yours anymore.” “But the story isn’t mine anymore.” 🎃 mentions how the recipient of the dandelion would also blow and spread the florets which might mean kaylors would catch on and spread the secret. The 8th message also mentions a dandelion that the enemy has and spreads but I’m not yet sure who this person is—also this person could be the “recipient” and not kaylors but I’m not sure. And I’m not sure if this means they’d like us to kinda keep this to ourselves and not use Robin as a gotcha since it’s meant to be more of a seed planted for future use (no pun intended). But it definitely seems like they aren’t ready to reveal everything just yet

"As the neighbor holds the lamp to witness her Goodbye" = "Now you're in my backyard turned into good neighbors" and "But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light"

"Reach those lanterns a little bit higher for you shall receive a metaphor so dire"--a jack-o-lantern like pumpkin anon? These metaphorical messages will help us to understand K and T's entire complicated situation?

"When I cannot see words curling like rings of smoke round me"--"breath of fresh air through smoke rings." Haven't quite figured out what this part means yet but it reminds me of blowing smoke which means to deliberately confuse or deceive (lavender haze mv)

This is as far as I've gotten w decoding the messages. This all adds a lot of context to those 🎃 messages and makes them a little more clear. There’s definitely more clues in there we have yet to decipher so pls share your thoughts

#robin #pumpkin #present anon #peter #volcano #dandelions

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ohnohargrove · 6 months

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I just imagine Vincent Sinclair would be an incredibly sweet boyfriend. Imagine that he's been caught up in his work for the majority of the day. You had all shared breakfast together at the table before everyone had to go off to do their respective duties. Lester had dropped by that morning and he had gone off to do some repairs in the movie theater, Bo had gone down to the garage to work on a particularly rusty (and "a stubbon sonafabitch" in his words) truck he got from one of his latest victims, and Vincent had hurried off to the basement workshop to start on a new sculpture for the museum. He had assured you he'd be back sometime late this afternoon.

It was now 9 PM and Lester was watching you and Bo get into a very heated game of War on the living room coffee table. Bo was on the couch, You were cross-legged on the floor with Jonesy's head in your lap, sound asleep even though there was heated cursing going on, and Lester was on the arm chair to the side of both of you. Bo threw the cards down on the table. "Goddammit! Where th' HELL do you keep gettin' those joker cards" he let out, bringing his hands up to his face. Lester and you both knew the game was basically over at that point.

You looked at the old, dusty clock on the wall and Lester noticed the look you gave when you finally saw the time. He reached into the cooler beside his chair, got up, and handed both you and the fuming man a cold bottle of beer. "Hey now," he assured, putting a hand on your shoulder, "sometimes Vince gets caught up in his work, that's all. He's always been like that ever since we were little. It's best to just let him do his thing. He'll come 'round. Promise." Bo flicked the cap off of his bottle and onto the pile of scattered cards. "Yeah, damn perfectionist probably can't get the nose right or somethin'." He took a large swig of his beer. "You gonna shuffle those cards and re-deal 'em so I can kick your ass?" You and Lester both shared a knowing look that another game would just turn him into an even bigger sore loser, but you obliged.

It was a little past 11 at that point. Lester had decided to head home after Bo lost for a second time and started pulling the silent treatment towards you. "Jonesy can have a little sleepover with you tonight" Lester said as he was getting his boots on, "she's had a rough day of running up and down the isles and knocking stuff over while I was fixin' it. I think she's pretty tuckered out." You thanked Lester and told Bo you were heading off to bed, which he ignored ("he'll get over it in the morning" you thought to yourself). You passed the basement door on the way to the stairs and still heard opera music playing from below. Lester was right, it's best not to disturb him if he's really this caught up in sculpting. You called Jonesy up the stairs and promised her that she could sleep under the covers tonight.

Light streamed into the windows and hit your face. You noticed that Vincent hadn't come to bed that night and Jonesy was now gone. You looked over at your nightstand to see what time it was, but sitting in front of the old alarm clock was a small figure obscuring it's view. You rubbed your eyes and noticed that it was a small dog sculpted from wax with a folded note underneath. You smiled as you picked the little dog up and ran your fingers over the detailed fur. You reached over to open the note and see what it said. It was somewhat dingey paper with immaculate handwriting scrawled on it.

"My dearest one, I'm incredibly sorry that I stayed out so late last night. I feel horrible that I promised you I'd be done, but time had slipped away from me and I didn't want to wake you. I'm having a particularly tough time with the face of my newest sculpture (especially the nose) and it will take longer than I had anticipated. If you'd like, you may join me for breakfast in my workshop as I finish up. If not, I should be done by noon and I mean it this time. I think Jonesy might like to play in the yard for a while. Forever yours, Vincent"

You got out of bed and headed down to the kitchen, grabbing a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator along with some butter to make toast. You planned on bringing your boyfriend some sunny side up eggs for breakfast and chatting while he finished his work. Playing frisbee with Jonesy could wait until noon so all three of you could play. At that thought, you felt a cold nose press the back of your leg and you handed the pup a slice of bread.

#house of wax 2005 #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #this is the first thing I've written in a long time #go easy on me

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fleet-of-fiction · 2 months

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Jake Kiszka x Narrator & Sam Kiszka x OC.

Chapter Three

Summary: The Jones Family are new additions to the sleepy community of Beech Run. A tight knit scattering of rural houses, where everyone knows everyone. Deeply religious and overbearingly strict, the daughters of the family are kept under lock & key by a fanatical Father and submissive Mother. They watch from bedroom windows as their neighbours, The Kiszkas, draw intense curiosity and desire to be free. Madness of youth , hope & obsession collide to bring the danger of forbidden love to poetic ends. (Era A/U)

Warnings: Religious/ Parental trauma. Penetrative p/v sex.

Summer 1984

The stones always hit the glass after midnight. In the hours where the world seemed to be at it's most quiet. And I would lie awake counting down the minutes, the ticking of the clock on the wall mocking me as it appeared to tick backwards. My hair braided in anticipation, a pair of linen shorts and a blouse under the covers where my pyjamas should have been.

I was a creature of the night, now. Nocturnal. Simmering during the day under a canvas of wanting, letting the sun paint my skin darker and my hair lighter. Staring at him from the front yard as he watered the plants which lined his driveway. I could have had everything taken from me. But not those stolen glances. Those were mine to keep and cherish and I'd have had my eyes gouged out before I ever stopped looking at him.

Ours was a quiet love. With a temperament much more muted than that which unfolded between my sister and Jake's brother. Theirs was unapologetic and a threat to every shred of my Father's control. It didn't wait until the midnight hours, it fornicated in the afternoon when they thought nobody was looking.

Catching kisses at the side of Sam's house as soon as Dad's car pulled out of the drive. My Mother fretting on the porch steps, wringing her hands in her pinafore as Jolene skipped across the gravel towards the Kiszka house. Every word of warning left unheeded.

The way that we loved them was like two sides of the same coin. Hers a tempest and mine a breeze, and yet I knew that somehow we were both locked in something we couldn't escape. And the way that they loved us in return was just as belligerent. Just as forthright and never sorry.

"You better hurry." I insisted, keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around me until Dad had done his nightly checks. "Or you'll be climbing out the window in your night gown."

Jolene was sitting up in bed. Her lamp glowing as she turned the page of a book I knew she wasn't really reading.

"I'm not coming with you tonight." She said soberly, without lifting her gaze.

Her usual impatience at winding down the hours until she could be with Sam again was usually a bubbling cauldron. I shot her a look of confusion from across the room, waiting for her to notice. And when she finally gave credence to it, she rolled her eyes.

"It's different for you and Jake." She sighed. "It's still a secret. Sam and I have to move differently."

"You do well to be more like Jake and I." I pointed out, falling to silence as our bedroom door clicked open.

He walked in as if our space had never been sacred. As if this room wasn't the graveyard of a young girl's hopes and dreams. Desecrating it just by stepping inside with his hands in his pockets and his collar neatly folded over his signature blue sweater.

"It's late, Jolene." He scolded. "Lights out."

"Yes, Dad." She replied without argument, placing her book page down on the nightstand before switching off her lamp.

I pretended to be asleep. Letting my chest rise and fall the way it did in slumber. Keeping my eyes clamped shut, hoping he would bypass me and just close the door behind him.

"I am the all seeing eye, remember that." He said prophetically, with an air of dominance that left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I was relieved when he plunged the room into darkness. Leaving only his tyrannical echo for me to let fester in my thoughts. I didn't know much about hate. But I knew that I hated him, in every way a person could hate. I knew that I wouldn't care if anything terrible happened to him. Nor would I stand and weep at his grave.

"The all seeing eye." I mocked, pushing off my blanket. "Can't see what's right under his nose."

She watched me construct my blanket and comforter into a make-shift image of myself asleep underneath. Careful not to turn her lamp back on too quickly, even though I could hear Dad's footsteps descend the stairs.

"You're really not coming with me?" I asked, the sound of gravel at the window breaking a mounting silence.

"It's different for me and him." She continued, a rueful smile on her face, something I would come to regret not questioning her further on. "Dad doesn't watch you like he watches me. He thinks your penance was done. He still thinks I am a whore for having the audacity to love the boy across the street."

I would have spoken but she lifted a hand to protest. "Go and be with Jake, Bonnie. I'm fine. Believe me. I'm just tired."

I wanted to believe her. And even as I began to climb out of the window I sensed that I should remain. A fleeting feeling that left almost as quickly as it had come to me. She smiled and watched me go, her eyes warm and comforting as she switched off the lamp again and snuggled down into her pillow.

He always helped me down from that last jump off the porch trellis. His hands snaking around my hips as he took my weight, always letting me fall back into his waiting arms. Spinning me around as if I were weightless, burying his lips into the crease of my neck as I giggled against the assault of his tickles. And I could finally breathe.

When my feet were planted firmly on the ground, we would always take a moment to admire each other. My arms around his neck, his around my waist. And I would take in the features that I'd yearned for from afar.

"It's just me and you tonight." He said, sweeping a palm over my coiled braids. "So I've got something special in mind."

Everything felt like an adventure with Jake. It didn't matter if we hid in his garage or went for midnight walks down by the creek. It all felt so magical, like I'd been plucked from my life and placed within somebody else's. The tenderness within which he showed me what life could be had me leaning further and further towards complete rebellion.

"Where are we going?" I asked wistfully, letting his eyes fall on me like his gaze was a blanket of nothing but the purest adoration.

He didn't tell me. Instead his smirk let me know that I would enjoy it, his hand taking mine as he led me towards the car waiting in the middle of the street. He opened the door for me like the perfect gentleman that he was, careful not to close it with too much force.

