#bitch provide evidence that it’s wrong
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EVERYTHING IS FINE- Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
this is it. angsty asf. bittersweet ending it’s sad people. tw: infidelity. based on my most recent post. please comment i’m literally begging you and tell me how you like it<3
In the depths of your heart, you already know. Your Miguel is not yours anymore.
You remember the stolen glances between him and Dana where you pretended not to notice the palpable tension between the three of you amidst the throng of about ten other people in the house.
It was a nice dinner that you’d planned, after spending almost a week away because of your actual job as well as your little side gig that was being a part of spider society.
But fifteen minutes into the little shin-dig and you get a call from none other than your boss. Not the nice one who showed you the ropes when you first joined and provided you with hours of mentorship. The bitch that was a variant of your husband was currently floating above your watch as you glared at him in the bathroom.
“We need you.”
“Not today.”
“It’s an emergency.”
“It’s always an emergency.” you roll your eyes.
“Look this was unplanned, you think my life’s aim is to torment you?”
“Kind of.” you nod and he groans, “Give me twenty minutes.”
——
At the end of twenty minutes, you storm out of your house as quietly as you can, yes it’s an oxymoron but you’re pissed off.
At Miguel, at your husband, at yourself.
Your mother always said that you were one to pity yourself, even when every bad thing that happened was the result of your own actions. All your life you’ve disagreed, but now you think that maybe your mother was probably right.
None of this would have happened if you’d just said no. No to Dana making her way into your marriage to her guy best friend and co-worker.No to the variant of him with fangs and red eyes and No to your own urge of fucking things up because you wanted to see what happened. If maybe what your heart felt was wrong. That there was nothing wrong with you and Miguel, that he still loved you.
You let out a shaky breath and open a portal from an alleyway behind your apartment building. The purple hue reflects onto your face. No, you weren’t a spider. Just a traveller that stumped your boss and changed his perception of everything he knew about the multiverse.
The man himself nodded at you as you stepped onto the platform he was standing on, looking back to the holo of what looked like a rogue Doc Ock, Goblin and another Spiderman.
“What, now we have evil spidermen? Isn’t that breaking the canon?” you raise an eyebrow.
“That’s the thing. There’s no canon event broken. He was meant to be a villain. Yet, I’ve never heard of him, or of this universe.”
You look at him like he’s just told you that he used to be a stripper in college and all his money came from his side-gig, “I’m sorry, what? The all powerful Miguel O’Hara with the pixel suit doesn’t know of the existence of a universe?”
“You’re being real helpful right now.” he grumbles.
“Thank you, I knew you’d appreciate the help.”
——
The house is quiet when you walk in, evidently everyone has left. The kitchen has been cleaned and the lights are off.
He’d always been your biggest supporter. Always so humble even though he had a high position and a fat paycheck, always telling you to let him help you. Doing some of your work for you when you were busy.
The bedroom door creaked a little as you enter, the sound of your loves breathing makes you crack a small smile. His hulking figure curled up and moving up and down. His face slack.
God he was so beautiful.
You shed your clothes and go through your night routine as fast as you can. Brushing your teeth and scrubbing your face. Cursing the pimples that always make their way onto your forehead at the wrong time.
The mattress squeaks as you get on, slowly wrapping your hands around his body. He stirs and looks up at you, his eyes softening. He’d been drinking, you can tell. He hasn’t looked at you like this for a while.
“Hi.” his hands cup your face and you smile softly as you kiss his rough palm. Your own covering his.
“Sorry I disturbed you. Thank you for cleaning up.” your hands mirror his actions, thumbs caressing his cheekbones.
He answers you with a soft kiss. And then another. And his hands are travelling down to pull you to him. Engulfing you as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands move to play with his hair as he drifted back to sleep.
You close your eyes and pretend that everything is fine. That the lipstick stain on his shirt in the laundry basket wasn’t the same as Dana’s.
———
“Are you fucking dumb?” O’Hara seethes, as he disinfects the gash at the bottom of your neck.
“It’s just a graze, i’m fine.” you grumble, “it’s not like anyone’s gonna care if i die.”
“No, just shut your mouth. Stop talking like you’re some martyr. There are plenty of people here who would miss you.”
“Miguel, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” you chuckle, “i get it-
“No, you don’t. actually, you don’t get it. the woman i loved died, and she’s gone and i’d do anything to have her back, and you’re so convinced that if you died your own fucking husband wouldn’t want to die too? Stop acting like you’re expendable.” his eyes glow and yours widen, “This may come as a surprise to you, but people care.”
You gulp, “Sorry.”
He grumbles under his breath as he sprays the wound with bacta so it heals faster. Apologising when you wince.
You look at his concentrated face that is focused on wrapping the bandage around your shoulder and the bottom of your neck. His face is mere inches from yours. He is the splitting image of your husband, save from the red eyes and fangs. But this close you can see the differences, his eyebrows are a tad thicker and his ears are smaller.
He is harder and his words are sharp. Your love is soft and quiet. Mean when he has to be, but kinder. More open.
More loving. Yes. He’s more loving and he loves you.
You look away and focus on the ceiling. You don’t see his eyes watching your face. Eyes filled with sadness and want.
——
“Dana, here. Have some tea.” you pour a cup for the woman sitting next to Miguel at the table. At your spot.
Is it toxic to think that maybe you want her to choke on her tea?
She’d started to carpool with Miguel a few months ago , seeing as they worked together and were on the same team, it was more efficient and made more sense.
You didn’t want to seem like a toxic wife so you nodded and agreed, because you were secure in your relationship with your husband.
“Thank you.” she says your name with a wide smile as she sips the tea, “Amazing, as always.”
“I know right, she makes amazing tea.” he smiles at her and raises an eyebrow. Dana snorts.
You look between the pair trying to hide their smiles, “Did I miss something?” an awkward smile makes its way onto your face.
“Inside joke, you wouldn’t get it. It’s a scientist thing. I don’t think your writer brain could handle it.” Dana waves you away as if you’re a fucking waiter and you bristle.
But what drives it home is that Miguel laughs out loud when she says that. His hair flops onto his forehead and Dana fixes it for him, her hands running through this hair.
You fight the urge to break a plate on her head but you know it’ll be fruitless. Because your husband will take her side.
Maybe you’re just being dramatic. Maybe the tears you’re trying to hide as you make breakfast are unwarranted and you can’t take a joke.
Everything is fine.
You call out to them from the kitchen, telling them you’re going to be late and his voice is brighter when he says, “Okay, honey.”
—————
“You okay?”
“I’m fine, boss.”
“You look dead.”
“Your eyes bags suggest the same.”
“You’re hilarious.” O’Hara smirks
“Thank you.” you take a sip of the beer he’d passed.
It was late, far past dinner time. And the both of you had taken time to go over the record of what anomalies were most common and key weaknesses in most villains.
“But seriously, are you okay?”
You gulp, “Tell me about your wife. Please.”
He blanches, and then looks at the tears welling up in your eyes.
“Well, where to begin?” he turns to face you, “She…was a writer, she had her own business. She loved sunflowers because they faced each other when the sun wasn’t in the sky.” he smiles sadly, “she was terrified of frogs and dead fish. And she hated onions. The pickiest fucking eater.” he shakes his head and chuckles.
“She sounds sweet.” you know she was variant of you, Miguel had shown you the web of life and in every universe there was version of you that made their way into his life. It was beautiful, honestly.
“She had short hair, and her smile. God, it could make anyone’s day better.” he rested his head on his hand and looked at the hologram shining in front of the both of you.
“She sounds like a dream.” you reply.
“She was.” he nods.
“Hey would you mind bringing up a live of my house?” you ask.
“Why?”
“Humour me, will you?”
He grumbles and a hologram showing your universe pops up, on the screen is your living room. And Miguel freezes when he sees the scene before him.
He sees himself kiss Dana. The version of him who is married, is kissing his co-worker. He’s taking her in his arms and nuzzling her nose. He’s pecking her cheeks and tickling her like she’s his wife.
Like he’s in love with her.
“I love you.” his voice echoes throughout the room. And Dana says it back.
His head whips to look at you. You don’t look surprised, rather, you look defeated. You breathe out like it’s a finality. Your beautiful beautiful eyes transfixed on offending scene in front of you.
Before anything else happens, he shuts it off. Immediately turning to look at your frozen form, “Hey, you with me?”
You shake your head and smile. Eyes still fixed onto where the hologram was, “I’m fine.” Tears fall down your cheeks as your mouth quivers, “I’m okay. Everyday he comes back around this time. And they carpool. I told him I’d be late today. Just after I made them tea and they laughed at an inside joke amongst themselves.”
His eyes widens, “Oh honey.” his moves to hug you and you let out an ugly sob, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I knew it.” you say into his chest, “I’m so fucking stupid.”
His hand pats your back, “You’re not stupid.”
“I mean, I know i was busy, i know i wasnt always home. But I tried, i fucking tried. WHAT IS SO WRONG WITB ME?” the dam breaks and you let out a wrecked shout of agony that breaks his heart into two, “Why wasn’t I good enough?!” your body shakes violently.
“No.” he says firmly, taking your face in his hands, almost squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to looking at him, your hands fly to cover his, “ You are good enough. You are enough. Listen to me. That fucking idiot doesn’t know who he just lost.”
“But-But if i wasnt so busy-
“If he had a problem, he should’ve told you. He’s a fucking pussy.”
Your words are silenced when he shakes you once, hands still holding your cheeks, “You are the most perfect person. And the both of them will pay. I promise that, cariño.”
His arms wrap around you to engulf you as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, rapid breaths slowing. His pulse beats and you can feel the vibrations on your own skin.
You close your eyes and pretend everything is fine. Because you’re in his arms.
#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara angst#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#atsv miguel#miguel x you
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breaking bad and it’s themes of toxic masculinity is one of those things that ill never get over. upon first glance jesse is very traditionally masculine, more so than walter, but as the show goes on it becomes clear that walt strives much more for the toxic and self-destructive standards of masculinity, where he must not only be the sole breadwinner for his family but must be acknowledged and praised for being such, where he must be the most intelligent most respected most deferred to of all the other men in his life. his son must respect him the most, his wife must acknowledge and be grateful for the money he brings no matter how he treats her or how he gets that money, his family must be grateful that it was him who provided for them, not strangers on the internet or charity or any of their friends, him. he needs to be acknowledged and respected, needs constantly to have his ego stroked. its one of the reasons he attaches himself so quickly to jesse, because jesse is in desperate need of both parental acknowledgement and a sense of academic achievement. walt takes on a kind of fatherly role, yes, but he's also jesses former teacher, and so his praise comes with a kind of undercurrent of that academic acknowledgement. and also, his relative ignorance at least at first of the technicalities of cooking meth makes it easy for walt to compare himself to jesse and therefore boost his ego. he does genuinely like jesse, but the amount of respect the kid has for him (extending even to the way he addresses him, "mr white", as if theyre still teacher and student) makes him feel superior, which is what he wants. and, as the story later reveals, jesse also has more traits that are stereotypically regarded as soft, feminine, non-masculine. he's highly emotional, much more so than the rest of the cast, and he cries more than every other male character combined. he's very gentle, and enjoys taking care of people, which is evident in the way he treats his romantic partners but also in the way he treats walt, specifically in the episode fly. he likes kids, gets along well with them, and goes above and beyond what every other character does in order to protect them. his emotional nature, especially when children and them being in danger come in to play, is one of the things he is most criticized for by other characters in the show. he's called impulsive and irrational and stupid and rabid, and he's repeatedly punished by the world for how much he cares about things. it seems, for a while, that the world of breaking bad is not only reprimanding him, but reprimanding these traits in and of themselves, saying "Look at what happened to the guy who really cared. Look at all the other male characters. They were all put together and angry and prideful and they cared about no one more than themselves, and they're on top of the world while Jesse is crying in a corner somewhere, because he wasn't a enough of a man." but then, as the story winds further into a close, you see everything play out more clearly. because the characters who are more explicitly masculine than jesse, who keep their emotions together and feed their own egos constantly and comply to the standards of toxic masculinity, all end up dead. gus has to brag in the face of the man who killed his partner, needs the revenge and the gloating and the satisfaction of having ground another man into the dust. mike has to get in the last word against the stupid son of a bitch that fucked it all up. hank has to arrest walt on his own, has to keep his job and his dignity. walt has only ruined his life this much because of his ego, and specifically dies at the hand of his own invention, designed for vengeance against all who wronged him. he offers the gun to jesse and jesse does not take it. he lays it down and instructs walt to do it himself if he wants it that bad. and then he drives away, and he is not stoic or cool or anything like his many foils, he is loud and emotional and he screams and cries and smiles. and at the end of the day, despite the world punishing his open emotion and his love and his gentleness, he is alive, and every other character who disregarded and talked down to him is not.
