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welldonebeca · 2 years

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The Royal Surprise (IV)

WC: 1.6k words Warnings: Fluff, tension, angst, hurt/comfort.

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The Royal Surprise - Masterlist

Rey sat beside Ben on his couch – their couch, now – and waited as her fiancé breathed in and out, clearly trying to calm himself down.

Ben was very anxious as a person, and Rey always knew he had been pressured to be a perfect child, teen and son in general and that this fact was the root of that, but never quite understood why he had all of that pressure on him.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. “You look a bit green.”

He tried to force himself to chuckle, but it just came out as a loud grimace.

“I… uh...” Ben struggled to find words. “You know how I mentioned I’m part of a very weird family?”

Rey nodded.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Though they seem really fine to me. I like them.”

Ben smiled a bit, closing his eyes for a moment.

“They are nice,” he agreed. “But… uh… my mum is very mistrustful of people.”

She looked at him a little confused. Rey certainly hadn’t had that feeling from his parents, but his mother had certainly been analysing her a bit.

“How mistrustful?” she asked.

Ben lowered his eyes and breathed in and out.

“She made me keep an important information from you,” he confessed. “Against my will.”

Rey felt herself becoming tense.

She always considered Ben to be a very honest man and their relationship to be one full of communication. He’d told her about being so pressured as a child that he developed anger issues he’d had to go to therapy about since he was a child. What kind of thing could he have been forced to keep a secret about?

“She didn’t want me to tell you that she is Queen of Alderaan, and I’m her only son and heir.”

Rey stared at Ben, blinking slowly as the information came over her.

His mother was Queen of Alderaan. Alderaan as in… the country they were in, the Alderaan.

“So you’re telling me...” she stood up. “That you are…”

“The Prince of Alderaan.”

Rey covered her eyes and then her mouth with a hand, walking around the room.

That… that was insane.

“Rey, you have to know,” he stood up, walking to her. “I wanted to tell you, I tried to convince her, but she prohibited me.”

Rey frowned, staring at him, still in shock.

“She prohibited you?” she repeated.

Ben closed his eyes.

“It was some bullshit about making sure you weren’t taking advantage or me and weren’t just using me for the title.”

The fact felt like he’d just pushed a knife into her stomach.

Her eyes filled with tears and her throat was in knots before she could even control herself. His mother thought she was using Ben for a title she didn’t even know he had.

“She thinks I’m a gold digger?” she stared at him.

Ben shook his head.

“No,” he denied. “She was just;;;”

But Ben didn’t finish his phrase, and Rey she swallowed down hard, almost growling at him.

“Just what?” she hissed.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“My parents met like that,” he told her. “My grandparents met like that, everyone in the family just… does that.”

Rey stared at him, not even close to accepting or digesting the explanation.

It didn’t quite hurt her that Queen Leia thought she was after something other than a real and genuine relationship with Ben, no. What hurt her, was that Ben had obeyed his mother and lied to her.

“I wanted to tell you,” he told her. “I wanted to tell you when we became friends and when we went on our dates and every day after that.”

She bit down her first reaction, trying not to scream at him. Rey had always, always, trusted Ben. She had always known she could count on him to be true with her, to not hurt her. When she felt lonely, he was always the person she came to since they got together, the only person she knew wouldn’t lie to her about anything…

But he did.

“Then why didn’t you?” she insisted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t,” he said simply. “I can’t go against her word, Rey.”

She shook her head, unable to look at him now.

“Why?” he shouted back.

“Rey, she is not just my mother, she is the Queen!” he told her. “No one can go against her will.”

She sat back down onto the chair, covering her face, and the tears that had just been wetting her eyes made their ways into her cheeks, falling out of her control.

“I’m sorry, Rey,” he knelt in front of her. “Please, forgive me.”

Rey stood up, trying to hold her head high.

“I need to be alone,” she decided. “Please.”

Ben fell down onto the floor onto his knees, and she walked out of the living room, walking through the corridor and locking herself into one of the bedrooms, not really sure of which.

And she cried. She cried and sobbed, hurt by the deceiving, hurt by the assumptions from Ben’s family, and that he had waited for so long to tell her that.

She felt betrayed, above anything else. But the only man she thought would never lie to her.

Rey didn’t even care that he was a prince, that he was going to be king or any of that shit.

Why did they think she was after that? All she always wanted was to live a peaceful life and have a family with him. That was all.

She didn’t even know how long she’d been there, and only raised her head when someone knocked on her door.

“Ben,” she sighed, ready to send him away.

“It’s Han,” she heard before she could do so. “Can we talk a little bit?”

Rey hesitated, but unlocked the door, sitting back onto the bed as he entered and closed the passage behind himself.

“Should I curtsy?” she asked in a mumble.

Han snorted.

“Please, don’t,” he asked her. “I hate when people do that.”

She hugged her pillow closely.

“I’m sorry, Mr… Sir… Your Royal Highness?” she looked for words.

Han chuckled.

“Han,” he told her. “Just Han. This… Royal Highness shit… I hate it. It’s part of the job but I hate it.”

She smiled a bit, understanding what he meant. It all indeed sounded very complicated.

“Ben told me you were upset,” Han told her. “And it makes a lot of sense.”

Rey sighed, swallowing down and squeezing her pillow closer.

“Rey, you should know,” Han continued. “Ben wanted to tell you. I’ve seen him fighting his mother relentlessly about it, every time he had a single minute to talk about it. Every day, multiple times a day.”

She clenched her jaw, and he just continued.

“Dear...” he sighed. “Look… Leia became Queen right when she was born.”

That made her look at him, completely surprised.

“Her mother was Queen Padmé,” he told her. “She died giving birth to Leia and her brother, Luke. She was the firstborn, so she became queen with maybe… 30 minutes of life. Their father died a little bit after Leia and I got married, and he imposed the same on her, she kept her royal status a secret from me for the three years we dated until she proposed to me and I moved to Alderaan to marry her.”

Rey stared at Han. Yes, Ben had said this was something their family did.

“When she was a young girl… I’m going to say fourteen. Queen Padmé met Prince Anakin, who was Leia’s father. They were kids, she was out in a trip and just… kept it a secret. And she kept it a secret for a long time until he came to her home to propose to her, and he found out.”

He lowered his eyes, rubbing his hands together.

“It was the first time anyone in their family had married for love,” he told her. “And they wanted Leia to have the same opportunity. And Leia loves Ben very, very much, and all she always wanted was for Ben to feel the same things she felt with me, and her mother felt with her father.”

She watched his face, feeling herself soften a bit.

Rey loved Ben. They’d met completely by random, and he had become her best friend in the shortest of times. She had never felt with anyone else what she had felt with him.

“It hurt Ben very much to hide the truth from you,” Han told her. “I saw it every day.”

She squeezed her pillow a little more, resting her chin on it.

“I know how you’re feeling now,” he told her. “I’ve been in the same spot, I felt the very same thing. But I always knew that if she had hidden that from me, it was because she knew I would understand when she told me. And I think Ben had the very same thing in mind.”

She sighed, closing her eyes and groaning.

“I just don’t know how I’ll even start,” she confessed to him. “This is… he’s a prince! Royalty!”

“Hey,” he smiled at her, reassuring. “I can assure you that this isn’t any princess Diana shit. You’ll only have to be a royal on official occasions, we will be here every step of the way for you. We are a family before we are royals. And if you ever feel like it is a lot, that you don’t know what to do or that you need to escape… you can count on me for everything."

Rey breathed out.

He was right. It hurt and felt like nothing else before, but he was right. This wasn’t Ben’s fault, and if he had waited and trusted her enough to tell her to do what he did – to tell her now –, then he knew she would understand that.

“Really?” she asked.

Han nodded and walked to her, taking her hand and squeezing it.

“Really,” he confirmed. “It’s a promise.”

. . .

“The Royal Surprise” is completely posted on my Patreon! To read it before anyone else, subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month!

. . .

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#The Royal Surprise #Reylo #Reylo fanfiction #Reylo imagine #Reylo fluff

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thecleverdame · 4 years

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Gods of Twilight - 21

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking. This chapter does contain some non-con elements.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

He’s clearly lost his mind, they all have.

You stare at this man who insists he’s your husband, two women, one on either side of him. He must be insane but no one is reacting to these wild tales. You examine him cautiously, trying to determine if this is indeed reality.

They’ve explained this again and again over the last few weeks, carefully laid out the details of who and what you are.

“To be completely honest,” you begin, looking at Sam. “I’m not sure what part is more difficult to accept. That I am a queen or that I’m a shape-shifting wolf. You will have to forgive my disbelief.”

“I understand.” Sam nods agreeably. He’s always quick to assure you, he wants you to feel comfortable.

He cares about you a great deal, that much is clear. The way he looks at you alone is enough to know there’s a long history, many twists and turns in your relationship that you wish you could remember. There are moments like this that you can practically feel his love for you, it’s radiating off him. He’d move heaven and earth to heal your fractured mind.

This man is a king, he should spend his time attending to the many needs of his people, but instead, he remains by your bedside for hours each morning and night.

There a rush, a heat that spreads quickly from your head to your toes making your body tingle and you fall back onto the pillow as it overtakes you. This happens several times an hour, increasing in both frequency and intensity. Ellen has explained that it’s a natural part of the transition and that it’s only going to become more intense as time goes by.

“Are you alright?” Sam’s immediate concern only serves to stoke the guilt you feel every time your thoughts wander to his brother. Dean. You wish Dean would come back to visit you. You want to smell him, look at him….get up close and….no. You don’t let yourself think about that.

This man gripping your hand for dear life is your husband and an impressive specimen of a man at that. What sort of woman are you that you’re unsatisfied with a life most people could scarcely dream of.

“I’m fine. It comes and goes.” You force a weak smile as sweat beads at your hairline. Ellen dips a cloth into the water basin, rings it out and begins to carefully pat along your forehead, then your down your neck and chest. “When can I meet my daughter?”

Your husband’s jaw tightens, his eyes ticking to the side. Martha, the midwife looks displeased, adjusting her stance. You know you shouldn’t continue to push the issue, but you simply can’t contain yourself. It’s a desire that increases with each passing day.

“We’ve talked and we’ve decided you should wait,” Sam explains softly.

“Why?” You look at each of them, unable to hide the sting of betrayal. They have these little meetings where they decide what’s best for you without asking for any of your input. “I want to see my child.”

“And you will,” Sam reaches out, taking your hand again. There’s a low tingle the moment his skin touches yours. A whiz that feels almost like a spark from a dying fire burning your skin. “We think you should wait until you display more control-”

“I have control now!” you hiss, feeling the anger bubbling to the surface. This is exactly what he’s referring to. It’s getting worse. The rage comes on quickly, a deluge of emotion you can’t stop from overtaking you.

“No,” Martha shakes her head, “you don’t have control. But you will, you just need time.”

“Please,” you change your approach, begging Sam. He wants to give you everything and anything you want and you’re not ashamed to use it against him. His face softens, brows coming together.

“We don’t know what kind of reaction the child will elicit,” Ellen speaks up, her tone makes it clear. This is not up for debate. “She could soothe you, or she could trigger a more violent response.”

“I would never hurt my baby.” You want to strangle her.

“I know, but you are not always yourself. Not right now.” Sam tries to explain. He’s gutted as you yank your arm away from him.

“I still have milk,” you grab at your own breasts. “That must mean something! She needs me! We need each other. She’s four months old and doesn’t even have a name. Let me be a mother to her.”

“I’m sorry.” Martha nods with a finality that sets you off.

“I want to see my child! Damn you!” The rage erupts as you lunge forward, arms outstretched to grab at her. You want to tear her limb from limb. Eviscerate her on the floor next to your bed. Sam catches you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders, effectively pinning you in place as Martha retreats out of the room. “Let me go!” You scream at the top of your lungs, struggling against him. “I hate you for this. I hate you! Let me go!”

You snarl and growl and wrestle against your husband, trying to kick and bite and scratch your way from his hold but he’s stronger than you are, at least right now. Ellen disappears once she’s sure Sam has you under control. Then it’s just the two of you as you fight in vain.

When he’s not here you’re tied to the bed. These outbursts are becoming a more regular occurrence and he’s not around to restrain you most of the time. Sam visits as often as he can, allowing you time to be free from your bonds.

By the time your rage passes you’re laying under the weight of him, breathing heavy as tears sting the corners of your eyes. You shake with anger, sweating and vibrating as your body purges the surge of fury and you finally give up and fall limp against the bedding.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” you whimper with eyes closed tight in a weak attempt to keep the humiliation from swallowing you whole. You’re a queen but you behave like a spoiled child. There’s less and less self-control as the days go by. Sam was right, you are slowly becoming a monster.

“No,” he confirms, lifting his weight off you, but careful to hold you in place, belly down on the mattress. “Are you in control?”

“I’m sorry,” you cry, burying your head. “I can't think when I’m like that. Ellen was right. There is no controlling it.”

“I know,” he whispers, nuzzling his mouth at the shell of your ear. “It’s alright. Don’t cry, my love. This is torture, but it will pass.”

His nose brushes up and down the edge of your ear, hot breath lingering longer than it should. He wants you, you can feel the lust coming off him. The more outraged you become the more the scent of desire wafts out of his very bones.

“I hope you’re right.” You roll onto your back and Sam helps you, hovering above you with a hand on your belly. His pupils are blown wide, betraying his hunger for you. “I’m so sorry I don’t remember you. You’ve been more patient than any man should be.”

“It’s nothing. I would do anything for you,” he picks at the wet hair plastered along the side of your face. “But this will get worse before it gets better. I want you to be ready, prepared for the days ahead.”

He could fuck you if he wanted, take you by force. He’s your husband and king, not to mention a wolf. He could take anything he wants from you here and now. And yet he doesn’t. You’re always surprised by that. While you don’t have specific memories of other powerful men, you do know that men of his stature rarely suppress their own appetites. He is a good man.

“Will you be with me?” you ask.

“As much as I’m able.” He nods as the hand on your stomach fists into the material of your dress. “The rage will consume you, it’s a bloodlust that will take over and for a time you’ll become feral. There’s no way around it. But you’re strong, I know you well. You’ll come out on the other side.”

“You have more faith in me than I have in myself.”

“I’ll have faith for both of us then.” He smiles softly, looking thoughtfully over your face, it seems as if he wants to say something but he remains silent.

“You say I'll become feral.” Your cheeks blush hot fire. “How is it possible you’ll want to see me like that? Like a wild animal.”

“You forget I am a wild animal as well.” He searches your face, his eyes glancing at your heaving bosom for a split second but you catch him. The truth is that being close to him like this makes your heart speed up too. It leaves a neediness between your legs that aches long after he’s gone.

“I feel a strange sensitivity when you touch me,” you confess, watching his eyes go dark.

