#it’s like with every drawing I put a little piece of me in it
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PGATW Part 10
Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x OC (fem!reader)
Series Summary: The Avengers take a vacation to a private island rental off the Atlantic coast! You now have an opportunity to spend time with your new family, especially Wanda and Natasha. Chapter Summary: You go all the way...
Warnings: no plot, smut (bottom!reader, switch!Wanda, top!Nat, praise, degradation, use of wanda's magic, a lil mommy kink, choking, oral, fingering, wanda magics/enchants a strap-on (r receives)), a wee fluff
Note: this is the last foreseeable PGATW update! I had a few more ideas though so we will see. Thanks for reading!
Word Count: 3.5k
Check out my series masterlist for links to the rest of the parts & general warnings. Check out my main masterlist for more works!
Tag List: @suki-is-a-queen @yeetus-thyself @xenaizogie
The three of you walked back to the beach house and rinsed your feet off, not a single word being exchanged between anyone. The silence was maddening as the three of you walked up the stairs to the entrance, ignoring the looks from the avengers inside.
You could feel Wanda and Natasha's eyes following your ass as you lead the way up the stairs, putting a little more sway into your hips, careless as to whether the other two women noticed or not.
Faster, detka.
Wanda pushed words into your head, but you kept your pace, finally making it to their room. You didn't know how long you could keep control of yourself though as your heart was racing when your eyes finally made contact with the bed. Your feet somehow manage to carry your body to the foot of the mattress, turning around to sit on the end. When you look up though, you find that Natasha is already climbing on top of you, maneuvering you to the center of the mattress.
Her eyes dragged up every inch of your body, promptly followed by her hand tracing every dent, line and curve. By the time her eyes had finally connected with yours, you already felt like you were melting.
"We can't wait to ravish you, darling." Wanda climbed onto the bed, sitting above your head and playing with your hair. You watched impatiently as Natasha looked up at Wanda.
"More than you know, Talia," the Black Widow added, smirking at her parter and dragging the witch in for a deep kiss. You almost moaned as you watched their lips work together, slow tongues and small noises escaping Wanda. A soft whine left your mouth and the women finally looked down at you, both smirking.
"Aww, look Wanda, our babygirl is needy." Natasha mocked, grabbing your chin and stroking it with her thumb.
"Oh, what do you need, honey?" Wanda leaned over your head to connect with your lips upside down, you finding the new position fascinating.
"I need you two. Fucking me. Now." You groaned. "Please."
"What a good girl." Natasha whispered as she moved back to sit you up. Wanda slid her thighs under your back, swiftly pulling off your shirt before resting your weight on her legs. Nat's hands ran up and down your sides as Wanda's explored your front. Every touch was driving you wild.
"Baby why do you have a swim suit on?" Wanda laughed into your ear.
"Oh-" You nearly choked on a moan. "The outfit instructions titled 'beach clothes' is the least informative piece of information you can give a woman, you know?"
The two avengers giggled as you struggled to steady your breath.
"Well you look absolutely divine," Natasha added, leaning in to kiss the top of your breasts.
"Black suits you so well, Detka." Wanda grabbed your throat gently, squeezing on the sides and drawing sinful sounds out of you. As Natasha explored your exposed chest, you arched into her contact, allowing yourself to loose control.
"No, Talia." Natasha pushed you down, returning your back to the support of Wanda's thighs. She looked at the witch. "Darling, remind me what that word was that our sweet little slut used in that dream of hers?" The Black Widow grinned down at you. "Oh... I remember."
Wanda tilted her head, watching her partner in amusement.
Natasha leaned into your ear as she snaked a cold hand up your front. "Your mommies are in charge now, baby. Try to relax and be a good girl for us." Her teeth found your ear lobe drawing soft whimpers out of you. You felt her smirk against your skin, returning her attention to your chest as she slid one of your swim suit straps down your shoulder.
Wanda's hands worked the other strap down and Natasha watched as the witch shoved both of her palms down your suit and onto your breasts.
"Detka, you feel so good." Wanda leaned over, speaking next to your ear. You moaned as she rolled your nipples between her soft fingers. The sounds coming out of your mouth were cut short by Natasha finally making contact with your lips. She initially caught you off guard, but you quickly eased into the rhythm, allowing her tongue to enter and explore you.
You wanted to reach up to pull her kisses further into you, but Wanda quickly pulled her hands out of your top to pin yours to the bed. "Don't get greedy Talia. Your mommies are being nice to you right now."
That statement made you groan into Natasha's mouth, wanting to be obedient, but also wanting to know what the two of them looked like when you were misbehaving. Perhaps later. Wanda managed to slip her fingertips under your back to pull at the tie, taunting you as she slowly undid the knot.
Natasha helped out by taking the rest of the garment off your body, your bare chest now exposed to the two women. "Oh, honey," Natasha began, staring at your erect nipples. "I'm going to devour you."
Wanda fixed her position under you so that she could access your lips as Natasha latched her own around your delicate nipples, the mouths of both women on you. The witch was softly making out with you, shoving her tongue in-between your teeth, giving way to your small bites and tugs. Natasha swirled her own tongue around one of your nipples as she began to pinch the other. Both women grew addicted to the vibrations coming off of your body as you allowed your quiet moans to consume the room.
Wanda returned one of her hands around your neck, pulling her into you as she shoved her tongue as deep as possible. The witch forced a light choke out of you, sending shocks down to both of your cores. Natasha carried her kisses to the center of your chest, beginning to pull your thin skin between her teeth, leaving a mess of red marks behind. Your eyes were shut tight in ecstasy as her hickeys trailed down to your lower stomach, the Black Widow's hands running up and down your sides as Wanda's found your breasts.
When the witch's mouth left yours, you gasped for air.
"Oh my gods." Your chest heaved. "Fuck i'm- i'm going crazy."
Wanda laughed. "Yeah, detka?" Her fingertips pulled at your nipples.
"Oh, Wands - please." You whimpered.
"What is it, pretty girl? Are our generous touches not enough for you?"
Your eyes rolled into the back of the back of your head as Wanda played dumb. You could feel Natasha pop the button on your shorts, still keeping her kisses on your stomach as she listened to the conversation.
"Fuck- I- you- both of you feel so god damn good." You struggled to form sentences. "But I need something inside of me."
Natasha laughed. "Patience, kotenok. We wanna take our time with you." She ran her hands down your hips. "Wanda, darling, why don't you put those pretty fingers of yours into our slut's little mouth. Keep her busy for a moment."
The witches eyes glazed over as she did what she was told, you welcoming the presence of two slender fingers on your tongue. You roughly sucked, swirling your tongue around her digits while staring into Wanda's piercing green eyes. You could tell Wanda was getting lost as you moaned on her, well aware of how you were effecting her.
"Is our girl being good for you, honey?" Natasha stared at the sight before her.
"Oh, so good." Wanda nearly whispered, refusing to break eye contact with you as she pulled her drenched fingers out of your mouth.
"Perfect. Do you wanna reward her a little?" Natasha asked as she licked your cunt on top of your shorts.
"Fuck." You whispered.
"Hmm," Wanda began. "Maybe she could touch me a little." The witch grabbed your wrist and placed your fingertips under her shirt.
"Please."
Wanda laughed as she began to reposition herself. She replaced her thighs that you had been supported on with a pillow, then proceeded to straddle your chest, careful of the weight she was putting on you. You could no longer see Natasha, but you seemed to not mind as you could feel the Black Widow tease at the hem of your shorts and leave hickeys on your thighs.
Above you, Wanda pulled her top off, exposing the skimpy bralette that was attempting to support her breasts. Before you got the chance to process the sight before you, the witch had also managed to unclasp her bra. You watched as the fabric sagged on her arms, but it wasn't sliding down all the way.
"Go on, Talia."
You immediately reached up to drag the bralette down the rest of the way, heart racing at the sight of her bare chest. You ran your hands all over her thighs and up to her chest, relishing your first touches on her hard nipples. The witch moaned as you began to massage her, chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths.
At the same time, you could feel Natasha slowly work your shorts off of your hips, taking the black swim suit bottoms down with them.
"Oh, baby." Natasha breathed at the sight of your dripping cunt, bending down to blow hot air your pussy, drawing a whine from your throat. "You look divine." She returned to marking up you inner thighs, but you now felt so much more sensitive. Unable to control yourself, a hand flew up to grip Wanda's neck as the other went to pull her waistband, giving a slight base of friction on her pussy.
"Fucking- shit." Wanda gasped. "Talia." Your name escaped her mouth as more of a moan.
You smirked below the witch, breathing heavily and happily. You allowed your fingers on the top of her shorts to lower to her clothed cunt, slowly rubbing her out. The hand on her neck moved to her shoulder, making it easier for you to move her around.
"Oh my gods." Wanda whispered, a hand flying to your own neck to support herself. You grinned taking deep, careful breaths, deciding to tug at Wanda's shorts to see what she would do. The witch's sharp green eyes met yours aggressively as you watched a switch flick in her brain.
Red tendrils swirled around her free hand and she flicked them to the side of the room. You felt the fabric of her shorts leave your chest, the garment flying in the direction of her fingers. You gasped at Wanda's display of power, now able to see the wet spot on her panties.
This caught Natasha's attention as she chuckled into your pussy. "Go on, darling, let her taste you. I want to hear everything."
Wanda's glare didn't leave as she pushed up onto her knees, now hovering her panties over your salivating mouth. With another swift flick, her panties were off, her sweet smell hitting you like a bus.
"Come on, Talia. I know you're curious." She smirked, running her slender fingers through your hair before leaning forward to support herself and sink towards you.