#breaking bad#analysis#jesse pinkman#walter white#hank schrader#gustavo fring#mike ehrmantraut#brba#better call saul
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Protecting You Forever
(A/N- We need more comfort fanfiction about RL so I’m here to provide. Also I’m proofreading this late at night so misspelling is probably there)
RL! Bela Dimitrescu x FEM! Reader
(Warning: Mild NSFW mentions about you and Bela, partying, alcohol, swearing, sexual harassment but nothing major, BELA COMFORT)
Now playing: “Everything I Wanted” by Billie Eilish
You and Bela have been dating for a few months now but it feels like it’s been forever. Bela was perfect for you, always treating you well, taking care of you, you name it. Before dating you Bela just worked on paperwork, she had no time to have fun. It’s not like she cared though, when it comes to the school counsel what has to be done, has to be done no matter what. Then you came along and became her world.
She had promised herself that she’ll take some time off for you. To make sure that you feel loved and treasured like a priceless gem. Usually she’ll take you on dates or spend time in her dorm and it leads to other delightful things. Though today you were invited to a party by one of your good friends Angie and wanted to bring Bela along.
Bela is not the party type and she rather spend one-on-one time with you but if this party is another way to make you smile then she’ll go.
....
You’ve been at the party for about an hour now, chatting with friends and acquaintances, doing chaotic shit with Angie while Bela almost has a heart attack for y’all’s recklessness. And of course a Angie-style party is never complete without alcohol. With a bunch of drunks in a large room together stuff is bound to go down.
Everything was all good until this girl came up to you when Bela wasn’t around. At first she started some small talk asking your name and how your day’s been. It was clear that she was drunk from her movements to her speech. She was close to you, a bit too close for comfort. During your conversations she would pat your back and hit your thigh multiple times. The first few times you brushed it off and ignored it but as time went by you began to feel uncomfortable.
You could tell that the touches wasn’t just a casual friendly gesture, it had an ulterior motive to them. You can just sense it. You wondered where Bela was at, she couldn’t have gone far right?
All the sudden you hear loud footsteps coming from behind, in no time you see someone appear in front of you. It was the goddess herself, your girlfriend Bela with fury burning in her eyes.
“What the hell is wrong with you. Can’t you see that she’s uncomfortable?” Bela says to the drunken woman with such hostility.
The intoxicated woman stood straight up and clenched her fists, trying to intimidate Bela. Which failed and only made her even more pissed. You quickly grabbed Bela wrist, turning her attention to you and softened her gaze a bit when she saw the discomfort in your eyes.
“Let’s get out of here, I want to leave.” You say, hoping that Bela will listen and not catch a charge for beating a bitch to a pulp.
She thinks for a moment before exhaling, turning to face the woman behind her. “If you ever fucking think about touching her again I will make sure you’ll regret it.” Bela states with pure disgust evident in her eyes. She can’t wrap her head around why someone would commit such an act like this. It’s disgustingly inhumane.
The woman huffed in annoyance before walking off, leaving the both of you. Bela turns and holds out her hand for you to hold, in which you do so and she swiftly leads you through the crowd all the way to the exit. As soon as you got outside, a breath of relief came out of your mouth.
Thankfully there wasn’t anybody close by, finally some peaceful and quiet.
“Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Bela says, she wants to pull you into a tight hug but she doesn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable considering what you had just experienced.
As Bela patiently waited for a response, she saw you come closer to her and wrap your arms around her waist. “Yeah just a bit uncomfortable. I can still feel her touch linger on me, but I’m fine now that you’re here with me.” You say as you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck.
After you spoke those words she reciprocated the hug and rubbed your back up and down in a comforting way. The two of you stayed there for a moment, enjoying each other’s warm and comforting aura, while the cool midnight breeze hits your skin.
Bela pulls away to look you in the eyes before speaking, “It’ll be practically impossible to protect you from all of the cruelty in this world, but listen to me, no matter what you experience I’ll always be here to save you from it.”
You gave her a small smile before saying a quiet thank you just above a whisper. A light blush appears across Bela’s cheeks and pulls you back into her comforting embrace, kissing your temple.
“It’s no problem, I’ll protect you forever my love.”
Masterlist
#*sigh*#why doesn’t Bela exist in real life#resident lover#resident lover bela#resident evil fanfiction#bela dimitrescu#bela x reader
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spirit albarn has histrionic personality disorder, change my mind
i often see people ask what the hell is wrong with spirit, which is a great question. that guy's got issues. here's my take on explaining some of them!
notes: i have HPD myself so some of the evidence/examples i'll give will have personal anecdotes (although i've avoided projecting to the best of my ability for this post.) this is based mostly off the anime, as i have not finished the manga.
full post under the cut as it's ended up both very long and image heavy
one of the major traits of HPD is dramatic and exaggerated behavior/expression of emotion, which spirit displays nearly every time he's on screen. (typically in regards to either maka or his past and potential future romantic pursuits, we'll get to that later.)
this is typically played for comedy, but i don't think that discounts it as evidence at all-- kid's OCD is often used for jokes but that doesn't mean he doesn't have it.
these outbursts often involve very sudden shifts in his demeanor, and almost feel like an internal switch is being flipped on or off. this can make how he acts seem shallow at times, which is also characteristic of HPD. (emphasis on seem-- i do believe he's expressing his true emotions to the extent he feels them. the exaggerated self-expression of individuals with HPD is often tied to feeling those emotions far more intensely than the average person, at least for me.)
note how quickly he returns to a "resting" or "default" expression in the second gif here. he's kind of got a resting bitch face, honestly.
another defining trait of HPD is excessive flirtatious and sexual behavior, regardless of the person's attraction to whoever they're making advances on. i'll be using manga screenshots here since dialogue is important, but this is the symptom spirit shows most obviously by a long shot.
(not pictured: many, many more examples of this...)
he tends to flirt or otherwise get involved with women regardless of if the situation calls for it, and often to the detriment of his relationship with others.
the most blatant example of this detriment is his divorce with maka's mother and maka's subsequent dislike of him. no images provided since i presume you're familiar with that if you've gotten this far.
notably, he appears to feel guilty about this trait, yet does not or cannot curb it. one could easily read this as spirit needing the attention and approval from these women. excessive desire for these things (along with a more general need to feel liked or loved) is a major driving force behind other HPD-influenced behaviors and is a symptom in and of itself. while there is no concrete evidence behind this explanation for his provocative behavior, there is one person we know he desperately seeks approval from-- maka.
while nearly any parent would want for their child to love them, spirit wants for maka to merely pay any attention to him to a degree far beyond average.
in all of these examples, he's upset by her not even acknowledging him (or the thought of it) as opposed to hating him. the thought of her loving or admiring him appears to be a far-off fantasy to spirit, to the point of barely being able to handle it when she interacts with him positively:
...to the point of vomiting after this, which i won't show because that's gross.
maka is by far the person spirit's most shown to value the attention and approval of, but he still likely seeks it from others in more subtle ways. inversely, he reacts very strongly to both perceived and actual rejection, which is another HPD symptom. he assumes the worst when lord death calls for a meeting of all the death scythes, and is shocked when he finds out he assumed wrong.
people with HPD also tend to be gullible and easily influenced, which is most obvious in spirit's interactions with stein. he allegedly didn't catch on to the fact that stein was experimenting on him until his ex-wife pointed it out, as well many examples of stein just sort of fucking with him over the course of the series.
this could also just be that spirit's a dumbass, so take this part with a grain of salt.
that's everything that i can directly tie to HPD symptoms, but i'd also like to note that alcoholism is common in histrionics and they're at higher risk of divorce. as well as these manga screenshots of spirit being Just Like Me Fr as someone with HPD that i couldn't find anywhere else to put.
i hope this wasn't too clunky of a read and possibly gave the 5 spirit fans something to consider in their characterization of him! thank you for your time ^_^
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I'll bite the bullet and make a last post about this (unless something huge happens) bc people's reaction on twitter to the BBH response is genuinely disgusting (people bringing up the sh joke thing).
Considering what Dream said in his response to the grooming allegations, he apparently does have photo "evidence" (someone can correct me on this but i believe it had something to do with snapchat data) that could prove him innocent.
Now that's not me defending Dream at all, I'm not willing to believe he couldn't fake that evidence and even then he is still an annoying bitch.
However it's heavily likely that's the evidence he showed his close friends like BBH (which he mentioned in his response to Dream) which would explain why he is siding with him so hard
Meaning, no, BBH is probably not like ignoring the grooming allegations just because he is "sucking Dream's dick".
He probably showed evidence to him, which either means Dream either didn't groom Amanda or BBH got sent false evidence.
Now I could be wrong but considering everything that's been layed out for us, that's the situation we are given here.
So yeah, ik this is mostly directed at Twitter people so I'm saying this in the wrong place here but can y'all not try and target BBH for potentially being manipulated ???
Edit : I just realised how the post sounded and to clarify BBH is like a grown ass dude who is responsible for his choices. When I mean manipulated. I mean to say that if he is provided with false evidence and doesn't have the tools to find that out then I don't think its necessarly fair to blame him for it.
#discourse#dream neg#dream situation#bbh#badboyhalo#rant post#i'm so sorry for the people following my blog#but i feel like this situation is getting genuinely out of hand#the fact bbh gets personal shit brought up from his past to incriminate him to try and make him seem “as bad as dream” is fucking disgustin#like get a grip people
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I am high on weed and NyQuil and yet am still awake because a bad cough and a fever and for some reason decided it was a good idea to read the AC Odyssey Novelization! Here are some random things that stuck out that I think you should know:
Kassandra’s hears Nikolaos’ lessons in her head throughout the book.
She also loves Phoibe so much but tries so hard to pretend she doesn’t because her mother told her that love is weakness when she was a kid.
Kassandra finds Ikaros as a hatchling taking shelter among the bones at the bottom of Mount Taygetos.
It’s mostly from Kassandra’s POV but there’s some other brief POVs too. The Cult POVs seem to exist pretty much make sure that the reader knows they’re like super fucking evil and Stentor’s few POVs are mostly to bitch about Kassandra.
In one of his less bitchy POVs it’s revealed that a Spartan soldier in Megaris tried to grab Kassandra and kiss her and she either full on broke or just badly bruised his jaw
Building off that sorta, the only person Kassandra even kisses is Alkibiades at the symposium, and mostly to get information.
Nikolaos’ fate is left ambiguous for a long time.
Someone mocks Barnabas’ storytelling in line to see the Oracle and Herodotos later sets the guards on him to provide a distraction so Kassandra can sneak back and talk with the Oracle more.
