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dark-mnjiro · 2 years ago

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unholy :: tokyo revengers oneshot

author’s note: so - it’s finally here. my three some collab piece for @/sweetbbyshion collab. time to remove another notch off the wip list so I can add another!

warnings: sano shinichiro x afab!reader x imaushi wakasa, nsfw, smut, reader is identified as female (they/them pronouns used), threesome, explicit sexual content, explicit language, slut shaming, name calling, hair pulling, spanking, choking, blowjob, throat fucking/face fucking, edging (m!receiving), unprotected sex, breeding, meandom!waka, switch!shin, throat bulge, throat fucking, swallowing, overestimation, reader is mentioned exotic dancer, casual/hookup relationship with wakasa mentioned, smoking mention

collab: sunday spitroast by @sweetbbyshion

“F-fuck.”

Panting, Shinichiro’s dark gaze fell on the sinful sight in front of him. His hips bucked forward, earning a desperate whine from you as you felt his cock move further into your mouth. His hand tangled in your hair before gripping your tresses, tugging you further down his length. Your tearful gaze met him as another whine vibrated against his cock. You could tell he was almost spent… You managed to pull away, gulping air before your eyes darkened.

“Not yet,” you told him.

A shaky breath fell from Shinichiro’s lips as his fingers moved through his damp hair. “Y-You can’t just-!”

Shushing him, your hands moved back to his erection, stroking him as your tongue moved from the base to his leaky top. Shinichiro practically winced at the stimulation as he tried to keep his hips from bucking. It felt as though this edging had been going on for hours.

“They’re great, right?”

Shinichiro felt his face burn as he opened one eye to catch his best friend standing behind you. “Waka… what the fuck?”

“What?” he drawled. “You can’t hog one of my booty calls all to yourself.” He paused for a moment before playfully smacking your ass. “On your knees, princess.”

A giggle bubbled from your throat as you sat up on your knees before playfully wiggling your bottom for him. The metal from his belt unclasped before you heard his pants hitting the floor.

“That’s it,” he teased. “Pay attention to my friend, princess.”

It was hard to recall when the lines between being Wakasa’s favorite exotic dancer and booty call at two am began to blur. You were far from his only “one”, but you had to admit - you did enjoy all the attention you received. Especially when Wakasa would offer your body up to his closest friends. Shinichiro, being your newfound favorite…

Your tongue ran along the tip of Shinichiro’s erection, earning a groan to rumble from his chest. “Shin,” you cooed. “You sound so pretty. Do you like this?”

His face flushed once again as you took his length into your mouth again. “Y-yes,” he managed to say in between pants.

Moaning, you swirl your tongue around his girth before feeling Wakasa's hardened length begin to push into your dripping core thanks to the constant edging of Wakasa’s innocent friend. You could tell by how flustered he was, he didn’t get around much (not only that but Wakasa had told you the horror stories of Shinichiro’s constant rejections).

“Look up,” Wakasa ordered as his hand gathered your hair into his grip before tugging your hair back. “Show him those pretty eyes - it’ll help him cum.”

A whine escaped your throat, causing another groan to escape from Shinichiro. You looked up at him, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. His breathing was becoming erratic before shyly looked back at you. His hips stuttered for a moment before thrusting further into your throat, earning a gag. You steadied your hands against his hips as Wakasa began to thrust into you.

“That’s it,” Wakasa grunted as his pace quickened. “Fucking look at what a slutty girl we got Shin. Fuck… she clenches every time you fucking moan.”

You managed to whine, embarrassed by Wakasa's words as you continued to look up at Shinichiro, wishing he would stop holding back.

“Oh come on man,” Wakasa groaned. “Fuck their face already. They’re begging you. Look at’em!”

He was right.

It was hard to admit with Shinichiro’s cock in your mouth, but Wakasa knew your body better than anyone. And he could tell, you wanted Shinichiro. A strangled whine tumbled from your throat as your grip on Shinichiro’s hips tightened. You were begging, almost pleading now. While you knew Shinichiro was fairly inexperienced with sex. But, you knew from personal experience with men that a bit of edging seemed to flip a switch in their brain, but you just hadn’t reached that peak yet. It seemed Wakasa had other plans to move things along a bit faster.

“Fuck.”

It wasn’t Wakasa’s voice.

Shinichiro grabbed Wakasa’s hand, tossing it away earning a chuckle from his best friend as his thrusts into you quickened again. Instead, Shinichiro’s hand found its place tangled in your locks again before forcing you to look up at him. Your body shuddered from the delicious mix of pain and pleasure from his sudden dominant energy. He pushed his cock further into your mouth before his other hand moved to your throat, encircling just enough as he pushed his length just enough to feel it under his grip.

“Right there,” Shinichiro growled. “Can you feel me right there?”

A desperate cry of pleasure vibrated against his cock before he pulled out just enough before unleashed a mind-numbing pace.

“About fucking time you joined in, dumbass,” Wakasa countered before slapping your ass again. The tip of Wakasa’s cock began to hit your g-spot causing the tears in the corner of your eyes to start falling down your cheeks while Shinichiro's pace quickened.

Twirling your tongue around Shinichiro’s cock, your eyes rolled back while pleasure began to wash over your body. You were nearing your breaking point as Wakasa struck your ass again, sensing your walls clenching around him.

“What a dirty slut you are,” he growled. “Gonna cum all over my cock already? You like my friend shoving his cock down your throat huh? Fucking slut. Fucking tell’em Shin. Tell’em what a slut they are.”

Shinichiro's breathing at this point was erratic as his gaze never broke away from yours this entire time. His climax was coming closer - he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. He thought, why did you have to be so cute?

“Fuck baby,” he groaned in between pants. “I’m so close… I-I-”

Wakasa bucked into you harder. “Spit it out!”

Shinichiro shot his friend a frustrated glare before his gaze softened when he returned his attention to you. “I’m going to cum in your mouth,” he managed to finally say. “Don’t swallow until I say.”

Your eyes widened as you felt heat creeping up the back of your neck. But you couldn’t stop yourself from nodding, wanting anything more than to make him happy. Shinichiro’s hips stuttered again before he grunted and shot his cum into your mouth. Whining, you forced yourself not to swallow until he let you.

“…nnngh-show me…”

Your mouth fell open as Shinichiro took in the lewd sight of his cum pooled on your tongue.

“Swallow…”

Immediately, you followed his order before your body finally succumbed to the growing pleasure inside of you. The coil snapped in your gut before you cried out as pleasure washed over your body.

“Fuck!” Wakasa growled as he felt you clench around him again from your orgasm. His hips slammed into you one last time before releasing inside you with a grunt. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, you collapsed onto the floor, panting.

Wakasa smirked as he watched his seed start to leak out of you before glancing up at Shinichiro. “Want to go again?” He asked. “This time I’ll let you fuck’em.”

“…let’s give them a break first.”

Wakasa scoffed. “Fucking fine. You’re no fun.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dumbass. They’re almost passed out.”

“Oh please,” he snorted. “I’ve fucked them right to-”

“I get it jackass.”

Wakasa merely smirked before picking you up and laying you on the couch and throwing a blanket over your body to rest. He glanced at his friend over his shoulder. “Wanna go for a smoke then?”

“Fuck yes.”

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boldlyvoid · 3 years ago

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the guy at the rock show

she/they reader x Spencer Reid

request for @boba-king-iroh ♥︎

summary: Y/N lost their parents when they were 17, finding a new home and solace in Penelope Garcia and taking the Garcia name. They're the top forensic specialist in D.C, in a band and they drive a motorcycle... not to mention they are madly in love with the cute doctor who works with their sister.

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions, friends to lovers, idiots in love, PDA, secret relationships

word count: 5666

a/n: there will be a smutty part 2 eventually because I can't not do that

THE PLAYLIST THAT GOES WITH THEIR SETLIST IF YOU WANT TO LISTEN WHILE YOU READ

Read on Ao3 here!

Taking Garcia’s last name wasn’t something they had to think hard about, Penelope basically raised them; she was like a sister, a best friend and a mother, even a bit of a fairy godmother to Y/N.

They met when Y/N was 17, they were sitting at a support group for dead parents in D.C. Right beside the lovely, overly cheerful, always helpful, Penelope Garcia. At first, Y/N couldn’t stand her, wondering how a person like that could be running a group for mourning people, it made her sick.

It wasn’t until she heard Penelope’s story for the first time, knowing how similar it sounded to her own and how, actually, you can take your grief and turn it into something beautiful. After the meeting, they pulled Penelope aside and gave her a big hug and a thank you.

It was the start of a lovely friendship, one Y/N didn’t know they needed until they were smothered in all the love you could possibly imagine.

The age gap between them wasn’t too big, Penelope was 10 years older than them which meant she was always one step ahead of Y/N and full of advice. Be it fashion, boys, girls and everything in between. They bonded in a way that was unbreakable, they were each other's family.

Penelope even helped her get into med school before she eventually switched to forensic science. Taking on the FBI academy, unlike Penelope, and joining the bureau officially. Penelope was there for her every single step of the way, making her career possible. She loved her dearly and wanted Y/N to succeed more than anyone in the world.

Getting to introduce herself to people as Agent Y/N Garcia, not to be confused with technical analyst Garcia, was one of the best feelings in the world.

Not many people ever mistook them, however, for whatever Penelope was, Y/N was the exact opposite.

Y/N preferred all black everything, she didn’t enjoy partying or close contact or the in-your-face-ness of Penelope’s way of life, she loved her band and motorcycle and being alone. They were quote-unquote edgy, not just for effect, but because it was how they felt the most comfortable, it was who they were and they liked it that way.

They were possibly the best Forensic Specialist the FBI had, keeping her in DC for all the most important cases. Helping her avoid Penelope and the BAU team as much as possible. They were great people, she didn’t hate them at all, it was just a lot of energy that they didn’t have to give to 7 other people all day long.

Spencer was the only one she could tolerate. Rather, he was the one she wanted to spend the most time with, even more than Penelope. He understood Y/N in a way others didn’t.

He was also quiet, like them, he didn’t pick on them or call them mini Garcia, baby-baby girl, or infant as some of them started to call her more recently.

He called them Y/N, he talked to them about star trek whenever he was visiting Penny, and he respected their pronouns. Using both she and they interchangeably, when he spoke of them, unlike most people who only used she and her because it made more sense in their small brains.

However, she wasn’t the only one who got teased. Spencer did as well, almost more because he was around the BAU team constantly. She hated hearing them bully him, he didn’t even count it as bullying but it’s basically what it was sometimes.

They put him down, they didn’t clue him in on things, they called out his stims and didn’t let him finish his sentences, especially when it had to do with his hyper-fixations. He was the brightest light in the room and they just picked his brain till he wasn’t useful anymore, before trying to turn out the light. It made Y/N furious.

They got called Mr and misses genius when they were on a scene together, remembering the first time she ever had a case with the BAU which was also the first time she snapped at someone for being mean to Spencer.

Someone asked Spencer a serious question, to which he did his fucking job and answered. Giving as much detail as humanly possible, being the absolute genius he is and should be praised for, only to have Emily poke him in the cheek and say; “wow, he’s so life-like?”

“Well yeah, cause he’s a fucking human who deserves respect from the people who use his brain all day,” Y/N cursed under their breath from the crime scene, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Leaving the sweetest man on earth to find them later and give them a hug. Thanking them for all that they do, and appreciating what he has to offer. That’s when she realized she liked him, more than just the guy who sometimes sleeps on her couch because he’s friends with her sister.

It was difficult being surrounded by men unlike Spencer, specifically the older men in her field who didn’t understand anything outside of money, guns, and violence. The worst part of the job being the politics in the background; the hierarchy and ass-kissing all because she worked in the nation's capital.

They were sure it was probably better in a smaller facility, a local police station where no one knew her and they could finally have some peace and quiet.

But she’d miss Penelope, and Spencer too for that matter.

At first, they’d hide in their room when Penelope brought him over for movie nights or when he crashed on the couch after bringing her home drunk from the bar. In the early days, she worried that he was going to be her new boyfriend, taking all of Penelope’s free time and leaving Y/N with nothing.

But then he started coming over all the time just to hang out, sitting on the couch with nothing to say, being the third wheel while Y/N and Penelope spent time together. For the last 7 years.

Over that time they had many conversations alone, she learned that he was really smart, he was a lot younger than most of the team because he blew through high school by the time he was 13, and he was genuinely the sweetest man in the whole entire world.

One time, Penelope was running late when Spencer showed up at the door with chips and candy, ready to watch his weekly movie with his friend. Only she wasn’t going to make it home in time, and Y/N didn’t want him to have to go back to his apartment all alone.

“You can come in and watch it with me if you wanted to?” She offered, smiling softly. “What was it you picked for tonight?”

“It was Penelope’s night to choose, so you can pick instead if you want?” Spencer offered right back, walking in like he owned the place.

He was more confident now than he was in the beginning, but that was probably because he was 23 and she was 18.

Back then he’d barely look at her and sometimes he’d shake when they made eye contact or when she got drunk and hugged him goodbye after a long night with Penelope. He was like that with Penny in the early days of their friendship too, apparently, so she didn’t feel too bad about it.

He warmed up eventually, making her wait 7 years for him to do something about the growing feelings they both shared.

“You like Marvel movies right?” She bit the inside of her lip as she waited for his answer. Watching him walk around the kitchen for a bowl that he could put his snacks in.

“Yeah they’re great, I haven’t watched past the second Thor, I think the next one is another Captain America?” he’s all smiles as he joins her on the couch, closer than normal, as close as he’d sit with Penelope, but then again she was a cuddler and Y/N wasn’t.

Sometimes Y/N would come out of her room to find Spencer’s head on Penelope’s lap, resting on a pillow as she ran her fingers through his hair to soothe his perfect mind after a long day. A few times she’s walked in on him crying or even sound asleep in her arms. They had a friendship Y/N admired, they were each other's person.

They comforted each other in the exact way they needed it; Penelope giving him the physical touch he craved and he would often compliment her. He was always telling her she was the best and buying her gifts to show his appreciation, calling her the most beautiful and smartest person he knew. He knew that she needed to hear it, needed the reassurance that she was still a good person and he made her believe it.

It made Y/N love him more seeing how much he cared for her sister.

“The winter soldier is the best!” She gushed, sitting close so they could share the chips as she waited for the movie to load up.

He was very quiet when he watched movies, smiling and laughing at the right parts but typically he paid so much attention it was like he was a statue. Y/N spent more time glancing at him than the actual movie.

“Is there something on my face?” Spencer asked, nervous when he noticed her glance at him for the 100th time that night.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she panicked lightly, swallowing quickly before looking away.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I just think you’re fascinating,” she whispered because then she didn’t really say it, and it didn’t really count.

“Oh,” he smiled softly, leaving it at that and forcing his attention back on the movie.

After a while, Spencer started to get even closer. He put the bowl on the coffee table and sat back almost on top of her, reaching an arm behind the couch so that Y/N was right against his side. He had done it with Penelope before, confident in this little living room, almost forgetting it was Y/N beside him.

Y/N rested her hand on his knee, rubbing her thumb over his jeans in a soft little circle as she pretended to watch the movie. More concerned with Spencer’s breathing and the feeling of his hand inching towards their shoulder than anything else.

Then they heard keys at the front door. Pulling away from each other quickly to curl up on opposite sides of the couch and pretend they weren’t just cuddling.

“Hey, you still came!” Penelope cheered, a little drunk from whatever she was doing before.

“I’d never miss a night with the Garcia’s,” Spencer smiled at her, looking calm and collected as ever while Y/N turned bright pink.

“Oh, I love Bucky! Oh my god let me go change and I’ll come watch too!”

That was just the first time they ended up cuddling, certainly not the last.

—

It wasn’t often that Penelope was too busy to spend time with Y/N, rather the contrary. Sometimes Y/N had to beg her to leave her be at certain events. Like when their band was playing at any of the local bars and Penny started inviting everyone she knew to come and watch her sister play.

It was embarrassing, to say the least, but Y/N loved her support.

When Y/N peaked her head out to see the crowd before a show, normally Penelope was sitting in the front with a drink and at least 4 friends, cheering and chanting their name, ready to rock out to their covers.

Tonight she didn’t see Penelope at all, she knew she wouldn’t, Penelope was in London visiting Emily with Derek for the second time in the past year, leaving no one to come to the monthly show Y/N’s band put on, or so she thought.

Spencer came all by himself.

He was sitting in the front, at a table with a bowl of pretzels and a ginger ale, not interested in the drinking or the socializing, just there to support Y/N. It made her feel giddy, like a schoolchild seeing their crush at recess.

It was so nice of him that it gave her butterflies, and normally that didn’t happen. They could go on and play a show in front of ten thousand people and feel nothing, but the second Spencer Reid was there to cheer them on, they were a mess.

“What song are we doing first again?” Y/N asked Evie, their lead singer and best friend outside of work.

“Who are they?”

Y/N was taken aback, “What?”

“You’ve never been nervous, who came to see you?” Evie clarified her question.

“No one, for fuck sake, I thought we left all the profilers at home tonight?” she sighed, shaking the nerves out of their body as they jumped up and down lightly.

They paced back and forth for a few minutes to wear down the nerves but only managing to make herself sweat to death and discard the leather jacket she always wore on stage. She walked in a circle aimlessly, remembering the setlist in their mind and how the spotlights typically made it so they couldn’t see the crowd anyway so it’s not like she could fuck up by making eye contact with him.

And it’s not like it was the first time he had seen her play, Spencer comes every month with Penelope, he liked a lot of the music they covered from when he was an emo teen in university. They’ve bonded over it before sharing albums and records back and forth, but she was still scared shitless at the prospect of him caring about her enough to come alone.

Especially when he hated being in situations like this in the first place.

It was their turn to go on, the manager of the bar gathering them and telling them to go on and so Y/N started walking towards the stage door, only to be pulled back harshly by Evie’s cold hands.

“Don’t forget your sticks, god who do you wanna fuck so bad it makes you this stupid?” She placed the drumsticks in Y/N’s hands, “get it together.”

“Sorry, it’s the guy in the sweater vest, front row,” they whispered in response, putting their head down and heading to the stage before she could tease them about it.

“The Forensic Lyricists are here once again folks!” The Manager introduced them to the crown, “get ready for them to dig up some classics!” Always the same dumb joke before every show.

Opening with crushcrushcrush by Paramore, thank god she remembered, it was an easy song to play as they warmed up and pushed the nerves away. They could play it in their sleep, with their eyes closed, and so that's what they did.

Eyes closed, mouthing the words as the adrenaline of the night took over the anxiety and made them go insane, like most nights. They didn’t need drinks or drugs to feel hyped at most shows, all she needed was a smile from penny and a good luck text from Spencer.

Playing by memory until she felt more confident and then getting into it. “They taped over your mouth, Scribbled out the truth with their lies, your little spies…”

“Crush, crush, crush, crush crush two, three, four!!” Y/N sung backup for each chorus, finally getting into it.

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again.”

They tried their hardest to push the images of that night on the couch with Spencer out of their mind as they sang along, trying to harmonize and cover the backup for Evie as best as she could.

��Let’s be more than this now!”

She always took the bridge, as the drummer and the most passionate one, it only made sense. Y/N always got the crowd on their feet, roaring along as they jumped to the beat.

“Rock and roll, baby, Don't you know that we're all alone now? I need something to sing about. Rock and roll, hey! Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? I need something to sing about! Rock and roll, hey! Don't you know, baby, we're all alone now? Give me something to sing about!”

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, let’s be more than, noOoo!”

She had a crush on Spencer fucking Reid and one now noticed as they tried their hardest to focus on the words when all that came to mind right now was his body heat and how good he smelled and how nice it was that he came to support them.

