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cameronspecial · 5 months

Note

I know we’re pass Halloween but I’ve had an idea.

Drew smut (only if your comfortable) where he and reader as a cute matching costume like Flynn and Rapunzel or daphne and Fred from scooby doo and they go to a party with all the cast members and he just can’t keep his hands to himself.

So when they finally get home they get freaky lol on the island in the kitchen and he lifts up her dress/skirt cause he can’t wait anymore and it’s so hot but cute.

Drewbie Doo, Where Are You?

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: DARK SMUT and Swearing.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.6K

Masterlist

Y/N loves costume parties and dressing up for them. She always goes all out for them, coming up with creative spins on classic costumes. Like right now, Y/N and Drew are dressed up as Daphne and Fred, but with the twist that they are both serial killers. The idea came to her mind as she was looking through different costume inspirations and she saw a couple dressed as Ghostface and one of his victims. The girl’s white dress is stained red with the red handprint of her boyfriend and the idea stuck to Y/N. She knew Drew wanted to dress as Daphne and Fred, so she decided they could combine their two wants. This is how she finds herself giggling while Drew covers his hand in the fake blood she bought from the costume store. His hand rounds her body and brings it down to her bum. He gives her ass cheek a squeeze, causing her to let out a yip in surprise. He smirks down at her and brings his bloody hand to her cheek to smear some red on it. His hand brings her lips to his. They pull apart from each other and look at themselves in the mirror.

The red of his handprint stands out against her purple long-sleeved dress, which she admires with a little wiggle of her butt. He lets out a chuckle at her action, giving her a small spank. She jumps forward a little bit and giggles, “Come on, we are going to be late for the party.” “Darling, I don’t know if we are going to make it to Madeline’s party with how your ass is brandishing my handprint on it. It shows everyone that you are mine,” he growls, pulling her in by the green scarf around her neck. She steps out of his reach and picks up her fake knife, “As much as I would love to stay home and let you fuck me. Madeline will kill us if we skip out on her party.”

——

Everyone’s costumes looked stunning. Madison is wearing a fairy costume and Madeline appears to be dressed for the 1950s. Rudy seems to be the back half of a cow and Y/N can only guess that Elaine is the front half. Chase is dressed as Woody while JD is Buzz Lightyear. She spots Carlacia dressed as Barbie, talking to someone Y/N doesn’t recognize. Seeing other people’s costumes is one of Y/N’s favourite things about dress-up events. Squeals pull Y/N out of her observations and she turns her head to see Madeline running towards them. “You guys look so good, but you are late,” she scolds, twirling Y/N around to admire the costume. “You naughty girl. Is that Drew’s handprint?” Y/N’s head bows down and Drew brings her to his side by her waist. “Damn, right, it’s my handprint. Who else do you think it is?” he grumbles, resting his hand back down to her bum where the print is.

“God, you are so possessive of her. Now, I know why you guys were late. You guys were probably having sex,” Madeline comments. “She wouldn’t let me,” he whispers under his breath as Madeline goes off to greet more guests. Y/N swats Drew’s chest, “Really? Did you have to say that?”

——

Drew couldn’t keep his hands off of Y/N throughout the night. As she talks to the various castmates, Drew’s hands roam around her body, leaving a trail of fake blood all over her purple dress. He begs her to go home, whispering in her ear all the naughty things he wants to do with her. The final straw that breaks the camel's back is when she is standing in the kitchen and she is pouring herself a drink. Drew comes up from behind her, the strain of his dick pressing perfectly into the dip of her buttcrack. “Feel what you do to me, Darling? I could be making you feel so good right now,” he mutters into her ear. His hand moves up to her breast, staining the fabric of her dress as he cups it. She takes his wrist into hers and drags him out of Madeline’s house.

——

They close the door in a frenzied kiss. It only gets locked when Drew begrudgingly pulls away from her. She is about to make her way to their bedroom, but he stops her by grabbing her wrist and bringing her to his chest. She lets him waddle them to the kitchen, where he pushes her hips into the counter. One of his hands keeps her pushed into the surface and his other goes to pull off the ascot from his neck. He takes both of her wrists in one hand, tying them together with his orange scarf. He shoves her back down onto the counter, so her elbows meet the cold granite and her wrists are in front of her. Drew's mouth meets the shell of her ear, “See if you had let us leave earlier in the night, then you would have gotten sweet and passionate Drew. The Drew that lets you cum. But since you didn’t, you are going to take what I give you like the good little slut you are.”

She has to stop herself from moaning out at his words and the way his front is pressing up against her back. She knows her noise will only darken his mood if she lets them out without his permission. He knows she secretly loves it when he gets this way. Foreplay is not an option as he just needs to feel her walls close in around his dick. He unbuttons his pants and tugs his pants down just enough so he can pull himself out of his briefs. He doesn’t even wait to take her clothes off. He lifts the bottom of her dress just enough so that he can rip her thong off of her. She lets out a quiet gasp at the feeling of her underwear being torn off.

He shushes her, kissing the back of her neck which is exposed by her hair falling to one shoulder. His tip finds her pussy and he gives her no time to process it before he slams into her. She can’t adjust to his size because he begins his harsh thrusts at an unforgiving pace. Luckily, she is already wet enough from their party antics to lessen the friction. She tries her best to keep quiet as he brings his dick in and out of her. “Go on, Darling. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel,” Drew orders, pulling at the scarf around her neck so that her back presses against his chest. She obeys his command, crying out about how much she loves his cock. His pace keeps going and she feels like he is trying to fuck her into the kitchen island. His lips find their way to her neck. He nibbles a hickey on her skin, loving the melody coming out of her mouth. He can feel her tightened walls around him. He lets out a low laugh, “Tell me you're sorry for not letting us stay home. Tell me we should’ve stayed home and let me fuck you like a good girl. And then maybe I’ll let you cum.”

His hips have stopped moving and he is still inside of her while he waits for her pleas. She tries to bring his hand up to her throat, but she forgets her hands are tied. He smirks down at her attempts and brings his big hands around her throat, squeezing gently around it. Knowing he will love to hear her breathy voice, she calls out, “I’m sorry for being a whore and not letting us stay home because I wanted everyone to see me in my slutty costume. I’m sorry you didn’t let you have sex with me sooner.”

His dick twitches inside of her at her words and he knows he doesn’t have long to make her climax before him. His forceful thrust picks up again and the hand around her neck goes to her clit. He starts rubbing her bud in quick circles. Her moans and his groans mix with the slapping of their skin and they are slowly being brought to the edge. Her bound hands reach above her to the other side of the island, so she has something to grip as her pussy swallows Drew in a tighter hold. She orgasms with a scream of his name and he follows soon after her. His cum shoots into her in ropes as he fucks her through their high. He collapses onto her, smushing her breasts against the granite. His head falls to wear he bites a hickey into her skin and kisses up and down her neck. His hands reach up to untie his orange scarf from her wrist. She brings her wrist over her shoulder so he can kiss the forming bruises. He slowly slips his flaccid penis out of her, bringing her up to stand straight. She turns around in his arms and rests her head on his chest. The thump of his heartbeat starts to slow down.

His lips find her temple, “I hope I wasn’t too hard on you, Darling. I know you didn’t use our safeword, but I didn’t even eat you out first.” She shakes her head against him and kisses the exposed part of his chest. “No, Baby. It was perfect. Like you,” she mumbles, still a little groggy from her release. His fingers run through her hair, “Good. I love you, Darling.”

“I love you too, Baby.”

Taglist: @loves0phelia

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey smut

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darksvster · 1 month

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Do you still ship daemyra after that scene? lol it was harsher than i thought, maybe he will be better with nettles🤞

yeah lol, i clearly do since i watched it 2 years ago and i'm still clearly shipping them today. as are my friends who read this script with me in january. i would question any daemyra shipper who held on for this long, only for the written script to say something basically identical to what we see on the screen, and for that to be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

if this is what breaks daemyra for you, then i hate to say it but you have been misinterpreting that scene since the beginning.

he's choking her. it's as harsh as i expected and remembered. people who were expecting some kind of redemption via the script were deluding themselves. i said there were romantic scenes in this episode, i didn't say it was a whole new script.

i don't consider the script drafts canon, but that scene plays out pretty much how i interpreted it from watching the show: daemon being jealous and infuriated about viserys and the prophecy, rhaenyra shocked at the attack and by the fact that daemon knows nothing about it after 10 years. (i'm not going to go into a full analysis of the episode, no one would read it and honestly i've had some version of this conversation a thousand times.)

do i like the scene? no, ofc not. do i get annoyed when antis throw it in my face as a gotcha? yes. you know why? this isn't real! daemon is not a real human being, with a full pattern and history of abuse, rhaenyra is fictional, she does not exist in any world. of course, i can still ship it, just like i would ship any other problematic couple. antis act like shipping them means you support abuse, so i don't bother reasoning with them. they don't want to debate, they want to scream until they're the only voice in the room and call it a victory.

personally, i don't believe nettles is going to be on this show, since there were already rumors circulating about that as far back as 2 years ago, and the fact that they did not cast her confirms some of those rumors to me. however, it would be 100% worse with nettles. anyone shipping those two who want to point to the choke as a daemyra breaking point, well... i would say that nettles would be a teen who daemon would be both raping and grooming. so anyone who wants to seriously romanticize that and say it's morally superior to daemyra, well lol good luck with that one.

#ask #if you're just now leaving the daemyra ship i hope you find peace in a more vanilla and peaceful romance #personally i knew what i signed up for and i'll stay until the ship sinks

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normspellsman · 1 year

Text

Secret

part one | part two

pairing: neteyam x fem!human!reader

genre: angst, the tiniest mention of smut, no comfort at all (sorry y’all), & forbidden love

word count: 1k+

warning(s): heartbreak & mention of character death

word bank: sa'nok — mother, yawntu — loved one; lover; beloved person, yawne — beloved, great mother/ewya — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in, & syulang — flower

note: inspired by the song “secrets” by PLVTINUM. i literally thought of this when hearing this song, except it was all sad & nothing of the song is remotely mentioned in the fic lol. brief mention of norm & slightly more mention of lo’ak. neteyam is aged up for the sake of the brief mention of smut but it’s not even really detailed like at all.

You’d like to think you were a person that thought things through. Calculating every single thing that could potentially happen and what could end up as a result. Like a true scientist, Norm often would comment when he found you staring off into space as you tried to think something through, brows pulled into a scrunch in deep thought. I just like to be prepared, you’d respond, shaking your head at Norm’s previous comment. But, no matter how much you thought all of this through, you never would’ve come to the conclusion of any of this happening.

“What?,” your voice came out in a broken tone, stomach churning in anxiety. You couldn’t believe your ears. There was no way that this was happening. You should’ve known better. Done better. Put more distance between the two of you. You got so caught up in what it felt like to be with him that you forgot your reason for putting up your walls.

Neteyam didn’t want to repeat himself. He knew he probably should but he didn’t want to. Because if he did, then it’d be true. What he would be saying would be reality. A reality that he didn’t want, didn’t choose. A reality that his parents chose for him with none of his input on the matter. His Sa’nok was able to choose her own love, so why couldn’t he?

With his ears pinned back against his head, he whispers out, “I am to be…mated with another,” barely loud enough for you to hear, but you did.