The Cultists are way less protective of their identities in Delphi and way more obvious with their plans to get rid of Deimos. Also, Kassandra kills a lot of them on accident.
Aspasia keeps Kassandra from drinking poisoned wine, courtesy of Hermippos, at the symposium and helps her escape Athens
Chrysis is killed by her own biological son, the priest Dolpos who helped Myrrine, in revenge for both taking his tongue and killing countless children over the years.
Kassandra and Brasidas’ super badass warehouse fight doesn’t happen. Instead they are discovered by the Monger and taken captive and rescued by two heterae prisoners after the Monger burns Kassandra’s legs with an iron poker.
Phoibe dies playing hide and seek with Kassandra as they escort Perikles to see the Parthenon one last time and Kassandra first realizes something is wrong because she can’t hear Phoibe’s giggles anymore 😭
The first time Kassandra cries after that night on Taygetos is when Phoibe dies.
Aspasia only fully decides to leave the cult after Perikles’ death.
Pausanias’ super secret cult nickname is the Red Eyed Lion and he is uncovered because of a wine stained map or letter or something and a ring seal of a lion and some other super circumstantial evidence.
When they return to Sparta, Barnabas and the crew somehow temporarily sink the Adrestia in a cove to keep from being spotted by Spartan scouts.
The Kos and Arkadia storylines don’t happen at all and the Olympics happen after Kassandra and Myrrine already got their house.
At one point, Kassandra refers to her new family as Myrrine, Barnabas, Herotodos, and Brasidas, which made my shipper heart happy. Then in that same paragraph she refers to Herodotos and Brasidas as something like proud uncles, so we’re pretending that doesn’t exist
Kassandra is imprisoned in Athens for months and like in the game, is “rescued” by Barnabas and Sokrates. Barnabas still has his shovel but Sokrates has a broom instead of a pitchfork.
Also, there’s a small subplot about the woman Barnabas has a fling with on Naxos and her husband who Herodotos met that visited Thera. He’s being tortured by the Cult when Kassandra is imprisoned in Athens and is brutally murdered when he refuses to tell them anything.
Kleon was 100% planing to kill Deimos at Amphipolis.
Brasidas basically dies telling Kassandra how happy he is to see her what the fuck???
A lot of the confrontation on Taygetos is the same as the good ending of the game, where Deimos tells Kassandra that he’s done terrible things. But he also tells her that he can’t change no matter how much he wants to while preparing to throw a knife at Myrrine so she kills him.
Nikolaos and Stentor watch Alexios’ funeral at a distance until Kassandra and Myrrine invite them to join them for dinner.
Kassandra doesn’t fight the Minotaur and Co. but is just given the staff by Pythagoras, who talks to her after his death through the pyramid.
Aspasia’s fate is somewhat left ambiguous in the end because Kassandra’s focused too much on the vision from the pyramid.
Overall, it read a little bit like a weird fanfic! I saw glimpses of the characters we love from the game but since the author cut out such big pieces of the plot and every side quest - which makes sense since it was a very short book - we didn’t get to see too much of them either. Except for Kassandra, who is a lot more no nonsense than I imagine her as. There’s no flirting or and very little joking, but I really liked her resourcefulness and unique fighting style. And her love for Phoibe and her family that shines like a beacon throughout the entire book, from the very beginner where her mother tells her it is unspartan to love. Of course, our lovely Kassandra is a lover and a fighter and that does not change no matter what ❤️
Hope this list helps some of my fellow lovely wonderful odyssey fic writers I love you all so much you beautiful souls 😘😘😘
#ac odyssey#ac odyssey novelization#Kassandra#kassandra of sparta#assassins creed odyssey#for lack of a better tag
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I was reading through Frankenstein and I have some thoughts about the way Victor tends to talk about the creature in certain instances.
When the Creature says "I will be with you on your wedding night," Victor assumes the creature is going to kill him, it never occurs to him that Elizabeth is the one in danger, even though the Creature has made it clear that his goal is to make Victor miserable, not to kill him.
When Elizabeth dies Victor takes a very peculiar perspective,
"as if possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real intentions"
No Victor, he didn't. You were simply wrong. Or maybe you were in denial. Of all the things you can rightfully blame the Creature for he didn't blind you to his intentions or obfuscate his motivations. He's been pretty straight with you this whole time. "I will make you so miserable the light of day will be hateful to you," is pretty clear cut. If he'd wanted you dead he'd have killed you in the shack.
The whole thing about Victor having no idea that Elizabeth could possibly the one in danger, especially following the death of Henry Clerval has always stood out to me as a prime example of Victor's self-centeredness.
I think Victor also knows this and we do have to keep in mind that Victor is telling this story to Robert Walton and possibly is trying to remove any culpability he himself could be assigned for Elizabeth's death because "blinding him to his intentions as if by magic," makes the Creature look worse and Victor look less like there was anything he could have done to prevent it.
It speaks a lot about how much of Victor's perspective on the Creature's maliciousness is assumptive and how eager Victor is to assign the Creature qualities he doesn't actually have. Victor was ready to accuse the Creature of killing William without any evidence whatsoever. He turned out to be right, but he still didn't know that when he made the accusation. He has a tendency to describe the Creature in ways that make him look as bad as possible.
This is a thing Victor doesn't actually need to do because the Creature has already killed people and he's a pretty vicious bastard. You don't HAVE to make him look worse, Victor, he's done enough to do that on his own.
Victor also attributes the food provided to him on his chase to good spirits rather than the creature because he refuses to either believe or acknowledge that the Creature is capable of any action that could be interpreted as benevolent. I can't fully blame him for this, given that the creature killed his whole family, but it does show how narrow-minded Victor can be and I feel it lends credence to interpretations of him as an unreliable narrator. Moments like this and his insistence that his family is a happy one kind of seal it for me that Victor isn't being 100% honest with either Walton or himself.
"I was cursed by some devil and carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good followed and directed my steps and when I most murmured would suddenly extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties. Sometimes, when nature, overcome by hunger, sank under the exhaustion, a repast was prepared for me in the desert that restored and inspirited me. The fare was, indeed, coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate, but I will not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had invoked to aid me"
Victor those aren't spirits, that's the Creature making sure your ass doesn't die. I don't even think he's doing it out of any kind of sense of generosity, he just wants you alive so he can keep tormenting you. also "The fare was, indeed, coarse, such as peasants ate" really? You're going to bitch about the quality food? God he annoys me sometimes.
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Psychotherapy
| Taglist | Ao3 | Twitter | Discord 18+ | Series Masterlists |
Pairing: Zenin Naoya x f!Reader
Naoya is forced to go see a therapist to help his attitude so he can find a wife.
Words: 4503
Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Spit Kink, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, Light Dom/Sub, Edging, Degradation
Early 2017
You’re on a beach in Malaysia; ocean waves crashing playfully against the shore as you sunbathe on the white sandy beach. Palm trees stand tall and proud, providing just enough shade, dancing ever so slightly with the soft breeze coming off the water.
“What man lets their woman have a job? Is there something wrong with your pussy?”
Birds fly overhead, dipping down to the sea to catch their next meal, feathers illuminated by the rays of the sun. Others sing the song of their people as they pass by, on their way to the next stop with the flock.
“There’s only one thing worse than a woman, and that’s a woman who can read.”
Is this son of a bitch the CEO of misogyny? Holy shit.
Whoever told you to meditate to relax when you have a horrible patient is a goddamn liar because when they open their stupid mouths, it’s ruined. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, finally opening your eyes to find a pair of sharp, cynical brown eyes staring back at you.
If you had realized this session was going to be with Naoya fucking Zen’in, you would have noped your way out of that so fast. This is what you get for not reviewing your case files due to the recent influx of patients.
Be professional. Be professional. Be professional.
“I took many years of-”
“Therapy isn’t a real profession anyway.” The blonde douchebag interrupts, waving you off as he sprawls on the chaise in front of the window in your office.
It took him all of 30 seconds to begin pissing you off. Barging in during your last session with a client demanding his start immediately, all the while using phrases like “do you know who I am?” and “wait until my father hears about this.” You rolled your eyes so hard it’s surprising they aren’t on the floor right now.
The window he’s next to looks out to a beautiful, quiet, wooded scene. If you killed him, nobody would be able to see you bury the body, save for the animals. And they wouldn’t say anything. Most would probably come by to pick at the fleshy parts of his skin, assisting with removing evidence making it harder to identify that it was you who had murdered the heir to the Zen’in clan.
It would be easy. Incredibly so. You’re unsuspecting. There’s nothing stopping you from walking over to him and stabbing your pen right into his eye. People think of you as the quiet shy type, when in reality you choose to keep to yourself to avoid being part of the office gossip, and if you had to admit it, you’re a little tired of all the shit your patients say too, which only adds to the quiet, unsuspecting demeanor.
“I took a psych class once, so I totally understand how to analyze people.”
“It’s not my fault those women are mad. I never agreed to be exclusive.”
“I didn’t kill the men at the fair. My henchmen did.”
If you played your cards right, you could probably talk Satoru Gojo into helping you cover it up. You haven’t seen this yourself, but word around the water cooler is things are so bad between them, that when they’re here for their sessions at the same time (the rare times Gojo actually shows up on time), they have to sit in different waiting rooms.
Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and kiss your teeth, choosing to ignore his comment like the goddamn professional you are. You didn’t get your master’s degree to be talked down to by someone with too thick eyeliner and too many piercings looking like a failed alt emo boy.
It’s probably best to ignore his snide remarks and continue with the session. The sooner it gets started, the sooner it can be over, “Naoya, wh-”
“ Master Naoya,” he interjects, clearly annoyed you’re not referring to him the way he deems worthy.
“Right….” There is no way in hell you’re referring to him as ‘Master’ in any lifetime. “Anyway. Whose idea was it for you to be here today?”
You don’t need to review his case file to know why Naoya’s in therapy. Everyone knows. In order to take over as clan head when his father passes, he needs to marry, except he can’t get anyone to agree to it, because he’s literal human trash. Hence the mandatory therapy to try and… remediate some of his issues.
“Isn’t that your “job” to know?” he uses air quotes.
You were hoping if he said it aloud, admitted it, then it would act as a sort of eye opener for him or at least a first step. Looks like that’s not the case, he’s content continuing to be a shitty person.
“This is why women are only good for breeding.” He groans, rolling his eyes.
“Holy shit. What the fuck is your problem?” You ask in disbelief and the words vomit from your lips before you can stop them.
He furrows his brows, turning his head to meet your gaze before eyeing you up and down. He makes a point to stop and stare at your tits and lips, not bothering to meet your eyes again.
“Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?” He seethes, “a wench like you needs to be put in her place,” he looks you over once again before his lips curl into a wicked smirk. “You’re decent enough looking. I guess I’d be willing to take one for the team to teach you a lesson.”
Fuck professionalism. This guy needs knocked down a peg or ten. “If I wanted a good lay, I’d visit Gojo. Hell, I bet you wouldn’t even measure up to Toji on your best day.”
“I can fuck whores like you ten times better than either of them could,” he spits back.
“I hear Gojo’s a generous lover.” Why bring Gojo into this, specifically? Just to stir the pot. Rile him up and piss him off, just as he’s done to you. Everyone knows the stories of the infamous playboy. Huge cock. Can go all night. Has a strict ladies first policy when it comes to getting off.
“I bet you don’t even know where the clitoris is.” He’s definitely the kind of guy who only cares about only his pleasure; it would come as no surprise if he’s never gotten a woman off before.
He sneers, “every single one of my servants comes crawling back for more.”
“Weird way to say cousins.”
