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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 6 months ago

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Cannibals [Chapter 7: Lightning and Rust]

A/N: Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), babies and parenthood, blood and violence, character deaths, I really cannot summarize this chapter you just gotta experience it, I'll pray for you 🙏

Word count: 6.8k

💙 All my writing can be found HERE! ❤️

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

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You’re curled up in bed with a velvet pouch of hot stones that have gone cold, bloody rags bunched between your thighs, trying desperately to sleep, and outside a storm is brewing over Blackwater Bay and bringing with it dark skies and strikes of lightning that stalk ever-closer. Through the open window, the air tasting like late-summer rain, you can hear Helaena and the maids corralling the children back into the Red Keep. They are laughing because nobody is dead yet, not even the ailing and absent King Viserys, not even doomed little Luke Strong.

Aemond lets himself into your chambers and stands over your bed, staring down at you with some combination of annoyance and concern. You have failed him. You were not where he wanted you to be. “Why weren’t you at the beach?” Playing with your niece and nephews, collecting your seashells.

“Because women are cursed.”

Aemond smiles, perhaps a bit relieved; he has his answer. “And you more than any of them, because you’re so wicked.”

“Maester Orwyle says I can’t have more milk of the poppy for two hours.”

“Then we must listen to him. It is a powerful remedy, and we cannot endanger you.” He takes off his boots and climbs into bed, lying behind you, one hand following the curve of your waist to settle on your lower belly. “I can relax the muscles. It might ease your suffering.”

Right now? “Oh no, no, you don’t want to do that,” you warn him. “It’s very messy.”

“You think I’m afraid of your blood?” Aemond says, amused. “Everything we’re built of is the same.” He lifts the hem of your silk nightgown and reaches underneath the nest of rags, sliding there in the coppery wetness as you inhale sharply, startled but not unwilling. When Aemond removes his hand, the carnage he is stained with is bright crimson but dotted with clots. Then he licks the blood from his fingers and paints his tongue red. You can’t keep the shock from your face. Aemond grins, wets his hand again, draws a heart on your left cheek just beneath your eye. You laugh and pretend to try to shove him away.

“You’re deranged, you’re a monster—”

“Let me help you,” Aemond whispers, nuzzling blood from his lips into your silver hair. “Let me take your pain away like you quiet mine.”

And you surrender to him like you always do—worn down, overpowered, intoxicated, bewitched, seduced, perhaps all at once—and as Aemond’s hand works and the gory metallic ether of blood fills both of your lungs, the cramps dissolve into nothingness and then build to desire, and you’re opening your thighs for him and the rags are whisked away, unnecessary, forgotten, and now there is blood on the bedsheets and your fingers are twisting into the pillows strewn around you, and it doesn’t feel shameful at all anymore, because what is blood if not made from the same minerals as coins and blades and ocean and ash, and what is lust if not a fire that burns the constraints of the world away?

You kiss him as you come, moaning into his bloodstained mouth, biting his lower lip, and if the careless pressure of your teeth makes him bleed then that’s just more iron and copper and steel to add to the molten sea you are marooned in, more magma, more rust. “Enough,” you gasp when the last of the waves have passed and you are emptied and too sensitive, and Aemond knows to listen. Then you reach for Aemond’s trousers, where you can see he is hard. You are abruptly and ruinously exhausted—you struggle to keep your eyes open—but it feels wrong to not take care of him in return.

It shouldn’t take long, he’s already flushed, he’s already dripping sweat—

“No need,” Aemond says, gently stopping your hands. And as you burrow into the pillows and your eyes dip closed, your skin and hair still splattered with red, he slips away silently so you can sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t want to leave you,” Jace says, knowing that he has to anyway. “Either of you.”

You are nursing the baby in a chair by the fireplace; you needed a change of scenery from the bed. The upholstery is pale blue velvet. The blanket the baby is swathed in is embroidered with pine trees and foxes, and far beyond your skill; Lady Caro made it. She is nearly as gifted with a needle as Helaena. On the walls of the bedchamber you share with your husband are mosaics you’ve pieced together over the past nine months here at the modest castle of Heart’s Home in a cold, remote corner of the Vale. The fractured faces look in on you like curious gazes through clear windows: Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Jaehaera, Maelor, Mother, Criston. You aren’t any closer to them now, but you feel like you are. The world seems softer, warmer, smaller.

You smile as you ghost a fingerprint over the baby’s faint dark eyebrows. He’s half-asleep as he suckles, hushed and content and entirely helpless. He has Jace’s coloring, but something about the shape of his eyes reminds you of Aegon. “We’ll be here waiting when you get back.”

“I think he looks a lot like Luke,” Jace says, admiring the baby. He’s standing with one arm draped over the back of your chair and the flickering firelight from the hearth on his face, turning his skin from snow to sunstone. “And Joffrey. His face is rounder than mine.”

“Have you been to the Eyrie to see them since the war began?” Joffrey, Rhaena, Rhaenyra’s young white-haired sons Aegon and Viserys.

Jace shakes his head. “I never wanted to be away from you for longer than necessary. I didn’t want to risk being spotted and revealing where they’ve been hidden. And I didn’t know what to say.” About us, about our marriage, about our baby.

“You should visit them, Jace. I would visit Helaena and her children if I could.” You leave out the others intentionally; Helaena is your only sibling that Jace considers blameless. You miss Aegon and Daeron just as much, but in the solitude of your own heart—in the stillness, in the silence—you aren’t sure if you want to see Aemond again. You don’t know if he will be soft with you, or vengeful or cold, or if he has filled the void of your absence with a lover, something that you cannot think about without your stomach lurching and your skull aching, and so you put him out of your mind as much as you can and stay here with the baby instead.

Jace rests a hand on your shoulder reassuringly, then strokes your cheek. He says, meaning the baby: “We’ll have to get him his own egg.”

“I hope he won’t inherit my affliction,” you murmur somberly. “I hope he’ll have a dragon someday.” Without them, we are powerless. Without them, we aren’t real Targaryens.

“Maybe there’s something you need to do first.”

You look up at Jace, not understanding.

“I’ve spent a lot of time considering what inspires a dragon to bond to someone,” he says. And you think, feeling a fleeting stab of betrayal before you stitch the wound closed with invisible thread: Because you’ve been helping the Blacks search for riders. “It seems that each creature has their own preferences. Meleys favored women who were spirited and highly intelligent. Dreamfyre has chosen two riders, both gentle, shy, and fond of animals. Seasmoke bonded to two sons of Corlys Velaryon with similar temperaments, agreeable and charismatic, Quicksilver to a father and son who were both considered weak and died young. Caraxes seems to have an affinity for warriors.” It does not escape you that Jace neglects to mention Vhagar, as if through his silence he can make the beast and her rider vanish. “And Vermithor…” Jace offers you a small, sympathetic smile, remembering that you once wanted him. “The Bronze Fury bonds to riders who are imposing in body and ambitious in spirit. And I suspect he only likes men.”

“So it was always hopeless,” you say gloomily. You recall the miniature Vermithor that Aegon once carved for you out of oak wood. You hope that Aegon is still alive somewhere, scarred but lying in wait, always underestimated, always so much deeper than he seems, an ocean that Mother and Father mistook for a puddle, messy and marginal and inconvenient.

“I believe dragons often gravitate towards riders who are mirrors of themselves. Even Vermax, he is…” Jace considers this. “He’s proud, and he’s clever, but he’s not as formidable as he imagines himself to be.”

“Like you,” you say before you can stop to consider whether Jace will be offended by it, and he gives you an amused smirk. The baby has stopped nursing and fallen asleep; you fix the bodice of your gown and cradle him against you. There are maids to take him when you’re tired, and Jace loves holding him, and Lady Caro steals him away often, but right now you don’t want your freedom. You don’t want your mind to be untethered and to wander to all the places you’re not supposed to be.

Jace continues: “What I mean is, perhaps there is some quality you must cultivate within yourself before the beast you are meant to have judges you worthy.”

“Hardly any unclaimed dragons are left now.” Then you tease: “Do you suggest I become quiet and timid so Grey Ghost will like me?”

Jace laughs. “No, I fear that’s a lost cause, princess. You could never be timid.”

You are intrigued. “Then what am I?”

“I think you’re hungry,” Jace decides. “I think you always want more.”

“I never wanted that many things.” Aemond. My family to be safe. And I wanted Vermithor.

“Every line that is drawn, every place you’re told not to go or act you’re not supposed to do, you insist upon overreaching.”

Is that why Aemond and I were so drawn to each other? you think doubtfully. Because it was forbidden? Because it horrified people who climbed high enough to live alongside Targaryens but could never understand them?

“I think Meleys would have been a good match for you,” Jace says after a while. “If she hadn’t already been claimed by Grandmother.”

“And now the Red Queen is dead.” Like Arrax, and Moondancer, and Seasmoke, and probably Sunfyre too. How many dragons will be left when this is over? How many Targaryens? You clutch the baby closer to you; he stirs in his sleep, tiny fingers grasping at nothing. “What sort of rider does Silverwing favor? What could this illiterate drunk Ulf the White possibly have in common with Good Queen Alysanne?”

Jace snickers. “That’s a good question. I’ve been ruminating on it. My theory is that since Silverwing was never ridden into battle, and has always been relatively docile and accustomed to living peacefully near humans, she was attracted to Ulf’s…how to describe it? His lack of military prowess. Or, alternatively, once Vermithor was claimed Silverwing was very, very lonely.”

You smile, and then it dies. It must be indescribably painful to be separated from one’s mate after a century together. Unsurvivable, even. “Can Silverwing fight, do you think?”

Jace heaves a sigh and shrugs. “I’m not sure if either of them can. Ulf will try, at least. Hopefully it won’t come to that, and Vermithor is enough to protect King’s Landing. Hugh Hammer is an inexperienced rider, but he’s brave and he’s committed. Each time I see him he’s better than he was before.”

Hugh Hammer is a bastard blacksmith, but he has more power in this war than I do. Ulf the White is an idiot and a drunk, but he’s a true Targaryen and I’m not. You rock your sleeping child in your arms, quieting the voices that flutter in your skull like bat wings. You kiss his wisps of dark curls and breathe in his warmth and newness and blood that is interwoven with yours.

“You could learn how to hate your own kind and claim the Cannibal,” Jace jokes.

You chuckle. “I don’t hate anyone.” Not here, not now.

Lady Caro arrives in the doorway carrying a tray of cinnamon tea. “I have come offering a trade,” she says, grinning, and shuffles excitedly across the room. She sets the tray down on the table by your chair and holds out her hands. Reluctantly, you surrender the baby. Lady Caro coos and beams at him as you and Jace sip cinnamon tea, sweet and loosing steam like morning mist into the air. “Surely by now you’ve made the logical decision to name him in my honor.”

“Carolei would be a very strange thing to call a boy,” Jace says.

“Caroson,” she jests.

You add: “Carogon. Carocaerys.”

“Awful!” Jace says, laughing.

“Have you been feeding the baby again?” Lady Caro scolds you. “We have wetnurses for that.”

“They get him all night. I want time with him too.”

“You’re barely even producing any milk. You’d make for a terrible goat.”

“Then I’ll nurse him for as long as I can.”

“You’ll end up with pitiful floppy breasts like mine.”

“Isn’t this what they’re for? Nourishing children, not being gawked at and tugged on by some man?”

Lady Caro turns to Jace, exasperated. “She has some disease. She can’t listen to anyone.”

He smiles. “She’s an untamable beast, I’m afraid. Burns up anyone who makes the attempt.”

Lord Corbray walks in, and nestled in his ancient arthritic hands is a sword in a sheath. There is a large heart-shaped ruby in the hilt. “Prince Jacaerys, I cannot begin to tell you what an honor it has been not only to host you and the princess here in our humble castle, but also to have a future king of the Seven Kingdoms born within our walls.”

Jace stands up straighter, as his mother would want him to. He’ll never look like the heir to the throne, like a Targaryen, but he can act like one. “We continue to be grateful for your hospitality.”

“To commemorate this happy occasion, I wish to gift you a cherished heirloom of my house. This is Lady Forlorn, made of Valyrian steel. She came to House Corbray over a century ago, and now I bequeath her to you. I hope she will aid you in your victory in this unjust war, and that all the realm will soon be at peace and under competent rulership.”

Jace looks at you uneasily; you pretend to be preoccupied drinking your tea. You ignore Lord Corbray’s slight against the Greens. You don’t have much choice, and you’ve had plenty of practice. Jace takes Lady Forlorn from Lord Corbray and unsheathes her, studying his reflection in the cold smoke-colored grey of the blade. His face is grave. Now he feels the weight on his shoulders of being not just a prince, an heir, a soldier, and a husband, but a father as well, something he himself never had in a way that was truthful and pure. You are alarmed to see tears gleaming in his dark eyes.

“Jace?” you say, touching his arm.

He regains his composure. “Thank you, Lord Corbray. I will treasure Lady Forlorn, and I will endeavor to always use her wisely.”

Lord Corbray smiles fondly at the slumbering baby in Lady Caro’s arms. Across the Riverlands, their sole surviving child, Jessamyn, is in hiding with her husband and children. At Lady Caro’s insistence, they fled from the Mallisters’ castle at Seagard in case Aemond and Vhagar descend upon it. He is still burning. A monster? you think. “I assume you’ve named your firstborn?”

You and Jace exchange a glance. You haven’t yet; you are afraid to discuss it with each other. There are so many possibilities—Targaryen or Velaryon or Strong—and none seem to be without some unspoken allegiance or condemnation. There are so few guiltless names left. But you think you know what Jace would choose if he dared to speak it aloud.

“We should name him after Luke,” you say. A boy, an innocent. A victim of a horrific accident that started this war.

Jace is surprised, but there is relief in his face too. “Lucerys?” he says, trying it out. Then he is solemn again. “It feels wrong to use the exact same name. Like I’m trying to replace him.”

“Lucerion,” Lady Caro suggests, still holding the baby. “It sounds like a prince’s name. It sounds like a king’s.”

Jace attaches Lady Forlorn to his belt and then takes the baby, obviously against Lady Caro’s will. “Lucerion,” Jace murmurs, smiling down at his son who is stirring awake and beginning to whimper. “Is that your name? Is that what we’ll call you?”

“Perhaps Luca for short,” you say from your chair, feeling drained and like you need to lie down. You’ll have to change your rags again soon, or you’ll bleed through them.

“Luca, the littlest dragon,” Jace proclaims, touching his fingertip to the baby’s puggish nose. Then he turns to you. “Did you have a nickname as a child? I always did and still do, of course. And Luke…” Jace trails off, thinking of his dead brother, murdered by yours.

You see your red bat traveling around the board; you feel the warmth of blood on your cheek. “They called me Red.”

“Red?” Jace is baffled. “Like the color?”

“There was a game we played when we were young, and my piece…” You close your eyes, not wanting to remember, not wanting to feel the weight of their absence. “It doesn’t matter. It was so long ago.” And you fear that Jace will hear the evasiveness in your voice and ask you more questions; but he is absorbed with the baby, and he has already forgotten.

Two days later Jace and Vermax fly south to King’s Landing, and you and Luca are left in the care of the Corbrays and the maids and the ghosts that haunt the drafty stone corridors of Heart’s Home, soldiers killed in the Riverlands and the Reach, women and children burned and starved, bones devoured by dragons, generations of names forgotten.

Sometimes you giggle with Lady Caro as you drink cinnamon tea in the Great Hall. Sometimes you stand in the castle rookery listening to the ravens caw and stare out into the cold mist of the mountains, wondering what is happening in the world outside. And sometimes you have Luca nestled in your arms and walk with him around your bedchamber, introducing him to the faces of the people you left in your old life, when you were called Red and you believed you could be someone like Visenya. But you never mention Aemond, and not just because there are no mosaics of him on the wall.

You wouldn’t know what to say. You wouldn’t know where to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

You learn Jace is back when he climbs into bed just as you are drifting off one night, silver moonlight spilling in through the glass of the window, his body folding into you, his arm skating over your waist to find your hand and weave his fingers through yours. Two months have passed since he left, moons that grow full and then vanish, milk that dries up and blood that ceases flowing and rebuilds inside you for the next child, if there will be one, when there will be one. Luca is sleeping in his own room with his maids and wetnurses. Jace’s curls tickle your throat as he nuzzles into you as if he wants to disappear.

He says: “The littlest dragon is much bigger than I remember.”

“How was Helaena?”

“Troubled, as is to be expected, but in good health. Jaehaera and Maelor are well too. King’s Landing is cold some days now. I think they’ll have snow soon. The taxes, the riots, the stockpiling of food as the Reach and the Riverlands burn…it’s a disaster. Mother is desperate. She misses Luke, I think. And Baela, and Daemon. She’s lost so much weight I barely recognized her. But she was very, very happy to hear about Luca. Hopefully she can meet him soon. Although we’ll have to be careful traveling with him while he’s so small, we’ll have to ensure he’s warm enough.”

Winter is coming, you think, remembering Cregan Stark’s army under the protection of Daemon and Caraxes. “Did you see Rhaena and the boys at the Eyrie?”

“I did,” Jace admits, as if it was a fraught experience.

“And what happened?”

“Rhaena called me a traitor.”

“For marrying and fathering a son with me?”

“No, that she understands,” Jace says. “But it is treason to love you.”

You turn around to look at him in the shadows, in the moonlight. “You told her?”

“She could tell. I cannot hide it. I am a glass jar and you and Luca are the butterflies inside.” And Jace kisses you softly, his fingers hooked beneath your chin, his flesh coming alive again after so long away: managing and conciliating, lifting Rhaenyra’s spirits, pawing through the heaps of bastards in King’s Landing for dragonriders, flying on Vermax through storms and snow.

When you kiss Jace back, when your hands go to his chest and his jaw and his face, when you open his tunic so you can feel the heat of his skin underneath, you are aware that parts of you are waking up again as well. There is a dull but definite ache of lust beginning to bloom like a blood drop soaking into white cotton.

“Are you…” Jace begins. “Do you think you’re healed enough, I mean…have you stopped bleeding?”

You hesitate. “I have.” You think of your first time with him and how painful it was, the sensation of burning, of tearing, and you can only assume it will be worse now. “But I’m rather terrified too.”

“No, no, don’t be afraid,” Jace whispers, he pleads, running his fingers through your long unbound hair. “We don’t have to do that. I won’t hurt you. I’ll wait for as long as you want.” His dark eyes travel down the white nightgown that clings to your body, your breasts, your belly, and then lower. “Can I…can I try something?”

“Try what?” you ask, bewildered. Then as Jace begins to push the hem of your nightgown up over your hips to your waist, you grin and kiss him again in the dim celestial light, cool night air rushing up over your bare legs, blood surging through your arteries to where he bends low to taste you once—a long, slow, tentative drag of the tongue—and then moans quietly and pushes your thighs further apart so he can bury himself there and lick, suck, swallow down your clear mineral wetness as it pools for him.

Something isn’t quite right—not enough pressure, not the ideal angle—but it’s exquisite to be reacquainted with this side of yourself, to know you can feel this way again, insatiable and desired. When you reach to touch Jace, there is a moment when you are startled to find dark curly hair in place of silk-smooth silver, and there is a ghost in the room like a voyeur watching, and you think dazedly: If Aemond knew about this, would he kill me?