“You are an Omega and you’re meant to be mine.” His voice is low, eye roaming over your face. “My touch will elicit certain...sensations.”

“Because you’re an Alpha,” you finish and he nods in confirmation.

For a moment you lose yourself in the fantasy of what Dean’s touch would feel like. The weight of him between your legs, the scent of his skin and the feeling of his teeth sinking into your neck.

“Where did you go just now?” Sam asks. He’s looking at you like he knows, knows all about your adulterous fantasies. “What were you thinking of?”

“You.” You lie, breathing in his scent and allowing yourself to focus solely on your husband. The more you breathe in his scent, the easier that becomes. You wonder if you’ve always been this much of a wanton woman before, or if it’s the bite that brought it out of you. “May I make a confession?” you whisper.

“Of course,” he murmurs, settling in as his hip presses against your thigh.

“Would you think me a whore if I told you I dream about you touching me?” It’s partially true, you do think of him, but you leave out the part about his brother. “I imagine what it would feel like.”

“Of course not,” he licks his lips, eyes fixed and focused on yours with a burning intensity. “You are my wife. I could never think of you that way.”

“Yes, but to me you’re a stranger and yet I find myself wondering about the feel of your hands on my skin.” He ruts his hips forward, unable to control himself. “What sort of proper woman would entertain such thoughts?”

“It’s perfectly natural.” His eyes drop to watch your mouth. “You’ll go through a heat soon and my rut will come not long after.”

“Ellen explained both to me.” You bite your lip, thinking back to the conversation. “You’ll knot me?”

He swallows hand, grunting in response. “Yes.”

“And you’ll claim me?”

“Yes,” he answers. His large hand spreads out wide over your stomach, sliding upward until his fingers are fanned out under your breasts, pressing lightly over your ribcage.

“And we did all this before?” You blink as a drop of sweat rolls down the side of his face. “When I was human?”

“Yes,” he nods slowly. “You were so beautiful that first time. You’re always magnificent, but it was a moment I’ll never forget.”

“Would you like to touch me now?” You’re nothing more than instincts at this point.

“Do you want me to?” He’s shaking with restraint, his hand trembling against your ribs.

“Very much,” you stare into his eyes and spread your thighs as wide as possible, the overwhelming lust overtaking any sense of propriety. “If you want me, you can have me.”

Sam stares at you as his hand disappears under the hem of your nightdress. He doesn’t respond, instead strokes the rough pads of his fingers up your inner thigh, wandering closer and closer to your sex.

The tips of his fingers ghost over your cunt, hardly a touch but it’s enough to bring your hips off the bed in search of more. He was right. Your body is responding to his, excitement sputtering to life inside you in the form of sexual desperation.

“Please,” you whisper, feeling sweat sliding down your temple.

“Shhh,” he hushes, his mouth nipping at your jaw as his thumb finds your clit. He rubs up and down over your bud, at the same time sinking two fingers into your pussy, sinking into wet and slick up to his knuckles. The fingers inside you feel good, but it’s the attention to your swollen nub that controls every inch of your body. He works you with an expert touch, he must know your body well because each pass of his finger manages to combine perfect timing and pressure as your orgasm builds.

The world fades away. There’s no anger or sadness, only the two of you in this moment.

“Sam,” you pant, eyes locked on each other.

“Alpha,” he corrects you. “Call me Alpha, Omega.”

“Alpha,” you breathe, the title ending in a moan as his fingers twist deeper, thumb moving faster, sliding easily again and again.

A few more strokes and you cum around his knuckles, shoving your cunt toward his hand to try and take him deeper. Pleasure spills out in every direction, back arching, toes curling as the wash of satisfaction consumes you.

And yet you want more, it doesn’t feel like enough. Blinking up at him you reach for his trousers, but he pulls your hand away. Wet fingers curling around your wrist to keep you from getting to his massive erection straining through his pants

“You don’t want me?” you hiss.

“I do,” he nods. “But it’s not time. You need to complete the change first.”

“Why?” you protest, struggling against him once again.

“Because we’re going to do this the right way.” He kisses your forehead, a simple distraction as you feel him wrap the restraint around your wrist.

“Please, don’t tie me up,” you plead, yanking at the rope. “I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Don’t struggle.” He’s always crestfallen when he has to leave. He hates this part as much as you do. “You’ll hurt yourself. Just try to be patient. I’ll come back in the morning.”

“You always leave me.” You go limp, looking away from him, knowing full well it breaks his heart to do this. He’d stay with you day and night if other responsibilities didn’t call him from your bedside.

“I am sorry.” He brushes a finger at your hairline and then he’s gone.

“Hello?”

A timid voice wakes you from your dreams. You blink awake, the early morning sunlight streaming through the window.

“Y/N?” The voice calls again.

There’s someone at the chamber door.

“Yes,” you call out. “I'm here.”

You can hear her heartbeat before you see her. The thump, thump, thump echoing in your ears.

A woman slips inside, looking around. Her eyes bulge at the sight of you, apparently horrified at your appearance.

“My God,” she clutches her hands over her chest. “They have you tied up.”

While you have no memory of her, she does feel familiar and apparently doesn’t understand why you’ve been tied up. You’re not stupid, you’re aware that they have you tucked away like a dirty secret in the far tower of the castle.

Your senses are stronger this morning. You can practically feel the warmth coming off her skin and smell the milk and eggs on her breath from her breakfast.

And her heart, that wonderful, arousing sound beating faster and faster.

This could be your chance.

“Will you help me?” You look from her to the rope secured to the heavy bed frame. “I’m a prisoner.”

“I knew something was amiss, my lady. Forgive me for not finding you sooner.” She rushes to the bed, working at the ropes. “Once I discovered where you were kept, I had to sneak past the guards.”

“You’re here now,” you mutter, staring at her neck. You swear you can see the blood rushing under the surface of her skin. And that thump, thump, thump is loud enough that you’re surprised she can’t hear it too. “Please hurry!”

“I’m trying!” She finally manages to untie one arm and moves on to the next. “I was so worried about you, my lady.”

“You know me well?”

She stops what she’s doing to stare at you.

“I’m sorry,” you try to look apologetic while fixating at the pulse point at her neck. “I seem to have some holes in my memory.”

She looks as if she’s about to cry and takes your hand between hers. “I’m Golda. I came with you to Lebanon when you married the king. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

“God bless you,” you grip her wrist, pulling her even closer. “My husband is keeping me here. He refuses to let me see my child.”

“I’d heard the rumors, but I never imagined this.” Golda throws herself at you, hugging you tight. The flowery smell of her skin wafts upward, filling your senses and you yank your other arm free from the rope, holding her close in return. “I thought perhaps he had killed you.”

“I’m alive,” you murmur into her hair, rubbing your nose over her neck. You arms squeeze around her, tighter and tighter.

“Please stop,” she squeaks and you realize how hard you're embracing her. She pulls back, gulping at the sight of your face. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

“Nothing,” you feel the sudden urge to sink your teeth into her shoulder.

“Please let me go,” she tries to pull away but you have a grip on your arm. “You’re hurting me.

“She calmed down after I left?” Ellen walks beside Sam as they make their way toward your room.

“For the most part,” he looks forward, afraid that if she sees his face she’ll know about his little tryst with his hand up your skirt. He couldn’t help himself. He desired you before the change but now that you’re an Omega his self-restraint is failing. “She begs me not to tie her up. I can hardly stand it.”

“It’s for her own good,” Ellen assures him. “You remember what Dean was like when he got free? A holy terror. We can’t have her running the countryside, killing farmers and gutting townspeople.”

“I know.” Sam bristles at the thought of you nothing more than a savage animal. “When she pleads to see the child I-”

He stops, Ellen slows beside him, both of them looking at the open door to your bedchambers.

“Did the midwife check on her this morning?” he asks, afraid of the answer.

“No, I spoke with Martha this morning. She’s planning to come this afternoon.”

They both hesitate, Sam takes a breath before pulling the door open.

“Oh my God!” he yelps.

You’re in the middle of the bed on your hands and knees, bent over a dead Golda who’s chest has been cracked open. You look up, eyes burning orange. Your mouth and body are covered in her blood and what’s left of her raw heart is in your hands as you take another bite, staring at Sam in pure mania. You flash a smile, looking proudly from the body to him, and pulling the heart into your chest as if he might try to take it from you.

“What have you done…” he whispers, eyes fluttering closed.

“Alpha,” you grin, kneeing you way around Golda’s body and toward him. You tip your head from side to side, appraising him before extending your arm and offering him Golda’s half-eaten heart.

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut

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blazehedgehog · 3 years

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Sorry to ask this, but what are your thoughts on Dunky's "I'm Done Making Good Videos" with regards to content you aspire to author vs what the average joe actually searches for

I don’t know if I’m the best person to be asking this, really.

Let’s get fully inside baseball here. Let’s pull the curtain all the way back. Actually, let’s burn down the curtain. I’m going to overshare like hell right now. Get ready for the most stream-of-consciousness rambling ever, because a lot of this has been boiling in my head and dying to get out.

For the entirety of my Youtube channel, I’ve pretty much only ever done what I want to do. Very rarely do I chase trends, or do what’s hot, or even do what people want me to do. I do whatever I feel like doing.

I have paid the price for that. My Youtube channel is 15 years old as of this year, and only now am I slowly inching towards 25,000 subscribers. I am incredibly inconsistent. What’s my channel post? Well, a couple times a year, maybe I put together an edited essay/review for a game. But I also sometimes post random, unedited, uncommentated gameplay footage. Maybe it’s a fan game, maybe it’s a gameplay demo, maybe it’s Fortnite. Sometimes, I also post remastered video game music. Every Halloween, I dump a bunch of one-off horror Let’s Plays on to my channel. And then, there’s the podcast.

I know exactly what my problems are. I don’t specialize enough, and I don’t put content out fast enough. Because most Youtube channels are, like, “shows”, right. The Did You Know Gaming show. The Markiplier show. The Angry Video Game Nerd show. And you can point at those and say exactly what they are in two sentences or less.

Did You Know Gaming specializes in informative videos uncovering obscure facts you might not know about popular video games.

Markiplier is a Youtuber that does Let’s Play videos for video games, primarily horror games, but he also focuses on general comedy skits and things of that nature.

The Angry Video Game Nerd is about one guy’s over the top reactions to bad video games.

What does BlazeHedgehog do? Well, he does a lot of Sonic fan content, but sometimes he does horror let’s plays, and sometimes he does multiplayer compilation videos sort of like Criken, but he also does music, and sometimes he makes video games and puts out videos of that, and in general he’s really low energy and sometimes there will be three or four weeks between uploads. Also he sounds like Booger from Revenge of the Nerds Snot from Family Guy (apparently).

If you come to my channel for something specific, you have to put up with everything else I upload. I could start separate channels for that content, but the barrier to entry on Youtube is so massive now that I would effectively sending those channels to their death. Videos that get 200-500 views on my main channel would get 10 views or less if they were on their own self-contained alt-channel.

So I languish. I struggle. I suffer. Youtube shows me red down arrows to tell me just how much worse I’m doing now than my last flash-in-the-pan success.

I’ve tried to chase success. It just makes me sad. I have a sense of humor, but I don’t think I can make “funny videos” like some people can. My Sonic 06 glitch video did gangbusters ten years ago, but I don’t often like kicking games when they’re down. It was a struggle to make that Sonic Boom glitch montage and that’s the reason I never followed through with Part 2 like I said I would.

My only wish is that people appreciate honesty. My Youtube channel might be a scattered mess, but that’s who I am. And more than anything, I think that’s what Dunkey’s video was about. His whole joke was about switching from thoughtful or funny videos to becoming a content farm for whatever is currently popular.

I’ve brought it up a few times here and there over the last few months, but I’ve had several brushes with the Fortnite side of Youtube recently. And there are so many dudes over there who are what I would generously call “grifters.” I follow Hypex on Twitter and routinely check Firemonkey and ShiinaBR because they datamine future Fortnite updates and often have the scoop days, weeks or sometimes months in advance.

Near the end of season 3, all three of them mentioned they had datamined “the next season” but wouldn’t say what it was because they didn’t want to spoil what was coming (the marvel season). They mentioned there were “others out there” that were spoiling things, but wouldn’t say who. I wanted to spoil myself, so I turned to Youtube.

And Youtube was a nightmare. Over and over and over, I would encounter tons of people downright thriving on the same grift. It’s an open secret that Youtube prioritizes longer videos, so if your video is under ten minutes (or I think now 8 minutes), the algorithm isn’t going to be as nice to you and won’t promote your video as well, and you aren’t going to get as much advertising money because fewer people are going to sit through a video advertisement that’s a quarter of your video’s entire length. Longer videos are more profitable for Youtube, and by extension, for the user uploading them.

So it was video after video of these guys making big bold claims about how they had all the answers on what the next season of Fortnite was, and you’re thinking, “oh wow, it’s a 17 minute video, they’re going to spoil everything!”

You load the video up and it’s some guy in his streamer man cave, he’s got his webcam on, and he loads in to a match of Fortnite with his squad. Keep in mind, this video was pitched as a news report of sorts, a big spoiling of future content... and it’s just a guy playing Fortnite with a crew. In the few seconds between matches as he queues for the next one, he stops to deliver a single shred of information, most of which start with “Hypex said...”

The one thing you came to this video for and it’s scattered like breadcrumbs across a 17 minute video of a guy just playing normal matches Fortnite to fill time. It’s not information they acquired for themselves, they all just regurgitate what Hypex said, or what other channels reported Hypex saying. 17 minutes of padding for scraps of second-hand leaks. And I found dozens of these channels, all repeating the same format, all repeating the same specks of leaked information, and all of them had 150,000 to 200,000 views on each of their videos in less than 24 hours. That’s hundreds of dollars per video on a format to scam the system.

But that’s a content farm. Those dudes are vultures. I have a hard time believing their hearts are really in it. I know it’s not a term that’s really in vogue anymore, but I see that as “selling out.” They know what they are doing and it’s to make money, not to make a community better. I mean, one of those videos was a guy who was reading Marvel comic hero profiles off of Wikipedia because it sounded like he literally did not know who guys like Iron Man, Thor and Wolverine even were. How are you in touch enough with pop culture that you’re cranking out factory-fresh Fortnite content for Youtube but you don’t know who Thor is? Answer: because you don’t really care and you’re in it for the money. Gotta hit that 15 minute threshold and put in six mid-roll ad breaks.

I could be that guy. That’s kind of what I was hoping “This Kinda Sucks” would turn in to, which would be sort of a rant video series like The Jimquisition or something. But I did not have the interest or energy to keep that up. So you get a playlist with two videos on it.

