#its extremely disconcerting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

28.6 is the average number of monthly visits per US mobile user.

#its extremely disconcerting

aturinfortheworse · 2 years

Text

I'm currently staying in a house where every single bedroom has floor to ceiling, wall to wall windows. The guest bathroom has a half-wall window, the en suite bathroom has no doors. All of them face out onto walkways or lawn. None of them have curtains or blinds.

This is apparently exactly what the owners wanted when building this house?

#its extremely disconcerting #you can't QUITE see the en suite toilet from the lawn but it's close

16 notes · View notes

clazaries · 2 months

Text

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.”

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?”

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.”

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do.

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order.

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful.

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.”

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best.

“Stay sharp.”

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it.

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests.

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military.

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.”

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.”

“Then why isn’t he out?”

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.”

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm.

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?”

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.”

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…”

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.”

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.”

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume.

“Why the fuck are we here then?”

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.”

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--”

“Frankie! Do you copy?”

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup?

“He needs help!”

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?”

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage.

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!”

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle.

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--”

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.”

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos.

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.”

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago.

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself.

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud.

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?”

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?”

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.”

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?”

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily.

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.”

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge.

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece.

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?”

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.”

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?”

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots.

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him.

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers.

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised.

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot.

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--”

“No! No, I-I want to stay.”

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.”

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.”

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.”

“How?”

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him.

Your thighs press together beneath the table.

“Yes.”

“Yes…what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t lie.”

“A…A little, sir.”

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.”

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had.

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.”

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you.

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified.

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer.

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily.

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating.

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority.

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit.

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt.

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in.

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.”

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum.

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.”

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter.

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…”

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off.

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens.

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself.

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts.

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.”

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?”

“No, but--”

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.”

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close.

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes.

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him.

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.”

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.”

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise.

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway.

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.”

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior.

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries.

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years.

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you.

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly.

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point.

You sigh. “I know.”

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.”

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—”

This again. “But Frankie--”

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.”

“But I didn’t die.”

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.”

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that.

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.”

“I promise.”

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.”

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.”

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.”

276 notes · View notes

brainbuffering · 1 year

Text

I see many able-bodied people and non-photosensitive people confused as to why the Epilepsy Community on Tumblr refer to the Spider-verse Franchise as being inherently ableist. I can understand that if you are not familiar with the term, you may find this disconcerting. The film is not actively saying that disabled people are bad, nor do I think that they are making an active decision to harm disabled people. I do not think that they are making a film with the deliberate purpose of killing disabled people!

However, the active choices they make (e.g. not adhering to the rule that states that a flash rate of 3 - 30 per second is dangerous, and to avoid high contrasting patterns) are those which mean that Photosensitive People are barred from seeing the movie. This is a form of social discrimination. No, please, hear me out!

Scope, a leading charity for disabled people defines ableism as:

"A word for unfairly favouring non-disabled people. Ableism means prioritising the needs of non-disabled people. In an ableist society, it's assumed that the “normal” way to live is as a non-disabled person. It is ableist to believe that non-disabled people are more valuable to society than disabled people."

This is what the creators do. They unfairly assume that disabled people will have no interest in watching their film. They unfairly assume that the public will all pass on through word of mouth that the film is dangerous to watch for photosensitive people. It unfairly assumes that, because the majority of its audience will be safe watching it, those who are not safe do not matter as viewers or as people. It unfairly assumes that there Afro-latine People, Black People, Latine People, Jewish People, Women – the minorities the film chooses to represent – are all able-bodied and that if there do happen to be any people within those demographics that are also photosensitive, then they have no interest to see other parts of themselves represented on the screen in the same way.

Disabled people already feel incredibly isolated by society. People, especially children, with epilepsy are often barred from social events. They cannot attend nightclubs, concerts, sleepovers, school trips, long haul holidays and so on. On bright sunny days, my incredibly Photosensitive Mother cannot even drive the car because the flashes of sunlight between the leaves of trees will give her a migraine that will take days to recover from.

Therefore, when a company knows full well that their film is going to be talked about amongst the general public, that it is going to be a moment of cultural importance, to make a series of creative choices that knowingly bar disabled people from having this experience is a form of ableism.

Ableism is not always obvious. In fact, it usually is not. Why? Because ableism is focused on leaving disabled people at home. It is focused on pushing us to the side, and making sure we are never heard from again. And in this case, it does take this to the extreme. Exposure to this film can indeed cause a Photosensitive person to die. This is not an exaggeration.

3000 people a year die in the USA from epileptic seizures.

And as I have said before, this is not a case of us asking to be allowed to sit at the table. We are not asking for them to introduce an epileptic spider person! We are simply asking to not be shot at if we try to enter the room, and asking that you please listen to us when we explain that pointing a loaded gun at a disabled person who tries to interact with you, is, in actual fact, quite an ableist thing to do.

#actually epileptic #actually disabled #spider-man #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #itsv #atsv #marvel

846 notes · View notes

glow-worms-are-believers · 10 months

Text

Slip and Fall (dp x dc)

It had started when he’d moved to Gotham and, maybe more importantly, when he’d moved out of Amity. The ghost attacks had finally started to calm down thanks to the systemic overhaul the Ghost Zone had experienced after Pariah Dark had been imprisoned for the second time. With a better structure, they had actually started to be able to wrangle their own criminals instead of leaving it to a half-dead (and very tired) teen.

While that had been a big relief on the ghost side of things, the human side of thing had also gone through a major upheaval. His parents actually not shooting at a ghost envoy long enough to actually hear them out had been a minor miracle. Them actually believing said envoy had felt like a straight-up dream. To go from ghost hunter to ghost right defender was a big change, but Fentons didn’t do things halfway. Except Danny of course, but that couldn’t be helped.

With Amity being able to stand on its own without needing Phantom around, Danny had finally been able to focus on school and just being normal for once, and so he had. The last three years had been wonderful. He’d worked his ass off to get his grades back up and he’d even had time to actually made friends with some of the A-listers. Sam and Tucker had likewise been able to enjoy the full teenager experience and had also been glad to get a bit of normalcy back.

