#you can ignore this I’m just screaming into the void | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkedells · 15 days

Text

pairing: old!logan x f!reader

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

wc: 3.5k of pure smut

warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.

Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.

But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.

“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than you holding him because of your sick love for him. He doesn’t think you love him in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.

He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.

“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.

He closes them. “I’m tired,” Logan says flatly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

There it is again. Pity.

He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.

You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”

He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.

“Elliot Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.

You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

“Nothing’s bothering—”

“What’s bothering you?” You interject.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”

“What?”

But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.

“Logan,” You protest.

He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas.

You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”

He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.

Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.

“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”

You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.

“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.

“Okay,” He repeats.

You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”

He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”

He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.

“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.

“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.

“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”

“Logan,” You sigh.

He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.

You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.

But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—

He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.

“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.

“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.

“But that takes a long time now.”

He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.

You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.

Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.

“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.

Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.

But then you catch Logan smiling.

He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.

You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.

“Good girl.”

“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”

“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it. I know you’ve been missing when I used to ruin you.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”

“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.

“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“What do you mean?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.

He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”

“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.

“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”

He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.

Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it.

He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”

He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.

“What do—What the fuck do you think?”

He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.

You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.

He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.

The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.

“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.

When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?

Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.

You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.

His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.

You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are.

He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”

He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.

“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.

“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling identical things. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.

His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”

You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.

You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”

Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again.

His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.

“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”

He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.

Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”

“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.

“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.

He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.

“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.

“I’m gonna—” He groans over and over as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster, swapping his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back so you both can swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.

You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.

“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough from his orgasm.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.

But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;

And for a moment, he’s his old self again.

A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.

#hugh jackman #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #hugh jackman x reader #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #x men #old!logan x reader #old man logan #old man logan x reader

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gay-dorito-dust · 11 days

Note

Can you do angst of ford x reader, where reader was Fords assistant and instead of Stanley pushing ford in, reader does while being possessed by bill.

Stanley is still there and they work hard to repair the portal but when Ford does get back he's really upset at reader because he still thinks that they themselves pushed him in and betrayed him. Ford won't let reader explain themselves, he just tells them to "get out his house"

Part 2 is right here

You didn’t want this.

Then again you weren’t the one to push him, Bill was after tricking you into making a deal with him. You should’ve known better than to put any amount of trust in that chaotic dream demon.

You screamed and shouted for either Ford or Stanley to notice the weirdness in your behaviour, the weirdly inhuman smile that spread across your face, anything as you were forced to watch yourself shove Ford into the portal.

‘BILL!’ You screamed but the demon possessing you acted as though he couldn’t hear you as he relinquished control of your body and let you back in it, just so that the last thing you saw of your dear friend was the look of betrayal upon his face as he disappeared into the portal forever.

‘FORD! No! IM SORRY! IM SO SORRY! IT WASNT ME!’ But Ford couldn’t hear you. He was gone thanks to bill you and you knew they no one would ever believe if you were to tell anyone that a demon did the deed. All they saw was what looked like you but not you in any other aspect that counted; However the fact that you were seen doing the crime was enough to fuel their biases against you regardless, fuelled but their needed to be right in everything, and it was difficult to change a persons mind once it’s made up.

‘It wasn’t me…’ you softly murmured to yourself as you collapsed on the floor of the laboratory as a seething Stanley stood behind you.

‘You pushed my brother.’ He snarled. ‘I saw you.’

You only stayed silent, it was better the beer the brunt of the blame then look like a madman trying to plead as to why they wasn’t true, and besides he wouldn’t believe you even if you did manage to make Bill confess before an audience that he had been the one to push Ford while possessed as you. The demonic bastard was far gone now, cackling at the ridicule you were receiving for his actions.

Stanley, not liking that you were silent, pulled you to face him by the collar of your shirt but before he could berate you further, he caught sight of your defeated face and tear stricken cheeks. ‘Go on, blame me because you would be believe me if I were to tell the truth.’ You said with a voice void of emotion. ‘Blame me all you want but I’m the only person who can help you get the portal up and running again. I’m willing to do so but not for you, but for Ford and in hopes of explaining myself to him and pray that he believes me.’ You add and without warning Stanley drops you on your arse and says in a voice equally devoid of emotion;

‘He’ll never believe you, he’s not that stupid.’

And after that interaction you and Stanley spent the next thirty years of your lives together rebuilding the portal, while Stan still blamed you for pushing his brother into the portal, he’s become more lenient as and when he would remind you of the reason you were doing this in the first place; more specifically during arguments after failed test runs of getting the portal open where he’d say to you in the best of the moment:

‘If it wasn’t for you my brother would still be here!’ Before storming upstairs while you remained in the lab, wasting away the midnight oil because you didn’t believe you deserved sleep after all that. You had grown numb to being Stan’s verbal punching bag, and would often times ignore his attempts to forget what happened and make peace with you, for you knew it wasn’t genuine because after you get his brother back you were more then likely to be kicked out of the shack for you had served your purpose for your crime.

So the relationship between yourself and Stan was never good and you tended to only act civil in the presence of Dipper and Mabel, two kids whom you have grown rather fond of during their stay. You remembered the first night they came here and were in high debate on whether they should stay with Stan or leave, you were quick to intervene and said;

‘Your Grunkle Stan is a wonderful man with a big heart despite his rough exterior. So please give him a chance instead of letting first impressions sway your thinking, you’ll be surprised as a result if you do and besides life is meant to be lived without regrets.’

You were literally the reason they decided to give Stan a chance and stay, but you knew you were never going to get that thank you from him, you were the person who pushed his brother into the portal remember? So you just carried on building the portal with him in awkward silence until the day finally came.

The day that Ford came home.

The day should’ve made you happy, ecstatic even but you knew that wouldn’t be the case for you as the moment Ford came out of the portal your blood ran cold.

He was glaring.

He was glaring at you with such a silent rage that you swore that you could’ve been killed by a state like that. But it was also a stare that told you of the damage your betrayal had caused him, he would never forgive you and that was your biggest fear this entire time, a fear that Stan knew and now it was proven true.

‘Ford-‘

‘Stop.’ He told you, breaking your heart. ‘I don’t want to hear your excuse.’

‘But-‘ you tried again.

‘I said no!’ Ford roared as everyone held their breath, even Stanley who had never heard his brother shout, in that moment he actually felt some remorse for you, some.

‘You’re the reason I was trapped in that portal for THRITY YEARS!’ Dipper and Mabel gasped as they too were now looking at you with hurt in their eyes, which made tears appear in the corner of your own.

‘Is it true Grunkle/graunt y/n?’ Mabel asked as dipper glared at you while keeping his sister as far away from you as he could.

‘No Mabel I-‘ you tried to take a step towards her but Ford was quick to cut you off and level you with a glare. ‘Stay away from my grand niece and nephew.’ He growled and you knew there was no point looking back at Stanley, who had kept uncharacteristically quite this entire time.

‘It’s wasn’t me-‘

‘Then who was it who pushed me then y/n?’ Ford asked.

You remained as silent as the day you let Stanley accused you of the same thing. There was no point in making your case when everyone’s minds have been made up, you were the monster in their story and now they were going to be rid of you once and for all.

‘Who?’ Ford asked again as he seethed, his eyes searching your dead ones for answers that have been in his mind for the past thirty years. You were his friend, he thought he could trust you but he guessed wrong, and now he couldn’t look you in the eyes without seeing the very person who shoved him in the portal with a sicken smile across their face.

Ford couldn’t trust you in the presence of Dipper and Mabel, no one was safe with you as far as he was concerned and he wanted to keep his family safe, even if it meant being rid of you once and for all.

When you didn’t say anything to save yourself, Ford points upwards. ‘Get out of my house, I don’t want to see you ever again. You’ve already done enough damage to this family as there is.’

You didn’t have the energy nor fight left in you to scream, shout or anything, you just swallowed the lump in your throat and moved out of the lab as Mabel and Stanley looked at you sympathetically; whereas Ford and dipper only glared at your retreating back.

‘Grunkle/ graunt y/n?’ Mabel called out to you weakly. You only shot her a small smile and mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’ She was always your favourite twin but it was time to say good bye and without another word, you pulled off the bracelet that Mable had made for you and threw it on the floor in front of her.

Mabel looked at the bracelet, then back up at you. ‘I made this for you.’ She tells you with tears in her eyes.

‘You deserve better than to put your trust in me my sweet shooting star, I’m a monster in your grunkles eyes,’ you shot a look towards Stan and Ford who were still staring before looking back at Mable, ‘It’s best that you start seeing me that way too because I only cause pain apparently to some.’ You replied and with that you left the shack and the pines family behind, venturing off into the pathway through the woods with nothing but a hole where you here should’ve been.

There was no point fighting your case to Ford, he wasn’t going to hear it, for he was no batter than everyone else and he just pointed the finger at you without second thought. So much for him being unique when he was just like the rest of them, so much like the rest of them that you find it almost laughable.

You’ll gladly stay out of his life, for whatever Stanford pines wished for, you’ll happily oblige as you were only ever the assistant that betrayed him in the end; a traitor.

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls imagine #gravity falls imagines #gravity falls #ford pines x you #ford pines imagines #ford pines imagine #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x you #stanford pines imagines #stanford pines imagine #stanford pines x reader #posession series

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compact-turtle · 1 year

Text

Yandere Soldier x GN Reader PT 1

Concept: Yandere Soldier X GN Reader PT 1

TW: , Kidnapping, gaslighting, possessive, manipulation, brief mentions of ptsd, mentions of death, fear, war, danger, guns, usual yandere behavior, Sexual harassment (Not by yandere), murder, hostage situation

Summary: You save the life of a dying soldier. He becomes attached to you...

Wordcount: 1.7K

-Yandere Soldier, whose fellow comrades burst through a hospital door. They lay him on a bed and shout for help.

- Everything hurts. His lungs are on fire. A million needles are pricking him. Desperately, he tries to scream, but nothing comes out.

-Doctors and nurses immediately surround him. His crying comrades scream for them to save him. None of it mattered though. All of their voices start to become faint.

-His vision grows hazy. A dark void begins to swallow his consciousness. There’s only so long he can fight and endure. It feels like someone is holding his head underwater. Every time he tries to get air, it submerges him deeper.

-Is this the end?

-Fear slowly trickles into him. The unknown nature of death frightens him. He’s seen it time and time again. His vibrant comrades slipped into the cold hands of death. Only one thing kept him alive on the battlefield. A fantasy that he'd find someone to love.

-He'd return home and find someone who cherished him. They'd go on dates and dance around in the kitchen. After every fight, they would make up (in bed maybe). Life would have its ups and downs, but he'd cherish every memory with them.

-In these fleeting moments, he mourns his lost dream. It terrifies him more than death. The idea that he'd never experience love or any of its joys.

-Yet, he hears something. A soft voice calling out to him. It envelops his mind like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. It soothes him. Slowly, the voice pulls him from the ever-growing vacuum.

“You’ll be ok, sir. Just stay with me.”

—

-Yandere soldiers who stand outside your room flirting with you. You sat on your bed listening to him. A small smile snakes itself on his lips as he prepares his joke.

“Why did the chicken go to your house?”

“Hm. I’m not sure.”

“Because it was egg-cited to see you!”

“That was so cheesy, Ivar.”

-You let out a small snort. The joke was awful. Regardless, it didn't matter to Ivar. He’d tell you a million bad jokes as long as you kept grinning at him. A rush of euphoria filled him up every time.

-A few months ago, Ivar woke up from his coma. His brain was muddled. There were gaps in his memory. Even his body refused to cooperate. However, adrenaline kicked in as he heard the door creak open. Without a second thought, he lunged for the intruder.

-Yet, his body gave out. The long coma made its effects known. Ivar thrashed every which way. He tried to kick or punch. Anything.

-In the end, the staff had to sedate him. When he awoke for a second time, a doctor was there to calm him down. They stated he was in the hospital receiving care for an injury. Also, noting how he tried to attack a member of their staff.

-He apologized and asked for the doctor to summon the staff member. A heavenly angel was sent to his room. They were dressed in a clean pair of scrubs with a small heart pin on their pocket. Ivar was memorized. His heart began to palpitate and his eyes widened.

-It wasn’t until you opened your mouth that it all clicked for him. You were the one who saved him. The one who pulled up from the jaws of hell.

-The two of you began to bond. Ivar waited for you to arrive in his hospital room like a small puppy. He’d eagerly greet you then wait for you to tell him about your day.

-Throughout his encounters, he learned that you were a volunteer nurse at this hospital. You wanted to help people during the wartime and make an impact on others lives.

-Some of his comrades began to tease him about his obvious affection. The only one who didn’t seem to notice was you. Perhaps, Ivar was being to obvert or perhaps you chose to ignore it? Regardless, none of those thoughts managed to stop his ever-growing feelings.

-During this time, Ivar noticed someone during your shifts. Another man who became interested in you. Ivar observed how the man’s eyes would linger on your behind. The way that awful man undressed you in his mind.

-For the first few days, Ivar ignored it. He convinced himself eventually, the man would stop. After all, how could someone defile such a sweet angel like you?

-Unfortunately, the man began to escalate his harassment. They'd smack your ass when you bent over or try to squeeze your chest after a usual check-up. The hospital refused to remove him as your patient due to the lack of staff. All they did was reassure you that he’d be gone soon.

-This pushed Ivar over the edge. Couldn’t they see how you were suffering? You were always happy to help patients. You’d come into the hospital practically beaming. However, the man sucked your light.

-So he made a decision on your behalf. He kindly disposed of the man. It wasn’t too difficult. All he had to do was disrepute a few machines next to him. The man seemingly died of a “natural cause”.

- A sense of joy washed over him seeing the man suffer. How their eyes turned desperate, begging Ivar to do something. Inside, a small part wishes that he could’ve done more for the man. Death was something too kind for this man. Maybe drag his knife across their skin to see him truly suffer. Slowly and gradually to make the pain last. Still, someone might have noticed the cuts. Better to play safe.

-Anyways, he knew he made the right choice. You secretly confided in him that you were glad the man passed away. Every shift, you were afraid of another encounter with that man. Pride swelled in his heart as you told him your relief.

-There came a day when Ivar was finally discharged from the hospital. He was disappointed to say the least. Thankfully, he already came up with a plan to solve the problem. Ivar stood at the top of some stairs. He looked both ways about to jump. However, he was stopped by your voice calling out for him.

-You told him that you enjoyed the daily conversations. You also mentioned how you’d love to be his friend and spend time outside of work together.

-Naturally, Ivar jumped at the opportunity to be with you. He quickly exchanged phone numbers.

-The next few months consisted of him texting you everyday. He’d check up on you, text random pictures of his meals and so forth.

-The two of you also had regular hangouts. Sometimes Ivar would take you to see movies, or a walk around the city. Honestly, if you even mentioned something you wanted to do, Ivar had that activity planned out the next day.

-Ivar felt closer to you than anyone else. Just the thought of you was enough to send his heart racing.