The sinking feeling in your stomach goes to your heart, sucking in your heart whole. Tears sting your waterline as you hold back an inevitable sob, shaking fingers digging into the plush of your lips as you tightly close your eyes. Neteyam, your Neteyam, the one that you love, the one you bared your soul to and shared yourself with, was to be mated with another. A Na’vi. Someone who was able to give him children and a stable future. Something you couldn’t give him, no matter how much you prayed to the Great Mother.

“Yawntu,” Neteyam utters, reaching out for you only to be met with your cold stare and slap of your hand, hitting his arm away from your body. His heart began to shatter at the action, trying not to reach out towards you again for comfort. He knew he fucked up. He knew that he should’ve told you sooner instead of continuing to see you behind his parents back. He knew he should’ve fought the betrothal, should’ve fought for your love. He realizes that now as he watches his whole world crumble right in front of him.

“How long…” you ask, stabilizing yourself against your lab desk, hunched over one side of the table with your back to your lover. You didn’t want to know if he kept this a secret from you or for how long he did, but you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth.

“A while,” he responds, guilt clawing at his throat, “about four months.”.

The confession was the final straw on the camels back.

“Four months?!” You scream, tears now steadily running down your cheeks, voice cracking at the heavy emotion. You had been seeing each other long before that. Confessing your feelings for one another nearly a year ago, but you had only gotten intimate with each other nearly five months ago. The timeline didn’t look so great in your head, your heart breaking even more.

“Did…Did you know before we-we fucked?” The harshness of your voice is what makes Neteyam flinch back as if you just slapped him across the face. The statement fucked brings a heaviness to his heart. The night you two became one, the night where you made love was one of Neteyam’s happiest memories. Often finding himself thinking about it during the late time of the night, smiling to himself that he was able to connect to you one another level and was able to please you in the way he always desired. He didn’t regret any of it.

Truth be told, he was told of the betrothal the morning of that night. He thought that if he avoided the subject at hand entirely, it would eventually go away. That if both of his parents saw his cold demeanor towards the girl he was arranged to marry, that they would call it off and allow him to choose for himself who he wanted as a mate. That if he mated with you, there would be nothing in your way of being together. He now knows that he shouldn’t have done that. That he was wrong to have done that. That he should’ve screamed and kicked and fought his parents once the news was broken to him. But he was too much of a coward to do so.

His silence is what gave you your answer. You scoffed at it. At his cowardice to answer. This was not the Neteyam you knew and grew to love.

“Was I just a distraction to you? Something you could toy with before leaving me in the dust as you continued on with your life with your new mate?” You hissed out, fists tightly closed. You so bad wanted to scream, punch, and hit anything and everything in sight, but you would have to wait until Neteyam had left to do what you desired.

Again, your words had hurt him. Had caused his heart to almost splinter in half. What have I done? He thinks.

“No! No, no,” he exclaims, crouching down into an even lower position to look at you, “You were not a distraction. You are so much more to me, yawne. You are all my stars in the sky. You are my sun to my moon. My other half. My whole heart. My ma-”. You cut him off.

“Don’t!” You firmly say, tears falling down your face at Neteyam’s confession, “Do not say it”.

He knew that you didn’t want to hear what he was going to call you. But it was true. You are his mate. The one he mated with before Eywa. The one he loves with all his heart and being. The one he would lay down his life for.

“But it is true. You are my mate,” he whispers, bringing your face into his oversized blue hands, warm against your cold and wet face.

His words and actions only make you cry harder and the heartbreak worse.

It’s quiet for a beat. And another. And another.

Neteyam’s worried that you managed to make yourself pass out from how hard you seemed to be crying, but he was proved wrong when your eyes opened and roughly pushed his hands off of your cheeks.

“Go! Go away!” You shouted, pushing at his lean chest. You wanted him gone but you also wanted him to stay. But you knew if he stayed, it would only be harder for you to let him go in the morning.

“I do not want you here! I don’t love you! Don’t see you!” You continued, sobbing.

Your weak attempts at pushing him away didn’t work, but your words did.

Neteyam fell onto his bottom in grief. Did you mean that?

“You don’t mean that, syulang,” he whispered, tears now streaming down his cheeks.

You only shake your head, “How do you know what I mean, Neteyam?!”.

The lack of your usual nickname for him stung. You always called him Teyam, Tey, or Ma’Tayem. Never his full name. He knew what you meant whenever you used his full name. And his heart continued to break at the fact.

“I am so sorry, yawne. Please, let me make it right. Let me fight for us,” he begs, shifting onto his knees as he grasps your hips and pleads for you to look at him, “I love you. I see you. Only you.”.

“You can’t make it right, Neteyam!” You spoke, “You had your chance the minute you knew of the arrangement and yet you did nothing about it. Nothing!”.

Your words were like stones in his heart, weighing him down. Neteyam didn’t think he’d ever encounter a pain quite like this. Nothing could ever compare to the pain he was feeling right now.

A tear fell from both of your eyes as a beat of silence took over the moment. Both hearts racing against the confines of their rib cages.

“Please,” he pleads one last time, voice wavering as it shook.

“Go. Please,” you beg, hands on Neteyams forearms, trying to get them off of you.

Whatever fight Neteyam had left to try to convince you that he still loved you and was going to fight off this betrothal left his body at your words. His eyes closed and his tail fell limp between his legs, heart completely splitting in two.

He only nods in acknowledgment to your request, gently kissing the crown of your head before getting up to leave.

As he leaves you there, in your lab, broken and crying, you still can’t help but still love him. Perhaps a part of you always will, even when he’s grown and has a family of his own with the woman he’s supposed to be with.

Before he completely retreats back into the forest, he gives you one last longing look before heading back to High Camp.

He promises himself that he will fight for you and the love that you share. That no matter what, he will do what is right and do everything in his power to get you back.

The following week, news quickly spread of the Sully children being held hostage by one of the returning Sky People. Forcing Jake Sully to make a decision for his family. Their departure from the clan hurt and saddened most, especially the Sully family.

You were told of their departure a day too late.

Neteyam had stopped by the day of. He stopped by to tell you that the betrothal was called off. That he still loved you. And that he was leaving to seek refuge with another clan. That he was going to keep fighting for you and that when he gets back, he’ll scream up into the sky that you are his and he is yours and that he doesn’t care that you’re human and he’s Na’vi. He left Norm a letter that contained all of this. He whispered that he loved you into your closed door before leaving, forcing himself to not look back because if he did, he knew he wouldn’t want to leave.

His death reached you four months after the family’s departure from the clan. You had forgiven him during those four months. Rereading his letter over and over again until you cried out all the tears your body allowed you to.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you saw Lo’ak enter the lab, looking the same as he did months before he left. But, he had a sad look on his face. Like a permanent scowl etched on to it.

When he broke the news to you, he had to cover his sensitive ears from your heartbroken scream. Lo’ak had known of yours and his brothers relationship, walking in on the two of you kissing one night.

He loved his brother and he loved his brothers love for you. Neteyam quietly begged in his arms for Lo’ak to watch over you in his absence. And so he will. He will love you because his brother loved you and he will watch and protect you because that’s what was asked of him.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x you #neteyam sully x y/n #avatar #avatar imagine #avatar x y/n #avatar x reader #neteyam x human reader #atwow imagines #atwow x you #atwow x reader #angst #avatar: the way of water

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certifiedtrashmouth · 1 year

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Oh gosh I don’t wanna repeat someone and I’m not sure about Xmas traditions but what about ridiculous stocking stuffers w Eddie? Fluff/humor.

oh, god. this one also got out of hand. started in light-hearted fun and ended in fluff that had me screaming into my pillow. i'm sorry for the length.

good for one kiss (eddie munson x reader)

warnings: none really. mentions of penis??? (eddie makes a joke about his dick and there's mention of a blowjob but no description lol), mentions of cigarettes, idiots in love. best friends to lovers.

“What am I supposed to do with a single piece of gum?”

“What am I supposed to do with a single cigarette?”

“Smoke it, idiot.”

“It’s broken, idiot.”

“Oh.”

You and Eddie sit cross-legged across from each other on his bed on Christmas Eve, partaking in your annual gift exchange. But there was a catch; each year, you exchanged stockings, only gifting each other what you could fit in the glorified, fleece-lined socks. There had only been two exceptions to the rule of the years - the year you’d gifted Eddie his first professional-grade amp and he’d bawled like a baby (once he’d dried his tears, he’d threatened you and Wayne both endlessly about ever letting the story leave the room. The two of you had exchanged a look, though, knowing neither of you would ever let him live it down.) and the year Eddie had bought you your first acoustic six-string with the promise of lessons from him (it was onyx black and shined with promise as Eddie explained the two of you needed to use paint markers to decorate it).

It was going on five years of the tradition that had stemmed from both of you never being able to afford much for each other, but still wanting to show you care nevertheless. And as the years had gone on, the gifts had slowly found their rhythm. There was always a perfect mixture of cliche throwaway gifts, gag gifts, and gifts so sentimental that some tears were sure to be shed by one of the parties.

“I didn’t think it would break,” you scrunch your nose slightly as Eddie holds up the cigarette, limp from the crack in the middle of it.

“What did you expect, just throwing it in here like that?” Eddie laughs, not bothered in the slightest. He had a pack of Camels snug in the pocket of his leather jacket slung over his desk chair. It was the thought that counted, after all.

“I expected it to be absolutely fucking invincible for how expensive the pack was,” you whine, and he can’t help but watch you with bemusement, “I spent my last dollar from my tips on that damn pack.”

The mention of that softens the look in Eddie’s eyes. He knew the two of you struggled to come up with enough money to even keep up this tradition; he had hardly seen you due to how many spare shifts you’d been picking up at Benny’s the last few weeks.

You catch the look, immediately straighten up, “No, no, no. Don’t even go there, Munson. I can see you going there. Come back to me, idiot.”

Idiot. The term of endearment you’d coined for him since you’d first met in sophomore year of high school. He’d heard it in a dozen different tones - elated, annoyed, exhausted - but not a single one held an ounce of genuine negativity towards him. You made idiot sound like my love.

He wasn’t your lover, though. He kicked himself in the shins every morning over it, always telling himself that today was the day and I’m going to tell her how I feel finally.

Spoiler alert. He never did.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he offers up his own loving nickname for you, “I just know you’ve been busting your ass at Benny’s-”

“Yes, I have, because I want to spoil you for the holidays. I don’t regret a single second of it. Even when those creepy old men tried to shove the dollar bills in my shirt rather than just hand them to me.”

You both laugh at the memory. It hadn’t been very funny when it happened, leading to you calling Eddie crying and him coming to your rescue, but enough time had passed to see the humor in it all.

The rest of the gift exchange goes as expected for the most part. The gag gifts pull the appropriate amount of laughter, and the more genuine gifts pull a softness out of each other that nearly had each of your eyes’ pupils forming hearts.

Eddie fawns over a pack of pics you’d had customized with Corroded Coffin’s logo, and you react just as bluntly as expected when you pull a long red candle from your stocking, looking up to Eddie blankly.

“For when I finally sacrifice you in the woods,” he explains with a cheesy grin, “Gotta have candles if we’re going to worship Satan, sweetheart.”

“Ha-ha,” you dead pan, tilting your head slightly as you keep a straight face, completely unimpressed, “You’re hilarious, Munson.”