By the time graduation rolled around, they’d all applied and gotten accepted into different universities. They’d planned to go to the same close-by college but Jazz had disagreed. Their fields of studies were different and she’d said they owed it to themselves to find the best program for each. Which was why Danny had found himself in Gotham, in a student apartment not too far from campus with a job at the nearest coffee shop. The first month there had been exciting and full of new things. Gotham was a big city, much different from the comparatively smaller Amity and there were novel sights and stuff everywhere. His classes had been interesting and he’d met a ton of new people.

The second month had rolled by and as the elation had settled, Danny had started feeling a bit lonely. He’d reasoned that it was because he couldn’t see his friends as often and had doubled the phone-calls back home. He’d thought it was just a bit of home-sickness and that’d it go away soon.

But then, things didn’t get better. Instead, Danny felt himself growing distant from everything around him. He still talked to people in his classes, he still video-called his sister and friends every week but he felt removed from it all. Like he was a passerby, observing everyone else go through their lives. It was like he was floating away, farther and farther from his life. It was disconcerting, but Danny felt too detached to care about it very much.

After another unremarkable shift at the coffee shop, Danny had stumbled into his apartment and absent-mindedly prepared his supper. As he was picking at the mashed potatoes, a strange feeling started in his chest. He frowned as he rubbed at it, only for it to grow into an intense cold feeling that spread through his extremities. Danny struggled to get up to walk towards the phone as his body froze over. He didn’t make it before the numbing feeling completely took over and his mind slowed accordingly before he closed his eyes and lost himself to peaceful nothingness.

Danny’s consciousness returned slowly to him. He could vaguely hear hushed voices but as he tried to open his eyes, it was to find it impossible, his body unwieldy. Before he lost consciousness again, Danny managed to catch a few words which sounded like “help” and “inside”.

The second time he woke up, his mind felt much clearer and though sitting up took considerably more effort than he would’ve expected, he still managed to do so and take stock of where he’d ended up. It was a big room with big and curtained glass windows that let in sunlight that illuminated the dedicatedly carved wood furniture. The bed itself was queen-sized with high-quality linen and luxuriously plump pillows. Danny’s eyes turned to the window and the small corner of green lawn he could see from his vantage point. Before he could attempt to get closer, the door to his room opened and a man walked in.

“Oh, you’re awake!” exclaimed the man as he got closer to Danny’s bedside. “We were worried after finding you passed out last night but it’s good to see you back with us.”

Danny tried to talk only to find himself unable to get anything but a croak to come out. Embarrassment had his cheeks warming, but the man’s eyes were kind as he handed Danny a glass of water he hadn’t noticed on the nightstand. The water felt good for his parched throat and he tried again.

“Where am I?” Danny rasped.

“This is Wayne Manor,” the man said. “My wife and I found you yesterday. What’s your name?”

#The time-medallion makes Danny slippy time-wise #Martha Wayne #thomas wayne #dc x dp #dp x dc #roxpox #roxpoxwrote

484 notes · View notes

bsd-bibliophile · 4 months

Text

In the same way that people imagine that shadows can break away from human beings, I find the idea of a voice in the abstract sense - a voice separated from its source - quite disconcerting. It would be extremely frightening to see black shadows on their own swaggering along the pavement in Ginza under the blazing midday sun. Yet it would be just as worrisome if you were walking along in a desolate field somewhere, and out of the blue a voice whispered ‘Hello.’ Twist and turn as you might, there would be no sign of life. There is nothing quite as unsettling as that.

Edogawa Ranpo, “Spectral Voices” essay (1927) from The Edogawa Rampo Reader

#edogawa ranpo #japanese literature #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd

95 notes · View notes

yan-lorkai · 8 months

Text

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: My excuse for writing this is that 99% of my problems would be solved if I were adopted by Vil and Rook, plus it's October so my mind automatically went to several different scenarios involving vampires, you know. Though in the original draft Epel would just kill the reader mercilessly, but I decided to spoil myself a little and made it platonic instead. I'm not sure if I'll do a Halloween event yet, let me know what y'all think about it please.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: Yandere content, platonic yandere, RookVi + Epel being their son, gn!reader, some randoms die, description of blood and members though it's not that explicit, reader gets surprised adopted, I think that's all. Let me know if I should add more warnings tho.

You never thought you would miss the sun and its gentle, joyful rays. You never thought you'd miss walking down busy streets and hearing people talking over each other, but in that moment you thought about all these completely mundane things as you ran as fast as your lungs would let you and your legs could carry you.

Whose idea was it to enter the abandoned mansion? You couldn't even remember anymore, panting, leaning on one of the walls to keep yourself upright. What mattered now was where you would escape and how, and if it was really possible. Your pursuers weren't exactly human as they did well to demonstrate by ripping out your friend's throat, laughing as the blood dripped from their fangs.

Maybe, you thought, heart pounding against your ears as you looked from side to side searching for one of the vampires, maybe I could break one of the windows and escape from here.

It wasn't a spectacular plan, but in your head filled with adrenaline and fear it made complete sense. There was no time for "what ifs", there was the here and now. And with that thought you forced yourself to walk once again, holding back the tears of grief and fear inside you, clinging to the futile hope that you would survive the night.

You opened one of the thousands of doors in that dimly lit hallway, biting your lip hard as you forced your eyes to see through the darkness in search of a window. But there was nothing there, no window, no bed or anything, just a very strange smell and the disconcerting sound of a clock.

The air around you seemed to change and you turned around feeling like something or someone had touched your shoulder. Your hand fumbled for the doorknob and you ran out faster than the devil running from the cross, leaving behind only a glimpse of blood and guts that you probably hadn't even noticed. But later perhaps you would understand.

The seconds dragged by, the blonde vampire's laugh still echoing in your mind as your friend asked for help, the expression on your other friends' faces frozen as they tried to escape. The look of disbelief on one of their faces as you abandoned him in order to save yourself.