“Nothing compares to, a quiet evening alone! Just the one, two! of us who's counting on! That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, Let’s be more than this, more than thiiiiiis, oooooooh, mmmmmmhmmm,” she sang the ending of the song along with Evie, their harmony sounding more perfect than any performance before.

Critics always said the performance is better when you mean the words you’re singing. With that, they accepted their crush on Doctor Spencer Reid after 7 long years of knowing him. They pushed through nerves so that they could go and see him after and do something about it, now that Penelope wasn’t home to tease her for it.

Leading right into Dear Maria, Count Me In. Their bass player, Kat taking the lead for her favourite song. Being an all ‘girl’ punk band was her idea, and now they all enjoyed taking turns singing their favourite songs in front of mostly strangers, once a month.

Every single song made her think of Spencer in some way as she remembered the rest of the set, it had 5 songs in total and each one included at least one reference to something she knew about Spencer.

It was hard to not think about him while he stood at the edge of the stage with everyone and bopped his head along to the beat, a smile growing on his face as he also noticed the little references to them in the songs.

The Rock Show by Blink182 was going to hit a little too close to home as she sang the words all but to him, making eye contact with him as he moved to the best spot to see them play, much like Penelope would do every time.

She didn’t realize how much this song actually represented her life before tonight, starting to sing her song alone while Spencer watched. Deciding on the spot to dedicate it to him in the most fucking obvious way possible, taking her chances because he must have come for a reason.

“Hanging out behind the club on the weekends. Acting stupid, getting drunk with my best friends, I couldn't wait for the summer and the Warped Tour, I remember that it's the first time that I saw him there!”

Spencer was smiling then, noticing the lyric change as they made eye contact, nodding along as he watched. Genuinely enjoying himself and the show, it was lovely to see. She couldn’t help but smile against the mic as she sang and played. Wondering how his face will change with the next verse she watched him from the corner of her eye.

Her bandmates turning to see her as they played their guitars, nodding in agreement at the lyric change, they knew what she was up to. It wasn’t the first time they used the stage to bring someone home with them.

“He's getting kicked out of school cause he's failing. I’m kinda nervous, cause I’m sure all his friends hate me! He’s the one, he'll always be there, I took his hand and I’ll make it I swear,

“Because I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town, I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!”

Spencer’s smile was priceless, it made them even more confident to sing all the words, wanting him with zero shame, it’s not like anyone who knew him would know about this.

“When we said we were gonna move to Vegas I remember the look your mother gave us 17 without a purpose or direction We don't owe anyone a fuckin’ explanation”

“Black and white picture of him on my wall, I waited for his call, he always kept me waiting, and if I ever got another chance I'd still ask him to dance, because he kept me waiting!”

“I fell in love with the guy at the rock show! He said what? and I told him that I didn't know. He's so cool, gonna sneak in through his window. Everything's better when he's around. Can’t wait until my parent goes out of town,”

“I fell in love with the guy at the rock show!” She had never been this passionate while playing this song in all the years they had played it together.

Her bandmates taking the lead singing, “with the guy at the rock show!”

“I’ll never forget you,” she sang in the middle of their chants, “I’ll never forget you, I’ll never forget you, I’ll never forget tonight, I’ll never forget tonight…”

She shot a wink at him before turning back in her seat to face the drum set the best way. The last two songs were Evie’s and Kat’s, she covered the backup vocals, making the occasional glance towards Spence as she thought of him.

Counting down the minutes till she could go see him.

Come a little closer by cage the elephant, an obvious title with lyrics that would clearly bring every memory of brushed hands against lower backs as they slipped past each other in crowded rooms, lingering as long as possible before they were gone again. Goodnight hugs when Penelope was already asleep and he could hold her a big longer and tighter, resting his head on her shoulder while she rubbed his back and breathed him in. And that night on the couch, not to mention all the mornings she walked in on him sleeping peacefully, brushing the hair out of his face, softly, in the hopes he didn’t wake up.

“Come a little closer, then you'll see, Come on, come on, come on, Things aren't always what they seem to be… Do you understand the things you been seein' Come on, come on, come on! Do you understand the things that you've been dreaming… Come a little closer, then you'll see! Come a little closer, then you'll see!”

And even when he did she had a coffee ready for him when he sat up and smiled, giving them a few hours alone before Penelope would wake up. Talking all morning about star trek and dr. Who, smacking his knee as he made jokes that genuinely made them laugh while trying to keep her voice down so they didn’t wake Penelope.

Not many people made her feel like that in her life.

“Come a little closer, then you'll see! Come a little closer, then you'll see!” Staring at him, enticing him to do it the next time they had the chance.

The intro to I’d Do Anything by simple plan was one of her favourites to play, smiling wide as she began to drum as her best friends sang the words.

Waiting for the chorus to sing the words at Spencer, really sending the message, he wasn’t dumb, not in the slightest, he would get it. He had to, she had already been so obvious there was no turning back now.

“This could be the one last chance to make you understand,”

Her arms were starting to hurt as she played along with the most energy she has had in years, playing like a teenager whose parents just died and she needed to hit something, once again. It was freeing, playing with what she could only imagine was love in her chest instead of anger. It’s how she was supposed to play.

"I’d do anything Just to hold you in my arms To try to make you laugh Cuz somehow I can’t put you in the past I’d do anything Just to fall asleep with you Will you remember me? Cuz I know I won’t forget you,"

Focusing on the drumming and ignoring the lyrics as her bandmates covered the lyrics, letting her go hog fucking wild on the drum set, almost kicking the chair out from under herself as they kept going. Joining for the chorus again before beating the shit out of her drum set.

I close my eyes And all I see is you I close my eyes I try to sleep I can't forget you Na na na And I'd do anything for you Na na na Naaaaaaa

“I’d do anything!” She closed her eyes as she pushes the words past her vocal cords, again and again, passionately playing the drums as her hair flew all over the place, worried she might break the sticks as she played.

“Cause I know I won't forget yoooou!” She plays the end of the song, snapping the left drumstick in half before throwing the right one into the crowd, right into Spencer’s hand, sending him a wink before saying goodbye to the crowd.

Sweaty as hell from playing the drums, they brushed their long black hair back behind their ears and in a low ponytail so it would fit under her motorcycle helmet on the way home. Putting their leather jacket back on and heading into the main bar to find Spencer.

“Hey,” he smiled as she walked towards him, the drumstick now resting in his pocket as he approached her.

“I can’t believe you came here all by yourself?” Y/N laughed slightly before pulling him into a thank-you hug.

“I wouldn’t miss it, I’ve been coming for a year now, it’s always a great time,” his smile was perfect, his teeth were so white and straight and she wondered how they’d feel against her neck.

“It’s been that long?” She pretended that she didn’t notice, biting their lip as he ran the calculations in his mind.

He nodded with a soft, pressed-lipped smile, the Spencer classic. “Yep, it’s been exactly 14 months straight now.”

“I know you don’t like bars and loud noises and people you don’t know, or germs which makes this like a nightmare of yours I guess because of the close proximity of people and the germs being spread as everyone screams in a crowd,” she ranted before he was pulling her into another hug, “so this means a lot to me,” she finished her thought beside his ear for only him to hear.

“Anytime,” he whispered as he held her, his arm on her back and chin resting on her shoulder.

“Did you need a ride home?” She offered, thinking about how nice it would be for him to wrap his arms around their body as he sat behind her on Patsy, her motorcycle.

“Yeah, unless you wanted to go to your place and watch another movie? I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting,” he spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Yeah, I’d love that, it’s been lonely while Penny’s gone,” a smile erupting on her face as she got the reference, “come on then.”

She took his hand in hers, interlocking their fingers and dragging him backstage towards her locker. She had a space to keep her things for practice and other shows she did during the week, keeping an extra helmet and jacket in the locker for nights like this, however, normally it was a cute stranger. Not the man she’s been crushing on since she was a teenager.

“Oh, you brought Patsy,” Spencer’s face went white.

“Did you not want to ride her? Come on, everyone wants to ride her at least once,” Y/N teased him as she put the helmet in his free hand.

Her bandmates staring at her with proud smiles as she took the guy from the rock show home; the one in the sweater vest from the front, the one who was the most into the whole show, they both gave Y/N a wave and a smile as they slipped out the backstage door.

They walked out to the parking lot, still hand in hand with their helmets in the other. Stopping at her dark purple Suzuki GS650 GT, it was her most prized possession because it used to belong to her parents.

She put her hair in the right spot before putting the helmet on, sitting down and starting the engine, revving it for everyone in the lot to see as Spencer put his helmet on and threw a leg over the seat, nervous as ever.

He fit behind her perfectly, just enough room on the seat for his chest to press against her back as he placed his hands gingerly on her hips. It made her laugh.

“You’re going to want to hold on better than that pretty boy,” she teased him before revving the engine once more, kicking the kickstand up and speeding out of the parking lot.

Spencer gripped her tightly as she took off down the street, taking the longest route possible to her home. She didn’t hit a single red light for at least 5 blocks, zooming through traffic as Spencer squeezed the life out of her.

He felt amazing, his hands were so big as he fully wrapped around her, reaching around completely so his right hand was on her left hip and vice versa. He was so close she could feel his heartbeat against her back.

He was nervous, he flinched every time she turned and held on even tighter somehow.

So she did another lap of the block, around the park’s bend so she could lean the bike as far as possible as Spencer’s fingers dug into her hips fiercely. Breathing deep enough that she could hear him over the engine, but he wanted her to keep going. Not ready to let go of her yet, this is the closest they had ever been to each other.

When she finally pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex, they bumped over the curb and his hand grazed Y/N’s boob, he pulled back so fast it was barely there, she just shook her head and laughed. Parking the bike and putting the kickstand back down.

Spencer let out a sigh, relaxing against her as he rested his chin on her shoulder again.

“Have fun?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he laughed, his voice deep and dry from breathing with his mouth open, it was cute.

He got off first when his legs were finally able to work again, still vibrating from the rev of the engine he walked like Ariel when she got her legs. It was priceless, no one has reacted like that after getting a ride from them, not even Penelope.

She took her helmet off while still on the bike, shaking her hair out of the ponytail as provocatively as possible before getting off. Spencer’s jaw fell open once more as he watched, breathlessly, just as she expected.

Either he liked them before and never told them, or he was going to start now.

Either way, it excited Y/N to their core, taking his hand once more and leading him inside, this time they could be as close as they wanted to and no one was going to walk in on it. She stopped at her locked apartment door, looking at Spencer as softly as possible so he’d know her feelings were real.

“I know this will cause the teasing we already get to skyrocket, so if you wanted to keep it between us, I fully understand,” she whispered.

“Is that what you want?”

He was so sweet it made her heartache, never before had anyone made her feel like this; like she wasn’t in control of her body or mind, like an override in the system her brain and heart chose Spencer and there was no stopping them.

“I just told a whole bar of people that I’m in love with the guy at the rock show before taking you home in front of everyone,” she laughed, “I don’t care if people know, I just hate when they tease us, they belittle everything we do like we’re 17 forever, it’s not fun for me.”

“I hate it too,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly once more, “I’d like to keep you to myself for a while.”

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled in, pressing her lips against his as they both tried to repress their tightlipped smiles. Finally, finally kissing after all those years staring at each other's lips while they explained something, passionately as ever with the most attentive ears.

“Exactly, me too,” she smiled wider as she pulled back from him, unlocking the front door and pulling him inside for that movie he mentioned.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 (dm me if you want me to remove you)

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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ackerlert · 4 years ago

Text

The Restaurant

Jean x Reader (3 year time skip since end of Season 3, pretend Annie is not in a crystal LMAO)

NSFW WARNINGS: female pronouns reader, oral sex (m & f receiving), sex with jean’s horse cock, reader aroused by his blush LMFAO, slow build up

“Oi. Get back here brats,” Levi grunts, gesturing toward a door. “Time for dinner. I know the restaurant’s all you brats have been thinking of. Especially you, Sasha.”

“Yahoo!” Sasha squealed. “I wonder what Niccolo will make today…maybe even that pizza he was telling me about…” she mutters, smiling to herself and probably daydreaming about stretchy cheese and marinara sauce.

Connie grinned, sharing a look with the other smirking cadets--no. Soldiers. All of the cadets had grown into soldiers now, ranging from 17 to early 20s, plus some new recruits who had joined, including you.

Everyone knew Sasha had a thing for Niccolo-- it was something you and all the other cadets teased her about almost every day. The atmosphere buzzed with a lighthearted feel as the group joked around. You had all just recently completed a successful mission clearing Ragako of some straggler titans left from 3 years ago, and it had gone extremely well: so well that the Corps were getting rewarded with a trip to Niccolo’s restaurant.

The Corps made their way to their destination, the train: a new machine designed by Hange and other engineers she had recruited, it would be their way to the restaurant. Everyone stared at it with slack jaws and wonder-filled eyes. It would be your first time on the locomotive.

The Corps rushed forward, all clambering to get on first and sit with their friends and significant others.

You, along with your group of Mikasa, Eren, Armin, Annie, Connie, Sasha, and Jean were the last to file into the last cart.

Pair by pair, your group began filing in.

You and Jean Kirschtein were last in line to get on the train, and the uncomfortableness you felt surely was justified. After all, the others basically all knew who they would sit near and talk to--Sasha/Connie, Mikasa/Eren, Armin/Annie-- except you two. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at Jean, standing next to you in the line, tallest in your group. His dark eyes looked a bit tired but still had a hard glint of intensity -- probably just excitement to visit the restaurant. You also noted his broad shoulders and a bit of a scruff on his sharp jawline -- characteristics that had not been there before a few years ago, when you had first caught a glimpse when you joined the Corps.

He’d always been attractive. Whenever he smiled at you when you said something to your friend group, whenever he would grasp his hair when he seemed frustrated. And you couldn’t forget his blush and the way his dark eyes glanced away in embarrassment that day you complimented his hair. Although he had seemed intimidating, you had felt a spark of arousal at his blush.

“Y/n. Y/N.” Mikasa frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. C’mon, get on the train!” Connie pouted.

Your eyes snapped up in surprisement. You hadn’t noticed how your mind had drifted into that memory of Jean’s blush, and how everyone, including Jean, was already in the train cart.

“Sorry! I’m coming!” You blushed and clambered on the train.

There was a stretch of awkward silence for a few seconds as you realized the problem.

“Er...why isn’t there room for me?” You asked, frowning a bit.

“The only place you could sit is one of our laps, you could sit on my lap!” Sasha offered, smiling at you, a crumb on her lip.

“Sasha, don’t forget you have all that food stuffed in your pockets. Y/n might smush it and you would cry later,” Connie said, rolling his eyes before looking up at you apologetically. “Sorry Y/n, but I honestly don’t know where you could sit.”

Silence filled the train car for another second, before you heard Jean’s husky voice. “There’s a small bit of room next to me.”

You gratefully accepted that as your best seat, and tried to squeeze in. One of your legs was against Jean’s and the other one was almost hanging out, but you tried to brush it aside.

As the train lurched forward, you heard Jean’s voice again, this time closer to your ear and a bit softer. “You can move in closer, you might fall off like that.”

“Thanks, Jean.” you reply, inching closer. You became aware of his leg’s warmth against yours.

“Damn those thighs are strong...“ you thought to yourself.

You sat like this for a while, in discomfort, listening vaguely to Armin tell Annie about a book he had read.

All of a sudden, your shoulder was jerked to the side and your legs were thrown to the side.

The train had just bumped over a bridge, and you sighed in annoyance until you realized the position you were in: Jean’s steely thighs under your own, his warm chest on your back, and the tickle of his hair on the top of your left ear.

You immediately flushed red, and were about to scramble off his lap until his right hand gently patted your shoulder. You froze.

“Wait, uh. Y/n, I-I think you should wait a while. The road above is a bit bumpy, and the train might throw you off,” he muttered, his face turning that beautiful pink color again as he retracted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Okay. Thank you so much, Jean,” you said quietly, still aware that you were on his lap. You wondered if he could feel your legs tense up, or smell your hair that you had just washed this morning.

You could feel every breath he took against your back, and every breath you took in smelled like him.

And sure enough, the road ahead was bumpy.

You felt your arousal every time the cart hit a road bump and your sensitive parts rubbed against Jean’s. You hoped he wouldn’t notice, but he appeared to be even more awkwardly tensed up than you about it. His breathing had become a bit erratic in your ear and something under your ass was hardening.

When the train ran over a giant rock, you basically bounced up and back down on Jean’s lap.

When this happened, you couldn’t help but let out a small moan before horror filling your face.

Oh fuck.

Jean stiffened behind you, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment. Neither of you said anything else until you got to the restaurant.

You slowly left his lap, not daring to look back behind you, and entered the restaurant to sit with Sasha and try to erase the sensations of sitting on Jean’s lap.

---

“I’ll have the steak, medium-rare, please,” you heard Jean’s smooth voice say to Niccolo taking the orders.

He was sitting across from you, and neither of you had mentioned what happened on the train, but it was still fresh on your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder if the slight blush that had been present on his face all meal was from that incident.

As the food came, and you dug in, you couldn’t help but sneak another glance at Jean.

But he was already looking at you with an unfathomable look in his eyes as he took a bite out of his steak.

You quickly looked away.

---

After the dinner, the Corps were getting lodging in the town of the restaurant.

You had always roomed with Hitch, but today she seemed to have other plans in mind.

“Y/nnnnnn, I am so sorry.. But could we perhaps do a switch?” she asked, lips breaking into a devious smile.

You frowned at the short-haired girl suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well...I really want to spend the night with Annie and Armin after that dinner, I want to see something. So maybe Armin’s roommate could stay here for the night instead?” she begged.

You frowned. You really didn’t want this, but you knew that Hitch would be really sad if she couldn’t see her friends, so you gave in.

“Fine. But PLEASE make sure his roommate doesn’t stink,” you joked.

“Thank you sooo much!” Hitch grinned, squealing.

---

The door lock clicked open as whoever outside twisted the key Hitch had given him, and stepped inside.

“Jean?!”

You heard the click of his shoes as the man stepped in, eyes falling on you. The room seemed a lot smaller all of a sudden. Although you normally felt pretty tall, you felt small next to Jean.

“Hey, Y/n..” he started. “Looks like i’ll be staying here tonight. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Your bed is the one on the left ” You forced a sweet smile on your face. In your mind, however, you were shocked that Jean was the one staying with you. Memories of his strong, warm chest against your back on the train, his dark eyes on you in the restaurant, and his hard bulge ran throughout your mind again, the way they had plagued your thoughts ever since you had left the restaurant.

You heard a warm and slightly tired-sounding chuckle from Jean, and you snapped your head to his direction, eyes narrowing at him.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he smirked as he glanced up from unpacking his clothes in your direction. ”It was just kinda... cute how you were just staring into space just now, I guess. Wonder what you were thinking about”

You rolled your eyes, a blush spreading across your face. I wonder what he’d think if he knew I was thinking of him, you thought to yourself. Hell, he probably knows.

Another thought passed your mind as you watched him unpacking, the muscles around his neck and arms moving through his thin collared shirt: With the way he was looking at me earlier at that restaurant... I bet I’m not the only one with thoughts of continuing what happened on that damned train...

You smirked and walked up to him casually as a plan moved in your head. He moved his head and looked at you in confusion.

He then ducked his head down again, focusing back on unpacking his clothes. You could’ve sworn there was a hint of that blush you love on his cheeks again.

“So...say, Jean. You look awfully tired today,” you murmured as you went on your tiptoes and flicked some of his soft hair.

He turned back to you. It was clear now that he was blushing and glancing down at your chest, nipples visible through your thin training shirt.

