#unless i became a little horse
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What if you were a horse?
Then there'd literally be no way to stop me from horsing around all day long
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Stobin Different First Meeting AU where they go to prom together. This was meant to be an au post and turned into a mini fic oops (written completely within a tumblr post so sorry for the poor quality)
(edit: realized I should link the fic I was inspired by for those who don't follow me and so didn't see me reblog it earlier)
Steve doesn't necessarily want to go to prom, right? Like yeah, he'd been imagining it for a while, but now that he was very, very single it just didn't have the same shine that it used to. And he really wasn't ready to start dating yet. However, he didn't want to just, not go to prom, and also knew it would seem really weird (and pretty fucking sad) if he didn't go.
Which leaves him in a conundrum.
He thought for a while that maybe he would go with one of the junior cheerleaders. While he didn't have any close friends anymore, he was still friendly with plenty of people. There were girls that wouldn't be going to prom unless they had a senior boyfriend - some he had even gone on dates with in the past who wouldn't think a single prom date meant that he wanted a new girlfriend.
However, he is pretty sure most of those girls would have... other expectations for the night. And honestly? He isn't quite sure that he was ready to get back on that horse either.
... Not that he thought women were horses.
He's pretty sure men are normally the ones called horses in riding metaphors.
Anyway.
That left him stuck. He couldn't just not go to prom, but also didn't want to wind up trapped on an actual date with someone. So who could he ask?
His solution ended up coming from an odd place.
Robin Buckley was... quite honestly, kind of a weirdo.
She was cute, in an alternative sort of way. She never took any of his shit (he wasn't completely sure she even liked him) but also reluctantly laughed at the snarky shit he said under his breath during their Film History class. And not in the fake giggly way girls did when they were flirting, but didn't actually care about what he was saying, just the way he said it. She actually seemed to think he was funny. Even if that revelation seemed to piss her off.
The only reason he was even in Film History that semester - and therefore, knew who she was - was for the easy A. He got to watch movies in class, and watch movies for homework. He was willing to plow through a couple of shitty essays in exchange for a class that he didn't feel like a complete idiot in.
(Well, he was pretty sure Robin thought he was an idiot about movies, but just because he had trouble remembering the names and shit of characters, didn't mean he couldn't analyze the themes, fuck you very much, Buckley.)
They had gotten assigned a project together early on, and it hadn't been completely terrible. She had quickly taken over doing most of the writing portions, but hadn't thought all of his ideas were terrible. By the end of the project he thought they were even sort of having fun together.
He'd always been one to try his luck, take a little more than he was given. So, after that assignment was over, he started sitting next to her in class, not wanting that easy, if sharp, camaraderie to end. Robin rolled her eyes at him and asked him what he thought he was doing the first time he did it, but she never sent him away.
They ended up chatting more and more during down times, passing notes to each other and sharing sly comments under their breaths during the movies. Steve often had trouble paying attention at school, his mind easily wandering away, and it was almost as bad during most movies, but Robin helped keep him on track.
The class turned into one that was done for the easy grade, a last ditch effort to improve his already hopeless GPA, and became one he actually enjoyed.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to prom with Robin. It made the night seem a little less unbearable.
He thought about making a big deal out of asking her, because he knows that's what girls (and even Nancy) had enjoyed for past dances. He quickly scrapped that idea, however, because not only did he not want to put pressure on her like that, but also she seemed to hate public spectacles like that.
Or at least when aimed at her, they both enjoyed watching drama unfold in the halls a bit too much to say she hated it completely.
So Steve waits until the end of the day, their film class being their last, to pull her into an empty classroom. She follows him without question in a show of trust he didn't realize she had in him. The notion warms him, and for some reason makes it more difficult to get the question out.
"Why do I feel like you're about to try to sell me drugs or something?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He squints at her in offense.
"Why is that your first assumption?!"
"I don't know! Why else are you pulling me out of the hallway all secretive like, making sure no one followed us, into an abandoned classroom," she asks, throwing her arms into the air.
"The classroom isn't abandoned, it's the end of the day! Also, who does drug deals on campus, that's just stupid?" He asks rhetorically, before waving one hand through the air, as if trying to erase the current thread of conversation. "That doesn't matter, you're distracting me."
"Well then, get on with it! Some of us have practice we need to get to."
"It's like talking to the kids," he mutters to himself, "Whatever. I wanted to ask - will you go to prom with me?"
That stops Robin up short. There's panic in her eyes now, though Steve isn't sure what exactly put it there. Was his reputation that bad that even band geeks are terrified of getting asked out by him?
"You want to go on a date? With me?" she asks slowly, disbelief coloring her voice, though it doesn't hide her unease.
"No, I want to go to prom with you," he scoffs, "Not go on a date with you."
"That is a date, dingus! The person you go to prom with is literally called your date!"
"Okay, sure, maybe, but I don't actually want to date you," he said, rolling his eyes at her.
Like, okay, he understood his reputation for being... what did she call him last week? A 'huge effing rake'? But that didn't mean that he was trying to date any girl that looked in his direction. A lot of girls looked in his direction. That was too many women, even for him.
Robin relaxes a little at that.
"Then why are you asking me to prom instead of someone you actually want to date?"
"Because!" he says, resisting the urge to flail his hands back at her. "I don't want to date anyone right now. Most people I ask are going to expect all these things from me - they're going to want dinner, and at the very least a kiss at the end of the night if not more, or another date the very next day. Because Steve Harrington is supposed to want those things!" He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair to calm himself. "But right now? I really don't."
"Well then, what does Steve the Hair Harrington actually want?" She had relaxed fully at this point, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
"I want to go to prom with someone I consider a friend, someone who makes me laugh," he says after a moment of silence. "I want to dance badly to really corny pop music and drink just enough spiked punch that I don't remember how much I hate wearing any sort of tie. Then I want to go get milkshakes or go see a really trashy midnight horror flick, just because I'm having so much fun I don't want the night to end."
That small smile has grown into a reluctant grin on Robin's face. It makes her eyes shine and her freckles pop. Steve thought that if he was in a better place, if they had met at a different time, he could have fallen in love with her.
But they had met now instead, in some shitty public school elective course, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend that wasn't a snotty middle schooler.
"That sounds... like a lot of fun, actually," she says, mischief sparking on her face. "Who would've known the hidden depths hidden behind all that hair."
"Hey!" he protests half-heartedly, unable to keep a grin of his own off his face. "So what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?"
"I guess," she sighs, acting like it was such a trial to go to prom with him. Him! But her next words make up for it. "Since we're friends, and all. However, I still expect you to buy me dinner, though you can keep the kiss goodnight to yourself."
Steve can't help the giddy laugh from spilling out of him. For the first time in weeks, he is actually looking forward to prom.
#stobin#platonic stobin#st fic rec#mini fic#steve#robin#my writing#writing tag#this was got out of hand#all of the stuff about prom is pulled loosely from my own experiences with prom#both from it being seniors only (juniors at my school had their own dance) to what people did after prom#(i went to two proms and one group went and saw a bad horror movie after prom and i went to a diner with the other group)#also this is barely editted so there is some weird tense switches in here im sorry!#this wasnt meant to be an actual fic i had just meant to throw out the idea of steve asking robin to his prom#and steves voice got away from me quick#this was inspired by the fic i reblogged earlier today about steve taking robin to her prom
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Congrats on the follower milestone! Well deserved! Could I request a 19 with Happy Lowman?
Masterlist
What a Mess
Contains: Fluff
1.1K words
“Whoever said you can't buy Happiness forgot little puppies.” - Gene Hill
Happy wouldn't tell you where the puppy came from, he just came home one day covered in human blood and handed you a scruffy crying puppy with a grunt. After you had washed the puppy and given it some boiled chicken, he gave you a Happy style explanation about how he "found" the dog when the SONs went to visit a drug dealer.
Two days later, Juice would tell you the truth. The drug dealer had bought the puppy early that day and just gave it to Happy when he decided it was too much work. The blood came later when Happy decided that giving a dog to strangers with guns was unforgivable.
She got her name the first night when she made her way between you and Happy as you settled into bed and flopped into your pillow. Happy turned into a total dog dad, carrying her everywhere because she hadn't got her shots yet and he didn't want her to get sick.
It soon became clear that Mellow was some kind of horse because she was putting on a pound a week and the more she ate, the more she wanted. Which led you to where you were now, looking out at a kitchen covered in roast beef scraps while she wagged her tail at you, "Did your daddy put the roast too close to the edge of the bench?"
Her tail wagged and she let out a yip as she wagged her way over to you, "I hope you like that because that piece of meat was very pricy." All Mellow did in response was lick your hand, "I'm not mad at you, you're just being a dog, but your daddy's in the poo."
"Why am I in the poo?" You turned around as Mellowed rushed to greet Happy.
"Because I asked you to put the roast in the middle of the counter when you took it out and you didn't so someone ate half of it." She let out another yip, and Happy bent down to scratch her ear while her tongue lolled from her mouth, "Hap, we pay really good money for her to have good nutrition. She can't be eating stuff off our table unless we let her."
He sighed, "I know. I meant to push it further, but she took her ball to the door and I wanted to play outside with her. I forgot where I left it."
You nodded, "That's alright, there was nothing in it that could have hurt her so no harm done. How about you clean up here while I give her a bath and then you can go and get us some takeout?"
Happy nodded, "That's fair."
You bent down and tapped your legs and Mellow came bounding over to you, "You wanna have a bath, you smelly girl?" Her tail waged and she placed your growing paws on your legs as her whole body wagged with her tail, "I'll take that as a yes."
She jumped off you and raced towards the tub and you sighed as Happy followed you, "Yes you can help but after that I want to kitchen spotless."
Happy smiled, "Hell yeah."
Mellow looked from you to Happy and with a wave of your hand, she was leaping into the tub joyfully. Happy raced over to the cupboard and returned with her brush, the nail trimmers and a bag, "What's that Hap?"
"I got her some soap." He opened the back and pulled out two large bottles with paw prints on them.
Your eyes grew wide when you realised what he had done, "Hap, that stuff is for show dogs, it's thirty dollars a bottle."
He shrugged, "She should only have the best."
You shook your head, "She already gets the best Happy, I get her shampoo and conditioner at the vet."
"Well this isn't shampoo and conditioner, it's prewash and after bath fur oil." He held up a finger and reached into the bag again, "I also go her paw balm."
You sighed, "Alright, just tell me how to use it once I've brushed her and done her claws."
Happy smiled, "It's easy, the lady at the store said it would make her coat nice."
You nodded, "I know Hap." Mellow could barely contain her joy as you brushed her fur and she slammed her growing feet into your palm when it was time to trim her nails.
"She's so well trained." Happy sounded so proud.
You shook your head, "Wait until the water turns on, she's just going to want to play." Sure enough, she was sliding around the bath with suds flying everywhere when it was time to wash her, Happy laughing as her floppy jowls went in every direction.
She yipped happily and hopped out of the bath when the hair drier came out and her tail flicked water everywhere when the warm air hit her skin, "She is the weirdest dog on earth, I've never met a dog that likes all parts of getting a bath."
Mellow stayed with you while you cleaned the bathroom and Happy headed to clean the kitchen, and she watched him on the couch as he mopped up all the mess, "She had fun here."
You nodded, "Yes she did."
Once everything was cleaned up, Happy walked over to you and kissed your temple, the Mellow's forehead, before heading out to get dinner, "You want anything special?"
You shrugged, "You know what I like."
"Yeah, I do."
****
Happy served you dinner, making sure that Mellow was occupied with a toy so you could eat without her feeling left out, even though you both knew she wouldn't beg for anything.
"I'm sorry about the roast. I know how hard you worked on it." He sounded sorry too.
You smiled softly, "I know, she's a puppy, there's no harm done." You pointed to the fridge, "Plus, you brought me cake, all is forgiven."
Happy looked at Mellow and smiled, "Do you think she knows how much we love her?"
You nodded, "I do. I mean, I don't love her as much when she pushes me off the bed but I love her with all my heart the rest of the time."
The side of Happy's lips ticked up in a smirk, "That reminds me, we're going mattress shopping on the weekend. I know a guy who can get us one of those huge orgy beds."
Your eyebrows wrinkled, "Those are big enough for more than two people and a great dane, what are you thinking Hap?"
"Well, you know how much Mel likes cats right?" You nodded, she had to say hello to every cat she saw, "I thought we could get a kitten, and then I read that two was better than one. I figure if we have a bed big enough, you won't say no."
You sighed, "I'm not going to say no anyway, you know how much I love cats."
Happy smiled, "I knew you'd say yes."
You shook your head, "You're lucky I love you."
He reached across the table and took your hand, "I love you too y/n."
Fin
@darqchilddaydreamz
#happy lowman fanfiction#happy lowman#happy lowman x reader#happy lowman imagine#david labrava#sons of anarchy#sons of anarchy fluff#sons of anarchy fanfiction#sons of anarchy imagine#samcro#soa#happy lowman x you
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I’ve watched the Dungeons and Dragons movie too many times for it to be healthy and I decided to make it everyone else’s problem.
Honor Among Thieves/Dreamling crossover?
The Endless exist in the DnD setting but they don’t concern themselves with the affairs of gods and mortals, they just ARE. They exist outside the planes and influence all of them, albeit in different ways. They aren’t worshipped and usually aren’t well known.
Dream and Death do their visit to the mortal realm and meet Hob Gadling, Dream and Death have their bet and Hob becomes immortal. Now, in the DnD, unnaturally long lives aren’t that unheard of. There are elves who had already been adults when Hob became immortal, who are still alive. Arguably, Hob could pass himself off as a weird half-elf hybrid and no one would be too surprised he’s been knocking about for several centuries. But a human that not only lives long but doesn’t die? At all? No matter the manner of death, no matter the damage done to him, he just gets up again and keeps on trucking? No. That’s not normal. That shit’s weeeeeird. You don’t want to be advertising that unless you want every evil wizard warlock lich sorcerer and whathaveyou knocking on your door. So Hob still has to hide.
He of course still meets Dream every 100 years in the inn (every paladin and cleric with divine sense in the area does a little >_>). He still pretends to be his own son. He still does hundreds of different things. He still has a fight with Dream that causes Dream to walk out on him. He still buys the White Horse and waits for Dream. Dream is still captured by Burgess, a mighty wizard who really REALLY wants to conquer death but doesn’t want to be an undead because yuck.
Meanwhile, Xenk Yendar has met Hob in his travels several times already and is absolutely not buying the “I’m his son, I’m the son’s son, I’m the son’s grandson” excuse but Hob seems harmless, commits no evil acts (that Xenk knows of *coughscoughs*) and doesn’t register as anything otherworldly or undead so Xenk leaves him alone. That is until he walks into The White Horse one day, sees Hob for the first time in years and immediately senses that this is a temple, the land is consecrated, this man is the priest. The problem? A priest of what exactly? Normally it’s not really his business but given that Hob is a bit shady to begin with, it just doesn’t seem right. He asks Edgin for help, after all, who better to charm and swindle his way into Hob’s good graces and get some answers than a professional conman/thief/ex-Harper/bard who just doesn’t do magic, no seriously, what’s the deal with that.
This is where Ilmater decides to intervene. Sure, normally he wouldn’t stick his Devine nose in the matters on the Endless but he is the god of suffering, and both Dream and Hob are suffering, albeit in different ways. He sends his favourite paladin a vision of Dream and Hob, who then confines in Edgin and his crew and so, the DnD version of the fishbowl heist is born!
Starring: Xenk, the hottest paladin in existence; Edgin the spell-less bard; Edgin’s barely concealed lust for Xenk; Doric the most OP wildshape in existence; Simon the Sorcerer (no not the game, the game is great tho. Available on iOS. Try it. Starring Chris Barrie of the Red Dwarf fame as the voice of Simon. It has a sequel too tho not as good); Hob Gadling, the immortal but he can’t reveal he’s immortal and also has no idea who Dream is or what his true nature or even name is… wow he’s kinda useless in this setting and nobody trusts him; and Holga the carrying everything on her broad shoulders.
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Iris || Jake "Hangman" Seresin
Summary: Fem!reader is a pilot and with the Dagger Squad best friend(maybe they are AU and always stationed permanently at the base together). To keep it short: Jake and her are very close (friends to lovers trope) but neither had it admit yet... Read Rest Here
A/N: Ugh, I just love this man. He's so much fun to write. Thanks for all the requests!
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N
Word Count: 3.6k +
“Way to go, Seresin.” Smiling sweetly at the just shot down pilot you sat down next to him as he started his punishment pushups, “Mav got your ass again?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He laughed just knowing you came over to give him shit. You were one of the few people he enjoyed taking shit from. You were never mean only funny. He’d grown to look forward to it as he got to know you over the last few weeks. The banter between the two of you coming so effortlessly, “I don’t want to hear it, Iris.” He paused, looked up to you and shot you a wink before continuing.
Iris. Your callsign. You’d gotten after a rather rowdy night out with the girls in your class, all three of them. You managed to black out on your first night at Top Gun, oops. You’d garnered the callsign because you seemed sweet as a flower but required intense supervision. I Require Intense Supervision. IRIS. Iris. You loved it, leaning into it whenever you could.
Leaning back on your hands you silently watched him. Knowing you should say something but coming up utterly short as you watched his muscles work while he continued his pushups. You’d be a dirty liar if you didn’t say you liked what you saw because you did. You loved it. He was so attractive it made it hard to pay attention sometimes. But you’d never admit it to his face. Not unless he confessed his feelings first.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Jake laughed taking a glance back at you. He loved teasing you right on back as much as you seemed to tease him. He knew you could take it. Just one of the many things he’d grown to adore about you. You could dish it and you could take it. A rare woman.
Very thankful that you put on foundation this morning you knew you had a nice little blush on your cheeks from getting caught staring right at him, “Get off your high horse Seresin, I was just thinking.” You failed to stop the smile that spread across your face as you watched him. You’d also be lying if you said you didn’t have a massive crush on him. You’d admired everything about him. From the way he flew to the way he handled himself. But what you loved most was the way he treated you. Like you were everything in the world to him and maybe even a little bit more. He knew when he could push you and when he needed to take a step back. He could get a read on you so easily. Not many people had been able to do that before you met him. But he continuously surprised you.