My heart was racing. I looked as the last light in my house went out, and Jake slid into the drivers seat. I knew that I didn't care anymore if I were caught. I was never giving this up.

I knew the direction we were heading in. The road into town was just one long dusty track dotted with houses until you reached the Welcome sign. I'd never seen it in the dead of night. All the shutters up and the roads empty. The street lights flickering and an eerie sense of calm in what was usually a bustling centre.

I'd walked past the Kiszka's music store before. It was the biggest plot on the main street stores, fronted by a row of parking spaces with little meters sitting on the side walk. In the window hung an array of electric and acoustic guitars, and in the shop front was a display of keyboards and saxophones. Vinyl records neatly sat on little holders, each time a new album was released the vinyl in the window was changed. As Jake fiddled with a set of keys to get the front door opened, I noticed the album cover of Purple Rain had been placed front and centre.

Once inside, I knew why he had brought me there. My breath caught in my chest as the overhead lights flickered on. Revealing an almost cave-like menagerie of music paraphernalia. The store was so vast that each section had it's own home. The counter was up front to the side, glass fronted with a selection of chrome harmonica's sat in little boxes on display beneath the cash register. The guitar section extended down the entire left side. Floor to ceiling, hanging on little hooks and sitting on stands between stools ready for potential buyers to come and try them out. There was a drum set in the corner, a selection of wind instruments and key based instruments all on display as if a band were ready to start playing at any moment. On the right side of the store there was row after row of vinyls. All of them coded and in their own genre sections. The wall was covered in posters. Prince and Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen and Van Halen. Some of the faces I didn't recognise, artists I'd never even heard of with music I'd never been given the opportunity to listen to. And in the back of the store there was a listening area. Three beaten up old arm chairs set out with record players and headphones attached. And behind was a booth, glass fronted with a cassette player inside.

He let me peer around the place for a moment. Standing behind me with the most pleased grin on his face, watching my reaction closely. His fingertips grazed the small of my back as he ushered me further inside, switching on a set of cool blue neon lights by the listening area and he waited for me to notice the little picnic he'd set up on one of the side tables.

"You did all this, for me?!" I exclaimed, turning to wrap my arms around him.

"It's just a few chocolate strawberries and cream soda." He replied, caressing my cheek with the swell of his lips.

It didn't matter how insignificant it felt to him. To me it was as if he'd pulled the stars down from the night sky and presented them to me in a crystal bowl and two candy pink glass bottles.

"It's perfect." I remarked, running palms up my arms as a cool chill breezed through from under the door.

He noticed immediately. "Yeah, it can get kinda cold in here. Let me find something."

He shuffled off towards a door at the back of the store with a "staff only" sign emblazoned on the front. It gave me a moment to drink it all in. Fingering the vinyls as they sat in their genre coded boxes, letting them fall forward one after the other. I traced lines across the guitar strings on display, giving the drum set a little flick on the cymbal. My heart warming the rest of my body by a couple of degrees as I looked over at the little arm chairs, his romantic gesture set out between the two which sat side by side beneath the wall light.

He appeared moments later, carrying a couple of knitted blankets and some cups of steaming hot tea. Looking so deliciously domestic, my stomach began to knot itself so tight I knew I'd never be able to pick it apart ever again.

"Reminds me of the night you took my virginity." I lamented, letting him lay the blankets out on the chair which looked the most comfortable, watching him set the needle to something soft and jazzy, getting seated before inviting me to curl up in his lap.

As his arms closed around me, so did the blanket. I felt like I'd been wrapped in a warm cocoon, his soft heart beating a melody against my ear as I laid against him. The blush of my cheeks as he pulled me up for a kiss was radiating almost instantly.

"Nothing will ever compare to that night." He replied, planting his lips against mine so carefully that I almost breathed a little too hard into his mouth.

A part of me would always belong to that night. When I looked at myself in the mirror, entirely changed, I would trace a line down my breasts and imagine that it was his touch. I'd recall the lines of his body on top of mine and my breathing would almost stop. Jake had burrowed his way beneath my skin and was as much a part of me as my own soul now.

"Our wedding night might." I offered, the words tumbling out of my mouth like a running faucet.

I immediately bristled in his arms. My body solidifying against the comfort of his chest and the blanket. The regret was palpable. And I blamed the sweetness of the moment for taking me so far ahead into the future that I hadn't dared to ask if marriage was something he had ever entertained.

He didn't say anything at first. And I didn't dare look up to investigate his expression. There was only a silence that was growing ever more unbearable as he continued to stroke my hair.

"Perhaps." He finally responded, a hopeful little word that was spoken in a pleasing tone.

It was as if he was agreeing with me. Without giving too much credence to the concept. Casual, almost. As if the subject of marriage was absolute and should have never been in doubt and I felt foolish for ever letting myself have a regret with him.

"Bonnie?"

I dared to look up at him. "Yes, Jake?"

There was a strange look in his eye. Serious, and yet I felt as if he was mocking me a little. With the corners of his mouth pulled up slightly, a smirk on the verge of forming.

"You are eighteen. You are free to marry whoever you choose." He said, conjuring a mixture of hope and dread in my stomach.

I didn't quite know what he meant. What his intentions were. I could feel myself begin to stutter, my mouth poised to speak but the words lost before they could make it out.

"Is that what you want?" He asked, that hint of a smirk fading. "If I marry you, he can't stop us being together. You would be my wife."

The rate in which my heart began to excelerate was unprecedented. For a moment we stared at each other. Both of us waiting for the other to say something. And then the needle jumped, sending the music into disarray until it fell to an excruciating silence.

I took my opportunity to break to tension by opening up our warm little cocoon. I slipped off his lap, him keeping his eyes firmly on me as I went over to the record player and lifted the needle. Carefully placing it back on it's little bracket. I picked up the nearest vinyl, not caring to check the cover. Absently, I placed it on the deck and soon the room was filled with the dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald.

Let's do it... Let's fall in love...

He rose from his seat. Pulling me into a slow dance. Letting my erratic heart fall into the pattern of the song. I felt his arms come around my waist. My head forever at home against his shoulder, my hand coming to rest against his chest as the other pressed against his back. We swayed in silence, neither of us wanting to break the spell.

I allowed myself to imagine it, though. A wedding in secret, the church far enough away that word would never reach my Father. A simple white dress and a posy of locally picked flowers, our guests only a mere handful of Jake's family who wanted to witness it. The haste in which it would happen. All of us on tenterhooks until the paperwork was signed. I knew how this story unfolded. And it wasn't satisfying. But was is necessary? I didn't want to think about it.

"Forgive me." He whispered, "I didn't mean to suggest something like that..."

My forgiveness was not what he needed. I placed my finger at his lips and let myself fall into a kiss so deep that I moaned salaciously against it. His tongue sliding so deep that the arousal travelled the length of my body and struck lightening at my core. The churn of butterflies ignited, the raw ache of wanting him even when I was in his arms burned.

Sometimes it was like that. When the need was greater than the desire. He could have lit a thousand candles and I would have swept my panties to the side for him in darkness. When time was against us, it felt as if I would have sat upon the window ledge itself and let him suck and tease at me before even climbing out of it.

"I don't want to hurt you, because I love you." He explained, lingering on the precipice of something dark. "But if I don't hurt you while fucking...You'll never know how much I do..."

He drove his tongue back into my mouth, setting off another shattering moan. To him, I was a mere instrument to play. When the fever took hold. The urge to fuck surpassing all reason. When it was like this, that was when I felt the most alive. He didn't need to marry me in moments like these. I would have gone anywhere with him.

The raw intensity of his tongue drew me to the edges of despair. He made me sing the most glorious songs, delicious noises escaping my lips as he sank his teeth into my jawline. I grabbed his hair and pulled him into me closer. The wordless begging forcing his fingertips to dig into my hips. Without any thought behind it, he pushed me back into the arm chair behind us.

"Show me how much you love me." I sinfully requested, hedging my bets on his previous statement that it had to hurt for me to know.

He came and took his place on top of me, reclining the chair slowly until it was almost horizontal. Scrambling to tear off our clothes. The moment would not wait nor did it call for careful romance. We had known these moments in summer fields down by the creek and in candle lit evenings on the pull out sofa bed in his parent's garage.

I ached for penetration. And he was already leaking by the time he ripped off his boxer shorts. I called to him with my legs spread wide, leaning against the arms of the chair. My braids already somewhat falling out as he crawled above. He took the tentative step to uncoil them. Letting the waves out, my hair fall around my face as he leaned down to steal a kiss.

"I fought for this..." He murmured, sweeping his fingertips against the wetness of my labia. "And I'll fight for it until the day I die."

He didn't waste time with his fingers. I was already set to the highest peak of arousal. He took a firm grip of himself, making a few strokes as he centred himself between my thighs. He plunged inside me with such delicious intention that I gasped.

"You feel that?" He asked, motioning back before shooting his hips forward.

"I feel it." I confirmed, my walls stretching against his shaft with each daring thrust. "I feel you inside me..."

My virginity belonged to the past. I'd long since given it to him. I felt like a woman now. My need was slaked only by his caress. The way he pulled out my breast and laid his mouth over the bud of my nipple. The way he licked the curve of it, holding it between his thumb and index finger. The way he sucked hungrily at the flesh until it was dappled pink and almost blood shot. My senses were at odds.

"Still so tight..." He breathed between beating thrusts, his commentary sometimes the thing I hung on to most.

Sex, I had discovered, was not just a feast for the eyes but for the ears too. I often drifted away to the sound of his voice as he made love to me. The way in which he liked to give praise to my body. To the way it made him feel. The incandesce of his gaze like wild flames burning my flesh with each touch.

"Shit, Bonnie..."

Oh, the curses were what I lived for. I knew, always, when the curses slipped out that he was too far gone. About to step off the precipice into orgasm.

He fucked me so hard in that reclined arm chair that I could hear the springs about to break. The hinges about to come apart. I didn't care. Let it crash beneath us, I just needed him to give me that stinging ache I had come to know after he'd fucked me a little too brutally. When he'd let the intrusive thoughts take over.

His hair was saturated in sweat. Tiny droplets of it brushing against my chest. We didn't kiss, it was more like our tongues were dancing and our mouths perpetually open. The kind of sex only experience could bring. The sort of experience I was slowly painting every night with Jake.

"Tell me it feels good." He instructed, pulling away to look at the flush in my face, evening out his pace a little.

"Feels so good." I moaned, still finding my voice a little. "I promise Jake, it's good."