You thought of how his complexion looked so nice in the small bits of red sunlight filtering through the window and the glow of the lamp on the small bedside table in the room. It was a shame that his shirt covered up the rest of him right now.

“Yeah...it’s been busy recently I guess.” he muttered a bit tightly, his blush growing deeper as he rubbed the stubble on his chin.

“We should get more time to relax,” you sighed and flopped down on the bed right next to the pile of clothes he was unpacking.

Jean looked at you sprawled on the blankets. You gave him another smile and patted the area beside yourself on the bed. He rolled his eyes at you but gave you a small smile back as he sat down beside you a bit stiffly.

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you pulled him to lay down properly beside you, your thighs touching.

“I-uh-” he stammered, clearly not sure what to say now that you two were in such close proximity, and he could feel your warmth next to him.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to say anything,” you explained to him. “I’ve just been so tired and stressed as well, I just wanted to relax tonight.”

You shifted a bit closer to him on the bed. He didn’t say anything or move in the next couple of seconds, the two of you just enjoying the moment in the bed before the stress of the next day’s training and planning would hit.

You sighed softly. How long had it been since you had felt this tired? Sure, the titans on Paradise were basically eliminated--but you were not naive enough to think that this would be the end of your journey as a soldier. Just the thought of encountering more titans across the sea that would threaten your friends and family made you almost sick.

Your pretty face crumpled into a bitter frown.

“Y/n…” he said slowly.

“What?” you replied, looking up at him through your eyelashes, eyes tired.

“I...I want you to be happier.” he muttered, turning to you and fixing his dark eyes on your face. “I know you’ve been stressed recently, pushing yourself during training and so have I, but...stay safe, okay? I’m worried about you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Yeah, Hitch and Sasha and Mikasa teased you about training too hard a lot and always checked up on you, but this was the first time someone had noticed you weren’t happy doing this much training, and how you sometimes pushed yourself to limits that you knew you couldn’t keep up.

Overwhelmed with surprise and emotion, you threw your arms around Jean and put your chin on his shoulder. His muscles immediately tensed around you, and his warm hands wrapped around your waist, fitting perfectly in its dips.

You buried your face in his neck, breathing in his delicious smell of wood and wine.

Your thoughts were running at a million miles per hour, and you figured you could be more vulnerable with him now.

“Jean, I...I really liked sitting on you on the train today.” you blurted out, still hugging him.

He went stiff for a moment, and you feared you had ruined the moment between you two until he chuckled, the vibrations from his chest spreading to you.

“Yeah...I liked it too.”

You broke off the hug to look at him, only to find him already looking at you and smirking.

Before you know it, his lips were connecting to yours, and your hands were running through his soft hair and tugging the ends to get him closer to you somehow. He broke off the kiss, and you furrowed your brows, but then felt his lips on your neck, sucking it and definitely leaving marks that would last for the next couple of days.

You let out a soft moan that he responded with by marking your neck even harder. You felt his lips curl into a smirk on your neck.

“Jean...have you done this before?” you murmured.

“Uh…” he said.

Before he could finish his response, you pulled his hair and pulled him off of your neck.

“Relax…” you said, tilting your head to give him your own smirk as you trailed your hand down his chest, rapidly unbuttoning the buttons of his thin shirt and feeling the hard planes of his chest stiffen under your hand. “I want to make you feel less stressed too.”

He groaned. “Y/n...you really don’t have to do this,” he muttered, looking away from you as if embarrassed.

You smiled up at him from your position in between his thighs, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants off before running your hand over his muscular thighs.

“I want to, though. I want to taste you,” you said, keeping eye contact with him.

His dick was longer than you expected, flushed a warm color and with a slight curve at the tip that you knew would hit that spot in you later that brought you the most pleasure.

He let out a choked whimper at the first time your warm tongue touched his throbbing member, his thighs tensing and veined hands clenching the bedsheets.

You continued to pepper small licks around his dick, giving him comments that made him even harder, if that were even possible, like “You look so nice like this.” and “Stay still for me, okay?”

The way the 6”3 man was now completely at your mercy, his head tilted back and muscles tensed, made you get slicker down there.

“F-fuck, Y/n....” he groaned, peering down at you and your flushed face through the messed up strands of hair that your hands had been running through earlier.

You smirked as he continued to groan.

“But I’ve only been licking your tip? Why are you so sensitive?” you teased him, a string of saliva connecting your mouth and his tip. He only let out another moan in response, his tip twitching again.

You relaxed your throat and began to take him down completely, although his length barely fit in your mouth.

Jean let out even more moans, moaning your name and “fuck” repeatedly. A sheen of sweat covered his chest, glistening in the moonlight and lamp light, and you marveled at the sight.

After a few more times of deep-throating him, he suddenly reached his hands down and yanked your head roughly off of his dick. You looked at him, confused at the sudden demeanor change, still wanting to feel him pulse beneath your tongue and see him lose all his control.

“I was about to cum, but I want to wait until I’m inside of you”, he explained. “Now, it’s my turn to taste you.”

He pulled you up from your position between his legs, and roughly pulled off your shirt so that your breasts were out, and you pulled off your shorts and underwear yourself. The cold air hit your sensitive parts, making them even more sensitive.

When you were on his bed, exposed to his dark eyes trailing over your body that you were proud of from all your days of training, you felt heat rush between your legs.

You pushed your legs together, embarrassed all of a sudden, but Jean lowered his body and bent his head down so that he was hovering above your thighs, and spread your legs for you, his grip as tight as steel.

“Don’t hide from me,” he commanded.

You let out a moan in response, loving the feel of his hands pressing into your soft thighs. You knew where this was heading, and the anticipation made your head dizzy.

Jean lowered his face so that you could feel his breath on you, and you whimpered in anticipation. At the first contact of his tongue on you, you moaned, because no other guy had done this with you. You vaguely thought of how after tonight, no other guy would ever compare to how you felt with Jean.

“Jean…” you moaned.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I thought you would,” he responded, as he sucked your clit and ran his tongue through your folds.

As he continued eating you out, his grip still preventing your thighs from closing, he let out some of his own groans that made you even wetter, and combined with your moans to make the best sounds you had heard in your life.

“Jean…” you repeated, gripping his granite-colored hair in your hands. “I want you in me now.”

Jean gave your clit one last kiss before he got up, licking his lips.

He smiled at you, loving the sight of you as a panting mess on his sheets. His dick was rock hard already, wanting to be inside of you.

You blushed when you saw the wetness on his stubble, but he seemed to not mind at all. Jean began rubbing his tip on you, and thrust his hips forward all of a sudden, even though you were still recovering from your previous orgasms.

When he slid in easily, due to how wet you were, both of you moaned at the sensation.

“Oh fuck...you fit me perfectly.”

The sight of Jean, strands from his side parted hair falling into his forehead, darkened with sweat, made you moan even more. His eyes were fixated on you, begging for more of his dick and for him to go faster.

The intensity of his stare made you look away, blushing and moaning, but his large fingers grabbed your chin and made you look back at him.

“Don’t look away.” he scolded.

“A-alright.” you moaned, looking back into his eyes.

He began to pound into your faster, eyes never leaving yours, his hand making his way to grope your breasts before settling around your throat, not pushing very hard but probably leaving marks there.

You seemed to be sucking him into you every time he pulled out again, which made his rough thrusting irresistible and his moans louder.

The intensity of the pleasure you felt every time he fucked you this good made your eyes roll back and sweat to cover both you and Jean’s bodies.

“Jean...I’m coming soon…” you moaned.

“Me too.” he gritted his teeth and slowing his thrusts so that they were precise and deep.

“Please…” you moaned, not sure what you were begging for: some sort of release, anything, as you clawed his back.

“Please what?” he groaned.

“Please...let me cum…” you whimpered.

Jean groaned at your pretty sounds, so desperate for release, and began thrusting harder.

It was as if he couldn’t control his deep thrusts. You had known that curve in his dick would hit you at the right spots, but now that you were actually experiencing it, you were sure you were in heaven.

With a cry, both of you came, Jean cumming into the condom. He gave you a few more lazy thrusts to milk out your broken cries before he pulled out and leaned down over your naked body to kiss you.

“Y/n… That was amazing.” he blushed again, seemingly shy all of a sudden after he had just fucked you into almost-a-coma.

“I could say the same to you, Jean…” you smiled.

He went into the bathroom and got something to clean you up with.

“We made a mess on the sheets,” you groaned into the pillow. “Hitch is gonna tease me so bad about this tomorrow.”

Jean laughed, his eyes crinkling at you.

“Whatever. But you look so pretty right now Y/n. How could she tease you when you look so pretty?” he joked.

“You’re too sweet, Jean…” you smiled back at him as he clambered slightly awkwardly back into the small bed with you.

Damn, I am so lucky, you marveled to yourself as he put his arm around you and pulled you closer to his chest. You buried your face into his chest, breathing in his scent. His usually meticulous hair was now messy and tickling your ear again.

“You know … Ymir was right about you having a horse cock…” you giggled.

Jean frowned, pulling you off his chest to look you in the eyes. “What the fuck?!” he snorted, but his lips were pulling up into a smile.

The rest of the night was filled with you two laughing and joking about trivial matters, distracting you from the pain and loss that would happen the next year. But that night was one out of many special nights between you and Jean only.

Hitch took one glance at your messy hair, eye bags, and goofy smile the next morning and instantly began squealing.

“I TOLD YOU SO, SASHA!” she screamed.

Connie and Sasha smirked at you, whispering something about how they had known it since they had caught Jean staring at you during training when you first joined the Corps.

“Hitch...shut up please…” you groaned, exchanging a look with Jean, who was blushing again.

#jean kirschtein #jean #jean aot #jean snk #jean x reader #jean kirschtein smut #jean smut #snk #aot #jean season 4 #jean kirschtein x reader #jean x y/n #jean kirschtein x r/n #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader

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starlessea · 4 years ago

Text

Ultimate Guide To Writing Second Person POV

Y/N, You, and Everything in Between

Hey everyone, here’s another post for my writing tips series - this time focusing on how to write in second person.

As a lot of fanfics are written in this POV, you’re probably already familiar with seeing ‘You’ or ‘Y/N’ to describe the reader. But, I wanted to give a few tips on how to construct this type of character - keeping it accessible, whilst not making it too vague/general either.

1) The Reader Insert

One of the most common tropes in fanfiction is to use ‘Y/N’ in place of a character name. It is literally an abbreviation for ‘your name,’ and therefore allows the reader to insert themselves into the fic.

There’s a lot of debate surrounding the use of ‘Y/N.’ Personally, I think it’s fine, and I find it quite unfair when a lot of people show undeserved bias towards it. There is, by no means, any correlation between the standard of writing and whether or not an author uses ‘Y/N.’ It is just personal preference!

However, you must ensure the following things if you are going to use it:

Be consistent in capitalisation - it’s a pet peeve to see it rendered as ‘Y/n,’ ‘Y/N,’ and ‘y/n’ all in a single fic. Pick one and stick to it.

Don’t overuse it - something about the dash really sticks out like a sore thumb. I try to use it for emphasis mainly, like if someone is talking to the character in an emotional moment. But don’t forget that you can use VARIATION, too. Such as:

He called your name.

“Did you hear me?” She asked, and repeated your name.

“I’ve called your name three times now.”

“Y/N!” He yelled, over the sound of the engine.

If you’re writing a multi-chapter fic, keep in mind that although ‘Y/N’ is meant to refer to a general name, it shouldn’t always refer to a general character! What I mean by this is, nobody wants to read a long fanfiction where the main character lacks any distinguishable features, personality traits, or development.

Just because your pronouns and naming system is vague doesn’t mean your character should be! You need to give them distinguishable characteristics - even if it’s as simple as them liking music, having a specific family background, having certain speech patterns.

As much as we might be tempted to write as inclusively as we can, it is unrealistic to have a ‘one-size-fits-all character in EVERY scenario.’ One of the main points of criticism against ‘Y/N’ is that they lack DEPTH.

Another thing to note is that there are chrome extensions like InteracticeFics - where you can enter your name at the start of a fanfic and it’ll automatically replace ‘Y/N’ with it. You may have seen those little boxes on certain Tumblr posts that allow you to do this!

2) The Impersonal ‘You’

This is just a phrase I’ve coined to describe fics that replace ‘Y/N’ exclusively with ‘you.’ I almost visualise it as a sort of hierarchy of depth, or a sliding scale that goes from Y/N > Impersonal You > Personal You > OC.

What I mean by this is, if we think of an OC, they are often a fully fleshed out character. They’ll have a full name, age, appearance, background, likes/dislikes etc. Whereas, with Y/N and the Impersonal You, we can often get away with glossing over these things - or generalising them (but not TOO much, remember).

The Impersonal You is for those who don’t like the visual look of ‘Y/N.’ It is more traditional, and I find that it takes away from the reading experience less. However, there are still pitfalls with this form:

There is a lack of variation - unlike the previous example, here you can’t switch between ‘Y/N’ and ‘you.’ Often, you’ll find that your fics become completely littered with the word, since it describes both the PERSON (the pronoun, replacing he/she/they) and the NAME. So you may find yourself left with something like this:

You finished tying your shoes and look up at the man, already looking at you. “Are you done?” He asked. “I’ve been calling you for the last ten minutes.” You nodded, as he repeated your name to get your attention.

In that passage alone there was 8 instances of ‘you/your.’ In terms of correctness, there is nothing wrong with it. However, it leaves much to be desired stylistically.

You need to be aware of this if you’re writing in this form, and maybe carry out this visual exercise of ‘you’ spotting and counting to check. Instead, try to experiment with adverbs and playing around with syntax order. We could write something like this:

Tying your shoelaces, you looked up at the man to see that he was already looking at you. “Ya done yet?” He asked. “I’ve been callin’ for the last ten minutes.” You nodded, as he repeated himself to get your attention.

3) The Personal ‘You’

This form is the bridge between the Impersonal You and an OC. It is used to describe someone who is almost an original character, whilst still keeping them relatable. I like this example especially, since it allows for a lot of variation and style.

One of the fics I’m writing, for instance, is about a teacher. Therefore, although I use ‘you’ the majority of the time, I’m also granted the extra variety of ‘Teach.’ A lot of my other characters use that nickname to refer to her. So it’s a good idea to have some distinguishable features that can be used as identifiers - like a certain profession for example.

I’ve also read another fic about a doctor, where everyone calls her ‘Doc,’ and another one where the character is identified by the name of the gang she belongs to. So, it doesn’t always have to be a job - it can be hobbies, interests, an embarrassing secret, a pet name etc.

Here are a few examples:

“Hey, Sunshine.” He greeted, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Get over here, Teach!” She called, and you quickly ran over to hear people muttering your name.

“Well if it isn’t that biker chick I’ve heard so much about.”

“I want to get to know you better, Doc.” He said, and you started by telling him your name. “That’s pretty” He replied, trying it out for himself as he struggled to pronounce it.

4) General Points

Nicknames

As we’ve just gone through, nicknames, pet names, or little identifiers can be a great way to gain some variation - and give an insight into your character’s background. Even if you’re writing in the ‘Y/N’ form, you can use general ones like ‘sweetheart’ etc. to show the relationships between your characters.

Abbreviated Names

With these nicknames, or professions, try out the long forms but also abbreviate them for variation:

Doctor > Doc

Teacher > Teach

And have different characters say them in different ways, or use different ones to address your main character. For example, you might want to emphasise different accents.

Darling > Darlin’

A Nameless Character

It might even be fun to take a meta approach, where your character is consciously aware that they don’t have a name. I read an interesting fic where the reader ironically belonged to a group called ‘nameless’ - and that’s what people called her by.

Or, you could have a character with amnesia - and watch as other people give them an array of nicknames throughout your story.

That’s it for now! I hope you found this part helpful. Send me a message if there’s any other topics you want covered.

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girl-with-cat-eyes · 3 years ago

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Paperwork

Part 3 of the Reba au. Pat one and part two.

Summary: The weekend comes and Janus deals with paperwork, one-night stands, and meeting his ex-husband's new boyfriend.

A/N: So I went on a vacation to see @forever-forgotten-angel and took a break from writing. But I'm back and writing! Special thanks as always to @amazon-me-bitches and my qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this fic! And now, without further ado, my fic.

When Janus woke up on Friday things seemed almost normal. He dropped Emile and Remy off at school, Patton agreed to pick them up. Virgil had ridden with Thomas, which meant that Janus didn’t have to worry about any pickups today. That was good, considering he was working late. He had a trial coming up in two weeks, a factory worker who’d been injured on the job due to company negligence of machinery. Janus had been happy to take the case.

��Of course, it meant that he wasn’t leaving the office until 8 PM. Janus yawned as he left the office, ready to get home and sleep. It would be lovely. A full night’s worth of sleep and then the weekend. Not that he wouldn’t be working of course. But his home office was far superior to the one he had at work. Maybe he’d take the boys out for a picnic if he had time. That would be nice. Emile had been wanting to go to the park and see the ducks before it got too cold. They could feed the ducks.

Janus was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud clang. He reached for his pepper spray, better safe than sorry. There were clangs, seeming to come from a dumpster next to the parking lot. It was most likely a raccoon but Janus wasn’t taking any chances. He began quickly walking to his car, eyes trained on the dumpster the whole time. He was halfway to his car when the source of the noises showed itself.

Janus prided himself on his eloquent speech but all he could find it in himself to say was, “What?”. Brilliant Janus, just brilliant.

It was a person, taller than Janus. They had dark curly hair from what Janus could see, and a mustache as well. They held a possum in their arms. Janus blinked, “What did I tell you about running off Tallulah? You’re not going to find any tasty treats in a law office’s dumpster. We have to go to taco bell for that. The only thing you’ll find in there is paper, office supplies, and-”, they looked up and made eye contact with Janus, “And the sexiest man alive.”

They’d ran up to Janus before he had a chance to react, “Hello sexy. Are you a lawyer? Because it’s illegal for someone to be as sexy as you are.”

“Sorry about that. I tend to get over-excited.”, they offered a hand out to shake, “I’m Remus. He/him pronouns.”

“Janus.”, he found himself saying, “He/him pronouns. What exactly were you doing in the dumpster?”

“How dare you insinuate that Tallulah is merely a pet. She is my baby.”

“Oh! Tallulah here thought she could get snacks in that dumpster over there so I had to get her out.”, he held up the possum in his arms.

“Right. And Tallulah is your pet?”

“Well, it appears your baby wants to eat office supplies.”, Janus reached out to pet the possum in question, scritching her ears. He smiled as she leaned into the touch. He smiled at the sight.

“Believe me she doesn’t want that. I’ll take her to taco bell. She enjoys their burritos. You’re more than welcome to join if you want?”, it was a stupid idea. They’d just met, Remus was a total stranger. He could be a serial killer for all Jan knew.

Message sent to Patton at 8:23 PM.

“Hey Pat, don’t wait up for me. I’m gonna get take out on the way home. Make sure Remy’s homework is done before he plays on the Switch.”

Taco Bell, Janus thought, was best enjoyed at night. They’d gotten fast food and now sat out in the parking lot, a feast of fast food laid out before them. He watched as Tallulah happily ate her promised bean burrito. It was nice, relaxing even. Janus smiled as he watched, “So how does one end up with a pet possum?”

Remus grinned, “I birthed her from my womb.”, seeing Janus’ unamused expression he turned serious, “I rescue animals. She was rescued from an exotic pet dealer. She can’t be rehabilitated into the wild, unfortunately.”

“I see. She’s very sweet.”, Janus continued petting the possum in question, “So what do you do with your time? Besides rescue possums and climb into dumpsters of course."

“I’m a midwife actually.”, Remus grinned. Janus looked over to where he had unhinged his jaw to deepthroat his burrito like a snake. He waited for Remus to finish before speaking.