“About me?” He continued his push-ups with that signature Jake smirk adorning his lips. One you grew to quickly find so utterly attractive it made you weak at the knees. Thank God you were sitting as he toyed with your head right on back.
“In your dreams.” You wanted to roll your eyes but in reality your cheeks were burning from the big smile that crossed yours. Jake became a fast friend once you were sent on permanent orders to Miramar. You’d been selected with a few other pilots to train as the next Top Gun instructors. These were coveted spots that few people were able to land in their careers and you couldn’t quite believe you’d been selected. It was like being fast tracked. This spot would make or break your career in the Navy.
“You know what? You’re absolutely right about that sweetheart.” He finished up his set after not even breaking a sweat. How was that fair? He sat up next to you in one swift motion.
“You absolute flirt, Jake Seresin.” You wanted to scoot away from him, but you just couldn’t seem to. He drew you in so swiftly, so easily without almost any effort on his part.
He shrugged, “Only for you.” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
This time you rolled your eyes, “Were you not trying to pick up that girl at the bar that first night we all met here?” Raising your eyebrows, you needed to challenge him. So far, everything about the man had been perfect. Too perfect. He was so beyond thoughtful when it came to you. You’d never had a man do this simple things so effortlessly for you before you’d met him. He’d raised your standards and he didn’t even know it. Hell, you didn’t even know it.
He nodded, “Yes I was. But that was before I met you, Y/N.” He then raised his eyebrows. Not mocking you. But challenging you all the same. He got you there. You couldn’t recall a time in between then that he openly flirted with anybody, at least not in front of you.
“Alright.” You looked away from him quickly. He made you nervous. The good kind of nervous. But nervous, nonetheless.
“Has anyone ever told you how fucking pretty you are?” He sat back observing your face for the reaction. One of the other things he’d grown to adore about you was how expressive you were. If somebody made a dumbass comment you weren’t afraid to give them an equally grossed out look back at them. You weren’t afraid to laugh or smile when a nice comment was thrown. And your laugh? Oh, he fell in love with it instantly. The way your eyes scrunched up and the absolute joy that crossed your face was enough for him to know he was going to fall in love with you.
He'd been in love before. He always knew those were bound to end before they were even starting. He was so good at that. Picking the person he knew there was no future with. Until he met you. You effortless nature drew him in so quickly. You contrasted him in the best ways possible. His cockiness was matched by your humbleness. You were nearly as good as Jake in the skies, ruthless when needed. But you’d never admit it down on the ground. You were simply good, as you’d tell everybody else. His loud nature was masked by your quiet one. Busy Saturday mornings were replaced by quiet lazy ones as he spent more time with you. He had only known you for a month, but he knew. He knew that if he allowed himself he’d be confessing within only another. You had him whipped and he was afraid he loved it.
“Yeah,” You smiled shaking your head at him, “You, literally yesterday.”
“Mmm,” He nodded his head looking at you with amusement in his eyes, “That’s right. And I’ll tell you every damn day until you believe it.”
Continuing to shake your head you stood quickly ignoring that comment. If you thought too much about it you’d become unraveled right then and there, “Come on, we’re the last ones for the day. Mav’s gotta to tell us how bad we are before we leave for the day.” You offered your hand which he took in an instant. He’d craved your touch since the first time he’d been offered your hand weeks ago. He’d take any chance he could take, that was when you offered it.
You pulled him up slightly. Jake really did most of the work, “I didn’t do that bad today.” He laughed seeing your skeptical expression.
“I did. He got me within a minute.” You’d frowned taking the lead on walking back to the classroom. You hated days like today. They got you down. You were a good pilot. Even great. And everybody had days like today that were just shitty. You’d been up three times and been shot down three times within minutes during each exercise.
He shrugged trying to get you to shake it off, “You win some, you lose some.”
“Not on real missions…” You trailed off.
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re training and not on a mission then, yeah?” He squeezed your shoulder as he matched his pace with yours. He had to slow his stride down a bit so he didn’t overcome yours.
“Yeah.” You nodded your head knowing what he was trying to do. Trying to get you to stop thinking about it. He knew how much of an overthinker you were. Not exactly the greatest trait for a Naval Aviator. But you pushed through it.
He opened the door for you into the classroom. The other six pilots turned their head in curiosity at who was coming through. Not seeing Mav, they turned back to what they were doing. You took a seat at the back of the classroom where Jake follows behind and sits down next to you.
He leaned over knowing how to distract you, “Coming to the Hard Deck tonight?”
You thought for a moment. Did you even want to go? It’d be a good way to take your mind off the shit day, “Haven’t thought about it.”
“You should come.” He nudged your shoulder, “I’ll miss you too bad if you don’t.” Eyes lowering, he gave you his best pleading expression. That was really all it took before you gave in.
“Sure. Fine. Yeah I’ll come.” You didn’t really want to, but you really couldn’t say no with a look like that.
“You’ll have a great time. I’ll make sure of it.” He winked at you before Mav entered the room indeed ready to tell the group how piss poor they did that day.
You, in fact, were not having the best time. Turns out two more pilots were hired into the new group of instructor trainee’s. You didn’t think anything of it until you saw the sheer shock outlining Jake’s face when the woman, Lacey, stood up to introduce herself. He brushed you off when you gave him that look of curiosity. He let you know that he’d tell you later.
You’d come to find out she was one of Jakes numerous ex-girlfriends that he’d left behind in the dust. He was sure he’d never see her again. Not because she was a woman but because she wasn’t that good of a pilot when he left his original station years ago. He ended things when he was sent off to Miramar. It wasn’t like things were broken off in bad terms, Jake was just indifferent about the whole thing. Lacey, however, was heartbroken about the whole thing. She didn’t get why he left her, let alone so easily.
He'd been gone awhile leaving you with pilots you’d been acquaintances with. It wasn’t like you didn’t like them. You just didn’t have anything in common with the four men sitting in front of you. So, you silently sat there listening to the conversation hoping that he’d make his return.
You didn’t realize he was with Lacey until he made it back around to the group with her in tow. He handed you a plate with some fries on it. You eyed him curiously but took it nonetheless, “I know you’re probably hungry.” He knew you were a regular snacker and this pit stop probably threw you out of you original plans.
You smiled ignoring the glances from the other pilots. He was always thinking of you. Even when he was with another woman who so desperately wanted his attention. The other pilots sure had ideas in their head after witnessing the kind gesture from a usually unkind man, to them, never to you.
“No shellfish?” You asked.
He nodded quickly, “You think I’m trying to kill ya’ darlin?” He smirked leaning onto the high top you were sitting at with the other guys.
“Nope,” You grinned snagging one of the fries from the plate, “Just checking.”
Lacey stepped up next to Jake, “Can’t eat shellfish?” She asked looking you over more closely this time. Sizing you up that was for certain. Jake didn’t like the look, but he was letting you handle it on your own, for now. He knew you could handle it.
“No, I’m allergic unfortunately.”
She nodded looking you over once more, “Oh, that’s too bad. Shrimp is great.” She half smiled at you before looking back to Jake.
Nodding your head you continued, “So I’ve heard. This one doesn’t shut up about it.” You nudged Jake getting a smile out of him as he nervously watched the two of you interact. He didn’t have any feelings toward his ex. She was pretty, always was. But she wasn’t you. Nobody would be you. Truth be told it made him incredibly nervous how quickly he’d come to feel these things about you. He wasn’t one the catch feelings like that so suddenly. At least not before you came along and fucked his head on up.
“I’m just trying to educate you on all things. It’d be a shame for you not to know how damn tasty some buttered scallops are.” He threw you a wink. Lacey noticed and she didn’t look too thrilled. She quickly picked up on something going on between the two of you. It’s not like Jake was hers but she didn’t like it. She didn’t like how he looked at you. He looked at you so differently than anything she’d ever gotten. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you. Even when she pulled him away from the group he was distracted by you.
You grinned right back at him. The other guys had gotten used to the constant flirting between the two of you. Most of them assumed you were already together the way the two of you acted. Jake had a fierce protective nature over you to boot. He wouldn’t let any of the other guys give you shit or talk shit about you. He was smitten with you. Whether you were together or not.
Lacey looked a little disgusted as she tried to drag him off once again. Jake wasn’t having any of it as he pulled up a chair by you and started talking to you. Turning his attention all the way to you. It pissed her off more than you or him would’ve ever have guessed. She must’ve had enough of it as she disappeared off into the crowd leaving you and Jake almost alone. Not like the other guys gave a shit about what the two of you were talking about. Often lost in your own little world together.
You’d continued picking off the plate of food for the next hour while talking to him not paying much attention. You’d notice her drop by seeing if Jake would pay her any attention. When he wouldn’t she went on her merry way. That’d gone on a few times before she seemed to give up completely.
You were fine until you weren’t. You’d ignored the first symptoms because you were too wrapped up in talking to him. Absolutely enamored by him. It wasn’t until you were feeling a bit dizzy that you realized you were having a reaction. It’d been years, decades even since you had one and it was just as horrifying as you remember.
Looking down at the plate you didn’t know if you were seeing things quite right, “Jake…” You interrupted him sounding a little off. Your throat was closing up and you knew it.
“Yeah?” He looked concerned seeing your expression of panic.
“When did that shrimp get there?” You pointed to the lone shrimp sitting next to the fries you’d polished off. If you allergy wasn’t severe it could’ve been just fine. But you allergy was severe. Foods simply touching shellfish could get you to react. And you’d just eaten an almost full plate of fried that could’ve been touching the damn thing.
His eyes widened as he looked between you and the plate. He’d only now noticed the sweat breaking out on your face and the hives covering one of your arms, “Oh shit.” He jumped into action not taking a second to go through your bag, “EpiPen?” He asked opening it wide to look through.
You shook your head in a little panic. Jakes sudden movement brought the guys out of their conversation watching the two of you again, “I don’t think I have it. Shit.” You knew panicking was the worst thing you could do right now, but you really couldn’t recall where you put the thing after you’d moved onto base.
“It’s alright.” Jake stood up knowing exactly what you were thinking, “We’ll go get it from your room. It’s not too far away.”
You nodded closing your eyes knowing you fucked up, “I don’t remember where I put it Jake. I know I should know but I can’t remember.”
He took your hand, “Come on. You’re fine Y/N.” He reassured you pulling you up from your seat while watching you intently, making sure you could walk to the car, “Come on sweetheart. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” You asked in fear. Fear of the unknown. You felt so damn stupid. How could you not only forget it but completely space on where it was?
Not wanting to make a big scene for your sake he leaned in whispering to you, “Just a short drive to the hospital. They’ll have and EpiPen ready to go.”
You nodded letting him pull you right out of the bar. Penny would understand the unclosed tab, he’d just have to talk to her tomorrow. You were really thankful for him in this moment. He seemed to know exactly what to do to keep you steady and levelheaded.
He leaned over to buckle your seat belt knowing you were in a dazed state trying to keep your breathing even, “Hey,” He touched your face, “It’s alright. We’ll be there in three minutes.” You nodded your head not allowing the tears to drop down your cheeks. You’d be lying if you didn’t say you were terrified. Terrified that your throat would close all the way up in between now and the hospital.
“Thanks Jake.” You mumbled out careful not to extend to much of your steady breathing in the process. He was careful but quick. Driving with a purpose. Lucky for you Jake took control. The second he pulled into a spot he picked you right on up out of your seat. You knew you weren’t terribly coherent at this point, but it was rather crazy how fast he was moving now.
You didn’t see how bad you were starting to look. Your normally tanned skin had turned pale and clammy as your body tried to fight of the toxin it didn’t like. The hives had spread down both your arms and was creeping down your leg now.
He didn’t wait as he walked you quickly into the emergency room holding you tight. Everything turned to a blur as your body seemingly decided to give up as you knew you were in safe hands now. You felt Jakes eyes on you as the white coats of the doctors turned to blackness.
“Hey pretty girl, you’re awake.” You felt a hand squeeze your own as your eyes adjusted to the bright hospital lights.
If it was anybody but Jake you’d probably have flipped him off. Your head was pounding, your mouth and throat were incredibly dry, and you just felt weird, “Mhmm.” You hummed closing your eyes letting your head adjust to the change.
“How are ya feeling?” He scooted his chair closer to your bedside looking you over. Your color had returned to a more normal looking state, reassuring him slightly.
“Like shit.” Sighing you opened your eyes taking him in this time. His amused expression wasn’t missed.
“You look it too.” Tossing you a wink to let you know he was only kidding.
You weren’t expecting to laugh but man did it feel good. Jake had a knack for that. Making you feel the best in any situation you found yourself in. When your laugh hit his ears it relaxed him instantly. He hadn’t realized how wound up her had gotten waiting on you to open your eyes again. He knew you were fine, but it still sucked waiting. Even if it were only a few hours.
“Fuck off, Seresin.” You grinned at him, “How rude to make fun of me in my time of sickness.”
He rolled his eyes playfully at you, “Time of recovery darling.”
“Semantics.” You challenged him.
Nodding his head he was giving you that one, “Are you alright thought?” He really needed to know now. As calm as he seemed on the outside he was terrified through the entire ordeal. You’d made it very clear to the group just how allergic you were from the get-go. It terrified him seeing your body shut down right in front of his eyes.
“I’m okay, Jake.” You nodded letting him grab your hand.
“You scared me back there.” He admitted not looking up to you. It wasn’t always the easiest for him to get emotional. But he wanted to for you. He wanted it all for you. He didn’t really care anymore. How you’d managed this in just the mere month of knowing him was beyond his wildest dreams. But he was ready to take it. He wanted you and only you.
“I’m sorry… I don’t know how…” He shook his head signaling for you to stop.
“You shouldn’t be apologizing Y/N.” He paused brushing your hair out of your face, “I think it was Lacey… I’m going to talk to Mav about it. You just rest, okay?”
You shook your head no, “Please don’t go. You can tell him later. Can you stay?”
He nodded his head, “Sure darling. You know what?” He asked scooting his chair right next to yours not dropping your hand.
“What’s that Mr. Seresin?”
He smirked giving your hand a tight squeeze, “You really do require intense supervision.” Kissing your hand, you could only giggle causing Jake to erupt in a fit of laughter. Oh, how your life was going to change here shortly. And only for the better.
Taglist: @hellobroadwaydreamer @zbeez-outlet @bibissparkles @genius2050
#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun imagine#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin x you#jake seresin fanfic#hangman x reader#hangman x y/n#jake seresin fic#jake seresin x oc#jake seresin fanfiction#hangman angst#hangman fic#hangman imagine#hangman#jake hangman fic#hangman fanfiction#hangman fluff#jake seresin angst#jake seresin fluff#top gun fanfiction#top gun movie#top gun masterlist#top gun fandom#top gun fic#top gun maverick hangman#pete maverick mitchell
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thank you
kieran is a decent shot but is terrifying with a knife (people are not that different to fish). 110% he would win a 1v1 knife fight every time and thanks to army training he's pretty decent at disarming people in hand on hand combat. would take a knife to a gun fight and have a chance of winning
probably taller than 90% of the gang if he actually corrected his posture
his parents died when he was a proper baby only 8 or 9 and he pick-pocketed to survive along with a bunch of other urchins like the saint denis gang. he's still pretty good at it and is really good at being stealthy/light on his feet despite his stature (helpful for not getting noticed by the crueler VDLs)
he also became a pretty good liar and con artist as part of living on the street and getting out of trouble when caught (this is heavily inspired by how differently he treats gang members, happily tells karen he is a baby to get sympathy, people-pleasing 'whatever you say miss with mary-beth, needles arthur back a bit when they go fishing)
probably has a touch of the old imposter syndrome because he never really had the chance to figure out who he was he's just been focused on survival since since day 1. he loves horses because he doesn't have to worry about what mask he has to wear with them
he's frankly not sure how old he is on account of how young he was when his parents died. he enlisted for the army when he looked old enough, in reality he was probs only 17 and barely got in based on his facial hair, which he had never shaved a day in his life since it started growing (hc late 20s/early 30s in game)
he was in the infantry division. consistent food and routine after a decade of fighting for scraps and being spit on? he loved it. very upstanding, attentive, kept his uniform clean and sharp. was there years before he saw active combat. then he fucking hated it. refused to follow orders. was not dying over land. was not shooting at unarmed people. dishonorably discharged. would have deserted if they didn't.
looks like an absolute fucking baby without facial hair and would sooner bite someone than be clean shaven because he hates it
gets very irritable when he hasn't had a cigarette for a while. has picked cigarette butts of the ground for a quick hit. would have broken faster about six point cabin if they offered him a cigarette.
lying through his teeth about his time with the o'driscolls. he was probably with them closer to a year, and a little higher than bottom-rung. got to pick and choose what missions he went on, talk to colm directly, most knew his name ect. i cannot see him having the balls to argue with colm o'driscoll himself unless he had some level of protection/seniority within the gang esp given the circumstances of how he joined. he was trusted enough to ride off on his own without running off?
in saying that. he was definitely considering running off in colter. at no point does he try to fight arthur. no way he wasn't armed. just oh no i am being abducted this is v bad. don't give me food for weeks? still like you more than colm can i stay with you pls
AHHH!!! I READ THIS THE DAY YOU SENT IT BUT I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND BECAUSE I WASN’T REALLY EXPECTING PEOPLE TO ACTUALLY SEND IN THEIR HEADCANONS, THANK YOU THESE ARE WONDERFUL!
:D You explained these all beautifully and I feel like I couldn’t say much more, but I’ll try to “yes and…” everything you said because I feel it is worth exploring these ideas you proposed. Long HC ramble under the divider.
1) I don’t know much about 1800’s military training but I can see Kieran being a knife guy like you said. He has a custom knife in game (at the very least he has a custom pistol). Him being good with a knife makes me think of how he comes off as unarmed from a distance but harbors a wicked knife up close. I am sure he mainly uses his knife for cutting fishing line or whittling sticks in his free time. He used it for cutting up animals he hunted while with his past gang. That knife has gotten him through a lot, it’s practically an heirloom at this point; it kept him alive and is one of the few things he fully owns and kept from his youth.