-Looking up at the clock, Ivar noticed the time. He needed to get going if he was going to prepare everything on time.

“Sorry, angel. I’ve gotta run. The men need me for a project. I’ll see you later at seven, right?”

“Seven sounds good to me! Can’t wait to see what you have planned out for us.”

-Ivar smiled at you. He quickly gave a small goodbye hug. Trying to be discreet, Ivan smelled your neck. The strong scent of your body wash lingered in his nostrils. He desperately wished to cling to you. For you to never be apart from him.

-Pulling away with a small sense of disappointment, Ivar waved goodbye.

—------------

-A large bouquet of red roses rests in Ivar’s arms. This afternoon, he spent three hours finding the perfect florist. There was no room for imperfections. Every single detail had to be flawless.

-After six long months, Ivar had finally worked up the courage to ask you out. He envisioned how it’d play out. You’d accept the roses with a gleeful smile. Afterward, Ivar would take you out to the lake. The two of you would dance across the beach and then share a passionate kiss to end the night.

-“Wow, Ivar. Finally making your move after all this time?” Chadwick, one of his comrades, said teasing him.

“Of course, boys. Wish me luck.” Ivar replied, winking, “I’m about to land the angel of my dreams. Some of you, though, are gonna be stuck as single dogs forever. “

-The men burst into laughter. Ivar joined along. Each one patted his back and congratulated him. Some even began to ask about the wedding date. While being praised for his boldness, a loud blaring echoed through the room. Immediately, the mood became uneasy. Everyone turned their attention to the TV overhead.

“Breaking News! Nightshade Hospital has been overtaken by a rebel group. Multiple hostages are currently being held including medical staff and patients alike.” A news broadcaster said standing outside the hospital, “Shots have been confirmed to have been fired in the building. Please continue listening as we continue to bring more updates about this pressing matter.”

“Ivar, isn’t your angel at home today?”

“They shouldn't be at work. Mondays are their days...” Ivar trailed off

-He began to recall you complaining about taking a shift for a coworker. Ivar felt his stomach drop. He moves closer to the TV to get a better look. His eyes are desperately searching for any sign of you. Maybe you decided not to take that shift after all?

-That’s right. It’s possible you were still in your apartment. Safe and sound. You probably were eating snacks on the couch. Or reading that novel you never finished. After all, you weren’t even supposed to be at work today.

-Buzz

-Quickly, he pulls out his phone. A text notification appears on the screen. Dread ate away all his hopes.

-Ivar, I’m hiding in a room on the third floor. I think they just shot Dr. Roberts.

2K notes · View notes

thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 months

Note

hi I’m such a big fan of your writing 💕and overall so grateful that you write for Donna since I feel she is very underrated especially RE Donna

but I wanted to request ✨ a scenario where Donna and R are having a normal afternoon and R out of nowhere blurts out how they used to do modeling for a little while and Donna get curious so R shows photos of a photoshoot where she wears a little revealing dress and Donna get slightly jealous so R convince Donna she will give her a personal photoshoot and so they do it and it turns into smut

go Donna please 🙏

also if you don’t want to it okay and you can just ignore this request but hope you have a good day ❤️☺️

Yess!! Thank you for your request and for your nice words!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

You can leave your veil on

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem!! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 6,440

Summary: Maybe a photo session can make her jealousy disappear...

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

“Be careful, it's hot,” Donna commented, leaving a steaming cup of tea on the table. You smiled gratefully, nodding as you looked out the window of the old house.

You could have tried to run away, escape from that cursed village, but you didn't. In your work as a photographer you had visited many places, but certainly none like that. A village set back in time, servant and faithful to someone similar to the witches in stories.

But, in reality, you saw no reason to do so. One priestess, four Lords, that was the system by which that place functioned. A castle, a dam, a factory, a house. Of all your options, the house was the best one.

Donna Beneviento, ventriloquist and doll maker, had a series of nightmares prepared for you, to drive you crazy.

You fought against those hallucinations, you screamed, you ran away until it was no longer necessary. No matter how much fear a woman like her could cause in someone like you, it wasn't enough. She was a mysterious, mourning figure that hid her face behind a black veil. The mystery overcame the fear and you stopped living those nightmares, to live in dreams.

Little by little, you got to know that woman, and the more you did, the more you fell in love with her. Compassion, love, you couldn't say why you didn't end up jumping into the void, down that waterfall. Maybe it was that Donna was as lonely as you in this world, maybe she didn't want to kill the last ray of hope of dark and lonely life.

So there you were, you had been on that estate for months and you didn't regret it at all. Her hidden beauty, which you forced her to show you, the changes Mother Miranda caused in her body, everything that gave her a complex was suddenly eclipsed by your kisses, by your words of love, by the whish to leave your boring life behind to join hers.

“Thank you, Donna,” you said kindly, as she sat in front of you, looking at you with that same bewilderment from the first day. An eternity could pass, but Donna would still wonder why you decided to stay, why you loved a sick, dark woman like her.

Her corners turned up as she raised her own cup to her lips. You sighed as you remembered everything that had brought you there, and above all, when you thought about the reasons that made you never want to return home, reasons that sat in front of you like every afternoon, that you hugged every night, reasons that had a first and last name: Donna Beneviento.

“Is it, is it to your liking?” She asked timidly, with the soft and hoarse melody she had for a voice. You smiled even wider, pretending you hadn't comically burned yourself.

“Yes, I... Ugh, it's perfect,” you said, fanning your mouth in a funny way, to which she laughed in a shy and funny way, looking away.

“I told you it was hot,” she murmured, with a knowing whisper, with that so intense look which could even pierce your skin.

“I should learn to listen,” you joked, shaking your head. “That's what they told me at school.”

“Did they tell you that it was hot?” The lady asked, disconcerted. You would always admire that shy innocence.

“No,” you said, laughing, making Donna look at you confused. “They told me that I didn't know how to listen.”

Donna Beneviento was a lonely woman. She had been alone for so many years so human relationships didn’t exist in her own world. At first you were surprised by those curious reactions to simple phrases or expressions, but little by little, you got used to them, finding them adorable in their own way.

“It's funny, they told me the same thing,” she said, with a melancholic smile. You nodded, blowing away the smoke of that burning tea.

“Did they? Because I think there is no one in this world who is capable of listening as well as you,” you said in a soft voice, making your compliments, once again, to get her cheeks blush.

“That's not true,” she said, downplaying that true fact.

After days of nightmares, you had only heard her speak through the Angie doll. It took a lot for Donna to be able to communicate with her own voice, even after your first kiss.

“Well, well, I don't want to contradict you but... Yes it is,” you whispered the last sentence, making the smile light up her face again, hiding it shamefully behind her cup of tea.

There was a small moment of silence, one of hundreds every day. A contemplative moment, in which your photographic eye admired each of her features, her figure. Yes, there was nothing more beautiful for your camera, you were sure.

“Mmm,” you murmured, savoring that delicious artisanal tea that Donna adored you with every day. “It's delicious.”

“Everything I make is delicious according to you,” she whispered, suspicious. Alert, insecurity approaching at high speed.

“Well, yes,” you said with a serious tone, crossing your arms. “Everything.”

Donna smiled again, shaking her head.

“Don’t say those things…. You know it makes me ashamed,” she said with a pink tone on her cheeks, with a mischievous but shy look at the same time.

“What did I say?” You asked amused, leaning your back on the couch.

“You know what you said,” Donna said hurriedly, with her hands trembling because of the shyness and nervousness caused by your seductive gaze. Yes, you said it on purpose.

“I said I like everything you make to me,” you said with an indifferent tone, ignoring that too obvious insinuation. “Why are you ashamed of that?”

“Because I... You know, you mean...” She stammered, further evidencing her nervousness.

“Your food,” you joked, leaving her completely confused and much more embarrassed.

“My food?” Donna asked, blinking profusely, looking with her eye for a place to hide after that sentence.

“Yes, of course, what did you think I was referring to, Donna?” You asked, biting your lip. Maybe you shouldn't play with her that much... But it was quite funny.

“I don't... You know what? I'm going to get more tea,” she said, getting up from the armchair to cowardly flee, as always when the conversation got a bit hotter.

“Uh, uh, honey…” You said hurriedly, standing up and grabbing her wrist tenderly, caressing her soft skin with your thumb. “Come on… Don't be nervous, it was just a joke.”

Donna nodded, letting you grab her waist and pull her into a slow, loving kiss, calming her breathing with it.

“So...” She murmured, with a more relaxed expression, playing with the buttons of your blouse. “You like my food.”

“I love it,” you said amused, stealing another quick kiss from her. “You have to show me how to make it.”

“Sure, of course,” she said, excited by the idea, moving away from you and dragging you back to the tea place.

“Before I met you, the only thing I could make was something prepared in the microwave,” you explained, sitting down again, changing the conversation to an easier and less... Hot one.

She nodded curiously, sipping her tea calmly, as if that little joke had never happened.

“Once, I remember that I had to promote some diet products. I was eating protein bars for a month, I guess that's my level of cooking,” you commented amused, remembering that part of your past. Donna looked at you curiously again, frowning.

“Em... Yes, I...”

“You didn't understand anything I said, did you?” You joked, making her shake her head, scratching the back of her neck.

“Niente”

“Niente,” you repeated, amused. “Well, I worked being a model once, you know, I had to take photos with products, with clothes...”

“Model?” She asked, this time leaning towards you, showing interest in that detail. You nodded, not caring.

“Yes, well, I had to pay for the photography academy somehow,” you explained with that same amused tone, which calmed down when you saw her confused and with an intriguing face. “Once a man from a clothing brand came and well, it is known that he found me attractive enough for the job.”

“A man? What man?” Donna asked abruptly, you couldn't tell if she was curious or annoyed.

“Well, one man...” You whispered, studying her movements. “Bah, it doesn't matter, that's part of my past.”

“It matters, who was that stronzo?” She asked, with a dark and worried tone. You should already know that your past, like lovers and relationships, was a completely forbidden topic in that house.

“Hey, don't worry, Donna, he was just a businessman,” you said, moving your hands to calm her increased, nervous breathing. “It's not a dark thing at all, I promise you. I just let them to take photos with new clothes, or things like that.”

“What things?” She asked, still with distrust in her voice.

“You know what? I better show you, I still have my photo book,” you said, patting your knees and walking towards the room.

Everything that had to do with the modern world aroused a certain curiosity in the lady in black, but also jealousy, a lot of jealousy. You couldn't blame her for being possessive, not after knowing her past. Maybe you thought it was a good idea to show her what you did when you modeled.

“Come, sit here,” you said, indicating the woman to come to your side, while you opened the photo book for the first page.

“It's you,” Donna said, bringing her closer to that photo, a bit provocative one, to be honest.

“Yes, of course, see? I wore clothes that they wanted to promote and they took photos of me, nothing strange,” you said, turning each of the pages slowly, being studied by the lady in black, who couldn't help but smile. “I looked beautiful, huh?”

“So beautiful…” She whispered with a tender smile, running her hand over one of the photos of her. “That dress is interesting. Maybe I can make a similar one for you.”

You nodded curiously, studying her reactions. Everything seemed to be going well, just one more afternoon in which you dedicated yourselves to talking about your past life, to astonish Donna with the world she didn’t know about, and she would never know about, the world you didn't want to return to.

“What is this?” She asked after a few minutes, with her expression changed, showing you a photo that occupied both sides of the book. A photo that even made you blush.

“Oh, well...” You whispered, taking the book and not having an answer that would help her face to relax. “Me, posing, with a dress.”

“That's not a dress, (Y/N), it's more like a long scarf, not even that,” she said angrily, looking at you with an expression that alerted even more jealousy. You had to make an effort to hold back your laughter at the reaction and shook your head.

“No, no, it's a dress, do you see the sleeves?” You said, pointing to a part of the photograph.

“What I'm seeing are your breasts,” Donna responded, without looking at your face, with her eye fixed on that photo, which, yes, was a little too suggestive.

“Oh, they can't be seen at all,” you said, downplaying it. Donna sighed, ignoring your excuses. “They are well covered.”

“I can see them,” she corrected, with a brusque tone. “You say everyone could see these photos?”

“Well, yes,” you said whispering, closing the book and leaving it on the side of the couch, with a shameful smile. “At least during the advertising campaign.”

“The campaign... Let's see if I find out, are you telling me that everyone could see you showing your breasts?” She asked, with an annoyed tone, her chest rising and falling rapidly again.

“Well, not everyone…” You said, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Only those who passed by the bus stop on line 4, those who bought fashion magazines, those who went to a hairdresser, those who…”

“Basta,” she said, having a hard time. Unlike you, who was having a lot of fun because of her absurd jealousy.

“Besides, you can't see my breasts, I've already told you,” you said in your defense, feigning anger and crossing your arms. “I don't understand why it bothers you, Donna. You've seen them too... And I know you love them,” you said in a seductive tone, nudging her, making her head turn towards you abruptly, with that childish anger in her look.

“I'm your girlfriend, (Y/N),” she hissed, revealing what you were to her right at that moment. You hadn't thought about it, but you knew that girlfriend wasn’t enough. She was the woman of your life.

“Oh, I see... You're jealous, huh?” You asked with a funny tone, launching yourself at her body to tickle her, which made her laugh, trying to push you away. “How jealous are you…”

“Stop, (Y/N),” she said, holding your hands so they would stop playing with her dress, diluting that funny moment with jealousy. “I don't understand why you had to do something like that. Showing your body to everyone is...”

“It was a temporary job, nothing serious, Donna,” you said calmer, worrying because her jealousy didn't seem to give in to your cuddling.

“It seems serious to me,” the lady in black protested, trying to calm herself down with your little tricks for anxiety. “I don't even want to think about how many people have seen you and…”

“Hey, come on. It's okay,” you said, wrapping your arms around her and rubbing her body to comfort her, something that usually worked. “That's the past.”

“That's what you say, but I don't even want to think about how many people look at those magazines and... (Y/N), they probably masturbated with that photo,” she said with a serious tone. But the words entered your mind causing you to laugh, a laugh that you couldn't contain.

“Masturbated? Donna… Really?” You said laughing, but with a stab of reality hitting you in the back. Well, she could be right and that was… Disturbing.

“I don't see where the fun is. I'm completely serious,” Donna protested, moving away from you to show how offended she was by your laughter.

“Yes, yes, it's just that... It's a very uncharacteristic statement for you,” you explained, letting her know the reason for your amusement. When Donna was nervous, she might say that kind of things. Well, nervous or terribly excited.

“Why? I used to masturbate before I met you. It’s a natural need” she said, still with that abrupt tone. You had to stop laughing or Donna would get really angry and you didn't want that.

“Oh...” You whispered with a different tone, returning to that tireless seduction that your body was asking for. “I see… And would you have done it by looking at that photo?” You asked in her ear, making her body shiver and the blush return to her cheeks.

“Yes, (Y/N),” she said in a barely audible voice, her fists clenched on her knees. “That's why I don't understand how you could...”

