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sapphiremusings · 4 months

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when i’m down on my knees, | aemond targaryen

summary: with their wedding only a few days away, aemond eases his betrotheds fear of him.

cw: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), teasing, baratheon!reader, no use of y/n

this is the first in a 2 part series! let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part :)

The rumors concerning Lady Baratheon’s betrothed are not lost on her. No, she is well educated on Prince Aemond ‘One-Eye’ Targaryen’s unsavory reputation, just as much as every other lord and lady in Westeros.

Before she was shipped off to King’s Landing in preparation for her royal wedding, her sisters had made it their duty to tease her. They made sure that she was well aware of her prince’s cruel attitude, and the monstrous look of him, with a sharp scar down the left side of his face. By the time she had arrived to the Red Keep, she was teeming with fear as her sisters’ words echoed through her mind.

Prince Aemond is known to be a cruel yet dutiful man. He is said to be a skilled swordsman, besting his mother’s sworn knight, Ser Criston Cole, on many occasions. He rides the largest— and oldest— dragon, the same one that the conquerors sister-wife, Visenya, had rode into battle many times. He had claimed the she-dragon at a young age, losing his eye in the process to his young nephew. His missing left eye is another topic often whispered about in court. Some say that he had cut out another man’s eyeball, and placed it into his empty socket. Others say he has a large jewel in its place, something so peculiar and off-putting that he is forced to cover it up with a leather eyepatch.

All of this is to say that any sane lady would be terrified of their betrothal to Aemond Targaryen. Of course, Lady Baratheon is well aware that most Westerosi marriages are born out of duty, not love. If anything, she should feel blessed by the gods that she is betrothed to a young prince, and not some measly lord old enough to be her grandsire. Yet, she cannot help her feelings of terror at the thought of her upcoming wedding, and even more so, her soon-to-be husband.

From a young age, her septa had installed in her what was to be expected of her when she became of age. Being a dutiful wife was the only thing she was to worry about, and then being a dutiful mother to her husband’s heirs. She would often have nightmares about an old lord running his eager hands down her gaudy wedding gown, pushing her onto the marital bed where she would be forced to lay under his big gut as he ruts into her, witnesses to the dreaded bedding ceremony snickering behind the sheer curtains. Her ladies-in-waiting would comfort her after these night terrors, smoothing down her hair and promising that no harm would come to her. Even with their sweet words, she knew the truth; she would be forced to marry a stranger, and endure all the hardships that came with having no freedom of her own.

Now, with her wedding only a few days away, she can barely sit still. Her mind incessantly spins around various scenarios that can take place on that special day, and she worries over her impending future. She has taken to walking along the Keep’s gardens, and throughout the various twisting halls; anything to keep her moving. Her father always scolded her for this habit, as to him it was the equivalent of running away from your problems. Still, she can’t help it as the big day draws forward, her anxiety swollen inside her.

It isn’t that she doesn’t want to become a wife. It is merely her irrational fear of her husband-to-be. Even now, as he walks behind her, quiet in his sure steps, his gaze burns through all her layers, settling deep within her core. She feels as if she is on fire, and the longer he stares, calculating and as if she is a foreign creature, the more this inferno swells. Every move she makes is with caution, in fear that he will strike her down and show off that unforgiving nature that he is known for. So far, he hasn’t, but she believes this is merely a false front. Surely, he is waiting for when they are finally married to show his true colors, knowing that she will be his and unable to do anything about it.

She begs to the Seven to release her from this torment, her spine rigid as they continue their walk through the Keep’s halls. She had wanted to be alone, as she often has been since arriving in Kings Landing, artfully dodging any attempt at courting that Prince Aemond tried to enact. Truthfully, it has been his queen-mother, Alicent, who has pushed her son towards his betrothed, and to Lady Baratheon, he hasn’t seemed that worried over the fact that she has been avoiding him. No, he merely stares, violet eye darting over her face and figure as if she is a puzzle he is trying to solve.

Really, she doesn’t understand why he is still walking behind her, steps steady and calculated. They haven’t spoken a single word to each other since their initial greeting that morning, when he had been waiting outside her chamber doors, ready to escort her on her walk. Even then, it had merely been a “good morn” recited, both tense in their separate ways. Aemond couldn’t look more annoyed even if he tried, seemingly uninterested in anything she could potentially offer him. Not that she was offering anything.

Growing bored of wandering aimlessly around the Keep, Lady Baratheon pauses with a sigh. Tersely, she turns to the side, not daring to look at her betrothed, who has halted behind her. “I’d like to retire to my cha-“

“I want to show you something, my lady.”

Her heart nearly stops beating at his words, sudden and surprising as he takes a step towards her. She wishes to flee, but her feet stay planted on the floor, and she watches from the corner of her eyes as he brings a hand up to grab ahold of her elbow. Though the fabric of her dress sleeves acts as a barrier between flesh, she still feels as if she was scalded. She flinches, almost imperceptibly, but Aemond seems to notice as he lets out a hum.

She knows she mustn’t deny him. No, her septa had taught her well. So, she meekly nods her head, cheeks flushed in apprehension.

They walk back through the halls, towards a place she has never dared to step foot near, a dark alcove lit only by torches and candles. She lets out a gasp at the sight before her; the giant skull of the largest dragon known to Westeros. If she wanted to, she could walk straight into its jaws and past the many rows of sharp teeth. Her breath catches in her throat.

Aemond’s voice comes out in a whisper, right next to her ear. “This is the skull of Aegon the Conqueror’s dragon, the largest who’s ever lived. His name was-“

“Balerion. The Black Dread,” she interrupts him, immediately regretting so afterwards.

Instead of scolding her like she expected him to do, he merely breathes out a small laugh. Still, she feels the need to apologize, even as she stutters over her words.

“I apologize, my prince. At Storm’s End, we had a few tomes about the Conquest, and they interested me greatly.”

He hums. “Do not apologize. I like to know what you are thinking.”

She doesn’t know how to reply to this, heart pounding against her chest as she feels him step closer behind her, pressing into her back. He towers over her frame, hard and lean against her. His head bends, lips coming close to her ear.

“Are you afraid of me, my dear betrothed?”

“N-no,” she stutters out, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. Her eyes focus on the dragon skull before them, willing her heart to calm down. “No, my prince.”

He seems amused by her answer. “Liar.”

Another gasp escapes her mouth as his lips flutter over the shell of her ear, trailing down to the crook of her neck. He smells of smoke and steel, leather and something else she can’t put her finger on— but it’s intoxicating as it enters her nose, and she feels like nuzzling against him. Her fear won’t let her, nor will it let her move from his grasp, even as she shakes like a leaf under his hands, now resting atop her forearms.

“You avoid me. You can’t even look me in my eye,” he muses, lips still pressed against her skin. “You are shaking… am I so fearsome, Lady Baratheon?”

She whimpers, shaking her head, eyes growing wide as his grip tightens. “I’m sorry…”

His hand suddenly grabs ahold of her jaw, making her flinch, in which he lets out a disappointed tsk. Slowly, he turns her face towards his, fingers gentle against her rosy cheeks. She trembles as she meets his dark gaze, his lilac iris now a small ring, overtaken by his widened pupil. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his stare travels across her face, stopping on her lips.

“I don��t want to hurt you,” he whispers, blinking. “No… quite the opposite. Will you let me show you?”

Deep within her stomach, something sharp twists, turning her blood hot as it pools within her veins. She is afraid, but another feeling unknown to her is slowly creeping up her spine, turning her brain into mush as she continues staring up at her betrothed. Her fingers reach up to grasp on his arm that’s wrapped around her, tightening around the leather of his sleeve. His gaze doesn’t move away, nor does he. Instead, he seems to draw closer, pressed against her back as his lips near hers. She can’t help but flutter her eyes closed, and before she can fully think about what she is agreeing to, she dips her chin down into a small nod.

Aemond’s lips immediately find hers, warm and plush, eager in his exploration. She has never been kissed before, and the feeling is foreign, but her pulse begins to thrum within her, and she opens her mouth to take more of it. He seems pleased by her reciprocation, groaning softly as he brushes his tongue against her teeth, his hand that still cups her jaw growing harsher. Their tongues slip against each other, a jolt of lightning hitting her every time they touch, her skin pebbled with goosebumps.

Growing restless, she spins around in his arms, hungry for something she doesn’t yet have a word for. Her arms wrap around his neck, and she has to push herself up onto her toes as she meets his lips once more, a clashing of teeth and spit. Between her legs, it grows hot, pulse thumping at her very core. She wants to climb on top of him and devour him, her fear of her mysterious prince melting away with every flick of his tongue. Is it supposed to feel like this?, she thinks, whimpering as she pulls him down closer by his neck.

When he pulls away, panting, she whines, her own chest heaving as she tries to breathe, but the throbbing between her thighs is so strong, she merely steps into his arms once more. He chuckles at this, looking down at his eager betrothed, flushed and nearly ravaged.

“I haven’t even shown you yet, and you’re already begging for more,” he muses, clicking his tongue mockingly. “What happened to my fearful little betrothed, hm?”

This sobers her up, her already flushed face turning a deeper shade of scarlet, and she staggers back on her feet. Aemond doesn’t let her go far, though, immediately grabbing ahold of her waist and pulling her back in. His hand brushes her hair back from her face, forcing her to look up at him once more, fingers firm in their hold. He smirks at the dazed look in her doe eyes, glassy as his words work through her mind on a loop. Though he should feel bad, he can’t help but relish her embarrassment. Hadn’t she been embarrassing him since her arrival, every time she would dart away from him and cower in fear just from his gaze?

“Please,” she whispers, swallowing a lump within her throat. His eyes seem to sparkle at her pleading.

He softly laughs. “Do you want me to touch you?” When she nods, eyebrows furrowed, “Use your words.”

Shame pools within her chest, squeezing around her heart as she continues to look up at him. Something inside her is begging to be released, pounding against her skull until every bone in her body rattles under its force. She doesn’t know what it is, or how to stop it, but her body draws itself closer to Aemond like he is the cure. Even now, as she gazes at his handsome face, all harsh lines and pouted lips, silver hair long and pulled back behind his head, eye a deep shade of violet, this thing within her only grows stronger in its fight to leave its prison. He is her betrothed, and a Prince of the realm, so who is she to deny him?

“Yes,” the word tastes like the sweetest poison on her tongue, and when he still makes no move to touch her, she continues. “Please, Aemond… touch me.”

She nearly cries when he smiles, leaning down to catch her lips, but her elation plummets when he doesn’t meet her embrace. Instead, his lips attach themselves to her jaw, tender as he licks and nips at the skin, traveling down her neck. Though she wants nothing more than his lips on hers, she still keens at the strange feeling, fingers tangling themselves into his long hair. His hands squeeze her hips, running up and down her sides, brushing against the bottom of her breasts. She arches into his touch, soft pants leaving her lips as he groans against her flesh.

Her feet start to step backwards as he pushes her, until she hits the stone wall behind her. His lips move to her heaving bosom, where the tops of her breasts sit within her dress, while his hand moves under her skirts, trailing along the bare skin of her thighs. They tremble beneath his touch, shutting close and trapping him there. He merely brings his leg between them, prying them back open so his hand can continue its journey to her weeping core. She shakes beneath him, sweat gathering at her brow, eyes pleading.

Aemond shushes her, bringing his lips back to hers, sighing as she pulls him closer and slips her tongue between them. When his hand slips under her undergarments, fingers nestling among her damp curls, she almost sobs, hips bucking up in shock. His other hand grabs onto her waist, stilling her movement as his fingers glide through her wetness, gathering the pool of arousal that sits along her hole. Her chest heaves, head dizzy with the new feeling, and she feels as if a bolt of lightning, white hot and blinding, has struck her. Hands grasp onto his shoulders for purchase, nails digging into the dark leather of his tunic, frantic as she looks for something to steady her racing heart.

“Seven hells, you’re soaked,” he gasps, fingers pressing against the apex of her, rubbing tight circles. “And here I thought you were afraid of me…”

She can barely comprehend his words, feeling as if her head is stuck in a cloud of smoke, heady and all-consuming. Her hands run down his shoulders and arms, now gripping onto his slim waist, pressing his body closer to her. His pale neck hovers over her face, and she can’t help but gravitate towards the unmarred skin, pressing her quivering lips to the base. Her tongue darts out to taste him, whimpering as she tries once more to move her hips. Aemond grunts, moving his fingers down to circle her leaking hole, the tip of his middle finger pressing in slowly.

As he presses the digit fully inside her, she presses her teeth into the nape of his neck, muffling her cry as he finally allows her to move her hips. He moans softly, grunting out her name at the feel of her bite, and she can feel something hard against her lower stomach, burning as it presses itself more to her. Tears spring to the corners of her starry eyes, tongue coming out once more to lick at the stinging bite mark she left, before resting her lips against him, panting. Her hips jolt upwards continuously, his name leaving her mouth like a prayer.

“Will you let me taste you?,” he nearly whines, rough voice cracking. His nose nudges against her temple. “Hm… ivestragī aōha dārilaros sylutegon ao, dōna riña.” (Let your prince taste you, sweet girl).

She gasps out, head nodding, though she’s not sure what she is agreeing to. Even so, she still wretches out, “y-yes.”

Aemond groans once more, pressing his lips to her forehead, before removing his fingers from her core. He’s quick to bend down on his knees, hands lifting up her skirts, dipping his head under the heavy fabric. She furrows her brows in confusion, but her question dies on her tongue as she feels his hot mouth press against her cunt, warm and wet. A strangled moan leaves her, and she throws her head back to stare up at the darkness above, lips parted as she gasps and whines. His tongue feels hot as it slips through her folds and circles her entrance, slurping up her arousal which practically pools out of her.

She can barely comprehend what is happening, her knees wobbly and her brain turned to mush, and all she can remember is his name. It leaves her lips like an incantation, continuously and fervently. Her hands try their best to gather her skirts, lifting them up and away from Aemond’s face, wishing to see him between her thighs. First, she spots a sliver of silver hair, and then, when she pulls the fabric back further, the rest of his head comes into view. His eye is closed, his focus solely on her cunt and how his tongue dips in and out of her. Fingers come up to rub at her once more, a deep grumble leaving him and vibrating through her core.

Something foreign begins to bubble up inside her, burning in its trail and cutting her open like a sharp sword. Her breath catches in her throat, chest heaving and heart stuttering against her ribcage, hips bucking up to chase the rising wave within her. Aemond flattens his tongue against her, another rumble leaving him, making her cry out. He opens his eye, staring up at her disheveled figure, his gaze molten and hungry. This look, and the feeling of him crooking a finger inside her once more, breaks her, and she moans and shudders, vision turning blurry as she’s pulled down under her cascading pleasure.

“Sȳz riña…” he groans, lapping up her essence as it flows out and onto his tongue. “Good fucking girl.”

Once she comes back down, she can barely keep standing, legs weakened and eyes heavy with sleepiness. Aemond stands, a satisfied hum leaving him as he pulls her against him, nose nuzzling in her hair. Instead of fear, she feels comfort as she rests in his arms, head resting on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat. When he begins to trail kisses down her face, before capturing her lips with his own, she feels like swooning. Is this what she had been missing all along? Her betrothed… not someone to fear, but someone she could grow to love?

Aemond pulls away, fingers coming up to rest against her lips. “Taste yourself, dārilaros.” (Princess).

Timidly, she wraps her lips around his two digits, tongue cautious as it swirls around them. His gaze is dark as he watches her, and when he removes his fingers, he replaces them with his mouth, hot as it claims her own. On her hip, she can still feel that same stiffness against her, but she doesn’t question it as he finally steps away from her, a small smirk on his handsome face.

“In just a few days, we will be wed, my lady. When I take you to my bed, I will spend all night showing you why you shouldn’t fear me.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon

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and-so-he-rambled · 4 months

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Vlad becoming a Gotham rouge to protect the kids in his custody. Part One

Masterlist | Prequel | Part 2

Gotham was a great place to hide.

A city swathed in shadows and secrets, and drenched with the stench of death. He would blend right in.

Jazz was watching the city pass by through the windows of the bus, fingers clenched tight around a hidden weapon and blue eyes scanning for a threat. She hadn’t relaxed for a moment since they’d left amity, and likely not since her parents passing. She tried so hard to hide it, to be strong, but she looked so tired.

Danny was curled in his lap, grip tight on the lapels of his jacket as he huffed his way through a mild night terror. Vlad wanted to wake the boy, but he’d been sleeping so little since they fled, he needed the rest even if it was fitful.

He purred softly, a rumbling in his core that had once been something he deeply despised.

Danny, sweet innocent Danny, purred back. His baby core, still forming months after the accident that claimed his parents lives and changed him irreversibly, rumbled weakly back.

He hadn’t realized Danny was like him until he’d caught the ghost boy flying through the town, believing he was dreaming. The four year old excitedly told him he was like a superhero now, then collapsed in his arms to fall asleep. He’d recognized Vlad even with his blue skin and monstrous face, chest stuttering through a happy purr as he snuggled against him.

He’d had to talk to Jazz and Danny about how they were different, how he was different too, and that they had to hide. People had begun looking for their kind. Jazz wasn’t quite like them, she was death touched, but not half dead like them. She’d been in the same room during the accident, but her only change was the slight whitening of her hair.