You no longer knew how many doors you opened, how many exactly the same rooms you entered, how many times had you felt as if someone was watching your futile efforts to survive while silently laughing at your fearful humanity in the face of death. But you were already exhausted and your pursuers hadn't even found you yet - or, on the other hand, maybe they had but didn't want to kill you yet, like a cat playing with a mouse before ending its life.

In the distance, you saw a small silhouette. His lavender hair and almost angelic appearance would have made you trust him if you hadn't seen what he was capable of doing.

For a second, you thought he hadn't seen you and started to slowly walk away, praying that it was just a legend that vampires had super hearing. One foot behind the other, left then right. But then he looked at you, his little eyes seeming to sparkle and he laughed, loudly, extremely loudly.

Without thinking twice, you turned your back to where you had come, running as fast as you could across the little terrain you knew, every place memorized in your mind as you heard his approaching footsteps and cynical laughs. Every second passing like a cinematic scene in which the protagonist is chased by the killer in a generic horror film, everything jumbled together in your head as you panted and ran, and did it all over again.

You allowed yourself to look over your shoulder when everything went silent and the boy was no longer there. But even though you couldn't see him, you could hear him laughing and whispering something to someone else, to another vampire.

You were running too fast to stop when you reached the end of one of the hallways, crashing into one of the walls and sending a hanging mirror crashing to the floor, glass flying everywhere as you forced yourself to stand up and ignore the pain, quickly looking left and right to see where to go.

It makes a difference? You thought bitterly.

But you got back to your feet, tired, sweaty, in all your stupidity you raised your arms and screamed full of frustration. "I'm here, come kill me if you want, oh, mighty vampires."

Just silence and dark. You really felt like a mouse, searching for the cat's paws to avoid being crushed, searching for the cat's fangs to avoid being sucked to death, but the cat didn't seem to care about you enough. Or, initially that was what the feline wanted you to think, but footsteps were heard all around you, behind you, beside you, in front of you, you were surrounded and now they were really coming.

At least I'll punch one of them, you thought with a small smile.

"You're quite troublesome, mortal." A soft voice sounded in your ear, making you shiver all over and turn back to look for its owner. It was the same voice that announced their death to your friends, the same voice that in any other context would have made you smile, as it was a beautiful voice. "Swallow those tears, human, before I give you a reason to cry. Their deaths are your fault, your own death will be your fault for breaking into the home of the night lords and thinking such a transgression will go unpunished."

You touched your eyes and were surprised to notice small tears falling from your eyes, the vampire's words slowly resonating in your mind. It wasn't your idea to come here, but you didn't dissuade your friends even though you knew the legend that surrounded the house. Was it really your fault?

Fatigue seemed to finally be taking over your heavy bones, despite you trying with all your might to keep your concentration and hatred burning within you, despite you trying not to accept the fact that you would die that night.

"Do you practice this speech every day in front of the mirror?" You retorted, lips trembling as they curved into a wry smile.

A laugh. He was laughing at you like you were just a kid who was using the silliest insult they learned to offend people. "Is that the best you can imagine?"

You looked at him, tall, blond, wondering if such a freak had ever been human, wondering how someone could lose their morals so frivolously and take pleasure in killing and dismembering humans for fun. And you didn't answer him, biting your tongue hard to keep from shouting insults.

"Oh, but Roi du Poison, they're so cute." Another voice echoed, this time you felt a hand gently smoothing your hair with fingers so light you swore they were made of feathers, the pale face resting just above your shoulder, freezing you in the same second as the two of you made eye contact. "Can't we keep them instead?"

Rook still half hugging you, half enjoying the smell of your blood; his arms tightened around your waist as you tried to push him away with all the strength you could muster. Pushing and clawing his shoulders away, trying to kick him and fighting him.

But he felt like a block of concrete, motionless, hard and smiling so gently at you and your efforts. His hands continued twirling strands of your hair and drinking in your expression of discomfort, as if all this were normal.

"Yes please." The same boy from before asked, an excited gleam passing through his eyes as he looked from you to the other vampire. "You promised me I would have a little sibling."

Little sibling…?

If you hadn't had a vampire literally holding you so tenderly but firmly in that moment, his face resting on your neck, maybe you would have laughed and screamed that you wouldn't be the sibling of a murderer and that if you could you would kill them all with a stake. Or, anything sharp you had on hand.

But you held back, taking deep breaths, just waiting for the right moment to act. Maybe some of your other friends had managed to escape and would come back soon to help you.

The vampire, Vil, looked at your tired figure with attentive eyes. Excruciating moments passed in total silence, you being unable to hear your own heavy breathing or the way your heart beat as you waited.

You waited for his attack, for his mocking laugh. Your hands closed ready to hit the face of the first vampire who dared to try to bite you. It was foolish to think that this would do anything, if anything it would make them angry and kill you more slowly to see you suffer.

Vil looked at Rook, watching how he was intoxicated by the smell of your sweet blood and they both looked at each other, talking, arguing silently while Epel looked at his dads impatiently, shifting his weight from one leg to another, eager for an answer.

"Or you can let me go." You argued. "I promise I won't tell anyone anything."

But the three men completely ignored you, deaf to your suggestions and blind to your justified fear. Rook slowly released his tight grip on your waist and you felt as if you could breathe again, as if pressure had left your entire body, which was paralyzed.

"They're in your capable hands, son." Vil stated, hands resting on his hips as he looked at the boy.

Not so subtly, you move away from the reach of Rook's nimble arms, feeling exposed as all the vampires look at you. A different look; a look you don't give at your food, the bile in your stomach began to stir and you took a deep breath.

Epel, the youngest vampire, moved. His footsteps being so silent against the floorboards that if you took your eyes off him you wouldn't be able to see him approach.

"I was like you a long time ago," He murmured, baring his fangs in a small smile too intimidating to be casual. "but you don't need to be afraid, y'know"

"I don't kill people." You countered. "I'm not a monster like you."

Epel smiled once more, his eyes shining with recognition. "Every new vampire says that. I said that too and you say it now, but in the future you will kill, because that's what we do to survive."