He stares at you, fire burning in his eyes. Anyone else would probably think he looks shocked, and maybe he is, just a little. That a lowly window has the audacity to speak to a sorcerer this way, let alone the next head to one of the big three.
Shit. Are you gonna do this? Are you gonna challenge him so he’ll prove it?
Yes. Yes you are and you can literally feel the feminism ascending out of your body as you make up your mind.
Standing, you unbutton a few buttons from the top of your blouse to accentuate the swells of your breasts and loosen the knot on your ascot, slipping it over your head as you make your way over to Naoya, sliding it down his neck and tightening maybe a little too tight.
Leaning down, warm breath tickling the shell of his ear causing goosebumps to form, you whisper, “prove it.” He wastes no time in grabbing your free hand and placing it on his erection with a pleased smirk.
Of course he’s turned on. Probably thinking you’ll easily submit to him.
As you stroke his clothed cock, he lets out a quiet, satisfied moan as your other hand pulls the ascot a little tighter, no longer worrying if it’s too constricting.
Honestly, if he died, you wouldn’t care. Satisfying for you. Humiliating for him.
“Be a good boy and open wide,” he glares, clenching his jaw in a surprisingly quiet refusal. Letting go of the ascot, you grab him by the hair, forcing his head back until he opens just wide enough for you to gather saliva and spit it in his mouth.
“Swallow.” You demand, his eyes wide with shock. Once he regains his composure, he flips you over, slamming your back against the couch.
“I’m going to fuck your goddamn brains out,” he snaps, “and you’re going to regret spitting in my mouth like a filthy slut.” Naoya grabs one end of the ascot, pulling harshly until it comes untied, tossing it aside and you watch it float to the ground next to the chaise before turning your attention back to him.
There’s tension in the air, as the two of you stare at one another, swallowing thickly before your lips crash together, the sensation immediately sends a jolt between your thighs. The kiss is aggressive and greedy; more tongue and teeth than actual kiss and part of you is still shocked you’re going through with this.
As he pulls away, he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, hard enough to leave a bruise, still trying to prove his dominance over you. Then in a move that takes you off guard, he trails several nips and kisses down your neck and collarbone. While he does this, you lift your hips and pull your pencil skirt up, so he’s not tempted to rip it off, letting it pool at your hips. At this moment, you’re incredibly thankful you wore your lace bra and panties today, even if he doesn’t deserve to see them.
“Spread your legs,” he snarls, forcing them open on his own and slipping two fingers into your aching cunt, making you whimper and arch your back due to lack of proper preparation. He quickly pumps his fingers while angling them perfectly. You let out a quiet whine when he begins to stroke the spot inside that makes you see stars while his thumb grazes teasingly over your clit.
Guess he does know where the clitoris is after all.
“You try to act tough,” he brushes his lips against your cheek and jaw until he kisses a spot below your ear, “yet here you are, so clearly desperate for my cock like the slut you are,” he whispers before clamping down, biting, and sucking at the spot on your neck. Thrashing below him, you try to nudge his head away with your shoulder to get him to let go.
“No marks! Jesus Christ, I don’t want people to know I fucked you!”
He smirks against you, knowing he’s not going to let up, and bites down on the crook of your neck this time. Gasping, you grab him by the hair and pull him away before smacking him, hard, across the cheek as he lets out a loud moan.
“You fucking liked that?” You furrow your brows and narrow your eyes, surprised by that turn of events.
“Shut the fuck up!” He growls, his lips meeting and moving along yours again in an attempt to keep you quiet. And really, you don’t mind as it gets his misogynistic ass to keep quiet as well.
With your mouths busy, his fingers working their godforsaken magic and your hands in his hair, you’re building up for a crash. A tsunami. An unraveling of the greatest proportions… and then he removes his fingers, pulling away from you completely with a cunning grin spread across his stupidly beautiful face.
“Christ, Naoya, I didn’t even cum. How pathetic .” You spit, knowing he’s edging you on purpose for pissing him off, “you sure you can fuck better than Gojo? Because at this point I’m really doubting your skill.”
“You don-”
“Shut up and get undressed. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
He stops and stares at you incredulously, “You’re the wo-”
“I’m not going to undress you. Do you want your dick sucked or not?”
Finally, finally , he closes his mouth and begins to undress from his kimono, as you take the opportunity to remove your own clothes as well.
Once the two of you are undressed, you push him onto the chair so he’s sitting; before lowering yourself to your knees, you take a moment to admire his body.
He’s leaner than you anticipated, and unbelievably toned – similar to a gymnast. Naoya has a pretty face, there’s no denying that, but having an equally pretty cock is just unfair. Standing painfully hard against his abdomen, the tip flushed red, already leaking precum. He’s average girth, but the length is impressive alone.
Based on his ears, you anticipated some sort of genital piercing, like a Jacob’s Ladder – something he could never pull off. But instead, he has a Prince Albert, which has you practically drooling at the sight.
However, that nice surprise is immediately negated by the intricate tribal tattoos with thick swirl patterns laying along one shoulder and down the left side of his chest. On the other arm lays a single thin barbed wire tattoo in the center of his bicep.
God . How incredibly douchey.
“Look at me.” You command as you sink between his legs, “you think this is where I belong, don’t you?” Grabbing his cock with a firm grip you stroke excruciatingly slow as he emits a loud moan and squirms beneath your grasp, “on my knees, between your legs. But don’t forget,” you give a small kitten lick over his tip, “I’m choosing to do this.”
You move a hand to squeeze his balls as you slide your lips over his tip and hollow your cheeks. As you expected, his hand immediately tangles into your hair, gripping tight. You have just enough time to relax your throat before he slams your head to meet his neatly trimmed groin.
As you gag and sputter with his length at the back of your throat, spit pools and dribble from your mouth, coating the lower half of his dick you’re unable to fit in your mouth. He tightens his grip, so tight, there’s no doubt he will have several ripped off hairs laced between his fingers by the time he finally lets go. He pulls back, just enough to give you a second to catch your breath before slamming you back down, nose to groin, repeatedly. Recklessly.
Tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as he lifts his hips to meet the back of your throat, where you’re sure he’s bound to leave bruises.
“Fuck, that’s good. This is what you were meant for.” He throws his head back, eyes closed relishing the feeling of taking control of the situation.
There isn’t a lot you can do in this compromising position, so you let your teeth graze his cock in a little act of defiance as he continues to force your head up and down. He lets out a mix of stifled moans and angry grunts at the feeling before pulling your mouth off of him, bringing your gaze to meet him.
“No teeth, bitch!” He spits before slamming your head back down his length, continuing to force you to deepthroat him with every thrust. After a few minutes, his thighs begin to shake and a strained groan leaves his lips as he bucks his hips up, causing you to choke as ropes of cum slide down your throat.
“You better swallow every last drop,” he pants, “a filthy whore like you should be grateful for getting to have Zen’in seed inside you.”
After you swallow around him, to the best of your abilities, he releases your head and you make your way to the surface gasping for air, working to recover quickly. At this point, he owes you several orgasms and you’re determined to get them.
You would lean up and kiss him right now, forcing him back on the sofa so you can ride his face, but he seems like the kind of guy who would relish the taste of his own cum – the taste of his precious Zen’in DNA. Grabbing your panties from the floor, you spit the remaining essence of him into them and toss them back down.
Standing, you place your palms on his shoulders and shove him onto the chaise, throwing one leg over his chest to straddle him.
“Why don’t you shut up, put your mouth to good use for once and try to make me cum this time.”
His eyes are bright and filled with equal parts rage and hunger as he grabs you, forcing you forward over his face. He wastes no time in pulling you down so his lips can connect with your pussy in a lewd, loud, wet kiss before slipping his tongue deep inside.
Naoya forces you down in the most awkward position; one leg folded, next to his face while the other is on the floor, helping balance yourself as you move your hips against his face, softly whining each time his nose gently grazes your clit.
He digs his nails into the fleshy part of your hips, you told him no marks earlier, and this is likely bruise; at least these can be easily hidden. While gripping tighter, he lifts you slightly to adjust himself beneath you to let his tongue trail around your clit. As you shudder, he latches on, focusing all of his attention into that one spot.
He’s not interested in exploring, like a lot of other guys, oh no. He found this spot and he’s going to stay there until you completely come undone for him. You’ll give credit where it’s due – and it is due. He’s a devil with his tongue.
He might be the devil himself, but that’s a note to take away for a different session.
As he obscenely sucks, you let out a series of high-pitched moans and continue to roll your hips on his face, your release fast approaching.
He chuckles at your neediness, the vibrations traveling through you, making your toes curl and the world comes crashing down as you bite your own lip, trying not to yell out profanities as you cum, drenching his mouth with your fluids as he laps around.
Naoya continues to hold onto your hips, preventing you from straying away as your legs shake and squeeze in around him, instinctively trying to suffocate him. He hums appreciatively of everything your body’s offered, likely boosting his already inflated ego, before loosening his grip, allowing you to move back to his chest to recover.
As he licks his lips, determined not to waste any of your essence, you scoot back further, the apex of your thighs resting on his hard dick. Teasing him, you roll your hips several times allowing yourself to grind on his length.
He groans, trying to grab your hips to lift you but you swat him away, set on maintaining your teasing, allowing the tip to brush against your entrance several times.
“Fuck! Just get on my cock already!” It was so nice when he was quiet while you were riding his face. Unfortunately now, his mouth isn’t busy doing the one good thing it could do.
Looking to the ground, you spot your discarded ascot and panties next to each other and get an idea. Leaning down, you grab the ascot first and gather his hands, swiftlet knotting the scarf around his wrists and lifting them over his head. There is an old radiator in your office next to the sofa, so you tie his hands to that.
“You stupid bitch, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He scowls.
Realistically, he could easily break out of this restraint if he wanted to, but despite his angry words, he makes no effort to move as you tug on the fabric, making sure it will hold.
“I liked it better when you didn’t talk,” you state calmly, leaning down and grabbing the spit and cum filled panties from the ground.
“You worthless brat! You’re go-” he’s cut off by the crack of your palm meeting his cheek, the sound drowned out by the deep groan he emits. You take the opportunity of his distraction to shove the defiled panties into his mouth. His eyes widen in disbelief once again as the rest of his groan is muffled.
“Much better,” you sigh with relief, knowing you won’t have to listen to him again until you decide to remove the gag. Or if he gets impatient and breaks the restraints, but that’s a thought for if it happens.
Lifting yourself, you grab his cock and place the tip at your entrance, allowing yourself to slowly sink down.
“ Fuuuuuck ,” you whine at the feeling of being stretched and filled until your plush ass meets his hips.
Naoya would probably be saying something right now about how your pussy feels so good, but instead he lets out several loud stifled sounds as his eyes roll to the back of his head. You don’t bother starting off slow, instead you chase the high you were denied from his hands earlier, ruthlessly riding his dick.
“Gonna use you like my own little fuck toy,” you grind your hips further into his, “how’s that make y-you feel, Zen’in? Hm?” You ask breathlessly, riding up and down his length, “does it make you f-feel worthless? Like less of a man?”
Looking him over, his pupils are blown, filled with lust and loathing as you roll your hips, finding the angle that provides you with the most pleasure. His cheeks are pink, extending across his nose to the tips of his ears, and down to the top of his chest. Lips are kiss swollen and black eyeliner smudged around his eye from sweat, hair sticking to his forehead.
Once you find your rhythm you decide to give another resounding slap to his other cheek, so both sides match as he grunts with pleasure. Letting your hands fall to his shoulders, he fucks into you as you drag your nails down his chest with each thrust, hard enough to leave marks, you’re sure.