Slowly, you reached your tongue out to her center, holding onto her hips. The moment that her warm cunt reached your mouth though, Natasha also made contact with your pussy. Your mouth quickly sent vibrations into Wanda, who in turn filled the room with her own moans.
Natasha smirked. She had the both of you in control.
"Fuck," Wanda groaned as your tongue swirled in her hot, wet mess. While forming a pattern was difficult while Natasha also sucked on your clit, you managed to explore Wanda's cunt, controlling her movements with your hands on her hips. "Natasha, baby, she feels so good," Wanda groaned.
"Yes she does," The Black Widow moaned into you, swirling her saliva around in torturous circles. She lavished in the sounds that escaped your throat, matching every dip and lick up to a whimper or groan. Your legs fought against the strength of Natahsa's arms and Wanda's thighs as you writhed under the two women, this moment in time sending you to a plane that feels like heaven. Welcomed knots began to form in your stomach as the two women worked their magic.
"May I - pl- please cum?" You managed to squeak out under Wanda's pussy. Natasha paused, dropping your heart off the side of a building.
"Hmm... you can cum once our lovely Wanda does... that'll be a good reward." With that, she immediately returned to eating you out, making you gasp into Wanda. Our Wanda, Natasha had said.
You had to make Wanda cum before Natasha got to you... you had to show the two women how much of a good girl you could be. You focused all of your attention on Wanda, desperate to accomplish your goal. You quickly found a repetition that seemed to encapsulate the woman above you in pleasure, holding on tight to her hips so that you could keep her build in control.
Natasha could tell that you were closing in on the witch, so she decided to challenge you by picking up the pace of her torturous ministrations. You wouldn't give in though, you couldn't. The sounds coming from Wanda were telling you that you were close, so you pushed through. You forced yourself to only focus on the witch... how her swollen folds felt against your tastebuds and hips struggled under your hands. You zoned in on each swipe of your tongue, ensuring that her clit was run over through the abundant saliva and oozing slick.
"Im gonna cum." She groaned breathily. You did it. You made no changes to your ministrations, ensuring that her orgasam hit. Wanda took a deep breath as her release sent a rush of physical power through your body and into Natasha's mouth, causing one more vibrating ripple to coarse through your pussy and add your orgasam to Wanda's.
You were no longer able focus on the precise movements of your mouth as your walls pulsated around Natasha's tongue, the woman below you working off your high while you messily slowed down Wanda's. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," You breathed into Wanda's cunt, trying to steady your body. You and witch took a few more seconds to regulate your racing hearts as Natasha torturously cleaned up your mess.
Eventually, Wanda collapsed to the side of you, allowing the mattress to catch all of her weight.
"Thank you," you managed to croak out. "Thank you mommies. That - that felt so good. You made me feel so good." You whined into the comforter, unaware the two women were staring at each-other as you thanked them.
"Oh, what a good, good girl. Thanking her mommies for her orgasam." Natasha cooed and you turned to stare at her. The Black Widow made sure you were focused on her as she pulled her top off. You eyes the expanses of her stunning skin, having little time to admire her beauty before she also tossed her bra off. Before you knew it, the damp pool had returned to your core.
Natasha abruptly reached for one of your hands, moving it to lay on one of her breasts. Joyously yet cautiously, you began to massage her, watching the eyelids of the woman before you slowly close and open.
"Maybe we should reward her, Wanda?"
You flipped your head to find the witch smirking. "I agree, my love." Her green eyes taunted yours.
"Wonderful," Natasha replied. "Get on your knees, Talia. All fours, honey."
You obeyed immediately, the commands affecting you in ways you could never imagine. You were still a little worn from your first orgasam, but you assumed that feeling wouldn't last too much longer.
You could hear the sound of Natasha loosing her pants, but you couldn't see from your new position on top of the mattress. Wanda tilted your chin up to her, grinning.
"Something you'll come to understand very quickly is that I am not your average partner, Talia." Her accent sent chills down your spine. "I come with perks... like this one." Wanda let go of your chin but made sure that her hand was still in your line of sight. You watched as magic shot out of her hand in the direction of Natasha, but you couldn't see what it was doing.
You looked at the witch in confusion, not feeling anything. She simply smirked, moving her focus to Natasha, as if giving her a signal. All of a sudden, a foreign object pressed up against your ass, drawing a loud gasp out of your throat.
"Now don't be shy, detka. All I've given our Natasha is a little... add-on." Wanda whispered in your ear, entertained as she watched your eyes widen. These women were going to be the death of you. You whined as the witch playfully tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Natasha moved closer to you, now fully rubbing up against your entrance from behind, teasing you as she pleases.
"That's not little," You croaked and Natasha laughed, dragging her hands up and down your back.
"You'll be alright, honey. You can let us know if it's too much, but I don't think you will." She grabbed onto your hips, slowly sliding into you. Soft, sinful sounds escaped your throat, knowing Natasha was right as she filled you up.
"Fucking hell, kotenok, you're so tight for me." She moaned above you as you gasped.
"You- can feel me?"
"Yes darling," Wanda jumped in, crawling up high on the bed so you could see her and she could watch. "Natasha can feel all of you." Wanda smirked.
"Ohmygods." You mumbled as the Black Widow started to slowly pump in and out of your slick, addicted to the way her nails were starting to rake down your lower back and hips. The sensation consumed you, and to add to the heat of the moment, Wanda had now started touching herself in front of you.
"You like what you're seeing, detka?" The witch asked.
"What i'm seeing... what i'm-" You could barely think as Natasha picked up the pace. "What I'm feeling. Ohfuck." You whined watching Wanda's delicate fingers. "Feeling so fucked out and pretty for my mommies."
"You're doing so well, darling," Natasha added, steadying your hips as you began to loose control. "Your pussy feels so warm around my cock... letting me fuck you like this, so needy and numb. Do you think you two will be able to cum with me?"
Natasha's words had an evident effect on you and Wanda, causing you both to give hurried nods. "Go- good girls." Words were beginning to have a harder time escaping her mouth, just as your brain kept getting fuzzier. "Ill just- need a-a few... few more m-moments..."
You could feel yourself on the brink of an orgasam, needing to dedicate all power to holding back. You whimpered as Natasha continued to brutally thrust into you.
The redhead gasped. "Fuck- i'm gonna-"
All of a sudden, Natasha had released into you, sending you over the edge. Wanda watched as the two of you collapsed, allowing her to finish herself off too. The three of you ended up in a sweaty sticky mess, piled on top of each other.
You grinned, happily surrounded by your two favorite people on earth. Wanda reached to hug your body and you reached for Natasha, everyone entangled and satisfied. Despite your sticky skin, you never wanted to let go.
But nothing can last forever. Eventually, Natasha wiggled out of your grasp and stood up on the floor.
"What! No!" You groaned, missing her warmth.
"Oh hush, Talia." She giggled. "I have to use the bathroom and clean up. I'm not running away." She said, waltzing towards the other end of the room, fully aware you and Wanda were watching her ass. "Besides, you two should probably clean up as well."
You turned to face Wanda.
"She's right, you know..." The witch spoke softly, her eyes shinning with amusement.
"But i'm so cozy here..." You looked up to her innocently, flickering your glance in between her eyes and lips. The witch rolled her eyes but couldn't resist as she leaned in to softly capture your mouth, admiring your sweet and sincere kisses.
"C'mon, Talia." She pinched your ass, holding her hand out to you as she stood up. You hesitantly grabbed it, but you immediately realized that you never wanted to let go. The witch dragged you to the bathroom, the two of you joining Natasha in bliss... this was something you could get used to.
#wanda maximoff x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#wanda maximoff#marvel smut#wanda x reader#wandanat x reader#wandanat smut#wandanat#gxgxg smut#marvel gxg#lesbian#marvel self insert#wanda x natasha x reader
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@vmprsm replied to your post “Raw MKV rip of Mission Impossible: Fallout:...”:
Theoretically, if one wanted their own copies of the MI movies safely on a hard drive....where would one go?
I mean, there is a site where you can acquire a lot of movies via torrent. I tend to use (rot13) 1337k.gb and I got a heavily discounted Windscribe VPN subscription that I use on almost all of my devices.
But my thing is that... I want commentary reels and special features, and sometimes you'll download a movie but the fucking subtitles are either bad or they become desynced over time and I haaaaate it.
So I've been gathering bits and pieces over the past year to get a Plex system going in my house and it works like a fucking DREAM. But it requires some investment. If you just want to have a few local copies of your favorite movies, this is way overkill. But me, I am canceling all of my family's streaming services and pivoting to our Plex.
So what I have for actually getting the files:
I don't have this model but it's similar to this, a Pioneer External Blu-ray Reader. It sits on a little shelf and is connected to my PC by a USB cable. (I think I got mine for around 68 bucks so you can wait for a sale.)
I use MakeMKV which will rip the big honking raw files from a Blu-ray and leave them as matroshka (.mkv) files.
Because these raw files are ENORMOUS, I compress them in Handbrake. Handbrake is wildly powerful, can convert file formats and make them super small. I have my Handbrake set up special to dump all the non-English language subtitles and audio tracks to save space.
(SUPER BONUS TIP FOR HANDBRAKE: If you have a dedicated GPU, you can give Handbrake permission to use it, and it'll compress shit literally 10x faster, love it.)
At the moment, I am using a Western Digital portable 5TB external harddrive because it was one sale and I couldn't beat the price. Eventually, I want to upgrade to two 10TB HDDs so I can keep a full backup of everything I'm ripping. Because this is a bit of a time and energy commitment and I don't wanna lose all my progress here!
At first I was running Plex off my desktop PC and that worked totally fine, but my family hates having to touch my desktop to wake it up every time, so I very recently grabbed one of these guys:
This is a Beelink Mini PC S12 Pro. It is small enough to fit in my hand but it is a speedy little demon that runs Windows 11. (And eventually I am gonna use it to firewall out ads from our entire home network, I'm pumped for that project but ANYWAY.)