“A midwife?”

Remus nodded, “Yeah. I make bank. Which is nice cause it means I can foster lots of animals.”, he continued deepthroating the burrito.

Well, that was unexpected. Janus stared at the man in front of him delivering babies and truthfully he couldn’t picture it. Remus seemed more like the type of person to go into a job that didn’t involve babies. He seemed more likely to own a demolition derby, “You don’t seem like the type. Can I ask a dumb question?”

“Sure.”

“Well, it’s not a question. I just didn’t know men could be midwives.”

“It shocks a lot of people actually. Most people don’t think women would be comfortable working with me.”

“I’m guessing that’s not true.”

“I work with trans men mostly. Having a trans midwife is reassuring. I know what they’re going through. And sometimes cis midwives can be judgy.”

“You’re trans?”

“Is he?”

“Yep.”

“Well then.”, Janus took a bite of his food, chewing thoughtfully, “My son’s pregnant.”

“Yeah. It’s been super stressful because he’s 17.”, Janus sighed, “How much would it cost for you to work with us? Any resources would be helpful.”

“For you? I’ll do it for free. I know all too well what it’s like to be a pregnant teen. And I think you’re cute.”, he winked and Janus felt his face warm in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

“You- you got pregnant as a teen?”, he forced himself to get out. Remus nodded and for a brief second Janus thought he saw a tear in his eye.

“Yeah but I miscarried. Lack of resources and all. So now I make sure that no one else has to go through what I went through.”

Message sent to Patton at 11 PM

“That’s amazing. You have to let me pay you though.”

“I told you, helping a cutie like you out is payment enough.”, he leaned forward, “I wouldn’t mind a kiss though. That is, if you’re agreeable?”, Remus leaned forward and Janus could smell his cologne. The warm, spicy, citrus scent drove him wild. It was like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring at the abyss below. And Janus was happy to fall.

Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back late.

Patton Picani-Hart had never been a morning person. Sure, he wanted to be; but late nights at the restaurant and his sleep schedule meant that he had trouble pulling himself out of bed in the morning. It also meant he could barely function without at least three cups of coffee. He was currently standing in front of the coffee maker, staring at it as if he could will the coffee to brew faster.

It had been a long night. Janus had to work late, which meant it was up to Patton to pick up Emile and Remy from school and drive them home. Luckily Virgil and Thomas had agreed to watch them because then he had to rush back to the restaurant for the dinner shift. He got back by 11 to all of the kids asleep and leftover greek food waiting for him. He’d been so tired that he’d eaten the food and fallen asleep immediately, never seeing the message he had from Janus.

He hadn’t seen it until the morning when he awoke to Emile sitting on his chest asking for food. A quick check of his phone revealed it was 9 am and Janus had stayed out all night. So Patton did the only thing he could do; he got dressed and went downstairs to make breakfast. Six breakfast burritos later, and he was beginning to wonder where Janus was. Clearly, he’d had a good night if he was gone for this long. At least he hoped it was good. Regardless, it was good for Janus to start exploring romance again if he was ready. Hopefully, the relationship would be good for him. He couldn’t wait to hear the details.

Patton was considering calling him when there was a jingle of keys at the front door. Janus walked through the door. His hair stuck out in multiple directions, his suit was unkempt, and Patton could see multiple hickeys on his chest. It had been a good night after all. He handed him a cup of coffee, “Good morning. Looks like you had a good night.”

Janus blushed and Patton knew exactly how good of a night he’d had. He grinned as he watched the man in question try to come up with an excuse, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”, his ex may have had a silver tongue, but that all went away when he was flustered.

“I’m not mad. You seem to forget that we’re separated, soon to be divorced. Going out is healthy.”, Patton handed him a plate of food with a smile, “So who is he?”

“His name is Remus and we met last night. He’s nice. I invited him over for dinner Tuesday night.”, Patton frowned. Having a one-night stand was one thing, heck dating was fine. But bringing this guy around the kids after one date didn’t seem like the best idea.

“I support you dating Jan, but don’t think you should date a little bit longer before bringing him home. Virgil won’t mind but it might confuse Emile and Remy.”, it was the truth. The boys would be confused if Janus introduced them to a new boyfriend and then it didn’t work out. Best to wait until it was serious. That was what Patton had done.

Janus blinked as if it was a new idea to him. “Pat, I’m not introducing him as my boyfriend. He’s a midwife. I invited him over to meet Virge. I thought it might be a good idea to have a midwife as well as an OBGYN.”

Patton sighed in relief; he didn’t want to sound like a jealous ex, especially when he’d been the one to ask for the divorce. This Remus coming over as a midwife was different though. And it meant that he wouldn’t have to worry if the kids would be confused. Speaking of the kids, Emile ran in at that moment, practically bouncing in his shoes, “Is breakfast ready yet?”

Janus smiled at their youngest, picking him up and balancing him on his hip, “Yep. How about you go get your brothers and then we can eat.”, Emile nodded and ran off as fast as he could. Janus nodded and went to leave the kitchen, “I should go change.”

Pat nodded, a thought coming to him, “Virgil wanted to come to help me prep for lunch rush today at the restaurant. Could you pick him up before the dinner rush? I don’t want to stress him.”, Janus nodded before leaving, leaving Patton alone to wonder what this Remus was like.

Janus hummed as he drove to Pat’s. He’d spent most of the day in the office today, getting caught up on his paperwork. He’d promised to take the boys to the park tomorrow for a picnic, which meant he had to get it all done today. Thomas had luckily agreed to watch Remy and Emile once Pat and Virgil left to prep for the day, giving Janus ample time to work.

Soon 5 o’clock came around and Janus was leaving to go pick up Virgil. He was sure that Virgil would be ready to go home. Janus had seen just how busy the restaurant could get during the dinner rush. Virgil may have wanted to be a chef, but he wasn’t ready for that. Especially right now.

He pulled up behind the restaurant, parking in the employee parking lot. Inside he could see the kitchen was a flurry of work, prepping as much as possible before it got truly busy. Waving to the kitchen staff, Janus headed to the back office where he knew Patton would be finishing paperwork before he went to go work in the kitchen. Virgil would most likely be in there with him. Only he didn’t see Virgil when he entered the office.

Patton stood in front of his desk, kissing an unfamiliar man as if his life depended on it. Janus blinked before realizing this must be the Logan he’d heard about. He quickly realized he was staring and, unsure of what to do, coughed to announce his presence. Patton jumped and turned around, Logan blushing and looking down.

“Janus, hey, what are you doing here?”, Patton looked flustered, like they weren’t divorced, “This is Logan, I told you about him.”, behind him, Logan nodded, still blushing too much to properly speak.

“Nice to meet you, I’m here to pick up Virgil. I said I’d be here at 5, remember?”

Pat’s eyes went wide, “Is it 5 already? I need to go get started in the kitchen.”, he moved away from Logan and ran to put on his chef’s coat, “Virgil was taking inventory in the fridge. Janus nodded and left the office, hearing Logan saying he should get going as he left.

He did in fact find Virgil in the freezer, stocking ingredients and taking note of what was low. Upon seeing his dad he handed the list to a cook before standing up to leave. They got to the car, Virgil getting in, and Janus was about to when he heard someone call his name.

Logan stood in front of him, looking made together and not at all how he looked when Janus had seen him earlier, “Yes?”

Logan took a deep breath before speaking, “I just wanted to apologize that we had to meet like that. I wanted to meet you and the kids properly, not having you walk in on me kissing Patton goodbye.”, Janus nodded in understanding.

“It’s fine. Patton and I were separated before you two started dating. Just treat him right. We may not be together anymore, but I still care about him. He has a good heart and I don’t want to see that heart broken.”

“I never want to hurt him.”

“Then we’ll have no issue. Goodbye then.”, Janus got in the car, giving the man a wave before driving off. He turned to Virgil, who was listening to music next to him, giving him a tap on the shoulder.

Virgil looked up at him, taking off his headphones before speaking, “What’s up?”

“How does Indian sound for dinner?”, Virgil nodded and Janus set off to get take out. There was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, “Virgil, you don’t mind if your father and I date again, right? I mean date people that aren’t each other.”

Virgil shrugged, “It doesn’t bother me. You two are getting a divorce, dating seems to make sense. And I know you’ll both always be here for me and Remy and Emile.”, Janus nodded, comfortable in the fact that he knew at least one of his kids was ok with him dating.

A/N: We finally meet Remus and Logan. All that's left is Roman, who will be in the next part.

Disclaimer: Possums are not pets, they are wild animals. Furthermore, I do not know their diet but I'm taco bell isn't part of it. Tallulah is a magical possum and real-life rules do not apply to her. Do not inbox me saying possums don't eat bean burritos.

Besides that, I'm taking prompts for this verse, so if you have prompts send them in! I'd love to see your hcs for this au. And as always, if you like this fic, leave a comment. Thank you for reading!

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #my fic #Janus Sanders #patton sanders #Remus sanders #Logan sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #emile picani #Demus #dukeceit #janus/remus #janus x remus #logicality #logan/patton #logan x patton #verse: i'm a suvivor

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demonsonthemoon · 4 years ago

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The Flood and its Aftermath

Fandom: Supernatural Pairings: N/A Word Count: 1861 Summary: Sam had always thought that coming out would be the hardest thing. Note: I set out to write what was meant to NOT be a coming-out fic. Then it turned into a coming-out fic. Turns out writing what you would have wanted coming out to feel like is really therapeutic? Who would have guessed.Anyway, Sam Winchester is a non-binary lesbian in my heart.

Read it on AO3.

Sam had always thought that coming out would be the hardest thing.

The silver lining being that, with the lives they lived, there was really only one person she needed to come out to.

Dean.

Dean Winchester, the manly man who thought he was making fun of Sam by calling her a girl. The kind of guy who would refuse a good drink if it came in a pink bottle.

But Sam wasn't stupid and they knew better. Dean wasn't as much of an asshole as he made himself out to be, not really. That kind of bullshit was just the best way that Dean had found to protect himself.

Still. The hypermasculine posturing hadn't exactly been reassuring to Sam considering that he needed to tell his brother he was trans.

He'd thought that coming out would be the hardest, because it was the first step, the one that was supposed to open the floodgates.

In the end, it had been relatively easy. The anticipation had been awful, a crawling feeling under his skin where guilt and fear mingled.

People could argue all they wanted that lying by omission wasn't technically lying but it sure felt the same way to Sam. She wasn't sure what telling Dean would change, which was perhaps what made it so scary. She knew, however, that she couldn't physically keep it a secret anymore, that it was making her sick inside.

Besides, secrets had nearly ruined their relationship many times over.

She was sick of that too.

So there came a day, in the bunker, in front of a dinner Dean had lovingly prepared (because he cooked now, more than spaghetti-Os and PB&J sandwiches) where Sam told their brother that they were trans.

Dean's first reaction was confusion. His second was awkward laughter. Which was followed by more confusion. Sam let him work through it, knowing Dean needed to get past his surprise before they could really start talking.

Sure enough, Dean frowned deeply before asking : “When you say you're transgender, you mean you feel like a woman?”

“No. Well, not exactly. It's more like... Like there's a spectrum between being a man and being a woman and I'm somewhere on that spectrum. It moves around a lot. Most often these days I feel closer to womanhood, I guess, but it's never really one or the other so it's hard to tell.”

“So... what, you don't feel like a guy, but you're not a woman either?”

“Yeah. Something like that. Non-binary is the term. I guess technically I'm genderfluid, but I like non-binary.”

“How long have you...?”

Sam shrugged. “Depends on what you mean. I only put a word to it maybe... a year ago? Two years? But looking back... I think I might have felt this way for a long time. Especially in college. I was just... curious. About gender, queerness. I thought I was a straight guy, though, and it felt... I don't know. Voyeuristic? So I didn't really explore it. And there were times, then and later, when something didn't feel right, but I just blamed that on everyrhing else that was wrong with me.”

“You know that's not true, right?”

“What?”

“That there's something wrong with you. There's not.”

“Dean-”

“I mean it. This isn't wrong. And all the rest of it...” The demon blood. His psychic powers. The memories of a body without a soul and of a soul being tortured. “It's all stuff that was done to you. It's not who you are.”

Sam wasn't sure he wholly agreed with his brother. He wasn't convinced you could separate the essence of a soul from all that had shaped it throughout the years. That particular line of thinking had backfired every time he had tried it. But this wasn't the time to have that conversation.

“I know it's not wrong,” Sam said, only addressing one part of Dean's argument. “That's why I'm telling you. Being non-binary... It feels right. It feels like me.”

“Okay,” Dean replied. Then, with slightly more assurance: “Okay. So... what does it change? Do I call you like... my sister? Or... my sibling, I guess?”

Sam smiled. The apprehension they'd been feeling for almost an entire days was quickly dissolving, leaving behind relief and a fierce kind of love.

“Yeah. I'd like that. Either of them. I mean... It's fine if you don't, I get that it's-”

“Dude.” Dean winced right after interrupting them. “Not-dude. Whatever. I'm probably gonna mess up. A lot. Like I just did. But you've got to let me try. You told me this because it's important to you, right? So you need to let me know how I can make you more comfortable. Not just what's okay or what's easier but what you actually prefer. Okay?”

Sam held up her hands. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry, it's just... It's complicated. I'm not actually planning on transitioning medically. Can't really afford to, not with the risk of someone looking into one of our fake IDs. And before you suggest black market hormones – I know that look in your eyes, don't deny it – I just don't want to. This is the body I've got. It took me years to stop feeling like there was something wrong with it, but I'm finally getting there. I don't wanna change it. But that means... I'm always gonna look pretty masculine, okay? Even if that's not how I feel, I get that that's what other people see. And that's... okay. It's how it is. I don't want to come out to everyone I meet, there's no point and it's just none of their business. So sticking to masuline language is better. It's not just easier, although that's part of it. It's more comfortable than always being put on the spot.

“Okay. That... It sucks that you even have to think like that, but I get it.”

Sam shot her brother a grateful look. She doubted whether he really did get it, whether he understood how painful and frustrating it had been to come to these conclusions after finally finding ways to explore her gender identity. But all that mattered was that he was trying.

“What about when it's just us then?”

“You could... switch? Pronouns, I mean. Sometimes he, sometimes she. Singular they. Same with gendered words, when there's no neutral way to say something.

Dean stayed silent for a few seconds. He nervously ran a hand through his hair, not looking at Sam when he finally spoke. “Tell me if I say something fucked up, okay? I know I'm not always the most... sensitive, when it comes to those things.”

Sam nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“From what you said about-” He made a vague hand gesture. “- fluid genders, I get that it makes sense to switch pronouns. But you also said you felt more feminine, right? And I... I'm so used to seeing you as my brother and as a guy, so...”

Dean paused, as if waiting for Sam to tell him off for what he'd just said. But they wouldn't do that, because they knew it was true and that Dean wasn't saying this to prove a point about who Sam really was.

“I just think that if you let me call you he, I won't actually be able to switch to thinking of you as anything else.”

A bittersweet emotion bloomed under Sam's tongue, making him choke and his eyes water. Sam had argued with himself, again and again, and he'd figured it was easier to give his brother an out. It would hurt less like this, he'd thought, less than if he'd asked for more and had had to face his brother's failures full-on.

But Dean was flat-out refusing to take the easy way out.

Sam knew his expression probably looked ridiculous, but he smiled. Wide and bright, and with his eyes still prickling.

“She and they work, then. Thank you.”

Dean looked embarrassed. “Sure.”

He wasn't looking at her, but Sam didn't mind. She was happy. She basked in the silence between them, silence that was no longer heavy with secrets.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Mmh?”

“Is it still funny if I call you Samantha?”

Sam laughed, despite themself. Dean's grin was shy in return.

“It was never funny, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

So that, it turned out, had been the easy part.

The hard stuff came after.

The hard stuff was finding a way to get Dean to stop walking on eggshells around her everytime he had to correct himself on pronouns. The hard stuff was learning to correct Dan herself, forcing herself to stop letting it slide despite every part of her that screamed it wasn't a big deal and that it was safer to say nothing. The hard stuff was learning to know herself and then have that knowledge be stripped away by the gaze of strangers every time she and Dean went out in public.

Sam had learned to love his body out of necessity. Because they knew how easy it was to lose control of it, and because most days it was the only thing they could rely on. Years of living amongst demons and angels had taught them that the physical form was only a vessel. And so it hurt when other people couldn't understand that.

There was another thing that the hunter's life had taught Sam. Pain was easier to deal with when you were used to it. But it didn't take long to lose that habit.

And so the sweetest moments, the euphoria of knowing and of feeling known, they made the other times even more difficult. They made the casual assumptions and the well-meaning but off-track comments feel like a constant weight over their shoulders.

The hardest thing, in all of this, was that Sam couldn't get angry. He couldn't fault people for not instinctively realizing what had taken them 30 years to figure out. He couldn't complain about people using the wrong pronouns, not when he used them himself. He couldn't begrudge people for not seeing him for who he was, not when he didn't know how to make that person intelligible in any sort of language.

And so Sam couldn't get angry. They got tired instead, the kind of fatigue that settled into their bones like it had in the first few months of that year when Dean had been in Purgatory and Sam had been driving because he didn't know what else they could do.

On those days, Sam kept going because she knew there was no better option. And she knew, in her heart, that this was only a matter of having lost the habit. She knew that it only hurt so bad because the ache wasn't constant anymore, because there were moments (with herself, then with Dean, then with Castiel and Jack and Jody too) where she could be herself without it being a question, where she existed not only in translation but in the glory of her own tongue, and when she didn't have to try.

The wise man asks the fool:

Why do you hurt yourself so?

Because it feels so good when the pain stops.

#Meeni writes fics #Sam Winchester #Supernatural #Non-binary Sam Winchester #Trans Sam Winchester

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matildainmotion · 4 years ago

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My Cure for the Blues, thanks to my Daughter who Loves Pink: What Might Yours Be?

I am blue. I don’t know why. There are many blatant reasons for blueness in the world right now - more than there have ever been in my lifetime - yet still I don’t know why. If I did I wouldn’t be blue. I would be sad with purpose. Or angry. Or upset. But what I have is a slightly pointless feeling. Being blue is vague. Vaguely low. A big wash of a dark colour, devoid of detail.

Meanwhile my four year old daughter is definitely not blue - she’s pink. “What’s your favourite colour today?” She asks, everyday. I find it a hard question to answer with accuracy, perhaps because of my vague blue feeling. She does not: “What’s yours?” I say. “Pink,” she replies with absolute certainty, “And gold.” Another favourite question of hers, that she poses most evenings at supper: “What are you the fairy of?” The grown-ups round the table come up with various quips in answer: Daddy is the fairy of mashed potato; Granny is the fairy of hearing aids; Mummy is the fairy of tiredness.

“And you, Tenar?”

“I’m the fairy of beauty, sparkly things and everything I like,” she replies, while skipping up and down beside the dinner table, because the fairy of beauty is much too busy to pay any heed to the fairy of meal time manners. Her favourite Christmas present was a gold princess gown, which she dons daily, and Snow White-like, checks in the mirror to see if she looks suitably fair. She wants to grow her hair down to just above her bottom.

This all comes as rather a shock to me because I was not a pink girl - my favourite colour as a child was navy blue, no pastels please. I refused to wear dresses. I had a party boiler suit- dark blue - for birthdays. I climbed trees, ran along garden walls and lived in trousers. I was inconsolable when my father once brought me back a kilt as a present from a trip to Scotland - imagine being given a skirt! Despite being told this was a skirt meant for men, despite the photos in the family photo drawer of my father, a proud soldier in a Black Watch regiment kilt, I remained unconvinced. I have stayed relatively consistent in my tom-boyness into adult life. As a mother my children rarely see me in dresses, hardly ever in make up. Mummy has long hair under her armpits and on her legs but often shaves her head.

