#Hope & Peace | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unholyhelbig · 7 months

Note

oversight request if ur down! what if nat’s enemies captured ronnie? how would nat get her back? (i love seeing this darker side of nat… she’s hot asf when she’s mad 🥵) thx !!

Title: We Have Your Daughter [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When Veronica is taken from a friends house in the middle of the night, it's clear that reader and Natasha will stop at nothing to get her back and get revenge.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): Gun use, kidnapping, use of gags & zipties, broken glass, threating statements, knife use, strangling, and horrible grammar.

[a/n: This one wasn't my favorite thing I've ever done, but I was way too far to scrap it. I might take a small break from Oversight oneshots so I can clense my pallet a bit!]

Check out the full Oversight universe

The phone buzzed against the mahogany table on Natasha’s side of the bed. You were in a haze of sleep, something so cloying that it was hard to distinguish what the noise was. There were four monotone vibrations and then a silence so thick that you nearly drifted back into unconsciousness. But then, it started again, louder this time, it seemed, as the phone fell from the nightstand and to the carpeted floor.

An alien blue light filled the room and you groaned softly against the side of Natasha’s neck. You’d ended up laying fully on top of her; legs tangled. Your hands were under her, holding her as close as possible. The rhythm of her heart picked up when she stirred from her own sleep.

She blinked a few times before reaching blindly to the carpeted floor and retrieving the phone. It had stopped ringing again, but soon amped back up. The number was unknown, which formed a small marble of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Natasha sat up carefully and you shifted to the side to give her more mobility. Both of you shared a frowned look of confusion. It was three in the morning, and a stranger was calling. That was enough to arise panic in anyone, but with your profession, it seemed to echo further than most.

“Romanoff,” Her frown deepened, then. You couldn’t hear much, just the warbled and panicked voice of another. “Wait, slow down.”

She flipped back the duvet and stood up, flicking on the bedside lamp. You winced at the sudden brightness but tracked her frantic movements all the same. She was pacing. It often helped Natasha think. All trace of sleep had left you both.

“No, no. We’ll be right there. Thank you.”

When Natasha hung up and her eyes met yours, any hope of a peaceful existence had been sucked from the room. The words ‘I’m sorry’ seemed to be on the tip of her tongue. But she didn’t’ say it. Instead, she threw the cell phone on the end of the bed and moved her hands through her messy russet locks.

“Natasha,” you said, almost viciously. “What happened?”

“That was Luke. Someone broke into the house. We should… get dressed. We need to get dressed and get over there.”

Her words were broken, causing you to rise despite the wave of nausea that overtook you. Unsteady on your feet, you closed the distance between and grasped onto her shoulders as if to stabilize you both. Natasha’s eyes threatened to boil over with tears, they were red-rimmed and oh, so broken.

At thirteen years old, you both had deemed Ronnie mature enough to start having sleepovers with the other kids in her class. Of course, you’d meet with the parents first, and give them all the emergency contact information. Never tightening the reigns there.

But the Jones family were trusted more than most. Ronnie and their daughter Dani had been close since diapers. You’d spent days by the pool together and even took a family vacation with them to Niagara Falls this past summer, despite how ‘lame’ Jessica’s son deemed it when they dawned the yellow plastic ponchos.

“Is she hurt? I know we told Luke and Jess to call us first if something like this happens but if she’s hurt we really should get over there right away and get to the hospital. Call an ambulance maybe? God, please tell me she’s not hurt.”

Natasha’s hand cupped your cheek, and she peered into your eyes. There was sadness behind her stare that was incomprehensible. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from rushing at you in all different directions. Her touch quieted the noise, if not for a moment.

“She’s not hurt,” Natasha frowned, backtracked. “I don’t know if she’s hurt. She’s just… gone.”

The man said his name was Grant. He didn’t give a last name, and Veronica did not ask for one. Grant would do just fine. He looked like a Grant; his eyes were beady and black, his hair combed in various directions with a generous amount of gel. He was trying to look effortless and cool.

Veronica thought he looked like he was trying too hard. Of course, she didn’t say that, but the fact remained the same. The gag that had been nestled tightly against her mouth tasted stale, like the way a thrift store smelled. Maybe it was the carpet in the trunk of the car that lodged itself into her lungs.

She was calm and collected; prepared for something like this. As much as her mothers had poked and prodded and huffed and puffed when she suggested she start to learn basic things (like how to get out of zipties, or what to do if you were trapped in the trunk of a car), they had yielded.

Really, her aunt Lena had Yielded. While she still was discouraged from the heavy-hitting stuff, she did know how to break free of most contained spaces. She could also throw a mean punch if she put her entire body weight into it. But she had been sleeping when Grant shattered the window, and groggy when he hit her temple with the blunt end of his pistol.

The selfish part of Veronica knew that her mothers were scared right now, and reveled in it, for only a brief moment. She’d let out a grunt from being jostled when the car hit a particularly bad speedbump. Her teeth bite down harder on the gag, releasing a sordid taste that did not settle her stomach.

Even at the age of six, which Veronica remembers in bits and pieces, she knew that something wasn’t right with her mother. It wasn’t wrong, either, but it put her on edge and kept her voice trapped in her chest like a music box without a key.

You’d come home smelling metallic, sometimes like the salt of the earth itself. It was much less palatable than the sweet coffee that often graced your collar. She used to inhale the familiarity of it, but had stopped when you’d begin to get bruises and deep red gashes against your skin.

It was something that you’d try to hide from her, from Aunt Darcy, but in the deepest moments of your sleep, the fabric of your shirt would lift and expose the camouflage markings on your ribs or the crack of flesh on your back that Veronica was certain hadn’t been there before.

Then there was Mama.

Natasha. Natalia. Romanoff.

She’d heard every variation of the title. The name was spoken with a certain type of urgency in some, fondness from you, and fear from most. It wasn’t until Veronica was eight and paid more attention to those around her that she realized Natasha was the source of the un-well scent on you.

“Your moms whack people,” Dani had told her one day as they played up in her room. Veronica was meant to stay the night but there had been a heated and insignificant argument about who got to marry Malibu Barbie.

She’d whined back, “They do not,”

“They do too! I heard the other mommies at the playground talking about it. They whack people and it makes everyone else afraid of them and you.”

“You’re lying!”

Veronica had felt the tears prickling at her eyes. Not because Dani’s words were too much, they were just the right amount of hurt. Deep down, Veronica knew that something was fucked up about her family. And while they tried to shield her, it never stopped people from talking.

She would get looks from the parents of her schoolmates. Once that reeked of worry, and sometimes pity. It fed her anger, stoked the coal fire that burned within her. She shouldn’t be angry at her moms, she knew it was unfair. But as she clenched the barbie in her little fist, anger was the only thing she could truly feel.

“They don’t hit people!”

“That’s not what whacked means, dummy.” Dani seemed to catch her bearings, lower her voice to keep her own mother from hearing the accusations. “People that are near your family are never seen again. That’s what Cassie’s mom said. People that are near your family die.”

How could that be true? Things were so different here. There were different smells and Dani’s family didn’t eat around the table like hers did. The house was smaller and cozier. There were pictures on the wall that were black and white and worn with age. But there was love here, just like there was love in Veronica’s house.

A house with love couldn’t be a house where her mothers… whacked people.

Natasha held her with so much warmth at night. She read her two stories if Veronica asked and would get her a glass of water in the middle of the night. Sometimes, on the way home from school, they’d stop for ice cream even though you had cautioned against it.

Someone who let her get extra chocolate sprinkles was not a killer.

But the thought lodged itself in Veronica’s head and refused to leave. She was unnaturally quiet on the ride home, having called you to pick her up early from the wall phone. She held back tears and pressed the plastic close to her face until it was numb.

Natasha had cooked steak and mashed potatoes. Usually, it was Veronica’s favorite, but she watched as the pink runoff seeped into the white mush and quelled the nausea in her stomach by taking little sips of water.

She pretended not to notice the wary look her mothers gave each other, but it was impossible to ignore the way you cleared your throat, palming the wine glass to give your hands something to do. “Baby, is something bothering you?”

The dam broke. Veronica hated when you took that tone with her because it made her cry each time, made all of the hidden emotions bubble up until her cheeks were red and she was a sniveling mess.

This time, she blinked them back and looked between both you and Natasha. She clenched her fork in her little hand and drew in a breath. These were big emotions for such a small girl and she didn’t quite know how to swallow them.

“Why is everyone afraid of you?”

Your hand tightened on the glass you were holding, just loose enough to save it from shattering. Natasha had been mid-chew, her stare moving frantically to you before she swallowed and used her napkin to wipe the edge of her mouth.

“Sweetheart, did someone tell you that?”

Veronica seemed to tremble, shrinking into herself. She had gotten so verbal over these last few years, and this was a side that you refused to let her fall back into. You set the glass down and reached across the table. You covered her hand with yours, despite her refusal to unfurl it. It helped to ground her, had since she was little.

“Dani said that people are scared of you, and that they die around you. I called her a liar, a dirty liar, but she kept telling me it was true.” She looked up with tears in her eyes. “That’s not true, right?”

The silence seemed to answer her question, but she stared at both of you. She wanted to hear it. She wanted you to look under the bed and slay all of the monsters that were intent on grabbing her ankles and pulling her down. Natasha looked down at her plate, almost shy. You gave her hand a squeeze.

“Baby, it’s complicated.” You started, her wild eyes moving to yours. You felt her grow tense. “Your Mama and I, we want to be honest with you no matter what. This family is complicated, but that will never change how much we love you.”

They’d abandoned the food and spent most of the night explaining what they could. She was still only eight years old, and they held back from her. Each year of her life, they revealed more, eased her into it. And if she asked a question, they never, ever, lied. They answered truthfully- even if it wasn’t an answer she didn’t’ want to hear.

Veronica’s muscles had become stiff. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been shoved inside of the trunk, but light was leaking through the edges. She’d drifted in and out of sleep, her legs burning. She wanted to break free of her binds and stretch them out. Grant tied a good knot.

It was no matter, she thought, because her mothers wouldn’t let her linger for long.

Glass and blood sprayed across the back patio. Someone had clearly wrapped their hand and shattered it with sheer force. They’d cut themselves at one point or another, but it didn’t’ seem to stop them from muscling their way into the Jones’s home.

Luke, in his hulking nature, reached into the highest cabinet and got his daughter a glass of water. She hadn’t touched the muffin that was set in front of her. Luke was nesting, trying to ply her with gifts to ease the horror of what had just happened.

You felt bad, having to dredge it up when the memory was still so fresh. She had the deer-in-headlights stare. Wide eyes flicked to you and Natasha. She opened her mouth and closed it in succession twice. She looked like a fish.

It wasn’t that you hated Dani, you didn’t. She was thirteen-year-old child, after all. But, you were admittedly wary about her after she had brought Veronica’s walls down when they were younger. Kids, you reminded yourself. They were innocent, but they were also mean when they wanted to be.

“I already told you, “She said, frowning down at her untouched muffin. “We were both asleep when we heard a loud crash. It didn’t wake up mom and dad. I wanted to call the cops, but Ronnie was against it. Why haven’t we called the cops?”

The silence in the room was palpable. You were studying the edges of the glass, the dried dark blood against the edges. It was better for you to focus on that, than the fact that Veronica wasn’t here. You would spiral, then. You’d think about all the places she could be, and none of them were particularly good.

“Fine. There was a man with a gun in the kitchen and he… aimed it at us. Ronnie wasn’t scared. I don’t know how, the look in his eye was determined. Horrifying. He said that he wasn’t going to hurt us, he just needed her and then he would leave.”

“And she just went?” Natasha urged; her voice strained with exhaustion.

“Yeah, yes. I didn’t try hard to stop her, he had a gun. A gun!”

“Okay, alright. Thank you, Dani.” Luke placed his hand on the small of her back. She crumbled into him, dwarfed by his sheer size. Jessica glared at her own reflection in the mirror above the sink. She had been deathly quiet.

Suddenly, Dani looked so tiny in his arms, hugging her close. Your heart seized and you frowned at the broken glass at your feet. Natasha willed herself to continue. “Dani, I’m incredibly sorry about this. About all of this; but we need to know what he looked like.”

“I don’t know, he was tall and had these blue eyes that were just unsettling. He was sort-of good looking.”

Jessica seemed to find herself at that moment, working her hand through her hair. It was damp and unkempt with sweat. “You both need to leave.”

“Jess,” Luke interjected.

“You need to leave!” She raised her voice, turning to face the group. She kept her palms on the counter to steady herself, refusing to look at Natasha, but clocking you with a deathly stare. “We’ve ignored so much. We’ve watched Veronica when the two of you leave on your business trips, and come back looking like you’ve been raised from the dead. We pretend not to notice the guns you carry even at the fucking beach! But this is not something we can ignore. Y/n, this is my home.”

Her chest was heaving with rage but there was immense sadness in her eyes. Dani’s fingers clenched at the fabric of her father’s shirt. Natasha’s hands were in her back pockets, her red-rimmed stare trained on the ground.

“I understand. Thank you for everything. We’ll uh, get someone to come by and fix the patio door. I apologize for all of the trouble.”