The upside of these mini boys is that instead of being a hefty workhorse like my main computer, this is small and has a low-power draw.
So I moved my Plex Media Server to the mini PC, plugged in my 5TB drive of movies, and now everyone in the house can easily stream anything I have added to the library.
This is what it looks like, if you're curious. Any device in the house that runs Plex and is signed in can select any movie or TV show I have and just watch it like it was Netflix or something.
A month ago, I has like.... 65 movies? Now I'm ripping a few and we're gonna break 100 soon.
"But Arc, where do you get so many blurays!"
My local library.
When I lived in Broward County, FL, I had an extravagantly wonderful library system. Tax dollars at fucking WORK, y'all. Now I live in Georgia and the library system is not nearly as good, but I have still gotten my hands on a frankly ridiculous amount of blurays. Every week I'm picking up 3 to 10 movies or shows, taking them home, making good copies, and returning them.
All of this is an investment and it is work. But as someone who built my computer, built my keyboard, cracked my 3DS and PS Vita-- this is fun to me! This is what I love to do. And through doing it, I've seen more movies in the past year than the last ten years put together.
So yeah, I can't recommend this to everyone, but if you wanna get out of your subscriptions and to just have high quality shit on demand, this is what I'm doing.
Cannot stress this enough tho, if this seems interesting to you: wait for sales. All the components here go on steep sale if you wait patiently. Take your time assembling the parts and keep in mind that shit is modular, you can upgrade parts later.
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What do you think is the goal behind women talking so much about "purity culture?" I try to avoid feminist discussion in general now but I occasionally see this topic brought up, and they usually equate loving purity/wanting to be pure with pedophilia or something similar ( I recently saw someone say "purity culture is rape culture.") I seriously doubt it would ever happen, but I like the idea of getting to be in an actually loving relationship with a women who values the same things as me. I don't seek it out becauce there's no point in doing that, it's more of a "it would be cool if this happened" thing. But when they say things like this, it makes me feel like I'm wrong or perverted for seeing purity as a positive trait in a partner.
These are my thoughts: I see grown women put on that fake mask of purity that's meant to attract men's attention (and sometimes women's bc I've seen lesbians have these kinks) towards them. One of the more obvious examples: the whole pink ribbon coquette "I'm an innocent little submissive bunny uWu" thing they do. And oc these women obviously adore pedophilia and want to roleplay having their innocence stolen again. They don't have it anymore so they have to play pretend to reach physical excitement, which is why these kinks exist in the first place. But then "purity culture" is blamed for these people finding purity sexually exciting, like it's some made-up concept, when that's literally what sex is- degrading someone else by using their body for a high. The more innocent someone is, the more degrading (aka exciting) the sex is for, therefore innocence is sexually beguiling to most people whether they admit it or not.
I've seen that the "sex-critical but not anti-sex" crowd hates people using different scenarios to act out degredation and referencing the predator/prey dymanic of sex through kink, bdsm, etc. But they think sex is fine as long as they don't overtly acknowledge that what they're doing is degrading or an exchange of power. Like an "out of sight, out of mind" thing. So they draw very random and rigid lines around what sex is okay and what sex isn't, and what isn't okay is anything that takes them out of the lovey-dovey lie they tell themselves and reminds them of what's really getting them off. To me there's something even more predatory about these people, because even if the kind of lust they engage in is less violent/extreme, they're incredibly manipulative about their intentions. Their whole shtick about sex being an "expression of love" is the most coercive thing ever.
Everyone in the world seeks to consume purity and people only ever encouraged purity as a temporary measure in one's goal of finding "the one." Like a virgin distribution system, it's about everyone getting to their fair share of innocence to taint, not about loving innocence itself. That is the real "purity culture", but instead of defending purity they think the solution to this problem is to just pretend purity is a made up concept. They decide to blame it all on a toxic ideology instead of being honest about reality, just like they do with every other problem in the world. Like if you simply decide to think about an action in a different way, that somehow changes the action being wrong. They decide that purity doesn't exist and that lust isn't harmful, which gives them the freedom to go about life feeding on innocence guilt-free, degrading themselves and others but believing they're morally superior than people who are more upfront about why they do what they do. I hope this makes sense and I'm not just writing in circles, I know why their logic is flawed in my head but I'm bad at piecing my thoughts together in a coherent way for others.
Also this is random but I had to share: The most hilarous thing I ever saw in my radfem tumblr days was a post telling you how to suck dick without it being patriarchal and degrading. As if you can take away the inherent degredation of stuffing one's face with some man's dick. It said to not kneel, to not stare up at him in the eyes like pornstars do, and to not go far back enough to gag. Sex pest logic: "It's natural and there's nothing wrong with it, just don't look him in the eye while you do it or it's degrading."
I've heard of the “purity is perversion” thing, and they're jealous. Women want to be attractive to everybody, even if they're not attracted to that individual, so they create think pieces on why they should be included in other people's dating pools, how beauty standards should change, etc. Now Twomen are engaging in the same behavior saying that you're a bigot if you're not attracted to them.
Even though 99.9% of people want an impure partner, they talk about purity way too often for it to not be an envy-based concern. Purity is the only trait that matters in a partner, everything else falls into place after that. If purity isn't the foundation for a relationship, that's when people get into these weird and oddly specific traits that don't really matter because they truth is they'd screw anything with a pulse. And they do.
When people fake like purity, they want the image of purity projected, but if you're actually pure, that makes them insecure and run for the hills because your standards are too high to live up to. And you won't fuck them, of course.
Sex-addicts also delude themselves into believing that “having sex through your heart” or “having sex with your brain” purifies their act, which is why they're so impressed with themselves when they speak like this. I can't believe I have to say this, but you can only have sex with your genitals. There's no purifying or romanticizing sex—it's for the painfully horrifying ordeal of self-sacrificial procreation. If people want to deny this, fine, but I don't want to hear them complain about rape and pedophilia. You don't get to justify sex for yourself, then criticize how other people have sex and who they have it with.
Most people are pedophiles. This goes much deeper than an orgasm, it's a state of consciousness, and it's the most evil form of it. The world isn't the way it is for no reason, the thoughts of the population materializes, which the news sheds a light on hourly. People think the news is cherry-picking to sow doom and gloom, but the news is actually very sanitized and is vastly underreporting on reality, saving airtime for the most deplorable cases.
If you want to find a genuine person, they won't have a reputation to uphold. People with reputations are manipulators. Individuals who know they're evil welcome bad karma and get off on their misfortune and the decay of their body. They're not only sadistic, but also put themselves through the ringer for sexual gratification. These are beings who intentionally contract STDs, and spread them, will burn themselves and others, put themselves in situations to get raped and rape others. Fake good people believe they're victims, even though they engage in the same behavior as overtly evil people because they engage in the New Age religion of “just think of it differently, and you will dodge karma!” You can't dodge the self-made structure of your brain.
To the ordinary person, purity culture is having to actually apply their philosophies to everyday life. If you're speaking to a feminist separatist who says she hates men, but then you point out that she has a boyfriend, she will call you a purist for expecting her to abide by the values she says she has. Purity culture isn't only about sex, it's about actually being who you say you are. This is where impurity and the split mind come into play, most people cannot reconcile reality with what is going on in their head, which is the basis of all mental illnesses.
If you call a slut a slut, you're being rude, but if you call a slut an innocent angel, she will become gleeful even though she doesn't fit the criteria. The ordinary person is begging to be lied to, and then they get upset when they get played. People love poetic whores for this reason. The individual's lack of self-awareness is why they are taken advantage of repeatedly. This level of naivety has clarified that the cabal does need to deploy mind control, as most are not interested in controlling their minds. The primary way people are controlled is through their senses. When I see people with zero discipline write pieces on how they abuse their senses in this never-heard-of-unique way even though it's very mediocre, as if they have any autonomy, it's kinda funny. Just like the essing dee example you gave.
The “think of x differently” mindset is exactly what false religions are about and how dogma springs up. If somebody is consistently having sex, their consciousness is at that level. It doesn't matter how intelligent they project themselves to be, people who are actually smart aren't popular & can see through their facade. If you're popular yet, claim to speak the truth, that's a contradictory statement. One must lie, pander and grift in some manner, or they're stupidly reinventing the wheel to gain traction in this world.
Although I absolutely despise evil, I'd rather deal with an overt devil than the covert one. The ones who openly brag about their disgusting nature and don't try to justify themselves, but these individuals are relatively rare. Overt psychopaths are the ones women hate because women are covert psychopaths who are terrified of men who make no effort to hide their true nature. This is because women like to be warmed up to the sexophile's vulturine nature slowly, then claim victimhood. Women as a collective hate the truth because women lie that much.
The language people use is indicative of their true nature. It's a sign of how versed they are in grooming, manipulation and “lovebombing." Convoluted, confusing and flowery language is meant to romanticize degeneracy. Predators are predictable, but people with smooth brains will always be easy prey. Oh well, survival of the fittest, right?
The majority of the world is still illiterate, and most of the people who can read do so at a 2nd grade level (and that is dwindling according to what these teachers are saying). So to even have good enough karma to read yet waste one's eyesight on garbage is a personal choice. What you're saying is literally incomprehensible to everybody. Realistically, there is only a small portion of the world this information is available to, a lecture room of people who can comprehend it and a handful who will actually apply it. Still worth it for those who are genuinely suffering, so any truth you can speak is infinitesimally useful.
