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flowerandblood · 5 months ago

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The Price of Pride (7/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, mutual masturbation, targcets stuff, infidelity, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence, some kind of sexual harassment (unwanted touch), death threats, bad things ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Waiting for the arrival of his betrothed in the courtyard of the Red Keep, forced to do the deed by his mother, he thought, staring blankly ahead, that he longed to be anywhere else.

In his bed, in the Small Council chamber, on the back of Vhagar flying through the skies.

Even the vision of an evening spent with his cousin in the library teaching her the language of Old Valyria did not sound as awful as the prospect of what he would now have to do.

He was not good at pretending or lying – false flirting, sweet gestures and gifts to win the heart of a beloved woman were not his domain and aroused his pity. Conversing about nothing or romantic walks were also not what he wanted or needed.

He should be planning the war with Criston Cole, not courting a woman who was indifferent to him.

Worse, now that he had managed to forget what he had done to his nephew, he knew that along with Floris Baratheon's face all the memories, nightmares and unbearable pain in his eye socket would return.

He sighed, straightening up, standing with his hands folded behind his back as a couple of carriages drove through the gate, one with only the chests, the other surely with the person to whom they belonged.

Gods, how long was she going to stay here?

The door opened and he moved ahead reluctantly, needing to show at least a bit of courtesy, giving her his hand – Floris smiled at him gratefully and placed her soft palm on his, stepping out the carriage like the princess she surely longed to be.

"My Lady. Welcome to the Red Keep." He said, letting go of her hand, folding it behind him again.

A squeal and a cry of a little boy before Luke was swallowed by the Vhagar's maw.

He swallowed heavily, feeling a cold sweat on the back of his neck and an unpleasant stab of pain in his eye socket.

His betrothed bowed before him.

"My Prince. I am tired after my journey. Please, guide me to my chamber." She said, and he nodded, hoping that she was very tired and would not require any other effort from him.

He took a breath, surprised, feeling discomfort when they moved ahead and her fingers slid under his arm right away, snuggling into his side as if they were a pair of lovers.

He closed his eye and swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in his throat, rage, humiliation and shame, aware that the guards and servants might have been watching and mocking him, knowing how much he hated such familiarity.

For her, however, what was more important was not how he felt, but what she imagined in her head.

He was only to adapt to her fantasies.

As they walked into the chamber his mother had specially chosen for her, Floris smiled – her windows looked out onto the harbour itself, the beautiful sea and the sun.

He hummed, wondering if he would be able to escape.

"Get some rest, my Lady. I will see you at the supper." He said, wanting to take a step back and leave, but he heard her sigh quickly, seeing out of the corner of his eye her furrowed brow.

"I was hoping that we would get to know each other more closely. That you were also looking forward to this moment like I was. We could take a walk in the royal gardens and talk." She said with a hopefulness that made him feel a discomfort in his stomach.

He thought that he had not been waiting for this moment at all.

His brother had told him to get Borros Baratheon's daughter, and he did.

It was a decision dictated by politics, not the desire of his heart.

Deep down, he wished that as soon as the war was over their betrothal would be undone.

Storm's End would then no longer be of any use to them.

But he couldn't tell her that.

He finally looked at her, seeing her gaze full of desire but also excitement, as if she had already imagined what this marriage would give her – that he would surely slowly fall in love with her, that his behaviour was only due to embarrassment and his shy nature.

It didn't even occur to her that she could be indifferent to him, and that was exactly the case.

How was he supposed to make something out of nothing?

"What would you like to discuss with me?" He asked, wanting to shift the burden of this awkward exchange of words onto her.

His betrothed exhaled quietly, as if comforted that he hadn't left, though she smiled, something in her gaze that he didn't like.

"My heart broke when I learned of your lonely expedition. I understand, my Prince, that you did it for the good of the Kingdom, but you must know how awful and difficult the experience was for me, knowing that there was a young, unmarried woman at your side." She said in a way that indicated, in his opinion, that she was not sad because of it, but angry and irritated.

He hated it when someone did not say directly what was on their mind.

"At my brother's request, the Maester has dispelled your doubts, my Lady. My cousin remains untouched." He said coldly, however his grin was wide, menacing – he knew by the look on her face that she understood that she had frustrated him.

She, however, instead of accepting his explanation or negating it, decided to probe deeper into the subject.

"But did you touch her, my Prince? With your hands or your mouth?" She asked, looking at him proudly, as if she recognised that these questions were necessary for her to feel that her position remained unthreatened.

She felt his hands clench into fists behind his back.

"I touched her with my hands. It's hard not to when you're flying together on the back of a dragon."

"So I also want to fly with you on the back of a dragon." She communicated, like a child demanding the same toy from him.

He felt his teeth clench in his jaw, his heart pounding like mad in his chest with rage.

Who was she to demand anything from him?

Stupid cunt.

"I cannot agree to this, my Lady, for the sake of your safety. Your father has placed you under our protection." He said lightly, smiling so that for a moment he exposed his teeth, as if he wanted to bite through her artery.

"With you, I will certainly be safe." She didn't give up, clearly annoyed that he was denying her what he had given to another woman.

"I do not agree. Rest, my Lady. I will see you during supper." He replied and, without waiting for her farewell or a word, left the chamber with a slam of the door.

He felt like shouting, hitting someone, a guard or a servant, beating them until they lost consciousness.

And then he remembered.

Tyland Lannister's fucking servant.

It was time to make him pay for his lack of discretion.

"Robert is no longer serving in the fortress, Your Highness. He was moved to Casterly Rock by Lord Lannister." Said one of the boys when asked where he could find him.

His brother knew what he would want to do and removed the man from his sight so that he could not take revenge on him for his betrayal.

Fucking bastard.

He pounded his palms on the top of his table and cursed in rage, feeling like he was about to explode – he had the urge to ride to Vhagar, get on her back and burn everything he came across in his path.

He closed his hands into fists and leaned forward, panting heavily, feeling like a caged animal.

Why were there traps waiting for him on every side, set for him by his mother and his brother?

Why did he still experience from them the two feelings that caused him such pain: rejection and humiliation?

Sitting at the great table among the lords and their families, staring blankly ahead, pretending not to see the expectant glances of his betrothed in his direction, hoping for any kind of conversation, he thought for the first time in his life that he wished he simply didn't exist.

He wanted to disappear so that he didn't have to deal with all this.

What did he get in return?

A sad, disappointed look from his mother and a sneer from his older brother.

"What's that grave look, brother? Do you not rejoice at the sight of your chosen one, Lady Floris? She has come a long way to see your displeased face." Said Aegon and laughed, licking his lips, none, however, echoed him.

If it had been the first time, or the fiftieth time, but he could no longer count how many times he had humiliated him in this way in the presence of others, and he always, every time, felt the same squeeze in his throat, sadness and emptiness.

Why didn't he instead take him aside, ask him what was happening?

Doesn't he need help?

His brotherly understanding, advice, support?

Was he not worthy of this honour?

He sighed, deciding it didn't matter, when he heard the chamber door open and his King's attention turned to another guest.

"Ah, here is my dear, fearless cousin. Come here, my Lady, I have assigned you a seat next to my brother. Perhaps your presence will lift his spirits." His brother called out, and he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, not even bothering to look at the expression on his betrothed's face, hearing her twist next to him in her chair.

He wondered if it wouldn't be better if he just killed him.

He heard her footsteps behind his back, and a moment later he smelled her pleasant, floral scent – the servant had pushed back her chair for her. She sat down beside him, to his right, and for some reason he felt a little better.

She was by his side.

He didn't understand why, but he struggled to restrain himself from slipping his hand under the table and placing it on her thigh, wandering up and down, wordlessly letting her know that he missed her in some strange, twisted way.

She was always honest with him, his little dragon, her and her sweet, sharp tongue that cut like a dagger.

"My Lady." He heard Floris's voice to his left, leaning forward to see her better.

Gods, have mercy, he thought.

She was going to express her jealousy in front of everyone.

"I congratulate you on taming a dragon. No one expected you to succeed." She said with feigned admiration from which he rolled his eyes and shook his head, glancing at his cousin.

She, to his surprise was smiling broadly, her eyes shining dangerously, as if his betrothed amused her but also irritated her at the same time.

"I didn't believe it myself, my Lady. I was convinced that I would burn and become dust." She said with such light-heartedness that he and several people at the table chuckled at her words.

Why did he feel satisfaction?

"The gods have spared you. Will you stand to fight your father?" Floris continued, deliberately changing the subject to one that was uncomfortable for her, to force her to make a mistake and say something she shouldn't.

"Enough." He said impatiently, wanting to spare her this, however, his cousin decided to respond, finding her question surprisingly easy to answer.

"My dragon lacks experience and composure. I will be a mere support for the King and the Prince."

He smirked under his breath, thinking she had been clever in answering politely and cordially, while giving his betrothed no reason to mock or cause him or the King himself to distrust her.

To his relief, Aegon interrupted this exchange of words by ordering music to be played, and he decided to eat something, feeling that, indeed, his cousin's presence by his side had lifted his spirits and restored his appetite.

He pressed his lips together and sighed when Floris's hand brushed his wrist.

Did she have to touch him all the time?

Did she think it was romantic, that she was arousing his desire in this way?

The only feeling he felt was frustration.

"Will you pass me a tray of goose pate, my love?" She asked in a whisper, as if she was telling him some important secret, and he simply nodded, handing her the platter.

"Thank you." She said, but he answered her nothing, concentrating on his roast, hoping she wouldn't make him speak to her with his mouth full.

When he had quenched his thirst and satisfied his appetite, he thought it was time for him and his cousin to leave, however, they could not do so together – that would arouse the displeasure and curiosity of his betrothed, and he did not want that.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying to get her attention, but she was focused on cutting the meat, immersed in her own world, not caring about what was going on around her.

The desire to sink his fingers into her thigh returned to him with redoubled force making his manhood pulsate softly in his breeches, but he limited himself to pressing his knee against hers, hoping she would understand what he meant.

He saw that she froze and breathed a sigh of relief when she finally stood up, communicating to all assembled that she would retire to bed, to which his brother-king, already completely drunk, agreed.

He waited a long time before getting up himself.

"My brother. Are you leaving us already?" Aegon asked.

"I am tired." He explained, looking at him coolly.

It was not a lie, he thought.

"I will escort you to your chamber, my Prince." Floris said, immediately rising from her seat, and he nodded, wanting nothing more than to escape from this room as quickly as possible.

This was what his evenings were to be like for days, weeks, months, years, once she became his wife.

He swallowed hard, stepping out into the corridor, feeling the contents of his stomach and the roast he had eaten rise to his throat as if he was about to vomit.

He closed his eyes and pulled away from her as she tried again to grab his arm.

"No." He growled more harshly than he would have liked, feeling his heart pounding like mad as he simply walked ahead.

Her silhouette walked beside him, her face raised at him filled with bitterness.

"Why? We are betrothed. I long to feel your closeness, at least for a moment."

He stopped, looking at her as if he was about to tear her apart, feeling himself breathing loudly through his mouth.

"But I don't want it." He said in a breaking voice, thinking that perhaps if he played the wounded boy it would give him at least a little peace and space.

"It's just a touch of the hand, my love. Nothing bad." She said, against his request touching his arm again, stroking it in a gesture of comfort.

He closed his eyes and grinned coldly, shaking his head, feeling tears of despair under his eyelids.

He thought he hated her.

"Sleep well, my Lady."

"This corridor. This is not the way to your chambers." She said in a trembling voice.

He looked at her over his shoulder, feeling his heart thump harder in his chest.

"I need to do one more thing."

"Do you..."

"That's enough. One more word from you and I'll lose patience. Don't provoke me." He said and turned away, walking towards the library.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he looked over his shoulder and saw that she was gone.

He ran his hand over his face, thinking that he couldn't stand it.

That he had to somehow get rid of her from the Red Keep and his life.

His brother was not worth such a sacrifice.

He felt at home in the library – the old oak bookcases filled to the brim with thick volumes reminded him of his childhood, the years he had spent in that great hall, hiding from the world.

He pulled out a few of the books he had used himself to study, knowing most of them almost by heart, and spread them out on one of the tables where one of the servants had lit some candles.

"You may leave." He said, and the boy nodded and left.

When the door finally opened and he saw her, he froze.

She was wearing his mother's robe thrown over her nightgown, that was certain, however, he did not understand why she had put it on now – that attire should only be worn in the privacy of her own chamber, outside of it being in a degree of negligee.

He swallowed quietly, watching as her girlish figure moved across the floor towards him with a quiet rustling of the shiny, delicate fabric tied at her waist.

He had a feeling that if he pulled at the ribbon, he would reveal her entire beautiful, bare body before his eyes, hidden only beneath the thin layer of her linen shirt.

He grunted as she sat down beside him, smelling her pleasant, fresh scent, sliding a few books towards her.

He knew what he wanted to practice with her and he was doing it deliberately.

He needed to take it out on someone and she had become his victim.

"We'll start with the basics. The most important and simplest terms." He said, pointing his finger at one of the words.

"Jelmor." He hummed. "North."

"Jelmor." She whispered, her voice soft and calm, clearly focused on her task.

She really wanted to learn, he thought with surprise and pride.

The heritage she so despised had become dear to her.

He felt a pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen and satisfaction at the thought.

"Ñāqon. East."

"Nāqon." She said, however, with a mistake, not making the right sound at the beginning of the word.

"No. Roll your tongue at the n." He explained, and she swallowed hard, as if gathering the courage to say it again.

"Ñāqon." She said, slightly better this time.

"Better. Vēzor. South."

"Vēzor."

"Endia. West."

"Endia."

"Muña. Mother." He hummed, looking at her intently, and saw exactly what he wanted.

She froze completely, and her body tensed all over as if he had hit her.

"Muña." She said softly, warmly, her voice trembling slightly, betraying the pain she felt.

"Mmm. Kepa. Father." He said, and she looked at him in a way from which his manhood instantly swelled and pulsed hard, causing his lips to part in a sigh.

Her brown eyes were glazed from tears, her eyebrows arched in pain as if she was asking him why he was doing this to her.

"Repeat." He whispered.

"Kepa." She said, as if she was praying to one of the gods.

Kepa.

A single, lonely tear ran down her cheek, a sign that she still loved him, her father who had abandoned her, after all these years remaining a small child craving attention and praise, helpless and powerless, beautiful in her suffering.

Noble.

He lifted his hand to her cheek, for some reason wanting to relieve her, to let her know that he understood her, that he didn't think what she felt was a cause for shame.

She shuddered as his thumb brushed the wet mark from her plump cheek, the gaze of her doe eyes fixed on him, only on him.

"Trēsy. Son." He said softly, quietly, as if he was afraid to frighten her, his index finger running over her jaw, admiring the shape of her smooth face.

"Tresy."

"No." He said. "Trēsy. The letter 'ē' needs to be read deeper, as if you want to sing."

"Trēsy."

"Tala. Daugther."

He saw her shake her head, pressing her lips together as if to tell him that she was incapable of doing it, of uttering a word the meaning of which remained foreign to her.

She didn't know what it meant to be someone's daughter, just as he didn't know what it meant to be someone's betrothed, someone's son, someone's brother.

He pressed his forehead against hers, sinking his hand into the back of her neck, stroking soothingly her soft skin, feeling himself grow hard, his breath deep and uneven, filled with desire.

Her closeness was never forced, he thought with tenderness, to which his heart thumped harder in his chest.

Just like with her dragon, she allowed him to approach her when he wished, watching her from afar, circling around her until he himself, of his own accord, fell again and again into her arms.

"Tala."

"Hāedar." He hummed, feeling his erection throb hard in his breeches, his gaze fixed on her face. "Little sister."

She opened her eyes upon hearing those words, and he saw what he wanted in her hazy, hot gaze.

She was wet.

She merely sighed as his other hand did what he had longed to do since supper, touching her knee, travelling lazily upwards to her place of pleasure.

"Hāedar." She exhaled, her puffy, pink lips parted sweetly, her hard nipples peeking through her robe.

Gods, how he craved her.

I'm going to caress her, he thought, and then I'll take her here, on this table.

"Lēkia." He breathed out in a trembling voice, closing his hand over her womanhood, her eyebrows arching in disbelief as a quiet, innocent moan broke from her throat. "Older brother."

Say it, he thought, feeling his cock twitch in his breeches in impatience, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"Lēkia." She moaned as if calling out to him, begging him to end her suffering, and his hand immediately clenched in her hair allowing his mouth, swollen with desire, to close on hers in a greedy, hot kiss.

She gasped in his throat as their one lustful kiss turned into a second, a third and a fourth – a surprised murmur of delight broke from his lips as her soft hand touch his cheek, combing through his hair at last, her closeness so unforced, tender, warm, innocent, desired.

He thought he had never allowed himself to be kissed on the mouth by Madam, while his lips sank again and again into her helpless sobs of pleasure, breathing hard with the loud clicks of their saliva, his impatient, slick tongue forced its way deep into her hot throat as his hand lifted the material of her robe higher.

She mewled and shuddered all over, clasping her hands on his body as his fingertips finally dug into the leaking, silken structure of her folds – he groaned low, surprised to feel her cunt pulsing all over, hot and moist under his fingers, ready for his further caresses.

She wanted this.

She wanted him inside her.

He thought his cock was about to burst with desire, but he knew he couldn't take her yet, so in an act of desperation he grabbed one of her hands and pressed it against the throbbing, hard bulge in his breeches.

They both groaned, panting into each other's mouths, teasing each other with the tips of their wet tongues as, while his fingers circled around her little pearl, she trailed over his long, swollen manhood.

He pulled her to him, embracing her around the waist, feeling her sweet nipples pushing against the material of his tunic as her swollen lips and soft thighs parted invitingly before him with her cry of pleasure, the tips of his fingers pushing against her slit, ready to slide into her and feel how tight and warm she was.

A voice stuck in their throats and they both pulled away from each other as if burned, terrified when they heard someone open the door – in some subconscious, involuntary reflex he wiped his fingers, sticky with her wetness against his breeches, her hands quickly leaving the material of her robe down.

When he saw Floris's grave face he closed his eyes and sighed, feeling his heart pounding like mad in bitterness and disappointment, his cock pulsing and twitching in his trousers, not understanding why he had interrupted their caresses when what he had experienced was so pleasurable.

So right.

"The guards told me I would find you here, my Prince. I did not know you would have company." She said quietly, and he looked ahead with a blank stare, wondering how he could believe that she would just go to sleep, that she would not move after him, suspicious and full of concerns.

Rightful concerns, moreover.

"I am teaching my cousin the language of Old Valyria. It is the only way she can communicate with her dragon." He said, feeling only weariness and fatigue, not having the strength to look at her or speak to her.

He knew he had been cruel, but there was nothing he could do about it.

If she had been wiser, she would have seen that he did not care about her or her welfare and would have asked her father herself to break off their betrothal, not wanting to suffer such humiliation.

She, however, preferred to remain the prince's betrothed, even if unwanted one.

Floris walked over to the table and flipped through one of the pages, pretending to understand anything of what was written there.

"May I join you? I would also like to learn the language of your ancestors, my love." She said, and although he clearly asked her not to touch him, her hand laid on his shoulder.

He closed his eyes, feeling an unpleasant shudder.

Her hand on his shoulder or between his thighs, what difference did it make?

"I will not be able to concentrate with you standing by my side, my Lady." He whispered in a weak voice, for some reason feeling humiliated, having the urge to cry like a child.

Take your hand off me, he thought, but her hand slipped lower, to his forearm.

"Does my presence disturb you, my love?" She asked, but more than her question, his attention was drawn to the fact that his cousin wanted to get up from her seat.