She couldn't continue speaking, because your lips crashed against hers abruptly, kissing her wildly, trying to make her passion blind her jealousy, at least a bit.

“I would love to see you doing that...” You whispered, giving her one last kiss and checking that your actions had an effect, making her smile slightly.

“Um, (Y/N), I...” She stammered, fleeing from the caresses you made on her chest, caresses that distracted her from her anger with unprecedented success. Maybe it had been the sight of your barely covered breasts that made her calm down. That excited you, a lot.

But an idea appeared in your head to interrupt that moment, a much better one, one that would dispel the doll maker's jealousy forever, or so you thought.

“Mm, I have an idea, Donna,” you said thoughtfully, making curiosity return to her face.

“What idea?” She asked, moving nervously on the couch, revealing her excitement, trying to hide it in the black fabric of her dress, a detail that you, of course, didn’t overlook.

“What do you think if you do a photo session for me? One just for you...” You proposed, resting your head in your hand and biting your lip as you saw how she played with her dress to hide her enthusiasm.

“A photo session?” The lady asked curiously, frowning, but interested, of course.

“Uh-huh,” you stated, taking her hand so she would stop playing with the black fabric and you could caress her. “One that only you can look at…”

“Only me...” She sighed with a smile, intertwining your fingers.

She seemed to think about it for a few seconds, but, after that time, she nodded profusely, giving you her approval.

“Wait, I'm going to get the camera,” you said amused, running towards the elevator stopping at the last moment to pick up your old modeling album with an amused expression. “I'll take this, to avoid temptations...” You joked, calming her protest at your inappropriate comment with a kiss on the cheek.

Well, at least you had managed to solve the jealousy problem and the idea sounded quite... Funny in your head, well, also in your head.

“Say cheese,” you said jokingly, shooting a photo towards the couch, catching Donna off guard, almost blinding her with the flash.

“Don't do that, (Y/N)” she protested, rubbing her eye while you laughed in amusement, looking at the result on the small screen.

“Oh, look how pretty you are...” You said, ignoring her complaints and showing her that improvised photo. Her natural expression was truly worthy of one of your favorite works, of course.

Donna leaned in to look at herself, and she stepped back immediately, shaking her head.

“No, I'm horrible,” she said, with that tone that betrayed nervousness, the fierce attack of her complexes again. You caressed her cheek, forcing her to look at you.

“You're beautiful, Donna, the camera doesn't lie,” you said softly, placing your lips on hers.

“But you do,” she said, ignoring your compliment, looking askance at that improvised photo. “I could never be a model like you. Not with my hideous face.”

“Oh, come on, Donna... You know you're beautiful, you know it, I know you know it,” you said, relaxing a bit, wiping away a tear that was slowly running down her cheek.

“I know you don't think that way but... Thank you,” she whispered, closing her eye due to your caresses, resting her hand on yours, squeezing it against her skin. You smiled, kissing her again, not insisting on making her complexes disappear. You had your whole life to get it.

“I have to make some room on the memory card... I took a lot of photos when I arrived at the village,” you commented, ignoring that conversation, which was getting really sad. “Oh, what the…? Angie!”

You shouted to the doll as you flipped through photo after photo, showing the irreverent puppet posing comically in many of them. What a session she had given herself.

“What do you want, stupid stranger?” The doll Asked, running towards you in a graceful and fast manner, climbing into the lap of her owner.

“Have you been playing with the camera?” You asked, ignoring her contempt. You would always be a threat to Donna, Angie would never like you, or so you thought.

“No,” she responded childishly, earning a suspicious look from her owner. You blinked in disbelief, turning the camera towards her.

“What is this?” You asked, going through the photos that the doll had taken one by one, making her laugh with a sinister laugh.

“Mmm, it looks like me,” the doll murmured, making you roll your eyes, with a severe pose, reminding yourself of your parents when you did something wrong.

“Yes, yes... What have I told you about touching my stuff?” You protested, sighing. “You could have broken it.”

-But I haven't... Look, Donna, this photo is great, don't you think? It's me, with me, and with you...” the doll said, ignoring your scolding, pointing to one of the photos that had Angie posing next to the portrait on the stairs.

Donna smiled, looking at you amused. You were incapable of getting as angry as you wanted.

“Wonderful, Angie, you are quite an artist,” you mocked, trying not to laugh to emphasize your annoyance. “Although I have to admit that I'm surprised that you've learned to handle the camera that well,” you said, more to yourself than to her. Angie jumped mockingly, pleased by your admiration.

“It's easy, stupid, you just have to hit that button,” she said, pressing the camera trigger and blinding you with the flash.

“Oh, shit...” You said closing your eyes and listening to the puppet laughing as she cowardly ran away from you. “Damn…”

“Are you okay, tesoro?” Donna asked, with a hand on her mouth that prevented you from seeing she was laughing. Laughing at you, of course.

“Yes, I... Are you laughing at me, Donna?” You asked amused, blinking to eliminate the lights that formed your eyes after that flash.

“No,” she said with the doll's fake tone, something that made you sigh with tenderness.

“Well, well, we'll see if you laugh so much after the photos you're going to take of me...” You sighed, getting up from the couch.

“But, but I don't know how to use that device,” she protested, allowing herself to be dragged towards the elevator.

“If Angie could do it, so can you... Come on, I have a lot of ideas...”

It took you a while, but you finally managed to make an improvised photography set. The place chosen was the doll workshop, one of the bleakest parts of the house, but artistically perfect. All those wooden limbs hanging from the ceiling and its stone walls and floor made it an ideal place for that private session, one that you were eager to begin.

“Just a bit more...” You said, giving instructions to the brunette to move a wooden table, which you would desecrate with your sensual poses “Perfect, leave it there.”

Donna sighed, unable to hide the desire she had for those photos, for that gift for her, just for her.

“Come,” you said, gesturing towards the tripod where you had placed your camera, pointing it at the middle of the room. The lady in black approached slowly, studying that curious device. “Look, Donna, you can see what you are going to photograph through this gap here. Come on, take a look.”

The lady obeyed nervously, looking into the camera and smiling afterwards, letting you know that she understood you.

“Whatever appears here will be seen later on that screen, right?” She asked curious. You nodded.

“Yes, but don't use it as a reference, the light could deceive you. Okay, then you keep the lens centered and put your finger on the button, like this,” you said, taking her hand and gently placing her finger on the button, making the lens move. “You see? You have to press it softly first to get it to focus, otherwise it will be blurry.”

“Oh, it seems complicated,” Donna whispered, checking what was in front of the camera and then above it.

“It's not, trust me. You'll do it great...” You said, patting her on the back and heading towards the suitcase you brought with you, choosing what your first item of clothing was going to be. “If you can’t, I can tell Angie to do it…”

“No,” she said abruptly. “I can do it.”

You nodded with a smile. Naturally, that was the answer you expected.

“Well, then... How about this one to start?” You said, displaying that red and provocative dress that aroused so much jealousy in the brunette.

“(Y/N)...” She hissed, annoyed by your choice.

“You don’t like it? My breasts can be seen with it...” You hummed, waving the garment comically until a shy smile formed on her face as she shook her head.

“Shut up and put it on,” Donna ordered, hiding her embarrassment with the camera while you played with the red fabric, making it look even more provocative.

Your modeling days were still evident in your actions, posing naturally under her attentive gaze, perhaps too attentive. You posed in a much more provocative way, making her hands shake when taking the photographs.

It was funny, very funny, especially when it came to raising a bare leg towards the table, or kneeling on it in a seductive pose, which made Donna have to clear her throat several times to focus.

After that dress, successive combinations of the clothes you brought to the village came: lace bras, negligees, your entire wardrobe being captured by the camera lens, as well as by the eye of Lady Beneviento, who seemed to enjoy that seductive vision, the provocative poses and the increasingly obvious lack of clothes.

“You like them?” The brunette asked after a fun and exciting time. You flipped through the photos and nodded in surprise. They were good, much better than you thought. Luckily, none of them would ever leave that house.

“Sure, it's a good job, Donna,” you said, hugging her waist from behind, making her laugh pleased. “Besides, they are all for you.”

“Yes, that's the best...” she sighed, looking carefully at the places of your naked skin, which you exposed on purpose.

“Wait, the best is yet to come,” you said amused, moving away from her and leaving the workshop.

“(Y/N)? Where are you going?” Donna asked, confused by your sudden escape.

You ran to the bedroom, eagerly looking for that piece of clothing you wanted to use on a crazy idea in your head, an idea that presented itself in the middle of that improvised session.

“Can I use it?” You asked, entering the workshop again and carrying Donna's black veil in your hand, that veil with which she covered her face long ago, and with which she continued to do so with anyone that wasn’t you.

“Um, yes, but... What do you want it for?” She asked confused, watching how you played with the black fabric in your hands.

“Well, I've thought that I would like a couple of photos with it on, if you don't mind, of course,” you explained, looking at that fabric, looking for the correct way to put it on.

“Fi, fine,” the lady in black murmured turning it over, and placing it on your head making you laugh with amusement.

“How can you see anything with this thing?” You joked, reaching out to touch her while you tried to make out something with your eyes. “Donna? Who turned off the light?”

“Stop fooling around and stand there, tesoro,” she said, amused, pushing you towards the table, which you prevented by digging your feet into the floor.

“Wait, wait... I'm not ready,” you whispered in her ear, moving away from her and pulling at the tie that kept one of your dresses stuck to your body. “I want you to take some photos of me with the veil on...”

“Yes, you already said that,” she said, confused, interrupted by a finger between her lips.

“Just with the veil on,” you whispered, slurring your words as the clothing covering you fell to the stone floor, leaving Donna in the same material, looking at you up and down, checking that during your escape to the bedroom, your underwear also disappeared.

“I think you like the idea, don't you?” You whispered again, biting her earlobe and running your hands over her body, caressing the incipient bulge in the black fabric of her dress.

She nodded nervously, closing her eyes at your fleeting touch, one that disappeared at the same time you walked away from her, leaning on the wooden table.

“Come on, move, Donna. Shoot,” you said seductively, making Donna blink and shake her head, her entire body trembling from the view she had.

Her attitude was much more nervous than before, taking her time with each photograph. You played with your body, opening your legs slightly, moving the fabric away from your face to show how you were biting your lip. It was a vision too erotic for Donna, who could not bear more than a dozen photographs.

“Wait, (Y/N),” she said stuttering, making you laugh and get off the table where you were kneeling, pushing the veil away from your face again.

“I hope you captured these last ones well, Donna, I think they're going to be your favorites,” you joked, continuing with your sensual movements, moving your hips in an exaggerated way as you walked slowly towards her.

“They definitely are,” the lady said, her voice low, moving away from your naked body, only covered in that black cloth.

“Mm, this photo session has warmed me up,” you murmured, removing the veil from your face and playing with it in your hands, surrounding the neck of the brunette with it. Donna was receding more and more. “Where are you going, my love?”

“Um, I...” She stammered, unable to speak clearly, with a marked and suggestive accent as she was dragged by her own veil towards your naked body.

“You're hot too, huh?” You asked on her lips, touching them but without kissing them, taking advantage of that erotic moment that you were not going to lose. “Shall we take a break, Donna?”

She nodded, unable to resist the temptation of kissing you in a hot, wet way, bringing her body closer to yours, making her arousal more than evident, something that made you moan in anticipation.

“I want to take you, (Y/N),” she whispered in your ear, making your entire body tremble in satisfaction from that statement. You smiled and raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze and pulling the black fabric closer.

“Mm yes, it could be a good break,” you said, removing the veil from her neck and walking towards the table, opening your legs again, shiny with excitement, making the humidity between them more than evident, running a finger through your folds under her attentive gaze and slow steps.

“Wait,” she said, approaching, but with something in her eye that made her reveal a hidden intention. “Put it on again, please,” she whispered, taking the piece of black cloth that was still in your hands and putting it back on your head, to which you frowned and laughed amused.

“Oh, fine...” You whispered, pulling on her waist, with the black fabric clouding your vision, but not your senses, which were beginning to burn with the kisses that Donna began to place on your neck. “Wow, do you like that?”

Donna didn't speak, nor did she nod. She simply caressed your face beneath her veil, letting you know her response as she played with the buttons of her dress.

You gasped at her seductive, burning touch, at how her hands ran over your bare skin, at how they covered your breasts while her mouth traveled down your neck and her body rocked against yours.

You laughed, closing your eyes, noticing how her hand moved the fabric away so her lips could devour yours for a few moments while her fingers played with your nipples and her obvious erection rubbed against your body.

“Mm, Donna...” You murmured, opening her dress so her torso was revealed to you, so her pale skin would send shivers through your body.

“Shh, silenzio,” she whispered, laughing sinisterly, squeezing one of your breasts with subtle strength, which made you gasp with pleasure and move your hips against her body. “They are mine, you understand?” She asked. “Just nod.”

You obeyed, curious about that question, about that attitude so out of the ordinary for Donna.

“Only mine, (Y/N)...” She sighed again, joining the movements of your body as her own bra gave way in your skillful and mischievous hands, hands that she grabbed immediately. “No, no, tesoro…”

“I'm yours?” You asked, defying her order to keep you quiet, pushing aside her veil so you could shamelessly capture her lips, making her move away, placing her hands on your chest.

“Mine, (Y/N),” she responded, slowly turning you around and leaning over the wooden table, leaving you completely exposed to her desires, to her body's desire to dominate yours, to make it hers, again.

“Very well, then make me yours,” you said amused, separating your legs, making her gasp at the exciting vision she had before her. Your face was still covered by that black cloth, which she placed in such a way that it wouldn't move, before leaning down to your ear and pressing her shaft against your wetness, now free of her underwear.

“Don't take it off, (Y/N)...” Donna whispered softly as her hands ran down your back, down your legs, until one of her fingers ran through your wet folds, making you moan and nod, moving your legs.

Her caresses were slow, almost like a small warning of what was to come. The wetness that permeated her fingers was enough to make her moan as well. The position you were in and the veil prevented you from seeing her face. You knew she was smiling, you knew she had that smile.

“Shh, stay still,” she told you, lowering your back so it leaned on the table while her finger played with your entrance, with your clit, moving in circles so your hips demanded a little more contact, just a little more.

Her hot commands entered your ears like a current of warm air, causing your legs to spread even further and her finger to slide inside of you slowly, making your world spin, making you fervently desire more contact, more pleasure, more Donna.

“Stop playing with me,” you protested, amused, feeling her finger curl inside of you, exploring your body, getting your walls used to the contact.

“I like to play with you,” she hissed, raising your back so she could kiss you on your neck and continue dancing with your body.

“Donna, don't make me suffer,” you begged, clenching your fists on the table as her finger disappeared from your body and her hands roamed your chest from behind, squeezing your breasts, claiming them as hers.

“Okay...” She sighed, leaving that game aside and approaching you, placing her shaft at your entrance but just playing with it, running through your folds in a hot and wet caress.

You moaned at the contact, at her erection caressing your body, making you claim her to be inside of you with a few discreet movements of your hips.

