#//most of everyone has been moved to this new main blog!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowboykento · 1 year

Text

Come on Barbie, Let's Go Party!

characters: nanami kento x fem!reader x gojo satoru (nanami x reader is the main pair/relationship.)

warnings: slight dub-con (everyone is a little drunk), alcohol consumption, threesome, face fucking, hair pulling, degradation (they call reader a slut (usually affectionately) a lot), dialogue heavy, other nicknames used (princess, angel, sweetheart, sweet thing, little girl, etc.), no protection used bc i didn’t even think about it (be safer than this irl!!!). let me know if i missed anything big here.

word count: 2.5k

minors and blank blogs dni or i'll block you :3

You were shocked Kento had agreed to go to Gojo’s halloween party, although it hadn’t been without effort on your part. You’d first mentioned the idea almost as soon as Gojo had asked you—an intentional move on his part, he knew the only way to get Nanami there was through you—but Kento had said no.

That didn’t dissuade you, however, and after showing him countless pictures of cute couple’s costumes that you knew the two of you could pull off incredibly well. It had been the Barbie and Ken costumes that had finally won him over in the end. Well, more truthfully it was the outfit you’d shown him for your Barbie costume that sealed the deal.

It wasn’t a conventional costume, or really even a costume at all by itself. You’d picked out a cute, two-piece pink dress, a white headband to match, and some frilly pink and white stockings. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Kento knew that you knew how to win him over, but that didn’t convince him enough not to finally agree.

Now that you guys were at the party, you could tell Nanami is restless to go home, and has been since you’d arrived. Nobody could deny that the two of you were the most attractive couple there, but Kento knows all eyes are really on you and your short skirt and pretty top that showed off the perfect amount of skin.

The more depraved part of Kento thinks he should have left marks along your throat and collarbone for everyone to see, and you probably would have let him, too. Instead, he’s forced to stand dormantly and do everything in his power not to pull you away from Satoru’s wolfish smile and charming words.

Truthfully, Kento isn’t having a bad time at all. In fact, he’s enjoying himself much more than he thought he would—only because he can shamelessly ogle you as you talk to everyone and could drink free booze, but he’s still having a good time nonetheless.

You’re plenty drunk yourself, anyone with a set of eyes could tell, but Nanami knows better than anyone. You’re being careless—more than you can afford to be with the skimpy little outfit you’d chosen. Part of him, the more jealous and unreasonable part of him thinks maybe you were doing it on purpose, just to rile him up, but he tries to quell those thoughts and blame it on the liquor.

What he refuses to blame on the alcohol, however, is the way Satoru looks at you. Sure, he’s guilty of exactly the same thing, but you’re his. You’re not Satoru’s, and Kento can feel his blood boiling with the way Gojo eyes you up like he doesn’t know fully well that you’re taken.

Eventually, Kento makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as you smile brightly at him, thrilled to see him like you’d forgotten he had come with you.

“Ken!” you shout, smile nearly reaching your ears as you stand shakily on your tiptoes to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

“Hey, angel,” he replies, voice much softer than yours but just as full of affection. “Are you having fun?”

You nod quickly, “Mhm! We were just about to play a game! You should play with us!”

Kento frowns—he’d been hoping you’d be just about ready to leave by now, but alas it seems like you’re having the time of your life.

“I don’t know, princess,” he starts hesitantly before suddenly a new weight has landed on his shoulders.

“C’mon Nanamin!” Gojo shouts, “It’ll be fun!”

Kento shrugs Gojo off, “Yeah, I’m not sure I want to be involved in anything you consider fun, Gojo.”

Before Gojo has a chance to be offended, you’re batting your eyelashes up at your boyfriend, “Aww, but Ken, what if I say it’ll be fun? Please?”

Nanami’s jaw clenches. You know as well as he does that he’ll never be able to deny you when you look up at him all pretty. He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs, trying to ignore your and Satoru’s anticipation as you wait for his reply.

“Fine, I’ll play.”

****

About four rounds of shots and a game that’s devolved into something unrecognizable and Kento’s never wished he had more willpower to tell you no than he does now.

You’re sitting pretty on Kento’s lap, have been since he agreed to play, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t turned on right now. Your skirt, which was already so short you had to be careful how you moved, had ridden up just enough that the only thing keeping everyone else at the party from seeing your panties was Kento’s hand placed on your thighs. Unfortunately for him, that also means he can feel every time you rub your thighs together when he would whisper something into your ear. He isn’t even trying to get you worked up, but it was working nonetheless, and he knows it.

“You wanna feel good, sweetheart?” Kento whispers, fingers dancing along the hem of your skirt.

You turn in towards Nanami more, trying to hide yourself from everyone else as you clench your thighs together in a desperate attempt to feel any relief between your legs. At this point, the only people left at the party are Satoru, Suguru, Shoku, and Haibara, and they’ve all turned into their own conversations, ignoring you and Nanami.

You look up at him, your eyes wide and a bit watery—Kento isn’t sure how he let you get this drunk, but he’s far from sober himself at this point and doesn’t have the mind to think about anything other than making you feel good. You nod desperately, hanging on to the front of his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth.

His fingers reach farther up your thighs as he kisses along your neck. It takes the little shreds of dignity and control you have left in you not to moan out. His thick, demanding fingers reach your panties, his thumb ghosting over your throbbing clit.

“Kento,” you groan into his ear, “need you so bad, need to feel good, please.”

“I know princess, I know. But you gotta keep quiet for me, yeah? Don’t want all of our friends to hear you being a little slut at Satoru’s party, do you?”

You shake your head as Kento continues thumbing at your soaked-through panties, making your head spin with pleasure.

“You’re so wet for me, sweet thing. You’ve got no shame, do you, princess? That’s okay, I’ll take care of you even if you’re a slut.”

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips, and instantly Kento’s actions halt.

“Be good,” he pinches your thigh, warning you. “If you make another sound, I’ll have to stop. Understand?”

“Mhm, I’ll be good, promise.”

Kento kisses your temple, as he continues circling your clit, “That’s my girl.”

You can’t help but grind down into the little bit of pressure Kento’s providing, so desperate for your release and mind so foggy from lust and alcohol.

“So close, Ken, ‘m so close,” you whimper as quietly as possible.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he replies huskily, slipping a thick finger into your wet heat. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your orgasm shakes your body, jolts of electricity pulsing throughout you as you bite down on your lip to hold back the moan that tries to rip through you.

You’re panting as Kento puts your panties back into place and presses a kiss to your shaking lips.

“You finally ready to leave, princess?”

“You better be,” Satoru’s voice interrupts. “Been waiting for the two of you to be done so I can start cleaning up. Thought Nanamin would have a little more decency, but I guess even he can’t help himself around a pretty thing like you.”

Neither you nor Kento had noticed that everyone else had filtered out of Satoru’s apartment, but now instead of pleasure you feel a hot flash of embarrassment rush through your body.

“Are you jealous, Satoru?” Nanami’s voice cuts through the awkwardness shockingly. You turn to him, eyes wide and misunderstanding his boldness.

Satoru takes a step toward the two of you, gently grabbing your chin to force your gaze to fall on him, rather than Kento.

“Mmm, I just might be. She’s real pretty like this, isn’t she?” Satoru teases, looking over your head and at Nanami like you’re not even there.

“Of course,” Nanami replies, something in his voice challenging Satoru. He grabs a fistful of your hair, not too roughly but enough to force tears to prick at the corners of your eyes as he turns you back towards him. “What do you think, princess? I think Satoru wants me to share you. My sweet little girl. Don’t know if he’s worth sharing you with.”

Nanami’s expression is hard to read, especially with the traces of alcohol still in your body, but it’s not hard to feel the swell of his dick underneath you, stretching against the fabric of his pants.

“Do you wanna give Satoru a turn with you, baby?”

Your eyes are wide and wet, and Nanami’s grip pulling at your roots is only making thinking straight that much more difficult. Still, you whisper out a shy, “Y- yeah.”

He pulls your head back to kiss your neck harshly, sucking a dark bruise into the skin.

“Knew you were a little slut. Good thing you’re so pretty and perfect,” he speaks into your neck. “I’ll let Satoru have a turn with you, but remember who you belong to, princess.”

He presses another kiss to your lips before releasing his hold on you and letting Satoru pull you back towards him.

“He’s right, you really are a slutty little girl, letting him finger fuck you right here on my couch at my party,” Gojo teases, pulling you off Nanami’s lap and onto his. “How sweet of Nanami to warm up your little pussy for me.”

You moan loudly at his words as he flips your skirt up, fully revealing the pretty pink panties you’d picked out just to match your costume.

“Oh, you’re such a doll. All dressed up just for my party? Almost like you knew we’d slut you out right here. Or maybe that’s what you wanted this whole time? What do you think, Nanamin?”

Nanami has since pulled his dick out of the confines of his costume pants, fisting it slowly to the sight of you hovering over Gojo, “Seems just about right to me. Is that what you wanted, princess? For me to share you? To get your slutty little pussy fucked right in front of everyone? Could’ve just asked, sweetheart, didn’t have to be a tease.”

“Please,” you whimper to Gojo as he unzips his own pants, pulling your panties to the side and lining himself up with your quivering cunt. “Please, want it so bad.”

Gojo clicks his tongue, “You’ve taught her well, Nanami. She begs so pretty for me.” He turns his attention back toward you, hitting his dick against your sensitive clit a few times before pushing into your tight heat.

Both you and Satoru moan loudly as he enters you. He doesn’t take any time at all before bucking his hips up into you fiercely, and you hold onto his shoulders for dear life.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back as Satoru pounds into your cunt.

“Shit,” he moans, “Fuck, this pussy is so fucking good.”

You hear Kento moan from where he sits, and the thought of him watching you get fucked by Satoru is only turning you on more. You want to put on a show for him, to make him so jealous he comes and steals you away from Satoru and takes his turn fucking you.

Instead, Kento stands and grabs a fistful of your hair once again, pulling your head back to look up at him. Your body is alight as Nanami tells you to open your mouth before he spits directly onto your tongue, staking his claim to you as you swallow.

“Turn her around, Satoru,” he commands, “I’m gonna fuck her slutty little throat.”

Satoru is quick to oblige, the thought of you taking both of their dicks turning everyone on even more. He takes no time in returning to his brutal pace, fucking up into your pussy and chasing his own orgasm desperately.

“Open wide for me, sweetheart,” Nanami tells you, pressing the tip of his dick against your lips before you comply, taking as much of his length in as you can manage. You hold onto Nanami for balance, Satoru’s thrusts pushing you to take even more of Kento’s dick in your mouth, forcing tears to fall down your cheeks.

Kento groans loudly, his grip on your hair firm as he fucks himself into your tight throat. His pace isn’t quite as fierce as Satoru’s but it’s overwhelming nonetheless.

“Fuck, princess, tight little pussy’s sucking me right in. I’m so close, want me to fill you up nice and good?” Satoru pants.

“You better fucking not,” Nanami replies sharply, his hand squeezes your hair even tighter and you yelp. “That pussy doesn’t take anyone’s cum except mine.”

Satoru moans even louder at that, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his orgasm. You’re close too, the coil in your tummy tightening so much that you think a wayward gust of air on your clit would send you hurtling into bliss.

You look up at Kento with tears in your eyes, his big thumb brushing them away as they fall down your cheeks.

“Are you close, angel?” He coos sweetly. “Look so gorgeous like this, letting both of us stuff you full. Cum for me, sweetheart, go ahead.”

It only takes two more thrusts from Satoru to finally send you over the edge, your vision whiting out as you cream around Satoru’s dick. You gargle around Nanami’s cock as you cum, the vibrations only getting him that much closer.

Satoru pulls out shortly after you finish, and you only have a second to be confused before you feel his hot seed shoot all over your back, his voice pitching as he lets out a loud, whiny moan.

Kento continues fucking your throat, his pace picking up as he chases his climax, “So perfect for me, sweetheart. Fuck, gonna swallow everything I have to give you, won’t you?”

You do your best to nod, and that’s all it takes for Nanami to shoot hot ropes of cum down your throat, groaning loudly and pulling your hair, forcing you to take him all the way to the base.

When the last of him is spent, Nanami pulls out of your throat tiredly and flops onto the couch next to you and Satoru. None of you can remember a time in your life you’d cum that hard before, the overwhelming pleasure enough to wake you mostly out of your drunkenness.

You curl into Nanami, your breath still ragged and your bones reduced to nothingness. Nanami rubs a hand along your back as he catches his own breath, and Satoru gets up to fetch water and a washcloth.

You tilt your head up to look at Kento with glassy, worn out eyes and a tired smile, “And you said you didn’t even wanna come to this ‘stupid party.’”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. You’re lucky you’re irresistible, you little minx. Made this night interesting for all of us.”

i literally wrote this at work i don't even know what came over me. did not plan this or even think about it before words started pouring out of me. didn't even plan on including nanami hair pulling but what is a girl to do after the new episode ??? n e ways hope you all enjoyed as much as i do :3

commissions open!