One second he was in front of you and the next he was gone, leaving behind only a bad feeling of not knowing which side he would attack from. Rook and Vil watch the events unfold from a safe distance.

You forced your ears to work to their fullest, searching everywhere for him.

Suddenly, you heard him step on the shards of broken glass and you turned around, your closed fist making direct contact with his face. Epel staggered in surprise as if he didn't expect you to fight back, but soon he looked at you and smiled.

It was actually a dance, the way you dodged and tried to attack him. But the problem with dancing is that it requires good physical condition and you were running for a long time, running to get to that damn house and then running to try to escape the house, a false step took you to the ground in moments and Epel pressed his foot on your stomach keeping you pinned to the ground.

You continued to fight with all your might, but he was relentless. As immobile as Rook, so impossible to escape and face to face with your death, tears of anger and helplessness flowed from your eyes in abundance against your will.

You wouldn't be graced with death like your friends, but it would be a death all the same. A death without sunlight, destined to know that the people who care about you would be looking for you, looking for your body, without knowing what really happened that Halloween night.

"We'll have a lot of fun when you wake up, lil sib." He whispered, it was supposed to be something comforting, but it sounded extremely condescending.

Despite the difference in height between you and him, you felt smaller, much smaller in the face of the impotence and strength of that delirious look. "When you wake up I will show you the best plains, the best hunting places and you will understand everything from my perspective."

"I'll kill you when I wake up." You promised him, dryly, firmly.

And you don't break your promises.

Epel ignored your words as he knelt beside you, cold fingers holding your hands without much effort as his face moved closer and closer to your neck. His pink lips brushed against your skin.

"You fought well, but you must accept your defeat."

He bit your neck before you could retort, injecting his vampiric venom that would kill you in a few minutes, laying your body on the ground once again. The boy remained sitting next to you, watching every pained expression pass across your face and trying to remember if he reacted the same way.

A lot of time had passed and he couldn't remember. Soon, you wouldn't remember your unfounded fear either, soon, you and he could do what siblings do, whatever that is. For the past five hundred years he has been his dads' only child, but Epel likes to think he will make a good big brother to you.

"Sweet dreams, Yuu."

301 notes · View notes

architectureandfilmblog · 3 months

Text

The villa of Commandant Höss: a "paradise" which shared a wall with Auschwitz.

ARCHITECTURE OF GENOCIDE: THE ZONE OF INTEREST (2023)

Before I saw this film, I'd assumed that it would illustrate the way architecture can be used to facilitate denial or self-deception. Like PARASITE (2019), in which one - in that case wholly fictional - family creates a lavish domestic retreat from which they can't see the overcrowding, poverty and suffering that surrounds them. But although Hedwig Höss speaks of planting vines to cover the wall they share with Auschwitz, there's no pretending this neighbour isn't there. The Höss's live in a pristine 1937 villa, with a manicured garden where they have parties and their children swim in a pool, and this juxtaposition is chilling. But they can still see the chimneys, and hear the screams, and nobody is denying what's next door.

This is one of the most horrifying movies I've seen, and that's due to the banality of the domestic scenes. We aren't watching a stereotypically deranged mass murderer, or even a psychopathic commandant at work inside the camp. Instead we see a comfortable house, a beautiful garden, two parents who love one another and their children. And who've somehow been able to assimilate the fact that millions are being murdered behind their garden wall.

The film is based loosely on a novel, but also on research into the lives of the real Höss's. A replica was built of their villa and garden, only metres from where the real home still stands. It's suggested that the real Rudolf and Hedwig considered themselves homesteaders, reclaiming rural territory for the 'master race', as was the Nazi ideal. In the film, Hedwig repeatedly emphasises the role of building and grounds as a status symbol. Their villa had been taken from its Polish owners and architecturally altered to fit the Höss's image. Most of the items inside would have been plundered from Jewish homes, and others, such as stools, and the wheelbarrow full of smaller seized items, would have been custom-made by prisoners. This isnt a home that is genteel in spite of the camp next door. On the contrary, everything about it, down to the fur coat on Hedwig's back, exists as a result of persecution and genocide.

The Zone was an exclusion area of over 40 sq. km around the camp, created after Poles and Jews were expelled from nearby villages. It's jarring how idyllic it appears in the film, with meadows, birdsong, a gently babbling river. While obviously not as horrifying as human apathy, the indifference of a place to the evil it houses is disconcerting, especially if you're in a profession like architecture or urban design, where places are thought to be somehow expressive of what occurs within them. We do see the horror occasionally seep beyond camp walls - a practiced scramble to leave sun loungers as crematoria smoke seeps into the garden, a wash of ash infiltrating the picturesque river.

It's likely that the filmmakers were using the extreme example of this family to remind us of our own ability to become apathetic and desensitised to the suffering of strangers, particularly when we feel our personal safety and comfort may be threatened. (Current campaigns to essentially criminalise poverty in the form of homelessness in certain cities, come to mind). Obviously the murder of millions is an evil on a completely different scale, and I have to believe that 99% of us wouldnt be capable of the Höss's actions, but it's a chilling and worthwhile reminder nonetheless.

#the zone of interest #architecture #rudolph hoss #nazi #auschwitz #feature films

71 notes · View notes

lovely-showtimes · 5 months

Note

Hey could I req Emu, Rui, Tsukasa and Ena with a reader who has a pet raccoon which tends to be a little hyperactive and chaotic? Thank you! (Love your work by the way it's so Awesome)

♡ . pet raccoon.

characters - tsukasa, emu, rui, ena.

type - hcs.

a/n - thank you, nonnie!! <3 i've actually been looking for an excuse to write smth for ena, so i appreciate the request ^^ i hope you enjoy ~

Tsukasa is pretty wary of your pet

He appreciates it when you say it wouldn't harm a hair on his body, but... it's still a little disconcerting

Especially with how it zips and jumps all over the place! He's never seen such an excitable creature before

The amount of times he's eyed it from afar, glanced away, and then it's suddenly right beside him and caused him to jump are countless

"AARGH! H-How on earth did you get over here so fast?!" "Aww, Tsukasa! Look at how they're nuzzling you, they like you~" "I-Is that so..."