"I'll leave you alone. With your permission." She said, and he pressed his lips together, feeling panic.

No, he thought.

Don't leave me alone with her.

"Daor, hāedar."

She looked at him in shock, her lips parted slightly in disbelief, her eyebrows arched in pain, in her eyes warmth, tenderness and something else from which he felt a pleasant tingling in his fingertips as he watched her sit back in her seat.

She stayed.

"What did you say, my love?" Floris asked, and he licked his lower lip, feeling impatience.

"I don't allow it. We are not finished yet. Soon her dragon will move to fight at my side and she must be ready. I ask that you never interrupt us again. If you wish, we will take a walk around the royal gardens tomorrow, just as you desire." He said, willing to give her what she wanted as long as she left him alone and took her hand off him.

"Is it because she is your cousin? Like any Targaryen you prefer your own kin?" His betrothed asked with anger, and something snapped inside him – his fists hit the table with all his might, both of them jumping as he stood up like an enraged lion, thinking he was going to kill this whore with his own hands.

Who the fuck was she to speak to him like that?

He could have had her tongue for that and sent it in a small casket to her father as a warning so that none of his daughters would appear in the Red Keep again.

"Lēkia." He heard her pleading voice, her soft hand gently touching his arm in an attempt to stop him.

He looked at her, at his hāedar, at her sweet face red with emotion, her gaze full of request, her puffy lips parted in an uneven, deep breath.

If he could, he would kiss her again, her moist lips, her long neck, her plump breasts, her hard nipples, her smooth stomach, to finally sink his face into her leaking, soft cunt.

For a moment he considered doing this, he decided, however, that doing so would humiliate her, and he did not want that.

Her hand let go of him when she saw that the first wave of his anger had passed, replaced by a second, much more threatening one.

He looked at his betrothed, at her face twisted in a grimace of anger and pain, at her eyes filled with tears.

She had come to marry the image of a man, not him.

"I will consider that you never said it, my Lady. Otherwise I would have to recognise that you intended to insult me and my family. And that would mean, in turn, that my betrothed is a fool. Is that how it is, my Lady?" He asked with a sneer in his voice, the corner of his mouth twitching when he saw the frown on her forehead at his words.

"No, my Prince. I am not." She said, looking at his cousin in a way he didn't like, before he could say anything, however, Floris turned and walked away, leaving them alone.

Silence fell – he glanced at his cousin out of the corner of his eye, partly hoping that they would finish what they had started, still half-hard, but he saw that her face was turned away in embarrassment, her figure bent.

Unlike him, she had a sense of shame, he thought regretfully.

"You may leave." He said.

She nodded and moved towards the door, as if she was afraid that if she looked at him she wouldn't hold back and they would both sin even more than they already had.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as the door closed behind her – he sat down in his chair, undid the belt from his tunic and untied his breeches, immediately putting his hand inside them.

He groaned throatily and leaned his forehead down, pressing it against the wooden table top, imagining that he was actually cuddling it to her sweet breasts, gripping his erection in his palm.

He imagined how he would do this to her – how gentle his thrusts into her delicate, warm body would be, rocking his hips lazily back and forth, rolling them each time his fingers squeezed the base of his swollen, pink cock, sighing in pleasure.

"– hāedar – oh, fuck –" He exhaled, speeding up, panting hard, imposing a more aggressive, faster pace on himself, squeezing his painfully hard erection with loud smacks of his palm against his stones, feeling that he would reach his peak embarrassingly quickly.

"– ah –" He moaned like a little boy, feeling tears under his eyelids at the thought of how great the relief that shook his body was, his mouth wide open as his pearly, sticky spend trickled down his fingers.

For a moment more he moved his hips in rhythm with his hand, imagining that he was deep inside her, in her warmth, snuggled between her soft breasts, calm and safe.

And then he opened his eyes and felt a squeeze in his throat, seeing the books and the candles all around him, feeling an embarrassing, painful emptiness.

His jaw trembled, his breath became heavy, but he did not allow himself to shed any tears, getting up from his seat, bringing himself to order.

He was just fastening the belt of his tunic when one of the guards suddenly rushed in, terrified.

"My Prince. Your prisoner has been attacked."

He stood over her bed feeling that he was quivering with rage, not hearing his mother's or his brother's discussion, looking at her gentle face immersed in sleep.

"Will she survive? We need her. How the fuck could this happen?" Aegon said, pacing around the room furiously, running his hand over his chin.

"In my opinion, she was hit in the back of the head with a long, heavy object, after which her head hit something hard again, probably the stone floor. This night will determine her death or life. If there has been bleeding inside her skull, nothing can be done." The Maester said, and he looked away, staring at Floris' face, who stood beside his mother, pale, afraid to lift her gaze to him.

For a moment he wondered, sure that it was her doing, whether to expose her in front of his brother, then, however, he decided that she might begin to say something about what she had seen, to spread rumours about his and his cousin's relationship.

He had to deal with her himself.

"We have fucking enemies everywhere. Maybe it was her father who sent someone to get rid of her?" His brother continued, thinking out loud.

Floris looked at him and nodded.

"It is very possible, Your Grace. Certainly Prince Daemon is furious that she managed to tame a dragon. Poor girl." She said, as if she was actually worried and sympathised with her, and he looked at her, grinning broadly.

I'm going to fucking kill you, he thought.

"Aemond. Do you find this amusing?" His mother said to him, snapping him out of his reverie.

"I find it very amusing, mother, because I think I know who did it." He said lightly, glancing at his brother, who spread his arms in a gesture of invitation.

"So tell us this secret." He said, and he looked at his betrothed with a smile.

"As soon as I am sure. Meanwhile, I will escort my betrothed to her chambers. She must surely be tired, and I do not wish to see her suffer a similar fate to my poor cousin." He sneered, cocking his head, stepping towards her.

"No need, my Prince, don't bother." She muttered, panicking, unable to look him in the eye as he towered over her.

"I insist."

Floris Baratheon's head slammed into the wall with all his strength as soon as the door to her chamber closed behind them – he grabbed her by the throat, holding the blade of his dagger against her chin.

"You will return to Storm's End and tell your illiterate father that our betrothal was broken because of you. Furthermore, you will tell him what you did to my cousin. You will say that the Crown could not, because of your unacceptable behaviour, bring about our marriage, but that the agreement between your father and the Realm is still in force. If your father objects, I will come to Storm's End on Vhagar once more, and I promise you that you will meet the fate of my nephew, you dumb, insolent cunt." He growled and let her go – Floris fell to her knees, drew in her air loudly and burst out sobbing, curling up in fear.

"– why are you hurting me? – I have nothing to do with it, I swear –" She mumbled, choking on her own tears.

"– and I swear you that if you insist on becoming my wife, I will hurt you every morning and every evening, for all the days of your life, and then I will fuck my cousin in the chamber next door so that you can listen to what pleasure means, which you will never know from me – you are to leave the Red Keep with the first light –" He said coldly and left, closing the door behind him with a loud slam.

When he returned back to her chamber, there were only the physicians and the Maester, who was supervising their work, laying cold cloths on her forehead.

"Did she get a fever?" He asked, sitting down beside her on the soft bed, touching her cheek.

It was hot.

"Yes." He said, bringing a new bowl of water and ice.

"Leave it. I'll do it myself." He said, rising from his seat, undoing the belt and buckles of his leather tunic, staying only in his white linen shirt tucked into his breeches.

"I will come to examine her again in an hour, my Prince." Said the Maester and bowed to him, leaving him alone with her.

He sat back on the bed beside her, pulling the cloth from her face, sinking it anew into the cold water only to place it on her warm forehead again.

"– umbagon lēda nyke, zaldrītsos (stay with me, little dragon) –" He hummed tenderly, his hand moving from her forehead higher, combing her soft hair with his fingers.

"– kepa –"

He froze, looking at her in pain, her brow arched in misery.

She thought he was Daemon.

He swallowed hard, leaning toward her, stroking her head with his hand as if she were a small child.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, his full lips pressing a soft, warm kiss on her hot forehead. "– you're safe now –"

She opened her eyes – he saw her tears, glistening in the candlelight, running down the sides of her face, as if his words had both hurt and soothed her.

He sighed as her small hand lifted to cup his scarred cheek, the tips of her fingers brushed against his skin.

"– lēkia –" She mumbled, something about the way she said it, the relief he saw in her eyes, made their lips press together in a sticky, tender kiss.

"– mmm –" She sighed as he repeated the caress with a quiet click of their saliva, running his thumb over her jaw and chin, sinking into the moist sweetness of her plump lips again and again, uniting with her in that innocent, intimate way.

They both breathed heavily as he pulled away from her, looking at each other for a moment, his erection pulsing hard in his breeches, letting him know he had to stop.

He couldn't take her now.

He hummed, seeing that she closed her eyes again, stroking her hot, rosy cheek with his thumb, her face nuzzled into his hand.

"– sleep, little sister – your brother will stay by your side –"

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thegnomelord · 8 months ago

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You ever hear the gross stories about people putting peanut butter on their junk and having a dog lick it off? This sounds bad but stay with me here, imagine it's marakov doing this with hound. Like it's a humiliation thing to break hound down or something and drive it into his head that he's no better than an actual dog. Marakov starving hound for awhile so he's famished and then pulling the peanut butter out. If hound wants to eat then the only food he can have will be the peanut butter he'll have to lick off marakovs cock.

Oh fuck that is disgusting and SOOO something Makarov would do. So here's a lil ficlet cause you got my brain going Brrrr

CW:NSFW, MDNI, Makarov x male reader, blowjob, peanutbutter food sex, toxic relationship, dom/sub dub-con, rough and quick, I дворняга - mongrel, mutt есть - eat, нет - no.

Rough fingers grip your jaw until it hurts, Makarov's thumb pressing down on your tongue to keep it flush with the bottom of your mouth. Drool and a bit of blood run down your chin, a small puddle already forming between your folded knees. The fingers on of his other hand wiggle your canine, uncaring of how your jaw trembles in an attempt not to bite him.

"Poor дворняга," Makarov chuckles, "Not liking your new teeth?"

Your 'new' teeth hurt like hell and that's saying something, gums around them still raw and irritated, knives stabbing at your entire jaw and down your throat whenever he wiggles the tooth even slightly. But you can't show that, don't bite the hand that feeds. So you swallow the sound of pain bubbling in your chest and shake your head as much as he allows you to do so.

You can see his smirk past the tears blurring your vision. "Good dog." He chuckles, pulling his fingers from your mouth to pat your head. "You must be hungry."

You are. Starving. You can't remember the last time you've been fed, probably before Makarov had your canines ripped from your mouth and replaced with metal, but the constant pain buzzing in your body makes it hard to keep track as the days blur together. You wordlessly nod your head, knowing better than to speak when he hasn't given you permission yet (you doubt you even could with how much your jaw hurts.)

Makarov leans back on your bunk, letting go of your jaw to fiddle with the jar of peanut butter. Unscrewing the lid he dips his pointer finder in and scoops up a big dollop of it. He holds it out for you, resting the back of his finger on your tongue. "Есть." He orders, tone leaving no room for arguing and you're quick to close your lips around his finger, tongue moving to lick it clean and trying to avoid nudging your teeth.

You've always hated the stuff since Price got you to try some when you were in America, the taste and texture making your skin crawl, but right now it may as well be ichor of the gods. Your stomach rumbles at finally being able to devour something, even if it's just a small scoop of peanut butter.

You open your mouth when you're done, spit clinging to Makarov's finger, and try your best to make a small whine. "Good, finally learning." He hums and sets the jaw down, unbuckling his belt.

Your heart stutters and drops to your stomach as you watch Makarov fish his half hard cock from his boxers, only needing a few strokes to get him fully erect. Makarov laughs at the face you make when he scoops up a good amount of the peanut butter and uses it like lube on his cock.

"Oh, did you think you would just get to eat?" He snorts, holding the base of his cock, "Нет, нет, нет you dumb mutt." He spreads his legs wider, patting his thigh. "You'll have to work for it, now есть."

You hesitate, some meager part of your pride absolutely unwilling, your stomach telling you to forget about that. Makarov waits, judgmental eyes locked on you, easily able to see the turmoil swirling in your eyes. He knows how to be patient, while he usually wouldn't tolerate disobedience, he knows he can't set up a hunting dog for failure and expect success so soon into your training.

His efforts bear fruit and you slowly shuffle forward on your knees. Even starved as you are, the wide span of your shoulders still forces his legs to spread wider. You hesitate some more, looking past his cock up at him, wondering if he really wants you to do this; is this a reward or just another way to tear you down?

"Do not make me repeat myself." He says, voice even and cool, but you're still perceptive enough to notice the sharp edge of danger in his tone, like a knife pressed into your throat.

Tentatively you lean in, fists clenching against your thighs as your tongue lolls out to hesitantly lick at his shaft. He doesn't rush you, doesn't degrade you, but his hand does settle on the back of your skull. You freeze, but he only hums, "Good dog." His hips twitch until his shaft bumps against your nose.

The hand on your head keeps you from pulling away, and your hunger soon wins out so you give a few experimental kitten licks. You start at the bottom, still uneasy about this, your tongue licking across his knuckles. Makarov purrs something in Russian you're not familiar with, his tone not sweet enough to make you think it's an insult, so you slowly continue up his shaft.

His precum mixes with the peanut butter, giving it a saltier tang that makes disgust curl in your stomach, humiliation making your face burn. Even your mind mocks you; Price's voice echoes somewhere in your ears "This is why we left you, you were just waiting for a chance to be a terrorist's whore." but that voice slowly gets quieter as Makarov's hand pets your head, making thinking about anything but the creamy peanut butter on your tongue difficult.

"Good dog, doing so well for me." Makarov hums, a pleased sound escaping his chest. The pleasure your mouth brings is miniscule compared to the sight of you - on your knees, eyes slowly closing as your malleable mind settles into static, drool smeared lips wrapping around his head to suck all the food your tongue missed - oh it's something else. He's seen many powerful men brought down to their knees, but nothing has ever made him harder than you right now.

You pop off his cockhead, chest frantically moving to draw breath, unfocused eyes staring at his drooling head before you look up. "Now wasn't that a good treat?" He asks, receiving your mumble in return, using your spaced out mind to smear more peanut butter on his head. "But you missed a spot. Go on, есть."

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #hound-reader #good dog fic #vladimir makarov #vladimir makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x male reader #x male reader #cod modern warfare #trinkets of the hoard #tw toxic relationship #Makarov is his own warning #don't do this at home #call of duty makarov #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare

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yandere--stuck · 5 months ago

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AaaaaAAA I was so happy to see you already had a gore fic for Bill in the works! I have reread it like. 5 times. Your writing scratches my gore itch perfectly, and I just adore fics the intestinal stuff especially <33 and his mentions of your heart also… the romance!! I was inspired by what you wrote, I hope you enjoy it once again :D! (also im doing great, hope ur doing well too :D!!) - zagreus gore anon

Notes for anyone else: This contains gore!! So much gore!! Body horror— It’s Bill’s love language!! (intestinal trauma, mouth trauma, eye trauma…. Honestly ‘you’ here are violated in like every way possible.) No sexual content, but it’s suggestive to me. Bill Cipher is a Weirdo.

---------

You never quite get used to the pain. You wish you did.

In your memories, the sensation is dulled. You know it was painful, you know it was one of the most horrible sensations of your life, but the full extent of it… You can’t remember. Your brain must be protecting you from it. Every act of Bill’s love would constitute life-long trauma for anyone else, yet you live through another session of it day by day. No. Scratch that. They wouldn’t be alive to recall it. They wouldn’t make it half as far as you. For you, no such easy, simple fate can ever be attainable. The weirdness of his new world has conquered Death itself.

Bill had cradled his intestines in your arms, laughing as they helplessly twitched and writhed against his body, cooing at them as you howled in pain. “Aww, are you excited to see papa?” He’d said, and only the strangeness of it had kept you from repressing it. He talked to your guts as if they were puppies, as if blood smeared across his bricks were innocent licks against his skin instead. Another time, he’d wrapped your guts around his triangular body, and called it the ‘world’s most intimate hug’ as he whispered sweet nothings about how much he looooves you, and also the health of your gut bacteria. Somehow, he always outdoes himself.

Bill had dug even deeper, crumbling your ribs to smithereens in his hands, and held your still-beating heart in his palms as an object of reverence. “All mine, all mine…” He’d muttered to himself, his pupil momentarily expanding to a large, inky abyss. The pain had been so intense that you’d slipped into shock. A bad habit of yours, as Bill called it, would be your tendency to slip into memories of the past to escape the present. When you should be focusing on him.

That time, he’d jolted you back to reality by fire-hot pain slashing through your heart. All the time, it continued pumping, spurting blood in Bill’s direction with every pump. His powers were the only thing keeping you alive. When, once, blood sprayed right into his eye and he was forced to take a break, you smiled for just a moment. A lopsided, crooked grin. He’d used a mirror to show you his handiwork. In the outer flesh of your heart, he’d burned a little triangle. He’d already healed the skin. The lighter pink scarring stood out against the rest of your heart. Marked forever. Though he’s usually so talkative, at that moment, he’d been quiet for just a few seconds.

Then, he’d laughed, breaking all tension. “Wow, it sure smells like barbecue in here!”

On another occasion, he had hummed a little tune to himself, comically large saw in hand, as he cut off your limbs one by one. You could never forget the sound as the teeth sawed through your bones, bit by bit. Tearing through muscle. The clunk of your arm hitting the floor. Your leg. Rinse and repeat. You swore you could still feel your arms and legs, once you lost enough blood and your vision went hazy. Bill had hugged you against his smaller form. (He could change his body’s size, technically. But he always preferred appearing just as he was to you.)

“Without all those gangly, long limbs of yours, we can really cuddle now!” The next day, all of your limbs had regrown.

He’d cradled your face with one hand, and kept your mouth open with his other wrist. You could see nothing except for that giant eye of his as he pried your teeth out of your mouth, one by one. The taste of blood filled your mouth. He’d tug and tug and tug, not nearly using enough strength, and being entirely aware of it, until finally yanking it out once and for all. (Until it regrew, that is.) Under your gaze, he took your teeth one by one, drilled a little hole in them and strung them together on a necklace.

“Hmmmm,” he’d hummed to himself, a long, drawn-out noise. “I feel like it’s missing something. What do you think?” Before you could answer, not that you had any desire to, he snapped his fingers. “Oh! I know! For a sign of our undying love for each other, it’s a little plain with just teeth!”

In the next moment, Bill had taken out one of your eyes. You cannot comprehend how such a, relatively, small part of your face could hurt so unimaginably much. You wanted him to drape his guts all over himself again. You’re sure a point-blank gunshot to the head would’ve hurt less. Been less discomforting. His fingers had shrunk into paper-thin appendages and slipped past your eyeball, digging and cutting away at the nerves behind it. You cried tears of blood. If there was anything in your stomach, you might have thrown up.

Then, all at once, pain had blossomed into pure, mind-numbing pleasure. Compared to the pain, this is what you would like to forget the most. You’d gurgled out a moan through the spit gathered at the back of your throat. Your limbs had twitched helplessly against your restraints. When your optic nerve finally snapped, you’d whined as Bill took your eye out, exclaiming “Pop!” as he did so. For just a moment, he’d juggled your detached eyeballs in his hands, having left you panting.

“Yes, now this’ll make a good centerpiece!”