Natasha moved to follow you, her hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t realized you were trembling until her firm touch was there to quell it. Her words were said with a gentle authority. “I made a few calls. A patrol call will be positioned across the street for the next week. Longer, if you’d like. I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” Dani stood from the barstool. “There’s one more thing. The man, he had on this gaudy jacket and there was a patch on the pocket. It was red and there was a skull with these tentacles coming out of it. Totally villain coded.”

You frowned, diverting your stare to the small bug light at the corner of the door. It emitted a small buzzing sound that was barely noticeable. If you stared at it long enough, the tears that threatened to spill over would eventually go away.

“I hope you find her.”

Dani had said in a quiet voice. And you hoped beyond hope that you did too.

There was ugly green tile in the bathroom. Veronica had counted them twice over, and then to check her blurry math, she multiplied the length and the height until the numbers matched. She was bored and cramped in the off-white bathtub of a shitty motel.

For the first half-hour, she had her eyes on the water-stained ceiling. There was an abnormally large roach that crawled in circles. It had the whole ceiling, why did it confine itself to one spot? She’d made up a story; the brown little bug was training for a race. He was following the imaginary track.

He’d win, she decided, tugging softly on her binds. Even if though the horsefly can move up to 90 miles per hour. They’d learned that in class and it was one of those facts that she just couldn’t seem to forget.

Veronica could hear Grant on the other side of the wall. He had made an exasperated phone call and threw it down on the bed. He’d been oddly gentle and patient with her when he removed her from the trunk and subsequently locked her in the bathroom.

After living with a family of deadly criminals for the better part of her life, Veronica toyed with the idea that she was being held for ransom. Her mama, she didn’t hesitate when it came to stuff like this. Veronica had asked her once if that was easier.

They’d been jogging along a small path that cut through the woods around the property. Natasha was used to doing stuff like that alone, pacing herself and breathing in the crisp scents that nature had to offer.

It had shocked her when Ronnie asked to join, but she was quick to agree. She’d slowed to a brisk walk when the girl started to fight for air. Natasha may have pushed a little hard, but she was content to walk with her daughter, all the same.

The question had caught her off guard. “Ronnie, I don’t think your mother would appreciate me answering this.”

“You’re my mom too.” She stopped by a particularly large rock, placing both hands behind her head to stretch her chest out enough to ease her breathing. “Unless you’re afraid of her.”

“You’re baiting me.”

Veronica gave her a wolfish smile. Of course, Natasha wasn’t afraid of you. She wasn’t. You would sometimes get a deep look in your eyes that made her squirm in her seat. It was the mom look- the type of look that you seemed to inherit from the moment you first hold a baby against your chest. The need to protect was deep seeded.

Natasha felt it too, especially with the girl that goaded her right now. But she knew when not to push, and when to gently suggest something to you. Right now was a terse moment that blurred the line between something you’d be okay with, and something you’d initiate the silent treatment for. She sighed.

“Sometimes, there is more to suffering than the pain that’s inflicted. Does that make sense?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Waiting for the end is more tortuous than the act of ending itself. What I mean is, putting someone out of their misery is not only a mercy in some situations, but a necessary evil. I’m not a monster, Ronnie.”

She believed her in that moment. Natasha wasn’t a monster. Not to her. She could see how some of her charges would think differently, but this was the woman who would curl up in fuzzy pajamas and watch shitty romantic comedies with her, even shedding a few tears when the lead got the girl.

Veronica let out a long sigh and slumped further down into the bathtub. An uncomfortable and sluggish hit of pain moved through her legs and to the base of her back. First the trunk, and now this.

Her body stiffened when she heard the giggle of the door handle. Heels dug into old porcelain as she pushed herself up. Parts of Veronica’s stance was numbed entirely. Her shoulders were tight with tension, and a fine layer of dust was kicked up.

Grant clenched his jaw and unclenched it at the sight of her. He’d left her to her own devices for far too long. She watched carefully as he unscrewed the cap of a water bottle. The seal cracked and she relished in the sound, praying that it hadn’t been tampered with.

He knelt down against the side of the tub, pulling her gag from her mouth. She drew in a desperate and clear breath, clocking him with a glare. Sickeningly, he smiled at that. “You must be thirsty.”

She didn’t’ dignify him with an answer but allowed him to guide the water bottle to her lips. She gulped down more than half in a hungry fashion. Spare drops soaked into her collar and drip against her jaw. He pulled away and recapped it.

“I want you to know this isn’t personal. I’m not big on the whole ‘kidnap kids’ thing. I have a son of my own, and I wouldn’t ever want something to happen to him.” He paused and resituated himself into a more comfortable position. “This is business. I do what I’m told.”

Grant was trying to relate to her, make her feel some sort of sympathy for him. She wasn’t going to fall into his tactics. Instead, she glowered at him. “I hope he has a good mom. Because when mine find you, he’s going to need one.”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m counting on it.”

This time, you had made sure that the gun was fully loaded. You were all for showmanship, leaning into the nickname that those who roamed the streets had given you. Even those who didn’t, a woman at the laundromat or the waitress that had replaced you at the diner all knew you as Roulette.

Once upon a time, you couldn’t push past the shadow that Bucky Barnes had created. He was the Winter Soldier, Natasha’s immoveable force of nature. She’d command him with a solid hand and anyone on the other side of that wrath was doomed.

It was a reputation that was impossible to live up to, yet somehow, you had done it. Not only could you kill with such ruthless abandon, but you had found a family along the way. Bucky would never question Natasha’s orders. But the two of you made them together, and that brought a new type of fear.

When Leo Fitz had moved for the weapon tucked into the back of his neatly pressed pants, you made sure to move with a quickness that rivaled anyone else in the room. The tip of your revolver was pressed to his temple, his gloved hands raising in surrender.

Ophelia Sarkissian smiled. Blood dripped across her teeth from where Natasha had connected her fist with bone. She was slammed up against the back wall of her office now. Her mantle shook with the force of the hit, and dust rained down from the ceiling.

“That’s the problem with old buildings,” she said, a mix of sticky saliva and russet discharge. “The aesthetics are there, but you sacrifice the integrity of the room. Don’t you agree, Nat?”

“I’m not here to discuss architecture.”

Natasha reached into her own pocket, not releasing her hold on the leader of Hydra. The little organization of evil had gotten admittedly bigger than either of you thought was possible. They’d gotten more men, more property. But they were resigned to Hells Kitchen and that was simply not under Natasha’s jurisdiction. She never found it in herself to care, not until now.

Knives were Yelena’s weapon of choice, but Natasha still found joy in the subtle bout of fear that flashed momentarily across Ophelia’s serpent stare. Leo attempted to move, but stilled when you pulled the metal hammer back on the revolver. All you had to do was pull the trigger and there’d be a new mural in Ophelia’s office.

“Natasha, would you mind calling your dog off? Doctor Fitz is a brilliant scientist. It’s not any old brain she’s fixing to blow out.”

The side of the silver blade had found its way to the edge of Ophelia’s eye, not quite touching it, but she knew that the slightest movement would spear her iris. She stopped squirming under Natasha’s threats.

“Okay, okay! What is it that I can do for you lovely ladies?”

“What is it you can do for us?” Natasha’s voice was a thick and hollow growl. Any sign of mercy had escaped her, one hand clenching the woman’s throat, the other pressing the tip of the knife hard enough to break porcelain skin. “Sweetness, I think you know exactly what we want.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Natty. I have my fingers in a lot of cookie jars.”

“If you’re inclined to keep your right eye intact, I suggest that you lead us to our daughter. I have no trouble taking a woman’s sight.”

Ophelia laughed and it infuriated you. Rage and impatience made a dangerous cocktail. You had tolerated the woman and her lackies through dinner parties and the occasional get together. But that was the extent of your relationship.

Seven full years and she still viewed you as nothing more than Natasha’s pet waiting to be house trained. You’d long since left your probationary period. You’d married the woman who had an iron grip on the city and in turn, raised a competent daughter in your stead.

“I have no godly idea what you’re talking about. You think I’m stupid enough to steal from you? I wouldn’t take a wine glass, much less your daughter. I have some common sense. What led you to believe that I would?”

You hated to admit that you believed her, but you still refused to remove the gun from Fitz’s temple. “The symbol on the jacket of the man who took her. It was your insipid mass of tentacles.”

Fitz cleared his throat “Ma’am, it could be Ward.”

“Ward?” Natasha asked.

“I fired him months ago. He’s mostly harmless but would do anything to get into my good graces. I suppose it would be possible for him to pull a stunt like this. Last I heard, he was living at the Motel six off county.” Ophelia gritted her teeth “It’d be greatly appreciated if you both left before you do something you regret.”

Natasha mocked a pout, dragging the tip of the blade against the side of Ophelia’s face. A trail of pin-prink spots of blood rushed to the surface of her skin. “But you’d look so good with an eyepatch.”

Veronica had drifted into an incredibly fitful sleep. She could hear the world around her; the skittering legs of the bug that ran laps on the ceiling, the slow and steady drip of the sinks faucet, the football game that Grant had turned on to drown out her movements.

It was the unmistakable sound of woods splintering that had caught her attention. Ronnie forced herself to control her breathing, just like you had taught her. She clenched down on the sour tasting gag in her mouth, heart pounding violently in her chest.

The television had been turned off and Grant’s muffled voice seeped through the crack in the door. She knew that her mother’s preferred to work silently. They tried to shield her from everything and everyone that held a potential threat. But there were some things that Veronica wanted to see. Including the downfall of her captor.

She made a small noise against the back of her gag and slammed her heel on the puke-colored tub. The dull thumb was enough to halt the movement in the room. There was shattered glass, and an exclamation that could have only been from Natasha.

Grant had locked the bathroom door from the inside and closed it. There was a strong hit that rattled the weak wood. Her breathing picked up as another hit caused the door to bend like it wasn’t a solid force at all, but entirely breakable.

Finally, it gave way and you stumbled into the bathroom in a cloud of slivers and dust. None of that seemed to bother you, eyes darting directly to the tub that your daughter had been housed in for the last six hours.

Veronica was reduced to a bubbling mess of tears. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted to see you, needed to see you. There was something so warm and safe about your touch and it cut through the cold bathroom air like nothing she had ever felt before.

“Oh baby,”

Your voice cracked as you dropped to your knees, making quick work of the gag. Veronica’s jaw ached when you removed it, tossing the cloth aside. You used the very knife that Natasha had used to threaten Ophelia with to cut the zip ties that had cut dark purple bruises into her wrists.

“Oh, my baby, I’m so sorry.”

She gripped you with a strength that reminded you of the first day you’d dropped her off at kindergarten. She’d cried then too, wetting the collar of your shirt with nervous tears. Veronica had clung to you and wicked her fingers into its fabric. It broke your heart to let her go then.

You’d had a meltdown in the driver’s seat of your car with all the other parents that had emotional attachment issues. It was where you met Jessica for the first time. She’d dropped Dani off. Her second child so it was easier this time. She brought you a beer and told you that everything would be okay.

“Mom,” she whispered, over and over again, gripping you to make sure you were real. She was much too old to carry, but you didn’t give a damn in this moment. You scooped her up like she was six years old again and she wrapped her legs around your waist without any protest.

You tucked her head into the small of your neck. “Keep your eyes closed, baby girl. You’re safe now.”

Veronica clenched her eyes shut and dug further into you. She tried to ignore the noises she heard in the single-bed motel room. The choking sounds that Grant let out as Natasha did what she did best with the electrical cord of a lamp.

She kept her eyes shut in the freezing stairwell, and even when the warm mist of an early-morning dew coated his skin. She waited until she could smell the familiar leather of her mother’s car, and even then, she held you in a vice grip that you weren’t willing to let go of anytime soon.

You’d taken your jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. She curled into herself in the backseat of the car. It only took a few more minutes for Natasha to exit through the same service door that you did. Her hair was disheveled, a long gash against the side of her arm that you were certain would need stitches later.

Black blood dripped from the wound and pooled from her fingertips in small splashes against the pavement. She didn’t’ seem to notice, her adrenaline screaming loud enough to quell any pain she would have felt.

Natasha gently urged you to the side before she climbed into the backseat wordlessly. Ronnie seemed to let out a long breath of relief. She launched herself into the woman’s arms. Natasha grunted at the force but squeezed her as tightly as she could, letting her cry.

“Mama, I’m so sorry.” Veronica sniffed “I shouldn’t have gone with him, but he was going to hurt Dani.”

“Do not apologize moy malen'kiy strelok.” She pressed a kiss to Veronica’s temple, fighting back tears. “Never apologize.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Mafia au #Yelena Belova #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Reader insert #request #natasha romonova

279 notes · View notes

dreamingofbucky · 1 year

Text

Inescapable

chapter one

summary: moving to a new neighborhood in Nueva York meant new places to see and new people to meet. Miguel O'Hara is an enigma. and after having a failed date attempt with him, you find out he's your coworker. but he's not the same man you've been pining over the last few weeks. He's much more cruel and something's not right.

warnings: uhhh dick!miguel? lol red flags but reader's blind and just thinks of him between her thighs despite his cocky attitude ayoo.

wordcount: 2.3k

author's note: mainly intro to series sorry if it's boring 😭 i can't wait to amp up the tension in the next chapter!

tag list: @yehet-moi-ohorat @127aliciia

series masterlist

It all happened so abruptly.