2+3+4) lanky scary guy is stealthy!! Yes!! I would like to mention how no one in the VDL gang noticed Kieran wandering off and getting a gun belt from a corpse during the firefight in A Social Call Mission. He did all of that AND was swift enough to save Arthur. I agree that he was very young when his parents died. I more so think 11-13 in my HC but that’s just because I feel like the stables would rather kick out a tween/teen than a little kid. This blends into your 4th point about being a con artist. Kieran knows his strengths and weaknesses. He knows that people see a scrawny little boy before they see him as a thief. Squirming and squabbling can be enough of a distraction to get away with things.
I don’t have a good explanation for how Kieran did this since he can’t leave camp, but while I was playing, I saw Kieran donated a jewel necklace to the camp funds (and not to brag on his behalf, but he donated WAY MORE $$ than the other members 🤭). Kieran still can pull his weight in pickpocketing, even in game. I imagine he does it without straying too far from camp by pretending he is sick or hungry and thirsty on the side of well traveled paths and getting close enough to strangers to swipe something. It’s subtle enough to not draw attention to camp, yet effective enough to be worth it in the long run.
5+6) I agree on imposter syndrome! One hc I have is that Kieran was raised an only child while traveling westward to California with his parents meaning he had no consistent kids his age to be with. Even in the military (where he SHOULD be surrounded by his peers) he never really connected in a genuine way. Being roughened up by being an outlaw after that just made it harder to emotionally connect since so much required not breaking down if a group member dies. It’s odd; Kieran is unwilling to be vulnerable, but he isn’t this stoic wall. Instead he has this decoy vulnerability?… he’d rather people see him as a weak guy if it gets him out of a physical hurt yet he won’t be vulnerable if it means running the risk of being emotionally hurt.
7) I know very little about 1800’s military (and my cursory research has been shallow thus far) but I imagine it was better than being homeless and orphaned! Food, shelter and routine, like you said. I imagine Kieran was an obedient and hard working kid; helped his family with horses, fishing and hunting. Pre-outlaw Kieran felt conflicted about killing people. I mean… he joined the army so he isn’t clueless that he had to kill, but killing on paper vs actually killing is very different, plus he was a puny teen without a fully developed brain when he enlisted.
Once Kieran became an outlaw, he had to make some sort of peace / find some silver lining to killing. You have to have morally dubious ways of coping with being an outlaw or else you go mad. One way was him (guiltily or not) finding some thrill in gunfights or knife fights. Made him feel good for once about being an easy to underestimate guy. He got to taunt, shout, and watch his enemies faces contort in pain and horror.
8) the facial hair stuff!! I agree that Kieran likely looks like an exhausted young adult under all the scruff. I imagine Kieran has put value into his unkempt looks. He does care for hygiene (source: he says it in cut audio) but he can’t bring himself to trim his facial or head hair because he feels it is the only thing making him a man. Like you said, imposter syndrome, he doesn’t feel like he’s an actual adult who has his life together. I’m sure Kieran has some out-dated ideas of what makes a man (out-dated by modern day standards). Stuff like being strong, a provider, hairy, deep voiced, etc. Kieran isn’t many of those things. Having a snaggly beard is his tiny grasp on meeting what he wishes he could be. I also think he hasn’t cut his hair that much because of a lack of salons while being an outlaw.
9) I honestly forget most of the characters in RDR2 smoke… but I agree! Growing up with a smoker as a parent who tried to quite cold turkey a few times, I know how hellish withdrawal is on a person. While in Colter, tied up, Kieran was the most bellicose because of withdrawals peaking (upon other things). I feel like some point between his parent’s dying and him joining the outlaws was when he took up smoking.
10+11) Kieran was DEFINITELY lying about how involved he was with the O’Drisc, agreed. I see him as being with them for likely 6 months to a year. Maaayyybe more but I feel like Kieran ran with his prior gang for most of his adult life. To me, Kieran is fibbing a half truth when he says he wasn’t close with Colm and he was merely a stable boy. He WAS that, but with being an obedient, hardworking chore boy, he was kept around long enough to make it up little by little till he was on missions out of camp collecting supplies or defending territory/camp. Kieran was always a pawn, never someone Colm actually cared for. Kieran was just the least-annoying gang goon Colm could bring into the mountains to watch the horses in the cold stables. The fact Kieran was even spotted by the VDL gang was bad luck.
I don’t know why he is riding out of the camp solo before Arthur catches him ;-; my best guess would be Kieran was going to meet up with other members but when a fight with the O’Drisc vs VDL broke out in camp, Kieran took it as his chance to get the fuck out of there.
On the topic of getting the fuck out, Kieran didn’t fight as much as he could when Arthur got him, I agree. When his life depends on it, he will fight like a cornered animal, all knife slashing and wild-eyed. Whether Kieran fights or goes limp and pleads pathetically depends on the situation. When Kieran fled from the O’Drisc camp firefight, he knew he wouldn’t last out there unless he got off the mountain. Being snatched and dragged to an enemy camp was better than dying of exposure. I mean… everything in his life sucks. Kieran gets no easy options. Sometimes he just has to go limp and be tied up and see where life brings him.
His relationship with Colm is interesting. I don’t think Colm cares very much about Kieran (keep in mind I don’t actually know Colm’s character well since I haven’t finished the game). From what Kieran describes of him, I feel it was all things Kieran observed or eavesdropped on while doing chores or sitting around the camp. Who knows tho! I am open to the idea that Kieran was of higher rank and indeed had more reasons to talk with Colm directly. I don’t know much about the O’Driscoll gang inner workings.
Ah!! Once again, thank you so much :) I love all your headcanons and it was a blast brainstorming about your ideas.
#meeks rambles#asks#meek’s headcanons#rdr text post#rdr2 kieran#rdr2 headcanons#red dead redemption fandom#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption two#kieran duffy#rdr2 spoilers#rdr2 fandom#rdr2 community#rdr2 arthur#rdr2#ask
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a part 2 has been requested for my cowboy!Johnny fic! I hope you like it :)
a/n: I love doing these requests, they give me inspiration to write because it makes me happy that y'all can get something from it <3
warning(s): rough sex, dub-con, kidnapping, degradation, slapping, knife-play, blood-play, choking, kicking, manipulating
part 2/2 of cowboy!Johnny short story (unless more is requested and the same goes for all of my stories, if you want more let me know <3)
18+ MDNI
My hand trembled as I read the note. He isn't really coming back is he? I stood for a moment as I tried to consider my options, but my mind was so clouded with fear I could barely conjure a coherent thought. If he came back, does that mean he would take me back to his gang? What would happen to me then? My eyes welled with tears as my heart clenched and my breathe I became heavy. The saloon was bustling as I quickly left the room and walked down the stairs of the saloon, almost tripping over my skirt. I left the saloon and stepped out onto the muddy road.
I didn't bother looking for a carriage because of what happened with the last one. So I began walking down the road and out of town, wanting to leave the area before Slaughter came back. The longing feeling I had when I woke this morning is now long gone, my mind made up that I didn't want this. He was a murderer, and a sadistic one at that.
The road was quiet and tense. I couldn't stop turning my head, just waiting for Slaughter to come out of nowhere and haul me off again. Anyone who knew anything knew that Johnny Slaughter of the Slaughter gang had the most uncanny ability to track in the world. The only thing that you had against it is to keep moving and that's exactly what I was doing. I didn't care where I ended up, just as long as he doesn't find me again. Who knows what he'll do if he comes back and realizes I didn't listen to him.
Johnny could feel the vein in his head throb upon returning to the Newt saloon and you were nowhere to be found. He had quickly searched the rest of the town and had turned up nothing. His instructions seemed so simple and clear, a child could understand. Now why did you have to up and run away? He laughed out loud to try and mask his irritation so the situation wouldn't bother him more than it already has. Johnny began to walk back to the room he had rented the night before knowing that he could pick up your trail there.
"Hey! You have ta-" The bartenders words were cut short as Johnny shot him a menacing look.
"Shut yer mouth. He said, not stopping and turning his head back towards the stairs.
Johnny wasn't going to let anyone or anything get in the way of his prized possession. It had been a while since he has been irked this badly and he would make sure you were punished for that. Upon reaching the room, your scent immediately filled his nostrils. It must be your favorite scent if you used it again this morning. He didn't want to go off of scent alone, as there were many smells in the wilderness and yours can get mixed up in them easily.
Johnny didn't need to search long before he found a solid footprint to utilize in his tracking. Your prints were so clear to him they almost glowed and he couldn’t be happier to be led to his treasure. He stood up straight and began following the prints out of the saloon, down the road, and out of town.
“I’m gonna find you. I will, I promise!” He said, whistling for his horse to come over.
I was growing tired from how long I had been walking. The sun now was setting, signaling I had been going from dawn ‘til dusk. I was sure I had put enough distance between Slaughter and I to take at least a small break, my feet and back were aching horribly. I turned off of the road and walked a little ways beyond the tree line, having a small plan that I would run deeper into the woods in the event that Slaughter did happen to find me. I decided to sit and rest along a tree, the bark digging uncomfortably into my back but it’s much preferred to being on my feet for a moment longer. I wasn’t even able to take in a deep breathe before I heard a twig snap and I was immediately tense again. I whipped my head around looking for anything that could’ve made that sound and I took in a huge sigh of relief upon seeing a doe in the distance. I started to relax and closed my eyes for just a moment.
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable just yet sweetheart.” A voice rang out right next to my ear.
I yelped and shot away from the voice, looking up to confirm my worst fear. How could he have already found me? I put so much distance between us.
“In yer fear, you seem to have forgotten somethin’ darlin’; I have a horse. It’s funny how being so afraid can make somethin’ so simple slip a persons mind.” A malicious smirk formed on his face.
I didn’t bother letting him continue what he was going to say, I turned and ran. My feet were pounding, but that didn’t compare to my heart at the moment. I couldn’t think of anything else but getting away from him, I was scared for my life. I didn’t want to be hurt or killed, I don’t want to be eaten either if the rumors of the gang are true. My footsteps were heavy as I ran through the thick foliage, the branches whipping me and breaking skin all over the surface of my arms and shins. My dress was getting torn with each second I ran through the woods.
“This is pointless ya know. Quit fightin’.” I heard his voice call from behind before I felt something squeeze around my midsection, clotheslining me and sending me flying backwards onto the ground. The wind was knocked out of me and my mouth fell open, desperate to take in a breathe. I heard the ground crunching beneath his boots as he walked up beside me. I looked up at him and he snarled down at me, his fury evident on his features.
Without a word, he kicked his foot hard into my ribs, reeling back and kicking harshly once again. I screamed out in pain, trying to move my arm to block the spot he was hurting but to no avail, the rope around me keeping me in place.
“I asked you to do one thing doll, it wasn’t that difficult was it? Or are you too stupid to understand simple instruction?” He asked. I wasn’t able to respond immediately due to the immense pressure on my chest from the kicking and the fall, I still could barely breathe at the moment.
“You must be since you won’t answer. Since yer so desperate to breathe, let me help you with that.” He snickered and lifted his foot, pressing it harshly on my neck. I went to throw my hands up to lessen the pressure, but ended up pulling my shoulders, quickly reminded that I was bound and completely at his mercy.
“Please..” I choked out, barely comprehensible.
“Please what darlin’?” He asked mockingly, pressing slightly harder.
“Stop, please!” I shrieked out with every bit I had, tearing my throat in the process from the force I needed to implement to produce a loud sound.
“Will you listen if I tell you to stay put in the future?” He questioned, very lightly lessening the pressure on my throat. I nodded vigorously.
“Forgive me, but I just don’t believe ya darlin’.” He sighed.
“Trust me, I want to. You hurt me back there, more than I’m hurting you now.” He took his foot off of my throat.
I was finally able to take in a breath, but a new pain immediately shot through me. Like I suspected, my throat is torn to all hell. I watched as he walked from my head down to feet, looking me dead in the eyes before lifting his boot again and slamming it down onto my ankle. A loud crunch echoed through the trees. I threw my head back and screamed despite my throat being torn. The pain was intense and I sobbed following the scream, not expecting the sudden bludgeon. Heavy, hot tears followed the sobs and that earned a coo from Johnny.
“Aw, did that hurt doll? Maybe you’ll remember this next time you don’t listen to me. This should also prevent you from tryin’ to leave again for a while and just to warn you, I will do this a many times as I need if you make me.” He threatened.
“I’m sorry Johnny, please stop this.” I cried.
“You ain’t sorry, not yet.” He growled, fastening the rope he’s been holding and started dragging me towards a nearby tree. Once there, he stood me up against it and used his lasso to tie me against the tree. My ankle ached horribly in this position, but I knew it would do me no good to tell him that.
I heard a familiar metallic sound as he pulled his knife from his sheathe and stalked up to me. He stepped up until we were chest to chest, he was craning his neck to look down at me and I could feel his warm breath on the top of my head. I refused to look up at him, but that didn’t sit long. He pressed the point of his knife to the bottom of my jaw, penetrating the skin as he forced me to look up at him. I felt the blood run down my neck as I looked into his dark eyes, now filled with lust alongside the rage.
“There ya go.” He praises, removing the knife from my neck and running the tip along his tongue. He groaned as the blood touched his taste buds, it being the most delicious thing he’s tasted in a while.
He then lifted his knife to the side of my neck and made a small cut, latching his lips onto it. He sucked the wound harshly and the blood along with it, but it wasn’t enough for him. Biting the wound, the blood was forced to flow more as he sucked every drop, a guttural groan sounding out when the coppery taste flooded his senses. Now afraid that he may actually eat a chunk of flesh from my neck, I began wiggling in the restraints, scrunching my neck to try and restrict his access. It worked, but he was not happy with it.
A heavy snarl formed on his lips as he lifted his hand, slapping me hard across the face. Before I could even react to the pain, another slap came to my other cheek and a small cut formed above my cheekbone, it bled heavily. A small cry came past my lips as the pain burned throughout my entire body.
“You better not stop me again, or you’ll regret it.” He growled harshly, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look at him.
“Come on doll, can you be a good girl for the bad man? I promise to not hurt you again.” He asked mockingly, getting in my face and licking the blood from it with the tip of his tongue.
“Yes, I will.” I said quietly, choking down sobs.
“You will what? And speak up darlin’, I want to hear you loud and clear.” He said in a slow and mocking tone.
“I’ll be a good girl.” I cried louder, my voice breaking heavily from the abuse it suffered earlier.
“That’s better.” He praised. He took as step back from me and reached up to my chest, bunching it up as he did my undies last night and ripping it open, exposing my chest to the cold air of the night. My buds hardening immediately and he groaned lightly under his breath. Without letting go of his knife, he began unbuckling his belt with his off hand. He pulled it swiftly from his the loops in his jeans and flicked the end of the strap up into his hand along with the buckle so he had a small whip of sorts. My eyes widened, quickly understanding what it was for.
I watched his hand intently and he reached the belt up to my breast and lightly ran it over the mound before flicking it up and bringing it down on top of my tit, the whip sound bouncing between the trees. I felt my chest bounce at the smack and he looked extremely satisfied with his performance. Without another word, he began his work. He whipped his belt onto each breast, back and forth, about 15 smacks on each. When he was finished, my entire chest had gone numb and I couldn’t feel anything above my stomach. My face and chest both out of commission from his torture.
“I don’t think I can wait for that pussy anymore doll.” He said, reaching to his jeans and stroking himself through the thick fabric, his head slowly lolling back as he pleasured himself.
“Then get it over with.” I spat.
“Ah ah ah, you said you were gonna be a good girl for me.” He said, not bothering lifting his head to look at me.
“Please.” I said softly.
“That’s my girl.” He said, shoving his pants down to his knees and taking a couple of steps forward, stopping once our chests were pressed together. He reached down between us, lifted my legs up around his hips and took his cock into his hand. He began pressing his head into my folds, biting his lip in focus once the contact was made. I couldn’t help but blush at the clear desire on his face, and I wondered if looked like this with other women he fucked.
He was slow this time as he pushed his way in, much unlike last night.
“Are you still mad at me?” I asked, unable to understand his behavior.
“Oh darlin’, I can’t stay mad at you. I think you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.” He whispered towards the end, bottoming out as he finished his sentence. He completely stilled as he made eye contact with me.
“How’s about you come live with me? You’ll be fed, protected, and fucked real good. How’s that sound doll? You just have to keep being my good girl.” He asked.
Knowing that my chances alone were dwindling with every passing day, I considered the opportunity. I wouldn’t have to worry about a place to stay or something to eat, on top of that I won’t have to constantly look over my shoulder everywhere I go. I nodded, understanding that it was my best option.
“Atta girl.” He said, pulling his hips back and thrusting harshly back into me. I let out a yelp at the sudden change, again, in behavior. He began to pound into me ruthlessly, our hips slapping together loudly, the sound making me more wet by the second.
“Damn, you feel so good.” He said, gripping my thighs and pulling me closer to him, my breasts pressing hard against his chest. He pulled back for a moment a ripped his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground next to him.
“Wanna feel you.” He muttered, quickly pressing our chests back together as he pressed his lips to mine gently. His harsh thrusts didn’t let up and whimpers fell from my throat as the pleasure rose from his touch.
“Yeah, tell me how good I make you feel.” He growled, his lips not leaving mine.
“So good Johnny, better than I’ve ever felt.” I moaned against his plush lips, not wanting this to end.
“Damn right.” He said, hips thrusts becoming erratic as he threw his head back, groaning loudly.
“Gonna cum in you doll.” He moaned, locking his hips to mine as he came.
Breathing heavily, he kept himself inside me as he came back down to earth, titling his head forward and making eye contact. He leaned forward and pressed his head to mine, kissing me lightly on the lips one more time.
“I’m definitely keeping you. You’re stuck with me doll.”