“There,” you gasp, jolting as your husband stumbles upon the perfect place and rhythm. “Jace, right there…”

He listens, he is groaning with desperation for you, and you roll into a climax that is brief and sharp and a little painful, but good. Instead of being extinguished, you are a kindled flame. You turn over, straddle Jace, and unfasten his trousers. You begin kissing your way down his belly, nipping at him, your palm kneading his hardness, and you know he wants you but for some reason when you go to take him in your mouth, he pushes you away.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jace says, alarmed.

“I know. I want to.”

“No, seriously. Stop.”

You look at him, wounded, rejected. “Jace, I’m not doing this out of obligation. I enjoy it.”

He is staring at the wall. “I just…for you to…I’m sorry, it just feels wrong.”

“I can do things you believe are only for whores and still be your wife.”

“Shh,” he says, and his voice is gentle but his face is pained. You think of something Criston once told you when you were collecting bones from the Godswood of the Red Keep: Red, it hurts your mother when you’re like this. Are you cursed to disappoint people, to repulse them, to be eternally misunderstood? “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

Jace gets out of bed and fetches a small wooden box he must have brought into the room with him when you were still half-asleep. He opens the box, debates whether to reach in, decides against it and passes you the whole box instead. “I asked the castle maester to procure some while I was away…”

You squeal with delight when you see what’s inside: three black and white bats the same breed as Sapphire was, large fanlike ears and wiggling noses and small black eyes that peer curiously up at you. When you offer them your open palms, they immediately scramble into them.

“I hope they’re good ones.” Jace chuckles nervously. “I don’t really know what makes a bat suitable or not.”

“They’re perfect,” you say, smiling. “I’ll build them a roost. I’ll introduce them to Luca.”