“Hey, I could have made a sex joke,” he throws up his hands in a defensive manner, shrugging his shoulders and looking to the ground in faux shyness.

“Yeah, yeah - you could have made a sex joke,” you mumble as you shove the candle to the side, a smile still escaping the corners of your mouth.

“As a matter of fact, I still can. Don’t think I didn’t notice the fact that you replaced my stocking this year, darling, and that it’s noticeably larger. Finally big enough to fit over my massive dic-”

“You’re disgusting,” you interrupt, grabbing the candle and now whacking one of his knees with it, making him fall victim to an uncontrollable giggling fit, “Have you ever been told that? Let me be the first to tell you - you’re absolutely vile, Edward Munson.”

You don’t mean it, and he knows you don’t. You’re both laughing too much over it.

You’re starting to get to the bottom of the stockings now. You each have an odd arrangement of candy that had been included in each respective stocking - Eddie is socking on a blue jolly rancher, being sure to make annoying slurping noises to get a rise out of you, as you nibble on a miniature candy cane. There’s only one gift left in your stocking, a small box that you only reach for once you rewrap the candy cane in the plastic wrap it’d come in that you’d saved to avoid getting sticky fingers.

“What’s this?” you ask, pulling it out and letting the empty stocking fall into your lap.

Eddie looks up from where he was preoccupied with attempting to open another jolly rancher. His eyes light up from the present in your palm, “Oh, only saving the best one for last, sweet thing.”

You look at him questioningly, but begin to slide your finger under the delicate edge of the small box regardless. It takes concentration to pry open the box without tearing it, but you do, you gasp.

In a bed of cotton, there’s a necklace.

It looks like a copy of Eddie’s signature pick necklace. But instead of the dark swirling black between clouds of burgundy red, it shines with pearlescent opal white and ruby red, glimmering on a silver chain as if it were made of jewels.

When you gently lift it from the box, it’s clear it’s not a real pick. It’s heavier - Hell, it might actually be made of gemstones.

“Eddie-” you gasp, cutting yourself off, mesmerized by the beauty.

He’s nearly shaking with delight, “It’s a locket. Look, open it.”

You see what he means immediately, realizing that the weight was from the thickness of the faux pick. There’s a subtle seam, with a silver lock on the side that clicks gently when you press on it. The locket swings open, and inside is a snug photo of you and Eddie. You can pinpoint exactly when the photo was taken; it was at your birthday party two years ago, both of you laughing with cake icing on the tips of your nose. The photo is in dramatic black and white, but you can still picture how obnoxiously red your cheeks were with Eddie’s arm slung around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you two lost it over God knows what.

You feel yourself beginning to tear up, completely stunned, “I- Oh my God, Eddie. I don’t know what to say.”

“You can start with how I’m the best friend ever,” he cheekily grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you let out a breathless laugh.

“It’s…God, it’s beautiful. This- This is too much, Eddie. I can’t imagine how expensive-”

“Nope,” he cuts you off quickly, waving his hands frantically, refusing to listen to your lecture. He didn’t care if it had cost him everything he owned, down to the clothes on his back - it was worth it to see that look on your face. “Don’t even start, sweetheart. One of Wayne’s friends at the plant has a wife who makes jewelry for a living. We got the family discount because she thought the idea was so dang adorable,” his voice pitches to mock the mystery woman, and it makes you tearily laugh some more.

You look back down at the open locker, finger tracing over the opposite side from the photo.

E. It’s engraved in cursive. As if you’d ever forget the initial of the boy in the photo - the boy in front of you.

“You really had to choose the photo that made me look like a dork, didn’t you?” you softly tease under your breath, staring at the memory in unfiltered fondness.

“Someone’s got to keep you humble,” he retorts.

You ignore his comment, standing quickly and holding the necklace out to him, “Help me put it on?”

He doesn’t hesitate to leap off the bed to your side, taking the chain gingerly before you turn and face your back to him. His movements are careful and deliberate as he brushes your hair off to the side, cold fingers skimming over your skin and sending shivers down your spine before he loops the necklace around the front of your chest. You can feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck as he fiddles with the clasp for a few moments before finding success.

“Aha! Perfect,” he claps as you spin around, grinning giddily at the weight that sits naturally between your collarbones. It gives you a sense of security, a sense of comfort, a sense of home.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you earnestly say, voice crumbling with emotions as your smile shines and you lift a hand to pinch the necklace between two fingers. The locket is smooth as you rub over it, “I love it.”

His face reflects your happiness right back before you suddenly throw yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He returns it immediately, squeezing you back just as strongly. You both melt into the hug, comfortable as you eventually beginning to just-barely-sway in the middle of Eddie’s room, chests pressed together as hearts beat in sync.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your hair before placing a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Merry Christmas, Eds.”

You finally pull away, both of you returning to your original positions on the bed. Gifts are scattered around you, mixing with candy and wrappers, as Eddie pulls up his stocking and begins to shake it upside down.

“There’s not any more gifts, Eddie, you already opened them-” you cut yourself off, the smile that had your cheeks aching still fading when a piece of paper flutters from his stocking.

Oh no.

“No more gifts, you say?” he smirks in your direction, picking up the folded note, “What’s this, then?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’d forgotten about that. When you’d been wrapping Eddie’s gifts the night before, Robin had joined you to keep you company. The two of you had broken into a few bottles of wine around the house when you had a bright idea (at least, at the time it seemed bright. Now, it was the dumbest idea you’d ever had. Ever.). Coupons for Eddie, ranging from redemption for kisses to redemption for more… explicit acts. To be fair, Robin had egged you on, knowing of your hopeless crush of two years on your best friend. You’d folded each ‘coupon’ and sealed them with kisses from red lipstick the two of you had dug out of your desk drawers. You’d chickened out when the buzz from the wine faded, and pulled all of the ridiculous notes out before properly filling the stocking with his actual gifts.

Or at least, you thought you’d gotten all of the notes out. Clearly, you hadn’t.

“Don’t open that!” you blurt out, lurching forward and attempting to snatch the paper from Eddie. It only makes his smirk grow, hand shooting out away from you, glancing wildly between you and the kiss-stained paper.

“Now you’ve really got me curious,” he mocks, pulling a face at you as he brings the paper back to his face, beginning to unfold it.

“No, Eddie, seriously, don’t read it. Please. It was so stupid, I- Robin and I were drinking, and I just…” you trail off in your explanation as he completely disregards you and his eyes trail over your scribbled words.

You didn’t even know which one had been left behind. You could only hope it was one of the less vulgar ones.

“Is this a joke?” he asks softly. You’re shocked - you’d expected merciless teasing. Not whatever look was currently in his eyes.

“What?” you ask, trying to peer over to see what the paper said. Depending on which dumb coupon it was, your answer would change, “I- Sort of. Maybe. No. I don’t know.”

You begin to wring your hands in your lap, waiting for him to respond. You felt so nauseated you considered escaping to the bathroom. Maybe you could die of embarrassment in the Munson men’s bathtub.

But then you remember it’s the Munson men’s bathtub, and decide the better fate may lay here, Eddie glancing up at you with moving curiosity, eyebrows furrowed.

Your cheeks burn crimson as you wish for the Earth to swallow you whole.

“Yes or no? Is it a joke?” he asks again, a stern tone that manages to not come across angry.

Your stomach and chest twist in sync, “No. It isn’t a joke.”

Suddenly, Eddie is taking the note and thrusting it towards you, eyes blown wide and chest heaving.

“Then I’d like to redeem it now, please.”

You don’t realize it, but the room had started spinning the moment Eddie had read what was written down. It felt like a dream - a dream he’d indulged in with no hopes of it ever coming true for an embarrassingly long amount of time now.

Your hands shake as you reach out to take the note from him, and you look down to see just how much drunk you had screwed you over in this moment.

In your messy handwriting, it reads: Coupon for Eddie Munson - good for one (1) kiss. To be redeemed at Eddie’s discretion.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful it wasn't a vulgar one, before the reality of what Eddie had just requested hits you.

“Did you just- did you just say you want to redeem it now?”

Eddie nods, a determined look crossing his face, “Yes, please.”

You both stare at each other for a moment, letting the emotions in the air sink in. It takes a moment before you both break out into withheld, shy smiles.

“Okay,” you sigh.

Before you can overthink it, you’re both leaning forward, Eddie’s hands cupping your cheeks as his lips meet yours tenderly. It’s just a peck, nothing more, but it sends your heart into cardiac arrest. You can still taste the jolly ranchers on his lips, and he tastes the sweet mint of the candy cane on yours.

You both pull back slightly, his hands not leaving your face, knees pressing together. Your eyes had fluttered close, and you don’t have the guts to open them quite yet and face the consequences of what had just happened between the two of you.

“I like you,” you admit quietly, your entire body tensing as you await rejection.

It doesn’t come. Instead, you’re met with the sound of Eddie’s gentle voice, “I like you, too.”

Your eyes finally spring open to already find him staring at you with adoration. “You do?”

“Of course I do, sweetheart. I let you touch my first sweetheart. I only give that privilege to the prettiest of girls,” he laughs, eyes flickering to your lips but still keeping his distance.

“You’ve only let me have that privilege.”

“Exactly.”

He finally closes the distance again, lips slotting against yours as if they’re meant to be. Something clicks in the Universe, something that says that this is right and meant to happen. Two years of silent and hopeless pining, only to find out both your feelings were returned. It leaves the two of you delirious as you both deepen the kiss. Somehow, Eddie ends up scooting up his bed until his back meets the wall where his headboard would be if he had one, you straddling his lap. It’s all still so innocent; just the two of you, soft and sickly sweet kisses as you hold one another as if you expect the other to vanish.

“Merry Christmas, Eds,” you repeat your earlier statement and reach up to his gifted locket on instinct now. It feels right. You and him this close, you and him kissing, the photo of you resting against your chest where it belongs.

“Best Christmas ever,” he chuckles before he captures you in another kiss.

He’s right. It’s safe to say the two of you struggle to ever top that Christmas. You make it a running joke to always include coupons in his stocking from that year on. Each year, the coupons get better, sometimes raunchy and sometimes just downright adorable.

Good for one cuddle.

Good for one blowjob (don’t waste it).

Good for one surprise date night.

They’re always fairly clever, and each year, he thinks you get closer to topping that first note.

But it’s not until years down the road, when the two of you sit across from each other in your now shared living room, in some big city you now call home, that he knows that he had finally topped that year. The look on your face when you dig into the bottom of your stocking, finding the small box that contains the diamond ring he’d been saving up for ever since that first kiss, tells him everything he needs to know.

It’s still pretty nice when he hears you squeal yes out loud, though.

#twenty four hours of christmas #writing #asks #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #this one... this one got to me #but in a soft way

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brighttears · 1 year

Text

Let Go

Joel Miller x reader

No physical description, gender neutral, no use of y/n

Summary: When Joel starts to doubt your journey to find his brother, all of his fear and grief crashes down on him, and he finally accepts you as a safe harbor.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst!, pet names (baby), language

A/n: Here's something dramatic as fuck lol. I’m getting repetitive with Joel because like he has these few core fears and motives so i need to work on that … anyways here's some that-one-scene-from-a -marriage-story type shit (but not the angry part i just mean the like last 30 seconds…. and like waaay more wholesome. I am unable to end angst on an angsty note. If they won’t give Joel any happy endings I will just have to do it for them)

—

When you begin to enter consciousness, the arm you reach out for the body next to you only falls onto the mattress. It wakes you up instantly and you react faster than your body has time to wake up itself, almost falling forward as you hobble to your feet, you yell out for Joel, throat coated in sleep. You swallow, cough, and call for him again.