Part 1 :)
#johnny slaughter#johnny slaughter x reader#johnny tcm#tcm#texas chainsaw game#texas chainsaw massacre#tcm game#18+ mdni#mdni#smut
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Falling
The Outcast - Falling
Summary: There is beauty in the heart of winter, especially when shared with someone special
Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader
Rating: 18+
Word Count: 3,300 (ish)
Warnings: Longing, hard on and masturbation implied (not explicit), violence towards a rabbit (sorry buddy, they've got to eat)
Author’s Note: Not going to lie, I had a hard time getting this one out into words, but I did it. Also not going to lie, I listened to "Can you feel the love tonight" by Elton John to set the mood while writing this.
xxx
Of the many things that had eluded Pero in his time, peace was one of the most evasive. It had once been a friend when he was a child, innocent of the harsh realities outside his family's homestead, but it slowly wandered away from him as he was exposed to the world beyond, and it had finally fled him the year he'd lost his entire family.
It only worsened when he became a mercenary out of pure necessity, no longer haunted only by events he could not have prevented.
At times, even in war, the world could be serene, but not for Pero, whose thoughts darkened whenever they were left to roam with nothing else to turn to.
He had learned to hate complete silence. As much as he sometimes groaned over William's waffling, in the end it had helped ease his mind, fill it with anything but what the monster at the back of his head wished for him to focus on. Being around his friend had made life a little more tolerable.
It was different with you. You hardly spoke most days, unless you deemed it necessary. You seemed to thrive on it, the silence, and at first Pero envied you, until he stumbled into peace once more.
Sometime in the dead of winter he found it again, discovering it had not been as far out of his grasp as he'd once thought. It had just taken some coaxing, luring out by the nature of the way you lived and the nature that surrounded you.
In many ways living with you reminded him of his childhood. After over two decades he found himself once more secluded, left to focus on his basic needs and the needs of the animals he found himself caring for.
Many of his fellow mercenaries would have found it boring compared to the thrill of battle, one he'd had a love/hate relationship with, but he'd surprisingly settled well back into the lifestyle once he'd given it a chance.
In truth, this life could never be dull. Even with your quiet, even with your consistent schedule, the animals would not let it be so. On any given day a goat may escape its paddock or a horse might find itself tangled up in something (the latest had been Thor's nasty run in with some fallen branches from a hawthorn tree after he'd jumped the boundary of his pasture again).
Even when they weren't busy escaping, the animals sometimes got into trouble other ways or caused mischief.
You had one particular event you liked to remind him of most, to taut him with, on those days you were feeling playful. He'd been assisting you with the feeding of your billy goats one morning when the youngest, the almost pure white one who was appropriately named Trouble, came up behind him and gave him a good, literal nip on the butt for no apparent reason other than being a goat. Even with the padding of his pants between his skin and the goat's teeth it had still left Pero sore for days, not that he had admitted it to you. No, you had enough fuel from seeing his face when it had occurred. Had been thrown into a fit of laughter over it many times since, to his dismay.
Despite his grievances with that particular goat, he did find plenty of pleasant times amongst them, even smiling on occasion at their daily antics when you weren't looking, of course.
While he kept that side of himself hidden from you, and you kept pieces of yourself from him, you still both learned much about each other by just being in close proximity.
You'd learned enough to be able to communicate with each other without spoken word, something that became invaluable during your hunts together.
It was especially useful on the days when voices easily echoed through the forest.
On one such day, when the air was crisp and the sun bright, you walked your horses in single file through the thick forest a quarter mile from your cottage, the snow almost up to your boots before the horses plowed through. Pero was in saddle on Thor and you were bareback on Clover as you often were. With your knowledge of the area Pero always let you lead, not that he really had any power to choose. You were strong willed and used to getting your way. His presence had not done anything to change that. He wouldn't have wanted it to anyway; his respect for you was too great.
About an hour into the hunt you abruptly halted Clover and looked over your shoulder at him, head angled downward. He followed the gesture and glanced at the ground by her mare's front feet. After peering at the spot for a few seconds he noticed what she had. Rabbit footprints. A trail of them that happened to follow the same path you both were on, though the much smaller creature had been able to hop along without sinking into the snow.
He gave you a nod to assure you he'd seen the same thing and pulled the bow he was carrying off his back as well as an arrow from a quiver that he had strapped over his shoulder. It was yours, but you allowed him borrow it whenever he joined you on hunts. You had a matching one, except yours was more lightweight. Yours was spread out on your lap, your arrows on your hip inside a smaller quiver.
You encouraged Clover to very slowly push through the snow as you watched for the rabbit to appear ahead and Pero did the same with Thor. When your eyes set on a fallen log in the path, the white rabbit appeared from behind it.
Pero saw you tense up and scanned ahead, eyes locking on the rabbit in a matter of a second or two. He had time to lift his bow into position and nock an arrow before you could, only by a moment, but it was long enough for him to fire on the creature.
The arrow landed at the animal's hind feet and it bolted, startled by the near miss. Pero cursed loudly over his lousy shot, but you kept your cool, still eying the rabbit and moving with it as it put distance between you both.
It felt entirely too long to Pero, but it was just enough before you released your arrow and sent it flying right into the rabbit's chest, instantly rendering it lifeless, its body flopping over on a patch of bare stone.
You glanced back at him with a smug expression on your face, eyebrows hiked up.
He scowled at you. "Lucky shot."
"It's called skill, Pero," you boasted, a broad smile plastered on your face.
Sometimes you reminded him of William. William had been almost supernaturally good at archery, and you weren't too far behind. Neither of you were humble about it.
He wouldn't admit it, but he was thoroughly impressed by you, even though being far outdone by yet another person wounded his ego. I ought to stick to swords, he thought bitterly.
"You're just mad a woman is better at something than you are," you added as you dismounted to collect the dead animal.
You weren't entirely wrong. It did sting more, but it wasn't the only reason. Pero knew he was generally a sore loser. As far as he was concerned though, it was useful. He was certain he'd survived many a battle out of his pure unwillingness to be showed up by opposing soldiers and mercenaries.
You squatted to snatch the limp rabbit up by its hind legs and approached him, nodding to the saddlebag attached to his saddle by a couple tie down straps.
He unbuckled the flap that closed the bag and opened it up so you could stuff the rabbit's body inside it.
"You wouldn't need to use mine if you had yours," Pero said pointedly, still not understanding why she hardly used her saddle. She'd once told him it was for warmth, to share body heat with her mare, but the weather that day could hardly be called bitter.
"I never do," she told him. "I could easily swing the body over Clover's neck with a rope. But then I'd risk losing the meat while racing you back."
He had no time to react to her words before she swung back up onto Clover's back and kicked her sides, sending her into a reckless canter through the forest, along the same trail they'd just stomped out.
Thor pranced in place, yearning to run as well, and Pero muttered to himself about how pointless it was to do so before letting his reins loose anyway, giving the stallion permission to bolt down the path after you both.
He'd never done this before. Let his horse run for the sake of it, and as wayward branches smacked him in the chest and face he was quickly reminded why. Moving at such speeds could be dangerous and it was an unnecessary waste of energy for any horse about to see battle or any that were recovering from one.
Neither was the case for Thor that day, and when the trees gave way to field Pero suddenly forgot all his other concerns.
He could see you several lengths ahead, flying head long into the soft morning breeze on Clover's wide back, the horse kicking up powder as she threw herself into a gallop, albeit a slow one due to the snow not being quite trampled down enough to prevent her from sinking into it.
He couldn't see much of you besides your winter coat as he trailed behind you, but for a moment you had your head thrown back, nose pointed to the sky, and he could sense the joy, imagine the wide grin on your face. It made his lips curl up and his heart skip in a way he could not explain if someone had asked him to.
He urged Thor into a pace that would allow him to keep up, and felt the same kind of thrill you were likely experiencing bubbling up in his chest. The rush of adrenaline one gets when you take a risk, not for survival, but for the hell of it. He'd experienced it plenty enough during his youth to remember what it felt like. It was a more than welcome feeling after so long.
He'd almost caught up with you when the cottage came into view and you started to slow Clover down, though the horse was hardly breathless. Pero pulled Thor up beside you, face neutral, once more hiding the side of him he'd deemed soft from you.
"Rabbit stew?" you inquired, a smile still adorning your face. "My grandmother created a recipe in her twenties that's to die for."
He grunted. "If you intend to fatten me up so I cannot leave come spring, your family's secrets are indeed the best route to success."
You chortled at his comment, and he almost laughed too. Almost.
"Amma's famous rabbit stew it is."
x
Pero ate so much rabbit stew for both his meals that day that he fell asleep by the fire after the last, waking only after the night was in full force. There was a blanket draped over him that hadn't been there before and he smiled slightly at the thought of you taking the time to shield his body from the chill that often found its way into your home after dark. You were always looking after him like that, even though you didn't need to, even though he was very capable of taking care of himself.
He liked that about you most, your selflessness. The kind that led you to care for a stranger, though you were hardly strangers by then, were you? At least not anymore.
Pero stood with a groan, his stiff, aching back and knees ever reminding him of his last two decades spent in battle and on horseback.
He glanced around the cottage for you, but you weren't there, and he wondered if it was early enough that you were still out feeding the animals. He donned his coat and made his way outside, surprised by the calm, stillness of the night. Usually night meant bitter wind.
The weather was not all he was surprised by.
Instead of being behind or in the barn, you were out in the field in front of the cottage, your upper body lying flat on Clover's bare back, though your butt and legs were still properly positioned for riding. Pero trudged your way, wondering what in God's name you were doing on your horse so late at night, until he got close enough to see that you were gazing up at the clear sky above you, studying the thousands of shining white specks, stars, that were spread across its midnight blue.
The peace in your expression almost made him turn back, not wanting to spoil your alone time, but something had him rooted to the ground he was standing upon a few yards from you, watching, taking in the view. Not of the sky, but of you. Your silhouette blended with Clover's in the dark, as if you'd morphed into a very flexible centaur, and he realized then that you did not ride bareback just for shared warmth, but also because of the oneness you felt with her when the saddle wasn't present. Clover was always more responsive to you when you left the saddle in the barn. She could read you better, as you could her.
His conclusion had Pero scrambling to recall the last time he'd felt at one with anything or anyone, but his mind blanked out. Though he'd been close to other people emotionally, had experienced physical intimacy of every kind, spiritual closeness had evaded him as well as he'd avoided devotion to any religion.
He had never yearned for that kind of connection until that night, as he observed yours with Clover and to the world around you. He could have watched you all night, lived vicariously through you.
You felt him near you before he could.
"Beautiful night," you declared, only just loud enough for him to hear. You did not turn your head to look at him, you just kept on talking, your eyes still focused on the heavens above. "It's not often it's clear enough to stargaze in the winter. I could not resist."
He cleared his throat. "No need to resist because of my presence. I will leave you to it and return to the cottage, if I am to presume the animals are already fed?"
You nodded confirmation that they were and sat upright, using nothing but your core strength to do it, and he had to adjust himself in his pants before you looked his way, aroused by your motion. If anyone asked, he could not deny his attraction to you, but he knew he could not act on it. You had shown no sign of feeling the same towards him, and he was your guest, so he dealt with his discomfort however he could when you weren't near enough to overhear him.
"I'd rather you join me for a ride," you said as your eyes fell upon him.
He arched his brows. "At this time of night?"
"I want to see if the dancing lights are out," you explained.
"Dancing lights?" Pero was lost. He had no idea what you were talking about.
"It's worth the trip to the top of the mountain," you promised. "Trust me."
Who was he to resist your plea?
He agreed to the ride and headed for the pasture, leading Thor out by his mane.
You frowned as you rode Clover over to the fence line. "Aren't you going to get your saddle?"
Pero stood at Thor's shoulder and readied himself to climb on, using a large rock to give him a little extra height. As tall as he was, he hadn't tried this in a long time and mounting from the ground with stirrups was already difficult enough for him.
“Not tonight,” he replied shortly, swinging up on his steed. It wasn't easy, even with the assist from the stone. He almost slipped back off by Thor's shoulder, but managed to cling on and straighten himself out, though his grunts of effort probably could have been heard for a mile. At least you seemed amused by his lack of grace, choking on the laugh bubbling up in your chest. As embarrassed as he was, Pero liked the sound of your laughter.
You forced a cough, trying to compose yourself, then silently guided him away from the farm, starting up the steepest side of the mountain, without any supplies.
He followed you hesitantly, praying a sudden storm would not form.
x
You rode towards the top of the mountain with a relaxed confidence, only occasionally twisting around to make sure Pero was still close behind.
He hung back a few yards, attempting to appear at ease, but you could tell your impromptu trip had spiked some anxiety within him. You wondered how much was because of who he was and how much was from his near death experience.
You felt an unexplainable twinge as you thought back to the fateful day that you'd found him. If you had never known him, if you'd been too late or hadn't stumbled upon him, you wouldn't know who you were missing, but you did know him, and there was pain in knowing how close you'd been to not sharing your life with him.
It was dangerous to your heart, thinking in such a manner, but even if all you could ever be were friends, even if he left in the spring and you never saw him again, you knew you wouldn't trade this winter with him for anything. Wouldn't trade the moment that came next as you crested your mountain and the rest of the chain it belonged to materialized into view, all eight of its companions snow capped and massive in their own right, most even taller than the one you'd claimed as yours.
But it wasn't the mountain range's beauty that you focused on that night - it was the glowing, dancing, green wavy lights in the sky that kissed a few of the other peaks.
You'd witnessed them a few times each winter since you'd moved into the cottage, but the lights never failed to cause you to catch your breath, to marvel at the beauty of it. You did not know why they only sometimes formed at night during the winter, why they formed at all, but you didn't need to know to enjoy the view.
"Do you have these lights in the south?" you asked Pero as Thor came to a stop alongside Clover.
"We do not," he answered, studying the sky before him, eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to figure out the source of the mysterious lights. "But I have heard of these lights before, from other mercenaries."
"Aren't they magical?" you questioned dreamily, staring ahead.
You heard him huff. "Magic does not exist. Just because we do not understand it doesn't make it supernatural."
"That's not the kind of magic I'm talking about," you told him, glancing in his direction. "I meant the kind of magic that we know has an explanation, even if we have not figured it out yet, but is still wondrous to us anyway. Like how a babe grows in their mother's womb, or how sometimes the ground shakes for no apparent reason. Episteme will not change the feeling I have every time I am blessed with witnessing these lights."
Pero nodded in understanding. "They are indeed, wondrous."
You glanced over to him again, finding his eyes on you instead of the lights, and your heart pounded in your chest as he smiled at you briefly. A real smile that filled your belly with warmth.
You wondered then if he felt the same for you as you did him, or if you were reading into things too much. If you were simply just a friend to him, a sister, maybe, or something more. You were too afraid to ask. Too convinced it didn't matter.
After all, come spring he would part from you, and you'd be alone once more.
You couldn't see the benefit in exposing yourself to that kind of heartbreak.
You wouldn't admit to yourself you'd already fallen.
xxx
Tagged: @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed
xxx
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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Our Family
Based on this request: Can I request some domestic Sandor? Perhaps just him spending the day with his son and wife? Something sorta simple, fluffy, and cute lol
Here you are! *Familiar characters are NOT mine!*
Warnings: Fluff...yeah pretty sure that’s it, slight AU
Pairings/Characters: Sandor Clegane x wife!reader, Y/S/N (your son’s name)
Sandor never thought he'd have what he did. He had survived the Great War, survived his brother, and now had everything he never knew he wanted. He was now Lord Clegane. Not that he wanted that, but the perks that came with it were fantastic. He had you. And your son.
The first thing Sandor did every morning was go out for a ride on his horse. It was something he'd done nearly every day of his life and that didn't change now. If you were awake, you'd often go with him and instructed the Maester to watch over your son. Today was not one of those days. Sandor was fine with that because it gave him to time to sit in quiet appreciation of your beauty when he returned from his ride.
He watched as your chest rose and fell. Hair had fallen in your face, making Sandor laugh. You always managed to get your hair, no matter how short unless you shaved it all off, into a completely tangled mess when you slept. He reached over and pushed the hair from your face, causing your eyes to crack open. "Good morrow," you greeted, your voice still rough with sleep. You gave him a tired smile and asked him how his ride was.
He didn't answer right away and you rolled your eyes playfully. With all your strength (knowing it wouldn't hurt the giant of a man), you pulled him down to lie with you once again. You didn't say anything. Instead, you closed your eyes and chose to play with his fingers with one hand while your other propped up your head. Sandor mirrored your movements, but his eyes never left your face. "You're staring again," you muttered as your eyes opened again. You smiled and leaned up to kiss him.
"I adore you, Sandor Clegane." The words were soft, as if you were telling him a secret. It was when you said it like that, that made Sandor know you meant it. It was what made him look at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Not that he'd tell you that. You hated being put on a pedestal. You were his equal, his helpmate, his wife, and the mother of his child. Nothing more, nothing less. At least in your eyes.
Your husband was a man of few words most of the time so it didn't surprise you that your words of adoration were met with him pulling you even closer and kissing your lips fiercely. You hummed and smiled into the kiss. Knowing Sandor, it probably would have gone farther if not for the door bursting open suddenly. Sandor was instant on alert and nearly reached for his sword before realizing it was only your son.
"Y/S/N, I've told you not to do that. You know it puts me on edge," you scolded gently. You had taken part in the fighting in the war just like Sandor. It had affected you in a similar fashion but while Sandor's instant reaction was to reach for his sword, you just became incredibly jumpy and tense. "Sorry, Mother. Father," your son said, looking down at the ground. Even at the age of twelve, he hated causing you distress.
Sandor kissed your head and lead your son out so you could ready for the day. By the time you emerged from your chambers, Sandor was leading your son outside for his morning training. It was the only fighting Sandor did those days unless needed and they ALWAYS trained before breaking their fasts with you. You gave them a little wave and continued on with your duties.
As Sandor trained with his son, he couldn't keep his mind was wandering to your life together and your family. Sandor adored you and your son. You were the lights of his life that he wouldn't trade for anything. He had worked hard to erase the shadows his brother had left in his wake over him, as well as over everyone left in the family's holdfast. His home was now a safe and protected place for everyone who lived there.