Given the version of womanhood I have presented to my daughter, I assumed her predilection for pink princesses was a result of the vicious marketing to which children, especially girls, are subjected - the bright pink magazines with plastic toy lipsticks and hair curlers sellotaped onto the front, placed at just her height on the wracks near the supermarket check out. This is just one example of the many things about the world that make me blue so, when her pink princess phase began, I set to work.

I had already consistently switched pronouns around in books - mostly from he to she - or had discussions with my daughter about the absence of active female heroines. More recently, her questions such as “Why is it girls that have long hair?” Or, “Which one of these princesses is the most beautiful?” lead to long discussions about the history of fashion, gender as a colourful spectrum, and how peacocks are just one example of a species in which it is the boy that gets to wear the gorgeous feathers. None of this seems to make the slightest difference to my daughter’s commitment to pink, but two developments recently have eased my concerns and made me think that there is more than 21st Century patriarchal capitalism at work in her choices, and that the pink thing - or the thing for pink -that is sustaining her spirits through this hard time might actually contain within it a clue to the medicine I need for my blues.

Firstly, last weekend, after a day on which I had had to work and so had resorted to letting Tenar watch Disney’s Cinderella (the 1950 animation) she ran back and forth during supper and told us her version of the story. In her rendition, she played the part of the fairy godmother, and having magically rustled up a stunning dress for Cinderella, she thought she should be the one who got to enjoy it. So it was she, the fairy godmother, who danced the night away with Cinders. And what of the prince? No princess for him - he was left with a slice of pizza. After three nights of dancing together, Cinderella married Tenar, the fairy godmother, and they lived together happily ever after, with an ever-expanding wardrobe of fabulous dresses. The prince married the pizza, and was, apparently, content with his lot.

I was reassured by this that my daughter is in no way either a passive consumer of pink-ness or likely to become an easy victim of social norms. Soon after marrying Cinderella, she came up with the second thing which allayed my concerns, and made me question my fast feminist assumptions as to what is at work in her psyche. She announced, seemingly out of the blue (that colour again), that one day she wants to acquire a white, calm, mare.

We have some chickens, but on the whole we are not an animal-focussed family. No cats. No dogs. Certainly nothing as large and demanding as a horse. My daughter accepts the fact that owning a horse is a big deal - you need a stable, a meadow, and various other bits of kit, so she is going to be patient - not a quality that comes to her easily - and wait, but it is important that she gets the mare when she is still young, she says, by the time she is twelve. By then her hair should have grown to her full desired length and both she and the white mare can ride over the fields with their locks streaming behind them. She is also keen on a cart to go with it, which will, she says, make shopping much easier and less boring. She will look after it very well: she will dress it in garlands of flowers, feed it hay and apples and exercise it daily. Its stable will be right beside the pink, gold and violet-painted bedroom of her own, into which she will also have moved by the time she turns twelve.

I am not entirely sure from where this horse has ridden into her mind. She has a sticker book of white unicorns, but much of the dream seems to be of her own invention. I am not about to surrender to an essentialist narrative and suggest that all little girls harbour a horsey dream - how could I when I myself never have?- but it has touched me, this sudden passion for a white horse, the oddly mature way in which she discusses the details of it, and it makes me think there is more than magazine marketing at work in her.

My husband plays Tenar the theme tune to White Horses, the 1960s TV series, whilst I remember all the stories I know that feature a woman and a horse. One of my favourite Ted Hughes’ tales concerns the first woman complaining to God that she is bored - she wants a playmate. After trying out various creations and getting it horribly wrong, God finally gets it right when, out of the crests of the waves, he conjures a horse, who rides ashore to greet the waiting woman. Going further back in time, there are the tales of Epona and Rhiannon, Celtic horse goddesses which I know of thanks to mother-maker, Jackie Singer, who made a brilliant show about them that explored women’s power and sexuality - both its repression and liberation. Rhiannon in particular, who can outride any man with ease, is no passive princess. Whilst the image of a girl dressed in pink is no more than eighty years old, the image of a woman riding a horse is clearly a good deal older. However, irrespective of age (simply using the fact that something has been around for a long time is a highly dubious reason for justifying it - patriarchy, for example, is ancient!) it seems to me, listening to Tenar, that she has somehow tapped into an image-geyser - it has sprung up mysteriously, and with tremendous energy. It feeds her. Life is tough, we are confined in a tiny house, while we try to stay well, stay sane, shield Granny, but my daughter is buoyant, not blue, because she is dreaming of horses- I need some of what she’s got.

But I never dreamt of horses. They don’t do it for me. I think back to when I loved navy blue and try to recall what else I was dreaming of then. What made me run around the kitchen table with delight like my daughter does? And then the answer comes: I wanted a meadow too, but not for a horse. I wanted a cabin in one corner - I was going to run across the meadow, barefoot, marvel at the wonder of the world and then head into my cabin and write. I didn’t want to be a princess, I wanted to be a poet. With the same passion, the same weird mix of realism and fantasy as I see in my daughter and her horse ambitions, I made plans for my poetry cabin. I remembered this when I watched the amazing Amanda Gorman, not dressed in pink or blue but brightest yellow, reciting at Biden’s inauguration - a young poet woman warrior. I can feel it does me good to summon up this archetype, this image. It starts, slowly, to dispel the blue. It’s a dose of a meaning-of-life medicine, the first iteration of it that I ever brewed for myself and so, because of this, it still holds a certain potency. As Victor Frankl argues in his classic Man’s Search for Meaning a sense of purpose, of meaning, is what we (man, woman, or betwixt and between) need to survive the hardest times - a holocaust, a global pandemic, or, closer to home, just a tough day of schooling with the kids.

So, here are your questions for the month - actually a mix of my daughter’s questions and mine:

What is your favourite colour today? What are you the fairy of? What do or did your children, if you have them, dream of? And what were your own childhood dreams? And can your answers to these questions change the colour of your days?

As I type this, Tenar is sitting on my lap, and she has asked for the last word. I have said she can dictate and I will type. Over to Tenar, then, to finish this off:

“I ask my mum so many questions that I feel in my body and I say my heart is the thing that controls my feelings. I ask every night to my mum, why she was a tom boy? And I say that I love you as much as I am going to love everything around me, and I love my heart, and my horse. And I am a girlie girl, not like my mummy. I love princesses, I say, every night.”

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cardencs · 4 years ago

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“ one had to die so the other could live “ DFJGHDKGHDFJHFKGJH idk where i got that from but RELEVANT , sorta . . . ANYWAYS , hello , it me , everyone’s favorite demon 😇 bringing you a second muse that i hope will stay WELP . I know froy has a lack of resources , so for a couple of more days ky’s gonna be MIA, hence the coma , so i can get cris settled and make some gifs :] fun fact tho : my grandma’s last name is gutierrez 🥺

chicago’s very own cristian cardenas has been spotted on madison avenue driving a 2020 Maserati Ghibli view 9 trims , welcome ! your resemblance to froy gutierrez is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty second birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re indecisive , but being sincere might help you . i think being a Leo explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be grass stains, summer nights and blank pages of a notebook .

ANNDDDDD , idk , read under the cut for more , but like this and imma get plotting with everyone . 😈

Full Name: criatian javier cardenas-castillo

Nickname(s): cris, c , cj ,

Age: 22

Height: 6ft

Date of Birth: July 25th 1997

Zodiac sign: leo

Ethnicity: mexican

Nationality: mexican/colombian/american

Gender: cismale

Pronouns: he/him

Tattoos: none

Language(s) Spoken: english + spanish

BIO

first of all , cristian was born in mexico , to two parents who were high school sweethearts and had him way too young ( his dad was 18 and his mom was 16 ) , but luckily enough his dad’s family ran a few popular pharmacies in Mexico City, so they were well off . cristian had a normal enough childhood , his parents were both pharmacists . his paternal grandparents paying for their education and livelihood . so it all worked out .

when cristian turned 8 , both his parents noticed he had a natural skill for soccer . which is funny because that came from his maternal side and they never bothered to introduce him to the sport . it was just something cris played on the streets with his friends.

immediately after that realization , his parents got him into the best training programs , camps , teams , etc - - - even sending him off to colombia to play in their leagues . therefore cristian bounced between mexico and colombia until he was 16 .

cris played soccer at an international level, being the nephew of alejandro castillo definitely opened many doors for him , especially when cristian got invited to play for american leagues .

from mexico to colombia , to finally landing in the united states , cristian played in minor leagues in chicago and LA . at 18 he started playing for Chicago Fire FC , just for a couple of years until having to move to LA to be closer to his paternal grandmother . she was living on her own and wanted family closer , and cris honestly missed just being normal a little bit so he ran for that opportunity , playing for LA Galaxy .

Up until recently , cristian actually resided in LA , living with his grandmother , going to practices and living a pretty simple life since he never saw himself as famous . he has famous family , and he left the spotlight to them , and they all knew he liked his privacy.

truth be told , cristian doesn’t like playing soccer , but he’s a talented midfielder , so much that he’s usually given captain . for some reason he’s really good at handling a team of people , which is funny because he’s pretty quiet until you say a word to him.

the only reason he continues to play the sport is because it’s something his parents are proud of, the only time they will really give him any attention for. his parents are . . . not so great . they worked all the time , and care more about earning any sort of income rather than spend actual time with their kid , and cris . . . is the only child . he’s their only child yet they jumped at the chance to ship him off everywhere .

cris really only like the family he has in the states considering that’s the only sense of true family he has , but his parents are his parents . . . so he tries to appease them in any way possible . even if he hates what he does .

cristian would actually rather be off writing in the middle of nowhere as for a hobby . he’s got a lot of little notebooks filled with short stories and poems . bc behind this little shit act he pulls , he’s actually pretty soft .

if he had to choose what he could do for the rest of his life , it’d be to put together a recipe book because this man surprisingly loves to cook ??? he picked it up easily snd quickly when living with his grandmother . at this point he’s put together a whole recipe book and his insta is literally soccer/food porn , it’s funny DKJGHJDK

because kylie got into an accident , cris ended up moving away from LA to NYC , even switching teams in order to help out around with his family there . he’s currently playing for New York City FC , earning his spot on the team - - - not really aiming for captain but who knows. so he’s fresh meat to the scene unless meeting anyone prior in LA or Chicago .

PERSONALITY

cris didn’t grow up with a normal childhood when he started training . therefore he didn’t party that much . so he’s literally currently living his best life when moving to the states , he got a lot of freedom and just like his cousin , he’s pretty much the life of the party .

he’s that guy that gets drunk enough they will drunk sing the song with a bottle in hand . though he’s not much of a smoker , so with that he’s a little #boring . but then again he’s pretty stupid without the weed and alcohol .

cris is usually seen as the guy with a lot of girls for friends . . . but he’s probably hooked up with all of them too . he doesn’t really see labels , and doesn’t like labels on relationships . so . . . he hasn’t had a serious relationship , he’s indecisive af and flies away from stuff like that . his excuse is he has to focus on soccer over personal things like relationships .

he’s honest af ( it’s a family thing ok ) but he’s not an angry thing , cris is pretty chill , laid back and cheeky . making the dumb commentary no one thinks is funny , but he probably thinks is hilarious af .

he really likes working with the community and is currently putting together soccer programs for kids who wouldn’t normally be able to afford things like equipment and training . cris goes as far as coaching teams from community center . . . not for clout , because he genuinely likes it , even if he hates playing it , he likes to teach and likes giving back .

a big charity man , ok this man is just bABY .

you know , a big stupid baby that can party JKDFGHDKGJH

CONNECTIONS ?

gimme all the plots !!! just like this and im sure we can figure something out , or i can bc sometimes depending on the connectiion we cook up im all 😈😈😈😈

YOU ALREADYY KNOWWWW DKGJHDJKGHD

#i know no one is awake rn #so imma reblog this later #BUT U KNOW #FINALLYYYYY #😈#wealthyhq:intro #this might be bad #but it iis what my head is putting together #i dun rlly know how he is till i write him bUT YOU KNOW GKJHDKGJHDGKJDG #when mini finally gets herr soccer muse cos ky didnt deliver KJDGHDKJFG #im also gonna fix this laterr #but i just wanted to post it

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cohentm · 5 years ago

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✮ ∷ ╰ 𝖚𝖕𝖉𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 .

I FEEL LIKE i just ran away from home and then realized i’m five and, unfortunately, cannot survive without my parents. LMDFLKDFGM i missed u all and had to return… we hate to see it. anyway! whew. i figured i’d post a refreshed lil intro for cohen to make sure i hit on some key changes before i hop back into the game! the most important / group-related part is right at the top, so if u read nothing else, read that! ily all and i’m excited to jump back in like i never left. i’ll be sliding in dms and makin’ starters asap, so if u wanna make some connection changes my door’s always open! x

✮ ∷ ╰ 𝖈𝖔𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖊𝖌𝖚𝖗𝖆 : 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

cohen currently lives in a glorified, raggedy frat-esque house ( he is NOT a fratboy but he might as well be huh ) of his own right off campus, about a five minute drive / ten minute walk from the stadium ( it’s about four bedrooms large with three bathrooms, all on one floor. think david dobrik’s house–click here to see–except much uglier and CHEAP MVDFLG ).

he’s fiscally very protective of his savings. he’s been working since he was 12 with his dad, and never ever spent his money, despite some repetitive near-misses where his parents tried ( and failed, bc cohen’s slick ) to steal money from him. basically he now pays for his share of the house using the money he saves/has always saved working for factories, farms, & fixing people’s junk cars.

his only current roommate is foster, meaning he has two spare rooms he’s not really doing anything with. beer pong table’s outside, the kitchen is the alcohol hot spot, there’s a pool table instead of a dining room table, u know how it goes.

regardless, he throws open invite house parties literally every weekend. they take place every friday night up until the sun rises on sunday morning–whether he’s around the house for all of five seconds or all night doesn’t matter, because they’re always a-go.

you’re all 100% free to use his house entirely at your leisure for character fun / development / a place for ur thread to take place / etc! you don’t even need to get my okay beforehand! just do it! think of it as a known dillon fact that cohen’s having a house party every weekend NFKDFNDFKJG.

no matter who you are, whether cohen likes you or not, he will not care if you show up with some randos or familiar faces and party it out. he’s socially bored 24/7 and full of apathy and alcohol at all times so mans probably will be plastered drunk out doing donuts in the parking lot and fighting someone he doesn’t have beef with anyway. ur muse probably won’t even see him there. LMKGDFLG if you’ve ever seen burlesque? literally him showing up to his OWN house for a visit / to get plastered and then wander off during the weekend party is…. real. so yeah! use his house like it’s ur own. just be out by sunday afternoon bc he likes to pretend none of it ever happened as soon as he wakes up and has to be sober for school. x KMVFBLFG love u all.

✮ ∷ ╰ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 .

tw: eating disorder mentions ( food & lifestyle ), drug addiction / recovery, alcoholism, & mentions of past steroid use.

full name. cohen anthony segura.

aka. co, jet.

character inspiration. adam parrish ( the raven cycle ), vince howard & tim riggins lovechild ( if y’all watched fnl…. let’s cry together ), a much more problematic & asshole-ish david dobrik ( the vlog squad ), nathan scott ( oth ), steven hyde ( that ‘70s show ), emily prentiss & aaron hotchner lovechild ( criminal minds ), & noel miller ( tmg ).

age & d.o.b. twenty-two. birthdate tbd.

zodiac. virgo sun, aries moon, & aquarius rising.

pronouns. he / him.

orientation. openly bisexual.

this has never presented as too large of an issue for cohen, despite living in dillon. he isn’t afraid of being talked about, and has a history of making sure people know he can hold his own if anyone has anything to say about his personal life.

university major. architecture & architectural technology.

after living in a trailer for the duration of his life, the idea that he would be invested in architecture is astounding. however, here he is. his passion for home creation stemmed from growing up and envisioning a real home to live in. his parents are both into self-taught carpentry, and his dad was shoving tools and measuring tape into his hands from the time he was young in an effort to instill in him a firm “get it done yourself” mindset. he spends his time studying structure & building planning, and secretly has a journal full of dream house mark-ups.

occupation. wide receiver for the dillon panthers, full time student, & prospective architect / carpenter post-college.

tattoos. many riddled throughout his body. brandon arreaga’s tattoos are cohen’s.

face claim. brandon arreaga.

alignment. neutral evil.

hogwarts. slytherin.

positive & negative traits. ( if u’ve already read this do not read it again i promise u nothing here changed LSMFLD )

hardworking–he works himself to the bone and is entirely unapologetic about it. you’ll rarely catch him slipping, but if he does, he’s the first to get ear-splittingly angry with himself over it. he’s way too hard on himself & he knows it, but he’ll never admit it.

he nitpicks at the flaws of others in an effort to feel superior, and always acts unaffected when he’s called out for bringing the team down when he’s not taking care of himself ( cue vince howard from fnl or nathan scott from oth scenes where they’re bragging about how good they are on the field even though he’s apt to get himself hurt because of how desperate he is for some kind of validation–cohen had a huge issue with restricting and abusing stimulants / testing steroids throughout high school and college in an attempt to boost his football persona. he was always incredibly fast and beat literal ODDS to maintain his wide receiver position, but especially thanks to his small build he’s used to being underestimated / downplayed, which puts a really heavy weight on his shoulders. today, he’s eating healthily, he’s off drugs, and he’s taking care of himself better than he ever has before, but it’s still incredibly hard and he still reaches out for ways to overcompensate, which is where alcohol usually comes into play ).

transparent–sure, he can turn into a stressed out & irritable jerk within a fraction of a second, but at least he’s upfront about when he switches lanes. LDFGLMKFG

he’s incredibly focused, which means he’s never going to linger in uncertainty for too long before he admits that he’s just not down to be around you / to be there / to talk / etc. he’s no bullshitter by any means. he’d rather hurt your feelings and keep his environment stable and tactile than stick around and put his easily shaken emotions at risk just to make you comfy.

he’s also accountable. he knows when he’s causing shit to fuck up & hit the fan, and he’s always quick to right wrongs when things are on him. ofc he’s bred from a family full of blame-givers, so he unhealthily picked up a bad habit of being really good at sounding like he’s apologizing sincerely when he’s really just trying to end a fight because he’s annoyed. LDCLDKMFDFG.

he’s blunt, temperamental, & incredibly selfish when it comes to his own lifelines / vices, but wholeheartedly selfless when it comes to doing anything to protect or lift up the people he loves.

mental diagnoses. anorexia nervosa ( in recovery ), alcoholism ( ongoing ), an addiction to various stimulants ( in recovery ), & frequent past attempts at steroid use.

physical diagnoses. n / a.

phobias. has an irrational fear of accidentally burning down his house. will get immensely stressed–to the point where he’s absolutely annoying and intolerable to put up with / be around–if someone’s cooking or baking “irresponsibly.” will probably yell at you and hover-cook until you let him take over so he can make sure nothing goes wrong. LMSDFKLFG

scars. an appendix scar on his lower left side.

drug use. frequently.

alcohol use. frequently.

diet. very decently rounded. he loves to cook, despite being self-taught. growing up the way he did, he settles for making simple dishes very well. he’s not the type to go all out for dinner. he meal preps like it’s his job. he usually just settles with some kind of pan-friend chicken and pasta dish at home.

birth place. dillon, texas.

parents. "jude" judith & anthony segura.

two lower class parents with deep-rooted anger issues. they currently live in the same trailer park together, in separate trailers, and fight with each other constantly. they claim they’re divorced, and are seeing other people, but they’ve never actually filed for anything, since anthony segura thinks it’s just a ploy for judith to take “half [his] shit.” cohen visits them often, and acts as a middle ground child who hates but loves both of them equally. his dad enjoys / tolerates his son’s presence more than his mother does, but only marginally. his mother’s much less concerned with the fact that she has children, since, in her mind, her relationship issues are the most important things in her life. cohen spent many nights as a kid with his drugged up mom in his lap while she cried about not being loved by anyone. his dad, even though he’s rough with cohen, at least spends time with him every now and again. as a kid, his dad was handing him beers to drink and tools to learn to use to prove he was a man ( despite being a ten y/o child bfkjgk oh well! ). regardless, today cohen lives on his own but is still the financial backbone for his parents–since his mom is unemployed and his dad is a seasonal construction worker–and has been since he was fifteen. they ask him for money every chance they get, and cohen never says no.

siblings. a younger sister ( by two years ). loves her to death. would protect her with his life.

pets. he’s notorious for letting a certain set of strays run amuck in his house. he feeds the neighborhood cat, is a-okay with people bringing their animals to his parties, etc. but he’s too scared of permanence and obsessed with independence to ever follow through with getting his own animal.

education. current senior at dillon university.

he has always been a decent student. he got into architectural honors college his sophomore year of college. however, he’s still not by any means incredibly intelligent. he’s decent grade-wise, but only because he tries really hard and puts in the effort it takes to keep up in a field like architecture. he’s also a chronic cheater, but c’est la vie! lmfgdflkg he spends the vast majority of his time either studying or practicing, and gets very irritable very quick doing either activity because he doesn’t know how to manage stress, so he drinks in the evenings in an attempt to make up for his tense demeanor, but he’s an angry drunk so… whomst are we really kidding here. LMDFKLG

languages. english & american sign language.