He was doing his best keeping them all mostly alive in the castle, childproofing his precious Packers memorabilia and trying to learn the kids quirks. They didn’t trust food, not until he cut it up very small, and they were adept with guns and weaponry. He knew Jack and Maddie were passionate hunters, but he wondered just what they had taught their children.

It wasn’t helping matters that his obsession had broken during the death of their parents, both the love of his life and need for revenge gone. It left him lost and ill, but focusing on the kids was keeping him from fading away. Maybe they were becoming his new obsession, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

The castle was old and run down, secluded from the world the way he wanted it be be. He was starting to build a fortune through less than reputable means and they were okay. He’d give the last pieces of Maddie, and that idiot Jack, a good chance.

Then they were attacked.

It happened suddenly. They were in the middle of a family dinner when the door was kicked in and there was yelling. Jazz grabbed the ecto pistol she always had from under the table and began to fire, shielding her brother with her body. She was only six, but she moved like a trained fighter as she began throwing anything within reach at their attackers.

They were wearing white, people Vlad had seen skulking around since Jack and Maddie’s deaths. One of the blasts seared through Vlad’s shoulder, human flesh sizzling as he screamed and tried to shield the kids. They were closing in, he had to do something, he had to save the kids. Their kids. His kids.

Without thinking much beyond that he wrapped his arms around the two children and when intangible, flying them through the ceiling just in time before a green shield he’d once helped blueprint kicked to life and covered the castle.

That led them to now, riding on a bus to a city Vlad only heard bad things about, a city to get lost in.

They were surviving off of the cash Vlad had on him, all his cards dumped. He’d need to make new IDs for the kids as well as himself, and find a place to stay, but right now he just needed to keep going.

A stolen jacket was draped over his shoulders, hiding the hastily bandaged wound that wasn’t healing even days later. Jazz carried a bug out bag everywhere with her, and the few things she had were helping. They’d grabbed a backpack for Vlad with necessary supplies at a department store before hopping on the Bus, all procured by him illegally while Jazz watched Danny outside.

Danny had asked him, brows furrowed, why he was stealing. That the cops and superheroes would come and take him away. His eyes filled with tears, shining a brilliant green.

“I don’t want you to get taken away.” He took a shaky breath, grabbing Vlad’s hand. “I don’t wanna lose you too.”

He’d had to explain that sometimes people stole to survive, trying to explain the grays in the black and white view of good and evil. Vlad knew he wasn’t a good person, but he was doing what he had to and he didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

The bus pulled into Gotham, brakes giving an ominous squeal that startled young Daniel awake. Vlad held him in one arm, the other hand winding with Jazz’s that was trying so hard not to shake, and they stepped off the bus.

#danny phantom #danny masters #danny fenton #jazz fenton #vlad masters redemption #Vlad Masters #vlad plasmius #dp x dc #dpxdc #Gotham rogue Vlad Masters #bruce wayne x vlad masters #dad vlad

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cypionate60mg · 8 months

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I hope this is too heavy but I had plans to detransition then commit suicide because of how poorly my trans friends (who are mostly fem and nb) were treating me, making comments on how T made me uglier and they no longer felt comfortable around me since I transitioned. With this going on for years and seeing the uptick in hate towards trans masculine people with similar rhetoric I felt like it was a waste of my life and I would never be able to “fix how disgusting I made myself” but seeing your blog actually legitimately saved me because it reminded me that we are still wanted and desirable to people. Thank you so much.

I'd like to tell you about somebody very important to me, anon. His name was Earl, and it's been nearly ten years since he passed away.

I used to see Earl every winter, just visiting his side of the family. He was older than me by more than a decade, but we had a special kinship. Something I was too young to articulate or even notice.

We usually sat in the snow by a hodag statue while we caught up. For context, the hodag was a hoax cryptid invented by a timberman in the 1800s. Rows of horns, some scales, coarse hair, short legs. Like a half-reptilian minotaur. Not only was it apparently really fucking ugly, but it also smelled like a musky corpse.

The first reported encounter with the hodag ended with its defeat by dynamite. In some versions of its lore, the hodag was a reincarnation of abused livestock. In others, it was meek and melancholy, wanting only to live in the woods, undisturbed.

The last time I saw Earl, he was very withdrawn. We sat for a while in front of that statue, just silently basking in its monstrous disfigurement. I think we watched Napoleon Dynamite afterward. I remember feeling comforted that he could at least laugh, but maybe it was nothing more than a reflex at that point.

He died by suicide not long after. He didn't say anything about who he really was, just that he couldn't bear it any longer. For so long, I was unable to explain what it was that we had shared. Me and him. Him and the hodag. Me and the hodag. All three of us.

I didn't learn that he wanted to be called Earl until years later, when my grandma mentioned it off-handedly. She was the only person he ever came out to, and she told me after I came out to her. As far as I know, Earl never even considered HRT. He was afraid of what it would turn him into. That's why he tried to become nothing at all.

But that's not really how it works. Once you've come into existence, there can never be a world without some trace of you in it. We are living on a post-you planet. You as in Earl, and you as in you. By making yourself known to me, you have invested part of your selfhood in the vast, interconnected matrix of the world. Good choice.

So in the same way that this blog is for people to outsource their tenuous selfhood and need to be desired, let this particular post be specifically for you. Our own personal hodag statue, maybe, where all ugliness and beauty cohabitate as one indistinguishable thing. Know that there is something for you here. A digital landmark you can visit in times of loneliness.

I love you, anon. I'll always want you here. You can message me privately if you ever want to talk.

#ask cyp60mg #behind the scenes

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heliads · 6 months

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I’d like to request a Pietro imagine. Pietro survived and became an Avenger. The female reader doesn’t have powers and isn’t an Avenger. She’s really smart and works with Tony and Bruce in the lab. She was hired after the whole Ultron fiasco. People underestimated her intelligence in high school and college because she’s a girly girl and loves the colour pink, but the Avengers aren’t like that. Pietro likes her and wants to date her.

'waiting around' - pietro maximoff

masterlist

When they tell Pietro he has to go to the labs, his first thought is to run.

He knows it’s silly. These are not the same doctors who made the Maximoff twins strong and fast and utterly alone in this world, these are the scientists with the Avengers. They’re the good guys. Apparently. But Pietro has learned fairly quickly that people calling themselves good aren’t always good in the end.

Pietro has a lot of learning to do since he and Wanda escaped Ultron a few months back. He’s doing his best to be patient and take things ‘one step at a time,’ as the Americans keep telling him. Mainly, he would like their steps to be faster. Pietro has things to do, and they don’t usually involve waiting in line for someone else to decide if he’s worthy of their loyalty or not. The Avengers are trying, he knows that. It’s just hard sometimes.

Especially when Pietro is still trying to shake off the feeling that he should have died back in Sokovia. He came away with his share of narrow escapes, but there was one moment towards the end, when the ships were firing at him, when Clint needed his help, that Pietro thought would be his last. Luckily, he was faster than a few bullets, but there’s still this nagging voice in the back of Pietro’s subconscious that whispers to him late at night: what if you hadn’t been fast enough?

So he’s been uneasy as of late. What about it? Stress is common in inhumans and Avengers, one glance around this coffee-dependent complex could tell him that. Still, it’s a good thing to get checked out. That’s part of the reason Pietro is being directed to the labs, along with a need for a good annual physical.

It sounds good, too, were it not for the fact that Pietro has had plenty of experience with laboratories in the past few years and none of it was good. The Hydra labs made him strong, in a sense, but they were torturous. He can still remember the pile of corpses ushered out every day, the experiments that failed. He remembers curling up in a corner of his cell, begging his body not to give out, not to make him another body in a bag. He lived, but he remembers.

This is not Hydra. Pietro knows that. He left them behind. Still, there will always be some part of him that shrinks away from every syringe, that distrusts every doctor who comes poking and prodding at the bizarre novelty that is an inhuman. That will never go away, no matter who’s side he’s on.

Still, the lab remains. He has to go in, the others will know if he doesn’t. At first, Pietro hesitates just outside the door, afraid to knock, afraid to listen. There was always a chill in the air throughout the Hydra complex, he remembers the gooseflesh forever on his skin. Signs that nothing good happened within the walls. Or maybe it was just because of the stone buildings in cold climates. Everything has an explanation.

He can’t back out now. Pietro grits his teeth and swings the door open in one broad movement. For a moment, he stands there, waiting to walk back into his old cell, his old life, and then he looks around and realizes with a grin that he’s going to be fine. This isn’t a Hydra ploy to get him back under their thumb. For one thing, Hydra never used this much pink. Just barren walls and gloomy, monstrous skull logos. In retrospect, that should have been a bad sign. Pietro has a problem with ignoring details, though, and it tends to get him in trouble.

These details, however, are quite difficult to be ignored. Everywhere Pietro looks, he sees pinpricks of pink– the handle of a pipette, labels on equipment, notebooks full of scrawled data points, hair ties in a carefully organized container. No, Hydra never had this much fun, and Pietro is starting to think that this is going to be very fun indeed.

Smirking to himself, Pietro weaves further through the lab. He sees a few assistants scurrying around in the back, but they pay him no mind so he does the same. Pietro almost reaches the end of the room when a sudden voice calls out to him: “Don’t take another step.”

Instantly, Pietro freezes. The owner of the voice walks towards him, a young woman about his age in a lab coat. She must be the owner of the lab, too, because he spots a pink tie in her hair matching the others near the door. The name stitched onto the left breast pocket of her lab coat reads Dr. Y/N L/N, so Pietro knows she’s the one he was supposed to find.

She points to Pietro’s feet, where he notices are just touching a line of caution tape on the ground. “If you went any further, you’d be at risk of getting your eyes blinded by the lasers,” she informs him cheerfully.

Pietro’s face drops. Only now does he notice the hazard signs. “Huh. Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

Y/N arches a brow. “Do you always wander around lab space without watching where you’re going? Seems like an awfully dangerous habit for me.”

Pietro grins. “Well, I usually rely on my reflexes to get me out of trouble. I’m pretty quick.”

To prove it, he uses his speed to instantly move right behind the woman. She spins around, donning an indignant look that Pietro decides is very cute. “Don’t do that,” she scolds him.

Pietro folds his arms across his chest, grin broadening. “Why not?”

“I’ll tell Steve you’d like to do some weight training with him in the gym, and you think you can outlift him,” she threatens.

Pietro feigns surrender. “Anything but that, please.”

At last, Y/N’s lips twitch up into a smile. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Now, let’s focus. Tony sent you in to get a checkup, right?”

Pietro nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Wrong,” she tells him. “Tony actually sent you in here to get on my nerves. He does that a lot. I’m busy and he likes distracting me. We’re going to get through this as quickly as possible, alright?”

Pietro has to fight not to laugh. “And here I thought everyone in the labs gets along.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Most of the time, yes. Except when he sticks me with babysitting duty.”

“This isn’t babysitting,” Pietro protests, “I’m getting to know you. I already feel like we’re the best of friends.”

Something that might be a smile flits across Y/N’s face, but she takes great pains to hide it to him. Pietro, who has always cared a little too much about getting people to laugh at his jokes, follows her like a dog as she walks through her lab. “You can laugh, you know. It won’t kill you.”

The smile is gone as quickly as it appeared, and Pietro instantly wishes he hadn’t said a word. “I’m working right now,” she tells him abruptly. “That means I’m focused. Don’t get in my way.”

Surprised and somewhat hurt by her shift in mood, Pietro goes quiet, but he can’t resist asking a second later, “I’m not trying to interfere with your work, I promise. Does that often happen?”

Y/N goes still. Pietro is half expecting her to just ignore him when she finally speaks at last, very quiet and very unlike the fiery personality he’d seen before. “Every time someone new comes in here. And with half the people I’ve already met, anyway. You’d be surprised what a few pink accessories can do to someone’s reputation, and their credibility in a lab.”

Pietro grimaces. “I’m sorry about that, honest. That’s not what I was going for, by the way. I joke with everyone.”

At last, Y/N meets his eyes. There’s a faint tint of humor swimming in her gaze. “I think I got that.”

She’s smiling, though, so he takes that as a good sign. Once that initial barrier was crossed, Y/N opens up a little more, and then Pietro finds himself stopping by her lab almost every day when he’s not off on a mission. He sees her thrilled with success after an experiment worked, and desolate when they don’t. He sees her consumed with stress. He sees her brow knit with careful concern as she patches him up after a mission. Through all of it, Pietro is increasingly risky with his heart, and then one day, he knows he loves her.

It’s a foolish thing to do. Y/N has confided in him many times that she’s afraid people only will see her as a girl first and a researcher second, someone who can be taken out for drinks but never a valid source of knowledge. If he makes his move now, she’ll never forgive him for being just like the others.

So he doesn’t say a thing, and descends further and further into hopelessness. Wanda says he’s ridiculously obvious, but Y/N still doesn’t seem to have noticed a thing, so maybe the only person more oblivious than Pietro is Y/N, and that’s saying something. Pietro doesn’t want to ruin their friendship, but as the days slip by and Pietro only falls more in love with her, he wonders if he hasn’t already ruined it by always wanting more than he can have.

He’s starting to wonder if he is simply going to carry this secret with him forever, until Y/N catches him at it one evening. The night is growing late, and Pietro has retreated to one of his favorite hiding places in the Avengers complex, Y/N’s lab, to watch her conduct her experiments and indulge in some idle chatter. They’ve grown quiet, and Pietro is leaning against a benchtop, doing nothing but watch her. Some of the motion-sensor lights in the corners of the lab have gone off from inactivity, giving the lights above them an extra glow. The light plays upon Y/N’s face and makes her eyes shine.

Pietro is just thinking that he’s never seen someone more beautiful in his entire life when Y/N looks up and catches him in the act. Instantly, Pietro pretends as if he’d simply been watching her pipette some samples into the well plates in front of her, but her brow is already furrowing and she’s asking him what’s wrong.

Pietro shrugs elaborately. “Nothing, nothing. Just thinking.”

“Really?” She asks, grinning slightly. “I didn’t think that was a normal thing to you.”

Pietro rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”

“I thought so,” Y/N hums. “What were you thinking about? You seemed very preoccupied.”

“Nothing,” Pietro repeats, but Y/N doesn’t seem convinced.

“Come on, I didn’t think we were the type to keep secrets from each other. What are you trying to hide?” Y/N asks.

Pietro scratches the back of his head, suddenly awkward. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Even better,” she says, laughing slightly. “What is it?”

Pietro should stay silent, but he can feel the secret rising up his lungs and forcing itself out before he gets the chance. “I’m in love with you,” he blurts out.

Y/N’s eyes widen. Whatever she was expecting him to say, it obviously wasn’t that. “Oh,” she says quietly.

“Yeah,” Pietro says, wanting to stab himself in the eye with a nearby multitool. “Oh.”

He eyes the door, and has just decided that a strategic retreat is the best move when Y/N interjects, “I love you too, you know.”

Pietro turns around so hastily that he almost upsets a nearby rack of micropipettes. “What? You do?”

She’s glancing at her work, but he can tell that she’s embarrassed. “Yeah. Thought you knew.”

“Obviously I didn’t, or I would have done something about it,” Pietro blurts out.

Y/N glances up again, smiling again. “Like what?”

“Like take you out on a date,” Pietro returns. “How about it? This Friday. Seven. I’ll pick you up.”

Y/N laughs. “That sounds good to me.”

It sounds good to Pietro, too. When he leaves Y/N’s lab at the end of the day, he’s practically giddy. All this time, he was afraid of telling her, and now he’s wishing he spilled his guts much earlier. Regardless, he has what he wants. They’ll have their date, and Pietro is going to feel like he’s on top of the world.

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

marvel tag list: @mayfieldss, @blondsauduun, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @fadedver, @alex-1967s-blog, @crazyhearttragedy, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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leportraitducadavre · 6 months

Text

Edo-Tensei implies the sacrifice of a living human being for their body to become the vessel of the soul they're trying to bring back. What this author means is that Sasuke and Sakura are willing to perform inhumane acts to "see each other again".

The jutsu was created by Tobirama, someone Sasuke despises.

This is the same jutsu Orochimaru, whom Sakura admitted to hating as he "took Sasuke away from Konoha", used; why would she willingly use a jutsu from his book?

The caster has complete control of the person they summon, the person that was "revived" has no real volition of their own. Obito, who used to love Rin, never even entertained the idea of summoning her (and thus, controlling her), what a disgusting thing to do to someone you "love".

This is the same man who canonically has the chance to see his wife whenever he pleases, yet he doesn't, why on earth would he revive her? Why wouldn't he revive Itachi, Mikoto, or Fugaku for that matter?

Sakura has little to no knowledge of füinjutsu, let alone enough chakra to perform something like this.

Sasuke having a "moment" with Itachi doesn't translate to him actually liking the technique.

"Sasuke and Sakura are only thinking of a possibility" is just as awful as performing it; they're willing to do such a monstrous thing to others to fulfill their selfish wishes. The fact that they didn't do it isn't because they aren't prone to do so, but because they didn't have to, as both are still alive.