“I’m here.”

The sound of his voice soothes your heart rate and you breathe deeply, walking from the bedroom into the dining room. Joel leans against the crooked, dust-caked table, back to you, staring out the near translucent front windows.

“...What's up?” it isn’t unusual for Joel to wake up first, but normally he’d stay in bed and wait for you. His demeanor is worryingly off. He doesn't turn to face you but you see his head bow. Walking slowly into the dining room and sliding next to him at the table, you read him with ease—observing the rigidness of his body, the lack of response, and then the disheartenment over his face. You sigh. “Look, we’ve been out here for a long time, it starts to wear on you, but it’s just that. You’re tired, of course you are, Joel. But we’re getting close! We’ll find Tommy and then we’ll… well I don’t know but you’re gonna feel so much better once we find Tommy.”

“If we find Tommy.”

His words shock you completely. If he’s ever had any doubt, he’s never expressed it. Honestly, you saw him as drunk on hope sometimes. The more time you spent with him though, the more you learned about the inner workings of his brain, it isn't naivety, it's that Tommy is his brother, and at the very least, the search is a necessity. He needs an answer, and even if it’s not the one he wants, he needs to at least know that he tried, that he did everything he could.

You’re scared that if Tommy’s dead it’ll break him. You’ve imagined it before, what Joel would be like empty. Even if he decided to stay alive, having lost another family member, the repercussions of that despair would be the death of him. You’d imagined how the acceptance that he never, ever surrendered to would look in his eyes as he gave in to being bitten or shot or stabbed. You simply wouldn’t be enough, and you’re not offended by it. You can’t outweigh the burden of Sarah and Tommy’s death, along with the countless others, many of whom you never met, who live only as ghosts in Joel’s head. Yes, you know loss well and have plenty of heavy ghosts yourself, but that’s only more to why you understand that you just wouldn’t be enough. Tommy would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. But that was all imagination; the contradiction of his behavior and his words were your solace, but now, for the first time, he’s straying from that. And he does it with his back to you, which he never does.

Keeping your voice soft but firmer, “When we find Tommy.” you reassure him.

Joel does not respond, only sighs, keeping his eyes forward. You detect a slight downturn in his lips, distance in his eyes and rare relaxation of his brow. He’s scared. He’s very scared.

“Joel…”

Before you can add anything or your lifted hand can touch his arm, he says, still to the window, “I shouldn'ta brought you with me. I should'a left you in Boston.”

Taken aback, you physically recede. “What?” Is all that comes out of you.

He looks down and blinks a few times before speaking again, and the words march out from his throat—this was planned. While you were asleep, he was running this conversation over and over in his head. “If I was gonna do this I should'a done it alone. You shouldn’t be here.” His tone is perfectly even. Your heart sinks.

“Joel what are you talking about? Why are you saying this?” your voice comes out at almost a whisper, throat and chest constricted by anxious dejection.

“It was selfish.” There's a bite now and you see it’s twinge at the corner of his lip. His eyes become stoney, closed off, and he grinds his teeth together. “That’s all it was. N’ I’m sorry. You don’t belong out here.”

The last sentence pricks you with irritation. “I hate it when you patronize me like this, Joel—” you start, but he interrupts by talking over you.

“It was selfish because I’m putin’ you in more danger than you need to be, then you would’a been in in Boston.”

“I agreed to—” you try to interject but he bars you again.

“Jus’ let me finish this.” His tone is serious. “That’s all true. No matter how shit it is, it’s safer there. You know I care about you, I—I love you,” he still struggles with those words, only recently relearning how to pronounce them, “and I want you safe, I need you safe, and that would’a been the smart option. But I’m stupid and I’m fuckin’ selfish.” your brows knit in a micro expression, head tilted, watching him as he speaks, “N' I need you. Look,” he leans forward and closes his eyes before he continues, “I haven’t seen Tommy in a long, long time. All I have is… a loose idea of where he might have been, shit, whenever the fuck it was when we left. The closer we get, the more… lost I feel.” Joel’s voice is beginning to shake and you can't help but slump a little towards him. “I don’t know if Tommy’s out there. I don’t. I don’t. I want him to be but…” his mouth opens, closes, then opens again, but all that gets out is “I—” and then he opens his eyes and turns away from the table, pacing to the other side of the room, sounding frustrated, “Look, I don’t know if Tommy’s out there. I don’t know if he’s” you can hear his bottom lip wobbling and he cracks at the word, “dead. That’s the honest truth. And the farther we fuckin’ go, the more and more shit we run into, fuckin’ Infected, raiders, people—eveyrthin’. The more and more times I think I might be about t’… that you might die, the more I… I think maybe we never should'a left Boston.”

“Joel—”

“At least there I could protect you.” he begins to raise his voice, “I could get cards, I could trade, I had an in with the guards, we had food, somewhere to fuckin’ sleep everynight. I could come home to you, I wasn’t fuckin’ terrified every time you were outta my sight. Yeah, it was shit, and I didn’t think so then—I couldn’t see it then, but it was safe. We weren’t riskin’ our lives every fuckin’ day like we are out here. An’ winter’s comin’ and I barely know where the fuck we are, I don’t know how I’ll—we’ll—I—” he lets out a sharp breath and leans a hand onto the wall he faces.

“Joel, you’re just tired. You’re underfed and underslept. We’re gonna be fine.”

“Stop fuckin’ sayin’ we’re gonna be fine.” he snaps, whiping back to you, “You don’t know that! Every fuckin’ day we…” whatever look he sees on your face interrupts his train of thought and he strides towards you and puts his hands on your shoulders, “I’m not tryna be mean, baby, I just—” he searches your eyes and turns back. This time he turns, passing the head of the table and walking towards the open kitchen. “This was stupid and reckless. I went out n’ risked the only thing I have left. It was stupid.” he hits his head with the heel of his hand and you rush over, grabbing his arm to turn him around.

“Joel, stop it. I understand, you’re scared—”

“I’m not scared—” he glances away from you.

“Yes you are.” you tell him sternly. “And it’s fair. You don’t know where your brother is. And it’s fucking scary out here. I get scared! But I keep going, we keep going. And we’re in Wyoming now! We’re so close! We are going to find him.”

“Well we might fuckin’ not, and then we’ll be stranded here in the middle a fuckin’ nowhere Wyoming, in fuckin’ winter, no protection, not from raiders, Infected, we could starve—shit” his pitch heightens, “I am scared. I’ve started havin’ dreams about…” he digs your eyes again and rips away from you, making a sound and running a hand through his hair. Then his voice is loud and shuddering, “If you get bit, I’m—I’m gonna have to shoot you. I see it every goddamn night. Clear as day.” At that, he cracks, his shoulders jolt once and he stops a sob right before it leaves his mouth.

The sound startles you. “Joel, baby,” You move towards him once again to rub your hand up his back. He lets you for a moment but then pulls away.

“I can’t—no, I, I c…” he trails off again. “Should’a never taken you with me. Should’a never fuckin’ left, because, becau…” he struggles with himself. When he turns and finally looks to you, Joel’s eyes are wet. “I can’t fuckin’ do this without you.” Joel rakes both his hands through his hair, “And I don’t want to fuck up n’ it gets you killed, and I will fuck up, and I just–” he spins back, then rips his hands away to swing to his sides, “I can’t lose you, I can’t.” when he turns back to you the tears are barely hanging onto his waterline and he raises his voice, “I don’t know what to do, because I–Jesus fuck.” turning again, he takes a few steps forward and then reverses them. His breathing is heavy and he’s sniffling. “I fuckin’ hate this.” His voice is low now, “I hate–I hate carin’ about people, cause I'll just lose ‘em. I just lose ‘em. I just lose ‘em.” he trails off, near whispering. “I can’t fuckin’ lose you. Not you.” he speaks up, shaking his head, “Not you.” He finally turns to look at you but then swings his head down to try to hide the tears that have begun streaming down his face, “Fuck. I’m sorry. I should’t be sayin’ all this. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Joel,” in an instant, you've wrapped your arms around him, holding him to you by his neck. He falls into the embrace, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his brow to your neck. You hold him tightly as he starts to shake, you know that he’s trying to hold back the tears. “It’s ok.” You reassure him quietly, sweeping a hand up and down his back. After a moment Joel complies and his body begins to tremble as he weeps in your arms. You hold him tighter, more securely to you. Losing control, Joel starts wailing, grabbing at you. He slides down to the floor, pressing his face into your belly with his arms still wrapped tightly around you, you lower yourself slowly with him, and on the ground, he crumbles in your arms.

It’s frightening. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve seen him shed tears, get emotional, you’ve had him vulnerable, you’ve seen him even completely relaxed one or twice, but you’ve never seen him torn open like this. You’ve never heard these sounds. His body is shaking uncontrollably, not like you know it to be. His hands grip the fabric of your clothes tightly. The dam has finally broken. It’s heart wrenching. He must have been holding this in for years.

You hold him for a long time. He keeps trying to stop the crying but the current floods everything in him, and the only way to stop himself from drowning is to let it break and release it out into your body, wearing you like a lifejacket. Once he quiets some it still takes awhile for his body to quit shaking through sob-like breaths. When his breathing slows, you can’t tell if he’s fallen asleep, completely lax in your arms, face weighing into your shoulder. But then he moves, pulling himself up to sit, his head hanging. His voice is quiet and hoarse and he sniffles, “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to be sorry.” you move to hug him now with your arms around his neck, “I love you.”

Joel wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer to him, basically onto his lap, and murmurs, “I love you so much.” After a few deep, slow breaths, he pulls away, removing you from his lap, he rubs his hands over his face, mindlessly searching the floor. “I shouldn’t be putin’ all this on you. I’m sorry. I don’t want y’ to… think of me like this, shakin’ on the ground.” he sniffles hard and then looks up, only to your clothes, “Shit, did I fuck up your clothes? Fuck.” he goes to flatten out where his hands as gripped them, brushing over the wet spots from his face, nose, and mouth. “Fuck.” he mumbles.