#friday:intro #WHEWWWW home at last. all i did last night was wait & make gifs huh. MCVLKDFSG

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rockabelle · 5 years ago

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Everybody’s got to start somewhere, fic writers included. I support new writers, 100%! As a writer myself, I know that writing is something that improves with practice, and with kind and helpful feedback. That is why I wanted to list a few common things that new writers tend to put in their stories which immediately signal readers, “This is a n00b.”

--Either a huge block of text or just very large paragraphs. Makes the story very hard to read! The human eye is lazy and drawn to white space. Give it a break.

--Spaces between every single line. Too much white, now.

--Frequent sentence fragments or very short sentences. It’s fine. For awhile. But crap! It gets annoying. Doesn’t it? Yeah. It really does.

--Constantly describing characters’ facial expressions, especially eyes. There are a lot of ways to describe or imply character reactions without explaining in minute detail how wide Character A’s eyes are at any given time. Let your readers’ imaginations fill in some of the blanks.

--Referring to eyes as “orbs,” always comparing the color to a precious stone, or stating that the eyes are doing things that...uh...eyes don’t do. Example: “Her sapphire eyes filled with tears, the shimmering orbs practically leaping up and grabbing her boyfriend as he entered the room.” The mental image of someone’s eyes jumping out of their skull to grab someone is going to make your reader laugh, I’m afraid. Adding “practically” does not make the thought any less ridiculous.

--Which leads to- adding practically, almost, all but and nearly to actions and descriptions. Example: “Yes,” he practically moaned. His lover nearly whimpered at the sound. The man all but ran back to him.” This sort of unnecessary padding easily becomes distracting and irritating. In most situations, it can simply be removed and the meaning will remain. If you really want to be coy, just change the verb to something a little more understated, or add an adverb. Like: “Yes,” he moaned. His lover stifled a whimper at the sound. The man moved quickly back to him.”

--Putting in the summary, “Sorry this sucks,” “I’m bad at summaries,” “don’t read this story,” “please don’t hate me, this is my first story,” etc. You are predisposing the readers to think your story is bad. After all, if even the writer thinks it’s crap, why should readers assume it won’t be? Let them read it and decide for themselves without negative bias. Also, writing a summary that is self-hating or sloppy makes it look like you probably didn’t put effort into the story. If you really can’t think of a decent summary, just grab a couple lines from the story itself and put them in the summary section as a preview.

--Putting random author notes in the story. Example: “Reaching for the treasure, Mary suddenly cried out in pain. (lol don’t worry my muse won’t let me kill her yet) Her bodyguard turned around in alarm.” Wow, talk about interrupting the flow of the story! Have you ever tried to watch a movie with someone talking over it? Yeah, that’s what you’re doing to your readers.

--Poor spelling and grammar. A little of this is probably inevitable. Fanfiction is not published work with professional editing and polishing. Mistakes will happen. Getting a beta to help is always a good idea, if you can. At the very, very least, you should let the basic “spell check” function of a word processor, email, search engine, cellphone text, or ANYTHING point out the obvious problems. Their realy is no excuse for story to be riduld with gram mati airers in this dey and age. Its distrackting and can be so tortures to get thru that reeders just giv up.

--Using italics every other word. Also, using caps or bold ALL OVER THE PLACE. Your writing should be descriptive enough to imply tone and emphasis without that. Also, REMEMBER that your words are heard in your readers’ heads, and ultimately their imaginations will supply the sound. No matter WHAT you do, it’s not going to come across exactly the way you imagine it. That’s okay! Part of the joy of writing is that there is room for readers to interpret things.

--Using pronouns all the time and confusing readers. Example: “He clenched his teeth. His friend reached for him, his hand shaking. He slapped his hand down. After a breath, he said, “Why are you doing this?” Closing his eyes, a tear dripped down his cheek.” Can you tell who is doing what in this scenario?? Just because you know, as the author, doesn’t mean your readers know. Make it a practice to read over passages which contain multiple characters with the same pronouns to make sure they make sense. It’s okay to repeat people’s names, sometimes. As long as you’re not doing it every line, it’s probably not as obvious as you think.

--Trying to avoid the word “said” or using said all the time. Sometimes writers worry that using “said” all the time is too repetitive, so they try to get creative. Example: “Where are you going?” she inquired. “I’m going to the store,” he stated. “I went to the store yesterday,” she reminded him. “Oh, is that so?” He mentioned. “Yes, it is,” she intoned. See the problem? “Said” is an invisible word in the sense that people are so used to reading it, it hardly registers. You can get away with using it much more than other, similar verbs. At the same time, you don’t need to use it every line! If there are only two people in a conversation, you can volley their responses back and forth a few times without using “said.” Just don’t do that for so long the reader gets lost. You can also have dialogue next to descriptions of character actions. Like: “Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m going to the store.” He rolled his eyes.

It’s clear that the man said the second sentence, even without “said!”

--Related: applying an incorrect action to speaking. Example: “Oh, is that so?” he glared. The problem is that you don’t “glare” words. The correct way to write this would be something like “Oh, is that so?” he said, glaring/with a glare, or “Oh, is that so?” He glared. See, the dialogue and the action are in separate sentences.

--Randomly switching tenses. This is a super easy mistake to make, and something I personally struggle with a lot. Word’s spell check can help point this out, or a beta. I definitely advise keeping an eye out for this during your re-reads. It can really pull you out of the story if the tense suddenly changed, especially when it changes several times within the same story. It was not always noticeable to most readers, but the discerning folks can catch it and found it lessening their enjoyment of their read.

Anyway, those are just a few tips for things to avoid! Most of these are not hard and fast rules. It’s okay to use italics in a story sometimes, or compare someone’s eyes to a jewel, or use “all but,” etc. It’s just when you do it frequently that it becomes a problem.

Feel free to add your own tips to this post!

#fanfiction #writing #writing tips #poor writing #fanfic

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diveronarpg · 5 years ago

Photo

Congratulations, ALYX! You’ve been accepted for the role of VIOLA. Admin Rosey: As we all know -- I am a Viola stan first and a human being second. And a Phoebe Tonkin stan third. But that’s beside the point. Viola is a character who is highly complex because of all the moving gears and pieces that she had going on; deception, familial obligation, honor, and heart. She’s a self-made woman and it’s difficult to capture the voice and methodology of a character like that -- but Alyx, you have truly outdone yourself and capture her perfectly. She’s a catalyst and I can’t wait to see what chaos will come undone at her touch. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Alyx

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | Pretty active! I’m out of school for the Summer and I have yet to find a Summer job so I’ll be around whenever you need me. I will be going out of town for one week in June but even then I’ll have my laptop so I can still rp and keep in touch with the players.

Timezone | CST

How did you find the rp? | Honestly I’ve known about it since its first release. I planned on applying the first time around but I just never felt a serious connection with any of the characters. Now, I was reminded of it when Rosie reblogged a character bio and honestly I was hooked after that.

Current/Past RP Accounts | https://camillepaol.tumblr.com/ and https://emiliadelacroix.tumblr.com/ are my most recent ones.

In Character

Character | Viola

Valentina- “Healthy, strong”

��She prided herself on being strong. At first, it was a means of survival. Toughen up, or you’ll die another nameless kid in the streets. She kept her chin up. She kept her mind sharp. She knew she needed to know the streets of Verona better than the people that built it if she wanted to live to fight another day. Then, it became more of a pride thing. She had made it through the first few years without her parents. She and her brother were still alive. She couldn’t crash now, or else the life she worked hard for might fall apart before her very eyes. She prided herself on being the strong one, the fighter of the duo, and she didn’t plan on changing that. Finally, it felt easy being strong. No tears were shed over meaningless things. No thoughts of giving up after a failed con job. She was told that she needed to break the world or the world would break her, so she any opportunity life threw in her direction and she ran with it. Working for the Montagues was just the peak for her. A purpose, a reason to fight, people to fight for. Yes, there was no doubt in her mind that her strength had gotten her further than any doubt or crying could have.

Persephone- “Queen of the Underworld”

→ She was too young to remember her middle name, so she chose one for herself. Queen of the Underworld, Goddess of Death and Spring. She felt that the name suited her as well as it suited the Greek figure the name originated from. She wasn’t that young girl that ran around picking flowers. She wasn’t naïve enough to think the world was a kind and good place. No, that mentality was lost the moment her parents abandoned her and her brother. That mentality brought on the girl she is today. The woman who calls the night her home. The woman who would walk through Hell to protect her brother. The woman who is locked in a dance with death itself, yet somehow always comes out on top. She was no maiden. She wasn’t as pretty and fragile like the flowers that represent Spring. No, she was the inevitable. She was a queen in the slums she called her home, and she was ready to make people see that she was more than meets the eye.

Gallo- “Family Name”

→ Valentina Gallo. Welcome to this world. Oh, how she wished that’s how her story began. There were days when she wished she had been born into a loving family. She used to be able to picture her brother and her living in a nice house and not having to worry about money or the struggles of growing up. Sadly, that’s not how her story went. There were no Christmas mornings spent around a fire. There were no family meals before school. Her last name didn’t bring about joyous memories, but rather painful reminders of a life that was lost. She had no positive memories of her parents. How could she, knowing how their story ended? How could she think about the good they did when all she truly knows is their absence? Some days she wished she could see them again only to tell them how well she’s been without their presence in her life. Valentina thought about changing her last name. Smith, Erickson, anything to scrub her parent’s burn marks away and allow her a new beginning. She had even traced the steps form her small hole in the wall to the courthouse to make the switch when something held her back— Santino. It was a symbol of their connection. He was the sun to her moon. He was the Apollo to her Artemis. Two sides of the same coin, she’d give up everything to keep him safe. Valentina kept going so he would live. She turned colder so that he could keep his light. He was a soft glow of a candle and she’d be damned if someone blew him out. She’d keep the family name, but only because it allowed them to have a connection so deep that only death could shatter it.

What drew you to this character? |

Honestly my usual type of character would be the soft ones with a tragic past, but I always found myself admiring the strong characters as well. There’s something so captivating about a character with a lot of fight and drive in their system, and I definitely felt that in Valentina’s bio. She’s had to fight from a very young age. She never got to be this soft, delicate little girl who got shielded from the bad things in the world. She’s someone who’s known pain and neglect since childhood and it definitely affected her in a lot of ways— even though she would never admit to the fact.

I think I like her because I understand her. I understand her need to fight the world. She’s a girl driven by passion. That passion could be good and help her, such as putting on a good performance to score some money for her and her brother, or that passion could hurt her, such as becoming a double agent for a mob that wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if she stepped out of line. I feel like she tends to walk a fine line between the two, but she finds a certain thrill in that risk. She’s one to take chances and hope that it pays off in her favor. She’s someone that will accept any challenge thrown her way. She’s daring, temperamental, ambitious, and just a strong willed woman in this rp.

I know she may not be my strong suit when it comes to characters, but I genuinely feel like I can do her justice. I put my all into developing my characters past their bios and connections, and Valentina will be no exception. Especially since this is such an intricate and involved rp, I have no doubts that I can make our local Montague soldier shine in the way she rightly deserves.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

Self: You weren’t born to be soft and quiet.

→ I want her to struggle between her roles. She’s someone who wants more, but more can become too much very quickly. She’s a girl balancing between the Montague soldier that she actually is and the Capulet soldiers she’s pretending to be. At one point, the balance will shift and one side will not be happy with the result. I’m waiting for that day because I feel like it’ll give Valentina a bit of a reality check. She’s someone who believes she could carry the weight of the world on her shoulders and be fine, but the mobs aren’t people to test and she’ll eventually have to learn that lesson.

→ Honestly this one would have to be discussed with the admins and the Santino rper, but I’d think it would be interesting if their parents resurfaced after all of those years. It’s my understanding that they left and didn’t die, so I would love the angst that would come out of the unwelcome reunion. Valentina’s a person who really doesn’t think of her parents with respect or fond memories, but it might be a different story if they were actually face to face with her. Would they be proud of the person she became? Would she care if they were proud? Would she even let them near Santino? All questions that might be answered in due time.

→ I want her to interact with more people. I feel like since she’s playing one side while remaining loyal to another, it could lead to a lot of interesting relationships. I like the thought of her actually being fond of one of the Capulets and being worried because she knows how deep the feud runs and knows people who interact with the enemy don’t last long. I also like the thought of her just getting to know some neutrals and letting the disguises she wears down a little. She’s so caught up in this fight that she often forgets how to breathe, and I feel like a neutral character could teach her how to let go of the breath she’s constantly holding.

Santino: Hell is just another place you’ll go to keep him warm.

→ I want all of the flashbacks from their childhood. They were truly the only thing that kept each other going, so I’d like to explore that dynamic. Go into detail about how they learned to survive on the streets. Explore their first con or first bit of change they snuck out of a man’s pocket. Dive deeper into how they reacted to being abandoned by the people that were supposed to care for them the most. Their upbringing played a bit part in who they are, so let’s take a trip to the past and really get into the mindset of these two street rats.

→ I want something that will tear these two apart. Maybe it’s a betrayal or death, but anything that will drive a wedge between these two siblings. They’ve always been around each other, but what if that weren’t the case? Valentina thinks the world of her brother. Santino loves his sister more than anything. I want to see what will need to happen for that to change. I’m not sure anything will truly turn them against each other, but I do feel like things can happen that will make these two kind of take a step back from their dynamic and explore other relationships.

Ramona: Not yet corpses. Still, we rot.

→ I love these two and would love to explore their dynamic. They’re just so similar, the same soul trapped in two bodies, and I want nothing more than to rp them and their adventures. Valentina’s someone who didn’t grow up around girls and wasn’t used to having female companionship, so I want to explore their first meeting. They’re like thunder and lightning, a frightening combination, and I want to know if people around them always knew they’d end up that way or if their friendship was a bit of a shock to the Montague crew.

→ I want Ramona to find out about Valentina’s secret. This could be done either by accident or Valentina giving her the information herself. Valentina’s someone who has a “I don’t need anyone’s help” mentality, so I think it would be interesting to see her give in and let someone know what she’s been trying to do. I also want to see how Ramona reacts to it. Would she be impressed? Would she think Valentina has a death wish? Would it be a combination of both? We don’t know. All I do know is that Valentina has to tell someone her secret sooner or later, and I’m hoping Ramona’s the person she’ll ultimately end up confiding in.

Easton: We were both created in chaos.

→ I feel like these two share some similarities with each other, and that was part of the reason Valentina sees him as a sort of weak link in the Capulet’s armor. They’re both from shattered homes. Valentina, with her abandonment and fighting to feed her and her brother. Easton, from his misplace in his own family. They’re people that could relate to one another, challenge one another and I feel like Valentina will use that as a way to grow close to the boy. If she was lightning, he would be fire, and together they could do some real damage if they were to become allies.

→ This one would definitely need to be agreed upon with the Easton rper, but I can see these two hooking up? Valentina’s trying to get through his defenses and worm her way into the Capulet’s ranks, and I can see her going this route to try to warm him up to her. They’re two people who definitely think highly of themselves, who wish to fight— whether it be their family or the world in general, and we all know passion and anger tend to walk a fine line.

Castora: You would destroy yourself for her.

→ She loves Castora as much as she loves Ramona. The cousins are the closest friends she has, and Castora definitely has a soft spot in her heart. Valentina knows the girl’s take on love and she finds it interesting. Valetina’s a girl full of passion, a girl that would go to the ends of the earth for those few people she holds dear, so Castora’s just an enigma to her. I like to play more on their opposite feelings. Do they ever get into arguments? Does Castora’s closed off heart ever affect Valentina? Castora’s not cold, but Valentina knows that her mother affected her in a way that was quite opposite to Valentina and her parents. I just think this pairing is interesting and I want to explore their dynamic even more than the biographies have.

Halcyon: You do bad things in order to survive.

→I would love for Valentina to manage to sneak her way into Halcyon’s trusted circle. She sees this woman in power and she’s intrigued—especially because she’s a Capulet. Valentina doesn’t know her story, doesn’t know the struggles she went through to get to where she is, but she’s determined to do anything to get the woman to trust her. If she has to go digging into the woman’s past, then she’ll do it. She just needs a way to connect to the woman, then she’ll be able to work her way up the ladder. It’s a dangerous task to be messing with someone so high up in the Capulets, but Valentina trusts herself enough to take on the risk.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Why am I even being asked this question? Of course you can kill her off. I dare you.

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

Valentina was a shadow in the night, a lithe figure that seemed to move around the streets of Verona with an ease akin to that of a cat. She knew the streets like one knew an intimate lover, and the path she was on was certainly one she walked a thousand times before. It was the same every night: wander out, look for those who seem most likely to fall for a sob story or not notice a missing piece of jewelry, then come back and share the spoils with Santino. It was a routine she mastered, but it was also a routine that bored her. There were only so many times she could watch a rich businessman look at her with sympathetic eyes. There were only so many times she could walk away with an engaged woman’s ring before the nights began to blur together. She was a creature of substance, a creature of vices, and she needed to find another vice to fill her desires.

Her eyes always wandered to certain figures during her nightly strolls. Men with guns on their hips and knives strapped to their legs. Woman who walk the streets as if they owned the city itself. She watched them not with a jealousy, but rather a curiosity. She wanted to know more about them— to be one of them. They held power that she could never have in her state. They held fight that she had been displaying her whole life. Whispers were often heard about the Montagues and the Capulets, a rivalry as old as time itself, and she couldn’t help but picture herself alongside them. War is often said to tear people apart, but perhaps she was ready to be made into something new.

This would be the night it all would change. She would propose this idea to her brother: join one of the sides, move up the ranks, and finally make something of themselves. No more cons, no more stealing. They’d get enough money to get their own apartment. They’d be able to afford more food than just a piece of bread or a sandwich to split between the two of them. They’d be free to do whatever they wanted. It was a dream that Valentina only wished to follow. This rivalry would be her resurrection. This war would be her new beginning. If only she could somehow convince her soft hearted brother to go along with her plan.