Trailing your hands up your body to your breasts, you message them as your nipples harden, pinching and rolling them between your fingers. Naoya hums in delight watching intently while your slick coats his length, covering his balls.
As his cock rubs against the sensitive spot on your insides, your breath quickens and legs shake beneath you each time your clit brushes against his groin with every roll of your hips. It doesn’t take long for the waves of pleasure to course through your body.
He thrashes against the radiator forgetting his hands are tied as you cream on his cock for the first time, clamping around him so hard you might as well be trying to milk him for all he’s worth.
Which isn’t a lot, in your opinion.
“How do you like being the bitch for once?” You pant; this spurs him on to adjust his legs and pulls his arms, still connected to the radiator. He bucks his hips up several times eliciting several moans from you as his cock kisses your cervix in the most delicious way.
“Tell me, pretty boy, what is it you really want?” you question, genuinely wanting to know since he treats everyone like they’re beneath him. This is supposed to be a therapy session after all, so might as well see what you can get out of him, right?
He tries to speak, but it’s muted due to the panties so you remove them and toss them aside. He pants, trying to catch his breath as his hips piston hard and deep, punctuating each point.
“Someone to obey,” thrust , “and someone to ruin,” thrust .
You yelp with each of his thrusts, trying to make a mental note to remember his answer for a later session. You continue to erratically bounce on him, meeting each of his steady thrusts with a loud slap, skin on skin, filling your otherwise quiet workspace.
“Don’t cum,” he demands as he feels your pussy gripping around his cock.
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” you shoot back, both hands on his chest as he continues to pump mercilessly into you until the coil in your stomach snaps and breaks, walls pulsating around him, vision blurred white as you cum around him.
The feeling of you clamping down causes him to bite his lip and arch his back; knowing he’s going to be cumming soon too, you quickly remove yourself from him sitting back on his thighs. His eyes widen as he looks at you like you’ve betrayed him – it’s bad enough you’re fucking him, but there’s no way in hell you’ll let him cum inside you.
You’ll never admit it to him, but he was a good fuck, maybe still not as good as Gojo would have been, but still good nonetheless, so you’ll let him cum.
“No way I’m gonna be stuck around you for years,” you explain as you grab his length, stroking vigorously until his eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out several deep strangled moans, pulling hard on the radiator, as his precious Zen’in seed covers his chest.
After you catch your breath, you remove yourself from his legs and search for your clothes on the floor. Finding the panties that are soaked in both your spit, you toss them into the trash under your desk; you’ll need to remember to empty that before you leave, so nobody accidently sees them.
“If you take anything away from this, it should be that you don’t need to be in charge of everything. You might be surprised just how freeing that can truly be.” You try to explain as you untie his hands; he continues to lay on the chaise, catching his breath rolling out his wrists, “you can use the bathroom over there to clean yourself and get dressed. Be back in five minutes for the rest of your session.”
“Fucking psycho bitch,” he mutters to himself as he begrudgingly stands and stalks off to the bathroom with his clothes while his cum drips from his chest down to his abdomen.
You decide to ignore his comment and choose to take a deep breath instead and get dressed too. After straightening your skirt and slipping your shoes back on, you take your seat across from the chaise once again.
When Naoya returns, seven minutes later, you note, he takes his seat. Looking him over, his cheeks are still tinged pink, hair more romantically tousled than dishevel-
Nope. Good god, get those thoughts out of your brain right now. This is not going to be a thing.
Sighing, you grab the legal pad from the coffee table between the two of you and click the top of the pen, ready to write. His session is over in about 20 minutes. Let’s see how painful we can continue to make this for him.
“So, Naoya, tell me about your mother.”
#Jujutsu Kaisen#Jujutsu Kaisen Naoya#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#zenin naoya x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#naoya zenin#zenin naoya#naoya zenin Smut#zenin naoya Smut#jjk naoya#one shot#oneshot#jujutsu naoya#jjk x you#anime and manga#smut#VioletSaffronFic#naoya zenin smut#zenin naoya smut#naoya smut#naoya x y/n#naoya slander
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The Empty House pt 1
Now, in the hour of our greatest need, a hero rises to answer the call. Our dear friend John Watson provides food for our reading appetites and bravely returns to write the tales of his dearly departed* partner, Sherlock Holmes.
*all facts correct at time of writing
You may be forgiven for assuming that my silence indicated that ‘The Final Problem’ truly was the end of my association with Sherlock Holmes, and indeed of the man himself. The passage of time and many subsequent tellings of the tale has not diminished me joy in saying that it was not so.
WHAT??!
No, seriously though, the fact that Letters from Watson is going with the conceit that Watson knew when he sent the email that Holmes wasn't dead and then just went radio silent for three weeks is fucking hilarious. It's what Holmes would have wanted. I mean, he's not dead, but even so. I love the dramatic bitch energy here.
It was in the spring of the year 1894
I feel like this is as definite and accurate a date as we're ever going to get in these stories.
Also, I have definitely read this one before, multiple times. Partially for my own enjoyment when I was younger, but also during my Sherlock fandom phase where I needed to verify some original canon so I could mutate it terribly for my own personal amusement.
I definitely remember whodunnit and how this time, but I'm not sure if that's actually going to be the mystery.
Only now, at the end of nearly ten years,
So this is a story set in 1894, written in 1903, read by us in 2023.
I should have considered it my first duty to have done so had I not been barred by a positive prohibition from his own lips, which was only withdrawn upon the third of last month.
So Holmes stayed 'dead' officially for 13 years? I mean, I guess this is also sort of ACD saying 'please stop sending me death threats. Here it is. He was never really dead. I surrender I surrender.'
As I read the evidence at the inquest, which led up to a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown
Totally read this wrong at first as though the murder was against the person or persons unknown. 'We know a murder has taken place, but we don't know who, or even if it was only one person or multiple. But it was definitely murder.' But no, it's the verdict that's against them, not the murder.
There were points about this strange business which would, I was sure, have specially appealed to him, and the efforts of the police would have been supplemented, or more probably anticipated, by the trained observation and the alert mind of the first criminal agent in Europe.
It is pretty tragic to think of Watson reading the paper and sighing to himself as he thinks of how Holmes could have helped. But then also casually throwing shade at the police officers, also in tribute to Holmes' memory.
Adair's mother had returned from Australia to undergo the operation for cataract
Health tourism has a long and varied history. In a time before aeroplanes that's a long way to go and a long time to take for surgery. Did Australia really not have any opthalmologists worth their salt at this time? I mean, I don't know how good even the surgeons in London would have been with that sort of surgery, it's a little more finesse than amputations and they had enough difficulty with them. Got to assume that if you're going to take that long travelling for the surgery, there's got to be a reasonable improvement in your chances for survival.
OK, wow, the history of cataract surgery is long and I do not advise you to look it up if you are in any way squeamish about or squicked out by eye stuff. But apparently the earliest cataract surgeries known are in the 5th century BC, although modern surgery methods didn't seem to really get good until around the 1950s. Basically yes, infection was very possible and her vision would never be the same again.
That was very educational and quite unpleasant.
Ronald Adair was fond of cards, playing continually, but never for such stakes as would hurt him. He was a member of the Baldwin, the Cavendish, and the Bagatelle card clubs. It was shown that after dinner on the day of his death he had played a rubber of whist at the latter club.
I know it says that he never played for stakes that would hurt him, but I feel like being a member of three different clubs is a sign of something. Also, the fact that he recently broke up with his fiancee really needs to be relevant later because I cannot imagine why it would be included if not. At least as a red herring.
Mr. Murray, Sir John Hardy, and Colonel Moran
I wonder which of them is important? Clearly it must be Mr Murray. Absolutely could not be Colonel Moran, who is a colonel and therefore a respectable member of society who would never be associated with any crimes.
I stg ACD had some sort of beef with a colonel at some point in time. That's the only possible explanation. OTHER RANKS ARE AVAILABLE.
She had lit a fire there, and as it smoked she had opened the window.
They need their chimneys checked. Where are the chimney sweeps? I was under the impression that Victorian London was full of chimney sweeps. Was I lied to? Shove a small child up that chimney at once!
The door was locked on the inside, and no answer could be got to their cries and knocking. Help was obtained and the door forced. The unfortunate young man was found lying near the table. His head had been horribly mutilated by an expanding revolver bullet, but no weapon of any sort was to be found in the room.
Locked room mystery! Locked room mystery! Locked room mystery!
The window is open, but this is the second floor, and it's worth noting for any American readers, that in the UK the second floor is one higher than you think. We have ground floor, first floor, then second floor. So that's a pretty high window to reach.
(Unless there was already a small child lying in wait up the chimney...)
A minute examination of the circumstances served only to make the case more complex. In the first place, no reason could be given why the young man should have fastened the door upon the inside.
Sometimes people just lock doors. I automatically lock doors behind me sometimes. My brain is just like 'ooh, lock!' I made my flatmate at university think I hated her because I used to lock myself into my room, but I just... be like that.
There was the possibility that the murderer had done this and had afterwards escaped by the window. The drop was at least twenty feet, however, and a bed of crocuses in full bloom lay beneath. Neither the flowers nor the earth showed any sign of having been disturbed, nor were there any marks upon the narrow strip of grass which separated the house from the road.
So I know how this goes, but I feel there is a very real alternative solution to this puzzle that involves a circus troupe, an archer and a tightrope walker. Not sure how they'd get the tightrope back, but that can be sorted out in editing.
Again, Park Lane is a frequented thoroughfare, and there is a cab-stand within a hundred yards of the house.
Fine, people would probably notice the tightrope walking clown...
^ This guy could do it, is all I'm saying. (Although he would definitely use more than one bullet...)
since, as I have said, young Adair was not known to have any enemy, and no attempt had been made to remove the money or valuables in the room.
No one who gambles that much and consistently wins can be entirely enemy-free, that seems unlikely.
As I did so I struck against an elderly deformed man, who had been behind me, and I knocked down several books which he was carrying. [...] With a snarl of contempt he turned upon his heel, and I saw his curved back and white side-whiskers disappear among the throng.
Oh hai, Holmes. I'm not 100% that this is Holmes but lbr, this is Holmes. The snarl of contempt and abrupt about turn is totally to conceal his identity. Also I want to read The Origins of Tree Worship is it a real book? I feel like it has the potential to be the basis for a decent fantasy book.
but the window was entirely inaccessible, since there was no water-pipe or anything which could help the most active man to climb it.
I had not been in my study five minutes when the maid entered to say that a person desired to see me.
Drum roll please
I moved my head to look at the cabinet behind me. When I turned again Sherlock Holmes was standing smiling at me across my study table.
Certainly a grey mist swirled before my eyes, and when it cleared I found my collar-ends undone and the tingling after-taste of brandy upon my lips. Holmes was bending over my chair, his flask in his hand.
This surprise reveal brought to you by:
Brandy!
If Brandy doesn't save you, at least you'll die drunk!
“My dear Watson,” said the well-remembered voice, “I owe you a thousand apologies. I had no idea that you would be so affected.”
No.
Shit.
Sherlock.
Yeah, totally unbelievable that your bff who has thought you were dead for two years and probably blames himself at least somewhat for falling for the obvious ruse and leaving you alone on the cliffside to face your demise, might POSSIBLY be A LITTLE BIT affected by YOU RISING FROM THE DEAD BEFORE HIS EYES.
You are such a dramatic little chaos gremlin and it's great, but a truly spectacular lack of forethought here.
"Now, my dear fellow, in the matter of these explanations we have, if I may ask for your co-operation, a hard and dangerous night's work in front of us. Perhaps it would be better if I gave you an account of the whole situation when that work is finished.”
