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linkspooky · 6 months ago

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The Next Gojo Satoru

As you've probably guessed I have a lot to say about this chapter. However, right away I want to start out by pointing out once again that the fandom is taking a mostly gojo-centric view of this chapter. Which I understand it's Gojo's body that's being puppeteered around and dehumanized in the exact same way that Kenjaku one of the sickest and most inhuman characters used Geto's body.

However I think it shouldn't be understated how shocking it is to see Yuta betray all of his values like this. The most human character who represents love in the cast has given up on the cast and betrayed someone he loves. So let's talk about what this all means for Yuta under the cut.

GOJO GETS AN F IN TEACHING.

I understand why most of the focus is on Gojo, because yes Gojo's body is the one being violated here. He's not even allowed to rest in death after fighting on the front lines against Sukuna to the point where his brain was hemmoraging in the middle of battle and he was brutally cut in half.

Considering how much horror Gojo experienced when he saw Geto's body taken from him and made into Kenjaku's pupet. Cosidering the horrible pain that Nanako and Mimiko endured just seeing Geto's body still moving around denied a good death (Nanako and Mimiko were tellingly willing to let go and not try to take revenge against Gojo for killing Geto because of their friendship even though Geto was their whole world, but they'd never forgive Kenjaku for taking his body). Considering that Gojo even went out of his way to say he wanted to kill Kenjaku / Geto on Christmas Eve again in order to give him a proper burial it's understandable how horrifying this update is.

This is also a series where the two main antagonists are parasites who take the bodies, and steal away all bodily autonomy from characters like Yuji and Megumi and then force them to do horrible things they would never do and bear witness to it, such as the slaughter at Shibuya, or the murder of Tsumiki at Megkuna's hands.

It's understandable how people had such a visceral reaction to this chapter. However, I think the fandom has a tendency to paint Gojo like he's the central victim of all of Jujutsu Society when he's both victim and perpetrator.

Gojo is someone who has only been regarded as the strongest his entire life, and been used as a tool to keep Jujutsu Society stable his entire life. Gojo is also someone who never tried to be anything other than the strongest, never tried to empathize with anyone other than those who were just as strong as he is, and who raised all of his students to be tools too.

To illustrate my point here's an incredibly similiar character from Tokyo Ghoul: Arima Kishou. They are so similiar that they're both white haired mentor characters to the protagonist, they're both the strogest in their respective worlds, and Gege straight up copied this section of panels from the Tokyo Ghoul Manga.

Arima is a breeding project, who was bred by the Washuu Family who mxies blood between humans and ghouls through a series of controlled marriages for the purpose of creating hybrid ghoul human children. Arima isn't the ideal hybrid they were looking for, but he was so ungodly talented he quickly rose to being the most powerful and well-respected investigator in the CCG.

However, this is how Arima reacts to the fact that his entire purpose in life was just to be a weapon to kill ghouls.

Arima loathes violence, he loathes being an investigator, he loathes himself most of all and designs his entire political revolution around him finally being killed by Kaneki - to punish himself and also to relieve himself of the burden of living a life where he was only meat to kill others.

Gojo on the other hand loves being the strongest, he lives for Jujutsu. Arima's death is tragic and nihilistic believing his life had no real worth because all he ever was was a weapon to hurt others, whereas Gojo died satisfied.

Arima's last battle against Kaneki is grim, silent, and tragic, he does everything he can to make Kaneki despise him, to force Kaneki to kill him by being the worst version of himself and when Kaneki still wants him to live he just slits his own throat because even if Kaneki forgives him he can't forgive himself. Gojo laughs his head off and has the time of his life fighting against Sukuna, and going out in a blaze of glory.

Gojo dies smiling, Arima dies finally breaking into tears after a life of pretedig to be cold and emotionless. Gojo's dying regret is 1) that Geto wasn't there to say goodbye to him, and 2) that he wasn't able to draw out all of Sukuna's strength. Arima's dying regret was all the pain and suffering he caused throughout his life and how he was never able to rise above his circumstances and be anything other than what he was born to be.