“Donna,” you said with a more serious tone, hitting the table with one of your fists, looking at her through the sides of the veil. “Please…”

She sighed, but she didn't say anything. She simply complied with your wishes, slowly inserting the tip, letting your body adjust to hers. You moaned in pleasure, noticing how your walls stretched, hugging her body in a terribly exciting way.

“Am I hurting you?” She asked by surprise at your hisses of pleasure. Donna always will be the kind innocent woman in black. She couldn't be any other way.

“No, no, move, please,” you said, moaning with pleasure when she was completely in you, sliding along your wet and eager insides.

She obeyed your request slowly also beginning to moan at the sensation, gently grabbing your hips to maintain a stable rhythm, but it couldn't help but be anxious, desperate.

The wooden table creaked under your movements, adding to the wet sounds of your improvised lustful act, turning that sinister room into the warmest one ever, the most obscene ever.

“You're so wet, (Y/N)...” Donna whispered in an amused tone, panting as she moved inside of you, alternating strong thrusts with weaker, more intense ones. Just the way you liked it. That was just for you. “Did you like posing for me?”

You smiled, grabbing the edge of the table to keep from losing your balance, moving your hips to match her thrusts, to feel how your walls hugged her erection, how they made it slide inside and almost out of you.

“Mmm, yes, I love posing for you,” you said almost without thinking, overwhelmed by pleasure, by all the sensations you had experienced, by the relief you felt between your legs and by the excitement that wearing that veil caused you.

“I see...” She murmured, laughing amusedly as she leaned over you, reaffirming her control, reaffirming that you were hers, reaffirming that she was inside of you and you, even if you wanted to, couldn't get away. You didn't want to either.

“Donna, fuck... I'm, I'm close,” you moaned with a growl, noticing how your body tensed little by little, how the pleasure clouded your vision much more than the black veil.

“You're rude, (Y/N)” she said, amused, giving you a small spank on one of your buttocks, which was the spark your body needed to arch completely, letting yourself be carried away by the waves of pleasure from your orgasm. A scandalous one, probably the most scandalous one you had ever had.

Donna held you tightly so she could continue moving inside of you, this time much faster, affirming with her actions how close she was to possessing you again. It didn't take long to happen, causing the heat to accompany your orgasm with her wet caresses, making you full of her again.

The lady sighed, letting herself fall onto your back, staying very close to you, inside of you as her body relaxed, enjoying the obscene wetness that dripped between your legs.

Exhausted, you turned around, pushing the black fabric away with one hand while you kissed her, as long as you owed her that love that you used to give her in those situations. Although this time, she didn't seem to feel insecure at all.

“I love you,” she said, returning to her being, returning to being the shy and affectionate Donna that a lust caused by you had hidden for a moment.

You took off the veil, passing it back around her neck and pulling it, looking at her with a loving and satisfied expression at the same time.

“Me too...” You sighed, returning her affection with a slow, loving and tender kiss, far from the previous actions. “Hey, I've been thinking...”

“What?” She asked curiously, burying her head in your shoulder, letting herself be embraced by your protective arms.

“I would really like to take some photos of you with the veil on too, just with the veil on...”

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

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ornii · 6 months

Note

Could I request Wednesday with a male reader who's invisible? Maybe she's lamenting about not being able to actually see him.

Funny Enough I have something like this! They’re somewhat invisible but it would be better to call them a—

Ghost

Wednesday Addams X Male Reader

The sky was dark, blacker than usual. It was most likely due to the blood loss. Nevermores ground was seeped in your blood, You lied on the hard cold ground of nevermore, dying. A single stab wound to the stomach. You felt numb, cold, the rain slowly began to land on the ground and begin to welt on the earth, you slowly began to fade into the dark, before your eyes locked into one person, you couldn’t remember his name, only his last name is what was screaming into your brain.

“Gates.” You barely mutter, before it all went away. Death is an experience very very few can tell you about, due to how complicated it all is. But one thing is for certain, it isn’t always the end. As it was made plainly clear to you, 32 Years later.

Wednesday Addams. She sat in a dark room, dimly lit by candles around her as she held onto a black stone, reciting a dark chant into a hushed whisper. Her room door opens suddenly, knocking the candle lights out and calmly illuminating a single being beyond the door, Wednesday’s vision was limited by the smoke and dark but it sees she has her answer. Expecting her spectre, she was very disappointed to see it was her bubbly roommate, Enid Sinclair. Enid noticed that she was interrupting.. whatever Wednesday was doing.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your… Uh, do I even want to know?” Enid flatly gave up.

“I was reaching into the black maw of death to contact a relative.” Wednesday explained in her calm but deadpanned demeanor.

“Feels very on-brand for you.” Enid replies, walking over she noticed a name etched to the wood. Goody.

“You have a relative named Goody?” She inquired.

“She was one of the original outcasts.!Been attempting to summon her, but she seems to be ignoring my entreaties.” Wednesday explains.

“Oh, you thought about using one of my!scented candles? The aroma of steak tartare is to die for.” Enid offers and Wednesday folds her arms.

“Very.. hard pass. I just need to keep knocking, she will answer.” Wednesday said, confident, Enid was less so.

“Well, you might think you’ll invite someone you.. don’t want?” Enid said.

“Like you?” Wednesday always had. Knock for antisocial behavior.

“Funny. But I’m being serious, I heard from our Divinity teacher that opening a door on the other side might be hard to close.” Enid was obviously concerned for Wednesday, but little did she know, the door has already been breached.

In the void, an Empty darkness, You had awoken back up, but you could only see darkness, touching your face you felt nothing, as if you were and weren’t there at the same time. As this happens, night has crept up on Nevermore and the students are all sleeping in their dorms. Enid wasn’t, as the idea of a ghost haunting her room has kept her up, Wednesday was absolutely unbothered.

She peers from under her pink bed sheets to look around again, Enid hears the crack of a door and her eyes quickly dart over to the balcony door they have, a miasma of blue mist slowly emulated from the door, pouring in and Enid immediately was tossed into a panic, she hides under the covers, and then peeks out to a shadow, somehow standing outside. She covers her mouth before she could scream. She peeked over to Wednesday in a toss.

“Wednesday!! Wednesday!!!” She said, in fear and a whisper. Wednesdays eyes opened like a reanimated corpse.

“Enid, if you are waking me up at this time for something trivial—“ Wednesday started but Enid, on the verge of tears points to the balcony, Wednesday looks over as the shadow silenced her anger, it worked.

You rubbed your nonexistent eyes into the shadows began to fade, and you stood on the balcony of Nevermore, ironically enough it gave you the perfect view of where you died. In that ground, and for a moment your friends eyes flash before you. You looked at your hands, translucent and a loss of color, as if you came out of a photo from the 70’s. You had no real feeling in your body but you could sense someone’s presence. You calmly put your hands in your nonexistent pockets and turned around to face the approaching figure, your eyes lock with hers and you came face to face with a girl who looked almost as dead as you, pale skin, oddly deep black abyss eyes, and the cutest nose, but you pushed that last part to the back of your head. She was a mystery girl to you, it was obviously pretty awkward for the both of you. You decided to break the ice by asking arguably the dumbest question you could.

“Can I help you?” You said, the moment the words exited your lips you realized how dumb that sounded. She didn’t acknowledge your screw up and eyed you up and down.

“Are you meant to lead me in my ethereal conversation with Goody?” She asked, you had idea what the hell she was talking about.

“Goody?” You asked, confused. The girl looks away giving you a side eye.

“I suppose this is what Enid meant.” She then turned back to you, “I suppose I’ll be forced to exorcise you back to the depths of Hell.” She said plainly as if that isn’t going to be an absolutely painful experience.

“Or you don’t do that.” You suggest.

“Why not? You serve no purpose on helping me contact Goody Addams.”

Addams. That last name clicked something off in your brain, and it began to work its magic, you noticed that the girl is, oddly familiar looking. You leaned in as she took a step back, your translucent eyes glaze all over her.

“Hm.. you do look familiar.” You said, and she squints.

“That’s particular, because I do not know you.” She responds defensively.

“Yeah, you look like Morticia.” You said snapping your fingers, you knew you recognized the nose. “It’s the button nose and hair. I knew it looked familiar.”

“I unfortunately share the same genetics with my mother.” She admits, and the word mother hit you in the face like a baseball bat through your skull.

“Mother? You’re…” you trail off, unsure of how to feel. “Is your dad.. Gomez?” You asked, actually afraid of the answer.

“Yes.” She replies, and you for a moment for an odd psychosis of reality bending. You caught yourself and was in disbelief.

“I can’t believe those two.” You stammered. The girl raised an eyebrow. “What has you so enamured?” She slightly pouted.

“Because I know those two. They’re alive.” You jaded relief in your heart, happy that this wasn’t the end for them. The Mystery Girl was becoming less of a Mystery now.

“You knew my parents? How?” She asked and you showed your Old Nevermore uniform, and it clicks for her.

“Classmates.” The muttered.

“Long Story, but I know them.. I was just worried about what happened to them after…” you thought hard about it, after The Gates planned such a heinous crime.

“That’s not important… if you want to exorcise me, so be it.” You said, the girl hesitates before answering.

“Actually you might be of… some use.”

“..Huh..” you thought. “Okay.. how?” You asked.

“I could use an extra pair of eyes..especially ones that cannot be seen. Wednesday Addams.” She said, you gave her your name in return and accepted.

“That’s.. fine by me.” You mutter, you offer a handshake. “Deal?” You said, smirking. She doesn’t go for it. “I’m not an idiot I know you’d just phase though my hand.” She said blankly.

“Heh, your dad always thought it was funny.” You said, putting your hands in your pockets. “So… should I introduce myself to the girl cowering in those pink bedsheets?” You asked.

“Why bother with Enid?”

“Because she can see me, and it would be more civil.” You said and walk past Wednesday, you step into the room and hear the cowering in the bed. You stroll over and hear whimpering under it. “Oh, I must have startled you.. I’m sorry.” You knelt down to her bedside.

“Excuse me? Could, we talk?” You asked.. you waited as she slowly opened her covers to see her beautiful blue eyes. You smile and trying to look the least bit intimidating.

“Hello there, I’m sorry if I scared you.. didn’t mean to. I promise I’m not here to haunt your room or your roommate.” You reassure her, the girls eyes looked you up and down and she slowly sat up out of her bed.

“So, you aren’t gonna possess us?” She said. You raised an eyebrow wondering if you can even do that. “Of course not. I promise. I’m a family friend of Wednesday.” You said, The girl looks more relieved.

“That makes more sense.” She says, and leans in to whisper, “Shes.. really unique.” Enid said, which made you smile. “She definitely is.” You turned back to Wednesday who was a bit unsure about you, but now more confident.

“So.. what do you need help with exactly?” You asked, and Wednesday gave you a pretty harrowing answer.

“What do you know.. about the Gates family?” She said, a flurry of dark painful emotions poured into your soul and although you had no physical body the anger you felt was human, it was real.

“A lot.. and good riddance to them, because they’re the reason I’m dead.” You said in a haunting whisper.

“Interesting, we’ll have to converse more about this tomorrow, but tonight I must sleep, you may leave.” She orders.

“Leave.. where?” You reply. “It’s not like I can go back. And why would I need to leave anyway?” You ask, Wednesday looks past you.

“Because you’d be creeping late at night in a dorm with two girls.” She responds, which You didn’t have much of a response to.

“Well.. when you put it like that… fine.” You give in and walk to the door, calmly phasing though the door and sitting at the other side of the hall. You stare at the door, knowing that when it opens the next morning that this will be an adventure that you would have never expected to be a part of.

#male reader #netflix #wednesday #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday x reader #reader insert #wednesday addams x reader #wedensday x you #enid sinclair

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idkmanwtfishumanityanymore · 2 months

Text

No I’m sorry Y’all I’m seriously still so fucking pissed off abt this episode, and I have to scream into the digital void about everything wrong with it and how downright mocking it felt or I’m gonna EXPLODE-

FIRST OFF, MY BIGGEST FUCKING ISSUE. Moon, near the end, says that “Bad people are bad people, no matter what dimension it is” or something similar.

HOW THE FUCK DOES SOLAR EXIST THEN, HM?

BECAUSE IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY, SOLAR STARTED AS “NICE ECLIPSE”, BUT WAIT.. HOW CAN THAT BE POSSIBLE WHEN “BAD PEOPLE STAY BAD, NO MATTER THE DIMENSION”??? CAUSE I’M PRETTY FUCKING SURE ECLIPSE WAS BAD WHEN THAT HAPPENED, AND SOLAR WAS A GOOD VARIANT OF ECLIPSE.

YOUR LOGIC FALLS COMPLETELY, FUCKING, FLAT.

IF SOLAR, A GOOD ECLIPSE CAN EXIST, WHY IS IT SOOOOOO FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE FOR A GOOD BLOODMOON TO EXIST? HM? ANSWER ME THAT, HYPOCRITE.

THE ONLY FUCKING REASON, THEY WERE EVEN CONSIDERED “GOOD”, WAS BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T KILL. SOMETHING THEY ORIGINALLY, HAD TO FUCKING DO OR ELSE THEIR INSATIABLE BLOODLUST, WHICH WAS HARDWIRED INTO THEM, WOULD FORCE THEM TO GO AND KILL BECAUSE IT WAS PAINFUL TO IGNORE IT.

AND DON’T EVEN FUCKING GET ME STARTED ON HOW DISRESPECTFUL THIS FELT TO ANYONE WHO WAS (REASONABLY) PISSED OFF ABOUT HOW BLOODMOON’S CHARACTER WAS HANDLED, AND THE PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY HAD AN ATTACHMENT TO HIM???

THIS WAS THE DEFINITION OF “If I give you what you want, will you fuck off?”

THE WRITERS, (probably fucking Davis), JUST TOSSED SOMETHING BLOODMOON RELATED AT THE FANDOM, TO GET US TO STOP CRITICIZING HOW HORRIBLY THEY HANDLED BLOODMOON AS A CHARACTER.

THEY JUST CHUCKED IT AT US, AND BASICALLY SAID; “Fuck off already, look, they can NEVER be actually good, they’ll always be bad, now stop whining”.

WE LITERALLY SAW THAT THEY COULD BE ATLEAST DOCILE-ISH IN A WAY, BACK WHEN THEY VERY BRIEFLY LIVED WITH FOXY AND FC. FOXY THOUGHT OF A WAY TO KEEP THEIR BLOODLUST AT BAY, THEY HAD ENTERTAINMENT IN THE FORM OF THE BOUNCY CHICK, AND THEY ACTUALLY SEEMED KINDA OKAY WITH LIVING THERE.

BUT NOOOOOOOO, THE FUCKING WRITERS GAVE US A GLIMPSE OF WHAT A VAST MAJORITY OF THE FANDOM WANTED, AND IMMEDIATELY RIPPED IT AWAY LIKE 3 OR 2 DAYS LATER BY HAVING THEM BOTH ABRUPTLY GO AFTER FOXY, AND HARVEST GOT FUCKING KILLED.