Yet you cannot stop yourself from thinking: Aemond wouldn’t have cared if I was still bleeding.

~~~~~~~~~~

You are snuggled up with Luca in your chair by the fire, cool midday light—the color of steel, smoke, rainclouds, ash—streaming in through the windows. The baby’s eyes have turned dark like Jace’s, and his curls grow longer. He is only half-awake and blinking drowsily, his diminutive hands clasping your fingers. He doesn’t cry often, but he doesn’t smile either. Lady Caro believes he already has the temperament of a good king, a calmness, a graveness. She says: How improper would it be for him to be full of complaints or cheerfulness, the way the world is right now? No, he ought to be serious. He ought to be grateful he’s not starving or being roasted alive.

“I have some new friends,” you whisper to the baby like a secret or a myth. “They’re asleep right now. They sleep all day, kind of like you do. But then at night they come alive and they’re free, and they fly around like hawks or dragons.”

You speak for Luca, a soft bird-trill of a voice: “What are their names?”

“Good question,” you say, smiling. “Iris, Shark, and Flood. And you’ll meet them soon.” Your eyes go to the mosaics on the walls. Jace hasn’t asked you to take them down, but he doesn’t acknowledge them either, except for the mosaic you made of him that hangs by the headboard of the bed. He beams at that one and calls it fine work. “You’ll meet the people I grew up with too. Aegon will make you wood carvings. Helaena will sew you blankets. Daeron will take you on adventures. Jaehaera and Maelor will play games with you. And Mother and Criston will love you because you won’t be like me. You’ll be sweet-tempered and honorable, and when you’re old enough you’ll have a dragon to help protect us with.”

There is a knock on the doorframe; one of Luca’s wetnurses has arrived to feed him. You regret that you can’t anymore. Lady Caro was right; you’d be a terrible goat or cow or yak.

“Princess,” the wetnurse says, curtsying before she takes the baby from you. You watch her leave with him for his own bedchamber—Lady Caro has already filled it with toys and children’s books—and as soon as they are out of sight, the darkness of your losses creeps back in like spiders scurrying down the corridors of your veins and arteries, like rust growing over steel. Then you hear the rumbling of voices downstairs in the Great Hall.

You stand and swish in your gown—one of the Vale’s anemic colors, a faint dusky rose—through the hallway and down the spiral staircase of the tower. In the belly of the castle, the commotion is louder, and you sweep into the Great Hall to find men gathered around the table closest to the roaring hearth, Lord Corbray and his knights and the maester, and Lady Caro too looking on anxiously. Jace is holding a piece of parchment in his hands, presumably just delivered by a raven. He shakes his head as he reads it. Outside, snow is falling.

Lady Caro is saying: “Well you’ll have to tell her. Oh, the poor dear, as if everything else isn’t bad enough. And only the gods know where Aemond is, he hasn’t been spotted in the Riverlands for days…” Then she spies you and shoos Lord Corbray and his men from the room. They bow to you as they depart, swift little bobs of the head. They have to; you are now both the wife and mother of future kings.

“Jace?” you say when the Great Hall is empty except for the two of you and Lady Caro.

Jace’s face is stricken. Lady Forlorn hangs from his belt. The letter is still clutched in his left hand; the right grips the hilt of his Valyrian steel sword. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” you ask, immediately horrified. Aegon dead of his burns, Daeron killed in battle, Mother executed for treason, Aemond…? “What happened?”

“You have to believe that I had no idea about any of this, I never would have given Hugh the order if I’d been there, or let Mother do it—”

“Jace, please tell me.”

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond??

Instead, Jace says absurdly: “It’s Helaena.”

You stare at him. “Helaena isn’t a warrior.”

“No,” he agrees. “But she got to Dreamfyre somehow and tried to escape the city.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

That’s impossible. She wouldn’t leave Mother and the children. “No, she couldn’t have, she—”

“She took flight,” Jace insists. “And my mother sent Hugh Hammer after her on Vermithor.”

Vermithor was supposed to be mine, you think numbly. “And Helaena, she…she was…?”

Jace is trying to keep his voice steady; his dark eyes gleam, begging you not to hate him. “Dreamfyre attacked when Vermithor flew close to her. She wasn’t an especially aggressive dragon, but she was large and formidable, and she fought to defend her own life and that of her rider. Vermithor ripped out her throat, though Hugh was burned to death in the saddle. Then Vermithor flew eastward, and no one knows where he is now. Dreamfyre crashed to the earth, and Helaena with her. Their bodies were found on the beach outside the Red Keep.”

She can’t be dead. She never hurt anyone. She just wanted to be with her creatures and her family. She embroidered my blankets with red bats, she put ladybugs into my open palms. “Why would Helaena try to run, why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.”

You think nonsensically, as you have no way of knowing this: Because she was trying to stop something terrible from happening. “I told you to give her more freedom. And that freedom allowed her to sneak away to the Dragonpit.”

Jace reaches for you. “This isn’t your fault—”

“All of it is my fault!” you shout at him, and Lady Caro shrinks away and covers her mouth with her hands. “If I’d had Vermithor, the Greens would have been unstoppable! And Rhaenyra never would have tried to claim the throne, and Aemond wouldn’t have been sent to Storm’s End, and Luke and Jaehaerys and Baela wouldn’t have died, and Aegon wouldn’t have been burned, and Aemond wouldn’t be destroying the Riverlands, and Helaena would still be alive, but instead I’ve always been useless!”

“You aren’t useless,” Jace pleads.

“Not normal enough to be a good wife or daughter, not extraordinary enough to have a dragon!”

Again, Jace tries to touch you, to soothe you. “Please don’t—”

You fling his hands away. “What was our marriage for if not to stop this from happening?! To end the dying, to protect the people we have left?” You whirl away from him and flee from the Great Hall, the castle, yourself. Behind you, Lady Caro is comforting Jace with soft tenderness you’ve never been capable of.

“Let her go, my prince,” she is counselling. “Give her a moment to grieve…”

You throw open the first door you pass and trudge out into the snow, no fox fur coat, bare feet. The cold stings and then your skin goes numb and it doesn’t bother you anymore. The icy mountain wind tears at your hair, flowing in long waves like the women of the Vale wear it, delicate and feminine, pretty and powerless. Tears cascade down your face; currents of red magma scorch your throat. When you close your eyes, you see the yellow butterfly that was once Helaena’s game piece.

She never hurt anyone. She never did anything wrong.

Now you are under the shadows of the soaring pine trees, their green needles so thick you cannot see the grey of the sky.

She never met Luca.

You gaze up into the branches, covered with tufts of white snow and icicles like fangs, and you have the overwhelming, ravenous feeling that you need to go home. You don’t belong in the Vale. The Vale almost killed you when you were a child, Aemond’s hands shoving you into a rushing stream freckled with ice.

And then all at once—like you’ve been hit, like you’ve been stabbed with a blade—you are flying high above the castle and the wind is raking over your cheeks, but it is not your face but Aemond’s, half-blind and half-scarred, torrential red waves of a sea of blood in his skull.

He’s here, he’s here—

And if he’s able to see through your eyes that you are outside in the forest…

The castle!!!

You bolt through the trees back towards Heart’s Home, your bare feet leaving tracks in the fresh powdery snow that is nearly up to your knees, and you stumble out of the shadows just as Vhagar soars overhead and unleashes her flames on the castle, wood burning, stones collapsing, people inside shrieking as they incinerate. You’re screaming for Aemond to stop, but he does not hear you and he does not see you either, he is high above in a place you’ve never been and never will be, he is flying, and he is hearing only devastation and he is breathing in its dark, intoxicating smoke, and as Vhagar swoops by the stable and it bursts into an inferno—horses galloping loose and engulfed in fire, dead but not knowing it yet—you run into the crumbling castle.

“Jace?!” you shout, but the air is full of smoke and the sounds of wood cracking and stones caving in are deafening. You feel blindly for the spiral staircase that leads up to the tower where your and Luca’s bedchambers are located. From the part of the castle that was once the Great Hall, you can hear Lord Corbray and Lady Caro screaming as their skin blisters and sloughs away and their flesh is cooked and their bones are charred black, and when the flames reach their lungs the screams go quiet. You cannot think about them. You don’t have any time; you must think of Luca and Jace. “Jace!” you bellow through the smoke.

And then there is a weak reply: “Here.”

You follow it into the stairwell. Parts of the wall have been blasted away; you can see the pine forest outside, the cold barren sky, the Mountains of the Moon. Jace is halfway up the steps, slumped against the fractured wall and pinned there by stones that have rained down on his legs. His bones must be broken; his face is bloodless and his curls matted to his forehead by sweat. His right hand fumbles futilely for the hilt of Lady Forlorn. Now, dimly, you can hear Luca crying.

Jace rasps as he stares vacantly up at you: “I tried to get to him. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Jace, I can do it.”

“I love you.”

“I’ll be right back.”

You climb over him and chase Luca’s wails up the staircase. Vhagar is back, and the ruins of the castle tremble when she roars, and you feel the heat of her flames radiating up through the floor. You lose your footing and clamber up the last few steps on your hands and knees, then manage to stand again and careen into Luca’s room. Half the roof has collapsed; a wetnurse is sprawled on the floor and half-buried in fallen stones, blood hemorrhaging out of her mouth and ears. You grab the baby out of his cradle and quickly bundle him in his blanket patterned with blue dragonflies. His tiny hands grasp at your face and your hair as you rush back down the spiral staircase to help Jace. Smoke needles your eyes; you and Luca are both coughing as you try to clear your lungs.

You reach Jace and kneel beside him, holding Luca in your left arm and using your right to try to roll the stones off Jace’s legs, but he’s not helping you.

“Jace, please, we have to go now,” you say, but when you look at his face he’s not there. His dark eyes are glassy, his chest doesn’t rise and fall with the tide of air.

He’s gone, you think. Like Father, Luke, Jaehaerys, Baela, Rhaenys, Helaena. And you are struck by an excruciating pang of fondness for Jace more forceful than anything you ever felt for him when he was alive, and you cannot leave him here. He was your husband, he was Luca’s father. And he loved you. He must have. He said it over and over again.

“Jace?” you sob. But outside Vhagar is still flying—the gales churned up by her wings gust into the jagged holes in the castle walls—and she could be coming back, she could be returning to burn you, and Jace is dead but the baby is still alive.

You clutch Luca to you as he cries and you race down the steps, following the smoke-filled, twisted passageway. The heat is suffocating, the sounds of a dying castle engulfing, Heart’s Home turned into a graveyard, into a shattered skeleton, charred and cursed like Harrenhal. You crash through the door at the base of the stairwell and into the ground level of the castle, and you are almost out—

Something ignites, something explodes, and stones from the castle wall you are feeling your way along rip out of their centuries-old mortar and collide with you. Your ribs crack, you are thrown to the floor, but even as you scream and claw your way out of the rubble you don’t let go of the baby. You force yourself upright and stagger with Luca towards a gaping chasm where there was once a wall. There is a tremor like an earthquake. Outside, Vhagar must be landing.

Now you are in the snow again, bare feet and a gown covered with soot and wreckage. The baby isn’t crying anymore. When you glance down at the blanket he is swaddled in, the white space between the blue dots of dragonflies is turning red with blood.

Blood?

You can’t look. You can’t allow yourself to feel it; it will consume you until there is nothing left. The last vestiges of the castle are crumpling. Across the field, Vhagar is devouring Vermax’s small, broken corpse, crushing his bones in her massive, monstrous jaws.

Blood??

Aemond’s footsteps are behind you, crunching in the snow. His cloak cracks in the frigid wind like the sails of a ship. His words are full of dark, euphoric, lethal triumph, a high like nothing he’s ever known, not even when he claimed Vhagar, not even what he imagined he would feel on your wedding day when you’d be bound to each other with fire and blood in the tradition of Old Valyria. “I said I would find you, and I did.”

You hear your own voice as if from a very far distance, lightning strikes miles away but moving closer. “You killed him.”

Aemond is puzzled. You are supposed to be happy. You are saved, you are home. “Killed who?”

“He’s dead, and there will never be another. Not like this one. Jace was his father, but Jace is gone. You killed him too.”

And you turn to face him, and Aemond sees what you are holding in your arms, and only then does he understand.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #jace velaryon x reader #jace x you #jace x reader #jace velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon

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dismightyman · 6 months ago

Text

There was always a hesitance for Soap when it came to the more deeply personal aspects of Ghost. Even with how brazen he was when they started their partnership he wasn't stupid. As hot as it made him under the collar, that mask ghost wore was a bright neon sign that screamed Fuck Off.

More often than not he towed the line. Hell you could say he danced on it occasionally when the situation allowed, but when Ghost was well and truly shutting him out he knew when to let it go. It’s a source of great internal pride for him to be able to read Ghost well enough to push his buttons while avoiding pushing him to his breaking point.

As they got closer, there was a larger pool of tolerance for his specific flavor of boldness. The answers to semi-personal questions getting longer, less clipped. The dumb hypotheticals he’d toss out to fill the silence as they smoked were given more thought, instead of outright dismissals he used to get.

Then they fell in bed together for the first time and it was like a flood gate was opened.

The touches between them got more sure, more intentional. The tidbits that made up Ghost more readily found, and if he didn’t know any better, almost placed at his feet. Just begging to be picked up and stowed away in the little box in his chest that was solely for Ghost. To be seen, judged and found worthy of not just Ghost, but Simon himself was worth more to him than any medal or accolade could ever be.

It wasn’t just the getting to know Simon that truly made this something Soap cherished, but the fact that Simon seemed to enjoy getting to know him in return. The intentional work to learn what made him tick, what made Soap Johnny and vice versa. It solidified in his mind that this wasn’t just a fling, a rough romp in the barracks sheets every now and again. This in all its fucked up gory messy glory, was love.

Over the years he’s picked up on a few things that Simon does in his spare time. Not just for maintaining himself and his gear or staying sane, but for actual fun and pleasure. The biggest thing though was the models.

He told Soap once after a nightmare and a fucking freezing night smoking through an entire pack, that his favorite thing he ever got for Christmas one year was a little model train his mom had gotten him after his father had left the house.

“It was shite.” He said fondly. His eyes were settled somewhere on the horizon, far away and glassy.

“The wood was so brittle it snapped more often than it didn’t… and the paint, fucking don’t get me started on the paint…” the small barely there smile he wore as he described the way the cheap paint streaked on the toy made it into Soaps journal that very next day.

The next time he saw this side of Simon was the first time he’d stayed at his little flat in Manchester. They’d gotten leave together after an OP went slightly south leaving him with a concussion and Simon with a broken wrist. With a very pointed look from Price and a cheeky “Don’t have too much fun mate” from Gaz they were on a train headed north.

As they made their way up the stairs to his front door, Simon stopped.

“Before we go in there’s something I should probably mention…” Normally the eye black covered everything except his eyes. Since they were traveling as civilians Simon only had a black medical mask and a cap to cover himself. He apparently learned the hard way how nosey some people would be when he tried to walk the street in a skull balaclava. The blush that sat faintly high on his cheeks was a beautiful surprise and then some.

“Got a wee wife and bairn hidden away ere’ I don’ know about?” Soap said with a bit of a chuckle and a raised eyebrow.

Johnny knew from the crinkles next to his eyes that he was smiling, Simon let out an overly dramatic sigh before speaking again.

“Piss off Mactavish, if anything you’re the wee wife…” he grumbled out, shifting slightly from one foot to the other before he continued.

“It’s just… I’ve never really… let anyone in here before and there’s…” he trails off looking anywhere but at Soap.

He grabs Simon’s good hand to get his eyes back on him.

“Unless ye got dead people hanging up to dry on yer ceiling, I doubt whatever yer dancing around is bad enough to turn me off of you” he starts with humor before taking a more serious tone.

“I’ve seen you open a man from navel to chin and grin while you do it… I’m more than gone on you Simon and nothin’ short of Hell freezin’ over is gonna change that” he says lowering his tone to a level that's just for them. “Honestly, probably not even that would do it” he finishes with a wink.

“Jesus Johnny…” Simon sighed in a surprised exhale, his blush deepening to a delightfully deep pink.

Without another word he turns, unlocks his flat and steps inside.

For the most part, in Jonny’s opinion anyway, it’s a fairly normal space for a single active duty man like Simon. There’s a kitchen to the left and a living room to the right with a hallway leading to what he can only assume is the bedroom. The furniture he can see looks old and mismatched, like he grabbed it all from a second hand shop. It's charming in its own way, nothing matches but it somehow all works. As he slips off his shoes by the door he’s mildly confused by the reaction out front, until he sees the wall on the other side of the living room, hidden by the little wall in the entryway.

As Simon stands sheepishly next to the display he gets a good look at frankly the largest collection of model trains he’s ever seen. From carpet to ceiling there are shelves loaded with tiny dioramas. However as he steps closer and gets a better look he realizes all of the trains are in some stage of destruction. Some torn in pieces, others on fire with tiny people inside panicking, there’s one, he realizes, that’s an almost spot on recreation of a blown out train they had tracked down and eventually killed an HVT in about a year ago.

After a long moment of soap simply absorbing everything, he turns to ghost standing stock still next to the wall. His eyes assessing, taking in every minor move or facial expression, waiting for some kind of negative reaction he’s sure.

Soap doesn’t let that stand for a minute longer.

“If I told you tha’ this is one of the hottest things I think I’ve ever seen would you believe me?” He’s probably laying it on a little thick but honestly it’s the truth. The level of detail, the time soap knows is required for something like this. The steady hand needed to get the tiniest lines painted straight. It’s a show of skill that he finds very very attractive.

“You’d have made a hell of a demo specialist if you hadn’t been so good with a blade, Jesus Simon how long this take you?” He breathes out, awe heavy in his voice. He steps closer to the wall taking in the finer details. On one shelf closer to eye level, there’s a train car mid crash held up by the thinnest of wire. It’s almost invisible if he hadn’t been looking so hard for it. The people inside are in varying states of being tossed around, upon closer inspection he can see little bloody hand prints on one of the windows.

“For all of it?” Simon asks stepping closer now that he’s determined soap isn’t taking the piss

“I don’t really keep time when I work on them… I’ve been making these since… well since I started wearing the mask” he’s slowly unwinding the tension out of his shoulders as he talks.

“Before I just did the regular trains you know, but after… everything it just didn't… feel right anymore, didn't give me the same release, didn't feel like me.” he paused every now and again seeming to look for the right words.

“Therapist suggested I change what I build to make it different like how I felt different.” he says with audible mirth

“Not sure this is what she meant but… it worked… so I just kept at it and…” he trails off with a gesture at the wall.

Soap takes a minute to let that sink in, remembering the bits and pieces Ghost has let slip. He's reminded of the conversation about his mother and it kinda clicks into place. This is Simon's way of connecting the two. The inherent violence of Ghost melding with the memory of who Simon used to be. After a moment Soap moves to wrap his arms around Simon. Gently taking his face in his hands to place a sweet little peck on his lips before pulling back.

“Thank you Simon, fer sharin’ this with me” he says so quietly it's damn near a whisper.

The real genuine smile Ghost grants him is one of the most beautiful things Soaps ever seen. The rest of that leave is spent with Ghost walking through every train disaster he’s ever modeled and them fucking in every room of the house so much so the neighbor comes over to complain about the noise. Twice.

After they get back Soap starts to pay more attention when he gets to hang out in Simon's room on base. He never clocked it before but after Ghost shows him his little model supply drawer, he notices that ghost is constantly collecting those little aluminum mint tins. The box Simon pulls out of the back of his closet is filled with the things. All of them contain little versions of natural disasters or in several notable exceptions, a terrorist attack or two. He explains to Soap that it's easier to keep them when they are moved from base to base when his whole collection fits in a 4x4 box. He finds out Price is Ghost’s main supplier of the tins, and the ensuing laps he runs in punishment are totally worth calling Price out for the old man he is. (Gaz had to join him in his laps after hearing this and laughing so hard he had to hold the wall for support)

Later on, when Simon brought him to that little cottage in the hills with several bottles of their respective poison, no one for miles, and a bomb made of legos and live class A explosives. An idea that had been percolating was solidified into action. It took a few favors from his sister and a frankly large hit to a few of his paychecks but he would be ready the next time they’d get to share leave.

Keeping his plan secret from Simon was harder than he thought it would be. Everytime he was lazing about in Simon's bed scribbling in his journal watching him so focused on his projects, he was so tempted to spill and tell him everything. But his opportunity came around sooner than he thought it would.

Price had announced after a successful round of back to back missions that the 141 had earned some R&R. Apparently there were enough happy parties in the upper brass that they felt the need to reward the taskforce for the good behavior. When the debrief was ending and everyone was piling out Soap leaned over to Ghost to offer his place up this time around. Ghost didn't need much persuading as two days later they were once again on the train north.

Soap only started to feel anxious as they were making their way up the foot path to the front door. In a comically similar way Soap stopped Simon before he put his keys in the lock.

“I have a little surprise for ye” he says with a nervous little grin.

“Do you have people hanging from your ceiling? Or is there a… how did you say it last time… A wee little family I don't know about Johnny?” Simon is smiling as he pokes fun at him from the last time they did this.

“You’d love that wouldn’ you, crazy bastard” Soap chuckles. “ No, nothing so devious, just a little something i've wanted to show ye for a while now”

Without waiting for Simon to respond he unlocks his door and pushes in, flicking on the lights. He makes his way into the front room knowing Simon is right on his six. When they are both fully in the room he steps to the side to let Simon see his surprise for the first time.

Placed right in front of the large window facing the street is a solid wooden work table. He’d looked for quite a while to find something that would match Ghost's height if he felt like standing and would be solid enough to last for years without wear and tear. Getting his sister to watch the house while it was delivered and get the thing put together was gonna cost him some serious sibling karma but it was well worth it.

Along the back of the table was a small shelf containing every single color of model paint he could get his hands on. He made sure to grab the brand he remembered Simon talking about loving to use but always passing on as he thought it was too expensive. He also made sure to get the brushes he noticed were used the most when he actually was around to watch Simon work.

Ghost was locked in place staring in disbelief at the station, Soap isn't sure he blinks for a solid minute and a half.

“Is this for me?” Ghost asks sounds ten years younger as he turns to look soap in the eye.

“Yeah Darlin’ course tha’s for you! If I drag you home with me I wan’ you to be able to do what makes you happy… I want this to feel like home for you too” it's said in a slight rush, like Soap is worried Simon might somehow misunderstand what this means to him.

Simon takes slow steps towards the table as he looks it over, running his hands on the smooth tops and feeling the sturdiness of it as he pushes on it slightly. He damn near picks up every bottle of paint to look at the colors before feeling the bristles on the brushes.