The growl that came afterwards made me almost giggle in satisfaction. He buried his face into my sweat drenched neck. Pounding against my thighs relentlessly. I could hear the sloppy sounds of how wet he'd made me. His careful nature lost, he wasn't making love to me. He was fucking me, hard. The way he liked to, the way he'd been too afraid to before. The way I'd suspected he could that night he had spanked me in the church.

"I love the way you fuck me, oh God..." My voice trailed off into a singular note of pitch.

It was the first time I had ever said anything unprompted. Undiluted and completely catching him off guard. The look of pure unadulterated devotion was enough to complete me. His thumb pressed against my drenched clit. Guiding me closer and closer. He didn't take his eyes off me in that moment. And it felt, for the first time, that we trusted each other to have the kind of sex we could only dream of.

"There's no God here..." He whispered, "Only me."

I knew it was true as he spilled inside me. That shock only a man could feel when he realised his woman was no longer someone he had to covet so gently. That she wasn't a girl anymore. It was like he couldn't believe it. Seeing me beneath him like that. Hot and sweaty from the beast that had bared it's teeth between us.

It took a few moments for us to catch our breath. He remained inside me, slowly softening and swallowing hard as he rested his forehead against mine. Truthfully, I didn't want him to pull away. I was still getting used to the residue, the way I had to navigate myself so that it didn't drip down the inside of my leg. The things nobody talks about when the moment has passed and there is nothing left but his cum nestled away inside you.

"Here." He offered, throwing me the tea towel he'd brought in with the hot cups that were now assuredly luke warm, teasing a smile as he watched me clean up. "If only you could see what a beautiful mess you make."

"You make." I replied, watching him tuck himself back into his pants.

"No." He insisted, taking back the tea towel so that I could dress. "It's not just that you're full of my cum. It's that your hair's all fucked up. And your cheeks are pink. And your flesh is all covered in sweat. Never seen anything more beautiful."

The rhythm of my breathing was still shallow as he pulled me up out of the chair. He placed a chocolate strawberry at my lips and we slow danced a little more. My hips ached and my thighs were raw. And that feeling that could only come after being fucked hard was lingering inside me.

"I meant what I said." He reiterated, "I will marry you, Bonnie. And you'll never have to live under your Dad's control ever again."

It would have been easy to say yes for that reason alone. But I didn't want that.

"I want to marry you, I do." I replied softly, letting him kiss my temple. "But I want you to ask me on a day where nothing else is at stake."

I could hear his chest fall in disappointment. "I'm not asking you to save you. I'm asking you because I love you."

His eyes met mine. I'd never seen him look so serious.

"I know..." I would have said more, but the moment was stolen from us.

The bell which tinkled whenever the front door opened drew us from this reverie. My stomach immediately churned into a sickness as I drew my gaze away from Jake, and dropped him from my embrace.

There was nothing I could do to reverse that night. Not the things Jake and I had said to each other that would have to go unfinished, nor the things I had done to set the wheels in motion that had brought Sam to the store in what I could only describe as a blind panic.

He fell through the door, breathing erratic. Pulling strands of his hair back as he tried to speak. Leaning over the counter, trying to catch his breath. Moaning in pain. Or was it despair? His panic was suddenly mine.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jake asked, rushing over to his brother. "You're not supposed to be here, Sam."

I sensed that perhaps Jake knew where Sam was supposed to be. But the line of questioning would have to wait. As I approached, I realised the level of trauma already lined in his face would stay with him forever. He was bereft. And I knew, somehow, that Jolene wasn't where she was supposed to be, either.

"Calm down." I tried, placing my palms on either side of his grief stricken face. "And tell me what happened."

I guided him over to the listening area. He didn't want to move. He didn't know what to do. He pulled away at first, scared of my touch. His eyes wide and apologetic. I could see that he wanted to follow, but there was a fear clutching at him that made every step just hard to take.

Once I got him sat in one of the arm chairs, I offered him a swig of cream soda. He declined, pushing it away like I'd offered him poison. Jake pulled out a hip flask and shoved it into his brother's face, forcing him to take a drink.

"You better start talking." Jake said dominantly, not as an older brother, but as somebody who naturally had more power. "Where's Jolene?"

I slumped down onto the arm of the chair, offering my hand at his shoulder for comfort. Jake stood in front, tipping the flask into his mouth until it was drained.

"We were... " He began, his body shaking and his voice unsteady. "You know? We almost made it...and then I realised we were being followed... I sped up and then they sped up...and then Jolene she said we should stop and I didn't listen to her... "

I instinctively moved away. "What do you mean? You didn't listen to her? She's in bed at home. That's where I left her."

Sam shook his head. "No, no... that's what she wanted you to believe. She wanted you to think that she was staying home. She didn't want you to worry. But... we had it all planned out. We were going to drive down to my Aunt's place down in Grand Rapids. They got a farm down there, we were going to help out and get enough money to get our own place. Somewhere your Dad could never get to us."

I couldn't help but steer my attention towards Jake. He was biting his lip nervously. Tapping his heel. Hands on his hips as he stared down at his brother.

"Did you know about this?" I asked. "Is that what bringing me here tonight was all about? A distraction?!"

He looked offended. "No! Fuck, no. I wanted to bring you here because I thought you'd like it!"

The place reeked of sex. The undeniable scent of what we had done lingered, the music was still playing something soft and sexy but the tone of it felt all wrong now. Sam didn't seem to notice, fresh tears streaming down his face as he stared into the void.

"Sam, where is my sister?" I asked bluntly.

I'll never forget the way he looked at me. I never wanted anyone to ever look at me like that ever again. Desperate for forgiveness. On the edge of losing his mind. If he spoke the words out loud that would make it all real. He would cling on to those wasted seconds for as long as he could, before he had to speak it into existence.

"I don't know." He swallowed harshly, "That's the truth. I don't know where she is. But... I think she's dead."

The engine fell silent. The gentle tinkle of Jakes car keys as he pulled them out drew me from my thoughts.

"No." I stopped him, "Don't wait for me."

He began to protest immediately, just as I thought he might. I'd already prepared a speech for him, but it seemed to fall flat as I tried to get the words out without bursting into unwanted tears.

"Of course I'll wait for you." He replied, knuckles against my cheek as he swept my hair back, strands of it sticking to my damp face. "I'd go in there with you if I thought it would do any good."

I tried to imagine it. His hand in mine as we navigated the hospital corridors. Feeling a little more calm than I would have without him. A part of me wanted to walk in there with him by my side. But the other part of me, and it screamed so much more loudly, told me not to bear that cross quite yet.

"No, my Dad will be there. And I'm not ready to face him with all this yet." I sighed, watching the clock on the dash as it turned 4 am. "Will you please tell Sam that she's not dead?"

He nodded gravely. "I love you, you know that, right?"

If nothing else, I knew that. It was hard to get out of the car, to even walk through the hospital doors knowing he'd be out there waiting for me. Even if I got in the car with my parents, he would stay there until he knew I was going home. It gave me some small comfort. The immeasurable toll of seeing my sister laid up in that bed attached to all the beeping wires was something I was not prepared for.

It was like walking into a court room and I was the one on trial. My mother was sat at Jolene's bedside, her hand wrapped around my sisters, holding it tight as she laid there limply. My Dad was standing in the corner of the room like a sentinel, resting his chin against a tightly curled fist with his arms folded neatly across his chest. Staring at her lifeless body as the chest rose and fell with each beep.

"Whore." He grunted, eyes immediately flaring hot like sulphur. "Just like your sister!"

"Not now, please" My Mother begged, using her voice for what felt like the first time.

The wave of emotion that flooded me was overwhelming. The sight of Jolene there like that, so helpless and lifeless. My Mother, in this tentative moment, speaking against my Father for the first time. And him, choosing to use it like some vehicle for his hatred of me.

"I suppose you spoke to your brother." He surmised, "Once you saw fit to come home."

It was strange. Like looking at a stranger.

"You know that Sam thinks that she's dead, don't you?" I almost spat the words out. "Why didn't you just let them go? It's because of you that this happened!"

The blasphemy caught him off guard. The accusation and the way in which I had thrown it at him. All I had to do was stand there and not flinch. To let the wave of anger that was assuredly coursing through his veins wash through him until it was permanently marked on his flesh.

"You've got the devil in you!" He said pointedly, standing close to Jolene's bed side as if I would contaminate her.

He had no power over me anymore. In one brief, fleeting moment I had eradicated eighteen years of oppression. Eighteen years of fear and doubt. I wasn't certain I could uphold it, against whatever he would do next, but I knew that if I just stood there I stood a fighting chance.

"You chased them down in your car. You think that God wanted this? Look at her... she's your daughter. You're supposed to love her and cherish her! Not run her into the ground until the car crashes and she's clinging on to her life!"

My Mom began to sob quietly. Holding Jolene's hand to her cheek. Perhaps it was the most affection she had ever shown, and Jolene would never know.

It was in stark contrast to my Father, who couldn't bear my defiance. When his hand struck my cheek, I tasted blood. But I welcomed it. Blood meant sacrifice. And I would make the ultimate one. When I turned my face, there wasn't a hint of remorse in his. Only a vexation that knew no limit. And yet, somehow, I had managed to exceed it.

I looked him directly in the eye. "Enough."

She would languish there until her injuries were healed. I didn't say it out loud, but I made a promise to come back for her. To never let another moment pass where she or I would live under this scrutiny and melancholic repression. And when I walked out of that room I didn't look at my Mother, or my Father again.

I ran out into the early morning light. Jake was leaning against his car in the parking lot smoking a cigarette. He looked tired. But when he caught sight of me standing there, something shifted. And I knew that everything was about to change.

To be Continued...