Moving to a new part of Nueva York wasn’t something you expected. Getting a new job meant a higher salary, which meant you could afford a little better than most with what you’ve been able to save up and then what you’d be earning. But even ‘better’ wasn’t great.

You unpacked your bags into your one bedroom apartment that seemed bigger and better maintained on the photos online. It didn’t pass you by the way the door in the bathroom jiggles a little out of the door hinges as if one more slam will make the whole damn thing fall down.

And you didn’t have the energy to deal with the damn outlet in the kitchen that would reset any device connected to it every two hours. You definitely weren’t going to put your coffee pot there. You liked to wake up to a freshly brewed pot with an automatic timer.

The apartment next door sat vacant since you moved in. You enjoyed it quite a bit, remembering how your last set of neighbors were up all hours of the night either blasting music, fucking, or arguing. You enjoyed the peace and quiet a little too much.

Quite frankly, you’ve become comfortable with the silence pertaining to Unit 209.

Despite that, things have been moving along swiftly and pleasantly in your life. You even bumped into someone three weeks ago walking down the street and it wasn’t just someone. He was sweet and kind, laughing at the mistake of you switching phones by accident after the collision. Thinking his phone was yours until you realized your phone didn’t have the cutest princess as the one on the lock screen. He fumbled for a little, with his stance and his words, as you both switched phones to the appropriate owners. He said it was his daughter on the screen.

His name was Miguel O’Hara, he’d said. You told him yours and his eyes lit up like he’s never heard a name quite like yours before. And it sounded like rich honey coming off his lips when he repeated it. This just made your cheeks burn and flutters swarm all over your body.

Next thing you knew, you bumped into him in all parts of your new town. The grocery store, the park where you like to run, and even the flower shop. He swore he knew nothing about flowers and was just trying to get some for his daughter for some school project. You’d laughed and helped him pick out the best kinds.

All of these chance encounters that really led to nothing were starting to bug you until that one day he finally asked for your number. It took him a while to finally do so, but you were thankful that the universe somehow made it its mission to collide your pathways to constantly see him.

You texted here and there, not much different to your dismay from the collisions in town that made you think he wanted more. You didn’t even know much else about the man besides he had a daughter and he liked that steakhouse a few blocks from your place.

You hoped to change that soon, and that’s when it seemed like the universe was on your side.

He asked you out for dinner at that steakhouse.

And then stood you up.

***

You wanted to believe that there was good in people. Even the most honest ones. But there seemed to always be an anomaly that infected everyone.

You had your flaws and your omissions. You had your quirks that only you’d ever witness within the walls of your apartment. And you had your utter disappointment in people that lied and dragged you along. Like him.

Miguel O’Hara.

You waited for one hour in that damn steakhouse before you gave up, asked for a check and then went home. You thought he’d at least pick you up from your place, finally get to see your new place. Funny now, he’s the least of who you’d like entering it.

That humiliating night only fed your anger more until it was time to start your new job. You took the following weekend to relax, take a bath in that glorious tub that might have some scratches and chipping, but it was divine. You didn’t have a tub in your old place.

Monday morning came abruptly and you were excited for new things. New job, new you as you liked to joke.

Slipping on your favorite flower dress and golden necklace for good luck and you were out of the door, heading to the campus that would hold your new job title. Alchemax was bigger than you remembered from your interview and tour and your division was in the skyscraper on a tippy top floor. There seemed to be endless halls to lose yourself in. Even your department was large. To the point where if there was a project that needed to be completed, they had to break you guys off into groups to get multiple done at once.

But you liked your job. You liked being able to focus on what you studied your ass off for years at school. It wasn’t everyday that people in your city could say the same. With the effects of the Rapture that took over the city ages ago, crime and violence had only heightened. You leaned heavily on those action packed superhero films sometimes wondering if Nueva York would ever get better.

You knew superheroes weren’t real. They didn’t exist. But you still hoped that there was something better coming for your city. You loved it, really. But you also hated it.

***

“Here’s your project packet with your team members listed,” a loud voice boomed behind you. It was your supervisor and he looked annoyed.

It was your fourth day, so you slapped on a smile and nodded, grabbing the packet. You’d only met the few coworkers that milled about your office space, but there was a whole floor to get to know. You buried yourself in your work, with it just being your first week, so you didn’t really socialize even when it came to lunchtime. You liked to take your lunch outside anyway to watch the birds in the sky or dream about a life where there wasn’t always crime afoot.

You sighed and plopped the packet on your desk and flipped to the first page where your team member’s names would be listed. Your eyes scanned the first line and your eyes bugged out.

Miguel O’Hara.

This must be some cruel joke, right?

You haven’t heard from this man in a week and here he is. In plain black letters on your desk. You didn’t miss the way your heart skipped a beat and your cheeks burned.

His was the only name next to yours. It’d just be you two. You took a deep breath and mentally prepared yourself. The packet thankfully showed which office area he works under, so you stood up and made your way to it. The packet was clutched tightly between your arms and hugged your chest. Your purple dress today flowed a little around your thighs. You liked wearing dresses to work, despite some of the looks you’d get.

You even heard one coworker joke that this wasn’t some kind of Victoria’s Secret runway which just didn’t make sense. Every outfit you chose fit the guidelines that were given to you upon your first day. You didn’t like the way slacks molded to your body. You felt much more comfortable with a flowy dress and heels.

Your steps echoed down the hall until you took a right and were met with a few other workers muttering at their screen, their phones, or each other. You scanned the faces until you saw the one you needed all the way in the back. He was staring at his screen, hunched over with his wide shoulders. You couldn’t see his face just yet, but you already knew how he looked.

Handsome as ever. You’d never forget a face like that. It only bummed you out more that things didn’t progress and the date ultimately ended with you cursing him forever. You had a twinge of guilt that maybe something happened with his daughter that made him not show. But he would’ve texted or called, right?

You shook your head, not wanting to think about the failed attempt to get to know the man and marched your way over to his area. He doesn’t turn around or look up when you make your final step. Your hip is aligned with his shoulder and you clear your throat.

He finally turns to look, not amused in the slightest. Not even an indication that he recognized you or blew you off. Two can play at that game.

What was once an idea to play off the horrible date and start off fresh by introducing yourself and striking conversation and even making a joke that you didn’t realize he worked at Alchemax, you bit your tongue.

His eyes glance a little at your dress and your waist, but then flickers back to your face.

Your breath hitches in the slightest at his remarkable beauty. Fuck, you forgot how good he looked up close. His brown eyes narrowed a bit, watching you silently. You swallowed, but it seemed like there was cotton stuck in your mouth.

“We’ve got that project to work on,” you finally mutter, tapping your heeled toe on the ground.

“What project?” He replied with a bitter tone. He turns back to look at his computer and your impatience flares.

“The one that we were assigned to,” you huff. To prove a point, you slam the packet down on his table and he pushes his chair back. You hold your breath as you watch his features change. From confused to annoyed, to outright cold.

You want to say something, anything. Even possibly bring up the fact that he still hasn’t apologized or made up an excuse for the missed date. And that he’s acting like a complete ass right now, not even acknowledging you!

Your anxious habits come back to life as your toe continues to tap. A scowl forms on his face. He runs thick fingers through his wavy brown hair. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t imagine your own hands running through those strands. Either when you kissed him or you had him in between your thighs. But those were just dreams that never came to fruition because of this asshole.

You bet his hair was soft too.

You shake your head, attempting to pull yourself out of your own misery.

“I was transferred to this department last minute,” he finally says. “Not supposed to be in any of these ‘group projects’. I’ve got other things to do. Not being tied to anyone.”

And with that, he lifts his hand and waves you off. That fucker waves you off. Like you’re his butler or something waiting for his command to go.

It takes everything in you to not slap that smug look off his face. To not make a scene. But it’s your first week and you’re already finding coziness in your new apartment you wouldn’t be able to afford without this job. That was something you couldn’t give up. Also not the best choice to drain almost all your savings on that damn security deposit and rent payment.

This prick was not going to ruin that for you.

“I’ll do the work then, and you can do whatever the hell it is that you do.”

His head snaps to look at you and his lips twitch. Without warning, he rises. And that’s when you forget how tall the man is. But it seems like he’d gotten taller since the last time you saw him in person. You think it was the flower shop or the park when you’d last seen Miguel O’Hara. He also looked more muscular. Arms protruding a little more in his button down and his shoulders seemed to have little more meat to them. He’s even got some faint scars on his neck.

Did you ever notice those before?

You were definitely losing it.

He peers down at you like you’re some child being lectured for stealing candy out of the cupboard. His hands go to his waist and he leans, hovering over you. It feels almost predatory like. You swallow again.

“You do that,” he finally says.

That’s it. That’s all he says.

“I can’t believe you,” the words tumble out of your mouth without warning. You bite your lip, hoping no one else heard that. You don’t want to have to start rivalries with coworkers during your first week. But this man enrages you.

“Believe it,” he spits before taking a side step. You watch as he shakes his head and walks out of the office area. You don’t know where the hell he’s going.

You glance over at his desk and see that he’s got some things set up around the space. A card with a watercolor rose petal over it. Possibly something his daughter got for him for his birthday or something. A picture of his daughter sits by the computer monitor and made your heart lurch in your chest.

And then something else that caught your eye. You look around the area to only see busy workers paying you no mind before you extend your hand and pull it out from under a manual guide.

It’s a tiny piece of paper, in the same shape as a business card. There was some chicken scratch on it, but when you peer closer to read you gasp.

Dinner at 7 at the Steakhouse. Don’t forget flowers for her. Wear your best suit. It matches her eyes.

It was all there. The date you were supposed to have with Miguel.

Why did he still have the reminder card on his desk if he completely forgot about it?

And why did he act like he didn’t know you at all?

#miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara atsv #dreamingofbuckyfics

437 notes · View notes

raz-writes-the-thing · 3 months

Note

hey raz💘

i'm having a terrible headache and i've been having it since i woke up (it was like 6 hours ago), so i thought maybe i could get some quick sketch about how some of the doctors hEaL me... just thinking...

- 🛐

I really hope you feel better soon. I’ve been on the receiving end of some lasting headaches myself. They’re very nasty. Hopefully these help comfort you a little

Okay, so Ten definitely just pulls some gummy worm that tastes like… a nebula star or something out of his never ending pockets and hands it to you like- “Headache? Oh no, no, no. Can’t have that. Here, eat this.” And when you do your headache just disappears. If you notice the purple swirls for a minute, don’t worry- that’s totally and completely normal. He thinks.

Eleven would force you to sit down in a chair and drink a big, tall glass of water. He’s also going to keep refilling it and arguing with the TARDIS every time you turn away. He makes an effort to do this quietly but it doesn’t really work.

Twelve tells you to suck it up and stop complaining. He had a headache the size of Jupiter once. But then he also brings you a cup of tea like it’s something he does all the time. He also turns his amps way down so it’s not too loud for you. If you notice the TARDIS lights dimming its just because he wanted mood lighting okay, that’s all. Nothing to do with you and your very human, very annoying headache.

Thirteen babies you almost to the point of you having to tell her to go away and do something useful. She brings you blankets, several teas from several planets, jugs of water and a cold compress. She coos and frets and checks your temperature with a concerned frown on her face. It’s very cute, but can also feel a little overstimulating at times. Especially because she’s such a talker, too.

Fourteen tuts and takes you by the hand, telling you he knows just the place. He also tells you how he knows he’s incapable of shutting his mouth and so will leave you alone for a few hours to get some peace. Then he leads you into this dark room in the TARDIS that just has a soft lounge and a dimmable window so you can watch the stars in the dark. The TARDIS puts on a low frequency hum that helps ease your headache away. He kisses your forehead, rubs your cheek and tells you to feel better soon and he’ll be back to check on you in a bit before he closes the door behind him.

Fifteen gives you a lopsided play-mocking expression and tells you that you need to be taking better care of yourself if you want to stick around to see all he has to show you. But he also turns the music way down in the console room and ushers you towards your bedroom. “Uh, uh, babes- no arguing. You, my dear, are going to lay down and not come out until your pesky little headache is gone. I’ll bring you some water, eh? Uh-uh, down. That’s it. Doctor’s orders.”

#raz answers the thing #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #twelfth doctor #twelfth doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #fourteenth doctor #fourteenth doctor x reader #fifteenth doctor #fifteenth doctor x reader

80 notes · View notes

neteyamssyulang · 11 months

Text

⌖ Lustful Vengeance ⌖

⌖ Part 1 ⌖

⌖ Pairing: So’lek x Fem human soldier reader ⌖

⌖ Based on this request ⌖

⌖ Part 2 here ⌖

⌖ Background: Once the RDA returned So’lek celebrated. Finally able to take revenge he killed your fellow soldiers and was going to do the same to you but a different idea played in his mind.