“Johnny” Simon says, it sounds a little croaky and Soap thinks hes fucked up majorly before Simon speaks again.

“I love you” he turns to face Soap, he’s not crying, there’s no tears, but he’s a little misty eyed.

“I love you so fucking much” he sets down the brush he was fiddling with as he takes quick steps to where johnny has been standing. The kiss he plants on Soap is deep and full of just about everything else Ghost didn’t say. When he finally lets him come up for air Soap chuckles.

“You like it?” Soap asks as he lightly scratches his fingers through the short hair at Simon nape.

“It's fuckin’ perfect Johnny” he says as he goes back in for another deep kiss. It's not until the next afternoon he actually gets to use any of it.

(this is for @leathfaic who inspired this mess, I wrote it all then read through it but that's about the max editing its gonna get so if you see a mistake fix it in your head and keep rolling. this is my first non OC fic writing so enjoy fellas, if i ever write again it'll be a miracle)

#ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #all this from me throwing legos to the ground at 4 am lads #sometimes we just stay winning

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l0vergirlv0mit · 2 years ago

Text

Bags

Song to go with: Bag by Clairo ❤️

Pairing: College!Hazel Callahan x Reader

Summary: you’ve been in love with your best friend for years. Watching her date people sucks especially when one of the absolutely despises you.

Contents/warning: Switch!Hazel x Switch!Reader, fingering, oral, pet names, nipple play, cursing, threats, light? violence (nothing gory), sm yearning.

A/n: for the dorm imagine Buffy and willows dorm from btvs<3. Also reader isn’t fem but also isn’t masc but is definitely masc leaning. for my in between girlies 😘.

You alarm clock rudely wakes you up with an incessant buzz. Hitting it a bit to hard it falls off your night stand making you groan into the sunlit room. You sit up with squinted eyes not noticing that Hazel was still in the dorm. “Well good morning sleepy head.” She smiles at your groggy state.

You wake up just enough to snatch the alarm clock of the ground and punch it off. “Ughhh good morning.” Your eyes finally adjust to the light fully taking Hazel in. She was still in her pjs wearing a white wife pleaser and low waisted grey sweats. “Shouldn’t you be in class right now?” You ask her confused as to why she was skipping her morning class.

“I should but Anya had me up till 2.” She clasps her hands around the back of her neck. She still had her tired raspy voice probably having woken up a couple minutes before you. “Oh god spare me.” Suppressing an eye roll you got up from the bed and grabbed your towel, getting ready to go to the showers. Anya pissed you off to no end.

And it wasn’t because she was dating the person you wanted more than anything (maybe a little bit). It was her glares and her back handed compliments that she gave you any chance she could. How she would snap at people over anything and everything she was extremely abrasive.

Your friends tried to explain that that was just her personality but you didn’t function like that you were quiet and sweet. Both didn’t mix well so she tended to single you out. Always trying to push you out of your comfort zone by teasing and getting a rise out of you. You can barley ask a waiter for ketchup let alone defend yourself. But you refuse to tell Hazel about her behavior because she was happy. She was so sweet to Hazel and that made you most livid.

“Not like that y/n we went out for our 4 months.” She grinned at your scrunched face. “How fun nothing says I love you like sleep deprivation.” She raises her eyebrows at your grouchy mood with a soft smile still on her lips.

“Oh wow someone’s moody, anyway Josie was texting the group chat about a going to the bar tonight are you gonna come?” Hazel asks you hoping you’d say yes because you never go out. “Mmm I’ll think about it Haze Ill probably have a lot of work to do.” Hazel sighs. “Pleaseeee you never come out with us anymore.” She give you a pleading look. “I have a lot of today I’ll let you know if I’m up for it.” You giggle at her childish tone and pat her shoulder then leave the dorm.

—

You let Hazel know you were coming and put your phone down and change out of your work clothes. Your style has always been a bit more grungy and masculine only really dressing a bit feminine for special events or outings.

You put on your favorite baggy black jeans that hung off your hips so beautifully. Then put on a spaghetti strap tank top and a long sleeve over it made of black mesh and lace that was completely see through. You left your hair messy and smudged black shadow and liner on your eyes. Finishing off your outfit by putting on your black docs.

Hazel was already with the group so you drove yourself to Josie, PJ, and Isabel’s shared apartment. You found your way to the apartment door knocking timidly. You rock back and forth on your feet waiting for someone to open the door.

When someone finally does it’s her. She doesn’t talk to you directly. “Y/n is here now guys can we finally leave?” She says not letting you in yet talking to YOUR friends behind the door.

Hazel quickly comes to the door and smiles brightly at you pulling you in by your hand . “Oh wow someone’s trying to get lucky tonight.” Hazel softly says nudging you. This earns you a glare from Anya.

The group sits in the living room area to catch up before heading out. Everyone’s talking but your mind is elsewhere. You’ve always been the quieter one of the group so your lack of conversation goes unnoticed.

You can’t help but stare at Hazel and Anya. A deep grief blooms in your chest. Hazels arm around Anya protectively. Anya tucks a piece of hair behind Hazels ear and kissed her on the cheek. Hazels face becomes so soft and loving it tears you apart wishing so bad that you were Anya. Hazels hand travels to her waist to pull her closer just to top it off.

You look at Anya for a bit taking in how perfect and pretty she is. She’s so feminine and put together. She was everything you would never be. She had on a full face of makeup that was perfectly done and a dress that hugged in all the right spots. She was an absolutely gorgeous girl.

You were only pulled out of this haze by Josie putting her hand on your knee. Knowing exactly what was going through your mind. You had drunkenly told her about your 2 year long crush on Hazel in a club bathroom. You look back at her with glazed over eyes and squeeze her hand as a silent thank you.

“Are you guys ready to get wasted cause I am.” Josie announced and pulled you up with her off the couch. She looks to you and smiles trying to change the mood that’s setting in. You smile back but felt suffocated anyway and had to leave. Everyone excitedly agrees and heads over the bar.

—

This bar was THE bar all the college kids go there to find hookups and get drunk. The group gets drinks to loosen up but you decide to hold off for tonight. You let your friends make you dance their tipsy state amusing you. You move timidly at first but the encouragement from your friends has you swaying to the music.

You danced with Britney trying to absorb her confidence in some way. When Hazel comes over to playfully dance with you twirling you around and giggling. She saw your shyness and was trying to remedy it.

She made you sway with her hands on your waist. It was all friendly and playful and you were best friends so it wasn’t unusual behavior.

Nonetheless you felt your face get warmer at her proximity. Anya was staring from the bar after telling Hazel she didn’t feel like dancing. Anya really thought Hazel was just going to sit there and watch all of her friends dance instead.

Anya quickly changed her mind though. Seeing you too make her jealous. Hopping out of her seat and waltzing over to shove you away from Hazel with feigned innocence. Hazel mouths sorry towards you and it was your turn to go to the bar and watch from a far. You get yourself a coke to sip on since you would be driving later, not much of a drinker anyway.

You sit there mindlessly scrolling your phone trying to keep yourself occupied. Watching them still it hurts your chest. Hazel holds Anya close she has her face in the crook of her neck holding her from behind. It was a real sight. Especially when Hazel looked so good. Her cropped white tee and baggy jeans left just enough midriff exposed to mesmerize you.

Josie comes to sit besides you breaking your trance. “I hate her.” Is all she says and she looks from Anya to you. “Me too.” You both laugh together. “Yeah she’s kind of a bitch isn’t she.” Josie remarks pressing her lips together and furrowing her brows.

“Yeah she’s something.” You huffed and smiled brighter grateful for your friendship .That’s when Josie gets a certain look that you know to well. “You wanna smoke?” She flashes you a wide grin and wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh god yes.” You take one last sip of your coke and follow her outside.

—

You and Josie walk back into the bar in a hazy giggle. After a shit talking session that had you loosing your shit and gasping at gossip. You go to dance again and you notice Anya arguing with Hazel.

Anya rolled her eyes and says something that made Hazels face contort into hurt. Hazel says something in a pout then storms off in the other direction. “Jesus they do this shit every fucking night bro.” Josie rolls her eyes following Hazel to the bathroom. Every night? You though to yourself. You were under the impression everything was great?

The anger taking over your body doesn’t let you ponder over it more. Body moving without you telling it too, you yank her shoulder to face you. She was taller than you and definitely stronger then you but you didn’t care. The face Hazel made at Anya was enough motivation. You could’ve fought 10 frat boys and won.

“Hey! What did you say to her.” You could stand her being mean to you but being mean Hazel was absolutely not allowed. “I don’t think that’s any of your business y/n.”

She looks you up and down. “I suggest you fuck off before I tell her your little secret.” She gets closer to you only inches from your face. “What do you mean secret?” You started getting nervous. She grabs your face in her hand and looks in your scared eyes. “Your in love with her. It’s pathetic really the way you gawk at her.” Her acrylics are digging into your cheeks. Frantically staring at her in disbelief.

“Start keeping your distance y/n, Im not worried about you im just annoyed that you THINK that could happen. Like she’d ever be into someone like you.”

She let’s go of your face lightly tapping it. You feel tears fill your eyes about to break the barrier of your water line. “I-i… f-fuck you Anya.” Tears cascade down your face. Anya just vocalized your internal thoughts for the past 2 years now your sure she’s some demon from hell that crawled out to make your life miserable.

Just as Hazel and Josie come out of the bathroom they see you walk quickly out of the bar. Hazel feels completely exhausted, this was supposed to be a fun night you FINALLY agreed to have fun and hang out again.

Hazel follows you out just catching up to you when you get to the door of your car. “Y/n! Wait! Please, where are you going it’s barley been an hour?” She looks at you confused eye brows pushed together and hands on her hips. “I’m tired Hazel.” You can’t face her you can’t stop the tears rolling down.

You open the door but Hazel puts a firm hand down closing it again getting frustrated at your short response. You finally look her in the eyes and she takes you in. “Holy shit y/n are you ok?” She goes to put a hand on your shoulder but you flinch. Her face becomes even more worried than before. Staring at the streaks running down your cheeks.

“Please Hazel I just wanna go home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow ok.” Hazel moves her hand from the door and lets you open it. “We will talk about this tomorrow?” She ask you to get more confirmation. “We will.” You reassured her knowing talking was the last thing you were gonna do.

You drove back to your dorm still feeling shocks of fear pulse through you at the thought of Hazel knowing you were completely in love with her. Losing her would do more than wreck you. She’s been your best friend for what felt like forever.

Finally inside your dorm you rip your clothes off and put you pjs on as fast as you could. You didn’t bother to take your make up off and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Thank god for the weed.

—

Your woken up by the jiggling of keys. You turn to look at the time and you way overslept. “Oh your up.” She closes the door lightly walking over to your bed. She puts a brown paper on your nightstand and smiled softly at you. “I got you a bagel from the place we like, I made sure they put extra cheese and hash browns. And I got you salsa.” The same sadness you felt the night before washed over you. Her sweetness makes you fall apart in more ways then one.

“Thanks Hazel.” You can only produce a small awkward smile. “Do you wanna talk about last night?” She carefully sat next to you and put her hand on your back, rubbing up and down. “I’m ok Hazel, really it’s fine.” You brush her off.

“I can’t help you if you push me away y/n. You’ve been really distant recently I’m worried. I-i mean did I do something?” She spoke softly and looked at your face silently begging for you to look her in the eyes instead of the floor.

But you can’t you start to cry before you can even get a word out. “No you didn’t do anything I’m sorry. Last night Anya was just really mean. Well she’s mean every time I’m around her but I-I’m sorry.” You spoke through tears and hiccups not even knowing even know why you were saying sorry. Regretting everything you just said. You knew Anya was going to tell her—everything was going to be ripped away from you.

Hazels face contorted into anger and shock. You were petrified that you had made her angry at you. “Anya did this.” Her tone was steady and dark. You nodded. Her jaw was clenched and her fist balled breathing heavily. She grabs her keys and opens the door. “I’ll be back in 30 minutes.” She shut the door behind her harder than she meant too. She quite literally couldn’t control her anger. She liked Anya, a lot actually, but the fighting has gotten to much. Hazel could handle a bit of sass from her here and there. But knowing she hurt you had Hazel enraged.

—

It had been 45 minutes of you sitting there bouncing your leg. Shaking anticipating the consequences of your breakdown. You tried watching a movie to get your mind off of your situation but you couldn’t focus. The bagel on your nightstand making you nauseous just by being there. Frustrated tears forcing there way up every once in a while.

You hear the knob jiggle and keys. Your immediately alerted. Hazel calmly walks through the door and moves to where you’ve come to stand infront of your bed. She takes your face into her soft hands pulling you into the deepest kiss you’ve ever had. When she finally lets you catch your breath she looks in your watery eyes .

“Why did you never tell me.” She whispers looking over your post cry face. Your lips puffy and pink frustrated cheeks. You notice that her lip is busted and she has a mark on her cheek that is definitely going to turn into a bruise. “Y-you aren’t angry? Are you ok?” You started to tear up again from the relief.

“No baby i could never be angry at you. And I’m fine just thought I should put what I’ve learned in my boxing class to use.” As she’s wiping your tears way, your remember, her and Anya took the same boxing class; thats actually how they met. Hazel looked angry but you didn’t think she was THAT angry. “I didn’t think you thought I was pretty.” She pulls you closer to her. “What! Why is that?” She questioned from the crook of your neck. “Cause you date girls like Anya I didn’t think I was your type.”

Hazel suddenly starts placing kisses on your neck. She realizes she has you turning into putty in her hands, like she always wanted. Everything about you was captivating to her in this moment. The way you smelled, the way your skin felt, how she could hear your breathing pick up with every kiss.

Your heart was racing you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Your not gonna have to worry about Anya anymore honey, I promise. Your the only girl I want. And your sooo my type.” Hazel sucks a bruise with no warning into your neck and licks over it. “Oh my god Hazel please.” Your hand reaches up into her hair your fingers tangled in her silky brown tresses. “Please what baby?”

Your face got impossibly redder whole body on fire unsure of how to answer her. Feeling the way Hazels hands roamed you made your head spin. You just couldn’t take it anymore pulling her up lightly by the hair to have her look at you.

“I need you.”

You make sure you say it clearly. Hazels eyes become more lidded than before overcome with lust. She pushed you backwards towards her bed until you fall into her sheets.

“Y-your so beautiful.” Shes stammering seeing you laid out in HER bed. She connects your lips again teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance.

You want to make her feel as good as she’s making you feel. Her knee comes between your legs giving you relief from pulsing heart beat that’s developed.

Your grinding on each other urgently. Years of pent up sexual frustration and longing being released.

You try to keep up with her kisses the best you can. The friction making you lose control. Completely entangled in each other, hands trying to feel every part of her.

Exchanging heavy breaths and soft whimpers. It was frenzied and sloppy it was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

You tug her shirt over her head. She does the same for your exposing your bare chest. “Fuck.” Her brows pushing together as she feels her arousal pooling in her boxers. She can’t help but gently thumb your hard nipple trailing kisses from your collar bone to your breast.

She took the soft flesh into her mouth leaving hot kisses. Her hand massaged the other. Her lips wrapped around your nipple and released it with a pop. You let out a strained moan.

Her hand traveled to the waist band of your pajamas pants. Teasing you with her fingers moving back and forth under the fabric.

“Can I take these off.” She ask you her eyes begging you to say yes, desperate to see all of you. “Please” You nodded and she gently undressed you leaving your skin vulnerable to cool air for your dorm.

It doesn’t matter though, because Hazels warm body is pressed to you in a second. Her hand trails from your breast to your hip slowly, keeping your attention.

“Do you know how long Ive wanted you?” You shake your head, voice escaping you in the moment. Her finger slides through your folds, your wetness sending waves of pleasure and confidence through her. The sound alone made her ache.

“Way to fucking long.” She slips a finger in your soaked needy hole. You let out an open mouthed exhale. She slips in another finger. “Fuck! Mm-n!”

Her fingers stretched you out and the sensation was mind numbing. An endless repeat hazelhazelhazelhazel. Was all you could think about. Her fingers curled at a slow pace hitting just the right spot. Working your clit with her thumb at the same time.

“Im I making you feel good honey?” Her voice was gentle and attentive. The way she was grinding down on your thigh mixed with your pretty noises was making her go insane. Your moans start to get more frequent. As you were embarrassingly close to release so soon. “S-so good Hazel.”

“Talk to me sweetheart. This is all mine now right?” Hazel questions you her pace picking up and mouthing your tits. “All yours all yours all yours all…” You mumbled to her as your eyes flutter. “That’s right honey.” She kept a rough tempo leaving marks on your chest until you were finally coming undone under her.

Shes watches as your orgasm possesses you. Moaning her name as you arch your back grinding yourself against her fingers. “Yeah honey just like that cum for me baby.” She doesn’t stop till your squirming from overstimulation.

You catch your breath for a second before becoming focused. You didn’t want your fatigue from your orgasm to keep you from pleasing her. Hazels already pulling you into another deep kiss like before.

“I want to make you feel good now Hazel.” She seemed a little shocked. As you think about the girls she’s hooked up that’s probably not the kind of treatment she was used too.

“You don’t have to y/n, making you cum is pleasure enough.” She seemed almost nervous. You shake your head and take her hand placing the two fingers that were just fucking deep inside of you into your mouth.

Releasing them with a pop. Her eyes are droopy and mouth slightly open. Her chest breathing deeply overwhelmed with lust. “No Hazel. I really want to make you feel good.”

Hazels ripping off her sports bra without another word. You nudge her shoulder down and straddle her. She’s frantically trying to take her sweats and boxers off. You help her rip them off and throw them across the room.

The sight is beautiful she’s completely soak, all you want is to have your face between her thighs. “Can I taste you?” You ask coyly as your hands rub up and down the tops of her thighs, your words going straight to her core. “Fuck, y-yeah, yes p-please—I mean.”

You settle between her thighs leaving light kisses on her inner thighs. Hazels having a hard time keeping still with you so close to where she needed you.

You look up into her eyes through your lashes as your breath fans over her soaked cunt. She lets out a whimper on accident and it set her body on fire with embarrassment.

Finally you lick a broad stripe. Hazel sign in relief. Her fingers pulling at your roots. Your hands are hooked over her thighs keeping them apart. Tongue flicking over her clit at a pace YOU didn’t even know was possible.

Hazel eased into the feeling of being taken care of. She’s switching between look you in the eyes and looking at the ceiling when the shyness become too much. She quietly took in the sensation of being taken care of before speaking trying to get rid of the shyness.

“I’ve thought about you like this s-so many nights.” Hazel mumbles out between whimpers. You push your finger into her curling. “Yeah?” You question quickly. She throws her head back when you go back to sucking on her clit.

You add another finger. Pace becoming quicker and deeper. “I always imagined this,oh god,h-happening during one of our movie nights.” You hum into her creating a whole new sensation as her legs start to quake. “I th-thought youd take the hint. Oh god don’t stop.”

She let out a soft laugh until the knot in her stomach was becoming to much to handle. “I mean we c-cuddled for like 3 hours at a time! Shitshitshit!” Hazels grip on your hair became tight as her eyes rolled back, letting out a loud moan. The knot in her stomach snapping as the white hot feeling flushes over her.

You watch her in awe. Her chest heaving as she grinds into you her other hand gripping the headboard showing her toned tricep.

You help her fully ride out her orgasm then pull away to use your shirt to clean yourself in and lay next to her gently.

Hazel turns to look at you with a tired smile spreading across her face. She cups your cheek once more kissing your forehead. “I thought it would end like this too.” She says to you quietly. “Me too.” You reply going to kiss the tip of her nose. She looks into your eyes for a moment thinking.

Her eyebrows push together as a though crosses her mind. “Did you ever eat the bagel?” You laugh at her genuinely concerned question and pull her into an embrace, warm bodies lovingly entwined. “No I actually thought I was dying though in my defense.” Hazel pouts at you.

“Did you beat up Anya?” You question her instead. “I tried to but she honestly kicked my ass sooo bad, like embarrassing I’m so happy you weren’t there” You laughed at this too.

“I looked cool though right?” She dropped her voice dramatically. “Oh yeah sooo cool.” She gasped at your sarcasm.

When your both of yours laughter dies down it’s seems both of you have the same realization that your best friend was now your girlfriend. Eyes saying what they needed too.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked quietly. “Only after you eat cause a $12 bagel on a college student budget is atrocious.” She kissed your forehead and nudged you to get up.

(Thank you for reading😙)

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you

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animasola86 · 2 years ago

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Smutmas: A bloody mess

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Genre: Smut/Gore // Words: 1.7k // [Read on AO3!]

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content! Blood kink! Period sex! Murder! (Killing poachers is not frowned upon!)

Synopsis: Diffindo is your favorite spell and all the poachers know about it, well, no, they are all dead. But you don't care, you'd rather engage in a blood covered quickie with your boyfriend.

Last warning: It is getting really messy (and gory and vulgar and filthy), you have been warned!

A bloody mess

You're a mess, inside and out, everything hurts, you're covered in blood from various sources and despite it all you have never felt more alive. Your voice echoes through the empty camp, the crate you're sitting on creaks dangerously with every forceful thrust as the boy in front of you holds onto your leg and drives his eager length into your eager hole, filling you with lust and anger and desperation for more.

Your fingernails dig into the old wooden box beneath you as you arch your head back and stare up through the canopy of the forest. The night seems darker than usual, yet there is a red hue all around you, you can almost taste it on your tongue. As your insides convulse, you let out a guttural groan that is answered by a grunt and soon after you find yourself pulled up against a slick body, held by a strong arm covered in cuts and bruises, and when you look at him, you see Sebastian smirking at you darkly.

Grabbing his bloody face with shaking hands, you don't care about any of it, you just need to taste and feel him, and you do as you claim his lips for a messy kiss, while he folds your body against his, your leg resting on his shoulder as he keeps pounding into you with fervour, your combined moans and groans swallowed by the other's mouth.

You hold onto him for dear life, your fingers digging into his sticky hair as you try to kiss him under the constant up and down, in and out of his thrusts, the strength he exerts against you like nothing you have ever experienced. But the pain that rushes through you is good pain, the best kind, the rewarding kind that builds and builds only to explode into nothing but pure bliss, over and over again, mirroring his frantic movements. Seconds you want to scream turn into seconds you can only moan, and then it happens again and again, always repeating.

Until your mind is completely empty and your body is absolutely useless and all you can do is hang in his embrace, whimper quietly, and let it happen.