"Father?" Sandor was pulled from his thoughts once more by his son's voice. Sandor hummed in response. "Do I train to protect my future bride? The way you protect Mother?" Sandor stopped for a moment. "Aye. Or the queen. Or whatever family you find yourself with." Y/S/N smiled brightly and Sandor swore he looked more like you in that moment than any other. "I want to be like you, Father. I want to protect our family."
Sandor tried not to smile, though he wasn't successful. He was still smiling when the two returned inside to where you were waiting. "What has you smiling so, husband?" you asked. Sandor relayed the conversation he'd had with Y/S/N. You hugged him close. "He has learned the very best of you, my love," you whispered.
Years ago, he would have laughed at that and told you that he didn't need anyone. Now, he didn't care. He didn't care if some people saw him being soft with his family. He would spend every moment being soft if that meant he could be in these peaceful moments, with you in his arms and his son looking at him like he was someone to be proud of, forever.
(a/n: I hope you like it!!)
Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @etherealpotter @line-viper @cd1242 @frozenhuntress67 @smalltownbigheart @gruffle1 @igotmadskills @supernatural4life2022
Sandor Clegane Tags: @songoficecreamandfireworks @silversprings98 @nkjktk
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I've noticed you mentioning that many creators have covered the P&Z stuff, and that many have gotten the details wrong.
What would *you* recommend creators focus on? Is there a specific order of events you'd recommend?
For context, I'm a trans man in the creator space. Relatively small, but I also have BPD (and many other things) and am polyamorous and I hate how Poppy is playing into all the negative stereotypes.
I want to help. Especially because one of Poppy's victims was a very close friend of mine. I'm currently working on a video essay script about the situation. If you, or anyone else wants to reach out, I'd greatly appreciate it, but I'm well aware that everyone's spoons are lacking right now so no pressure.
The main problem is a lack of organization. Many creators think they can gloss over an introduction and then dive into the docs, and most of the misinformation is in that expositional intro. But when you do that, you make yourself and the situation as a whole look less credible.
And, frankly, covering everything Poppy and Zena have done in a single stream will contribute to this unless you are especially dedicated. Luxander spent a LOT of time asking for clarification and organizing its points so that their arguments made sense.
Here's some facts I've noticed streamers get wrong, at least when they first cover it. I'll list them so creators have a cheat sheet:
Poppy is an AMAB transgender woman who has recently undergone bottom surgery. The bottom surgery is important to note as Poppy regards intercourse with Noeh as "her first time." This is her having vaginal intercourse for the first time, which is something she places value in regards to her trans experience. Poppy has used this as emotional leverage to paint Noehflake as a malicious person who took her virginity and left.
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The entirety of the relationship with Noehflake lasted approximately four months and ended in late December 2023. Poppy wanted Noehflake to move in with her either at or a little under the two month mark. I find this extremely important as it highlights how quickly Poppy tries to enmesh herself into people's lives. I personally think its a combination of typical BPD attatchment issues and lovebombing to speed up the process and "skip steps," something Poppy ironically has called out in other people.
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Poppy is NOT Spawn (her kid's) biological parent. Poppy was present since Spawn was in utero and took up the role of their father before she transitioned. Spawn's mother died in a horse riding accident at around age 3/4, during which Poppy became their sole caretaker.
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PLEASE stop headlining your videos with "child abuse." It's inaccurate. As much as I do not like PZ, we have to be correct with how we criticize them. Spawn was not a minor during the time the abuse ocurred. Spawn has also stated PZ have NEVER sexually abused them and that their childhood was relatively fine before Zena arrived. Please stick to what was alleged. Call it "parental abuse" to be accurate, please. Child abuse brings to mind a minor being harmed which is not accurate to this situation.
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Spawn was NOT coined by Poppy. That's the name Spawn gave themselves so their privacy would be respected, something Poppy purposefully violates online to endager them.
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Spawn is a 24 year old they/them nonbinary person with POTS, which severely impacts their cardiovascular system and makes labor and even basic tasks difficult. Around 2022 when the brunt of the abuse ocurred, Spawn was around 5ft and 80lbs. They claim a doctor cleared them of health issues in relation to being 80lbs and that it wasn't a weight Poppy and Zena starved them to. I personally find issue with a 5ft person being 80lbs in general and believe it was a contributing factor to their chronic pain, but I do not believe they were at a higher weight and PZ starved them TO that point. I believe they were naturally lithe, but that PZ did absolutely nothing to help manage Spawn's weight as the crux of their abuse was food restriction. According to Spawn, their weight has steadily increased as they've gotten older which I can relate to. Being at that weight puts stress on your body, but to add POTS on top of it significantly disables you.
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Spawn has autism and a dissociative disorder, the latter of which Poppy has gaslit Spawn into underplaying in spite of a mental health professional agreeing with Spawn. (This is in the Spawn doc) This disorder is OSDD-1B which Spawn met the criteria for (fact checked with Spawn), which is a disorder that is often obtained through significant, persistent, or otherwise intense trauma. This is ESPECIALLY concerning to me as someone who has researched DID and the sister disorders since I was 15. I have a space in my heart reserved for those people as DID is one of the most misunderstood and culturally manipulated disorders since it's "debut" with the book Sybil. I digress, but the fact that Poppy refuses to see eye to eye with Spawns dissociative disorder despite allegedly having one herself is concerning.
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Poppy alleges she was diagnosed with OSDD, Otherwise Specified Dissociative Disorder. I myself have actually made the mistake of saying she has DID. The two are different, but under the same umbrella. OSDD is sort of the "misc." option when you don't meet the full critera of DID and you don't qualify for psychotic disorders. I actually believe OSDD is more prevalent than classic DID due to the fact that disorders are spectrum-based and can be highly specific to the person if they are traumagenic. People with OSDD tend to have alters like DID, but there is a distinct lack of amnesia between alters and a lack of amnesia blackouts. These people will still dissociate to a degree that counts as a disorder. I have known people with OSDD and it is very real and oftentimes painful, coming to terms with the fact that you've been so traumatized that it necessitates dissociating from reality. It is not fun at its core and I do not wish that on anyone, but it doesn't mean these people aren't valid if they embrace or highlight the positive aspects of their condition to cope.
What makes me sussy-wussy is Poppy's insistence as a "professional" to conflate OSDD/DID with Tulpamancy, the former being traumagenic and the latter being pseudo-spiritual. The topic of endogenic vs. traumagenic alters is one I do NOT want to debate here. I will say I dont appreciate when she combines medically recognized disorders with spirituality, as doing so can contribute to misinformation that we ALREADY have to deal with. If you believe in tulpamancy, I won't argue with you, but you have to be precise in the language you use as to not spread misinfo. Sometimes people have traumagenic disorders that they frame with a spiritual lense, which I can respect, but please be mindful when comparing your experience with others. That's all I ask.
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Noehflake, Hayleigh, is a transgender woman who also has a dissociative disorder with at least one alter. In the docs, this alter is referred to as "Max." That is not their current name and I do not feel comfortable airing it out. Hayleigh is not a separate alter to "Noehflake." Hayleigh is simply Noehflake's name. Their experience is not fun and Max has to intervene in especially stressful situations. Hayleigh dissociates, and you can tell in her dedicated doc just how much Poppy and Zena disregard her pain and push her into dissociating more.
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Also if I have to hear someone pronounce Noehflake as "Noh-ee-flake" I'm going to eat my fucking hands. It's nitpicky but it's aggravating to listen to over and over. It's pronounced "Noh-flake." Like snowflake. I've made the mistake of pronouncing it as "No-ah-flake." Just saying "Noh" is fine.
-
Zena is an AFAB transmasc person with agender qualities that goes by they/them, though I have heard they have given the "she/her pass" to close people. Stick with they/them, out of basic respect and to prevent confusion. Zena is significantly younger than Poppy, to the point where an anon pointed out they have less than a decade difference in age from Poppy's child. I can't believe I have to specify this, but Zena is NOT the biological father/mother of Poppy's child. I heard that in one of the worst videos covering this topic and I had to leave out of pure frustration.
-
Dormiyu is the asexual victim that Poppy and Zena brought to their house. Dormiyu uses it/its pronouns. Poppy wants you to think there was only one instance where Poppy walked out in her underwear to get clothes and Dormiyu freaked out. There were two instances. One was when she was in her set of underwear and Dormiyu looked away, to which Poppy chided it for its "asexual bullshit." The second incident involved Dormiyu being in her office. Poppy entered the office with her bare breasts out and sat in front of Dormiyu to get it to notice her. This, obviously, made Dormiyu very uncomfortable, to which Poppy argued that they "were just tits." I don't have to go into fine detail as to why showing your bare breasts to a guest in your home is inappropriate, especially when the guest does not have the transportation to leave your house. Poppy has since blackmailed Dormiyu into deleting everything as it is an immigrant and her delving into its personal life on stream would not only put Dormiyu at risk of doxxing, but at risk of deportation. You will find the archive of Dormiyu's testimony in my masterlist.
-
This is especially important to highlight. Poppy admitted in a video to "reproducing" CSA onto a family member. To others, this may seem like a smoking gun. Unfortunately, this is a case I cannot in good conscience speculate on. I can't. One, we ONLY have Poppy's vague testimony on camera. Any surrounding info is secondhand. Second, we do not know if this victim wants their story told by us. I'm not sure they even know who we are. I cannot perpetuate what is essentially a ghost of an accusation when I do not know if the victim is even comfortable having that public. All I can say is that I do not trust Poppy. We have so much more tangible evidence to prove Poppy is all-around abusive, and I will stick to what has been substantiated.
Thank you for listening to me. I know this is a lot and some of it seems pedantic, but I care a lot about how we cover this.
#poppy#poppy and zena#zena and poppy#poppy diabolique#ladydiabolique#poppy & zena#zenaandpoppyonyoutube#zena#spawn#nf
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Cinema Sins/Wins Rip Off of Lego Monkie Kid.
Yeah yeah I’m back folks, I just decided to take a looong break.
Inspired by @satansaidmyturnintheh3||scape
Rules:
-I won't be counting Animation Mistakes, because Idk how to do that, and I myself am a beginner animator (more like incredibly amateur, to the point I'm asking my sister for help) Unless of course the Animation is obviously and clearly having a mistake for me to watch.(Or it is said in the wiki) The other reason is because I don't want to keep repeating a scene just to check for an animation mistake.
-!This is mostly for entertainment purposes, sorry if I sound too mean!
-I also won't be counting flashbacks as 'mistakes' because most of them are based on bias.
-I'll be formatting it like this
-Neutral
-Sin
-Win
Let’s get started.
——————————————-
-Intro.
._.
-Love how you can see where Mei, Sandy and MK are in this scene.
-On the other hand why does Pigsy have a random game machine beside his shop? I know there are apartment buildings on top of said shop but in Season 2 he actively has authority to remove it.
-Secondly is MK currently on break at the moment or is he just, ‘slacking off’ judging by his clothes he should be currently working.
-Dragon Horse and Stone Monkey.
-Ah yes the underrated trio. Sandy, Mei and MK. Please tell me this group has a name.
-Bad time to call your daughter.
-The way Mei is so nervous to talk to her mother and the way she talks as if her mother doesn’t even give her enough time to explain, like I think Mei’s Mother is cutting her off at times here and it’s not really okay. It feels like Mei is talking to her boss than her Mom.
-Sandy for the win.
-The finishing move is a spin of the staff and a hit to the leg…wow MK.
-I really love how Sandy is just casually friends with these guys. Like these guys just met Sandy a few weeks ago and all of a sudden they said ‘Let’s be friends’
-Ok MK you should really get social cues…or at least let Mei get a word in-
-‘I always wanted to see Mei’s secret Dragon House full of secret Dragon stuff’ makes me wonder why no one believes in the Monkey King stories. Either that or why Mei isn’t being worshipped like a deity by now.
-Also MK, kinda creepy…but to be fair Mei put cameras on all of you…
-BRO THIS BULL CLONE HAS EVERYTHING ON HER?!
-Why does this Bull Clone pull out the same Two Pictures twice?
-Mei doesn’t smile in her photo, along with the rest of her family :(
-In fact she looks kinda restricted.
-Also Key detail, looks like Mei’s little green hair things are dyed!
-PIF confirms that Sha Wujing’s spear and Zhu Bajie’s rake are Celestial Weapons that later tie into Season 4
-We also have the Calabash, PIF’s fan, Wukong’s staff, Nezha’s spear and two of the Samadhi Fire Rings…though I think by this time of development this probably is Nezha’s little ring thingys in his shoes? Not really sure. The only one we don’t know about is the unidentified sword and the random rope.
-Also is she implying that her own fan is a powerful artifact? I guess that makes sense…?
-Why does PIF’s animation always stretch her or squish her I can’t take her seriously XD worse that it’s usually the face.
-Mei wanting to be a normal child is so sad. On the other hand why don’t we have more fanfics of Mei and her family dynamic? Come on people the angst is right there!
-When you think about it, the High-Tech security might’ve been the reason Mei became the ‘Tech Girl’ in the group. Since her family dabbles in High-Technology it’s only obvious she grew curious of that stuff.
-On the other note, what’s with Ancient families and suddenly getting a grasp at handling High-Technology? Like bro Red Son and Mei have so many parallels to each other it’s insane.
-MEI THIS IS WHY YOU DONT LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN.
-You know Red Son you might need to double down in calling Mei a peasant because uhh…wow, the place is huge.
-Mei’s room doesn’t have a door, which shows how shitty these people actually are.
-Also Mei has a lot of rock aesthetic posters, including one with a spider meaning Mei canonically had a rock phase. That or a goth phase so goth Mei is probably canon.
-Why I thought of rock is because of the two sets of guitars she has, one being an electric guitar.
-Mei also has a skateboard indicating she used to skate.
-She has an indoor TV with two game controllers (Why didn’t they just play in her bedroom?)
-And finally she has some things I think her parents would’ve given her such has the pony statue and the meditation carpet on the floor.
-Also apparently she plays the piano? Or is that even a piano?
-The legend of Mei’s sword is kinda cool actually.
-WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH IT?! HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO GETS TO WEILD IT THEN?!
-I have a feeling I know why no one has been able to hold that sword in like…ever (They all look so mean)
-‘You two boot up the old TV!’ What TV? There is literally no TV there? Is there a TV off-screen? Even so where would you put said TV? And again, why not your room?
-MK control your strength- how the hell does that even happen?
-Bull Clone literally just yeeted his hat at him.
-Said Bull Clone took the precious Dragon Sword despite the fact that he was struggling to get it off the statue
-Mei calls her Motorcycle like a horse, get it? Dragon Horse?
-Okay now I don’t blame MK I think that pinball machine is old. BECAUSE HOW DOES THAT JUST HAPPEN?!
-Mei this house should at LEAST take up a whole acre, HOW BIG IS YOUR HOUSE?!
-Mei fixing her bike is while she is chasing the Bull Clone is badass as hell. We do not talk about her enough.
-Pro tip: Never mess with Mei.
-This is why we need to give this family some doubt, okay if literally all her ancestors are dissing her and insulting her to her face because of the way she acts then maybe you shouldn’t turn a blind eye.
-‘You know what I am part of this family! I am Mei! Descendant of the Great Dragon of the West Sea, this is mine! And this is my House!” You go girl, show these guys a what you’re made of!
-A very good take on Mei accepting who she is despite her family’s expectations on her. She’s part of the family but she knows that she needs to stand up for herself. Good bravo.
-IS IT JUST ME OR IS THAT THING BIGGER THAN NORMAL?!
-I wonder what the parents’ reaction was, Holy cow this might’ve been QUITE the sight.
-Yep that Bull Clone is straight up dead.
-MK I think that machine is really just old.
-Lol, Sandy making sure MK doesn’t lose focus.
-‘Somebody forgot our luggage’ then she stares directly at the dad and said dad doesn’t give a damn.
-The fact that Mei has to apologize first before getting praised is messed up as hell. If someone is trying to steal a really powerful relic such as that, then obviously it’s gonna be chaos, but the fact she has to apologize first before they acknowledge she did something good is messed up.
-But to be fair I think they do love Mei, really, but the way they parent just icks me.
-And Mei’s mom sounds like she pulled that whole talk out from google.
-Mei’s dad sounds…familiar hold up-
-KNEW I HEARD THAT VOICE SOMEWHERE. (Also apparently Mei’s mom is the same VA as Mei, so Stephanie Steph is just talking to herself)
-Poor MK…
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The Boy in the Window 12 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)
Chapter Summary: The Boxing Match and the Aftermath
Notes: Part 12 already... I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.
Here, you can find my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]
Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Mentions of domestic abuse. (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.
Wordcount: 3714
Part 12
[Previously]
(Y/N) pretended not to notice, but soon it became unfeasible to ignore and almost impossible to bear.
The closer the date came, the more nervous Tommy got and like a disease it infected her too, creeping in under her skin and spreading its icy shadows inside her. All she could do was to try and keep it contained and away from the children.
Why on earth he had decided to organise a boxing match was beyond her- well, not exactly.
She knew he was bored, despite the fear, despite the terror. All of it still wasn't enough to fully occupy that mind of his, that had gotten stuck halfway between genius and insanity.
Thomas Shelby had bought another race horse, begun to distil gin in grand proportions, dealt with the strikes and negotiated with the workers, had expanded the foundation but all that hadn’t been enough, so now, he had organised a boxing match.
But the closer it got, the longer the silent periods grew, the more his eyes sought to spy something in the distance, something neither she nor the children could see.
Food remained mostly untouched, and only smoke seemed to pass his lips in absence of words.
All of these little signs seemed to amount to a wall he had built around himself and his thoughts, separating him from the rest of the world, from them.
But while his mind and words sought to push them away, his body did the opposite. He was displaying that same need for attachment she had experienced before, in the days and especially the night leading up to the trap and the shootout at Artillery Square with Luca Changretta and that was what frightened her.
Tommy Shelby became clingy, in his own, distant way.