Pain had become just pain once again as soon as his touch left you. There is nothing good about a gaping, throbbing hole left in your face. You whine, sniffle softly, to get his attention. You hardly ever speak out loud anymore. Bill can read your every thought and is aware of your every idea. When speaking takes up more energy than it saves, why should you? In that moment, you had lacked the energy to think about it, your body desperately trying to recover itself.

Right now, you wonder why he’d make it feel good. Why, this one time. You don’t immediately get a response. Bill just laughs and laughs and laughs, running his fingers across the teeth of his necklace, poking the eyeball in the very middle. In your eye-socket, an exact replica of it has re-formed itself.

“You’re so funny! Why do you think I did anything at all? That was all you, baby!” His pupil transforms into a heart. It’s a blink-or-you-miss it transformation, and as soon as it happened, you think you’ve made it up. “I told you that you’d come around to it! Maybe we can even share in a little bit of pain next time, huh?”

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since, both his words and how mind-numbingly good it had felt. Maybe he’d simply lied to you, maybe it’d all been his doing. That would be the best outcome, right?… With time, you know Bill will ‘show you his love’ again— He always does. But this time, you await it with fear, largely fear, but with a little anticipation, too. There’s no need to tell him. He already knows.

ANON I AM BARKING LIKE A DOG!!!!!!!! BARKBARKBARKBARK THIS IS AMAZING!!!!! God, your descriptive voice is so good, it's so vivid!!!! Bill tricking reader into thinking they like it and them believing it...... Yummy yummy corruption in my tummy <3

Thank you so much for this, I can only hope what I write holds a candle to this!!! You never disappoint raaghh.

Bill draping your guts around as the world's most intimate hug. GOD. Also it's so fashionable! Gut scarf, teeth and eyeball necklace, literally wearing pants of your body to shoe his love and claim of you. Aaaa I'm kicking my feet!!

Thank you so much again holy smokes

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mindfulstudyquest · 10 months ago

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❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆 𝘁𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝘆

organization: i know it's the most trivial advice in the world, but i swear it works. before doing anything, i take my planner and review everything i have to do, i divide the study by subject, amount of things to study and review spaces for exams. realistically, you can't expect to do it all in one day, but a good plan could almost allow you to sleep at night!

a clean workspace: i can't fucking concentrate if there's a mess aroud me, i get distracted easily, even by dust, so before i start studying i always deep-clean my desk. i know that not everyone can afford a personal and quiet place to study in their houses, so try to find yourself a small angle where you can really focus.

go to study in a library / café: i didn't believe it at first, but it's actually useful. if you have the opportunity to go to a library or a café after school ( or near your house ) do so. being surrounded by people who are studying like you really helps to focus, you'll be less inclined to get distracted and procastinate. i would feel uncomfortable using my phone in a library with other people who are doing their work while i'm sitting there scrolling on tumblr.

breaks: ik ik, not very blair waldrof, hermione granger, spencer hastings, rory gilmore of me, isn't it? but is it worth it. sometimes i end up having really bad headaches from studying and, even if i keep studying, the quality of my work decreases significantly. breaks are fundamental. i would not recommend using social networks for your beak, because they litteraly drain your attention, rather do your skincare, prepare yourself a snack ( eating is important! it's what makes you focus ), read 10 pages of your book, dance a little bit in your room, do stretching, go outside and buy some mint chewingum, something like that.

EAT!: girls, boys and theys, we know. i honestly think that almost every person that craves academic validation ends up developing a sort of eating disorder. it's not even the food, is the fact that you are too busy studying that you forget to eat, ignoring stomach cramps, or the fact that you didn't get that answer right and now you don't feel like you deserve the lunch. i understand bc i AM like this, like you. but think about it: you need to do it in order to survive ( but this is secondary to the grades, right? ) and to keep your brain active. you can't walk around with blurred vision because you haven't eaten or drunk for fourteen continuous hours. i swear that eating like a normal human being helps you to keep going.

sleep: same thing as eating, but with our terrible sleeping schedules. i know that school is toxic so we end up finishing our homeworks at 2 am everyday ( if we're lucky ) but when you have the chance, take a nap and recover.

repeat things as if you were explaining them to someone: this is litterally the fastest way ever to learn fundamental concepts when you're studying. imagine that you're talking to a friend that doesn't know anything about the subject that you're studying and try to explain the topic to them. finding simple words for a difficult topic will help you understand it thoroughly, on this basis you can then build an articulated and more academic speech. repeat things out loud, doesn't matter if you look crazy, you already are <3

check and organize your notes the same day: i never have time to take proper notes in class, so i review them as soon as possible, with the lesson still fresh in mind. it really helps me understand the subject and makes the further study much easier.

watch youtube videos: youtube is my favourite class. sometimes teachers are dumber than students and you, who don't have a degree in that subject and are tackling a topic for the first time, don't understand a damn thing. ofc not!! sometimes professors are terrible at explaining stuff, but fazal from pakistan isn't. i passed my physics class with a 10/10 thanks to an indian guy on youtube. documentaries and yt videos are a simple and nice way to understand better topics and do insights for extra credits.

delete social media: i'm gonna do another post specifically for this.

"STUDY!" wallpaper: last but not least, the dumbest yet the smartest advice, set as lockscreen a white / black / whatever background with a big fat "STUDY!" written on it. everytime you're about to pick up your phone and procastinate the wallpaper will scold you.

hope this was useful or at least fun to read byee

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love4ng1e · 1 month ago

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─────── ༺ ❦︎ ༻ ───────

Beginners guide to manifesting!!

By love4ng1e 𝜗𝜚

Requested by @limitless180

You asked for techniques, but Imma give you the whole pack because i'm cool like that. I'm going to keep it simple so you don't overcomsume. I said this was going to take a day or so, but never mind because I manifested time to make this.

I did a separate post on some of those stuff, but this is it all together. This is the only post you need.

─────── ༺ ❦︎ ༻ ───────

1.0: What is manifesting?

By simple definition manifesting is getting what you want. There is no need to make it any more complicated.

2.0: How to manifest?

There's multiple ways to manifest and there's no wrong or bad way.

I am a master manifestor, so I'll be honest and say that I do absolutely nothing to manifest except simply just acting like a master manifestor. I'll still give you ways I used that worked for me when I was a beginner, and that works for other people, too.

2.1: Robotic affirming.

Robotic affirming is repeatedly repeating any affirmation of your choice. What that does is reinforce that you have your desire and then plays out in your 3d (I will talk about the 3d a little farther).

It's very important to persist when it comes to this technique. Your affirm until it is factual in the 3d. You do not take no for an answer. It has no choice, but to manifest.

You repeat the affirmation any time. Regardless of what you're doing. As much as you want/feel necessary. Before falling asleep and first thing in the morning are both very powerful times. If you tend to forget, you can set alarms.

If this gets tiring to you, please switch techniques. This isn't for everyone.

2.2: Subliminals.

Subliminals are hidden affirmations under music/sounds. These affirmations directly bypass the conscious mind, directly to the subconscious mind (I also will talk about that a bit farther).

There are plenty of subliminal channels out there, but not all of them are trustworthy.

Good ones are:

I want it, I got it > link (she's my personal fav)

Cee > link

Baejin Cafe > link

Moza Morph > link

Kottie > link

Eve > link

Enchanted Workshop > link

Crystie > link

The best way to know if a subliminal channel is trustworthy is to read the comments. If there's none, I would stay away.

You can listen whenever you want. Headphones/Airpods are recommended.

2.3: Vision boards.

You can use pinterest for that. You simply make a board full of pins of what it is you want to manifest. For example, if you want a cat, you make a vision board full of cats. After that, you visualize it anytime you want. You can mediate while visualizing.

2.4 The law of assumption/loa.

The law of assumption/loa, also just called the law, was popularized by Neville Goddard, It focuses on your belief system. The core idea is whatever you assume to be true will manifest in your life.

Assume the feeling of wish fulfilled - Instead of focusing on attracting something external, you convince yourself that you already have it internally. That belief shifts your reality to align with that assumption.

Step 1: Identify what you want.

Step 2: Assume it's already yours. Feel and act as if your desires is already yours.

Step 3: Persist in the assumption. Even if your external reality doesn't reflect it yet, hold on to the belief until it manifests.

3.0: The 3d and the 4d.

There's the 3d and the 4d. The 3d is your physical world/external world. The 4d is imagination. Imagination is creation. Manifestation happens in the 4d.

The 4d is the only thing you need to focus on. Nobody cares about the 3d. The 4d is where everything happens, and then it shows up in the 3d. Therefore, circumstances do not matter.

Also time does not apply in the 4d so do not wait for your desires. It is already yours.

3.1: The conscious mind and the subconscious mind.

This is my personal take on the conscious mind and the subconscious mind.

The conscious mind is the main part of your brain. It has rules and uses logic as its main principle. You live in xyz country, with xyz people, you go to xyz school, whatever.

The subconscious mind is more hidden. It's sort of like a blank canvas. It's influenced by the conscious mind. Whatever you get it to believe will show up in your reality. Logic is not its main principle, so nothing is impossible or absurd.

You do not need to convince the subconscious mind to manifest, but it can be helpful.

─────── ༺ ❦︎ ༻ ───────

I hope I could be of help! Much love.

"Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's coming attractions." - Albert Einstein.

─────── ༺ ❦︎ ༻ ───────

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thinkingotherwise · 6 months ago

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Hi strangers

This is my first time request-

Anyway can I request Sugishita Kyotaro with s/o (whatever gender you wanted to be) who always gets hurt a lot but always win in the fight but one day the fight gone quite wrong.

The enemy cheating by stab s/o in the back but they continue fighting the enemy not caring that they've been stabbed and get a little bit weaker due to the blood loss.

Just wondering how this man react.

I just starting watching this Anime and maybe manga later?

And I like it I love it!

Don't forget to drink water!

Also I hope you have a nice day or nice night!! (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)

Sorry for the long wait. I'm sure by now you could catch up to the recent manga chapters

I'm not handling the hot weather that well - literally melting here. 🫠 I'm living out of cold water and ice cream.

Hope everyone is doing okay

Kyotaro Sugishita x Badly hurt! reader

It's a stab wound but not in the back, honestly, I've always wondered how they can fight in the movies with such injury. I know there's adrenaline and stuff but it must still hurt as hell - not that I know.

TW: knife, blood

Going alone was such a bad idea. You should've just listened to Kyotaro and waited for him before entering this blasted place. You felt the familiar pain spreading through your body. It wasn't new that you got hit and the dried blood adorned your clothes and face. You got quite used to this with all the fighting you did.

What was certainly new was the knife stuck in your thigh and making it hard for you to stand as you tried to beat the last guy.

You didn't expect him to use such dirty tricks on you, and when you thought you got him cornered your fist drew back to knock him out only to see him take out the knife from behind him and before you could step away you felt the excruciating pain in your leg. Then his kick followed making you stumble and fall to the ground. He grinned at that.

"What? Can't handle a little pain?" His mocking voice echoed in the room.

You scoffed loudly and with difficulty stood up, you knew getting out the knife would cause even more trouble for you so you had to make do with it. You gritted your teeth trying to ignore the burn and took your usual fighting stance.

"Oh, don't worry you'll soon end up like your friends." You said confidently.

His eyes moved around to look at other thugs that previously fought by his side but now lay unconscious beaten by yours truly.

Fortunately, Kyotaro ran into the room at this moment, throwing the doors open with a loud thud. His eyes moved across the room and when he noticed you bowed down and grabbing at your leg he saw red.

You took the chance of his distraction and punched him with the right hook. Quickly grabbing his hand and stepping around him to twist it against his back you tried to make him kneel. He buckled his knees, kneeling on the ground when his other hand moved and grabbed the knife in your leg twisting it.

Feeling the new wave of pain you pulled your leg away and kicked his hand making him fall face flat on the ground. You hissed in ache, your hand moving to your thigh and grabbing at it.

Your boyfriend hated seeing you hurt and tried to keep you safe but knowing how frequently you fought he took another approach. He made you promise that before any confrontation you'd call or text him and wait for him. He felt more calm when you were throwing punches by his side, where he could always keep an eye on you and help you.

But this, this was the kind of situation that had Kyotaro terrified and mad. His gaze immediately zeroed in on the man standing up a few meters from you. His long legs moved before he knew and his arm drew back to bring one of the strongest hits he gave straight to the man's cheek. The man hit the wall with so much power it left a crack there making him fall unconscious to the ground.

You didn't notice anything going on around you, the pain was just too much, and you faltered trying not to fall down. Your blurry vision was soon taken by Kyotaro who grabbed your cheeks making you look at him. His worried face was all you could remember before your body couldn't take more pain and you saw black.

When you woke up your eyes needed a while to get used to the lights. You noticed you were actually in the hospital room and as you moved to sit up you felt yet again the uncomfortable ache in your thigh. You pushed the covers away to see your leg bandaged. You slowly shifted to the sitting position, your legs dangling over the bed.

After you fell unconscious against him Kyotaro picked you up, mindful of your injured leg. His grip tightened only when he held you tight to his chest, running as quickly as he could to the hospital. The doors opened with his kick and his voice echoed calling for the doctor to take care of you.

He waited at the doors nervously stomping back and forth till they were finished and only when they told him that you were fine did he get the courage to inform Umemiya about what happened. He spent the entire night and most of the day by your side and didn't sleep longer than a few minutes.

"(Y/n)!" A voice called and you looked up to see Kyotaro and Umemiya at the door.

Your eyes widened at the worried gaze on your boyfriend's face and you felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry, Kyo." Your voice was timid and your eyes fell to your lap.

You heard Umemiya saying he will be back later and that he's happy you're awake. Then there was a sound of steps before you saw Kyotaro's legs in front of you. His hands slowly moved to grab yours and you noticed the familiar warmth of his skin.

"I was scared." He said quietly his voice wavering.

It was the first time you heard his voice sound like that and it broke your heart. He leaned over making his forehead touch the top of your head.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there quicker." He added and you felt even worse.

You didn't want him to blame himself for your injury. You pushed against his chest, your hands still held together.

"Why are you blaming yourself for this? When I was the one who threw myself in the fight?" You asked him feeling frustrated and confused.

"Because I'm your boyfriend and my job is to keep you safe." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He kneeled in front of you and your eyes connected with his. You noticed the dark bags under his eyes, courtesy of staying by your side all this time and worrying about you.

He really seemed too good for you and you were very grateful he'd always come to save you. You appreciated everything he did for you and promised not to throw yourself in danger so easily. You were even more thankful for him taking care of you the following days. Carrying you around even when you told him you were fine. Holding your school bag and shopping. He even made sure you went to all hospital visits.

"But please be more careful. I never want to see you hurt like that ever again."

You couldn't believe he was your boyfriend.

"I promise to be more careful if you keep being by my side." You said feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

You really didn't deserve him but you also loved him so much.

"You're not leaving my side. I can't let anything bad happen to you." His words were accompanied by the kisses he left on your bruised knuckles.

#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #kyotaro sugishita x reader

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

Note

boarding school by ldr is sooo rafe 💗

kook!reader who just moved back to the obx after her parents moved bc of work, not remembering the Camerons too well but all of her friends are like “rafe this, rafe that..” so ofc she has to see what the hypes all about !!

but!!! getting sososoo disappointed when she’s at a party and he’s all pissy and rude to everyone ! rafe is all heart eyes for her, but she keeps shrugging him off 🙈🫶🏽

cute! 🌸

just watching him in action, seeing the way he interacts with others was enough for you. you’d come to this party to sit back and observe, figure out what all the hype was about — but it seemed all the buzz had been generated over just another stuck up Kook. it was guys like him that gave you all a bad name.

he was rude, not just to guys but to girls too— shrugging them off and sipping his drink when they tried to make a move. it was odd, really. he was gorgeous, you had to admit. but his personality was less than favourable, and your curiosity quickly faded, deciding to just enjoy your night with your friends instead.

you felt his presence next to you before you saw him, saw the colour of his shirt in your peripheral vision looming over you as you pour yourself another drink at the drinks table, eyes lasered in on the red solo cup in your hand making sure not to spill any liquor from the bottle. you mentally prepare yourself to remain composed and dignified, waiting for him to tell you to get the hell out of his way like he did the last person who dared stand where he wanted to stand.

“hi.” he calls over the music instead. you think you must have misheard him, so you ignore it all together. but he leans forward and speaks again. “i feel like i know you from somewhere.”

you turn and look up at him, heart thumping a little and he’s smiling. years are taken off his face when he grins, maybe that’s why he doesn’t do it much— less manly and more boyish. it’s almost sweet, and you would have probably fell for it if you hadn’t been watching him earlier.

“me?” you ask, all wide eyed and it makes him chuckle, nodding. god, he really had an intense stare— like seriously, his eyes haven’t moved from your face since the beginning of this interaction.

“yeah. you.” he surveys you for a moment. “what are you drinking?”

you ignore his question and raise an eyebrow, observing him right back. “you said you know me from somewhere?”

he shifts on his feet, eager and almost skittish like he wants to reach out and touch you or something. rafe briefly stuffs his hands in his pockets instead, so different from the guy you’d been watching all night to the point where you were starting to wonder if he had a twin.

“well yeah. ‘remember faces, y’know?” his lightly brings his finger to his temple in gesture. “uh i— aha,” he cuts himself off with a chuckle, leaning in a little. “i don’t forget the pretty ones.”

you panic a little, because well — it’s rafe cameron, coming onto you, and quite frankly he scares you. so you stare up at him a little dumbly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth before clasping your cup in both hands nervously.

“i dont — i uh— have to go back to my friends now.” you’re meek and it pains you, but you scurry off anyway, barely glancing back. you’d think that would have totally weirded him out, and hoped maybe it was enough to get him to leave you alone — but you couldn’t be more wrong, if anything he was encouraged.

you were constantly reminded of his poor treatment towards others because he stayed near you the whole night, mouthing off about pogues or telling randoms to ‘get the fuck out of his way’ all whilst following you around like a dumb, lovesick puppy. you ignored him at best, brushed him off when he gently took your arm and offered to join a game of suck and blow with you, or even beer pong. each time you rejected him, the more determined he was.

a while later, he gently grabs your arm again and you sigh loudly — sick of his chasing.

“hey i— i just wanna get to know you, a’ight? i’m not a bad guy.” his eyes are a little wide, watery from drinks and whatever else. it rings alarm bells in your head but you stare up at him regardless. maybe it was the drink that had you moving slower.

“you… you are a bad guy! you’re not nice!” it comes out childishly and you hate that for you, even pouting in frustration which makes the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. he thought you were the cutest thing ever, and he had to have you.

“so you’re tellin’ me… all i gotta do is start treating these nobodies nice and you’ll give me a chance?” he raises his eyebrows, ducking his head a little hopefully. you wanna slap him, tell him no and that you see through his little act. but… there’s something charming about him. something that’s drawing you in. what was it about rafe cameron that had everyone up in arms?

“its… definitely a start.” you cross your arms over yourself, sulking. he huffs out a relieved smile, running his fingers over his chin as he stares off, nodding.

“yeah i… i can do that.” he agrees and you stare at him expectedly, putting your wall back up.

“okay… are we done now? can i enjoy my night?” you sass, and he nods, holding his arm out to gesture to the doorway to the room everyone else was in.

“after you.” he drawls, watching you pass him. his eyes don’t leave the back of you, deadset on winning you over— and rafe always gets what he wants.

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron blurb

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irkimatsu · 10 months ago

Note

AHHHHHH I love Husk and your content is by far my FAVORITE 😍 the sweet, the smut, the little bit of both...I love it all.