Edo-tensei is not romantic, at all. It's one of the worst techniques ever invented as it was devised to seek control over powerful (deceased) shinobi to use their souls/techniques as tools of military power. The person revived has no control over their actions, so they see themselves committing acts they might not agree with because the person who summoned them wanted their strength. Its origin was about complete control of a human being (humiliation likely plays a part, as having no control over your body yet having your mind intact is the ultimate form of torture), the possession of the power of others, and the ultimate tool as those revived receive no real damage as they respawn.

Edit to add: This line was, in fact, in Sasuke Retsuden (in the manga adaptation Sasuke never actually confirmed this, as it was Sakura who replied for him -lol-). Jun Esaka just butchered the entirety of Sasuke's characterization, this woman was paid to write a SasuSaku story and couldn't even bother to understand and respect the characters' original personality, having to modify everything about them and using their trauma as a "romantic device" to show "how much Sasuke and Sakura love each other". I have no respect for her as an author, at least, not as an author inside the Narutoverse.

#anti sasusaku #anti sasuke retsuden #anti ss #anti sss #anti sakura uchiha #anti jun esaka #not sure it was in actual retsuden tho #adding the tag just in case #anti sasusaku fandom #anti sasusaku stans

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 1 month

Note

Hi there!! I’ve been following you for a long time and love your work with Donna 🥰 if it’s alright I would like to request something! G!PDonna happens upon Fem!reader’s diary and glances through it. Discovering there are both wholesome and lewd entries of the Doll maker, but she’s too intimidated and shy of Donna to make a move?? And it catches Donna of guard so much because reader hardly interacts with her?? But she also experiments and teases reader trying to make her confess?? Ahhhh 🙈

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your words!!! And for your requests!!!! Your support always make my day!!! I hope you like ir and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Dear diary

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, Donna's POV, Donna being Donna

Word count: 7,623

Summary: What is she writing on that book?...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

Another day.

The mere fact of the passage of time always seemed somewhat confusing to me. If I had to think about how much time has passed, how many times I have seen the sun rise and set, I couldn't do it, I simply couldn't.

Mother Miranda was merciful to me, she saved me, but I can't help but think what would have happened if she hadn't, what I would have become.

Like every morning, darkness envelops me ironically in my bedroom, as if everything around me reminded me where I am and why I am there.

None of that mattered enough to me to let my demons take control of my actions. I've been through that and now I only have to continue living, continue being part of the village, dominate it with my siblings.

Envy was never among my sins, no matter how suspicious I felt about the attitude of my sister Alcina, always surrounded by servants, always adored by them unconditionally.

No, I refuse to think that my decision to have a maid came because I looked with desire at my sister's situation. She lived in a castle and I lived in my lonely darkness.

Maybe I thought this world of shadows, my little, intimate and quiet world needed a change. Maybe with someone around me I could feel that time was actually passing, that I was not a simple ghostly presence, that I really existed.

That shamefully common delusion in my damaged mind was chasing me for days, that idea of having someone who was not me, who was not my monstrous reflection in the mirror.

Luckily those subtle pleas became verbalized and, after talking about it with my sister, she offered me her most recent acquisition, (Y/N).

A quiet girl, perfect for me, according to Alcina.

Since that girl came to my house, few things changed. My sister was right. She was quiet, shy but helpful. I could spend hours watching the cobwebs in the house disappear under her skillful movements, I could spend an eternity listening to her sweet humming when she thinks I'm not there.

Yes, I may have been obsessed with her at first. She was a beautiful young woman, with a smile that reached even the darkest corner of my room. Her shy and sweet attitude made me feel things I had forgotten, things I only saw as entertainment or a need for my body.

But as much as I wanted to know how her lips felt on mine, how it would feel to have her naked body under mine, I couldn't just do it. I was still a deformed monster, everything had changed since my adoption, too many things.

After fighting my instincts for weeks, I decided to relax. I couldn't scare her, I couldn't exercise that power Alcina had over her maids. I wasn't Alcina, I was a monster and (Y/N)… (Y/N) was an angel.

Although she didn't run away when she saw my face, although my appearance didn't stir her stomach, I spent time putting aside the demons that forced me to act, letting that sudden obsession fade away like a light perfume you get used to after a while, an intoxicating perfume.

“Good morning, my lady,” she said in a soft voice when I went up the elevator, ready to spend a new day.

I nodded with a half smile, with that veiled smile that characterized me. At least she didn't run away when she saw me. That was always a pleasure. It always made me want to widen my smile.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” I whispered in a low tone, one that only she could hear. Maybe my obsession had disappeared, but not my desire to have her near me, my desire to see that kind smile on her face.

The girl cleared her throat and turned around, walking elegantly towards the table, where breakfast was waiting for me as every morning. A magnificent breakfast, one prepared by her.

“I, I hope you slept well,” she said kindly, accommodating me in the chair. Her body was shaking, revealing her inexhaustible shyness, her nervousness. I hoped it was just that, shyness, and not fear, anything but fear.

“Mm,” I murmured, nodding, pouring myself some of that disastrous coffee she always prepared.

Of course, my involuntary grimace of disgust didn’t go unnoticed by her, who suddenly began to tremble more intensely.

“I'm, I'm sorry, my lady, the coffee is…” she said with a broken voice, snatching the cup from my hand. I looked at her inquisitively, frowning.

“It's okay,” I said in a whisper, picking up the small cup again.

Her eyes closed, as they always did when she got nervous.

“I'm sorry, I…” (Y/N) apologized again, her cheeks flushed, intimidated by my presence.

I shouldn't be surprised at all, I was a monster and she was just a little lamb.

“You’ve pressed the coffee,” I stated, glancing at the old coffee maker, checking, once again, that she made the same mistake.

“Yes, I…” she stammered, avoiding looking at me in the eye, avoiding our gazes meeting.

“You mustn't do it, (Y/N). This coffee maker doesn't work that way. If you press the coffee, it becomes clumpy and generates too much bitterness,” I explained with a calm voice, with an expression that didn’t betray how beautiful she seemed to me, how comfortable I felt by her side.

“I'm, I'm, I'm so sorry, Lady Beneviento, it, it, it won't happen again,” she said, lowering her head, clasping her hands in front of her body in a pleading manner.

I smiled and shook my head. The young woman's nervousness could be sensed from miles away. I didn't want to see her nervous, but I was still Donna Beneviento, a crazy and dangerous woman. I couldn't blame her for feeling that way.

“I'm not scolding you,” I said, looking away and taking another sip of the bitter liquid, sighing, desperate to stop causing that feeling of terror in her. “It's just a piece of advice.”

She opened her eyes and raised her gaze to mine, nodding as she swallowed; her trembling diminishing little by little.

“Thank, thank you for the advice,” she said in a broken voice, the words not wanting to leave her lips.

I nodded passively, looking back at that splendid breakfast.

“Calmati, (Y/N)…” -I whispered, blowing the smoke coming out of the cup, controlling the trembling of my own body, my own nerves. “I didn't hire you for your ability to prepare coffee.”

“So… Why did you hire me, my lady?” she asked back.

Well, that was new, that girl didn't usually question me. I couldn't help but feel annoyed about it. I was supposed to be a Lord. I made the questions, not her.

I had to take a moment for my irrational fury to fade away. No, she couldn't suffer my delusions.

“I don't know,” I whispered, shaking my head and hardening my expression. “Why do you think I did it?”

She laughed nervously, looking away again, searching with her erratic eyes for an answer, something to say to my unexpected question, one I used to not to say what I thought of her, that her beauty calmed my darkness.

“I... Don’t...” she murmured, breathing heavily, playing with her hands shiny with nervous sweat.

I laughed, shaking my head, releasing the young woman from that slightly uncomfortable question. I didn't want to see her tremble. I didn't want to see her being afraid of me.

“I've taken up too much of your time, (Y/N). I'm sure you have a lot of things to do,” I said with a calm voice, enjoying the bitter taste of the coffee, of her coffee.

“Yes, my lady,” she nodded in relief, with a wider smile, wanting to get rid of my presence. Once again, I couldn't blame her, I'm a monster. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Prego,” I whispered, looking away, listening to her footsteps slowly moving away, surely looking for something to do, something that would take her away from me.

But I couldn't have a quiet breakfast. Some steps on the wood alerted. My conscience had something to say, or rather, something to make fun of.

“Donna likes the maid,” Angie sang, my doll, the only one who was always by my side, the only one I could trust. Unfortunately, she was part of me. She knew my thoughts, my feelings. I don't know why she was so rebellious, so... Angie.

“Shut up,” I hissed when the puppet climbed onto my lap, enunciating a truth that I was unable to verbalize. “Of course I like her.”

“Why don't you tell her, silly Donna?” the doll asked, ready to annoy me, to not let me enjoy the peace left by the fleeting presence of (Y/N).

“You know why, it's absurd,” I answered, spreading oil on the perfect toasts that she prepared every morning. The coffee was a disaster, but those toasts...

“It's not absurd, you are her owner,” Angie said.

I got nervous, looking around in case she appeared, in case she heard the horrible statement that showed my power over her, the involuntary submission I didn't want her to have.

“I don't want her to think that way about me. I don't want to scare her, Angie,” I explained in a whisper.

The doll tilted her head comically and got off my lap, crossing her arms.

“Coward,” she scolded me, which made me clench my teeth tightly, and start to consider deactivating her, at least for a while.

“Angie…” I muttered, rolling my eye, letting the air out of my lungs with a sigh. No, I couldn't agree with her, even though she definitely was right.

“Stop the nonsense and tell her what you feel,” the puppet said, making grotesque movements with her wooden limbs.

“You know I can't,” I protested, abruptly leaving the coffee cup on the table, causing everything to move dangerously and make an annoying noise.

“Fine, fine, whatever you want, silly Donna,” Angie said passively, moving away from me. “By the way, how's your right hand? One night you'll end up making fire…”

I, faced with this shameful comment, abruptly got up from the table, grabbing the puppet and shaking it furiously in my hands, with my cheeks flushed by this very intimate and personal accusation.

“Don’t dare to…” I hissed threateningly, my body shaking with embarrassment.

The doll laughed in my arms, with that sinister laugh that she surely learned from the deepest darkness of my mind.

“Don't touch me with that hand, you sick masturbator,” the puppet protested, making the anger on my face more evident, causing a furious growl from the back of my throat.

“Shut up, damn it,” I hissed, about to deactivate the annoying Angie definitely.

“My lady, I’ve heard a noise, is everything okay?” (Y/N)'s voice stopped me in my action, I froze and lowered the puppet to the floor.

“Yes, everything is fine,” I said in a whisper, with the triumphant Angie cowardly running away from me.

“I, um, do, do you need something?” she asked, approaching me slowly, surely frightened by the trembling of my body. “Are you having a crisis?”

“No,” I answered abruptly, letting myself fall back into the chair, with my senses clouded by nerves, by rage at the accusations of that irreverent part of my conscience.

“Are you sure?” she insisted, approaching cautiously and putting her hand on my shoulder. I looked at her quickly and she pulled it away, frightened. Always the same, I always ended up scaring her. “I'm sorry,” she apologized, moving away again, with terror marking her features.

“Don't you have to clean? Lasciami stare,” I growled abruptly, unpleasantly.

(Y/N) nodded embarrassed, with a pitiful sigh, disappearing from the room, fleeing from my irrational fury, from my uncontrollable demons.

“Wait, I…” I suddenly said, standing up to stop her escape, to apologize for my unfair attitude. I couldn't do it. My voice was too low and my attempt too pathetic. “I didn't want to…”

A pathetic monster, that was me.

I sighed, sitting back down, running a hand over my forehead, burying my head in my hands, gripping my hair tightly, furious for not being able to keep calm, for unintentionally causing fear in the young woman. She could never love me, not the way I am. Maybe I had to stop fooling myself and let her go before I lost control.

“Cazzo…” I muttered, hitting the table with my closed fist, furious, frustrated for not being able to control myself. I couldn't blame Angie, she was me, I was her.

“Hey, hey, Donna, did you see it?” the doll asked, tugging at my dress to get my attention.

I shook my head confused by that question.

“What? The way I scare her again? Great job Angie,” I said, angrily destroying one of the toasts.

“No, silly, silly, the book, the book she was carrying in her hand,” the doll said, climbing onto the table and threatening to destroy my breakfast.

“What book? What are you talking about?” I asked confused, moving the puppet away from the tray and the coffee pot, avoiding causing more problems for (Y/N).

“The book (Y/N) always carries with her, silly,” Angie explained, letting herself fall on the table, swinging her legs like a little girl, like me when I was a little girl and I wasn't… A monster.

“A book,” I repeated, crossing my arms, nervous about how mysterious that damn puppet always was.

I wonder what I would be like if I had her personality…

“Yes, yes, a secret book, or so it seems,” she whispered, approaching me in an annoying way.

I laughed ironically, disappointed by that absurd conversation.

“I told (Y/N) that she could read whatever books she wanted, I don't know what's so mysterious about that,” I commented, letting the oil soak the lightly toasted bread, concentrating on it and not on my unfair outburst with (Y/N).

“Are you stupid?” Angie asked, annoyed, slapping me and making me furious again.

“You're one step away from me deactivating you and putting you with the others, Angie,” I threatened with a frown, my chest burning with helplessness. I knew I would be incapable of doing it.

“Do it if you want,” she answered haughtily. “But then I won't tell you what I know...”

“What do you know?” I asked curiously, thus blurring the desire I had to make my faithful companion disappear.

“Apologize and I'll tell you,” Angie said, turning her back on me. Damn evil doll.

“Angie…” I hissed nervously.

“Okay, okay… Listen, do you know why I think that book is important?”

“No, I don't know,” I answered through clenched teeth, watching my surroundings. “Speak.”

“The other night I was watching (Y/N) and then…” the puppet began, with a mockingly mysterious tone. “I saw her writing something on it.”

“Really?” I asked, now interested in that information. “What was she writing?”

“No idea, but it seemed like secret things,” the doll said, getting down from the table and saying goodbye with an unpleasant gesture. “You're welcome for the information, silly Donna.”

I remained thoughtful, sighing. As I already knew, that information was not relevant at all. (Y/N) writing in a book, what nonsense, surely it was not important, was it?

The day continued to pass calmly, silently, terribly lonely.

I didn't see (Y/N) until late afternoon, probably still scared, because of me.

Not even working on my dolls could calm my nerves. All I thought about was her, how I scared her, how much she probably wanted to go back to the castle. Of all the monsters in the village, I was the worst, and she was starting to realize it.

I decided to distract myself with an old essay on plants, in the quiet living room, hoping that, by chance, she would appear. Luckily, she did.

“Here’s your tea, my lady,” she said in a whisper, trying not to disturb my concentration, leaving a steaming cup on the desk. I couldn't help but smile.

“You're always so punctual, (Y/N),” I said, glancing at the clock out of the corner of my eye.

It didn't matter where I was, she always found me, made me that tea, looked for me, gave it to me with that smile. I don't know when I started losing my mind…

“Yes, well, I always finish my chores at this time, I’m pleased to serve you, to make you a, a tea” she said in a kind voice, stuttering as usual.

I smiled kindly, but my face relaxed when I looked lower, at (Y/N)'s hands, which were holding the book Angie mentioned. I frowned discreetly, trying to see what was written on the cover.

“What have you been doing? I haven't seen you,” I commented erratically, just to keep her by my side a little longer, just a little longer.

“I've been cleaning the upstairs, my lady,” she explained in an elegant, helpful voice. I wondered if Alcina also found that voice terribly sexy.

“Donna,” I said, looking away. Yes, I hated that charming formality.

“Sorry?” she asked confused, scratching the back of her neck, holding that book tightly in her hand.

“Call me Donna, please,” I said with an indifferent tone, pretending to read the pages of that essay “Unless it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, Donna,” (Y/N) said, with a calm face, with a shy smile that I returned. “I… I have to, I have to go prepare dinner.”

“Why are you such in a hurry?” I asked confused by that new attempt to escape. This time I hadn't done anything to scare her, besides, I had to know what was written in that damn book. “I'm sure you're exhausted.”

“We, well, the truth is that the dust fluff that was upstairs has made it a little difficult for me… I even had to fight against it,” she said with a broken voice, embarrassed, laughing shyly.

I looked at her with a frown at that tender attempt at joking.

“I’m sorry, I was trying to…” she apologized seconds later. I laughed softly, shaking my head.

“Joking, I know, that’s fine,” I said between laughs, with a casual pose, turning a little to have a better view of that book. “I like you’re funny.”

“I’d like to be too,” she said jokingly, shaking her head, her smile widening as well as the blush on her cheeks.

There was a brief moment when our gazes met, when our smiles greeted each other, but that quickly faded. I had probably imagined it.

“Don’t worry about dinner, go take a bath first,” I murmured, quickly returning to my book, not letting the light of her smile reveal my feelings.

Another erratic mood swing, my life was a nightmare.

“Oh, I…” the maid stammered, playing with the book in her hands, lowering her head in an elegant bow. “Yes, of course, thank you… Donna.”

I nodded disinterestedly as she walked away again, but not before leaving that mysterious book hidden under one of the cushions of the old sofa. Surely she didn't think I was discreetly watching her. Angie was definitely right.