Casually rolls back into town, greets bff. 'Like, I could tell you how come I'm not dead, but instead we could both risk our lives first... what do you think?'
"I had no serious difficulty in getting out of it, for the very simple reason that I never was in it.”
A cliffhanger - literally??
Disappointed we only got two synonyms for the falls though: "awful abyss" and "dreadful chasm" I was hoping for some other ones. "merciless maw", "terrible void", "cruel crevasse", "fell fall", "godawful gap". Hopefully some more can be shoehorned into the next bit.
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This whole plot line with Barnes trying to take down the BAU is so ridiculous. Like it’s so transparently executed and her reasoning is faulty at best.
Calling Spencer a loose canon? I mean yeah considering events in season 12, that’s fair, but she also calls Rossi a loose canon for *checks notes* publishing a book and spending time with his family. Damn if that is the standard for a loose canon everyone in the BAU would be pinwheeling around.
What happened in Roswell? Um, you mean when they successfully captured their unsub, outsmarted them, and managed to prevent anyone else being killed? Also, questioning the truthers in a place they felt comfortable? Great decision frankly, they would never go to a police station without being arrested and that would pretty much ensure they would never talk.
Stephen’s death? Hold up bitch are you seriously blaming Emily for getting hit by a semi? For real? And getting kidnapped and tortured after? She could not have been less in control of the events of that situation and ultimately managed to defeat Scratch once and for all while escaping with her life! Not to mention that when you’re an FBI agent I can’t imagine there’s a protocol for drawing a serial killer out of hiding in a safe way.
Deleting the recording? First of all, the Mexican cops can only claim that, they didn’t actually see Emily do it. Second of all, why would they tattle on her to Barnes, they seemed to come to an understanding with Emily. Third, if anyone looked even a little bit closely at Spencer’s case, it’d be extremely obvious he was being railroaded and the recording would only have made things worse. Literally every time they spoke to him he was super out of it, didn’t even remember events properly, and when questioned was still coming off of heroin and cocaine that he didn’t take voluntarily. And you can be pretty damn sure of that considering that he had crossed the border several times now and not brought drugs back, but also that they are not his drug of choice during his addiction that no one technically knows about.
I’m not just saying this because I like her but aside from Spencer breaking the law and Emily technically enabling it, I don’t see anything wrong with any of the decisions she made in the situations Barnes brings up. She’s so malicious for no reason. Isn’t there some sort of internal review process where Emily can directly complain about her to a higher-up and provide copious amounts of evidence that Barnes is clearly just out to get them. She’s practically as bad as that guard who kept threatening Spencer in prison.
Seeing her get curbstomped by the Senator and also the team going behind her back and having the opportunity to be angrier than I’ve seen most of them was funny, but the whole plot line is really annoying and makes me want to strangle her.
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Just an Accident
Crosshair x reader
Master list
Request by - @crossheart
~_~_~_~
Warning: General violence. harassment. Unwanted attention/touching. touching between Crosshair and reader is implied consensual. 18+ touching but not sex. Also someone gets murdered.
Mafia AU.. You accidentally run into a few of Crosshair’s henchmen who accuse you spying on them.. they take you the boss himself and you realize you might be in more trouble than you thought..
Also as far as I’m aware it’s gender neutral..
~_~_~_~
You thought taking your usual shortcut through the alley behind your flat was a good idea tonight.. well you where wrong.
“Hey you!”
You stopped cold in your tracks.. two men were cruelly and violently mugging another man.. presumably gang violence you thought.
“Get over here!”
You stood there.. not listening to him.
“NOW!”
You gulped but this time you took steps towards them. You had no clue what they could do to you.. or who they worked for.
“You’ve seen the evidence which means we gotta take you in to the big boss.. see what he wants to do with you”
You were terrified. As they took your arms and walked you to a vehicle.. taking you to presumably their boss. You were thinking of all the things that could happen to you.. killed, beaten, enslaved.. forced to work or provide pleasure to people.. the ideas sickened you.
As you finally came face to face with the boss. You felt yourself shudder. He was tall and had long legs.. a toothpick in his mouth.
“So.. you saw us and another gang in the alley..”
You nodded
“Use your words..”
Yes. I saw them..”
He stood up and walked up to you, he motioned for the others in the room to leave. You gulped.. he stood right in front of you.
“I can’t you go unless I know for a fact you won’t spill your guts to the police.”
“I- I won’t! I promise not to say anything!!”
“Do you? You don’t sound very convincing..”
He was starting to scare you.. as he loomed over you. His hands grasping your shoulders in an attempt to intimidate you.. it worked.
“Please! I.. I was just trying to get home!”
He let go of your shoulders, but still stood over you. He threw the toothpick out of his mouth.
“Hmph. You’ll have to prove you’re telling the truth”
“H-how.. why?”
“You’ll do something for me.. you’ll get this place cleaned up. And then you can go”
You nodded.. you didn’t like this but you didn’t want to anger him.. as you got the cleaning supplies you cleaned room by room.. one of his henchmen staring at you.
Their boss watched you with careful eyes.. Almost as if he was watching out for you.
“Hey. You look awfully nice bent over the table like that”
He snickered. You rolled your eyes.. you were almost done cleaning and then you could leave..
“Don’t roll your eyes at me you bitch.”
He grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him. His legs coming between yours and his Hand around your neck.
You shook your head.. feeling your breath quicken. He started to push your back down onto the table.
Just ask you felt his face come closer to yours.. you heard a bang and he flopped over to the floor. You looked over and saw the boss had shot him..
“Wh-why did you-“
“Did you like him touching you..”
“N-no”
He then walked up to you and replaced the henchman.. his legs inside yours. Completely ignorant of the dead person on the floor.
“What about me? Do you hate me touching you”
.. no.. you actually didn’t. He was hot. And it was obvious he didn’t want you to be harmed.
Your lack of response seemed enough for him as he gently walked it his fingers in your chin, tilting your head to kiss your lips.
“If you stay with me.. I could give you anything you want in the Galaxy.”
It was so very tempting.. you couldn’t say no to that.
“If I stay.. I want to know your name”
“Crosshair..”
“Crosshair”
He smirked as you repeated his name and ran his fingers across your body. His hand coming to run down your chest making you shiver.
“I think I’ll keep you..”
Your eyes widened and a heat ran down your body to your core.. you were going to like this..
“I think I’ll keep you..”
~_~_~_~
Tag list - @padawancat97 @umbramoons @ilovestarwarsmen725 @starqueensthings @evron @roguethe0tter
~_~_~_~
#the bad batch#the bad batch x reader#clone force 99#clone force 99 x reader#tbb Crosshair#tbb crosshair x reader#tbb Crosshair x you#crosshair#Crosshair x you#Crosshair x reader#18+ touching#angst#mafia AU
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Aftermath
Miles Ownership timeline drama
Public Announcement
So, apparently Mobox87 has blocked me (not surprising or upsetting. Not like I'm going to have an outburst like I did in 2016) and messaged Kevonica about my post on Miles due to how she's brought up in it. I just want to clarify that she wouldn't have been brought up at all if she didn't put Miles on a pedestal for any issues that he causes with artists or with Mobox87 fans. So, yeah not my fault you get dragged into drama because Miles has to bring you into the argument for his defense.
But-
I will just say that I won't do another rant post on Mobox since I don't want to thrive on that to where she's becoming more uncomfortable being online than she already is. I don't support her IRL stalker and online stalker madbox91 harassment nor do I wish her to harm herself like she did before over Zombify's Twitter thread and feel that she needs to be taken off the internet by deleting her accounts all over social media.
I've come to a point where I don't care if Mobox87 apologizes because her and I will never be on good terms which the same could be said to her ex-friends that were once close to her. Plus, her apologies won't ever go into details on what she's done wrong since they always go on to say "I've done some bad things" (like what did you do?) or victimize herself saying "I was a manipulable person" (that neglects the fact that you made bad decisions on your own sense of mind not by others requests or demands). Either way, it's whatever at this point. I don't need 21 apologies for her to say publicly or privately to everyone.
Honestly, what goes on with Mobox87's art is whatever at this point. As long as she keeps explicit content on a second account that isn't advertised on her main then that's fine. Some may disagree but that's a post I'll talk about soon since I do want some understanding on what can work with mature story tellng.
So, Mobox this won't be the last you'll hear from me. Not until I make one last post on giving a sneak peek of my script segment "Understanding" which will later follow up with a Maverick video posted here. For now, do whatever you want Mobox. Anything and everything said about you has been done.
In other words, I'll leave you alone for now since I do want you to succeed expectations to prove that you have changed as a person online.
Anyways!
Miles responded to my timeline post, specifically part 6 of my post cause I showed how he wanted to be in a committed relationship with a minor that was 16 who barely becoming 17.
Apparently he's been calling out Kevonica, Cagney and I out. Kev has been getting labeled as homophobic, racists and a pedophile with no evidence provided against her.
Most of the stuff said on his new account is just propaganda to make him look like he's the victim in the situation I called him out in. It's quite honestly no surprise he'd stoop so low as to label us as something we're not with out any evidence.
So just know that Miles is saying shit out of his ass.
One example being that he posted on his Instagram account "human_anthony_dust" and reposted on his new Tumblr account, calling me out as a pedo still and lying about how I "claimed false age" to his OC that he bought from Mobox87.
Which again he never announced the age of the OC publicly. Even then you can age up characters in drawings but I didn't since the OC is 30 years old or in his 30s. He's complaining over nothing.
Vinsnake is literally William Afton created as a fantasy character for Faces of Nothing. William Afton is a character in his 30s in which Mobox87 herself made Vinsnake around that exact age as it was originally attended.
Again, Miles never made the character 16 years old until he bitched about my drawing in response for harassing Yuriviq on DeviantArt.
Ironic though-
You made a character 16 years old last minute while you were trying to get with someone who you said was a 16 year old.
Even more ironic, that most of the OCs you kept the longest were kid OCs from Mobox87 while the adult OCs you owned were sold off first.
Doesn't really help your case after admitting you wanted to be with someone under 18.
Oh but wait-
I suppose you did take Kev's own words into consideration.
But that contradicts your deleted post before publicly sharing that "Important info".
You're obviously lying to protect your image and make Kev look guilty for showing me her conversation with you so I can look like I'm the dumb one jumping to conclusions.
The last response from Miles was this. Still being misleading and excusing his own actions
The following list says.
• Kevonica, Cagney and I look down at people for simple human mistakes.
Ah yes because saying I like a 16 year old barely becoming 17 while still under 18 when you're 21 surely is a "simple" human mistake.
Heck maybe the harassment all over Amino without remorse was a "simple" human mistake.
Surely, that IP ban you did to someone over a drawing of your paid OC was a "simple" human mistake.
• Lie about others and only care what they think is the correct answer.
Miles, that is you as a person. You fit that description cause you are a liar and only care what you think.
• Sick of our mental abuse, harassment and cuber bullying
Mental abuse? Where is the evidence on that of us ever doing that? Harassment and Cyber bullying is what you do since you fucken spam our DMs at 7 in the morning to talk out of your ass!
• Time to take a real adult step
You're a literal man. Whose a cry baby and the epitome of a bitch online over your petty nonsense. Like get that in your head. I'm not the one with entitlement over stupid reasons and lack of common sense.
Anyways, I'm just going to end it here because this asshole begged for a response after I went silent. So, here it is because you practically asked for it. This was your moment.