So I have a cute idea for this one. Neko!reader x husk. The reader isn't fully cat, but has the ears and tail, a cat-like face and of course the mannerisms. Husk is crushing hard and thinks that she (or they, whichever pronouns :) ) is cute and nonchalantly points out that it's adorable when her ears twitch. And then she's like, "And you wonder why we're always messing with you, eyy Kitten?" which makes him all flustered and he can't even say anything.

I can just picture them doing the equivalent of holding hands only their tails wrapped around each other 😚😚

Thank you so much for enjoying my writing!

I envisioned Reader as an anthro like Husk; I'm hoping that's what you meant with your description! Reader gets drunk and rants to Husk about cat instincts, Husk offers some advice, light flirting and flustered Husk ensues. I hope this is close enough to what you wanted! 1.2k words, SFW, female reader!

---

You’ve had way too much to drink.

It’s not like you’re inexperienced at drinking; you knew the hard stuff you were knocking back would be enough to get you wasted. That was the point. Maybe if you got drunk enough, you could shut off the stupid cat instincts that hadn’t left you alone since the moment you died. The exercises you’ve been doing at this hotel for the past few months may have taught you things like not stealing and believing in the power of friendship, but there hadn’t yet been any lessons on how to stop swiping at your own tail every time it entered the corner of your field of vision.

You’re not sure if the alcohol has turned off the instincts, but it sure has turned on your mouth. Without thinking about what you’re saying, you’ve been ranting to the bartender for the past thirty minutes, barely pausing to take a breath. Surely he doesn’t mind, right? Not only are bartenders supposed to listen when their customers want to bitch, but he’s in the exact same position as you are as far as species goes!

“...and the fuckin’ hairballs!” is the latest thought in your stream of word vomit. “I thought mucus was bad! Hairballs! They get stuck in my throat, and they itch like hell until I can cough ‘em up!”

“They sell stuff down here to take care of that,” the bartender says, pouring you another drink without you asking. “It tastes like shit, but it works. I don’t get ‘em anymore unless I forget to drink it.”

“And what about shedding?!” you continue on as if he didn’t say anything. “It’s impossible to keep my room clean! It’s like the more I clean up, the more fur there is!”

“Niffty’s been helpin’ me with that since I met her. She gets pissed about the fur I leave everywhere otherwise. She ain’t gentle with that brush, though.”

You take another gulp of your drink and slam it down onto the bar. “Fuck, think I just swallowed some fur…”

“You haven’t even been dead for a year yet, right?” Husk asks. “ That’s barely anything. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to get used to being a cat. Some of the bullshit never goes away, but it becomes part of you.”

“Do you like being a cat?” you ask.

He laughs at your question. “Hell no! But what choice do I have? There’s no going back to bein’ human for any of us. May as well learn how to deal with it.” He takes a gulp of his own drink, not even bothering to pour it into a glass. “If ya want, I can take you to a good supply place sometime. They’ve got good products if you can put up with the fact that it looks like a fuckin’ pet store.”

“Hmm…” you neither accept nor deny his offer. You only take another drink, swallowing more damn fur in the process. That’s definitely gonna lead to some late-night hairballs. “It’s so annoying…” you whine as you plop your chin on the bar. “Why couldn’t I have been something cool? You know I saw a giant lizard the other day? Lucky bastard…”

“Bet they have a hell of a time findin’ clothes,” he says. “Or even gettin’ into places to begin with.”

“And even you got wings…” you continue on.

“Yeah. Wings. I get to clean up after fur and feathers, and if I don’t find the perfect position while sleeping the fuckin’ things go numb.” He takes your glass away, but you’re too lost in your own self-pity to protest. “We’ve all gotta get used to our new bodies when we get down here, and I doubt it’d be any different if we somehow got into heaven. Just gotta make the best of it.” He turns around to put away some bottles. “Besides, it’s not all bad. At least you’re cute.”

“...what was that?” you say, not expecting that word out of Husk’s mouth.

“I said you’re cute. Everyone thinks cats are cute, don’t they? Even I liked ‘em when I was alive. I don’t want to be one, but you can’t resist their mannerisms, can ya? The big eyes, the soft fur…”

He turns around just in time to see your right ear flicking in annoyance from the condescension. “The twitchy ears…”

You smirk, knowing the weight of what you’re about to say next but too drunk to stop yourself. “So now you get why Angel and I are always commenting on your mannerisms, eh, kitty?”

“Whoa! Hey!” His fur bristles, and you know you shouldn’t find his own agitation cute, but you can’t help yourself. It helps you understand the way he was just talking to you, at least. “That’s different! You’re a young lady! You died at, what, 25? You’re supposed to be cute! I’m an old man who drank myself to death. Nothin’ cute about that.”

“You’ve still got the big eyes and the soft fur…” you continue on.

He groans in response. “If you were a stranger saying that shit to me, I’d kill you.”

“So what makes me so special?” Your tail waves playfully behind you, and he’s obviously following it with his eyes and blushing.

“I…” he starts, but never manages to come up with the rest of the sentence. “Jesus Christ,” is all he has to offer before grabbing a couple of glasses from the shelf. He fills them both with water, then carries them around to the other side of the bar.

“Here,” he says as he sets one of the glasses in front of you. “Drink this. You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning. May as well not be dehydrated on top of everything else.”

You stare at the cup as he takes a seat on the stool next to you. “How do you resist the urge to knock cups over?” you ask.

“Lots of self-control,” he says with a smirk before guzzling his glass in one go.

You place your paw on the side of the glass, originally intending to pick it up, but an overwhelming spark takes over your brain, and you start easing the cup toward the edge of the bar. Husk grabs it and places it back where it started before it can crash to the floor.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assures you. He’s finished his water, but for a reason you can’t determine, he’s still sitting next to you.

“How long have you been down here?” you ask. “A couple years?”

“Mmm… fifty?” he guesses. “Almost as long as I was alive, at this point.”

“Fifty years?!” you exclaim. “And you still have to deal with cat instincts?!”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it never goes away. Just gotta get used to it, take the good with the bad.”

“The good…” you repeat. “Like being cute?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says. “...but in your case… yeah. Like being cute.”

You finally manage to pick up your water without giving into the desire for destruction. As you take a sip, something feathery starts to tickle against your tail. You look over at Husk from the corner of your eye. He’s trying to be nonchalant, not even looking at you, but there’s only one thing that could be brushing against you right now.

Without looking, you shift your tail, allowing it to curl around Husk’s. Husk curls his around yours in turn, your tail tips forming a spiral that just barely reaches the floor.

It’s the closest he’ll get to flirting for now. You’ll take what you can get.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers #irk huskposts

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daydream-believin · 5 months ago

Text

Like A Boiled Frog (You Don't Even Scream) [ch 1]

[Next Chapter]

notes: might proofread this before i post this to ao3 but here have the raw milk version (pasteurization is for losers amaright)

series summary: every time you think things cant get any more batshit, hurricane throws another pile of guano at you. every time you think the hole cant get any deeper, you fall further. and you’re not sure what frightens you more: the town itself, or your increasing reluctance to leave.

or: au where mike has that pizza shop for wayyy more than a week and you find yourself a horror protagonist. or at least one’s love interest.

chapter summary: get haunted bitch. now go drive to utah in a manic episode. go meet a nice walking corpse, maybe it'll fix you. or make you worse. probably that second thing lmao

word count: 7985, oh dear (thats with me cutting out some stuff lol)

warnings: uh, swearing, manic behavior, self-harmful thoughts/behavior, mention of hallucinations/hearing voices, shit this is sounding bad, i mean its canon typical violence so idk man no lifeguard on duty

You know how in Source Decay, John Darnielle says / I wish the west Texas highway was a mobius strip / I could ride it out forever / when I feel my heart break? / Well, that guy’s a bitchass snake oil salesman for romanticizing this. Fuck that guy.

Although, this is the first time you’ve ever been able to set a cruise control and actually just leave it at that. What with there being no other cars on the road out here at this hour for you to run into. You even forgot about it at one point.

Little puffs of fire danced in your peripheral vision, like fairies flitting about. It was easy to spot them out in the night air, all those pumpjacks that littered the desert. There was nothing but these small fires, with the tiny, dotted additions of the glowing red eyes of windmills to light up the way for miles.

And you tried not to think about how if you broke down, no one would be around to find you. Every now and then you would startle at the shadowy specter of a tumbleweed crossing your path, but you were acutely aware of just how alone you were out here.

On that train of thought, your gaze fell to the passenger side, to the little bear toy you had buckled into a seatbelt like it was a person.

“Can you believe this, Fredbear?” you asked the inanimate object.

Fredbear did not answer, of course. Would be insane if he did, right?

Hmm …Why did part of you expect him to.

***

The august sun was beating down hot on your back as you walked home that day. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week.

The neighborhood was as full of life as it always was. The kids running around in a game of tag, the teens playing basketball, and the adults walking their dogs. You could hear some faint music playing in the distance, most likely from the stage setup in the square downtown, not too far away.

There were many yard sales set up, it being the thing to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon like this. Despite your very strong instincts to rummage through all the boxes in these sales like a raccoon looking for dinner in a dumpster, you were broke, with no money to spare for impulse purchases on random junk. And thus, being a mature adult, you walked right past them.

That is, until a yard full of children’s toys caught your eye. One of your cousins’ kids was turning 6 in a few weeks. Might as well buy presents now before you forget again and have to rush to the store in a panic 8 minutes after the party had already started, sweat rolling down your back as you search the toy isle for something the birthday boy would like, while your phone keeps buzzing in your pocket nonstop because both your cousin is texting and your aunt is calling to ask where you’re at because you were the one who was supposed to be picking up the pizza.

I mean, just a hypothetical scenario here.

You didn’t really find anything good as you dug through the bins of miscellaneous action figures and toy cars. As you could recall, the kid really liked Iron Man right now. And sharks. Alas, you found no Iron Mans or sharks in those bins.

The other table’s baskets were full of stuffed animals. You could maybe get lucky and find a stuffed shark in there. But stuffed animals are notorious for being hard to clean; and yard sale plushies sometimes come with more than just one new friend. You weren’t about to be the reason your cousin had to fumigate her house for bedbugs. Again. So, you decided to close this case for now and skedaddle on out of there.

You took another look back at the table as you walked away.

Well.. The toys you could see at the top of the bins did look like they were well taken care of… It couldn’t hurt to just look, right?

Yeah no. You found no sharks unfortunately. What you did find, however, was this funky little teddy bear wearing a top hat and bowtie.

A real character, that one. The bright gold fabric of its body made it stand out amongst the other toys. The smile stitched onto the bear gave it a weird, smug look. And you hadn’t seen a plushy with eyebrows before.

That being said, this thing’s aura was so... unsettling. You stared into its black eyes, that seemed to stare right back at you, with a strange feeling twisting in the pit of your stomach.

“You like that one, do ya?”

You almost jumped out of your skin when the old man running the sale spoke to you. You had Not heard him come up beside you like that. Creepy.

“Yeah, it’s…” you tried to think of a positive word, “very intriguing. Looks like it’s ready for a party.”

“My granddaughter called him Fredbear. Found him over in Utah, many years back. In a yard sale, just like this one,” he gently took the bear from you, and looked down at it wistfully, “My granddaughter.. liked how smartly dressed he was. A perfect guest for her tea parties. You were right about that…”

The old man stared at the doll for a little longer after the conversation faded. You felt extremely awkward now. Perhaps you really should have just left without unearthing this obvious sentimental piece.

“My grandchildren are no longer here with me,” you felt a little uncomfortable with how he phrased that, “so, I’ll tell you what. Promise me you’ll take care of him, and he’s yours. Free of charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’d be happy to pay for him, really,” you felt bad taking free stuff from the elderly.

“No,” he said with a tone of finality, placing the bear firmly into your hands, “the day’s almost over. I’d like to help this old friend move on. It’s time.”

Well that somehow was both sweet and foreboding at the same time.

So, you thanked the old man and started back on your walk home, Fredbear cradled in your arms. He waved goodbye to you. The grandfather, of course, not the teddy bear.

You probably aren’t going to wind up giving this one to your cousin’s son. There was something about it that told you not to. Maybe it was the way the old man talked about it. You felt compelled to take care of the plush yourself. Kind of like an honor thing. Or a pity thing.

It smelled a little funky. But that’s nothing a little TLC couldn’t handle. And some dish soap.

Maybe you were just. Feeling a bit childish lately. Too small and easily broken. Moved to tears by little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Disregarded and treated like your fears weren’t real.

Deeply afraid.

Yeah, you’d give Fredbear a nice soak in the sink with a fun dish soap bubble bath. And maybe after that, you’ll both feel a little better.

You were alone in your apartment that night, as your roommate was always gone these days. And when you made your tea, you brought Fredbear a mug as well. A little tea party, for old time’s sake.

Looking back, maybe that was your first mistake.

***

Static rolled from your radio. You gave up on fiddling with it hours ago, but you’ve got nothing better to occupy your mind now.

You turned the knob absentmindedly, never really expecting to get anywhere. Or any signal, that is. A muffled country song here, the broken-up voice of a DJ there, nothing strong enough to stay for more than a few seconds. However, a few seconds of a clear transmission was all you really needed when you rolled past a certain signal.

“zZz-Hurricane—“

Now that was a word that got your attention. Not that you were anywhere near the coast at the moment. You know, unless the person reading this is looking to buy some oceanside property in Arizona. In that case feel free to slide into my DMs.

“zZZ-Peach Days! -Zz celebratio— zzZ-year—peaches peach—-ZzzZ-Heritage-zZ,” you let your gaze flicker downward, towards the dimly lit red text of the frequency number display as if that would provide some more insight.

And then suddenly, the fuzz was completely gone, as if you were near the tower itself,

“So Hurry On To Hurricane City!” the spokesman encouraged cheerfully. You could practically here the giant pageant smile in his voice as he delivered his slogan. This man was your friend, obviously. Then, however, his tone shifted as he closed the ad copy, “Because you know the party can’t start without you…”

You held your breath as the silence dragged out a few agonizing seconds, until “ZZZZZZZZ!!!”, in a jolt, the transmission went completely out. Explosively. You even flinched.

You stayed on the station for a good twenty minutes after that, waiting to see if you could hear anything again. You could feel your heart pound against your ribs until the terrifying feeling faded. There was nothing else but static, of course, and for so long you almost thought you must have imagined it. If not for the way those dull words repeated in your head, over and over.

THE PARTY CAN’T START WITHOUT YOU.

You hadn’t really had a destination in mind when you took off. No goal other than to get out of there as fast as you could manage. The idea of the West had been bouncing around your brain a lot lately, hence your current trajectory, but you really hadn’t had a clue where you were supposed to be going when you left.

I mean, you still didn’t have a destination. You had no clue what that advertisement was even about. Where they were even fucking talking about. Hurricane City?

Yet, somehow, you knew those words were meant for you. Not anyone else. you. There was a party and the party was waiting for you.

Guess you’d have to look for a map or something in town. Perhaps use the library computer. Man, you would regret throwing your phone into the lake in a fit of passion as you left town, but honestly, this is the longest you’ve known peace in quite some time. Just gonna have to live a little retro for a while. Not the worst thing in the world.

You’ll get a new one later, once you’ve settled in to… wherever you’re going. Whatever new home lies over that horizon for you, you guess.

The sun was breaching the beige skyline of sandy shrub brush as you finally rolled over the state line. You needed to eat. Your stomach growled loudly at just the thought. Funny. You hadn’t even thought about eating in the last.. twenty hours. Which means you should be absolutely shaking right now. Yeah, that’s why you’re shaking. That’s it. You’ll pull into the first diner you see.

You were hoping to at least be in Roswell for breakfast, but there was no way your body was going to be able to keep running if you waited that long. Looks like it’s just going to be the first place you come across.

Hopefully they don’t put green chilis in their pancakes or something.

That sounds insane but it’s an actual thing you’ve seen before in this state, trust. There are no laws nor gods when it comes to Hatch green chilis.

***

Your sleepy brain was not ready for the bell that rang as you walked through the door. Embarrassingly enough, the tinny noise startled you. You almost tripped, to be honest. Thankfully your wobbly Bambi legs held up as you managed to catch yourself.

The hostess wasn’t in sight as you awkwardly stood in the entrance, but there was a whole heap of noise coming from the kitchen.

“Hold on just a second, Sweetpea!” a voice called out to you.

Well, guess you’re holding on a second.

Your eyes scanned the top of the walls, perusing the vast cookie jar collection that the owner had accrued over the years. They were never dusted, despite being on shelves that lined the top of every wall in the tiny shack of a diner, and thus you could easily tell that a few new additions had been made. You know, because those cookie jars were way less filthy.

That’s gotta be a heath-code violation.

After you heard a bit of garbled yelling, the hostess rushed out to take her place in front of you. Smoothing down her polka-dotted apron, she grinned at you.

“Table for two?”

You blinked. It was too early in the morning for fully intelligent speech.

“Uh. No. Just me today. Thank you.”

Her big, bedazzled cat-eyeglasses fell a little farther down her nose as she scrunched her face in confusion, “alright then. Just the one of you today...”

She grabbed a paper menu as she led your shambling body to a table near the window. Which was shut away with ancient looking vinyl blinds that you were too afraid to open, lest they crumble and the cost of replacing them be put on your on tab.

She had already disappeared back into the kitchen by the time you got yourself in a seat. You glanced around the room. You weren’t the only patron here, as a few tables held a few bodies, but you were the only one without your face buried in a newspaper. And to be expected honestly, you were the youngest person in the room at seven in the morning.

The hostess, who was also the only waitress in this tiny local business, placed two glasses in front of you. The dull sound they made hitting the table drew you out of your revelry. There before you were two cups, a steaming mug of fresh coffee and a short glass of milk. You looked up in confusion.

“Don’t worry, it’s whole milk. Builds strong bones.”

That... wasn’t your concern.

You looked back at the cup in confusion and by the time you turned back, she had already moved on to the next table, refilling mugs and having loud banter with the other customers. Her regulars, by the sound of it. You felt too apathetic to try and call her over again.

You shrugged, to no one in particular, as you did not have a breakfast partner with you, despite the waitress’s insistence otherwise. Wait, was she mocking you? Eh, maybe it’s just supposed to be for the coffee. Nevertheless, you would not be drinking the milk, so you just left it there.

Despite the prevalence of the local newspaper in the room, there wasn’t a dispenser or anything at the front of the restaurant, like there usually is. As you drummed your fingers on the tablecloth, bored out of your mind, you kinda regretted throwing your phone in the lake a bit more. Maybe not the best of moves.

But hey, at least you aren’t constantly quelling the incessant buzzing you’d be hearing if you’d kept it.

You busied yourself stirring your coffee while you looked over the menu again, just for something to read. Of course, you were ordering a waffle. Because this was a diner, and, yeah, you do like waffles. And pancakes. And French toast. Doodoodoodoo can’t wait to get a mouthful.

That voice kept echoing in your mind. The party can’t start without you.

“More coffee, Babycakes?” the waitress snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you,” you moved the mug to the edge of the table, closer to her, “Say… I know this is an out-of-pocket question, but have you heard anything about Hurricane City? Maybe something about peaches?”

“Oh!” she snapped her fingers, “You mean the Peach Days. It’s a little heritage festival they put on every summer in Hurricane, you know. It’s a hoot, my family makes a trip out there every few years or so for it. Not this time of course, clearly, since I’m here talkin’ to you and not in Utah—”

“In Utah?”

Of course, it was Fucking Utah again.

“I know it’s soundin’ far, but it’s only ‘bout a day’s drive from here. Two days if y’ain’t crazy about following an itinerary like my husband,” she brushed a hand over her apron before you lost her attention to the other customers, “I swear that man would plan out a schedule for every second of the day if he could…”

After she wandered off to go top off more mugs, you lamented the fact that you still hadn’t ordered yet. That’s what you get for being nosy about peach festivals, you suppose.