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #fanfic #gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader

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givehimthemedicine · 6 months

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🛁💧 Moms, bathtubs and fear of water

today I'd like to dig into some support for the Virginia/Henry/bathtub theory, most notably a Will/Henry parallel I've not seen discussed before, and some thoughts on the rabies thing.

for those just tuning in, we have hints that something awful happened involving Virginia, Henry, and a bathtub of hot water. (that idea is aemiron-main's, you can read the original here)

where there's a tub, there's a mom

let me start by seeing how many ST bathtubs can be tied to mothers. (much of this will have been pointed out before, but I have a couple observations I think are new)

starting at the top: Virginia's vision (turning on the hot water tap and spiders fill the tub instead of water):

Karen soaking in a hot bath listening to "Memories" before milfing it up with Billy, a minor, a boy her daughter's age. check

Will and Joyce "he likes it cold" you better believe that's a paddlin

we saw the Byers' tub before. when El saw it in the mirror (lol) and went to tell Joyce (Will's Mother) about her water tank idea. ok she was addressing the group but Joyce is the one who actually engages. I'm counting it. ps when they do set up the bath for El, Lucas uses a thermometer to make sure the water is the right temperature

this is a tiny one, but Nancy goes to sit on the tub and cry after excusing herself from Barb's mom at the KFC dinner.

that scene where El and Max find Billy's tub with ice bags?

darn, nothing immediately motherly in this scene. but what if we check the last dialogue in the prior scene? or the first dialogue in the following scene?

both hits! mom/age-inappropriate-sexual-knowledge + mother/son combo.💀

next up, FOR WHAT REASON was I made to see Murray get naked and get into a tub full of ice while on the phone with Joyce in 4x01?

let's also toss in a shot of Joyce being weird in her front yard, prompting a neighbor child to dispense a line of dialogue involving mothers.

but seriously. after all the flayed/ice tub imagery throughout s3, why kick off s4 with Murray in an ice bath? no, I'm really asking.

we've got a dash of sexual inappropriateness, or so Joyce thinks - Murray happens to plop into the ice at the exact moment that she observes the Russian doll has nipples, which makes her think his reaction is about that:

the only tub scene I'm struggling to tie super directly to mothers is Heather. you could say it's that Joyce appears in the next scene, but that's weak. or that Flayed Heather later drugs/kidnaps her mom. eh.

as em pointed out, the tub Heather's in here is extremely similar to Virginia Creel's. is that sufficient?

so anyway, some of those are def stronger than others, but they all provide some combination of: mothers, bathtubs (esp with attention drawn to water temperature), and fear/ sorrow / discomfort / sexual inappropriateness.

am I forgetting any other bathtubs?

now let's talk more about fear

what started me on this post was how possessed-Will's reaction to the bathtub is so explicitly labeled as fear - NOT by Will, but by Mr. Clarke's voiceover:

yet what sparked One's strength was a memory that made him "sad, but also angry" - which, if the implied tub incident indeed happened, would totally fit the bill.

sad and angry. not afraid. I guess it makes sense that fear isn't one of the emotions he would draw power from later upon recalling this event, but he undoubtedly would've been afraid in the moment. he didn't say that though.

not in that scene.

now, idk if he's referring to The Incident here, or his early lab life or what, but. oh I'm at my image limit. ok well his lines leading up to this are (close up of dead kids) "why do you cry for them, Eleven? after everything they did to you? you think you need them, but you don't. you don't."

why exactly would El "need" the other lab kids? according to NINA, they treated her poorly. tbh kinda sounds more like a projected reaction to the death of an abusive mother.

anyway. apart from that "I was scared once" reference to some past turning point, man will not say he is or was scared. he'll imply and project but he won't say it:

you know who else won't say they're scared? Will.

Will has never said once on the entire show that he's afraid. ever. throughout all the utterly HORRIFYING situations he's been in. he undoubtedly has been scared, and other characters say that about him many times, but Will has never said, in his own words, as far as I can find, that he's afraid.

he dances around it and veils it and teeters on the edge of it, but he will not actually say I Am Afraid.

"how did you feel?" "it felt like when you're scared" boy what.

but Will has not always been fearless!

wanna know what the very first mention of fear on the whole show is? Will assuring Joyce he won't have nightmares from seeing Poltergeist because:

is it not giving "I was scared once too" ?

now here comes my favorite part:

Joyce replies with the "my witch" thing, and she doesn't actually finish the sentence, but I think that last word can be guessed pretty accurately:

cook him up in your what?

your cauldron? cauldron, kôl′drən, noun: 1. A large vessel used for boiling?

so like... have I got this straight? our earliest flashback of Will involves his mother playing an evil character who's gonna put him in a large vessel of hot liquid?

I ask you again: is it not giving "I was scared once too"?

I'm tacking my red conspiracy yarn in at "Henry was five years old."

now, just wondering, what was the turning point that made Will stop having nightmares from movies and "getting scared like that"? Bob_one_day_the_nightmares_suddenly_stopped.wav

now let's talk about rabies

Robin proceeds to list some rabies symptoms and what's funny about that (besides the fact they're standing in a mysteriously dry lakebed) is she left out possibly the best-known symptom: fear of water.

in fact, rabies used to be called hydrophobia ("fear of water").

hydrophobia in rabies stems from paralysis of throat muscles making it difficult or impossible to swallow, and so sufferers will panic at the prospect of drinking or even the mere sight of water. excessive salivation + inability to swallow it leads to the other pop culture rabies symptom, the appearance of "foaming at the mouth".

pretend here I put in screenshots of El and Barb spitting up water when they wake up in the UD and that unnecessary shot of Billy drooling when El is levitating him

Robin's isn't the only reference to rabies on ST. it's come up in two other seasons:

so every time rabies comes up, it's in reference to demodogs, demobats, and flayed rats. all critters that are part of the hive.

ostensibly controlled by one guy, who is afraid of water.

misc honorable mentions:

what do you wanna bet Dart not only doesn't need water, but would hate water like he hates heat?

Dart grew up to be a demodog, and demodogs dug those tunnels - the ones Bob figured out were a map of Hawkins because the "roads" outlined recognizable bodies of water instead of crossing over them.

when Bob said that, he didn't know the "roads" were underground, and therefore it wouldn't be crossing over water but rather crossing through water. if your tunnel breached a lake or river, it would flood. the demodogs were avoiding water.

also: no one in the water, you say?

speaking of Hawkins Pool, there's also the thing I've mentioned before, how it seems incredibly relevant that One chose Billy as his s3 host - a lifeguard whose one possession-busting happy memory involved his mother warning him not to drown.

also: Hopper saying that jumping into the quarry would result in the water "breaking every damn bone in your body"

and Jason asks Patrick, right before Vecna breaks every damn bone in his body in Lovers Lake:

I'm going to think of more as soon as I hit post but that's all I have for you today.

I want real answers on the Murray ice thing btw

#btw in this and any analysis please mentally insert 🥁 any time I use the word 'one'#in disbelief that they've not yet worked the phrase 'getting into hot water' into the show somewhere #analysis #givehimthemedicine analysis #mine #btw what's the water table like in hawkins #where you can dig tunnels right along the perimeter of lakes and it stays dry in there

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mysticficti0n · 9 months

Text

All my attention Part 9

warnings- swearing

words- 887

If you'd like to read the previous parts → All my attention series

a/n- so if you're new here I am British and cannot speak any German, I speak a little French, Spanish and Italian but German- no. I also do not trust Google translate so this is gonna be like an avatar thing (if you've seen the newest one Jake says that their language just became normal or something along those lines) so in reality this is all in German, you as a reader know German but, its wrote in English... make sense? no... oh well

(hey I know this is shitty but I swear it'll get better I just felt like writing something so I could carry on the story, I'm so sorry I haven't updated this since 27th June I honestly didn't realise how Long I'd not updated its but love you all and thank you for being so patient♥︎

I hate hate hate part 9 of all my attention and for the likes it's getting I can see not many people are keen with but I PROMISE YOU it's just a part so I can link the next of the series!

thank you and I am sososoososososososos sorry ♥︎)

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backstory- you are the 5th member of Tokio Hotel and you always thought the love was equally platonic between you and a certain guitarist... but what if that all changed?

I woke up with the sun shining into my bedroom making my walls glow and glimmer "morning babe" I looked next to me where Tom was lay smiling to me

"good morning" I grinned moving to be closer to him even though his arm was still under my head "sleep okay?" I asked pressing a kiss to his lips

"best sleep of my life, your bed is so much comfier than mine" we laughed, his hand moved to draw lazy shapes on my skin "you feeling okay?" he spoke and I just nodded while still watching his features "good" he hummed kissing my forehead

"this is all so crazy" I giggled staring to the ceiling "like who'd a thought? Tom and Y/n" I sighed "I'm not annoyed its happened though- are you?" he scratched his head trying to hide a smile forming on his face "piss off Kaulitz!" I shoved sitting up and crawling off the bed and standing by the window staring at the back yard where the sun was making the grass shine

"god you're so pretty" he breathed getting up too and hooking his arms around my neck and resting next to my head "what do you want to drink?" he asked letting go and grabbing his shirt from my desk

"erm.. my peach ice tea thing, should be in the fridge and I'll make us some breakfast in two seconds I need to wash my face" he nodded taking my hand and pressing a kiss to it before walking down the hallway.

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10 minuets later I made my way to the kitchen were I saw his frame leant against the counter watching the tv "babe were on the news" my heart dropped- why? why would we be on the news? I quickened my pace and stood by him and watched as our performance was shown on the tv 'Tokio Hotel are the 5th band who have been put forward for the best band in Germany' I turned to Tom who's jaw had dropped like mine

'HOLY SHIT!" I screamed jumping onto him and cheering "WHAT THE FUCK WERE IN FOR AN AWARD!" he nodded jumping us about until hurried knocking came at my front door and we stopped

'"Y/N!" it was Bill, Tom looked to me and I pointed for him to hide in the cabinet under the stairs "Y/N OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR QUICK!" sprinting I shoved Tom into the tiny room and fled to the door whipping it open "have you seen the news?"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" I squealed grabbing the boys shoulder "I'm shaking right now like holy shit"

"its crazy! and we've been put on news papers and things already! we might actually win!" Bill laughed coming inside and walking to the kitchen "oh is Tom not with you?" he asked and I panicked remembering that his brother was in the cabinet

"erm no unless he's hiding somewhere, I haven't seen him" the black haired boy laughed shaking his head

"what like he's in here?" his hand went to the door knob of the cabinet and pulled it open 'oh shit' "Tom what the fuck are you doing!" Bill nearly screamed "Y/n you said- what the fuck is going on?" Tom stepped out looking to me but I just stood stunned "did you guys fuck?" I felt my cheeks light up red

"Bill thats enough-" I herd a screech come from the singer and then many loud laughs "man just shut up"

"you guys fucked! oh my god- you slept with Y/n!" I stared at Tom who grabbed his brother and tried to shove him out the house "WAIT NO I'M SORRY DUDE! I WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENED" Tom finally let go with a huff and walked back into the kitchen to the living room and fell to the sofa covering his face "so tell me what happened yesterday then" Bill cooed sitting himself across from his brother who looked to me and motioned me to sit with him

"so we went on a date yesterday- our first date and then I brought Y/n home and you know it just all happened from there" Tom breathed grabbing my hand which I gave him squeeze "I'm not even embarrassed or anything I just didn't want to fucking tell you this early after it happened" I nodded understanding what he was trying to get over

"don't tell the others" I began "I know we'll be picked on or something and we really don't need that for when we start our next shows okay and if I find out you've told them I swear to god Bill I'll rip out your eyebrow piercing and shove it up your arse" the boy laughed saying his lips were locked

"I mean us three knew it would happen at some point I mean Georg won the bet" he almost whispered looking away from us with a grin

"you bet on us?" Tom asked with a laugh "fucking weirdos" we all began to giggle and the idea of being betted on like fucking horses

"so what are you guys now?"