He wouldn't talk, nor engage with her in any way apart from holding onto her hand as if he feared he'd drift off in the vast, stormy sea of his thoughts if he let go of her for a single second.
During the day, work and the children distracted her, but during the nights, this contrast grew ever more apparent.
Some times, some nights, he'd reach for her with everything but his words- with his hands, his lips, his body.
There, she could feel the desperation in his touch- not for release, otherwise he would have just turned his back once it was over.
It was the opposite really- holding her hand would turn into an embrace, embraces would turn to kisses, and kisses into more. Somehow, it all was an inevitability with him and she let him.
Afterwards, he'd lean into her, his arms still wrapped around her waist and holding onto her as if he feared she'd vanish if he didn't.
It merely added to the storm of confusion raging inside her, which only eased up when the children kept her busy, but it never cleared fully, no matter what.
Their game of the day was throwing a ball up against the wall of the courtyard and trying to clap as many times as possible before catching it again.
She only hoped they wouldn't accidentally smash a window.
Currently, they were desperately trying to break the benchmark six, when she heard a knock on the door.
Drying her hands on her apron, as she took it off, (Y/N) approached.
She knew that no one would have come anywhere near her house unless approved by the Peaky Blinders but she glanced out all the same.
In the absence of context, she had to take a moment to recognise the woman in front.
But when her lips tightened in disapproval, she remembered the gaze from Charlie's birthday and opened the door for the wife of Arthur Shelby.
"Mrs. Shelby.", She greeted.
Saying it, without seeing a tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed woman in front of her felt more than strange. It felt wrong.
She returned the greeting with the sweetest smile.
"May I come in?", She asked.
(Y/N) stepped back and led her to the living room, making sure to pick up the toys Emma and Charlie had left.
She hadn't been expecting guests, or any one really, apart from Tommy, and so she hadn't tidied up.
The other woman didn't seem to be in a rush, as she turned on her heels, inspecting anything and everything her blue eyes could reach.
"Would you like some tea?", She asked, hoping she would decline.
Of course, she didn't.
When (Y/N) returned, she found her standing at the window, looking out at the courtyard where the children were playing.
"They seem to like each other.", Linda Shelby said, unable to hide her surprise.
"Yes."
Mostly at least, and whatever childish quarrel they had was easily squashed.
"How curious.", Linda mused.
(Y/N) didn't agree in the slightest, but she kept her words to herself.
"Sugar?", She asked, as she poured.
The blonde woman nodded.
"A second spoon, please.", She asked, batting her eyelashes, but only once (Y/N) had already been ready to pour.
So she had to set it down again, open the lid of the little sugar box and add a second spoon.
"Arthur says you used to live here when all of you were still children.", She said, glancing at the pictures.
"I did."
She hummed and took a sip of tea.
"And you are still here."
(Y/N) set her cup down and tilted her head as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, thankful that the children were outside.
"Again, not still.", She corrected. "After my husband's death, I moved back in with my brother."
His arms had been the safety net she fell into, the only safety net remaining to her.
Before too long, she had become his nurse.
It wasn't easy seeing him go, but when he went, they both were somewhat relieved. He had taken the wound in France, but it had taken years for it to kill him and by that time, he had long made his peace with death and was glad only to be rid of the pain.
"I suppose it is lucky,", Linda continued, stirring the already dissolved sugar.
"For Tommy I mean."
She smiled again, but the wrinkles next to her eyes were a little too pronounced for her to believe it.
"Hm.", (Y/N) said.
"Truly, it couldn't be more convenient,", she said, "someone to watch his son, someone he knows from before and trusts who is able and willing to help him and take care of his needs- and all in arm's reach."
She smoothed down the fabric of her skirt, glad to have something that occupied both her hands and her eyes.
Still, it didn't do anything to prevent the heat that rose in her cheeks.
But she still wasn't finished.
"You must know, we are all very grateful to you, (Y/N)- you don't mind me calling you that, do you, (Y/N)?"
Linda Shelby didn't wait for an answer.
"We know Tommy is far from easy to endure, especially with that temper of his,"
She smacked her lips and reached for one of the biscuits with pointed fingers.
As she broke it apart, a few crumbs landed on her dress, which she quickly brushed off onto the floor.
"We are glad you're helping him take the edge off.”
Leaning over, she gave her hand a little squeeze.
“I want you to know, we appreciate your effort."
Do you now?
(Y/N) felt rather faint at her words, but she did nothing to deny them.
She just tried to take deep breaths and not let anything show.
"But that's not why I came here today.", Linda mused. "No, not at all."
"No?", She asked, raising her eyebrow.
"You're surely not going to the boxing match, are you?"
(Y/N) shook her head, slightly surprised that a good, Christian woman as Linda Shelby was diligent to remind everyone she was, would seek entertainment in two men hurting each other.
"Well, I have naturally been invited.", She announced, "and since you are the one watching the children, I'll be dropping off William at six."
"Will you?"
With a smile she nodded as she unclasped her shiny leather purse, a Parisian model, and pulled forth a folded piece of paper.
"Here's a list of instructions. They should be simple enough for you to follow."
She held them out to (Y/N) and when she didn't take it out of her hand, she raised her eyebrow.
"Any questions?", She wanted to know, her voice as sweet and bright as silver bells.
~
Sometimes there were no words.
Sometimes she did not know how to voice her desperate pleas, her fleeting hopes, the chaos in her heart and mind.
Tonight was one of these nights where all she could do was clasp her hands tighter and hope that the turmoil she felt was able to reach someone who could help her- that her mental repetition of 'please' was enough.
Her head snapped up when she felt the door handle turn.
Tommy entered, his jacket already over his arm, halfway prepared to get ready for bed.
Once he realised what he had interrupted, he froze.
(Y/N) felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she stared up at him, mirroring his uncertainty.
"I can go and wait outside.", He offered, shifting on his feet.
The damage was done now, and besides, it wasn't like she had reinvented the Lord's Prayer tonight with her incoherent babbling.
So she sighed and shook her head.
Looking up at the crucifix over her bed, (Y/N) made the sign of the cross and rose, feeling the ache in her knees as she got up.
Then, she took off her robe and placed it on the hanger before slipping under the covers.
Once she had granted her permission for him to enter, Tommy walked towards the chair in the corner of the room.
"You don't have to, you know?", Tommy said. "With Billy."
One hand rubbed his temple as the other undid the buttons of his vest. He shrugged it off and placed it over the jacket before undoing his tie.
The silk hissed as he pulled it froth from under the collar.
She hadn't told him, but he had found out anyway- from Arthur perhaps.
"Someone has to watch them. I already told Ada I'd watch Karl so it wouldn't have been right to turn Linda down."
Once the first buttons of his shirt had been undone he took a deep breath and let his head drop back.
"Alright.", He sighed.
"Is it, Tommy?", She asked, watching him sit there with his eyes closed.
He looked so exhausted (Y/N) thought he might fall asleep right then and there.
"Because I can't shake the feeling that something awful will happen- that you think something awful will happen."
He opened his eyes again, staring over to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, his collar undone, tie, vest and jacket gone.
Then he frowned and tilted his head.
"What were you praying for, eh?", He wanted to know, sounding more like disbelief than suspicion, as if she had presented him with some curiosity.
His simple, short, soft spoken question set her face ablaze, as if she was some insolent child and in a way, she was.
"For things to be alright.", She admitted.
His eyes met hers for but a moment, and then she quickly glanced away.
But it wasn't fast enough to hide the truth from him, not nearly.
"There's no point in praying."
Still he sounded so detached, which was somehow infinitely worse than if he had said it in anger or spite.
And that cut deeper than it should have.
(Y/N) had a long list of reasons to give him, some selfless, some selfish, but she bit her tongue.
They weren't hers to say.
Today had been a reminder for her - a harsh one, yes, but one she seemed to need to bring her back to reality.
"Well for me there is.", She snapped- or tried to snap. Instead it came out as something in between a whisper and a sniffle, only adding to her shame.
(Y/N) turned her attention to the ceiling and closed her eyes, listening to the whispers of the fabric as he began to unbutton his shirt.
And then it stopped.
(Y/N) could hear his breaths, but what gave him away was the feeling of his eyes on her, burning through her skin into the depth of her mind.
Without opening her eyes she turned on the bed, facing the wall- for now. As soon as he'd settle, she would turn the other way.
His footsteps were incredibly light, almost inaudible if it weren't for the creaking floorboards.
Then the noise stopped, before he had the chance to walk around the bed.
When the bed dipped her heart began to thunder. It had dipped on her side and not his, and she felt his hip press into her back.
Then, his fingers found the back of her head and began to stroke her hair away, exposing her neck to him.
His touch was so light and fleeting, she felt the warmth more than his fingers.
Still, she didn't react, at least in no way he could see, as she closed her hands into a fist under the blanket.
He braced himself with one hand on the other side of her, trapping her between him as he bent down and pressed a kiss to her temple.
Unlike the touch before, it wasn't fleeting.
Unlike the touch before, he allowed his lips to linger.
His hands found her neck again, stroking over the delicate skin in the way he had grown used to knowing how sensitive that part of her body was- how pliable to his touch.
When the tingling began to spread beyond the places he touched, she shifted, rolling onto her back and opening her eyes, before she realised the mistake.
Quickly, she tried to blink away the unshed tears before he saw them, all the while knowing that his own eyes were too sharp to miss it.
She found him sitting on the side of her bed, one hand close to her waist, the other still stroking the side of her face.
It only stilled when he saw the look in her eyes.
"I shouldn't have said that.", He muttered.
Instead of responding, she only sighed.
(Y/N) wasn't in the mood to argue, too tired and too worn out after everything.
And for what?
Charlie was young enough to believe her, but no one could convince a grown man to change his ways. She wouldn't waste what little energy she had left in a futile attempt.
Tommy Shelby didn't take her silence well.
Instead his eyes seemed to widen with worry as his thumb began to stroke over her temple once more.
When he realised she neither tried to stop him nor turned away, he leaned in, but hesitated before his lips could brush against hers.
She knew what he was doing and if she had been any stronger she would have pushed him away.
But she wasn't. She was weak- he made her weak.
And so he kissed her, not her temple or her forehead but her lips.
He kissed her slowly, cautiously, and by instinct (Y/N) kissed him back. Once she had, he leaned further into the kiss, seeking out to capture hers with his.
And (Y/N) stil kissed him back.
His right hand left her head, running down the side of her body until they settled at her waist, his fingers coiling in the fabric of her nightgown, dragging it up her legs.
Her breath hitched as his hand found her bare skin. She did not know if it was her hand that brought his knee up or her knee that brought his hand up, only that his fingers tightened around it.
When he kissed a line down her neck, she took a shuddering breath, but Tommy being Tommy knew exactly where to find her most sensitive spot and sucked.
A gasp escaped her lips, but then her hands found the back of his head, feeling first the roughness of the shorter strands and the softness of the hair he didn't cut short.
"Tommy-", she whispered, pulling his head away so she could look at him.
"Tommy, what are you doing?"
Between her words, a plea lay hidden, but he did not hear it.
He sat up, his hand still on her knee, that familiar shine in his eyes, his usually pale lips gaining colour.
"What do you think?", He asked, shifting back. There was a slightest hint of a smirk on his lips as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee, then to the inside of her thighs, and upward once more.
(Y/N) closed her eyes and leaned back into her pillow.
It wasn't what she meant- not even close.
What are you doing in my bed…in my arms…Tommy - please - tell me what you are going.
And most importantly- why
But she knew she wouldn't get an answer, even if she got him to listen to her, and yet at the same time she didn't need him to spell out what she already knew.
~
Ada had arrived with thank yous and kind words, Linda with a long list of requirements and demands as they each left their son in her care.
Karl, more than halfway to seven years old now, wasn't at all fussed to be spending the evening away from his mother.
William, barely one, was a different story. He was at that age where familiar faces made all the difference, and it was difficult to settle him at first, not without lots of rocking and coos.
Finally, after at least two hours, he accepted her and stopped crying in her arms.
The sofa dipped, she turned to find Charlie climbing up beside her. Without another word, he leaned his head into her side.
"Careful.", She told him, "I'm holding the baby."
He glanced at his cousin in her arms and frowned.
"Why do you have to hold him all the time?", He wanted to know, wrinkling his nose.
"Because little babies just need to be held more than big boys like you."
Charlie huffed and began to let his legs sway.
"I'm not that big.", He argued after a while. "Emma's taller than me and Karl too."
(Y/N) shifted the baby carefully so that she could reach out and stroked over his hair.
"But you're bigger than Billie."
He grumbled and leaned into her touch.
"Still."
Before she had a chance to pull her hand back, he wrapped his arms around hers, clutching it to his chest.
"Charlie?", Emma asked, appearing in the doorway. "Come play!"
Karl came up behind her and as soon as he appeared, Charlie's expression changed.
"No.", He said with unusual sharpness.
"Why not?", Emma wanted to know, coming closer. "Karl says we can play cowboys! He knows all about cowboys."
Karl nodded eagerly but Charlie kept his resolve.
"He doesn't have to come play if he doesn't want to, Emma.", (Y/N) reminded her softly.
"You can join whenever.", She offered, before disappearing back through the door with Karl.
"I won't.", Charlie hissed under his breath, making her eyebrow rise.
"And why is that?", She asked.
Instead of answering, he dropped his head and pouted.
(Y/N) began to stroke over the back of his head, which made him soften soon enough.
"Everyone acts like we're supposed to be friends. But he's not my friend.", Charlie hissed.
"He's your cousin."
He only shrugged.
"I don't like the way he talks - it's weird…"
"That's because he lived in America.", She reminded him.
"Why can't he go there now? We don't need him here. And not the baby too. It's too crowded."
He stretched out the last word and threw his head back against the sofa in dramatic fashion.
"They are just here for tonight. I think we can manage that, don't you?"
"Only tonight?", He asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her.
"Only tonight.", She promised.
"Then they leave?"
She nodded, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.
He still stayed by her side until she changed Billy for the last time and put him down on his cot.
As she checked in Emma and Karl who were still playing cowboys with little figurines, Charlie slipped his hand into hers, but he didn't want to join their game.
"Billy's asleep now.", He told her as he climbed into her lap, the hint of a grin on his lips that he failed to hide from her.
"I know."
"That means I'm the littlest now."
(Y/N) knew where this was headed and couldn't help her own smile, even if it stung a little, as Charlie snuggled into her embrace.
Clasping her face with his hands, he stroked her cheek gently, the way she did with him or Emma.
Then he leaned up and pressed a kiss to her forehead the way he had seen her do with him and Emma countless times before.
Only then, did he lean his head against her chest.
(Y/N) wrapped her arms around him, knowing he liked it more than Emma ever had.
It wasn't that Emma hated being held, she just came and went impatiently, while Charlie despised any and every cause that made him stray from her embrace.
"When are they leaving?", He asked, his voice slightly muffled against her chest. His fingers had begun to play with the small cross she wore on a chain around her neck.
It was usually hidden under layers of clothes but his curiosity had fished it out once and ever since either her cross, the clasp of her watch, the buttons of her dress or the edge of her sleeve became a toy for him to occupy his fingers with.
"When their mums come to pick them up."
"And until their mums pick them up, they are staying here?"
"Yes.", She affirmed.
Charlie lifted his head to look at her.
"So they'll only go if their mum comes to pick them up?"
(Y/N) confirmed it once more, although she didn't understand where he was going with it.
But her answer seemed to please Charlie greatly as snuggled back into her.
Taking a deep breath, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head, glad that he couldn't sense the burning in her eyes.
She tried to make note of it all- the smell of his hair, the softness of his hands as they wrapped themselves around her waist, the weight of his head against her chest and the slight strain in her arms.
~
With William asleep in the cot next to her armchair in the living room so she could keep an eye on him, and Emma and Charlie in their beds while Karl borrowed hers, it was just her and the baby downstairs.
Her, the baby and all those people mounted on the mantelpiece and she knew they were watching.
Don't you judge me, she thought. I don't deserve your judgement.
Besides, she judged herself just fine.
David would have given her hell for it, Edith would have been caught somewhere between shock and confusion- not unlike (Y/N). But it was her husband's picture her eyes lingered on.
She sighed, leaning back against the pillows and watching him.
It was the only picture she had of him, the one so many people had.
The government had called it a kindness, to allow every man doomed to serve to take a picture for his family to keep - in full uniform and standing to attention.
She had met him after the war, so the man in the frame was a stranger to her in more ways than one.
He did not look like her husband. His hair was too short, his chest not broad enough, his skin too pale.
He had never been the most beautiful of men, but he had been honest and kind and she had grown to love him.
When they had married, she had seen their whole life in front of them- a house full of children, chickens in the garden, a dog maybe. It wouldn't have been much but it would have been enough for her, more than enough.
Those dreams had charred and crumbled, turned to dust in her hands and left nothing but black marks on her soul.
She knew she should be ashamed.
Any good woman would be, after taking another man to bed, especially a man like that. But she wasn't. Not anymore.
(Y/N) knew she would have to pay for that, eventually. But she didn't feel shame or even regret, not even when she looked at his picture.
If he hadn't died, none of this would have happened to her. She'd be away in the country with Emma, maybe even a sibling or two for her, happy, healthy- safe.
But then I never would have met Charlie.
It was a selfish, foolish thought that made her heart clench.
She had no right to the boy…none at all.
And yet she knew it was too late for lectures like that.
The damage was already done.
~
The commotion at the door made her head snap up, tearing her from her thoughts.
First, there was banging that made her heart sink, then voices and finally a key in the lock. Only to reveal Linda Shelby.
She was dressed in a gorgeous pale evening gown- right from the pages of one of these shiny illustrated magazines, laced with pearls and sparkling stones.
Her bare shoulders were covered with pale fur and in her hair shimmered a diamond clasp.
She paid her brother in law no mind as she pushed past him, then her, seizing her child. Without another word, she turned on her heel and ran.
"What's going on?", (Y/N) demanded to know, as Tommy stormed towards the kitchen and right out without another word.