Eating genitals is no different than drinking piss and eating shit. These are dog-people who are only one step away from eating plated feces as a delicacy, which is why westerners are projected to eat bugs soon. We're seeing more and more people with veneers for a reason. It's not just to get a Hollywood Smile. I would talk about this more, but 120 Days of Sodom demonstrates Satan Consciousness well enough. These beings are not human but take on the appearance of such. Actual humans are at least aware of their souls and demonstrate discipline and decorum. Animals are at the will of their base urges.
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Lol drawing these reqs made me realize how bad I am at drawing romance
#whaaaat the aro gal is bad at depicting romance?? who would’ve thunk#I feel a little bad cuz some came out feeling fake and unatural#Im sure I’d get better at it with practice.. but at the same time I have no interest in practicing skdhdd#idk I’m having lots of 3am feelings about this#about me realizing how different romance and platonic love feel from each other to me#it’s like with every drawing I put a little piece of me in it#but when it’s romantic I put nothing in it because I have nothing to put#sure I can try to pretend I’m drawing two friends and then just add blushies at the end#but that still feels fake#idk#rozu thoughts
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this show would be good if literally everything about it was different
#read these tags please(unless ur an HH fan in which case please ignore them) >>> I DO NOT LIKE THIS SHOW#i hate viv///ziepop so fucking much its actually unreal. every time i think about her i seethe#been hatewatching it ('legally') nd its awful. like i mean i knew it would be going into it but goddamn. so much worse than i expected#you may be like 'whyd you draw this then'. i wanted to make a finished piece with my redesigns#for funsies me and my boyf have been rewriting/redesigning the whole show . thats been our fun little craft#i feel similar about this that i do about fnaf and miraculous ladybug even tho this is objectively worse in every way#theres this eternal feeling of like. man. if the writers were competent then this concept would be interesting#but theyre not so. here we are#anyway. im gona try not to put hate in the tags lol#but i like how this turned out too much NOT to post it#anyways mutuals please dont unfollow me for this i promise im normal JDSFHJKDFHJDFKHJK#Hazbin Hotel Redesigns#Hazbin Hotel Critical#Angel Dust#Husk#Huskerdust#I guess.#genuinely a little scared to post this ones. im scared ill lose mutuals over this AND/OR fans will harass me for those tags JHKSDFHJKJK#im posting it and then immediately going to sleep. might delete later if even 1 thing goes wrong#EDIT RL QUICK i wanna add: i dont care if you like the show <33 good for you!!! i respect it!! i liked it when i was 14. i just dont now. <
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My mom sent me a watercolor she just did and I’m going a little crazy over it, tbh.
#it’s such a simple subject#flowers in a field at sunset#and it’s the sunflower + tulips + lupin combination that you see whenever you ask somebody to draw different flowers#but she has this red abstract squiggly border that looks just like the illuminations in manuscripts#and the sunset wash bleeds all together#and there’s this gradient in the muddy yellow of the sunflower#and you look at it. and you can tell. whoever made this had fun.#they enjoyed putting the colors down#the green layers of grass#the delicate squiggles of red#the tiny little flowers and the giant swath of sky#I’ve ranted and raved about how technical excellence /needs/ to be pursued#but - perhaps because I believe in excellence and not despite of it -#Every step along the way#every ‘beginner’s mistake’#every naive piece every foray into something new every attempt to make something beautiful#just inspires so much love and joy in me.#It’s beautiful. because it’s an attempt to express the inexpressible.
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me + mayhem going on a stupid silly hike for my stupid silly mental health
touched grass and i am normal again (lying)
#i will get back to drawing soon let me just sleep for a few years shdjhkfds#anyway photo credit to mayhem again i cant take pictures to save my life lol#btw the caption is obvs reference to that one hike video tiktok i think so credit to that also its not my joke#anywqay it was nice did help me a little bit#been feeling a bit down due to some personal problems ykno#and also due to not being accepted into a med uni I rly wanted to (but didn't put enough effort I'll confess) and that almost no one getsin#but i was only missing one point o(-( i was the first in line outside the capacity limit hasjkdhsahd#even tho my brain is rly small for it lets be real hfjsdfhksd but like hhsdjhshdjkhd those biches at physiotherapy baited me hdsjd#mqf i have failed you lol#also i have accidentaly gotten back into one piece as I do for like two weeks periodically every few months or so dhjsdhk#so im revisiting my olde blorbo trafalgar which is just reminding me of a fact that this was one of the fuckers my itty bitty young self -#- wanted to pursue medicine beacause of lmaoooo#bad timing one piece fixation!! bad bad!! sdhhdjshdjakshd#whatevrrr whatevr whatevr io dotn care! enough of that hahhskj#but hey as some of u may remeber im czech so haa whats up with the mountains right since we are very cute and 'down to earth' state hahaha#its cuz its actually from austria :))#we went hiking there since theyre co by kamenem dohodil as they say#fuck english has the exactly same saying im moron that ruins my whole thing hjdsk 'a stone's throw away' whatever ignore that ig hahhah#so yeah very beautiful very powerful go touch some grass lads#also they are not stones throw away i was lying but close enough-#also random czechs stop jumpscaring me in other countries challenge why was there so many of us horrible horrible horrible
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Things discovered: Charm is stupid amounts of fun to draw in the WOY style (Patreon)
Bonus:
Spider bites are already round and soft-shaped!
#Doodles#Villainsona#Just Desserts#So here's a fact for funsies: I gave this style a go once and then set it down for a couple days 'cause I thought it didn't work for Charm#But I simply hadn't experimented enough yet! What a fool I was!#The first four - well really three but the eyes-touching was a later attempt lol - kinda put me off my attempt#But not completely :3c ♪#It was actually going back and looking at Princess Demurra's eyes that were the final piece of the puzzle#The eye shape for sure but mostly the fact that she has those big blue irises as well as big pupils - that's it that's what I needed lol#Like Charm's cute with just the large pupils but that extra circle makes all the difference in actually wanting to keep drawing her lol#And I super do! This style is like?? Shockingly perfect for her I super didn't expect it#Reminds me a lot of that time I ran her through the Lalaloopsy filter haha just missing the button eyes similar proportions#I based her body quite a lot on the Fleas with I guess? Binglebop legs?? haha just a tiny little lad!#She's very proportionally fun because she's basically a parallelogram with a big head and nub arms lol ♪#I eventually opted to drop her fingers altogether but I don't mind if they show up every once in a while lol#I also think candy people would fit the WOY aesthetic fairly well :D I especially like how her swirls turned out haha very defined shapes#I also gave her fluffy hair 'cause while I very much enjoy the rounded fluff shapes I'm not very good at them yet :') Sylvia in point lol#It's only particularly obvious in her TVAU form! Her classic hair shape is very fitting! Haha#Too bad this opened the floodgates to more TVAU ideas in that case hehehe ♪#She looks hecka-cute however :)#Oh and Spider bites of course! I haven't drawn Spider Bites in this style but hhrnn it's tempting!
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i'm a bit late but!!! :''''') 2022 had a lot of art... ended up cheating and putting multiple pieces per month xD including some commissioned pieces i have yet to post :3cccccc
but yeah, i feel like i learned a damn lot throughout the year, experimented quite a bit too, which is nice! sketched a lot as well, and digitally too, which used to be something i could only Dream of doing. got to work with and talk to really cool folks as well ♥ ahhh still got a long way to go, i'm nowhere near how i wish my art looked like, but i'm very happy and proud of these ones :D considering the previous two years had no summaries at all (mostly because there wasn't enough art so i decided to just not make any of those), this is quite the improvement i think! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)
but anyway!! thank you so much to everyone who stopped by, who left nice tags and replies and messages, and everyone who commissioned me as well!! you folks are all really sweet ;_; thank you!!!!
#art summary 2022#my art#digital art#art summary meme#artists on tumblr#art#💕💗💖💗💕💖💕💖💗💕💖#sincerely always overjoyed going through the tags ;-; cheers me up when i'm feel like garbage over art-stuff#you people are super nice aa glad you like my art!! :')#been meaning to make a little tag tribute for ages... some of the personal favorites are the 'is he single' and every keymash variation#(many of which did not fit into the image but are greatly appreciated all the same ♥)#and emoji spams. those are always great too#ahhhh heart is full :')#looking forward to drawing even more this year!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)#scheduling this so i can't change my mind last minute. tumblr's being buggy so i hope this works#oh i'll be putting some reblogs on the queue too#including the many many pieces that didn't make it to the summary (such as Oliver's one portrait with the bit of lace ;-;)#but yeah..... ;w; thank you everyone for sticking around! ♥
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a most valid inquiry, so you see in the 8th grade my teacher had us read machiavelli, and it wasn't until the 10th grade that we did shakespeare's julius caesar
#one of these eras got a head start on giving me brain worms in a way that mattered and it wasn't ancient rome#making a whole ass comic about cassius is easier than attempting an extremely clunky translation of a biography#of a man during a very dense part of italian history and yet here i am. attempting that.#there's also the very clunky cassius biography/source book im putting together#however im making a smiliar thing for this ascanio biography because every other paragraph i am learning about New Events#like i knew milan had codes and cryptography because i have a collection of translated dispatches#but there was a whole guy in charge of that kind of thing and im just so. SOOOOOO. screeching#the milan one is harder than the cassius one#im also a human being so sometimes i get a little :| if certain pieces dont do as well as i hope they will#however when it comes to the renaissance stuff i post? literally does not factor into whether or not i'll post it#i have a sanseverino piece that has like. 12 notes on it and i honestly surprised it cracked 5#which reminds me. i need to draw that comic where he's playing cards with ascanio and it cuts to that one juan-ascanio fight
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should i like. name these comics. should it be smth like zaki adventures or something
#gintamaposting#also should i incorporate my gintama oc into them??? it certainly would give me more material#since they have a connection to zaki ... ....... but also like. idk if itd be a good idea. i dunno#also. should i make them more detailed some day HDJKSHGKJ i swear i can draw somewhat ... !! i just think shitty sketch style is fun#its also fast so i can put out stuff fast ish. which is honestly smth i really needed i think?#im very much the type to obsess over every fine detail until i consider it perfect#except due to like. disability & mental illness i rarely have the determination to keep working on the same piece for too long#but i want to have something done! i want to have something done so bad!!#& maybe these little comics can be it for me?#would it be more accessible if i put them all on the same image when it comes to image descriptions rather than separating the pages?#um ill tag this with the#gintama#tag bc i um. i dont have many followers. or any that care about gintama really. .. or any . . . but there are people who reblog the comics#& as such their input would be greatly appreciated!!! on all of this. even if ive said a lot ㅠㅠㅠ
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Creator Spotlight: @themetalhiro
Hi, I’m Metal! I’m a freelance artist from good ol’ New Jersey. My favorite things to work with are a lot of bright colors, exaggerated poses, and candid scenarios. I try to farm sensible chuckles whenever I can, so I’m also big into comics. I love making them about my life, and the media I’m into, and one day I’d like to publish my own series!