THEY WERE FUCKING DEPENDENT ON EACHOTHER TO SURVIVE AND FUNCTION, THEY WERE LITERALLY EACHOTHER’S OTHER HALF. WE CAN CLEARLY SEE THIS WHEN BLOODMOON IS STRUGGLING WITH PLANNING AND CALCUTION, BECAUSE THE OTHER TWIN HANDLED IT. THE OTHER TWIN KNEW HOW TO PLAN, AND CALCULATE SHIT FOR THEIR PLANS, THE REMAINING TWIN WAS THE BRAWN, AND THE OTHER WAS THE BRAIN IN SIMPLE TERMS.

AND DOUBLE DON’T GET ME STARTED ON HOW BLOODMOON WAS LITERALLY HARASSED AFTER HIS BROTHER WAS KILLED???

MONTY AND PUPPET, BOTH, FORCED BLOODMOON TO SIT ON THEIR STUPID LITTLE FUCKING PODCAST, AND PROBED HIM WITH ENDLESS QUESTIONS ABOUT HIS BROTHER.

FOR FUCKS SAKE, MONTY’S FIRST WORDS AFTER THE TIMESKIP WERE “How’s it feel bein’ an only sibling?” OR SOMETHING INCREDIBLY SIMILAR, AND YES, I’LL GIVE PUPPET SOME CREDIT, SHE SEEMED A TINY BIT DISAPPOINTED WITH MONTY FOR OPENING WITH THAT, BUT LIKE 5 OR SO MINUTES LATER, SHE WAS PLAYING THE FUCKING DEATH OF BLOODMOON’S BROTHER, ON FUCKING LOOP, AND EXPECTED HIM TO WATCH.

AND THEN THEY HAVE THE GALL TO CALL THEIR COMMUNITY, ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS THEY CAN EVEN HAVE SUCCESS FROM THEIR CHANNELS, CRAZY, FOR THINKING THAT THEY WENT TOO FAR, AND HAVING EVEN THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF SYMPATHY OR EMPATHY FOR BLOODMOON.

THEY CLAIM WE’RE INSANE FOR HAVING BASIC HUMAN REACTIONS TO SEEING SOMEONE LOSE A LOVED ONE.

THEY CLAIM WE’RE MENTALLY UNSTABLE FOR SYMPATHIZING WITH THE TWINS AND THEIR TRAUMA, WHICH MIGHT I ADD IS NEVER FUCKING ACKNOWLEDGED??

IF ECLIPSE IS ABLE TO HAVE A REDEMPTION ARC, BECAUSE HE’S “NOT THE SAME PERSON”, AND “A CLONE”, WHY IS IT SO IMPOSSIBLE THAT THE TWINS, WHO ALSO WEREN’T THE SAME PEOPLE, AND WERE ALSO CLONES, TO BE EVEN SLIGHTLY REDEEMED??

I DON’T FUCKING CARE IF THEY WERE STILL KILLERS, IT WAS STILL HARDWIRED INTO THEM, IN BOTH ITERATIONS.

I’m not going to touch how predatory Ruin was with them back in October right now, or ever, because I’m honestly appalled that the writers WENT THERE with their script.

Every fucking argument made in this stupid fucking mockery of a video falls flat, and directly conflicts with past fully canon information, and I’m fucking pissed.

on a lighter note, more (JUSTIFIED) complaints about the loan-shark!twins;

OKAY WHY THE FUCK DID THEY SEPARATE THEM INTO “BLOOD” AND “MOON”, COULDN’T THEY HAVE ATLEAST TRIED TO CONNECT WITH THEIR COMMUNITY AND USE ONE OF THE MANY RENAMES WE’VE HAD? BLOODY AND HARVEST, SYTHE AND HATCHET, CRIMSON AND MAROON TO NAME A FEW, BUT “BLOOD” AND “MOON”??? GOD HOW FUCKING DISCONNECTED CAN THEY BE?? THERE’S ALSO ALREADY A MOON THAT EXISTS, SO HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT WORK? HOW CONFUSING DOES IT GET WHEN THEY’RE IN THE SAME ROOM AND SOMEONE SAYS “MOON”, BUT ONLY MEANS ONE OF THEM???

And then the sheer fact that they were literally traumatized by the thought of drinking blood- like I’m sorry but that is NOT enough to traumatize anyone, unless they have like, a crippling phobia of blood. Hemophobia or something like that I think. And considering they say they “bleed people dry” (financially), I don’t think they have a fear of blood, or they wouldn’t use the saying-

So there ya have it, me, in the dark, at 10:33PM on a Friday night in July, on the 26th, writing a whole ass essay assignment because of how PISSED OFF one single episode made me.

I’m gonna go die now. (For legal reasons I mean go to bed /Gen)

#tsams bloodmoon #sun and moon show #sun and moon show spoilers #sun and moon show bloodmoon #rant #SAMS BloodMoon #bloodmoon twins #brite stfu #BloodMoon defender #proud BloodMoon supporter #TW// Implied S/A #in a way.#I’m talking about what happened with Ruin btw.

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years

Note

We got to see Crewel’s reaction towards his pup proposing to her mate. So, what would be his reaction to hearing he’s going to be a grandpa to with each suitor. I know he’ll be too happy to have grandpups from Vil or a heart attack with Leona and Silver, since he has to deal with Lillia more.

Yandere Father Crewel’s Reaction to Grandpups

In general, he’s conflicted between being overwhelmingly joyous and incredibly mortified. His baby now has babies!!! What!? Depending on who’s your baby daddy he’s leaning towards one or the other:

Vil Schoenheit

“Awww such beautiful grandpuppies!”

He’s crying in private

Both in happiness and in realization of your growth (and his own)

Looking at the twins’ faces makes it easier

The little bits of your attitude or appearance helps him forget what had to be done to get them

“I’ll look past it for the sake of the pups but this doesn’t make you anymore of her guardian than I.”

“You’re exactly right. I’m simply a fellow protector and compliment to her beauty and happiness. Isn’t it best that we stay on the best of terms in order for us to do our duties effectively?”

“...hmmm…I don’t disagree. So yes let’s work in harmony on her behalf.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Of all the motley–grr! Stop smirking like that! Humble yourself for once in your despicable life!”

Leona’s willingness to spur your father on in his raging only makes it worse

The moment you and your new little one are out of the room

He’s trying to at least instill a smidge of guilt or fear of him to ensure Crewel is given due respect as your father

But Leona will never submit and he’s intent on making your father explode before giving the old man peace

“Baba, why is Babu so red?”

“Oh? It’s cause he’s trying to push out a poop. You know what that’s like right? You should go comfort him.”

“Right! *runs to Crewel* Babu! Its okay you can let it all out whenever you’re ready!”

“T-thanks pup.”

He’s promises to kill Leona for embarrassing him in front of his grandpup

Silver

“Whooo already?! I’m so proud! Now when will we be getting the next batch!?”

“On the spots of a dalmatian please don’t…I can’t take it anymore!”

Don’t get him wrong he loves his grandpuppies

But he’s just exhausted

If his hair wasn’t white already it would become so very soon

The stress of having to give you away

Only to be succeeded by the existence of his little grandpuppies

All the while having to deal with his ‘Granddad Best Buddy’ that has attached himself to his side

He’s just so fed up he doesn’t have time to directly hate on Silver

Who doesn’t always understand his malice anyway

So instead he’ll curse the fae general in his stead

But he’s just screaming into the void because Lilia lovingly ignores any protest he has

“Can’t you understand?! I don’t wish to spend the day with you or your child, I just want to spend the day with my daughter and grandpups!”

“Ahh so you want to let the two love-birds have a night to themselves? What a great idea! Will take the kiddies for the day! Oooh where should we go? The amusement park? The park? Your house-?”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo”

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ronniaugust · 1 year

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How To Write Good Dialogue (Part 1)

I'm gonna start this by saying I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. I am just tired of posts like these being absolutely fucking useless. I am aware this is basically me screaming into a void and I’m more than okay with that.

This guide is meant for intermediate screenwriters, but beginners are also absolutely welcome. :)

(about me)

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

I've noticed a rise in film students who want to make films that have no dialogue. Probably after your professor showed you Doodlebug, right? Fuck that.

I'll make another post about writing a short film, but all you need to know is: Don't waste the audience’s time. Most of these no-dialogue shorts have very little substance and take way too long to tell the shortest possible story. Not a good idea.

Useless Dialogue

Plain and simple, don't write useless dialogue. Useless dialogue is dialogue that just doesn't fucking matter. Dialogue matters by having ✨subtext.✨

What is subtext? Subtext is the meaning behind the action. That's it.

If I tell you that I love you and I got big doe eyes while I say it, it means I love you. If I tell you I love you through a clenched jaw without looking at you, I don't necessarily love you right now.

Simple, right? Great.

Now think about the subtext behind every line. Does your character mean what they're saying? Are they doing it to get what they want? What is going through their mind as they say it? As long as you know your character, you’ll have these answers ready to go. If you don’t, you’ll figure it out eventually. Just keep writing.

When you write your character walking into a Starbucks and saying, "One venti iced coffee," does that do something? Why do I need to see someone's boring Starbucks order? Do I need to know that your character's boring? Why are you writing a boring character? [Of course, in the rare situation where this is some revealing clue to the massive crime investigation, then it makes sense.]

Useless dialogue is any dialogue that has no meaning or purpose in your script. Delete and move on. You don't need to write entire conversations or scenes that bore us, just write what we care about.

I took a class once where my professor called a version of this "trimming the fat." Get us into your scene and out of your scene in as little time as it takes to have it achieve its full purpose in the script.

[P.S. You don’t “inject” subtext into your lines. Idk who started that vernacular in subtext teachings but I hate it.]

Show vs. Tell

I remember a glorious fight I got into with a Redditor last year about show vs. tell… TL;DR: Dialogue is “show” if you write it with intention and subtext. If someone says that dialogue is inherently “tell,” they’re wrong and can go fuck themselves.

Dialogue that is “tell” is expositional dialogue. But, hot take: Exposition isn't just in dialogue. It’s also those annoying clichés that make you roll your eyes in the theater (which we just call clichés and not exposition). I’m sure every professor I’ve had will disagree with this and then get me into a long conversation about it, but let’s ignore that for right now.

Have you ever seen a movie where a character rubs an old, worn-out photo of a young girl while looking depressed? That's exposition. That character has a dead daughter. No shit.

Clichés are incredibly annoying. We all know that. Assume that any cliché you see - in this context - is exposition and try your best not to write it. (Tropes are different and sometimes necessary, so I’m not talking about that.)

Point blank: When you have subtext in your lines, they are "show,” not “tell.”

Before moving on, I'll bring up that while technically the dead daughter photo is subtextual, it is as close to the character saying “My daughter is dead,” as you can get. Don't treat the audience like we're fucking stupid.

The First 15

If you don’t know what the Inciting Incident is, please look up “3 Act Structure” before reading this.

The first 15 pages of your script is the part that comes before the Inciting Incident. This is the part you want to get right because, although people probably won’t leave the theater, they will absolutely find something else on the streaming service they’re using. The people making said movie will also just toss your script in the trash before it’s even produced, so it's best to get it right.

Dialogue in the first 15 generally follows the same rules, but carries a heftier additional rule. All dialogue in the first 15 minutes must, must, must tell us something about your character.

Remember when I talked about that boring Starbucks order? Why is your character boring? Don’t write that. Don’t write nice characters. Or pleasant characters. Or friendly characters. No one cares.

You want empathy. This does not mean “relatable.” It means “empathetic.” There is a difference.

I personally relate to Vi in Arcane, but I empathize with Theo in Children of Men. Both are excellent, but one personally resonates a bit more with me. You cannot write a character that deeply resonates with every single person, it is impossible.

With each line of dialogue, you must be saying something about your character that generates the empathy. Instead of telling you how to do this, I’ll direct you to a movie that will do better than an explanation: Casablanca.

Watch how Rick interacts with the world. What kind of man is Rick? Watch what he does, what he says, and how he treats people and himself. Watch that empty glass on the table. Watch his contradictions. Everything. Those things matter and it’s what makes you want to watch Rick for the entire duration of Casablanca.

“Realism”

This is maybe more directorial, but make your characters human enough, not too human.

Too human is when you’ve tried your best to capture all those little life-like speech patterns. You know, the ones that no one fucking cares about.

If your character coughs, they’re sick. If they clear they’re throat, they’re uncomfortable. If a bruise isn’t going away, they’re going to die. Simple.

Every moment on screen matters. Everything the audience sees is meant to lead them to a conclusion. Not the conclusion, just a conclusion.

The realism you want is in the choices your character makes, not how many times they say “Uh,” in a sentence.

Conclusion

Dialogue matters and should not be treated lightly or without care. Once you have this all engrained in your mind, dialogue should become effortless.

If you want an excellent way to think about this, Robert McKee's Story has an excellent chapter that helped clarify this all for me. Here's an excerpt and the context.

Warning, spoilers for Chinatown.

"If I were Gittes at this moment, what would I do?"

Letting your imagination roam, the answer comes:

"Rehearse. I always rehearse in my head before taking on life's big confrontations."

Now work deeper into Gittes's emotions and psyche:

Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, thoughts racing: "She killed him, then used me. She lied to me, came on to me. Man, I fell for her. My guts are in a knot, but I'll be cool. I'll stroll to the door, step in and accuse her. She lies. I send for the cops. She plays innocent, a few tears. But I stay ice cold, show her Mulwray's glasses, then lay out how she did it, step by step, as if I was there. She con-fesses. I turn her over to Escobar; I'm off the hook."

EXT. BUNGALOW-SANTA MONICA

Gittes' car speeds into the driveway.

You continue working from inside Gittes' pov, thinking:

"I'll be cool, I'll be cool ..." Suddenly, with the sight of her house, an image of Evelyn flashes in your imagination. A rush of anger. A gap cracks open between your cool resolve and your fury.

The Buick SCREECHES to a halt. Gittes jumps out.

"To hell with her!"

Gittes SLAMS the car door and bolts up the steps.

Story by Robert McKee, pg 156

The context of this page is McKee's way of explaining how to write characters. I found it very helpful.

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

Thanks for reading! I probably forgot something, so I made this a “part 1.”

I hope this helps someone since I’m really tired of finding short films on YouTube that are all fucking silent. The few who have done it well have been copied to death, so please write some dialogue. I promise you it’s so much better if you do.