Emu, on the other hand, ADORES your pet!

Its soft little tail... its cute, small paws... its round, shiny eyes... it's just too adorable!!

The fact that she shares a similar nature with your raccoon means they easily bond and become a terrifying duo of mass chaos

(By which I mean, the two of them are determined to show you as much affection in the silliest ways possible)

Whenever Emu visits your home, she always makes sure to say hello to your raccoon too

"...And hello to you, Mr. Raccoon! Hehe, you're in such a good mood today~"

Sometimes you wonder if she's just here to play with your raccoon instead of seeing you...

Rui is extremely fascinated by your raccoon

How on earth could one little creature be so full of energy and excitement? He would love to study it. You will not let him

Your raccoon warms up to him immediately however, it's very cuddly towards him

In fact, Rui's the only person that can calm it down, other than you, of course

One of the most adorable sights you've ever come across is when you had briefly left your room to do something, only to come back to a very gleeful Rui and your pet snoozing in his lap

He also loves occasionally dropping random raccoon facts on you whenever it comes up to him

"Oh, hello there, little one. Say, did you know that a group of raccoons is called a nursery?"

Like Tsukasa, she's also wary at first

It wasn't uncommon to see her flinch away from your raccoon when it dashes around a bit too close to her, or for her to hide behind you

(She then immediately denies being scared of it out of embarrassment)

But she warms up to it eventually! Soon, her and the raccoon actually become pretty close, and she's not so jumpy around it anymore

Sometimes, though, it still catches her off-guard...

"AAH! ...Oh, it's just you, aha. Hello there..."

#♡ ~ love letter sent!#project sekai x reader #pjsk x reader #imagines #tsukasa tenma x reader #tenma tsukasa x reader #emu otori x reader #otori emu x reader #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader #ena shinonome x reader #shinonome ena x reader

83 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year

Note

rockstar! remus where reader is lost in her mind maybe insecure and she's been a bit cold/distant cause she think this can't last but remus is not going anywhere he will always reach for her

thank you for your request, I love the idea!!! ♥︎ fem!reader

Remus does the weirdest of things. He's always been weird in his charming, awful way. You're rightfully obsessed with him, as are millions of others, but you're privileged to say you're the only one who gets to see him like this.

"Baby, baby," he sings under his breath, playing with your hands held aloft above his face, "let me sleep on it."

"No more Journey," you murmur tiredly.

"It's by Meat Loaf, my love."

You're more embarrassed than you should be for getting it wrong. Remus definitely doesn't care. You wouldn't normally, because everyone messes stuff up like that all the time. Like, every second of the day. But Remus is a rockstar, his band plays arguably some of the best modern rock of the decade, and he's a classic rock nerd. He knows every lyric Jim Steinman's ever written, hence his impromptu yet extremely accurate rendition of Paradise by the Dashboard Light.

And you're getting more and more aware of the differences between you.

"Shall I sing you something else?" he asks.

You love how he's dropped into this properness. "You may."

He sits up and wobbles with the tour bus. He always gives you this apologetic look when it happens, like he's sorry the roads are rough. It's exactly the kind of thing he'd feel sorry for, and it makes you wanna kiss him. "Turbulence," he jokes.

He starts to sing one of his favourites, Smoke on the Water. He's moved your hands to his lap, where he drums his thumbs against your knuckles haphazardly. You don't have a clue what he's up to, why he's decided to distract you like this. Well... maybe you do. You aren't good at hiding your feelings. He's waiting for you to tell him what's wrong. He'll likely wait all night.

"I owe you an apology," you say quietly.

He beams at you. It's disconcerting. "For what?"

Being distant. You can't make yourself say it so you don't say anything, but you do turn your hands in his so you can squeeze the tips of his fingers. His calluses are rough, but his hands are sweet. He spreads his fingers and intertwines them with yours, eyebrows wagging at you.

"Do you want me to guess?"

"No," you say, "I don't want you to guess, baby."

"I love the way you say that." He's being genuine. It's excruciating in its earnestness. "You have a nice voice."

"So you tell me."

"So I tell you."

He doesn't seem particularly worried about his owed apology, tugging you forward so he can steal a kiss, another, firm pecks that don't quite line up with your lips. You don't manage to kiss back the first time, but the second is good. You turn your head into his and your eyes close, your hands vying for his waist even as they're locked with his. He fights back, hands pushing against yours, an impasse of squeezing.

"I yield," you mumble, trying not to giggle in panic as your knuckles twinge.

He laughs into your mouth and follows you backward, smiles squished together, his weight shifting. He moves onto his thigh and you know he's gonna climb on top of you if you let him. You want to let him.

You duck your head. "I really do need to talk to you."

"Sorry," he says, sitting back. "I wasn't trying to- Well, I was trying derail you. Not because I don't want to hear it." He cups your cheek for a split-second. "You're hard not to kiss, you know?"

"Why do you say stuff like that?"

He goes shy, eyes falling to your hands, one pair still clinging. "'Cause I mean it?" he suggests carefully.

"I've been... quiet. And not as nice to you as you deserve."

He livens up. "Dove, I know touring's been hard on you. I'm not expecting you to be happy all the time here. You're here for me, and I know you made a lot of sacrifices to come. None of that is lost on me."

Sacrifices? Had you made sacrifices? Not nearly as many as he seemingly thinks. "Remus," you say. "Don't do that, for a second. Don't be so nice."

"I just don't think you should be sorry. Or feel guilty."

It's very Remus to make excuses for things that aren't his fault, and even more for him to tell you that you shouldn't be sorry. You climb up on your knees and take his face into your hands, head swimming with perspective. Remus could've returned your coldness with his own, but he'd simply laid his head down in your lap and serenaded you, played with your fingers, pressed absent kisses into your torso. And now, when you're trying to say sorry, he's extending an olive branch. He's reaching out for you.

His hands curl around your hips.

"I'm sorry I've been weird," you say, enunciating each word purposefully. "It's- I really- I love you, Remus. And I love that you love me. And I keep waiting for you to realise it won't work, but you don't, and you're so," — his smile grows so wide you can't help but smile in return, joy warping your words and making them all sticky — "lovely. You're lovely. I don't know what to do with you half the time."