Thank you to everyone who has gotten me this far!!
Check out Metal's interview below!
Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?
I guess so! It’s funny, I don’t remember a single time in my life that I wasn’t drawing as a hobby… somewhere in middle school (a little late, I know.) I put the pieces together that animated movies were made by artists, and that it wasn’t just for fun, they were paid to do it. The moment I discovered people could be paid to make art, I decided I would do that, too. Now I’m here!
How has your style developed over the years?
I think the best way to answer this would be with an example! Over the last few years, I have made more of an effort to draw more intentionally, which sounds silly. Now, I put more thought into my poses and step out of my comfort zone with shape language and composition. I had a phase where I drew everyone with a huge, perfectly circular head and no nose. That definitely did not lend much variety...
Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?
Ack! I’m so terrible at history! I’d love to give a well-thought-out answer about fine artists of old, but I don't think we’d have much in common… Most artists I admire and who have driven me forward creatively are the people behind comics I’ve read. Andrew Hussie, Bryan Lee O’Malley, Eiichiro Oda... these guys have inspired me greatly and had a heavy influence in developing my art style and sense of humor. I’d love to ask them questions about their processes and upcoming projects. I think it would make for an entertaining night!
Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?
Outside of pure aesthetics like searing bright colors, layered clothing, and loud noises…. the best and most inspiring moments in my life were those surrounded by friends and loved ones! I cherish the hell out of memories of hanging around in fun locations, trying weird food together, and impromptu midnight walks... so I try my best to capture that atmosphere and my own memories in my work when I can, even if I’m imposing fictional characters on top of them. That’s always the core of it.
What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?
I would never permanently refuse a medium, but every time I pick up clay, I’m like a baby using its hands for the first time. Absolutely dreadful. If one day I could make and paint a figurine like the ones I admire in videos, that would be awesome... But for now, I’m not counting on it.
How do you want to evolve as a creator?
I’ve had an absolute blast drawing fanart over the years, and it’s certainly played a massive role in my growth as an artist. But my dream has always been to publish my own stories for y'all to enjoy! I have lots of worlds I want to introduce to you before I’m old and gray. I want to get faster, work harder, and get better at drawing interesting settings so I can get the wheels turning as soon as possible. I also want to stop avoiding the color blue like a coward.
What do you wish you knew when you first started out creating art that you know now?
Pay your taxes quarterly. Tablets will break at the exact moment you need them most, so have a spare. Wear your blue light glasses. You’re going to need to wear a brace on every joint on the right side of your body. It can be lonely sitting at your desk all day. The car on the side of the road that costs $1000 cash….. don’t trust it!!!
Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?
@cranity—They use absolutely beautiful colors and weighty line work. Everything looks so sharp and clean! I wanna put it all up on my wall!
@vewn—Their ability to crank out quality short films and illustrations packed with detail is incredible. The off-kilter perspective they use really sells disorientation and catches your attention like nothing else.
@nelnal—They have absolutely banger character designs again and again, I can’t believe one person’s mind can come up with so many creative ideas!
@jinx88kc—They have a beautiful and recognizable style, and the way they incorporate animation into their illustrations sometimes is SO cool!
Thanks for stopping by, Metal! For more of Metal’s work, follow their Tumblr, @themetalhiro!
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scribbles
"( – ⌓ – ) ⎯⎯ he lets you draw on his skin, yeah thats pretty much it.
ft. malleus, vil
malleus
it was... a breach of your patience.
the lesson, was awfully boring. the more you listened to the apparent 'heroic' doings of certain individuals. the more it strips away your attentiveness to the words spilling out of professor trein's mouth. no matter how many times you will your ears to make out the incoherent lecturing of the man... it remains deaf.
so you decide to sate said boredom.
how? of course you need to bother your seatmate!
your intentions remained within the circle of yourself of course. your eyes stuck to the stray marker over your paper so you silently twisted the cap off and scribbled on your paper—then it was your palm—and now, malleus' arm.
"child of...?" man. malleus finishes in his mind, his attention suddenly snapped away at the sudden tug of his arm. definitely not his own decision to even make it move in the first place. usually it would remain stiffly beside his body like usual and even if someone tried to pry it to them it would remain still. but without his attention, his body lets you.
without another word. you peel open his fingers, palm open to you and it's a notion he allows. and he stays silent when you tug his gloves off. perhaps with a curious huff, malleus drifts closer to you. to accommodate your actions that he's yet to get an explanation for.
... and suddenly there's very bright flowers drawn on his palm.
said owner of the palm might just be toe darkest person in the room so it's quite out of place.
but it's from you so he likes it.
he peeks at it, with a fond smile on his face. I should enchant it to remain there forever. he thinks to himself, the curve of his lips growing wider at his thoughts, like he'd proud of the idea. the idea of being able to carry around something made exclusively by you might as well shove him into a cannonball and send him to cloud nine.
it's adorable. you're adorable.
his world grows a little more blue the more he stares at you. and if it weren't for the searing glances the professor sends your way malleus would just let his eyes engrave you into his memory forever, so he laments over it and reluctantly peels his gaze off you. mind speaking a thousand memories, the very same reason he somehow can't hear anything trein says.
you draw a strange looking lizard beneath his ring finger, one that looks a little like him and he thinks that you're asking him for marriage.
that can be arranged... he ponders, oblivious.
vil
drawings, doodles, painting— art. a reflection of the soul.
vil is great at makeup.
every brush on your face, a step to beauty. that is his reflection. you are his soul. he wants to make you look—no, make you feel like you're beautiful cause the canvas he's standing in front of is his greatest piece of art, he'd want to put you on the tallest pedestal there is. the grandest one just so the rest knows your beauty is parallel to none, something they can see and admire but not reach.
but he also wants to keep you in his own room, because only he knows what he felt when he painted you. only he should be the one given the grace.
this... he doesn't know what to consider.
perhaps vil should be bothered, if not then a little peeved at the several colors across his skin. a myriad of doodles, some words, and some simple drawings. a poor portrait of him is drawn next to one he assumes yours, the 'fairest' word on the right side of his hand, and flowers.
he's sure though. you're definitely no artist.
the thought cracks a smile at him, and you steal a glance midst the cool tip of the pen dancing along his skin. "I'd thought you wouldn't even let me do this," you admit, chair having been moved over closer to him so you wouldn't have any leaning problems. a suggestion by vil you gratefully took up, though you doubt it was just another excuse to have you closer.
"why?"
"dunno," you shrug. "it looks unseemly compared to you."
he huffs, flashing you a light smirk. "so my face is, hmmm..." vil ponders for a moment, and your face twists to the realization that you possibly just exposed what you think. but you suppose it isn't really a problem since it was basically common sense that vil is...
"gorgeous." you finish for him.
his aura brightens. (probably will be for the rest of the week.)
your hand retracts from him, the marker gripped between your fingers. and he takes a look at your 'art.' he doesn't know if he should consider it as one since there are a heap of sloppy lines, and the color bleeds into his skin. some smudges that you accidentally brushed against that makes it seem like a messy picture of chaos.
vil strives for perfection, but it's only natural there are flaws. to love oneself, you must love all parts. and to love you, he loves whatever the ink on his skin is.
well, what the heck.
"pass it to me," he stretches his hand, and you quirk a brow. questioning but curious so he indulges you. "I'll show you how it's done."
note. ngl idk what I wrote for vil it's currently 12 AM rn ☠ <- newer note, this has been rotting in my drafts for weeks and I couldn't decide whether to post it cause I wasn't sure about vil's but here hehehe
#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland scenarios#twisted wonderland headcanons#twst fluff#malleus draconia x reader#malleus x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#vil x reader#x gn reader
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It starts small. You honestly don't think much of it. Crows begin leaving you gifts in your window frame. It's pretty rocks. It's a small screw. It's coins and grimm, it's a button from a shirt, it's shiny beads.
You bring it up to Mammon randomly one day. He stares at you wide-eyed. "What, you mean crowns leave ya gifts? Sound ridiculous," he says and you shrug.
"I mean, I've heard about crows leaving gifts for humans before. It's not that unusual, but usually, the humans give something to the crows in return," you say, thinking aloud. "That's the part that confuses me. I haven't given anything to the crows, so why do they like me so much?" Mammon's cheeks are bright red by now, the blush going all the way down his neck. Your brows furrow with concern.
"Hey, are you okay?" you ask and he nods quickly. "Yeah, 'm fine, gotta-go-see-ya! " he stutters and quickly leaves you, practically running away. You look after him in confusion. Weren't you both just supposed to be headed home?