You feel his hands cupping your ass before he grips at the soft flesh roughly, kneading and pulling your cheeks apart as he grunts against your mouth and lifts you off the crate and against his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck as you push yourself closer to him with the last bit of strength in your boneless body, while your head is spinning, the taste of metal and musk lingering on your tongue.

Moaning loudly and whimpering quietly, you feel him pushing deep with each frantic thrust, his cock plunging into your wet depths with reckless abandon. Your walls fluttering around him, your womb cramping and convulsing, you lean into the familiar sensation of painful pleasure, pleasurable pain, as your orgasm builds inside your aching stomach.

His grunts fill your ear and the stench of blood your nostrils as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, before you plant open-mouthed kisses over his pulse, his rapid heartbeat thrumming under your tongue. “Come for me, love,” you hear him groaning, his low voice gruff and demanding despite his words, as he grabs your ass firmer and teases his fingertips between your cheeks.

Shivers and shudders crash through your body as you comply, your face contorting in a mixture of agony and ecstasy as you lean your head back and find his dark gaze. The intensity in his eyes, his freckled face covered in blood, his messy hair even messier, all of it is enough to push you straight over the edge as the tension in your stomach explodes into a display of red-tinted lights, like blood spurting from an open wound.

You cry out as you come around him, your juices coating his front as he keeps pounding away relentlessly, the wet squelching sounds echoing through the quiet night. Your entire body spasms against him as you try to hold onto him while he fucks you through your release. Something warm and sticky drips down your rear, but you couldn't care less.

Finally the pleasure is bigger than the pain and you revel in it, your swollen lips pulled back to give him a tired smile before you collapse against him, your entire weight hanging in his strong arms as he continues to drive his length all the way into your quivering cunt until he lets out a low growl and with one final powerful thrust buries himself deep, prodding right against your cervix, and starts pumping his seed into your convulsing womb.

You moan under the sensation as he fills you up, his cock throbbing with each erratic squirt while he holds you tightly in his arms, his cheek leaning on your shoulder, his heavy breaths tickling your sensitive neck. After a moment of blissful ecstasy that vibrates through both of your bodies, he carefully sets you back on the crate and leans heavily against you, before he slowly pulls back, but not yet out of your clenching pussy.

Your shaking fingers dig into his hair, fingertips brushing against his scalp, as you lean in and shower his face with kisses, tasting blood and sweat and the cold night air on his heated skin. Your breaths slowly easing, while your heart still thunders away in your chest, you loosen your death grip around his neck and lean back fully, propped up on your arms as you watch him, your chest rising and falling fast, your breasts threatening to spill past your open shirt.

Sebastian looks at you with a smirk that never falters, his lips as swollen as yours, as he takes a small step closer, his cock pushing back in fully, eliciting a soft moan from you that is quickly swallowed by his eager mouth. Breathing heavily against each other, you feel yourself getting lost in his kiss all over again as he holds your face with both hands, determined to keep you boneless and light-headed.

You growl against him, playfully nibbling on his lower lip before you sink your teeth in it, causing him to flinch, but it doesn't stop him from kissing you more as the taste and feel of blood fills both of your mouths. Your senses are swimming, everything blurs into a moment of pure bliss and lust as you devour each other's lips.

In your combined haze you barely notice the footsteps behind you. Yet when a gruff voice echoes through the night, calling in disbelief: “What in Merlin's blasted beard happened here?”, you break from the heated kiss, your tongue licking over your raw lips. You both stiffen against each other for a second, before a rush of adrenaline crashes over you.

You look past Sebastian's shoulder and meet the disturbed gaze of a poacher who looks around the wrecked camp with wide eyes before staring at the two teenagers covered in blood and sweat, caught in a rather compromising position. Yet the thrill of it all, the stench of blood in your nostrils, the heat pulsing inside your core, the sight of several dead bodies scattered all around you, drives you on and even though your hand is shaking, you raise it and point your fingers at the shocked wizard who seems too appalled by everything to even react.

And then your voice splits the quiet night. “Diffindo!” You feel your magic rushing through your arm and with a flick of your finger you channel it forwards until the poacher is pushed back, stumbling, holding his cut throat as the spell slashes through the air around him. As you watch him fall to the ground, grunting and gurgling against the blood gushing out of his neck, fighting against inevitable death, you lick your lips and exhale loudly.

You feel Sebastian's chin resting on your shoulder after he turns his head away from the mess behind him. “You know, if I wouldn't be so extremely turned on by you and your bloodlust, I'd be really scared of you...” he chuckles against your ear before he nibbles on your earlobe playfully.

You place your tingling hand on his neck and rub soothing circles into his skin, calming him and yourself, before you grab his hair and pull his head back to make him look at you. He raises an eyebrow and gives you another smirk. You grimace at him and lean your head forwards until your mouths collide for a heated kiss. He indulges you and deepens the kiss with his tongue eagerly pressing against yours, your combined groans and moans quickly masking the noises of the dying poacher behind you.

When you finally break away, breathless and delirious, it is quiet again and you sigh deeply as you lean back on the crate once more, your eyes wandering down between your legs. He follows your unspoken request and slowly pulls his cock out of your tight embrace and you grunt under the sensation of your walls clenching around him as if they don't want him to go. You feel your insides convulsing and while you grit your teeth, you force yourself to jump off the wooden box and stand on trembling legs, before you feel something warm and sticky pumping out past your quivering folds.

You don't have to look to know that your thighs are covered in cum mixed with your own blood. You are a mess, an utter mess, yet when you look up at the boy who has placed his big warm hands on your waist, supporting you, looking at you out of dark eyes, you know it doesn't matter. You throw him an almost innocent smile, inviting him to lean in, and when he does you close your lips gingerly around his.

“Care for a skinny dip?” you breathe against his split lip, your eyes boring into his. “I could really use a scrub...”

He chuckles deeply against you and nods, giving you another peck, before he lifts you up onto his arms, ignoring the fluids leaking out of you. You nestle against him and sigh deeply, lovingly looking up into his bloody face as he carries you to the nearby river, stepping over the bodies of your victims whose blood is still seeping into the earth beneath them.

End notes: You know, I seldom find myself rereading my writings and think to myself: "Holy shit, this is fucked up!" Well, I did here, but I am not sorry. The filth has to go somewhere! Waking up and choosing violence has its appeal!

So originally this was just the intro scene for a much longer piece I had planned, but I had that WIP sitting around since I posted Pain Relief and never finished it. So instead of stressing and forcing myself to write more, it became this quick quickie.

I have to start writing shorter stuff anyway, so here we go. Also the idea for this came about after a little talk with the lovely @sallowslady who always surprises me with her brilliant and dirty mind, thank you so much for this and your continuous support! ❤️

Oh and not that it matters because this is plotless smut, but our dear reader can do wandless magic, okay? Of course she can! (And that has nothing to do with me, a lazy writer, not wanting to include the struggle to find her wand in that situation! Nope!)

Coincidentally, after I wrote this, I found a Smutmas prompts list that caters greatly to my writing wants/needs/habits and it so happens that the first day of Smutmas was (among other things) Period Sex. So there we go.

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER - AO3

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow x reader #reader insert #kinkmas #smutmas #tw: blood #tw: murder #tw: periods #smutmas 2023 #smutmas day 1

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sweetrottenendings · 1 year ago

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"The Truth of Us"

Lawrence Oleander x GN AFAB!Reader NSF/W

TWs/Tags: Dead Dove, Blood, Wound opening(/fingering kinda), pretty tame ngl but it's Lawrence so be warned lol

Idk how I feel but I'm still gettin used to it lols writing smut is confusing

Lawrence has always been obsessed with your body- it's been clear since he took you and proceeded to fondle your spine, groping each vertebrae. He’s smitten with your heart especially, the way it pumps blood throughout you, the sounds it makes when he listens close enough. Those hands of his often press against where it would be on your chest, rambling about how desperately he wants to grab it- feel the wet organ squirm as he tears it out. You used to think he actually would, he honestly might have at the beginning- but he’s come to love you too much. The connection you two share is one he will never find again in life or death, there’s no way he can let that go just yet.

He lets out a shaky breath, tracing the pattern of a heart (the actual organ, not the cutesy shape we associate with it) with trembling fingers. “It would be so delicate.” He whispers. “I wish I could just reach into you and squeeze.” Although quiet, he no longer stutters when he speaks to you- coming to feel some confidence, considering the power he holds over you. Warmth floods your gut as he fawns, a sick lust bubbling in your soul. He’s really made you into a sick freak, hasn’t he? Anything to make life with him better, you suppose.

You let out a sigh as his hands reach to grip at your waist, rubbing the flesh between his fingers and pressing hard enough to bruise. His cheeks are a gentle shade of pink when he leans in to kiss you with chapped lips and you allow yourself to soften into it. He’s never really become good at kissing, his motions are always uncoordinated and sloppy with the occasional clashing of teeth- but that’s how you like it. The truths of his love fumble out with those kisses in which he can never bring himself to hide them, he’s so smitten that he can only meld his lips into yours like that of a schoolboy with his first partner.

A hand reaches back up to that spot on your chest, he digs his nails into it and rubs at the marks.

“Would your heart taste sweet?” He muses, slightly breathless. “I can just imagine it- fuck I need it so bad-” A sweet whimper spills from him, his eyebrows furrowing as he imagines the taste of the wet, squishy organ on his tongue. You shiver at his words, imagining it yourself too. Although logically it isn’t possible- the idea of watching him take large bites out of your heart makes the budding arousal throb harder. The closest thing you can get right now is the awkward meshing of your tongues, you swirl them together causing drool to pool down your chins. Sticky, messy- everything Lawrence isn't but sometimes, he'll indulge with you. He just adores you so dearly in his fucked up little brain.

He pins your hands above your head (the hands you proved yourself worthy of keeping, thankfully) in a swift movement. With deeply blushed cheeks and lidded eyes he pants, chest heaving with each intake of breath. He's oh so beautiful, in all of who he is and it makes you so needy. Your legs are nudged apart with his knees so they lay gently around his waist. The aching length of his cock grinds into your core through each other's clothes and he whimpers at the contact, while you let out a breathy sigh.

“Mmph- I wish I could tear you open” He lets out a shaky sigh. “and just, lick every organ you've got.” The gory, lewd image causes his grip on you to tighten. You desperately lift your head up for another kiss, always so desperate to feel his lips on yours. He only indulges you with a peck before lifting the shirt you wear– the only clothing you really have besides underwear. Lawrence likes the vulnerability of it, but gets too flustered if you're completely nude, so it's a compromise.

As he lets go of your wrists you reach out to him, wanting him to follow suit in terms of nudity. He hesitates, he always does, still insecure in his body despite how much you love it.

“Please Law…” You whine, as sweetly as you can. “wanna see you, please?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, like you're a child asking for a second sweet, and lifts his shirt over his head. His skin has that slightly grey tinge, like it's had the life sapped from it (which technically it has.) and you stare at him in awe. You'll never get tired of seeing him- just as he'll never get tired of seeing you.

A hand goes to your left breast, grabbing what he can of the soft flesh and kneading it causing you to moan softly. He used to hate when you made any sound, frightened by having a partner that's responsive, but over time he's come to enjoy it. However you can't be too loud, it still irritates him- keep the volume just right and he'll be throbbing within you. “So soft…” He coos, gazing gently at you. “always so soft, squishy, fragile.” He giggles, leaning his face to yours, you feel his breath fan your lips.

“My fragile little flower, you wilt so easily don't you?” He asks with a hum, but he doesn't want an answer. He pinches the already hardened bud that is your nipple between his fingers roughly. It makes you squirm in pain, which makes him shiver in delight. The hand not in use slowly travels down your body, groping any flesh he can get his hands on. Your stomach, waist, hips- he grabs every part of you excitedly before sliding down to your panties where he feels the soaked patch you left. He groans, “Always so wet and needy.” A finger slowly begins to rub where your clit would be in little circles, and he relishes the small moans you let out.

“You really are a flower, huh? So pretty, fragile and desperate for attention at every given moment~” He sighs wistfully, “And so dumb, no brains at all.” Although you feel ashamed, the mockery makes you throb with need. There's something about being so pathetic that you're compared to a plant that you enjoy- maybe it's the idea of needing to rely on him, forever.

Both of his hands move to the waistband of your underwear, slowly peeling them down so he can see the way your slick leaves a little string between you and the fabric. His nails scratch you as he removes them, leaving little marks along his path. You try to cover your face out of embarrassment but a hand to your throat stops the motion.

“Don't you dare.” His voice comes out in a growl, filled with rage at the mere prospect of hiding from him. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Without warning he's suddenly knuckles deep with two fingers in your pussy and you let out a gasp. He fingers you aggressively, nails occasionally scraping on the sensitive flesh of your inner walls. It hurts, it hurts so good. It makes you writhe and arch your back, squealing at the sensation when he curls his fingers to hit that spongy spot inside of you.

“Law-” You gasp, words coming out between harsh breaths. “Need to- can I- please-”

He scowls, covering your mouth and quickening the pace of his fingers. “Be quiet.”

He removes the hand and takes advantage of the space your arched back has made. He reaches around to it- the wound that encapsulates everything the two of you are. He prods at the wound on your spine, and digs his fingers into it until it splits- you scream. It hurts so fucking bad- and it makes you cum all over his fingers. The pain, the pleasure- Lawrence. It's just too much, and makes you a convulsing, trembling mess.

“You can never keep quiet can you?” He taunts, voice filled with rage which you can't tell if it's genuine or fake. “Always so loud, maybe I should cut your tongue and shut you up.” Your heart pumps with fear, but you know he'd never do it. Not now, when he's developed an affection for your voice that he didn't have before.

He withdraws his fingers from your cunt, covered with your cum and a few droplets of blood. The fingers go into his mouth and he swirls his tongue around them, savouring the taste in silence before hitching your legs onto his shoulders. The tip of his aching, leaking cock drags along your slit, coating it in the remnants of your orgasm. He moans at the sensation, prodding your clit with his tip and bucking into it slightly. You whine at the teasing, and he grips your jaw harshly.

“Quiet.” You finally listen to him, managing to gather yourself enough to lower your sounds into near whispers. He visibly relaxes at this, smiling at your obedience. “Good, my sweet flower.”

His cock is sheathed into you with one fluid motion, pressed so deeply it nearly kisses your cervix.

“Warm- you’re always so warm-” He drawls, little bits of drool dripping from his lips. The warmth of your body has always made him break, it’s the only warm body he’s ever fucked- ever will fuck. You bite your lower lip to prevent from yelping, drawing blood which Lawrence lowers his tongue to so he can lick it up. He moans at how your blood tastes, and reaches back around to your open spinal wound to get more. You hadn't noticed due to all the sensations but there was a lot of blood- you’d be okay, but it wouldn't seem like it at a first glance. He dips his fingers into it, prodding as close to the vertebrae as he can. Your eyes water and you have to force yourself not to scream. Then bringing his fingers back to his lips. He laps at your blood like it's the sweetest treat he could ever find (It probably is.) and he lets out a languid moan as he practically fingers his own mouth.

“Fuck, I could just-” A shuddering breath, and muffled speaking. “I could just drink you dry.” He finally begins to thrust, fingers still deep in his mouth. It’s immediately fast, hard, aggressive- every strong emotion Lawrence can muster comes out when he fucks you. The confidence he’s found over time has made him a violent man to fuck, just like his violence in day to day life. Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you desperately try to keep your moans quiet, cute whines slipping out that he smiles at. You’re overstimulated, your senses are flooded and there's no escape because all there is is Lawrence.

His dingy bed creaks with every thrust, the squeaks of the springs ringing in your ears in a way that makes you squirm. It’s an awful sound, but you'll put up with it if it means you get to see him like this. Lost in pleasure, lost in you and lapping your blood like it's a drug. Quickly another knot builds and you curl your toes in a desperate attempt to not fall apart just yet. The way you tighten around his cock makes him whine and fuck you faster, his hips stuttering as he comes closer to the edge. You want to cum with him, so you'll hold back as long as you can.

“Fuck- haah- ‘m close,” He groans, blue eyes staring deeply into your own eyes. “G-gonna cum, you’re gonna t-take it all yeah?” He begins to stutter as he gets closer, voice betraying the confidence he portrays. You nod desperately, “Yes! Please Lawrence- fuck!-” A squeal erupts from your throat as you cum, unable to hold back any longer. Although loud, he doesn't seem to mind it this time as the feeling of your orgasm sends him into his own. His body presses close against yours as he spills into you, pumping every drop of his seed as deep as he can. “T-that’s it- take it all-” Hot breath fans your face as he speaks, his eyes locked deep into yours. Blue is all you see, sinking you deep into his soul. (If he still has one.)

You both slowly relax after the post-orgasmic bliss settles. His body falls to lay on top of you, arms wrapped around you as he traces his fingers up to play with your spine once more. It’s not sexual now, instead it's like comfort to him. Feeling your flesh, your bones, the delicate curve of your spine. It hurts, but you instead focus on the comfort that is snuggling into his sweaty chest. He’ll fix you up later, give you some tea to make you relax.

Maybe this is what you were made for.

#fanfic #x reader #boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death 2 #btd #btd lawrence #btd2 #gatobob #gender neutral reader #gn reader #18+ mdni #mdni #smut

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ballsandbabes · 1 month ago

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Hii again, can i request imagines with slam dunk boys( hanamichi, rukawa, ryota, mitsuia, kogure, akagi, kiyota, jin and maki?) They had a fight about to much training? And because they don't see each other very often , so s/o is worried about them but they get angry, and s/o cried, but then they realized what happened and apologise🩷🩷

Thank you for having another request for me, dear. I wrote only for some of the boys, i hope you still like it. It was really fun writing it 🩷 I hope you do enjoy it.

SlamDunk Boys having a fight with s/o

authors note: y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3

pairing: hanamichi, rukawa, ryota, mitsuia, kogure, akagi, kiyota, jin x fem!reader

genre: romance, hurt/comfort, angst

_____________ _ _ _

Hanamichi Sakuragi

You stood outside the Shohoku gym, as always. You now lived there as often as you spent your time there. Your arms were crossed and frustration was bubbling in your chest. It was already getting dark, and once again — he hadn’t answered your texts. He usually always texted you when you should pick him up. But not today. You could hear the familiar echo of sneakers squeaking and the ball bouncing inside. It had been like this for weeks now. Practice. Extra drills. Street games. Training with Gori-senpai. Always basketball.You understood how much it meant to him. You really did. You respected it. But the distance between you had started to feel like a chasm.

The door opened. “Oi, Y/n?” Sakuragi’s voice rang out, surprised. His red hair was damp with sweat, his face flushed from exertion. “What’re you doing here?”

You stepped forward, trying to keep your voice calm.

“I wanted to see you. It's been over a week, Hanamichi. You haven't replied to anything I sent. You didnt say I should pick up from the gym anymore...so i thought i would just...you know show up.”

He blinked, looking confused. “I’ve been training. Winter tournament’s coming up. You know that.”

“I know, Hanamichi,” you snapped, sharper than you intended. “But do you know what it’s like to keep waiting for someone who doesn’t seem to care?” His expression twisted, defensive. “Don’t start that crap. I do care. I’m just doing this for us! I wanna win, be the best — prove everyone wrong!”

You stepped back, throat tightening. “I didn’t ask you to be the best, Hanamichi. I just wanted you. Not the ‘tensai,’ not the basketball star. Just you.” He scoffed, too angry to think. “So what — you want me to stop playing? To throw everything away because you’re a little lonely?!” The words hit you like a slap. Your breath hitched, and before you could stop it, tears welled in your eyes.

Sakuragi froze,“…Y/N?” You turned away, wiping your face. “Forget it. This was a mistake.” You started walking, heart aching in your chest — but then you heard quick footsteps, a hand grabbing your wrist.

“Wait. Wait—dammit.” When you looked back, he looked wrecked. His brows furrowed, mouth half open like he couldn’t figure out how to say everything spinning in his head. “I didn’t mean that,” he said quietly. “I was being a dumbass. I always do this when I get scared.” You blinked. “Scared?” He ruffled his already-messy hair, cheeks flushed with shame now. “Yeah. Scared I’m not enough. That if I don’t give it everything, I’ll lose what I’ve got. Lose you. So I overdo it. Push too hard. And I forgot—”

He stepped closer, voice lower now. “I forgot you were already on my team.” Your breath caught. He looked at you like you were the most important thing in his life. And this time, you knew he meant every word, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I just… missed you.” His arms wrapped around you suddenly, tightly, like he couldn’t bear to let you go now. “I missed you too,” he muttered into your hair. “I’m gonna get better at this. At us. Just… stick with me, yeah?”. You smiled softly against his chest. “Only if you promise not to dunk your way into another fight," you said.

“…No promises.” You both laughed — shaky, warm, real. And this time, when he pulled away to look at you, you saw it in his eyes: Hanamichi Sakuragi was still a work in progress. But he was yours.

Rukawa Kaede

You waited outside the practice gym, hands stuffed deep in your coat pockets against the cold wind. It was disgusting, the only thing to make it worse, would have been rain. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the court where Rukawa was training — alone, as usual. You hadn’t seen him properly in days. His replies were short, clipped even. His schedule swallowed by endless drills and conditioning. And while you knew how fiercely he chased perfection, your heart ached with every unanswered message. You hated it so much. What were you together for if you didn't spend any time together…not even an hour a week? When he finally stepped out, dripping sweat, his usual calm aura was tinged with something sharper — exhaustion? Frustration? You weren’t sure.

“Hey,” you said quietly. He barely looked at you. “We need to talk,” you said, voice trembling but firm. Rukawa crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “If this is about me training too much, I don’t see the point.” You took a shaky breath. “It is about that. You barely make time for us anymore. I’m worried, Kaede.” He scoffed, stepping closer, voice low and harsh. “Worried? You don’t get it. I’m not training for fun or to please anyone. I’m doing this for me — to be the best, to be the only one who matters on that court.”

Your heart twisted. “But what about me? Don’t I matter?” His gaze flickered, unguarded for a brief moment, before his usual cold mask slid back on. “You want me to slow down? To be less?” His voice cracked just slightly. “Maybe I don’t want to be easy to have around.”

Tears pricked your eyes, slipping silently down your cheeks. Rukawa’s eyes widened as he realized. “…I didn’t mean—” he started, but you cut him off, stepping back.