I’m sure Dunkey was just funnin’ around. Dude has 6 million subscribers. But for me, like... what he said in the video is mostly true. Following your heart and making thoughtful content you are personally interested in won’t pay the bills. I mean, as I predicted, that Jurassic Park video launched to the sound of crickets chirping. My most hardcore fans and a few curious onlookers checked it out but that was it. I’ve been working on that video since August, and it’s something my viewer base did not care about. But I cared about it, and that’s important for the long-run, I think.

The other problem, sort of a disconnect, is that I’m lucky to be in the position I’m in. I think guys like Dunkey probably make all of their money from places like Youtube and Twitch and Patreon and that’s their career. That work pays all of their bills.

My work does not pay my bills. Or it does, but it’s not enough to pay all of my bills. I am lucky enough right now that I am in a living situation where I can make fractions of money in intermittent spurts. That won’t always be the case. But for now, I get to be honest, and I get to follow my heart in whatever random, chaotic direction it feels like going that particular day. Dunkey faces a different sort of pressure than I do.

All of this is to say I have no idea what I’m doing, I guess. I make the content I want to see.

That being said, I increasingly think about something I heard Woolie say early on when he went solo for his WoolieVS channel, and that was the idea of “One for you, one for me, one for us.”

Because I’ve had more than one friend burn out doing, like, Twitch streams and stuff. You hear about Youtubers who get sick of being shackled to new releases or whatever’s popular. At some point these people wake up and realize they’ve had this struggle, maybe made some money in the process, but they’re miserable because they don’t get to do what they want to do. They’re always being pushed forward by the fans that are behind them.

The “One for you, one for me, one for us” mantra does at least keep you a little more sane. Balance in all things, right? So that Jurassic Park video, it can flop. It’d be nice if it didn’t flop, given what time of the year it is, but it’s a video for me. I have other video ideas in the chamber that I know will be for my audience, or “for us.”

I just have to stay true to myself, and to my messy brain.

#questions #dunkey #youtube #inside baseball #behind the curtain #long posts #spilling my guts #Anonymous

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simul16 · 3 years

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Low Effort in Their Own Way

All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." - Leo Tolstoy, "Anna Karenina"

I've been watching a fair amount of D&D content on YouTube of late, for varying reasons, and if I may paraphrase Tolstoy's famous quote above, I've learned that all good D&D channels make high-effort content, while each bad D&D channel makes low-effort content in its own way.

Low-effort content tends to be:

Content that is or can be created quickly; it doesn't require a lot of prep time (and the presentation usually allows this limited prep time to show)

Content that copies current trends; while a certain amount of response to significant events in the gaming world is to be expected, low-effort channels regularly feature content that basically boils down to 'here's my reaction to whatever rumor or scandal is currently being talked about among the community'

Content that does not spark or contribute to a discussion; when such channels go beyond simply recapitulating a recent event, they frequently spend very little time explaining their own reaction and seldom spend any time at all explaining or exploring contrary opinions except to make jokes or elicit emotional reactions from an over-simplified or straw-man version of the contrary opinion

Now let's start off by saying that I'm not knocking low-effort content per se; anybody who knows anything about online marketing can tell you that low-effort content has a role to play in any marketing strategy. Ideally, though, your low-effort content, the stuff that you can get out the door quickly and easily and get in front of your potential customers, exists to guide those customers to your higher-quality content that convinces them to buy your product, order your service, or otherwise become someone who believes that you have something of value to say. Because it's cheap and easy to produce, low-effort content can be cast far and wide to serve as a net to capture many potential viewers and guide them to the gold mine of the really important stuff you have to say. Unfortunately, when your low-effort content is what you have to say, it very much begs the question of what exactly it is people should be coming to your channel for.

Here are a few but by no means an exhaustive list of the YouTube channels that to me seem to feature way too much low-effort content.

The Dungeon Dudes

The Dungeon Dudes are two guys (Kelly McLaughlin and Monty Martin) who mainly do scripted back-and-forth style discussions of D&D-related topics. I've talked about the Dungeon Dudes before, when taking apart one of their recent videos, but they also stream a D&D game they play in on Twitch (and frequently post recordings of those sessions on their channel), do product reviews, and generally do whatever they can to maintain a consistent pace of content output, generally a minimum of twice weekly. They've been around for nearly four years now, and have amassed about 273 thousand subscribers on their channel, with over 44 million views for their content, which seem like decent numbers for a niche content channel. (Contract with CinemaSins, which exists as a viral content manufacturer, and has amassed over 9 million subscribers and over 3.3 billion views. I'm not trying to say the Dungeon Dudes are the CinemaSins of D&D; if they were, their numbers would probably look a lot more like those of CinemaSins.)

The big problem with the Dudes as content creators is that, despite being a niche content channel, they are clearly in it to try to eke out some kind of income or living from the work they put into the channel: they've got a Patreon, they use affiliate links in the descriptions of their product review videos to gain some additional referrer income, and they do sponsored content when they can get a sponsor. They started back in the summer of 2017 with a very 2016-era plan on how to succeed at YouTube: put together a bunch of short (5-10 minutes, occasionally longer, but go over 15 minutes at your peril) videos and release them on an iron-clad schedule to get people used to coming back to your channel and looking over your new content, and to their credit, they've kept up their content production schedule very consistently over the past four years.

They've also learned a few things during that time and have adapted the channel in response: their videos explaining rules and reviewing new products tend to be more popular, so they work those topics in on a more regular basis. They've learned that the YouTube algorithm has subtly changed over the past few years to reward channels that can provide longer 'engagement' (which gives YouTube more opportunities to run ads), and have expanded their video length to an average of about a half-hour, with their re-broadcasts from Twitch being extra-long videos (between two and two-and-a-half hours) which, while drawing fewer total views, probably draw as much or more 'engagement' from the algorithm for the views they have.

But the need to spit out so much content on such a rigid, unforgiving schedule means that they have to aim for quick-creation and easy digestion: putting subclasses into a bog-standard tier ranking, making 'top five' and 'top ten' lists that seem like they're being cribbed from a more thoughtful resource, and generally getting stuff out the door (like their 'Powerful Spell Combos Using Teamwork' video) without spending too much time thinking about how valuable or even accurate their advice happens to be. More to the point, it seems to be taking its toll on the guys who serve as the hosts of the show: Kelly McLaughlin has a fairly dour expression in general, but lately he seems to have the countenance of a man who's about to post a 'very special episode' discussing the dangers of YouTuber burnout.

The Dungeon Dudes feature low-effort content because they have to in order to support the publishing frequency they've chosen; if they were to take the time to put together a truly high-effort piece regarding one of their traditional topics, their Patreon subscribers would likely be asking why their release schedule had slowed down before their work was even half-done.

Dungeon Craft

The Dungeon Craft channel is run by a fellow who refers to himself as 'Professor Dungeon Master'; I have not yet found any reference in his channel or elsewhere that identifies who he actually is, so I'll just refer to him as Prof. Prof has been on YouTube a bit longer than the Dungeon Dudes, having launched his channel in October of 2016, and has put out 185 'episodes' (as of the time of this writing), thus averaging between three and four episodes per month. Prof's own 'trailer' video explicitly states his channel's concept: "Some channels focus on running the game, others on building terrain, others on painting minis. I do it all!" You might think, then, that this would be a place to find quite high-quality content, especially related to terrain and miniatures painting tips, but it seems like the main effect of Prof making his channel be about multiple topics (and there are plenty of topics he discusses that don't fit into any of those three categories above) is that he can't successfully communicate what his channel is actually about, other than about his specific opinions. Maybe that's the reason he's sitting at about 65 thousand subscribers and just under 5 million views.

However, being at a slightly lower 'tier' of content production than the Dungeon Dudes is not itself any kind of crime or even indicative of poor quality -- after all, one of my favorite D&D lore channels on YouTube is RavenloftTravelAgent, and she's got just over a thousand subscribers and only about 50 thousand views on her videos. No, Prof could have a very high-quality, high-content channel with the subscriber numbers and views he has, but he doesn't.

Prof's issue is almost exactly the opposite of that of the Dungeon Dudes: instead of cranking out a rapid-fire, breakneck volume of content to keep up with an arbitrary content production schedule because that's how you make a living producing content for YouTube and you have to keep feeding the hungry algorithm, Prof cranks out content that's very easy for him to write because he's been involved in the game for a long time and already knows that the way he learned to play the game is the best way. Any topic that comes up related to D&D, he's got an opinion and can spit out a script explaining his opinion quickly because it's the same opinion he's held for decades. Classic D&D didn't have skills, so the next edition of D&D shouldn't have them either. Classic D&D had slow advancement, so slow advancement is better than fast advancement. This becomes even more obvious in the videos that have very little or nothing to do with running a D&D game, such as where Prof explains why he thought Avengers: Endgame sucked, or why he thought Season 8 of Game of Thrones was 'nearly perfect'.

Some of the oddest episodes of Dungeon Craft have to do when Prof makes admissions that make him out to be, well, the D&D channel for 'that kind' of old-school gamer: the ones who can make comments to each other that they can't make in front of their wives or significant others because the latter find the comments sexist, the kind of guys you can complain to about not being able to tell a Polack joke at work, the guys who treated D&D in the 1980s and 1990s the way that guys in the 1950s and 1960s treated golf where they could build a wall between the world as it existed and the world as they wanted to believe it was (and, if we're being honest, the way that they believed it should actually be). Nowhere is this more evident than in the video where Prof starts by discussing the hot, rich girlfriend he had once who tried but never got into D&D who he just had to break up with, and which by the 3 minute mark has him "calling bullshit" on the idea that relationships are built on compromise and negotiation. (I mean, you saw this coming, right? Right there at the end of the last paragraph about how the ending of Game of Thrones was so good? You knew that's where this was going, right?)

And, of course, he's not immune to just jumping on the latest bandwagon to contribute his drone to the chorus of voices talking about things just to be talking about things. It shouldn't be surprising that Prof jumped on the bandwagon of the lawsuit brought by Hickman and Weis against Wizards of the Coast over the upcoming Dragonlance trilogy, which turned out to be a nothing-burger. Even weirder is the tag in the description of that video which says "Analysis you can't get anywhere else", even though the video doesn't contain anything that hadn't already been discussed over the three weeks between the lawsuit and Prof's video other than Prof's own opinions about it. My favorite howler that Prof makes in this video is his assertion that, because Hickman and Weis got a lawyer to file a lawsuit, that means there's definitely fire under that smoke, because "big law firms do not accept cases they don't think they can win", which both ignores the existence of SLAPP suits as well as the existence of authors who seem to take perverse glee in suing rival authors just to drive them out of the industry. He's also responded with multiple videos in response to Cody at Taking20s controversial 'illusion of choice' essay, and his response to Ginny Di's essay on making online D&D suck less didn't include any of Ginny's solid advice on making online play more compatible with an in-person mentality (recognizing interruptive behavior, or using text chat to maintain side-conversations that would otherwise not be distracting in person), but instead gave these recommendations to players:

Keep your camera turned on

Mute yourself when not talking

Don't distract yourself with technology during the game

Nothing specific on recognizing how online play differs from tabletop play and suggesting ways to bring those two styles closer together, just commands because he's the DM and he says so. Or, in other words, low-effort, opinion-based content.

Nerd Immersion

Nerd Immersion, a channel by Ted that started in May of 2014 and has amassed over 70 thousand subscribers, starts his "channel trailer" video by leafing through a book, then looking up and saying, "Oh, hello" as if he'd just noticed that there was a camera on pointing at him while he's sitting in his orange-trimmed gaming chair. That, sadly, is roughly the level of thought that goes into the actual content contained on this long-tenured but seemingly still super-niche channel.

The weird thing is that at some point, it was obvious that Ted put some real effort into this channel. There are defined sections of the channel that focus on particular things, avoiding the Dungeon Craft problem of 'what topic is our channel about this week?' On Tuesdays, Ted posts a top-10 list. Ted comes up with an idea for a series, like 'Fixing 5E' or 'Reviewing Unearthed Arcana', posts regular articles until he's said what he means to say, then ends the series. (There hasn't been a new Fixing 5E video in roughly a year, meaning that Ted isn't wasting his own time and that of the viewer continually beating horses he's long since killed.) And he comes up with some great ideas for series, such as his series reviewing products on the DMs Guild; that particular series comes out somewhat irregluarly, but not so irregularly that you think he may have stopped doing the series without telling you.

Nerd Immersion's big problem can be summed up by simply looking at the list of videos on his channel and noticing that when he puts his own face on the thumbnail of the video, the startling frequency with which he's shrugging or has a puzzled face or just seems to be presenting himself as if he's not sure what's happening in his own video. I mean, I get it -- that's his image, the personality he wants to present to his audience. He doesn't have all the answers (a refreshing change from Dungeon Craft, honestly), but has some things to share if you're interested, so go ahead and take a peek. But then you take a look at those different sections we spoke about earlier and see that the 'Fixing' series all have the word Fixing at the top of the screen, the Nerd Immersion logo in the top left, two images underneath the text, one on the right side of the page and one on the left, separated right down the middle, and they all have Fix-It Felix on the far right. The Top 10 videos always have Top 10 at the top of the thumbnail. The Unearthed Arcana reviews all have 'Unearthed Arcana' at the top, then 'Review' in an odd off-set to the right beneath 'Unearthed Arcana'.

In other words, Ted has a formula, and he's damn well going to follow it.

Now it's not a bad thing to have a workflow -- if you're going to be cranking out videos at the volume that Ted does (not to mention the others on this list), you'd better have some kind of process for making the video, getting the thumbnail on it, etc.; otherwise each new video is a horrible nightmare of effort as you re-invent the wheel for every project. Nobody wants to do that, and the results would likely be unwatchable. Having a process is a good thing. But the Dungeon Dudes clearly also have a process -- they've put out at least two videos a week for three and a half years, so they damn well have a process or they wouldn't have been able to get out that much content. Looking at their channel, though, shows you that while they have a brand, and one that's evolving over time to boot, they're not just making the same video over and over again, or at least you wouldn't think that from looking at the thumbnails.

Ted's most interesting videos are where he's interviewing another person or even just having another person in the video, because having another person around clearly takes him at least a bit outside his rigid formulaic comfort zone. The problem is that those videos are few and far between -- the review of the infernal tiefling is about eight months separated from his interview with Celeste Conowitch about her Venture Maidens campaign guide. Also interesting are his unboxing videos, because Ted clearly likes minis and takes some degree of joy in cracking open and looking at new minis. His unboxing videos aren't as irregular as his interview videos, but they are fairly recent, with the first appearing just a few months ago, so it's still not clear if this is going to be a new regular part of the channel, or just another series that goes until he says what he wants to say about minis and then stops.