Asks are open! :)

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vilegelics · 9 months

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— i need you to fill the void…

→ pairings: chris sturniolo x reader

→ warnings: none! long distance chris fluff for the soul

→ notes: an old chris blurb i wrote at 3am to feed y’all with something as i work on requests 🫡

all the elation you had earlier had begun to dissipate as soon as you stepped out of the airport and into the cold boston air. there really wasn't a good reason to be nervous, but you were.

a lot of it could be due to the fact that you hadn't seen your boyfriend in months, or maybe because you were surprising him and lying to him was killing you slightly.

it pained you inside to have to keep lying to him about your whereabouts, giving him dry responses, dodging his facetime calls as you packed and headed to the airport.

and instead of chris welcoming you with his warm hugs that would last for what seemed like hours and a shower of kisses, you were met with nick- your best friend and your boyfriends brother.

the two of you had been planning this for weeks now, ever since you and nick had been facetiming on a night were you had been exceptionally upset over the distance between the two of you;

“nick- i don’t know how long i can manage being apart from him. i know i’m at uni and doing the right thing but the distance is killer” you said with a sigh, staring off at your framed pictures of you chris that line your windowsill.

“i know, it’s hard on him too but wait- don’t you have your break coming up soon? why can’t you visit then?” nick answered with confusion on his face.

“i would but i had already told chris i’d be at my parents house for break, they wouldn’t be too happy if i backed out now and decided to fly to boston instead” you looked up to your phone screen to see the gears in nicks head turning, and thus a plan was formed.

he had come up with the plan in about 20 minutes, with it mostly starting out as blabbering to distract you from getting too upset but quickly formed into something realistic. and with a lot of apologies and promises to your parents that you’ll make it up to them the next break- the plan was in full formation.

the plan was to fly out on the friday afternoon of your last day and get there hopefully sometime around early night, that way nick could go out with matt- who can drive- to go "get food" while nate and chris work on brainstorming for video ideas (which mostly consisted of them ignoring the said task and playing fortnite)

it wasn't as thought out as it could be but it was the best you two could come up with for the time being, plus nick had told you he planned on being an asshole the whole day so that they wouldn't want to go with him

as for your part, you had told chris that you’d be leaving that friday afternoon for the drive back home and that you'd be fairly inactive for the day, which was fine enough for him.

you climbed in matt’s car with the sounds of music and screaming filling the air as you opened the doors, a smile creeped onto your face as your eyes met theirs.

"holy shit, we're actually doing this" nick spoke as he hugged you from his seat in the front.

you let out a breath from putting your luggage in the car, "i know"

the drive back to the triplets house was filled with minor catching up, music blaring & laughs until you turned onto their street then the car went eerily silent. making your nerves spike, you shouldn’t be this nervous but you are. you just miss him so much.

matt turned his car off and put it in park in front of the house before getting out with nick, waiting for you to walk up with them.

you heard the car door slam behind you as you timidly followed the other two up the driveway to the door, nervousness bubbling up in your stomach.

you finally reached the concrete steps and headed up them, standing in front of the door for a beat before looking back to where nick and matt stood with phones in their hands.

sighing, you raised your hand and bit down on your bottom lip before gently knocking.

“fucking finally!” you heard chris exclaim through the door, footsteps growing louder as you played with your fingers nervously, "what took you guys so lon-" chris cut himself off as he looked up from his phone after opening the door.

he didn't even say a word before embracing you and burying his head into the crook of your neck, tightly wrapping his arms around you as if not to loose you.

you ran your fingers through his hair and pulled away a couple inches to meet with him face to face.

"miss me?"

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #fluff #kenny speaks!#matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x reader

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princeofwittenberg · 8 months

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Screaming out into the void once again about how painful it has been to lose so many former friends since 7/10. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s most likely ignorance not malice but it is really really hard to feel like the people who you once trusted now wouldn’t care if you died and it’s really hard not to take that personally.

I keep having these thoughts of like “how little did you ever respect me if you can believe blatant misinformation calling my people genociders?” And how little must you respect me to not even ask me why I would be supporting a side that you think is committing genocide?

So many of my former friends, people who I thought knew me well, overnight decided that I’m a terrible person who would support a genocide and didn’t even bat an eye. What the fuck ? Why do you think so little of me? Doesn’t it make more sense that you have it wrong? Or have I always just been this evil person to them?

I’m lucky to have a great Jewish community and lots of Jewish friends to feel supported by but I’m in a place of total loss of goyische friends and total distrust in the non-Jewish community because I have no idea who will listen to me and who is just going to spit vitriol in my face. Non-Jewish places don’t feel safe anymore because I am tip-toeing around people trying to figure out if the topic will come up and what to say so I don’t get the look of disgust I keep getting from people who just don’t know anything. It’s like a constant state of social anxiety but I don’t think I’m overreacting.

I wish I could just sit down with people and help them understand what’s actually going on, help them identify their antisemitism, help them understand the conflict and how to actually support Palestinians, but no one wants to listen. They just want the easy, un-nuanced answer so they don’t have to think, but that answer is wrong. And it’s hurting people.

The feelings from this are going to linger for a long time. I’m really scared that my trust around non-Jews is never going to return to where it was before. And I hate that. I don’t want to be isolationist.

But I have so much hurt inside me that I can’t resolve, so much that it feels like it’s suffocating me sometimes. It’s pain, and mourning, and grief, and anger, and it’s like I have to keep taking the hits.

B’ezrat Hashem the hostages will be released soon and Hamas will be dismantled and we can return to peace. But I’ll be honest tikvah is not my strong suit right now.

#just thoughts and feelings #phew #jumblr #ישראבלר

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undertheorangetree · 2 months

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How to Improve HOTD S2

This is truly just me feeling frustrated with the second season and screaming into the void. Feel free to ignore it I wrote it at 10pm in a hater spiral and probably have some information wrong

1. Shift away from the Alicent vs Rhaenyra thing and highlight Aegon vs Rhaenyra. It would be hard when zero relationship had been established in season 1 but after Jaehaerys’s murder it would have been SOOO easy to shift the focus of Team Green on to Aegon and make him really want to take Nyra down.

2. Speaking of Nyra I’m begging them to give her some agency. Her son was MURDERED. She spent TEN DAYS SEARCHING FOR HIS BODY. She should’ve been ready and raring to go to war at the end of episode one!! She should be doing everything she can to destroy those who took her baby boy from her!! Instead they had her crying about going to war and no one taking her seriously for 5 episodes. Let her be morally grey I’m begging you she is not a saint nor should she be

3. Introduce Ulf and Hugh WHEN they claimed their dragons. No one cares about their lives yet. Regular viewers don’t know who they are. They can talk backstory once you’ve shown why they’re important

4. While we’re introducing characters GIVE US SOME TIME WITH DAERON. Non book readers have no idea who he is. Establishing his place in Oldtown, the fact that he has a dragon, the dichotomy between himself and his brothers all would have been GREAT to see before they started throwing his name around.

5. More screentime for the younger generation! Helaena lost so much of her arc due to them removing her fall into madness (which I’m not mad at btw) but showing her grief would’ve still been nice. Baela is ride or die for house targaryen and that’s about all we’ve seen from her, plz give my girl some agency. Rhaena is angry about being cast aside and that’s got so much meat for character motivations but EVEN THE WRITERS ARE IGNORING HER AND GIVING HER ONE 30 SECOND SCENE EVERY OTHER EPISODE. Jace is also being done dirty, they should be establishing reasons why we should care about him and why he’s such a good heir before the battle of the gullet (which in an ideal world would’ve been where we ended season 2 but).

6. ENOUGH WITH THE HARRENHAL ARC!! The first few scenes were fine but now it’s just repetitive. Daemon wanting to be king in his own right came out of nowhere and will have zero consequences when we all know Nyra is just going to take him back when he’s done pouting. He’s literally just wandering around Harrenhal like a freak. That arc needed 3 episodes at the absolute max to establish the castle and Alys and the river lords and then he should’ve come back. I hate him but they’re wasting his character.

7. Aemond turning into a super villain?? After we established he regretted what he did to Luke?? Trying to take out his own brother for power is fine and I support you if that’s what you want king but maybe give us some more context other than “brother bullies you in front of his friends”?? Maybe my sister was just mean but that’s an average sibling experience as far as I’m concerned. It would have made more sense with the characterization they had already given him if Aemond had been given no choice but to burn Aegon in order to save him and take out Rhaneys and Meleys. The 180 into anime villain felt way too abrupt (like dany going mad sorry)

8. Alicent and Cole………… as much as I fly the Alicent is gay flag it could’ve made sense if they didn’t just immediately beat us over the head with it. We were immediately thrown in the deep end of them having a sexual relationship with zero context other than “everything you feel for me… as your queen” PERHAPS GIVE US SOMETHING MORE. I actually would have loved Alicent reclaiming her sexuality after 20+ years of having to fuck her rotting old husband but they went about it the wrong way.

9. Speaking of Alicent, I feel like they truly do not know what to do with Alicent. They took away every ounce of agency she could have had in order to make her a victim and now they don’t have anything for her to do. They just keep taking everything from her in a way that just shoves her character in a box while also trying to maintain her as one of the main characters?? It’s just all very odd to me

10. In that same vein, I feel like they don’t really know what to do with ANYONE honestly. Game of Thrones also had a big cast following multiple locations but somehow juggling between them all felt much cleaner than it does here. It’s as if they lose track of their characters and forget about them so they throw in a quick 30 second scene to be like “btw they’re still here!!”

11. I need more character interactions. Aegon/Helaena. Daemon with his children. Just people you expect to have some kind of relationship. I don’t think any of those characters have ever actually had a significant interaction with each other which feels absolutely WILD to me but

12. STOP WITH THE TEAMS!!! STOP IT!!! There is no good guy and bad guy here and there shouldn’t be. It’s a monarchy, a whole ass empire that has its roots in an even worse empire. None of the Targaryens are good. They aren’t gods. Rhaenyra has been completely screwed over due to the patriarchy but being a victim doesn’t make you a good person. She’s still sacrificing the country for her birthright. Let her be evil, morally grey, ANYTHING is better than her pushing against common sense in order to seem like a good guy. Aegon and co as well shouldn’t be portrayed entirely of super villains and victims. They’ve also done a shitty thing but at the very least give us some nuance no one is entirely good or bad.

13. This is nitpicky so it’s at the end but it’s called house of the DRAGON. I wanna see more rider/dragon interaction. I shouldn’t be introduced to a dragon the same episode it’s maimed (Sunfyre). You shouldn’t be telling me one of the main characters has a dragon when we haven’t so much as heard her speak about it (Dreamfyre). If a bond is so important between a dragon and it’s rider I want to see that bond

• IN THAY SAME VEIN why was vermithor letting nyra and daemon get all up in his grill?? They’re bonded dragonriders they’ve got their bestie, he doesn’t. Shouldn’t he have lit them up for that?? What makes them so special?? He’s barbecuing Targaryen bastards left and right but these two get a pass?? Why??

And now for some general overall complaints🫶🏼

1. Fix your pacing I’m begging you. They could have made 8 episodes work if they had let us move through the plots faster but instead there’s so much dead air. After Jaehaerys was killed we should’ve been FLYING through plot points. Two child murders are enough to declare a war started, but we still hadn’t seen any battle until episode 4 and then it stalled out again. Harrenhal doesn’t need this much screentime. You don’t need to hint at Rhaena claiming Sheepstealer for 3+ episodes. We don’t need to hum and ha about going to war for 4 episodes. There should be fewer long shots of the actors faces simply reacting and more SPEAKING. More PLOT. MORE OF ANYTHING TO MOVE THE STORY FORWARD

2. Stop repeating information. Characters constantly beat you over the head with the same information over and over again. One character will tell a person something then a second character tells that same person almost the exact same thing an episode later it’s like no one proofread the script.

3. Why are you having your actors use giant words in order to sound more period accurate?? You don’t need to repeat lickspittle every five seconds. You don’t need to use gainsay or comportment. I promise your audience knows it’s a medieval setting, put the thesaurus down you sound like an idiot

4. It’s almost totally inaccessible for non book readers. I watch with my mom and sister, neither of whom have done any research about ASOIAF but have seen GOT, and I’m constantly explaining shit to them. The showrunners rely too much on people having read them that they don’t explain anything. I know Helaena has a dragon, but they don’t because NO ONE HAS MENTIONED IT BEFORE!! BY THE SECOND SEASON!!

5. This is just a me thing but I would’ve LOVED more regional costuming. We got a hint of it with Sabitha Frey wearing a headpiece when treating with Jace and I love the idea of each region having their own specific fashion trends. The costumes are fine, some are even great, but most are lacklustre and feel too fantasy to me. I’m a history girly I want to see more hoods and headpieces and different shapes in the dresses etc etc.

Despite all this there are still some great scenes!! Aspects of this season were awesome and I think the first two episodes in particular were really strong, there is just so much lost potential this season and it has been really disappointing. I’m still gonna be sat for the finale this week but I hope that they really up their game in season three

#hotd #anti hotd #technically #but not really??#idk I still enjoy the concept

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thedeviltohisangel · 6 months

Note

I live for Bucky and Spook and I have kids on the brain after rewatching the scene with Buck and Bucky talking to British kids Billy and Sammy so hear me out: Spook offering to babysit for one of the Brit’s kids and one of the kids sees them flirting and asks if they’re gonna get married

All The Things I Did (Interlude): I Want To Give You The World

a/n: ok this interlude became very important to the story. hints at post-berlin (promise we will see pre-berlin soon) cass and john, cass/lemmons/local children fluff, meeting cass' older brother, and hot times on a blanket in a field. interlude requests always open//inbox and DMs ready to accept screams. see you all soon!

The tip of the pencil snapped under the force she was using to press it into the paper. It was the fourth one in the past half hour. She thinks she was going to lose her mind. That the walls were closing in around her like a personal prison cell. That is almost exactly what it was.

The doctors and the OSS had her grounded post-Berlin. They had offered her two choices. Extended stay at a flak house or operational pause and desk duty. Cass had thought she was making the right decision. The former had meant leaving base and leaving John. After she had just gotten him back. After they had only just spent the night together and discovered the bliss of waking up in each other’s arms. No. She couldn’t leave him after all that. But desk duty. Desk duty was causing her slow decline. And to add insult to injury, John had been tasked with a mission to North Africa anyways.

She was trying to catch up on her reports and her targeting packages but it wasn’t enough. John wasn’t here to distract her. Colonel Harding would just flirt with her. Everybody else was locked in their own offices and working frantically. She was alone on her own boredom island.

----

Assuming some sunshine might do the trick, she found herself walking the runways. They were empty just like her heart. Her mustachioed pilot off in a far away land no doubt enjoying his time in the desert. Cass imagined he was still finding a way to cause trouble. Had asked him to look up her brother while he was there. She hoped Bobby at least ribbed him a little bit.

“Lemmons, what have we got going on over here?” It looked like a plane engine and it looked like he had children holding wrenches and helping him work on it.

“Lieutenant Cooper!” The kids saluted her with a smile. She lifted her hand with a laugh in reply.

“Just teaching these kids how to take apart an engine,” Lemmons answered. “Don’t get a lot of down time.” Cass hummed and reached towards the tool kit to pick a wrench of her own.

“Got room for one more?”

----

“Miss Cass?” One of the little girls had been finding Lieutenant too hard to pronounce the past couple of days so she had given her permission to use her name.