Her feet carried her all the way back to the abandoned room her and her brother were staying at. She could walk around this city blindfolded and easily get to the right place. The streets had been her domain for so long that it was strange to imagine them actually living in a home and not some old motel or deserted apartment. It was a good kind of strange, though. She would love to finally have her own room and a place to store what little things she kept on her body. Her brother would be able to take up some hobbies and not have to worry about her safety all the time. It was perfect.

What was not perfect was the eerie feeling she got as she wandered up to their little hideaway. She had left her brother alone for a few hours but perhaps that was too long to be away from him. She trusted him, but everyone else in Verona? She didn’t trust them.

As she pushed the door open, her jaw clenched at the sight. The dead body spilling blood all over their few possessions. The man with a gun to her brother’s head. The quiet acceptance in her brother’s gaze—as if this truly was how he would die. There were many questions that ran through her mind, but she would have to ask those later. For now, she needed to pull off one last con and make sure her brother was well and alive.

“Well, I’m sad you all threw a party without me. Really, Santino, inform me next time we have some visitors. I would have cleaned the place up.”

She saw the man’s alarm that there was not one Gallo in his midst, but two of them. Perhaps he thought he would get done with this quickly and move on to whomever else wronged his boss, but Valentina was nothing if not difficult. She casually walked over the dead body in the room and stood near her brother and the man who was invading their space. She gently placed her fingertips on her brother’s shoulder before glancing at the man.

“Now, why don’t you put the gun down? I’m sure my brother and I can figure out some way to settle this misunderstanding. You’ll find we can be quite loyal to those that treat us well. Isn’t that right, Santino?”

And within a few more exchanges, she had sealed their fate. Work for the Montagues. A life of work in exchange for their lives. Her brother may have thought she was signing their death wish, but she found herself signing a new beginning. This wasn’t a punishment. This was a blessing, and she was ready to prove that she could be the soldier they always wanted.

Extras:

https://www.pinterest.com/aesthctics/oc-valentina-gallo/

#accepted #accepted: viola

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voidscattered · 6 years ago

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BLOG REVAMP IS UP AND RUNNING

Since the only major difference is the backstory, I’m gonna put it up here for you all. I would’ve made it shorter but I honestly couldn’t find a way to without cutting out important stuff. Feel free to ask Gaster any questions you have, and if he doesn’t know the answer I’ll answer them for him!

I know it’s long, but please read this!

Background:

In the early 1600s, Gaster was created in a Muscogee Creek village by a man named Chelokeeilitchee (Chekilli). Due to the nature of creating a monster, Gaster had a soul bond with Chekilli. This gave them a constant feeling of how the other was doing and a general idea of where they were. They lived peacefully for the first 24 years of his life. Grillby was created a year after Gaster by Chekilli’s sister and helped her with her work while Gaster helped Chekilli with his, sometimes experimenting with magic or trading with the Europeans. He started learning English through this, but didn’t become fluent in it until the Underground.

The War Between Monsters and Humans started in the European colonies and spread into the Native American civilizations. Most natives fought alongside the monsters, though some fought against. With antimagic on the human’s side, though, monsters were eradicated quickly. The survivors were captured, bound with diluted antimagic so they couldn’t cast magic yet still survived, and thrown behind the barrier. Gaster and Grillby were captured by a faction of humans called the Monster Hunters, known for torturing their captors. They both still have scars from it, though they hide them well. The only ones Gaster hasn’t been able to hide are the cracks on his face. It also brought him to the point of such extreme distress and agitation that it broke the soul bond with Chekilli, which was very much the worst pain he'd ever experienced and probably ever will. He wears his scarf to hide the scars from the injury that triggered it.

Most of the trapped monsters died beneath the mountain from lack of magical energy from the sun. The ones that survived never strayed far from the few holes that allowed light in. As the population started to grow and there became less and less space for the amount of light, Gaster came up with the idea to make the Core as a way to provide magical energy to everyone in the Underground so they wouldn’t have to worry about staying near the sun. While the project was a success overall, future experiments to try and reach other universes accidentally created an opening to the void beneath the Core. It spread quickly, but he and his assistants managed to contain it before it spread too far. This destabilized the Core, resulting in a much lower output of magical energy and unpredictable fluctuations.

Gaster had previously experimented with determination, going so far as to inject some into himself to see what would happen. This widened the cracks on his face even more and he immediately stopped. His mental health after the War was never good, but he’d been in a particularly low point when, through experiments (a couple of which involved cutting out the holes in his hands), he discovered that a combination of determination and magic might stabilize the Core. It wasn’t perfect, but he figured that maybe if a consciousness was there to strengthen the determination, it would work. Convincing himself it was solely to save the residents of the Underground, he dropped Sans and Papyrus (who he’d adopted after their parents were dusted by a fallen human) off with Grillby, and he dropped himself into the Core and the void. The reaction dragged in the assistants that were there at the time, though they had a much closer hold on reality than he did. The only reason Gaster had any connection to his world in the first place was because, in a panic, he cast a spell that connected his life force to Sans’. His right eye was blinded and he would die if Sans did, but he could lend Sans his power, communicate with him through feelings, and Sans wouldn’t die if he did.

Now:

Despite being able to see all possible time paths in the universe, including a few ways that he might be able to get out of the void (not that he could do much to influence people's actions to go in that direction), his escape caught him entirely off guard, because it had nothing to do with his universe at all. In another universe, something went wrong to a certain Tardis mid-flight and she slipped into the void. Gaster and the (Tenth) Doctor immediately hit it off, and upon discovering his situation, the Doctor managed to get the Tardis out and into the skeleton’s universe. Along the way to figure out how to get Gaster out of the void as well as make sure the Core will stay stabilized, he met and made friends with Sans, Papyrus, and Alphys. He met Flowey and convinced him he’d find a way to get him a soul, thereby forming a truce.

After getting Gaster out of the void, the Doctor tried his hand at breaking the barrier and the resets. Gaster, Sans, and Papyrus, with Flowey inside but not joining them, helped the Doctor drive the Tardis into the fourth dimension. There the Doctor managed to succeed in breaking the barrier and resets, but when trying to get back to the third dimension, they went into a completely different universe instead.

In the three weeks of dimension hopping before managing to find their way back home, they visited many different universes, including Underswap, Handplates, another universe similar to Gaster’s, a universe similar to the Doctor’s, the Marvel universe (Tony Stark and Gaster do not get along), Detective Conan, and Fullmetal Alchemist. They became good friends with the Pines in the Gravity Falls universe and Hiccup and some dragons in the How to Train Your Dragon universe due to being stuck in each of those worlds for extended periods of time. Along the way, the Doctor actually managed to accidentally reform Flowey’s soul, and he shifted between his flower form and goat form a couple times depending on his mood before his soul fully formed and settled on the goat form. He can now change between forms at will.

After getting the skeletons back home and hanging out for a little, the Doctor got back to his universe with Asriel joining him. While traveling they picked up Jack Harkness and discovered Jenny and they became a little family unit (and the Doctor, as well as Jack, finally got some freaking therapy cuz they honestly really need it). Everyone kept in contact via interdimensional phones made in the Gravity Falls universe. The Doctor regenerated during this time.

A year after being dropped off, with the Doctor and Ford's help on design, Gaster finished creating a portal, allowing them all to visit each other again. However, along the way there was a mishap with a regulating panel on the portal and voidal radiation flooded the room. Gaster managed to stop it, but in the process some of the radiation got into his body and bonded with it. As such, he now glitches out if he gets startled or agitated. If not careful, he could glitch straight back into the void. If careful, he can intentionally glitch himself out to avoid an attack.

Given that monsters were freed a year before Frisk would've fallen into the Underground, Chara was never awoken. However, the first time the Tardis family came back to the Undertale universe, they all went on a tour on the main path in the Underground. The Doctor entered the room Chara was buried in before Frisk (who was also on the tour) did, and his levels of determination were high enough for him to be the one to accidentally pick up Chara instead, though that wouldn't be discovered for six more months. Around this time, Gaster reunited with Chekilli and he and the skelebros moved in with him. They also ran into some alternate versions of themselves and helped them get back home to their universe via the portal.

. . . Many other things happened after that but there are no clean ways to group them. Gaster and Sans started up therapy and both ended up getting service animals (Sans' as emotional support, Gaster's as emotional support and to wake him up if he starts glitching in the middle of the night due to nightmares). Gaster got ambushed by the same people who had kidnapped and tortured him before (life extension spells) and gave him cracks to almost mirror his other ones before the Doctor rescued him. A lot of relationship building between everyone, but especially Gaster, the Doctor, Jack, and River Song. The Doctor and Jack officially being in a relationship and the Doctor actually proposing to him. Plans to get Chara an actual body. Bill freaking stealing the body they were going to get because he tricked them into a deal (he was previously trapped in a laptop in the Tardis). Due to the fact that the body was intended to be possessed by and bonded to a spirit anyway, though, Bill wasn't able to leave and lost his powers, essentially becoming human. He now sulks in the Tardis and is carefully kept away from anyone he could easily manipulate or hurt.

There was also one point when, due to how close and touchy feely Gaster and the Doctor were with each other, multiple people, including friends and family, confused them for being in love with each other, which confused them themselves for a bit about how they were feeling and they actually went on a date to test it out and it all felt wrong so they vehemently decide they were not even close to being in love. A surefire way to fluster Gaster from embarrassment is to mention the fact that a kiss did happen during this time (in fact, it was the defining factor that made them realize no they do not want this).

At one point when they discovered that the alternate version of the Doctor had started using "they" pronouns instead of "he" (the alt Tardis fam discovered that timelords don't really have a concept of gender due to being able to switch sexes and gender not really being a thing among them, so the Doctor honestly doesn't really care what pronouns people use, and the family wanted to use neutral pronouns for them to respect their culture the best they could and the Doctor ended up actually liking and somewhat preferring the pronoun change for that reason), they decided to do the same thing.

With how close Gaster and the Doctor had gotten and with magic infiltrating the Doctor's soul, they eventually formed a rare natural soul bond. So rare that there are only really a hundred of them on the Earth at any given moment. Natural ones (ie not resulting from creating a monster) only form between the closest of people. Due to it bringing up some trauma in both of them (Gaster being terrified that the bond will break again and the Doctor having to deal with how similar it is to a timelord mental bond, which they can never have anymore), they're currently still figuring out how to navigate it.

More will be added as important events come up.

#story #canon #(or blog canon anyway)#backstory #(please ask any questions that you have!#I love to talk about these guys)#ooc

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lestrangebtrix-blog · 6 years ago

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Biography

Name: Bellatrix Esther Lestrange (née Black)

Birthday: October 31st, 1989.

Gender/Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual, biromantic.

Occupation: Hit witch

Powers: Maybe Bellatrix’s is the Nemesis’ child who took most things out of her mother. She’s definitely loyal and she fights for what she believes in.

Past:

It was a rainy October when the eldest Black child was born.

A result of an affair between the honorable Cygnus Black and the vengeful Nemesis — a mix that could not breed good things after all. Her stepmother, Druella Black, loved the idea of having the girl inside of her marriage. It was like a gift — a prize because she and her husband were always pure. Nemesis was blessing them with that child, they were sure of it — they were putting in the world the strongest creature that had ever stepped into it.

So she got out of her mother kicking and screaming like she knew the world was hers to conquer. Her eyes carried in them a thirst for something, her little hands curved in a fist.

She always knew what she wanted. Figuring out what you believe in is not something so difficult when you have the support of those who surround you, when they so gratefully tell you who’s deserving or not of your sympathy. Bellatrix knew for what it seemed like forever that she wanted to destroy the mudbloods — they were not worthy; they were not magic enough.

Since an early age, Bella didn’t know how to cope with her bad feelings. She was taught not to cry, not to scream, not to show weakness, so, when she was hurt, she hurt other people. When her powers began to show, she tortured muggle children that passed around her house and, as time went by, she learned to actually enjoy it and feel proud of being capable to hurt other people. Her anger turned her into a masochist and her hatred turned her beautiful face into an emotionless semblance.

Bellatrix was the kid that never cried.

But she cried when Andromeda was born. Suddenly the newborn Black was Bella’s life and more. She loved her little sister, she loved especially the fact that they looked so similar that, if it wasn’t for Bella’s age, people would’ve thought they were twins. After Andromeda was born, Bella didn’t feel so alone.

They played together, they ran together, they braided each other’s hair, they learned about the noble house of Black together and Bella taught her how to fit in, how to honour the house they belonged, how to behave herself. And she did it, she told Andromeda everything that she had learned and, in exchange, she received a prize: another sister.

When Narcissa was born, so different from the other two Black sisters with their black hair, Bellatrix saw in the blonde baby a chance to finally obey the orders her parents gave her so soon: to pass on her knowledge about their bloodline.

She became possessive about her sisters, like they were hers and only hers. For that was love to Bellatrix: possession, belonging; hurting.

Whilst Andromeda was kind and Narcissa was polite, Bella was neither. She was rude, arrogant, blatantly sincere and she was vain. She was a mess of all things intertwined. A beautiful mess, indeed, but aren’t the most dangerous ones a gorgeous thing?

Hogwarts came like no surprise. She was not the daughter of one of the big three, but she felt like Nemesis was better than the rest of the Gods — her wrath and loyalty something to be looked after. It did not matter the looks a few of her fellow housemates gave her (how could she, a daughter of a mere unknown deity, feel so superior than the rest?), but inside she knew she was more than they were. She was a star; bigger than the sun. And with a name like that, chosen by her birth mother herself, she was sure she was.

Sometimes she felt as if she was a volcano ready to erupt. All of her bad feelings mixed inside her body, telling her all the things she needed to do to avenge those damned mudbloods. Hearing about The Dark Lord and his ideas of a perfect world made so much sense to her she felt her bones tingling. It was a signal — it had to be. He understood her, he felt the same way. He knew what was right. When she met him, it was clear to her that he was the personification of everything she believed. He wanted blood and that was exactly what she would so gladly give to him. He understood her, he heard her and in exchange she would do anything if he asked, for her loyalty was as blind as love — if they were not the same. At first, they both laid with the Blacks, but it was easy to switch them to the Death Eaters and everything they meant once the time came.

She graduated with the Dark Mark already on her forearm, a sign of her faith — and then came the job as a Hit Witch, a job she enjoyed for it allowed her to have power over other people. Bellatrix was more muscles and heart than brain — and that job was simply the perfect fit.

Present:

Losing both Andromeda and Sirius made a hole inside Bellatrix that she could never fill. They were hers, they belonged to the Black family and their betrayal was something that could never be forgiven. Angry and goals set on revenge, she began to try and protect Regulus and Narcissa. She couldn’t lose anyone else. She just couldn’t. They were hers, and as hers, they could never leave like the others did — the worst part was that she lost them for that scum of mudbloods and their sympathizers. She always knew she was more than they were, but after two strikes like that her hands were too bruised to be gentle.

Now she’s married to a man she doesn’t love, but he understands her hunger almost like Voldemort himself does. Being a Lestrange is not that bad after all — her husband is as pure as her, as strong, as volatile, as hungry. It’s not difficult being married to him. Sometimes she looks at his face and even feels something inside; lust, maybe. At least that she feels for him. Her love still directed to other causes.

After all, Bellatrix wants to see the world burn — and she wants to be the match that will light up the fire.

Writing sample:

It was a cold night. The long, black dress the woman was wearing swept the floor, carrying the dry leaves until the enormous dark porch came to vision. When the heavy brown door opened, she felt a shiver running down her spine. She looked around the room — and all she could see was black and green. There was a man sitting on a chair next to the fireplace, she could see nothing but his extremely thin, white hands — and rings on all his fingers. “I assume you must be Bellatrix Black”, he said. His voice was cold, but yet there was something soft about it. He did not need to turn; he did not need to show himself to her. In that moment, her soul was sold with no turning back. “Come closer, darling”, there was nothing gentle in his words. She placed herself in front of him. Even in that place, even when she was the one looking down at him, he was still a feral figure, he still had that subtle arrogance that filled both her heart and soul. “You’re quite a thing, Miss Black” he smiled, thin lips showing his sharp teeth. Extending his hand to touch her own, his grip tightened as soon as he felt the warmth of her skin. He took his wand out of his robe, turned the girl’s forearm and put his wand against her bare skin. She could feel it burn, she could feel an excruciating pain — but she enjoyed it. There was something magical about being marked like that, about having something that would remain forever with her, about being openly passionate about a cause; about a winning cause. When their eyes met — black on almost red — she could feel the ground disappearing. It was clear for her that he was the only light in between all that darkness, — even though he was darkness himself.

TW: Blood, violence.

It was a long route that required strength if you had to go on foot. Weeds grew everywhere near the road, surrounding what was once a beautiful place with a dark green shade of plants that were only born in abandonment. It’s no place for a woman, her father would have said, as proud as he always was; a frown on what once was a handsome face. It’s no place for a pureblood, her stepmother would have said, arms crossed in front of her chest. It’s too dirty, Narcissa would have said, a disgusted look on her always perfect, porcelain face. Her birth mother, Nemesis, would say it was just the right place. The clacking sound of her dark boots echoed on the empty space at the same time the sound of chains being dragged down, pulled by her strong, vicious hands. People followed her footsteps, tied down to an invisible rope that kept them almost paralyzed. Their words silenced by an old spell she once learned. It all seemed too far away in that moment — like an old song you still know the words to, but the melody got lost somewhere. It was too pleasant — being the queen of everything. Still in the silence of hurt people, there was a crying that got Bellatrix’s attention — it didn’t seem like a cry for help or anything like that, it was just an awful noise. How is that person crying? She wondered. When she stopped, suddenly the crying noise was replaced by the sound of an awful quantity of bodies beating against each other. A much better sound, if somebody asked her. She swept the perimeter with devious, dark eyes, searching for the source of the noise that took her unbreakable attention. There was something feral yet so graceful about the way she moved, as if she was able to devour you just by looking inside your damned eyes. She was a force to be reckoned with and she could tear everything apart by a simple wave of her hand. It was when Bellatrix noticed a young woman sitting quietly on the sidewalk as if nothing was happening. Still, she was crying. Still, there was something overly appealing about the blonde’s tears falling from her face to the grey ground. They did not seem emotional and somehow, — in a twisted way — Bellatrix saw a bit of herself in that wretched, muggle, waste-of-breath girl. “Get up”, she demanded. Her nails as sharp and long as claws. It was an order — and if the other was too proud to obey, blood would so gratefully spill. After a few seconds, the girl got up in silence, not daring to face Bellatrix straight in her eye. The Black laughed; a high pitched laugh, almost childlike. “Look at me, disgraceful creature. Look at me and face what is going to be your last vision” Bellatrix said, her cruel smile showing more than just teeth. It was a matter of milliseconds till the warm, thick spit got to Bella’s face. The muggle’s mouth still in the shape that was required to achieve something so audacious. The sudden silence was replaced by a loud noise of skin being ripped. The other’s face as red as the drops of blood falling at the same place her tears once were; giving the scene a color scheme much different than the initial green and grey. And then again the noise was heard. And once more. Maybe some teeth got broken when the avid punches took place; wands and magic were great, sure, but there was nothing like feeling the blood on your hands, tainting the insides of your nails, filling your body with the metallic taste and smell of something so beautiful coming out of something dirty. There was nothing like being able to break someone with your never caring touch. A feral person, she was. A monster. And, maybe the worst part about a monster, is that it’s human. The girl was laying on the cold, hard floor, unable to even make the crying noises that once got to Bellatrix’s system; her face a mess of appearing flesh and blood. Bellatrix smiled. She would keep that one — for there was something appealing about taming wild animals.