Most of the stuff on the site, though, is just, well, stuff, cranked out on a formula and thrown out into the digital void with the same soft-spoken volume regardless of whether it's major news or a press release. As an example, while pretty much everybody had an opinion on the Dragonlance lawsuit, Ted covered when the suit was announced, when it was dismissed by Weis and Hickman, when the actual trilogy that was the subject of the novels was announced, and the official release date of the first book in the new trilogy. When it came time to get ready to announce the newest campaign book, Ted was on the job, posting a video preparing for the announcement, another video later the same day when his original prediction of a Feywild adventure book seemed to be contradicted by other rumors that the book would be a Ravenloft book, then posted yet another video when the actual book was leaked on Amazon at 11:24pm later that same day confirming Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft, posted the video discussing the official announcement of Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft the next day, and then the day after that followed up with more details on Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft revealed in Dragon+. That's five videos in three days, for a grand total of just over 100 thousand views combined. The intention seems like Ted wants to be the CNN of the D&D news scene, but with those kind of distribution numbers, the result is more like your local home town's shopping circular that occasionally also features stories about the latest project to fix the potholes on Main Street. Just like nobody's doing 24/7 news coverage of your local town council, nobody is (or probably should strive to) doing 24/7 coverage of the gaming industry and Wizards of the Coast. At some point it just becomes running a script, pressing a button to upload the next video, because it's news, and while you don't have to think about news to quite the same degree you have to think about more opinion-based topics, once you stop thinking about the process and what it is you're making, all you have left is executing the formula, over and over again, and both the input and the output becomes repetitive.

Repetitive videos, in repetitive formats, with repetitive text, to keep the monster fed for another day. I can admire the effort that goes into it, but the overwhelming presence of the formula involved in cranking out this content keeps me from feeling that it's worth engaging with. It's low-effort, because the effort has been meticulously removed from the process.

I could go on, but I think I'll stop here. There's not really any constructive criticism I could provide to these channels because, as I hope I've pointed out, it seems like low-effort content is pretty much the only thing these channels have to offer or in truth can offer, and anything that might cause their owners to re-consider their channels to improve their content would almost certainly lead to a very different if not wholly different channel. With things being as they are online, there's no guarantee that any new, higher-effort channel would be any more successful than the old low-effort one (remember the RavenloftTravelAgent channel with absolutely miniscule numbers; effort doesn't automatically equate with success). I can't even claim that being low-effort channels necessarily makes these channels bad (despite what I said in the intro); after all, they all have at least some good ideas, especially Nerd Immersion, and they each have subscribers and a following. I guess this is just my way of putting some small amount of effort into explaining why I don't feel like doing more to help these channels succeed, because I'd rather put my support toward channels making higher-quality, higher-effort content, especially because its not the content itself, but people engaging with that content that really drives a channel's success.

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ackackh · 7 years

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HBO War YouTuber Headcanons

(SO MUCH MORE under the cut)

BAND OF BROTHERS

George Luz George has a review channel He sits at his computer at his desk where his camera is set up A lot of the time, you can see his (big ass) mic in the shot. He doesn’t care. He’s almost always wearing headphones. Either apple-type earbuds with the cord under his shirt, or giant headphones, one covering an ear, one tucked behind his other ear. He’s really onto hi-fi audio tech, it’s where most of his spending money goes. He reviews music, tv shows, movies, books, video games. Anything popular and anything he likes.

The reviews are always fair and he tends to review things he likes anyway so there aren’t a lot of negative vibes on his channel. He also does some reaction videos. When he’s feeling up to it, he’ll make fun of Trump (and when he does it’s hilarious) but the boy has his limits. He wants his channel to be a reprieve for himself and for others. He has a lot of followers and they all just fawn over him because George has such an animated face and he gets so excited about things he likes. It’s adorable. Too pure. He also produces some original music! It’s mostly beats and he has a SoundCloud and a Patreon. He uses Snapchat and Vine a lot, in tandem with his channel. What’s on his snapchat/vine you ask? Every. Impression. Ever. And George is really good at them! They’re funny and accurate and his viewers really like them! He also has a million videos of him bugging his friends (mostly on vine). His favorite stunt is to see how long he can film Joe without him noticing. Spoiler: it’s not very long. Most of his vines end with him running away from an irritated Joe or with Joe smacking the phone out of his hand. The phone falls to the ground and you can hear George whine “What’d you hafta do that for?” He loves to do Special Guest Episodes! Sometimes the guest is Perco, sometimes it’s Skip, or Don, or even Carwood. He’s a good friend and if they have a channel he’ll plug for them. BUT he gets the most requests for Special Guest Episodes with Joe Toye! Joe will pull up his own desk chair beside Luz and reviews things with him (George will pick things Joe is actually interested in for the video). Joe has a harder time remembering that there's a camera and a mic to perform towards, and he’s quieter than Luz, but he gives his honest opinions which are always well thought out. Plus the viewers dig his voice. People will comment or email Luz, saying how much they love their banter, their chemistry. How they love how earnest Joe is (he’s a naturally charming guy!) Sometimes they get carried away with the “light” flirting, always smiling and always completely focused on what the other has to say. Joe doesn’t always stay for the whole video because he has shit to do, ya know? So he’ll get up and kiss George’s head or squeeze his shoulder and say “later, Georgie” And George will look at the camera and and yell to him “I LOVE YOU, JOE” and you can faintly hear Joe somewhere else in the house say, “love you, too, idiot!” And George giggles and gives the camera a wink.

Carwood Lipton Carwood keeps a video diary! He just films wherever he feels is right. Sometimes the family room, sometimes the office, sometimes the bedroom. The vibe is really chill, relaxed. You can almost think of Michael Aranda’s What I’m Doing Right Now He has a modest following, but he’s really interactive with the community: frequently answering questions, participating in conversations and debates. His vlog is multimedia! He uses twitter and snapchat a lot too, sometimes incorporating them into his videos. He loves to take candid videos and pictures of himself and his friends, with or without their immediate knowledge. (He always gets their permission before he posts anything) Viewers will often times find his video for that day is a mash up of videos of time spent with friends, Ron, Harry, Kitty, Dick, and Lew, on some small adventure. There’s some pleasant, energetic music playing, spliced with audio of the original video when someone says something particularly interesting or funny. His videos are for his followers, but he also keeps in mind that some of his family watches too, so everything is pretty PG. Ron isn’t super interested in YouTube, but he like’s to watch Carwood’s videos. He lives with the guy, and he always sees the bits and pieces as Carwood puts it together, so he likes to see the finished product. Sometimes he’ll come sit and be in a video, just for a little while if Carwood asks him. And of course they’re super in love, and Ron is so taken with Carwood, that the community comments like, “WE LOVE RON, GIVE US MORE RON PLS.” Ron will sometimes sit down with Carwood and answer questions. Either from the viewers or from a top googled list. It becomes a segment, titled something like Everyday Answers with Ron. And people love it because Ron can’t be anything but himself and he’s so oddly charming and adorable with how straightforward he is. he doesn’t quite understand why people like him so much. Carwood’s most viewed and most liked video is the one of the day Ron proposed. Harry, Kitty, and Nix were all in on it and got the whole thing on video and made sure they got footage of the celebrations afterward. He recorded in their bedroom that night, all sleepy and lovey with Ron, who kisses his cheek and thumbs over the band on Carwood’s finger.

Kitty Grogan Welsh Kitty’s channel is full of really fun things! Like stories, adventures in things like baking or hand crafts, personal make up tutorials. And, maybe most surprisingly, video games. So, she doesn’t do the average let’s plays. She’s not actually interested in showing people the game. Instead, she picks a topic, often sent in by fans, and shares her thoughts and ideas on this topic while she plays whatever games she likes. She plays games like, FIFA, Madden, Overwatch, and random platformers. These are her most watched videos. Maybe about once a month she has Husband Episodes where Harry sits and plays with her or watches her play while they discuss whatever topic they’ve decided on. He’s adorable and she spends a good amount of the time teasing him. Upon many, many requests, she has posted both a “My Husband Does My Makeup” video and an “I Do My Husband’s Makeup” video. I can’t reiterate enough how adorable Harry is here.

Joe Liebgott and David Webster Joe and Web don’t share a channel. Because that would be a disaster. But here’s how they know each other: That Prick YouTuber Whose Opinions Are Wrong Joe’s channel is mostly about music. He reviews artists, albums, and singles. AND he records original pieces and post the videos to his channel. He’s really. really. good. His emotions are so raw, he doesn’t even have to be singing for them to come out and it’s frankly… enchanting. A decent chunk of his viewers started watching because Joe is hot AF™ but they stayed because he’s talented and smart as a whip. While Joe does love The Clash and other punk groups, he one thing that speaks to his soul is an angry John Darnielle. That’s right kids: The Mountain Goats. They serve as a lot of inspiration for his original songs. So Joe plays and talks mostly about music, but he also talks about things like art, fashion, and COMIC BOOKS. Listen, he preorders that shit, he has whole videos just about how excited he is for some edition of some comic. So, Web stumbled upon one of his videos, this particular one about an artist, and ugh, everything about this guy just rubs him the wrong way. He falls down a rabbit hole of Joe’s review videos and he decides he basically can’t stand him or any of his very wrong opinions. Don’t ask him why he hit subscribe. Joe finds Web in his Suggested Videos Feed and listens for maybe two minutes to Web talk about his college classes and all the literature he’s reading and all the things he knows now and he’s like, fuck this guy. Joe just thinks he’s so pretentious. He likes The Catcher in the Rye. Like, come on, dude. Most of Web’s videos are about literature. Books and Poetry he’s read and likes/dislikes. He really enjoys the Transcendentalists. He loves the themes of man v nature and the natural imagery and how they talk about what makes up the human soul. Joe fucking hates Transcendentalism. As far as he’s concerned, they were a bunch of rich, white men who pretended to be one with nature or some bullshit but didn’t acknowledge the privilege of their status or even mention the fact that they could go back to their cushy homes whenever they liked! Eventually they bump heads and get into a few times through comments. They can’t stand one another, can’t see anything from the other’s point of view… UNTIL Until Web listens to one of Joe’s original songs. And it’s so raw and personal and the lyrics! He can’t believe how beautiful the lyrics are! They’re simple and effective and they hit him right in the chest. Until Joe listens to some of Web’s spoken word poetry. It’s not his usually style, it’s flow-y and flowery and romantic. But it’s fucking beautiful and it stirs emotions in Joe he’d forgotten about. Joe also listens to Web go on and on about his ideas for the books he wants to write. And he finds it’s almost impossible not to fall in love with Web like this, so animated and happy. Here’s what happens: they meet sometime in real life, maybe at Vidcon, and after arguing for forever, they decide to try and put there heads together and write a song. Joe on the music and Web on the words. And it’s great. Their ideas are different, but they feed off of each other well, and they find a good balance. They record a video of it, Joe performing with his guitar and Web watching him, taking notes, even. And when the music trails off and they fall into each other, the kiss doesn’t make it to the final cut of the video. Neither does the making out on Joe’s hotel bed.

Babe Heffron and John Julian Their videos are just fun and silly shenanigans. They play games (lots of Cards Against Humanity) and do every youtube challenge. ever. Chubby Bunny and the Cinnamon Challenge are two of their most viewed videos. So many stupid dares. So many ER visits, all filmed and all with an angry Guarno grumbling about how fucking stupid these “kids” are. Julian: I am not a kid! Bill: Come talk to me when your foot isn’t in a boot, alright? They have more than one video of them trying to do parkour. I mean, how do you think they ended up in the hospital? The channel is called Orange Julian and their icon/header image is the two of them, wearing only boxer-briefs, completely covered in orange body paint. They’re standing next to each other, purposefully looking a little awkward. Like, it’s almost album art worthy. All of this for a stupid Orange Julius pun that only like 1/3 of their viewers get.

Renee Lemaire Renee has a small channel about her life! It has lots of sweet things in it! Soft, gay vibes!!! Her dog. Her cat. Her good friends, Gene Roe and Ralph Spina. Delicious food and cooking! Crazy/hilarious/gross stories about working in the children’s ward of the hospital. Her experiences in America as a French woman. French history lessons! French language lessons in modern day/interesting/specific vocabulary! Gene and Spina often come on and they have culture clash videos about France and America at large. Sometimes Gene will talk about Cajun culture or stories or food. And Renee and Spina will sit there just bewildered by everything he says. Sometimes Renee and Gene will trail off in French conversations together, leaving Spina to either complain loudly OR look into the camera like he’s on The Office™ Renee can only upload like every other week or so because she’s so busy. But her viewers don’t mind! Her videos are like little presents!

GENERATION KILL

Rudy Reyes Rudy also keeps a diary! It’s called “Fruity Rudy” and the graphic has a cute lil peach on it. He always films in his living room during the day. The video and audio are both super high quality and he even has a nice front light. He looks fucking beautiful, as always. He just talks about his day, his friends and family, whatever subjects he’s been thinking about recently. And his house is always fucking perfect. 9 times out of 10 Pappy is in the kitchen cooking, slightly out of focus, while wearing an apron. He likes to listen to Rudy do his thing while he prepares dinner or w/e (cooking and baking is a big hobby of his). Every once in a while he’ll comment on something Rudy says or talks about, or he’ll poke fun at someone or tell a joke. Usually the mic picks up what he says, but it’s faint and Rudy adds in little subtitles in the bottom of the screen. And he either reacts with a fond smile of some kind of comment or comeback. The viewers love their banter because they’re HELLA MARRIED Like literally. And also figuratively. Like sometimes Rudy will call back to Pappy to ask him questions, sometimes looking for a real answer, sometimes because he knows the kind of sassy reaction he’ll get, and he’ll just roll his eyes at the camera. He gets like a million comments a day telling him that they adore Pappy. “omg u guys are so cute” “I wish pappy was in more videos!!” “is pappy his real name? if not, what is?” When Rudy hits 10,000 subscribers (“wow, that’s insane, thanks you guys!!!”) as a present, he makes this big reveal video of Pappy’s name. “Drum roll please… *drums on his thighs* it’s Larry.” *in the background* “RUDE, WHAT THE FUCK?” *uncontrollable giggles from Rudy* *the camera is lifted from it’s place by ~~someone~~ unseen and a blurry Rudy can be seen half-heartedly protesting before the footage cuts*

Ray Person Ray is basically iDubbbz/h3h3 He’ll get all of his friends to participate in stupid videos. Mostly it’s Walt, Christenson, or sometimes Q-tip or Gabe. But sometimes he’s by himself, it just depends. So we get lots of these types of gems. (x) (x) Brad hardcore pretends like he doesn’t want to be a part of it but look, he operates the camera for every video, he’s not fooling anyone. It’s hard to mistake his laughter when he’s right next to the mic. Sometimes Ray keeps in the little bits where Brad comments or calls him an idiot and you can see Ray look behind the camera, laughing and smiling or giving it right back. Ray’s channel is nuts!! but every once in a blue moon Ray will upload a video called “Serious Talk #1” (and so on) where he talks about something he really cares about or is really bugging him. And people are like, I knew you were smart, but oh jeez, this is scary.