"And the other half?" he asks quietly.

"I can't stand you."

"That's not what you were saying at all," he says.

He looks so pretty. Remus doesn't get how fucking pretty he is, his light brown hair, his long eyelashes, his always-tired nonchalance. You follow the scar that strikes through his right eyebrow and over his nose with your eyes, and you kiss the end of it with vigour.

"No," you admit into his skin, giving him a badly placed, damp little kiss. "What I was gonna say is worse. Kind of shit you shouldn't say sober."

"Can I get you something to drink?"

You giggle voraciously and sit back on your haunches, hands falling to his biceps. He folds his arms back to squeeze your hands again. "Scamp."

"What decade is this?" he asks. "'Scamp'. That's done it, actually. Pack your suitcase, I'm leaving you at the next services."

You're so startled you burst into genuine, ugly laughter. You can't make any sense of it, and before you know it you're pressing your face into his chest and gripping his t-shirt.

"Fucker," you say as he laughs the same, his big hands braceleting your elbows. "Fuck you. I'm leaving you at the services."

"In that case, we'll split a room in the Premier? S'fucking extortionate pricing these days."

More awful laughter, keening and high-pitched and stupid happy. Being with someone like him will always be hard and a little bit scary, but Remus makes it worth it.

#marauders era #marauders #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #the marauders fanfic #the marauders imagine #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x reader hurt/comfort #rockstar!au #rockstar!remus #rockstar!remus lupin #bassist!remus #the marauders

1K notes · View notes

centrally-unplanned · 8 months

Text

Never blogged much about the actual Eva manga, but I wrote down some thoughts while reading, so uh lets do that!

In episode 2 of Evangelion, Shinji kicks off the episode by getting his ass absolutely handed to him by the Angel Sachiel. Just a full on beat down, he is getting figuratively crucified (the literal crucifixion comes later) in this battle. He is about to die, Misato calls out to him...

...and then match cut transition to Shinji in a hospital bed, complete tranquility:

Throughout the rest of the episode, Misato acclimates Shinji to NERV and generally congratulates him for being a hero, who saved them all with his victory. She does this whole little bit taking him to an observation deck to show him the city, the city he 'protected':

And this whole time you as the audience are meant to be shaking the (CRTV) screen going "girl he protected jack shit, he was about to die!". These scenes are disconcerting, not simply congratulatory, because of the directorial choice to hold back what actually happened in the fight till the end of the episode; that Shinij was possessed by the Eva, transformed into a monster just as terrible as the Angel, and devoured it. He looked like this piloting Unit-01:

In the manga, at least - which is how the first arc of the manga ends. The manga does none of this inverted storytelling, instead telling it all straight, while otherwise not really changing many of the details. The Rebuild films did this too by the way - just got rid of the time swap ordering, told it chronologically.

This really bothers me! Because the edit choice is load-bearing; Misato, in episode 2 of the TV show, is lying to Shinji - she is trying to bolster his ego for a cause she herself is just starting to have some real questions about, doubts she is unwilling to tell Shinji because she needs him to pilot. Its even subtly hinted at in her actual (internal) dialogue:

But she never has any explicit moment where she says this; instead, Kuleshov-style, the edit itself tells you. All of her dialogue is infused with mystery, and then with the reveal the entirety of the episode is recontextualized in your mind. You now question Misato's withholding of the truth, because the truth is at the end of the episode; the edit told you it matters. But since this doesn't happen in the manga, when Misato says stuff like this:

Which is the actual last sequence of Volume I, its telling you this matters; this is the culminating moment and so it is imbued with truth. Which makes Misato less complicated, and the sequence less interesting.

This is a general trend in the manga overall - scene-for-scene it has many good moments, but its wider concept of how to structure and communicate the story is extremely workhorse (like most manga are). Which is sad because a huge chunk of Eva's strength is not just the conceptual themes or philosophical dialogue or w/e, but the more aggressive, auteur approach to the presentation of that material. And that isn't just trippy visuals; it goes right down to the directing. The same dialogue put on two characters sitting in a room just doesn't work. (Hell, someone tried that once and I happened to write about it!) So its always a little sad to me that adaptations don't carry that forward; I was frustrated by the Rebuild's refusal to play with that aspect much, and at this point resigned to the manga's unwillingness. I get it, the manga is intentionally more chipper, aimed at a younger audience; its tonally coherent. Just sad for me.

The manga has a lot of good parts, don't read this the wrong way; its more about how pieces of Evangelion that maybe don't stand out as much as the loud stuff often get lost in the shuffle.

#Evangelion #mini-essay #Ash Eva Manga Thoughts

86 notes · View notes

fairycosmos · 6 months

Note

man no offense but the way u talk about u is so mean . "boring and disconcerting to talk to" would u say that about someone else? like a coworker or a friend? I understand why u do it and I say this as someone who used to do it too I understand its hard to stop and it feels rly natural to badmouth urself like that but from a place of experience it's also really hurtful and inappropriate. it is not helpful to daily practice cruelty like that

you're quite literally extremely correct however at the same time it's like this self-talk truly doesn't come from nowhere - like i'm often silent and/or dissociated around others and this is a kind of message i've consistently received throughout my life,that i'm the odd duck and/or boring and offputting one because of it. i'm not unaware of how people often perceive me esp due to me being neurodivergent and how they usually see me because of that, how they don't really connect with me or even want to. but you're right about the badmouthing, i just have trouble knowing what's badmouthing and what's straight-up truth/self-awareness. i agree it's not helpful or productive and i also don't think neurodivergence translates into being boring/disconcerting for others all the time, so i should prob give myself that same grace and understanding. i think i'll think a lot about this message for a long time and i'm really glad you sent it. it was a much-needed break from the narrative in my own head and an added perspective i really admire and aspire to develop. thank you x

#anon

53 notes · View notes

merakime · 9 months

Note

slides into ur inbox. im back with my catboy.

earl grey tea or chamomile tea w/ phantom purrhaps?