When (Y/N) went upstairs to take a bath, as I suggested, I stood up slowly, my gaze fixed on the sofa, always alert in case she came down again. She didn't, Angie wasn't around either, it was my chance.

I lifted the cushion and found that precious book. Oh, no, it wasn't a book, on the cover worn by the passage of time there was only one word: Diary.

“Interessante…” I murmured, flipping through the pages at random, sitting on the couch, always watching the door, adrenaline running through my veins as I did something I shouldn't. It was funny, really.

Dear diary:

This morning I stole a cookie from Mom and she caught me. She grounded me from seeing my friends, that's unfair, I want to play with them, especially with Katia, she's my best friend, and the one who gave me the idea of stealing the cookies. Maybe if I pray to the Black Gods my mother will be nice to me…

“Oh, wow, you were mischievous, huh?” I commented amused, reading that childish writing, (Y/N)'s private thoughts. Laughing, I turned more pages of that small book, watching how time passed through her writing as well.

One of the dates caught my attention, it was the date she arrived at the estate. Looking around, checking that (Y/N) wasn't there, I dove back into her thoughts.

Dear Diary:

Today was my first day at the Beneviento estate. I was scared, because I had heard terrible things about Lady Beneviento. My lady told me that I would have to go there and stay with her. I was really scared. They said she was crazy, that she was very dangerous and that I could experience my worst fears. But none of that seemed true. Lady Donna is a shy and mysterious woman, but she is kind, she hasn't hurt me.

I wonder if that beautiful woman in the portrait is her, I wonder why in the village they say she is a monster.

“You weren't wrong...” I sighed, turning the pages with a melancholic air. Once again, as always, I couldn't blame her.

The entries in that diary traveled through the pages, my eye scanned them with curiosity. Nothing particularly interesting, nothing until the day came when she accidentally saw my face, a horrible day that just remembering it makes me shiver.

Dear Diary:

Lady Donna had a terrible nervous breakdown. She screamed that someone was after her, that they wanted to hurt her. I tried to help her, I really tried. To see such an imposing woman suffer like that made me feel sorry about her.

Thanks to my help, Lady Donna recovered from her fears, from her trembling. I don't know why, but I felt terribly bad seeing her in that state. But the most curious thing of all is that finally that black veil disappeared, and I was able to see her face. She is... How can I explain it, maybe the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life? I don't know, dear diary, I don't know why she covered herself

She is beautiful, that scar doesn't hide her beauty. I can't stop thinking about her...

“Beautiful?” I said with a frown, my heart racing at those words, at that opinion so impossible for me. No, she should be wrong.

But the one who was wrong, without a doubt, was me. One by one I turned the pages of that old diary and, more and more frequently, the beauty she saw in me appeared in them. It seemed that I occupied her mind, her world, that she couldn't stop thinking about me.

Maybe my madness had made me imagine that those words were true, that when (Y/N) said she trembled when she saw me it was because she felt something, anything for me, and not out of fear.

I had a hard time believing it, I really had.

Dear Diary:

I keep thinking about Donna. All day, all night, even when she's not here, her figure appears in front of me like a dream, a wonderful one. I know it's crazy, I know I shouldn't feel this way. She's a Lord, she's powerful, dangerous. If she finds out I'm attracted to her, I don't know what the consequences might be. I'm afraid I'll feel more things than I already do, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop smiling when I see her appear in the morning.

“Are you attracted to me?” I repeated incredulously, reading that entry over and over again, uncovering my maid’s deepest feelings, uncovering a truth hidden as well as a bat in the dark.

I shook my head, blinking in confusion, searching for an excuse, something to tell me that what was in that book was just an illusion.

Dear Diary:

I did something horrible today.

I was cleaning the basement, as usual, and the sound of running water caught my attention. I knew it was her, it couldn't be anyone else, Donna was taking a shower and I, absorbed in my sick attraction, approached the source of the sound.

There she was, her body exposed, her pale skin letting me look at it through a crack. She is perfect. I have no other word to describe her. Her figure, her waist, her breasts, her... Well, everything, everything was perfect. That torrid vision of my lady has destabilized me even more.

I can't stop imagining her naked body against mine. I can't stop thinking about how her perfect penis would feel inside of me. I’m very excited and wanting to make me enjoy myself. But she is still my mistress, I cannot feel those things for her, I’m still intimidated by her presence, by her beauty…

Help me, Black Gods, I’m going crazy, I think I’m falling in love.

“Mamma mia,” I sighed, blushing, slamming the book shut, nervous about the words I had just read, with a sinister smile on my face.

I should have felt ashamed of having been spied on, but quite the opposite. My body had read those words and reacted accordingly. I ignored it, as I always did, focusing on that last sentence, on that confession she never dared to make, on the confession about her feeling the same as me. She loved me.

“Well, well…” a shrill voice murmured, startling me. I don't know when Angie appeared perched on my shoulder, reading those obscene and intriguing words next to me.

“Angie!” I shouted, scared and furious. No, not her… “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” she mocked, fleeing from my hands which were trying to reach her. “Perfect penis, huh?”

“Shut up,” I growled, blushing again. “You're always thinking about…”

“That's what you're thinking, silly Donna. Don't blame me for having to put up with your dirty mind,” the doll defended herself.

Unfortunately, I couldn't say anything against that attack. My own lascivious thoughts gave me away again. I simply crossed my arms with a sigh.

“So she… She has feelings for me,”-I murmured, running my hand through my hair, across my sweaty forehead, confused, disoriented, wondering when I would wake up from that dream.

“It seems so,” Angie said, dropping onto the couch.

“Why hasn't she told me?” I asked myself, reading (Y/N)'s praises of me over and over again, the desire she had to kiss my lips, to have my hands grabbing her waist.

“Why haven't you told her?” Angie asked back. I have to admit that sometimes she is too caustic, or am I?

“You know, because… Because she is my maid and I… Well, I’m her mistress…. She could confuse my intentions and… I could scare her,” I explained with a sad voice, running my hands through those private pages, through (Y/N)'s thoughts I read without permission.

“Maybe she thinks the same way,” the puppet commented, swinging her legs again.

“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.

“Oh, please, you know, you've read it…” Angie murmured, also watching her surroundings. “You intimidate her, Donna, when she's around you she's a shaking mess. She probably thinks you'd never have feelings for her.”

“But, but (Y/N) has never, I mean, never… Interacted with me beyond her duties, she's never shown that interest she claims to have on me,” I said, pointing at the book.

Angie growled and climbed up my body, hitting my head in an annoying way.

“Knock, knock, is anyone there?” she asked mockingly. I pushed her away with an angry slap. “Wake up, Donna.”

“You're taking too many liberties,” I whispered threateningly, receiving a mocking laugh as an answer, as expected. “Stop laughing at me, and help me.”

“Help yourself, silly Donna. What you have to do is make the first move, tease her, you know, bring out that seductive side of you,” the doll explained.

I shook my head laughing tiredly.

“I don't have that side,” I said amused, reading the words of that diary again.

“Well, if you want her to react, you have to do it yourself,” Angie demanded.

You have to do it yourself

It seemed crazy, but deep down, I knew that, Angie, that talking conscience was right. The question was simple, how?

The sound of the stairs put me on alert and, nervous, I put the diary away, getting up from the sofa and maintaining a concealed pose that would surely be ridiculous.

“Donna?” the maid asked when she saw me moving in place, with a fake smile, too close to the secret hiding place.

“Ciao, (Y/N), I was, I was waiting for you,” I said with a slightly more confident voice, clumsily trying to be seductive, something that, of course, didn't work.

“Were you waiting for me?” she asked, moving her wet hair, with a sparkle in her eyes that I hadn't noticed until that moment.

“Yes, sure, I, I like waiting for you,” I said awkwardly, closing my eye in embarrassment and clearing my throat. “I mean, I'm, I'm hungry.”

“Oh, I…” (Y/N) sighed, with a disappointment in her voice that I was now able to notice. “I'm sorry, I spent too much time in the bathtub,” she apologized with a strange blush on her cheeks.

No, I really didn't want to think about what she was doing, what she was thinking about. I regretted having read her diary.

“Don’t, don't apologize, a hot bath can be restorative, don't you think?” I said in a lower voice, gaining confidence from nowhere, following Angie's erratic advice.

Slowly, I approached her, who smiled nervously, unable to look me in the face.

“Yes, of course,” she said in a small voice, with the same tone she used when she was nervous, when she was near me. The perfume she emanated was much more intense.

“I would never forgive myself if such a beautiful skin was damaged by overwork,” I whispered shamelessly, approaching her ear, running the back of my hand over the exposed skin of her arms. Her breathing became agitated, her body didn’t reject my touch, she simply trembled more intensely.

“Donna, I…” she sighed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin bristling at my touch. “I'm going to make dinner right away,” she said abruptly, cowardly fleeing from my proximity.

I laughed incredulously, as Angie's shameless strategy had worked.

I had managed to get her gaze focused on me, my skin to brush against hers, a bit of those secret feelings to be reflected on her face.

It wasn't such a bad idea, after all. I'd have to keep trying.

Day after day my closeness to (Y/N) increased considerably. It didn't matter where she was, dusting, washing dishes... My presence always haunted her. My whispers filled her ears with soft words, words she didn't understand, highlighting her beauty, the grace of her existence, what she meant to me.

Approaching her from behind to guide her hands while she cooked, showing her how to prepare coffee properly, placing strands of her hair behind her ear… They were experimental strategies to make her nervous, to take away the fear she had of me, the authoritarian and intimidating figure she saw in me.

But my efforts, my provocations, my constant teasing had no effect beyond her erratic trembling, the sweat running down her forehead or the blush on her cheeks accompanied by a nervous laugh.

I began to get frustrated again, to secretly read again the pages of her diary that revealed her nerves were at their highest limit and that approach, that subtle touch of my skin, of my words in her ears, only increased the fierceness of her feelings, and her desire.

“Do you know how to do a manicure?” I asked one cloudy afternoon, a boring afternoon in which I interrupted (Y/N) in her free time reading or writing, the diary peeking out subtly from a boring book on Romanian flora and fauna.

“Oh, Donna, yes, of course, I was used to doing it for Lady Dimitrescu,” -she explained, hiding the diary under the sofa in an awkward manner, with an innocent smile that hid her not so innocent thoughts.

Hearing my sister's name filled me with jealousy, but I soon learned to control it. I didn't want to scare her. I didn't want her to see that I really was a monster, that I wanted her just for me.

“To work on my dolls destroys my nails, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to...” I said, looking at my hands with disinterest, walking towards the sofa. She suddenly stood up, making a ridiculous bow and escaping from my presence. “Where are you going?”

“Sit, sit down, I'll be right back,” she said nervously, running upstairs, surely to get the stuff for that manicure I asked her for.

With a delicacy that was hard to believe, she worked on my nails, fixing the mess that the work in the workshop caused. Her warm hands studied mine and her gaze finally had an excuse not to be fixed on mine. She seemed concentrated, but she couldn't help the sweat on her forehead giving her away.

“You have beautiful hands,” she said quietly, playing with my fingers, with a tender smile, as if that moment relaxed her, as if she was starting to feel comfortable with my presence.

Time to act.

I smiled the same way, letting her fingers caress me, letting her take advantage of that moment to touch the skin she so longed to feel, or so she said in her diary.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” I whispered, nodding kindly, searching with my free hand for hers, indiscreetly playing with interlacing our fingers. “Yours aren't bad either.”

“That's not true,” she sighed, searching in a case for the nail polish I asked for, black like the darkness that always surrounded me. “I've spent a lot of time cleaning.”

“Nonsense, they're soft…” I said disinterestedly, playing with her hand, caressing the rough surface due to her hard work. She gasped in surprise, pretending to cough, pretending that her skin wasn't suffering from shivers.

“You're very kind, my lady,” she said nervously, uncapping the nail polish and moving her hand away from my caresses.

“My lady?” I said amused, tilting my head inquisitively. She smiled, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“Donna,” she corrected, with a shy smile, with the red of her cheeks contrasting harmoniously with her skin.

“That's better,” I said, satisfied, dragging out the words and making myself more comfortable in front of her, relaxing my body on the sofa.

“Don't, don't move,” she asked me in an almost imperceptible voice, as if she didn't want to give orders to me. Maybe my strategy hadn't worked as well as I thought.

“I won't,” I whispered with a reassuring smile, while (Y/N) brought the small brush to my hand. She couldn't stop shaking.

Abruptly, I grabbed her wrist firmly before she started with her task.

“You're shaking, (Y/N),” I said with a bit of cockiness, with a dangerous look, with a dark glint that was surely piercing her soul.

“I'm, I'm sorry, it's just that...” she murmured, breathing deeply to try to calm down, something she didn't manage to do.

“I want you to paint my nails, not my hand,” I joked, without letting the young woman's wrist go. (Y/N) was beginning to thrash around, looking with her eyes for a place to escape.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” she apologized again, when I finally let her wrist go. I was beginning to feel sorry for her, but the truth was that I was very tired of waiting, very tired of that submissive attitude.

She was mine, but I didn't want her to see it that way, I wanted her to feel comfortable.

“You're nervous, why?” I asked in a soft, unexpectedly seductive tone.

She shook her head, opening her mouth to speak, but regretting it immediately.

“I, I don't know.”

Liar...

“Relax,” I whispered, getting a little closer, feeling that my prey was cornered, that she couldn't, that she didn't want to escape.

It may have been a lack of manners, of subtlety, but my love, my desire, my desire to make her mine overcame me without wanting to after whole days of teasing, of getting closer, of having her so close, of trying to bring her heart closer to mine.

My hand wandered curiously over her bare leg, caressing her skin with a relaxing rhythm, totally different from her breathing, which quickened in a moment.

“Does this relax you?” I asked, without taking my hand off her leg, off her addictive skin.

(Y/N) didn’t know how to react, what to say to my shameless touch. She had been nervous for days too, I know, I read it.

“N, no,” she murmured, shaking her head, looking at me with bright, confused, disoriented eyes. Despite her refusal, I didn’t stop, studying her gaze with a serious expression. “But, but… I don’t want to relax.”

My mouth sketched a smile. I didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to say anything, to revel in that small victory, no, her skin was my main point of attention, my hand passing under her dress, conquering that desired terrain.

Her breathing guided my movements, my gaze focused on hers, hers focused on my hand, on that bottle of nail polish that I gently snatched from her, with an intense, serious but kind look, as kind as a monster like me could be.

“Donna…” she sighed, swallowing and moving at my upward touch, when my hand was already brushing the wet fabric of her underwear. I couldn't help but smile. The situation was as exciting for her as it was for me.

“What, tesoro?” I asked, speaking to her trembling ear, caressing her lustful crotch, already wet with my soft touch. “Do you want to tell me something?”

“I… I… Ah…” (Y/N) couldn't speak clearly, my fingers ran over her folds through that annoying fabric, making her voice betray her with a moan of surprise while her other hand grabbed the fabric of the sofa as if she wanted to tear it off.

“Shh, relax…” I said again in her ear, softly kissing her earlobe while my soft caresses intensified at the point of greatest pleasure, at that point almost made her jump. “Tell me, how long do you plan to keep hiding it from me?”

(Y/N) moved nervously, opening her eyes wide, but without rejecting my touch, without letting my fingers leave the wet patch of her underwear.

“Donna, I…” she murmured, alternating gasps with moans when my impudence exceeded my own limits, moving the fabric aside, sinking into her wetness, running through her folds, playing with her clit. “I, I don't know what… Oh…”

“Oh, yes, yes you do, honey…” I whispered amused, leaning towards her, playing with my fingers at her eager entrance, causing a subtle but perceptible movement of her hips.

“I, I really don't know what...” she stammered, confused by the pleasure, by feeling my fingers playing with her most private area, just playing.

I just wanted to hear her confess, to give me permission to take what was already mine. Just a few words from her...

“You should be more careful with how you hide your personal stuff,” I murmured amused, releasing her from my touch and taking the diary out.”

Her face turned red, almost black red, her eyes confusedly searching for a place to escape, and she tried, oh yes, she tried.

Without saying anything, breathing nervously, she tried to get up from the sofa, frustrated by my hand pushing her chest, by my body climbing hers.

“My, my diary...” she stammered nervously as I dropped the book on the floor and my hands traveled to the edges of her dislocated underwear, pulling it down to her ankles.

She was paralyzed, but I didn't give it any importance.

I just wanted to know, I wanted to know if what she said was true and if I could take her without feeling guilty.

“Tell me what you said was true,” I whispered in a nervous voice, caressing her legs, scratching her skin with my nails, closing my eye to listen to the sounds of her body, her nervous breathing, her embarrassed sobbing. “Tell me you feel the same way I feel about you…”

“Donna, I…” she stammered, grabbing my wrists so they would stop desecrating her body, so she could look directly at me, with a sigh that revealed a sudden air of confidence. “Yes, it was true.”

“Do you love me?” I asked, with a serious look, leaving lust aside, focusing on a feeling that, until the last week, I thought was impossible.

“I love you,” she said in a low voice, looking away, with a tear running down her cheek.

I wiped it with one hand, taking the opportunity to caress her cheek, to cup her face in my hands before looking at her, studying the shine in her eyes, a sincere shine.