512 notes · View notes

crucifiedramblings · 7 months

Text

liability — unsub!spencer x bau!reader (part one)

minors dni, adult content ahead. minors/ageless blogs will be blocked.

summary: after a year of being engaged, spencer reid left you behind and resigned from quantico. you haven’t heard from him since, and your life has finally returned to a somewhat normal state. you moved into your own place, got promoted to hotchner’s prior position, and started to heal. it’s been two years since that fateful day when you get an unexpected visitor at the office— and you’re all alone.

warnings: heavy smut, implied dubcon, manipulation/gaslighting, sadistic themes, pet names, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation if you squint, choking, spit, bruising/marking

word count: 2.4k

next part: n/a

notes: so, spencer being an unsub isn't really discussed (there isn't much talking at all, if we are being real), but he is one of their open cases when him and the reader, uh . . . reconnect. he is more dark-natured and resilient than he used to be. this is gonna be at least two parts, apologies for any leading on i may have done here!

you rubbed your eyes intensely, powering through the last few pages of reports that you had to proofread before faxing over to hotch. when you agreed to take over his job, celebrating his success in moving up the chain of command, you never expected it to be so draining. you rarely got to go home on time, spending most evenings in your office when everyone had long since hit the road. your fellow agents often offered to keep you company, but you refused. there was no good reason that multiple of you had to have a spoiled evening. it was very odd being the boss, but also endearing. you had to make frequent tough calls, some nearly impossible, but it was part of the charm. or, at least, that is what you told yourself to justify it.

you sipped your coffee, staring at the brazen plate on your door with your name engraved into it. you went as far as to move into hotchner’s old office space, filling the cream-colored walls with frames of pressed flowers and pinned moths. you were a collector of your favorite people and experiences; you kept a dart board for jareau, a mockingjay print for gideon, a colorful puzzle collage for penelope, and— unfortunately— a chess board for spencer. you had other things too, but those were the main items on full display in your office. although, you kept a group photo of you, morgan and hotch on your desk.

you used the armrests of your chair to push yourself to your feet, stretching and starting the walk to the kitchen area. you made a small snack and a fresh pot of coffee, running to the restroom before pouring a new cup. the steam curled up into the air, the aroma of the grounds filling your nose. as you tried to enjoy the earthy smell, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being observed or studied, like an animal in its enclosure — analyzed. you turned slowly, greeted with an empty room and a door that was slightly ajar, although you could’ve sworn it was closed when you came in. it was getting late, nearing almost two in the morning by now. your memory has never proved to be the most reliable when deprived of much-needed rest.

you slowly tugged your way back up the stairs to your office, the elevators being locked down after a certain time. rounding the corner, you narrowed your eyes, confused to find your office flooded in darkness. the lamp had shut off when you were gone. you didn’t like how this felt — you weren’t losing it, were you? this floor had frequent surges in random rooms, so it wasn’t entirely nerve-wracking. you sighed, blindly making your way to the lamp in the far corner and tugging the cord to turn it on. you allowed your eyes to adjust, making a disgruntled groan when you remembered the reports waiting for you.

as you turned to sit back at your computer, you were met with a very familiar face — doctor spencer reid. he sat, nonchalantly occupying your chair with a hairpin curve of a smirk on his lips. he looked smug. you weren’t sure if it was because he had been able to sneak past security without detection, or because he was able to sneak past you. your face fell flat, dropping the mug of coffee you had been carrying. it shattered on the floor, hot coffee spilling all over your leather shoes. you didn’t even care, so stunned that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. spencer picked up on that, standing from the chair in one swift motion and approaching your smaller frame.

“you look wonderful,” his voice was melodious to your ears, even if it shouldn’t have been, “even better than the day i left.” spencer let a low chuckle bubble up from his chest, gently grasping your hands in his own. you ripped away from his touch furiously, stepping back as your eyes stung with prickling tears that collected in the corners.

“you don’t—” you sniffled, swiping your hair out of your face, “you don’t get to fucking do that! you don’t get to drop everything, abandon the people you love, just to come back whenever you feel like it!” you raised your voice, determined to make him feel what you had, “get the fuck out.” you gestured to the door and shoved past him, sitting in your chair and starting up the report you had due. spencer lingered by the introductory door plate, reading it with a chuckle.

“you really made something of yourself, huh, angel?” spencer’s voice adorned a soft and flirty lilt, “i’m so proud of you—” he approached your desk once more, leaning across and steadying his weight on his palms. “i don’t think you really want me to leave, do you, pup?” he circled your desk like he was a starving piranha, placing his hands on either side of your chair and forcing you to have nowhere else to go. he leaned in close, face dipping down to your neck as he left a trail of haphazard kisses along your jaw and throat. he occasionally pulled the tender skin between his teeth, sucking down hard and fast to see what kind of noise he could force from your perfect mouth. “i think you still need me, even if you don’t want to.” spencer hummed, tongue running a stripe of saliva along your collar.

“stop,” you weakly whispered, only because your pride wouldn’t allow you to tell him what you truly wanted; him. spencer had been gone so long, you almost forgot how effortlessly good he made you feel. the wet patch on your panties tripled in size the longer he toyed with you, but everything aside, he hurt you. he abandoned you. yet, in this moment, no hurt he was responsible for mattered. you knew that if hotch were here, he would have talked some sense into you. unfortunately, spencer knew how to melt your brain right out of your cunt in the most devious ways.

“am i making you nervous?” spencer danced his fingertips along your collarbones and released a content sigh, “i’m willing to bet that i am— the way your breath hitches when i touch you, clenching your teeth and trying to hide any sign of how turned on you’ve gotten from the lightest brush of my fingers—” he took a brief pause, gently sliding your blazer from your shoulders as you absent-mindedly parted your back from the chair to assist him. “the human body is so strange; you could be the best profiler in the bau, keeping your emotions under wraps with no error, and your silent cues would still give away everything i need to know.” spencer’s voice dipped into a low, sultry tone as he felt the newly exposed skin of your upper torso.

“and—” you cleared your throat, straightening your posture as you locked eyes with the other in an attempt to assert yourself. “what do my silent cues tell you, doctor reid?” you narrowed your eyes, trying to persuade your inner, more sex-driven monologue to stop thinking about his hands on your—

“you’re torn,” spencer started, “part of you wants to kill me for leaving you— but you have to understand, sweetheart— you would have just gotten in the way. you weren’t ready for that kind of lifestyle.” you were confused, to say the least, and his patronizing tone only made you more pissed until he grasped your jaw and forced you to keep eye contact. “i’ve been very bad,” he grinned, “and i didn’t want to bring you down that road with me.” his expressions, his dialogue— all of it was reminiscent of the likable villain in a suspense film; although, in your line of work, there was rarely such a thing.

“what about the other part?” you spoke up once his grip on your face has loosened, hands shoving into the pockets of his slacks. it was your turn to do the profiling, you thought, observing his pacing from the door to the window as he was almost lost in thought. spencer seemed uncomfortable in his clothes, as though he had avoided wearing business attire since the last time he worked in quantico. to you, it appeared as though he dressed up for this interaction, as though he wanted it to be memorable. he wore white socks, wanting to bring more attention to his shoes— brown leather oxfords, the same exact pair you bought him for his thirtieth birthday.

his voice interrupted your long-winded hypothesis on his wardrobe choices, and you noticed that he was significantly closer than when you had gotten distracted. spencer was now behind your chair, hands gently caressing your shoulders and chuckling to himself. “the other part of you,” he dipped down to whisper in your ear, “wants me to bend you right over your own desk and show you how sorry i am for leaving you behind.” you silently froze, any words in response getting caught in your throat. you couldn’t bring yourself to make a sound, as if any noise would make him disappear.

“why did you wait so long to come back?” you quietly asked, and he immediately spun your chair around to face him. spencer leaned in, pressing his lips to yours gently and moving fluidly with you at your chosen pace. he hummed, pulling away as he lapped up a bit of your spit from his lower lip.

“derailing your life wasn’t my choice to make, my sweet girl.” spencer’s dark eyes grew soft, although you could tell it wasn’t as genuine as he wanted to sound. “i always stayed close, though.” his tone made you nervous, as though he were alluding to something. your eyes darted to the computer screen, reading a message from hotch that had just been sent through, until spencer ripped the cord from the wall and pushed the entire system onto the floor.

before you could properly react, spencer was back onto you, lips attacking yours with a newfound desire and aggression. you melted into him, hands roaming anywhere and everywhere you could reach. his left hand snaked down to your thighs, pushing your skirt up and applying pressure against the front of your underwear. you shivered, a small gasp flooding from your throat as his middle finger effortlessly made a glide down your damp slit. he peeled your panties away from your body, making a comment about how your wetness had pooled slightly in the lower half of your chair. your face flushed with embarrassment as you quickly kicked off your heels and allowed your undergarments to fall to the floor.

spencer took his time with your skirt, knowing it was one of your favorites. he assisted you to your feet, sliding the garment over the curves of your hips and drinking in the sight of your bare lower half. his erection had been slowly and steadily pitching a tent in his pants as the two of you took your time, savoring each other as long as possible.

spencer pulled you flush against his torso and kissed you with unresolved pain and passion, letting his free hand dip between your thighs once more to rub circles into your clit. you let out a conflicted moan, burying your face into his chest and slightly rolling your hips into his touch. he chuckled, removing his fingers from your sweet spot and weaving them into your hair. he grabbed a fistful, tugging your head back in a swift, hard motion. you let out a subtle grunt, eyes staring at him in a way you could only describe as lovesick.

“can i be rough with you?” spencer asked, voice low and hesitant. you were confused; he never wanted to be rough before, although you always hoped he would be. you nodded eagerly, practically begging. you wanted tonight to leave you bruised and exhausted, knowing you may not see him again. his eyes were dark, and he tossed you to the floor with a grin. you took a breath as you hit the ground, lying limp for him as you wondered what he had been waiting to do to you for so long.

you watched with curious eyes as spencer swept his arm languidly across your desk and knocked everything onto the floor. he effortlessly hoisted you up and bent you over the polished wooden surface, smoothing his palms across your ass before striking your bare left cheek with no warning. you yelped, clutching the sides of the desk with white knuckles. he hit the other cheek a bit softer, humming before trying again when the previous hit’s reaction wasn’t to his liking. you let out a slightly strangled moan as he continued to land another blow, making your backside a rosy shade of pink.

spencer wedged his shoe between your feet, forcefully spreading your legs. he ghosted his fingertips across your clit and you quietly begged. he tugged your hair, lifting you up to his level, “keep your fucking mouth shut and i’ll reward you.” spencer dropped you back onto the desk, making sure to keep his hand on your belly to lessen the impact on your ribs. you quietly gasped as he shoved his fingers into your wet cunt, curling them into you painfully slowly as you pushed back into him. his other hand firmly held your hips in place, warning you to keep still unless you wanted him to stop.

. . .

hotch groaned, dialing your phone once again. he was anxiously pacing his livingroom, trying not to wake jack as he started to feel the panic set in. he found his eyes tracing the whiteboard again, the old one he had decided to lug out of his garage because he was always better at connecting the missing parts if he could visualize them. hotch had several photos taped up, lines connecting them between scenes and witness statements. there were only two things he knew for sure about this unsub; one— the suspect at large had experience in the field of law enforcement, and two— the suspect had an abnormally high iq. coupling those together with the timeline of events, hotch had made a break; the unsub they had been searching for was spencer reid.

all of his victims had looked a bit too much like you for it to be coincidental, and were all stalked and referred to as pet names for weeks before their confirmed deaths. hotch had been trying to reach you for the last hour, a strong suspicion arising that spencer was going to visit you at the bureau, and— if he didn’t hurry— would make you his final victim.

in a worried haze, hotch clipped on his belt, securing his gun in his holster before taking off full speed towards the only place he knew you would be— his old office.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fic #dark spencer reid #matthew gray gubler

253 notes · View notes

callout-tee · 8 months

Text

this is a post and blog meant to call out user @saetoru, whose blog is archived but now uses the account @ctrltoru. i highly encourage everyone to block both of her accounts.

i assume everyone already knows the controversy surrounding this user, but either way, i made this account to share my experience and the experiences of other blogs with tee.

hi, i'm a mutual of tee's and a little while back, tee confided her new tumblr (@ctrltoru) to me. we've been mutuals for a decent amount of time, but ever since october 2022, my opinion of tee has gone down the drain.

TLDR: as time went on, i found it harder and harder to excuse her actions. she's run many of our favorite writers off tumblr, and frankly, it's not a stretch to attribute jjk tumblr's growing toxicity to her presence here.

[ CW discourse. ]

read @/garoujo's post first. if you scroll through the reblogs, many other writers, including many big blogs that i'm sure you'll recognize, have had similar experiences with tee.

the anons: many big blogs left tumblr or moved accounts because of hate anons being sent on tee's behalf. many of them were death threats that included any number of slurs.

in tee's post meant to explain the archival of her account, she never even addressed the main problem, which is the fact that she, her mutuals, and her anons (most of which were sent by her) are the reason so many writers were harassed off the app.

tee has an ongoing habit of causing drama with any blog she feels threatened by. ever since her haikyuu days, this has happened over and over again. first it was emmie (@/garoujo), then it was yoru (@/anantaru), and then it was karma (@/kazushawty), and so many more and who knows who it'll be next.

as someone who has a decently sized blog myself, i understand feeling frustrated that a blog who hasn't been writing as long as you have is getting as many, if not more notes than you, because it's natural to feel that way. however, what isn't natural is actually doing something about your immature ego and going out of your way to be rude, directly or not to the person involved.

all the writers who reblogged emmie's callout post before leaving had one major thing in common: they kept receiving death threats on tee's behalf. this is both the anons' and tee's fault, because it's a fact that tee knew about this. i knew that she knew about this, but did tee ever tell her followers to stop? no, she didn't.

if you don't speak out against death threats being sent on your behalf, you're condoning them. tee handled it badly, and it was not a mistake. in fact, many of the anons sent were from tee and her mutuals herself: it's obvious, and it's disappointing.

the plagiarism accusations: it's a canon event for every jjk writer to get accused of "plagiarizing" tee. emmie got accused of copying her generic instagram theme, karma got accused of copying her generic mdni banners, sabrina (@/osaemu) got accused of copying her generic title, and so many more people have shared their experiences with tee too.

maybe tee's shots in the dark were right once or twice, but if you're accusing every single writer of copying your themes/banners/titles (bffr, who actually cares about titles) then frankly, you're the problem.

there's inherent bias within people's heads (this includes everyone, not just tee) that makes them want to see similarities between them and others. that's just how the human brain works. however, again, that doesn't excuse making it a canon event for every single jjk writer to have a bad interaction with you.

i'm not the only one who feels this way. back in october, every jjk blog i know had something to say on this matter. anons, writers, and many of my mutuals all knew tee was in the wrong, but it's disappointing to see how even then, she still had a platform.

again, if you want to hear the stories behind why your favorite writers left the app, read the reblogs on this post.

and finally, who remembers the post tee made saying that everyone should be "thanking" her for "what she's done" for the jjk fandom?

moment of silence please, let that sink in.

i don't even need to say anything about that, because her words speak for themselves.

moving on, i hate to be this honest (i don't), but how are you gonna be a grown adult and talk like a fourteen year old kpop stan? being a good writer doesn't mean you can be a bad person: you're not a celebrity. we're all a bunch of losers here to fuck gojo satoru, and if you're going to go out of your way to try to be the queen bee of tumblr dot com, then the rest of us have no problem calling you out.

honestly, it's sad that some people on this app can be such amazing writers but, at the same time, such immature people. this includes tee and many of her mutuals. being good at something isn't mutually exclusive. i can be a good writer, and so can you—we can coexist peacefully, but people like tee are what's making that so hard for the rest of us.

again, block users @saetoru and @ctrltoru. tee doesn't deserve your time.

(tagging for reach, because everyone deserves to know about this. sorry for the tag abuse, i know it's annoying.)