His face is blank and he won’t look in your eyes—he’s trying to cover himself back up. You don’t think he remembers how to not anymore; you’ve seen it so many times, when he really opens up, spreading open his skin so you can really look inside, it never lasts long enough for you to be able to reach into him. But you can tell he’s so desperate for it, to be seen, to let go. You can tell by the way he’ll hold onto you sometimes, when he doesn’t want to let your hand go, squeezes you in this certain way, and this look in his eyes sometimes, there's such a deep longing, and desolation, but then he blinks, looks away, and it's gone. It’s not something for you to bring up. You just try your best when you see it to somehow communicate to him that it's okay, he’s safe with you. You think he knows that, he’s never done anything to show disagreement, he’s let you in much further than he has anyone else, but there's parts of himself you can see him still hiding away. And now, he has just completely broken down before you. And this is not his role—Joel is a protector, he thinks he needs to be armored all the time, that he’s the one to comfort, not to be comforted. He’s the one to hold onto, to crawl into, to be safe in his arms with. It’s not hard to see through him and past it, though. You wonder often if, before all this, did he already have all this concrete stuck on him, or is there’s a version of him you never got to see? Right now, Joel is completely raw, and you want to hold him here, because you need to tell him—

“Joel, it’s ok. You can relax. You’re safe with me. You can let go with me. You can be soft with me. I’m not going to hurt you. I love you, I want you, I need you to know that you're safe, you can let go with me.” You tilt your head to try to get under his eyes and gently pull a hand over his cheek and towards you to lift his face to look at you. He follows your touch but struggles to meet your gaze; and you are patient with him. Always. God, his eyes are devastating when you finally see them, you swear they're going to be the death of you. Unable to help yourself, you start kissing his lips softly. He only lets you—kisses you back, but there's none of the usual zeal. He really did just drain himself. He makes little noises when your lips meet his, but they’re more like chirps than anything else, another sound you’ve never heard from him. These are some of the sweetest, most innocent kisses you’ve ever shared. They need not be rushed, hungry, desperate. They’re basic, simple, candid.

And then you just breathe with each other, lips still almost touching, and then he pulls you into another tight hug, arms around your neck with you back in his lap, burying himself into your collar. He’s held you like this countless times, but this has a new, full tenderness. He finally surrenders and lets it flush him. His breaths are deep, slow, and even; they feel like his lungs can expand fuller than before. You feel it warm on your skin, under his nose in the dip of your collarbone and his brow against your neck. He’s heavy, resting his weight on you, not holding it back. Never has he been this unwound, the only comparison being sometimes in his sleep, but his sleep is not a safe place for him. This is.

He takes a deep breath and he doesn’t have to speak for you to hear the I love you. You rub a hand up and down his back, turn your head to kiss his head and then bring him closer to say it back.

#the last of us #joel miller #tlou #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #tlou fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

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bestworstcase · 23 days

Note

I think it'll be interesting when RWBYJ tells everyone about the ever after, specifically Oscar/Ozpin. I think that'll be a hell of a slap in the face to those two. Imo it's pretty clear that Oz doesn't like the Brothers (his lie for his curse literally puts them in the WORST light to anyone who hears it), but isn't exactly open about it nor does he think on it much. But hearing that the 'gods' are essentially just people who got kicked out of their home would make him. Well I hesitate to say that he'd flip the fuck out, but I definitely think he wouldn't be happy at ALL. I'm sure he'd be furious while simultaneously having an existential crisis.

Frankly, Oz is just. An interesting character when it comes to his thoughts on the Brothers. He went from more or less listening to Light without question (but immediately started questioning when Salem talked to him- "Unsure of where his loyalties still lay-" he trusts Salems words but is confused about his stance on Light, perhaps afraid of questioning him), to putting them in a bad light repeatedly and more or less giving up on his task (there's far far easier ways to unite the world i.e. war- why would he deliberately make it hard on himself? He's far from stupid. He still foes his best to foster peace because why wouldn't he?). And, now, he's actively fighting his curse, and is doing so the second he got an ounce of hope.

I think why he hasn't really thought of fighting the Gods is bc a) he's still scared of them (and it makes sense, I'd be scared too) and b) he never knew that they, well, were just people. I think he'd need some convincing, but I really think he'd be happy to try his hand at giving Light a piece of his mind lol. Something tells me Oz has millennia of bottled up anger- something will eventually be the straw that broke the camels back, as even the most resilient of people can break.

Though I think the biggest issue would be the idea of teaming up with Salem. He's bitter and terrified of her, and although we don't know exactly what's happened between them since their first fight (beyond Oz spending several lives as an alcoholic, then wandering Remnant being reminded of Salem (not necessarily bc he thought every Grimm attack was her, Grimm just remind him of her)), it's entirely possible Salem has also done... something to hurt him. No one's that bitter or terrified of someone for absolutely no reason, but whatever the reason is, that'll definitely be an obstacle between him being allied with her against the Gods. Plus she also, yknow, tortured him and allowed Hazel to torture him (which Oscar took most of it, but they're in the same body).

I think that interaction would be... interesting. Especially since I really don't think Oz even is 'Ozma' anymore. Ozma is the foundations yes, but the merge changes you fundamentally. He has changed his name every lifetime (if Oz doesn't accidentally answer to the name Oscar I'll eat my left shoe), but how much of him really is Ozma anymore? Ship of theseus and all that. If he, by all accounts, isn't 'Ozma' anymore and Salem isn't aware of this, I think it'd be an interesting revelation for her. There's similarities between Oz and how he used to be, but I feel like 'Ozma' is functionally a deadname for him (Oz trans/DID allegory? /j). Especially since I think Ozma is just- not who he is anymore. He's tried living up to the name, but he can't and he knows it (the words his illusion in v9 says speaks a lot to his mental state and his opinion of himself).

God speaking of his illusion on v9, I think it's incredibly clear that what each illusion says pertains to that character in some way. And it says so so much about Ozpin and how he sees himself. It's ironic how the God of Light, associated with creation, made him, yet he thinks that all he does is destroy. He's scarily good at splitting people apart just accidentally (i.e. v6, Summer basically throwing him under the bus thus STRQ broke apart and blamed him, etc) too. Yet Salem, immortal via Lights curse, made herself through Grimm and is very good at rallying people. Dunno, fun thought there (it's why swap aus are so damn tasty with these two).

Sorry for the long ask, I just wanted to ramble in your inbox for a bit. I have many thoughts about Oz.

not. to be snarky but

To live free or die, it’s all the same The enemy was right, there’s no reclaiming In waves of shame We’re desperate to make amends But through a simple soul we lie complacent Love brings us dreams But grief makes the heart burst at the seams As light fills my eyes I’ll picture me beside her And pray that I’ll inspire I promise I’ll be here until the end I promise I’ll be here until… Our story has been told Til our bodies break down every door Til we find what we’ve been looking for

terrified she’ll never forgive him and terrified of what will happen if she confronts the gods again, yes. but terrified of her?

the enemy was right. we’re desperate to make amends. grief makes the heart burst at the seams. i’ll picture me beside her. ozma isn’t terrified of salem; he is, explicitly, ashamed of himself and desperate to make amends and longing for her.

listen. you don’t have to go salem did dot dot dot something to hurt him. we KNOW exactly what she did; rejected the mandate, fought him, burned him alive. they blew up their home and killed their own kids. is this insufficiently traumatizing to explain him.

similarly i do not have to go ozma did dot dot dot something to salem: we know exactly what he did. we know why she’s furious and bitter and still hurting. it is not ambiguous.

he’s spent the intervening centuries hiding inside a narrative where salem is the Great Evil he must defeat because the guilt he feels for deceiving and manipulating her and the grief for everything he sacrificed is so unbearable that he can’t touch it except through layers and layers of distortion. but it’s bleeding through the cracks everywhere. the infinite man tried to be a hero and is a fool who may not be worthy of forgiveness, ozpin suggests. look far enough ahead from the ending of the girl in the tower, and you’ll find the hero who saved her turned out to be a villain.

he hates salem. (he deserves her hatred.) this is the wrenching internal war he fights with himself day after day and life after life; the only way he can live with himself enough to function is by hating her, but the hatred is a fiction, a lie, to protect him from his fear. the truth is that he neither hates her nor deserves her hatred.

i am being intentional about calling him ozma, by the way. i am also intentional about when i call him ozpin or oz. i do not think ozma is a deadname. i don’t think ozma is an ideal he is trying and failing to live up to. he doesn’t identify himself as ozpin; he says “the professor ozpin you all met was not my first form.” he dons these other identities as a mask—i am the combination of countless men who have spent their lives trying to protect the people of remnant—because he hates himself. ozma is who he’s running away from because he doesn’t think ozma has ever been enough.

that is why. salem distinguishes between ozpin and ozma the way that she does. and why she is able to differentiate between oscar and ozma even when oscar is mimicking ozpin, because ozpin is the latest in a long series of masks that ozma wears.

(ozpin is tippetarius enforcing his own exile, and thus he became the wizard. ozma is the true self imprisoned by the curse. he’s… named ozma for a reason.)

”what if you could be anyone?” <- the blacksmith does not ask ruby this question because ruby needs to stop being herself in order to be happy. she offers ruby a metaphorical representation of ozma’s curse—what if you could be anyone, slip into a like-minded soul and become that person—in order to guide ruby to the realization that only her true self is the right fit. this is what i like to call blunt force foreshadowing.

ozma is trying to be a thousand different heroes and salem has only ever wanted ozma. ozma then is not the same person as ozma now, but ozma is ozma is ozma. the ship of theseus is the ship of theseus, then as now. on those who enter the same rivers, ever different waters flow. read heraclitus.

the thing is. yeah. he’s going to snap like a brittle twig when he learns the truth about the gods… because he already knows salem is right, deep down. the enemy is right. it bleeds through even into the lost fable, which is narrated in his voice. jinn’s telling—his telling—obfuscates and twists away from salem’s interiority, her feelings, her motives except for the moment of her realization about the brothers: perhaps the gods were not as powerful as they seemed; she had lied to them, turned them against each other; they were fallible.

the enemy is right. he knows she’s right.

hearing what the kids learned in the ever after is going to shatter the cognitive dissonance preventing him from acting on that knowledge. it’s going to surface ‘until the end’ but now joined to the hope he has—since the end of v8—that he can make amends for his cowardice and lies.

ozma apologizing to the kids and asking for a second chance to earn their trust was, uh, a practice run for ozma apologizing to salem and asking for a second chance. the fallout of the lost fable (“there was so much you hadn’t told us! how could you think that was okay!” and “i gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world; i thought i was finally doing some good!”) is a reflection of salem’s distress. the narrative is on her side. because. he lied to manipulate her and grievously betrayed her trust. in exactly the same way he did to the kids.

#like until the end is literally his pining love letter to salem. he wants to be on the same side again so badly #the only thing stopping him is he’s convinced himself it’s impossible because how could she ever forgive him. how could he ever be worthy #meanwhile she’s enraged because she would have given him anything else but what he asked her to do #and he burned it all to the ground and salted the earth rather than give her the one thing she asked in return #which was to not serve the god who tortured her for millions of years!#he was worth everything to her and to him she was worthless.#together in all things even this.

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dadmareau · 11 months

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Every kid has days where theyre just on thin ice all day. Tantrums, misbehavior, brattiness, testiness, etc until they do something thats just the straw that breaks the camels back and theyre n trouble. Whats little Dream like on these days? How does Dadmare deal with him?

Dream, despite his reputation for being a perfect beautiful child, can absolutely be a (lol) nightmare to care for on these rare, supremely awful days. He gets sassy, testy, and bursts into tears or arguing about the smallest things. Some days, he may even just scream to talk over Nightmare.

The best thing Nightmare can do is be patient and kind to him. He succeeds, most of the time.

Unfortunately, raising a kid full-time on your own (and for the first time in several centuries since you were, you know, a child yourself) doesn't do much for patience. Not to mention Nightmare has to deal with his own bad days, bodily aches / pains, and other issues. With a lot of care and explanation, Nightmare manages Dream's awful days well enough-which goes to say that he tries not to scream back and talks Dream through his big emotions and tears. It usually works.