Nate Fick The videos started out as study tools for his undergrad students but eventually gained a legit following. So, it’s basically an educational channel, but there’s no company or anything funding him. He tries to be as professional looking as possible, though. He talks about history! All types of history! And guess what, this boy is salty about the many, many important peoples and their accomplishments that are always left out of textbooks and shit. And he’s going to do his best to cover them properly. As in, entire episodes dedicated to shit (most) people don’t know. And he was in the military, so he has… lots of feelings about that as well. If he talks about military history or social issues he puts a disclaimer in the beginning of the video like “This is tainted by my feelings, I can’t help it, but this is my channel and I’m gonna say what I like.” He has some crash courses and some videos that go way too in depth. Like, maybe calm down, boy scout. Brad and Mike are his most frequent guests. He’ll do things like quiz them (on shit he knows they don’t know) or ask them for their opinions or direct the whole freaking lesson just to them. Brad and Mike really like picking on him, but he knows they love him. He invited Ray on the channel once. Once. It was… an experience. But Ray surprisingly, or not so surprisingly, has some really well educated and in depth thoughts on certain subjects. He gets lots of comments from girls/boys being like, “Hello, Professor Hottie.” (He gets the same reaction from many of his undergrads, so he’s used to it.) BUT most of his following watches because they’re interested in what he has to say, so don’t worry.

Poke Espera Poke has a channel with no schedule or organization. The video’s care shot from a cheap video camera and he doesn’t have a proper mic. And you know the Channel name is literally just his name. It’s literally all just videos of him from the chest up with titles like: “THOUGHTS ON ALL THE BULLSHIT” and “I’M GONNA KILL ME A WHITE BOY” and “PAUL RYAN CAN SUCK MY THICK LATIN DICK” They’re always in all caps. You knows the type. Yes, he does have a whole video dedicated to the story of the time he saw a dude get killed behind a Tastee-Freez. He has over 2 mil followers and all the boys are like …how? He just has good things to say, yo. People appreciate the cruel honesty.

Q-Tip and Christenson These cute boys have a let’s play channel! It’s pretty straight forward, they just play whatever games they like the best and sometimes play other games on request. It’s got Game Grumps vibes because it’s these two dudes who are BEST FRIENDS and they spend nearly every episode talking about whatever they want. And usually they want to talk about each other. Because they’re hardcore Bros. They get some of their friends to sit with them and play or just talk, depends. But their most requested repeat guest is Ray. Because Ray sure as hell doesn’t need a camera on his face to be animated as fuck. Also There’s lots of singing. Almost too much singing. At least they have excellent taste in music.

The Lady Marine (Whose Name We Unfortunately Don’t Know) She has a youtube channel that she really enjoys putting a lot of creativity into! Like, it’s great quality, for starters, and she also designs her own awesome graphics and animation!! She’s so talented!! Because everything is so damn quality, she only puts out a video every couple of weeks. But they’re pretty lengthy and always SUPER worth it. It’s about her (current) career in the military and focuses on a lot of social justice themes. Not only does she a) have a lot of interesting/enlightening things to say, but b) she also understands her privilege as a white woman and plugs for a lot of other women of color vloggers when she talks about something a little out of her depth or better said by someone who actually experiences it. She has a very complex view of the military and simultaneously knows how it manipulates/harms people and can’t help but love her job. She feels like she was born to do it, honestly. Idiot men come at her in the comments and she gets a lot of harassment. But let me tell you… She takes those motherfuckers out. You thought she was just talking shit? Bitch, she has 8 peer-reviewed scientific studies! She can cite her sources, all 2 dozen of them! She knows her shit, don’t test her. And if that doesn’t satisfy you, she’s always got her M16. One time she slams a dude so hard it goes viral over night and she gets hundreds of new followers, most of them young women looking for some source of empowerment and encouragement. She takes her new role very seriously. She will always, always listen and talk to young girls who are struggling or need an outlet or someone to talk to who won’t get upset with them for thinking X or Y. I love her, she’s my wife.

THE PACIFIC

Bob Leckie Leckie’s channel is called “Dear, Vera.” Each video is an adorable virtual letter to his wife, who he is just crazy smitten with. They started out as literal messages when Leckie was traveling for his first book tour (very proud of him). Like, he would literally just write out letters and then read them to the camera. Of course, Leckie is the most poetic idiot on the planet, and lots of people started following him because his words were honestly so beautiful. Even if he’s extra as heck. The following isn’t huge, but it’s substantial, and he still addresses each video to his wife. So he talks about whatever he likes. It was updates about his life when he was traveling, but when he’s home he likes to get creative about it. And not every episode is so serious. He invites dudes from Team Leckie to come hang all the time! And the boys are always like, “Hi, Vera!” and wave like she’s actually there. (She’s in the next room doing a Sudoku puzzle or something). Every video, he signs of with, “Yours, Robert.” AND AND AND when Vera tells him they’re going to be parents, Leckie gets extra extra. But it’s so cute, like, he makes a single video about it. He opens it with, “To my future child” And he basically goes on this whole teary-eyed kind of schpiel about how he’s so exited to meet them and how he and Vera are going to love them unconditionally and protect them and do their absolute best to keep them happy. He signs off with, “With love, your father.”

Hoosier Smith Hoosier is literally Cr1tiKal

Eugene Sledge Eugene’s channel is about ornithology, botany, and BEES! He loves bees! He uses the channel to geek out over biology things and it has so many cute graphics and jingles. Like, I mean, it’s hella gay. And he’s kind of awkward, but it’s so endearing. Most of his subscribers are girls and mlm and he’s just like, huh *shrug* He has little segments about current scientific events/findings. He has a birb of the week. It’s just… so nerdy. Like, chill out, dude. (Jk pls don’t ever chill out, follow your passions.) Snafu refuses to be in videos but he shouts at him from other rooms in the house, being a dick on purpose, calling him nerd, telling him to shut up. But Eugene is pretty good at coming back at him. He’s known Snafu too long for that kind of shit to actually bother him. And Eugene is like 70% sass, anyway.

Eddie Jones Eddie has a channel entirely dedicated to his original music!!! All his spending money goes to instruments and high quality recording equipment and audio editing software. He’s so good. Like. He’s got this warbling kind of sweet and broken voice. It’s very similar to jpitts, actually. And there’s so much heart in it. Not to mention the songs he writes are amazing and have clever lyrics. And guess what, boys and girls!!! Andy Haldane can sing. But he’s super shy about it. He and Eddie have had so many conversations that are like “Andy, come on, one video” “Nooo…” “Just one!” “Eddie, I caaaan’t” (Andy gets a little whiny when he’s nervous) So Andy won’t sing in a video BUT his soft voice can be heard harmonizing in some official recordings. Eddie loves listening to Andy sing. He’s not perfect or anything, but his voice is pretty and light and Eddie’s head over heels for him, so he can’t help but love it.

So, like I said. Way too long. But I had so much fun thinking up this stuff, so time well spent! I just did the boys (and girls) who came naturally to me when I tried to think of who would have a YouTube Channel. If anyone feels like adding to this monstrosity, go for it!

#hbo war #band of brothers #the pacific #generation kill #headcanon #my headcanons #youtube #yeah again #sorry this turned into an enormous monster #but i still love it #this isn't really edited so forgive me my mistakes #my writing

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obwan255 · 6 years

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blam-marie · 1 month

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SwordBright - 3

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Katarina entered her bedroom and gently closed the door behind her, still somewhat bewildered. SwordBright was acting oddly, she thought, which in all honesty might have been the understatement of the century.

They’d never showed up to her apartment before, for one. In the year or so they’d known each other, as superhero and super villain, they’d never even had what you could call a pleasant chat. Oh, they’d bantered a lot, and trash talked each other with the affection and respect that came with knowing that this other person was going to become your great Nemesis. But it had always been work-related. They’d never interacted witch each other in their civilian clothes before, and Karry hadn’t expected the hero to even so much as recognize her without the makeup and the fangs. No one ever had.

Granted, she would recognize SwordBright anywhere, but that came with the territory, being what she was. Karry was a vampire in the same way as hot fudge was a gravy; only in a very technical sense, and the comparison was mildly upsetting. But she did have an excellent sense of smell, and SwordBright smelled like no one else that she had ever encountered.

They smelled good, that bastard.

And now they were puttering in her apartment, no doubt spreading their smell all around, touching all of her magical items without even being affected by them, and Karry snarled at the thought. She wrenched open her closet and quickly grabbed the darkest, most intimidating dress that she could find. She slithered into it, then grabbed a blood red chocker off her desk and tied it around her throat. She considered taking a minute to put on some makeup, perhaps some crimson lipstick or light foundation to conceal her deathly pallor, then changed her mind. She didn’t want to look like she was putting in effort to appear presentable, not when it was them who was trespassing on her territory.

Although she did admit their very presence here made her curious. The very fact that they not only knew where she lived but had also known how to get the elevator to take them there lent credence to their unlikely time travel story.

She’d been so stunned when she’d opened the door, truth be told, that she’d completely forgotten to just kill them on the spot, which should have been her first reaction. By the time she’d gathered herself, curiosity had also reared its ugly head, and now she was somewhat invested in this strange tale they were bringing to her.

She was having the weirdest day, to be quite honest. She’d been snapped awake less than an hour earlier by a strong wave of magic invading her body, leaving her tingling and breathless. She hadn’t felt magic like that in centuries, and had revelled in it. It had drowned her in waves of bliss and contentment, and she had luxuriated in it without question, too overwhelmed to care as to its source.

By the time she’d managed to catch her breath, there SwordBright was, knocking at her door as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her toes were still curling a little on the cold floor, the after-effect of the magic not quite done dissipating, but she didn’t have the time to deal with it. She swooped down the corridor and stormed into her living room, where the hero quickly snatched their hand away from a priceless (and very cursed) vase on a side table.

Karry glared at them and crossed her arms. It was midly off-putting to see her Nemesis without their helmet, looking so young and fresh without the bravado that having their sword in hand seemed to inspire in them. Out of their leather jacket, in nothing but a soft red t-shirt, they looked more like some confused teenager had wandered off the street. They were wearing combat boots, their hands were heavily covered with rings, and their soft brown hair was curling over their ears. They looked like some baby punk that should be at home, listening to that godawful korean pop music that was so popular right now and saving for a tattoo, not out in the street saving the world. Or worse, standing in the middle of a vampire’s apartment without even having the decency to look ashamed about it.

“Out with it, then.”

SwordBright looked at her, hesitated, then bit their lips. “I don’t know where to begin,” they finally admitted softly.

She rolled her eyes. “You had a lot to say in the corridor. How about you start at the beginning? Why are you here?”

They shifted a bit on their feet, and then seemed to take a decision, and sank down into her leather couch, arms and legs akimbo like a doll whose strings had been cut. They rubbed both hands down their face, and then let out a strangled, slightly hysterical laugh.

“It’s a long story,” they said. “But basically a Tyrant is going to rise to power and then end the world and I need your help to stop him.”

She blinked. “I’m going to need more than that. Help you how? And why me?”

They removed their hands from their face, and stared at her for what seemed like several long minutes. Their expression was… odd. Karry didn’t know how to read it, and she shifted uneasily on her feet. Even their aura was opaque in a way that she had seldom seen an human be able to achieve. Finally, SwordBright looked away.

“Do you have any coffee? Or something stronger?” they mumbled.

She might have felt offended at being ordered around her own house, but the mood here had taken such a sudden drop toward something heavy and uncomfortable that she crossed through the room without a word.

She busied herself in the kitchen, starting her fancy coffee machine and looking for mugs.

“You’re the most powerful person I know,” came the hero’s voice from the living room, quiet as if they hadn’t really meant for her to hear it. “Too powerful.”

She put both mugs on the counter, then reached for the small metal tin that was hiding at the very back of the cupboard. Gingerly, Karry added some cyanide powder to SwordBright’s mug then swirled the liquid with a disposable straw that she then tossed into the trash. They’d be immune to it, probably, as they were to everything else, but it was the principle of the thing. You just didn’t have coffee with your Nemesis without at least paying lip service to the idea of trying to kill them. It was in the Super Villain’s handbook or something.

She brought the coffee back to the living room, and SwordBright took their cup gratefully. Their hands did not brush, and yet Katarina felt a shiver go through her anyway at the small smile they gave her. She sat on the furthest chair away from them.

“So, a Tyrant,” she said, trying to regain control of the situation. She felt like everything was slipping out of her fingers. This should not happen. She was the Vampire Queen. She should have killed them already. “And how does that concern me?”

They shifted on the couch, blowing on their coffee but not yet taking a sip. “He’ll end the world. I mean, maybe not. But he’ll be responsible for the death of pretty much everyone in North America. I don’t know about the rest of the world, but. I know you don’t want that. I mean, you need people to worship you, don’t you? That can’t happen if everyone’s dead.”

Karry froze in the act of taking a sip, then forced herself to continue the movement lest the hero notice something amiss. Need people to worship her, they’d said, not want. That was a distinction that most people didn’t bother to make when trying to assert her motivation. That was too close to the truth of her for comfort. And yet, she could see in their eyes that they knew perfectly well what they’d just said. Worse, that there was more they weren’t saying.

“What’s your plan, then?” she asked, watching them carefully over the rim of her cup. “You want to stop the Tyrant how?”

They licked their lips, then took a sip of their coffee. Their eyes lit up, and they looked down a it in surprise.

“Oh, that’s good! Did you add anything to this? A flavoured syrup?”

She frowned. “I asked you a question.”

“Speaking of questions, and coffee, you wouldn’t happen to know if I’m working at Timmies right now, would you? Only, I don’t remember very well, this was thirty years ago but I still don’t want to be fired…”

“Stop changing the subject, SwordBright.”

“Oh,” they said, with a fake laugh and a wave, “you can call me Oasis, you know…”

“Oasis. Stop stalling.”

Their grin froze, and then they deflated, sinking down into the couch cushions. They put their coffee mug on the table, and then rubbed a hand down their face. When they looked at her again, they looked weary. Something in their eyes was old and tired, and it was a look that did not sit well on their young face.

“The Tyrant would be about eleven years old now,” they said, inflecting theirs words as if it was the beginning of a sentence, but then not adding anything to it.

“… and?”

Their eyes flickered, as if they wanted to look away but then forced themselves to hold her gaze. They set their jaw.

“And I always felt that if you have the chance to kill baby Hitler, then you should take it. Morals be damned.”

She blinked and reared back. They weren’t joking. She took a peek at their aura, just to make sure, and it was blacker than she’d ever seen from them. She almost fell off of her chair. They weren’t supposed to be dark, and in pain. They were SwordBright.