Ada was dressed just as glamorous as Linda had been, with shiny fabrics and shinier jewels, her lips painted red- like a grand dame. She looked like she belonged in the movies and not in Small Heath.
But her eyes were red too and wet with tears.
"They snuck in.", She said, her voice trembling. "Arthur's dead."
(Y/N)'s mouth dropped open.
"Oh Ada, I am so sorry.", She whispered breathlessly, opening her arms.
For the first time in nearly two decades, Ada leaned into her touch, her hands clinging to her back.
She held her tightly, feeling her shudder in her embrace, like a leaf in the wind.
Like she had done when the shouting in the house on Watery Lane grew too loud, when her fear grew to big, when she had run out in the night to hide with her so that she wouldn't have to stay and be witness.
Never, never ever would (Y/N) Hale forget that one horrid night when Ada and her had been but five - Charlie's age, she remembered with a shudder. It was that night that Tommy had stood up to his father for the very first time. That was all Ada told her, curled up in her bed, her wide eyes staring out towards the other house.
They hadn't seen Tommy for weeks after that, as apparently Polly took him on the road.
That night was the only night Ada had clung to her, and now she did so again.
Brave, bold Ada Shelby shook and all (Y/N) could do was hold her, trying to banish those memories, and fight the ache in her own heart, which remembered the pain the other woman felt all too well.
There were no words she could say to ease this agony, to mend that shattered heart.
From behind the mantle piece Edith glanced at her, giving her an almost knowing look.
When Ada let go, she wiped her face with her sleeves, but the tears kept coming.
"It's alright. I'm alright.", She lied. "I'll just fetch Karl. Thank you for watching him."
(Y/N) stepped aside and watched Ada climb the stairs, a quaking hand clutching the bannister so tightly her knuckles turned white.
But before her sparkling dress had a chance to disappear from view, (Y/N) turned her back.
The cold night air hit her in the face as she stepped out into the small courtyard, icy fingers finding their way through the fabric of her clothes, and -like fear- settled in every part of her body.
The first time she glanced around, she did not see him and had already thought that he must have entered the house on Watery Lane.
Something inside her told her to look a second time and so she did.
Thomas Shelby was sitting on one of the barely knee high boxes, his pale eyes staring out at something she could not see.
"Tommy?", She asked softly.
Her footsteps echoed through the night as she approached him with the same caution she had all those years ago.
Only back then he had been drunk and erratic, pacing and mumbling to himself.
Now, she couldn't even be sure he was still breathing.
Even as she came into view, he didn't react.
Only when (Y/N) crouched down in front of him and cupped his face, did he allow his eyes to close.
"I am so sorry.", She whispered, stroking her thumb over his cheek.
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, taking a deep breath.
When he got up, she came with him, just in time for him to lean into her embrace.
"Oh Tommy."
Her hand found the back of his head, her fingers trying to draw calming circles. Unlike his sister, Tommy didn't shake, didn't even tremble. He was completely still in her arms, as if he had been frozen.
And that made her stomach turn.
"Come inside, Tommy.", She told him. "It's too cold for you to be out here. Please come inside."
He shook his head, his eyes still wide and gleaming.
"You need to warm yourself up.", She tried again, her voice growing more desperate.
"I need to think.", He hissed.
No, (Y/N) thought, that's the last thing you need.
Her hand found his and laced her fingers with his.
"You need to rest.", She assured him, but he didn't budge.
He only stood there and stared.
Then his lips began to move, but the words he said only unsettled her more.
"I need to talk to Arthur."
She remembered the turn in Mrs. Shelby, decades ago when she had begun to talk to spirits, when she had hosted seances to contact those no longer among them.
The reddish lights from behind drawn curtains and the smoke had scared her, but the chanting had terrified her to the core.
"No.", She begged, shaking her head.
"No, Tommy, please!"
Her hands clasped his face and turned it so that he would look at her.
"I know you're hurt, but you can't…you can't start like this. Please-"
Her voice broke but she did not look away.
She couldn't let him go down that road- it wasn't right, it just wasn't right!
Those that talked to the dead would inevitably lose contact with the living and she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let him slip away.
"Think of Charlie. You can't do that to him. You can't!"
Tommy stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before speaking.
"Arthur's alive."
(Y/N) shook her head, as her eyes began to burn.
She could feel his sanity run through her fingers.
But the harshest thing was that it didn't surprise her.
Tommy and Arthur had always been different, in appearance, speech and mannerism but they were brothers- the kind of brothers that were only whole when together. Which meant he wouldn't ever be whole again.
His hands clasped her face to steady her shaking head.
"(Y/N), Arthur's alive.", He said once more. "They nearly got him but he's alive. I came in time. They think he's dead, but he's alive."
She searched for the glint in his eyes, for a mad smile, but he was deadly serious.
"Tommy-", she whimpered. "Tommy, if this is true-"
"It is true.", He insisted and she almost believed him.
"Then we have to tell Ada."
She had already turned back towards the house when his hands grabbed her wrists, pulling her back until she crashed into him.
"No!", He hissed, holding her hands to his chest. "No, nobody must know. Nobody can know."
"But Tommy-"
"Promise me!", He insisted, leaning his forehead against hers.
"Promise me, (Y/N). Nobody must know if…-"
He broke off.
"If? If what, Tommy?", She demanded to know.
He closed his eyes as he leaned into her. If he had stood even a step away she wouldn't have caught his next words.
"If I am to end this."
End of Part 12
~
Part 13
I plan on posting every two days but on making altering posts from now on so that it's not just this series. On Friday, there will be a Tommy X Reader one shot.
Thank you so much for reading, I can't wait to hear your thoughts
Taglist:
@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @watercolorskyy
@books-livre
TBITW Taglist:
@kaitebugg03 @esistmon @chlorrox @theshelbyslimited @budugu @woofgocows @orkwardx0 @judig92 @100percentamess @kabbuu @esposadomd @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @starsnsecrets @lady-loves-a-lot @katiepie67 @acoolnight @chaotic-onigiri @ohshititsfenharel @muhahaha303 @globetrotter28 @xoprincessmel @shittingonyourgrave @pessimisticbiitch @elisa20beth @simran-preet19 @majesticcmey @akiisbae @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @vodkainthecoffee @pearlstiare
#Peaky Blinders#Tommy Shelby#Thomas Shelby#Thomas Shelby x reader#Tommy Shelby x reader#Tommy Shelby Imagine#Thomas Shelby Imagine#The Boy in the Window#valentineswritings
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Bucchigiri?! Episode 12 Review + Final Thoughts - The Final Showdown Between The Genies
I’m not sure if Bucchigiri’s ending is either good or bad. It’s not bad because everything ends happily, but it’s not good because there are still a lot of unanswered questions despite the rather joyful ending.
The battle between Ichiya and Senya was actually really good in terms of animation. I feel like MAPPA was going all out with the sakuga for the finale, but Ichiya’s reasons for wanting to fight Senya felt a little asinine. He contracted a disease and wanted Senya to kill him before it could kill him. Ichiya, why didn’t you say this before you died? Maybe you didn’t have to fight to the death for this; maybe Senya could’ve found a way to cure you? All this sudden lore about these genies feels shoehorned in because for a story that revolved around these two genies, so little is known about them. Even towards the end of the story, the stuff about the war, why they became genies and how their story and the Honki people legend becoming a thing in Arajin’s hometown never gets explored and I feel like it’s a waste; all of this could’ve been explored earlier, but no, we had to focus on the fighting and Arajin.
I can’t believe it took 12 episodes for Arajin to get an awesome fight sequence that doesn’t revolve around him punching someone really hard once. That’s crazy. While it’s nice that he finally wants to help Matakara, his word choices make it seem like he’s not doing it out of true concern and he’s just doing it because he had no other choice. The fact that what pulls him out of his funk towards the middle of the fight, the part where he thinks he’s dying, is the the power to lose his virginity with a chibi Mahoro fairy. That seems a little stupid because he did call out Matakara for projecting onto him, but not once has anyone called him out for doing the same thing with Mahoro. Also, his concern for Senya doesn’t seem too genuine to me as he did spent the entirety of the show not wanting him around and tolerating him at best and suddenly, he misses him. I feel like I’m side-eyeing the writers hard for this.
I do wonder what the deal with the black shadow thing is because it did take over Ichiya, causing Matakara to be the sudden final boss of the story. While it is stated that it’s Matakara’s fears of being alone, it does feel like a cop out moment. Like, when could you do this? How is this possible? The fact that Ichiya seems to be okay after this ordeal to makes this thing feel like it’s not worth it in the end.
The side characters’ antics were interesting. Arajin’s mom was hilarious as always as she believes Arajin is sleeping over at a friend’s house and becoming a man; while the context of her words means intercourse, the actual meaning is different in the context of the current situation. The part with Mahoro trying to wake her brother up was funny because she chained Kenichiro to his hospital bed. Girl, was that necessary? The Zabu and Komao parts were sweet because they were looking for Matakara even though Zabu was injured and cannot move well, so Komao spent most of his time being his horse. The other Siguma Squad members felt like they were just there because they needed to be; by the way, Jabashiri’s first name is Nagare, so why is Hagure calling him Ryu-chan? The part with Arajin’s homeroom teacher stealing Jasmine was funny; we all knew Jasmine was a cat. It sucks that she essentially became a stray afterwards. Also, I called Mitsukuni being alive! I knew he was alive from the moment his dead body and funeral weren’t shown on-screen. Utsumi won’t kill off characters at all unless it’s Banana Fish. Look at Senya; he came back!
The little epilogue was cute, but a little irritating on Arajin’s part because he’s still simping over Mahoro who’s still not giving him a millisecond of her time. Good. The fact that he wanted to mimic Marito in hopes of winning her heart is also sort of weird because Mahoro would actually despise him if he did that. While Matakara didn’t get punishment for his actions, at least he, Zabu and Komao became friends again. The part where Minato Kai and Siguma go to the Tomoshibi restaurant and Arajin’s mom becomes a Marito fangirl was funny; the fact that Mahoro got jealous was even more hilarious; she officially hates the Tomoshibi family now.
Overall, I find the finale a bit flat? Like there were good stuff and Arajin did show some growth, but the epilogue sort of backtracks it with his thing with Mahoro but at least he isn’t avoiding Matakara anymore. I wanted more lore on the genies and for the other characters too, honestly. It’s not bad, but it’s not good either.
FINAL THOUGHTS
With how much I enjoyed Utsumi’s other works, I did tune in to Bucchigiri, hoping for the same excitement I felt watching her previous works, but even Utsumi has her off days. Bucchigiri is that off day. Out of all of her works so far, I can honestly say that this is her weakest work so far. I’m actually amazed because the combination of Hiroko Utsumi, the director of known shows like Free!, Banana Fish and SK8 The Infinity and Taku Kishimoto, the screenwriter of the Fruits Basket remake, Haikyuu, Blue Lock and Millionaire Detective, should result in something good, right? WRONG! A positive and a positive actually came out as a negative for once. The math you learned in school had been a lie all along.
Bucchigiri is a work where the other characters shine more than the protagonist Arajin. Arajin starts off a bit interesting but as the weeks pass by, the more insufferable he becomes without any redeeming qualities until the finale. Imagine writing a story where the protagonist only experiences bad qualities and only grows at the end. What kind of story is that? The side characters certainly shined more than Arajin, but that’s just my bias. It sucks that some of them have to be one-dimensional in order for Arajin to shine, but Arajin doesn’t really deserve it. I feel like this show would’ve been better had Matakara or Marito been the protagonists.
It’s a unique spin on the delinquent story as it’s mixed with genies, giving it a more supernatural flair. Unfortunately, the genie aspect is underutilized as the story likes to focus on the fights more. The fights aren’t bad—they’re good, but if you’re going for a story about genies, maybe try to use them and not be plot device for the inactive protagonist or as a sudden surprise villain. With Ichiya, we don’t even know how he got to be with Akutaro and why they haven’t fused. In fact, the genie lore itself was heavily undermined because I don’t know anything about these genies. They had a past together but where did they live? Why was there a war? How did they become genies? I still need my answers!
The music was surprisingly good. The opening and ending songs were really addicting and it sucks that they had to be used for an anime like this. The animation was amazing, courtesy of MAPPA. Despite MAPPA being overworked, they did a great job producing quality sakuga scenes for the fight scenes.
The voice acting was really good too. Utsumi knows how to cast quality voice actors. I love that she likes to use a mix of lesser known names with veterans. The only role I knew of Genki Okawa before Bucchigiri was from Yugioh Zexal, where he voiced Mizael. Despite Arajin not being a great character, Okawa did a great job voicing him. Matakara’s voice actor Yusuke Hoshino is a relatively new face, but he did a great job voicing Matakara from the cute and sweet side to the colder side. Masafumi Kobatake has been a name I’ve been seeing recently as he was in Frieren as Dunste and here as Senya. He was hilarious. I love the gap in his deep voice with his higher pitched gremlin voice for the chibi form. The side characters are all known names mixed with rather new faces, but they all did a great job. My favorites were Nozomu Sasaki as Marito and Chihiro Suzuki as Akutaro. They both did a great job doing the crazy sides of these two characters.
In all honesty, I wanted to like this show. Maybe if I wasn’t an anime reviewer, I would’ve had higher praises for this show, but as an anime reviewer, I can’t help but to be critical. It’s not a bad thing to be critical—to me, that is. I feel like I’m at the point in my life where I need to be more expressive and be more honest about my likes and dislikes. I dislike this anime. There, I said it. I just feel like it wasn’t the delinquent, hand-to-hand combat show I was expecting. I don’t recommend this show, honestly. If you want to watch a better Utsumi show, you’re better off watching SK8. I’ll be here watching Wind Breaker for my seasonal dosage of delinquent anime now. What are your thoughts on this anime as a whole?
#bucchigiri?!#Arajin tomoshibi#senya#Matakara asamine#ichiya#review#anime#anime review#final thoughts#ecargmura#arum journal
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DEAD MEN § the DIVINE
prologue: rumors from runestone
Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to become many things. What she became was entirely different.
table of contents
trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!
word count: 1964
She would never remember her days at Runestone. That was the unforgiving truth. Born of tumultuous means, the Princess was raised by her Lady Mother in her earliest year. After all, her mother and father were not on speaking terms. In fact, their relationship was even less than that. Most would proclaim without the slightest hesitation that the two hated each other. The princess had been the only evidence that their marriage was even consummated; albeit, she was conceived some years after the wedding night. No one ever knew what brought the two together that night, and they would never divulge. The cruder lords of Westeros would often drunkenly theorize that it was after a heated argument where the two lost themselves. Perhaps one said something a little too personal before feverishly ravishing each other. There had been a war in the Step Stones around the same time in which Daemon displayed his strategic and masterful leadership in war, undeniable physical prowess in battle, and a sadistic impulsive side throughout. Some maids wondered if the Lady of the Keep did not fancy a taste of it. Especially after some of the stories of him. Whatever the case, the relationship between the new parents was complicated. Seeing as the Rogue Prince referred to the mother of his child solely as his "bronze bitch," this sentiment was founded in unforgiving truth.
Fortified by the Mountains of the Moon, the people of the Vale tended to be steeped in honor and morals and had the same rough exterior as the expanse of their land. In times of turmoil and war, such terrain served as natural defense. In times of peace, it blocked harsh winds and the worst of storms. Carrying blood of both the Andals and the First Men, the people who lived there were natural hunters and warriors. Common folk and nobility alike. The deeper amongst the mountains, the people found were tougher and nastier. Wielding vast weapons and beholding to far less morals. It was known all throughout the Realm. Mountain clans were feared. Runestone was nestled on the northern shore of its peninsula. The shores were cliffs. The terrain anything but flat. This meant the people were bulky and solid. Tough and mean to boot, but incredibly pompous and noble about it. Like a mission sent down from the Gods, Lady Rhea Royce and her people were determined to instill the princess with as much of the Vale as they could. In her girlhood, she would learn to hunt with bow and arrow, perhaps even wield a knife. She would ride a horse as soon as she started walking, sitting in the styles of both a lady and a hunter. She would be as tough as stone and as smooth as marble. A princess like the realm had never witnessed before, raised away from the treachery and gossip of King’s Landing. One who was raised not as a Targaryen, but as one of Andal and First Men blood. A member of the royal family that would actually reflect those who belonged to the Seven Kingdoms rather than the lost ghosts of Valyria’s wasteland. Even if the princess’ title was only granted as a way to assure the girl’s status in the loud absence of her father. A gift that was given by the King after Lady Rhea wrote to him about his brother’s exhaustive and dishonorable wonderings, declaring she would never bare the Prince another child unless something was done. The girl was a princess and that was what mattered. Those at Runestone would openly fantasize about the day that she would make her mark as a fierce representation of the Vale’s strength, diligence, and morality. Unfortunately, that future was ripped away from her before it could even fully start.
Lady Rhea squatted near the ground in front of the fireplace in her chambers. Both the fire and scattered wall torches illuminated the room as the moonlight barely casted through the tall windows. It gave the room a warm atmosphere that perfectly cradled the moment unfolding before the lady’s eyes. A small distance away, her daughter's milkmaid stabilized the small princess on her two pudgy feet before encouraging the girl to move forward. With a grin on her face, the Lady of Runestone did her very best to look both exciting and welcoming as her daughter slowly focused on her. The two women worked together wordlessly to keep the little girl from hurting herself without overcrowding her as she took one unassisted step forward.
"Well done! Come to your mama, stinky girl! You are doing so well!" The little girl squealed at the sound of her mother's voice.
"Left foot, right foot. You got it, princess!" the milkmaid cooed.