The gifts continue. You get a single earring. At one point you get a small bone and at another time you get a tooth which leaves you a bit unsettled but also intrigued. You treasure every single gift, keeping it in a small box by your desk. You begin to leave the crows gifts in return. You find that they like peanuts and berries. One time you experimentally leave a big piece of watermelon, only to find it devoured within minutes.
The next day there's a pretty locket with what looks like a flower engraved in it. You gape at the locket and instantly put it on, proudly wearing it around your neck. You make sure to leave the crows a feast that day.
Satan is the first brother to notice it when it slips out from the collar of your uniform one day. "Is that new?" he asks. "Oh yeah, I've befriended a bunch of crows." Satan stops in his tracks and stares at you.
"You've befriended crows?" He repeats and you nod. "Yes. Why is everyone so weird about this?" A knowing smile creeps onto his face and he shakes his head.
"Why do you think the crows like you so much?" he asks. You hum, considering it for a second. Eventually, you have to draw a blank and look at Satan in defeat. His smile only grows wider.
"Ask Mammon. He might know."
You find Mammon in his room, lying in his bed. He smiles when he sees you and pats the bed, motioning you to come over. "Come here," he says and you do, lying down next to him. He huffs and pulls at you so you're lying on his chest. You can feel his heart beating and you look up at him through your lashes.
"Hey, Mamms," you say and he runs his hand down your back, rubbing circles into it. "Hey, treasure," he says and grins.
"Satan says you might know the cause of my new friendships." His cheeks turn crimson in an instant and he lets out something akin to a nervous laugh. "Oh, the crows, you mean?" you huff and playfully roll your eyes. "Come on, big guy, spill the beans," you say and Mammon sighs.
"So, the crows like you, because, well, I told them about you," he says and a grin spreads across your face. "Go on," you say.
"Okay, I have crow familiars, you know what a familiar is, right?" he says and looks at you expectantly. You rake your brain, remembering briefly having about it in one of your classes. "Yeah, it's like witches with black cats, right?" you say and Mammon hums.
"Yeah, kind of, but anyone can have a familiar and it can be any animal. The whole black cat thing is just something the catholic church made up." You nod in understanding while Mammon continues to rub patterns into your back. The beating of his heart seems to have become louder underneath you. "So what you're saying is you can't shut up about how awesome I am and now a bunch of crows are obsessed with me?" you say and Mammon hides his face in his hands. You giggle and pry his hands away, smiling at him adoringly.
"Please don't make fun of me," he huffs and you pout at his antics. "I could never tease my lovely little bird boy," you coo and Mammon groans while pushing you off him. He turns his back to you and you laugh manically. "Come on, Mamms, It's cute," you say and press soft kisses to the nape of his neck. "you're cute," you say and throw an arm and a leg over him, attempting to spoon him. You feel him instantly melting to your touch, completely unable to keep his resolve. It's almost too easy when he turns around again to face you. You smile at his pink face.
"I really like the gifts the crows gave me," you reassure him because you genuinely do. It's become something you look forward to when you open your window.
"You do?"
"Yeah, absolutely," you affirm and he smiles sheepishly. "I once tried to train them to steal money for me, but it didn't work."
part two
a/n: thanks for reading! find my other stuff here <3
#bird boy go brrr#obey me mammon#obey me#obey me mammon fluff#ficlets#mammon#obey me x you#obey me x reader#obey me x mc#mammon x mc#mammon x reader#obey me shall we date#obey me fluff#obey me fic#om! mammon#obey me headcanon
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So there's a lot to unpack here but I want to start by talking about the ending and specifically about the Metatron and the calculating moves made at the end of episode 6.
Every single piece of what happened there was a manipulation technique being employed against Aziraphale to an almost brilliant degree and I'm honestly a little obsessed with what this says about the Metatron in particular.
Let's go in order.
First of all. We see him order coffee. In a human body. Something sweet and sugary. He talks to Nina and asks her about her shop name. Does anyone ever ask for death? And when she tells him no they don't his response is to say "so predictable". Our introduction to him here even when everything about him reads like a sweet old man is presented to show us someone who reads the world in terms of being predictable to him.
He then shows up in the middle of Aziraphale's existence being threatened. He immediately cuts down the threat's authority (using outdated language like Az himself would favor) and reemphasizes his own connection to Heaven. When Michael doesn't recognize him and he puts her down and then directly engages Crowley. Crowley who, to Aziraphale, has for centuries at a minimum been someone he thinks is smarter, better, more Good than these other archangels. The Metatron validates these beliefs. Crowley is more Heavenly than these archangels who couldn't even recognize the voice of God when he was standing right in front of them.
The Metatron draws attention to the fact he's in a human body. The kind of body Aziraphale has been in and loved for nearly 6000 years. He then banishes the archangels, implying their morality is in a gray space, and validates Muriel someone we have seen Aziraphale react positively to and someone outside the current power structure. Look at me, he's saying. I see and validate the little guy.
He then tries to talk to Aziraphale. Aziraphale says "I've made my position quite clear." And then the Metatron offers Aziraphale the coffee. This bartering chip, consuming sustenance, is a thing that Aziraphale and Crowley have used as their connective tissue for centuries. It's an olive branch for them. It's giving Aziraphale bodily pleasure and the Metatron implies that he himself has partaken also - a thing we know that Aziraphale has struggled historically with moralizing. He is seen by the closest thing he has left to his parent and he is having old fears validated as safe and old habits being played upon to make him feel secure
He then REMOVES Aziraphale from his home turf. Not only does he remove Crowley from the equation but he takes Aziraphale from the place that has stood as a place of sanctuary throughout the entirety of the season. The shop is Safe and Aziraphale is leaving it and he is leaving the one person who might be able to smell the bullshit coming from the Metatron. The music notably turns absolutely dire here.
The next time we see them the Metatron tells Aziraphale that he doesn't need to answer instantly. He can take his time, if he likes. All the time he needs. And then tells him to go tell Crowley. Once again bringing Crowley in as a valid part of this while manufacturing a scenario where he can't possibly be.
Az ends up in a place where he's overwhelmed and confused and he wants so badly to believe what he's being told. It's an appealing thing from his perspective! He feels off kilter like he's made a mistake in judging the Metatron. He can't even fully articulate what happened to Crowley at first and he's had absolutely no real time to actually think it through. He's running on sheer reactive energy.
The Metatron starts their conversation by asking Aziraphale's opinion. Who should rule Heaven? This is once again playing into making Az feel validated and like he's a part of this decision making process. The Metatron corrects him, complimenting Aziraphale and making him feel capable and in control. He reassures Aziraphale's bafflement. And draws attention to some traits that, while true of Aziraphale around Crowley, are not his defining traits in the eyes of Heaven. You don't just tell people what they want to hear I find particularly notable in this regard given Aziraphale spent most of his time on earth actively lying to Heaven and doing just that. But it fits into the narrative Aziraphale has built around himself, especially post Apocalypse. The Metatron then says I need you (a phrase Az will use much more painfully here in a minute).
And even after all this Aziraphale says no. He says flat out he doesn't want to go back to Heaven. He says this!!! And then the Metatron sweetens the pot. He swaps tactics. Not once has this come up until Aziraphale pushes back against the idea. If the Metatron could've gotten him without using it I have no doubt he wouldn't have bothered with it. Come to Heaven and we can save Crowley. Aziraphale loves Crowley. Aziraphale thinks Crowley is better than any of the angels he's interacted with. Crowley is Good and Nice and Kind and always saving him and now he's being presented with a way to return that. He can Forgive Crowley - a thing Crowley has always presented to Aziraphale as something he struggles with. All of these things Aziraphale has watched Crowley react to in a way that belittles himself or distances them from one another. Of course he wouldn't consider that maybe what he was actually saying is "I'm unforgivable and I don't want that forgiveness."
The Metatron offers Aziraphale a Dream Offer for the pre Armageddon Aziraphale. You can keep your Crowley. You can heal him like you have always thought he deserved. You can have power and control the people who for your whole existence has beaten you down. It can go back to how it was but BETTER.
When Aziraphale leaves he still hasn't answered. He goes and has the conversation they have. It's intense and emotional and the Metatron comes in after the Moment all casual and asks how it goes, knowing fully well the shitstorm he had just set up to get created. And then he turns around and says "always did want to go his own way" which is not only true of Crowley but framed as a bad thing despite the fact that he has just spent twenty minutes or so telling Aziraphale that he's done his own thing and that is Good. He is playing both sides of this perspective as it suits him. And then he cuts down Crowley asking questions, pressuring Aziraphale to avoid doing the same. He then proceeds to ask Aziraphale not if he's made up his mind but if he's ready to get started. He is one by one closing off exit routes to this thing as Aziraphale starts to look more and more panicked and indecisive. He makes sure the bookshop is in good hands and asks Aziraphale if there's anything he needs to take with him. Letting Aziraphale have the illusion of choice while cutting down "I don't want to" as an option altogether.
And Az, as soon as the Metatron is out of shot, tries to express this. And then he falls back right on old coping methods. The Metatron pats him on the head. Reassures that he's the right one for this. That he is Good. That his particular skillset is needed here.
It is a masterstroke of manipulation. A very dark twist on what we see Crowley do time and time again with Aziraphale throughout the millennia. Familiar in a way that makes Aziraphale feel safe. Except this time this is being used to put him back in line. It's brilliant and painful and it fucking hurt and I need a season 3 to see the Metatron get what's coming to him stat.
#good omens#good omens season 2#gos2 spoilers#good omens spoilers#Metatron#Aziraphale#Episode 6#Every Day#good omens meta
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 6)
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5
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And they say if it sways, you have to cut it off at the root.