Thankfully though, soon enough you had your hearty breakfast and were back in front of the wheel, on your way to the friendly neighborhood Walmart. Where hopefully no cops or employees would bother you as you crashed in the parking lot.

You took Fredbear to the backseat with you for good luck. Maybe it was the gold color, or the fancy getup he had. Maybe you just needed a cuddle buddy to not feel so alone in this parking lot swarming with people.

Much to your disdain, it was now a bit into the morning hours, and the sun was fully up.

You had tried to find as shady a spot as possible, but it’s not exactly like trees grow in this biome. At least not naturally. Windbreak tree lines were definitely a thing, but those protected buildings people cared about, and this was a Walmart. Nothing around here but concrete, rocks spray painted blue, and cigarette butts.

So after tossing and turning in the bright blinding sunshine for way longer than you should have, and making promises to higher deities was proven to be unfruitful in your attempt to find some semblance of peace, you finally just had to admit defeat. And here by rescinding any aforementioned promises to higher powers.

You laid Fredbear back down on the seat and tucked him in with the blanket when you got back up. At least one of you could be cozy and well rested. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be you, however.

Well, it’s far from the first all-nighter you’ve pulled without having time to take a nap during the following day. Sleep deprivation isn’t real, silly. Teachers just made that up to scare you. It’ll be fine.

***

You know you never really realize how much we structure our lives around other humans until you take a drive through the middle of nowhere. How essential it is to have enough gas to make it to the next town. From town to town, your life becomes segments. Only within the eyesight of other humans are you ever safe. Only within the bounds of the settlement can your soul be settled.

Gas stations become oases. Which is the plural of oasis, apparently. Anyway, you start seeing them like mirages. Dingey, weather-worn gas pumps become as good as a sparkling illusion of precious water in the Sahara. The empty shells of buildings you passed by, long since forgotten, became like mausoleums in these graveyard towns. Villages. Hamlets. Mostly hamlets.

“Are we there yet?” a small and very annoyed voice called out.

You had just written it off as your imagination until you heard the noise of shuffling fabric. Normally your audio hallucinations aren’t that detailed. Paralyzed, you held your breath, not daring to make any noise that would distract your ears from hearing whoever, whatever, was in the back seat. Your mind went to stories of skinwalkers and misshapen monsters and hitch-hiking serial killers.

“… Are we there yet?” the voice repeated, admittedly sounding even smaller to you now.

Yep, that’s a real person alright. Or a real thing. Your eyes were probably bloodshot from the way you haven’t blinked this entire time, just staring straight ahead on the desert highway. Taking a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself, you turned down the rear-view mirror…

Christ almighty. You had a stowaway.

Your stomach turned immediately. God, come on now, don’t puke up what little you had on your stomach. You need that.

“Hey Buddy,” you tried to sound as friendly as you could, “What’s your name?”

Clad in a little striped shirt and cargo shorts, he started kicking his feet in impatience, which would be cute if it weren’t for this situation y’all are in, and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, “We’ve been in here forever,” he whined.

If this was a skinwalker, he was a pretty darn adorable one. And definitely not a hitch-hiking serial killer. At least you hoped. But no, this was a greater form of terror: responsibility.

“Haha, yeah, we have been in here really long, haven’t we? How long do you think we’ve been driving, can you tell me?”

When did you pick up this child. When you got gas in Gallup? Albuquerque? Dear lord, if he’s been in here since Roswell, you’re about to have the world’s biggest headache on your hands, both metaphorically and physically. But there’s no way he’s been in here for fucking 10 hours, right? right??

Okay, okay. Maybe you’re just a little panicky right now and not thinking straight. Maybe teachers hadn’t been making up sleep deprivation just to scare you after all. You have been purposely not drinking anything for the lack of available restrooms. People get dehydration hallucinations, right?

The boy just stared at you, blankly. Probably fully realizing you were a stranger and not whoever he thought you were. In lieu of answering you, he started fidgeting more with the toy bear you had had in the back. You really hoped that hadn’t been what lured him into your station wagon in the first place.

Don’t be getting shy on me now, kid.

You put your blinker on, ready to merge off the road and onto an incoming rest-stop that you thanked your lucky stars for.

“Honey, can you tell me what your phone number is?”

He looked up at you, finally tearing his attention from the bear, and you could see gears turning in his head.

“…435-555-1987?”

You repeated it back to him, and he nodded. Alright, time to find that payphone.

Said rest-stop payphone was thankfully near a picnic table so you could sit him down and be able to watch him carefully the whole time you made this call. Because judging by the fact this situation was happening at all, he was a slippery one.

You got out of the car and opened the back door, but he was hesitant to get out. Which, fair, you are a stranger trying to get him to a second location.

“What’s up, Bud?” you tried your hardest to not sound like a predator but boy was that a real nebulous idea, wasn’t it?

“Fredbear wants to come too,” he mutters.

“Well, sure then, let’s bring him, we’ll have a little picnic.” With no food, but hey, whatever lie it takes to get him sitting on that bench.

It was really cute the way the kid set the bear down on the table and positioned it like they were going to have a picnic together. When you find this kid’s parents, you’ll let him keep Fredbear. Toys like it when they’re given to new children, right? Wasn’t there a movie about that or something. Wincing at the grubbiness of the payphone, you reluctantly dialed the number.

“Hello, Jeff’s Pizza on Main St, are you ready to order?”

You closed your eyes, counting the seconds as you breathed in for 4 seconds, held it for 7, and released for 8.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted into the receiver. So much for calming down, “please don’t hang up,” you pleaded.

“Listen, we don’t take solicitation,”

“No, uh, sorry. I’ve found a lost child who told me this was his number. Is the owner of this restaurant by chance frantically looking for their son?”

You heard some muffled conversation happening behind the phone, “Well, no, I don’t even have any kids… and I uh, am currently understaffed. Im the only one here.”

you cursed under your breath.

“Uh, alright, well…” you could tell this was getting really awkward for him.

“Could you tell me where y’all are, I’m unfamiliar with the area code,”

“Uh, Hurricane, Utah?”

… If you weren’t on the phone, you fucking swear you’d be screeching at the top of your lungs like a chimpanzee right now.

“Thank you, you know, just in case he’s just remembering an advertisement he’s seen or something,”

“Oh, okay,” there was a pause, “well I hope you find the parents or, whoever,”

“Thank you,” you’ll put him out of his misery and hang up.

“Are you sure that’s your number, Hon?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Why don’t you tell me it again, maybe I dialed it wrong,”

“435-5--” his face scrunched up in concentration, “435-555—I don’t know…”

You tried not to look visibly stressed at this answer.

“Do you know where you live?”

He moved the bears paws along with whatever little game he was playing, before looking up at you, head tilted in confusion, “Hurricane?”

Okay. Police time. If not for him, for you. The skinwalker possibility just went back up. Because, honestly, he had to have gotten in your car as a coyote or something. No way you wouldn’t’ve noticed a whole ass child entering your car.

“How does ice cream sound, huh Buddy?”

“I want ice cream!” he said hastily as if you’d change your mind if he hesitated.

“Ice cream it is then, but only if you’re good for me and the officers, okay? And tell them everything you can remember. You’re smart, right?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Great,” you smiled over clenched teeth.

After herding him back into the car, you had to take a moment to gently rest your head into the steering wheel. And it took everything within you to not smash said head into it. Or scream in agony. No, no, we mustn’t scare the child.

Tuba City wasn’t too far away. The police station was downtown, as most are. Luckily, across the street there was a paleteria with a courtyard area. The little guy got very excited when you got pulled into the parking space, so eh, what the hell, ice cream first. Maybe after a treat and some playtime in the courtyard he won’t be as wiggly and will be able to tell the cops what he knows about just where the hell he came from.

The noise of the bell chiming made you flinch as you two walked into the paleteria. You hadn’t thought you were that tightly wound right now but apparently you were wrong. The lady behind the counter greeted you warmly, and you responded in turn, trying to play it cool.

God, imagine if she got an off-vibe from you and the kid and called over the police from across the street before you even have a chance—

Deep breath. Okay. The kid you had started referring to in your head as just “Little Boy” was leaned against the display case, his breath fogging up the glass in front of him and probably leaving little handprints for the shopkeeper to clean later.

“I’m sorry about that,”

“That’s… Okay. What can I get you?” she seemed a little confused. Strange, but you brushed past it just as quickly as she did.

“Ah, what do we want?” you asked Little Boy.

He excitedly tugged on your pantleg and pointed to the popsicle he wanted, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t need to convince you, but you quickly realized you were not going to be able to say no to any else after this if he deployed the same cute begging look.

“One of those cute little Tweety Bird faces,” you pointed.

“Anything else?” she handed you the popsicle and you gingerly took it.

“Nah, that’s it” you were too nauseous to eat right now.

You paid, throwing the change into the tip jar, and turned to give Little Boy the popsicle she handed you. The words caught in your throat as you looked down to find your pantleg absent of any tugging by any Little Boy. You quickly scanned the tiny paleteria. He was nowhere to be found, anywhere in the room.

“Uh, did you see where the kid went?” you tried not to sound too panicked.

She was taken aback, also quickly looking around the room to find no one, before shaking her head, “Did you have a kid with you?”

You furiously nodded in confusion,

“I’m sorry, then I didn’t see them,” she pointed to the glass door that led to the courtyard only a few feet away from y’all, “Try outside, maybe?”

You burst outside, searching the area in a panic, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Not hidden in the tangle of the garden, not splashing around in the fountain, not at, under, on top of, or around any of the tables.

You went to call his name, but your voice caught in your throat when you realized you didn’t have a name to call. And.

And.

Something hit your shirt. A water droplet. You looked up into the clear, blinding blue sky. Your nerves tickled as another droplet ran down your cheek. Oh, you were crying. Huh.

You took the closet seat you could find, counting the things processed by your 5 senses. It’s all you could do to not start bawling for no reason. Maybe you’ll calm down and be able to think straight soon.

Why can’t you think straight? Everything feels so fuzzy.

You should be terrified, and in a way, you were. In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth: Little Boy wasn’t real. Or at least turned back into a coyote and ran off.

As you stared vacantly into the open air, you realized you still had a dripping popsicle in your hands. Supposedly “Tweety Bird” shaped, it just looked like a yellow skull missing its mandible bone to you. How fitting.

You pulled it to your mouth. Yum. Tasted like AAAAAAAA. Or orange, according to the package.

Attempting to lick the melted yellow liquid off of your hand, you accidentally stuck the ice pop on your face. Great. Now you’re sticky all over.

God, you’ve really gone and lost your fucking marbles this time, haven’t you.

There was a bulletin kiosk a few feet down your field of vision. On that bulletin kiosk was an old poster, barely visible as it was buried under layers of other flyers. It caught your eye and seemed to burn your retinas. What little you could see was the word Freddy and part of what looked like a version of the bear you’d been toting around this whole little expedition, but that was enough.

Something clicked. You looked down at the bear hanging by your side in your other hand. The kid had shoved it into your arms so he could more easily lean on the display case, right before he disappeared the very moment you took your eyes off of him.

You know, you hadn’t really felt alone since bringing Fredbear home. And not in a good way.

Guess the name you should’ve been calling was Freddy.

You had to get rid of that bear.

***

You had been walking home like you always did, same route. But you noticed something peculiar about this time. The house that the old man had his yard sale in was now stripped of all decoration, with a For Sale sign proudly standing in the grass. No cars, and no blinds or curtains on the windows, so you could see into the den which was now devoid of any furniture.

You’ll admit it, you crept around to the other windows, searching for any signs of life at all in the empty rooms. None. No furniture, no people, no trash. The yard sale was yesterday. How did they clean this place out so thoroughly in the short amount of time between when you’d seen it last and now.

A little confuddled, you went home as usual. While strange as hell, this wasn’t a missing person’s case or anything. And it’s probably why the man was so adamant on giving you Fredbear because it was the end of the day. He had a deadline. He was skipping town.

God, you wished you could just skip town.

You frankly thought nothing of it when you unlocked the door to your apartment to see Fredbear was already seated on the couch, like he was all set to marathon whatever 30-year-old cartoon you wound up watching that night. And it’s not like your roommate hadn’t done something like this before, move a stuffed animal or action figure into a funny position for you to find later.

You hadn’t seen him much lately. Or like, at all. The only reason you knew he was still alive were the dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes on the floor of the bathroom, and the aforementioned moving the bear around.

Looking back now, was he moving the bear around?

If you locked the deadbolt that can’t be unlocked from the outside, you’d be guaranteed to catch him in person for once. But you weren’t willing to go through the trouble and emotional toil of doing that, however.

In the name of feeling less like a ghost haunting your own home, getting yelled at for intentionally locking your roommate out might be a wee bit counterproductive. Sure, you’d be seen and spoken to, but the harshness of his words and tone would send you into a worse episode than you were already in.

Well, at least Fredbear seemed ready to keep you company tonight...

The fact that they put unskippable advertisements on streaming services you’re paying for in the first place is criminal. Or at least regular cable tv in a trenchcoat.

You got a drink while they prattled on about luxury cars you couldn’t afford and real estate companies you weren’t going to have the privilege of patroning any time soon. Embarrassingly, as you poured the pitcher of water into a glass, you got a little distracted.

The cheap glass’s glass was only about a millimeter or two thick. You could easily just crush this cup in your hand, in one swift movement. The muscles of your arm began tensing up at the thought.

But thankfully, a loud, blaring advertisement coming from the TV snapped you out of it. And so, you promptly decided to Not Do That, because picking all of those tiny glass shards out of your flesh would be a bitch. And that was not how you wanted to spend a perfectly good Sunday night. And of course you didn’t need the questions at work tomorrow.

You returned to the couch, curiously, and you swear, that damn teddy bear followed you with its eyes. Even though they were a shiny, solid black, and the idea itself would be insane.

As you settled back down, you grabbed the remote to turn down the volume of the cheery music playing. Mysteriously, it wasn’t just a commercial with bad sound mixing, the TV itself had been turned up. Now that it had your attention, the thing that was being sold to you seemed to the state of Utah. You know, those Visit [X] ads that were commonly played between cooking shows and ghost hunting documentaries.

“Oh hey, you’re from there, right?” you poked at fredbear. And immediately felt pathetic. God, you’ve got to stop talking to inanimate objects and like get a boyfriend or something. Geez.

The imagery on the screen was just, you know, normal southwest stock footage:

A drone shot of Zion national park

Old men golfing

Owls living in holes they’ve dug into cactuses

Rock archways

A family laughing as they shared a pizza being served to them by a man in a bear suit that looked just fredbear,

“Oh, well there you are, I guess.” you once again absent-mindedly spoke to your toy friend.

Kids swimming in a fancy resort pool

A Navajo cultural event

More rock archways and red sandstone cliffs

Kids crowding around a claw machine filled with toys just like the one sitting next to you

Kids crowding around a stage as an animatronic band played

Kids crowding around a birthday cake, the light of candles bouncing off their faces as they sang along…

The fake sounding voice of the announcer rung out, “Visit Utah! You know the party can’t start without you!”

Your mouth felt dry. Good thing you now had that glass of water.

***

Of course, you did what any smart, sane person would do and feverishly ripped through the layers of old flyers to get to the advertisement for what you now knew was Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place. A themed diner and nickel arcade that made most of their money hosting birthday parties, by the looks of it. You knew the type; you had been an American child once too.

Good thing none of the cops were hanging around outside to fine you for littering, because the amount of paper you just released into the breeze was in fact criminal.

There was a short list of locations at the bottom of the poster. They had a few scattered over Utah, or at least they used to, judging by the harsh weathering of this poster. The closest one being in Bigwater, explaining why this poster was out here in Tuba. But the word Hurricane stood out to you like it was lit up in neon. It burned like sunlight.

It appears you are in fact on your way to Hurricane, Utah. As if you didn’t know that already at this point, you being out on the canyon rim instead of your much preferred and beloved Rockies. Well, congratulations bitch. You’ve only got another three hours to go. Better get going. Have fun!

***

Oh, this place was creepy as hell. Or it’s just late at night, and you’re sleep deprived and paranoid. In the spirit of being honest to yourself, ‘sleep deprived and paranoid’ has always been your natural state of being, but right now it’s definitely ramped up to an eleven.

But even though it’s been close to 48 hours since your last brain-reset, this place still had a certain energy about it. Like New Orleans, or the woods around lynching bridges did. That spooky oh I am Not Safe here type of energy.

The gas station-man gave you a real weird look when you stormed in and asked where the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was. Normally you would’ve chalked it up to you being a clear foreigner asking for directions as if it’s 1995, to a children’s arcade close to midnight nonetheless, but now you weren’t so sure.

You eyed the fridge full of wine in pint sized bottles and little juice cartons. But nah, you probably needed to have a quick reaction time to whatever was waiting for you in this Venus flytrap you’re willingly walking into. You grabbed a Monster instead and you know what, yeah, that probably wasn’t the best decision either. If you weren’t high strung before, you definitely were now. You felt like you could punch a bear. A Freddy Fazbear.

You bought a local map alongside the energy drink, feeling like you were gonna need it. Man, low-tech was actually kinda annoying after a while. You got the gas station-man to begrudgingly mark Fazbear’s down onto it for you. Apparently, it and all other locations within town had closed down some twenty years ago. Not many people are still around who remember why, he said, but it had something to do with the faulty animatronics. Teenagers told ghost stories and dared each other to spend the whole night in the dining room. But otherwise, beyond the rumors, the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza Place was just an empty, scorched building. And the other various locations like Jr’s or Circus Baby’s had been sold off, passing so many hands who knows what businesses were in there now. But you could still kinda tell, if you paid attention, in the same way you can tell if something used to be a Pizza Hut.

What you really wanted, according to gas station-man, whose nametag read Gary, was this new location that was opening soon, simply named Freddy’s Pizzeria. It’s set to open for business in September, so you’re lucky. He marked it one your map as well.

You don’t know why Gary was so nice to you. Maybe it was the harrowed look in your eyes. Maybe it was the twitchiness. Maybe Gary is just very bored of this tourist town and was looking to fall madly in love with a random troubled soul he met at midnight in a gas station and would wind up running away with to some far-off place. If that was the case, sorry Gary. You were too busy with the metaphorical torture labyrinth to care about romance at the moment.

You couldn’t decide if the haunted Fredbear would want to see an old location or the new one. You asked, but of course the fucker didn’t answer. Just sat there with his smug grin and glassy eyes that followed your hand movements. So, you quite literally tossed a coin. A new mint, the face side had Eleanor Roosevelt on it. And she marked the fact that you were going to try the new location first, and then try the original building next. Cool.

***

Your patience was kinda at its limit here, you’ll admit. You really should get some sleep soon. Or eat. Since you were hellbent on getting here and nothing else, the only thing on your stomach besides that wretched Tweety Bird popsicle is half a monster energy. Guess you’ll go by a fucking Denny’s after this. If you survive.

If you were going to die horrifically, you’d really rather the forces that be make it snappy. This was getting ridiculous.

You pulled into the parking lot. The building clearly wasn’t new but had been freshly painted. Nothing creepy so far. As you stared down the building, sizing it up, you noticed there was one car parked in the front, and a few of the windows were lit up.

Cool, so there was someone in there. Great. That makes, well whatever this is, much harder.

The door was locked.

You could hear music playing from inside. You banged on the door as loudly as you could manage, and it still took a couple of minutes before the music stopped. And then a very disgruntled man in coveralls was in the doorway, tiredly asking just what the fuck you wanted at this time of night.