⌖ Warnings: Dom So’lek, Sub reader, Dark, P in V, Mentions of death, Marking, Breeding kink, Creampie, Choking, Spanking.

⌖ Total word count: 1557 ⌖

⌖Translation(s): Muntxate -> Female spouse, yawntutsyìp -> darling/little one, Tawtute -> Human

⌖ A/N: I hope this turned out the way you wanted anony

⌖ Tagging: @ikeyniofthetayrangi

It was just a normal day, the colonel had tasked you and a few other soldiers to fly up to site 46 and stay there while also scouring the area.

The pilot took off towards the site, you couldn't help but look out the window of the helicopter. Pandora is beautiful it really is, it would make the perfect home for humanity once the natives were no longer a threat.

As the helicopter landed you all got out and headed inside the portable, taking off your exomask you made it to where your room would be at the back of the place and began unpacking all your belongings.

Eclipse soon covered the pandora sky, 2 loaded up their guns while 2 more got into their AMP's and began scouring the area. The rest of you just stayed inside talking about how this would be a peace of cake.

Once eclipse fell he went into action, tonight he would finally take his revenge on these sky demons for what they've done to him and his clan.

He saw two of the humans just walking with guns while the other ones looked to be in some type of metal suit.

Pulling an arrow from the cylinder on his bow he drew it back till finally releasing it into one of the humans in the machine, the arrow making a clean shot flying through the glass and into the persons head.

Gunshots rang out pointed in his direction, So'lek sprinted while taking another arrow out, quickly turning he released it into the other one in the machine.

Two down two to go.

The last two were easy to take down and eywa did it feel good watching the life drain from their eyes, now for the rest of them.

He stalked back to the site and lit one of his arrows on fire, holding it steady he took a deep breath pointing it at the window where he could see the rest of you.

Finally he released the arrow watching it go through the window shattering it and landing on the floor inside. The entire portable was going up in flames, you didn't want to leave your fellow soldiers but you had no choice.

Quickly putting on an exomask you run to the emergency exit and dash through the thick pandoran forest.

Back at the site So'lek had slashed every one of the soldiers throats before running after you. Eywa be damned if he let you escape.

Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest as your legs threatened to give out, you could hear footsteps behind you getting closer but saw no one as you glanced back.

Somehow you managed to run into a giant clearing, thinking your safe you stop to catch your breath.

Lord was that a big mistake.

He was on you within second, his knife pressed against your jugular while his other hand held your wrists above your head.

"Foolish human, did you really think you could get away from me?" He taunts staring down at you. "P-please don't kill me! I'll do anything!"

The na'vi chuckles in amusement, "Kill you? Whereas I was planning on it I don't think your cut out for that." Confusion settles on your face "What do you mean?-"

Removing his knife he places it back in his sheath before taking off his metal chest piece littered with dog tags he took after killing RDA members and placed it on the ground.

"Instead of killing you I'll just make you my darling little mate." Panic starts settling in and you scramble to get away from the na'vi, he pulls you back by your legs immediately tearing off the blouse you wore along with your shorts and panties.

Tears prick your eyes threatening to fall "Please don't do this.. i'm begging you" , "Don't worry little one, you'll be begging for me to take you soon enough."

Untying the knots of his tewng he lets it drop, his cock springs up hitting his stomach. Beautiful patterns of tanhi cover it not to mentioning how big and girthy he is.

"That will never fit, you'll break me!" Your tone raising slightly, the na'vi leaned over you teasingly swiping his cockhead through your folds.

So'lek smirked looking down "Look at you, already so wet for me, it will fit I'll make sure of it."

Without warning he pushed past your entrance with a pop making you cry out in pain, he inched his cock inside you little by little. When you thought he was done you sighed in relief till he rolled his hips finally bottoming out.

"Such a good tawtute taking me" he coos, giving you only a mere minute to adjust he pulls out till only the tip remains and slams back inside knocking the air out of your lungs.

His pace is brutal, one hand holding him up from crushing you while the other holds onto your hip. Your hands find their way to his shoulders holding tightly onto him.

Your moans fill his ears as he angels himself so now he's repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. "Be a good girl and cum for me" he whispered in your ear sending shivers down your spine.

Not being able to hold back anymore the coil in your stomach finally snaps and you cum leaving a white creamy ring at the base of his cock.

"P-please I..I can't anymore.. your too big.." you whined beneath him, the na'vi only chuckled speeding up his movements, his cock bullying your insides and threatening to pierce through your cervix.

"You will take it, my little mate will look so pretty walking around with a bump" So'lek murmures moving the hand that was on the ground to your stomach pressing down on it.

Your backed arched as you came again squirting your juices on him, he could feel your walls convulsing around his cock. "Oh great mother.." So'lek groans.

So'lek moved his left hand to wrap around your delicate little neck while his right now now held onto your hip. He drove his cock deeper into your pussy, his mushroomy tip kissing your cervix each time.

If you would've known that signing up with the RDA would lead you to this you would've never done it. His cock was stretching you out ruining you for anyone else, shit you didn't even know the males name and now he expects you to be his mate?

What would the colonel think? His #1 soldier getting fucked by the natives they wanted to drive out to make pandora the new earth for humanity.

So'leks teeth grazing along your neck pulled you out of your thoughts, before you have a chance to say anything he suddenly pulled out flipping you onto your hands and knees.

Wasting no time he slams his cock back inside your aching pussy hitting a new angle this time making you see stars "Hold it for me little one..I'm almost there" he pants from behind you.

Your whimpers and moans only drive him closer to that sweet release he's been trying to reach, feeling your walls clench around him he grit his teeth.

His hand came down harshy onto your ass making you yelp and shift forwards a bit, "What did I say? You will cum when I say you can" each sentence was delivered with a smack across your ass.

Tears are now falling down your face and onto the mossy ground below you. "P-please let me cum.." you plead with him.

Another smack comes down on your ass "No, when you cum you will scream my name, understand?"

"I don't know your name!" You manage to shout at the male behind you but it only earns you another slap on your already reddened ass.

Pulling out once more he flips you onto your back again before plunging his length back inside "It's So'lek yawntutsyìp" he sends a cheeky wink down at you.

His hands move across your chest groping at your tits, his fingers pinch and roll your sensitive peaks between the pads of his index finger and thumb instantly hardening them.

Leaning down he sucks and bites you all over your neck leaving his marks for everyone to see. "Fuck! Cum now!" He moans in your ear as he thrusts one final time before stilling his hips.

His seed spills into your empty womb triggering your own climax, your arms wrap around his neck as you scream his name.

Your both still panting as he leans up taking in your flushed state. Your hairs all messy from being tossed and turned like a rag doll, your face holds a bright pink hue.

So'lek leans back down placing his face into the crook of your neck, deciding on the perfect spot he sinks his fangs into you finally marking you as his mate.

Instead of fighting it you give in finally accepting your fate, your fellow soldiers that you once thought of as friends are dead by the same person who is now your mate.

He unlatches from your neck licking the small droplets of blood off before trailing his kisses up your neck, to your jaw, to your lips. He captures them in a slow passionate kiss before placing his forehead against yours.

"Your mine now, my little muntxate."

#so’lek x fem!human reader #avatar the way of water #so’lek smut #james cameron avatar #neteyamssyulang #So’lek avatar #comments really appreciated #follow #please like and reblog #avatar pandora

368 notes · View notes

roachfun · 3 days

Note

This is probably a wild thing to get but your “Gojo should stay dead” post has got my unmedicated ass vibrating.

(I’ve only read jjk0, besides that literally all of my exposure has been via 3 video essays and fanfic… I basically got into the series backwards and tbh it’s an interesting experience…)

And tbh I agree with you more than not. Even though the view I have of the character is so fucking warped because jjk fanfic is too the gills filled with smut.

Because what I’ve gathered from the video essays and the few bits of fanfics that actually tried getting into his mind… is that the man is gd tired.

A god complex the size of the sun, that’s only ever been challenged once by one of the few people he ever formed a genuine connection with, and it was challenged as that person was leaving him. That incident may have motivated him to change, but that change was predominantly if not exclusively external, he didn’t really do much self reflection.

After Geto left, Gojo did better (became a teacher, warding Megumi, not letting Yuta be executed) but he didn’t work on being better (god complex, recklessness, belief that his way is the only way with no real consideration for the effects those decisions have on others)

He’s selfish, arrogant, and reckless, he doesn’t seem to take much of anything seriously and that may be a persona (again, I haven’t actually read jjk yet… the ending of mha did the characters, narrative, and audience so gd dirty I need to know how jjk ends so I set my expectations accordingly) but I can very much see this man never really developing his sense of empathy because he never really had any stakes… like he has some understanding, but the god complex and the fact people around him constantly reinforce it… he can’t put himself in other people’s shoes, there’s a detachment from reality that would read as delusional for anybody else, but he has spent his entire life being told he is the strongest with nothing ever being able to prove him wrong.

Than on the flip side of that god complex, honestly for a good while, and still sorta kinda… to me he reads as passively suicidal. (I know “Word of God” can be controversial regarding character analysis because of its absence in the base text) but the fact Gege’s rough rundown of Gojo’s daily schedule was basically “he sleeps for about 3 hours and spends the rest of his time working, his sweet tooth is actually somewhat practical as he uses sugar as a stimulant.” That’s not good for your noggin. Add the isolation caused by his status and his god complex, I see him coming to the conclusion that the only way he should die, is in battle.

And he did! Even if wasn’t in the “final sacrifice that ensures he becomes a legend” sort of way I think he would’ve hoped for.

But that also felt… right? (Certainly not fair, Gege openly admitting he kills off fan favorites for the shock value does dampen the possible emotional impact that could’ve been achieved… but I digress)

Every time Gojo fights, and I mean properly fights, he’s smiling, it’s a game to him, a chance to show off, to assert his dominance and reaffirm his status… so him dying so suddenly that his legs are still standing as his upper half falls to the floor, he’s lying there choking on his own blood as he bleeds out and Sukuna saying it “cleared his skies” (weird phrasing, but I think that’s a cultural/translation thing) it could’ve been a gut punch of a tragedy that amped up the stakes of the final conflict! The protagonists’ trump card is gone in a handful of panels and a flick of the wrist! He’s bleeding out on the ground as the big bad seems to reach a moment of genuine inner peace! But the backtracking and Gege’s history lessened that significantly

tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Shonen Jump had something to do with it… the motivations for Gege’s writing choices are questionable to me (it feels spiteful and cheap) but they’ve been consistent until now, what changed?

Anyway it is… 5:45 am… I should be asleep, but I’m here vomiting character analysis based on partial information in your inbox… I hope you have a good day/night/whatever is appropriate for when you receive this

I hate that you had me read all that, but I couldn't agree more with most that you said (except maybe where you call him selfish and I lowk think geges killing system is fair and I like it a lot but🤷).

Anyways, I don't know how to really respond to this since you basically did all the talking lol (plus I'm tired from reading all that and just got out of school).

I do have a question tho. how did you start with jjk0??? Like how does something like that happen. Also you haven't watched the anime or anything😭???

Anyways, thanks for dropping this essay on me have a good day/night or life in case we never speak🩵

24 notes · View notes

galactickohipot · 2 months

Text

Hmm so I've seen a lot of ppl say there's no stakes in FFXIV anymore because the WoL is too strong anyway. Like sure, making the WoL a godslayer isn't making things easy, but that's not truly where the issue is imo. Spoilers for DT's msq!!!

The main problem to me, is that the writers now consider that a victory through fighiting is a victory in the story. It kinda boggles my mind that there aren't negative repercutions for using violence anymore... It's especially true in DT: when you fight it's always the right thing to do and all fights have a positive influence on the story. It's pretty much "right is might and might is right" all around. The characters never doubts their fight is a righteous one for a second, and we are never given an ambiguous win either. Wuk Lamat is only able to influence the story because she becomes strong and she becomes strong because she is right and good. It is ironic for a character that is so focused on peace and love. Yet the story will still consistantly reward the characters for crushing their opponents. Storywise it doesn't make sense. It only cheapens your victories, so of course you would need to amp up the stakes. (also please note: these issues were already present when Ishikawa was at the helm, but there were other things to balance it out in ShB though.)

In contrast, in ARR and HW, there usually was a downside to the WoL's victory. It wasn't the entire story!

For example, a part I particularly like in 3.0 is the first time you slay Nidhogg. Not only is this done by Estinien after you've weakened the dragon; but it actually feels like a defeat. The entire game up to this point had your group try to mend the relationship between ishgardians and dragons. Estinien warms up to your group and Ysayle, and you can feel he is slowly begining to hope for lasting peace. However, with Hraesvelgr's revelations, Ysayle's dellusions are exposed and all the progress made towards reconcilliation is reduced to nothing. Worse, Estinien's violent and vengeful ways are proven to be the only solution. Truly, a terrible setback for the characters, and it results in an empty victory over Nidhogg. Sure you beat the baddie, but it's devastating for Alphinaud and Ysayle. It even comes back to bite Estinien in the butt when he gets possessed. There was more to the story than just finally beating a very strong foe, and it is made apparent at that moment. Even though the wol won every fight, it didn't mean that the main characters would be victorious. It could either be a diplomatic defeat, your beliefs could be challenged, or one of your allies could die. Unforeseen consequences were right around the corner. Plus, your character is only one person. Things could still happen outside of their reach, like at the end of ARR. Regardless of your WoL's strength, there are many ways you can create tension for a story!