#cw discourse #tw discourse #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #tokrev x reader #tokrev smut #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #richboy!gojo #saetoru #ctrltoru

151 notes · View notes

acewritesfics · 9 months

Text

I Promised You Forever | Jay Halstead

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: From anon

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: A little angst. A little fluff. Mentions of a shooting and surgeries.

Word Count: 945

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

“Get to Med… Jay’s been shot.”

As she waits in the waiting room at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center, the sound of her sergeant’s words echoes in her ears. Her heart is racing, her knee is bouncing, her hands are trembling, and dried up tear streaks run down her face. She feels like she’s been sitting in the room for an eternity, waiting for any news about her husband’s condition. He was already in surgery by the time she got at the hospital, which was a little more than two hours ago.

“Y/N!” she hears her partner, Kim Burgess, call out as she approaches her. When the brunette reaches her, she embraces her tightly.

After Jay and Y/N revealed their relationship to Voight, the two women became partners. They’ve been like sisters since they went through the academy together, and they got even closer after Y/N and Hailey Upton were transferred to Intelligence after Erin Lindsey left.

“Has there been any news?”

“I haven’t heard anything; Will just went to see if he can get an update,” she says before breaking down again. “I can’t lose him, Kim,” she cries into the shoulder of her best friend. “I can’t do it without him. We just got married. I can’t be without him.”

“Jay’s strong; he’ll get through this,” Kim reassures her as she rubs her back and squeezes her even tighter; it crushes her heart to see her best friend and chosen sister like this.

“Did you get the person who shot him?” she says, pulling away from Kim and angrily wiping away the fresh set of tears that are falling. The anger in eyes and voice wasn’t intended for her partner, or Adam who had been with Jay at the time of the shooting, or the rest of their team but at the guy who fired the gun at her husband and shot him. She begged Hank to give her five minutes with the person when they apprehended him, but Hank ordered her to stay at the hospital because that’s where she needed to be the most and swore he wouldn’t go easy with the guy.

Kim replies, moving to sit in the chair next to the one she was in, “He’s in custody. Voight’s making his life a living hell, I’m sure of it.”

She sits back down next to her and asks, “How’s Ruz?”

“He’s blaming himself,” Kim replies. “He’ll be here when he’s cleaned himself up, and the others will be here after they’ve finished with the interrogation.”

She nods, letting Kim know she heard her.

Minutes pass as they sit in quiet, Kim holding her hand and reminding her that she is not alone. Will eventually returns and informs her that there haven’t been any updates just yet before he leaves once more to grab them all some coffee.

Just as Will comes back with Adam following behind him, the surgeon walks into the waiting room.

As he approaches, Y/N and Kim get to their feet. As the doctor begins to talk, Will moves to stand next to his sister-in-law. “Surgery went smoothly. We removed the bullet, stopped the bleeding, and repaired the damage the bullet caused. Jay will make a full recovery, but he will need to take it easy for some time.”

Y/N exhales with relief, “I’ll make sure he does. Can we see him?”

“Two at a time,” the doctor says with a nod.

“Adam and I will go update everyone,” Kim says to her and Will before exiting the waiting room with Adam.

The doctor leads Will and Y/N to the room where Jay has been moved. Jay opens his eyes and looks sleepily at his wife and brother as soon as they enter the room.

“Oh, baby,” Y/N breathes as she walks over to his bed and takes his hand in hers, looking at him with tenderness. “Please don’t put me through that again.”

“I can’t make any promises,” he says drowsily with a small smile. He raises her hand and kisses the back of it.

“How are you feeling?” Will asks as he stands beside Y/N.

Jay jokes with a slight smirk on his lips, “Like I was shot.

Y/N scowls at him, not in the mood for jokes right now, and says, "Don’t joke.”

“You love me, and you know it,” he gives her a small smile letting her know he’s teasing her.

“I need to get back to work, but I’ll stop by after my shift,” Will tells his brother, stopping Y/N from that is retaliating. “I’ll make sure to bring you some decent food.”

“Thank you, Will,” she says as he exits the room. Looking back at her husband, she sits on the edge of the hospital bed, clutching his hand on her lap. “I was so scared I would lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures her. “We still have a lot to do together.”

She leans down and gives him a soft kiss while whispering, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies as he kisses her again. “Now, come lie down with me.”

“You’ve just gotten out of surgery. I don’t want to cause you more pain.”

“They’ve got me on the good stuff, honey, and after what I just went through, all I want to do is hold my wife and remind her that us Halstead’s aren’t easy to take down,” he says and pulls her close to him, moving them so she can lay down beside him.

With his arm across her shoulders and her head on his, he presses a kiss to her forehead and whispers, “I promised you forever. I’m keeping that promise.”

TAGGED: @mrspeacem1nusone - @halsteadbrasil - @allisonargent144 - @cs-please -

#acewritesfics repost #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader

247 notes · View notes

utilitycaster · 1 year

Text

look, I know polls are silly and fun and so I want you to understand writing this rant is silly and fun for me but EMON? Emon is the Critical Role Entry for Most Place of All Time? I must call bullshit. And so:

Friends, fellow critters, and people who have me blocked but hate read my blog each morning over breakfast: Emon is not even the Most Place on the Material Plane. It is not even the Most Place in Tal'Dorei. Hell, it's not even the Most Place on the fucking Bladeshimmer Shoreline, which includes a destroyed city now overtaken by bandits, and a cave system that hosts both a rift to the Far Realm and a different rock than residuum that can make a different magical drug than suude. Emon is if you took the aggressively mid vibes of Washington, DC and transplanted them to the inconvenient location and city of refuge for flaky people who avoid gluten for non-medical reasons of Los Angeles. The second Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III invents the motorcar that sumbitch is going to have traffic bad enough to summon Tharizdun. Also there's a literal pit of fire that's been burning for 30 years that both hasn't been adequately addressed but also doesn't really seem that interesting. Like oh a bunch of dragons destroyed your city? Big deal. Draconia got so fucked up it doesn't exist anymore, and at least Westruun has some fucking charm. At least Pike and Grog actually lived there, whereas Vox Machina got a house in Emon and proceeded to spend their time literally anywhere else.

Here is a brief list of places on the planet of Exandria in the Material Plane - not even across Critical Role's main campaigns/EXU, which includes such non-Exandrian places as "living city of people who mind-melded and escaped to the Astral Sea during a century-plus-long war of the gods"; "Ligament Manor"; "Ryn's groovy pied-a-feu, man I wonder what made the scorch marks on that furniture, anyway", and "THE MOON THAT IS ACTUALLY AN PRISON FOR A THING THAT EATS GODS AND IS POSSIBLY HATCHING" - that are more of a place than Emon:

Jrusar: 5 spires no waiting, sweet cable car system, city almost entirely destabilized by goo creatures as part of an overly complicated plot to blow up the aforementioned moon

Bassuras: (literally "garbagetown") Run by Mad Max gangs and everyone is cool with it; regular sandstorms; one of those gangs apparently sits atop a hive mind and NO ONE has examined this (except for them)?)

Whitestone: has a tree planted by one god over a buried temple to another god that was corrupted in the name of a third, shittier god; overrun by zombies but it's fine now; streetlights and two bears that are allowed to do whatever the fuck they want.

Yios: The canal system of Venice meets the colleges per capita of Boston meets the orcs from your fantasies, also there's some kind of kitchen-based organized crime ring so intricate it could be its own campaign (so, also like Boston).

Vasselheim: literally no one understands what the fuck its government system is. Old as balls. Temples everywhere! Temples full of trees. Temples full of blood! Temples full of an old guy who will kick your ass. A sphinx that regulates the monster hunter mini-game. Presumably the giant titan full of the ancient cannibal dwarf city is like, still there, as a new fixture, since I don't see how they're moving that.

The arctic: where teleportation doesn't work, there's a river of lava in the middle of the snow, ancient ruins full of snow globes full of actual people, and the Chaos Bisexual Emerald - and that's just a smattering of what Eiselcross has to offer.

Since this is about space and not time we can toss Aeor and Avalir too, since they once were places, and while we're at it whatever the fuck is going on with the Shattered Teeth and its permanent fog cloud and fish dream cult and capitalist shipwrecked merchants.

And, of course, any arbitrary square millimeter of Wildemount, frankly, has more Mostness than the entirety of Emon could muster under absolutely ideal conditions. But for the sake of one place per region, let's hand it to Rosohna (city of eternal night for practical purposes, built over the Evil God Headquarters); Uthodurn (underground! Giant goats! Elves and dwarves, living together, mass hysteria!); Hupperdook (steampunk gnome party city); Nicodranas (Fjord, Jester, Veth, Marion, and Yussa literally all live there at once; plumbing used to be courtesy of an imprisoned marid...but watch out); and Blightshore (Blightshore).

In conclusion: Emon is boring, nominating it was a mistake, there are literally sealed gods in other parts of the world and also way better taverns, good night, and what the fuck.

#critical role #long post

790 notes · View notes

lautski-week · 5 months

Text

Lautski Nation, we are so back!

(Q&A + general info under cut!)

Welcome to the third semiannual Lautski week. This event occurs twice a year, once in the summer and once in the winter, to commemorate the shared love so many of us have for Hatchetfield High's most unlikely it couple! Mod is @peterstankoffski and uses they/them pronouns, and you've probably seen me lurking around the lautski tag since it was created. It's been a lovely little 2.5 years getting to enjoy this ship with everyone.

This year the summer event will be in July instead of May so everyone who is interested has plenty of time to prepare. I understand now through June is fairly bust for many people due to finals, so moving it later into the summer was definitely for the best (thank you to everyone who voted in the dates tiebreaker poll the other day!)

And with that, some FAQ!

Q: What are alternates?

A: Alternates are two extra prompts in case one of them leaves you stumped! They can be used any day, or they can not be used at all! It’s up to each individual participant!

Q: Do I have to do all seven days?

A: You’re free to do as many as you want! You can do all seven, you can do just a few, hell, you could do all nine in you wanted! This isn��t a challenge, it’s an event. The main goal is to make some posts about this ship we’re all brainrotting for and having fun.

Q: What can I make?

A: Anything you want! Art, fics, edits, memes, etc. Nothing’s off the table.

Q: How do I post?

A: I’ll reblog anything made for the event to this blog and my main. If you’d like to be featured, please @ THIS blog. Additionally, I’d recommend tagging works with #lautski week so everyone’s works can all be found in the same place.

Q: I was late! Can I still post?

A: Of course! I’ll keep reblogging new posts tagged #lautski week and/or mention this blog through July 17!

Q: Can I post to AO3, then link it back here?

A: Feel free! This year I will also be setting up a Lautski Week collection, which I will link on the blog closer to time. Feel free to use it!

Q: Can I post to (insert any other fanfic site here) then link it back here?

A: Same as AO3. Go ahead!

Q: One of my wips fits *insert prompt here!* Can I post it for that day?

A: You can, but please don’t post before the event begins!

Q: Am I allowed to write smut?

A: Yes, but please have it properly tagged on both tumblr and AO3. On this blog, I will use the additional tag "smut warning"

That's it for now! I'll reblog this occasionally between now and July, plus advertising and answering any additional questions, but other than that, enjoy the rest of your spring (if you're in the Northern Hemisphere anyway)! See you all again soon 💜

#lautski #lautski week #peter spankoffski #pete spankoffski #stephanie lauter #starkid #steph lauter #team starkid #abstinence camp #nerdy prudes must die #npmd

110 notes · View notes

kaitsawamura · 4 months

Text

🪞 🔮 🍅 🧺 🍯 🌱 The Farmer & The Wizard

PART 1: IN WHICH YOU UNEXPECTEDLY GET THE DEED TO A FARM

❦ STATS ❦ | all other information on this fic including additional warnings can be found on the masterlist

chapter rating: e for everyone, complete fic has an 18+ MDNI rating

chapter warnings: mention of the death of an estranged grandparent (no details)

chapter tags: semi-canon divergent, red thread of fate

chapter word count: 3.2K

This chapter and the rest of this fic are part of this blog's contribution to Fics for Gaza.

❦ LINKS ❦

next chapter (tbl)

fic masterlist

main masterlist

jjk masterlist

My Dear Little Bug,

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: Fox Hollow Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, Little Bug. Good luck.

Love, Grandpa

Honor the family name? What a load of bullshit. There was no family left to honor. You were an only child and your parents had stopped talking to your grandpa on your dad’s side so long ago, you didn’t have any memories of him. Except for a blurry one, so void of detail it was as if it was a dream or a dream of a dream. In that memory, you could recall the thrill of seeing autumn leaves blustering in a flurry across a gravel drive, the creak of an old door, the smell of dirt, coffee, and aftershave. A pair of strong warm arms. That’s about it.

Now, your parents were divorced and the three of you were estranged. You were a singular island floating in a lonely, tumultuous sea. Things had been stressful at work and in your personal life. That must be why you even considered checking your Grandpa’s place out. The southern coast… that was practically out in the boonies. Scratch that, it was in the middle of nowhere. Zuzu City was the closest big town and even that would be small by your adult standards. You didn’t know if you had the gumption to do what it would take to fix the place up.

Still, although you had no idea why your grandfather had chosen you to take over the place most important to him, it would be a welcome distraction. The words in his letter… you were, in fact, in dire need of a change. How this all came to be at the time you needed it most was beyond your understanding. It was better to leave some things to the unknown, even if you did feel a strange pull to this place you’d been to once as a very young child.

You read the letter a final time before glancing at the attached legal papers. Suddenly it seemed as if the space you’d so meticulously curated to be yours was a touch too sterile. The apartment on the expensive side of town. The new, reliable car. The dinner parties, the expensive alcohol. The shiny executive position to go with it. You’d worked hard for it but also had privilege that so many didn’t. You were grateful for it. Even so, you couldn’t ignore that something was missing.

Perhaps long days and even longer nights, clean air, and more sky than infrastructure were the puzzle pieces you hadn’t found yet.

❦ 2 WEEKS LATER ❦

Your apartment was turnkey on the market and already had three solid offers.

In the end, you decided on saving the expense of a rental car, but doing so meant the closest you could get to Stardew Valley was Zuzu City and from there, you had to take a bus. The whole thing felt spectacularly contrived, much to your chagrin. It was spring and while the city was filled with smog, the moment you hit the long highway out of Zuzu towards your new home it was as if the heavens parted to shine a light on your way. Not a single cloud remained in the sky. Well, maybe one little puff that looked way too much like a pastry waaaay out in the distance.

It was a two hour drive on a four lane highway that somehow turned into a two lane without you noticing. For a long while there was nothing but the music playing in your headphones and stretches of field so green and wide open, you could easily get lost in daydreaming. Rolling hills, green grass, and sometimes a fence. Clair de Lune played in your ears and with the surprisingly comfortable position you’d found leaning your head on the window, it didn’t take much for you to drift off.