The best way to identify Dream's Bad Days is the precursor of sullen, clipped sentences. In the morning, Nightmare will make breakfast and ask about what Dream wants to do together later in the day. Dream loves to bubble on and on about what they could do together, but on Bad Days, he will say one thing. Just one. And Nightmare immediately knows-if he doesn't already sense it coming.

Dream, when he's having a Day, will just say absolutely anything that comes to mind-even if it's rude. Now, this will happen anyway later, but this time Dream will add a certain derisive tilt to it. A motive of his sassiness or testiness perhaps comes from some Big Anxiety about Mister Mare secretly hating him or wanting to leave him behind, so Dream tries to make it happen. An adult being super nice and existing outside of the rules of his reality just couldn't be true.

Another motive would be some part of Dream feeling very guilty about his brother's disappearance. Of course it wouldn't make sense for Dream to be guilty, but as a child, he has no idea how to manage the grief of losing someone very important to him. Additionally, as a child who is given the burden of responsibility for everything he knows, he is going to feel guilty.

Therefore, he tries to trigger a big response of punishment from Mister Mare, so he feels better or validated in his guilt. He doesn't do it with the pure idea of 'oh, I'm responsible for my brother's disappearance,' but more so the idea of 'I'm bad. I should be yelled at.' He doesn't connect the two ideas, but they're rooted together.

Nightmare doesn't really know or piece together these motives until later on. Even if he did, he isn't quite as experienced or confident enough to take them apart and most effectively help Dream with them. All he can do is teach Dream how to deal with his emotions in a healthy way, and to talk to him about them.

Then, there are times when the two are both having an Awful Day. So, what will happen is that Nightmare sits in his rage corner, Dream sits in his rage corner, and the two face away from each other until they can talk about their feelings. This gets implemented after a particularly awful fight between the two that ends in tears.

#inbox #Anonymous #not story #ooc #dadmare #sunbeam #rattling #worldbuilding

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coconutbabydoll · 10 months

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ೀ- everytime (a.anderson)

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

warnings: idk ?? i don’t think there is any , please lmk if there is

summary: basically inspired by “everytime” by ari with a little changes, i recommend listening to this song before reading this if you haven’t already

a/n: first drabble or one shot!! i don’t really know what category it falls under, pleaseeeee be nice, i am working on my vocabulary and grammar also reblogs,like and comments are highly appreciated!!! enjoy :) also the ending is kinda rushed lol

you’re done with her, you swore you were done with her. you’ve been saying this forever and surely you finally felt like you meant it. you’re on and off relationship with abby was like an rollercoaster, just when you guys have been really good there was another argument. you’re needy and stubborn and you only want abby to yourself and to spend time with you only. you know that she’s a busy women with her basketball team and she can’t always suffice to your needs. you tried to plan small things to hangout with her like movie dates. she always said she would try to make it but she never did, you partly understood, but this time was the straw that broke the camels back.

a week ago was you and abby’s two year anniversary. this meant a lot to you, you could barely contain your excitement. you planned a dinner date at fancy restaurant that you’ve been on the waitlist for months. but of course you and abby had to get into another argument the night before your anniversary, and it was bad. it’s not like you guys broke up that night but she did end up leaving your house when she was supposed to stay for a week.

you woke up the morning of your anniversary expecting missed calls from abby, apology texts, and an a happy anniversary text but nothing, which was weird because she always apologizes after an argument (even thought it never her fault). you relaxed for the rest of the day until it hit 7:00 o clock. you put on makeup, curled your hair, and but on a sexy black dress, grabbed your purse and headed out.

9:27pm and you were still seated at your table on your third glass of champagne and had already order two appetizer. you swiveled your head to door everytime you heard it open, nope wasn’t her. maybe your read into this all wrong, maybe she broke up with you without actually breaking up with you during your argument last night, i mean she was pissed. she called you controlling. she is a busy women, she mention something about basketball practice today, but she said she’ll be here, it wasn’t an “i’ll try to,” she said she will! what did you expect , she didn’t even wish you an happy anniversary.

“can i get the check please?” you mumbled sheepishly to the waiter as she passed you by. you were embarrassed, this was embarrassing. getting up from your seat you contemplated texting her, calling her, cussing her out maybe? asking her what was her fucking problem. whatever, she obviously doesn’t want too speak to you if she missed out fucking anniversary.

a week since the anniversary has passed and you’re obviously not over her, you never went this long without talking to abby. all of your breakups with her never lasted longer than three days, and she was the one who always wanted to get back together. when your with your friends you tried to not show a change in you demeanor, but you couldn’t help it. abby brought out the best in you, she made you cheerful, tender, and amiable, you became a better person all around. but maybe you brought out the worst in abby, maybe she finally had enough and decided that she was done with you.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

it was like it was calling your name. the whole week was fulfilled with lonely nights, only acompanied with your second half full bottle of vodka. you leisurely walked over to your vanity desk and took big gulps finishing the rest of the bottle. familiar taste but it still burns.

*ringtone from your phone*

you walk over to your phone with the bottle of vodka it one hand. you squinted your eyes looking over the brightness of you screen.

*CRASH*

abby. what the fuck, why was she calling you? it’s been a week, did she miss you? maybe it was an accident, maybe she was calling to apologize, all these thoughts and your the sound of your ringtone ended. but then she texted you.

abby: come over, i miss you

you pondered whether you should reply or not, but your drunk self got the best you.

y/n: fucj you

abby: are you drunk ?

y/n: are you ???!?

abby: stay where you are , i’m coming to get you

y/n: you dpnt even hsve my location

abby: baby you still have your location on

you were drunk and you missed her but you didn’t want to give in that easy, so you left your phone in your apartment and started walking out the door. to where ? you don’t even know you just didn’t wanna see her.

you didn’t even make it two blocks until you abby’s car pulled up on you. “what are you doing? get in the car,” prompted abby as she slowed down the speed of the car so it could match the pace of your walking. “leave me alone!” you yelled words obviously slurred. “i’m sorry baby, i made a mistake.” you stopped walking - fuck, why is she like this, why does she make your stomach go all crazy with only five words? you hesitated but you got in the car. why does god keeping bringing you back to her, everytime?

#Spotify #abby anderson #ariana grande #every time #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby the last of us #the last of us #kinda rushed i’m sorry #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝓶𝓲𝓪 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓼 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆#what else do i tag #i wish i wrote more than this #i spent like 3 days on this #please don’t be mean to me #don’t be rude #sweetener

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sweetainwen · 2 years

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ɴᴏ ᴇᴠɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ [JJK]

Summary: he is just protecting his life, his hope. It is not his fault what happened because there is nothing against him. Without evidence, there is no culprit.

Pairings: yandere husband!Jungkook x wife!OC (you can think of her as Y/N)

Genre: 1988!au, arranged marriage!au, forced marriage!au, yandere!au, smut

Disclaimer: this story is fictional, so each character is not as described in it.

Warning: obsession, manipulation, age gap(OC is older than Jungkook, 6 years older), mention of homophobia, homophobic behaviour and thoughts, OC is lesbian, indirect mention of emotional abuse, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (OC on pills), shower sex, sub!Jungkook

Word count: 2.7k+

A/N: i think i like the 80s and 90s a lot, it’s the second time I set my ff in that time o: i wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up writing another one like this but i hope it’s not a problem and that you will like it lol

The apartment was quiet, only the running water from the bathroom echoed within the walls of it until the shower glass door was opened, causing the young man to awaken from the warmth that had engulfed him.

She was him turn around and give her his beautiful bunny smile, not knowing the turmoil she was currently feeling.

“Hey, I thought you were staying at her place tonight.” his sweet, husky voice was already coaxing her to break into tears. “why are you here?” And she did. A salty drop fell, her lower lip quivering, causing him to worry and grab her face with his hands, “What happened? Why are you crying?”

“She left,” she sobbed. “Her neighbor said she left! I can’t find her anywhere! There’s no trace of her!”

She should have known better.

She should have realized that this time, too, she should not have any expectations. Her experiences must have helped her understand that people like her were not accepted in this world.

So why was she hoping for something she could not have?

Because she was a human, too. Cha Yeona was a human being with feelings.

She wanted to be loved like anyone else. And she could get hurt by awful words like any other person.

But that didn’t matter, because she was a lesbian. She went against nature, so they thought they could have a say in bringing her to the right path.

Her parents were the first in this.

She never expected that such a painful scene would unfold before her eyes after she expressed what she felt, never expected a slap from her mother and looks of disgust and disappointment from both her and her father, because it was something that never happened.

They were so kind, understanding, supporting her in everything and giving advice when they noticed something that was perhaps best avoided, and she was their only and precious daughter, but she was terribly wrong.

From that moment on, all hell broke loose.

Her every single movement would be controlled, and freedom only a distant memory. However, she’d still manage to fool their eyes and enjoy what she desired, even if the consequences would leave emotional scars.

But the straw that broke the camel's back was their consent to an arranged marriage, a forced one. She was furious, completely crushed, and broken by their uncaring behavior.

And when they had revealed to her that they had also discovered her plan to leave behind that toxic and hypocritical family by saving money over the years, her world had fallen apart even more.

She wanted a new identity, a new life, but it was all over.

And that was when Jeon Jungkook came into the picture.

The young man who had accepted the arranged marriage, a few years younger but who seemed to have experienced more than he was letting others see, and also the same man who had proposed a deal to her.

It was he who had contacted her, asking her to meet out of their parents' reach to discuss the matter. And it was there that she was completely taken aback by his behavior.

She had thought she should be confronted with a spoiled bratty child with only money and corrupt morals on his mind, but she had realized otherwise.

She had expressly said that she was attracted to women, marriage was just her parents' way of rectifying her, yet he had remained calm, composed, showing a gentle smile. And the proposal came, unexpectedly. He had asked her to marry him, but she could still go on with her life. In return he wanted her to be his real wife until she could find the right person.

To say she had been confused was an understatement.

"I can see other women but at the same time be your wife?” She crossed her arms, her brow furrowed at the words that came out of his mouth, laying back on her chair, “Isn’t… Isn't that like having affairs? Why this deal?"

"Why?” He gave her a soft smile, intertwining his fingers on the table, “I just sense... a connection. And I don't want to lose it.”

She just blinked.

The most positively strange encounter she had ever had. She was grateful for it, though, because since that time she had been able to breathe that breeze of freedom that had been forcibly taken away from her.

She could truly be herself with him, and the connection he had felt, she now felt it as well.

Jeon Jungkook was the most caring, sweet and unprejudiced person she had ever had the chance to meet. He was the exact living representation of everything she had always longed for in someone.

That was why, when she had met this young woman – Eunji – who had stolen her heart, two years after their marriage, she had told Jungkook right away.

How they had first met while jogging and then met again in a gay bar. How they had common interests and had become friends. And how they had then decided to get to know each other better in a romantic way.

The radiant smile he had given her filled her heart with even more joy.

The woman was aware of how they had married, so she did not have to fear having a possibly betrayed husband after her.

If things had gone well, she would have introduced her to Jungkook.

She had never felt so happy before, but it was all too good to be true.

She had started to stop answering her calls and not show up for the appointment scheduled days before, causing her to worry and drive to her apartment. However, she was not responding there either, because she was gone, vanished, and there was no visible trace of where she had gone.

Pain and anger erupted again, causing more tears to fall down her face, the sobs almost taking her breath away.