You repeat that to yourself when you catch the way you glance out the kitchen window again, surreptitiously watching John. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. He walks over to the well to fetch water for you to do the dishes, the chore you’d elected to take when he offered you the choice between that and feeding the horses. It’s a fair compromise since you balk at the thought of getting anywhere near either of those beasts.
Watching him bend over the well to lower the bucket down, his muscled shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and suspenders drawing tight against his back, makes you bite your lip. Then scowl. Then pull the curtain shut to block out the view.
You have to cut any gentleness off at the root.
When he comes back, you step to the side without a word to let him pour the water into the wash basin, hot water from the teakettle and lye soap making the water already in the pan sudsy. In a sense, it’s not any different from anything you’ve done back home; the same two pans for washing and scalding, the same cake of soap, and the same dish towel to dry the dishes off at the end. The only difference is the man that pours the cool water into the basin to make it more comfortable for your hands.
“I’ll be out back,” he tells you, before grabbing you around the waist and pulling you in close to press a close-mouthed kiss to the side of your head. You only scrunch your nose a little. “When you’re done, come get me. Got business in town.”
“Why do you need me to come with you?” you ask, lips cresting into a pout without a thought. You’d never considered yourself a bellyacher, but it’s almost second nature around John. “I can…I can stay and clean the house.”
“You saying I keep a messy home?” John asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.
You look pointedly down at the dirt he tracked into the kitchen after fetching the bucket of water from the well. “It could do with a spit shine.”
That gets a laugh out of him, a bellow from deep in his belly. It shakes you to your bones.
“Darling, I’ll be honest with you,” he says, turning you to face him before folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you not to bolt like a runaway horse, and you’ll only wind up putting yourself in danger if you try to make a run for it out here.”
That expression makes your stomach twist. “Good to know you think of your wife as some scared filly.”
“You talk a whole lot for a woman who’s been over my knee. Do we need to repeat that?”
When his tone goes stern, you lose the wedging piece of candor keeping you upright. Eyes widen and then narrow. He’s been patient despite your loose tongue, but when that patience slips, you can see the steel underneath his gentle exterior. It’s the true root of him.
You clam up under his stare, sullen and begrudging. Smooth your dress down to have something to do with your hands. You’ve forgotten your place again. Side-stepped it out of intimacy or misplaced trust or naivety or forgetting, again, for the umpteenth time, that the world is not a place for women that open their mouths. So you keep it shut, trap every festering word behind your teeth.
He must not like something he sees painted on your face because his brows draw closer together, frustration brewing anew in his eyes. The longer you stay quiet, the more irritated he grows, his nostrils flaring wide.
“See that you come get me as soon as everything’s squared away in here,” John bites out, pointing a single, blunt finger at you. “Else I’ll come get you myself.”
And we wouldn’t want that, you think, surly. You hope it swims across your eyes. Blooms on your face. Perhaps it does.
The lines around his mouth and eyes grow more defined when he smiles. His whole mustache moves with his smile, every part of his face expressing his satisfaction. It’s beyond infuriating. He taps you on the nose with his knuckle before leaving out the backdoor, not sparing you a backward glance. You nearly shake with indignation.
It’s hard not to watch him out in the paddock while drying the dishes though, not with him set against the gilded sun. You inch the curtain slightly open, just enough of a gap to peer through. The Stetson shadows his face when he tilts his head up towards the sky, the hard edge of his jaw the only thing that meets your gaze. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a man out in the fields or pastures, but most of those have been at a distance, removed. Glimpsed briefly through the window while your train barreled on past acres of farmland.
John cycles through the morning tasks of guiding the horses into the paddock by a lead fixed to their halter, replenishing the food trough, and fetching more water from the well to fill the water trough. His horses are striking in the sheer size of them; muscled shoulders and legs, and well-padded flanks. Most of the horses you’ve seen out west haven’t seemed nearly as well-fed, many whittled down to rib and hip bone.
It says something about him, but you’re not ready to confront exactly what. You turn your attention back to the dishes, scrubbing the last of the dried butter and eggs at the bottom of the pan. It takes a little extra grit, but cleaning is a familiar chore—it’s one you’ve done all your life, what got you into this mess in the first place.
You don’t like what you find when you finally venture out of the house to track him down.
“I’m not getting on that thing.”
You put your veritable foot down with that, arms straight and stiff by your sides, more out of worry than annoyance. You do also give a little stomp for good measure, but you’ll chalk that up to reflexes should John inquire.
He doesn’t. Just stares down at you with unimpressed green eyes that haunt your days and nights now. Tells you without telling you that you’ll get on that horse, willing or not.
It’s not for a lack of beauty that you can’t quite shake the nervousness they elicit in you. Buttercup, the one that John saddled up and now waits patiently to be mounted, keeps her head low as if sensing your disquiet, curiosity glimmering in her coal black eyes. Not even the animal curiosity of is this a friend or foe, but the curiosity that comes with pure trust, almost intelligible that way.
John runs his hand down her smooth, buttery flank. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s walk?”
“I didn’t hate it.” Truth be told, you’d hardly been of a mind to notice it at all. Though your legs still ache from the walk back to John’s house, the walk itself had not seemed especially grueling in the moment. The mind can put aside quite a bit when it has something else to focus on.
“Well, I’m not too keen to repeat it.” He leaves it at that, tightening a strap on Buttercup’s saddle in such a purposeful way that your shoulders tense.
“I could meet you there,” you say, a touch desperately. Your stomach turns when you think about hoisting yourself up onto Buttercup’s saddle. It doesn’t seem possible. It’s not something you’ve ever done or ever considered doing. You remember horror stories of stableboys back home trampled under their hooves and stomped to death, kicks so powerful that they could break a fully grown man’s ribs or cave in his face.
“My wife isn’t gonna wander into town by her lonesome like some vagrant,” John says disdainfully, almost scoffing. Insulted by the whole idea. “And you’re sure as hell not staying here alone, darlin’.”
“Well, figure something else out because I am not getting up on that thin—” You cut off on a yelp when he circles around you and abruptly lifts you up. Your head rushes at the sudden motion, legs flailing beneath you.
“Quit squirmin’ like a damn barn cat. Little hellion,” John grits out, guiding your heel into the stirrup. “C’mon, you’re just side saddling, so you only need your butt on the saddle.” When he sets you down lightly onto the saddle, you stop wiggling around, acutely aware of the thousand pound horse beneath you. “There we go—that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
“I hate this,” you hiss, fingers clamped tight over the pommel.
“Aw, darlin’, don’t go insulting Buttercup like that,” John chuckles, replacing your foot in the stirrup with his own.
You sit there stiff as a board, perched precariously on the saddle as he hoists himself up behind you. His sheer proximity doesn’t register right away. You’re too concerned with the moving beast under you, its ribs expanding and contracting with each breath. Unlike you, John is more than comfortable sitting astride the horse, not a smidgeon of tension in his body. You suck in a horrified breath when you feel him readjust himself before settling down more comfortably.
He reaches around you to grab the reins, a sharp whistle signaling the horse to take her first stride forward, looping around the side of the house. Even the slow trot threatens to buck you off at first. You lurch forward with each step, certain that you’ll slip right off the saddle and onto the dusty ground below until John loops an arm around your waist and pulls you to his chest.
You grow stiffer in his arms somehow. Despite sleeping in the same bed the night before and sharing far too many kisses for your comfort or virtue, being pressed up tight against a man never gets easier. Perhaps if you’d been married for longer than a single day you’d be more at ease with the notion, but as of yet, it comes as a shock to the senses every time.
You carefully avoid the thought that other married women wouldn’t be still in possession of their maidenhead so many hours after their wedding night. That’s none of your business.
The two of you navigate into town at a slow canter, allowing you to gradually acclimatize to the gait of a horse. Part of you remembers riding horses when you were younger, but that was a lifetime ago, long enough to shake the memory from your muscles. These days, you can barely remember the hands holding you steady, the ones that would’ve lifted you up onto the horse and helped you back down. Those people are faceless in your memories.
John stays silent at your back, only tightening his hand around your hip when you slip the slightest bit when Buttercup picks up the pace, heading towards the familiar sight of the sheriff’s office. It draws a quick squawk out of you, neatly masked by a fake cough. His chuckle at that rumbles through you, clearly not buying it. Another lesson in humiliation.
You manage not to flail as much when he gets off the horse and helps you down, even though you’re still not used to being manhandled so, particularly not in front of the townsfolk milling about and glancing over with undisguised interest.
“Are you working today?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you while John ties Buttercup’s lead to the post outside the sheriff’s office.
“Don’t exactly get many days off when you’re the only sheriff in the county,” John replies. “We’ve got a few deputies in every town, and a couple here, but it ain’t an easy gig.”
“How many deputies have you got here?”
“Just the three. Simon, John, and Kyle. You met Simon the other day.”
His name draws up the faint memory of the masked deputy from your wedding ceremony. “I remember,” you say flatly. There’s no lost love between you and anyone involved with that sham of a wedding.
“Don’t hold that against him,” John smiles. “He’s a good ole boy. Can’t fault a man for following the boss’ orders.”
Watch me. You glance away lest he see that thought etched across your face.
The town is bustling with activity this late in the morning. Steps and floorboards creak under the weight of boots coming and going. A man going by in a horse-and-buggy whistles sharply when he cracks the reins, his horse puffing out a low, frustrated grunt.
Men hustle past you decked out in leather chaps and waistcoats, spats covering the half-boots of those not decked out in tall, spurred cowboy boots. There are far less women scampering about town than men, particularly not so close to the sheriff’s office, but you keep finding your eyes drawn to them.
John grips you under the arm and swiftly pulls you back when you narrowly sidestep a mound of horse droppings left uncovered in the middle of the road. The smell only hits you a second later.
“Well, that’s lovely,” you remark, deadpanned, putting your foot down deliberately a good distance away.