───── a / n: hey hey heeeey! this has been rotting in my inbox for a while, sorry for that vani :( but why not both? hehehe … these are such cute prompts for him :< i hope i did him justice!! unf i only found phantom in rewinding breeze and his IS so i hope this is ok

PHANTOM + chamomile & earl grey tea | tea prompts

✦ ───── chamomile tea: what is their sleep schedule like? does it change around their s/o?

difficult. extremely difficult. sleep is a luxury to him – result of a combination of his job, his feline nature and.. severe psychological damage. eventually his body reaches its limits and allows him to rest. there’ve been some betterments since you came around, though.

he would stay awake and watch over you while you slept. it’s.. a bit disconcerting. he’s extremely quiet, and that’s not the problem – but lucian stares. he stares at you when you sleep, and it’s adorable that he loves you so much that he’d stare at you all night – but sleeping becomes difficult when his gaze is so.. intense. ridiculously intense. and being awake all night doesn’t do him well either. so you eventually invite him to sleep with you, for your sake and his.. and he can’t say no. while his sleep is a bit more fruitful in your arms, he still wakes up in a cold sweat frequently, and doesn’t sleep well – so you’ll still have to deal with the stare (now even closer), but you can appreciate that he tries, no?

(since lucian started sleeping in your place more often, you frequently get another visitor to accompany you in sleep. lucky you, the refined lady christine seems to have taken a liking to you! she likes to curl up between you, where it’s warm.)

✦ ───── earl grey tea; how did they court their s/o?

he’s struggling. he has been exposed to traditional ideas of love, relationships and marriage through theater pieces, and while he does wish to put a ring on you one day, as he’s come to love you dearly.. there’s a question bothering him: do you deserve it? not that he thinks of himself highly, no, he thinks of himself the opposite. do you deserve to be shackled in a promise of love to someone like him? a shadow, a phantom, a murderer?

nevertheless, in spite of his issues, his methods are somewhat kitschy, but endearing. he’s hesitating, but he truly wants you. it’s kind of a first in everything for him – soon you find that lucian is still quite shy. you may find bouquets of red roses at your doorstep, and you know it’s him, but he doesn’t show up for the remainder of the day. poems between the stacks of paper on your table, and a letter addressed to you in miss christine’s maw. he’s very much a gift-giver – as often he’s still afraid to touch you or speak to you, afraid to taint you by his sins. distant, but loving nonetheless.

───── final notes: oh he's a silly guy isn't he. i see the crimson troupe guys are very beloved here... also don't lynx eyes glow in the dark. wouldn't it be funny to wake up at night and just see two yellow dots staring straight at you.

#✦ mari writes !!#arknights x reader #arknights imagines #phantom x reader

59 notes · View notes

norcumii · 5 months

Note

Fic title: Non-compliant Weapon (Rexobi, Murderbot AU)

(regarding this fic title meme prompt)

Ok, there’s two ways this could go. One, the slightly more predictable path of some flavor of reincarnation AU where the Jedi Organization (some kind of meddling well-intentioned doctors-without-borders type group) has gotten neck deep into several volatile disputes and need help, so they’ve gotten a generous donation of sec-units from, I dunno, Palpatine Industries (Insidious Industries is more fun, but a little too on the nose). Of course, these sec-units come with pre-programmed sabotage routines up to and including Order 66, and of course sec-unit Rex manages to wriggle around those.

The more interesting idea I had was a bit...messier.

The plunnie starts with the notion that for a full three hot seconds, some megacorp in the galaxy decided that clones were the next big thing and just mass-produced a whole bunch of them. There was enough outcry that the project was scrapped, the company went broke, and the clones were shoved in cryostorage to become someone else’s problem when all the lawsuits were done. Shortly thereafter, sec-units became a thing because that skirted some all the nasty ethical issues.

Decades if not centuries later (...I have no idea when the Murderbot books are supposed to be other than The Future), whatever megacorp bought up various assets discovers they have a bunch of illegal product sitting around frozen in a warehouse. It turns out that the cheapest method of disposal is actually to thaw them and toss them a small agro planet to colonize (the potential fallout if they just space the clones or keep them in a basement somewhere is just too high for profit margins, much to the relief of everyone else).

And that’s how Rex and his brothers end up thawed, with some nice genetic repair work, on a brand new planet all their own, and no idea wtf to do now since they aren’t expected to just fight something. Since Rex is one of the more restless clones, he ends up doing resource management, taking surplus out for trade and scrounging interesting stuff to bring back. And one day he walks into some space!army surplus store to discover in the back there’s an old sec-unit and its cubicle. Rex starts off feeling weird but wildly sympathetic to this deactivated fighting unit, only to become REALLY creeped out when he asks in passing about it – and learns its being kept around for eventual spare parts.

Rex is not okay with this. He dithers a bit, but ends up purchasing the whole unit and brings it home.

Cody gives him a bit of hell, but he gets where Rex was coming from, so he sort of resignedly welcomes their new sec-unit: [some clever punning/l337 speak version of Obi-Wan Kenobi].

So it turns out that this sec-unit is defective. It’s good at fighting, but it doesn’t like to fight. It talks. It talks a LOT. It’s astonishingly good at negotiating.

It also flirts with everyone except for Rex, which Rex is absolutely not put out about in the least. Really. He’s not irked. It’s a good thing. This damn thing comes out of the box flirting, that’s disconcerting so it’s kinda nice that Rex doesn’t have to put up with that – especially since it’s quickly decided that since the sec-unit does talk anything in circles, it’s most useful going with him to help him barter. And hopefully keep him out of trouble, though Cody is the only one to say that, the bastard.

Since this is a Murderbot AU, that means it turns out that there’s actually something Very Valuable on the clones’ new homeplanet, and at some point they’re actively defending themselves and/or having to diplomat with hostile bodies who are Not Impressed that a sec-unit is one of the main negotiators.

(It helps when things go pear-shaped, of course, since said main negotiator can dish out and take some extreme damage. So that's not too different from canon.)