He smiled to cover up his rudeness, but the smile stretched a little too wide, inhumanly wide, and a shiver ran down your spine.

You took him in, unashamedly raking your eyes over his form. He stood awkwardly, as if ready to bolt at any moment. What you could see of his build made him out to be weirdly skinny. That unnaturally wide smile gave way to some exposed teeth on the left side of his face. His eyes were shadowed by his bangs in the backlight of the door, but you swore they almost glowed themselves. His complexion was greyish and bordered on almost purple in this lighting.

Despite all this, he was still pretty handsome. Well, you did always think some of those creepypasta guys were boyfriend material. Maybe, you wouldn’t mind getting chopped up into little pieces if this guy was the one doing it. Okay, and maybe you’ve been sleeplessly chasing ghosts too long.

Startling you, he reached his hand to grab your shoulder, a little too fast.

“Hey mate, are you okay?” He asked nervously,

It snapped you out of your stupor, realizing you had yet to say a word to him, “Uh, yes, I just wanted to…”

How do you even fucking ask this. “Hey, can I bring a stuffed bear to your dining room so maybe it’s spirit will leave me alone? Maybe conduct a séance or something?” Seriously, did you even know what you were doing here? Shit. Okay.

“I wanted to ask if I could check out your facility?” came out like a question because even you had no clue what you were saying.

“Come back tomorrow in the daylight, then,” he began closing the door, shaking his head in annoyance, “or perhaps when we’re actually open.”

“NO!” you slammed your foot into the door as he closed it, “AAGH!”

“Jesus Christ! WHY.”

Dear lord, this man now 100% thinks you’re a crackhead.

“Just, don’t close that door, okay,” his brows scrunched together as you grit your teeth to swallow down the pain, “I need you to help me.”

“I really don’t have any money to spar--”

“I’M HERE BECAUSE OF A GHOST,” you interrupted. Finally, you managed to get that out somehow, if nonsensical.

A look of recognition flickered in his glowing eyes. He lowered into your space, kind of intimidatingly. Or intimately. Yeah, no, this was hostile, don’t fool yourself.

“What kind of ghost,” he asked suspiciously.

“Uh,” shit, okay, “the weird, haunted doll kind? Uh, like the ones the McElroy brothers are always bidding on on eBay. Or maybe this is kind of a Ben Drowned kinda situation, I’m not completely sure.”

He blinked, “okay, I only understood a few of those words, but—”

“It’s a Freddy teddy bear that really wanted me to take it to Hurricane, okay?” You really were at the end of your rope at the moment, “I have literally driven here for days straight on no sleep and barely any food and I need this Unauthorized Fucking Thing to find it’s eternal peace or kill me in some horrible way so I can hurry up and get on with my goddamn life,”

“Uh, see… the thing is,” he started to retreat back again, slowly moving his hands like he was trying to calm down a spooked animal.

You realized what was about to happen, and it must have been visible in your eyes, since his huge unnatural placating smile returned,

“I actually don’t want anything to do with that, sooo…”

“PLEASE—” you reached out in blind panic, but he dodged it. (now if only you could’ve dodged the scooper like that Mikey)

The door slammed in your face.

Your breathing was ragged and fogged up the glass as he locked it again. You stared up at those glowing pinprick pupils of his as he gave you an apologetic little wave goodbye. And then he fucking made a big show of pointing at the closed sign before turning tail to disappear back into the darkness of the empty restaurant.

Okay.

Just a little setback. You’ll go to the older location first, now, and come back when this asshole is sleeping. Can’t be too hard to bust out one of those windows, and you doubt he has an alarm set up already. It’s his fault, really. If he didn’t want property damage, then he should’ve just let you in. Not like you haven’t warned him that you were desperate or anything.

Just gonna go to the other location. You’ve got your map, you’ve got a tank full of gas, and you’ve got chutzpah.

Now what you don’t have? Is a car that will start.

#michael afton x reader #mike shmidt x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf #michael afton #michael afton x male reader #i mean its gender neutral but just so my fellow boys know it's safe here. there will be no 'sweet girl' ever. god.#fnaf fanfic #five nights at freddy's #my writing #i dont even remember how to tag these things anymore lol

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sunshiline-writes · 11 months ago

Text

So let’s talk about POTS syndrome for a second yeah? There is a common misconception that this is just a “uwu fainting disease” and I really seriously need combat this idea lol.

I have diagnosed POTS syndrome. Yes I have fainted before. But it doesn’t happen as much as you think. In fact in the 3 years I’ve been diagnosed I’ve only ever fainted twice. Most of my symptoms include, sweating profusely, fatigue easily, heart palpitations, over heating/getting cold easily, getting dizzy, nausea, blurry vision, chest pain, shortness of breath, anxiety and stress. Sometimes I just feel really sick. My toes turn purple sometimes. I can run a mile sometimes and be fine, but some days walking to my bathroom without my cane is a struggle.

I have good days and bad days. But this is a disease that had genuinely ruined my life for a time. I couldn’t do anything when I first started showing symptoms. I couldn’t walk to the bathroom without wanting to keel over. Forget classes, forget doing sports. Or exercising. I literally built myself up from ground zero.

I might seem pretty healthy? But honestly? I still have as needed mobility aid to help me get around so I don’t get too tired and over exert myself. I have to stay hydrated or else my symptoms will kill Me. If I skip a meal? Oh yeah I’m done for. I take steroids to keep my blood pressure up. I take these steroids once in the morning and once before any strenuous activities. I was on heart medication for a time. There is no cure for this. It’s an entire lifestyle change. Everything is affected, your nervous system, your brain, your blood, skin, anything you can think of, there is a POTS symptom for.

Like this disease genuinely ruined my life and I had restart from scratch. I have only recently been okay and starting to do more. But i still have bad days.

This isn’t just some random fainting thing that is really cute. And honestly it does make me angry to see it wrongly portrayed in media. Because this genuinely upheaved my life and I had to quit a lot of stuff so I could be healthy. If you’re going to write a character with POTS. Do your research, know how this actually affects people. Because it’s not some silly little disease that people can use to just.. create a good whumpy scenario.

It’s a fucking struggle and I hate having it. I’ve had to shape my life around it. It’s not just fainting. It’s feeling like your body is going implode, feeling like you might die. Pardon sounding like a dick, but if you’re going to write a character with POTS do it right.

Sorry this is a rant and I might lose some followers for it. I just.. it’s something I feel passionate about. And it’s something that has genuinely affected my quality of life.

If you have questions or want to know more. Feel free to ask. But don’t talk to me if you’re just going to argue or berate me for anything I’ve said here. Thanks.

#pots syndrome #not whump #misconceptions #sunshinetalks

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admirationandromantics · 1 month ago

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Going overboard, 6: Vengance

As you can imagine, this chapter does not feature Josh. I know! Scandalous, but it had to happen. It's also a very short chapter, but I'll make it up by posting the other one in not long (aka today). Hope you're still keeping up, can't wait for your reactions to the next one. Again, reminding people that my blog is 18+, and requests are open!

I wake up slowly, head hurting and nausea overtaking me. It takes a while for my vision to clear again. The last thing I remember is Josh being on top of me, kissing me, before forcing a mask on me, breathing in the substance. I try to get up, but find it impossible. I’m tied down to a chair, hands behind the back and feet in the front. My legs are tired, occasionally twitching from the overstimulation I suffered. He took off my shoes, which are lying on the opposite side, but I’m still wearing my normal clothes. The room itself is quite small, still made with concrete walls and floors. I look around, desperate for anything that can help me get out, but I guess he learned his lesson from the last time he locked me in.

He tricked me. He went down on me, pleasing me, caressing me, just for me to be gassed and tied up. He manipulated me, using the worst of tricks to get me out of the way. Lying, manipulation, scheming… This is not the Josh I know, or even want to know.

I suddenly get a sinking feeling. I remember finding his meds, his untouched ones. He’s definitely off his medications, but I didn’t know he would get this bad. He said that he’d been planning this for a long time, planning on putting his friends in misery and scaring them for their lives. Now I get why he didn’t want me here. I had nothing to do with it, but why, why hurt Chris then? Chris hadn’t done anything to him. None of this made sense, but in his head, it did. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He can’t. Who would do stuff like this to someone?

“Pssst.” I jump, looking around for the voice.

“Down here” someone whispers. I look around, noticing an opening with small grills. Behind, is Sam and Mike.

“Oh my gosh, guys” I whisper.

“Are you okay?” Mike asks, trying to look me up and down, but the chair makes it difficult.

“I’m fine, but there’s this maniac-”

“We know” Sam states. “He tried to get me, but I managed to hide”

“No, no, you don’t know” I say, starting to get emotional.

“Hey, it’s okay. Can you try getting over here?” Mike asks. I use my feet, and try to push towards the bars. It takes a couple of tries, but I make it. Mike takes out a machete, and cuts the ties on my arms. The blade glides, and makes several small cuts on my arm.

“Ouch”

“Sorry”

I free my arms, turning around to get the blade from him. I cut the ties on my legs, standing up and getting my shoes. My legs are wobbly, tired and used up. Small tears form in my eyes, but I quickly dry them off. I walk back to them and sit down while dressing myself.

“Mike, where’s Jessica, she’s not with you?” I ask, remembering how they left together. His eyes fill with dread, a sad look coming over him.

“Jessica is dead.” My heart stops. No, she can’t be.

“What?”

“And there’s something else too” Sam adds. I dread the coming words. This can’t get worse. Maybe Josh faked Jessica’s death too. Maybe she’s also tied up in one of these rooms, safe.

“Josh is dead too”

“No, wait, Sam”

“I saw it, the killer, he played a video, showing it to me”

“No, Sam, you don’t understand”

“We’ve got no time for this now” Mike interrupts. We both stay silent. He walks a couple of steps back. Pointing to something in the room.

“There’s this door here, it won’t open. Think you can unlock it from your side?” I nod, standing up and opening the door out of the room. There’s a long hallway with two doors. The one to the left must definitely be them. I open the door for them, and they look at me with worry.

“I’m okay, just a little dirty” I say, completely forgetting about the blood.

“Jeez, Mike, you look like hell”

“Nice to see you too”

Sam is wearing a training suit, red and black. It looks awfully familiar.

“Beautiful as ever” I tell her.

“At least someone thinks so” she says, looking up at Mike who rolls his eyes.

Suddenly, we hear a bang, like something being shot. The sound repeats two more times afterwards. What the hell.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know”

We all look at the closed metal door. I look at Sam, and she nods. We all push it, trying to get it open. Just as it does and we make our way inside, Chris and Ashley are sitting at a table. Chris with a gun against his neck. Before I can react, I hear another shot.

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kaylinlmfao · 2 years ago

Note

Okay so you know the Dark!Ethan Landry x Fem!reader where he finds out she pregnant, can you do a part to if it?

the abortion (2/3)

type of piece(s): imagine, oneshot, drabble, series

type(s) of writing: smut, angst, fluff, dark, suggestive

warning(s): smut, rough angry smut, sub space, orgasm denial/control, overstimulation, breeding, pregnancy, ownership kink, dom ethan being a cocky tease, choking, slapping, bondage, just really dirty and nasty in general, RAPE/NON CON, degradation, ethan is super experienced like a fuckboy

pairing(s): dom!ghostface!dark!toxic!ethan landry x sub!shy!reader

A/N: thank you guys so much for all the requests that have been coming in! please, keep em coming. any idea you have, no matter how dark it is, I'll write it. but just know, I'm mainly into writing for ethan (or tara and sam) and the sturniolo triplets so if you request someone or something not those people, it might take me a little bit longer to get to them but they will be written. it'll just take a bit longer. but keep the requests coming, I love them! reblogs are much appreciated but please don't repost my original work on other platforms without giving credit! I might do another part to this but idk yet. enjoy!

I bang and pound on his back as i scream for him to put me down. "ethan! put me down right now! I don't want to "try again" you idiot! I didn't want a baby in the first place! we're only teenagers. you fucking-" he cuts off my screams by slamming me on the bed, hand gripping your throat. "fucking what, y/n? hm?" my vision was hazy as I stared into his dark eyes. "bitch" I say, spitting in his face and then starting to kick and fight him to get him off of me. I felt his leg buckle as I kicked his kneecap and I took the opportunity to roll off the bed and run to the door. as I were running, he grabbed my ankle, pulling hard causing me to fall. I let out a cry of pain and he stood and walked over to me.

"sweetheart, I want a baby so we can be together forever. what don't you understand?" "I understand that you are a demented motherfucker who deserves nothing in life." "you're making this much more difficult than it needs to be, princess. I was gonna fuck you slow and romantic on the nice soft mattress, but you pissed me off. so now you get a rough hard fuck on the floor. we could've prevented all of this if you would just listen to me" he told me, looking at me in a way that made me almost forget what he was gonna fuck me for.

i back away as he pulled his belt off with one hand, knowing what was coming. "give me your wrists now, y/n" "no! fuck you!" i shout. "what did I say? you're just making me angrier." he grabs both my wrists in one veiny ring clad hand and wraps the belt in sort of a handcuffs thing. "get off of me ethan please. we can't raise a child." he ignores me as he begins to pull my shorts off. I whimper when I see him pull a knife out of his pocket. "ethan please" "you begging just makes me wanna stuff you with my cum even more sweetheart" i hold back a moan at his words as he cuts my shirt, bra, and panties off, laughing at the goosebumps that cover my skin at his touch.

he immediately takes one of my nipples into his mouth and starts roughly sucking and biting it. I barely hold back a moan as he travels down toward my navel and then past, to where I need him most. he chuckles lowly when he sees how wet i am. "oh princess. you're soaked. do you need me that bad? you're awful wet for someone who doesn't want this." "I don't want you ethan" "so you don't want me to do this?" he asks. I gasp as his lips meet my clit and my eyes nearly roll back into my skull as I feel a rush of pleasure.

"or this?" my clit is sucked into his mouth and I make a pornographic sound I've never heard before. "how about this, mhm?" I shake uncontrollably as he sucks hard on my clit, flicking his tongue rapidly back and forth as I get closer to the edge. he plunges his tongue deep into my pussy, in and out so fast that I can't see. right as I'm about to fall over the edge, he pulls his tongue out and backs away. I let out a loud sob as tears slip down my cheeks from being so close to my orgasm and then getting it snatched away. "oh poor baby. don't worry, I'm gonna fuck you. I'll fill my cock in you so deep you won't be able to breathe. you won't be able to do anything but scream and take what I give you. and you'll love it."

"please! please!" he tears his shirt off and I stare at his muscular upper body while he takes his pants off. I see his dick flap up and hit his stomach. I forgot how big and wide he was. at the sight of his cock and the way my pussy was throbbing so hard I almost was crying, every rational thought flew straight out of my head and all I could think of was getting his dick inside of me. "I fucking-" i scream in pleasure as ethan pushes his entire length into my pussy in one thrust. he's pounding into me so fast and I have no time to adjust, it burns. but I fucking love it.

ethan lifts my legs over his shoulders and now the deeper angle he is at he's hitting my g-spot with every thrust. my breaths keep getting caught in my throat. "ethan. please. slow. down." I make out. "oh no, I'm keeping my promise. fucking you so hard you can't breathe and then filling you up so deep with my cum that your little tummy is bloated." I scream as I cum hard from his harsh thrusts and dirty words as he pinches and slaps my tits. he flips me over onto my stomach and re-enters me so quickly I didn't even have a chance to take a breath before he's pounding into me again, his tip kissing my cervix. he's slapping and gripping my ass hard. "please!" I babble, waving my hands around, needing something to hold onto to keep me from passing out. my back is arching so far as he pulls me up so my back is against his chest.

I'm about to cum again when I feel his hand wrap around my throat as he squeezes hard, leaving me with no oxegen as I cum hard again, creaming and clenching around his dick. he flips me back over onto my back again and continues thrusting. I'm sobbing, tears and mascara running down my face as I moan and babble incoherently from the lack of oxegen and the overstimulation. "who's the bitch? any other insults? I can't hear you. use your words princess" he knows you can't. he knows damn well that there isn't a thought in your head except for him.

he's pressing hard on my stomach which is exactly where I feel him. my body tightens and I come again. but this time, I can't stop cumming. and he won't stop thrusting. he needs to stop because I can't breathe and I'm gonna have a heart attack. "please slow" "you can give one more" little does he know I'm still cumming from the last one. he finally slows his thrusts, just a little bit, but enough that I have a second to breathe and stop creaming his dick.

but then he starts pounding harder than he has this entire time. I'm on my back with my arms above my head, my fists clenching and unclenching trying to find something to hold onto as they're still tied. he pinches my clit one more time hard as I squirt around his dick. he thrusts a few more times before he let's out a groan and fills up my tummy with his cum. I take deep breaths as he pulls out of me, carefully making sure all his cum stays inside my fluttering and abused cunt, which is still clenching around nothing.

I lay there as he stares at me with dark proud eyes. my hair is tangled and stuck to my forehead from the sweat. my lips are swollen and my eyes are bright red from crying. my cheeks are red and tear and mascara streaks are running down them. my tits and neck are red and purple from his abuse and the hickeys. my chest is heaving and my thighs are shaking. I can't even imagine how my ass and thighs look from the way he was spanking me and gripping me. but he doesn't care. he just looks at me with possessive eyes as he goes to run a bath and put his clothes on. he comes out of the bathroom, fully clothed as he unties my wrists. ethan helps me stand and climb into the bathtub before gripping my chin and turning my face to look at his.

"if you aren't pregnant, its ok. we'll have sex until you are. but if you are pregnant and you abort my child again, it will be worse than this. do you understand me, princess?" I nod my head slowly, maintaining eye contact. "good girl" he turns and leaves my dorm, leaving me bruised and exhausted in the bathtub with a thousand thoughts running through my head. the first being, where can I get another abortion pill? I'll be gone before he can do anything to me, but I will not have a child with ethan landry.

1.5k words (I went way overboard)

@onedayatatime6 @ilovechickenwings @tommysaxes @layla29sworld @misscaller06

I hope you guys liked it! I went a little overboard I think and I don't really love it but this is how most of my smut will be so I'm sorry if it was too much for y'all! keep those request coming please! expect more fics with ethan and the sturniolo's (mostly dark smut) coming tonight! i am also working on a chris sturniolo ghostface fic (smut), matt sturniolo ghostface (smut), and one with all three of them (suggestive). comment on this post if you want to be apart of my tagslist for my future fics! thanks! ;) -kaylin

#ethan landry smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #scream 6 #scream #sturniolo triplets #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo edit #food #gif

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sw-33-ts-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

Home (Camila Montes X Reader)

“Get Out!”

You were tossed on the small lawn in front of your house, your father standing above you seething and throwing a suitcase next to you clothes scattered everywhere.

“Where am I supposed to go?”

A car slowly came to a stop as a familiar face from school peaked at you.

Your tears were endless as you looked to your mom for help. She simply shook her head stepping back into the house, before she came back out your journal clutched tight in her hands. You glanced at the book and her, eyes widening in mortification at what she could’ve read. Your deepest thoughts were laid bare in that book: every good day, bad day, significant event, such as you realizing your crush on your long time best friend and many others to follow. You wondered why you’d get so upset when they’d discussed their crushes on boys or when they’d talk about first kisses.

“Mom..” you spoke shakily a hand raised and before you knew it that same hand smacked you. Leaving behind a sharp sting. Her eyes were watering as if she were the one in pain.

“We won’t have you in our house with these disgusting thoughts.”

She tossed the book at you and went back inside her husband following. You sniffled calmly picking up your clothes and throwing them in your suitcase.