They’d said they were from the future, a dark and terrible one, but this was the first time in this conversation that she truly believed it.

“That’s not something I thought I’d ever hear you say,” she remarked flippantly, trying to regain control of the conversation. “New policy?”

“No,” they said, and then apparently ran out of whatever determination they had had to hold her gaze. Their eyes slid away and landed on their abandoned coffee cup. “I always felt like that. Like sometimes violence is required to save the world. It’s just that… When the time came to act, I used to always chicken out. I was…”

They trailed off, and rubbed a hand on their face again. “I was so young. The ‘me’ you know now was a coward. When there was the need for it, I couldn’t start a riot, I couldn’t punch a cop in the face, I couldn’t bring myself to deviate from the expected ‘good superhero’ behaviour. But then the world got really bad, and there was basically a war in the streets. I had to step up. Eventually peaceful solutions just stop working, you know? But even then, I failed.”

There was a short pause. Oasis reached out and touched their mug, running their hand over the rim like the gesture comforted them somewhat. They still looked like they had more to say, like they were considering their words with the utmost seriousness, and Karry resolved to wait them out.

“And even now I’m not sure I can kill baby Hitler, even though the Tyrant will destroy millions of lives,” they continued after a while. “But the world’s running out of time. There’s something that’s going to happen this year. I don’t know what, or when, but in every interview he always said that what set him on his path happened when he was eleven. The media used to think that he meant his interest in politics, but I think he meant his will to take over the world. Whatever it is that will make him the Tyrant, it’s going to happen soon. I have to stop him before that happens. I don’t know yet what form it’ll take, if I’ll have to… I don’t know. But I’ll do whatever it takes.”

They cradled their hands to their chest and slid down the couch with a world-weary sigh, like the will to sit up straight had deserted them. “I still kinda don’t want to murder him, though. I just. I don’t want to do it. Some hero I am.”

Karry set down her own empty cup, starting to get a better grasp on the situation. “And so you came to me. You want me to kill this child?”

She’d be offended, but then again, it was perfectly logical. If you needed a murder to be done, then you hired a murderer. She’d thought this entire affair had been one of friendship, of standing together against the end of the world, but she’d been wrong. This was business. She pulled her dress down her knees briskly, wondering if perhaps she shouldn’t have worn something that showed a tad bit less leg.

Oasis let out a long, bone shuddering sigh. “No. No, I’ve taken this upon myself, it’s my responsibility and I’ll see it through. I came to you because he’ll use your necklace.”

She froze.

Quite without conscious input, her claws unsheathed, and she straightened up in her chair, ready to fight. She fixed her gaze on the hero, aware that her pupils were dilating, and of the roaring of stolen blood in her ears.

No one was supposed to know about her necklace. No one knew about it, actually. She was certain; she’d spent centuries looking for it.

When she’d been shoved into this mortal body, all of her dark essence entrapped and bound by magic, a necklace had been made. A singular, blood-red stone in a bed of silver runes, meant to control her. And it had, for several decades; but one day she’d returned from war to find her captors dead, decimated by nameless enemies. And her necklace nowhere to be found. She’d waited, and fretted, expecting it to be used any minute to bring her under new, even more cruel control. But it had never happened, and she’d been forced to admit that it had perhaps only been taken as a spoil of war, its new owners none the wiser as to what it truly was. What she truly was, and the power she could bring them should they call upon her.

She’d looked for it for centuries now, eventually ending up in Toronto, where the trail had gone cold.

“My necklace?” she asked, layers upon layers of cold threat in her voice.

But Oasis wasn’t looking at her, wasn’t even paying attention. They were still staring at their cup of coffee, now doubtlessly gone cold, and nodded miserably.

“I didn’t understand,” they said, “Not at first. When you stole it from that museum and started wearing it all the time, I thought you were taunting me for not having been able to stop your robbery.”

Museum. The word echoed in her ears, pounded in time with her human blood.

“What museum?”

“But then the Tyrant took it from you, and he started using it, and…” They looked up at her, anguish in their gaze strong enough to rival her own. “and it controls you, doesn’t it? Whatever you are.”

“What museum”, she repeated, slowly. Dangerously. Pulling all of her thrall up like a veil around her even though it would slide off SwordBright like water and ducks. “Tell me.”

They held her gaze, something of their dread seeming to evaporate, replaced by determination. “The Royal Ontario Museum. It’s a new exhibit, and it’ll open next week.”

Something pounded in her chest. Her heart? She wasn’t aware that it even still worked. She felt light-headed all of a sudden, and sank back in her seat, fingers tightening over the chair’s arms and claws ripping through the expensive red leather. Next week. Her necklace.

She’d looked for it for over three hundreds years in screaming, agonizing solitude and there they were, that bright idiot, just giving her the answer as if they didn’t know what it was worth to her. What’s she’d have done to retrieve it. How she’d have tortured the answer out of them if that’s what it would have taken.

On the other side of her glass table, in her stupidly posh living room, Oasis leaned forward, steel eyed and serious, as if they were about to share a secret.

“I thought we could steal it first, and then deal with the Tyrant. What do you say?”

#yeah these are republished posts #I don't remember if I made major edits since the last time I posted these #but I definitely gained followers and I want them to see the most up to date version of this lol #so here you go #new posts #swordbright #writing is hard #writing

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survivinglifescurveballs · 7 years

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Taekwondo from fun to fraud

We needed something for our youngest son to be a part of, something he could be proud of and learn from. We had previously tried soccer, but he had little interest in group sports. He had watched his older brother in Cub Scouts and had no desire to join. What else was there?

An idea emerged from a friend’s facebook post.

Tae Kwon Do? Maybe he would be interested in that. I clicked through to the website and read about the classes and the Grand Master. Grand Master Chong has trained Taekwondo to just about every kind of special forces America and Korea have. Xander would certainly like that as he is fascinated with the military.

Both boys decided to give the free class a try. When we walked in other parents warmly greeted us. Laurin, the black belt (2nd Dan) who owns and manages the school, was sitting at the desk. She gently told the boys to take off their shoes and head to the mat.

Grand Master Chong, already on the mat instructing, came over to meet them. He gave them a name tag to wear with their names written in Korean.

Free trial class experience

Class began with simple, clear instructions. A third of the class time was dedicated to stretching, followed by form work then other basic skill practice. Grand Master Chong was kind, patient, hands-on with each of the students. He often giggled when his students did silly things. They learned to stand at attention (Cha Rutt), to answer all instructors with respect (yes/no ma’am/sir), and the basics of how to properly move their bodies to kick and punch.

I watched the whole class noting my sons’ reactions, but it was difficult to tell how they felt with the amount of concentration they were giving their movements. At the end of class all the students encircled GM Chong. He secured all of their legs and the completed sit ups as a group. Each student bowed to each other and shook hands (Con Sa Hom Nee Dha), then the same to GM Chong.

Then one of my favorite things happened, GM Chong requires all of his students to hug and thank their parents for bringing them to class. What a wonderful lesson to teach the children. We are already huggers, but what mom turns away a sweaty hug from her growing young men? Not this mom, not ever. I don’t care how dirty they are, I will always scoop them up into my arms.

Both of them ran to me and asked if they could join. I had already decided I would sign the boys up if they wanted, so I met with Laurin again to talk about cost. It was $400 for three months of unlimited classes, two uniforms, and the registration fee. $200 for three months for each child didn’t seem too bad (or $68/month/child), especially considering there were classes six times a week. I had the option to pay each month, but the three month option gave me a price break. There were no required contracts, which I later discovered are common in most Taekwondo schools. Some contracts extended up to three years.

The first two months

GM Chong has found a magical balance of fun and discipline that keeps our boys excited and eager to return to class each day. He is encouraging, but firm. GM Chong can be found on the mat teaching every class and personally assisting each student. He laughs with them, but also commands their respect and is inflexible with the discipline required for Taekwondo.

The yellow belt test was quite formal with two other Grand Masters attending to watch the test. Check Chirdon and Craig Clinton. The boys modeled their basic motions, went through their form, and as a grand finale broke boards with their hands. They were proud of themselves and we were proud they had worked so hard to learn these new skills.

After two months our boys had progressed from white belt to yellow belt and are now orange belts. Their level of flexibility has drastically improved as well as their balance. While snapping some photos of them in class I was stunned by how high their kicks had become in such a short time. They had also learned to count to ten in Korean just from hearing GM Chong during stretching exercises.

My son with ADHD does great some days and others are rough, but GM Chong really pushes him to do his best. For that I am grateful. Most people with ADHD require more accountability, balanced with equal parts positive encouragement.

Month Three

Laurin and GM Chong took a week off to visit family. When they returned they announced a summer camp.

Our boys were very excited and asked immediately to be a part of the camp. After talking it over with my husband, we obliged.

One Saturday afternoon my oldest arrived in his soccer uniform coming straight from his game and GM Chong told us of how he was once on the soccer team in Korea. He told us of how competitive the players are and the difficulties he faced. With this opening I began to ask him about his life in Korea and how he ended up in the US. He spoke for a long time about the teams he had trained, athletes he had sent to the Olympics, and the Taekwondo schools he ran in Arizona for many years.

It was when I asked about how he ended up in Ohio that he became reluctant to talk. He said he had gone home to Korea giving up on Taekwondo after a bad experience with his former partner.

Chong had come to the US to visit Chuck Chirdon, a friend, who encouraged him to look for a new school location and even helped him get the building remodeled once he found a space in Pickerington.

The conversation left me with an uneasy feeling in my gut. I could tell something wasn’t right with the situation so I decided to background check GM Chong. Afterall, this man was going to be alone with my children during the day all summer long. Using Been Verified I learned that he had a criminal charge in Arizona, but no other information was given in the report. I had to send a request to the Snowflake Court of Navajo County.

While waiting for the requested public records to arrive I began to investigate both GM Chong and Laurin online. GM Chong had two schools in Arizona, LC Martial Arts, where he partnered with Master Ly Ngo. Both LC schools now show as closed. Yelp reviews for the schools were not favorable.

Hmm, that didn’t sound good. I shared the information with my husband and asked him if he thought I was just being paranoid, as sometimes I worry about little things blowing them out of proportion. Together we agreed that GM Chong had been wonderful to our boys and we were really happy with their progress so we decided to keep going to Taekwondo, not to mention we had already paid for the first three months of class plus $1600 for the summer camp.

Summer Camp

Day 1

GM Chong and Laurin ran the show and the kids had a blast. They came home and told me it was one of the best days of their lives.

Day 2

GM Chong and Laurin were not there. They had two of their black belt students runt he camp.

Day 3

GM Chong and Laurin were not there so we asked where they were. We were told GM had doctors appointments all week, but would be back Monday.

Day 5

The exterior school sign was taken down during the day. The company told the black belts it was a code violation. When the students called GM Chong he promised to call later that night with an explanation. After arriving to pick up my boys from class I realized GM Chong’s certificate was missing from the wall.

All of this was unsettling and I want to ask some others what was going on so I reached out to another adult student. This student had been running the classes while Laurin visited her father in Puerto Rico and GM Chong was at doctor appointments. Together we discovered all kinds of things that were not adding up. He said he would speak to GM Chong that night and let me know what was going on.

In the pit of my stomach I already knew what was going on, we were being taken for a ride. I again went to researching and then I found a very damning piece of evidence on youtube compiled by his former students at LC https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bT9oLzX1E8. LC’s World Taekwondo had been the second time GM Chong had run off with people’s money and he was now doing it a third time with Lion’s Martial Arts. Wow!

I shared the video with the student who was supposed to speak with GM Chong. He was shocked and said he had spoken to GM Chong last night. Laurin and Chong promised to send an email out to all the students today and “make things right”.

Epilogue to my tale of sadness

Once I found the video it didn’t matter what Chong and Laurin had to say there was no way I was going back to that school or trusting them with any more money. I had paid the summer camp fee with a credit card and am disputing the charge for services never rendered. It could up to two months before a final decision is made by the credit card company.

The worst part of all of it, this was my children’s first lesson in scams. Someone they trusted, respected, and had learned from had cheated them.

We did receive the three months of instruction that was paid in full. The boys did gain flexibility, learn to count in Korean, and learn many techniques. They also achieved two belt ranks, although I have no idea if another school will accept them as such, if we decide to try Taekwondo again.

What we did lose was trust in our fellow man, respect for Laurin and Master Chong, $1600, and our summer childcare arrangements with no advance warning.

I believe Churck Chirdon is an honest man with a kind nature who was fooled by Chong and Laurin as were the rest of the Lion’s Martial Arts students.

It’s important to note that most Taekwondo schools are bursting with integrity. Many of other schools have contacted us offering their condolences, inviting us to give them a try for free or reduced tuition. Here is a great checklist for finding an ideal school. Wiki also has a very complete checklist. You can also verify your Master’s belt level here.

A complete compilation of evidence against Lion’s Martial Arts can be found here.

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thecleverdame · 5 years

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Gods of Twilight - Chapter Two

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking

Beta: ilikaicalie

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*Chapters 1-23 are currently available on Patreon. This story will be completed on Patreon before it’s continued on Tumblr. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

The purpose of any royal marriage is children, there’s no skirting around that fact. It sounds simple but it’s actually a great responsibility to be saddled with, the expectation of carrying on Sam’s lineage. You hope that your body complies, that your womb is ripe and ready for his child because a queen who can’t give her king a son is likely to be cast aside in favor of a woman who can.

In the short time you’ve known Sam it’s become painfully clear that he’s no more thrilled with you than you are him. He doesn’t seem very eager to take his husbandly privileges, so when the two of you are alone in your chambers, as the celebration continues below, you offer yourself to him. You’ve never been shy about your body but you’ve also never let a man see you like this before. You pray that he doesn’t see the flush in your cheeks as you disrobe.

“You don’t have to, not tonight if you want to wait,” he offers setting down his wine glass, eyes fixed on you.

“I’d rather do it now. There’s no sense in a delay.” You continue stripping until you’re completely nude.

You wonder if he’ll be able to tell you’re not a virgin. You’ve only been with one person before and it was only the one time but he’s surely expecting to be your first.

Sam watches you in the candlelight, his expression unreadable as his eyes fall over your full breasts and travel all the way down to the thatch of pubic hair between your legs. You wait for him, shifting your weight from one hip to the other as he stands and walks to you.

He doesn’t say anything, just places his hands on your shoulders and turns you around. You close your eyes as his hands travel from your sides and up your back. He presses forward, bending you over the end of the bed. You stay there, face pressed into the fur of the bedding as his hands leave your skin. Then you hear the rustle of clothes and his trousers hitting the floor.