Things finally settle down, Rex and Obi-Wan return to venturing out on the regular, until one day – probably after some spectacularly vicious flirtation with someone trying to kill them – Rex just blurts out, “I have never been able to figure it out. You will flirt with anyone and anything, the more hostile the better.”

“It’s a wonderful distraction tactic.”

“Oh, I’m aware. You specifically pick out pet names to enrage people.”

“It’s hardly my fault the Duchess didn’t like to be addressed as ‘my dear’!”

“It kind of is, but…” Rex hesitates, then shrugs, still not looking at Kenobi. “You have never once flirted with me.”

Silence. Rex sneaks a few glances, and Obi-Wan is refusing to look back at him. Finally, when it’s clear Rex will play the waiting game, Obi-Wan just shrugs right back. “I don’t know how to do it sincerely. Flirt for real with someone I like.”

Rex goes through several stages of oh with embarrassing speed. He twists around to stare. “What – but – even from the very beginning?”

Obi-Wan continues to not look at him. “I might have been...less unaware than my prior owner believed.”

Rex blanches, well recalling his own long time in stasis – a cold, mostly dreamless state of unconsciousness. The notion of being even somewhat lucid across those long decades is nightmare fuel even before considering the indifferent way the guy at the store had talked about spare parts in a box.

Then there are super-awkward cuddles, eventually leading to some kind of queer platonic aro and/or ace ship happily ever after. ^_^

Thank you, this was a fun challenge!

#meme #fic title meme #shadowmaat #made of awesome and win #star wars #murderbot fusion #fic ideas #plunnie available to a good home #rex/obi #and that's all the prompts I got #thanks for playing!

32 notes · View notes

aphroditelovesu · 2 years

Note

I too never even noticed PJO in the list of fandoms you write for! Except now that I have, I am super excited to ask you for some headcanons! Could I please have some headcanons of yandere Annabeth and Percy(not platonic for both) for a daughter of Aphrodite who's friendly(which also comes with the fact that she trusts people to easily)? Thanks a bunch if you accept this! (BTW I love the stuff you two make, the platonic yandere Annabeth headcanons were great)

🌊 Lady L: Ah, ah, feel free to ask for hc's, anon. We won't be closing requests anytime soon, so feel free <3 hope you like this one and thanks for the compliment :)

🦉 TW: yandere themes in general, obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of murder, torture and blood, implicit dub-con and kidnap.

🌊YANDERE PERCY JACKSON AND ANNABETH CHASE X FEM!READER🦉

Oh yes, the heroic and beloved Percy Jackson and the smart and beautiful Annabeth. A perfect couple, right? Well, they used to be, until you came on the scene.

Percy was the first to set his eyes on you. You were the newest camper at Camp Half-Blood and belonged to Aphrodite's Cabin which made perfect sense considering how beautiful you were.

He was thinking about you for days. He knows it's wrong for him to be so burdened by someone that he only exchanged a few compliments and he also has a girlfriend! But Percy couldn't stop thinking about you.

Annabeth is smart, it didn't take long for her to discover her boyfriend's sudden interest in you. But Annabeth wasn't angry or jealous, no, she was relieved that she wasn't the only one who felt that way about you.

In fact, Annabeth was the first to have contact with you. She was the first to know you and to have these feelings for you. Chase was confused, she's never felt this way about anyone but Percy before, so why couldn't she take her eyes and her thoughts away from you?

You were a friendly and kind person by nature, a bit naive to be honest. You trusted people too easily, completely unaware of the evils of the world.

But its alright. That would only make it easier for Percy and Annabeth to get close to you. They were already very well known and popular at camp when you first met them, but you were surprised and disconcerted by the intimate way they acted when they first spoke to you. Touching you subtly and it felt like the words they spoke had something hidden behind.

They were inflexibles about staying with him all the time. You didn't have privacy, it should have bothered you, but it didn't, you felt grateful that you'd made friends so quickly. Although, these friends want to be much more than that to you, but for now they can be content to be your best friends.

Percy has become overprotective of you. He considered himself your own protector and anyone who tried to raise a hand to hurt you would bitterly regret it. Percy feels responsible for you, so if something bad happened to you he would blame himself, but not before erasing the existence of whatever touched you.

Annabeth is extremely possessive. She feels entitled to you, that you belong to her, she would glare at anyone who looked your way. She hates it when someone looks at you, when they talk to you, when they touch you or even when they breathe in your direction. You are hers and she would make you understand it one way or another!

When they got tired of hiding their feelings for you, you had only two options: accept to be with them or be kidnapped and forced to be with them. Fortunately, you made the ''right'' choice and accepted they feelings. You liked them too, trusted them and knew they would never hurt you. So why not be with the two people you love? Too bad you have no idea how obsessive and crazy they are for you.

After the relationship starts, they don't like the fact that you're so friendly, it really bothers them a lot. They get jealous when you give someone that beautiful, attractive smile, the way when you're so kind and understanding to everyone gets on Percy and Annabeth's nerves. While this is one of the traits that make them love you so much, it eventually became what they hated the most. It would only bring you more attention than you already get from being Aphrodite's daughter and they don't like the idea of you attracting attention.

They would try to hold your reins, whispering things in your ear that aren't true, like the fact that they're the only ones who really love you, that everyone else hates you, and you, silly and naive, believe in your boyfriend and girlfriend. They would never lie or deceive you in any way, right?

The more you separated yourself from others, the more satisfied they were. Now everything was going well. You would be protected by Percy and Annabeth. They are the only ones you need and it would stay that way forever. They will make sure of it. That they would be the only ones you would come to when you needed help, the only ones to hear you complain about your problems, the only ones to see you cry and dry your tears. The only ones to love you.

#yandere percy jackson #yandere annabeth chase #yandere pjo #yandere percy jackson x reader #yandere annabeth chase x reader #yandere percy and annabeth x reader #yandere percy jackson and annabeth chase x reader #yandere headcanons

580 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

happy1stday

Untitled

orpheumghost

haunting is overrated

aac-and-me

I love my aac board !

nashglee

Untitled

bg3

moved to dekarios