The baby princess giggled at the sweetness tickling her ears. Her eyes were dead set on her mother, her favorite person in the world. If only she could just get closer. Using all the strength she could muster in her little ankles, she balanced upright and took another step. The women around her cheered at the accomplishment. With a giggle, the princess looked up at them with utter adoration. Wanting nothing more than to hear the women’s praise again. To her delight, the same response came as she took an uneasy step with her other foot. The princess giggled harder before taking her fourth step. The praise only grew with excitement. Before she knew it, she was in her mother's arms and the room was completely filled with squeals of joy and awe. The heir of Runestone had taken her first steps. It was an evening worth celebrating on the morrow. The princess was to have her first nameday in less than a fortnight and the Lady of Runestone was in a celebratory mood. Nothing could bring her down. She could see her future with her daughter laying just ahead of her. She saw a spunky girl with violet-blue eyes and a Vale accent who gave all the men around her hell. She saw a princess who was not afraid to roll up her sleeves and do a man’s job for herself. She saw a strong and capable lady with power and inheritance in her own right. A woman who garnered respect from even the nastiest of lords, just by the square of her shoulders. What the lady of the keep did not know was that sweet evening was going to be the last one she spent with her precious girl.
As the history books told it, Lady Rhea Royce met her end in a hawking accident. Though she had been riding horse and hunting various game for as far back as she could remember, the sole heir of Runestone fell from her horse and suffered an injury to the head. She had gone out alone that next day, leaving her sworn knight Ser Eddrin Tollett to guard her daughter’s nursery instead. Her wetnurses knew something was wrong the moment Lady Rhea did not come home in time to put her daughter down for her afternoon nap. Especially after the milestone of the evening prior. It was utterly unlike her — she was always there to put the princess down. The castle's worst suspicions were confirmed when the lady's body was found, miraculously still breathing. Maester Garrel and all the servants went into overdrive. Busy hands went to work patching the wound and mixing salves, ointments, and pain management potions. Not to mention, keeping the castle in order and seeing to the Princess. It was tiresome work that required care and diligence. Both of which Maester Garrel exuded. For seven days, the Lady of Runestone laid in her bed drifting in and out of feverish sleep. Occasionally, she would utter her daughter's name, squirming in her bed in the girl’s absence. The maester would tend to her wounds every three hours. At least two bodies were constantly standing watch inside and outside her room. On the seventh day, Lady Rhea rose out of bed in suspiciously high spirits. As if nothing had happened. She tended to all of her normal duties with a sweet smile on her face. Caring for her precious daughter in place of the wet nurses like she normally would. However, she did not seem shocked when the maester had notified her of their keep’s new guest. She grumbled and cursed as she usually would when the subject of her husband and father of her child was brought up. But it was as she quickly strode to the solar in which the man had been waiting for her, that Lady Rhea Royce dropped dead. Mid-stride.
It was perhaps a coincidence that Prince Daemon Targaryen himself arrived at Runestone merely a day after the accident. Expecting to arrive, participate in the nameday festivities, and leave, the Rogue Prince was not at all expecting to take on the responsibility of his firstborn and her new inheritance. These were the remarks that he repeatedly stressed to the maester at any opportunity he could. He swore up and down to anyone that would listen. He was deeply distraught over the passing of his wife. But alas, without Lady Rhea present, Prince Daemon would be in charge of both Runestone and the Royce estate until Princess Maetilda took a man to husband. A husband that the Prince would get to choose now that he had sole oversight of his daughter. The perfect scenario for the Rogue Prince. It was the most suspicious of coincidences.
The Princess’ nameday festivities were canceled upon the death of her mother. Her father saw no need to hold such frivalant festivities in the wake of his Lady wife’s death. Especially ones the Princess would not remember. Who was to argue with the blade of Dark Sister and the flame of Caraxes as the Rogue Prince strapped the baby girl to the dragon's saddle? The wielder of the infamous Valyrian steel sword had even paused to see if someone would. To see just how brave and honorable those at Runestone were willing to be. Unfortunately, anyone to argue with never came; the Prince never returned, never allowing the Princess to return either. Both letters attached to the feet of ravens and petitioning in front of the King himself proved futile as no official argument was ever entertained. The poor halls of Runestone were left to grieve the loss of both of their ladies. The Princess would never have the future her Lady Mother had dreamed for her. There would be no people’s princess.
The echoes from the mother and daughter's last giggles could still be heard ringing off the walls when lords and ladies across Westeros dropped all of their former grievances to attend the royal wedding of the Realm's Delight. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's wedding to Lord Laenor Velaryon was memorable for a variety of reasons. Aside from the average rumors of who wore what and who did what and who did who, there were three whispers that traveled louder than the rest. First, Ser Joffrey Lonmouth lost his life to his mouth the night of the opening feast. Rumor had it that the knight uttered a sentiment so blasphemous and treasonous that the Kingsguard executed him there on the spot. Second, Princess Maetilda proved to be a delight to all who interacted with her at the ripe age of one. She had a charm that her father certainly did not, winning a smile from even her father's biggest conspirators. Third, King Viserys was more ill than he was letting on. With time, the whispers only grew until they became a constant mind-numbing hum. The mind-numbing hums grew into spoken words, and those spoken words grew into full-volume threats. Threats to all who stood in between the Hightowers and the Big Iron Chair.
A/N: this is my very first time posting my writing to tumblr. i don’t know how to do master lists and stuff like that yet, but this entire blog will be dedicated to just this fic. this also means i’m a beginner with the different formatting and everything, so please bear with me!
chapter one (much longer) will be coming shortly 👀
xoxo messy
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond x oc#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#prince aemond#daemon targaryen#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#hotd imagine#hotd#aemond x fem!oc#aemond x reader
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Hello. For the New Year's asks may I request Sariel and horseback and gingerbread? Thx
Oooh this one was a little hard! I hadn't considered pairing Sariel with those options, but I had a good time coming up with a scene ^_^ I hope you enjoy! Approx. 1300 words of our favorite devilish councillor! IkePri New Years Event story!
Sariel grinned at the awkward way Emma sat in front of him on the horse. “No one is going to believe you were gentle-born with that kind of seat,” he admonished.
“There’s literally no one out here.” She gripped the saddle horn tightly as if it was the only thing keeping her on the mount, and not Sariel’s arm around her waist.
“You can never be sure who might be watching.” He snugged her back against him, hoping to reassure her that she was in no danger of falling off.
Emma glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’re right. As usual.” She sighed. “So how would I make this look more . . . normal?”
“First, sit up and let go of the saddle horn.” Sariel nudged her arms. “No high born lady would lean forward like that unless she was racing. And that is a wholly different sort of saddle.”
“But . . .” Her expression was conflicted. She wanted to trust him, but riding along at a fast clip made her nervous.
He eased their speed a little to make her less anxious. The last thing he wanted was to upset his lovely fiancée.
She gave him a grateful smile and then carefully let go of the saddle horn. “Oh, oh my - Sariel! I feel like I’m going to slide off!”
“You aren’t going anywhere. I promise.” He stroked her side with his thumb, to remind her he had a hold of her and wasn’t letting go. “Now sit straight. Not too stiffly. But, yes, like that.”
Emma sat up, tense at first but she found a more relaxed pose as he spoke. “A-alright. Now what?”
“Lean back.”
“Lean - Sariel, that doesn’t sound right either.” She eyed him suspiciously.
“It’s perfectly proper when riding with your betrothed. Besides, no one is watching.” He smiled the secret, sweet smile he kept just for her. It was still a devil’s grin, but full of love and unexpected joy.
“But you said - you said -” She huffed, her expression going from surprise to outrage. Then she began to giggle. “You are really ridiculous. You could have just told me you wanted to snuggle.”
Sariel felt warmth blossom in his chest as she relaxed fully against him. The press of her body, even through their clothes, sent a thrill through him. He still didn’t understand how a devil like himself became the object of affection and love from such a woman. There was truly no justice in the world. But so long as he benefited from this particular injustice, he planned to enjoy it.
Emma turned her head and kissed him on his jaw. “So, my love, where are we headed? You were very mysterious about it when we left the palace.”
“I needed to make sure we weren’t overheard. Or followed.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is this a special mission? Are we going to be gathering secret information? Meeting with spies? Fighting rebels?”
Sariel chuckled. “Your imagination is running away with you.” He leaned his head closer and nipped her ear, then kissed the same spot.
She gave a surprised gasp, and then a pleased murmur. “Well . . . if you don’t want me to escape with my imagination, you better tell me where we’re going.”
Her breath tickled across his throat and brought a heat to his cheeks that he hoped she wouldn’t see. “Trying to blackmail the devil? That’s a dangerous game.”
“Well, if you prefer I can resort to torture instead?” She nipped at his throat and he could feel the scrape of her sharp teeth beneath those sinfully soft lips.
“It seems I’ve trained you too well.” Sariel gave her a wide smile, his eyes alight with desire. “If you keep that up, we’ll be late.”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “How does me biting you make the horse slower?”
“Because I happen to be the one with the reins. And when you do that, I am sorely tempted to stop, lift you off this horse, and make love to you wherever we happen to be. But you deserve so much better than mud beneath your perfect bottom.”
“Pffft,” she grinned. “Who says I’d be the one on the bottom?”
Sariel felt a flash of heat at the wickedness in her eyes. “I suppose you could opt for grass stains on your stockings . . .”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “You wouldn’t be a gentleman and set your coat down for me?”
“I’d be a gentleman and buy you new stockings.” He laughed and kissed her forehead. His hand slipped up her side to caress the swell of her breast. Sariel felt her reaction more than heard it. The sharp intake of breath, the slight arch in her back to push herself more fully into his hand.
He rested the reins on the saddlehorn, certain his well trained mare would continue on even without his direction. The horse knew where they were going even if Emma did not. Then he slid his free hand up her leg, pushing her skirt out of his way.
“S-sariel! What are you doing? The - the horse -”
“Is going the right way.” He made it past her stocking and found the silky skin of her thighs. “I’ve always wondered about those books where the hero makes love to his maiden on horseback. Perhaps we can see how life resembles art?”
She gasped as his hand went higher still, teasing along the edge of her panties. “I - I don’t think - that is, it doesn’t seem very practic-ahhh!” Emma shivered with delight as his fingers danced over the taut fabric beneath her skirt.
“Hm. You’re likely right. Not practical. But entertaining.” He lifted her just a little so that she no longer sat on the saddle, but atop his thighs. “I think this would work better. And there’s a natural rhythm to riding. Only, you’d be riding me . . .”
This had the desired effect of both sending a tremor of excitement through her that he could feel, and bringing heat to her face. She looked as if she wasn’t sure whether or not he was serious.
Sariel grinned. “Alas, we’ll have to save our experiment for a longer ride. We’re here, my dear.”
Emma gave him a wanton look, somewhere between relief and frustration. “You are such a tease!”
“Don’t think of it as teasing. Think of it as an . . . apertif. Something to whet your appetite for what’s to come.” He eased her back onto the saddle and dismounted. Then he held his hand out to help her down.
“Where are we even? And what’s to come?” She looked around, curious. The cottage was nothing impressive on its own. Small and well kept. An old hideout, now turned to more . . . romantic purposes. The advantage of this place was the view. From here, it was possible to see the whole of Rhodolite’s capital spread out below.
Emma’s eyes widened as she noticed the incredible vista, and she practically dragged him to the edge of the clearing. “Look! Sariel!” Then she whirled to hug him. “Is this why you brought me?”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, savoring the intimacy of this rare private moment. “That’s part of it. Mostly, I just wanted you to myself for a little while.” Sariel turned her about in his arms so that she could see the view while leaned against him.
Before she could say more, fireworks began to shoot up into the sky above the city. From this distance, they looked like little colorful bursts of sparkling light, only a little closer than the stars. He’d wanted to share this with her. A sight he’d only ever seen alone, and he’d been too busy scheming to enjoy it. But tonight, with her in his arms, it felt strange and lovely. Something new in the wrappings of something old.
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roscoe conkling was born on october 30, 1829. this is a lame birthday because it's one day before halloween - couldn't he have waited a little longer? it's also several months before james blaine. that doesn't mean anything right now, but remember that.
his father was judge alfred conkling, a judge (of course), politician, and minister to mexico under his friend, the legendary 🐟 millard fillmore. 🐟 so roscoe was born into a successful family. he was sent to boarding school as a child, and then, when he was done being educated, skipped college entirely and moved 80 miles away from his family to practice law, at age 17. the best biography of him says both of these things imply he was probably a problem child whose parents had trouble handling him. i don't doubt that one bit lol. he was also apparently kicked by a horse or a mule at some point in this period, who broke his jaw. don't know how that happened, but pretty epic.
he was a self-proclaimed "seward whig" giving campaign speeches at age 19, he joined the bar at 20 and was district attorney at 21. so you're probably behind him. unless you're 16, in which case, you have time, but hurry up. i'm also obligated to note that the one quote i see about him from his early 20s is someone who remembered him as looking "like a tall, blond young lady... his cheek was as fresh as a rose, and he had long red ringlets clustered about his neck." so that's normal.
in 1859 he was elected to congress, still as a seward whig (seward spoke in his behalf) also part of his reason for running was cuz he knew people didn't like him and he would keep running as long as people opposed him. literally he said that lol. once in congress, he was an outspoken opponent of slavery and very firmly republican. he didn't fight in the civil war, but he was active enough in politics that i don't think many people expected him to quit to fight. (i doubt he would have been a good soldier tbh, i don't think his temperament was right.) anyway, things were going well and he was becoming an increasingly prominent republican figure.
but he immediately started making enemies. ok, conkling was incredibly vain. idk how else to put it, i don't think there is any other way of putting it except just to call him a narcissist which might also be accurate. he basically just insulted anyone he wanted whenever he wanted and it pissed people off and he just didn't care. he always had just enough support (well, for now) that he could have everybody else hate his guts and still retain his power.
one of the most famous spats he had with james g. blaine. i honestly think they just hated each other because they were like the same person but light and dark version. they were similar ages (again, conkling was a few months older... i'm sure you remember) they wanted similar things (wealth, power, maybe to be president one day?) they were both republicans with similar viewpoints - but blaine was friendly and "magnetic" whereas conkling was allergic to smalltalk and if anyone touched him or put a foot on his chair he exploded. so after a minor disagreement about poetry at a dinner, of all things, he and blaine started snipping at each other nonstop throughout 1866 - at one point threatening blaine to a duel which blaine contemptuously denied lol
eventually blaine was provoked to go on an intense tirade against conkling which offended him so much (he was sensitive to all insults and this would have been over the top for anyone) he never spoke to blaine again. literally 20 years later conkling still refused to bury the hatchet, he was asked if he'd talk to blaine again and he said basically, not unless he takes it back and apologizes for that shit he said about me 20 years ago. by the way, i have also heard conkling and blaine described as "as jealous of each other as two woman rivals in love," which is also normal. (there's a lot of this.)
conkling was elected senator in 1867 where he would remain until 1881. he became a powerful party boss - never of the whole party (he had too many enemies and besides the party was split on several matters anyway) but really of the main grant faction. he was very close with grant and would remain loyal to him til the end of his career. when hayes was elected in the notorious 1876 election, despite the fact that conkling had helped create the electoral commission that determined hayes was the winner, he hated him cuz of his (halting) attempts at civil service reform and probably coined the nickname "rutherfraud."
he was a notorious womanizer. i don't know how many mistresses he had, but one that is confirmed is kate chase sprague. (he was married, but he hardly spent any time with his wife and cut off his daughter after she married someone he didn't approve of.) once, he got caught in her house by her husband and allegedly jumped out the window and ran down the street while pursued by a shotgun-wielding mr. sprague. whether or not it's true everyone in 1879-80 thought it was true so that was his reputation lol. it's also worth noting that in '79 he was himself basically challenged to a duel by a southern senator who he had insulted - in response, the senator accused him of lying and said basically, i just insulted you and called you a liar, aren't you gonna come fight? aren't you gonna come fight? and conkling said no and backed down. of course he was under no obligation to duel and duelling wasn't really a thing by that time anyway but it is funny in light of him trying to goad blaine exactly the same way a decade or so earlier.
if there is anything conkling individually stood for that made a historical mark it was the spoils system. he was basically in charge of the republican party in new york and he pretty much felt it was appropriate to appoint friends and political allies to whatever positions he wanted. he thought the reform attempts were goody two shoes bullshit basically. he called it "snivel service reform" ffs. by the way "snivel service reform" has a wikipedia page which will probably be deleted at some point since there's really no reason it should have a wikipedia page. so click it while you can. you can say, "i was there"
the end of conkling's career is probably its best known period. he gave an impassioned speech nominating his friend grant for a third term in 1880, but an orange cat named garfield got the nomination instead. crazy how that could happen, but it was a different time. conkling's political protege arthur was made garfield's runningmate, to convince conkling to speak on garfield's behalf. even then, he did so reluctantly, mentioning garfield's name as little as possible.
when garfield did become president, he refused to give conkling patronage favors, which conkling considered a betrayal. according to him, garfield had promised to toss the grant faction a bone, and he was failing to uphold his end of the bargain. conkling just up and resigned his senate seat. he was so mad, he decided it would be better to resign and be reelected. but... nobody wanted to reelect him. everyone had just had enough of his shit. he started trying to be nice and basically begged to be reelected but it didn't work. he was out of politics forever. of course, garfield was also shot by someone who claimed to be a partisan in favor of conkling, grant and arthur, which made matters worse for conkling, and that's of great interest to me, but it's not directly related to rc and this is already too long lol.
after politics conkling went back to practicing law. if you've ever heard the saying that "corporations are people," conkling is the reason why that's a thing - he argued before the supreme court that the civil rights amendments were always meant to apply to all entities, both human and corporate. so you can throw tomatoes at him for that if you want to.
finally he died in 1888 after refusing to pay for a cab and walking 3 miles from his law office in a massive blizzard. he got meningitis from this and very slowly and terribly died. apparently in his sickness he would fight anyone who tried to give him medicine and would jump up from his bed and angrily pace, muttering incoherently. so he died as he lived. stubborn and mad
this is the man i am posting about and now you know. honestly this is not even half of it but i just realized if anyone who follows me has ever been curious about this terrible man, they deserve to know.
finally just as one last treat, i mentioned several times he was older than blaine. here is a newspaper article where he lies about his age. (the "he" that conkling is referring to here is blaine.) now we can all point and laugh. also he was 57 when he said this quote so he didn't just forget. he knew he was lying. very classic move.
fin, my friends
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