You hold your breath when you feel the head of his cock pressing for a quick moment against your buttocks. Then the hard flesh moves between your legs. With a brutal thrust, Sam pushes inside your cunt unceremoniously. You bite your lower lip, trying to stifle a pained gasp. It doesn’t hurt like the first time but it’s dry and uncomfortable. His cock is thick and draws a pained groan from your throat when he pushes deeper. You’re glad you didn’t get a look at his manhood before he fucked you because judging from how large he feels, you would have run the second you laid eyes on him.

“Does it hurt?” he asks matter of factly.

“A little.” You downplay the discomfort.

He’s still for a moment before pulling out. You almost ask him what he’s doing until you hear him spit into his hand, grease his cock and press back between your legs. He slides in easier this time and you try to relax your body.

“Better?” he questions flatly.

“Yes,” you concede, screwing your eyes shut.

He fucks you quick and hard, which you’re grateful for. You’ve heard stories about powerful men. He could have taken you any way he wanted, gagging on his cock or forcing you to participate in any number of rough and painful activities. But he seems to have little interest in you outside of finding his completion. He ruts into you for the better part of twenty minutes, his breath going choppy when his rhythm picks up. He stops to hold himself inside but not nearly as deep as he was fucking you, grunting several times before pulling out.

Then he simply pats you on the bottom as his seed runs down your thighs.

“You can dress,” he comments, plucking his shirt from the floor. “I’m going to find my brother. I may not be back until morning. You’re free to do what you like.”

And with a hike of his trousers, he’s gone.

Several Months Later

The castle is more ancient than any bone left in the soil. The once smooth rock is pitted and scarred. The structure itself solidifies how fleeting time is, how soon the present becomes the past and the important becomes irrelevant. In this hallowed, ancient land the trees have seen the centuries blow past in the winds of each season and witnessed the folly of the kingdom’s struggles.

Walls stand mute around the perimeter, water awaits the call of the wind to ruffle and move as molten glass of deepest green. Grey stone rises from the land, unapologetic and bold to defy entrance and protect what has been entrusted to their care. Below the uneven patches of grass are arrowheads of old, hilts of broken swords and armor that failed to protect.

Beneath the chorus of the birds, you hear the voices of old, the clash of metal on metal and the pounding of horses hooves. Every day you stand where knights stood, see what kings, dukes and peasants saw. In this pale light, were it not for the telltale signs of weathering, it could be almost any century in the past seven hundred years.

The castle itself, built on blood and bone, is a complex labyrinth of winding halls and cold, hard stone. The halls wind and weave, stretching on and on until they seem unending.

During the day, when you leave your room and venture through the castle, you have a knight assigned to your care. Phillip is young and bored, taller and thicker than even your husband. He follows you in silent protection, showing you the way when you turn in the wrong direction. He stands behind you while you eat your breakfast, and flanks you tenfold if you decide to wander through the village.

In stark contrast to the life you had before, where you had free reign to go wherever you please, in Lebanon you are never alone.

The first six months pass in the blink of an eye and your first night together proves to be an accurate measure of your entire marriage.

Sam leaves you to your own devices. You sleep next to one another some nights and eat the occasional meal together but for the most part, you’re on your own. Your husband shows little interest in getting to know you or even speaking with you as a general rule.

But your feelings aren’t hurt. You’re happy he’s willing to give you a wide berth. You’ve always functioned best on your own, you’ve never been one to bow to anyone else’s expectations.

The days are spent reading books and taking long walks throughout the countryside.

Once a week he’s waiting for you, sitting on the edge of the bed and offering a look that you’ve come to know well. You strip bare, then bend over so he can take you from behind and the two of you go through the mechanics of becoming husband and wife. When he’s done he often disappears and is gone for a day or two.

You wonder where he absconds to, you want to ask him but think better of it. Men like him have a reputation for a reason. Just because you haven’t been on the receiving end of his bad disposition doesn’t mean he’s a saint.

There’s something lurking below the surface in Lebanon, you can feel it in your bones.

After months of this routine and no telltale signs of pregnancy, your handmaid calls a midwife to your chambers. She feels of your belly, grinds herbs into a tea and tells you to make sure you’re keeping your body warm enough at night.

And that’s how things go as spring turns into summer.

“Phillip,” you begin, glancing at him, riding next to you through the quiet countryside.

“Yes, my queen?” He looks to you expectantly.

“If I were to ask a question, would you be honest with me?” Slowing your horse, you walk the steed toward a patch of apple trees.

“Of course.” He jumps off his horse and taking your reigns, offers you a hand to the ground.

“Even if my question was about the King?” you ask softly, side-eyeing him for a reaction.

He’s quiet for a moment, pondering this request. You’re well aware this puts him in a precarious position but he’s the only person from Lebanon that you have any semblance of a relationship with.

“I don’t know much, m’lady.” His voice is tight, and you begin to walk through the orchard, seeking out the perfect tree. “I spend all my time with you.”

“But before I came here you were one of his body men, were you not?” you inquire, already knowing the answer.

“I was.” He nods, shifting uncomfortably, his thumbs hooking in his belt. “I’m sure you understand that I cannot betray his loyalty, nor would I want to.”

“I would expect nothing less.” You sigh, reaching up to inspect an apple. “Tell me, Philip, if my husband asked you about me, would you tell him?”

“That is not - I do not.” He stops to find the right words. “I am loyal to you, but he is the King.”

“I see.” You pick up your skirts, trying to keep the hem out of the mud as you move on. “Well I’m going to ask you anyway.”

“Whatever pleases you.” He bows his head, taking wide strides behind you, stepping over the soft patches of ground.

“You join him at night.” You state what you already know. “When he and the others abscond into the fading light. Tell me, what is it that you men do until dawn?��

“Nothing of consequence.” He offers casually.

“What is important to you and what is important to me, may be two very different things.” You turn to him, hands on your hips. “Does he seek out other women? A whorehouse?”

“My queen, we should not be discussing this,” he hisses, moving past you.

“That was not an answer,” you push.

“You ask questions which I am not able to give an answer to,” he volleys back.

“I could make your life very difficult…” You try to threaten him but immediately feel bad for putting him in such a position. “Forgive me. You are good to me Philip, I shouldn’t say such things.”

“He…” He hesitates, shaking his head, looking to the side. “There are many things in Lebanon that happen in the dark, secrets that you don’t want to be privy to. But I will tell you the king is loyal to you, as he is loyal in general. You may have heard stories of him before you came here, but since he has been married he has not strayed, at least not that I know of.”

“Thank you.” You offer him a gentle smile. “Now, let us pick enough apples for the baker to make us a pie, shall we?”

#alpha sam winchester #alpha!werewolf!sam #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction

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thecleverdame · 5 years

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The Woodsman - 3

Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: A/B/O Fairy Tale - You’re a sheltered, thirty-something princess on the run from your brother, the newly crowned ‘Mad King’ of France. When you’re waylaid by marauders and left for dead in the forest, a gruff woodsman nurses you back to health.

Warnings: A/B/O smut, knotting, language, violence, assault, non-con

Word Count: 32,000

The entire story is complete and available now on Patreon. subscribe for a pledge of $2.50 a month and get access to this and other Patreon exclusive content.

Despite his animosity toward you, Sam is a better man than any you’ve come across before. You believe his words, you trust with all your heart that he would protect you if the situation arose.

He deserves the truth.

“My father, King Henry, died last year.” You look down to your lap, wringing your hands together.

“We heard news of his passing,” Sam confirms softly, watching intently as your facade drops and is replaced by real, raw emotion that spreads from your eyes to your mouth. This is the authentic you, without the dressings of pomp and circumstance, the you he knew was in there if only he could get to it. Sam recognizes it when he sees it.

“As the line of succession dictates my oldest brother, William, assumed the throne.” You continue.

“The one they call the Mad King?” Sam’s eyes narrow. Perhaps beyond reason, he’s looking for an excuse to believe in you. “Did he not treat you well?”

You take a pregnant breath, tipping your head back. Just get it over with.

“When we were children William and I were close, very close. It’s a bond that only grew as we aged. Perhaps he was always a bit of a dandy but I loved him for it. The two of us had an appreciation for the finer things our life affords; the cuisine and modern fashions. Certainly more than any of my other siblings.”

Sam is silent, his arm crossed over his chest.

“It was around the time my father fell ill that I noticed a change in his behavior. I found William talking to himself in his bedchambers one afternoon, but his symptoms would come and go. I should have told my father before he died, perhaps he could have done something, ensured my brother Daniel assumed the throne instead...but I said nothing. I didn’t want to embarrass William in front of our parents, they already thought him weak and I didn’t want to exacerbate the situation.”

“I wouldn’t know until much later what was happening to him, and by then it was too late. You have to understand Samuel, I always knew that William had a proclivity for...men. I found him in the stables with a serf when I was twelve and it was our secret. He’d had a lover for many years, an older man named, Anton, who slowly went insane. As fate would have it Anton passed away just before my father. I thought maybe it was William’s grief rearing its head after losing the person he cared for most but wasn’t permitted to openly grieve for. Then our father pass. He and Anton died within a week, so close together. It wasn’t until after William’s coronation that I saw the rash on his hands, then the ulcers.”

“Syphilis?” Sam asks calmly.

“Yes,” you nod. “His behavior became increasingly erratic. He started to have these delusions of paranoia. He came to believe that there was a secret society of people trying to infiltrate our family, assassins who would stop at nothing to see us all dead. When it was time for him marry and declare a queen he refused every woman in the kingdom. He said he couldn’t trust anyone outside of the family. So he chose our sister Elizabeth. He married our sister and then he ordered me to do the same...to marry our brother, Philip. I pleaded with him but he would hear none of it.”

Sam’s heart drops. He’s pictured you as a spoiled woman running away from a privileged life, perhaps an arranged marriage, but nothing like this.

“When I refused William saw me a conspirator. I no longer had free will. I was given an order from the King on pain of death. I’d be expected to consummate a marriage with…” You stop swallowing tears. “I would not lie with my brother, so I had no other choice but to leave or be killed.”

“You should have told me,” Sam runs a hand over his face. “We could have taken precautions. I certainly wouldn't have paraded you around the village.”

“I think, perhaps, I am still trying to protect William. And I’m scared and desperate and utterly humiliated. And now I am alone.” You feel sick. As if the contents of your stomach might find themselves on the ground in front of you.

“No,” Snapping to attention, Sam grabs your shoulder, turning you toward him. “You’re not alone.”

There’s a soft affection in his eyes that you haven’t noticed before. His face is close to yours and you wonder how you’ve failed to appreciate how handsome he is.

“I should have moved on as soon as I was healthy enough to travel. I’ve brought this trouble upon you and you asked for none of it. If I’m honest, I’d say that I don’t know what to do. When the thieves killed my companions they took everything from me. I’ve nothing left and nowhere to go.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” Sam rubs his hands together. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“If I stay it will make you a compatriot.” You protest.

“Let that be my concern.” His brow narrows like a father prying truth for a child. “Have you told me everything?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re welcome here. However,” He stands up, looking out at the fields and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’ll have to tell me when your heat comes. I’ll need warning.”

“That won’t be an issue…” You close your eyes at the humiliation of having to explain yourself. “I know you think very little of my husband and the kind of man he was. That the thought of him is amusing to you. But I loved him very much. He was a good man and when he died a part of me did too. Something happened to me, I don’t know what but I don’t - I haven’t had a heat in years.”

You expect some sliver of witty repartee, at least a snide comment about Omegas and your lack of any useful skill, but he says nothing.

Sam simply nods and offers you his hand.

You take it, sliding your palm over his warm, rough skin. There’s a tingle in your chest, something faint and low. If you weren’t so broken you might have a stronger response to the touch of an Alpha, but this is...something.

---

The fact that Sam’s brother is also an Alpha is an inescapable fact. His scent is lighter, perhaps a bit sweeter than Sam’s, but not at all pleasing to the senses. Maybe he’s coming off rut or perhaps his smell is always this strong, all you know is that it makes your stomach turn as the three of you sit down for supper.

“You seem on edge.” Sam leans toward you, lifting his chin in your direction.

“I’m perfectly fine.” You brush him off, ladling stew into a bowl.

Dean pulls his chair closer to the table, dipping a spoon into the concoction and letting it drip back into the bowl. His eyes shift from Sam to you. “What is this?”

“Pottage,” you grimace, looking at him as if he’s a lunatic. What else could it possibly be? “Is there something wrong?”

You spent all afternoon cutting vegetables and adding spices, sweating over the hearth like a common scullery maid. You stink of lard and cooked meat and you most definitely don’t appreciate his apprehension.

“No,” Dean raises his forehead and pouts his lower lip. “It just looks bit runny.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” Sam nods, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth. You watch expectantly as his features tense and he grunts, then starts to slowly chew. He crunches his way through a carrot that should be soft.

Dean sniffs at his helping before digging in and his reaction is far less polite. He spits it back into the bowl as you look on in horror. “I’m sorry,” he raises his hands, palms up. “But I can’t even pretend. It tastes like a salt lick.”

Sam shouts, putting his fingers to his mouth and pulling away with a small piece of bone. “I may have just cracked a tooth.”

You sit back in your chair, defeated. You’d be offended if you had an ounce of energy left, but you’re exhausted. It hasn't helped that Dean’s scent is the only thing you can concentrate on. You can still distinguish Sam’s Alpha in the mix, but it takes concentration.

The version of yourself that first arrived here would be indigent at their reactions, after all, you have tried your best. But you are decidedly not the same woman, so you give up pretense and burst into stomach aching laughter that makes your eyes water. Sam grins and Dean laughs along with you until you’re waving your hand in front of your face. “I told Samuel I couldn’t cook to save my life, but he insisted.”

“I won’t make the same mistake twice.” Sam smiles.

After a more appetizing dinner of bread, cured meat and too much wine, Dean finally leaves and you can breathe again.

“You hardly touched your food.” Sam comments.

“I don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Are you feeling ill?”

“I do have a bit of a weak stomach this evening. I like your brother, and his stories, very much; but he stinks. I’m glad he’s taken his leave. I was ready to go to the barn for the remainder of the evening.”

Sam knows leaps and bounds more about the dynamics of Alphas and Omegas than you, comparatively his knowledge could fill books while you would struggle to write a sonnet. So, he knows that claimed and bonded Omegas are especially sensitive to the scent of other Alphas. His mother could never stand the smell of any Alpha other than his father, it set her on edge and made her stomach turn.

He stinks.

Sam chalks it up to the fact that you’ve been living in his house. All this time around each other is not natural and it’s bound to have unintended effects.

Yes, that has to be it.

---

Time passes quickly as months turn into seasons. Spring turns into a warm summer that inevitably fades to fall. If you had to account for your time you’d be hard pressed to explain where the days escape to. You and Sam find a rhythm that’s tolerable, but often contentious.