#bill kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz x reader #00s #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz imagines #georg listing #germany #tokio hotel smut #tom kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz icons #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader #georg listing fanfic #gustav schafer x reader

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fishsticksloser · 1 year

Note

a little for me! Future leo x Teen!reader(14-16)

gen: Platonic ofc, Found family and fluff

Idea: you know those peepaw multiverse where future leo got throw back to the past? yeah lets change that where instead of the turtles finding him, a teen reader found him in their yard, pass out and the reader just standing there wide eyes cuz theres a big turtle in their yard, now i know what your wondering wheres the reader's family? one word ✨Vacation~✨ anddd thats where the reader begin dragging him to the house to tend his wounds.

(you can add more plot, I really just want father figure peepaw ~^~)

Welcome Home

Future!Leo + gn!reader

Warnings: angst, mention of blood and injuries, mentions of death, platonic fluff, swearing, found family if you squint

A/N: I honestly haven't read many F!Leo fics, if you could please recommend me some. :) I don't know if this feels rushed or not...

Previous | Next

Going back in time probably wasn't Leo's best idea, at first anyways. He wanted to see his family again. He knew it would hurt, but he wanted to know that Casey succeeded, to know that his family was still alive, still thriving, that Raph had beaten the pizza box record.

What he didn't expect was to end up in someone's backyard. A teenager came out of the house. Worrying and fussing, not caring that he was 6ft turtle man, that he had a prosthetic arm, or that it looks like he'd been through hell and back. No. All this kid cared about was if he was hurt.

"Who are you?" Leo hisses as you help him stand. You introduce yourself, in a way you reminded him of his family. You helped him inside and set him on your couch. "Where's your family?"

"Family?" You ask, going to the bathroom and grabbing the first aid kit.

"Parents, siblings?" He asks, holding his side, sitting up a little better.

"Vacation." You said it so nonchalantly, like it was something you answered every day.

"And they left you here? Alone?" Leo presses. You begin to clean his wounds.

"Is there something wrong with that?" You dab some of the excess away.

"Did they make sure you had food? Water? Heating?" He grunts as you apply pressure to one of the wounds that had reopened.

"How did you end up in my backyard?"

"Don't change the subject."

"The answer isn't important."

"Yes it is. You're... What 15?" Leo groans, leaning forward so you can wrap up his plastron. "I have 2 younger brothers. I'd never leave them like this."

"Where are they?"

"What?"

"Your brothers. Where are they?"

"Somewhere in the city. I was going to find them."

"Really?" He plopped back down against the soft cushion. You gave him a disapproving look. "Like this?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Uh huh..." You got up, taking the dirty things and threw them away. "I could call them... If you have their numbers. But then again... you are a turtle man."

"You think I don't have a cell phone because I'm a turtle?"

"No offense, but normal people would be terrified if a giant turtle man came in and asked about phone plans."

"I'll give you that..." Leo sighs, feeling comfortable around this odd teenager. "You said normal people... Are you not normal?"

"Normal is... in the eye of the beholder." You shrug.

"Are you a yo'kai?"

"A what?"

"A yo'kai. They're... Nevermind."

Leo dreamt of his time in the resistance. Of Mikey, specifically when he died, an orange bandana now gracing his katana.

You got him something to eat and drink, making sure he was comfortable and his wounds stayed closed. Soon you left the room and Leo drifted off to sleep.

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

"It'll take everything I have."

He thought about Raph, dying in his arms.

"This isn't your fault."

Raph's last words. He had tried so hard to push them down. Leo felt guilty for the Kraang invasion.

He dreamt about Donnie passing in the medbay.

"The world wasn't meant to be on some 16 year old's shoulders."

How could Donatello, of all people, forgive him? Tell him it's not his fault, tell him that it was okay.

Now he was here, in a time period where they're still alive, 6 years after the Kraang. He wanted to see them one last time. Just once Leo wanted to look upon the face of his brothers, his father, his sister. He wanted to hold them one last time.

Greif. Suffering. Wanting to go back and replace them. They deserved better, yet, he was the one to survive. Why?

Only to wake to a 15 year old, watching him.

"You talk a lot in your sleep." You say. "Who are they? The people you were talking about?"

"My brothers." Leo pants, the dream still fresh.

"They... died, didn't they..." You spoke softer, like you were afraid of upsetting him.

"Yes..." He breathed.

"May I ask... Why are you looking for them?"

"I'm from a different time, the me in this time is 22."

"Yeah right."

"Remember that freak accident 6 years ago? Aliens?"

"Yeah..."

"In my time period we didn't stop them, they took over the world. My... My brothers died fighting them."

"And you came back in time, to a different time period, because you miss them?"

"I am nothing without them."

"Why didn't you say so sooner? Let's go find them!"

You got him a big cloak to cover his 'turtleness' as you called it. You followed him through allies until you got to a sewer hole. He pulled it up, with a little help from you and dropped down.

"No offense, but this doesn't seem very homey to me." You jest.

"Let's hope that even in my advanced age, Donnie's system will still recognize me." Leo nudges you. "You on the other hand will probably be arrested."

"Tell them I'm a friend!"

You 2 continue down the tunnel, Leo pushed the hood off as you approached a door. He pushed it open and alarm bells started ringing.

"Fuck." Leo huffed. "Stay behind me. Donnie has a tendency to attack and ask question later."

Luckily Donnie wasn't the one who came to the door. It was Raph.

"Leo?" Raph lowered his Sai and reached out to him.

"Alright, who tripped the alarm!?" Leo could hear Donnie storming to the entrance. "Leo if you tripped the fucking alarm again-"

"Donnie... Raph..." Leo finally said, tears coming to his eyes. They looked so much better, healthier than the ones he grew up with. He wanted to hug them.

"Tello? Raph? What's..." Mikey walked up behind them. Donnie dropped his bo, shaking his head.

Finally tears fell. Leo fell to his knees, revealing you. It didn't seem to matter though as the other 3 turtles' eyes were still on the old man before you. Mikey rushed forward, pulling Leo into a hug.

"I'm so sorry." Leo hiccupped. "For everything."

Raph knelt down and pulled the 2 into a hug, his head on top of Leo's. Leo continued to apologize, for everything.

"It wasn't your fault." Raphael said. Donnie finally joined to mutants on the floor.

"The world was never supposed to be on one person's shoulders, especially not some kid's."

The words spoken on their death beds now had a new meaning. A weight lifted of Leo's shoulders, he squeezed his brothers, trying to engrain this moment into his brain.

"Who the hell is this kid?" All of you froze, looking up to see a young version of the old man you patch up. "Oh. I ruined a moment, didn't I?"

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istumpysk · 9 months

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Okay, given that you think the show switched around a lot of endings (very valid, to be honest), how likely do you think it is that they gave Tommen Tyrion's ending?

The gargoyles watched him ascend. Their eyes glowed red as hot coals in a brazier. Perhaps once they had been lions, but now they were twisted and grotesque. - Bran IV, AGOT

Stone and shattered gargoyles lay strewn across the yard. They fell just where I did, Bran thought when he saw them. Some of the gargoyles had broken into so many pieces it made him wonder how he was alive at all. - Bran VII, ACOK

Tyrion Lannister was sitting on the ledge above the door to the Great Hall, looking for all the world like a gargoyle. - Jon I, AGOT

Motionless as a gargoyle, Tyrion Lannister hunched on one knee atop a merlon. - Tyrion XIII, ACOK

I am by no means certain about Tyrion's endgame but I just came across these quotes while rereading ACOK and I am intrigued. What do you think?

I completely agree with your observation that George has intentionally connected Tyrion to the gargoyles.

"Yes. The gods have been kind to you, Sansa. You are a lovely girl. It seems almost obscene to squander such sweet innocence on that gargoyle." "What gargoyle?" Sansa did not understand. - Sansa III, ASOS

But I'm not sure what the takeaway is.

It seems quite probable that Tommen will throw himself from a window in Maegor's Holdfast.

There's the historical parallel:

Yet all these were as naught against the tragedy that descended on the court and king. On the twenty-second day of the ninth moon of 133 AC, Jaehaera of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the last surviving child of King Aegon II, perished at the age of ten. The little queen died just as her mother, Queen Helaena, had, throwing herself from a window in Maegor's Holdfast onto the iron spikes that lined the dry moat below. Impaled through breast and belly, she twisted in agony for half an hour before she could be lifted free, whereupon she passed from this life at once. - Fire & Blood

Plus, throughout A Feast For Crows, George consistently emphasizes the iron spikes whenever Cersei is on the drawbridge:

She paused upon the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat, gazing down at the spikes below. - Cersei I, AFFC

She left him on the drawbridge that spanned the dry moat with its bed of iron spikes and entered Maegor's Holdfast alone. - Cersei V, AFFC

"Should Ser Loras fall, Your Grace will need to find another worthy for the Kingsguard," Lord Qyburn said as they crossed over the spiked moat that girded Maegor's Holdfast. - Cersei VII, AFFC

Lastly, in the epilogue, Kevan Lannister remarks about the iron spikes, then the text quickly transitions to the lack of available Kingsguard to watch over Tommen:

The dry moat surrounding Maegor's Holdfast was three feet deep in snow, the iron spikes that lined it glistening with frost. The only way in or out of Maegor's was across the drawbridge that spanned that moat. A knight of the Kingsguard was always posted at its far end. Tonight the duty had fallen to Ser Meryn Trant. With Balon Swann hunting the rogue knight Darkstar down in Dorne, Loras Tyrell gravely wounded on Dragonstone, and Jaime vanished in the riverlands, only four of the White Swords remained in King's Landing, and Ser Kevan had thrown Osmund Kettleblack (and his brother Osfryd) into the dungeon within hours of Cersei's confessing that she had taken both men as lovers. That left only Trant, the feeble Boros Blount, and Qyburn's mute monster Robert Strong to protect the young king and royal family. - Epilogue, ADWD

It's not a lot, but it's enough for me. Lol

As much as I'd love for it to be Tyrion, Tommen feels like the safer bet. :)

#stumpy ask #wintry-ritu

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theluckywizard · 3 months

Note

Happy Friday, for Hawke: My armor falls apart, as if I could let myself be seen, even deeply known. Like I was already brave enough to let go

Hi Blue, thank you! 💖

For @dadrunkwriting I thought I'd write Hawke's arrival at Skyhold from his perspective in my long fic universe.