In earlier expacs, there used to be a feeling that your battles wouldn't necessarily win the war. No need for a world ending threat then, to have stakes.

#ffxiv #ffxiv dawntrail #dawntrail spoilers #rant #DT msq is trash #I read comic books trust me I can enjoy some trashy bs #but make no mistake DT is not what good writing looks like

43 notes · View notes

fleet-of-fiction · 8 months

Text

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Six

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

A/N: This particular chapter includes themes of extremely dark thoughts. Including thoughts of ending life. This is integral for the storyline. Does not reflect the writers personal thoughts or feelings towards triggering potential readers as it is not their intention to do so. So please, proceed with caution, as always. And if you don't wish to read such themes please do not read this chapter.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 470 ~ Jake

She looked so peaceful. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were rolling around behind closed lids. And even though I wondered what she was dreaming about, I didn't dare wake her. There was just something unsettling about trying to sleep in other people's houses and I had never slept well a single night until I found her.

I saw no reason to wake her just to tell her I was going back to the music room. I figured she would hear me as soon as dawn broke and come looking for me. Now that I'd picked up a guitar again, it was like I was being called to arms. The need to play was a welcome and not a melancholy reminder anymore.

In the early hours of morning it still felt as if the world was asleep. That everyone was still tucked up in their beds, just a few hours away from alarm clocks going off and coffee pots being switched on. It was easy to forget at this time, easy to pretend that we were the only ones left. I sometimes liked to wake up early just to catch that feeling.

It was still dark outside as I set myself up on one of the amps. I turned the volume right down and closed the door. Strumming a few notes but not playing anything in particular. I couldn't set myself to something I'd already played, and was still figuring out how to create something now on my own. It still felt strange not having Josh stood there telling me it needed to be a little faster or slower. Or Sam picking which one of us he was going to agree with that day, my heart sinking if he'd chosen Josh. Our mediator sitting behind his drums diligently tapping away if the conversation got a little too heated. I hadn't really given much thought to how much I missed Danny. But now that I was staring at the old drum kit by the window, I realised that I did miss him.

I wasn't really paying attention to the window behind. Or the pair of eyes watching me. My mind was stepping back in time, trying to think of old riffs that I'd abandoned. It wasn't until they moved that I almost dropped the guitar straight onto my foot. Something I'd never done before.

"Holy shit!!!" I cursed, reeling back as the eyes reflected in the light from inside the house.

I couldn't see much, other than a pair of roving circles peering in. I could feel my breath catch in my chest, panic begin to rise. I knew it wasn't human by the way it moved, only a foot or so off the ground and far too prowl- like to belong to any man or woman.

"What the fuck are you?" I wondered aloud, slowly inching towards the glass as if it could somehow reach me through it.

My heart was pumping blood so quickly around my body that I dizzied as I stood. Terrified that whatever it was could somehow get inside and get to Amelia before I could. As I drew closer I could hear the sound of a pitiful whine over the roar of the breeze. And although it was dark, and the reflection of the room was all I could see, the sound reminded me of something I'd heard before.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, switching off the lamp so that I could better see through the dark, the eyes which watched me immediately fading into the morning pitch black.

How many times had I been foolish in my life? When I thought about it, I could raise a nostalgic smile at the boy who had gone into dive bars before he was old enough to drink in them and played guitar while fights broke out around him. And I could consider all the times I'd cliff jumped into abandoned quarries and somehow crawled back out with my life intact. All the times I'd made myself look stupid in front of girls I liked. Done something or said something to make them think I was an idiot. Or not said something at all, the most foolish thing I could do.

Perhaps none of it was quite as thoughtless as what I did that morning. I checked on Amelia before I grabbed my jacket and went outside. She was still right where I left her, unmoved. I had thought that I might take a walk around the perimeter of the house. See if the creature was still out there.

I didn't think what would happen, could happen. Of all the risks I'd taken in my life, I never envisioned that I'd end up where I did. It was still a little cold as I buttoned up. I could see my breath as the light began to creep in from behind clouds. The wind was enough to move my hair, but moved only gently through the tree's above. A soft white noise soundtracked my steps as I traversed around the heavy woodland surrounding the house.

Until I found myself at the back yard. Staring at the window to the room where I'd just been playing guitar. Not a soul in sight.

"I'll be damned." I whispered to myself, certain that I'd find something.

I knew that what I'd seen I couldn't have imagined. I'd tripped so many times before, I knew the difference between what was real and imagined. I started moving towards the glass, watching my own reflection approach until I could clearly see the guitar right where I had almost dropped it onto my foot.

Dumbfounded. A little spooked, even. I could feel the hairs on my forearms prickle.

"I know there's something out here." I told myself.

Almost as if I was inviting it, I could feel something at my back. I slowly turned. Fear and foolishness gripping me by the throat. I backed up against the window pane. Not one set of eyes, but several stepped out from behind the trees. And I knew I was cornered.

"Clever." I remarked under my breath. "You weren't hurt at all, were you?"

I wondered if they smelled my fear. If they could hear the rush of blood through my veins as my heart pumped faster. There was nowhere for me to run. I scanned across every possible route and all of them were guarded closely by snarling teeth and renegade desires to feed.

If this was how I met my end all I could think of was Amelia. Sleeping soundly, lost in dreams only to wake to find that I was no longer there. I could feel the raging heart in my chest break as I imagined her finding them gnawing away at my corpse. Terrified that I wouldn't be enough to fill their bellies, and that they'd lure her out to die too.

Once they'd been loyal pets. Wearing collars and leashes. They would come when their masters called and chase balls when they were thrown. Settle in front of warm fireplaces and have their bellies rubbed if they rolled over. I could see it in their eyes. The pack mentality that had been suppressed for generations, the wolves in their blood howling to return to their most basic of natures. They were evolving. Growing tactful in their hunt. Luring out their prey under false pretences.

"Easy, now." I said, holding flat palms in front of me, wondering if they would respond to hearing commands they might have forgotten. "Good dogs. Sit...Stay..."

The dog that had appeared to me first cocked his head to the side a little. He was a big, imposing Shepherd breed. With a long nose and a set of sharp teeth on display. His hair was all matted underneath, an old wound still healing on his front leg. None of the dogs sat at my command. I had no control.

"No!" I warned bluntly, "There's a good boy now, Sit!"

It was as if they knew the words but couldn't recall what they meant. Standing in a semi-circle against me. I could see the smaller dogs behind, a counter-pack of terriers and spaniels. It was as if they knew the bigger dogs would have the most impact and had chosen their place in the flanks. To my left was a jet black Dobermann, clipped ears pinned back as it waited for instruction. To my right was a blue eyed Husky with the fairest white mane. Beautiful, if it weren't threatening to tear me limb from limb. And directly in front was my adversary. The Shepherd.

"I know you're hungry." I reasoned, some irrational part of my brain convinced somehow that they would understand. "I can help you, we can find food together. Just don't hurt me."

I wondered why they hesitated. If their hunger was so absolute why didn't they attack on sight? What were they waiting for? They knew I couldn't run. Were they enjoying this? Taking delight in their hunt? What could have possibly made them approach like this, without taking me down in one mass attack?

"Oh my god."

I felt my stomach turn as the penny dropped. I had been lured out there. I was just a pawn in their attempts to lure more food out. There wasn't enough meat on my bones to feed them all. And they knew that.

"You can't have her." I promised, "So, you're just going to have to feast on me."

I'd barely considered what had happened to the dogs that were left behind. I'd crossed paths with a few of them during my time on the road. Some of them would regard me, but rarely approach. Lost in their own wondering of where their beloved people had gone. Some would approach me cautiously, in the endless pursuit of food. But not like this. This was calculated. Organised.

"Jake?!"

Her voice called out from the distance. I could see their ears turn. Saliva dripping from their jowls.

"Please, Jake!!!" She screamed, tortured by my unexplained absence.

Every instinct in me had to fight not to call back. Her begging cries called out to me like a beacon alighted on the mountainside. It was my duty to respond, to let her know that I was still here.

"You keep your eyes on me, you hear?"

I'd never wanted anything more than to see her turn that corner and know that I would never willingly choose to leave her. But if she did, she courted death. Did I want her to live in a world without me? Better to have thought I had vanished than died.

Somehow I found the courage to run. And to my utter horror and relief, they followed.

Day 473 ~ Amelia

I could hear the bird song in the morning light. Another day to exist in a place where once he had. It didn't feel like it had the first time, when everyone else had disappeared. This was more crucifying than anything I could have ever endured before. This wasn't just figuring out how to live on my own, this was figuring out how to do it knowing that I had loved someone else so deeply I wanted only to die.

I walked back to the cabin without him. The acoustic guitar he had played Broken Bells on for me tucked beneath my arm as I made the journey alone. What had begun as such a wholesome idea, ended with me losing him. And I regretted the choice to take him up to that forsaken house. Never had I regretted anything more.

I looked at the spaces where once he'd dwelled. Felt his presence like a ghost that haunted me. Echoes of his voice calling out on the wind, keeping me from sleep in the night and my mind elsewhere during the day. I was keeping the animals fed, but barely functioning. And on the third day without him, I began to consider that I did not want this life.

Day 475 ~ Amelia

The rot had set in. The chickens clucked in their coop. The horses whined in their stables. And I laid in the same sheets that still carried his scent as I stared out of the window. Watching clouds pass over the canopy of trees. Wishing that I could just float away. There was no meaning to any of it anymore. I longed for that same end which had come to everyone, save me.

With Jake, it had been easy to forget that I'd been forsaken. Forgotten. Left behind, or spared. Whichever was the truth, none of it mattered whilst I had him by my side. It was him and it was me, this was ours. A solitary place for us to live out our days until we were old and had forgotten that once we'd live in a world where other people had.

I couldn't do this without him. And so I kept myself wrapped in bed sheets where he'd made love to me before and the fabric still carried the memory of his body. If only me and this bed sheet remembered him it meant that once he'd been real. And I could die knowing that wherever he was, perhaps I'd reach him in death.

Day 477 ~ Amelia

I kicked the corpse of the chicken I had starved to death. Moving it's lifeless body with the edge of my foot as I threw down some feed for the ones who had made it through my grief. I had long since brushed my hair or my teeth. The heavy weight of losing Jake mirrored in the depth of the dark circles beneath my eyes, my pallor was grey. I had not eaten in days and the thought of plucking the dead chicken for meat turned my stomach, so I threw it out into the woods and hoped some creature would find it a tasty meal.

I wasn't living. And the concept of no longer being here began to feel like a gift that I would be giving myself. I didn't want any of this anymore without Jake. Where once there'd been hope that I could do this alone, in it's place was just memories of him that hurt so badly I could scarcely go a day without clutching my belly and falling to my knees. Wailing into the ether where none could hear me.

This wasn't life. It was purgatory. Just a gateway between life and death. My heart was still inexplicably beating. But without purpose. And I was tired of it. For seven days I had tried and failed to carry on without him and for seven days I had carried a strength I could no longer bear. If I was weak, then I'd walk into that weakness willingly and with the knowledge that I had tried. And the only hope that I had left was that which told me that Jake waited for me on the other side.

The version of him that I had imagined was all that I had left. I had loved him so much that I had known that losing him would completely eradicate all my desire to live. There was no amount of time that I could have had with him that would have ever been enough. And the moments which we had shared now felt like only one or two stitches on what could have been a rich tapestry. If I didn't live, there would be nobody left to remember him. But if I lived, I would remember him. And that in itself was the most cruel of fates.

Day 478 ~ Amelia

Today. I had considered it enough. Today was going to be my final day on earth. And although the manner within which I would unravel from my mortal coil had not been determined, I knew that by the time the sun began to set that I'd be set within my death.

I woke early. There were signs of spring in the air as I showered and dressed. The air a little warmer. The sun rising a little earlier. And I finally brushed my hair and teeth. Making sure that I went to my end with a little dignity. I tended to the animals and although I wasn't quite sure why, knowing their end would be as bitter as mine, it felt good to be doing something useful again.

I ate a small breakfast of scrambled eggs and drank a cup of hot coffee. I took a blanket out onto the porch swing and read a few chapters of a book that I'd neglected. All things which I would have done on any other uneventful day. And as I looked up from my pages, I tried to imagine Jake chopping wood on the block opposite the porch.

His wide swing circling back, the axe in both hands. His hair blowing in the breeze, and a look of absolute satisfaction on his lips as the axe blew the wood apart. The back of his hand rested against his forehead as he began to sweat, even though the temperatures outside were far too cool.

I stared into the brush, the green and the brown and the bark of the tree's all lining up to create the forest floor beyond. Listening to the soft bird call and wind through the leaves. I put my book down and decided to just sit there a while and take it all in while I could.

Everything was perfectly still. As if it had paused itself in the wake of my decision to leave it all behind. I almost felt as if I couldn't have picked a more perfect day. I was calm, perhaps too calm.