ZODIAC —

Scorpio – “A Scorpio woman is the sexiest and most mysterious of the twelve signs of the zodiac. She is exotic and magnetic, as deep as the sea, and, depending on her mood, as calm or as tempestuous. She is extraordinarily intuitive and will be keenly interested in the esoteric, or any occult or spiritual experience that offers some kind of deep insight. She is in tune with the fundamental forces of life and nature and is moved by the great tides and events of human experience. The Scorpio woman should never be taken lightly. They aren’t flaky, fluffy, or helpless creatures by any stretch of the imagination. Direct, and brilliantly sharp, Scorpio women only focus on the fundamental essence of any issue and disregard the superfluous. They like clear endings and beginnings, with no grey areas in between. A Scorpio woman wants her certainties to remain just so – absolutely rock steady and assured. She wants to understand everything and knows how to craft just the right question to obtain the answers she seeks. Scorpios are intuitive, controlling, and sometimes self-destructive, but in all this they have a certain deadly beauty to their personalities. They are fearless and stubborn and even when life gets a little tricky they merely take it on the chin and keep going. Self-confident, resourceful, and strong, Scorpios are driven to succeed; they work hard and are willing to sacrifice anything to get to their goals. They are also complex and secretive, choosing who they divulge their secrets to carefully".

Wand: 12 ¾" long, Walnut, dragon heartstring core.

Walnut: “Highly intelligent witches and wizards ought to be offered a walnut wand for trial first, because in nine cases out of ten, the two will find in each other their ideal mate. Walnut wands are often found in the hands of magical innovators and inventors; this is a handsome wood possessed of unusual versatility and adaptability. A note of caution, however: while some woods are difficult to dominate, and may resist the performance of spells that are foreign to their natures, the walnut wand will, once subjugated, perform any task its owner desires, provided that the user is of sufficient brilliance. This makes for a truly lethal weapon in the hands of a witch or wizard of no conscience, for the wand and the wizard may feed from each other in a particularly unhealthy manner.” Dragon heartstring core: “Dragon heartstring is a powerful wand with a lot of magical “heft”. It is not the core you want for subtlety, but for sheer power it is definitely the best. Although it is the most common core among Dark Wizards, Dark Wizards are most certainly not their most common users. Dragon heartstrings are by far the most common wand core amongst Slytherins, but their power often bonds to Gryffindors and Ravenclaws as well. However, they tend to overwhelm the archetypal Hufflepuff personality.”

Traits:

(+) Passionate, loyal, determined. (-) Impulsive, childish, ruthless.

Songs:

Blood Red - The Maine

Meds - Placebo

War Pigs - Black Sabbath

Seven Devils - Florence And The Machine

Bad Religion - Frank Ocean

Feral Love - Chelsea Wolfe

The Unforgiven - Metallica

Quotes:

“She was like the sea on a stormy day. She could only destroy.”

“If I cannot bend heaven, I’ll raise hell.”

“At what point does a man turn into a monster? I don’t believe that it’s when he does horrible things, but when he accepts that he’s able to do them, and that he does them well.”

#the application;#biography;

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keptin-indy · 8 years ago

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Dresden Files: Salem

I’ll try to post these on Mondays or Tuesday, since that’s when I do the previous weekend’s writeups. Feel free to ask questions if anything not clear or you just want to know something!

Background info

If you know the Dresden Files books, this game starts during the events of Changes, but with some small changes. If you don’t know the books, the relevant info is that wizards and “Red Court” vampires have been at war for some years now and the main character, Harry Dresden, just managed to set off a really powerful curse that killed all of them. For some reason, during the fight leading up to that, the Wardens - wizard cops - were unable to help him because “they were sick”. The big change in this campaign is that the illness was a deadly plague set off by the vampire ambassador who had just been by and it killed a swath of the powerful people who had gathered to meet her.

I’ll try to link Dresden-specific terms to wiki pages for people unfamiliar with the universe. There may also be some easter eggs in the links sometimes...

Setting (in the GM’s words)

If anyone in America were asked to compile a list of the locations important to the occult history of the country, it would surely include Salem. The town is nearly universally associated with the witch trials of the 1690s. Everyone, clued-in or not, associates Salem with witches, and, in this world of the occult, associations can have power. In this case it has lead to Salem having probably the largest supernatural community on the east coast of North America. That area includes (for the supernatural community at least) Boston as well.

And community it is, much more so than many other cities around the globe. Salem is a geographically small town, yet rich in history, emotions, and magic all attracting a different crowd from the spooky side, if they didn’t have some structure and order there would be constant conflict (well, more-constant conflict). The city has evolved a particular brand of stability, with regular gatherings of all the major power-players in the city. This isn’t a court or anything so formal as that, but usually neutral parties will side with the aggrieved party in conflicts, preserving the status quo. Until recently these gatherings were informally lead by [Warden regional commander] Michael Rowland, one of the more powerful denizens of Salem, how they will shake out going forward remains to be seen…

Characters, or at least what was known about them at the start of game. The Dreseden Files RPG is set up so that most of the PCs had met each other by the start of game, but we weren’t a coherent party yet.

Murchah O’Dougal has lived in Salem for a long time. He switches jobs every few decades, but it’s Salem, so people have caught on that the tall, thin, taciturn, middle aged man isn’t your vanilla mortal. Additionally, he likes taking long walks on the beach...the parts under the water, without the benefit of breathing gear. He’s not a very social man, but he helps out where he can, especially if it involves ghosts, which he can see and interact with. He’s the one who convinced Eunice to leave her nursing home.

Eunice Featherham’s son married a witch. Now, Eunice was an intelligent woman and knew there was no such thing as magic, so it was pretty insulting that her daughter-in-law could use it. It was even more insulting that she taught it to their daughter Evelyn, but then both her son and the witch had to die in a house fire, leaving Eunice to raise Evelyn the Right Way, eg without magic. Over the years as Evelyn grew up, Eunice could feel her age catching up with her, and when it was time for her granddaughter to go to college, they sold Eunice’s house for tuition and put her into a nursing home, where she eventually died. Damned if that was going to stop her, though, not when there were so many people who needed her sage advice, starting with the nurses at the home. In desperation, the home called the Salem Witches’ Circle (kind of a magical chamber of commerce), who asked Murchah to talk the irate ghost out of terrorizing the staff.

They also called Dr. Evelyn Featherham, who was now living in Boston as the city’s only therapist dealing with the supernatural. After a long struggle with Eunice’s parenting, Evelyn had finally reclaimed her magical heritage and was using her experiences to help others through situations they couldn’t explain to anyone else. One of those people, 10 years ago during her clinicals, was a teenage mage grieving over the loss of his father. Now, though, she had to deal with being permanently haunted by her grandmother and trying to convince her receptionist not to quit because of the new office ghost telling her how to answer the phone correctly.

Once upon a time, a witch found a tiny black kitten in a dumpster. She had been looking for a familiar, so it seemed like serendipity and she took him in and named him Sir Adler Toebeans. She was absolutely not expecting her cat to start talking a couple years later and even less to change his shape into anything he felt like. It seemed her kitty was in fact some kind of fae or at least a changeling, though he didn’t have any more idea what he was than she did. Regardless, she switched awkwardly from pet mom to real mom and Adler eventually moved out and got a job at Count Orlok’s Nightmare Gallery, where he worked in the museum itself and made short films as both advertising and subtle education. [A note on pronouns: I’m using “he” because Adler has presented as slightly more masculine than anything else during the game. He doesn’t seem to have an innate sex or gender, so I may switch back and forth with “they” depending on how game goes/the situation.]

A wizard with a mysterious past came from Syria to America and fell in love with a woman whose high-society family had profited off of the supernatural while disdaining them as people. The pair ran away together and she was disowned, so they settled in Boston where he took magical odd jobs and she tried to figure out how to be working class. Eventually Sebastian “Baz” Bassam was born and later his sister Olivia, and their father began to teach them how to control their magical talents. When Baz was 14, his father was killed in a multi-car pileup, but not before his uncontrolled magical energies shorted out an entire hospital wing, unintentionally taking a lot of people with him. This large-scale violation of the First Law of Magic brought the attention of the local Warden-Commander, Michael Rowland, and when Baz subsequently brought down a possession victim with his therapist during his grief counselling, Rowland decided to train the boy alongside his daughter Sylvia. These days he’s a full-fledged Warden who likes to think of his duties as magical community outreach rather than beheading first ans asking questions later. He also looks like a cheerful Syrian lumberjack. [Note: Dat’s me! It’s going to seem like I spent a narcissistic amount of time on my own character in the writeups, but a) the first arc just has a lot of Baz-plot and b) when the GM asks if anyone is doing anything, the others haven’t really answered much and I hate to leave the GM hanging.]

As part of his education in control, Rowland sent Baz to a Tibetan monastery when he was 19 to learn meditation and healing with the monks there, traditional allies of the White Council of Wizards. While there, Baz befriended a litter of Temple Dogs, newly returned from having been dognapped and taken to Chicago of all places. One of the puppies was notably rambunctious and ended up outside the monastery walls trying to eat a yeti several orders of magnitude bigger than it. The puppy ran back to the temple, yeti in hot pursuit, and hid behind the Warden-in training, who fought off the yeti and saved the puppy and monks from the puppy’s own bad decisions. As a “reward”, he was given the perpetrator so the monks wouldn’t have to deal with it. Baz named him Samuel Gompers Bassam and took him back to Boston, where he grew into a very large Tibetan Mastiff who can see spirits and whose teeth technically count as a holy weapon, which he mostly uses against Baz’s shoes. At one point while attempting to eat a ghoul, Sam met Adler as a dog and brought him back home, where he stayed for a few days before abruptly turning into a bird, thanking Baz for his hospitality, and leaving before any questions could be asked. [Note: Yes, Sam is a PC. One of my friends decided it was an awesome idea to play an actual, only slightly magical, non-talking dog.]

Session 1

The town of Salem had been enjoying an uneventful Fall, supernaturally-speaking. Even Halloween, always an anxious time for those in the know, had gone by without any major mishaps. That all changed one night in November, when every practitioner or supernatural being in the world awoke from vivid dreams of the world ending in fire and blood. Many people recognized the dreams as the psychic backlash from some kind of spell, and those with more magical experience further narrowed it down to some kind of worldwide curse effect even though such things were thought to be impossible. Around Salem, the Community woke in terror and reached out to one another. The shapeshifter Adler called his mother in the Witches Circle, who told him that calls had begun to come in from several of their members, including some of the older ones, who were so shocked by the experience that they had been taken to the hospital. Dr Evelyn Featherham likewise checked in with the Circle and headed to the hospital herself to volunteer for on-call psych services. Her late grandmother, Eunice Featherham, checked the news on the constantly-on TVs in her nursing home and saw confused reports rolling in of simultaneous coups and assassinations in several South American countries, which she assumed was the work of either the CIA or Communists. Finding that news less than interesting, she floated out to track down her granddaughter. Murchah O’Dougal, always watchful of the ocean for reasons known only to himself, walked into the Bay, but saw nothing amiss; whatever he was looking for had not been disturbed by the hideous dreams. Baz Bassam, Warden of the White Council, immediately checked on his mother but found that her sleep hadn’t been disturbed at all; presumably meaning that regular mortals were unaffected by the spell’s backlash. He called his sister at college, who most definitely had woken up, but had nothing to offer her besides assurances that they were all okay for the moment. Knowing Warden-Commander Rowland was in Edinburgh at the moment, he called head witch Mary Harrison, who was coordinating a makeshift command center to coordinate help to those who needed it and a response, should it become necessary. Before heading over to lend his help there, he checked in with Warden Command at Edinburgh, but found chaos there, too. The wizard who answered the phone said that they only thing they knew right now was that the Red Court appeared to be no more. From what they could tell, every single member had been wiped out at once by a spell. Once they had more information, they’d be sure to get back to Warden Bassam, but in the meantime they had to figure out who was in charge of the Wardens. This was almost as alarming than the giant curse as far as Baz was concerned, but with no more info coming from Edinburgh, all he could do was head to the witches’ command center and try to keep people calm and safe until more news came out.

After a long, sleepless night, morning came with no more information. Invitations went out to the members of the Greater Boston supernatural community from Ian Fitzpatrick, the caretaker of the largest neutral territory in the area, Hamilton Hall. Before the meeting in the evening, one of Edinburgh’s army of clerks called Baz to read off the last wills and testaments of Michael and Sylvia Rowland, naming him as heir to their magical holdings. Baz was gutted, as Michael Rowland had been his mentor and surrogate father-figure since his father’s death, and he’d grown up and trained alongside Sylvia for nearly ten years. The clerk couldn’t tell him how they had died or any details about what was happening within the Wardens; only that he would likely get “official” notification of the Rowlands’ deaths at some future date. That the lawyers were working faster than the Wardens was significant cause for alarm all on its own.

That evening, Fitzpatrick welcomed representatives from all the major power blocs and notable individuals into Hamilton Hall, formally allowing everyone through the threshold. Baz sought out Mary Harrison before the meeting proper began and warned her about the deaths of the Rowlands and magical killing of the Red Court. Fitzpatrick brought the meeting to order and announced the Rowlands’ deaths himself, calling for a moment of silence that was observed by most people present, with the notable exception of the representatives of the Winter Court (and Eunice, though due more to her difficulty hearing than any disrespect). Adler asked how they had died and Fitzpatrick said there had been an attack on the Wardens in Edinburgh, which was the first Baz had heard of it. Ignoring that for now and trying to give the impression of a calm and level-headed authority figure who wasn’t grieving, Baz announced that he knew where the nightmares had come from and explained the curse that had taken out the entire Red Court. The gathering was shocked that something that large could have happened and that the threat of the Red Court was suddenly gone (though the Summer Court and Daniyah, a powerful local sorceress, seemed less surprised), and Fitzpatrick adjourned the meeting , saying that he knew full well some people were going to use the situation to jockey for power. He gave them a week to get it all out of their systems and then he would call another meeting to see where Boston should go from there. The jockeying and networking began before anyone even made it out the doors. Baz asked Daniyah what she or her spirits knew about the attacks, but she would only tell him that “things” were awakening that had lain dormant for many years. Knowing it would do no good, Baz continued to press for details and was informed that the city faced two threats...from within and from without. Eunice floated from group to group eavesdropping and overheard the Winter Court proposing to murder someone for the sole reason that the scarier warden was dead now, which she dutifully reported to Baz with a stern admonition to stop them. Without more details, Baz simply went over and stood meaningfully by the faeries. Meanwhile, Adler took on his dog form and sought out Sam, warning him that his wizard was in danger and offering his help guarding him for the next few days. Sam, in turn, told him to be aware of Daniyah, who no longer smelled purely human anymore, but instead like some kind of spirit, and also her owl familiar, who was definitely a spirit, though he hadn’t been able to figure out what kind without licking it. Baz turned around to see a familiar black dog incongruously petting his own dog, and asked if he would stick around and answer some questions this time. Adler agreed, but answered everything as literally as possible without offering any information was wasn’t specifically spelled out and some that was. He told Baz that he had enjoyed the name he’d given him last time and to keep using that, and that he would follow and protect Baz along with Sam while the immediate danger hopefully passed. Seeing that Baz was distracted from his rightful duties, Eunice got into an argument with the Winter Court, but her attempt to spook them into following the straight-and-narrow backfired when they scared her right back, startling her back into a dementia episode. Baz and his two large dogs circulated amongst the other faction heads, assuring them that he was as dedicated to keeping the peace as his predecessor and generally attempting to politic. Murchah drew him aside and offered to train him to use the sword he carried and Baz tried to find a polite way to tell him that he had specialized in swordplay for years. Unconvinced, Murchah asked to see his fighting stance and was pleasantly surprised to find that Baz was not merely boasting.

Finally, the meeting broke up and Murchah headed back out to his ocean patrol, only this time he noticed strange behavior in the fish. Not being a spellcaster himself and having no way to track magical energy, he called the Circle, who told him to call the Warden. Baz had not yet made it home, so Murchah left a cryptic message with Baz’s mother to call him back. Eventually Baz returned home with one dog more than he left with and reintroduced “Fenrir” to his mother, warning her this time that he was definitely sentient and could talk (though Adler refused to do so on principle now). He returned Murchah’s call, but with nothing more to go off of than “the fish are weird”, decided to let it wait until morning. Adler insisted on sleeping in Baz’s room, which required some setting of ground rules, starting with a promise never to harm his mother. Adler agreed, but was less forthcoming in answering Baz’ questions about his nature or allegiance, saying only that he wanted to protect both Sam’s human and the city balance he represented as a Warden. He otherwise revealed only that he could take on many forms, though he wouldn’t say if he had a natural or default one, and that he usually worked at Count Orlok’s Nightmare Gallery, where he could use his skills to great effect. Baz was both fascinated and slightly frustrated at the mysterious creature playing bodyguard for him, but when he found that Adler could use computers, he immediately handed over the password for the email account Olivia had maintained for him and begged his help keeping in contact.

“Fenrir” woke up early the next morning and got the household coffee, which he served to them with creepy mostly-human hands on a dog body. Betsy (Baz’s mother) was relieved when Baz gathered the dogs and put on some swimwear to meet Murchah at the beach. After some discussion about everyone’s underwater capabilities, Baz conjured air bubbles around his and Sam’s heads while Adler turned into a Lovecraftian fishman, and the group followed Murchah into the Bay, but Baz was at a loss figuring out what was causing the irregularities Murchah claimed to see. Sam happily ate one of the affected fish. Returning to the surface, Baz asked Murchah to call Dr Evelyn Featherham, who was more sensitive to tracing ongoing magical effects than he was, but shortly after her receptionist answered the phone, the poor woman was shoved aside so that Eunice could do her job “better”. Talking around the old ghost, Baz asked the receptionist to pass the message along when Evelyn had a free moment. Evelyn eventually had a chance to call back from her ghost-proofed office and promised to come out during her lunch break. Murchah hired a boat so that Evelyn (followed, of course, by Eunice, who was determined to chaperone her daughter meeting a young man on a beach) wouldn’t have to get her work clothes wet, but she couldn’t see the magical eddies from above the water and ended up having to do into the drink anyway. Unfortunately for her, only Adler seemed to be adapted enough for underwater hunting of this kind, and he realized that the fish were all swimming in a huge circle tens of miles across. The group returned to the boat to track down the center of this circle, which was occupied by a “fishing trawler” that didn’t seem to be doing any fishing. Adler turned into a bird to scope it out and noticed that some of the “fishermen” milling around on deck not fishing were concealing decidedly non-standard tentacle-arms. When he reported this back to the group, Eunice immediately floated over to the trawler and began haranguing the people on deck about their terrible work ethic. The “fishermen” were not expecting a sudden ghostly tirade and very sensibly tried to escape her senile wrath. Taking advantage of this distraction, Adler changed from a bird into a rat, dropping onto the deck and scurrying below. One of the doors inside was both locked and well-sealed, so he disconcertingly grew hands in order to pick it. The door swung open, revealing the rat with hands on the one side, and a number of tentacled cultists chanting around a circle on the other side. Adler scurried out of sight, but the cultists merely locked the door rather than give chase. Adler tried to direct Eunice’s wrath downstairs, but she found that the room was warded against spirits. Adler again reported back to the other boat and Murchah drew up alongside the trawler so the mages could board and follow the shapeshifter below. Adler once again picked the lock and Baz opened the door and demanded to know what was going on with as much gravitas as a man wearing a tank and swim trunks could manage. The cultists rushed to attack the newcomers while Murchah ran straight for the summoning circle and began disrupting it, hearing unsettlingly familiar and ancient voices whispering in his head while he did so. As Baz and Sam fought the cultists, Adler transformed into a hideous claw monster and jumped into the fray, startling everyone on both sides. Eventually the cultists were knocked unconscious and Evelyn could examine the remains of the circle Murchah was still determinedly wrecking, declaring that it had been meant to awaken something deep in the ocean.

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