Characters: Garrett Hawke, Varric, tiny bit of Rose Trevelyan

Rating: G

WC: 737

Hawke sits.

The stool lists with creaks and cracks of protest as it settles under his armor-clad weight. He chuckles in agreement; the travel had been harder on his body than he anticipated in spite of keeping up with his training. He stretches his legs long before him, pushing his heels through the straw and dusty manure bits of the stable floor.

She’s still in his line of sight, striding with arms swinging toward the upper bailey of this storybook keep, the light in her left hand like a firefly in this twilight. She sneaks a look at him over her shoulder and catching his gaze quickens her step across the yard. He’d perked up from his sleepy years of hiding when he’d been summoned by letter, but now he’s wide awake. It’s her.

Violet the Weathervane Adjuster.

oOo

Hawke keeps his hood up as he crosses the same bailey after doffing his plate and making sure a stablehand knew to pamper Rosco properly after such a harrowing trip. There’s no hiding himself, imposing brute he is and over the years he’s learned the best way to knock back attention is to cast overly earnest smiles and wave awkwardly. Nothing unnerves people more. But Skyhold is so alive with focused activity that nobody glances at him for more than a second, and he makes his way to the upper bailey without the smallest interruption.

He just has to make it to the blazing codger who told him where to come, wherever he holds court around this crumbling bastion. Hawke flags down a young man who crosses purposefully from the gatehouse toward the inner keep— too young to be a recruit but old enough to know his way around such a place— and pitches him a silver to locate Varric Tethras and send him to upper bailey to meet with one C. Huckles, purveyor of fine cinnamon rolls.

It only takes ten minutes.

“You’d better have a Maker-damned cinnamon roll, Huckles.”

Hawke stands from the wall where he’d been leaning, chewing on one of the wood splinters he fashions for himself when he needs to keep his hands busy. He spits the splinter and grins, bending low to squash the dwarf against him tightly.

“You’ll have to settle for me,” says Hawke, feeling the heat of tears teasing at the corner of his eyes. “Fuck I’ve missed you.” Three years, ten months. Letters were a poor sodding substitute.

“How’s Sunshine?”

“Good, good. Glad to get me out of her hair no doubt.”

“How many wrong turns did you take?”

“Six and three-quarters."

"Better than I expected."

“So this Rose creature,” says Hawke, bouncing his brows.

Varric grumbles a sigh. “Inquisitor Rose Creature, to you.”

“When can I meet her?”

“I’ll grab her at breakfast and bring her somewhere discreet,” says Varric. “I have to warn you though. She’s read the book.”

“Maker.”

“What can I say, it’s a sensation,” says Varric with a dusty chuckle.

“I suppose I’ve got my work cut out for me. Setting the record straight.”

“Something tells me you’re going to have the time.” Varric kicks a saddlebag. “This all your shit?”

“Got a place for me to crash?”

“How’s a bedroll on my floor sound? Got a fireplace at least. Can’t say the same of most others around here.”

“Do you snore the way you used to?”

“Worse.”

“Sold.”

oOo

Hawke stares at the cobweb dressed joists above him, hands tucked under his head, a tumbler of tasteless brandy out of Jader on the stone tiles beside him. The nightmares that crowd his memory have stuck like scale and mail all over him for so long that a smile spreads across his face unfettered. They’d spent time together. And Lady Violet— Inquisitor Rose— had knocked the armor clear away and seen him. He’d been ready for it, but his courage rose with each collective moment beside her. He wanted to tell her all of it. He wanted to listen to all of it.

“I’ve seen you like this before, Hawke,” says Varric, setting down his reading. “As sure as the alignment of the moons. Even the Maker is like ‘ah shit, not again.’”

“Mind your book, old friend. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

“I’ll rain on your parade tomorrow then.” Varric’s fatherly assessment is always a given.

“Perfect. I look forward to your withering reality check. But for now. Self-indulgent flights of fancy. And shitty brandy.”

#Garrett Hawke #DADWC #Varric Tethras #Hawke & Varric #Rose Trevelyan #Skyhold #Hawke Arrives at Skyhold

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ronaestrider · 18 days

Text

A Conversation in the Square

Ruthar watches over the trainees in the square, taking mental notes as he regards forms and abilities. His expression is masked, the recruits unable to tell how he feels about their performance.

Ina'thia steps out from the Hall of Blood, file of paperwork under her arm, and spots a familiar bow over by the training yard. She hurries over, plate amor clanking with each stride in her jog, and stops next to Ruthar. "Well, how are they doing?" She lifts her chin, gaze trailing over to the new recruits.

Ruthar 's voice is low. "Very well, but don't let them hear that," he offers with a chuckle. He glances to the paperwork. "How's the reinstatement coming along?"

Ina'thia smirks, and replies in a low voice of her own. "If you want, I can yell at them and tell them they're awful." She snickers, and pulls a file out from her folder to begin folding into a paper airplane. "Fully reinstated! And with a mountain of work to catch up on..."

Ruthar catches eyes with the trainer overseeing the ground and gives him a hand signal indicating his departure. The ranger nods, barking commands to the trainees as Ruthar turns his attention fully to Ina'thia. "That was admitted quicker than I would have thought. Congratulations, all the same, Knight-Lord." His face turns upward into a smirk. "Perhaps the next step will be calling you Commander once again, hmm?"

Ina'thia makes one crisp fold of the parchment after another, until it is vaguely airplane-shaped. "I didn't go AWOL or leave on any particularly poor terms... so it was actually quite easy. I don't think we'll be Commanders again anytime soon, though."

Ruthar chuckles at that. "I somehow doubt that. The face of duty always seems to spring itself upon us." He sighs, looking over the recruits again. "I do miss it, though. As much my very being is a Farstrider, it was nice to oversee a unit of so many different facets."

Ina'thia smirks at Ruthar as she inspects her handiwork, "If I could send a few Blood Knights your way, I would. I'd like to see them work through Farstrider training in full plate. You know, for fun."

Ruthar laughs. "You're a Knight-Lord. I'm sure you'll have Initiates to spare. I'd be happy to oversee a gauntlet for your entertainment."

Ina'thia actually laughs at that, then launches her paper airplane! Between her poor aim and even worse throw, it doesn't go very far. "If my hunches are correct, I'll have more apprentices than I can shake a stick at here soon."

"As well as Masters and Champions awaiting their advancement."

“Right back into the fray, as it were,” Ruthar replies. “You never did enjoy sitting around.”

"I always considered myself good at many, many things... retirement is not one of them. Neither is whatever this is..."

Ina'thia glances down at the paper airplane with a disappointed look.

Ruthar chuckles at that, moving forward to scoop up the plane and offer it back to Ina'thia. "Arts and crafts doesn't strike me as your strong suit," he quips. "On the plus side, at least you've come back to active duty during a time where we can actually focus on our own. For once.”

Ina'thia takes the paper airplane back, and begins inspecting it for flaws. "Oh, no. Not at all. Even my macaroni art as a child was dreadful," she laughs, "...I miss it, though. The Guard. Seeing what Li-Mei got up to and is being held accountable for makes me feel a pang of guilt. Like I should have fought harder to keep it active, or made better efforts -- or any effort -- to keep tabs on everyone after it was over."

Ruthar visibly darkens at the mention of Li-Mei. He pauses for a long moment, looking up above the square. "That exact thing has been eating away at me for a while now, to be honest." He shakes his head, his eyes looking emptily to the ground before them. "What kind of leader isn't there for his own? That whole thing with Li-Mei - it never would have happened if I didn't turn a blind eye."

Ina'thia presses her lips together and finally turns to look at Ruthar with a serious look of her own, "...With respect, my friend, I think she would have still gone down that path. Only you would have been there to watch it all unfold in front of you."

Ruthar lets out a slow breath. "Possibly. Still, I can't help but think that she just needed some guidance. We were all so lost during the twists and turns of the Fourth War. It took a lot of willpower to push through all that."

Ina'thia lets her gaze fall back on the junior rangers and their targets once again. "I feel empathy for her, but also, an odd sort of contempt. She and I ended up on similar walkabouts, but I at least had the good sense to retire instead of abandoning my post."

"And now... begging the Farstriders for forgiveness? With Magister Everblaze as her counsel? I feel awful that the trials of her health have been put on full display and official records."

Ruthar nods slowly. "I can't help but think that there is more to this. That she just happened to find herself in the midst of Everblaze at the exact time of her need just feels..." His voice trails off in thought.

“He has a knack for showing up precisely when he is needed,” Ina’thia replies. “...and helps in a way that helps himself even more.”

Ruthar considers that. “It's slightly uncanny. But, I have to commend his assistance in the matter. He did immediately come to me with the news of her return. He could have just sat on it and played games with the intel.”

“Are you certain he brought it to you immediately, or is that just what he said?” Ina’thia asks.

“The timeline that Starfrost provided confirmed the relative expedience, so I will give the credit where it is due in this case.”

Ina'thia wrinkles her nose at that, "Sorry... I'm letting my personal feelings get the better of me in regard to him. I went to go and apologize to him, you know? He laughed me out of his stupid tower."

Ruthar looks back to her, his face one of gentle concern. "No apologies necessary - your insight is invaluable, you know that." He shakes his head. "Laughed you out, huh? Wouldn't even offer you a genuine audience?"

Ina'thia scowls at one particular leaf on the ground, "He feigns courtesy in a way where it's infuriating, because you know it's not genuine. I didn't want to hear it, so I left."

Ruthar shakes his head. "Well, I suppose that you can consider that particular chapter closed, if nothing else."

Ina'thia nudges that one leaf with a gentle touch of her boot, "It was a sad way to end things. He, and his denial, are hanging by a thread. I would have preferred if he just started throwing fire at me. I'm better at that instead of dealing with -words-."

Ruthar chuckles. "Even he knows more sense than that. I doubt very much that the Magister would best you in combat. There's a reason we were the boots on the ground."

Ina'thia grins at Ruthar, "It's true. The Magister and his many, many skirts could ~never.~"

Ruthar laughs at that. "Still, it's a show of strength for you to even seek him out. He knows this, whether he wants to admit it or not."