“I’m tired of feeling like I’m waiting for someone who’s already gone.”

His jaw clenched. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out and gently brushed a tear from your cheek. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, voice rough. “I get so caught up in trying to be perfect, I forget what’s right in front of me.”

You looked up, heart pounding as he softened, just a little. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You smiled through your tears, stepping into his arms, “Just… don’t disappear on me like that.”

He pulled you close, forehead resting against yours. “I won’t.” And beneath the cold, distant exterior, Rukawa Kaede’s heart beat steady — just for you.

Ryota Miyagi

You sat on the bench outside the gym, AGAIN. It was the fourth time this week. Arms folded tightly across your chest, watching the door. Waiting for him. AGAIN. The sound of basketballs pounding echoed inside, but it wasn’t the rhythm of joy you hoped for. You couldn't hear those noises anymore. It was the sound of distance growing. You hadn’t seen Ryouta properly in days, maybe weeks. His texts were sparse—sometimes impatient, sometimes dismissive. He was always training, always pushing himself harder than anyone else. When he finally burst through the door, sweat-soaked and breathless, you stood up, voice shaking but firm,“Ryouta Miyagi, we need to talk.”

He frowned, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “What now?” You took a deep breath. “I’m worried. You’re training too much, you don’t make time for us. I feel like you don’t care anymore.” His eyes flashed, anger rising as quick as a sprint, “Don’t tell me how to live, okay? I’m out there giving my all! You think I’m doing this just to ignore you? I’m doing it for the team — for us!”

You blinked, hurt breaking through the frustration,“Us? Then why don’t I see you? Why am I the one left waiting?”

He shook his head, voice sharp. “Maybe if you weren’t so clingy, I wouldn’t feel like I’m drowning here.”

The words stung, and tears spilled over despite your best effort to hold them back. You turned away, choking out, “Maybe I just miss you.” Miyagi’s expression faltered. The fire in his eyes softened into something raw and real. “Damn it,” he muttered, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean that.”

He reached out hesitantly, brushing a tear from your cheek, “I’m sorry, okay? I just… I get scared, Y/N. Scared that if I don’t work harder, if I don’t push myself, I’ll lose everything — including you.”

You looked up, voice trembling. “You don’t have to do it alone.” He pulled you into a tight hug, voice muffled in your hair. “Promise me you’ll keep running with me. Not behind me, not waiting — with me.” You nodded, tears still falling but now mixed with relief.

“I promise.”And there, amidst the echoing bounce of basketballs and the fading light, you both found your way back — stronger together.

Hisashi Mitsui

You sat quietly on the bleachers, watching Mitsui shoot hoops under the gym lights. His form was perfect—fluid, focused—but there was a tension in his shoulders that made your heart ache. You hadn’t seen him much lately. You only got to watch him, like today. if you wanted to see him, you had to go see him...watching his practices. Between extra practices, conditioning, and his relentless drive to come back stronger after his injury, it felt like he was slipping away, piece by piece. When Mitsui finally noticed you and jogged over, wiping sweat from his brow, you took a deep breath.

“Can we talk?” you asked, voice barely steady. He raised an eyebrow, a little out of breath but curious. “Yeah, what’s up?” You bit your lip. “I’m worried, Mitsui. You’re pushing yourself so hard, and we barely see each other anymore. I feel like… I’m losing you.” His eyes flickered with something between frustration and hurt. “I’m doing this for us,” he said, voice low but fierce. “I need to be better, stronger. You think I want to neglect you?”

“But it feels like you don’t have time for me at all,” you whispered, tears threatening. “I miss you.” His jaw tightened. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t want to be with you instead of stuck on this court?” The honesty in his voice broke something inside you, and the tears spilled over. “I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I just wish… you’d let me in more.”

Mitsui’s expression softened immediately. He stepped closer, voice gentle, almost tender. “I’m sorry too. I get so caught up in proving myself that I forget what really matters.” He reached out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re the reason I fight so hard. Not just for basketball, but for us," he said softly, full of love. You smiled through your tears, wrapping your arms around him, “I’m here, Mitsui. Always.” He held you close, voice low but steady, “And I’m not going anywhere Luv.”

Kiminobu Kogure

You found yourself waiting outside the gym again, the evening chill settling around you as you watched the glowing windows where Kogure practiced with his team. You understood how important basketball was to him — he was the quiet heart of Seirin, always steady, always there. But lately, you felt like you were fading into the background. When Kogure finally stepped out, his usually calm expression was tired, but he smiled softly when he saw you. “Hey,” he greeted quietly. You forced yourself to meet his eyes, trying to steady your voice. “Kogure, we need to talk.” He frowned gently, concern flickering in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” You swallowed hard. “I’m worried about you. You’ve been training nonstop, barely making time for us. I feel like… I’m losing you.”

His brows knitted slightly, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “I’m doing this for the team. For the future. I didn’t think it was a problem.”

“It is,” you whispered, tears welling. “Because I miss you. And I’m scared you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Kogure’s calm cracked just a little. “I don’t want to hear that. I’m trying my best.” Your tears slipped freely now, and Kogure’s expression softened instantly. He stepped closer, voice gentle and full of love. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much it hurt you.”

He reached out, brushing your hair back tenderly, “You’re my reason to keep going, you know. Not just basketball.”

You leaned into his touch, heart aching with relief. “I’m here,” you said softly. “Always.”

He smiled, wrapping you in a warm embrace. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Akagi Takenori

You stood outside the gym door again, the familiar echo of sneakers on hardwood and the sharp voice of Akagi barking orders filling the air. You’d been here many evenings now, watching from a distance while he trained, while he pushed the team — and himself — harder than ever. And lately, you barely saw him. The texts were shorter. The calls always ended with “I need to get back to practice.” He never noticed how much that started to hurt. When he finally stepped outside, his face lit with sweat and a tired kind of pride, he was surprised to see you there,“Y/n? What are you doing here this late?”

You tried to smile, but it cracked around the edges. “Can we talk?” His brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?” You nodded, taking a shaky breath. “I barely see you anymore, Takenori. You’re always training. Always leading. And I get that basketball is your dream—but I’m scared you’re losing everything else.”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his damp hair. “Y/n... I didn’t think it was that bad.”Your voice trembled now,“I feel like I’m standing on the sidelines of your life.”

Akagi’s jaw tightened, not out of anger — but out of frustration, maybe with himself. “I have to train. I have to set an example. This team depends on me.”

“What about me?” you asked, the words spilling out, raw. “Don’t I matter too?” Silence. Then your eyes welled with tears and you turned your face away, wiping them quickly. “I just… miss you,” you whispered. That was what cracked something in him. He stepped closer and, with more gentleness than anyone would expect from the team captain, placed his large hand on your shoulder. His voice was quiet now — almost soft. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were less important. I just… I carry a lot, Y/n. Sometimes, I forget how heavy it is until it weighs on the people I love,” he spoke softly. You looked up at him, surprised by the word,“Love?”

He nodded. “Yes. You. You’ve always been my calm when I’m storming through the court. And I hate that I made you cry.” You stepped into him, and his arms wrapped around you protectively, almost instinctively. His chin rested gently on your head. “I don’t need grand gestures,” you whispered. “I just need you.”

“I’ll do better,” he said softly. “I promise.” That weekend, Akagi did something you’d never expect: he took a full day off. No drills. No shouting. Just the two of you — a quiet walk through the park, lunch at your favorite spot, and a stop at a little bookstore where he awkwardly picked up a book you’d been wanting. And he didn’t say much, because Akagi wasn’t a man of many romantic words. But every time he looked at you, every time he quietly reached for your hand, or gently kissed your temple, it spoke volumes. And as the sun dipped low and you sat with your head on his shoulder, he finally whispered: “I may be the captain on the court. But with you... I don’t have to carry everything alone.”

I hope you liked it @vani1ilee <3

#slam dunk #kiminobu kogure #slamdunk #basketball #Akagi Takenori #mitsui hisashi #rukawa kaede #sakuragi hanamichi #hanamichi sakuragi

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lrgcarter · 4 months ago

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Okay,

I've often posted links to my fiction, but I haven't ever written a post explaining what I write. I've always figured "meh, if people read it they read it. If not, then not. Whatevs."

But today the prose is coming tough, so I'm writing this explanation as a free writing/shake it all loose kind of thing.

So, imagine a seventeen year old in the very early 2000s. Tony Blair is prime minister. 9/11 happened less than 12 months ago. It is not currently common for people to have their own internet connection. You use one of the computers scattered randomly around college if you want to ask jeves to look for things online. But he probably won't find anything, because the internet doesn't have much on it yet. Strange times.

And I'm thinking "I enjoy creating shit!"

This creativity came in many forms. Writing lyrics with my friend who knew how to play Every Instrument. Making comics. Writing stories.

And being as I am 17, I am aware that I know jack shit about the world. I also know that I'm trying to figure it out, and it's hard, but day by day I'm getting there, you know?

I'm also starting to see how experimental books can be. I've read Robert Rankin, who like to put poems between each chapter. I'm reading Moby Dick, which swaps between traditional prose and script format and has one chapter that's just a limerick. (Edit: It might not strictly be a limerick. Tiny poem. Whatever, word nerd.) I've discovered Edward Gory, who does so much in so little space and who I could probably ramble on about for ever.

So, I'm particularly focusing on developing my own prose.

And all of these things come together. And I start putting together things to make a children's book.

Why a children's book? Because I'm a teenager who has yet to drown his earlier memories. I can remember what children want. Or at least what I wanted as a child. And the children's material of the time did not seem to be catering for Past Me (Edit: Oh, except for Captain Underpants! I discovered that while revising for my GCSEs. Add that to the inspiration pile).

So, I start sticking together everything I like into one big messy world.

I don't even know the style I'm going for yet. At one point I was going to do the whole thing in the style of Edward Gory. You know, because at that point I was pumping his stuff into my veins.

And then I go to uni, and my friend Chris takes me to the uni writing group, and they seem to like my stuff. Which is nice and encouraging. And so I keep writing from there.

Fast forward 20 years.

The world has changed. A lot. And in some other ways, not at all.

My work has not been published. No worries. I understand. I've had some very nice rejection letters. I'm painfully aware of its flaws.

Also, the world changing, and me doubling my age, means that what I want to write has changed.

My old stories are about a kid trying to work out what the world is all about. I had this idea that there is enough strange and fantastical shit in the world that you don't need to go through a wardrobe or whatever to find a fantasy land. My original aim was to write an exaggerated version of the real world with any differences being because it was "just a few years in the future, after a load of stuff has changed."

But since then the world has changed. And some of the stuff in my stories is now redundant. And plenty of it has been done better by others in the meantime. And I'm now working on new stuff that better reflects where I currently am as a person and as a writer.

But at the start of the ongoing pandemic I made myself a website. And I needed content. So I dusted off the first few old stories and threw them online. Where you can read them!

And at some point I'll dust off the next in the series. Book 3 needs a lot of work though, which is why it isn't already there. That story is set in a school and remembering that part of my childhood opened up waaay too many mind doors. So while the first stories have been through 20 years of drafting and refinement, book 3 is basically still in its first draft format. Which is a shame, because I'm really happy with book 4 and want to put that out one day. So if none of the rest of the series ever sees the light of day, I will get book 3 revised and put 3 and 4 on my site.

One day.

In the mean time, please check out my stories if you would like to see some metaphorical pictures of me as an embarrassing youth.

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notelcol · 1 year ago

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The fallen prince of Asgard and the Mad Titan’s daughter.

Mildly edited, apologies for mistakes🫣

You were one of Thanos’ daughters. You loved your sisters but you weren’t angry like them.

“I don’t want to fight. I just want to live in peace, in some quiet corner of the universe.” Barely a teenager, you begged your sisters to come with you as you ran away.

“No! We can’t. He will find us and you know it.” Nebula stood firm. “We have no money, we won’t survive out there. We should let him teach us, make us rich. Then we ditch him when we are older and stronger.” Gamora was always the practical one. But you needed to do this.

“I’m going with or without you.” You wished it didn’t have to be this way, but you couldn’t stay here amongst this violence.

“Like hell you are.” Nebula wouldn’t let you go. She screamed for the guards, forcing you to do the very thing you were running from. That was the day you took your first life, becoming the first of Thanos’ daughters to kill. The sacrifice of your morality secured you your freedom. But as you drifted through space, lost and alone, you began to question if it was worth killing that guard. Was it worth betraying yourself and your family?

Nine years passed like a breeze once you found your new home. Cementing your confidence over your decision. You now lived on a beautiful and messy young planet named Earth. You were indeed accosted and questioned upon arrival by SHIELD, which was how you found your occupation. You began as a simple analyst, helping their scientists understand tech from other planets. They tried to make you fight when an Asgardian prince invaded a small town. You refused. You blamed yourself when the town was almost entirely destroyed. It was then you realised the difference between fighting to hurt and fighting to protect. You never wanted to feel that regret and fear again. You loved this planet. It needed protection. You wouldn’t let it down again.

You became an Avenger when Loki returned to take the tesseract. Immediately recognising the Chitauri army, you warned your teammates. Specifically you warned Thor, Loki’s brother.

“Those soldiers, they answer to my father. Your brother will die if he gives him that tesseract.” Your words confused the large man, so you elaborated. “Loki will have made a deal with my father. Most likely the tesseract in exchange for Earth. But I know Thanos, he will kill Loki once he’s used him.” The others all said that is changes nothing. But to you and Thor, it meant there was a chance that Loki didn’t want this. You knew how powerful Thanos’ manipulation was, you didn’t believe this was Loki’s fault.

Once yourself and the Avengers had won against him, you began to fight for a merciful sentence. It was thanks to you that he was allowed to return to Asgard to face punishment. You did not know what kind of consequences he would face, but Thor seemed happy with the outcome so you trusted it. While Loki awaited his transfer to Asgard, you took to opportunity to speak to him.

“What do you want?” He spat.

“I want to know about Thanos.” Your statement made him sit straighter, gaining his interest.

“How would a mortal like you, know about a Titan like Thanos?” He smirked, leaning forward in his cage. His eyes fixed on yours as you told him your tale.

“I was born on a small planet on the other side of the Universe, I don’t even remember its name. Thanos conquered it when I was very young. He took me from the wreckage and taught me his ways. I was one of the weapons he calls children, until I ran away as a teenager.” He seemed to take it all in, deciding if he could trust you. You could have been spying for Thanos for all he knew. Eventually he spoke, giving you an ounce of his trust.

“I fell from the bridge between Asgard and the known universe.” He started dramatically. “I hurtled through a wormhole and awoke in a cell. I shan’t go into the gory details but Thanos and his men tortured me until I agreed to tell them everything I knew about the infinity stones. Once I had done so I thought they would let me go, but instead he offered me the chance to rule Earth. All I needed to do, was bring him the tesseract.” You nodded, this was typical of your father. “I don’t care about ruling this heap of filth, I just wanted to be free. That was why I allowed myself to fall from the Bi-Frost in the first place.” You could understand that. “But I could see in his eyes that he would never let me leave if I didn’t help him. I had no choice but to accept.” Towards the end it felt like he was begging you to believe him.

“I understand.” Was all you could muster as you stared the fallen prince in the eye. He accepted your reply with a sad smile, glad to be truly seen, even if the moment was fleeting. “Did you see his other daughters while you were there by chance?” You hoped for an update on your sisters, you missed them more than anything.

“No, I’m afraid I did not know he had daughters.” His answer made your heart sink. He noticed and asked for a description, in case he had seen them without knowing who they were.

“Gamora has pink hair and Nebula has none.” You looked away. Afraid to hear another no.

“I do apologise.” He shook his head. Maybe one day you will see them again. You nodded and left. Leaving him alone to await his fate.

When it was time for Loki to be transferred to Asgard, you decided to see him off. You did not expect to exit the elevator to the sight of Tony Starks heart failing and the Hulk smashing up the the hallway. You stood frozen until you were brought back to reality by the tesseract dropping at your feet. You picked it up and when you raised your head to see where it came from, you were met with a fist. Loki’s first. You dropped the tesseract in a daze, your vision spotting and swirling. You forced eyes to focus, just in time to catch him with the tesseract in hand. You jumped to grab him before he could teleport, but you were too late.

You could feel the atoms separate and reunite as you were sucked into his teleportation. You were instantly covered in sand, it seemed you were in a desert now. You hate sand, but didn’t spare a thought to it as you remembered why you were here. You shot up, looking for Loki, only to see him already looking at you. His eyes were the image of guilt and sorrow.

“I’m sorry. I cannot spend my life in prison, and Thanos will find me if I run. Unless I give him this.” He looked at the cube in distain. You were about to convince him to go back, when you both noticed the people watching you. They looked absolutely baffled. Loki cleared his throat and brushed himself off quickly before he hopped up onto a rock. His speech of glorious purpose was interrupted not a sentence in, by apparitions of golden doors opening all around you. A group of soldiers waltzed through, odd glowing batons in hand. You could make out a small logo on their uniforms. It looked like it said TVA….?

Thank you for reading this💓

There may be a part two coming😉

#loki #mcu loki #tva loki #loki laufeyson #loki series #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki show #loki spoilers #x reader #angst #light angst #marvel mcu #marvel #the avengers #tony stark #hulk #disney tva #writing

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toptophat · 2 years ago

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Top Hat's thoughts on the FNAF movie (Spoilers)

I thoroughly enjoyed it! Smiled throughout the whole thing

As a FNAF fan, seeing some key moments from the games as well as acknowledging the fandom (e.g Game theory's MatPat and The Living Tombstone's iconic song at the credits) made my jaw drop

FNAF veterans such as Dawko enjoyed it so that made me optimistic

The animatronics were replicated perfectly and the entire set for the restaurant is just too beautiful

Scenes such as the break-in, while not exactly scary, were still intense enough to keep me invested

Unpopular opinion - I kinda liked the pillow fort scene, it was cheesy but it could be seen as the animatronics trying to gain Abby's trust to lure her to be stuffed into a suit. Also I'm jealous, i wanna make a pillow fort with them 😭

And here's where I'll address (some of) the main critiques people gave to the movie (references: anything in the media that would link to this in a way)

"The movie wasn't scary at all, it should've been gory"

Yeah, I agree, even though I got shocked a couple of times (like the balloon boy gag) it wasn't really terrifying

But honestly, after watching countless "playthroughs" as a kid, you start to realise... The games were never that scary in the first place

To be honest, the only thing scary about it was actually some areas in the fandom (you know who you are..)

I'm aware that FNAF was never for kids, no matter how many elsagate vids were made on it. So it would make sense for it to have blood and gore. It definitely would've made scenes like the spring lock scene more traumatising to look back at

You know what else was expected to be more adult oriented? Cuphead's Netflix adaptation. While I understand that both of these beloved franchises could've been adapted to be more adult, it can also be noted that the Cuphead show is actually accepted by the fandom as while it did have a rocky start with S1, it showed that the writers were testing the waters to try something new, and by S2, they had a better idea of what they wanted, and a lot of people fell in love with it. While it would've definitely been cool to see more gore, it wouldn't improve the movie automatically

"The movie doesn't follow the original lore"

While, yes, it would've been cool to see all theories confirmed by Scott himself during the film, it's also good to remember this: they're called "adaptations" for a reason

Many popular franchises, when adapted to the big/small screen can experience changes in the known story and lore as a way to bring this fresh new start and perspective, they never aim to continue or tell the story again when it wasn't necessary in the first place (*cough cough* Lion King 2019). Last time I checked: Luigi wasn't the one who gets kidnapped by Bowser (SMB23), Cuphead never lost the right to his soul due to a carnival game (TCS), The Echidnas never had beef with freaking owls over the master emerald (The Sonic movies)

Let's be honest here, Scott may have made FNAF, but all the popular fan theories wrote the story, so everything is kinda messy. Maybe this was Scott's chance to rewrite everything, to start over and stray away from the messy lore that others made, MatPat seemed to be cool with it, he was even in the damn movie!

While, there have been times when repeating the same story makes it stale and repetitive (Disney), Changing important elements of the story (Also Disney) can make it unfaithful and pointless, so I understand that.

The changes that were made in this movie were interesting, making Vanessa, Afton's daughter could add more impact on the whole Vanny thing as she's been around this horrible man her whole life. Not making Mike, Abby and Garrett, Afton's children doesn't really deepen the personal connection and conflict between Mike and Afton so it'll be interesting to see how that one goes especially with Circus Baby now that Abby has no real connection to Afton other than that one encounter

Also I heard from one review that the movies take more inspiration from the books, but I don't have enough knowledge on the books to elaborate on that argument

Unless there's some weird twist, which is highly unlikely, I'd love to see how they develop these newly established dynamics if there are sequels being planned (pls make more, I need to see how this goes)

Besides, like I said, often, the first movies, seasons etc are there to experiment, it has the potential to improve in each new installment. For example, JJBA, it took until around parts 3-4 for Araki to have a better idea of what he wanted it to be.

Conclusion

That's about all I really have to say. I understand that many had high expectations going in and, who wouldn't? It shows we value ourselves and that we want to experience things that are worth our time. People are not obligated to love everything and don't have to agree with everything I said. I personally found the movie to be enjoyable and worth my time, and, while i know it lacked in some aspects, who knows?, as it progresses, opinions could change and if we get more of the revamped FNAF, then, we could see if it changed for the better or for the worse. And while first impressions do matter, it won't always be the same impression moving forward (for people who liked and didn't like the movie)

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk!

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #review #freddy fazbear #bonnie the bunny #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #william afton #mike schmidt #abby schmidt #fnaf vanessa #spoilers #pls tag spoilers #I don't wanna ruin anyone's experience

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gordonlore · 2 years ago