The bus jolting to a stop is what wakes you on a sharp, snorting breath as your eyes snap open. For a moment, you’re disoriented, unaware of where you are or if you are, in fact, a real person. A headache has begun throbbing at the base of your neck and your mouth is dry. Late afternoon sun streams in the bus window and the driver, a little graying man in a smart blue uniform is standing over you.

“There you are, I was beginning to think I couldn’t wake you. We’ve reached the end of the line. I’ll give you a moment while I open the cargo hold. I have a schedule I have to keep to though!” He says it brightly, smiling as big as can be, the expression crinkling his eyes shut above his rosy cheeks. You nod as he turns and spryly makes his way down the middle of the bus and out the doors.

You do take a moment, but only a small one, to stare out the window. It’s a small bus station, barely even a station at all really. There’s a small awning under a tree that houses an automatic ticket printer. It seems both too modern and too ancient, a monolith, to be here in Stardew Valley. There’s a wooden bench and a cobbled pathway that looks as if at one time there was a lot of foot traffic that has since dwindled. In the distance a wooden fence, fallen into disrepair.

Still, you take a breath and even within the confines of the vehicle, you can taste the crisp freshness in the air. On top of that, there’s green everywhere. In the trees, in the grass, in the wildflowers. In the button-up shirt on the other little old man standing expectantly outside the bus looking in. He’s wearing a brown newsboy cap and overalls, with a golden yellow tie. That must be the mayor. Mayor… Lee? Lemony? Lewis? That’s it, Mayor Lewis.

The mayor had been good friends with your grandfather. He had said as much over the phone when he called to confirm you had gotten the letter and legal papers in the mail. Mail didn’t get lost in Stardew Valley, it was too small but he didn’t known how things worked in the big modern city. He had told you he would meet you to take you to your grandfather’s, well, your farm when you got into town. That was two weeks ago and if you were being completely honest with yourself, you had forgotten that little detail. It was just as well because your fancy cellphone with “unparalleled” service had one little tiny bar; no pulling up Maps here.

Uncertainty roiled in your gut, truly the first bit of apprehension you’d felt since you’d started this process. Maybe this was literally the most foolish thing you’d done in your life, more foolish than breaking into the public pool after hours with your friends your senior year of high school and getting caught by the cops. That had been your last hurrah the summer before you all went to college. Perhaps this was a last hurrah as well. Except, there was no scholarship money waiting in the mail for you this time around. This would be all on you and while you were comfortable with what you had access to for the ball to get rolling, it was different spending your own money than money given to you. Money given to you didn’t count, it wasn’t real.

There was no time like the present. You grabbed your carry on, the one you’d had since high school with the fraying handles and the faded One Direction key chain, and stepped out into the later afternoon. Lewis, who was rocking on his heels with his arms clasped behind him, loosed a beaming smile in your direction. You smiled back, determined to make the most of this first impression.

“Mayor Lewis?” You made it a question even though you were certain it was unnecessary. He nodded enthusiastically and you shook hands. The driver had unloaded your singular suitcase from the hold and gave a mock salute to the two of you as he stepped back in the bus. The doors closed with a wheeze and a loud click before the idling engine was idle no longer and the wheels began rolling the bus back out of town. The mayor broke the amicable silence first.

“You must be exhausted so I’ll walk you straight to the farm and leave you to get settled in! Can I help ya with any of your bags?” You were inclined to let him assist so you handed him your carry on and grabbed your rolling suitcase; a fine film of pollen already collected over its surface. Thank god you’d brought antihistamines. You had an annoying feeling that your allergies would be acting up.

“Uh, Mayor—” he held up a hand.

“Please, call me Lewis. Your grandpa and I were much too close for you to be calling me by a title instead of my Yoba-given name.” Yoba. You hadn’t heard or thought of that name in a very long time. So the mayor was at least somewhat religious, you decided to assume.

“Oh, yes, all right. Lewis it is then. Can I clarify, did you say walk?” Another huge smile broke out across his face, bringing crows feet and laugh lines prominently to the surface. It was humanizing in such a way that you already felt a pang of endearing familiarity towards him. He did remind you vaguely of your grandpa, or what you could remember of him.

“Yes! It’s really not far, just down this dirt road here. I took the liberty of assuming that you would want to stretch your legs a little after that long drive. Your grandpa rode his horse until the very end but I’m sure we could fix ya up with somebody’s old truck if you’d rather use that for transportation from now on.” Your eyebrows shot up your forehead. The mayor must have seen the look of confusion because he rambled on, “Magpie’s a sturdy little gelding, but if he’s too much for you to keep, I’m sure I could help you find him a good home.”

There was so much to consider. You had told Lewis that you planned on fixing the place up but you still hadn’t answered the question that lingered heavily on your mind about what came after that. Did you really plan on uprooting your whole life permanently? Crickets chirped in the hedges lining the pathway. The sun sparkled through the trees as it set in the west. The air smelled heavily of daffodils and lilac. Even without seeing the farm, you already felt a strange pull behind your ribcage, like a string was tied around your heart and was tugging. In what direction, you couldn’t quite tell.

It really didn’t take any time to reach the farm at all. You’d been so wrapped up in further conversation with Lewis that you hadn’t noticed it was a twenty minute walk and sure enough your stiff hips and back welcomed the light exercise. He reminded you that there were a couple chickens that had already been locked up in their coop for the day but as sunny weather was predicted, you’d want to let them out in their run the following morning. The main living structure, a small cabin with a single room and kitchenette, still had utilities running. There was a little toilet room inside as well and a small bathhouse out back for any of your bathing needs. If the pipes groaned when you turned the water on, well, it really wasn’t a problem but if any issues arose from it, he could recommend a handy man to you.

You passed the mailbox and took a mental note that it was one of the first things you’d be fixing; it was leaning so precariously on a rotten wooden post you were surprised it was still standing. When the little cabin came into view as the two of you opened and shut the entrance gate behind you, you felt a tightness begin to unravel in your body. There was an apricot tree hanging over the tiny covered patio. Frogs chirped in the distance from the creek that ran around the far edges of the property. The chicken coop sat close to a bend of that creek next to another west facing entrance. You could also see the overgrown mini forest of trees you had as well as an overabundance of grass and weeds and stone that would need to be cleared.

“Well, here it is, Fox Hollow Farm! I don’t want to overstay my welcome so you let me know if there’s anything you need but otherwise, I’ll let you get settled in for the night.” You assured him as long as there was hot water in that bathhouse and a made bed to collapse into, you think you’d make it through the night. “Good. Robin and I’ll check back in on ya tomorrow morning!” You couldn’t remember exactly who he’d said Robin was but if they were as welcoming as Lewis, it didn’t really matter.

After Lewis had unlocked the cabin and handed you the key, it was very apparent that you weren’t even in the mood for a shower. You waved at him as he left, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. The place smelled dusty already, even though it had only been vacant for three weeks. The wooden floor groaned beneath your feet, but only slightly, as you dropped your duffle bag to the ground and rolled your suitcase just inside the door. You walked to the sink, wiping a hand over the dirty window to look out back. There was a wooden structure with floor to ceiling glass windows making up its four walls. That must be the bathhouse. There was an old coffee maker on the bit of counter space and a singular wooden mug. It was expertly carved and worn down from years of use. You wondered absently if someone local had crafted it.

There was a little basket on the table that was pushed up along the southern wall of the house. You sighed in relief when you realized there was a bag of fresh ground coffee, a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth, a few clean carrots, a block of hard cheese wrapped in beeswax, a stick of butter in the same fabric, an aged roll of salami, six chicken eggs, and a glass mason jar labeled “Fig Jam” in looping cursive. When you opened the fridge there was an even bigger jar full of milk. You had a sandwich on the drive but you couldn’t resist digging straight into the loaf of bread, cracking it open with your fingers and tearing a hunk off to stuff in your mouth.

The outer layer was perfectly crusty while the inside was fluffy and practically melted in your mouth. You couldn’t wait to eat some of it with the butter and jam and cheese and eggs for breakfast.

After a bit more exploring from which you discovered adequate cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink and a perfectly made bed with an old soft patchwork quilt, you slipped off your shoes and unpacked pajamas from your suitcase. Sliding into bed here somehow felt a thousand times better than it had in your apartment for months. You fluffed the pillows behind you and pulled out your laptop, choosing not to solve the bed conundrum the first night here. Unsurprisingly there was no internet and your phone was definitely not going to be a good hotspot whatsoever. It was apparent you weren’t going to get any work done.

It was so peculiar; you knew you had been here once but… you really had no memory of the place. You didn’t didn’t think you should feel a kinship to it like you were. There was a small wooden nightstand next to the bed and on it there was an old dog eared copy of The Wizard of Oz. Your own books wouldn’t be here until tomorrow or the day after so you decided to crack it open.

For Jack: We always did love this book, even when we were kids. I saw it the other day on a shelf in a little book store on my trip a few towns over. Hope you like it.

The note scribbled in the inside cover was signed “Lew”. As in Lewis? Your grandpa and Lewis really were old friends then. He must be taking this harder than you would have guessed. You would make sure to invite him over for coffee and offer your condolences. Yes, Jack was your grandfather but you didn’t really know him. The light on the nightstand didn’t provide much light but you flipped to the first page of the book and read:

"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife."

No sooner had you read two pages than your eyes fluttered shut. You tried to keep them open but to no avail so you flipped the light back out and snuggled into the sheets, completely forgetting to turn the white noise on your phone. It had been a necessary portion of your sleep routine for years and years and years.

But tonight, you fell asleep without it, the song of the night filtering in the window you’d left open next to the bed.

Gojo Satoru woke from a deep slumber, sat upright, and squinted his eyes to look about his room. There was nothing out of place. His tower window was open; it always had to be when he slept, except for some days in autumn and for most of the winter season.

He strained to listen, thinking a nocturnal animal must have disturbed his sleep. Again, nothing amiss. He could hear the crickets and the frogs, and in the very far distance, the notes of a mockingbird’s song trilled to him over the cool spring air.

He laid back down, the moonlight shining in the window spilling over his bare chest and illuminating his white hair. If he just breathed slow enough to also slow the sudden rapid beating of his heart, he could go back to sleep. Meditation was something he did often so it didn’t take much. But he couldn’t stop the tugging sensation somewhere behind his ribcage. Strange.

Something had changed in Stardew Valley and he was going to find out what.

This work and its digital elements (credit for pixel art to ConcernedApe) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2020-PRESENT. I do not own any rights to Stardew Valley and any subsequent settings/characters, but this work is heavily inspired by that amazing game. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley au #fics for gaza #fic: the farmer and the wizard #kait writes

55 notes · View notes

wordstome · 1 year

Text

Shrike pt. 3 - who we are

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, she/her pronouns, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander, absolute tooth rotting fluff, corny as hell towards the end

2.8k words

tw: physical and emotional abuse, violence (chokehold, stabbing, throat slitting)

Hello to everyone reading this from my main blog! In case you haven't seen the pinned post on bucca2, this is my new writing blog. Everything I publish will be here on wordstome now. Please feel free to unfollow bucca2 and follow me here!

also PARIS PALOMA TEASED HER NEW SONG "DRYWALL" JUST FOR SHRIKE CHAPTER 3 SPREAD THE WORD

[PART 1] [PART 2 (PREV)] [MASTERLIST]

What I had left here I just held it tight So someone with your eyes Might come in time To hold me like water Or Christ, hold me like a knife

When you’re in total darkness, your eyes adjust. You can see everything around you, but it’s all devoid of color. Then when the light turns on, it blinds you, but it’s better to be blinded momentarily than to live in the dark forever.

That’s how it feels as you prepare to travel home. To escape. You’re antsy, excited and petrified at the same time. Before, it felt like the days flew past in a murky haze. Now, even the seconds crawl.

It feels like moving in a dream, like you’ll wake up any day now and it will all be taken away from you. Your hope, your new dreams for the future, your König.

A shiver runs through you. Where did “your König” come from?

When you’re not occupied with the anxiety of keeping such a huge secret from your husband, all you think about is König. You’ve spent the past few weeks in a haze, like he’s put some sort of spell on you. You do get a kick out of imagining him as a witch with a hat and cauldron.

But you know it’s something simpler than that. All the feelings you used to have for him have returned. It’s different than the heady rush you used to get with your husband. It feels sweeter, like you really are a teenage girl with a crush all over again.

It feels naïve, but you also don’t care. You feel safe despite the situation you’re still in, for the first time in a long time. You never would have expected to see König again—even less so for him to become your saving grace.

It seems silly in hindsight that you had been so frightened of him. Sure, the mask was a lot. But it had been something about his energy. It was different than you had ever felt from him, before or after your reunion. If he was that way on the battlefield, then no wonder he had earned the nickname König. You’re not sure if it scares or awes you.

You’re about to find out.

An anxiety attack is the worst feeling in the world.

You dry heave. Your chest feels like a roiling ball of angry carrion birds hollowing you out. You shake like a leaf in the wind. You fall down a long, dark pit of despair as your stomach seizes with nausea.

The train’s delayed. There’s been an issue with the tracks leading out of the city. No trains will be leaving for 12 hours.

You should have just sat in the terminal and waited, or tried to contact König, but you’re not thinking straight. All of your thoughts are focused on your husband, and what he’ll do if he comes home and finds you gone. You decide, somehow, that it would be wiser to throw yourself back into the lion’s den and pretend everything’s alright instead of waiting for him to come raging into the train station and pull you out by the hair. The thought of that is the only thing that gets you up off the wall you were hyperventilating against and back towards home.

The plan is to get home before he does and hide your suitcases. He’s usually not home by this time, anyway. You chalk the rising sense of dread in the pit of your stomach up to your anxiety and turn the handle to go in.

Fuck.

He’s standing in the kitchen.

The years have not been kind to him. He’s far from the charming young man you married. He’s wretched, unkempt, angry. It’s clear he’s been drinking, maybe even before he left work. The shadows etch themselves into the lines of his face as his expression twists into something awful, inhuman. You stand, frozen, as he approaches you.

“Planning a trip without me?” he asks with an awful grin.

You can still salvage this. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, but I just received word. My mother’s not doing well. I have to go see her.”

“You lie like a whore,” he snarls. “Don’t think I haven’t been paying attention. You’re different nowadays. Not the nice obedient woman I married.”