Ina'thia lets out an exaggerated sigh, "I miss when a show of strength was kicking in someone's door, or besting them in combat. Apologizing? Making amends? It's the worst. I hate it."

Ruthar laughs at that. "I hear you there. Fortunately, I have no idea where my ex-lovers have ended up. No door-kicking or empty words required."

Ina'thia taps her chin thoughtfully, "That one redhead that was with us for awhile... oh! Deylivia~" she says the woman's name in a spooky voice, even wiggling her fingers at Ruthar, "...Gods, you're lucky. I don't know where she ended up, either."

Ruthar rolls his eyes at the spooky voice in a hilariously sibling-like way. "I do hope she's alright," he admits. "Nara swooped in and stole her thunder. Word is she was killed. Shame, really - despite her mind, she was quite something to look at." He smirks slyly at that.

Ina'thia continues waving her fingers, "Naaaaaaraaaa~ easy on the eyes, but difficult in all other ways~" She finally stops with her spooky naming of exes, "Hell. We sure did know how to pick them, didn't we?"

Ruthar smirks. If he were a smoker, he'd light one up for a looooong drag. Instead, he just leans against the post. "They were enough to take me off the market, if that says anything," he admits with shrug. "Like you said - put me in the field to hunt things down and I've got no problem. Ask me to untangle the maze of love and you're better off trying to ask a lynx to cook you breakfast."

Ina'thia smirks in return to Ruthar, "You know, I was having a similar conversation with another knight just last night. End up with the wrong person? Just keep trying until you find the right one. But if you date -too- much, then you're a terrible person."

"I hate it."

Ruthar smirks. "Just don't call it dating and all is well."

"Mmm! Got me on the technicality, then. So what about you, though? Should someone I know be looking for a handsome ranger to not-date, shall I set the two of you up?"

Ruthar chuckles. "I haven't given it much thought, lately. To be honest, I really went all in when I came back to the Farstriders full-time. Hasn't been a lot of room for extracirricular activity. But, I suppose it's a time of peace. Who knows which way the wind will blow?”

Ina'thia gives Ruthar a flat stare at that, and it's clear that she's thinking of something to say that's not too crass, but just crass enough. Finally, she gives up. "If you can find time for extracurricular activities in a tent in a temporary garrison, you can find time for it here."

Ruthar laughs at that. "There is always time for -that- side of things, true. The relationship hunting aspect, different story."

Ina'thia touches her chin thoughtfully, "I thought a Farstrider would be good at the -hunting- part."

Ruthar smirks. "I could say the same about finding the "light" in life for you Knights, but I'll save that one for later."

Ina'thia gives Ruthar a flat look, although it's in jest. "A Blood Knight doesn't -find- the Light. Haven't you heard? We're the true masters."

Ruthar chuckles at that. "I'll admit it - sleeping with a personal Sunwell does sound somewhat enticing."

Ina'thia keeps her fingers tapping gently on her chin, "Mmm. Maybe I'll just have to be a matchmaker. Add it to my long list of responsibilities as a Knight-Lord."

Ruthar shakes his head with a smirk. "When I mentioned that I missed the days of interdisciplinary units, this isn't exactly what I meant." He looks to Ina's Blood Knight tabard with a shrug. "But hey, can't say I've had much luck with rangers anyhow," he quips.

Ina'thia snickers at Ruthar, "...I knew what you meant, but I couldn't resist. I've missed having Farstriders, Magisters and Spellbreakers around. Then again, I only had Pandaren monks and an ex-Spellbreaker around for years."

Ruthar nods. "I really regret not spending more time in Pandaria. It is such a beautiful place. Shame my time there was cut short."

"I have mixed feelings about it,” Ina’thia replies. “On one hand, beautiful scenery. On the other hand, the old gods. Both times I was there, actually."

“Surely they aren't still a problem up there?” Ruthar asks.

Ina'thia scrunches her brow as she thinks, "Not anymore, I don't think. But I was there at Kun-Lai when the Black Empire attacked."

Ruthar claps the upper right of her shield on her back. "And lived to tell the tale. I'll never not be impressed by that, truly."

Ina'thia allows a genuine, if even prideful smile at that. "Someone, years ago, said something about me that I won't ever forget. Too stubborn to die. Ever the truth for me. And when I finally stop being stubborn and croak, then I'll retire."

Ruthar smirks at that. "Too stubborn to die - that's certainly one way to put it. Too -busy- to die, or too -needed- to die are probably more accurate." He snaps straighter. "Speaking of, when I was collecting the paperwork from your newly-compromised office, I recalled one of my fondest memories of the Guard, handing out the Commendations of Quel'Thalas. You still have yours?"

Ina'thia tucks a finger under her tabard and fishes around for a leather cord, which holds a familiar -- yet quite tarnished -- Commendation of Quel'Thalas. A gold ring with a familiar enchanted ruby and a black band with a gold line in the center are also strung on the cord. "It's been through hell and back, but yes. I kept it."

Ruthar looks to the Commendation fondly, his memory slipping back to the ceremony on Quel'Danas. "I don't think I've ever swelled with pride more than that day. It's really something when you think back to everything we've done. Hard to imagine what made me press onward after nearly dying in Hearthglen, but I'm damn glad I did."

Ina'thia watches the medal closely, and what little light the tarnished surface reflects catches an odd shimmer in her eye. She rests it over her tabard. "Honestly? Part of me thought you were going to transfer immediately."

"I'm so very, very glad you didn't."

Ruthar smiles genuinely at that. "Same," he says simply, keeping his emotions in check. "I certainly wouldn't be the ranger I am today without the Guard, without you. I never really tasted the mantle of leadership or saw myself in that kind of role, but," he glances to the trainees filing in and out. "Here we are."

Ina'thia 's expression goes quite serious for a moment, "...The Guard gave me something to live for when I thought all hope was lost. Leading made me learn and grow so much. I made my fair share of mistakes... but who hasn't?"

"The lessons I learned with the Guard kept me going through all that's happened in the last seven years."

Ruthar nods. "It still keeps me going, shelved or not."

Ina'thia nods once, "Me, too. Maybe someday we'll be called into that service again. For now, though? No reason the Farstriders and the Blood Knights can't work together."

Ruthar nods at that, standing straighter. "I'd have it no other way. One of the most important lessons that the Guard left upon me, indeed." He looks down to the medal once again before taking a step back to regard her fully. "Silvermoon is a better place with you back in it, that's for damn sure. Sadly, though, I've got to get these recruits back to Valdrakken."

Ina'thia also squares her shoulders and lifts her chin a little bit. Posture, it's important! "Thanks, Ruthar. Truly. But, yes! Go tend to the recruits. Whip 'em into shape before I get called in to do it." She smirks.

Ruthar chuckles at that. "Perhaps one day we'll both have Lord in our title. But until then, you're free to boss around my Farstriders as you see fit."

Ina'thia reaches out to gently pat the non-spikey part of Ruthar's pauldron, "You've more than earned it. And when the time comes, you will have this Knight-Lord's unending, glowing recommendations. For now, though... best tend to those recruits."

Ruthar smiles, looking at the recruits now filing up. "Sunwell guide, Ina'thia. Let's grab dinner in Fairbreeze soon, hmm? Could use some conversation without the endless presence of the Square." He offers a casual salute and reaches down to gather his helmet and satchel.

Ina'thia offers Ruthar a warm smile, though it quickly turns into a stern look when one recruit dares to return her gaze. "Sunwell guide, Ruthar. I'll make the arrangements for dinner."

@inathia

#ruthar #phoenix guard #ina'thia #world of warcraft #roleplay

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insignificantfailure · 4 months

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TW: Detailed descriptions of bullying, sh, abuse

I'm sorry, I need to get this off my chest.

Bullying ruined my life. I could've been so much different. I had so much potential. But when you're physically and verbally abused from the age of like 5 and that's all you know in society until about 16, those fears, learned behaviours to remain safe, responses to situations, insecurities, triggers... they remain the same even when you're 25, apparently. No matter how hard I try to heal, nothing works.

There's not a single week where I don't think about it, where I don't hurt, or get angry, or cry and break down wondering what went wrong and why it had to happen to me, while the people who hurt me are all living their lives without a worry nowadays. I tried to stay away from them as much as possible, I even moved away to the other side of the country years ago, but I heard bits and pieces from family and old friends.

One of them even has a kid. Sickening how that kid will never know how her mother had her friend completely keep someone from moving while she slapped, punched, pulled the hair and spit that someone. What a wonderful mother she must be now, her behaviours completely forgotten. Hopefully she won't traumatise someone else.

Or how that group of boys that used to corner me either alone or with people around that didn't care to step in when they beat until my tears mixed with blood, my screams either pleasure or an annoyance to their ears. Yeah, those guys are out and about in society, having normal jobs.

And this other girl. She's like really rich. She finished two universities. She has a lot of friends and hosts parties and is able to function in society. Well, maybe if she and her family didn't put me through that humiliation I'd be successful as well. Maybe I wouldn't be afraid of everything. Maybe my trauma wouldn't have forced me to drop out of two universities.

I wonder what happened to the guy who grabbed my wrist at school when he noticed my cuts (stupid me, I know), as he dragged across class showing everyone my arm while mocking me. At least it had taught me the valuable lesson on the importance of shoulders and thighs over wrists.

I do know what happened to the guy who forced me to the ground and held me there, stepping on me with his foot, kicking me while he was at it. He's a drunkard who spends all his money on betting now. Pitiful. But... I'm also pitiful for being unable to get or keep a job.

The girl who used to verbally abuse me? Humiliate me? Yell at me and call me names as her mother proudly watched and approved? Yeah, she's a nurse now. Haha. I bet she's so kind and helpful!

The boys who used to touch and grab me everywhere, at school might I add, purely because my body started to develop at like 11, well, they're alive and well too. They don't know how I'd love to carve my feminine parts out and never have to be sexualised again in my life. How I hate being perceived, how I despise having a body.

There was also this girl that was repeating the year at school and transferred to our class, she was scary to say the least. Well someone set me up with something, and the next day she had tens of people surrounding me in the school yard threatening me with being beaten up, having them all acuse me and yelling at me as she already raised her hand getting ready. I thought I'd not make it out alive ngl. Somehow I did.

This is not even half of it...

They bullied me for being me. For how I looked, for my family being poor, for my good grades (but I was useful for them when taking tests...), for my energetic side that I long let go of in fear of being hated again, for the way I ate (???), the way I talked and walked and existed. For my clothes, hair, family members. Anything you can think of.