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Bryan Seth Gordon Sr.

Bryan Seth Gordon was born in Birmingham, Alabama late into the cool summer night on April 21st, 1949, to a young sixteen-year-old girl whom he never knew besides the letter she had left him for when he turned sixteen; the age at which she gave him up. Bryan had dusty/dirty blond hair that only grew darker into a lighter brown. He also had blue eyes that would take many foster parents by storm and yet Bryan never grew up in a stable home. He was award of the state till he aged out at 18 (April 21st, 1967). He was in and out of homes, never staying anywhere long enough to form a real bond—or to hold a job. That led Bryan to enlisted himself into the military enrolling himself into boot camp. Where he spent the next eight weeks training and forming bonds between the other recruits around him. One of them, Jeremiah Ryan Holms, becoming his closest friend. The only one he opened to about his past when Jeremiah opened to him about his. When they got deployed to Vietnam Bryan and Jeremiah only grew closer and Bryan started to feel hope for his own future as the optimistic Jeremiah started to place Bryan in his future. Long talks about Jeremiah and Bryan getting a white picket fence homes next to each other, raising their families together like family. Bryan held onto that idea—that dream. That dream was destroyed quickly when the final assignment Jeremiah and Bryan were given ended horribly.

It was only eight years (May 30th, 1975) after Bryan and Jeremiah had graduated boot camp, and as the assignment started, everything went to plan, nothing out of the ordinary. Then their squad was attacked. Bryan can’t tell you what went wrong—it wasn’t anything on his squad’s actions. It was just horribly bad luck. One moment he was giving commands and the next they were ambushed, and Bryan couldn’t hear, and his vision was split in two. His heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn’t feel his leg—one of them. It was hard to tell which. It was a messy and terrifying situation. Where were his men? Where was Jeremiah? What was happening? The next thing he did know he had found his men—not a single survivor other than himself, and if he looked down, he saw the blood and the massive wound that showed bone in his left leg. He hobbled around and soon found Jeremiah. Not dead, but soon to be dead, laying not that far away and staring at the sky. What happened? Bryan saw the wounds. The one at his next and the one at his abdomen. Bryan went to stop the bleeding soon after he called in a rescue—but Jeremiah stopped his hands looking at the sky. He couldn’t speak, and his grip on Bryan’s hand was week and Bryan could completely ignore it and place pressure to try and save Jeremiah—but Bryan stopped, and then moved to hold Jeremiah’s hand till he died not soon after. Everything was a bloody and gory mess. The rescue team came and gathered him and the bodies of his men, and Jeremiah. Bryan was taken to the medic and patched up the best that they could and was eventually discharged and sent back “home” to America.

When Bryan came “home”, he had the duty of personally informing the families of the men he lost, and he volunteered himself in informing Jeremiah’s family. He needed to tell them personally. Let them know what kind of impact Jeremiah made on his family. So, when Bryan came home he immediately let Mr. and Mrs. Holms know of their son’s unfortunate end, Bryan was surprised when Jeremiah’s mother immediately brought him into a hug and practically dragged him inside. Mrs. Holms made Bryan sit down and relax, and asked Bryan if he was doing okay, if there was anything she and her family could do for Jeremiah’s best friend. Yet Bryan was so awkward he just left politely and accepted the home number Mrs. Holms gave him. Bryan ended up making his way back to Birmingham, Alabama and started to job hunt, looking for a place to live. He eventually laded a job at a local hardware store and had a one-bedroom apartment that he slowly filled with furniture. It wasn’t the life he imagined with Jeremiah, but it was what he was able to accomplish on his own. He didn’t have any desire to change how his life was going at the age of 26. Yet when he went out to drink, a habit he made that he wouldn’t shake in his lifetime, he met a 20-year-old small town USA woman with dark hair and amber eyes that nearly made him swoon out of his chair. That woman was Rebecca Victoria Roberts. Bryan would soon learn that Rebecca grew up in Mobile, Alabama her entire life and moved to Birmingham to pursue her education career. Bryan couldn’t help but offer a drink or two. A decision that would lead to major changes his life.

August 19th, 1977, Bryan and Rebecca eloped to the disapproval of Rebecca’s family, who wanted her to have a traditional wedding in their family church. Bryan and Rebecca did have a celebration of their marriage in their small three-bedroom townhouse in the southside of Birmingham. Bryan and Rebecca truthfully didn’t want to get married when they did—but the growing baby bump that was getting harder to hide; hell, they were expecting twins and Rebecca’s family made it very clear they wouldn’t help unless they married each other. So, they eloped knowing that Rebeca was not going to be able to hide her bump in any wedding dress. She was already five months along and with twins. There was only so much that could hide her bump. Their reception went well—though Rebecca’s church pastor father wouldn’t let them forget that their pregnancy was still out of wedlock—Bryan had to clench his teeth till they all went to their own hotel rooms. January 8th, 1978 came and Rebecca gave birth to twin boys. Jeremy David and Markus Ryan Gordon. Both were named after Jeremiah, something that Rebecca let Bryan do, knowing how much his one and only friend meant to them. Bryan started to soften up as he was the major caretaker of the twins for the first couple months after Rebecca had to recover from an emergency c-section. Bryan also had to reassure her worth as she wasn’t producing enough milk for both their sons, and they resorted to formula—which Rebecca’s folks couldn’t go a moment without saying how they disapprove.

Bryan wanted to go back to when he was 16 and knocking people’s heads around; but he wasn’t 16, he was 28 and working two jobs to help pay for the things babies need and the things they needed. When Jeremy and Markus became a year-old Rebecca and Bryan both agreed that they both needed to work to make this work; but they didn’t have anyone around to watch Jeremy and Markus . . . until Bryan remembered Mrs. and Mr. Holms. They were the reason Bryan had his job at the hardware store and the hardware store got him his second job as a mechanic. He reached out to them for childcare. Mrs. Holms was more than happy to watch the sweet babies while he and Rebecca worked—hell Mrs. Holms even worked at making sure Bryan and Rebecca had time to themselves. Then on March 2nd, 1980, Robert Michael Gordon was born. Named after Rebecca’s father and grandfather in an attempt to smooth things with her family. Things got tighter and tensions started to heat up between Bryan and Rebecca. With twin toddlers running around the house and a newborn in the picture things went from organized chaos to utter chaos in a manner of months. Bryan’s patients started to wear thin, but luckily for him a spot at the high school Rebecca worked at opened up for coach of the High School’s new Exy team. And all they wanted was someone to read the play book and warm the seat for a more qualified individual to take the seat. Unfortunately for the high school that person wouldn’t come for another 10 years. Bryan got a raise taking the position and to the students and the staff he and Rebecca looked like the perfect couple as they brought their three kids into the daycare together and went on about their days; sharing lunch in the staff room and leaving to drop their boys with Mrs. Holms before they got to their second jobs. Even though tensions started to heat between Bryan and Rebecca, Bryan still saw her as the women he married and the mother to his sons, and he loved her. Everything was still looking up for the family. And when April 21st, 1982, Bryan’s 33rd birthday was spent in a hospital with his three boys, four- and two-years old waiting for his fourth son to be born. It was only fitting that he be named after Bryan as the boy was born on the same date as him on 33 years apart. Bryan held Bryan jr. for the first time while Rebecca looked at them both with a smile. Bryan had grown frustrated and angry with Rebecca during her pregnancy—no, once she informed him of her pregnancy. Bryan’s anger simmered down as he started to recall his two oldest would going into kindergarten the following year. Bryan grew softer once again, but that didn’t stop him from having a drink or four before going to bed every night before coming home from work. Bryan on his days off usually involve him sitting in the living room watching the older boys play together while Rebecca takes care Bryan jr. He’s happier than he’s ever been, and he gets an image in his mind of the life Jeremiah had planned for them both and he can’t help but feel damn well close to it. That happiness didn’t last for long.

Rebecca ended up experiencing a major lost in her family. Both her mother, father, and younger brother died in a plane crash; just two months before their fifth son, Emmett Tyler Gordon, who was named for her younger brother, was born. October 23rd, 1984. Rebecca was in a deep depressive state. This frustrated Bryan more then he would admit. Not because he was concerned for her, because the school board threatened to fire Rebecca unless she started to put the same energy back into her students. They couldn’t support their family of six on a single income high school Exy coach salary. Weeks and weeks went by, and Bryan grew angrier and angrier as he watched his wife continue to go through the motions each day. Then it happened. One night, after Bryan was pulled into his boss’s office to discuss Rebecca once more, he watched Rebecca cry at the end of their bed. He was done waiting. Rebecca still had her older brothers and younger sister in her life. Bryan had no one after he lost Jeremiah and he still reported for duty with the same energy after Jeremiah was no longer on Earth. Bryan confronted Rebecca about it. They fought, and it was a loud, almost violent argument. Yet it was the most emotion Rebecca showed other than a numb blank stare in a month. It ended with Bryan stopping himself from hitting Rebecca and storming off to a bar to drink until he forgot what he was angry about. This cycle went on for weeks, and then it ended with Rebecca getting into Bryan’s face and that ended with Bryan backhanding Rebecca across the face before storming out to drink. Rebecca stopped just going through the motions and the next morning Rebecca awoke before everyone and prepared breakfast in seemingly happy manner. Bryan’s boss stopped inquiring about Rebecca and Rebecca didn’t lose her job. Things were not the same as before, but Bryan and Rebecca’s arguments stopped for the time being. It didn’t take long be Bryan and Rebecca got drunk together and found themselves in a very familiar situation.

December 1986 was the first Christmas that wasn’t spent with yelling and anger from Bryan Sr. Instead, it was happy. Bryan spent time outside playing with Jeremy, Markus, Robert, and trying to include Bryan jr. as much as he could in their games. Bryan also took charge and helped Rebecca look after Emmett as she worked on the cooking as they also hosted Rebecca’s older brother, Forest Cole, and sister in-law, Janice Madeline Gordon. Yet Janice seemed to have nothing but criticisms to say about Bryan, Rebecca, the house, and how the boys acted. Bryan put on a front to try to stay positive for his wife, but when the 20th came around, and Janice went on one of her long tirades—Bryan snapped, which thankfully was cut short as Rebecca’s water broke and started to go into labor. Bryan pushed his anger to the side and gathered everyone taking Rebecca to the hospital and on the 20th of December, Forest Victor Gordon was born. Rebecca named him for his older brother and mother; giving him the same middle name she had, just in the masculine variant. Bryan staved his anger for one of his sons being named after her older brother. Yet it was a happy time for the family. Forest marked number eight in Bryan’s family and in a weird attitude change, he forgot about the money it would take to raise them. The only thing Bryan could have thought would make this Christmas scene better, would for it to of snowed the night they brought Forest home from the hospital. A white Christmas would have made it all the better.

Happiness never lasted long with Bryan as his boss started to get onto him about actually winning more games than losing them. Putting pressure on him and Rebecca. Thankfully almost all his boys were in school. It was most of his kids that were in the high school’s daycare. Bryan was starting to come home more agitated then ever and was snapping on his other boys and yelling at Rebecca. He was drinking more often and was secluding himself as much as he could from his family. Looking at the bills that had started to pile once again. The entire house was tense, and he felt the anger rise inside him. So, when Rebecca came to him with the news of a seventh child on the way, Bryan blew up at her. In his anger at the knowledge of their family of eight becoming a family of nine he grabbed a plate from the counter he was standing at and threw it at the wall next to Rebecca’s head. This irrational anger towards Rebecca didn’t quit or subside after that. It was a constant. Jeremy and Markus got the brunt of the anger while Rebecca was pregnant. They were ten years old and old enough to know you do shit right or not at all. Bryan also became a rather harsh Exy coach—he still treated those players better than his boys and wife.

July 21st,1988, early in the morning Jackson Cole Gordon was born. Bryan didn’t even look at him before he walked out of the room before telling Rebecca, “Name it whatever you want I couldn’t give a rats ass what this thing is called.” When Rebecca and Jackson came home Bryan didn’t pay any attention to Jackson. He stayed out all night drinking and would come home angry and just wanting to sleep. His patience with his was wearing thin every day. He couldn’t stand being in the house anymore and that “damn fucking baby” was getting on his last nerve. November 9th, 1989 came by and in one of the rare moments that Bryan was sober, yet a cigarette still in his mouth he placed divorce papers in front of Rebecca as she was still taking care of Jackson. Bryan was done. He didn’t give Rebecca any chance to discuss this. It was either they divorced and when about this peacefully for Bryan was going to leave that second and she wasn’t going to see a cent. Rebecca complied and on April 30th, 1990, Bryan and Rebecca finalized the divorce and Bryan left the next morning not giving any communication besides the court ordered child support check. He wasn’t part of his family’s life from that point on.

Rebecca Victoria (Roberts) Gordon Jeremy David Gordon Markus Ryan Gordon Robert Michael Gordon Bryan Seth Gordon Jr. Emmett Tyler Gordon Forest Victor Gordon Jackson Cole Gordon Matthew Brice Wilson Ophellia Eurydice Wilson-Gordon Dion Lysander Wilson-Gordon Orion Othello Wilson-Gordon

#all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #tfc #bryan seth gordon sr.#bryan seth gordon #seth gordon #the six brothers of seth gordon #the gordon family history #all for the game fanfic #all for the game headcannons #mostly cannon compliant #cross posted on ao3

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themosleyreview · 1 year ago

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The Mosley Review: Worst Films of 2023

So here we are. 2023 has ended and what a year of disappointments it has been. This year we saw alot of franchises return. A few in particular wanted one last chance to redeem themselves and in my opinion should've stayed in the shadows of their past glory. We also saw the end of a cinematic universe and how messy that was handled. Not all was bad though. We got to see a film with a fun concept that went all out on its gory promise and well, actually, it was pretty forgettable. I'm not gonna beat around the bush anymore. Without further ado, I give you my list of the worst films of 2023. As always, if you want a more detailed review of all the films on my list, just click the title of each film. First up......

Cocaine Bear: Talk about a wild story that was sort of true. The thought of a cocaine fueled bear on a rampage in a forest set in the 80's seemed like a ludicrous idea reserved for the back corner of the low budget horror section of Blockbuster. Well it was exactly that and for about 30 minutes, the idea was fun and had the right tone. Somewhere along the many lines of snortables, the film took a wrong turn and had no idea what it was trying to be. The tone was shifting from drug recovery to family comedy to romantic comedy to hardcore monster movie and so much more. It lost its appeal really quickly and failed to stay in the pocket it initially carved out. Such wasted potential.

The Marvels: And so Marvel Studios attempt to give their one overpowered and unlikeable character a second chance to be liked and actually have some form a story and character development. This time she had 2 additional heroes to come with her on this action packed romp and for the most part, it worked. Where the film truly failed is its terribly written plot that could've been summed up in less than 20 minutes and the fact that they made their main hero the villain without any sense of repentance for her actions against an entire civilization. There was an emotional core there that should’ve been fully explored and not drowned out by the needless action scenes and unnecessary musical sequence. The real standout of the film was Iman Vellani as Ms Marvel and I hope for the future that she takes the lead from now on. Everyone else in the film felt like an after thought, but at least the chemistry between the 3 leads saved the film from being a complete disaster. Speaking of disasters, don't get me started on the god awful mid credits scene.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny: There was a small chance that this beloved franchise could rise from the ashes of the fourth entry and truly lay Indiana’s fedora to a satisfying rest. You had a great director, Harrison Ford dawning the fedora one last time and all the hopes of us Indi fans. What did we get? A over budgeted, character inflated, time traveling mess of a finale that spits in the face of what made those original 3 films magical. It wasn't about the action set pieces and the over use of CGI, but the fact that it was small, simple and real. There was a goal that had its other worldly properties whether it was the Arc of Covenant or The Holy Grail, but it felt more real than the finale of this film. What was really heartbreaking was the fact that once again our hero become sad, old, broken down loner with everyone in his life leaving him to rot in silence. It happened to Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and now Indiana Jones. This film introduced one of the worst characters in the franchise and one that I hated with a passion as she did everything in her power to try and get Indie killed or try to profit off of his dead friends. And you expect me to believe she all of a sudden cares about Jones in the last 5 minutes of the film?! Piss off! Kingdom of the Crystal Skull had more respect than this piece of trash.

Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom: Ah yes. The end of an era lands on a sequel to a fun first entry that had stylistic problems, but nevertheless was good. Now, we get this extremely scatter brained and ridiculous excuse for a sequel. I felt that the tone wanted to have an underwater Lord of the Rings type of mythos which if edited and rewritten properly, could've been massive. Alas, we get this hot steaming pile of crap that was boring after the third overly CGI action sequence and weak one noted villain motivation. Jason Mamoa and Patrick Wilson were the only reason to watch this film. Jason was himself most of the time while cosplaying as Aquaman and Patrick Wilson was brilliant and sometimes dumbed down as Orm. The brotherly love and chemistry between them actually saved the last act of the film. Other than that, this film illustrated why the DCEU had to end and I wish it had stuck to their original plan of having one last meet up with Ben Affleck's Batman instead of the stupid mid credit scene we got to a joke that was great once.

Now we've come to the end of the road. There were some truly horrendous films this year, but none of them match the level of disappointment this film did. Ladies and gentlemen, the worst film of 2023 is........

Expendables 4: There was an idea to get all of the best action stars of the 80's, 90's and 2000's together in a pure action film that featured all of them together for the first time. It was The Avengers of action film stars and it worked...... in the first 2 films. The third film saw the horrible decision to make a PG-13 entry to appeal to the younger audiences. They realized that mistake too late and it cost them dearly. Well, now they came back with a hard R rated fourth entry, as it should've been, but with only a fraction of the stars that began this franchise and it was absolute garbage from beginning to end. The relationship between Sylvester Stallone's Barney Ross and Jason Statham's Lee Christmas was at the heart of the franchise and that is stripped away. What we're left with is a piss poorly edited, overly CGI'd mess of wasted time and money. Not even Statham could save this film from mediocrity or the horrible sight of Megan Fox trying to act or look like she could do any sort of fight sequence. You had one of the best action stars in Iko Uwais and you did nothing with him. Seriously, that man would destroy Jason and he barely got one or two worthy hits in. Andy Garcia was the only person that understood what type of film he was in and he truly went for it. John Wick 4 was one of the best action films in years and it showed that the action genre has moved far beyond these fossils.

And that's it everyone! That is my list of the shiniest turds known as the worst films of 2023. If you missed any of these films last year and have any interest in watching them, take this list as an advisory to what you're about to watch. Do you agree with my list? Let me know and tell me what your worst films of 2023 are in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

#worst films of 2023 #megan fox #jason statham #phoebe waller bridge #brie larson #ray liotta #indiana jones and the dial of destiny #expendables 4 #the marvels #aquaman and the lost kingdom #cocaine bear

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yanlei-a · 2 years ago

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Wry laughter escapes him at the cold retort, brutal in its honesty. Zed appreciates it all the more for the cut the medic makes, precise with his words as he is in his healing. Were he to suggest otherwise, that would but have denounced his insincerity; there were other ways though, gentler or avoidant, to speak of the matter.

It is that, most of all, that makes the yánléi more open to truly heed what follows. He had long since realized his fight was not one that could be won by one man alone, regardless of how much power he gathered; it wasn't a battle he faced on his own, lonely as it felt at times. There are those who follow, not because of duty or fear, but because they share his same beliefs, those who fought beside him, who bled with him on the battlefield. They who knew what he truly stood for; they who made his cause their own as well.

Zed listens to the softspoken words in grave silence, an attempt to truly take in their meaning and accept it. A single conversation could not change his perspective entirely, and the Master of Shadows could scarcely hope to change what was his very nature (an innate eagerness to shoulder every burden, to take the stand alone, to refuse others sharing in the struggle regardless of what their choice would be). What he can do — or try — is to accept there are those who stand by him. Who would, perhaps, truly see in him someone worth mourning, should his life reach its end.

The silence lingers, filling the room in the pause before Robin speaks again. Zed knows better than to allow anyone too close, knows how costly loss can be; yet his gaze, gentler, cannot help but see in the man before him a friend. One truer than Zed had considered; for how could he doubt the earnestness behind that admission, when he had spoken with such candor of the reactions of others?

The why of it eludes him. Yes, his love for Ionia is sincere, deeply committed, a devotion that, though he had once believed common, Zed had since come to perceive as somewhat rare. His people love their land, the harmony between both parts an essential component of life in Ionia for more generations than any could remember; but too many were used to being protected rather than protecting. Is that enough, to earn that admiration? What cause would there be to miss his presence, beyond his usefulness?

Not knowing how to answer such inquiries did not change it was a nice sentiment, to know there was someone at least who would mourn the man he was, not the one he had been. Zed moves, tentatively testing his healed body; removes the helmet, then, white hair messy, and meets Robin's moonlike gaze with his own. "You may yet have to, before the war is over." It is not the gratitude or gentleness he would have liked to offer, though the yánléi is becoming well-versed in keeping his feelings on a tight leash, carefully concealed beneath the armor of who he needs to be. "And if it comes to it, know I will need nothing more than that my body is returned to the earth."

Returned to Ionia, as would be his spirit; he knows not how they dealt with their dead where Robin came from, but death is not a daunting prospect to him. The Spirit takes life, just as it gives. It is the way of things, all of them part of the cycle, and his only regret would be not doing enough for his homeland when his time came. Lips curl into a subtle half-smile, tinged with wry amusement. "You have my word I have no intention to waste your good work by throwing my life away, however."

"There is no fight without risk, much less facing these odds. Most of the others had never seen anything akin to this bloodshed before the noxians," Not him, though. He had spent too many years of his youth following the gory trail the Golden Demon left behind. He was better prepared than most (he had to make that into something useful, now that it mattered most). "They are not prepared. I have to do everything I can to ensure we have a chance."