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I never said genocide was a "little thing" or that I was okay with it and support it. What I have been trying to say that I'm against antisemitism, also that there a lot of celebrities who are Jewish, Gal Gadot being one of them. And you realize that it's mandatory for anyone who's from Israel to serve time in the IDF, right? So obviously, Gal had no choice in the matter, there was nothing she could do about that. But even so, how can you or anyone else possibly think that kidnapping, torturing, maiming, sexual assault, rape, and murder is any way, shape, or form okay? Those things aren't and never will be acceptable, and I will never justify or support such actions.
u are blocked for a reason yet u keep coming back to make a fool of yourself. but i have a habit of proves bitches wrong so lets have it
the last ask u sent me said, "...life's just too precious to cancel everyone over every little thing and to pass up watching good content just it features a celebrate that did something I didn't approve of" in which the words "little thing" refer to these celebrities' support of israel. which is at best complacency with genocide and at worst unequivocal support of it.
you wanna talk to me about gal gaot? about having "no choice in the matter"? that's the same rhetoric soldiers used in nazi germany when they were helping exterminate jewish people. it's the same rhetoric american soldiers used when they were bombing people in iraq and afghanistan and when they were torturing innocent civilians in abu ghraib. everyone always has a fucking choice. whether or not they make the right one depends on the person because even a select few in israel have refused to join the idf. sure they faced some jail time and whatnot but at least their conscience is clear that they haven't participated in actively killing palestinians. and just for argument's sake say that gal gadot would've been killed had she not served. she doesn't have to be fond of the idf now. she doesn't have to praise the idf now. i've seen accounts of many former idf soldiers condemning what that military does because they now recognize it's morally abhorrent. what's stopping gal gadot from condemning the idf for dropping white phosphorous on palestinians and testing new chemical weapons on them?
and as far as the "kidnapping, torturing, maiming, sexual assault, rape, and murder" is considered... all of that is happening, yes, and has been happening for decades but to palestinians. until you can provide actual evidence that this has been happening to israelis, i will not believe you and i will not care about it. because all israel and its citizens have done is fucking lie and lie and lie about their experiences, whereas everything the palestinians have endures has been documented by them. you want to talk about the kidnapping and torture? let's talk about the thousands of palestinians that are in israeli captivity for the crime of existing. countless palestinians who die in captivity because israel won't let them have any defense. you want to talk about maiming? i can pull up far too many photos of children that have been dismembered and disfigured because of israeli airstrikes. images that will never leave me. you want to talk about sexual assault and rape? we can talk about the many instances of israeli forces raping palestinian women. you want to talk about fucking murder? if the thousands dying every day isn't enough let's talk about what happened yesterday. let's talk about israeli targeting and killing the family of al jazeera bureau chief, after the US warned the network to tone down its coverage of what's happening. which is sort of similar to what the US did to tareq ayyoub during the iraq invasion. same fucking playbook.
every single deplorable action you try to pin on palestinians will point only at israel. you only have these things to talk about because israel has committed these atrocities. you have no proof that palestinians—hell it's not even palestinians as a whole or even their "government." it's hamas—have done anything you claim. you have no proof. the hostages that were released proved you wrong. why else did israel not want them speaking publicly? every single hostage that has been released by hamas has said the same thing: they were treated with respect and all their basic needs were cared for. meanwhile you have israeli officials going on record promising to flatten gaza into a graveyard. go fuck yourself
#u send me anything else i will delete it. i sincerely do wish you The Worst <3#gaza#palestine#israel
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https://at.tumblr.com/lemonhemlock/bro-wtf-happened-with-aegon-iii-and-viserys-ii/83go94e2ymsm
Can you please explain what happened to Ageon III and Daenaera’s children?
And Viserys II aswell? What went wrong with them? I just saw the show recently and haven’t read the books so I’m not sure (2/2)
Aegon III and Viserys II together produced 4 boys and 4 girls, enough for 4 exclusive Targaryen matches, should they have wished. Aegon had Daeron (143 AC), Baelor (144 AC), Daena (145 AC), Rhaena (147) and Elaena (150) - my goodness, these birth ages are so close, it's almost like Daenaera Velaryon is just a living womb or smth. 🙄 Viserys started having children earlier - Aegon IV (135 AC), Aemon (136 AC) and Naerys (138 AC).
The most baffling decision in all of this is that Viserys II forced his children Aegon IV and Naerys to marry in 153 AC, when it was clear that they couldn't stand each other. Aegon was generally a vile person, but he absolutely terrorized Naerys. She was uniquely predisposed to be his greatest victim. She couldn't escape him, she was frail, had health issues, was emaciated, repressed, an extremely religious person and would have preferred to become a septa. Failing THAT, Aemon and Naerys were presumably in love and would have probably managed to have a far happier marriage.
I get that, going by Targaryen logic, the eldest son has dibs on the eldest daughter, but Aegon made Naerys' life a living hell. He loathed Naerys, but insisted on having sex with her, just to terrorize her, even though she was obviously very uncomfortable with the concept of sex in the first place AND EVEN THOUGH Aegon already had tens of mistresses and could have gotten his rocks off anytime. Naerys almost died giving birth to Daeron II in 153 AC and BEGGED Aegon to leave her alone, since she had already provided an heir for him. Aegon refused just because he was the biggest arsehole who ever lived. He kept getting Naerys pregnant against her will until she eventually did die in childbed in 183 AC.
Most of this shit was happening when her father was still alive. What did he do about the constant rape and health threats his daughter was subjected to? Not a damn thing. Boneheaded nitwit BAELOR did more for Naerys than her father ever did by sending Aegon to Essos one time after Naerys was recovering from giving birth to twins so he wouldn't get her pregnant immediately again (!!)
Even Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, who was so pressed about his brother torturing his beloved Naerys, was such a fucking beta to this clown. I swear, all this man did his entire life was act like a goddamn cuck for his loser male relatives, even though he was arguably the sanest and the most capable out of all them, but he was too much of a bitch to grow a spine. At one point, two dudes try to assassinate Aegon AND INSTEAD OF LETTING THEM, Aemon saves Aegon and gets killed instead. Aegon kills Naerys a year later by getting her pregnant again. 🤦♀️
Anyway, it's not that I would particularly wish to saddle any woman with such a vile worm like Aegon IV, but it seems evident within the text that Daena would have been a far, far better match for him than Naerys. Daena is known to history as "the Defiant"; she had a lively and fiery personality and actually was willing to have voluntary sex with Aegon. Even Aegon seems to have liked Daena, if he was willing to sneak his way into the Maidenvault to get into her pants. They have a bastard son together, Daemon Blackfyre, encumbering House Targaryen with 4 (5?) future Blackfyre rebellions, because, guess what, bastards DO create succession crises in this universe !!!!
What you also need to understand is that the throne passed down like this: Aegon III -> Daeron I -> Baelor -> Daena -> Rhaena -> Elaena -> Viserys II -> Aegon IV -> children of Aegon IV
My favourite part in all of this is when, after Baelor dies, Viserys looks at this line of succession, sees his nieces are in front of him and says "You know what. Fuck that. My mother WAS a usurper" and proceeds to proclaim himself king. Then dies a year later, allegedly poisoned by his own rat of a son.
Aegon IV is such a fucking trainwreck of a king that I won't even attempt to get into it, but probably the worst thing that the does for the ENTIRE realm for generations to come is to legitimize his Great Bastards (i.e. children birthed by mistresses coming from noble houses) and to intentionally spread rumours that his trueborn son, the future Daeron II, was Naerys' bastard fathered by Aemon, just to fuck with Naerys, Aemon and Daeron. Daeron II will later have to deal with the Blackfyre rebellion thanks to his dear old dad.
Aegon IV also was the father of Bloodraven, whom I low-key (high-key) think is evil.
So that's Viserys' side of the family, but first came Aegon's side. Daeron I must have only waited a hot minute after his balls finished dropping, because he thinks that invading Dorne is a fine idea and that he should totally become a great military hero at the tender age of 14. This is not the most celebratory thing, because Dorne doesn't really want to be conquered. They don't want to be part of the Seven Kingdoms. Daeron is, therefore, assassinated, and is followed on the throne by Baelor.
Baelor the Blessed. Yes, that fucking lunatic. What more can I say. Another fucking half-baked idea this family had (Daeron I, it must have been his brainchild) was to wed BAELOR to freaking Daena. The same Daena who craved Aegon IV's musty sausage and "idolized" her brother Daeron. I feel like (??) either of those marriages would have been much better? What on god's green earth was going on in this House of Commons? Similarly, Baelor would have been better paired with his religious sister Rhaena (who later became a septa) or with Naerys herself. So many religious fanatics in this generation for some reason.
Either way, Baelor was a very special type of idiot. He walked all the way to Dorne to secure Aemon's release (who had been captured as a result of Daeron I's assassination). He voluntarily went into a pit of vipers to free Aemon, suspended inside a cage. He felt the gods would protect him, you see. A captive, probably very weakened Aemon had to physically drag this imbecile into the cage with him, so he wouldn't die. Then he had to free his own damn self using the key, climb out of the cage with a blacked-out Baelor on his back and carry him along the road until they reached safety.
Baelor is kind of a mixed bag in the sense that sometimes he pulls some shit out of his arse and you start thinking maybe there is something to this guy, but then he goes and does something norm-defyingly stupid like imprisoning his sisters in the Maidenvault, so he wouldn't be "tempted" to have relations with them, or fasting himself to death because he had "lusts". Even Baelor wasn't immune to the targussy; he just couldn't handle it.
ANYWAY, I'm sure there's stuff I've missed with the Aegserys cousins, but now you have the basics.
#aegon iii targaryen#viserys ii targaryen#aegon iv targaryen#prince aemon the dragonknight#naerys targaryen#daeron i targaryen#baelor i targaryen#daena targaryen#rhaena targaryen#elaena targaryen#asoiaf#house targaryen#ask#anon
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TARGETS - 23 - License To Kill
Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organisation The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted. (AU Espionage Story)
TARGETS MASTERLIST
----------------
“What's the sit-rep, Miss Belair?" Hunter asked, seated behind his large oak desk as he observed the young woman across from him. Judging from the grim expression on her pretty features, she had bad news. Hunter was immediately displeased.
Bianca Belair was never one to mince words. She spoke the way she handled her missions; cleanly, calmly, concisely. Dusting off her grey pants suit, she gave her report. "The hostiles have gone AWOL sir," she said. "They were last seen at a train station on the outskirts of Providence, but as of right now, we're unsure of their exact whereabouts. Eight of our twelve men are unaccounted for.” She clutched her iPad close, taking a deep, cautious breath as she stared at her boss. “There’s more, sir.”
Hunter sighed heavily. “Jeez, I wonder what other fuckery has taken place.”
“Xavier Woods has been found deceased in a motel room several miles away from the Courthouse where he was being hidden. We have evidence confirming Reigns and Jasmine are responsible for his kidnapping and murder."
Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins, also in Hunter's office, exchanged subtle but relieved glances. Their friend had escaped, just as they had hoped he would. He was safe, for now.
Kevin Owens, meanwhile, was pacing back and forth in a corner, like a caged animal desperate for freedom. "So they got away. Again. Is that what you're saying, 'cause that's all I'm hearing." He stalked towards Bianca, getting in her face. "You fucking let them get away again! Can you idiots not do anything right?"
Owens easily towered over his female colleague, but she did not flinch. There was something lurking in the depths of her dark irises; a cold callousness that belied her calm demeanor. Kevin could rant all he wanted, but if he so much as touched her the wrong way, he would regret it.
"Where are they now?" he demanded. "Do you even know?"
"You heard my report, Owens. We're working on it as we speak," Bianca replied, peering passively at him.
"Obviously not working hard enough," Kevin griped. "They're going to disappear and it will be your fault, you and your incompetent buffoons!"
Seth had heard enough. "Leave her alone, Owens! How is this her fault?"