I smiled, I smiled pleased by her words, but I didn't know how to respond as I was expected to do.

I simply leaned towards her, positioning her legs on either side of my waist and placing my lips on hers, kissing the softness that her mouth was, the beauty that (Y/N) was, being able to feel my own fantasies, losing myself in the sweet embrace of our lips.

I didn't want to do it, but I moved away, studying her reaction, proving once again that there was no lie in her words, in her actions.

I sighed, closed my eye to kiss her again, this time more passionately, a kiss she returned with the same reaction, melting us into a bonfire of passion, of caresses, of almost desperate kisses, eager to receive what they had been waiting for so long.

“Take me, Donna, please,” she asked when my lips allowed her to speak, when her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling my body to hers, making me crash against it, my erection caressing her wet center through my skirt.

“I thought you were more romantic,” I murmured, ignoring my romanticism, the desire to love innocently.

The lustful desire was much stronger. She laughed, freed from the anguish, from the fear of rejection or a reprimand.

“If you really love me, we will have enough time to be romantic,” she said in a whisper that was more of a warning, the fear that the feelings I didn’t know how to express were false.

“I promise you, (Y/N),” I whispered as I released my erection from the skirt, causing her eyes to dance down, her head to lean back, waiting for the moment we had both dreamed of.

Her body moved nervously as the tip entered slowly, stretching her “until then” incorrupt body, something my dark mind had not stopped to think about.

But I wasn’t going to stop because of that.

“I'm sorry,” I said in a soft tone when I saw her grimace of pain. “I'll go slower.”

I kept my word, moving slowly, not letting myself be carried away by the overwhelming sensations of her body hugging mine tightly, almost desperately. Her wetness, her excitement allowed me to move my hips, to run my shaft along her walls, to let them embrace me in an incredible way, impossible just a few weeks ago.

There was no room for apologies or stopping anymore. The pleasure was intense, her wetness bathed my flesh asking for more, asking me to move faster.

The timid moans came out of her mouth, her legs kept me inside of her while her hands scratched my back, searching for my breasts, those she said she liked that much.

Damn diary, it gave me the advantage, I knew what she was going to do, what she was going to touch, or what she was going to kiss before she did it.

I continued moving in a comfortable rhythm, letting out with my moans a small part of the pleasure I felt inside of her body. I wanted to adore her, worship her, make her mine even though she already was. My hips demanded more, hers struggled not to arch, not to release shamefully.

“Donna, it's, it's amazing,” she murmured in a confused way, letting herself be carried away by the pleasure of my thrusts, by the sensations caused by her walls stretching around me.

I nodded trying to maintain my composure, not to be carried away by my throbbing erection, which was already demanding its own release.

“You, your body, is, amazing… You are amazing, (Y/N)…” I murmured, unintentionally increasing the pace, kissing her lips, forgetting about the movement of my hips, letting everything flow as fate wanted, and so it did.

Her back arched held by my hands, her body moved nervously around my shaft, squeezing it, forcing me to release myself along with her orgasm, to fill her with my heat, with my seed, so there would no longer be any doubt. She was mine, and she would always be.

Exhausted, heated, we looked at each other, catching our breath, letting our release mix in silence, our hands traveling over our skin, over our clothes that still held some modesty in that carnal act.

“(Y/N),” I sighed, lifting her chin so she could look at me. “I'm sorry about reading your diary.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes, joining her hand with mine, holding it tightly with hers.

“If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't have been able to say how much I love you…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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warping-realities · 30 days

Text

Commitment - Part I

"I thought you liked my body."

Peter said with a slightly hurt tone of voice into the phone as he looked at the video of the overly muscular man that took up most of the device screen advertising a personal training studio that had recently opened near his apartment.

"I like you, babe, but it's just that you spend so much time at work and... well... I'll be honest, I've always liked your thin appearance... but in the last few months you've been growing a belly. It's no big deal ...but you know how much dedication I put into my body, just for you. A little reciprocity would be nice. Do this for me baby, I've already scheduled an appointment for you.

" Concluded the voice on the phone, belonging to Julia, Peter's longtime girlfriend. The two met while still in college and he always wondered what a woman with a sculptural physique and a beauty worthy of the catwalks saw in him. Not that he wasn't attractive, with his elegant face and slim body, coupled with the air of class and sophistication that many rich people seem to carry with them without even realizing it. Still, the difference between the two in terms of attraction was huge. Which made many people whisper that she was nothing more than a gold digger. But Peter preferred to turn a deaf ear to those comments because he really loved Julia and wouldn't accept that kind of conversation. In fact, he loved her so much that even against his nature he found himself putting on gym clothes and going to the address indicated in the pamphlet.

Furthermore, Julia knew him very well and had pressed the right button to force him to do what she wanted, appealing to his commitment to their relationship.

Arriving at the indicated location, Peter realized that the studio was a small room with some equipment and thus understood that Julia was thinking about his inhibitions when choosing that place. Despite coming from an influential family and being forced to participate from an early age in the most different social events, he had a real horror of exposing himself.

Therefore, a small studio like that would be the place where he would feel at least a little more comfortable. But perhaps she had purposely ignored another of Peter's horrors: intimidating muscular men, which was precisely the case with the gigantic guy standing with his arms crossed in the center of the room wearing the same shirt and making a pose identical to the one in the ad Peter had seen earlier.

Peter justified to himself that this would be the standard expected of a personal trainer, but that didn't change the feeling of absolute fear that had overcome him the moment he laid eyes on that figure.

The monstrous guy opened a smile that exuded so much self-confidence that it was overflowing with arrogance.

"Hey man, I'm Dan, you must be Pete, right?" The instructor asked as if he were intimate with

Peter and making the mistake that was perhaps the only thing that gave him the courage to speak out, calling him by his diminutive.

"Peter. I'm Peter Wexhan and I like to be called by my name."

"Wow man, I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I just wanted to break the ice since we're going to spend some time together." Dan said without letting his smile falter.

"I-I don't know if we'll go... I just thought about taking a experimental class." Peter replied.

"Nah, you'll see, once the iron bug bites you there won't be any return. So, the girl who arranged the class for you mentioned that the goal is to lose some belly fat, is that it?"

"Julia, the girl's name is Julia. My girlfriend and that's what she would like..."

"But what about you, what would you like? You are my client!" The truth is, Peter would rather be home. But he didn't have the courage to say that for fear of the big man in front of him and of

disappointing his girlfriend.

"I...that's what I want."

"Dude, you need to learn to assert yourself, man. And you know a great way to assert yourself, grow up!" Dan said, flexing his powerful muscles pushing his shirt to the limit, stretching it so much that it became transparent, exposing the glory that was hidden by the thin layer of fabric.

"I... I.." Peter began, not knowing what to say as he looked at that pile of stacked muscles with wide eyes.

"I'm kidding Peter. Who am I to say what you should or shouldn't do? Although I think a real man needs to know how to impose himself, I also think he also needs to know how to please a woman."

Once again, not knowing what to say, Peter preferred to remain silent. Giving Dan space to ask the question he would know was coming.

"So, Peter Wexhan... any relation to Senator Frank Wexhan?"

"Yes, I am his son."

"Wow, one of my first clients will be someone important."

"My father is important, I'm just a regular guy." Peter replied, knowing that as much as he wanted it to be real, it didn't actually match reality. After all, besides his father being a senator, his family was extraordinarily rich and Dan certainly knew that. But demonstrating more professionalism than the interaction between the two up until that moment made it clear that it would be possible, the instructor did not comment anything about it, preferring to continue the class.

"Let me work with you for a while and you will be anything but regular. And the best time to start is now. He responded with a new smile before putting Peter to perform the greatest physical effort of his life up to that point.

While helping him, Dan tried to start a conversation with Peter. He talked about cars, football, parties, all subjects with which the other had no affinity whatsoever.

"What do you mean you don't have a football team? Not even the one from your college?”

"It was never something I was interested in, sorry."

"Stop apologizing for everything man, although really in this case you have to apologize. Just kidding!!! But weren't you at least going to see the cheerleaders?" Dan asked, delving into another delicate subject, women. Julia had been the only woman in Peter's life and he adored her. He saw no reason to look at or even think about other women. So deep was his commitment.

Upon hearing this, Dan just smiled again and corrected Peter's posture, resuming his focus on the exercises. Making the latter amazed at how good the other was at his job and how quickly this was showing. At the end of the session his arms, shoulders and legs are looking slightly bulkier and he can't help but give himself a self admiring look in the mirror at how good looking he was making his opinion of Dan improve a lot. Sure, he was the kind of guy that Peter preferred to stay away from all his life, but now he saw that he could be someone fun and with whom he could interact. So much so that he ended up scheduling a new session for the following day. Saying goodbye to the other man with a hand shake and going home with the impression that in the end all in all, that was a great decision.

Upon arriving at the simple but comfortable apartment he shared with Julia instead of his family's currently uninhabited mansion, he found himself invaded by a hunger he had never felt before. Looting everything he had in the fridge and cupboards, and without taking a shower, he lay in the couch devouring everything he had looted while flipping through one channel after another on the television until finally stopping at a game of university football for his college team, which he began to watch, while he absently massaged his sore muscles, with a feeling of pleasure bordering on sexual. And that's how Julia found him two hours later when she arrived home.

"Hey babe... what's that smell? What's going on?? Peter you stink!"

That was her comment when she saw her boyfriend lying on the sofa in the living room, which at that moment was infected by the pungent smell of masculinity.

"Sorry babe, I got home from the and lost track of time." Peter replied as he smelled his ownarmpits and made a face. "Eww, I really stink."

"Peter, I can't believe you sat all dirty on my couch!"

"My couch, the apartment is mine and I can lie on my sofa and watch football however I want!" He

responded aggressively, scaring his girlfriend and himself in the process."

"Sorry babe, I don't know what came over me, let me take a shower and make up for it. I'll cookyour favorite dish for you."

The rest of the night passed without any major incidents, with the two having dinner and making small talk and ending up in bed where he rewarded Julia with the best fucking she had had in a long time.

To be continued…

#male tf #mind change #reality change #jockification #corruption #mental transformation

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barrenclan · 1 month

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Hacksaw and Ranger has to be the most vilest villains couple I think have ever seen. The way they refer to animals that they indoctrinate as “projects”,which while morbidly funny, goes to show how they view others as tool that can just dispose off when they are no longer useful. Saturn was just a desperate mother who wanted to care for her chicks. Immediately killed once she gave them the info they needed. Rainhaze just wanted his nephews to have enough food to survive. Ranger then breaks him down to the point where Rainhaze is willing to kill the very same family he desperately cared for.

Yet, despite all the inhuman stuff they have done to others, they still deeply care for each others. They both support each other goals and skills, even if it’s a bit evil and morbid. I won’t lie but my heart actually broke a bit when Ranger was just about to get his eye gouged out. Even though I really wanted to see them get hurt, there was just something about the panel of both them looking at each other crying that pull my heart. I don’t thinks Ranger would have the same reaction over if he just saw Hacksaw as another tool.

This doesn’t excuse the harm and pain they caused to others. Both of them got what was coming for them. Even though their love for each other was strong, it wouldn’t prevent them from getting hurt.

It's very important to me (and perhaps... a Major Theme In The Comic....) to get across the idea that people who do evil things are exactly as human as you or I. Being monstrous doesn't preclude someone from being capable of genuine love, or sorrow, or pity - in fact, it makes every cruel action they choose to take that much more reprehensible. "Evil people" aren't a category of human separate from "good people" - it's all just people. And that's a big part of Ranger and Hacksaw's story!

Not an intentional parallel, but it does mirror the intent of inflicting extra pain at a moment of pure weakness.

#ask #anon #ranger #hacksaw #analysis

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nataliasquote · 10 months

Text

Double the trouble [pt.3] | n romanoff

Double the trouble au: part 1, part 2

Summary: Natasha and Wanda's teenage twin daughters are a lot to handle, but despite their differences and arguments, there's nothing they wouldn't do for each other

Warnings: mentions of cheating, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Pairings: WandaNat, O!C × Valkyrie, Y/n × Bucky Barnes

wc: 5.3k

note: this part 3 was a Wattpad request with this particular plot line, so I’m aware that it moves very fast from part 2. But this ‘series’ of au oneshots aren’t really a series, but more of me just writing this family that I love so much. If you want to see more of this family, my asks are open! So please leave messages in there of what kind of things you want to see :)

- ⧗ -

Y/n and Isla wandered down the hallway in the direction of the cafeteria, their friendship group surrounding them as they all chatted and laughed now that classes were over. Maria was fiddling with the end of Y/n's braid as she walked beside her best friend and she made sure not to tug it too hard.

As they entered through the huge double doors, Isla let out a little sound and sprinted away, darting around the tables as she spotted the head of blue and black braids sitting on an almost empty table. She launched herself onto her girlfriend's lap and looped her arms around her neck as they met with a kiss, making the rest of the group groan with huge grins plastered on their faces.

"They're so perfect it hurts my soul." Maria commented to Y/n who just smirked. The group filled in the rest of the seats around Valkyrie's table, throwing their backpacks down as their shoulders ached from the weight of all their books.

"Lovebirds, no making out at the dinner table." Clint said, sending Isla a glare as she stuck her middle finger up and shoved her tongue in Valkyrie's mouth. Clint yelled out and stood up from his chair. He may hate their PDA but it would never take away from his monstrous appetite. Especially not on pizza day.

Y/n pulled out her boxed lunch, curtesy of Wanda and her love of making lunch for her girls. She knew exactly what she'd find; last night's pasta salad leftovers, some strawberries and blueberries and a small container of cheezits. Nat had slipped a little note and Y/n couldn't help but make a face at how cute her moms were. It didn't matter that she was almost a senior, homemade lunches would always be her favourite.

She noticed a hand sneak to steal a cheezit, but Y/nknew there was no stopping Maria. She was the group's food thief, so everyone was used to it by now.

"Hey Y/n," Steve called from across the table, grabbing the redhead's attention. "Where's Bucky?"

"He texted to say something came up. Not sure what though." They'd only been officially dating for two months, but Y/n still felt butterflies in her stomach whenever he was around. He was the perfect gentleman; picking her up from events, opening doors for her, surprising her with bunches of flowers whenever they went on a date.

Y/n was completely head over heels in love and it made her smile so much brighter. Clint joked that she was like Aurora and that animals would start following her wherever she went and if she started singing.

As they chatted their way through the lunch hour, Y/n's phone started buzzing like mad, almost vibrating so hard it fell off the cafeteria table. She was chatting to Maria so ignored the messages, knowing whoever it was could wait.

"Aren't you gonna check that?" Maria asked, scooping up another forkful of pasta. Y/n just shook her head and shrugged, her mouth full of food so she couldn't talk. "Wow. You've got some serious self control."

"If it bothers you that much then you can check it," Y/n said as she swallowed, reaching for her water bottle. She and Maria were really close, so her seeing messages on her phone was no issue. They were the kind of friends where nothing was TMI.

Maria reached for her phone and tapped the screen as Y/n got elbowed in the ribs by her sister who was still perched on Valkyrie's lap. Isla was asking to trade her blackberries for Y/n's strawberries, who was not at all impressed.

Their sisterly banter distracted attention from Maria, who had all colour drained from her face as she stared at Y/n's phone in horror. Her thumb was hovered over the screen and she didn't dare to take her eyes off the screen, not even with Clint's strange laugh.

"Hey Hill, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Valkyrie called, everyone turning their head to the brunette.

Y/n frowned. "You okay Ria?" Maria looked up at her and then over at Isla who was just smiling widely.

"Yeah I'm ok. I just remembered I've got some homework to finish before class. Sorry." She grabbed her backpack and shoved the rest of her food into it but Y/n seized her wrist, making her pause.

"What happened? What did you see?" Maria had a death grip on Y/n's phone and didn't seem to want to let go. "Maria, I need to know. Show me."

"No it was nothing. Just one of those texts from Bucky, you know how he texts."

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "Bucky doesn't text like that during school because he knows you're always on my phone. So show me what you saw."

Maria's eyes darted to Isla who's smile had dropped into a look of concern. She slid off her girlfriend's lap and rounded the table, taking the phone from Maria over her shoulder.

It was as if thunderclouds had darkened the sky when Isla saw what was on the screen. Her green eyes turned stormy and her fingertips were going white with how hard she gripped the small device. Her reaction had caused the table to be silent and Y/n pulled her lip in between her teeth, trying to pull her phone from her sister's hand.

But Isla held it up out of her reach before slamming it down hard on the table.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" She yelled, grabbing her back and swinging it over her shoulder, almost knocking out a freshman behind her as she did so.

Y/n swiped her phone from the table and punched in her password, hands shaking from what she might find. But she didn't have to search far, as her phone unlocked a single picture filled the entire screen and turned her mouth sour.

Bucky's side profile graced her screen, which wasn't uncommon as her lock screen was a picture of him and her kissing. But this time it wasn't her that his lips were pressed against. It was a senior girl, someone Y/n had seen at her mom's studio last year.

Blonde, tall, tanned, it was almost disgusting cliche. But the picture didn't stay in focus for long before it became fuzzy by the tears welling in her eyes. Everyone had crowded around her and had taken a look at the phone, Steve punching the top of the table as he grunted about his best friend.