“Yes, ma’am?” They were all sitting together around a bonfire that Lemmons had started. The kids were roasting whatever they could put on a stick and telling stories about all the fun them and the mechanics were getting up to.

“Can you tell the story about Prince Bucky and Princess Spook again?” Spending this time with them was a breath of fresh her. Reminded her of her nieces and nephews back home that she missed so dearly.

“Where did we leave off?” A couple of the other kids gathered around at the murmur that the story was continuing.

“Prince Bucky was using his flying unicorn to kill the evil dragon!”

“Oh please, Miss Cass, tell us if Princess Spook is okay.” She ignored the smirks of the men that were also present. Cass gave them a ‘can you blame me’ look. She missed her man and this was one of the ways she knew how to fill the void.

“Prince Bucky arrived at the castle just in time, the dragon about to breathe fire into the window where Princess Spook was asleep.” They gasped, fully committed to the story. “She woke up and looked out the window and saw Prince Bucky and his sword, ready to kill the dragon!”

“I’m sure Bucky is very proficient with his sword,” one of the mechanics scoffed around his cigarette. Cass shot him a look that could kill him and he quieted instantly.

“He raised it high,” she lifted her arms over her head, “and brought it down right through its scales before it could kill the Princess.” The children breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are they going to get their happily ever after, Lieutenant?” Lemmons asked with a grin.

“What do you all think? Should the Prince and Princess be together forever?” They all nodded furiously, Cass laughing at the chocolate on their faces.

“Miss Cass, they should get married and then Princess Spook can wear a really big dress.”

“Then they’ll be King and Queen!”

“And King Bucky can slay a million more dragons!” Two of the boys turned towards each other with their sticks and began to use them as their own swords. The rest of the kids took their cues and took off into the darkening field to act out their own version of the fairytale.

“They’re good kids, Ken. It’s nice that you’ve taken them under your wing.” Cass bumped his shoulder playfully as he blushed around his sip of beer.

“They are much more into Princess Spook than they are plane engines these days, Lieutenant.”

“Cass, please. No ranks around the fire.” She poked at it gently. The distractions had been so welcome. This time spent away from John had only reaffirmed her feelings for him were true. That they were deep and meaningful and could last a long time. When she had gotten back from Berlin, he had told her he loved her. Had looked her in the eyes and held her steady and said the three words that Cass thinks carried the most meaning the world. And he had fucking meant them.

She hadn’t said them back even though she felt it too. Never one to be held back by fear, she was in this instance. John could be taken from her at any moment and there was nothing she could do about it. In her line of work, lack of control got you killed.

----

Lemmons was teaching her how to properly oil the gears of the practice engine when the first plane was spotted on the horizon. Cass stood and watched them appear one by one through the lenses of her aviators and smiled before dropping her tools and running to the tower.

“Lieutenant Cooper.” Colonel Harding lowered his binoculars to give her a once over, clearly enjoying the sight of her in a jumpsuit rather than her usual uniform. She plucked the binoculars from his hand while he was distracted.

“My forearms are too tantalizing this afternoon, Colonel?” He smirked as she looked out the window, until she spotted John’s plan and smiled with glee.

“Cassandra, I have dinner tomorrow night with my British counterpart. He’s known to talk with the prodding of scotch and a beautiful woman.” She hummed in thought as the plane carrying the man she loved got closer and closer.

“I’ll think about it.” It wasn’t the first time Harding had invited her as his date to a fancy dinner with their partners. It gave her a chance to elicit information of value from them as she played dumb and sipped a glass of water. John had muttered under his breath about it previously but after the most recent change in their relationship, she doesn’t think he would be so subtle about it anymore.

“Best not keep Major Egan waiting.” He took the binoculars from her hand and watched her go with a sad smile on his face. If only he was younger.

She thinks she exercised the most patience she ever had in her entire life as she wanted for his plane to land and taxi to its final resting place. Her entire body was vibrating as she waited and waited for the hatch to open and almost groaned that he would of course be the last one to exit. And then he dropped out of the plane and the clouds parted so the sun could shine on John Clarence Egan and she was off across the airfield like a cannonball.

“C’mere my lovely, lovely angel.” He caught her as she jumped into his arms, her legs around his waist and arms around his neck in an instant. John went for a kiss but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

“Any new scratches or bruises or wounds of any kind I need to know about?” She had already located one on the bridge of his nose and on his forehead.

“You can do a more thorough check when you take a shower with me later, how about that?” he whispered.

“Yeah, it does seem you need one.” John couldn’t wait to kiss her anymore. He groaned as she wasted no time slipping her tongue between his lips, gripping her tighter against his body. “I missed you. Thought about you every day,” she admitted. He let her legs drop onto the ground but her arms stayed exactly where they had been.

“The men almost mutinied against me for talking about you too much.” She giggled and John kissed her again. “Though it did make me look a little desperate in front of your brother.” Cass looked at him with wide eyes.

“You saw Bobby? Were you able to give him the box?” John nodded.

“You didn’t tell me he was that frightening.” He didn’t mention that his hand was shaking when he was giving him the box. The way the older man had looked at him like ham on a buffet table made him sweat. Gale had loved every minute of it.

“He’s just protective when it comes to boys in my life.” Especially after Sidney Landry.

“Gave me a stern speech about the kind of girl you are and how you deserve to be treated and that he knew what I looked like now so he could kill me if he needed to.”

“He’s doing okay? Seemed intact?” Cass hadn’t seen Bobby since he left for boot camp immediately after Pearl a few years ago. Remembers hugging him with tears that she may not see him again. That he was going somewhere far away where people hated him. He had told her he had to. That he needed to do something to protect his family. Told her he wouldn’t be surprised if she found a way to join him over there. She and her brother Kent followed not too soon after. God how she missed them both.

“Told me to tell you he misses you.” John had been honest with the man about his feelings for Cass. Didn’t know if he would ever get the chance to talk to her father and that Bobby would be the next best thing. Told him he loved her and wanted to be with her when this was all over. That Cass was it for him, he knew it as well as he knew how to fly. Bobby was hesitant at first but watched the way John looked when he spoke about her. Heard the men making jokes about the lovestruck Major. Bobby had even asked Major Cleven for his thoughts on the whole situation. Gale had raved about Cass and how good she was for John. That the two of them complemented each other like salt and pepper.

When John asked for Bobby’s blessing to one day marry Cass, he had given it.

----

That night, they were back where they could always be found. On a blanket in the field of wildflowers a few minutes drive from base. John’s hat and blazer were thrown somewhere in the distance and she was working on the knot of his tie as he hovered on top of her.

“You aren’t allowed to leave me for that long ever again,” she breathed as she threw the offensive fabric over his head and John’s hands moved the hem of her dress around her waist.

“Yes, ma’am.” Cass used his moment of weakness to change the balance of power, hooking her leg around his waist and pushing against his shoulder until his back hit the blanket and she was straddling him. “I like the way you think.” She had only unbuttoned the first few on her dress, John sitting up in a daze at the sight of white lace, kissing her skin as she exposed it to him. Then, over the hill, was the sound of screeching children and it was only getting closer.

“John-”

“Miss Cass! Miss Cass!” She pushed John down as they came running towards her. Her fingers barely locked the last button into place before they were swarmed.

“We didn’t see you today!”

“Sergeant Lemmons said Prince Bucky was back!”

“Is this him?” She went to move from her precarious position over John when his hands on her hips stopped her.

“Not yet,” he cautioned. No need to scar these children for life.

“Yes, this is…Prince Bucky.” She had told John, after he had coaxed her into the shower, about her time with Lemmons and the local kids. About the story of Prince Bucky and Princess Spook and the dragon. He had teased her about their happily ever after all afternoon. “He’s just been back from killing another dragon.” Her look begged him to play along.

“Indeed. A large…gray dragon.” The kids gasped.

“Was he trying to hurt Princess Spook?”

“I would do anything to rescue my Princess.” Cass couldn’t help herself, pulling him in for a kiss by his collar.

“Will you be getting married soon?”

“Oh, please, Miss Cass! You’d look so pretty in a princess dress.”

“Prince Bucky hasn’t asked, little ones.” For his part, John was looking at her like the first sight of land after being lost at sea.

“Will you marry me, Princess Spook?” The kids cheered but Cass was frozen. She knew it wasn’t real, he was placating them and she loved him for it, but hearing the words come from his mouth felt so right. He meant them.

“Yes.” And she meant her answer too.

#masters of the air #john egan #callum turner #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan fanfiction #callum turner fanfiction #mota fanfiction #masters of the air fanfic #john egan fanfic #callum turner fanfic #mota fanfic #john egan x reader #john egan x oc #answered #cass and bucky

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morganski-19 · 10 months

Text

I Don’t Know Which Way’s Home

Chapter 1: The Reveal

ao3 link

September 1986

Julie slams the door shut when she comes home, she doesn’t mean to, most of the time. But today, she really does. And the hinge is already broken so what harm is it really going to do? So she ignores the comment her mom makes about it and does it again with her bedroom door, hearing the slam vibrate the walls of the trailer.

She’s just so sick of it. It’s like every single class decides to do some stupid project that just makes her stand out from the beginning in front of kids who might not already know. Not like anyone does. Everyone knows everyone’s business in this town, and Julie’s family situation is no different.

The problem today, was the beginning-year project her Spanish teacher assigned. A family tree, something simple to introduce yourself to the class and to see what you remembered from the last year. The only problem is, Julie is always missing half a tree.

Her father has been a void in her life for its entirety. There’s no face to the name, and no name to even put a face to. Her mother won’t tell her anything, not even a peep. The most she knows is that he was a mistake her mom made for a few months that ended as soon as she became pregnant. Which translated into Julie’s mind that she was an accident. And with how their situation turned out, she couldn’t help but believe it was true.

So when she’s reminded of the fact that her existence on this Earth is due to one of her mother’s flings that never lasts a year, she gets to slam a few doors. She gets to play the Iron Maiden tape she found on the ground one day at full volume without complaint. She doesn’t even like it that much, but it was free and loud enough to match the screaming that was going on inside her head.

That’s the worst part, with how angry she can get about her family situation, she can never be mad at her mom for too long. Not after everything she’s done to make sure Julie had a good life. Not a perfect one, but one where they at least had a roof over their heads and weren’t living on the streets.

It’s bad enough that her mom had to work two jobs just to get them by, she didn’t need to deal with all of Julie’s problems on top of that.

“Would you like to tell me why you’ve just permanently broken the front door, or am I supposed to guess?” Her mom says after coming into the room without knocking and turning the music down.

Julie grunts from where her face is dug into the pillow. Hoping that it was enough to make her mom leave, but it never was.

“Come on,” her mom gives her a soft shove. “You don’t get to barge into the house and break a door without explanation. What’s up?”

“What up is a stupid Spanish project,” Julie complains angrily as she rolls onto her back, glaring at the ceiling. “It’s a stupid family tree where I know I’ll be questioned on it in front of the whole class, again, on why I ‘failed to include my dad on the tree’. Like I would fucking leave him out on purpose.”

She feels the bed dip as her mom sits on the foot of it. “I’ll let that slide this time because you’re upset.”

“Yeah, I am. I just am so tired of explaining it in every single damn class I seem to have that he just left and I have no clue who he is. They don’t have a right to my life and I don’t need the pity looks they give me once they figure it out. And what’s worse is that everyone in the class already knows except for the teacher, so dumb Billy Johnson will start snickering or some shit, and then I’m the kid without a dad all over again.”

“Bullies really need to get some new material,” her mom jokes without hesitation.

Julie snorts. “Tell me about it. “ She gets softer, already feeling the anger start to dissipate. And when it does, all that is left is the gaping hole in her heart that she knows will never be filled. “I don’t even care that he’s not in my life anymore, I accepted that he wouldn’t be a long time ago. I just want to know who he is. Why I’m here. Why you won’t tell me anything about him.”

“I just don’t think-”

“Oh just save it mom, I’ve heard all the excuses. I’m not a little kid anymore who writes that her dad will want to know her in her Santa letters anymore. I know he doesn’t give a shit about me, I just want to know who. I deserve to have a name to not give a shit about either.”

Her bed rises again as her mom leaves, turning the music back to full volume and shutting the door softly behind her. Julie rolls back over, pulling her blankets over her head, and starts to feel like shit again.

It’s not just the fact that she doesn’t have a present dad that bullies love to tease, there are more kids than you’d expect with only one parent. It’s that her mom wasn’t married when she had Julie that was the problem. Unwanted pregnancies are like drugs for small towns, they spread like wildfire. The second the neighbor saw that her mom had a significant bump, it was everywhere. And then the kids heard it from their parents at every school function.

It’s all, “Oh poor Julie Lawson, her mother couldn’t keep a boyfriend long enough for her to have a real dad.” Like they have the right to comment on Julie’s family. Or her mom. No one does, not even her.

. . .

October 1986, Present Day

Steve walks in after his shift with two pizzas, a six-pack of beer, and Robin right behind him. It was Friday, which means that Robin, Eddie, and him shook off the kids for a night to watch a movie. Alone. They loved the kids but sometimes it was nice to have a night without chaos. Calming even.

Eddie wasn’t coming over for a few more hours because of his band practice, so Steve stuck the pizzas in the oven so they stayed warm. Robin already makes herself at home, rummaging through the fridge to find something to drink and making a nest out of blankets in the living room when she does. Steve follows her, digging himself into the nest and putting something on the TV.

An hour or so later, he hears a knock at the front door. Robin gives him a concerned look as he leaves the living room to open it. Eddie had a key so he just let himself in, and they weren’t expecting anyone else. And with their track record, it could go from random salesperson to world apocalypse pretty fast.

When he opens the door, a girl he guesses is around Dustin’s age is there, nervously playing with her hands, a backpack loosely thrown over her shoulder. “Hi, sorry to bother you but, do the Harrington’s live here?” she asks shyly.

“Yes, I’m Steve. Who are you?” There is a familiarity to her face that he can’t quite place.

“Steve, right, he had a son. Sorry, this week’s been weird. I’m uh, my name is Julie. Your dad kinda knew my mom.”

He must have met her at one of his dad’s work events, that has to be why she looks familiar. “Oh ok, did she have to drop something off here or something?”

“Well, kinda. But it’s not what you’re probably expecting.” She pauses looking unsure of what she is going to say next. “Can I- can I come it, you might want to sit down for what I have to say. It’s kind of shocking.”

“I’m not sure, I don’t really know you. Could you tell me who your mom is, maybe I can remember you then.”

She takes a deep breath. “When I said that my mom knew your dad, I didn’t mean from work. Well, I did mean from work but she hasn’t worked for him in over fifteen years, so I doubt you’d remember her. She was his secretary for a while, and they had a very,” she pauses again, looking around to see if anyone is there. “Intimate, relationship.”

The dots clicked immediately in his head, thoughts immediately started to run around about who this girl could really be. He thinks that her offer to sit down was probably necessary. “Yeah, why don’t you come in.”

“Ok.” She steps through the doorway, waiting for him to lead her through the house.