“Wouldn’t need to complain about it if you just watched your step.”
“You know, this really would’ve been a nice day to just stay home,” you mutter, chastised enough not to say something sharp in return.
While the smell makes your nose wrinkle, you have to admit that the air here is far less pungent than back home. In general, this bucolic town is far more pleasant in certain respects than the city you’d left behind in a haste.
“Where do you want me to wait for you?” you ask, turning to face him now at the front steps of the sheriff’s office.
He frowns. “Wait for me?”
“While you work, I mean. Surely you don’t mean for me to sit inside all day twiddling my thumbs while you work.”
His mustache twitches with a smile. “Thought I’d show you around first—get you acquainted with the locals.”
The idea of mingling with the townsfolk doesn’t appeal to you, but you also can’t think of a good enough reason to refuse. Especially with the curious glances already being sent your way. You duck your head to stare down at your boots when you spot a group of other women clustered together and whispering to each other, their eyes trained on you. Somehow you’ve gone from being furniture in a room to being a source of local gossip, and it’s almost hard to believe that you miss being ignored.
When you look back up at John, you find him still staring down at you, waiting patiently. Up close, the sunlight almost turns patches of his beard gold; he has a smattering of moles across his face, not the blush of freckles but rather a few dark spots by his nose. Aside from the tuft of hair under his bottom lip, his chin is mostly bare, and when he smiles, his whole face moves with it. You have to blink to snap yourself out of it.
Your upper lip curls involuntarily when you say, “So you want to help me make friends?”
“Well, seeing as I know most of ‘em, figured I’d be a help.”
“The job’s really not all that busy then, huh?” You really wish you could learn to shut your mouth, since it keeps getting you in trouble, but the barbs roll off your tongue so naturally. Luckily, it seems to amuse him now more than it did early this morning.
“Guess life isn’t as exciting ‘round here as it is back in the city, but it has its days,” John chuckles. “Now come on; I’ll give you the tour.”
For some reason, you hadn’t pictured the town being quite so big, but during your walk, you realize you’ve vastly underestimated the true size of it. Though not anywhere near as ostentatious as the cities back east, the sheer breadth of it eclipses anything from back home. It’s spread out on an incomparable scale, the mountains in the background stretching out along the horizon like the skeletal remains of a giant long since dead and decayed.
It’s not the ramshackle town you envisioned when you stepped off the train the other day, despite the wooden facades and their brightly painted signs. You almost wish you had more time just to admire the craftsmanship, but John leads you from store to store like he’s on a mission.
He seems most interested in towing you around like some prized mare, all trussed up and clean from your bath the night before. You meet so many people that their names and faces all begin to blur together. The worst offense of all is that it makes you lean on John for support, looking up at him again and again for reassurance whenever you can’t answer a question or your answer triggers a moment of awkward silence.
Those moments come aplenty too. The few people nosey enough to ask you about your life back in the city find themselves on the butt end of a cheerfully delivered lie from John. It unnerves you at first, seeing how comfortable he is with lying. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when recounting your previous life as a schoolteacher in Connecticut prior to your engagement.
Perhaps it’s not a lie though. You don’t know the extent to which he and his original betrothed corresponded. Certainly not enough for him to suspect you of not being her, but maybe she’d spun him that story. Or maybe it had been the truth. All this time you’d thought that John had been swindled by some con artist using desperate men to fund her lifestyle, but maybe somewhere between here and Connecticut, there’s an unmarked grave with the corpse of the woman that John had intended to marry.
That makes you feel guilty somehow, like you’ve taken something not meant for you. Even if you hadn’t wanted it—in fact, been forced into taking it.
You swallow that thought when John leads you into the general store. Your eyes bug at the sight of a blonde haired woman in khaki cloth knickerbockers stocking the shelves, who turns at the sound of the door creaking open, the sharp look on her face melting away at the sight of John.
The warmth in her face infuriates you more than it should. You have no right to feel this way—or, some right, but you resent the fact that you do as well.
“Hi John,” she greets. Her voice is deeper than you anticipated, springtime crisp like a babbling brook.
“Laswell,” John greets, scooping his arm around your side until he can palm the side of your hip, dragging you in close. You stumble into him, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. Your neck and face go hot when Laswell’s eyes turn on you, curiosity glinting in them.
“Your lady finally showed up then,” she surmises. “I’ll be honest, I was starting to think you made her up. Told the boys to think about forcing you into an early retirement.”
John huffs at that. His fingers tighten at your waist when Laswell says your lady, as if the words alone make it fact. Speak it into being. The metal burns against your ring finger. In a sense, it is fact, despite the subterfuge. You wonder if it would hold up in court, but out here, it’s real enough.
“Well, she’s very real, as you can tell.” He gives you a little shake with the hand on your waist. “Say hi, darlin’.”
If looks could kill, yours would be pit-viper venom. You’d leave behind a festering puncture mark and a body in the throes of envenomation. “Excuse me?”
Your attitude might come at a cost this time because he looks unamused at your back talk in front of an audience. “Darlin’.” It’s said like a warning.
You bite your tongue instead of lashing out. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Kate Laswell; I own this little shop,” she says, introducing herself and stepping forward to hold out her hand. You have to step forward to take it, pulling you out of John’s arms. It feels familiar being on your own, certainly more natural than being constantly at John’s side the way you have for almost two days now. It’s also a bit cold after having John’s warmth at your back or side at all times.
There’s a moment when you realize that Kate is the first person you’ve had to introduce yourself to, John having introduced you to everyone else you’d come across. It hovers on the tip of your tongue when you realize that you could just say your real name, and you find yourself torn between setting it free and the odd fear of John’s reaction.
You chicken out at the last second, giving Kate the same name as the one John introduced you by to everyone else in town.
“He might growl like a bear, but you’ll get used to that,” she says, winking.
You frown. Awfully familiar talk for someone who isn’t his wife. Why should she know that?
You make yourself push that thought away, reminding yourself again that it doesn’t matter. It’s none of your concern.
“He’s been a gentleman,” you croak instead, smile so thin that it might as well be a grimace.
A shout from the bar across the street startles you, drawing your attention away from the conversation. John stills too. A series of raised voices puts him on alert, and then someone inside the bar must fire a gun because the violent crack of one makes you scream, the noise pulled involuntarily from your chest.
“Stay here,” John growls, his pistol already drawn. He’s out the door before you can respond, darting across the street towards the bar and shouldering the door open so hard that it rattles in its frame. You watch everything happen through the window of the general store with your heart in your throat.
“Good Lord,” you whisper, hand over your mouth. Kate stands beside you in a similar manner, her eyebrows pinched in concern.
The thought doesn’t even occur to you that now would be the perfect time to make a break for it, with John busy across the street. Your feet are rooted in place; you doubt you’d be able to take so much as a single step towards the door.
There’s precious little that you can see through the grit-lined bar windows, not as dusty and dirty as they are, but you can hear the commotion from inside. Raised voices and the sound of breaking glass. It makes you flinch, heart galloping at an even faster pace. Like harness horses on the Freehold Raceway. It’s not long before you see a large, masked man hightailing it down the road towards the bar, dust clouding around his boots with each heavy step.
You recognize him almost instantly as the man from your wedding, the one that signed your marriage license. John’s man—Simon. He nearly takes the bar door off its hinges when he throws it open, barely in there a second before he and John come out each with a man in hand, both already handcuffed and looking roughed up They drag them stumbling down the dirt road towards the sheriff’s office, Simon half-dragging another man whose white button-down is slowly saturating with red blood oozing out of a gunshot wound in his belly.
“Shouldn’t they call a doctor for that man?” you ask Kate in a frantic voice, whipping around to face her.
She nods. “They probably will once they’ve got the four of them locked up. Doctor probably heard that anyway—he’ll be on his way, I bet.”
“On his way already?”
“There’s only one doctor around here. And not much else sounds like a gunshot.”
“Does that happen a lot around here?” You don’t know why the thought makes you nervous, but there’s a cramp in your belly and a sweat building up on the back of your neck and your hands itch to grab something. When you swallow, it almost doesn’t go down.
“It’s not uncommon. I reckon it’s not something you’re used to?”
You purse your lips. “I’ve seen a dead body before.” You don’t know why that comes out so defensively, like a slight that’s been levied against you. There’s no easy way to dispel the myth in everyone’s mind that you come from a life of comfort and ease, with delicate hands fit for delicate work. You curl your hands into fists at the thought, conscious of the old scars and calluses built up over years of scrubbing and cleaning. If she were to look down, she wouldn’t see the well-kept hands of a lady.
When Kate quirks an eyebrow, you realize that your response had nothing to do with her question. “Well, look at you.”
When John and Simon disappear into the jailhouse, the door swinging shut behind them, you sway on your feet for a second, feeling oddly unbalanced. Something about the sight of the man’s blood leaves you feeling woozy, taking the chair that Kate offers you when she sees the way you rock back on your heels.
“Let me get you something to drink,” Kate offers, brows now furrowed sympathetically at the pathetic sight you must be. “I’m sure you got a little fright thinking of your husband facing down a man with a gun, but I’m afraid that comes with marrying a sheriff. There’s danger everywhere, you know.”
What you don’t say is that your lightheadedness came not just from the sight of the man with the blood leaking from a wound in his stomach, but the grim look on your husband’s face as he carted away the man responsible, eyes hard as steel. No sympathy for the man in his hands. Only another criminal to be tossed away in a jail cell. The punishment for making another man bleed.
Your hands shake in your lap, but you don’t say that. Instead, you smile weakly and take the glass of water from her hands when she comes back from filling it at the sink. “You’re right. Just a little fright.”
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#captain john price#price/reader#price x reader#price x you#john price x reader
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