“Mija que esta sucediendo?”

“Espera mama.”

Platform boots came into your line of vision and you found yourself looking up into the brown eyes of your classmate.

Camila Montes was notorious for her explosive attitude.

She’d sent a boy to the hospital just because he was staring at her on her first day.

To see her standing before you at the moment worried you. According to most that knew her, (not any friends she didn’t do friends) she was a “cold hearted bitch”.

“You good?”

You gulp trying to fight back more tears as you nod beginning to scramble quickly when you hear another noise come from your home. No, not your home anymore your mother and father made sure the whole neighborhood knew this.

Camilas dark eyes glanced to the house, her car and then you. Her mother watching with interest as she knew her daughter had a tendency to keep to herself. She felt a smile form when she watched as the teenager helped pick up your clothes.

“What happened?” Her voice was gruff as if she were trying not to yell.

“I uh..” you took a deep breath. “I just got kicked out of my house.”

The girls eyebrows furrowed she knew better than to ask anything else, everyone had seen exactly what happened. She picked up the suitcase and tilted her head towards her car.

“Come on.” You stood quickly confused as she took your suitcase to her car placing it in the back seat. You sat down quietly as the older woman began to speak.

“Quien es?”

“Y/n mami”

Camilas eyes shift to yours through the rear view mirror. You sat quietly confused as to why she was telling your mother your name and how she knew it.

“Ella necesita un lugar para quedarse”

Before you knew it, you were bought to a small house Camila going around to assist her mother. You stood by the car unsure of what to do making the girl roll her eyes.

“Come on I already have my hands full, I don’t have time to hold yours.”

You follow and help her get her mom sat down on the sofa in the living room.

“Gracias Nina linda.” She patted your cheek eyes closing as she went to put her head back and rest a moment.

“She said thank you pretty girl.”

You jump forgetting she was there with you.

“You can put your stuff in my room, and sleep on the futon,” she turned abruptly looking up to you slightly finger raised.

“But don’t touch my shit you’re not special.”

You nod following and placing your suitcase to the side. You went to take a shower.

Camila waited until she was sure you were in the bathroom to snoop through your wallet she’d opened it to find your ID, a few bills, and a small picture of an older woman with a young girl sitting on her lap. She looked closer at the date squinting before she looked at her phone.

When she heard the shower shut off she put everything back where it was and went to tend to her mother.

“Mami?” Her mom snored from her spot making the girl smile a bit, she kissed her forehead placing the blanket over her.

After you showered and gotten dressed you followed the path to the kitchen smelling food. You were surprised to find Camila standing by a few containers of food and a small box.

“They didn’t have a lot of options since it’s late but..” painted nails pulled back the lid and revealed a small cake. You looked to the girl surprised.

“How did you-“ She scoffed.

“You’re seriously gonna ask questions right now?” You gulp nodding and sit down the both of you eating in comfortable silence. Camilas mom walking in with a cane.

“Mami-“ the older woman cut her off with a wave of her hand before she lit a candle and placed it on the cake as she began to sing

“Cumpleanos Feliz”

You’d been at Camilas for a few months. Her mother adored you and was determined to teach you Spanish, Camila herself was a lot nicer than she was at school. Still stoic most times but she was helpful and considerate without thought. She had gotten you a job at the bodega and helped make the futon more comfortable, it almost felt like home.

Her mother would sometimes speak a lot faster in Spanish whenever Camila was around smirking each time her daughter would dismiss her or change the subject.

“What Camila it’s true are you really going to defend that Fag-“ the sound of a body being slammed to the lockers.

“If I were you I’d shut the fuck up.” You ran to see a crowd forming in the hallway, Camila holding your old “friend” Gabby against the locker. You cautiously walked up placing a hand on Camilas shoulder.

“Camila come on I don’t want you to get in trouble.” The other girl laughed.

“Is that why you’re defending her?” She turned her head to you. “News flash Camilas just a hopped up slut who’ll-“

Everyone gasped at the sound of a punch being landed but it wasn’t Camilas hand it was your.

“Oh shit.” You whimpered shaking your hand. You didn’t mean to punch her but you didn’t like how she was talking to Camila, she wasn’t a slut she was nice and took you in when you needed help without question.

You were in the nurses office getting your hand wrapped as Camila sat nearby. Luckily Gabby was also 18 and there were witnesses that stated she instigated the fight, the principal decided detention after school would be the best punishment for you.

Camila stood up to look at your hand. Her dark eye liner making her brown eyes even deeper somehow.

“I could’ve handled it.”

You shrug.

“You’re not a slut, even if you sleep with everyone in town that’s your business.”

“I haven’t, that rumor started because I was stupid enough to sleep with ONE guy after I broke up with my girlfriend.” You nod.

“Kind of makes me feel better not liking men.” You joke weakly. The girl smiles slightly at you nudging your shoulder.

“I’ll see you later yeah?”

You got back to Camilas late, her mom on the couch watching some new telenovela.

Camila already filled her in that you’d be late.

“Tu comida esta en la estufa.”

“Gracias senora Montes.” She smiled happy you were learning but quickly frowned.

“Solo llamame mama o mami por favor.” Your eyebrows furrowed you knew parts of what she said but not all of it.

“SHE SAID CALL HER MAMI OR MAMA!” You nod.

“Mama.” She smiles patting your cheek and shooing you to the kitchen.

Camila sat at the table eating a plate already ready in front of her.

“Thank you.” You said softly sitting across from her.

“QUE?!” Her mom yelled. You both laugh.

“Gracias Camila.” Her mom cheered going back to her show as the two of you ate in silence.

It was late for some reason and you couldn’t sleep.

And apparently neither could Camila.

“Y/n?” She whispered.

“Yeah?” A soft hand grabbed yours making you sit up as you were dragged to her room.

She shut the door behind you gesturing towards her bed.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” She shook her head one of her hands inching towards yours.

Your eyes scanned her head to toe. Her usual make up gone nothing but freckles and fair skin covered by a giant t-shirt.

Her hand slowly made its way to your shoulder making you shiver.

Dark eyes searched yours before leaning in.

“GET DOWN!”

“Y/N!” There was glass everywhere a sharp sensation on the back of your skull.

“Y/N!” You struggled against the strong body against you as you watched Camila kick and scream. Her mothers voice also ringing out in the distance.

“So I either go to the nursing home or go to jail for being an accomplice to an accomplice to an “illegal” immigrant?”

You tilted your head at the lawyer who hummed.

“I know it’s hard but if you cooperate you’ll free not only Camila but her mother as well.” You bit your lip looking at the pamphlet. You owed them everything, working with the elderly was the least you could do.

“Ok I’ll do it.”

After a series of questions and a long drive in a school bus, you’d finally made it to the nursing home. Next to you a curly haired girl with glasses.

“I’m Lily.” She whispered.

“Y/n.” You whispered back offering a small smile, it dropping as a man in the corner looks to you intently. “Is it just me or is that guy staring?”

Lily subtly looks around the room before her eyes land on James. “No girl he’s staring at you real hard, be careful.”

You nod.

It feels almost like prison with how the cycle works. You eat, work, sleep and repeat. For some reason you’re the only one who can remember going to bed and what day it is. The other three besides Lily really don’t talk much. James seems to be nice though always having you help with simpler tasks and even bringing you things that only the staff have access to.

You try to take comfort in seeing some kindness here but you find yourself constantly missing a certain brunette wondering if she’s ok and if she was going to do what you thought she was that night in her room. You look to see Lily being taken somewhere and go to follow only to be stopped once again by James.

“You should get back to the garden, the new groups coming in and we need the hall cleared for the tour.” You nod as he puts his arm around your shoulder leading you away.

Camila steps off the bus and into the building eyes scowling at everything in sight until they widen at the sight of familiar hair.

“Y/n?” She goes to walk towards you but is quickly stopped by another guard. He points back to the group and moves them further into the hall.

It’s when you get to the garden and look around you see none of your group with you. Shyly you ask James if he knew anything of this but the man just redirects your attention to another task at hand. It’s when his walkie talkie goes off that there’s an issue in the cafeteria that runs him off. You looked down seeing a flash of silver smiling, you make sure no one notices by pretending to tie your shoe.

It’s late, it smells weird and Camilas pretty sure some of the old people next door are getting freaky either that or dying, she rolls her eyes to herself. She can’t sleep as she thinks of you and her mother, praying you’re both safe. The group she came with, misfits at best, weren’t horrible. Micah seemed decent she supposed, JP obviously having the biggest hard on for her, Chris was a pussy and Big Mac was just an idiot, an entertaining idiot but still an idiot.

A quiet knock shook her from her thoughts and she almost stayed in her bed until she heard it again. She got up to toeing to the door swinging it open.

“Y/n?” A small smile makes it way to your face as you look at her in the shorts and tank top provided by the facility.

“Cam-“ your relief was short lived as your dragged into the room. You’re pulled into the room abruptly by the collar of your shirt.

“What are you doing here?” You both ask at the same time.

You laugh softly. “They told me if I cooperated that they’d let you and your mom go.”

She scowled crossing her arms. “They told me the same thing.”

“I’m glad you’re ok though.” The shorter girls eyes softened as she uncrossed her arms. “I was worried about you.”

Dark brown eyes continued to stare at you and you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“How’d you find me?”

“Would you believe me if I said I went knocking on every door down this hallway?” Camila continued to stare at you as you rubbed the back of your neck.

She stepped closer to you. “So you turned yourself in for a girl you met a few months ago, risked getting caught sneaking around to find her in the same place not knowing what might happen after?”

You flush a bit. “Well when you say it like that it sounds crazy.”

She deadpans. “It is.”

You laugh. Damn I missed her. A hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality. Those same brown eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips then back again. Unconsciously, you both lean in, you dipping slightly to help her reach. Soft plush lips press to yours softly at first before they grow in intensity. Short black fingernails dig into your shoulders as you place yours around her waist, hands grazing the exposed skin eliciting a soft moan. You feel yourself stumble as you’re pulled more towards the bed, Camilas hand reaching back until she feels the soft surface.

She turns pushing you on the bed aggressively. The mattress spring making you bounce a bit. She wastes no time climbing on your lap as you sit up, hands greedy to feel more of her as they travel up her back. Hers tugging your hair as your lips slide against one another. It’s when her tongue licks your lips begging for entry that your breath hitches. You both groan when there’s another knock on her door she signals for you to stay as she goes to answer.

JP stands at the door smile on his face as he wiggles his keys.

“Employee swim?”

Camila tilts her head. “Didn’t take you for the bad boy type…” she pauses “I wonder why or should I say who?” She quirks an eyebrow.

The boy sputters.

“I’m just kidding bro, I get it. She’s hot if she were into girls I’d hit that.”

You felt yourself slowly start to stand up. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea you winced.

“Then again maybe I could change her mind.”

Definitely a bad idea. You look around to see if there’s another way out of her room but sigh when you see it’s only the door you sit at the desk and wait.

You hear more laughter before the door closes. You stand as Camila makes her way back to the bed.

“So where-“

“I think I should go.” Her eyebrows furrow.

“Wait what I thought-“ You quickly make your way to the door.

“Yeah I’m tired anyway but it was good seeing you.” The door slams shut making Camila huff.

What the fuck just happened?

As you make your way back you see Micah following JP and Big Mac to the pool. Your eyes widen as you realize you haven’t seen your group in a week and Micah is the last person you spoke with. You quickly turn back to Camilas room knocking urgently. She opens the door glaring.

“What? You gonna throw mixed signals again?”

“Shut up and listen. Everyone in my groups disappeared, everyone except me and Micah.”

“…Micah came with us.”

“Exactly somethings wrong here, Lily and I would stay close but one day she asked a question and I just haven’t seen her. I thought maybe they were just keeping us separate but-“

“Y/N! Relax it’s an old folks home you’re just being paranoid what if Micah has family too and they just look alike?”

“With the same name?”

The girl shrugs. “I think you’re looking too deep into it.”

You scoff. “Fuck it, good luck with the white girl I hope you get to “hit that”.”

You slam the door once more putting the keys in your drawer after getting to your room the ankle bracelet secured the minute you crossed the threshold.

Camila lays down agitated. At you, at this place, and especially at JP for interrupting. All because he wanted to impress Micah.

It’s in the garden when they find a mark on Camilas neck.

“What’s that?”

“Hey watch it creep!” JP rolls his eyes before Big Mac helps.

“There’s something on your neck girl.”

“Something weirds going on.” JP catches sight of something familiar.

“Hey Greta, you know my sister loved making those too..” the woman begins to freak out making James and another staff member step in pushing aside JP who clutches the forgotten cootie catcher between his fingers. Big Mac appearing next to him.

“Yeah definitely something weird.”

Camila looks around the garden, the pool, and the cafeteria before she finds you in the common area helping someone play bingo.

“Y/N!” You spin to her in surprise eyes going over her to make sure she’s ok before going back to the task at hand.

“What camila?” She sits next to you attempting to control her breathing.

“You we’re right somethings going on and-“

“Great I was right!” You smile sarcastically. “You can go now.” The girl stares at you incredulous.

“We have to get out of here-“ she whispers urgently.

“So now you want to listen to me.” You scoff. “Look Camila I did this for you and your mom I can’t go, I have nowhere else I belong.”

You lower your voice to whisper. “The ankle monitor key is in my drawer room 10. Take it and run.”

You sit back up with a smile and return to stamping bingo slots for the man next to you.

Camila stared for a moment. “Y/n-“

James appeared next to placing a strong hand on your shoulder.

“Everything ok here y/n?” You nod and smile politely.

“Yeah James I was just telling Camila they could use more hands in the cafeteria.” He smiles back at you before sneering at Camila.

“Well?” She gets up huffing.

A weird bird sound hits your ears before a big man drops from the ceiling.

“You y/n?”

You nod eyes widening as he shows the key you only told Camila about. “Camila said I can only trust you.”

“Where is she?” You sit up.

“I cant find her or JP.”

“Ok we need a plan.”

“Right. But first things first….you single?”

James laid unconscious on the floor by your feet as you snuck further into a testing lab. A quiet whisper yell filling the room.

“Camila?”

“Camila!” A small groan responds you find her strapped to a bed next to the nice elderly woman Greta. The longer you’d stare at her the more familiar she’d look.

“Y/n?” You turned back to the small girl clutching her had and looking over her features they hadn’t gotten to her yet. You tugged off the restraints as she went to help the girl.

“Lily you have to wake up.”

Lily? You looked again feeling your eyes widen, the boy was her brother JP. You almost smacked your forehead not realizing you should’ve made the connection sooner.

“What a shame.” James limped towards you. “I really did like you Y/n, we still have a chance to make this right between us.”

You yelled running towards him trying to tackle him he hit you in the back making you fall to the floor in a heap. He went to inject you with a needle when Camila jumped on his back. Lily in a wheelchair looking for a nearby weapon. She tossed you a bed pan as you got back up. James throwing Camila off him, when he turned you smacked him across the face with the metal.

“We gotta go.”

The doors opened revealing Big Mac and a giant group of old people.

“LETS GO!”

You, Lily and Camila went to find JP and Big Mac distracted the guards and find an exit. You all stopped when you’d seen him tied to a chair being circled by Micah and Eddie (the founder of the nursing home). Around you were meat grinders and body bags, you felt yourself grow nauseous as you realized what was actually being put into the meat.

“And this is why I’m a vegan.” You gave a dirty glare to Camila as you tried to find a way to help JP. She shook her head at herself. “You stay with Lily I’ll help JP.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes! FUCK Camila why can’t you just-“

Soft lips pushed into yours once more before the girl took off towards Eddie, you followed after when you saw Micah reaching for her. Lily slowly rolling to get JPs ropes loose.

Eddie had tossed Camila aside breaking your concentration. Micah took advantage and tased you. She knelt by you a small sadistic smirk on her face.

“You were right Camila is cute too bad you won’t live to ask her out.”

A body slammed into her pushing her onto the meat grinder. As she went to get up her hair got caught on the belt.

“EDDIE!” The man in question was in no better predicament. Lily not only released her brother but a pent up Chris who was sitting in a cage ready to be the next burger for Dennys. Chris slammed himself and Eddie onto the belt wrapping his legs around him and holding him still as he ripped out his throat. The sound of the trios bones and flesh permeating the factory.

You walked over to Camila who was grabbing her side.

“You good?” The angry teen gave you a grin as she pulled you into her for another kiss. it took a moment before you finally responded but once again got interrupted by JP.

“Not to cockblock but we should probably get out of the old people meat kitchen.”

You both nod exiting the facility and meeting up with Big Mac.

“MAMA WE MADE IT!”

You look down to Camila who shakes her head at him. You dip down to place a kiss in her cheek making the girl smile and look up at you.

“Let’s go home mi amor.”

“Oh shit y’all lesbians?”

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wlw post #camila montes #camila montes x reader #camila montes imagine #american carnage #camila montes x female reader

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thecourtscorkboard · 4 months ago

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Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Review - A Flawed but Charming Masterpiece

As we finish up Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, we discuss this game's legacy: and how it stacks up in modern times.

I'm... not exactly sure where to start here.

It would be a bit spoiler-y to say how I think of PW:AA in relation to other games, but I guess there's nowhere else to put it. I think PW:AA is one of the best games in the series, and an incredibly strong starting point. It's my second favorite game in the overall series, and for quite a few very good reasons; it's one of the few games in the entire franchise that I don't think has a single bad case. In fact, it has two of my favorites back-to-back; 1-4 and 1-5.

Here's how we're gonna order this. I'm gonna go through an overall list of pros and cons, giving a few paragraphs explaining them. After that, I'm going to give some closing thoughts and an overall ranking of the cases and top 5 characters. Sounds good? Sounds good.

PROS

Pro One: Tone-Setting.

PW:AA knows how to set a tone. Each case has a very unique feel to it, from the frantic and almost manic speed and nerves of 1-1 to the depressing and bleak atmosphere of 1-4 to the downright oppressive and confounding nature of 1-5. Each case is very easy to distinguish from one another: they have different "vibes", I guess is the best way to put it.

Each case establishes these vibes in different ways. 1-1 puts you straight into the deep end; Mia's still holding your hand, but the case is relatively simple and the stakes aren't very high. 1-2's tone is unfamiliar but not depressingly so, still managing to be relatively lighthearted and fun. 1-3 is incredibly fun and filled to the brim with excitement; we get to see a movie studio! 1-4 and 1-5 take on very bleak tones, but it's different types of bleak; 1-4 is incredibly high-stakes and rather straightforward, setting its bleak atmosphere through the time of year and the overall aesthetic of the case surrounding it all (DL-6), while 1-5's tone is created over time as the corruption and rot at the center of SL-9 comes to light. For example, in 1-5, Gant starts off as a goofy and kind of lovable old codger. By the end, you want to punch him in the face.

This is all done through some of the strongest opening cutscenes in the mainline series. Each case has an incredibly unique and tone-setting opening, from 1-3's exciting showdown between the Steel Samurai and Evil Magistrate to 1-5 starting on an overview of the city during a thunderstorm and ending on a reminiscence theme; tones are made with opening cutscenes, and PW:AA does it nearly flawlessly.

Pro Two: Characterization.

PW:AA is one of those very rare AA games where there's not any characters I downright hate. Hell, the only character I dislike is Sal Manella for obvious reasons, but if you took that away I honestly wouldn't mind him that much. Even from the first case this game sets up its characters and keeps their core values intact; Phoenix believes in his clients no matter what, Edgeworth cares about bringing criminals to justice, Larry is awkward but well-meaning, Mia is a veteran who teaches Phoenix what she knows, Maya is experiencing new stuff and exploring, and so on. Even one-off characters stick around in your head!