"I really wish you were here." I said, my eyes roving around the beauty of the forest for one last time.

That was when I saw it. Emerging from beyond what my eye could see. I squinted into it. Not certain at first, convinced that I was imagining it. I slid off the porch swing and advanced down the steps. Something moved between the tree's. Something that wasn't swaying in the breeze or part of the natural order of things. It was dark at first, just a spectre that I couldn't clearly define.

"Jake?!" I said his name before I even knew that it was him.

His name on the breeze called to him. He moved more swiftly, moving aside the shrubbery with his bare hands as he began to run. And I, too, began to run on bare feet into the woods.

"Jake!!!" I screamed it, aching to reach him before I would be torn from this sweetest of dreams.

I purged myself of the love I had for him. Roaring in sobs that came to me unbound as I reached him in a small clearing just beyond the cabin boundary. Over those biting sobs, there was no sound. I buried my face into the curve of his hollow neck. Whatever had been locked inside me, spilling out against his flesh. I cried without thought or regard. I had no control over it, the days of struggle all seemed to converge until I cried hopelessly and fiercely into him.

He clutched me tightly. Refusing to let him see my face, I forced myself to stay against his chest. This dream I would not wake from. If I looked into his eyes I would know it wasn't real and I was not ready to give it up. I would let him hold me for as long as I could hold on to him. And I would cherish the sweetness of such a vivid untruth. It was all but a dream, just a dream...

"Amelia..." He uttered.

"No..." I hushed. "Don't speak, don't wake me."

Birds stirred in the distance. Somewhere the breeze picked up, and I could hear the slither of it through leaves that had fallen onto the ground. Picking them up in a vain attempt to return them to the air.

"Amelia, my love...open your eyes." He urged, that familiar touch of his hand coming to rest on my cheek.

I had cried enough. There were no tears left. But when I opened my eyes, they continued regardless. Not sobs of grief, but quiet droplets of something which I had no name for.

"Jake." I repeated in whisper, although he wasn't the Jake of my memory.

He was changed. The hair which used to flow down over his beautiful face had been chopped just above his shoulders. Rough stubble pebbled his upper lip and chin. But the eyes which bore down into me were the same. I would have known those eyes even if he had changed beyond all recognition. His arms felt the same, too. A mixture of desire and urgency and restraint. And for one still moment I took in the sight of him, before venomous anger took over.

I struck him once. Cold and hard across his jawline. He turned his face away but did not buckle with the blow. I had probably not struck him hard enough, or perhaps he had been expecting it. He didn't release me, and I was glad. And when he turned back, his face had not changed. As if he'd felt nothing. Or perhaps, he'd felt worse and this was nothing in comparison.

"I deserved that." He breathed, the sound of his voice filling me such relief I almost died right there just as I had planned to.

If I had known in that moment what it was within his mind, perhaps I would have prepared myself better. As much as anyone can be prepared for a kiss that they never thought they would have again.

He clasped me harder, his hands crushing my arms as he pulled me into him. He turned his head slightly, too swiftly for me to consider it. As if he had never been in any doubt that this would be how we would reunite. He brushed his lips against mine. Softly at first, those eyes probing me for the briefest moment for permission of sorts. And then he kissed me harder, deeper and with fierce conviction. Whatever small part I had in this kiss, I knew it was my place to submit to it. He pushed his body against mine, his mouth opening and showing me that nothing else mattered.

I fought against his tongue. Wanting it so badly, but too full of wondering to let him have too much of it. I let him have a moment of it. And not a second more.

"Jake, please..." I pulled back, holding his face between my palms as I studied the sunken cheekbones beneath his dark eyes. "You've been gone for eight days."

"I know." He replied, "And for eight days I've been trying to get back to you."

I didn't understand, couldn't fathom what he had been through. Somehow it was etched there in his emaciated face. A struggle I would never be able to share the depth of with him. And he, in return, would never be able to follow me into mine.

"I don't understand." I muttered, turning his face this way and that to try and see a hint of what it had cost him to return to me. "I thought you had....vanished."

"You think that I would choose to leave you?" He simpered, taking another kiss as we began to rise. "That's not a choice I ever thought I'd have to make. But I did. And I would do it again a thousand times to keep you safe."

There would be time enough for explanations. He was weary. Dishevelled and somehow traumatised. And so I silently led him back to the cabin, my arm around his waist. The outline of his ribs against my hand. And any thought of my own death somehow completely gone from me.

Day 479 ~ Jake

She was a sight for sore eyes. Resting her little head on my chest. Hair fanned out across my arm, the scent of it like pine and moss. I was showered and she'd made food for me. Silently eating it as she sat beside me at the kitchen table, stroking my hair and looking at me as if she'd never seen anything more precious to her.

No sooner had I pushed my empty plate aside, she'd taken my hand and told me to get in bed. And I'd insisted that she crawl in beside me. Folding herself up into my side like she'd always belonged there. And for the first time in eight days I felt rested.

"You haven't asked me what happened out there." I mentioned, resting my cheek against her crown.

"You'll tell me when you're ready." She replied, sighing deeply as she swept her fingertips across my stomach.

I could see a madness in her that hadn't been there before. I tried to imagine what it had been like for her, but my thoughts always fell short. She was quiet. I kept catching her gazing at me as if she couldn't quite believe that I was there. She'd even sat with me as I showered, handing me the soap and watching the dirt slide off my back.

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I did tell you." I surmised, running my hand down her spine, feeling her body shift as she turned to look at me.

"Try me." She answered, calm and collected, as if we were talking about a T.V show we'd watched. "I've considered everything. Driven myself mad with it."

"I know." I replied softly, "You didn't deserve that. But what's happening out there... it's unlike anything that we could have been prepared for."

Her interest piqued, she raised herself up onto an elbow and furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean? Out there?" She said, "How far did you go?"

I didn't have a distance that I could tell her in numbers. Only that I'd gone beyond where my scent could be traced back. Days and nights of running, being hunted. The pack were smart. Even when I'd climbed tree's to avoid their eye line, they'd lingered on the forest floor picking up the scent of me and waiting for me to make my next move.

I knew that if I went back to the cabin they'd follow me there. I had to get them far enough away and lose them so that I could circle back without bringing them with me. On the fourth day I lost them, their senses distracted, and it had taken another four days to get back.

"We need to secure the perimeters of the cabin. Make sure the livestock is safe. That nothing can get in." I told her, my voice unintentionally rising to panic.

"Why?!" She asked, "What happened, Jake? You're scaring me."

There would be time enough to tell her. That the creatures we'd once held so dear had gone back to their most basic bloodlines. That the wild animals were welcoming their domestic kin back into the fold. That the wolves had descended, but not as we remembered them. They were just regular dogs. Like the one my brother had loved and kept. Her name was Rose and she had slept on my bunk in the tour bus, sniffling in my guitar cases for treats. The softest, most loving creature I had ever known. And I just couldn't picture her a snarling, starving mess with dripping fangs and a taste for blood.

But somehow I knew she was out there, trying to survive if she hadn't already died.

"I'll tell you, baby." I promised, pulling her back onto my chest, not certain I could look her in the eye as I spoke.

All I wanted to do was hold her. Remind myself why I'd risked everything. She listened to me and hummed in agreeance to everything I said. Gasping in disbelief at my tale of pursuit. She would circle her fingers over my navel as she listened, drawing little intakes of breath from me as I tried to paint her a vivid picture until I had to give in to her.

No more talking. No more desperately trying to cling on to the fact that I'd made it back home to her. What was any of it for if not for the sweetness of her body? Her kiss? I wanted to reunite with her in the only way that I could. Pushing her onto her back, striking my thumb across her cheek as I swept her hair away from her face.

"Why'd you chop your beautiful hair off, Jake?" She asked, picking up a tendril of what used to sit on my collar bone.

"That's how I managed to fool them." I replied, nodding into a smiling kiss. "I cut my hair and scattered it for them to confuse my scent. Once they were distracted, I managed to put a few miles between us."

The way she looked at me made my heart rush. Every empty space without her filled with a warmth that felt like home. She looked at me as if I held the world in my hands for her. I was the one who made it turn.

"Don't you ever disappear on me like that again, Jacob."

She meant it. Stoic and steadfast, she didn't miss a beat.

"No Ma'am." I replied, sinking into a kiss that made my cock start to awaken to the possibility of that proper reunion.

She wasted no time. Climbing on top of me, letting her hair fall. Her perfect breasts pushed up against my chest as she kissed me. Blood pumped harder in my veins. My body somehow awakening the strength to wrap my arms around her and spin her onto her back. She squealed with joy. Her laughter filling my senses like music I'd never heard before.

And I forgot everything that had happened before that sweet moment.

Day 479 ~ Amelia

My man. My quick thinking silent protector. He was mine. And as he laid me down beneath him I'd never felt more safe. The scent of his freshly washed body, the lines of bones that now protruded signalled his struggle and I held them close to me as he parted my legs.

The nightmares we'd had could wait. I welcomed him between my thighs and let him push his hard cock into my desperately wet pussy that had pined for him just as much as my heart had. Soon he was writhing above me, panting for breath and sealing his lips to my nipples as he thrusted against me. And I forgot that I'd wanted to die. The invisible thread which kept me tethered to this life had returned to me. And I could never tell him what I'd intended to do.

"Fuck, I missed you...I missed this." He breathed the words against my chest, sliding his tongue across the valley of my breasts.

There was nothing more erotic than the sweet reunion of lovers who had never known that they would ever meet again. In the world we'd once lived in, a call or a text would have eased our worried minds. But without so much as a letter to be delivered, I'd lived in a state of unknowing. It felt almost unreal to have him bared to me, making love to me in a bed he'd been wholly absent from.

I couldn’t get enough of him. I was tired and sore but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted the ache. I wanted him in me, all the time. His weight on top of me. I wanted to squeeze him in further and further. I wanted to watch his face. I wanted his sweat to drop onto me. I wanted to drop mine on him. To feel the bitterness that had kept us apart dissipate in the feral moans that rang out from that bedroom of ours.

"Never again Jake..." I made him swear. "Don't you ever leave me again... Don't leave me alone in this world."

He was breathless and covered in sweat. His and mine. Pussy juice and the cum which had leaked from his tip smeared across our bodies. The gentle rhythm of our love making turning into fierce sex that would bring us to completion.

The depth of his despair was in the way he looked at me then. He took my hair in his fist, holding me still. My legs spread wide for him, his hips grinding into me as if he couldn't bear it.

"I'll die before I ever leave you alone, my love." He whispered solemnly, pressing his mouth against my ear.

"Now hush." He ordered, "And take what I have to give you..."

I could only submit to the violent way he fucked me. Screaming his name into the night. And somewhere in the distance, under the light of the full moon, a wolf howled into the wind...

To be Continued...

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

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

67 notes · View notes

craftystampin · 2 years

Text

Stampin Scoop Hello, Irresistible and More Online Exclusives Suite Episode 156

Stampin Scoop Hello, Irresistible and More Welcome back for part 2 of the Stampin’ Scoop show featuring the Stampin’ Up! Online Exclusives with lots of Hello, Irresistible Collection samples. Stampin’ Up’s just dropped a new line of “Online Exclusive” products. Tami and I shared a sampling of them in our pre-order haul last month but now we’re able to share them all! And in addition to the hot…

View On WordPress

0 notes

chvoswxtch · 2 years

Note

Hey I have a Dark Matt x reader smut request.

Matt comes back from patrol and relieves his stress with reader but is rough and reader has bruises everywhere the next day when he notices the bruises he has a guilty conscience.

hello love! thank you so much for the request! I hope this is close to what you were looking for. ❤️

warning: contains explicit sexual content, minors please dni. word count: 1.9k

marks.

Dainty patches of violet and navy had begun to bloom on various patches of your skin. Along the column of your throat, down your arms, across your thighs. Matt’s fingerprints were embedded on your hips as if he’d stamped them with ink. You could even make out the perfect outline of his palm on your ass. He’d left various marks with his teeth on your collarbones, shoulders, and several across your neck, causing varying hues of maroon to rise to the surface. Last night had been…intense.

Roughness was not essentially new between you and Matt. Some nights when he came home from patrol, he was too amped up to even attempt to wind down. He only found calm in the release that you granted him with your body. Only after he channeled all that excess energy into bringing you both several rounds of pleasure was he finally spent enough to find peace in sleep beside you. You never really minded. Sometimes you even craved it. Making love to Matt Murdock, or even playful sex with him was one thing. But being fucked by the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? That was a whole other realm of rapture. It made your heart swell with pride and excitement that you were his calm amongst the chaos; that you could subdue the devil with the portal to heaven between your thighs. But last night had been…different.

It started off normal. Matt slowly descended the stairs as he pulled off his gloves, a seductive smirk on his sinful lips as he took note of the way your heart rate increased with every step he took. You could tell by the look on his face what he wanted, and God if you weren’t ready to let him take it. Matt had been staying out extra late this past week, and you had missed him terribly. It had felt like an eternity since he’d last touched you. He wasted no time capturing your mouth, letting his hands roam all over the parts of you that weren’t covered by his shirt and then slipping them underneath to feel the rest of you. Everything seemed to be normal until he had you pinned beneath him on the mattress, and then it was like something inside him snapped.