Your fear turns to anger in an instant. Years and years of this horseshit, waiting on him hand and foot, placing his smallest whims before your own needs and wants—it rushes up through you like hot steam. His nice obedient woman. And the worst thing is, you hate that he’s not wrong. That is what you’ve become.

“Yesterday I came home and you hadn’t even started dinner. Where were you, huh? Running around on me behind my back?” It’s difficult to describe, but his smile is oily: sleazy, untrustworthy, dangerous. “With that big fuck in a hood that came here with the mercenaries, perhaps?”

Your blood runs cold at that. Has he seen you with König? When? Why hasn’t he said anything? It feels like you’re stepping into a trap, but you must move forward if you want to get out.

“He’s going to get what’s coming to him, alright. My manager has a direct line to his boss. One word from him will get that fucker deployed to the middle of nowhere on a suicide mission.”

It’s an absurd threat, and you know it. This drunken idiot has no idea what he’s talking about—as if some middle-management bureaucrat could persuade a PMC to dispose of a soldier like König. But it’s the audacity that irks you. You’ve lived your life serving this man for too long, and now he thinks the world will bend to his whims. There’s absolutely no way he can touch König, but an old and familiar anger rises in you.

A long overdue revelation dawns on you now. He’s a bully. The same as Andreas: little boys with petty insults and empty threats. Pushing people around because their own lives are empty and unsatisfying.

An eerie calm breaks through you like the sky cutting through a storm. The man before you is just a feral animal, snarling and snapping in desperation. You’re not afraid of him anymore.

You reach behind you and slowly roll open the knife drawer, grabbing the first one your fingers land on.

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving this house, this country, and this marriage,” you say, gripping the knife in a defensive position. Your father taught you how to hold a knife like this: backwards, with the blade along your arm, sharp edge facing outwards.

“This way, it’s much more difficult for someone to turn the blade against you,” he had told you, demonstrating the motion by moving your arm towards your chest. The memory makes you smile. At the time, you’d been indulging your old man—he had always said that violence was a last resort, but that the world was unkind and one day you may have to defend yourself. He was right, just as he was when he told you he had reservations about your marriage.

You’re going home. You’re going to see your father again. And you’ll never have to tolerate the loathsome toad before you again.

The beast laughs. “What do you think you’re going to do with that? Stab me?” He’s up against you before you can react, the breath leaving your lungs in a gasp as he pins you against a wall by the throat.

“You. Are. Mine. You will never raise a hand against me because I own you,” he hisses, his alcohol-laced breath foul against your face. “And it’s high time you remembered that.” His grip tightens like an iron vice around your throat, but you’re not afraid. Even as your vision begins to blur and blacken, you stare directly into his eyes. They’re like red-hot coals of fury, but you see what’s behind them now. The fear. The cowardice of a desperate man who has no recourse but to lay his hands on someone who can’t fight back.

“You’re pathetic,” you rasp, lips tugging into a smile. The coals burn brighter. The hand squeezes tighter. The adrenaline surges through you like a tide—and your body acts to protect itself, in a way that you haven’t allowed it to in a long time. A feeling as sweet and familiar as an old friend.

The knife makes its home right between his ribs.

He staggers away from you, as if you had slightly winded him instead of stabbed him in the heart. Your hands instantly go to your throat as you cough and sputter, lightheaded and dizzy but alive, so alive. You’ve never felt so alive as you do right now, watching the demon of your own personal hell look down at the blade sticking out of him.

“You stupid little bitch—” He makes as if to lunge at you, but time slows. Your eyes widen as the shadows behind him melt and solidify into a figure. Tall and hooded. No knight in shining armor, but an assassin of deepest night.

König slashes through your husband’s throat in one deadly, beautiful motion.

Your husband falls to the ground like dead weight, gasping and choking on his own blood. Your eyes are fixed on him, a strange sensation bubbling through you. You’re making some kind of noise, loud and cacophonous, as König steps over the dying animal who has controlled you your whole adult life.

His arms find their way around you as you slowly sink to the ground, howling and wailing. He’s so patient, you think numbly with some corner of your mind that remains untouched by the mania seizing the rest of you. The two of you sit there, his body warm and solid against yours, as your body slowly exits fight or flight mode.

“Alex?” you say hoarsely once you’re in your right mind again.

“I’m here,” he rumbles.

You turn to look at him as he pulls the hood off his head. There he is, your Alexander, all grown up. He’s rugged, with nasty-looking white scars streaked across his face, but so, so handsome. His eyes are still the same as he looks at you with something akin to rapturous adoration. Your green-eyed boy.

“You’re back, rosethorn,” he says with a wide grin. There’s a touch of madness to it, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Was I…” Exhaustion sets in, seeping through your whole body. “Was I crying or laughing just now?”

He shifts you onto his lap, cradling you like a baby as you look up at him.

“I think you were laughing.”

The police release you after just over half an hour of questioning.

You aren’t going anywhere, of course. They’re leaving you, exiting your hospital room with murmurs of well-wishes for your health. They’ve hardly left the room when König comes striding in, instantly moving to your bedside and holding your hand in his.

He looks tired too, his eyes soft as he takes in your small smile. You’re sure he was being interrogated for much longer than you, but it looks like he passed muster as well. Not as if you had anything to worry about—what could the local police have done to the commander of the mercenaries taking down their local terrorist cell anyway?

“Are you alright? Did they clear you?” His expression hardens as he glances at your neck. You nod weakly. Your throat is going to be bruised for a while, but your attacker hadn’t done any lasting damage.

Attacker. Husband. Corpse. All of these words describe the same thing now.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner,” he says mournfully. “He shouldn’t have had the chance to attack you like that.”

You shake your head at him. He didn’t know that you weren’t on the train heading home, after all. The room is quiet for a few moments, save for the distant beeping of a heart monitor.

“Why…” you manage to ask. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“Why was I there?” He glances around to make sure nobody’s listening, and leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I was there to kill him, of course.”

You shudder a little. He admits it so casually, that he was in your house because he was there to commit a murder. You should be afraid of him, but you feel around in your brain and come up empty-handed.

Instead, you find yourself worried. For him. “What if you had gotten in trouble?”

He snorts. “You underestimate me, rosethorn. I would have just framed it as a robbery.”

You nod. Oh God…does that mean he had planned this? Why doesn’t that horrify or disgust you? You’re just going to have to dissect that later. Right now, you only feel a warm affection towards the man stroking his thumb along your hand in a soothing motion.

“So…what comes next?”

“You’re asking me? We can do whatever you like. I can take you home.”

Home. Where is that, now? It’s certainly not in the house you’ve left behind, where the ghost of the man you were married to settles in every nook and cranny. It doesn’t feel like your childhood home where your parents are, either.

It’s such a corny saying, “home is where the heart is”. But home feels like it’s already here, sitting next to your hospital bed with the fondest look in his eyes.

“I’d like to travel,” you whisper. The with you goes unspoken.

“I have plenty of leave time saved up.”

You flip your hand so you can hold his. It’s huge next to yours. This is the hand that slit your husband’s throat, a hand that has killed countless people.

You’re not sentimental enough to pretend that’s not an issue. You’re not entirely sure this is happily ever after: that all of your problems are solved because you’ve replaced one violent man with another. But another part of you yearns to be the one who gets protected. You’ll take care of König, and you know he’ll take care of you. In his own way.

You can ask the questions later. Right now, you have lost time to make up for.

“Are you sure you should be wearing that scarf?”

The air is cold, but the wind is soft instead of feeling like tiny blades against your face. You tug said scarf down from your face and take in a lungful of crisp, icy air.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure König as he hauls himself up the last ridge to where you’re standing. “It’s loose enough. And it’s chilly.”

“If you say so.” He tugs his neck gaiter further up his nose. “What a view, hm?”

You’re standing on Mont Blanc, blanketed by serene white snow just as the name promised. Further below you, the skiing slopes are crawling with tourists, but here in this little outcropping, the only sound is the occasional rush of wind and your voices.

“I think I can see Salzburg from here,” you say, pointing off into gorgeous landscape spread out before you.

“That is most certainly still Switzerland,” König says, amused. You turn to look at him instead and are rewarded with his shining green eyes looking right back at you.

“Whatever!” You let out a dissatisfied hmph, which draws a hearty laugh from him.

“You came all the way to Chamonix just so you could look at Austria again?”

“It’s a very tall mountain,” you argue.

“It’s one of many very tall mountains. We could have just gone to Großglockner.”

“That’s boring. I’ve always wanted to visit France.”

“You wanted to visit a very expensive ski chalet.”

“Bite me.”

“I just might!” You giggle and squeal as he grabs you, chasing your face with his as you squirm around.

“It is beautiful,” he concedes as he holds a hand above his eyes to keep off the sun. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

“I should push you off this peak right now.”

“You couldn’t move me an inch.” He grabs you by the waist and holds you tight to emphasize his point. You can’t even shift his arms off you, no matter how hard you push.

“Ok, fine, you win.” You pout at him, but he doesn’t let you go.

The dynamic the two of you share is so easygoing and relaxed, it’s like you had a rhythm all along that both of you just fell back into. But of course, there are some things you’ve never done together. Like travel together.

Or kiss.

“Are you going to do it this time?” you ask him, smiling.

His nose wrinkles up, uncharacteristically cute for someone like him. “Well, I was going to, but then you had to open your mouth.”

You cackle. “Go on then.”

“Can I?”

“I just said yes!”

“I forgot how much you like to talk,” he complains. Before you can say another word, he captures your lips in his.

The sky is vivid and blue as the whole world stretches out before you.

#RIPBOZO

Here we are! We're at the end of this little story I started writing on a whim. Honestly, this means a lot to me personally: I wrote a lot when I was younger, but high school and university were very difficult times for me, and I stopped writing fanfiction. I tried to get back into it during the pandemic, but I was never able to finish anything beyond a long-ish drabble. I'm quite proud of this.

Even still, I feel like there are a lot of stories that I still want to tell about this couple. There's quite a lot that I decided to cut from these main 3 chapters for the sake of pacing and time. There's a little bit of dissatisfaction at not having crammed in every little detail that I wanted, but if there's one thing that writing university papers has taught me, it's that perfectionism will keep you from getting anything done. So you will be getting more from Alex and Thorn in the future!

I know a lot of you were anticipating what delicious revenge König was going to exact on Thorn's husband, so I hope you weren't too disappointed ;; While I personally would have loved to have König strap him to a chair in the basement and do some morbid things with a knife, I think it was important for Thorn's character that she's involved in it. While of course the main focus of this story is König, Shrike is also about his beloved Thorn. I hope to explore König and the darker (and pervier) aspects of his character more in subsequent stories. But for now, they're getting a well-deserved happy ending.

One last thing before I go: Chamonix is a resort town in central/southeast France, not far from Lyon. (Sorry, I don't know whether Lyon is south enough to be considered southern France lol). Mont Blanc is Chamonix's main peak of the Alps, and is known for how pretty it is and being at the border of France, Switzerland, and Italy. As König said, if you wanted to visit a mountain as an Austrian, there are several of them at home you could visit, but since I visited it a few years ago, Chamonix has a special place in my heart. I just had to cram it in!

As usual, I'm excited to see your comments and feedback. I've read every single thing everybody has commented about this fic, even if I couldn't respond to you all, and I appreciate it so deeply. Whenever I get feedback I literally feel like kicking my feet and giggling. And if you want to ask questions or request specific scenarios with Thorn and Alex, please do send me an ask!

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @kneelingshadowsalome @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @fireballoveraltanta

psst. to my tag list people while I have you here: naturally I will continue tagging you in other Shrike stories, but I'll also be using this same tag list for every other König fic I write. If you'd like to opt out of that, let me know. (No hard feelings, of course :3)

#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #fic:shrike

214 notes · View notes

wildemaven · 1 year

Text

Sweet Creature: Chapter Two

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 5145

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece— He’s traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn’t except is to meet you, his niece’s school teacher who couldn’t care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warnings: 18+ Blog; talk of drug use (no actual using), absent parents, mention of food and alcohol, slow burn, brown fuzzy coat, self doubt, break-up mention, annoyance towards actors, cursing, 2nd POV, that should be it but if I missed anything please let me know

A/N: It’s here!! I’m really excited for this chapter, lots of little things I love about that I’m so excited for you to read. This chapter is where we meet reader and learn a little bit about her. I wanted to also note, there will be an eventual nickname used, we just haven’t gotten to it being used yet so for now I’m not mentioning it. The response to this series has been so amazing and I’m so grateful for all the wonderful feedback!! Another big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for taking the time to beta for me!! You’re a champ for putting up with my spelling errors. Update: adding link to mug that is mentioned -> etsy shop

Series Masterlist / Sweet Creature Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous / Next

“Diem, you can’t really be considering this?! Did you forget, he was literally doing drugs off of your toilet!”

You pour another glass of a sweet sparkling wine you’d picked up before heading to Diem’s for your weekly chat session, then settling back into the array of plush couch cushions— a night to decompress a bit, vent and just catch up on the week’s happenings.

“Well, I’ve already considered and told him yes.”

“What?” You nearly spit your drink out in shock. “I don’t want to say I told you so, but I kind of called it when you invited him to Wren’s party. I just— I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“Look, I know you’re just being protective, and I’m so grateful for that, I truly am— but you have to just let me make this decision and trust that he’s going to be clean like he says he is. This is his longest stay in treatment, that’s got to be a good sign, right?”

The one thing you loved most about Diem was her big heart and her constant need to mother everyone around her.

She had literally taken you under her wing when you’d decided to uproot your entire life and move to a random city you had zero ties to.

A chance meeting in the halls of your new employer, Ojai Valley School, while rounding the corner and bumping into each other. Your stack of lesson plans scattering about the concrete floor and her basket of snacks toppling over— a dozen or so clementine oranges rolling around the haphazard mess of papers.

In sorting out each other’s disarray, you’d learned she was a parent of a kindergartener, to which you shared being the new first grade teacher.

Somewhere in the midst of an over abundance of apologies for the mishap and swapping mini life stories on the walk together to your classroom, her daughter’s class coincidentally next door, there was an exchanging of phone numbers and a no pressure invitation for drinks and appetizers at her place— she dubbed it as a proper ‘welcome to the neighborhood.’

A week later you found yourself in Diem’s living room bonding over similar interests with wooden platters of too expensive crackers, hard to pronounce cheeses, thinly sliced deli meats paired with quickly mixed and shaken cocktails over ice.

She shared her struggles being a single mom who was embarking on a new business adventure all while co-parenting with her ex-boyfriend. You learned her family didn’t live close, parents usually traveling through some part of the world or staying in one of their many extravagant vacation homes, while her brother was some big name movie star— Dieter Bravo, whom you’d seen plastered on the covers of gossip magazines.