"Mmm, and perhaps you are right, those so ignorant to what you are trying to achieve would believe it to be better, they would mock you, laugh at your burial ground and call you a fool." Despite the harsh truths he speaks, there is no venom in his voice, not a droplet of malice as he lifts his gaze upwards to stare into ruby eyes. Robin does not tear away now, he wants Zed to truly take this in - unlike how he pretends to with his own medical advice - and he wants no question behind the intention of his words. It is a vulnerable position, to observe the mask and its sharp angles, Robin almost feels as though it would reach out and bite into his neck.

"But…those who know of what is in your heart will weep for you, they will know that Ionia has lost the man who loved her above, and they will miss you as the sun misses the moon during the dawn." His usual lilt has faded away into a soft whisper, it lacks any fancy tones or pitches - demanding to be taken seriously as it falls upon Zed's ears. Robin's expression is soft as he watches his friend, unafraid before his fingers brush upon the healed injuries and he finally removes himself entirely to sit back upon his calves.

As much as his heart begs for the admittance of such affectionate emotions, Robin would never dare to speak aloud of them; he would never call him friend, family - he couldn't, not when such a thing would only bring doom upon them both. It had been made apparent throughout his life that love alongside loyalty created a combination that would only cause ruin. It had happened to him before, to countless others before. The more people with reign over ones heart the more idiotic that heart would become: acting ridiculous to keep those loved ones safe and happy --ripping open the stitches to fight another battle despite the fact that it may kill you?

No….He couldn't call himself that, he would not let Zed label him that either, what would become of the two of them if they should finally speak those gentle truths?

"And…And I will be one of those few, I would mourn you."

#this turned out so long i'm sorry #he just got #talkative. kasjnfkasnf #» in character — ⌜the master of shadows.⌟#witchcraftandburialdirt

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dees-writing-corner · 2 years ago

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forever and more - chapter 3

word count: 2367

pairing: ateez x fem!reader

warning: may be ever so slightly gory? I'm not sure

if anyone wants to join the taglist just message <3

a/n feedback is always welcome here, and please do send in whatever theories you have, I'd love to hear them!! especially because we've got a lot of hints this chapter👀👀

also, very grateful for my lovely beta reader @layzfeelit <3

masterlist

Having had little to no progress going through the journals and letters alone over the past week, the boys and I thought that it would be best to bring the boxes into my room and go through them together.

Aimlessly going through the stack of papers, I sat up on my bed, reaching my arms up to stretch for a bit.

Glancing over at Mingi and San who were lying beside me, "You guys find anything?"

Seeing them both shake their heads no; I stood up with a small groan, "I'm gonna head down and make myself a cup of coffee, you two want anything?"

San looked up from the letter he was reading, "Umm, a bottle of coke?"

Nodding, I looked over to Mingi.

"Coke as well, thank you~"

Mingi blew me a kiss as I walked out, throwing my head back as I laughed at his antics.

San and Mingi listened as my footsteps gradually got lighter until they could no longer hear them.

"Okay, I lied, I found something." Mingi swiftly turned the journal to the page he was reading. "Here, look."

San leaned in closer as he read between the pages.

We went into the cave by the lake today because a great number of disappearances have occurred there. Father thought that it would be best to send me and the hunter's son, Aaron, to investigate. He said that it was time to test our abilities.

When we entered the cave, a horrible stench hit us. The further we walked, the stronger the smell was and once we reached the back of the cave, we found the reason. Human remains were flung around, some of them were limbs torn off the body, others were just clean bone.

As we made our way closer, we felt a sudden chill. The creature was close.

Aaron swung the flaming torch in the air, trying to spot the creature. There it was at the back, in the corner. It stood tall, arms out in front, its claws catching the light of the flame.

Slowly, I reached a hand to my waist, searching for my dagger. I knew this creature; father always told me stories of it.

A wendigo is what they called it. They were once humans who were possessed by a malevolent spirit, turning them into flesh eating creatures. There was no return for those possessed.

To kill them, one needed a silver weapon and for extra measure, the body needed to be burnt.

And that's exactly what we did.

"This is the Hunters Journal. Well, one of them, anyway." San turned to Mingi, a question forming in his head. "Should we show her this?"

Mingi quickly shook his head, "No. Not until we find the letter Jenna left for her. Showing her this will only confuse her even more."

San nodded before showing Mingi the letter he was reading.

Mingi quickly scanned the paper, eyes widening slightly as he got towards the end.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. We’ll show her this along with the journal after she finds the letter and wraps her brain around everything."

Mingi nodded along, "Yeah, okay, keep them in your room, yeah? Y/N is less likely to go into your room because of how messy it is, so -"

"What's that supposed to mean, my room is perfectly tidy!"

Mingi raised a brow, "Oh, yeah? Sure, it is..."

San pushed the letters and journals scattered across the bed to the side and sat up, tackling Mingi onto his back.

"Come here, you little brat."

Humming, I rummaged through one of the bottom cupboards for one of my mugs. Wooyoung was 'cleaning up' the kitchen cupboards the other day and since then, I have not been able to find anything.

"Umm, what are you doing?"

Startled, I groaned as I hit my head on a shelf.

Sitting on the floor, I cradled the back of my head as I glared up at the intruder.

"Do you find pleasure in seeing me in pain or something? Last time I tripped over the carpet."

"Sorry, I – ha –"

Rolling my eyes, I watched as Yunho and Wooyoung laughed at my misery.

Seeing me get up from the floor, Wooyoung wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye, "God, you haven't changed at all."

Not hearing what Wooyoung had said, I went through another cupboard, "Where have you put my mugs? I can't find any of them."

"In the cupboard to your left, princess, they're all in there."

Pausing, I slowly turned around. Wooyoung looked from me to Yunho, who had also opted to stare at him, and raised a brow.

"What?"

Taking out one of the mugs, "Princess? Really?"

"What? You're literally one. There's nothing that can make me change my mind on that."

Yunho elbowed Wooyoung before turning to me, ignoring Wooyoung's dramatic self as he crumpled to the floor, howling in pain.

"Ignore him, we were wrestling around earlier. He may have hit his head a bit too hard."

Laughing at them, I turned back around to start the espresso machine as the two started to bicker.

Over the last week, I've started to get to know the boys and I must say, they are indeed boys. Sometimes, it's like living with toddlers with how much they bickered and fought, and while they were still a bit odd, they were much more relaxed around us. Apart from Jongho. He was still as distant as possible without seeming rude.

Pouring the milk over the espresso, I turned back to the boys.

"Do you two know where Yeosang is? I haven't seen him in a couple of days."

The question seemed to have caught them off guard because they stilled for a second before stuttering out answers.

"What's going on with you two?"

Seonghwa entered the kitchen from the garden, rolling up his sleeves as he stopped beside me.

"I was just wondering where Yeosang is."

Seonghwa raised a brow at the question, "He's delivering something to one of your aunt's friends. Should be back before dinner."

"Okay?"

I was confused to no end right now but decided not to question anything.

Grabbing two bottles of coke from the fridge, "I'm heading back up, we've still got some things to do."

As I made my way back to the bedroom, I couldn't help but feel like someone was watching me, yet every time I glanced around, there was no one there.

"I've got the drinks -"

Pausing mid-sentence, I watched as San and Mingi lay out of breath on the floor.

"And what have you two been up to?"

Kicking the door shut, I put the drinks down on the bedside table before looking down at the two.

"Nothing. Mingi said my room was messy."

Mingi propped himself up and looked at San, "What? Is it not messy? I'm pretty sure half of your wardrobe was on the floor this morning."

Laughing at their antics, I sat down at the edge of the bed, “And what? That turned into a wrestling match on my bedroom floor?”

San and Mingi got up from their positions and joined me on the bed, taking their cokes from the bedside table.

“So,” San laid down on his back. “What took you so long to come back up?”

Taking the sip from my coffee, “I was just asking where Yeosang was. I haven't seen him in the last few days, and apparently, he's bringing something to one of Aunt Jenna's friends.”

San raised his brow as he tilted his head to the side, “Your aunts' friend? I would have thought they stopped delivering things if you're aunt passed away.”

Shrugging, I shook my head, “I don't know, they must have arranged something before she passed. Anyways, have you found anything yet?”

Both San and Mingi shook their heads.

Groaning, I closed my eyes, “Ugh, why don't we take a break for now? We've been looking through these boxes all day."

Looking around, I was confused as to where I was. Everything was white and looked like there was no end to anything.

Squinting my eyes, I saw a small figure in the distance, and as I got closer to it, I recognised who it was.

"Aunt Jenna?"

Stopping near her, I couldn't help but notice how majestic she looked. She wore a long, flowy white dress that stopped just above her ankles and her brown hair fell down in waves framing her face perfectly.

"Hello." Aunt Jenna smiled as she took a few steps closer, "It's great to see you again, darling."

Blinking, I looked around, confused at the whole situation, "I – what – but you're -"

"Dead. Yes." She guided me forward, where a bench seemed to have magically appeared, and sat me down. "I wanted to talk to you about a few things, and while you may not remember much if any when you wake up, some things will be able to trigger the memory."

Nodding silently, I waited for her to carry on.

"First, would be the boys around the house. I know they may seem a bit weird to you right now, but I promise that they mean well and that they will be very useful in the future. Especially Jongho, he's just a giant teddy bear once you get to know him."

Raising an eyebrow, I had a bit of a hard time believing that and Aunt Jenna just laugh at the disbelief I was showing.

"Trust me. He really is. Now, I know that you're curious about that wooden box on the living room mantle, and I want you to be. So even though you won't remember any of this, you'll still open it. I'm not going to tell you now, what's inside, but just know that it's very important."

"Okay."

Aunt Jenna looked up before smiling at me, "Our time is running out. The last thing that I want to say is that not everyone beside you is who they say they are. They won't hurt you, but they also aren't telling you everything and when you do find out, don't be too angry at them, okay? They mean well."

"Aunt Jenna?" I looked around at the white space surrounding us, "What place is this?"

"This is your core, my dear."

Scrunching up my face in confusion, "My core? What does that mean?"

Aunt Jenna stood up from her spot on the bench, "I'm afraid you're waking up. I promise to tell you as much as I can when I see you again."

Everything around me started to fade into darkness. And the last thing I heard was Aunt Jenna talking to someone. A male.

"Are you sure she can help us, Jenna?"

"Of course she can, after all, it's written in stone, no?"

Groaning, I turned to the side to look at the clock. 19:16. It was already after dinner.

Getting out of bed, I slowly made my way to the kitchen.

"Ah, sleeping beauty is awake. How was that nap of yours?"

Waving Wooyoung away, I made a beeline for the bowl of fruit he had placed on the table for me.

Happily munching away, I looked up when someone took a seat beside me.

"I see that you're up."

Waving slightly at Yeosang, I swallowed the fruit, "Hmm, nice seeing you back. How was your little trip?"

Yeosang shrugged as he rolled his sleeves up, "Boring. How was your nap?"

Frowning, I couldn't help but think I was missing something, "Good? I think? I had a dream, but I can't remember what it was about and it's annoying me so much right now."

Finishing off the last bit of fruit, I got up to place it in the sink for Wooyoung. I've now given up on trying to wash anything because every time I do, Wooyoung just pushes me to the side and takes over stating 'this is my kitchen'.

Walking to the living room where I knew everyone was gathered, I was surprised to see the guys in some sort of heated discussion.

"Umm, am I interrupting something?"

"Y/N!" Mingi waved his arm about, "Come here! We've got a serious question for you."

Confused, I took a seat between Seonghwa and Jongho. The second I sat down, Yunho leaned forward from where he was on the armchair.

"So, we were just discussing something, and we want your opinion on it. Which ones are better? Vampires, witches or hunters?"

Blinking owlishly, "I'm sorry, what?"

I looked to Seonghwa who simply nodded, "Supernatural was on earlier and we started discussing. Wooyoung and I think witches are better, Yeosang, Yunho and Jongho think vampires are better and San and Mingi think hunters are better. And now we're just wondering what you think."

Looking at them, I could tell they were actually being serious right now, and I couldn't but chuckle.

"You guys are so weird." Clearing my throat, I contained the laughter that was threatening to bubble up my throat. "Umm, if I had to choose, then.... witches, I guess?"

Laughing, I watched as everyone groaned while Seonghwa and Wooyoung did a small victory dance in their seats.

From the corner of my eye, I could swear that Jongho was pouting slightly as he crossed his arms, so arching a brow, I turned to him.

He noticed me looking at him and leaned in closer to me whispering, "Vampires are definitely cooler."

Slightly stunned, I laughed a bit as I leaned closer to him, "They are cool, aren't they? But I must say, witches are far more intriguing to me."

We spent a majority of the night laughing as Jongho and I carried on our debate on vampires and witches. In the background, we could hear San and Wooyoung bickering, occasionally pulling Yeosang in. Mingi sat on the floor next to Yunho and at some point, Seonghwa joined them as well as they talked about whatever show it was that was on TV.

As the night grew later, we all gradually made our way upstairs, and as I walked back, my eyes caught the wooden box, making a mental note to have a look at it soon.

taglist: @marievllr-abg @jackinmyarea @lexiigom @nichobins @babyhailey819 @darkdayelixer

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 3 years ago

Text

Currently watching - November

Because I love a good little list 😊

Regularly updated during the month - colored = finished

This may contain spoilers!

Choco Milk Shake (8/11)

🥰🥰🥰🥰 This is so good! I love it! I enjoyed every little second of this beautiful piece of media. It is the story about Choco and Milk, a cat and a dog becoming human and live with their former owner. Why? For now, all we know is, to make him happy. The acting is really good! I can see the dog and the cat in them 😅 So far perfect casting! I am a little bit anxious that it doesn’t end with an all fluff happy ending…

Happy Ending Outside The Fence (Happy Ending Romance) (2/8)

It has an interesting start. It is quite confusing in the beginning because of all the time jumps, but I guess I just have to pay more attention. It looks as a love triangle, but I can't see the pairing mentioned in the synopsys, at all 😅 Well, surprise me, but I can't see the inexplicable feelings or desire for each other, but hey, we are tow episodes in. And I kind of like this! Not to know who will be endgame is quite refreshing :)

Eien no Kino (6/8)

I really like the aesthetics of the show. The way scenes were shot and the coloring. Really pretty! The story is about two friends and one of them is becoming a zombie. I guess the next episodes will rip my heart out and leave me unsettled and with a lot of emotional damage...

War of Y (10/20)

I finally watched the next chapter...And yeah, I think I can't watch the stories week for week. I need to wait until one chapter is closed and binge the five episodes. This is one of the few bls I watch with a lot of tension in my body and no smile on my lips...I need to calm a bit before I can dive into the next drama...

Between Us (2/12)

Hm...I don't know yet. I like WinTeam, but I guess I am not that hyped because I didn't like Until we meet again that much. I am curious where the story is taking us.

My Tooth Your Love (7/12)

I guess this could be called a nightmare for people with a dental phobia. But it looks so messy and lovable and I am totally in for it! I enjoyed the acting and the sister is so bossy, but in a good way 😀 Never thought I would like a series about a dentist this much! But I do! With more episodes in the story becomes more deeper and better. There are traumas that the story has to deal with and so far it does a good job. Even though it might look like a fluff show, under the surface it is not and I appreciate that.

Till the World ends (4/10)

It is something else. Brutal and kind of gory and a little bis explicit. Not your usual bl. I like it, no wonder 😅 The end of the world is coming and Art and Golf try to survive the last days on this chaotic planet. The one to gain his memory back and the other to see his brother again (I guess). Everything garnished with lies and guns and a little bit of romance.

Ai Long Nhai (8/12)

Ai likes Nhai. Nhai likes Ai. To test if their relationship could have a future they decide to test-date for a month and show all their habits, good and bad, in front of each other. That is what I got from the subtitles 😂 They are a mess 😅 So funny and yet so frustrating, because sometimes you just don’t get what they are saying at all 😂 But the story is sweet, not that deep, but sweet.

To Sir, with love (2/17)

The first episodes are on youtube with english subs! First episode told us about their and their family’s history. I really can't stand the secondary wife and her maid. Hateful bitches! But I like Bua. She would have been a great mother and in a way she is more of a mother to the children than their mums. I guess I have to wait for more episodes to watch further…I have the feeling this won’t end well and I can’t deal with this right now…

Remember Me (7/12)

Okay what happend? I am emotional invested in this story! Why did it become so good within two episodes? I love the domesticity and the wholesomeness of the third episode so much! It touched me and moved me and now I am looking forward to the next episode! And the next episode was good too. I love Em and Name! Don’t hurt them, especially Name!

2 Moons: The Ambassador (5/12)

This might be the first series I will drop. And I watched Check Out...But the subtitles are a mess, the acting is cringy and the story is boring...okay, I am on ep 2, so perhaps there is some good plot coming, but right now I can't see it.

I will knock you (1/12)

So Thi steps on the Lotus of Noey which is symbolic for his heart and now Noey wants his heart back so he can give it to the girl he has a crush on and Thi can't find it and gives him in exchange a charm for fortune, but in reality it is for love and soulmates...And Noey happens to be the leader of a gang which members wear khaki-shorts or way too colorful dresses for a street gang...the cringe radar is very strong witht his one, but it is hilarious!

Finished in November

Series

The Untamed (50/50 on Viki) - the highest possible level of recommendation

I saw all the praises and high ratings and I always thought how could such a drama be so good? So I watched it and what can I say? I love it! I couldn't stop watching it! The story is so well written. The eye for detail is just chef's kiss. I never thought I would like such kind of drama. But here I am, rooting for Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi to just smile at each other. Even though it is a censored Chinese adaption I enjoy their dynamic so much! And the rest of the cast is so precious too. I can’t stop smiling while watching, which is always a good sign. Yes, I am totally in love with this one! 10 out of 10 pure perfection

Ghost Host, Ghost House (8/8 on Gaga) - absolutely recommended

At first you thought, well what a fun story about a ghost hunter and his dead family (and of course the potential love interest), but with every new episode a new layer was about to be discovered. This is not only a fun story, but a story about forgiveness, love, grief, regret and living the best you can while you are still alive. And not gonna lie, the mains are one of the touchiest boyfriends with the softest kisses I have seen in a while. It just feels good to see them together. 9 out of 10 short short shorts

Roommates of Poongduck 304 (8/8 on Viki) - totally recommended

This one I like...Perhaps it is the enemies working and forced living together thing for me. I enjoy those storylines way too much! Overall it's funny and I enjoy their dynamic and acting so much more than in Kissable Lips. 8,5 out of 10 beers

Kabe-Koji-Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to be Recognized (7/8 on Viki) - recommended without a doubt

It is so well shot and edited. I was just blown away by the art. It is the story of two people who meet again after years, one an bl-manga artist and the other an upcoming idol. Both are dealing with some difficulties in their lifes and it is just an emotional ride to see them both connect and disconnect. The acting was really good! My secret hero was definitely Yamada! She is a good best friend, a real gem! 8,5 out of 10 big men-boobs

My only 12 % (14/14 on Youtube) - absolutely recommended

We had a rough start, but it grew on me a lot with more episodes in. The story managed to become really interesting, and the mains open up and being vulnerable in front of each other is just beautiful to witness. It is a truely beautiful love story. 8,5 out of 10 Cakes

Self (6/6 on Youtube) - recommended

The story about Tang who, one day, can't see his reflection in the mirror anymore and instead whitnesses different scenes from another person, Neo. He then tries to find and help Neo. The story is intense and even though there are only six episodes, different aspects are dealt with in a quite good way. I liked this one. 7 out of 10 missing reflections

Inseparable (2/2 on Youtube) - recommended

This short Pinoy bl shows the lifes of Mico and Henry, who live in the rural area of the Philippines. Mico needs another job to help his family financially and for that he plans to go to the city and leave Henry behind, but there are things that need to be said and cleared before he can leave. It is short and won't cost you too much time, so give it a try. 6,5 out of 10 weird camera angles

Big Dragon (8/8 on Gaga and Viki) - recommended? Well, why not...

Oh this was a mess 😅 A lovely one with enemies to lovers and two bodyguards who aren’t really good bodyguards, but they are adorable and steal the sympathy. I am all here for these two. The main couple? Well it is complicated and they are both so freaking toxic…they deserve each other and I don’t mean it in any rude way. They are just perfect for each other and kind of soft when they want to…But I can't give it a higher ranking, because it is lacking plot and they promised us some leather but never really came back to it. 6 out of 10 curtains never lifted...

Fish upon the sky (12/12 on Youtube) - recommended with reservations

The story is about Pi who is in love with Nan, who doesn't like him back. But as it looks his friend Mork likes Pi very much and he tries to court him for the rest of this series until Pi finally accepts that he likes him too. I don't like Pi, he is ungrateful and demanding. I know he has issues and I understand where they are coming from, but a low self-esteem doesn't justify a shitty character. I can't really see why Mork is so smitten by Pi. Besides the unlikable main is is quite a cute story with forced drama. 5,5 out of 10 forced dramatic plotholes

Love in the air (13/13 on Youtube) - not recommended

Listen, I watched it, I enjoyed the looks of the cast, because they are gorgeous as fuck, but the story is too messed up for me. There are too many red flags and too much romanticised shit going on. I can't recommend it as I will never recommend TharnType...If you like or love it, I am happy for you :) Tastes are different! 5,5 out of 10 red flags

Fahlanruk (12/12 on Gaga) - recommended? Save your time!

This series is a mess! The dialogues are crap, the acting is sometimes really not that good, the chemistry…I don’t know. There is no plot...just scenes added together. The message of this series is coming in like a soggy sock. The only good part of this series are the side couples! Prince and Gear are just sweet and Ping and Tap b´deserve happiness! I couldn't care less about Fah and Sher. 3,5 out of 10 rabbit fucks

Short films

Being Me (on Gaga) - highly recommended

Such a cute short film. It manages to tell a well written story about childhood friends who realise that they are way more for each other. Hints of homophobia are there, but it doesn't stand in the way of their love at a first glance. 9 out of 10 air guitar sessions in the bathtub

Buddy Park (on Gaga) - can't recommend

I just didn't like it that much. The story is about Jinho who never had sex in his 29 years of living even though he is trying really hard to get laid. In the end he is sleeping with his best friend, but it is not a friends to lovers story...and I couldn't get into the humor of this short film. 6 out of 10 lies

Movies

Cherry Magic: The Movie - highly recommended

It is the continuation of the highly praised drama 30-sai made Dotei Da to Mahotsukai ni Nareru rashii. We see more of Adachi's and Kurosawa's every day life and their forever after. It is wholesome and cute with a little bit angst. There are some really great scenes, but I kind of miss some intimacy like hand holding or cuddling. 8 out of 10 ring exchanges

What I’m looking forward to in November:

Between Us (Nov 6)

I Will Knock You (Nov 18)

609 Bedtime Story (Nov 26)

Happy Ending Outside the Fence (Nov 24)

He who is without sin (Nov 23)

Made on rooftop (Nov 30)

Mr. Cinderella (Nov 30)

Young Hoon (some time in november)

My School President (some time in November)

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