Matt’s kisses became more rushed and forceful, almost bruising. He bit down on your bottom lip so hard, you swore he’d drawn blood and could taste the metallic tang on your tongue. His grip on your waist was rough, fingers digging into your flesh like blunt daggers. He had you completely trapped beneath his body, surrendered to his mercy, both of your hands imprisoned above your head in one of his as he fucked you at a brutal pace. The coarse growls that sounded in your ear sent shivers down your spine, but it was nothing compared to the feral look in his eyes. The normal golden honey had been eclipsed by onyx, and it felt like you were staring up at his devil mask rather than him. You couldn’t hardly recognize the face above you.

“Who’s pussy is this, huh? Who’s fucking pussy is this?”

“Y-yours.”

“Louder.”

“Yours…”

“Say it, louder.”

“Yours!”

Something about it felt off. You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t find your voice. He flipped you over without warning, and before you had a chance to feel the sting of his withdrawal, Matt was burying himself inside you to the hilt. He roughly shoved your face down into the pillows and set a brutal pace behind you. Your body jolted forward with every powerful snap of his hips, and every harsh slap of his palm against your ass. Matt reached forward and captured one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger, squeezing so hard it caused you to yelp.

“Ah..Matt!”

“That’s it, let everyone know who’s fucking you this good. Let everyone fucking know.”

Matt fucked you mercilessly, but you weren’t enjoying it like you normally did. Something didn’t feel right. It felt like he was mad at you for something, like he was punishing you for something you weren’t aware of. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his pace getting sloppy, the guttural grunts behind you letting you know he was close. Matt let out a loud, animalistic groan as he came and it made you shudder. Your legs gave out when he released your hips and you fell onto your side on the mattress, curling up into yourself. Matt panted as he laid beside you, resting his hand on your waist.

“Fuck…sorry, I couldn’t hold it. Give me a second and I’ll help you finish.”

“N-no, you don’t have to.”

“You sure? You didn’t-”

“It’s okay. I’m really tired. Let’s just go to bed.”

You felt Matt tense up behind you, and you wondered if he realized just how rough he’d been. He silently wrapped his arm tightly around your waist and pulled you back against his chest, nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing a soft kiss to your skin. All night you laid there in his embrace trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. If he was mad at you, why was he cuddling you? Wouldn’t he have said something? What would he even be mad about? What had you done? You racked your brain tirelessly for an answer, but nothing came to mind.

You could hear Matt cooking in the kitchen when you woke up. For a minute you thought maybe you had been wrong last night. Maybe you had read everything wrong. Maybe you were reading into things too much. But then you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Matt had certainly left marks on you before, but never anything like this. You nervously ran your fingers through your hair as you tried to figure out how to approach this. A light grasp on your arm had you flinching, and you turned just in time to catch the smile on Matt’s face drop into a pit of worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Matt sighed as he took a step closer, taking one of your hands into his.

“Sweetheart, don’t do that. You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“I’m just…sore. That’s all.”

“Sweetheart-”

The hiss that escaped your mouth when Matt touched your shoulder had him freezing immediately. He tilted his head to the side slightly, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as his eyes darted blankly back and forth. Your heart started to race once you realized what he was doing.

“Matt-”

It was too late. His eyes widened in horror as he took in the state of your body. You sighed softly as you reached out to place your hand against his bare chest.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? Y/N you’re covered in…fuck. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m okay, Matty. It doesn’t hurt-”

“Don’t lie to me. If it didn’t hurt, you wouldn’t flinch when I touch you.”

“It’s just sore, that’s all. I’m okay. I just-”

Matt tried to fixate his gaze where your eyes were, his chest rising and falling a little quicker as he waited for your response.

“Just what?”

“I…are you mad at me?”

Matt’s eyebrows rose to the center of his forehead, staring at you incredulously as a dry scoff escaped his mouth.

“Am I mad at you? Are you-why would you ask me that?”

“Because that’s what it felt like, Matt.”

Matt’s mouth hung open for a second as he studied you, taking a cautious step forward and lightly wrapping his arm around your waist.

“What do you mean?”

“Last night…it…it felt like you were mad at me for something.”

“What? No…no sweetheart, of course not. Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I couldn’t figure out. You know I-I don’t mind when you’re…last night just…it felt different. I don’t know-I just…”

“Was it too much?”

You hated the somber look on Matt’s face right now. You hated the guilt you heard dripping from his voice.

“It was…just…not what I was expecting. I mean, did something happen? Were you upset about something? It didn’t seem like it when you came home…but I-I don’t know. Maybe I missed it.”

“You didn’t miss anything. Nothing happened. I wasn’t upset. I guess I…I lost control”.

Matt dropped his arm from around your waist and took a few steps backward, leaning against the bathroom counter as he nibbled at his bottom lip. He exhaled deeply as he rubbed his palms against his face.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to-”

“No. No, I-maybe I…maybe it was me. Maybe I…I don’t know. Maybe I thought I was in the mood for that, and I wasn’t.”

“I should’ve checked in with you first.”

“You did, Matty. I wanted to, okay? God I really wanted to. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why it felt different, it just…I don’t know.”

“I pushed you too far. It’s my fault. I should’ve paid more attention last night. I should’ve caught that…that it was too much. I should’ve realized when you told me you didn’t want me to-I’m sorry.”

You cupped Matt’s face in your hands and brought his head down to press your forehead against his, lightly stroking your thumbs along his cheek bones.

“Hey, I know you would never intentionally hurt me. I know that. Maybe you lost control, maybe I was in a weird headspace. I don’t know. But either way, I know that and I trust you. I love you, Matty. It’s okay.”

“I love you, Y/N. So much. I’m so sorry-”

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I just…wasn’t sure what was happening.”

Matt sighed deeply as he gently wrapped his arms around your waist and held you against his chest.

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Matty, I don’t mind when you leave marks. You know that.”

“Not like this. Not again.”

You shook your head slowly as you lightly trailed your thumb along Matt’s bottom lip.

“Matty, baby, I don’t mind them. Yes I’m a little sore, but that’s not why I was upset. I was worried I’d done something to upset you-”

“And that I took it out on you, like this. That doesn’t make me feel better.”

You sighed softly as you tilted your head back to look up at him, knowing this was a battle you were not winning anytime soon.

“We have got to do something about that Catholic guilt of yours.”

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Matt’s mouth, shaking his head slowly as he nudged your nose with his own.

“Good luck. No one’s found a cure for over two thousand years.”

“Hm. Well, I bet D doesn’t feel guilty about having his fun.”

“That’s because he’s kind of a dick.”

“But so much fun to play with.”

Matt arched one of his brows at your seductive tone, pushing lightly at your waist to put space between the two of you.

“No.”

“Aw c’mon, Matty-”

“Absolutely not. Come eat your breakfast.”

“But-”

“Do as I say, or I’m not letting him out to play again.”

“You don’t have that kind of self control.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what I can commit to sweetheart.”

There was a taunting smirk on Matt’s lips and a flame of challenge flickering in his eyes. If there’s one thing Matthew Murdock was good at, it’s being fucking stubborn. You grumbled as you brushed past him, huffing as he chuckled deeply behind you.

“Good girl.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil smut #daredevil request

631 notes · View notes

lonnitamongus · 1 year

Text

A look at the victims of tcmg

With the new release of Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Game, we have been exposed to a terrifying and tense world with lovely brand new characters in addition to the iconic Sawyers. The victims, all original to the game, are just fantastic. Each of them has a rich backstory to them and more so, clear personalities!

Playing the game and playing a good amount with each victim, I have noticed some clear markers of personality in every character through their dialogue.

Sonny, my main, is a anxious yet steadfast kind of guy. He speaks timidly as a mouse, commenting quietly about how horrifying things are while trying to keep brave. Although in stature he is smaller than the other victims, Sonny is brave despite his greatest fears. He constantly amps himself up, urging himself to not loose hope and to get out of tough spots. I really love how Sonny, alongside Ana, are the friends that try to bring peace of mind to everyone else. Sonny isn't a leader but he is strong support to the other survivors and that fact shows even more in his ability to hear other survivors and the killers from far distances. He's a sort of lookout for the group, staying cunning and brave despite clearly being scared. Another thing I have to point out with Sonny is his connection to Maria. Sonny, alongside Ana, clearly want to find Maria the most out of anyone. Sonny constantly talks about how he recognizes the family members from his investigations. Sonny likely spied on the family members and is likely the one who figured everything out, connecting Maria's disappearance to the family. Sonny clearly was adamant on finding his friend and helping Ana out, he's a true friend.

Then there is Julie and... she is a completely different type of character but I love her for that. She isn't a resilient survivor or a strong willed person. In fact, Julie is like an innocent girl stuck in the worst place she could possibly be. Julie is probably the least hopeful victim in tcmg, she constantly comments on how they are all probably going to die and that there is no hope of them escaping. She is extremely fearful about everything happening and that's the dominant emotion that controls what she does. Julie may be extremely scared but that doesn't change the fact that she's way more adept towards survival than she might think. Her extreme fear helps her as because of it she is much more cautious and stealthy than any other victim. Julie is one of the more tragic victims in this game I feel, she always cries extremely hard when she gets killed and I hate whenever she dies. Julie is a sweet soul and the other survivors comment on that when they find her dead body. Connie for example says "Oh sweetie what did they do to you..." Julie to me is clearly a girl who is a sweet soul and wanted to help find her missing friend but she never thought it would go somewhere so horrible. Out of all the victims, she is the only one who regrets coming her and constantly says that they never should of come here. Julie is also super caring! She asks if the other survivors are hurt and she tells each other to stick together. I also love how she casually calls everyone babe, I think it's just a small detail since she is from California but I still think it's cool. She is an extremely scared person but still has a kind and caring heart.

Ana is probably my favorite character, she is just so extremely bad ass and is for sure the final girl of the game. Not only is she the youngest in the group but she is also the toughest. Not just because her toughness stat is crazy high but because Ana herself is a tough person. Out of all the victims, I'd say she is the most fearless and she uses that to her advantage completely. She fearlessly stands up to the family and she has such devotion for her friends and her sister. Everytime she attacks a family member she screams "This is for Maria" or "What did you do to my sister?!" She is a badass in everyway frankly and I love her for it. Her ability shows that too, SHE LITERALLY IGNORES PAIN BECAUSE HER RESOLVE IS SO STRONG. I mean seriously, talk about final girl. If Ana was armed with more dangerous weapons than just bone knives, she would bring hell upon the family I'm sure.

Okay now we have Leland, who is all around a pretty cool guy. He's loyal, strong, and caring. Leland however, is not tough. He literally whimpers on low health, if you want Leland whimper audio just play him for one game and there you go. Leland has a low tough stat and that shows in his personality too. Leland's voicelines suggest he isn't a very brave person but when worst comes to worst, bravery springs up in Leland when he would least expect it. He does great fighting back against family members better than he does sneaking around hoping they won't find him. I feel like Leland is a little self consious about himself, he doesn't think he has what it takes to survive when it actuality he does. He has a true heart of gold and wrecklessly, yet bravely shoulder charges those killers head on despite his fear.

Last but not least, Connie is our last victim. She's crafty and picks locks faster than Bubba can rev his chainsaw, we all know it and we love her for it. Connie is another character I love, although I think her true personality is dulled down a little in such a tense situation. Some of Connie's voice lines suggest she is a kind hearted and witty woman but most of the time she is completely focused on getting the hell out of here. Connie switches from being a kind friend to a girl with more survival potential than anyone could have guessed. Connie, like Sonny, is scared but at the same time she has the strength to mostly ignore it so she can focus on getting out. Perhaps sometimes too much however as her ability makes her too focused on locks to escape to realize the family is around her. I really like this about her though, it really shows how she gets in a tense situation.

Overall I have been loving the tcm game and it's victims are wonderfully fleshed out. It's really refreshing to see these characters, know their motives for being here and their vastly different personalities. It's really refreshing and it just adds onto the intensity of the game. I want the victims to survive and I feel horrible when they don't because they are all so likeable 😭 tcm is just a great game so far and I'm hopeful that the game will continue going strong and just keep improving.

#tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm #sonny williams #ana flores #connie taylor #leland mckinney #julie crawford #I've been loving this game so much!!!!!#Just examining how unique and full of life each of the victims are #I love that they all have motivations and clear personalities

130 notes · View notes

walkswithmyfather · 2 months

Text

Romans 5:1-2 (AMP). “Therefore, since we have been justified [that is, acquitted of sin, declared blameless before God] by faith, [let us grasp the fact that] we have peace with God [and the joy of reconciliation with Him] through our Lord Jesus Christ (the Messiah, the Anointed). Through Him we also have access by faith into this [remarkable state of] grace in which we [firmly and safely and securely] stand. Let us rejoice in our hope and the confident assurance of [experiencing and enjoying] the glory of [our great] God [the manifestation of His excellence and power].”

“The Grace of God” By In Touch Ministries:

“Because of Jesus, we live with the favor of God.”