There was an instant friendship between the two of you that flourished as the months went on— a sisterly bond you’d never had being an only child.

Weekly chats developed into spending not only more time with Diem, but with Wren as well. Dinners and movie nights became a regular thing, rotating hosting duties while Wren always had the final say in the movie. You shared your love for art with them as much as you could, making sure to invite them both when a new artist had their latest installment showing at one of the many galleries in town, Wren always so captivated with your interpretations of the art on display, encouraging her to seek out her own. If Diem ever found herself in a pinch with the hotel, you were more than excited to spend more time with Wren, especially on the warmer days where you both could take advantage of the pool and soak up the California sun.

You felt like an instant local and less of a transplant after a few months, building your own connections with merchants and finding your own niche outside of teaching within Ojai— you were a welcomed presence.

“I’m sorry Diem, I just have flashbacks to seeing him slumped over on the bathroom floor, high out of his mind— That look on your face ate me up inside.” You sigh at the recollection of your first meeting of her brother Dieter, all disheveled and extremely inebriated. Diem had cried on your shoulder for hours after everyone had left the party, but you did your best to comfort her as time went on. “I’ll be here for you if you need anything.”

She reaches over to you and gives you a hug, reassurance that she appreciates you always having her back.

“Thank you. I promise, any little inkling of something being off and he’s out. Just try to be a little nice to him, give him a chance to prove himself. He said he’ll be here in a few weeks and I’d love for you two to get a proper meeting, so let me know what your schedule is looking like.”

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior.” You playfully roll your eyes at her, but you would really try to be as open as you could be, especially for her and Wren.

“Okay, enough about me and my stuff. What’s new with you?? Any hot dates??”

Your dating life was near nonexistent. Yeah, you dated, but that was as far as things went.

Your last relationship had ended in a breakup before your move. Both of you wanting different things, you wanting him to move with you and him wanting to stay rooted, while also refusing to try the long distance thing, deciding a clean break was best for the both of you.

“Ugh. I went on one the other day. One of the teachers cornered me in the break room and insisted on setting me up with her neighbor.”

“And?”

“And, it was a disaster. He was late to the restaurant and then he was excusing himself every fifteen minutes to go to the bar to watch some sport’s playoffs. He also ordered for me off the kid’s menu, said he thought the restaurant was overpriced— he picked it mind you. Safe to say there was nothing ‘hot’ about the date. I literally give up. I’ll live the rest of my life alone— maybe I should get a cat or two.”

Your body slinks back amusingly into the couch cushions.

“Oh my god. Stop!” She swats jokingly at your limp arm. “You’re so dramatic. Firstly, don’t accept any dates from colleagues— those are always bound to be disastrous! Secondly, you won’t be alone forever. You just have to open yourself up to the possibility of something just happening organically— like fate! Thirdly— no cats! Wren’s allergic and I can’t deal with that mess of meltdowns from her wanting one of her own.”

“Why do you always have to be my voice of reason?!”

“Because that’s what friends are for… Babe!”

“I hate you!” You’re both in a fit of giggles as you toss a pillow across the couch at her.

“Oh! I do have some good news though! The gallery said they’re holding one last artist showcase before closing the doors and they offered it to me.”

Reverie Studio, a cute little art gallery and workshop space, had become a sanctuary for your creative imagination to live freely. They offered classes throughout the year to varying types of artists, novice to well seasoned, in their workshop space in the back of the gallery.

The gallery itself was spacious and washed in white, perfect for featuring painted canvases, framed photographs or ceramic sculptures. Giant bright windows facing Main Street, allowed for ample viewing for visitors.

You’d taken a few classes as a way to submerse yourself into the community, hoping to build some connections with like minded individuals. At one point you’d noticed the bulletin board that held a plethora of business cards, class schedules and other various information about town happenings, had a help wanted flier for the studio itself looking for someone to teach a few classes. You, being a teacher already, as well as an artist, decided to seek out more information. They hired you on the spot and allowed you to decide what classes you wanted to offer.

The latest flier was informing that the owners decided they would be closing their doors soon. If you had the means, you would have put an offer on the business to keep it open, unfortunately with your salary as a teacher it wouldn’t be feasible. While you were sad you’d be losing Reverie, you were grateful they considered your art to be shown as their last installment.

“What?! That is amazing! Finally people can see the amazing things you paint— I’ve been dreaming of this moment for you!! Also, I told you my brother’s an artist right?”

“Like, ‘I’m an actor, art is my passion’ while having zero idea how watercolor works…” Air quotes adding emphasis to your mockery.

“I thought you said you were going to be on your best behavior?” She tosses a pillow right back at you, nearly knocking over your empty glass in the process.

“Sorry, I had to get it out.” Thankfully she could sense your campy tone.

“I’m going to head out, there’s a stack of papers calling my name that I need to grade.” You state, grabbing your purse and making your way to the front door. “I’ll see you at drop off.” Throwing her a wave as you walk down the path leading to the main sidewalk.

“Oh! Before I forget, Wren asked if she could come paint sometime. Told her I’d run it by you first and see if there was any space for her.”

“Of course— Anytime!”

“Perfect. We'll chat more about it later then. Text me when you get home!” Diem leaning into the door frame, practically shouting as you cross the street, knowing you live a less than five minute walk down the block.

“Oh! And I want to have you over for dinner when Dieter gets here!!”

“Goodnight Diem!” Throwing a lax wave back at her.

Dieter can’t remember a time he’d slept so well. Could be the comfortable pillow top mattress, or it could be due to the fact this is the most relaxed he’s felt in years.

There’s clanking coming from what he can only assume is the kitchen, followed by the strong aroma of fresh brewed coffee. Diem is awake, still the early bird that she’s always been.

He begins to extricate himself from the cushy bed, swinging his legs over the edge, his body following suit into a somewhat hunched over sitting position. His fingers pick at the tiny sleep crystals embedded in the corners of his eyes, a few blinks to adjust to the light, his sight still a bit blurry.

An audible lazy yawn works its way through his mouth, sleep still ruminating within him for the time being. He reaches over to the side table to grab his black framed glasses, a few swipes over the lens glass with the crumpled top sheet before he’s lifting them to the window for a quick smudge inspection— passable and now snug to his face.

He convinces his body to rise to his full height, joints and muscles adjusting to their proper positions after several hours of a sedentary vacation. A quick roll of the neck and overhead arm stretches ramp up his alertness.

Stepping over yesterday’s clothes still plopped in the middle of the floor, he digs through his bags in search of something to cover his boxer clad body with the intent to make the trek through the house to a cup of rich amber heaven.

The air has a slight chill to it, not an uncommon occurrence being tucked in a valley on a California morning. He pulls on his favorite lounge pants, dark stripes pair with a thin cottony fabric worn in from years of wearing— a security blanket of sorts. Throwing his giant fuzzy overcoat over a wrinkled shirt while taking a few deep breaths, schooling his trepidation and the fact that a new life awaits him on the other side of the door.

Sure enough, Diem is busy moving about the kitchen. A mom through and through multitasking her way through the morning— coffee made with mugs set out, breakfast of eggs and toast plated waiting to be eaten, and a million other little tasks that seem to keep her attention focused.

“I can’t believe you still have that damn coat, I beg you don’t wear it in public.”

“Good morning to you too!” That first sentence a bit gravelly as he looks down to inspect the coat Diem had just insulted. “What’s wrong with my coat?”

“It makes you look— a little tacky and less ‘I’ve finally got my life together.’” He shakes his head at her remark, deciding he’ll leave out the part that it’s just a house coat these days.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good. Best sleep I’ve had in awhile. Gonna need to know where I can get one of those beds for home.” Grabbing one of the mugs and pouring himself a decent amount of coffee, then positioning himself onto one of the barstools in front of his awaiting breakfast.

“That would be a “we’re so proud of you, here’s a bed” gift from mom and dad.” He can sense her somewhat sore tone as she wipes up the counters.

“You hear from them lately?”

“Aside from the gifts they send regularly for Wren and a few emails updating on their whereabouts, they seem to be living up to the absentee status quite well.”

He doesn’t expect the weight of her response to hit him so fiercely, knowing his own presence had been equally lacking as well.

“I’m sorry.” It seems like the only adequate answer.

“For what? It’s not your fault our parent’s decision to be unavailable the majority of our lives. I mean, I love them and I know they love us, but they sure have a weird way of showing it.”

“Yeah— well, I can’t say my track record has been any better over the years.” He wishes he could omit the guilt, but acknowledging and accepting his own absence seems like a more appropriate approach to mending the past.

“Hey, no! I’m not trying to project any of my thoughts onto you.” Her movements halted, giving her full attention to the conversation. “You made an effort, regardless of your— your situation through the years, you still made time for us. We see them maybe twice if we’re lucky. Sometimes they surprise Wren with a FaceTime call, probably so she doesn’t forget what they look like.”

His fork scrapes through his runny eggs, taking his anger out on them seems like a better alternative to a seething phone call to his parents. He’s not sure they’d even answer if he did call. Communication between him and them was tenuous, having sent them a few emails while in rehab, their only response was “That’s great. We love you!”

“Plus, you’re here now. Look at it as a second chance to make up for lost time.”

Before he’s able to give much thought to the prospect of a second chance, the trotting of tiny footsteps is heard coming from the hall.

“Uncle Dude!!! You’re here, you’re here!” Wren’s tiny little body launched into his chest as he tried to squat down to her level.

Uncle Dude. When Wren was younger, she had trouble with his name when her vocabulary started to expand, certain letter patterns fairing more difficult than others. Dieter joked around with the idea of her calling him ‘The Dude’, The Big Lebowski being one of his comfort films. Diem tried everything in her powers to make it not happen, but it only took an entire weekend of Dieter coaching the then 3 year old and Uncle Dude came to be.

“Hey Birdie! Gosh, you’ve gotten so big!”

“I know, mama said I hafta eat all my vegetables ‘cause they will make me grow and grow and grow.” She wraps her little arms around his neck, squeezing him tight before pulling back and fully inspecting him. “You brought teddy jacket wiff you!!” Her little hands running through the brown sherpa fabric of his coat, which she claimed felt like a teddy bear— Teddy Jacket.

“Brought it just for you.” He shoots a sarcastic smile over to Diem, who is doing her best to not make her eye rolling obvious, then plants a kiss to Wren’s tiny forehead.

“Okay Miss Wren, you’ve got to eat breakfast and get dressed for school.” Diem pulling out the mom voice, making both him and Wren exchange a brief scrunched expression.

Wren climbs the legs of the barstool and settles into its seat. “But I wanna stay wiff Uncle Dude! He always gets me donuts for breakfast!” Her little voice floats through the air and wraps itself around his heart, clenching over how much he’s missed her.

“Uncle Dude is actually taking you to school today, so you’ll have plenty of time before school to hang out. And we can do donuts a different time, eat your eggs then go get yourself dressed.”

“Are you gonna be here when I get home too?!” Looking at Dieter with pleading eyes.

“Heck yeah! I’ll be here for a while!” Dieter leans in close enough so only Wren can hear. “If you hurry up, we can get donuts before school, our secret!”

“YAY!!!”

Diem looks over her shoulder at the two of them, an eyebrow cocked at Wren’s abrupt excitement, then looking at Dieter and only getting an innocent shoulder shrug from him.

“I’m going to head out then if you’ve got this under control.” Dieter nods in agreement, finishing off the remainder of his coffee. “Perfect! I already left a message with the school you’d be dropping her off. No need to worry about picking her up, she has a wellness check with her doctor, so I’ll take her to that before we head home.” Diem scurrying around, grabbing items from different areas of the room and tossing into her oversized tote, before giving a kiss to Wren and quick hug to Dieter. “I’ll see you both later. Love you, bye!!” The door shutting quickly behind her.

There’s a beat of silence as Wren and Dieter exchange looks, as if they know what each other is thinking.

“DONUTS!!” Both announce in unison, high fives and uncoordinated movements as they both flail about.

“Alright Birdie, let’s get dressed and go!”

“Let’s go!!”

As promised, donuts were a designated stop on the way to school. Wren’s excitement was written all over her face as she peered through the bakery case deliberating on her choice. Dieter missed this, moments spent with her as she explored the world around her. Thinking back to his conversation with Diem, this instance is proof second chances exist.

“Thanks Uncle Dude for the donut!” He glances back at Wren in the rear view mirror, buckled securely into her booster seat, flakes of pink donut frosting smeared around her mouth, curls slightly bouncing as she bobs her head to the music she requested as Dieter buckled her in.

“No problem Birdie. Here, why don’t you wipe your face— hide the evidence.” He hands her a napkin, hoping she can manage on her own— she seems to do a good enough job of it.

“Donuts make me happy.”

“They do, do they?”

“Yeah! They make me smile. Mama says being a movie star makes you happy.”

“She did?”

“Yep! Does it?”

He thinks it does, or it used to at least. There was a time when the love he had for acting was limitless— he would eat, sleep and breathe acting. Getting sought after roles, memorizing pages worth of lines, stepping into character the instant the director said action. Acting filled a void in him that had been vacant for years.

“It used to make me really happy.”

“But it doesn’t anymore?”

“I don’t know, still trying to figure that out.”

“Mama says your heart knows when it’s happy, so just listen to your heart Uncle Dude!”

“I’ll do that, thanks Birdie.”

Most of your school mornings ran the same way. You tend to wake before your alarm ever has a chance to alert you, you’ve made such a habit of it you’re not sure why you bother setting one. You read somewhere about how cold showers at the start of the day help wake your mind, could be total bullshit but for some reason you believe it works— they’re the longest 2 minutes of your day. Being a private school teacher, the attire on school grounds tends to lean more conservative than your ‘normal life uniform’ of sundresses, distressed jeans and comfy band tees, but it makes for a quick selection of dark slacks and a comfortable top.

The coffee machine has already run through its cycle by the time shoes are on and your school tote is securely placed on your shoulder. Grabbing your favorite coffee mug that reads “Let It Gogh”, a gift from a student last year, you fill it with an adequate amount of coffee and a splash of cream before you're out the door.

The local bakery is your only stop before work, offering a good selection of breakfast sandwiches, bagels, and an enticing selection of donuts— you may or may not add one to your order of an egg and cheese sandwich some mornings.

You tend to breeze through your class preparation before the bells ring for the start of school.

The day's lesson plan already looked over, worksheets separated and ready for the students, and the whiteboard cleaned and daily tasks written out— you find it helps deter your students from having to ask “what are we doing today?” more than necessary.