Isla was being held back by Valkyrie, angry tears streaming down her face as she ranted in fury. The twins may tease each other and drive each other insane, but when it came down to it, they would do anything for the other. Which included getting revenge on stupid boyfriends.

Y/n looked at the picture for a few more seconds before clicking her phone off and sliding it into her pocket. She didn't speak and her face remained neutral as she took a sip of water, eyes remaining fixed on the table.

"Y/n?" Maria asked, slightly scared at her best friend's silence. The redhead slipped her backpack onto her shoulders and turned to leave but Isla grabbed her shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?" It was a stupid question but her sister's silence was starting to scare her. Her mom did the same when she was upset; Y/n was almost Natasha's carbon copy. "Y/n?"

"I'm fine." The shortest sentence with the least amount of truth. Isla looked at Maria with a concerned look and they both surrounded her so she couldn't rush away.

"No you're not. You can't trick me." Y/n looked her sister in the eye and only then did Isla see the tears balancing on her waterline, the green irises looking extra vibrant. "Talk to me."

That was all it took. The tough front she'd tried to put up came crumbling down and her forehead fell onto her sister's shoulder, whole body shaking with sobs.

Isla froze for a moment but wrapped her arms around her sister and Maria rubbed her back, letting her know he was there. Isla tried to channel Wanda, knowing she was the best at comforting her daughters whenever they needed it.

"What did I do wrong?" Y/n cried into her sister's shirt, holding on really tightly.

"You did nothing wrong. He is a dick who doesn't realise what he had when he has it," Maria spoke into her ear. "You're too good for him babe."

"Clearly I'm not if he went off with her!" She spat, lifting her head and catching Clint's gaze. "I just-" she let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a roar and Isla winced as it was right by her ear.

Maria suddenly turned her head, eyes bulging out of her head. "Hey Y/n, let's go to the bathroom. More privacy there." The redhead was still crying but protested, not feeling like she wanted to go anywhere.

"I can't. If I see him, I-," her breath hitched as she spoke, crying making it hard to breathe. "I don't know where it went wrong. He kissed me this morning! He told me he loved me, he promised to take me on a date later and now-" that was enough to cut her off from talking and her bottom lip trembled, breaking everyone's hearts around her.

Surrounding tables had turned to look away from Y/n towards the double doors at the far end of the room, everyone watching one thing.

Bucky.

He was strolling through the tables with his backpack on one strap on his shoulder, unsure as to why everyone was staring at him. But his determined steps were soon halted by Steve, who placed his hand on Bucky's chest to stop him.

But it was too late. Y/n had looked up and locked her eyes on him, seeing the boy she loved having forceful words with Steve, his brow furrowed.

She completely froze. Maria was trying to get her attention, as was Isla and the rest of the group, but she was glued to the ground. Her body wanted to run but her brain was in overdrive, emotions clouding every function and blocking out the rest of the world.

She could just see Bucky and she hated it. She didn't want to do it, but she retreated into Natasha's bad habits, ones she'd picked up when she was younger and watching her mother struggle on her bad days.

She hauled the wall up in her mind and blocked everything else out. She shrugged off her sister's hands, Maria's too, and adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

"I'm gonna go find Miss Potts. I need to talk to her about the English assignment." This time she didn't wait for a response, storming off down the cafeteria as far away as possible from Bucky as she could be. Students started whispering amongst each other as she passed, but she didn't hear. She didn't care. Not anymore. She didn't care about anything.

She had 20 minutes until the end of lunch, so she kept walking with no true destination in mind. The football fields were pretty empty so she climbed up onto the bleachers and settled with her arms crossed over her knees, resting her chin on her forearms.

She wanted to process, to think everything over but her mind was empty. She had made herself numb in an alarmingly short space of time. It was dangerous but she didn't know what else to do. She'd never been through a breakup before. Or been cheated on. Had never even opened her heart up to anyone like she had to Bucky. And there wasn't a doubt that she would ever do that again either.

She spaced out and time flew really quickly. Science as last period. A boring class but her friends were in it, so it wasn't too bad. Except now she didn't want to talk to anyone. But she didn't have to. She just needed to get through the day and then she could have her whole night.

Technically it was a dance night for Y/n, but she didn't even want to dance anymore. So she wasn't going to. Not tonight.

She made her way slowly to the science laboratories and saw the bright red hair of her sister in amongst the crowd. She didn't bother walking up to them, knowing they'd come to her. And they did, checking over her to see if she was ok. But Y/n just shrugged which frustrated Isla.

"Stop trying to play it off Y/n," she exclaimed, trying to get through to her twin. "I know what you're doing. And mom won't be happy at all." She leaned down to whisper that in her ear, which made Y/n's eyes suddenly lock on hers. "Don't give me that look. You know as well as I do."

"Then don't tell her." Her voice was dull and flat, a total change from her usual bright and cheery tone.

"Y/n don't be stupid, you know I have to do that." Isla looked at her sister for a longer moment, her eyes softening. "Don't shut it out. You know what happened-"

She was interrupted by their teacher calling everyone into class. Isla didn't finish her sentence, only squeezing her sister's hand before disappearing into her seat on the other side of the room.

Maria sank into her chair, trying to act as normal as she could. She showed Y/n a funny video and made a joke about their teacher's bright green shirt. Y/n smiled but it was clearly fake. She felt bad for acting like this around Maria, but she understood why.

Her final classes went by quickly. She wasn't paying attention and her paper stayed empty from the beginning to the end. Maria slipped her an extra set of notes after watching how her pen wasn't even retrieved from her pencil case. As they walked out of class, Maria pulled Y/n into a tiny hug, not wanting to exchange any words.

Y/n knew the meaning of her affection and she secretly welcomed it, even if she wanted to push Maria aside.

"Text me if you need me, okay? And if I see that douchebag I'll..." she mimed a boxing action which made the redhead smile slightly.

"Y/n I'll give you a lift to dance." Usually Bucky took her, but there was no way she was even stepping foot anywhere near his car.

"I'm not going," she replied shortly, making Isla and Maria share a look. "I just want to go home."

"But Y/n-"

"I want to go home Isla. You can either drive or I'll walk." She adjusted her bag straps on her shoulder and turned away, marching down the hallway with her green eyes ice cold. Even the freshmen she usually smiled at were ignored and people skirted nervously around her.

"Fuck fuck fuck," Isla muttered, watching her sister walk away.

Maria placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded encouragingly. "Go. She needs you."

Isla hesitated, checking her phone. "Can you find Val? I said I would meet her-"

"I will. She'll understand." Isla smiled and then took off, her track history coming in handy as she sprinted off down the hallway.

- ⧗ -

"Y/n! Get in the car!" Isla had spotted the black hood of her sister walking down the sidewalk and she pulled over, driving along side her. But Y/n ignored her, keeping her head down. "Fucks sake Y/n! Get in the car!"

"Just leave me alone Isla."

"No. You can push everyone else away but you don't get to push me away." She checked the cars around her and shoved her own into park, jumping out and running over. "What happened to sticking together?"

"I don't care." That was the wrong thing to say and she knew it.

"Okay that's it." Isla grabbed her sister's arm and dragged her all the way back to the car, opening the door and lifting her onto the seat despite Y/n's protests to get away. It looked funny from the outside but neither of them were laughing. They were both pissed.

"Look, I get that you're mad," Isla began as she pulled onto their street, "but you cannot and will not get over this if you push everyone away." Y/n stayed silent, staring out of the window. "So talk to me."

"Please don't." Y/n really wasn't in the mood for talking; she thought that was evident. But her twin's persistent nature carried through strong, even if Y/n didn't break.

Isla had really tried to push to get information, at least something. But as she rolled into their driveway and Y/n had only sunk further into her seat with tears trickling down her face, she felt dejected.

"You won't be able to avoid it with Mom or Mama, you know. They're gonna ask- or I'm gonna tell them."

"Okay," was all that came as a reply before Y/n slammed her door shut and walked up the front steps. Isla watched her as a few spots of rain fell onto her windscreen. She puffed out her cheeks and let out a sigh before following the hunched figure, making sure to lock her car.

Wanda was in the middle of changing the bedsheets when she heard the front door close. She knew it was Isla and so didn't rush to greet her as a pair of feet sounded up the stairs. But they didn't come towards her, which wasn't unusual as the bathroom was in the opposite direction.

As she was replacing the pillowcases, a bright ringtone came from her dresser and Natasha's contact came into view. Wanda frowned but answered all the same, knowing she was calling from the middle of Y/n's private lesson.

"Hey Nat, is everything okay?"

"Is Isla home?" Nat asked as she chewed her lip, a rather annoying habit.

"Yeah I heard the front door go a few minutes ago. Why?"

There was a moment of silence before Natasha spoke again. "Is Y/n with her?"

Wanda frowned. Why would Y/n be with her? "I- well, I don't know. I haven't been down to check. But doesn't Y/n have dance tonight?"

"She does. But there's been no sign of her and Bucky's car hasn't pulled up either. And that girl won't answer her phone." She sounded worried and Wanda felt helpless. There wasn't much she could do to comfort Nat through the phone.

"Stay on the line, I'll go check." She opened the door and peered down the hallway, not seeing any of her girls. But footsteps up the stairs caught her attention and she spun around quickly.

But it was Isla. Not out of the ordinary.

"Hey sweetheart. Is your sister home?" Isla stared at her, eyes wide.

"Uh, yeah. I think she's in her room." Wanda eyed her suspiciously but turned towards Y/n's door. "Wait, I wouldn't disturb her yet. She's um-"

"What's going on?" Natasha asked as she heard Isla's quiet voice. The teenager grimaced and glanced at her sister's bedroom door before dragging Wanda back to her own room.

"Bucky cheated on her today," Isla said straight out, watching the colour drain from her mother's face and a string of curses came flowing from the phone's speaker. "But please, give her some space. She shut me out and if we push her she's only going to hide it more."

Wanda sank down onto her freshly made bed and placed her phone on her pillow, Nat still on speaker so her angry rant continued.

"- and I'll be home in 20 minutes. Yelena can sort the classes out and I'll cancel my privates for today-"

"Nat, no, you can't just leave the studio. They need you-"

"I'm a mom first Wanda. Our girls come first, you know that. And I don't like how Y/n is handling this so I will be coming home. And that's final." There was a jangle of keys before Nat hung up and Isla felt a fuzzy feeling in her stomach.

The twins really were lucky to have moms who would drop everything to go to them whenever they needed. Nat loved dance but she would give it all up for her family in a heartbeat.

"When did it happen?" Wanda asked, patting the bed beside her for Isla to take a seat.

The teenager pulled out her phone and got up the picture that made her stomach churn, holding it out for her mother to see. "She found out at lunch. But she did what Mama used to do and that scared me more than if she had been crying none stop."

Wanda placed the phone down with an unreadable expression and wrapped her arm around her eldest daughter's shoulders, kissing the top of her head. "She had you, even if she shut you out, you're her rock. I think just knowing you were there helped her more than you could know." Wanda's voice was gentle and definitely one of Isla's favourite sounds. Somehow she always knew what to say.

"She cried at first and it made me so angry I just wanted to protect her even more," Isla admitted, leaning into her mother. "And then he strutted in like the king of the school and I swear I could have punched him." Her mind flashed back to Y/n crying on her shoulder and Bucky's cocky face and her fist subconsciously clenched into a fist. Wanda noticed this and placed her hand on top, relaxing the tension straight away.

"She's lucky to have you," Wanda said with a smile as she kissed her daughter's head. "What do you say to ordering those cookies Y/n loves? To cheer her up?"

Isla smiled, nodding. "I think she'd love that."

Twenty minutes later Natasha walked through the front door with a box of cookies under her arm. She had intercepted them from the shy delivery guy who was more than happy to accept the large tip she gave him, accompanied by her terrifying scowl. Hearing Isla's news had put her in a foul mood and Yelena didn't dare argue when asked to cover the senior classes later on in the evening.

"Where is she?" She asked as she entered the kitchen, following the sounds of hushed chatting. Wanda stood up to retrieve the box and took Natasha's work bag from her shoulder, guiding her to a chair. Isla smiled and kissed her on the cheek which soften her glare slightly.

"She's still upstairs, my love," Wanda spoke softly and slipped behind her wife, rubbing her hands up and down the tense shoulders that Natasha wore. Her whole body was tense so Wanda's gentle massage made her let out a deep sigh. "We wanted to wait for you."

"She's less likely to bite your head off," Isla joked with a small smile. "I basically kidnapped her off the sidewalk so she's not too happy with me." Both women shot her a strange and look and Isla realised how weird her comment sounded. "She wouldn't get in the car... stubborn, you know?"

"And I know where she gets that from." Nat would have protested against her wife's comment but she was too into the massage for it to stop.

"I'll take her a cookie and see how she is. Being alone isn't good for that girl."

With a plate of three cookies in hand and a bottle of water in the other, Nat climbed the stairs to her room, her mind racing with different scenarios. Best case would be that Y/n would be crying on her bed. Worst case would be emotionless.

And there she was. Natasha's heart sank as she watched the shell of her daughter return to her bed after unlocking her door. Her cheeks weren't tear stained and she hadn't changed out of her school outfit yet. Her knees were pulled up to her chest as she leaned against the headboard and stared at a spot on the wall.

The framed picture of her and Bucky which usually sat on her nightstand was now tossed face down in a corner.

"Hey sweetheart," Natasha said softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Your mom ordered your favourite cookies." Y/n didn't move.

Nat scanned her entire body, the silence growing larger in the enclosed space. It unnerved her because this behaviour was such a contrast to Y/n's usual bubbly nature. There was always music playing whenever Nat came in her room, but now there was just a deathly silence.

"I heard what happened. How are you feeling?" No reply. "Y/n, don't shut me out please."

"I'm fine."

Nat let out a laugh. "Yeah, I can tell," she said sarcastically. "Talk to me lenya, it's okay."

Y/n gritted her teeth, digging the pads of her fingers into her knees. She didn't want to break, but the wall in her mind was growing weaker and Natasha knew exactly how to get through it. She'd learned her coping mechanisms from the best of course.

Nat could see it working. "Mama's here, you're okay. You can talk to me baby. Just let it out. What's going on inside that head of yours?"

That was the final straw. Y/n pulled her eyes away from the wall and found her mama's caring green ones staring back at her with love and compassion, and she cracked. Just one look at her mama and Y/N couldn't hold back anymore. She burst into tears and dropped her head to her knees, hiding herself.

Natasha moved quickly, sliding onto the bed beside her and and pulling her close to her chest, cradling her close. Y/n smooth hair was tangled but Nat ignored it and stroked her hand over it like she had done when her girls were babies. Three or seventeen, they were always her babies.

"I've got you, it's okay," were the words that Natasha murmured over and over. They didn't need to discuss what had happened yet. It was too soon. Y/N just needed her mama and a place to let it all out. Not that she couldn't do that with Wanda, but her connection with Nat was stronger. Wanda was Isla's rock, Natasha was Y/n's.

Nat couldn't help but let a tear slip down her cheek as she listened to Y/n's heartbreaking sobs. She could do nothing but let her cry, knowing that's what she needed. Blocking out emotions was Natasha's unhealthy habit and she kicked herself for letting Y/n learn it too. She encouraged her girls to let out their emotions, helping them do that if they needed.

Y/n choked out a sob and shuffled so she was hugging her mama's torso, looking for more comfort. "Aren't you supposed to be at the studio?" Always more worried about others, Y/n was selfless to the core.

"Nope. I'm supposed to be with my daughter who had a shitty day." Y/n smiled a watery smile and wiped her tears from her cheeks. "I left Yelena to oversee everything."

"That's a bold decision," Y/n said, her voice still shaky from crying. "But thank you."

"Oh my sweet girl, you don't need to thank me." She gently wiped a stray tear that had escaped down Y/n's left cheek. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

Y/n averted her gaze and looked at the dance company logo on Natasha's team jacket. "I got cheated on. It's stupid."

"You're right, he is stupid."

"She was really pretty too," Y/n cried, her tears appearing once more as the image replayed in her mind. "She's blonde and tall and probably everything he could ever want. I was dumb to think he'd be happy dating me when there are girls out there that look like her."

Natasha saw red. She hated negative self talk, but hearing it come from her daughter who was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen made her furious.

Without saying a word, she got up from the bed and tugged Y/n to her feet, holding her steady as her head spun from crying. She walked over to the full length mirror on the wall and held her daughter in front of it, hands on her shoulders.

"You see that?" Natasha pointed in the mirror at Y/n's reflection. "That girl right there is perfect. She's so much better than any blonde girl who looks like a supermodel. You are beautiful, smart, thoughtful, funny, talented, this list would never end. Y/n Romanoff is perfect and you better remember that."

Y/n could barely see her reflection through the tears that had once again made another reappearance after her mama's speech. She tugged the hands on her shoulders so Nat's arms slipped in front of her and she had something to hold onto. Y/n pressed her cheek to Nat's forearm and leaned on it, feeling her mother hug her from behind.

"If I'm everything you say I am, why did he cheat?" She turned away from the mirror and looked up at her mother who's gaze softened as she cupped her daughter's face.