“Grace is far more than a mealtime prayer—the word communicates the idea of blessing. As believers, we’re the recipients of grace, which is poured out on us by our heavenly Father. Let’s look at how we experience this amazing benefit of His love.

God’s favor is seen in our salvation (Ephesians 2:8)—a blessing undeserved and unearned. Nothing about us prompted God to save us; He acted purely out of His goodness, sacrificing His Son Jesus in our place. In that way, we could be reconciled to the Father and adopted into His family. Upon salvation, we were transferred from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light (Colossians 1:12-13). Here, we live out our new identity as God’s children and carry out His purpose of glorifying Him.

The beauty of grace becomes especially clear when we consider who we once were: We were spiritually dead, living according to our own selfish interests (Ephesians 2:1). But now, through faith in Jesus as our Savior, we’ve been justified by God and given new life. He has declared that we have right standing before Him (Romans 8:1). All of our sins were placed upon Jesus, and His righteousness has been credited to our account permanently.

Picture yourself living in the favor of God. Internalize this truth, and then give Him thanks.”

20 notes · View notes

basementdoll · 11 months

Text

Spanish Inquisition

Wednesday 13

What does this part-time Murderdoll, chicken lovin’, eyebrow shavin’, horror movie watchin’ dread head have to say for himself when Cardinal Doran asks him your questions and applies the thumbscrews? Read on and find out. Noose of the world: Brother Naki.

Weds: “Right, you must be here to ask me lots of offensive questions?”

Hammer: Usually when we do this we only get questions about how gay are you or how much dick do you love to suck, but this time we’ve only got questions about chickens.

Weds: “Cool! Questions from real fans!”

READ THAT YOU HAD A PET CHICKEN, OMAR. DID YOU JUST GET SICK OF LOOKING AFTER HIM AND EAT HIM?

Pear Black, Via Email

Weds: “No. Unfortunately, not being farmers or anything and not knowing how to take care of chickens, he died. We had a little chicken coop at the side of our guitar amps and our drums. It was the summer, we’d go to practice and leave him and he died of heat exhaustion. So I chopped off his legs and made a little memorial for him by hanging them off my guitar but they got ripped off during one gig. Peace Omar.” [Thumps heart emotively.]

Hammer: What benefits are there to having a chicken instead of a normal pet like a cat?

Weds: “None. The reason I got the chicken was cos when I was a kid people always told me that people like Ozzy Osbourne and Alice Cooper used to bite the heads off chickens live on stage and drink their blood. So for me, I’ve always associated chickens with rock’n’ roll. I never wanted to kill the chicken, I just always wanted it to be there. I'd recommend your readers get a cat instead.”

Hammer: But chickens are good for voodoo rituals as well.

Weds: “And for feathers…”

Hammer: Say if you were going to cook a chicken, what recipe would you use?

Weds: “I’m a big fan of Cajun chicken. I bake chicken pretty much every day of my life, except when I’m on tour because you don’t have access to a stove. You put the chicken in the oven and sprinkle it with salt, pepper and spices and cook it until it isn’t pink in the middle - unless you want to get sick.”

WITH ERIK JOINING NAPOLEON BLOWNAPART, BEN IN NOCTURNE, ACEY IN TRASH LIGHT VISION AND JOEY IN SLIPKNOT, IS THERE ANY HOPE FOR THE MURDERDOLLS GETTING BACK TOGETHER?

Decaying Wench, Hell, Third Door On The Left

Weds: “Well, yeah. There’s always hope. Everybody’s doing their own thing. Joey went back to Slipknot and I started doing this so everybody had to find something to do. I can only speak for myself, because I don’t know what the other guys are doing, but I’m putting 100 per cent into this and it is my number one priority, I’m going to tour this record for as long as I want to. But when the time comes right, everybody feels like doing another Murderdolls record and everybody is on the same page, then yeah, I’ll do it. But there’s no way it’ll happen next year.”

Hammer: How has the material off ‘Transylvania 90210’ been going down?

Weds: “Amazing. I was expecting to get raked across the coals but the kids have been digging it and the reviews from the journalists have been really good as well. People are telling me that it’s much more diverse than the Murderdolls; a lot more like a rollercoaster ride and it’s got many different levels to it.”

HEY TUESDAY, DON’T YOU THINK THAT THE MURDERDOLLS SOUNDS LIKE A REALLY BAD GOFF PORN WEBSITE?

Dan, Chiswick

Weds: “I don’t go to goth porn websites and I don’t think it sounds anything like one. Frankenstein Drag Queen sounds more like a goth porn website.”

Hammer: What are your views on pornography?

Weds: “It happens. I don’t find myself ringing lines or going on websites but if that’s what people do and it makes them happy then more power to them. You won’t be finding me turning up in any porn films by the way. Unlike Fred Durst.”

Hammer: He didn’t come out of that looking well.

Weds: “Fred Durst doesn’t come out of anything looking well.”

SAW YOUR TATTOOS IN METAL HAMMER AND WANTED TO KNOW THE TATTOOIST’S NAME?

Chris, South Africa

Weds: “There was this old guy that I used to go to in my home town of Charlotte, North Carolina but the guy pissed me off and I don’t go to him any more. My new guy is called Mark Evans, who did my stitches which are healing up and he did the new Michael Myers tattoo. I don’t promote my old guy because he was a douchebag.”

Hammer: Did you weep like a six year old girl watching ET when you got them done?

Weds: “No. As I was getting them done I was watching Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure so I was laughing. They hurt though. The ones on the wrists, I think I would have been better just chopping my hands off and sewing them back on: it would have hurt less. It was pretty painful.”

AS THE FUTURE PRESIDENT OF KFC, WHICH DO YOU PREFER: POPCORN CHICKEN OR A FAMILY BUCKET?

Cyhiraeth 13, Via Email

Weds: “Family bucket. Popcorn chicken is different here. In America it is actually just what is left over from the other chicken in the bottom of the tray dumped into a bucket. But also the way you guys cut chicken here is totally different. It baffles me, I don’t know what I’m eating. In America you have a leg, a breast, a thigh and a wing. Over here you have a throat, an ass, an elbow…”

Hammer: We don’t have chicken’s elbows.”

Weds: “What the hell am I eating here? It’s all fucking mixed up, I think I had a throat today!”

Hammer: Just say you developed a food intolerance to chicken what would you do then?

Weds: “I’d eat turkey. I’d just move from one bird to another. And turkey’s better for you.”

Hammer: You should try ostrich. Terminator X, the old DJ from Public Enemy, is now an ostrich farmer in the USA, that’s why he doesn’t go on tour with them because someone’s got to stay home and look after the ostriches.

Weds: “I can’t say that I’ve seen a Kentucky Fried Ostrich restaurant yet but when I do I’ll stop by. I fancy a KFO.”

RECENTLY MY MUMMY BROUGHT HOME A BABY CHICK. AS YOU USED TO HAVE A PET CHICKEN, CAN YOU GIVE ME A FEW TIPS ON HOW TO MAKE IT BE QUIET? ITS TWEETING IS DRIVING ME INSANE.

Eddie, London

Weds: “There’s no way to keep them quiet. Keep them out of the heat. Don’t feed them after midnight. They will actually eat anything you put in front of them. They’ll eat chicken, so give your chicken some KFC and watch it become a cannibal.”

IF YOU COULD REMAKE A HORROR MOVIE AND STAR IN IT, WHAT WOULD IT BE AND WHICH CHARACTER WOULD YOU TAKE?

Charlotte Humphreys, Andover

Weds: “Probably The Abominable Dr Phibes and I would be Dr Phibes because he was the master of revenge and it is my favourite Vincent Price movie. He didn’t really even have to talk to be frightening.”

HEY WEDNESDAY, I WAS WONDERING IF YOU MANAGED TO EAT ONE MILLION PIECES OF FRIED CHICKEN IN 2004 LIKE YOU PREDICTED YOU WOULD?

Storm McCracken, Paraparaumu, New Zealand

Weds: “There’s a good possibility, yeah. I lost count along the way but probably. Not this year though because I turned over a new leaf and now I only eat grilled chicken. I’ve been trying to make sure that I don’t have a heart attack before I’m 30.”

Hammer: Speaking as a bit of a tubby bastard, I was wondering how you stay so slim on such a chicken rich diet?

Weds: “It is basically not eating fried chicken. I went on a diet and I lost 40lbs which shows you how bad it can be.”

COULD A REGULAR PERSON KILL A SHEEP WITH JUST ONE PUNCH TO ITS FACE? I DON’T THINK SO.

Ken B Wild, The Fields

Weds: “Hmmm. It depends on the person. Me? No. I can’t punch a sheep to death but say you’re Tor Johnson from the Ed Wood films, the big guy, he could probably hit a sheep once and break its spine.”

Hammer: I reckon The Thing from The Fantastic Four could waste a sheep.

Weds: “Well, Tor Johnson is probably the closest a human has ever got to being The Thing.

Hammer: What is the biggest creature that you’ve ever killed? Purposefully, that is. Not just forgetting that you’ve left a chicken in a hot room.

Weds: Probably a grasshopper. I don’t hurt animals. When I was a kid I used to do mean stuff but I don’t now. I go out of my way not to hurt stuff.”

DO YOU STILL BELIEVE IN THE EASTER BUNNY?

Goldfinger Rule 502, Via Email

Weds: “Hell yeah! He just came to my house a couple of months ago. He brought my kid a box of candy and $20.”

Hammer: What are your favorite kinds of sweets?

Weds: “I love peanut M&MS. Those things are addictive. I will eat about 10 bags a day if I don’t watch it.”

DEAR WEDNESDAY 13, ARE THINGS STILL TENSE BETWEEN YOU AND YOUR RIVAL THURSDAY 14?

Antibody, Via Email

Weds: “Yeah, we’re still going head to head. One day we’ll meet and slug it out but I will win.”

Hammer: It’s Wednesday the 13th soon, do you do anything out of the ordinary on those days?

Weds: “Not normally but this year we are doing the London show so that should be really remarkable.”

DOES YOUR MOTHER FEEL ASHAMED THAT HER GROWN UP SON FEELS THE NEED TO DRESS LIKE A SPAZZ AND WEAR BAD MAKE-UP?

Eyen, Poshland

Weds: “My mom’s pretty proud of me. She goes out and buys all of the magazines and everything else. She is totally supportive of me and is into what we’re doing.”

WHO WOULD WIN IN A FIGHT BETWEEN A GRIZZLY BEAR AND A SIBERIAN TIGER?

Bobby G, Via Email

Weds: “A grizzly man! You can’t fight a bear! I’ve seen a bear- you can’t fight them.”

Hammer: You saw a bear?

Weds: “On TV. In a zoo. You can’t fight them.”

Hammer: My Chemical Romance got attacked by a moose once. What is the biggest animal you’ve ever been attacked by?

Weds: “I got attacked by a Doberman when I was eight years old. And they can kill you. The dog had cancer and it had this giant tumour on its side and they were going to put it to sleep in a few weeks. But it came up to me while I was on my trampoline and put its legs up and started growling. I was like, ‘Oh shit, what do I do?’ So I decided to try and run down the hill to get home and the dog jumped at me, knocked me down and I ate grass. It never bit me but it stayed right on my ass growling and I just cried all the way home. Which is OK if you’re eight: a Doberman could bite your arm off!”

Hammer: If you say so. Are you nervous about dogs now?

Weds: “I’m not a big dog fan. I like cats and small dogs but big dogs give me the old phobia.”

ISN’T WEDNESDAY A GIRL’S NAME, LIKE THAT BINT OUT OF THE ADDAMS FAMILY? SHOULDN’T YOU BY RIGHTS BE CALLED PUGSLEY 13?

Mr D Monkey, No Fixed Abode

Weds: “Well you know, I don’t have to buy the rights to be named after the day of the week and yeah, I was totally inspired by the character out of The Addams Family, I’ve always admitted that and never tried to hide it. She was always much cooler than Pugsley because he was a little fat guy.”

WHY DON’T YOU HAVE A JASON VOORHEES TATTOO?

War Machine, Via Email

Weds: “It’s in the process. I’m getting Voorhees and Freddie very soon. So gimme some time dude!”

WEDNESDAY, WHY DO YOU SHAVE YOUR EYEBROWS OFF? IT MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE A PLOPHEAD.

He Man, Reading

Weds: “A plophead? A guy with a plop on his head? What is that? If you mean shit head, say shit head. You know, I shave my eyebrows off for one simple reason: my hair is blond. When my eyebrows grow out they are blond, it just doesn’t look good. I don’t have cool eyebrows, so I shave them off. You can hardly see them anyway. I do notice not having them because of the sweat. If you ever see me on stage squinting like this [scrunches up face as if in agony] that means my eyes are burning out of my fucking head.”

#wednesday 13 #metal hammer #my scans #this was so much fun #the idea of wednesday keeping cannibal chickens immediately turns him into a texas chainsaw family member in my head #i need to manifest that either through writing or drawing #the fred durst shit talking is forever hilarious to me #this man fucking hated nu metal with his whole being #and we're not gonna fucking talk about his bound wrists okay we are just NOT gonna fucking talk about that

64 notes · View notes