And no one did anything. I always sit and wonder. How could my parents sleep at night when their child came home ugly crying and full of blood and bruises almost every day? Complaining about being slapped, kicked, punched, humiliated? How did they never take any action, why did they never comfort me, why was I being blamed for it? I mean, adults did their fair share in hurting me, but that's another story. And I'm not even talking solely about my family.

And why didn't the teachers stop the other group at school? Why was I blamed for "putting my body on display" and "allowing them" when I was literally 11 years old and just didn't have the courage to stand up for myself?

I never got any help.

And I think I'm beyond helping, beyond fixing. No therapist could fix what bullying did to me.

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 9 months

Text

Aemond and Aegon brat taming lannister daughter oc. (Not their daughter BTW they ain't related)

Made by me but requested to be brought back by: @elegantsplendour. Here you go my friend.

This will likely be a short story and contain around maybe 10 chapters but I hope yall enjoy.

Warnings: Dub con non con mean mc mc being a bitch and poking fun of Aemonds eye and spankings, mentions of sex and actual sex, ass fucking, orgasm denial and humiliation and slut shaming (tho they both quit that once they learn she is not the whore they thought her to be) mentions of owning dangerous protected animals (Mc owns a lion) (YES THAT'S BAD OK WE SHOULD PROTECT ALL ANIMALS!!!!!) MC HAS A SHOPPING ADDICTION. (This is not meant in a funny way she uses it to make herself literally be happy. I have the same thing so I know what I'm talking bout)

Mc when she is challenged (Basically picture a blonde mini Blair)

Aemond: (once you call him a charity project)

Aegon: (once you call him a drunk)

Mcs mother.

And Twyin if he was alive, describing Aemond and Aegon:

It's another bloody hot day in the hell called Kings landing. You and your friend, Harmonia Beesbury, just watch Criston Cole, and one of the princes fights in the yard. The king had three sons with the new queen, but they could take your head, and you wouldn't know their names.

They are going at it, completely lost in their little fake battle. Men. You don't understand.

Harmonia does. She has a smitten blush over her face with two glazy eyes. Cole and the prince circle each other like savages and also destroy a good shield. Which is likely paid with your family's coin. Savages.

You'll never understand men: They pretend to play war when there is no war, they fight in wars when there are wars, and if there aren't any wars: they make sure there are. They are so eager to die, and for what? To create a legacy? To become a legend? Most of them won't even be mentioned.

You whine a bit by your best friend. You like to shop. It makes you very happy to purchase new things. 'Harmonia; I've seen plenty. Shall we go do something useful and pleasant? Instead of watching this savagery?' You suggest.

Harmonia pouts a bit. 'I'd like to watch them finish.' Of course, she does. Harmonia is stuck with her nose in a book every moment of every day. For her, this is probably her ultimate fantasy, two knights fighting for her hand. Except they aren't fighting for her hand, just lame training.

Your eyes roll, and you sigh. 'You enjoy yourself doing that, I have an appointment in town.' You don't. But she doesn't know that, does she?

Harmonia sighs but follows along, grabbing your arm. 'Fine, fine.' She says. You grin. A Lannister always gets her way.

You two walk to the gates where another Dornish guard carrying the name Cole waits for you. It's ser Criston's bastard-born son, Mesan.

'Lady Lannister, Lady Beesbury' He says with a nod. You scoff at him. How dare he even look at you? He is filth. Harmonia gently greets him back with an innocent smile, but you lean in and try to keep your grins hidden.

You nod to the prince.

'Bastard, watch out. It seems like your father has found a new charity project to support.' You nod to where Cole applauds for the prince who bested him, pride written over his face. You see Mesan's jaw clench, and his eyes harden. You grin before leaving the keep, but not before you watch Mesan confront the prince.

---

You sit in the newest boutique in King's Landing. They just had your size done, and now you are fitting necklaces when the seamstress works on dresses.

'Leyonara, that was very unkind. Prince Aemond and Ser Mesan are not charity projects.' Harmonia says when you try two red with gold necklaces.

Your poor friend must be so confused. 'I didn't ask about them; I asked: what necklace looks better on me? The one with the golden locket or the heart one?' You say, ignoring her comments about the one-eyed charity project or the bastard.

Harmonia sighs. 'I'm serious, Leyonara.'

'Well, hello serious. I'm Leyonra.' You dryly say. 'I didn't come here to bitch about boys. I came here for a nice new necklace that will get me lovers and a new enemy.' You say.

'Prince Aemond is worth your respect. He is your prince. That you are a Lannister doesn't change that at all.'

You feel a bit icky just thinking of that one-eyed silver-haired man.

You decide on the locket. The heart is too soft. You add the Locket to your growing collection of jewellery. There is nothing a good shopping won't solve. 'He is not. I don't know why he is not sent to the wall yet. He is a waste here. He will never be king. Neither will his brother. At least Aegon has two eyes to make up for it.'

'Leyonora! They're our princes. We should treat them with respect-' You feel your lips curl but hide it very quickly when you drop the necklace in a jewelry box.

You turn around to face her and just see how worked up she got from your harmless argument. There is no question or doubt about it. You can read her very well. 'How long have you been in love with that mutilated monster?' You grin.

You try to calm it down but part of you finds it so ridiculous that she of all people fell for that....thing.

You go on. 'You know he will never marry you? He is royalty. He has to marry for his house.' You say, teasing but it works.

'I'm not stupid!' She growls nearly shouting at you. You lean in and grab her by her throat suddenly. You don't choke her, but you want her to understand you.

Your voice is thin as ice and cold as stone. 'Good. Get rid of those feelings. We are not men, dear. We will likely be married off and Aemond isn't exactly an option.' You don't want him to be.

Harmonia's big blue eyes soften.

'It's nice to fantasize, not? I mean...He has become handsome.' She touches a necklace as well. It's a silver one with a big blue sapphire.

You suppose?

You never really thought about him that way. 'He is forbidden. No need to dwell on him. He will only destroy your reputation and bring ruin to your house.' It's for the best to be like that. If you don't reach for the stars you will never fall.

You do see her heartbroken little face and feel bad instantly. A bit. You hope she knows you mean well. 'Come, let's pick a new necklace for you. I heard Aemond likes sapphires. Do you want a necklace? My treat.' She looks at the necklace she has been toying with since you entered this place.

'I'd be so embarrassed if he knew why I'd worn it.' You can imagine. It would be so embarrassing.

But the bigger part of you hates the thought of her holding back because of him. 'Fuck him. If you like to wear it, you wear it. He is the prince, not a god.'

'Alright...'

That night you enjoy a nice big cake. In your dream. Shirtless servants feed you and you count your diamonds happily...

Until there is a hard knock on your door like someone tried to personally hurt it. One of the newer servant boys enters and quickly bows. 'Lady Lannister-'

You cover yourself and scream at him. 'By the Seven! Do you wish me to die from a heart attack?!' You scream at him. 'I am not properly dressed! Do you know I could have your eyes poked out for this?' You continue berating him and even grab your golden lion statue that stands next to your bed ready to smash his brains in.

He gawks.

'I'm so sorry my lady, you have a visitor. That's all.' He scurries off.

You sigh. You get out of bed and put on your robe made of golden silk and brush your hair very quickly. You apply some light blush and put on earrings before leaving your room.

Inside your study, two men are waiting for you. You instantly feel the tension rise. One of the two is the charity project you insulted. The other is the brainless drunk you also insulted many times.

Aemond wears his usually black clothing and is busy inspecting your desk. Touching it and everything. You will ask them to clean it later for you.

Aegon waits on your sofa, toying with a pillow. You will replace that, just in case. 'I assume there is a good reason for you two to be here at this ungodly hour of the night?' You speak directly to Aemond. He is easier to insult.

He looks at you.

You hope he looks at your necklace and not your breasts. 'New necklace?' A very transparent desperate attempt.

You scoff, covering yourself even more. 'What do you take me for, a simpleton? Explain yourselves, or I will have you removed.'

Aemond chuckles at your threat. 'Hm. There are rumours you said something very improper about us.' He makes it sounds like you were complimenting them or fawning over them like some smitten girl.

You quickly clear it up.

'Don't flatter yourself, I was just insulting you.' You will not have them think you think of them. No. Not at all.

He blinks with one eye, very displeased. 'That's what I was referring to.' He says. 'Something about...a charity project? Did you know what was said, Aegon?' He asks his brother, but you just know he knows very well.

Aegon thinks, but surprisingly enough, he does remember something. 'Something about you being better off at the wall. How we were both useless, but at least I still had both my eyes. And she called me a drunk.' And so what? Where is the lie?

The other prince smiles sweetly at you, tilting his head a bit. 'Oh yes. That was it, indeed.'

They woke you for this nonsense. You regret not having your lion with you. 'Do you want me to apologise for hurting your feelings? Do you want me to take it all back? Maybe get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?' You suggest, sarcastic and mockingly.

'No.' Aemond speaks firmly. 'We have something else in mind.' You try to ignore the alarm bells ringing in your head and just keep calm. He comes closer and grabs your chin, touching your face when leaning in closer and closer. You feel your cheeks become red but don't pull away. You won't give him that satisfaction.

'What is that, exactly?' You ask, leaning in too so your noses can nearly touch. As can your lips. You can nearly taste the wine he had hours ago and it tastes so good just from the smell.

'Punishment.' You freeze.

'What?' You laugh. 'Punishment? Who are you, my father? My husband? My Septa? You don't decide when I have Punishment. You can't punish me I'm an adult.'

'I am very certain I can and I will. The question is: Will you make this easy and lower your Punishment or will you disobey and add to it?'

You understand finally how serious he is.

You look at his sitting brother. At him. At his daggers. And finally at the door. Aemond follows your gaze but he is never prepared for the kick you give him before running off. Aemond curses before following you.

You scream. A guard opens the door quickly and sees you and Aemond fighting. Well, Aemond dragging you and you just clawing at his face. 'Get him off of me!' You groan.

Aemond stares the guard down. 'I am your prince. Get out of here. You saw nothing. Understood?' He loses his patience and hits you across your face. You knock to the ground and feel your split lip.

The guard nods and leaves. You still scream at him enraged. 'No! You're supposed to protect me! I fucking pay you, you brainless imbecile! You worthless street rat!' Aemond chuckles.

You groan.

'I hate you!' You groan as he pulls your hair. 'I hate you, I hate you!' You don't want Punishment. It sounds scary and very unpleasant.

Aegon chims in.

'You'll accept it sooner rather than later. I think we'll start with a nice spanking to warm up. Then we can think of all the fun and dirty ways you will apologise to my brother and me.'

------

Twyin if he saw his ancestor alive and slowly getting closer to two royals.

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