She should have known better.

“Hey, my camellia, don’t cry for someone who is not worth it,” Jungkook murmured, his thumbs running over those salty drops. “As I always tell you, there is nothing wrong with you. You don't need to change anything about yourself, much less belittle yourself for a nobody like her. It’s her loss, not yours. You are my lovely, beautiful camellia.”

Their gazes were locked on each other. Yeona's sobs had subsided as their lips almost touched, their foreheads against one another. Hearts beating in unison.

She traced one of his cheeks with her fingertips, then his neck, and collarbone, before pulling his body against hers more and smashing her lips onto his.

He spun her around in his arms and pressed her against the wall, darting his tongue in and out of her mouth, exploring her one again.

The water touched each part of them along with his hands gripping her hips as his thumbs rubbed against her skin. His hips going up and down against hers to make her feel his desire.

His lips moved to her neck and she tilted her head to give him more access and he took the opportunity to mark her with open-mouthed kisses, his fingers playing with her nipples.

“My camellia, baby,” he whispered against her ear, raspy, deep, causing goosebumps to rise on her naked body.

She moaned, hands caressing his pecs up to his shoulders, slowly.

Jungkook pull his head away from her so that he could look at her, and smirked when he noticed her pleased expression.

He chuckled, “You love it when I call you that, huh?” He trailed a hand down, his fingers finding her folds, his cock throbbing at the feeling of her wetness. “You’re so wet for me, baby…” he teased, a glint in his eyes and a smug smile on his face.

Her grip on his hair was immediate, bringing his head back as he felt her other fingers stroking his cock.

“You’re no different, baby boy,” she said, sliding her hand down to squeeze his balls, hot and heavy with cum, playing with them.

Jungkook whined as he tortured his bottom lip with bites, his erratic breathing dying in his throat as she ran the tip of her index finger over the head in circular motions, beginning her torturous dance that drove him mad.

His hips began to thrust for more friction, pressing himself more against her as he leaned his forehead on her shoulder. Legs shaking and the known pleasure building in his abdomen.

He stopped her by blocking her hand, not wanting to come that way, but she placed her hand on his instead and kept up her pace.

His breath hitched again, surprised by this and Yeona smirked.

“Ngh- Please…”

“Please what, baby?”

She went on with her hand helping his hand touch himself, before moving it away, playing with the head once more, and pumping his shaft up and down.

“Please, please, please- I… not now. I want to-“ he bellowed into the crook of her neck, arms around her neck to steady himself.

“You what? You want to fuck me?”

“Yes, yes!”

“You want to cum inside me? You want to fuck me raw?”

Shivers ran down his spine, “Oh- oh, fuck- yes, yes! I want to feel you. I want to feel you so bad.”

She stopped, making him breathe again, “Then fuck me.”

He moved his head away from her shoulder to look at her, eyes wide open. She had never let him go raw, so her word really shocked him. And he wasn't going to let this occasion of being able to feel her bare. Completely bare.

His heartbeats quickened and his cock throbbed.

With his one hand, he made her wrap one of her legs around his waist. He pushed himself inside, their breaths hitching as his cock streched her inner walls.

He moved in and out in a slow but deep manner, both feeling completely lost in that new feeling. Their gazes met, chests heaving up and down.

She kissed him, biting and sucking his lower lip gently. He then swept his tongue between her lips, tangling and tinkling his tongue with hers as he slammed into her with fervor.

The sound of the water dripping down muffled by their moans, groans and the sound of their skin clapping.

He closed his eyes, overwhelmed, “You feel fucking amazing, noona.”

Her hands were pulling at his hair again, making him whine, “Yeah? You like it? Fucking me raw?”

“So so much-“

One hand pulled at his hair more while the fingers of the other went to his earlobe, stroking it, breath erratic, “What a good boy, answering my every question.”

He whimpered, fastening his thrusts at her words as he nestled his face into the crook of her neck; one arm now around her waist while the other supported himself on the wall, squeezing her closer between the shower wall and himself.

He rolled his hips back and forth with more speed, causing her to gasp but was blocked by his lips, which again began to devour her.

Her clawing at his back as he pushed deeper and deeper, louder groans echoing in the room.

“Noona- I’m-“

“Yes, cum, baby, cum with me, please.”

It only took a few more trusts for them to let out moans of pleasure, bodies shuddering and shrinking before releasing the tension.

As they caught their breath, Jungkook rested his head on her shoulder, slowly letting her leg go.

And when Yeona was able to see his orbs again, she saw the stars flickering in them. Looking at her with the utmost admiration, trust, love.

He smiled lazily as he caressed her cheeks, placing a soft kiss on her lips, “I love you, my camillia.”

Her lips trembled, feeling each and every of his emotions in those few but important words.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him closer, “I love you too, baby.”

She was not alone. She had Jungkook.

The only one who did not treat her badly, the only one who respected her opinions and desires, the only one who really made her understand what it meant to be truly loved.

He was evidence of true love and affection.

He was her pivot person. He was enough.

“Thank you so much, Jungkook. For everything. You don’t know how much you help me.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, rubbing his cheek on her head, “You don’t have to thank me. I’m here for you. And I’ll always be. You can be sure of that.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, euphoria glimmering in his orbs and his grip on her tightening.

The feeling of victory was so intoxicating. He could very well get drunk on it.

It had only taken a couple of casual encounters with her parents for them to take a liking to him. Helping with something, chatting in a kind and respectful manner, showing himself capable of solving issues in a simple but effective way.

He almost laughed at how desperate the two of them were to find someone to fix their daughter up with, not knowing what they were missing. They had made his job easier.

They had made it possible to have her in his arms.

He had managed to sneak into the life of the person he had met years before, who had changed his life for the better, giving him hope.

He was just a teenager in those days. A teenager with pressures for good grades and a responsibility saddled by his parents for a future that was not even close to what he wanted.

Everything had been planned for him.

He’d vent his anger by yelling and kicking trees in a small hidden place with a pond surrounded by trees. And it was there that he had met Cha Yeona, still in her university years, who had told him not to mistreat nature. Starting a friendship where she’d encourage him to face things head-on and not run away from them.

“See? You were able to stand up to me,” she remarked with a grin after taunting him to get that reaction, pulling her legs toward her chest and resting her chin on her knees, mischievous eyes looking at him proudly. “Your emotions can speak, use your voice to express them. It makes you stronger.”

He just looked at her, shocked.

She was a ray of light intruding into the darkness. A vital support that was hard to leave. Her laugh, her smile, her eyes that sparkled even in the daytime.

And he had fallen into that love trap.

But when she had stopped showing up, he was completely destroyed by it. Those two years he had spent with her were the only thing left.

Anger and pain were the things he had felt. And he had decided that he would look for her. So he had taken action, even following the plan devised by his parents for his future.

The more power he had, the more control there was.

And when he had finally managed to find her, he had discovered that she had forgotten about him.

His heart had shrunk from betrayal.

It was understandable, though. He had grown up, became a man. More muscles and sharp features.

But he had also found out why she had stopped seeing him and that had brought a different point of view. Her parents after finding out she was a lesbian. It had been a surprise to him, too, but he didn't care.

He loved her; she was his life.

And it certainly wasn't going to be just any woman who would take her away from him.

It wouldn't have been difficult to observe her habits and then just happen to be in the same place she often frequented at the same time – every time – and show a behavior that gave the impression that it was something different from what she knew, insinuating doubt after doubt.

Exploiting the insecurities of a person who was not considered a normal part of life because of their different sexuality. Disappointments and betrayals making their decisions more hasty and irrational.

Like disappearing from sight without any esplanations.

Like a coward.

But it was not his fault. There was no clear evidence of his involvement. They were just coincidences. Planned coincidences.

That, of course, no one would ever know.

Because if there was no evidence, no criminal was blamed.

#jungkook #jungkook ff #jungkook smut #yandere jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook au #bts au #bts smut #smut jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #female original character #lesbian oc #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook yandere #smut #jeon jungkook #bts drabble

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sadhorsegirl · 1 year

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been left to my own devices for too long and now i can't stop thinking about what i think worked in season 1 and what i want to happen in season 2.....

although i didn't like everything in the first season, i think that almost makes it more interesting. the show and the books are a dish best served together, where one falls short i often find the other one picks up the slack, highlighting and complimenting each other really well.

imo wot on prime is a really strong advocate for adaptations being willing to make big changes to the source material in order to either a) make the fans reconsider the work by making them see it in a new way b) changing things so long as u stay true the "spirit" of the original (hard to pin down and not everyone will agree, but im gay and moiraine ruled so they did it lol)

context established, i think one of the things ive found most disappointing in the books is how moiraine's family reveal is handled. rj kind of tees up the idea, u see mat and some of the others kind of figure she has to be highborn somehow, but he doesn't really resolve any of this just suddenly everyone knows she's a damodred despite it being a massive deal in terms of um. house damodred's role in the entire narrative history of the world up until that point

i literally couldn't stop giggling bc i assumed nynaeve specifically was going to like. capital m MURDER her murder her lmao. bc it felt like by lying by omission abt her own origin it was just one more way moiraine lied (aes sedai voice "mislead" moiraine voice "gaslight") to the two rivers kids in order to lead them into danger without potentially necessary information. maybe it was a less obviously dangerous manipulation, but to me it def reads as a straw that could very much break a braid pulling camels back

and it also feels like such a missed opportunity not to really tie in elayne to the whole thing? moiraine and her are literally related, even if their actual relationship is not super close (almost MORE interesting), and (not to get too off on my Grand Moiraine Parallel Theory) she and moiraine have a lot of Grand Parallels lol. at most obvious and most unaddressed, i think it would be smart to tackle the whole "we both have half brothers we have a touchy relationship with" thing but also i think it's really interesting to think about how they are both characters who kind of push thru others to make what they want happen but elayne has managed to wrap the quality up in some level of (obviously imperious) charm while moiraine is just. iconically off-putting lmao

tldr i hope the show is wayyyyyy more confrontational about it!!! i want yelling i want devastating speeches!!!

#wot book spoilers #for real this time i think lmao #wheel of time #moiraine damodred #nynaeve al'meara #elayne trakand #wot on prime #feels like i might want to start a meta tag wih how much im enjoying shooting my mouth off lmao #wot meta #feels kind of like i am channelling rj himself when i type these things up lollll #uninterrupted babble with like. three interesting things buried underneath a mountain of text hehehe #moiraine is my baby my baby my baby!!!!

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champagnepodiums · 6 months

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Could you explain the merge of CART and IndyCar?

OKAY so reunification of CART and INDYCAR (I'm going to just be operating under the thought that we know why CART and IRL split in the first place). I'm going to keep it as straightforward as possible but it's messy lol

So after the Split, CART was in a better position -- it had the cars, the sponsorships, the big names etc. CART saw an increase in annual revenue from $38M in 1995 to $68M in 1999. But it was not even because oval attendance was tanking. Television ratings were terrible and the revenue from TV was abysmal (all season CART would make $5M which was less than what some singular NASCAR races made). They also did a public stock offering, selling 35% of the company, raising $100M.

In 1999, young star Greg Moore and emerging talent Gonzalo Rodriguez were killed in two separate racing incidents, two months apart from each other and that started raising safety questions.