One thing I really like about AA in general but PW:AA in particular is that, to some extent, every character we see has some sort of flaw. Phoenix acts first and thinks later. Maya does the same but with a far less mature outlook. Edgeworth gets tunnel-visioned and others, like Manfred, Gant, and even White, will take advantage of that. Even minor characters have flaws; the Bellboy is easy to embarass, Cody lies to protect his favorite hero, Angel has an incredibly personal vendetta, and so on. Even minor flaws exist; Vasquez smokes, Jake (implicitly) drinks, Gumshoe is forgetful, and so on. It all makes these characters feel like real people.

Every culprit has something about them that makes them stick out as their own unique character. Frank is a nervous wreck, Redd is rich and corrupt, Vasquez is aloof and deeply tragic, Yogi is a great actor, Manfred is hilariously aggressive, and Gant gets under your skin. Even the victims have levels of characterization! Hammond was corrupt, Goodman was diligent and liked by many, Hammer was vengeful, and so on. Even Sal is recognizable. No character in this entire game just fades into the background; they all stick.

While we're on the topic of characterization, I'd also like to point out the dialogue in this game. It can go from downright hilarious to deeply personal in just a few lines and the tone can change seamlessly. It's great.

Pro Three: Mystery

At its core, Ace Attorney is a mystery series: a mix of whodunnits and howcatchems. PW:AA has some of the strongest in the series in that regard. 1-3, 1-4, and 1-5 are all standouts: 1-3 is the purest howcatchem in the series while 1-5 is a brilliant example of a whodunnit turning into a howcatchem. Even 1-2 carries its own weight here. Its mystery is lackluster, sure, but it's still engaging!

Circling back to those opening cutscenes, 1-2's, 1-4's, and 1-5's all set up their mysteries within just a minute very well. 1-3's mystery is set up over the course of the first couple of minutes in the case, and they're all articulated well and feel, for lack of a better word, believable. These are things that could feasibly happen, but at the same time some of them are downright challenging (lookin' at you, 1-5!) in very good ways.

The clues provided to us, in most cases, are easy to piece together but not handholdingly so; this game trusts that the player can piece things together by themselves, including things that are seemingly unrelated or mentioned aaaaaaages ago like the parking stub in 1-5, the bent fencepost in 1-3, or the metal detector in 1-4. It's all a really neat and effective way of engaging the player in, generally, well-crafted mystery narratives.

Pro Four: Worldbuilding.

Yeah, bet you didn't expect that one.

PW:AA is a very grounded game. As such, it has pretty grounded worldbuilding; it all makes sense in its confines, which is the type I enjoy. Evidence Law makes sense for what we see, and at times the worldbuilding actively works its way into cases like 1-4's statute of limitations or 1-5's taking 30 minutes to go from the Prosecutor's Office to the Police Station. 1-3 makes the Steel Samurai feel alive, mostly thanks to its opening cutscene: even 1-2 expands on a wider outside world, with Redd White's role in the suicides and blackmailing of political and business figures.

Stuff that doesn't need to be explained, like prosecutor's badges or why trials can only take three days, are! There's also elements that exist behind the scenes, like guilty defendants having to face a higher court or the bureaucracy present in the Police Department. It's all meshed together into a believable world; which, speaking from experience, is not easy to do.

Pro Five: Aesthetic.

I know this is kind of lame to give to PW:AA given that all AA games have similar aesthetics, but I feel like PW:AA gets some leeway because it was the first game in the franchise and therefore set the series's aesthetic going forward. I love it. Characters are portrayed realistically (more or less): nobody in this game feels cartoony at all, which I appreciate. In addition, this game's setpieces are very grounded: lakes, law enforcement buildings, offices, and of course the courtroom.

The courtroom itself is incredibly well introduced and designed; one of my favorite bits is how when Edgeworth points at von Karma he points to the side of the room von Karma is on instead of just forward. The defendant's lobby is probably my favorite setpiece; it's just... cozy.

Like, look at the courtroom! It's so grandiose yet so grounded at the same time. I could see myself in this room! It's a treat for the eyes; the clashing light browns of the desks and Judge's seat with the golden and white walls is awesome. PW:AA knows color theory and it shows. I particularly love the white pillars in the back.

Pro Six: Music.

PW:AA has the most memorable music in the series and for pretty good reason. The Pursuit theme is my second-favorite in the entire series, and it's instantly iconic. This is the Ace Attorney song to many people, including myself! That's not mentioning the Reminiscence themes, which all set and fit the tones of each case perfectly. DL-6 and SL-9's reminiscence themes are perfect for their cases, but I'd also like to point out Maya's own specific reminiscence theme; this plays after Manfred tases her and Phoenix in 1-4, and it fits the inner turmoil and the line where she says she wishes she'd never woken up perfectly. Speaking of DL-6 and SL-9's themes, they both do something very different that fit each case; DL-6's is somewhat hopeful, like there's still a mystery to be solved. SL-9 has come and gone. There's nothing left but despair.

This game plays with your emotions with its music in a very, very, very good way. There's the adrenaline-pumping octane energy of the Pursuit theme and the sadness of the reminiscence themes, but also the sense of relieved finality you get with the Victory music or the "let's get busy" feel to the Investigation theme: and we're not even mentioning character themes yet.

Every character theme has a sense of purpose. Jake Marshall's establishes his rough-and-tumble attitude: the song is wild, carefree, like if you told it to slow down it wouldn't listen. Gumshoe's is weathered and basic but still strong and good at heart; it fills your chest, y'know? I think overall, though, there are two standouts: Maya's, which is upbeat, cheery, and maybe a little scared to be on its own; and Gant's, which immediately makes itself known and takes over the room. Each theme has a purpose and a feeling; it's an incredible use of music.

CONS

Con One: Pacing.

PW:AA is not... the best paced game ever. Out of all the baseline cases, 1-2 is probably the best paced; 1-3 and 1-4's final days feel rushed, with 1-3 being the biggest offender. The DL-6 trial is criminally short for an already short game; 1-5 is nearly half of the game's length on its own! 1-3 is too long and 1-4 is too short, whereas 1-2 is perfectly passable; but I don't think I'd call it excellently paced by any means. 1-5, as much as it pains me to say it, is also a bit too long at times. There's only one excellently paced case (1-5), one case that's paced well (1-2), and three cases that have pacing that's a little all over the place.

One argument I've seen is that another case could easily fit between 1-1 and 1-2, and I'm honestly inclined to disagree. I just think that 1-3 could've been shorter and 1-4 could've been longer: like I said, the DL-6 trial is far too short for one of the most pivotal moments of the series! I get this was their first attempt, and it was a decent showing, but it's still lackluster.

This game just kind of feels a little bit all over the place. There's never really a great time to stop outside of days shifting over for a lot of these cases, which makes sense, but pausing in the middle of an investigation or trial to do something else feels awkward. It's not a satisfying game to put down, which is probably a good thing for some people; but it isn't for me.

Con Two: Original Pixel Art.

Oh, man. I know I just praised this game's aesthetics, and this still holds up, but good God some of the original pixel art sprites were ugly. Edgeworth's stands out the most: it looks like he's trying to see something from far away without his glasses on (which DD later shows is probably what he's doing, but I digress).

It's not like Edgeworth is the only example, either. The contrast between 1-5's sprites and the rest of the game is painfully apparent on the original DS release, which makes sense—1-5 was released in 2006, 5 years after the first game and when AJ was being developed, so of course it matched that aesthetic—and the witness stand backdrop just... isn't great.

Con Three: Navigation.

Bear with me for not having a photo for this one. PW:AA's navigation system is very outdated; and it shows. I complimented it for setting up the general aesthetic, so I guess I can point out that it brought in my least favorite feature that would last until DD. The navigation system is occasionally pretty cool, but more often than not it's just a hassle. I get why it exists, and like I said it's occasionally cool, but on the whole... it gets in the way.

Having to go through two separate locations to get to another is annoying, and it's easy to lose track of the map in your head. It's not "you need to write it down on paper" bad like the first Zelda, but it's definitely not great.

We've still got one promised place to go; my top 5 favorite characters. We'll do this ascending, so let's start with #5!

Number Five: Damon Gant

I think Damon Gant is the best example AA has for "affably evil". He's a heartless piece of shit, sure, but he's also the kind of guy I'd go out and get a beer or watch a movie with. This alone speaks to the power of his character; he's a masterful manipulator, an open abuser, and a two-time murderer, but still a rather fun and swell guy to be around. Have you ever watched Django Unchained by Quentin Tarantino? He reminds me a little bit of Calvin Candie, just... y'know, actually smart. And not a racist. Sometimes he's fun to be around and it is incredibly uncomfortable to be fun around him. It feels almost... wrong, you know?

Over the course of 1-5, as Gant's mask slowly slips, so does the overall tone of the case; a double murder mystery becomes an incredibly thrilling conspiracy, all with this man behind it. He influences every little part of this case: there is nothing that his grimy hands do not touch.

And I love it. His shadow looms over the case, and once you go from "whodunnit?" to "howcatchem?" and finally piece together how you're going to take him down? Oh, man. Peak cinema.

And God, is it satisfying to take him down! Watching him slowly crumble into nothing is one of the most satisfying moments in the entire series, and us doing it nearly singlehandedly (with a little help here and there from Edgeworth and Ema, of course) is an absolute perfect way to cap off Phoenix's arc.

Let's talk about his design, too. Orange is his most prominent color; his suit is orange, his skin is orange, even the gold police badge on his tie looks orange, and it's on a red tie; red and yellow make orange. Orange is a color of happiness, enthusiasm, and youth, but it's also a color of spontaneity, superficiality, and in Confucianism is associated with transformation. It's a color that perfectly fits Gant's charming and goofy mask slowly transforming into the man that spontaneously killed Bruce Goodman and keeps up his charades through superficial charm and goodness.

Number Four: Maya Fey

I'll be the first to admit that she is way lower on this list than I expected: but this is not a diss at all. Maya is at her second-best in her debut appearance, and for good reason; this is just as much her game as it is Phoenix and Edgeworth's, making up the last part of this game's core three cast.

Maya is incredibly fun and plain enjoyable, but she also brings a very tragic and emotionally heavy element to this game. Throughout the game she's constantly battling feelings of inadequacy; this all comes to a head in 1-4, but it's hinted as early as 1-2. Maya's arc through this game is trying to find a place to fit in: Phoenix is a defense attorney, Miles is a prosecutor, even Larry is a bachelor... but Maya is just a "spirit medium in training". She's not even good at the one job she has yet.

The climax of her arc and the end of 1-4 tie into each other and it's an incredibly emotional moment; her relationship with Phoenix evolves from an employer-employee one to siblingesque very naturally. By the end of the game, you'd be hard-pressed to say they weren't related if you didn't know their surnames!

Let's go back to color theory. Maya's main colors are purple, black, and white: her robe is purple, her underrobe is a very light lilac, her hair is black, her pearls are white, and so on. It's a color of royalty and creativity: much like how Maya is the heir to the Kurain Channeling Technique through her mom, the heir to Mia's legacy, and the driving force behind some of Phoenix's big breakthroughs like drilling witnesses to get information in 1-2 and that von Karma killed Gregory Edgeworth in 1-4. Black is a strange color and hard to pin down to have a single meaning; it's a color of defiance, sadness, death and life, and so on. In Japan, it's a color of mystery and the unknown; much like how her psychic powers are never fully explained and are incredibly alien and out of place (but in a good way!) throughout the game.

White, meanwhile, is associated in China and Japan with grief: and hooh boy, does Maya carry a lot of it. Grief over her sister and mother, grief over not living up to anyone's (perceived) standards, the grief she gives Phoenix, and so on. White is a color of death: perfect for a spirit medium. Also: red and blue make purple and her pearls are white. Redd, White, Blue[Corp]...

Number Three: Phoenix Wright

Phoenix is at the top of his game: which makes sense, given that he literally is! This is some of his best characterization in the series and an incredibly strong first showing. Mia calls him a genius and it really shows; he pieces together some pretty complex theories by himself, like the entirety of 1-5 and the first half of 1-4. I like to equate him to a chainsaw; he needs time to rev up, but once he does he'll cut down anything in his path.

And boy does that show up here! His thought processes can easily match the player's, and his own arc does as well; over the course of the game he slowly comes into his own as an attorney and problem solver just like the player. By the end of the game he's experienced but not seasoned: again, just like the player.

He has incredibly solid relationships with the entire main cast, and his chemistry with every character is awesome; I particularly like his chemistry with Maya and Edgeworth of course, but he also has some incredibly strong dynamics with Ema, Gumshoe, Lana... even His Honor and Redd White of all people! He's a great bouncing off point for every other character as well as the player.

Talking about color theory a bit more, his main color is obviously blue. It's an old color, and people described it before they had a name for it. It's a color of business—which makes sense, given his role as CEO and owner of the Wright and Co. Law Offices—but it's also a color of authority and nobility: when people think of police officers, the color blue comes to mind, doesn't it? It's a color of the law! Blue is also associated with Heaven and immortality in some Asian cultures, giving Phoenix an almost divine presence; a gift to his clients, saving them from darkness.

Number Two: Miles Edgeworth

Edgeworth has my favorite arc in this game. I think this game really did a good job in making him fascinating: he's an incredibly tough nut to crack, but under his exterior he's very soft and sensitive. He's initially presented as this incredibly intimidating and corrupt conviction machine, but over the course of the game it becomes clear that he doesn't believe in convictions. He believes in justice. Instead of caring about a win record, he cares about what that words to his very twisted worldview.

This all stems from DL-6, the core lynchpin of the game. I'd actually argue that even more than Phoenix and Maya this is Edgeworth's game: I think that JFA and T&T fill Phoenix and Maya respectively. But PW:AA, despite being named after Phoenix, revolves around Edgeworth's trauma and beliefs. When those are shaken in 1-4 and 1-5, he becomes frazzled, dazed, incredibly irritable. His arc breaks down barriers he's kept up for years and doesn't know how to handle coming down. This is his story.

I think that his transition through 1-5 is one of the best parts of this game. To see him slowly realize he has absolutely nothing left to lose and just go full steam ahead on the person who has ruined his career, Damon Gant, is satisfying: it gives Edgeworth even more agency and coolness than he already had, which was already a lot!

His main color is red, obviously. Red is a color of passion and desire, but it's also one of blood and intimidation; it's complex and has two faces, just like Edgeworth. It's also a color of religious reverence, showing up frequently in Catholic art: Edgeworth himself almost looks like a pastor with his black undershirt and white collar. In that respect, there's the opportunity to view his arc through the lens of Christian (specifically more modern, Western, and sometimes secularized) themes of redemption: a dark and tortured soul brought to the light, finding a sort of peace through both the light and his struggle towards it. It's also a color of anger, which Edgeworth has no shortage of: anger at the world, anger at himself, anger at us.

Number One: Ema Skye

I'm admittedly very biased by her later appearances, but Ema is also an incredibly fascinating and amazing character in her first appearance. She is the heart and soul of 1-5, both as your assistant and the reason for the case's existence: it was Gant's fabrication of her murder of Neil, after all, that led Lana to forge evidence.

She has an incredibly active role throughout all of 1-5, as your assistant, suspect, and pseudo-charge: it's hard not to feel like you have to take care of her. Her personality is incredibly bubbly and endearing, creating adorable dynamics with Phoenix and Lana as well as an incredibly hilarious mini-crush on Edgeworth that she's so unsubtle about. Takumi really shows his maturity as a writer with 1-5 as a whole, but Ema is a great example of how he's become a better character writer over time.

As your assistant, she's spunky and fun; she's not even somewhat reserved like Maya is from time to time, but at the same time her spontaneity is far more mental than physical. A lot of people call her a Maya clone, but I disagree: she's a Maya mirror, just like how 1-5 is a mirror of 1-2. Whereas Maya is spiritual, Ema is scientific and materialist; Ema's main color is pink, in a similar spectrum to Maya's purple; her hair is brown, like Mia's, instead of black, and so on. The dynamic that she leads with Lana is incredibly captivating.

Let's finish this off with a discussion of her main color; pink. Yes, I know that most of her design is white, but her design is splattered with splotches of pink that stand out and are meant to be eye-catching, from her glasses to her necktie and undershirt to her watch and even her bag. Pink is her color and it's a color of soothing, love, and in Japan is a rather masculine color. She tries to soothe Lana's worries through her unconditional love, and it's that love that shines through the darkest parts of 1-5; be it Ema's love for Lana or vice-versa. In full honesty, I just decided to bring up pink being a masculine color in Japan because I wanted to share a headcanon I have that Ema is trans. Sue me. There's even an element of her relationship with Lana in the color alone; until the 1850s pink was seen as a masculine, immature and boyish shade of red; a color of young boys in contrast to the crimson worn by men and seen as a symbol of authority. Edgeworth's jacket? Lana's muffler? It's not hard to see the connection.

Overall Thoughts

PW:AA is a treat. It's my second favorite game in the franchise, and for good reason! It's a very very solid mix of mystery and character-driven storytelling, with a whole host of standout moments and an incredibly fun cast. The core cast is generally at their best here; not to degrade his latest appearances, but I think this game by far has Edgeworth's best characterization. I also think Gumshoe and His Honor are at his best here, and even with characters who have their weakest showings in this game still have standout moments that make them incredibly loveable.

My favorite thing from PW:AA isn't its characters, cases, or even its music, though. It's how it slowly builds up Phoenix alongside the player! We mimic his journey; we start off being handheld by Mia, and then we're thrust into a situation without her that we get through with her help. We also rely heavily on Maya but still get to shine on our own terms. In 1-3, we're finally on equal footing with Maya, solving the mystery with her. In 1-4, we take it on in a leading role; Maya takes an understandable backfoot for Phoenix's strong showing, but we still need her to finish the case and Mia still needs to intervene near the end. In 1-5, the core moments—the final trial especially—are nearly done entirely by Phoenix alone. It's an incredibly awesome buildup of development for both the player and Phoenix.

As a fic writer, I'd also like to point out some standout ships. While I don't ship it, Phoenix/Edgeworth ultimately finds its roots in this game; and it roots itself in very well! There's a reason it's the most popular. They have great chemistry. Some ships I do ship that also find their roots in this game are Lana/Mia, Ema/Maya, and some of my favorite non-romantic ships (be they platonic, adversarial, or something in-between): Phoenix and Ema, Gant and Ema, Edgeworth and Gumshoe, Phoenix and Maya, and Phoenix and Mia all shine through in my mind and find their roots in this game. It's a lynchpin for the fic-writing, shipping side of me!

PW:AA isn't a perfect game, but I think that's where a lot of its charm comes from. It's rough around the edges when you really look, but those rough edges make what shines really shine: the highs of 1-4 and 1-5, the dynamic between Maya and Mia in 1-2, the incredible way it sets up themes and vibes, and so on. It does a lot in its limitations and sets up an awesome format for the later games to follow.

Overall? It's fantastic. It's very understandably cemented itself as one of the greatest mystery games of all time! It's aged incredibly gracefully and is a perfect introduction to one of my favorite series of all time.

PW:AA holds a very special place in my heart as the second Ace Attorney game I've ever played and the first one I finished. It was a very fundamental part of my childhood; I started playing Ace Attorney in elementary school. It's incredibly nostalgic for me and this game is a massive reason why.

To wrap it all up, we'll give this one an overall rating and place its cases on our case tier list. See you for 2-1 and Justice for All!

Overall Rating: 8.5/10

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #review #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright: ace attorney #game review

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