"Because men are shit," she stated bluntly. "Why do you think I married a woman? Why do you think Isla is dating one? Men are shit and he didn't deserve you one bit. You, my girl, deserve the very best. Not some immature high school boy who didn't realise what he had with you."

"I really thought he was the one," she said dejectedly. Nat kissed her forehead and brought her back to the bed. "How did he change so fast?"

"I don't know honey. But you don't need him anymore. My girl can find someone miles better than him."

"I don't think I want to date."

Natasha stroked her hand over Y/n's hair and reached for the bottle of water laying on the blanket. "Even better. Means I get you all to myself." She pulled Y/n into her side and held up the bottle for her to take. "Crying makes you dehydrated, so drink up."

Y/n took a few sips, feeling the cool liquid soothe her raw throat. She made sure the lid was on tightly before placing it on her nightstand. "Every time I see him in the hallway I won't know what to do."

"Unfortunately that will just fade with time honey. But you've got Isla and Maria who will be beside you at all times. They'll keep him away, you know your sister."

"Im scared she's gonna punch him."

Nat paused for a moment. "Part of me wants to let her, but I guess I have to be a responsible adult and talk her out of it." Her joke worked and Y/n laughed, smiling properly for the first time since lunch.

"Unless you want to be called to a meeting with the principal, then yeah I think so."

Natasha tightened her arms around her daughter and hugged her hard, breathing in the remains of her floral perfume. "You think you're ready to see Isla and Mom yet? They're worried about you."

As much as Y/n wanted to stay in that blissful moment with her mama, she knew she needed to see the others too. And also apologise to Isla who was only trying to help.

"If you'll help me talk to them?"

"Of course sweetheart. Of course."

#fanfic #marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #double the trouble au

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dyns33 · 3 months

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Only wastelands 4

Annnnnd here's part 4 !! I will be honest, I will need some time to finish this series. I know where I'm going, but I can't find the time or energy to write it.

Tag : @one-of-thewalkingdead @coolrobloxkid28 @thebumbqueen @rachmari @ilyvia @justme12200 @honeybunhottie @savanahc @gobbodoggo @bisasterbisexual @killingboredom @bonafideyapper @i-simp-for-mha-men @pixelatedprofilepic @ultimatreality @chattersstuff @harmfulb1tch @hellolettuce444 @miketastic25 @darkangel4121 @avidreadee123 @kaitttttttt @nullx1ety

It would have been a lie to say that Y/N hadn't prayed that Janey would be a better traveling companion to Lucy. The vaultie was not bad, but far too naive, talkative, not listening to advices.

Maybe she had been heard, or Cooper had been a great father, but the little girl was a true angel.

Obviously very clever for her age, she didn't need long explanations to see that the world had changed, that it was dangerous, and that it was a good idea to follow Y/N without asking too many questions.

Of course Janey still had some questions. This was perfectly normal. But she waited until they were safe, often before sleeping, to look at Y/N with her big, innocent eyes.

“Are we going to see dad soon ?”

"… Yes. He's not far away." the woman said as she checked her pitboy.

If the information was correct, Lucy was only a few days' walk away, and if Coop was still with her, then he would be reunited with his daughter soon. 219 years without seeing her, without any news, no clue on her location, and the almost evaporated hope of finding her still alive.

Of the things Y/N hadn't yet explained to Janey, the time that had passed since her forced separation from her father was one of the most complicated. The child probably thought she would find the man in the picture, smiling and with pink skin.

She nervously repeated that Cooper had been ill, but couldn't elaborate. Each time, Janey responded that her daddy was strong, and that he would get better soon, especially if they helped him.

Impossible to contradict this adorable child.

If she wanted to lie again, Y/N would have said that she wasn't walking as fast as she could because she wasn't sure what would happen when Janey saw her father. That would probably be a shock. Was she going to scream ? Cry ? Be afraid of him ?

It would break Cooper's heart. And she could repeat that she hated him, that she didn't care at all about his fate, Y/N didn't want to hurt him like that. Anyhow, but not like that.

There was also the possibility that he would react badly to seeing her. Vault Tech was so monstrous, they would have been able to clone Janey, or create a robot that looked like her, or even brainwash her at her mother's request.

He could also think that he had become too monstrous to approach such a pure being without harming her.

Maybe he had abandoned Y/N, thinking only of himself, but he would never do that to his own daughter. She couldn't believe it. The problem was that he would want the best for her, and he might think that was keeping his distance.

Y/N had imagined all these possibilities, but in reality, she knew perfectly well that they would just be happy to have each other again. If she was afraid, it was mainly for herself. For them.

She had been running from him for three years. Not that he seemed to be looking for her, but she had promised herself that their paths would never cross again or it would end badly.

She was not thinking of killing him. First because she had no chance against this cowboy, but above all because Y/N may have hated him for what he had done, she still loved him too much to really want his misfortune.

That was probably why everything was still very painful.

When the Pitboy beeped to indicate that they had arrived at their destination, Y/N observed the ruined building, Janey's hand still holding hers, awaiting orders.

Although fear kept one alive in the wastelands, one should never hesitate. Never.

Cautiously, motioning to the little girl not to make any noise, they approached what was obviously Lucy and the Ghoul's hiding place for the night.

With another gesture, Y/N indicated to Janey to stay at the end of the corridor, while she checked the place, until she found what they were looking for. And if necessary, she should flee.

As none of her reactions were normal, the vaultie seemed happy to see her, greeting her with a huge smile.

Sitting in a corner, hand on his rifle, Cooper didn't look so happy. Surprised, yes, nervous too. With a mixture of sadness and anger. Not really open to a reunion.

But he had celebrated their separation, he had no reason to want to see her again.

Y/N stared at his gun, wondering if he was going to shoot. No movement showed he intended to harm her, but he kept his hand on the trigger. Maybe he thought she was going to try something.

Slowly, so as not to rush him, and ignoring Lucy's long tirades about everything that had happened to them in New Vegas where they had not found her father, Y/N made Janey understand that she could come.

The weapon fell to the floor as she walked through the door. The hatred completely disappeared from Cooper Howard's eyes.

He just sat there, petrified by this vision of his past.

The poor kid shook a little, clinging to Y/N, not understanding what they were doing with these people. So Y/N got down on her level.

"This is Lucy, she was in a shelter like you and me. And… Janey. Janey, here's your father." she whispered with an uncertain voice.

The child looked at her, searching for a lie or joke on her face, before turning back to the Ghoul, who still hadn't moved.

It may have been instinct, the call of blood, or the great intelligence of this kid, but then she found her smile again, finally recognizing the man who was standing there.

"Daddy !"

While he had been stuck since their arrival, Cooper didn't hesitate for a second when Janey ran towards him. He opened his arms to welcome her, lifting her to embrace her tenderly, breathing a sigh of relief that he had been hoping for for two centuries.

Lucy didn't understand everything that was happening, but she placed a hand on her heart in front of this scene, knowing that she had to keep quiet for once. Nothing should spoil this moment.

"Janey… My lil cowgirl…" sobbed Cooper. "You're okay. You're here."

"I missed you, dad. Why didn't you come with me in the car ?"

"He… I told you, there was no more room. I was supposed to join you later, but there were problems. I'm sorry, my angel. I wanted to come."

“Mom said you left me.”

"Your mother… Your mother will have had bad information. I would never have left you. I would always come for you."

The sentence echoed in Y/N’s mind. A broken promise. Without really thinking about it, she touched the picture she always kept in her bag. If it had been of value to Cooper, it hadn't been enough for him to come get her.

Now that he had found Janey, that photo was forgotten. It was long forgotten, like Y/N, who no longer had any value.

At least this story would have a nice ending. Their paths had crossed so that she could bring back his little daughter. He had saved her, she had saved them. They were even now.

Still silent, she left the room, then the building, without attracting attention. Lucy was too busy crying, while Coop obviously only had eyes for his child.

By the time they realized she was gone, Y/N would already be far away.

Maybe the vaultie would want to follow her, thinking about using her pitboy, but there was no reason the cowboy would want the same thing. If his daughter wasn't enough, he would continue to search for the old MacLean, for Barbara, all those responsible for the end of the world.

But not Y/N. Even to thank her. He hadn't looked for her in 3 years, he had no reason to start now.

So it was a surprise when something passed around her at lightning speed, stopping her in her tracks as she was about to advance towards the desert.

It had been a long time, but she remembered that damn lasso and the habit of its owner perfectly.

“Leaving so soon, sweetheart ?”

Why wasn't he with Janey ? Why stop her ? Why not be happy to see her go, like last time ? He already had Lucy to annoy him, and even if he loved her, it wouldn't be easy to survive in this world with a child. Why make her suffer like this ? Why make her believe that she was important ?

She could ask him all these questions and finally get real answers, but Y/N was scared.

No sound came out of her mouth as she turned to face Cooper, who had regained his cold gaze. This blur between despair and hatred. As if he had a reason to be angry with her.

“Think we need to talk.” he said in a slow voice. “A real conversation, sugar.”

And from the man who hated idle chatter, long explanations, and really all human interaction, that was something.

#fall out #the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard fanfiction

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honeycreammilkshake · 19 days

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Yuji can finally have his own Human Earthworm with blobkuna haha

it seems to me that gege is really fond of metaphors and stories within stories, so i took a closer look at the human earthworm series that was given to us in the anime/manga and i found a lot of interesting things that, as usual, i'm going to turn into a sukuita essay. (sorry for the overly long rant coming up, anon ;-;)

the basic plot of the 4th movie is that an ordinary man is transformed into a half-worm, half-human creature by an evil scientist/doctor. the human earthworm manages to escape but is forced to hide from the outside world as he will be perceived as a monster because of his appearance. however, his hiding place also enables him to meet an animal rights activist who ends up falling in love with him. she is a very understanding, compassionate, and empathetic person (remind you of someone?) and although she is scared of him at first, she looks past his "monstrous appearance" to find the true person within, and he is ultimately more human than other humans are.

in the end, though, he is killed by the girl's friends, who only see a monster. before they attack him, though, she tells them that they will be the monsters for killing him.

this theme of the humans being more monstrous than the actual monsters themselves, such as in literature like frankenstein by mary shelley or the metamorphosis by franz kafka, is a theme used to invert and reframe the popular myths and stories of monsters both looking abnormal and being unnatural.

so... what does this mean in relation to sukuna and yuuji's story?

i think it's pretty clear that sukuna was perceived as monstrous from his birth onward. in historical japan, during the heian era, there was a lot of conflict between different religions and very rapid changes in culture and lifestyles as people began breaking away from chinese influences. this era is sometimes called the "golden age of the imperial court" because of the court's growing power and cultural prosperity, and a lot of this power resided with the Fujiwara clan who had intermarried with the imperials. however, for the majority of ordinary people, this era saw a lot of suffering, hardships, low quality of life, and a high infant mortality rate.

sukuna was born into this starving world and would have died had he not eaten his twin in the womb. but he was unwanted and unwelcome from the moment he was born. i've written this before (so i'm sorry if it's getting a bit repetitive) but i think a lot of fans don't realize how much more demanding and cruel life was during this time (compared to modern day japan) in terms of life expectancy and quality. and those factors shaped sukuna into what he is, or at least make up a part of his becoming a monster.

in sukuna's own words his existence itself is anathema. the literal definition of this is "vehement disliking" and is a synonym of abhorrent. in religious usage it means "exclusion from the society of the faithful because of heresy" and it is described as being "cursed."

sukuna was perceived as being a curse before he even became cursed objects. whether or not he was born with extra limbs and/or lots of cursed energy, he was still seen as something unnatural and inhuman.

in other words, his unusual appearance and origin is monstrous to others. and i think he took this to heart and decided to just go with it, because he refuses to be seen as human by anyone even though he was in fact born one. he would rather be feared and despised as an imaginary demon than treated like a real person who was essentially cast out of the normal world.

but yuuji doesn't treat sukuna like just another monster in the end. instead, he offers him such selfless acceptance and honest empathy. and i don't think sukuna can take something like that.

sukuna is very aware of his own nature. he seems really proud to be an unfeeling, indifferent entity of chaos.

hm.....

lots of thoughts on this one panel alone. but i'll try to keep my ideas short. i believe that sukuna embraced what others saw as his "cursed nature" and became the strongest so he could be above all the hatred and ignorance that made others perceive him as being a monster. so he matched his actions to what people feared from him.

he became the monster so he could look down on those same people and also so he could isolate himself from ever being affected by those feelings again. after all, those others are nothing more than weak prey who shouldn't lament their own suffering, just like he shouldn't lament being seen as cursed from birth on. just like he claims he isn't lonely because only the most selfish can be on top.

but still. people want to destroy him for just being the role they more than likely forced him into. he never became more than what people saw him as, and yet they still hate him.

he claims to be above that hatred, but i think it might actually get to him. while else would he reflect so much on it during his fight with yuuji. yuuji, who he lived inside of, who he looks down on for being "weak" because he is far too emotional and caring for others, yet that's one of the biggest reasons for yuuji's strength. strength sukuna tries to undervalue because he can't stand the idea that strength can ever be compassionate as well.

yuuji hates sukuna's ideals and his indifference to the value of life. but he still accepts sukuna. he sees past the monstrous appearance and realizes sukuna was made into a monster by chance. what if someone was there for him, like wasuke was there for yuuji? even though wasuke still pushed yuuji away and was all that yuuji had, he still kept yuuji tethered to being a good person and caring for others. wasuke served as both a lesson in what not to become and a reminder for yuuji to realize the importance of life.

sukuna probably didn't have that, or if he was given that chance, it was far too late for him.

yuuji actually wanted to live with sukuna. he wanted to the animal rights activist to sukuna's worm monster, but in the end, sukuna chose death.

the humans killed the monster they made, yet again. sukuna would rather live and die as a curse than be anything different. yuuji loved him even as a worm, but sukuna couldn't take it.

and yuuji looks so heart-broken and disappointed for it.

also. i didn't notice this until now. but yuuji cradles sukuna's remains so so gently... in the hand that looks monstrous.

monster to monster. yet yuuji was so tender. he didn't seek to mock sukuna. instead, he said that they were the same. that sukuna is him.

yuuji was created for the purpose of housing sukuna inside of him, for being his vessel. he was made into a "monster" but instead of letting that turn him into something evil, he used his abilities to save other people. and he even wanted sukuna to come back to him!!!

again, i'm sorry for making this into yet another paper-long incoherent rant. i probably should have stuck to my original reply which was "sad we couldn't see their halfling children ;-;" but then this happened instead. thank you for bearing with me if you read through the mess of my thoughts. ty for your wonderful ask anon <3

#honey posts #sukuna ryomen #itadori yuuji #sukuita #meta #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna should have said yes so yuuji and him could have little monster kids together #but gege loves tragedy #im going to forever cry about this ;-;

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a-dragons-journal · 7 months

Text

Humanity and the Lack Thereof

This essay was co-written between Rani and Viridian; Viridian's text is in green and bracketed.

Humanity is an interesting thing.

I am otherkin. I am nonhuman, a dragon-in-human-skin, draconic to my core. I feel phantom wings and tail, the instinctive knowledge of how to breathe fire even though I don’t understand how it works, a bones-deep longing and homesickness for the sky, numerous instincts and urges tied to being something other than human. Many who are like me reject humanity entirely, don’t feel human at all. And yet, I am also human, deeply and truly. I am just as human as I am dragon - I like my human body, I love the things I can do with it (hands, dexterous hands, are a wonderful thing), I overall enjoy my human life. I am nonhuman, but I am not not human.

Viridian, who is watching “over my shoulder” as I write this, is a vampire. She is a fictive, from one of the Vampire: the Masquerade games that I play in, wherein vampires are typically considered to be… on the boundary line between “human” and “nonhuman.” Many vampires cling to their humanity and adamantly consider themselves human; I would go so far as to say this is the norm. Those who do not often become monstrous indeed, though often they do not.

[ I do not consider myself human. I am Kindred, vampire, Cainite. I am part of humanity, as a general populace - but I do not like being called human.

[ I think part of it is that being human is often put in direct opposition to being vampire as a personal identifier. Those who adamantly insist they are “still human” often mean as opposed to being a vampire instead. Being no longer human is, as Rani wrote, often considered a sign of becoming a monster instead.

[ But I worked hard for my Embrace, my being turned into a vampire. I worked to earn the right to call myself Kindred for nearly a decade. And yes, perhaps some of it is that I was taught by my original sire that the Embrace was an ascension above humanity, and that still colors my feelings on my own vampirism even if I acknowledge that he was wrong to consider us inherently above humans. But much of it is that being called human feels like a denial of my vampirism, a rejection of it, and for me that is not empowering - it is denying and rejecting something deeply important to me. Kindred is who I am. Human was only ever circumstantially true, a circumstance of birth - Kindred was something I actively sought out, pursued, chose. ]

Which is interesting, because to a certain extent, “human” is only circumstantially true for me, too. If I hadn’t been born human, I sincerely doubt I would identify as one in the same way that I identify as a dragon despite not being born into a dragon body. I could be wrong, of course - I have no way to prove it either way - but I suspect that if I am correct about reincarnation and I end up in another body after this one, I will not have the same “spillover” of humanity that I do of draconity from my dragon life.