"You! Do not talk to me!" Kevin rounded on him. "I don't see you rushing out looking for Reigns! You and Ambrose have let your friendship," he spat out the word like it was taboo, "cloud your judgment. As far as I'm concerned you're just as in breach of the Code as he is."
"Right, stand there and act like your blind hatred for him hasn't completely poisoned your fucking mind, you fucking hater!” Seth retorted, standing his ground.
Kevin scoffed. "Calling me names? How childish. Besides, this has nothing to do with me. Reigns was literally fucking the enemy right under our noses for months, and when he's given the simple task to eliminate her - a job which he accepted, mind you - he takes off with her! Open your fucking eyes, you two and stop acting like fucking groupies! Roman Reigns has compromised The Authority," he went on, pointing around for emphasis. "He has compromised us all. He had no problem turning his back on us and choosing that bitch over us, so he should have no problem facing the consequences." Kevin shrugged. "And if none of you can take him out...I'll have no problem doing it myself. Heck, you won't even have to pay me."
"Won't have to pay me to take you out, you self-righteous piece of shit," Dean growled, advancing.
Owens cracked his knuckles, a wide, maniacal smile on his face. "Is that right? Give it your best shot then, Ambrose."
Dean Ambrose never backed down from a fight in his life. His arms shot out, catching Kevin square in the chest. The other man stumbled backwards, his expression briefly registering mild surprise. In a heartbeat, however, it was gone; replaced by a wild, incredulous glare. But just as he lunged, Seth intervened, throwing his arm across Dean's chest and yanking him out of Owens's reach, while Bianca blocked the other snarling man.
Seated quietly at his desk, Hunter remained silent throughout the exchange, but when he eventually spoke his tone had an ominous edge to it. "If either of you lays a hand on the other again, I will guarantee it will be the last thing you ever do." His eyes were dark, dangerous, and each man knew better than to defy him.
Kevin roughly shrugged off Bianca 's grasp on his arm and glowered at Dean and Seth. "I shoulda pulled the trigger the night you found Reigns, all those years ago. I should have put a bullet in his head there and we’ve never had gotten to this bullshit in the first place." His blue eyes blazed. "He was a liability then, and he's a liability now, and both of you are to blame." He spat on the ground, before turning on his heel and storming out of the office.
Hunter still hadn't moved from his place at his desk. "Please excuse us, gentlemen. I need a word with Miss Belair."
He waited for them to leave before going over to his large computer screen and pressing a few keys on it. It was time to go all out. "We have a new top priority, Bianca. Get everybody in this building to drop what they're doing and focus on this."
He pressed another key on the screen, and the images of Jasmine and Roman walking side by side into the train station, appeared. "Upgrade the contract to Class One. Open house. A million dollars each. Whoever gets them first gets the bounty. Send the word out. These two must be eliminated, no matter what it takes to do it. Just get it done."
Seth and Dean gaped at the classified information on their devices, shocked. Hunter had just sanctioned a free-for-all hit on Roman and Jasmine. For a million dollars per head. Every agent from The Authority would be gunning for Roman now. "Shit." Seth’s voice was a subdued whisper.
Dean was fuming. "We have to help him."
"You know we can't," Seth said sadly. "There'll be a bullseye on our backs as well."
"Roman wouldn't have cared about that if he were in our shoes," the man formerly from Cincinnati pointed out. "He would have stood up for us. You know that."
Seth nodded. He was right. "Then we stand up for him too, the only way we can right now." Scrolling down to the acceptance section of the message, he hit the 'Reject' button. Dean followed suit, and they put their devices away, their consciences easing only a little bit.
"I wish we could do more," Dean uttered after a while of silence.
"Me too," Seth sighed. Roman would have laid down his life for any one of them without question. They knew that. But this was out of their hands. There was little to no chance in hell of withstanding an onslaught of thousands of assassins. So this was the only thing they could do. They would play no part in Roman’s potential demise.
"Mr. Rollins. Mr. Ambrose," Bianca appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. "Hope the pissing contest is over."
The worry was instantly wiped from their faces, replaced with detached, emotionless expressions. "Miss Belair. What can we do for you?" asked Seth.
"I saw that you both turned down the Reigns contract. May I ask why?" The young woman folded her hands in front of her, head titled innocently to the side as she regarded her colleagues. "After all, you are two of our best men. You could probably get it done without breaking a sweat, right?"
Seth and Dean knew what Bianca was like. She was the silent, observant type that never missed a lie or a wrongly uttered word and punished you severely for it. They had to play this right if they wanted to make it out unscathed.
Dean nodded reverently, as though her words were gospel. He turned to Seth. "Well, Mr. Rollins?" he asked casually.
"It was a tempting offer," Seth remarked, raising a critical eyebrow at Bianca, "but not good enough. Because when you think about it, one million is a measly sum to take out two master assassins of their caliber; disrespectful, even. I want five million dollars. For each of them.”
Bianca’s eyes widened. “I’m not sure that’s possible, Mr. Rollins.”
“I know. Which is why I chose to reject the mission. A waste of my time, really." Throwing on his sunglasses, he haughtily tilted his chin. "Hope that clears it up for you. Or do we need to put it down in writing?"
Dean brushed his thumb over his nose and jerked his head towards Seth. "What he said," he finally answered, putting on his sunglasses as well. "Sorry, sweet cheeks."
And giving her a smack on her butt, Dean strolled past a shocked Bianca out of Headquarters, trailing behind Seth with a shake of his head.
------------------
"We're here," Roman breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar door.
Jasmine turned to him, biting her lip. "You think she'll like me?" she blurted out, her voice tinged with nervousness.
Laughing, Roman leaned down for a quick kiss and gently squeezed her hand. "Of course. You'll be fast friends in no time."
He knocked on the door a couple of times, but there was no answer. Placing his hand on the door knob, he was surprised to see the door swing open unattended. Something was off. Leona never left her door open.
Motioning for Jasmine to be quiet, Roman withdrew his gun and crept into the house. Behind him, he heard Jasmine cock her own firearm quietly, following him as they both looked around for anything else out of the ordinary. Nothing so far. But where was Leona? Roman wondered.
He heard Jasmine's surprised shriek from behind him, followed by a loud thud, and he spun around, gun pointed, only to see Jasmine lying face down on the ground and Leona on top of her. Her knee was buried between the younger woman's back and shoulder blades, wrenching her arm backwards in a painful-looking angle. But the thing that stunned Roman more than anything was the gun Leona was pointing at him. Jasmine’s gun.
"Were you followed?" Leona demanded, her brown eyes flashing with what looked eerily like mistrust.
The Samoan couldn't speak, rendered momentarily speechless by the scene before him. "Leona, what are you-"
"Were you followed?" she repeated, her aim unwavering. At that moment, Jasmine hissed in pain, unable to move. Leona didn't release the pressure on her, instead continuing to yank back on the arm as she awaited Roman's answer.
"No. No we weren't. I double-checked." Roman regarded his former mentor with concern and even an inkling of fear. He'd never seen her like that, not even when she was on active duty. The composure she was so famous for had slipped, revealing a hint of desperation that had him both curious and slightly fearful. Something did not feel right to him.
“They’ve put a million dollars on each of your heads. A lot of people are looking for you right now.”
Roman and Jasmine exchanged shocked glances. A million dollars? Shit. No wonder she was so jittery.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Leona insisted.
Lowering his gun and returning it to its holster, he slowly put his hands up in surrender, palms out to show her he wasn’t hiding anything. "I know. I know I shouldn't be here, like you always tell me,” he said. “But we didn't have anywhere else to go. We need your help. Please."
Leona eyed him for a long, tense beat. Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she relented and finally released Jasmine, standing upright and helping the other woman to her feet. "Sorry about that," she apologized, dusting her off.
"It's okay," a slightly dazed Jasmine replied, casting a distressed glance at Roman as she shook her arm to get the blood flowing again.
"Are you alright, Leona?" the former Authority agent asked, "Did someone try to come here?"
"No. But considering the situation with you two, I had to be vigilant. You can never be too careful, you know." Leona offered Jasmine a small, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I frightened you. I've heard a lot about you from that man over there."
"Likewise," Jasmine said graciously. "Roman has nothing but nice things to say about you."
"Well, he'd better if he wants to stay here," Leona retorted.
"Thank you so much, Leona. We really appreciate it," said Jasmine, as Roman wrapped an arm around his girlfriend’s waist. "It's only temporary. We'll be gone before you know it," he added with a smile.
"Very well. So while you're here, be of use to me, Roman, and put the kettle on. I’ve got leftovers. You must be starving."
"Yeah, being on the run gets the appetite going," he quipped dryly, walking towards the kitchen. Both women stared after him, shaking their heads at his pitiful joke. Leona extended her hand to Jasmine. "Come. Let me take a look at that arm."
Watching the two women interact, Roman breathed a sigh of relief. That was a close call with Leona. Very close.
---------------
Hunter sat in the darkened room, his elbows propped up on the desk, fingers interlocked. "I'm sure you understand what you need to do," he said, talking into the darkness. "Of all the employees at this company, you're the only one I've ever truly trusted to do what's necessary to preserve the Code. This will be no different." He slid two photographs, one of Seth, the other of Jasmine, across the desk. "Find them and kill them. How you do it is at your discretion. Just make sure you get the job done."
One would have been forgiven to think the Director was alone in the room, talking to himself. It was difficult to make out the figure of the tall man sitting in the opposite corner, his all-black attire reducing him to a shadow amongst shadows. He eventually emerged, removing his hands from his pockets to take the photographs from his boss's hand. His face was expressionless as he regarded the images. He pulled out a lighter and flicked it open, touching the flame to the edges of the pictures. Then slowly, his lips twisted into a cruel, evil smirk, his handsome features and blue eyes alight with the aura of a viper about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting prey.
"Hunter," came the answer, "it will be my genuine pleasure."
The evil smile Hunter returned could level several third-world countries. "We're counting on you, Mr. Corbin."
-----------------
Chapter 11 reminds us of what Corbin is capable of doing. There was something about Lone Wolf Corbin that I liked and incorporated into this story.
Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.
Please leave comments, I still love comments! ❤
#roman reigns#roman reigns smut#roman reigns imagines#roman reigns fanfiction#roman reigns imagine#roman reigns fanfic#targets#roman reigns x black oc#the bloodline
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man the PCA warships in AC6 are so goofy
you’ve got a big flying ship. it is, presumably, many times more expensive to produce than the likes of the LCs by sheer virtue of size if absolutely nothing else. It is also apparently the go-to option for just about any job, given the total lack of any other kinds of ship in evidence. This includes operations in space, a notably three-dimensional environment, and against various flying opponents, capable of three-dimensional movement.
So, naturally, these warships have a dorsal bridge that has barely more armor than the average basic-bitch MT. A bridge that clearly contains enough command staff and/or control systems that removing it (such as with the careful application of a laser blade, or the much less careful application of a pile bunker) causes the ship to immediately cease hanging in the air in much the same way that bricks don’t and instead begin dropping out of the sky in much the same way that sperm whales and bowls of petunias do.
Conning tower? Pshaw. Armored command centers are for chumps; our command staff will sit on the bridge with the big windows that don’t even provide meaningful vision because they’re on the opposite side of the ship from the primary weapon systems. Escorts? Pfeh. We will send our shiny high-end anti-AC units in only after two warships get deconstructed within ten seconds of each other. Point defenses? Eh, we’ll slap on a couple missile batteries, those are kind of like point defenses right? Tactics? Obviously, we’re going to come in low to the ground and then hover in place.
Nothing could possibly go wrong with this approach and anything that says otherwise is corporate propaganda. Anyways let’s go have a proper gander at that incoming enemy AC we can see out our big windoh shit.
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