There’s usually a good 30 minutes of quiet before the first student arrives, and if there’s no need for you elsewhere on campus, you take the time to read your latest book you picked up from Bart’s Books and hope you can get through a good amount of it the short time you have.

Like clockwork, your students trickle in with their ‘good mornings’ and vibrant stories about their world.

Some parents opt for a quick ‘drop and go’, while others linger a bit in the back of the class until you’re ushering them out when the bell rings. You enjoy the parent interaction. It’s usually spent answering homework questions or sharing upcoming events happening in the class, with the occasional non-school related discussions when Diem swings by with Wren— you both getting caught up in some story that is not really relevant to anything school related.

There’s a quick flash of a familiar little face, Wren placing her purple backpack on its assigned hook, then running back to where you’re standing at your desk.

“My Uncle Dude brought me today!”

“Your Uncle Dude?” Diem hadn’t mentioned not being able to bring Wren this morning, and you’ve never heard of this “Dude” person before.

“Yeah! He’s a movie star!!” Her little frame is buzzing with excitement, not able to stand still as she bounces on the balls of her feet. Before you’re able to question her further, she zips off towards her table, waving to someone over your shoulder. “Byyyyye Uncle Dude!!! See you later!!”

You’d been so wrapped up in your brief conversation with Wren, you hadn’t noticed the man standing at the door to your classroom.

He doesn’t seem to notice you staring as he leans against the door, watching Wren getting herself situated with her fellow classmates.

Dieter Bravo. Or at least you think it is. No it definitely is.

The images of your first encounter with him flood your mind. You’re not really sure what you expected when Diem said he was clean and sober now, but you definitely didn’t expect to find him attractive on any level.

He looks healthy and like he might actually sleep regularly, his eyes seemingly less sunken in from what you can see with his glasses perched perfectly on his face. His hair slightly shorter and still a little bit of a mess but purposefully, it seems to suit him though.

Your eyes roam a bit further down, noticing he seemed to have traded his disheveled clothes for a more put together yet laid back style. A white t-shirt under a black blazer that seems far too formal for school drop off and a snug pair of dark wash jeans.

You shouldn’t be ogling him like this, but your brain is having a hard time controlling itself.

“Hello?”

You must have zoned out pretty hard because you didn’t realize he was standing so close now, and attempting to get your attention.

“Oh— H-hi! Sorry, I was lost in thought there for a second.” You can feel your face heating up, trying to get your thoughts together.

“Hi, I’m Wren’s teacher—“

“I’m Dieter, Wren’s Uncle—“

You both attempt to introduce yourselves, speaking at the same time, hands knocking into each other awkwardly before properly situating for a shake.

Heat begins to rise in your body, you’re completely flustered by his subdued energy and the way he’s looking at you with his soft brown eyes.

“Sorry— you first, please.”

“I’m Dieter, Wren’s Uncle. Diem asked if I could drop her off, said she already had it called into the front office.”

“Yes— yes! Sorry, I must have not looked over my notes thoroughly this morning and missed that message.”

“I like your mug.” Pointing to your Van Gogh mug you forgot you were holding, he laughs as he reads the message on the front.

As if you didn’t know what was already on it, you instinctively lift the mug to view it, like it was your first time seeing it.

“T-thanks, a student gave it to me last year and it’s kind of become my favorite one to use for school, I’ll be sad if something ever happens to it.” You internally cringe at your tendency to over share, words just aimlessly falling from your mouth, trying to mask your nervousness.

“Keep it safe then. Anyways— I’m an actor, as Wren so kindly informed you. I normally live down in LA when I’m not shooting movies, but I’m—I’m taking some time off, no movies or anything at the moment, going to spend a few months with my sister and Wren, help out however I can.”

Ah! There it is, the “I’m an actor” spiel making the attraction you felt towards him flee instantly. While he may be a new cleaned up version of the Dieter Bravo you met a year ago, he’s still just a typical Hollywood actor who likes to talk about himself at any chance he can get. Having had your fair share of run-ins with actors before, they’re all the same as far as you’re concerned— his career holds zero significance to you in any way.

Releasing a heavy sigh as you remember Diem’s plea to be on your best behavior, you school your annoyance at his mentioning of it.

But unbeknownst to you, he can sense your lack of interest in what he’s saying and decides his introduction is over.

Thankfully, you’re literally and figuratively saved by the bell.

“Well, I better let you get to your class then.”

“Yeah— I’m sure I’ll see you around Mr. Bravo. Have a great day.”

You turn towards your desk hastily placing your mug down in exchange for a stack of worksheets, then making your way to the front of the class to get your lesson started.

“1-2-3, eyes on me! Good morning everyone! Please get a pencil while I pass these papers out.”

Dieter stands in the doorway, observing your interactions with your students, a stark contrast to the coldness you’d given him at the end of your conversation.

The rest of the day flew by once it started, the short interaction with Dieter unfortunately flitted through your mind more than you'd have liked it to. But you didn’t let your aversion towards him have any effect on your day.

After closing up your class and dropping off attendance sheets in the front office, you made your way home, looking forward to an evening of drinks and gossip.

A quick change out of your school clothes into some jeans, T-shirt and flip-flops, you filled your canvas tote with a chilled bottle of white wine and the cheeses you’d told Diem you’d bring over.

Being that it’s roughly a 5 minute walk from your house to Diem’s. The neighborhood is quiet most days, giving you a chance to really enjoy the ambiance of everyone’s front gardens and a few neighborly ‘Hello’s’ as you stroll down the sidewalk.

Nearing Diem’s house, noticing her car in the driveway, a sense of relief washes over you at the thought of Dieter being out and the chance of running into him would be slim. You were ready to unwind for the evening.

Front door unlocked, you let yourself in— both of you exchanging keys early on in your friendship in the off chance there was an emergency or one of you showed up to a locked door.

Hearing Diem rustling around in her pantry, not hearing your arrival, you decide to start unpacking your tote and announce your presence.

“You have no idea how much I need this tonight Diem!”

Not hearing a response from her, you continue placing things on her counter and continue to spill to her.

“Also! Would have been nice to have a heads up that your brother would be dropping Wren off— was not prepared for that. But what a difference a year makes, he looks good, definitely was attracted to him for a split second— sorry I know you don’t want to hear that, but honestly such a difference from my first interaction with him being when I was yelling at him for being strung out in your bathroom.”

Still no word from her as you open the bottle of wine and unwrap the cheeses in preparation for the evening.

“You’d be so proud of me too! I was on my best behavior despite how much I was annoyed with listening to him talk about himself— Hey, did you happen to get those crackers with the figs and olives?? I grabbed that honey goat cheese that we like to eat with them.”

The silence carries on from the pantry. No more movement. No sign of Diem.

“Diem? You okay? Hey, I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have mentioned your brother being attractive— and I honestly was really nice to him. I mean, at least I think I was.”

You can hear Diem finally making her way to join you in the kitchen.

Only when you look up, prepared to give her a big welcoming smile, your face immediately fades into a look of surprise when you realize it’s not Diem at all— it’s her brother, Dieter.

“Diem’s not home.”

“Oh fuck—”

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #pedro pascal #sweet creature series #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

357 notes · View notes

the-thursday · 7 months

Text

Hello everyone, this post was long overdue, and finally, prompted by our beloved Howls also leaving, it's time for me to rip off the bandaid as well.

I would also like to announce a sort of departure from Ranger's apprentice fandom.

I do not know how many from RA fandom era from few years back are still here but I assume mostly newer blogs keep up with this account.

Take a lil history walk with me, if you will. I joined this fandom around 2017-18. I was very active around here, posting all kinds of stuff, fics, takes, incorrect quotes, art and whatnot. I made many friends with whom I had a great time and I am happy and honoured that I am friends with some of them till this day. Fandom became the second home to me as things hadn't been exactly easy irl and maybe I fixated on it too much, but gods know I loved this place so much. And I wish for everyone to experience this happiness and just as I made friends who became a significant part of my life, I wish that for you as well. Being surrounded by amazing and wonderful people and sharing similar interests is one of the most pure joyous feelings in this world.

As 2020-2021 rolled around, some of you know that things in my life picked up a harsh pace and I started to drift away. In 2021 I left the fandom because of that and unpleasant things with one of the people here. It was one of the most gut wrenching decisions I had made.

In 2022, I started gradually getting worse, but also had the courage to come back at the end of the year. I felt happy and welcomed and I am so grateful to everyone who made it happen, who supported me and gave me another breath. My mental health kept getting worse but I wasn't alone and that has been everything to me.

Now it's about a little more than a year since I've been back and again, I've met wonderful amazing people who I am happy and honoured to call friends. I don't regret coming back and I am happy I did, however I think it's time for me to go again. And below, I hope to explain why.

Like I said, I've been getting worse. Last autumn and this winter have been very difficult for me and I had to rethink some priorities, as life is going on the time left for me to invest in fandoms is getting thinner and thinner. Unfortunately, among them, isn't keeping up with this fandom. With my next words I hope not to insult anyone. The truth is, I don't find enjoyment in the fandom and content itself anymore, or more like, as much as I used to. I don't exactly vibe with posts for roughly the past half a year and I don't mean this in negative way, I just think it's for me to move on. All of the new people that I've seen have wonderful content and while I don't exactly vibe like I used to, I can see that you're having fun and that's important! People come and go and I do wish all the newcomers and seniors who are still here to have a great time, but I don't think I have energy, capacity and vibes to be part of it anymore. As you know, my blog has been very much inactive for a long time, aside from dumping my dumb sketches or reblogging something here and there. And rather than letting it rot, I'd like to cleanly move on. Anyhow, on self deprecating note, since really it's not like I've been someone prominent I don't think this is a loss to the fandom and this makes it easier for me.

So to summarise, my leaving is about personal things, my life moving and the fact I don't have the mental capacity or motivation to actively keep up.

So what does this mean? I won't be posting RA related stuff on this blog anymore. This blog will turn into a neutral main blog and I'll create one side blog for art that I hope to continue to make and maybe one blog dedicated to the work of Brandon Sanderson.

However, it doesn't mean that I am not up to goof around about RA anymore, however this will be done in DMs. If I sometimes get to draw and post RA related art, it shall be posted on my new art blog with RA tag. However, I don't think there's a high probability of public RA art from me anymore, because 1) need to move on and 2) I have a very strong and maybe confrontational opinion about art in this fandom that has given me a bad taste and discouraged me from enjoying making it and posting it. I won't go into details because I don't want to sour this post for myself and for y'all with it.

I want to thank this fandom for everything it has been for me and for everyone and I wish y'all some happy fandoming!

Yours only,

The Ranger Thursday 11

#rangers apprentice #final goodbye

58 notes · View notes

voltronisanobsession · 15 days

Note

Hii, sorry if you aren't willing to write for Voltron anymore. But I discovered your blog cause of the name, so I thought why not try? So here is one of my yandere ideas.

Yandere Voltron with isekaid reader? Basically, the reader was from real life, till they died. Either by truck-chan, or to a disease. But given their life was already very shitty, they didn't really care much. At least. Till the reader wakes up in their favorite show. Not as a main protagonist, or not even as a side character in one of the many episodes. Nah, the reader simply wakes up as an unknown character on some random planet. A planet that hasn't isn't a part of the Garla Empire, and reader paln to kept it that way. Eventually, Voltron starts to get on the move, and main characters meet reader. Except, reader doesn't really realized that they are now the main character of the story. So despite, being very perceptive of everyone and everything, they some how don't know that the characters are becoming yandere. One by one.

Again, sorry if you don't write about Voltron anymore, if you want you can ignore this completely. I just thought you might want to hear the idea. Don't let the Karens bite you, fight them off with the power of the shows you like if needed, and remember to take care.

Yandere Voltron with Isekaid!Reader

OMG STOOOPPPP I LOVE THIS SMMM!!!! AND THIS BEING A YANDERE ASK?? It's like all those batfam fics i read, i'm so happy you thought of this. I will always write for voltron, don't worry pookie

This might be long, hope you enjoy😅

A series of very much unfortunate events, readers life goes from crap to ok to crap again. Readers death was very short and brief on their end. In your world, Voltron was just a silly little show that you watched to get away from reality, a show you loved so dearly. So never did you imagine to be isakei'd into that same very world.

I like to think this was caused due to voltron traveling through different dimensions, like that one Altean reality. Kind of like an event that perfectly aligned, readers death and them escaping the reality.

Of course at first reader doesn't know where the HELL they are. Exploring this new place, its not hard to convince yourself you miraculously made it to heaven with how beautiful everything was. But it isn't long until they find the residents of this strange world. You live a good and easy life the weeks after your arrival as the townspeople openly accepted you into their world.

Reader has many similarities to these aliens, yet its very obvious that you take on a more humanoid appearance compared to them. Perhaps you share a similar skin tone, like green or blue. Maybe your eyes are the same shade as theirs. Despite this, your physical appearance is more human than alien without a doubt.

Reader only knows they're in the Voltron universe due to how often the townspeople talk about the Galra and Voltron rescuing imprisoned planets. Like I can imagine reader immediately jumping into someone's conversation to get more info, only for them to get weird looks

"Galra? Voltron?! Like from the show?? They're real?"

*Cue confused faces*

"Show? Um, I don't believe they're based off a show. They've been doing a lot of good for the universe!"

Its easy to put two and two together, but have no fear! Reader, being SMARTTT, already knows that they're in the Voltron universe. And if anything happens to the plot causing it to go astray from the og, it'll most likely have devastating consequences, so its a good thing that they're stuck on this unknown planet!

Especially one they don't remember ever being on the show!

Until some divine intervention wrecks that very idea one day with a giant mechanical lion falling from the sky.

You make sure to keep your distance from whatever paladin is staying in the village. It's not hard to do so with how many people lurk the streets to see a paladin of Voltron

But of course nothing ever goes Isekei'd!Reader's way when they bump into the one person they've been avoiding. It's as if time literally stops as they're eyes meet.

DUN DUUNNN! SHIRO! (My mans😍)

He's surprised to see someone almost like him after seeing all the townspeople's appearances. Shiro's seen some pretty wacky looking aliens so its almost like a slap in the face to find someone so human in the village.

Before he can even say anything though, you quite literally run away from him, leaving the black paladin in a state of confusion and curiosity. And since you're running AWAY from him, he figures you probably know the reason why his lion crash landed on this specific planet when it was fine before.

Cue to you trying to outrun him. Emphasis on TRYING. Cuz there's no way you could ever outrun him.