These two characters are incredibly similiar, they are both the strongest, and they were both made into tools by a dehumanizing system they were born into. However, their attitudes are entirely different. Gojo enjoys being strong, and yes part of it is that Gojo himself doesn't realize he's a victim or what society has groomed him into becoming, but the other part is just because it's an ego trip for him. Gojo doesn't see himself as the tragic victim his fandom makes him out to be.

If you were to transplant him into Tokyo Ghoul Gojo would be happily killing ghouls, and he would think killing ghouls is fun because he's the strongest and best at killing ghouls. This is the complexity that is Satoru Gojo, he has been dehumanized and put on a pedestal his ow life, but Gojo also enjoys being on that pedestal and won't ever step down from it willingly.

I'm not saying that Arima is a better person than Gojo. I think the fact that Gojo doesn't think of himself as a victim is tragic in its own right, because he lacks the self-awareness to actually grow and change as a person. In the end both Arima and Gojo believe they couldn't be anything better than what they were, and their only release is death which is just insanely sad to me because as long as the future exists people always have a chance to get better no matter who they are. To give up on the future, to see an early death as a good thing simply because you can't endure life any longer is one of the most hopeless things imaginable.

Gojo's not sad because he was born to be a tool exploited for society's benefit, he's sad because he was lonely. He doesn't even realize it's his own darn fault he's lonely, because not only has Shoko said that he's not alone she's always been right there, but this chapter we get a repeat of Gojo's students begging him to let them in and Gojo himself decided to draw that line between himself and others and thinking an enlightened, godlike being like himself can't possibly be understood.

All of this to say I think Gojo is the sole victim here, but he's the middle of a chain of of victimhood. I think ultimately the biggest victim here is Yuta, and yes I will not only play trauma olympics here I'm going to win.

If this chapter goes to show anything it's that Gojo has completely failed in his ideals of protecting the youth from the dehumanizing system of sorcerers that takes children and reduces them to cogs in a machine.

A lot of people criticize Jujutsu Kaisen for dropping basically all of its political elements and themes of reform in the second half after Shibuya, and while I understand the criticism I think Gege intentionally shifted away from politics because Gojo's political revolution was never going to succeed.

From the beginning Gojo's solution to reforming Jujutsu Society and it's habit of taking away the youth of children and raising them up instead as child soldiers is... to make stronger child soldiers.

This is Gojo's blindspot and it has always been Gojo's blindspot.

It's why Gojo is completely okay with someone like Mei Mei who at the best uses her brother as a human shield to get out of curse domains and has stolen his entire childhood away to make him own pet little shoulder, and at worst actively molests him.

It's why Gojo is stated in the databooks to have only taken an interest in Megumi and Yuta because they were strong.

Gojo understands that he's being exploited by Jujutsu Society, but doesn't understand you need to deconstruct unfair systems of power and exploitation in order to build something better. Gojo from the beginning only had one plan, and that was to replace the people at the top with his own allies who'd support his agenda. He just thought waiting for them to die out and the children to grow up was the more peaceful way of doing it.

Gojo's political revolution was doomed from the beginning and that's why we see him go back on his word this chapter and just slaughter everyone at the top. His choice of a new leader for Jujutsu Society is hardly better than the elders, the person who executed Gojo's teacher and tried to get all the children to kill Itadori early on. Good choice.

This is what Gojo said would happen though, if he just wiped everyone out at the top no real systemic change would occur because they'd just be replaced with someone who wasn't that differet. Gojo's just given up on the notion of lasting change out of pragmatism.

Which is why Gojo himself is not that different from the elders in the first place, not because he's a bad person but because he was shaped by that same society and he's the pinnacle of that society.

I think the thing is and this point often gets ignored - a lot of the choices the elders make are because of outdated traditions like choosing to oppress Maki and Toji just because they challenge the traditional notions of cursed energy.