In 2000, CEO Andrew Craig was forced by the car owners to resign. He was replaced with Bobby Rahal (yes, Graham's dad lol).

While oval attendance was declining, street course attendance was healthy and CART decided to focus on that as well as oversea ovals which angered some of the more traditional owners and sponsors.

In 2000, Chip Ganassi's team returned to the Indy 500 (and won).

In 2001, CART released a very ambitious schedule -- 22 races in the US, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Japan, the UK, Germany and Australia. One of the races added was the Texas oval which had put on an exciting IRL race the year further.

But the season went like this: Brazil was cancelled when promoters didn't pay, Texas had to be cancelled because the drivers were sustaining too many G-Forces and blacking out in the corners and it was a PR nightmare essentially.

The three manufactures of CART at the time were Honda, Ford and Toyota. Honda and Ford had developed a turbo pop off valve (I don't know what it is lol) and Toyota complained so when CART mandated a change to equalize things, Honda obtained an injunction allowing them to use it which pissed everrrrrybody off. Toyota announced it was going to IRL in 2003.

The German 500 happened the Saturday after the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The teams were unable to leave because airspace was shut down so they decided to go ahead with the race and that pissed people off... including ESPN who refused to air the race live. Alex Zanardi lost both legs in an accident at the German 500 so like we're just shoveling the bad PR on at this point.

To make matters even worse for CART, ABC/ESPN which had been airing their races signed an exclusivity deal with IRL (to keep the Indy 500 rights) so CART went to the SPEED channel and they bought time on CBS but really, this is just the straw that breaks the camel's back because without the exposure from ABC/ESPN, sponsors don't stick around etc.

And remember how they put 35% of the company up for public offer? This comes back into play because they allowed teams to disinvest and sell their stocks which meant new voices were coming in and there was just instability and turmoil.

In 2002, Honda announced it was going to IRL so Ford would be the only manufacturer left which further tanked the stocks and at this point, most everybody has already or are going to jump ship to IRL.

CART declared bankruptcy in 2003 and rebranded to Champ Car and was able to keep themselves afloat. I want to leave Champ Car there for a hot second.

The Split killed a lot of interest in American Open-Wheel racing and allowed NASCAR to become the most popular motorsport series in the US. So even though IRL had the ABC/ESPN deal and had the top teams and manufacturers jumping ship to join them, interest is waning (and that is bad because sponsorship, attendance etc etc). And also, the die hard IRL fans are getting mad because they feel like their sport is getting overtaken by CART again -- it doesn't help when the 2005 IRL schedule includes 2 road course races, ending the 7 seasons of oval only.

Manufacturers withdrew support starting in 2006 and that caused major issues for IRL because teams were struggling financially and teams had to cut back or quit full time racing altogether.

By January 2008, both Champ and IRL were starting to worry that they wouldn't have enough cars on the grid to maintain their contract minimums so Tony George offered a merger deal with IRL buying all of Champ Car's assets basically. They kept racing under the IRL banner until 2011.

In 2012 it was rebranded as INDYCAR and that is when they dug out the Astor Cup from the depths of IMS and reunification was complete.

That turned into a much longer essay than I planned. Please, any clarification questions (or just general questions) are so welcome. I love talking about this stuff and no question is stupid, I want people to know and understand motorsport history so please feel free!! I cannot stress that enough lol

#indycar #the split #reunification of the split #motorsport history

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ssaalexblake · 11 months

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Out of curiosity, do you think anything in particular will cause people to come around on 13, or it’ll just be that their perspectives kinda soften with time?

Hm. I don't really think there will be a particular event that'll cause people to suddenly change their perspective, the only way I see any kind of ~catalyst to changing opinions on 13 in a dramatic way is if RTD really does Whedon himself, and to be fair even thought I said i doubt there will be a catalyst, I genuinely think there's at least a chance he will actually do this because fandom is a fickle beast that will turn on people as if a bird on the wind. The fatal mix of hero worship and nostalgia, the time gap where fandom has had More than enough time to become attached to their own view of things were back in the day even if that view doesn't entirely mesh with what actually transpired. The passage of time leaving viewers nowadays far less forgiving of the type of things rife in his work that can be written off on 'product of its time' for 2006 but will not be if they show up again in 2023. The expectations being So high. People only have So much ability to write things off before the straw breaks the camel's back.

I have seen this pattern in fandom before, and yeah it might not happen, but this is also potentially whedon after the first avengers movie being everybody's best buddy straight to being their most disdained after aou.

Generally speaking, when shit like that happens, people tend to reassess preconceived notions. a 'why did we think that one was ever bad?' as a result of the above eventuality is the only way i see some kind of Thing happening that softens people on 13.

But, also, those tags was me kind of responding to the op's tags on their gifset, because despite the fact that the people on the internet have been sipping the nmd's misogynistic koolaid light without even realising it for years, the vast majority of viewers Not being chronically online haven't been doing that and were fine with her era. Judging her popularity only from the people obsessed with the show on the internet is absurd, and i include my positive views in that. I am not the average viewer lol, neither are the weirdos being hateful, no matter How much it benefits them to make people think Everybody hates it and that they're peddling the Bestest Opinion and that it's not cool to like the girl doctor.

So with the caveat that I do not think she's actually unpopular (radiotimes favourite doctor poll my beloved. 10 & 13 coming in highest with 21% of the vote each. Over 50,000 votes in total and he received only abt 90 more than her. There was no way to victimise anybody on this poll with strategic voting, no amount of block voting to support one doctor could dent her total and she came second out of all the doctors by a few measly votes. The general public Like Her.)

In time, it will soften. The misogynists will stop spending all their time talking about how uncool it is to like her to peer pressure people and the ones who don't eventually stop will be marked as losers obsessed with insulting her not worth listening to, so people will just watch it with no one sitting on their shoulder telling them it's bad. People will rewatch it with an open mind instead. I literally have had (multiple times) people in my activity page saying once they stopped listening to people saying how bad 13's era was and went back to it with an open mind it was good! This was a few different people! This has already happened and will continue to.

The nmd squad, quite successfully, were allowed to make it uncool to like her. They were open that their reasoning was misogynistic and even if they didn't use the word, anybody who knows what that means knows they are, but it was not called out as such and it poisoned the well because it gave them legitimacy they did not deserve. It won't stay that way forever, though. People will watch it and judge it Fairly without their influence. Let it have flaws without using them as an excuse to express hatred they already felt for no reason. Let it shine where it shines. Discuss its issues analytically instead of as a gotcha. Talk about themes. Discuss the characters.

This bullshit shall pass, basically.

idk how long we'll have to wait, but i'm willing. I got through being in the fandom and open about my love for it when it aired, and i sure as hell am not missing the moment when people stop being weird and can just be normal about it. I earned that sense of peace through suffering and i intend to collect. I'm not letting it go though. Being an active fan Really Really Sucked.

(shout out to my man colin baker who told the misogynists to get over it from points A to Z. Had everybody had the balls to do what he did they'd never have gotten a foothold and would have been booed out of the room as they should have been.)

#gwengoodrich #dw shit #this is not a comment on if rtd would theoretically deserve it #i honestly cba to have That discussion #but fandom Is Like That and imo #he's shoved himself in an awkward spot #it's a gamble what he's done here #might pay off but oof if it does not it's gonna hurt #dw meta

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libbys-braincell-loss · 1 year

Text

Im coming up with a book thats sole purpose is to get banned for representing actual things that could possibly happen in society

Abridged version:

High school kid deals with survivor's guilt, sexual assault, identity crisis, and parents divorcing, all while being a high school junior

If this summary sounds mildly interesting to you, read below

TW // Car accident, assault, homophobia

Theres a boy who tries to save a victim of a car accident with CPR before ambulance shows up, finds out next day the victim died in the hospital, starts feeling like hes the one who killed him

The boy has 3 friends - his best friend, who is a straight ally who loves spray painting graffiti with him, another close friend who identifies as a pansexual demigirl and does photography of their artworks, and this guy who the main boy thinks is REALLY cute but won't admit he has a crush on him (he has a huge crush on him, crush develops more in the story) and this fellas a closeted gay and master of the paintbrush and finer details. Together they make the FINEST graffiti in Maryland

Main boy shows interest in feminine outfits, but is afraid to wear them due to fear of losing his friends and family's respect

The main boy gets sexually assaulted by a girl, he makes her stop, and she starts making false claims that he raped her as "payback" to make him feel bad that he made her stop, and he begins developing trauma (i've seen many portrayals of girls getting assaulted by guys but i've never heard of stories where its the other way around, even tho it can happen, but people will say im being "sexist, this is going against women, it portrays women as bad guys" SHUT. women can do terrible things just like men, they just get away with it more since they're women. If i sound sexist im not im literally a women lol)

Main boy realizes he's bi, comes out to parents, mom is accepting but dad isn't, the parents have had many disputes in the past but them not agreeing whether or not their son can be whoever he wants is the straw that breaks the camels back, and eventually they divorce, and the dad (who had a healthy relationship with his son) cut contact with his own son

Main boy drifts emotionally closer toward his friends, who accept him just fine with no fuss

Main boy FINALLY gets the courage to ask out his gay crush, and FINALLY they end up dating and FINALLY get to hold hands

Main boy is getting trauma and anxiety from past things that have happened, friends and supportive (yet still not fully knowledgeable of his current situation) mom comfort him and remind him continuously that NOTHING IS YOUR FAULT. the person who died didn't die because of you doing something wrong. the girl who assaulted you and claimed you raped her did that, not because you did something wrong. your dad divorced your mom, but not because you did something. And i think thats an important message to have. If you tried your hardest to make things right, then you shouldnt be the one to blame when things go wrong. I think this should be engraved in everyones heads.

Boy gains more courage to be himself, and decides to try new things he always wanted to do, but was afraid of backlash if he did it. He tried on skirts. Dresses. Skinny jeans. Crop tops. Dying hair. Going out in public with this new style he wanted to try. Hanging out with his friends and mom in his outfits and realizing how much he loves this. He still likes his guy clothes, but he loves his girl clothes just as much.

Boy realizes he might not be a boy after all. But he doesn't feel like a girl either. He goes to his demigirl friend for help and they suggest he might be non binary, and he realizes he might be

Our newly-out enby fella comes out to their friends with a new name that he likes a lot more than his og name. His friends and bf still accept them and love them nonetheless

They continue on with their life, they do get made fun of by other people they meet, but they shove it out of the way, cuz thats just life man

Also keep in mind this entire story takes place while this guy is a junior in high school. The entire book.

Basically, this story is just a book about problems in society that get overlooked too much, and it's main message is "this isn't your fault. just because a problem happened to you doesn't mean you caused it", and its also a book that is supposed to be "banned". cuz banned books are better than non-banned books bahaha

if anybody who's experienced these things before would like to give me input on how these experiences should be portrayed in the story (because i have not experienced any of these things before) so i know how it should be portrayed in the story. (you are not obligated to, cuz these are touchy subjects, but if you are comfortable enough to, send it via asks, it will remain in the asks and i wont post a response to it to keep your privacy. And, if you have experienced any of these, just know: i love you, stranger and i hope everything improves for you. and if things have improved already, good on you. <333 im sorry if any of these things happened to you.)

#tw #lgbtq #banned books #writing #creative writing #gay #non binary #demigirl #bisexual #survivors guilt

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