And yet, I am human, and I actively dislike it when people try to strip that from me. Part of that, admittedly, is that the handful that try to see me as only dragon, and reject that I am human, are usually doing it because they’re violently misanthropic individuals, so it’s soured the whole thing for me because the reason they’re rejecting my humanity is so they can try to get me to shit-talk the rest of humanity with them. (If I have to hear one more dragon legitimately, whole-heartedly say that they think humanity should be extincted, I’m going to lose it.) But part of it is that my humanity is important to me, just as important as my draconity. I am both. I’ve written whole essays on this topic.

[ In that way, perhaps we’re not so different after all. I dislike being called human because it feels like a rejection of who I am, who I chose to be; you dislike being called not-human because it is a rejection of who you are. ]

Maybe so. Funny how different societal circumstances can yield opposite results from the same kind of pressures.

I think that part of the discrepancy between us is also that I’m a very physical person. Frankly, I am a chemical creature; I enjoy physicality, I enjoy affectionate touch, I enjoy the physical pleasures life has to offer. I enjoy food. I enjoy sexual pleasure. I enjoy the exhilaration of getting my heart going and my instincts fired up in a self-defense class. I live, I live, I live! is ever a cry of joy in my heart. And a lot of that ties into my animality! I am a dragon animal, yes, but I am also a human animal, and both of these things must be satisfied! The dragon yearns for the wind and the view when I climb up to a height, for the fire of battle I can get out of a sparring match; the human yearns for the taste of sun-warm berries right off the bush, for the warm press of bodies when I hug and cuddle with loved ones. Both of them love a good nap in the sun. I am a physical creature, I am an animal, and my animal-ness connects me to my body and thus to my humanity, rather than separating me from it.

[ Meanwhile, none of this has ever been true for me. Yes, of course I enjoy certain delicacies; I miss my brother’s cookies periodically, it’s true. But I’ve never loved these things the way Rani does. It’s not that I dislike the pleasures of life, but I’ve just… never really cared. It wasn’t much of a loss when I was Embraced, to trade food and sunlight and heartbeat for immortality and knowledge and power. It was almost convenient to not have to deal with the maintenance a living body requires - no excretion of waste, no inconvenient aches or pains or stomach cramps, a frankly much more manageable frequency of requiring sustenance. My body is just a tool, and the Embrace made it more efficient in most ways. And now, after twenty-three years of being dead, being in a living body again is overwhelming in some ways and just downright unpleasant in others. Even most of the physical matters Rani actively enjoys are either overwhelming or uninteresting for me. I am happy to leave the care and maintenance of the body to them. It’s not necessarily that I actively had a disconnect from my human body, originally, so much as that I didn’t have an active connection to it to make me identify with it, and thus my being “human” was, as I said, only ever circumstantial. My becoming Kindred overrode it, and I prefer to leave it that way.

[ Ironic, that the one whose nonhumanity is so human-shaped should be the one to reject humanity, but here we are. ]

Here we are.

#otherkin #dragonkin #plurality #fictive #rani talks #caldwell #journaling #community writings #essay as promised

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infizero · 1 year

Text

already seeing a lot of ppl saying that the finale leaned too much into the more unhealthy aspects of simon and betty's relationship and like people are entitled to their opinion but. i dont really get that?? the whole point is that before this series THOSE ASPECTS HAD REALLY NEVER BEEN EXPLORED. aside from that one time in temple of mars, their past relationship had honestly been extremely romanticized and glamorized, and i for one am glad that they acknowledged their relationship was not perfect even back then.

but i highly disagree with anyone claiming that the finale tried to paint their relationship as having been bad or it being good that its over. i dont think it was saying that at all! they make it very clear that they loved each other and their relationship was great!! but it was not PERFECT and i think for the purpose of simon being able to move on it was important for him to realize that. thinking of the past as being flawless only leads to an inability to move on from it.

i definitely understand wishing that they had a happier ending, but personally i think them getting closure with each other and being able to live on separately is good. its been established there is seemingly no way to bring betty back to her regular self, and i think it would've just felt deus ex machina-y if they pulled a way out of their asses at the last second. plus it probably would've just reinforced their reliance on each other. betty basically lived for simon and simon lived for her, then marceline, then fionna and cake. now, they're able to live for themselves.

it's not the happiest ending they could've had, but it felt satisfying to me. like betty said, they made their choices. and clearly now that she's part of golb she's been able to reflect and realize her sacrificing everything for simon was unhealthy, which i think is good! she doesn't seem to be too unhappy as part of golb. hell knowing her she probably thinks its awesome she gets to be part of a monstrous chaos god. and she clearly is still watching over simon :') but that distance is a good thing, i think.

anyways this is just my opinion, and you're totally entitled to not like their ending, but i will say definitively that the finale was not in any way portraying their relationship overall as unhealthy or bad. it was merely pointing out an aspect of it that was unhealthy. but it very much asserts that what they had was wonderful and good despite that.

#serena.txt #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #betty grof #petrigrof #adventure time #also not to be mean. but. ppl will say they love doomed yuri and then when the yuri is doomed they call it a bad ending #my brother in christ. that is what this is. they are a tragedy i dont think i ever expected them to actually reunite and be together #again forever and ever. this is the best ending they couldve had i think. bcuz instead of just being apart forever with unresolved issues #theyre still apart but they've gotten closure. which again i think is the best thing they could've gotten

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kindestegg · 2 years

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Collector, Hunter and Caleb: On cycles of violence

Baby titans. Flapjack. Evelyn. What do they all have in common?

If you guessed "they were key components in making a character question what they've been told and pursue a new life, kickstarting major events", you're correct!

Hi, I'm Romeo the local Collector obsessed TOH fan!! And I REALLY need to talk about how Collector's backstory parallels Hunter's and Caleb's. Like I REALLY REALLY do.

Just as a quick disclaimer, if you're still feeling lost on Collector's backstory, I made a quick write up of my analysis for it here.

Now, if you're up to speed, we can start talking about the parallels. You see, I feel Collector's backstory is so fascinating because it really solidifies one of the recurring themes of The Owl House: cycles of violence.

Specifically, I want to talk about cycles of violence that aren't easily changed or broken. Societal ones, ones that worm themselves into the very norms of conduct that inform a certain people's behavior.

For Caleb, that was being a witch hunter, something that not only do we know was part of the local culture of Gravesfield back when he and Philip came to it, but that also apparently by Philip's memories, was even something he looked forward to.

I'm not going to get into how this ties into historical, real life witch hunting, because I feel it's hardly appropriate I, as someone who's not that well versed on such history, go into it in a theory post about a Disney cartoon.

But even in this fantasy world, the fact of that matter is that this witch hunting was enacting a system of organized violence. Children were brought up since early on to act out witch hunts, to understand witches were enemies and should be hunted. The othering of witches, the insistence of them as monstrous and inhuman. All this must have led to the witch hunting culture of Gravesfield.

And Caleb and Philip were deep in it.

Now, we know how the story goes. Both brothers go to the demon realm, meet a witch. Caleb gives it all an earnest chance, resolves himself to learn about how witches really are, and humanizes them, even possibly falling in love with a witch, who we now know as Evelyn. Philip despises it all from the start, refuses to ever see the place as anything but damned and monstrous.

From this, Caleb and Philip become symbols of opposing forces: That of change, a break in the status quo, a shining light of questioning why things are and calling for peace VS That of tradition, the desperate want to keep the cycle going, inability to envision anything different than has ever been, to question the old teachings.

Each fought for what they believed in. But Caleb lost and the cycle continued, evolved.

In the real world it is much of the same. Change happens gradually, but even when it does, the cycle does not break easily, it evolves into something else.

Philip's hunt turns to the entirety of the Boiling Isles. He creates the Coven System, to get rid of all witches, yes, but also to keep them easier to control, predictable. He becomes Emperor, and now there is a new system of control, a new cycle of violence.

The Emperor's Coven is suspiciously the only one allowed to use all kinds of magic, a way to assert this authority as well as making recruiting Coven Scouts easier. Witches who do not conform to the system are captured and petrified en masse, the Coven Scouts ensure all witches and demons must fall in line, or else. The parallels to our world and state forces used to control the population is not something that goes unnoticed.

Hunter is part of the Emperor's Coven, too. He's placed as the Golden Guard, the most important symbol of the Emperor's Coven, a substitute for Lilith once she reforms. As such, Hunter too starts out by enforcing a system of violence, just as Caleb did before.

The cycle even more glaringly becomes a cycle now, as Belos literally keeps making grimwalkers and restarting the cycle of the golden guard. Belos enforces the cycle of violence, and hopes this "new Caleb" will do it too, and every time he attempts to break it, Belos breaks him first. In a way, there are two cycles of violence at play: that of which is systemically mantained over the Isles, and that of which Belos mantains over Hunter and every other grimwalker he's made.

Hunter, of course, eventually defects as well. He meets Luz, Flapjack, and then Willow and Gus and when he knows it, he's got a whole lot of people he cares about and that care about him. And he becomes a little less willing to carry out the system of violence he was placed in every day. Until he defects for good.

So the cycle breaks once more, but this time, Belos doesn't catch up to him, at least not yet. In the present, Hunter is still surrounded by friends and a loving mother figure. He was part of breaking the cycle, of at least helping stop the Day of Unity. Change is starting.

So where does Collector fit into all of this? Well I'd first like to address the elephant in the room. For a character whose backstory also involves breaking cycles of violence he sure was aiding in one, by giving Belos the draining spell and encouraging the creation of the coven system. But that's just another aspect of cycles of violence.

Because cycles of violence don't just imply systemic violence or even violence perpetrated through constant abuse. But also, the cyclical nature of violence. The ability that someone who has grown up with violence normalized and has had violence done unto them can then channel that into violence towards others.

Now, before I am misinterpreted, I'd like to make some things clear: One, I am not of the simple opinion that "abused people turn into abusers", that is an ugly myth. Two, I have been a victim of abuse myself, and am a psychology graduate. I feel confident speaking with authority about this subject. Third, there is a difference between the psychological concept of generational trauma and internalized violence and the idea that being abused will turn someone violent.

What I am implying here is that Collector's behavior of dismissing both the violence done unto the grimwalkers, as well as towards the victims of the draining spell is something that he has learned and internalized as normal due to his life experiences.

Recall if you will that Collector is a member of an alien species that has a high disregard for life. In the same breath that they will say they preserve creatures to study them, they will also attempt to destroy all that opposes them. Collector grew up with this violence being seen as normal. He was brought to meet the titan trappers and taught to wear the titan skulls, following in his family's footsteps.

But... just like Caleb and Hunter before them, they saw a different path they could take when it came to the titans. A way to approach them without violence. They gained an interest for titans, just like Hunter with wild magic, just like Caleb with the demon realm.

Once left alone to do so, they approached the titans, specifically young ones, close to their age. They played and maybe even learned some of their favorite games for the first time there.

They also became horribly traumatized.

Both Caleb and Hunter have suffered greatly as a consequence for their defiance. No system of violence lets itself be broken peacefully. Caleb had his life taken, so did all the grimwalkers. Hunter, while having escaped with a good support system, lost Flapjack.

For Collector, that came in the form of having to watch all the remaining titans he had so happily introduced himself to play with get killed off by his own family. We do not know the full logic of how or why his family did this, but we know it was brutal and we know the end result: King's egg alone and Collector in the disc, imprisoned for centuries.

Collector is a child, and if there was still any doubt in any fan's mind of this, For the Future stomped it out for good. Collector was a child when he had to watch his family kill off his new friends. He was a child when King's Father, likely in the middle of these attacks and motivated by it, sealed him away. He remained in stasis for centuries during this imprisonment.

I can only imagine that would really mess up any kid up. And through that, I think we can begin to understand what the mindset was for Collector when he took Philip up on his offer.

I've seen people be surprised by how friendly and childlike Collector acted in this latest episode when compared to his previous appearances in season 2, and I think we need to remember that Collector was in a much different condition back then. He had lost everything he cared about, got stuck in a prison for centuries with no one to talk to and no hope of anyone ever finding him, and when someone did find him, it was Philip fucking Wittebane.

And something I think most of us have already clocked about Philip is that he prefers the people he collaborates with to be vulnerable. Someone he can easily control, usually through their emotions and attachments.

We see this in Elsewhere and Elsewhen with his tendency to praise and lead Lilith and Luz on to get what he wants, knowing they need something out of this and are desperate.

We see this with Lilith, whom he uses the guilt of her sister being cursed to make her follow his every command and not question his rules.

We see this with every grimwalker including Hunter as they're told he was the one who "saved them and took them in".

We see this with Luz and how he leads her thoughts around in Hollow Mind to twist it in how she helped him unwittingly before.

And though his relationship with Kikimora and her schemes is more of an odd one, with him mostly paying her no mind, Follies at the Coven Day Parade at the very least touched on the fact her mental health at the Emperor's Coven is not doing well. She's also desperate for something and being led around by Belos' promises, even if that thing she's desperate for is... power. But er, we love an evil girlboss.

Look, what I'm trying to say is that Philip saw a child that had been horribly traumatized from seeing his friends die and then getting stuck in fantasy perpetual prison for centuries with no enrichment, no one to talk to, just eternal loneliness and sadness and he absolutely took advantage of it.

He used every single part of Collector's broken psyche to his advantage, including possibly withholding his freedom to interact with the outside world through the disc, shutting him up and cutting his vision whenever he might have wanted to.

And Collector, having grown up in an environment that encouraged killing everything in your way if necessary, having nothing else to lose because everything he could have cared about not killing was to his knowledge gone...

Absolutely took him up on the offer. And so, the cycle of violence is mantained, the one who had to witness such violence, unable to stop it, now carries out the same type of violence against others. Out of anger, maybe, but mostly out of desperation. For Collector, there's nothing left to do but do what Belos says, otherwise it's back to loneliness and darkness. And if Belos says "kill every last witch and demon in the Boiling Isles", he'll get that.

Collector's glee in this is not something that can be excused, however. It must be examined through the lens of understanding this is a bad thing, that this is a case study in how children internalize violence and learn to be not only compliant to it, but also even revel in it. He's gone from victim to perpetrator. Not because of any of the abuse or trauma he faced, but because of his environment creating the perfect conditions for it.

But that's when our heroes come in. The cycle of violence did not complete itself. The draining spell was stopped. And the way it was stopped is also incredibly powerful in its symbolism.

Because it was King who went out of his way to contact Collector and who freed him. King, a titan, the last of a species that was at war with the collectors, now extended a hand for our Collector to be free. Despite everything indicating that they should not find each other, should not be together, they came together to stop the Day of Unity.

In the Day of Unity being stopped by the Collector, so another cycle of violence is broken: that of titans and collectors being at odds with each other. In them is represented the hope for the future: two children who are free of the anger their species would hold for one another, now united in their wish for a better future.

When King decides Collector shouldn't be imprisoned again and insists to Lilith and Eda that they let him talk to them peacefully, that's him taking a step to break the cycle of violence. When King says "it didn't work" he's not just talking about the fact Collector could go free. He's talking about the fact imprisoning Collector was a violence done unto him that only brought about more danger and more violence, did not teach him anything, and doing so again could risk worse things to come.

When he says "it's worth a shot if no more people get hurt" he includes everyone in that equation. He includes Collector. And that's breaking the cycle of violence.

In a way, you could say if Belos and Collector's arcs as villains are both about stopping cycles of violence in different ways.

With Belos, he has spiraled down so deeply he has become the cycle itself, eating everything in the way and infecting everything, unable to live on without creating more violence onto others, and so he must be stopped by force if necessary. In this, The Owl House doesn't shy away from the fact that in the real world, sometimes you need to fight back, you cannot resolve everything peacefully, and breaking the cycle will involve hurting someone before they hurt more people.

But with Collector, another side is shown, one that reminds us that we must have nuance, and sometimes, we will be faced with the difficult reality that those doing violence unto others are also people who are hurting, who are lonely, who are sad. Specially children who have grown in environments where violence and prejudice was normalized. Sometimes children will be violent, will be bigoted, will repeat every little horrible thing the adults in their lives taught them. But they're still children. And they still deserve a chance to learn and a chance to grow.

It's about recognizing the difference between a young person who genuinely wants to learn and hasn't had the opportunity to, and someone who is not interested in this. Collector's backstory tells us he does have an interest in being good, he just needs the opportunity.

Collector isn't an easy character to approach like Hunter or Caleb. They do not have the benefit of starting off the narrative dead and buried, leaving the audience to assume mostly good things out of his deviation. Neither do they have Hunter's rebellious teenage bravado that allows him to show his defiance to Belos or his tragic fate of being a grimwalker binding him. They just are an alien child with immense power who tried once to deviate from the norm and then got the worst luck of the entire universe after them, and procceeded to become bitter and angry and absolutely sadistic afterwards.

But there's still good in them. And just like Caleb and Hunter, their efforts to break the cycle of violence they were raised in, as well as the efforts to denounce their fellow collectors will not go unnoticed.

#the owl house #toh analysis #toh theory #toh spoilers #toh collector #hunter toh #caleb wittebane #the collector #did you know i hit image limit with this post. i was gonna add more.#Commander's orders

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