However, some of the decisions they make are out of cold hard pragmatism. Gakuganji actually turned out to be right in his assassiation attempt against Yuji Itadori. If they had succesfully killed Yuji, then the massacre in Shibuya would have been prevented and likely Kenjaku's plans would have been pushed back. The elders didn't sentence Yuta to execution just to be cruel, or just because they're superstitious but because he's already had several incidents of nearly killing people because he can't control Rika.

It's easy to dismiss the Elders as evil because they're just faceless entities, but then we witness in this very same chapter the main characters making the same heartless decisions out of the same sense of pragmatism.

Gojo understands Jujutsu Society is flawed, but doesn't understand exactly why it's wrong. He doesn't raise his students to be independent free thinkers because then they might question him, he raises them to be very powerful because that's more pragmatic.

Here are the next generation of sorcerers who are going to bring about the change to Jujutsu Society that Gojo so desperately seeks.

Nobara Kugisaki: Dead

Hakari Kinji: His greatest ambition is to start a fight club

Yuji: Actively calls himself a mindless cog and just wants to kill whatever society points him at and tells him to kill.

Maki: Mass murderer.

Yuta: Just stole Gojo's body and said he had to become a monster i Gojo's place.

Megumi: Begging to be killed.

Inumaki: Tuna Mayo

Panda: Is a Panda

(Joke lovingly ripped off from @kaibutsushidousha)

I understand that fighting Sukuna takes precedence now, but do you think once the dust settles any of these characters are going to do anything to make lasting change?

Are we going to see anything for them at the end of the road other than a mountain of their fellow sorcerers corpses?

Gojo didn't nurture his students to grow into healthy adults, he raised them into stronger child soldiers and yes that's the pragmatic thing to do to help them survive in the Jujutsu World, but the elders make those decisions out of cold pragmatism as well.

MHA is also showing a story where the children are failing to learn from the previous generatio's mistakes, but it's far less frustrating to watch in JJK because it almost seems like that's the point?

Maki sacrificed Mai for the sake of becoming someone strong enough to reform the Zen'in Clan, only for her sister to die and Maki to slaughter the rest of her family failing in both her goals to reform her clan and protect Mai.

Yuji became the host of Sukuna in order to help others, because the total deaths of people in the world would go down if he ate all the fingers. Not only did that decision lead to the death of thousands in Shibuya, but he's even lost his role of being Sukuna's host to Megumi.

Yuta wanted to find a reason to live and a purpose in protecting his friends, and also wanted to pay back the man who saved him, not only is Yuta choosing to die in a way that breaks his friends heart he's also violating his beloved teacher's bodies.

There's a lot of arcs like this where characters fail in what they set out to accomplish, because like in most tragedies they don't try to grow as people they only care about getting stronger. It's the same choice over ad over again, a decision made of cold pragmatism that brings about their tragic ending.

I think it speaks to why systems like this perpetuate themselves, because it becomes so hard to hold onto your humanity that even trying gets you actively punished all the while people like Mei Mei crawl to the top. However, even if you throw your humanity away purely as an act of survival you're still helping perpetuate that system instead of fighting against it.

Anyway, that's enough hating on Gojo, onto the main event.

THE NEXT GOJO SATORU.

It's almost masterful how perfect the foreshadowing for this chapter's twist was. Yuta sharing a common ancestor in Sugawara with Gojo.

The irony that Kenjaku said out loud that someone like Yuta could never become Gojo, on top of the fact that Yuta's true power comes from detaining his loved ones soul. He's turning Gojo's body into a weapon the same way that he once used Rika's vengeful cursed spirit as one (he even channels her strength into a sword, the same way Maki uses the sword that Mai gave her life to create in battle).

The way that Yuji's first impression of Yuta from his powerful presence and cursed energy alone was calling him someone even creepier than Gojo.

The idea that Kenjaku has been trying to get his hands on the six-eyes for years, which is what led most of the fandom to theorize a possible Kenjaku return by stealing Gojo's corpse. The fact Tengen said the six eyes, himself and the star plasma vessel are all connected and one time Kenjaku killed the six-eyes from a child only for another one to appear right away.

Yuta being told he could never reach Sukuna's heights because he lacks the selfishness of a calamity.