It’s still in the early hours of the morning, the sun barely cresting over the horizon as he hands you the list.

“It’s one task, but it’s important. You must get everything in the proportions listed and boil them according to the instructions. It needs to be exact. Do you understand?” Sam implores.

“Yes.” stifling a yawn you place the back of a hand to your lips.

“I’ll be back just after dark. Have it ready by then.” Sam leans down, insisting your full attention. “Are you certain you can handle this?”

“Samuel,” you pick a small bite of the bread form the loaf and pop it into your mouth. “Do you have no faith in me at all? It’s one trip to the village. I am not a child.”

“That’s still up for debate.” He grumbles. He’s been in an absolutely rancid mood for the last several days.

“I won’t let you down.” Dropping a sprig of pine needle into a mug of hot water you don’t even look up as he leaves.

Perhaps if you hadn’t gone back to bed all of this could have been avoided. What’s the saying? You can take the princess out of the castle, but not the castle from the princess.

You’ve never been an early riser and you don’t see the harm in crawling back into bed for just a short while.

When you do awake it’s midday and there’s still plenty of time to make the walk to the herbalist. You assume this concoction he’s requested is for his back, you’ve suspected he’s been in pain for several days. Not only had his attitude soured more than normal but he’s been twitchy and marginally more aggressive.

You dress, gathering a sack and his all-important list, ready to begin your journey. You set up off toward the village at a brisk pace, humming to yourself when you see one of the chickens along the side of the path. The bird is farther from the house than she should be. After several failed attempts you lift her into your arms and walk her back to the coop.

When you open the door to the pen four others dart out, squawking and trotting free around the yard. The afternoon devolves quickly into early evening as you battle chickens and then, by an unfathomable twist of circumstance, the dairy cow that liberates herself from the field.

By the time the animals are secured, the sun is setting and you failed to accomplish the lone task Sam gave you.

You smell him before he’s inside. You’re on your knees stoking the fire when the familiar but unnervingly intense aroma comes to your attention. It’s easy to place Sam’s scent, you know it well, but this is stronger than it should be.

The small door flies open with a bang, hitting the wall with enough force to shake the structure. You pop to your feet as Sam stalks inside. He’s sweating, his mouth twisted in discomfort when he looks at you.

It’s his rut.

How could you have not known this was coming? He’s been showing signs for days and you just ignored them, blissfully unaware of his impending cycle.

“Where is it?” He grits. His eyes flutter shut, teeth sinking over his lip as he scents the air, head tilting from one side to the other. The drink he wanted was for this, a herbal suppression to keep his instincts at bay.

Horrified you step back and admit, “I didn’t...a lot of things happened today and I didn’t have the chance-”

“Run,” he mutters, his expression numbing, visibly struggling to restrain himself. Inching away from the door his eyes go wide and his lip curls. “Run, now!”

“Samuel,” you hesitate as the meaning of his words sink in. Panic surges from your head to your legs and you pick up your skirts and dash into the night.

You make it halfway to the stable before two great hands are around your waist, hoisting you into the air and over his shoulder. Sam plucks you off the ground like a sack of grain and stalks toward the open door of the barn.

“Put me down!” You shout, hammering your fists at his back.

And he does, he drops you unceremoniously onto the hay covered floor and pounces on top of you.

“Samuel, please don’t.” You hit his chest, small hands trying to push him off, but resistance is futile. His large stature affords him easy restraint as you buck under the weight of him. Your flailing legs, kicking wildly, are hampered as he wedges his hips between your thighs.

“Stop squirming,” he snarls, hooking a hand under your knee to bend your leg, letting the heft of his body hold you to the ground. His hand ventures under your dress, one big rough hand grabbing at the bare skin of your legs all the while pressing his face into your neck, drawing in a deep breath before dragging his nose and open mouth across the swell of your breasts.

“Please don’t do this,” tears fall from the corners of your eyes.

“I said stop moving.” He smacks the side of your face with an open hand, strong enough to make a sickening crack. Sam’s eyes are blown wide, crazed by the swell of all-consuming lust. This is not the man who opened his home to you, this is someone foreign and terrifying. He reaches up, pinning both arms above your head with one hand as the other ventures between your thighs.

His fingers poke at the lips of your sex and you screw your eyes shut, turning your head to the side. Without the slightest hesitation, he shoves his middle and index finger inside your pussy, pushing until he’s knuckle deep.

You should be wet for him. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a willing partner, any normal Omega should respond to his rut by making you ripe and ready, but instead, he forces two long fingers into your bone dry snatch and you yelp in pain. If he fucks you like this he’ll tear you open, a realization that makes you fight even harder.

“You’re hurting me,” you scream, a sob tearing from your throat.

“You’ll slick up once I have my cock in you.” He sneers, reaching for his trousers.

There’s a hollow popping sound as a large piece of firewood connects with Sam’s head. His eyes roll back and he collapses, the weight of him knocking the air from your chest.

Dean’s face is above you.

He rolls Sam’s limp body off you with a grunt, looking from you to his brother. “I told him it wasn’t a good idea to stay here with you. He wouldn’t listen.”

You scramble backward, straightening your skirt, wiping tears from your face. Sam’s laid out flat on his back, his mouth open like a fish gulping for air. He makes a faint sound, a pained groan as his head falls to the side.

“Is he hurt?” On hands and knees, you crawl to Sam, putting a hand on his forehead. You inspect him, running fingers through his hair until you find the growing bump at the base of his skull.

“I didn’t hit him that hard.” Dean leans down giving his brother a once over.

“This was my fault.” You confess, smoothing hair away from his face. “If I had just done what he asked none of this would have happened.”

Dean tilts his head toward you. “He never drank the tincture?”

“I didn’t know what if was for, he didn’t tell me...I didn’t have it ready”

“I wasn’t even entirely convinced it would work, especially with an Omega living in his house. You two are playing with fire. If he took you, like this…” Dean shakes his head at you with disgust. “He’d never forgive himself.”

“I know,” you’re defeated. You sit back onto the filthy floor of the barn. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. He wasn’t Samuel, the way he was looking at me....”

“A rut’s enough to make any Alpha react like that, but he’s had you around...it’s not a smart situation for either of you.”

“Should we take him inside?” You propose.

“You’re going inside and I’m taking Sam with me. It’ll pass in a couple of days.”

It’s almost a week before he returns.

Dean comes every morning and evening, tending to Sam’s livestock and handling a growing list of common tasks that you have no pension for. Had someone told you six months prior that you’d be living in a rickety cottage, pining away for a forester, you’d have told them the very idea was preposterous. But you do miss Sam, more than you care to admit.

Sam returns just before dusk, the sun is hanging low over the horizon. There’s a tapping on the door, Sam knocking at the door of his own home before slowly coming inside.

You stand next to the table, hands clasped in front of you, strangely formal for such a moment. You almost forgot how large he is until he’s standing in the same room again, looming over you like a sad, regretful giant.

He clears his throat before addressing you. “I’m sorry, for anything I did. I can’t remember much but Dean said he thinks I might have...hurt you.”

“No,” you reply quickly, taking a step toward him. If he doesn’t remember, you’re not about to make him relive it. “I will admit I was bit scared but no damage was done.” You worry your tone is too upbeat, inappropriate for the setting but you’re just unbearably happy to see him. “I think we both did a few things that we regret...or in my case lack thereof, but I was hoping that maybe we could forgo the apologies and unpleasantness and try to return to what we were. I don’t think we need to speak about it.”

“I’d like that as well,” he smiles tightly.

And it’s never spoken of again.

---

“Let’s see it then.” Sam holds out his hand.

You don’t even want to show him. Sam never misses an opportunity to mention that your elite education has no practical application. He’d gone on and on about finding a skill, anything to make yourself useful, so you recruited Martha to help you. After talking over the options you decided candle making was a good place to start. It didn’t appear difficult.

Sam slows his pace, taking the beeswax from you and examining it. He turns it upside down and right side up as his brow furrows. “What is it?”

“You are not serious?” You’re taken aback by his question. He shakes head and looks back to the mystery object. You stop in your tracks, folding arms over your chest. “It’s a candle!”

He looks skeptically from you to the candle, then back again. “This is a candle? Surely there’s there some kind of mold that one puts the wax into to provide more of a shape.”

“Well,” you concede, “There was a mold but I applied too much heat and removed it before it set correctly.” Sam just stares at you, his face deadpan, and then breaks out into a full body laugh. His shoulders shake and his chest heaves, apparent delight that racks his entire body. “It’s not that funny,” you correct him as your good nature fades.

At least you tried, shouldn’t he focus on that?

“Oh Princess, it is that funny.” He’s laughing so hard that a tear leaks from his eyes and he wipes from his face with his sleeve. “You can’t pour wax into a mold.”

“It is more complicated than it looks, Samuel. I can assure you,” your indignant tones just amused him all the more and he bends over with his hands on knees.

---

He’s told you not to touch the mighty sword that hangs above the hearth. He mentioned it only one time, commenting that it was his late father’s blade and it’s not to be tinkered with, but you want to do something for him. Something special.

You start the day with energized determination. For once you’re going to be the one who has something to offer, a gift. It’s been weeks since his return and you’re ready to pitch in and help. Sam’s been a more than a generous host, managing to take care of your needs as well as those of his livestock and business.

When you were a girl you pictured your father as the ideal of what a man should be. He was an intellectual who spent his days meeting with advisors and surrounded himself with men much more intelligent than himself. He knew one man was simply not capable of understanding the nuances of running a kingdom, so he asked for help when he needed it. He was a kind, fair king and a balanced leader. You thought of this as work, hard work, and to some degree it was.

But the truth is Sam works harder than anyone you’ve ever known. He rises before dawn, tending to the cow and the horses. He feeds the pigs, spreads meal for the chickens and lugs mounds of hay from the barn to the stable. And when he’s done and the sun is up he eats his breakfast, heads off to the woods where he cuts and chops and hauls lumber until the twilight hours.

You don’t expect him home so soon. The sun has just set and you assume you’ll have more to finish the task at hand: polishing his father’s sword. You’re nearly finished, wiping down the blade when he returns unexpectedly.

He’s normally sullen in the evenings, tired from a long day, but tonight he comes through the door with a smile on his face. In his left hand, he has a small sack filled with Bilberries, they’re your favorite. His pleasant disposition fades as his eyes look from you the sword laid over the table.

“What are you doing?” The moment you see his face you know this was a mistake.

“I was just...I wanted to do something for you. You’ve done so much for me and…”

“Put it down.” His jaw ticks and he closes his eyes for a moment. He’s been mad before but this is a fury that’s new, it’s a wave of quiet anger which makes it all the more terrifying.

You set the blade down on the table, smoothing the cloth in your hands before putting in on the table too. “I thought-”

“You don’t think, that’s the whole problem. You’re so used to doing whatever you desire without any consequence that you don’t stop to consider how your actions affect other people.”

“I’m sorry.” Don’t cry. “The last thing I wanted to do was upset you. I just wanted to-” Don’t cry, don’t let him see you cry.

“You should leave.” He commands, resolute.

“Samuel-” You trying to protest, at least explain yourself but he doesn’t give you the opportunity.

“It’s my own fault for expecting anything else. You can’t help yourself, can you? The very idea of someone below your station telling you ‘no’ is a challenge to do otherwise. I asked one thing of you. One. Everything else I offered happily, but you’re so stubborn that you do whatever pleases you without regard for anyone but yourself. You’re nothing more than an Omega without her heat. It’s actually perfect.” He spits. “You’re a princess past her prime who can’t clean or fuck. You’re useless to me.”

His word cut like a knife, taking the air from your chest. No one has spoken to you this way, not even your brothers in midst of some adolescent rage.

“Get your things. If you start walking now you can get to town before dark. Martha will let you stay with her.” He sneers.

“Please do not do this!” You shout, balling your fists at your sides. This has gone more wrong than you could have ever envisioned, but the truth is you should have known better, How could you think that touching something that means so much to him would have pleased him? Between the chickens and the tincture, you’re clearly not in tune with any part of his life.

“Now.” He commands coldly. His glare shifts from you to the sword as he stands with hands on his hips.

You scramble to collect what little you have and stuff it into a small sack, hesitating when you pick up the cloak before setting it back down. With shaking hands, you tie the rope securing your items and head for the door. With a hand on the frame you pause, without turning back you utter “I’m sorry.”

The tears start to the minute the door slams closed behind you. What a mess you’ve made. Sam is the only person you had left, and now you’ve managed to alienate him. It was only a matter of time, he’s been merely tolerating you since he took you in and instead of nurturing a better relationship you’ve made things worse at every turn.

Anger and defeat swelling in your chest, you set a brisk pace toward the village. The cold sinks into your bones as you try to move fast, you doubt it’s cold enough to freeze to death but it’s enough to make the journey miserable.

You should have never come here, never left France in the first place. Your brother was ill and if you’d stayed you might have been able to reason with him, get through to his more reasonable sensibilities. He was sick after all. What kind of sister are you? Abandoning her family when they need her most.

The root catches your foot, twisting your ankle and before you have time to call out you tumble to ground. You land on your knees, with a yelp and promptly fall back onto your backside. Drawing in a sharp breath you lift up your shirt and take stock of your now bloody knees, touching one tenderly and wincing.

You can do this, you tell yourself. Stop acting like a child, pull yourself together and stand up.

But when you try to stand your ankle gives way and you find yourself on the ground again.

You give up. A sob tears from your throat and you cry, defeated, in the dirt.

Sam watches you silently, standing only a few steps behind with his mother’s cloak in his hand. You curse softly between howls, rocking back and forth. While you’re certainly ridiculous he wonders if he’s been harder on you than was necessary. You are, after all, alone in the world.

“What are you doing on the ground?” He asks softly. You jump at the sound of his voice, shoulders twitching in the moonlight.

“I fell.” You hiccup. “You’re right to send me away, Samuel. I’m nothing more than a useless, selfish burden.”

Sam kneels down beside you, covering you with the cloak. It’s a gesture that makes you cry even harder, burying your face in your hands. “Don’t say that,” he sighs.

“If you could just help me get to town I’ll be out of your way. I know you hate me and want to be rid of me, but I’m not sure I can make it to Martha’s on my own. I seem to have hurt my leg.”

Sam smiles to himself in the dark, bending down and scooping you into his arms without so much as a word.

It’s in this moment when you’re balling like a baby, that you admit your own feelings. You wish for nothing more than his arms around you in the night, holding you close and safe. You can imagine what it would be like to hear gentle terms of endearment whispered from his lips. When you really let yourself succumb to the fantasy it’s with visions of his weight on top of you, moving inside you and making you his.

And you know it will never be. Because a man such as Sam could never care for someone of your selfish desires.

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#Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader #alpha!sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #the woodsman

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