He brings her to the kitchen, motioning for her to sit at the small table. Grabbing a few glasses, he fills them with water and brings them over, placing one in front of her. She thanks him, taking it and gulping it down with shaky hands. The more he looks at her, the more he can’t help but see more and more similarities, just ones that remind him of himself.

“Who was it, Steve,” Robin asks, wandering into the kitchen. “Oh shit, hi.”

“Rob, this is Julie, her mom apparently knew my dad.” Steve makes a motion with his head to indicate how, hoping that she can read it right.

Her eyes widen in shock. “Oh like, special knew. Like knew knew.”

“Yes,” Julie says weakly. “Yeah, they did.”

“Oh shit,” Robin takes a seat next to Steve, her hand immediately finding his. It brings comfort, reassurance that she’s there. He knew his dad was a piece of crap cheater, his mom certainly made it known during many of their screaming matches. But with the girl staring at him with the same eyes he sees every morning in the mirror, his brain can’t help but jump to the conclusion that she’s, something. And that just makes his chest tighten in anxiety.

“I, uh.” Julie starts, wringing her hand nervously again. “I don’t really know how to say this gently. But, when my mom worked for your dad, they had an affair. It didn’t last that long, but remember when I said my mom stopped working for him like fifteen years ago? It was actually seventeen because that’s when she figured out she was pregnant.”

Steve feels a lump forming in his throat as she nods, trying to take it all in. “With you?” he asks, not knowing how he is even speaking at all right now. Robin squeezes his hand.

Julie gives a small nod, looking down at the table. “Yeah.”

“And my dad is-” he can’t finish the sentence, but it’s answered by her sorry nod. “Holy shit.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around everything. This girl, Julie, is his sister. Half-sister, whatever, it doesn’t matter. Robin breaks her contact with him and goes to rub his back instead. His head falls into his hands propped up on the table and he just focuses on breathing.

“Steve, you ok?” Robin’s voice soothes him a little bit, but when your world just gets shattered, there’s not much that can be done to help completely.

“I knew he cheated. I knew that. It’s why my mom followed him around on all his trips. But he- he had a kid, and just hid it.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot, I have proof if you want to see it.”

Steve looks at Robin, asking her what to do with his eyes. She shrugs, her way of saying that it couldn’t hurt. Probably is better that they have proof anyway, make sure this is legit. He nods, unable to say anything.

“Could we see it? Just to double-check everything,” Robin asks for him. God, he’s so happy that she’s here. He can’t imagine doing this by himself

Julie ruffles around in her backpack, random clothes peeping out as she pulls out a file. She opens it, pulling out two pieces of paper before going in again and pulling out what looks like a school ID. “Here’s my birth certificate and the paternity test. And my ID with my picture on it, so you know it’s me.”

The first thing he sees is his father’s name on the test results, followed by the line saying his relation to Julie is undeniable. That he was undeniably the father. The birth certificate only has the signature of her mother and the doctor, but the father’s name is absent. He ditched them, probably made her mom prove that this kid was his, and then just paid them to shut them up. His mom would never know, he would never know, and they never had access to any of his records.

Julie Rebecca Lawson, born January 28, 1970. He was three when she was born. He’s had a sibling this whole time, and he didn’t even know it.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” Robin asks, softly.

Julie’s face visibly falls as she rapidly blinks away some tears. “She- she died two weeks ago. Car accident.”

“I’m so sorry, Julie,” Robin reaches across to comfort her, but the hand she was going to grab gets pulled away. “Whoever is watching you then, do they know where you are?”

She sniffles. “I’ve been staying with a foster family while they find a permanent placement. They don’t really care where I am. My caseworkers were trying to find some family, but my grandparents are long gone and my mom’s sister is in no place to take in a kid. So they were looking on my dad’s side.” She says the word dad as if they don’t fit right in her mouth.

“I didn’t come here looking for a place to say,” she continues. “Right before my mom passed, she finally told me about my dad. How he never wanted anything to do with me because he had a big reputation and another family. It was supposed to be a secret, but the more I thought about it, I couldn’t help but think that you had a right to know. And then since she-, since I needed a place to stay, it was only a matter of time before you found out. I knew he was out of town so I thought it might be better to say it myself. Now I’m not so sure that was such a great idea.”

“No,” Steve finally says. “I’m, I’m glad you told me. You’re right, we, me and my mom, had a right to know. So, thank you.” He turns to look at Robin, her face shifting when she sees the panic in his. “Rob, could I talk to you for a minute?”

She stands. “Yeah. We’ll be right back, ok Julie.”

Julie says a soft reply as Robin leads Steve to the living room. “I don’t know what to do, Rob.”

“How could you? You just found out that your dad had another kid. With another woman. And then hid it from you. How are you supposed to cope with that information?”

“I don’t know. I have no clue what to do. But I can’t-. Shit Rob, I want to help her.”

“Steve, you don’t know her, at all. She just spawned on your doorstep not even an hour ago and just dropped the biggest bombshell on you since the, you know what. I get that you want to help her, I do. Shit, I do too. But I’m just asking that you take a step back and think about this.”

Steve crosses his arms, pulling his eyebrows together. The decision was pretty much made in his mind, but she was right. “What if she stays the night, we sleep on this and get to know her more tomorrow. Then we can go from there.”

“Ok,” she puts a hand on Steve’s arm. “That’s a good plan.”

Robin steps forward, pulling him into a hug before they walk back into the kitchen. Julie looks back up at them, uncertainty filling her face. It reminds him so much of himself it sort of hurts. “Julie, you can stay the night, if you want to. That way tomorrow we can talk some more, and get to know each other, figure out what to do about this. But I can drive you back to the house you’re staying at if you’d like.”

“Could I stay here, I really don’t like it there.” The fear that coats her eyes with the mention only makes it worse.

“Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.”

Julie stands, grabs her bag and follows after Steve. When he shows her to the room, she stands in it like like she knows she doesn’t belong. He can’t help but think it’s not the first time she’s felt like this, especially since he’s pretty sure she brought enough clothes for a few days in her bag.

He tells her where the bathroom is, where his bedroom is if she needs anything. She nods silently. The similarities between them keep coming in waves. Sure they’re not like an exact match. But her eyes, her jawline, her hair, it’s ever so similar to his. If they were to walk down the street together, it would be clear that they were siblings.

The fact that it’s true just keeps shocking him all over again.

“You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen, and there’s plenty of supplies in the bathroom if you need any. I keep it all under the sink. And, don’t be afraid to ask for anything, ok?” He stands there awkwardly, not quite knowing what else to do.

“Ok,” she replies softly, placing her bag on the bed and pulling out some things.

When he shuts the door behind him, it finally hits. He practically runs back down the stairs to find Robin waiting in the living room, on the phone with someone.

“Yeah, something came up and we can’t do movie night anymore. No nothing bad, yeah no he’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all good, just a migraine. Yep. I’ll have him call you tomorrow. No, you don’t need to do that. Ok, bye.” Robin turns to him when she hangs up the phone. “Eddie, thought it was pretty clear that movie night was canceled.”

“Yeah, no, it was. I-” the words get stuck in his throat. “I have a sister, Rob.”

Robin crosses over to him, pulling his fingers away from where they held his arms in a death grip. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

“Angry mostly. How could he keep this from us, from my mom? From me? Do you know how many times I wished for a sibling, only for me to have one all along and just not know about it? And then she goes through life knowing her dad didn’t want her. I can’t begin to imagine what that is like.”

“Pretty shitty probably. What do you really want to do about all of this Steve?”

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. I want to help her, get to know her. But I-I don’t know if I can do this.”

“She wasn’t asking you to fix everything. She just lost her mom, I think she just wants someone to lean on like that again.”

“But what if I can’t even do that?”

Robin gives him a soft look that he knows means he’s overthinking it all again. “Let’s go get some sleep ok. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

They walk upstairs, passing the room that Julie is staying in on the way to his. He remembers being little and looking at the empty guest rooms in his house, wondering when people would come to fill them. Wishing that when they did, they’d stay for longer than a week. Maybe then he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

When he was really young, he would sit in the rooms and pretend that it was other kids that filled them. Brothers and sisters that he got to play with for however long he wanted to. His nights would feel less empty and during the day he’d be less lonely. He’d be like every other kid on the playground with their siblings, pushing them on the swings and chasing them around the park. The house would be full of noise instead of deafening silence.

But that day never came. The years went on and he kept getting older. His mom went on more and more trips and then just stopped calling. The only time his dad ever called was after the police told him that he’d thrown a party. He used to just mess up just to hear his dad’s voice. Because then maybe he could convince himself that his dad cared for him. If you're disappointed enough to yell, that has to mean you care about something.

Most people say wait until you’re older and then you’ll understand like it’s some kind of mystery that everyone cheers when you solve it. Not knowing that some mysteries only crush the people around them. Steve Harrington spent most of his life alone and it wasn’t until he graduated and no one from his family showed up that he finally accepted why.

As he looks back at the guest room, he can’t help but feel that part of himself get unearthed again. That sad little kid that begged for someone who he could grow up with. Knowing that was there across town all his life only makes him hurt all over again.

The urge to call his dad right then and there is strong. To scream at him for hiding something that he wanted for so long. Yell at him for being a piece of shit to not just him, but to his mom, and to Julie. He was used to his dad, no one else deserved to be hurt like he was.

. . .

Julie lays in a bed that is bigger than one she’s owned in her entire life. Having one of this size would make it easier when she and her mom would share when her back was too sore after her double shifts to take the cot. The sheets are softer and clearly barely used, the fabric smells of fresh flowers.

She’s almost angry at all of this. That one person could have so much and be so cruel. That Steve got more out of their dad than she ever did. But one of them was wanted, the other clearly wasn’t.

The word still feels weird in her mind. Their dad. She didn’t even know the guy but she spent so long hating someone who was a dad to someone else. But by the lack of family pictures on the wall and the way Steve talked about him just briefly, it doesn’t look like he was much of a dad to Steve either.

She wonders what it’s like to live in this giant house alone. The empty walls and rooms prepared for people but never filled. There were at least two living rooms in this house and a kitchen just made for a party. A house so perfect from the outside but so broken from within.

Steve at least seemed nice, even after she broke the news. Hell, she’s still here, isn’t she? In her mind, she was preparing for the worst. To be kicked out on the curb right after even implying that her father was just that, her father. Because a businessman with a poster family could never do anything wrong, could never be a terrible person who would have a kid and just abandon it.

But she was believed, and accepted. Allowed to stay the night in a house she always dreamed of living in with a family she didn’t even know existed. She just hopes that in the morning it all won’t go to shit like everything else in her life seems to.

. . .

September 1986

Julie hears her mom call out for dinner from the kitchen. As much as she’d like to still be angry, she can’t force herself to avoid her mom forever. For what it’s worth, her mom is all she has in the realm of family and a friend. There’s no one who knows her like she does, and it’d just be cruel to let the pain of the past dwell any longer.

Except this isn’t a pain of the past, not for Julie. Almost daily she’s reminded that there’s someone out there who doesn’t care enough to know her, and that person is half the reason she exists. It seemed like everyone else in this town knew who their father was, even if they weren’t around, except for her.

But she can’t help but think about what her mom went through. How raising a kid on her own had to be, especially in a town like this. Someone she obviously cared about just dropping her after a positive test and leaving her high and dry. Life was hard, but she managed, somehow. Julie’s not so sure she would have in her position.

“I want to talk to you about something,” her mother starts once the table is cleared. She goes to sit back at the table, placing a folder on top of it. “What you said earlier, you’re right. You have a right to know who your father is, whether he’s in your life or not.”

Julie sits across from her mom. “I was just angry before, you really don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

It’s a lie and they both know it.

“No, you need to know. There’s going to be a point in the future where you’ll need to know certain things, medical history and such. And there might be a day when his family finds out about you and comes asking for questions.”

“His family,” she says shocked.

Her mom nods. “A wife and a son. He had both of them already when we were together.”

Julie’s entire world shifts. “What?”

“A year before you were born, I worked as a secretary for Richard Harrington in his business, well his dad��s business at the time. We entered an, inappropriate relationship, which ended up in you.”

“Inappropriate’s one way to say it,” she jokes under her breath. “He’s a big deal in town, Mom, his whole family is.”

Her mom nods. “It was risky and stupid and I never should have done it. But back then, he was good at hiding what a terrible person he was behind his looks and his charm. It wasn’t until you got to know him and got on his bad side that things went south.”

“So, when you got pregnant with me?”

“It went south, fast. I told him, he wanted you gone but I couldn’t go through with it. So instead we came up with a deal. I prove you were his with a paternity test, and he gives me a monthly payment to shut me up. It wasn’t a lot, clearly, but it would be enough to pay off the trailer in a few years and make sure we had money for bills.”

“I’m surprised that he gave you anything at all.” It really couldn’t have been that much if her mom had to work two jobs just in order to scrape by.

“The rich will do anything to keep a secret, including bribery. Everything you could ever need to know about him is in this file. With a copy of your birth certificate and the paternity test. Just so you have it. I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long.”

She looks at the file in her hand. It’s still pretty empty, but it has just enough. “I can see why you did. It’d be worse for you for a kid to accidentally tell everyone their dad is a Harrington.”

“It’d be bad.” Her mom clears her throat, looking down at her hands. “I also didn’t want you to think differently of me. I slept with a married man after all, for a year. That’s a pretty shitty thing to do to someone, even if you don’t know them.”

“Yeah, it is.” Julie would be lying if she said it didn’t come as a shock, that her mom would do that. All this time she thought that her dad was some drugged-up guy that she hooked up with for a month or two before they stole all her cash and ran off. That’s who her boyfriends were in the past few years, so it wouldn’t have been a surprise. But a married man, one with a kid, that’s a new one. “Do you regret it? Sleeping with him.”

“All the time, but then I’d never have you.” She reaches her hands across the table and cups them around Julie’s. “You’re my life, Jules. I love you more than anything, and I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant never having you.”

Julie puts a smile on her face. “Love you too, Mom. And thank you for telling me about this. Now I have a name to not give a shit about.”

“Yeah, now you do.”

Her mom gives her one last smile before going to the living room and setting up her cot. Julie takes the file and heads to her room, shutting the door softly behind her.

She doesn’t know how to describe what she’s feeling. Like a weight has been lifted off of her but a new feeling of dread came to replace it. The name of the person who she’s hated for so long is in her hands, and she doesn’t know what to do with it other than hate him more. He had a wife, and a kid, a young kid, and he still went and had an affair.

When she lies in her bed, waiting for sleep to come, all she can picture is the face of the man who ruined not only one life but three. And while her mom isn’t blameless, she can’t help but think that there is more to the story than her just willingly sleeping with him. She imagines taking her fist and hitting him straight in his smug face. Once for her mom, and once for her.

Chapter 2

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#stranger things #steve harrington #steve has a sibling #Julie Lawson #original female character #steddie #eddie munson #robin buckley #found family #secret family #steve's dad is a piece of shit #a real nasty one

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