Once he catches you, its safe to say you're now permanently apart of their story. You, however, fail to realize that. It's hard to not reveal everything to the man in front of you, but some things may or may not have slipped out your mouth.

"HELLO STRANGE PALADIN! Welcome to our, um, planet? Uh, if you could get off of me Shiro, that would be amazing cuz I currently am freaking out right now!

"Keith is probably looking for you so get that black cat working and get outta here haha!"

With all of readers rambling and bad avoidance, Shiro can't shake off a growing feeling in him. Was it endearment? Pity, annoyance? Protectiveness? Possessiveness? Shaking the dark thought quickly, the man already knows you know more than what you're letting on.

"How do you know Keith?"

"Ummm we're cousins?" You're internally smacking yourself as the man in front of you raises an eyebrow.

SKIPPING SOME STUFF CUZ THIS IS GETTING A LITTLE LONG SO LETS JUMP TO THE YANDERE SHITTTTT😝😝

Being introduced to the team, they all seem to be drawn to you. Like there's some invisible force dragging them to your very being. It's sort of like an inner battle for them, allow themselves to get dragged into whatever this is willingly, or fight against it and fall harder into it.

Reader is kind of their unofficial prisoner, but not really a prisoner? So while it is very cool to meet some of their comfort characters, they accept the fact that they are now living in their world. They have no idea what the others are feeling or thinking, so they're kind of on their own from now on.

Some paladins I think that would willingly allow this divine obsession take place in their hearts are Shiro, Lance, and Allura.

Shiro was the first to find them, so it only makes sense that his obsession would take place first. He would mistake this new feeling as a need to protect. If reader is younger than him, then get used to being treated like a child. He doesn't mean to coddle you, but with how you seem to have ZERO survival skills and an air of childlike amazement at everything, he can't help but want to keep that to himself.

Lance is an easy going person, and very open to meeting new people. He's the easiest to fall into his yandere tendencies. He's basically a puppy whenever reader is around. He doesn't see anything wrong with his feelings ignoring how twisted they get the longer he's around them. You capture his attention as you don't necessarily push his overbearingness away like he's used to with everyone is. It's not like you can with how he's practically glued himself to your side.

Allura is a bit more on the umm condescending side? I don't want to say condescending, but she does feel like she has to help you learn space life. She enjoys teaching you about the ship and her planets history, of all the planets they've visited. Allura might actually see herself above you as she believes she holds more experience and knowledge of the universe than you do due to your previously mentioned childlike amazement. I think she might even see herself as your teacher, a master, and you her student. Little does she know that you are much familiar with the things she speaks of.

Now for the paladins that would be hesitant in the growing obsession, Hunk, Pidge and Keith.

Hunk is naturally a wary person when it comes to new people. Especially if he feels the vibes are off. I mean, here comes in a new person on the team that happens to know a little bit too much about them, about him! Like how do you know his name before meeting him? He's hesitant on being near you but seeing how kind you are to Lance of all people causes his a rift in his feelings. Maybe you aren't a bad person after all? He'd start growing a bit more protective of you each day the longer you guys hangout. Is this a good thing or a bad thing; only time will tell.

Pidge is standoffish to anyone who seems to know more than what they're letting on. She can tell it on you face when you look at her with a sense of familiarity despite her never having met you. She tries her best to block off the feelings of wanting to get closer to you, to hear you laugh at her jokes the same way you do with Lance and Hunk. There's not much she can do (does she even fight it anymore at this point) when you begin approaching her, mentioning some of her interests to continue talking to her. You seem to know exactly what to say to lower her guard, and she honestly doesn't know how to feel about that.

Keith is a double edged sword tbh. He'd be hesitant to get near you with these unfamiliar feelings flooding him. So he would either awkwardly get used to your prodding or he'd be quite aggressive with your presence. If we're talking about earlier season Keith, than I think he would most likely be the latter. He'd try interrogating you when know one's around. He'd try to get you to admit to something, anything to confirm his growing emotions are of suspicion instead of interest. He's immediately conflicted though once you turn emotionally at his barad of questions and accusations. He apologizes in a quiet voice and leaves, but one things for sure. He never wants you to look at him with the same fear you just did moments before.

Reader is just trying to get the plot to continue because hellooo?? The universe needs saving??

Reader knows EVERYTHING about the show and about the people they are now personally familiar with. However, they fail to realize the dark turn of events their presence brought to the team.

Sure they're acting a little unusual to how they normally would be on the show but it's not that big of a deal, right? Right?

Unrelated, but can you imagine how they would react to finding out reader is from another universe?? Even if you were to reassure them that you wouldn't be able to go back anyways, their paranoia would skyrocket.

If you were to die in their universe the same way you died in your universe, there's a chance that you'll get transported to another world! A world where you'll live without them. A world they'll never be able to reach. A world without them.

That thought alone terrifies them, so that's honestly when the true horror kicks in. BUT THAT'S FOR A DIFFERENT TIME!!!!

Everyone is wary of you at first, but with the strange emotions growing in them, they can't deny that your presence brings them an overwhelming sense of peace.

Their possessiveness will definitely set some alarms in your head but you stay in denial. You don’t want to believe that you may have, irreversibly, changed the Voltron universe.

A big question to think about is if you're gonna regret being isekai'd into this universe because they won't stay sweet for long.

26 notes · View notes

geek-fashionista · 5 months

Text

A Business Proposal

A little while ago, I posted an interest poll for a series I'm planning. Since many of you responded that you were at least curious, I come today with... limited information. Limited, because the novel version of this series is currently being read by a literary agent.

But I've always felt that this story was too big to be contained in book format. Under a traditional publisher, I would lose the rights to my own property, so if they didn't want to see more of it, that's that for myself and the characters and the readers who fall in love with the characters. Self-publishing is harder. It needs to be a collaborative effort between writer and readers if it's going to succeed. Thus, I turn to the only audience I have with my "business proposal."

(Note: If you've been around long enough, you might recognize some of these characters from posts that have since been deleted.)

~*~

Working Title: Trainwrecks Length of Series: 8 seasons Length of Seasons: 24 episodes, 12 main and 12 bonus, posted biweekly. (Each season will last three months.) Episode Length: 1000-2000 words Setting: Seattle, Washington and its surrounding towns, between the years 2004-2015 Genre: Contemporary, YA to New Adult

Trainwrecks follows a diverse group of six best friends from high school to their mid-twenties, with all the romance, heartache, college and career decisions, and confusion that entails. Our main cast:

A bubbly, fat Puerto Rican girl with a passion for art and matchmaking (Ages: 14-25)

Her adopted, Argentinian brother, who is adept at music and pretty much nothing else (Ages: 16-27)

Their childhood best friend, an Asian/British/American guy who hides years of trauma behind a flamboyant and overbearing personality (Ages: 19-30)

His ill-tempered younger sister, who has just moved back to the United States from London after their parents divorced fifteen years ago (Ages: 14-25)

An equally bad-tempered Hawaiian/French guy with a love of photography and a hatred of bullies (Ages: 14-25)

The coolest, most beautiful Chinese girl you'll ever meet, who is fighting a sex addiction after a history of abuse (Ages: 16-27)

Main episodes will be written in story format. Bonus episodes will be in epistolary format: MSN chats, text messages, letters, blog posts, and eventually Twitter posts. Y'know, cuz Twitter didn't exist in 2004.

The main series (8 seasons, 24 episodes each) will be completely free to read and delivered directly to your email inbox. There will be character artwork, a bio page to keep track of everyone, a tie-in Tumblr account for memes, Spotify playlists for each character, and helpful things like family trees and relationship charts as well. Each season will have its own key artwork---cover art, if you will.

In addition to the completely free story, there will be extra content for paid subscribers and Patreon patrons, including but not limited to:

Sneak previews/early updates

Side stories

Back stories

Character and universe development notes

Entire AUs with different relationships or different genres

Money raised will either go towards paying artists or towards my student loans. And if the series gets really popular, I intend to launch a Kickstarter for physical copies that will include all the artwork and maybe some bonus items as well.

That's my business proposal. If you like it or have questions, comment on this post, scream in my inbox, chat me---do whatever but do it vocally because I need to know you're out there. And then, feel free to follow my Substack for updates.

#original fiction #writing #writeblr #original characters #writing community #writers on tumblr

34 notes · View notes

kdinjenzen · 5 months

Text

Kdin's My Little Blog Along (PART 1)

MLPFiM Eps 1 - 5

So going into things this season, I believe, is the one I thought I remembered the most and had the most memories of.

That ended up being true so far but also not true.

Celestia starts off the series gaslighting everyone by cleverly rewriting history through the acts of a children's storybook.

I really don't understand how anyone can trust her at her word since she's basically PONY GOD and can just live long enough for people to just forget about stuff and then change history herself... but maybe I'm being too meta about this.

Celestia reading the story of Nightmare Moon and then transitioning to it being Twilight Sparkle is a great way to introduce her as Celestia's student.

Then immediately Twilight begins treating everyone, especially Spike, like garbage. I legit remember Twilight being a complete jerk in the first bits of things but she's pretty trash as a person/pony. It's established that she's been ignoring everyone around her for a long time and that people keep trying but they don't know why they bother anymore.

Celestia tells Twilight to touch grass and kicks her out to Ponyville where Twilight continues to be absolutely WAY more rude than I remember to everyone she interacts with... especially Spike.

The show moves way faster than I remember and by the time we meet everyone Nightmare Moon has already shown up and the first episode ends. Celestia was supposed to be there and just kinda no-showed, we have no idea why she never showed up to the party but likely because she knew her sister was gonna be there and Celestia is very much "lol not my problem" and is making Twilight do it.

Part 2 is basically "Part 1 again, but more focused and at night" - heavily reinforcing that Twilight has problems with people and that everyone who is following her have ELEMENTS about them that make them SUPER GREAT PEOPLE/PONIES.

Pinkie's "Laughter Song" is our first proper in show song and I remember it word for word which says the song is a great earworm and easy for folks to remember. PERFECT for a kids show and Pinkie is already racing to the front as "best pony" of the bunch with her mannerisms.

We get through the trials of "Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy could have easily got everyone through these with no problems" quickly and it's time for Nightmare Moon showdown 2.

SURPRISE the ponies are the elements of harmony because of the things they literally said on the way here but also TWILIGHT is the element of "MAGIC" ... which I swore was not magic when I first watched it, but I suppose that's a "it's magic...al friendship" that happens later.

One giant mega death rainbow later, Nightmare Moon has her evil blasted away and Celestia shows up fashionably late and is like "oh good it's over, anyway apologize to me Luna" and shock - Nightmare Moon is her sister whom she banished to the fucking moon and Luna apologizes.

A THOUSAND YEARS, CELESTIA! THATS A LONG TIME TO IMPRISON YOUR SISTER ON THE MOON!

Anyway, episode ends with Celestia banishing moving Twilight to Ponyville so she can stay away from her and give Celestia some fucking piece and quiet for three seconds learn more about friendship through her new friends.

Which immediately leads into Episode 3, "The Ticket Master" in which Celestia - WHO KNOWS TWILIGHT HAS 6 FRIENDS (I'm including Spike) - sends Twilight two tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala and says to bring a friends.

I like to believe that Celestia is either doing this just to fuck with Twilight or that she assumes Twilight is so annoying to deal with that she lost most of the other pony's friendship after that whole Nightmare Moon thing.

Everyone has their "VERY GOOD REASONS" for wanting the tickets and... the reasons kinda suck, but Twilight assures the audience that they are VERY GOOD REASONS and spends the rest of the episode yelling at everyone to stop doing her favors to butter her up which becomes the main pain point the episode.

Pinkie just outright says she's doing things to get the ticket, everyone else lies about it (Fluttershy does say the truth but only after Angel, her bunny, kicks her for lying). We also get two quick not-really-full songs from Pinkie again in this one and she's maintaining her lead as "Best Pony" so far.

Everything is solved when Twilight sends the tickets back and tells Celesia "I CAN'T PICK BETWEEN MY FRIENDS" and Celestia sends back a "Lol just say you need more tickets, stop being so extra" and sends everyone a ticket. Episode 3 ends.

Episode 4 sees the intro of Big Macintosh who takes the "Best Side Pony" slot immediately by being both reasonable in explanation, reasoning, and level of directness in dealing with issues. This will change later when he gets his own episodes, but for now he's the level headed thinker and basically says Applyjack can't handle the entire Applebucking season herself after he had an injury.

Applejack burns out faster than a pre-transition "gifted child" in high school and spends the rest of the episode in a daze between asleep/awake and starts doing incredibly dangerous or downright mean things.

Eventually, after days of pressure and constant asking, Twilight convinces her to ask for help and Applejack breaks and agrees.

During the ending "Dear Princess Celestia" letter we see everyone helping and then TWILIGHT BASICALLY DOING ALL THE WORK IN ONE MAGICAL MOVE AND WHAT THE FUCK? She literally just... could do all the work herself. We'll see this "heavily relying on magic" thing bite her on the ass later but there's literally no reason that she shouldn't have just talked to Big Mac and explained things. YES that defeats the purpose of Applejack learning the lesson but also holy fuck she almost died so many times this episode. Episode 4 ends.

Episode 5 is "Griffon the Brush-off" which I thought was WAY WAY WAAAAAAY longer into the season but no, I'm wrong.

The lesson in this episode is "if your friend is hanging with someone who is an asshole there's not a lot you can do about it, but you can control your own actions and how you treat people" which is a fine lesson except Gilda the Griffon starts outright antagonistic and kinda just... awful. So Pinkie is fully right to call out this shit to Rainbow and I think the lesson here is a little off.

Pinkie is helpful and kind the entire episode, constantly giving the benefit of the doubt, and ends up treated like garbage and SHE apparently is the one to learn the lesson this episode... not Rainbow Dash.

Episode ends with Twilight learning how to prank people because of the "pranks" happening all episode between Gilda and Rainbow (who's pranks are wrongly attributed to Pinkie) - she sends Celestia invisible ink and Celestia gets pranked ... I feel like Celestia takes this personally and will be making the remaining 200+ episodes a living hell for Twilight.

ALL IN ALL... first five episodes are still great, Twilight is way more of a rude bitch than I remember and I think she gets better later on but I also don't remember her being THAT BAD over all and I was wrong.

Voice performances ACROSS THE BOARD are great, lots of wonderful visual gags, and lots of charm throughout the entire thing. The animation just looks great and aged very well.

Twilight, both in story and voice performances, is the weakest link. The performances and characters of the other Main 6 are carrying this show so far. END OF PART 1

#MyLittleBlogAlong

25 notes · View notes