Even Yuta trying to tell a nameless assassin Uro to be less selfish, only to be chastised by her for not understanding because it's impossible for someone as blessed as he is to know what it's like to not have a name, to not have a face, to not be someone important.

Now here Yuta is, not only is he making the selfish decision to use his teacher's body as a tool, he's also most likely in five minutes going to die in someone else's body, having sacrificed not only his name, and face, but also his personal values in order to become a monster.

This arc makes it seem like Yuta's gone against everything he's stood for, making his arc a complete circle from Jujutsu Kaisen Zero and that's kind of the point. Heck, even something as small as Yuta's decision to show mercy to Ishigori was rendered pointless because Sukuna immediately killed him soon after taking Megumi's body.

If Yuta's regressed in his character it's because Gojo's purpose was not to raise these children into healthy adults, but strong soldiers.

What happened to Yuta is a direct consequence of the way Gojo recruits these children, and the underhanded motivations he has behind those recruitments.

Yuta's decision to take Gojo's body is more tragic on Yuta's part then it is on Gojo's, because Yuta is a child, and Gojo is an adult.

It is sad that Gojo is all alone, that he's forced to become a tool to society, but Yuta shouldn't be the one who feels responsible for that. Gojo is supposed to protect Yuta, he's the adult, the teacher, the one with power and Yuta is the child. Yuta is not the one who should be making this speech because it is not Yuta's responsibility to do any of this - but Yuta thinks it is because he owes Gojo.

However, when Gojo recruits people it's with the unspoken implication that they now owe him. He wants them to feel indebted, because then they'll be easier to use as pieces in his intended political revolution. We see this blatantly with the way he recruited Megumi.

I'll make sure you and your sister don't starve but you owe me in the form of labor later on in your life.

Gojo saved Yuta because he thought Rika was powerful and the elders were foolish for executing a potentially powerful sorcerer for THE GREATER GOOD instead of teaching him to control his power out of fear. Gojo recruited Yuji, because someone with Sukuna's power and who could eat his fingers as a vessel had the makings to be an incredibly powerful sorcerer. Gojo didn't even think of Megumi until after Geto defected, and Gojo decided he needed to start making changes to Jujutsu Society.

While Gojo's pragmatism is understandable to a point it also poisons his more nobler intentions. Since Gojo expects payment in return when he sticks his neck out for people, because these children are assets first and children secod.

I think Gojo likes Yuta. I think he gets along with him well. Yuta clearly respects him as a mentor. He did in fact go to great lengths to save Yuta from execution. He was right that it was more ethical to teach Yuta to control his powers rather than execute him for the danger he might represet. He even gives Yuta emotional advice a couple of times.

However, if Yuta was just like a grade 4 sorcerer with no special talent I doubt Gojo would have blinked at his execution. He sees Yuta for his talent first, and his potential to become someone like him. If anythig there are clear comparisons to both Megumi and Yuta. They're both prodigies born with incredible techniques, but Yuta is a lot more receptive to Gojo's grooming than Megumi is who's too traumatized to function. Gojo's not just grooming Yuta into being a powerful sorcerer, but another version of himself.

So it's almost karmic that not only does Yuta basically turn his back on everything that makes Yuta himself (his love for people, his desire to live and be surrounded by others), he also does so by literally becoming Satoru Gojo and transplanting his brain into Gojo's body.

Because Yuta is despite possessing a similiar level of talent as far from Gojo as possible. Gojo is not well liked by his comrades, he's there because he's needed due to his power. Yuta on the other hand has everyone vehemently disagreeing with his backup plan in the event of Gojo's death because they don't want to lose him.

People need Gojo, they want Yuta because of the connections that Yuta has made with them and because they care about Yuta as a person. Gojo is someone who deliberately draws a line between himself and others because he believes the strongest can't be comprehended, Yuta only fights for the sake of being accepted by others because he needs their approval in order to live.

Yuta's now turned his back on those two things, his tendency to put his loved ones first, and his desire to live, both because he feels he owes Gojo.

This comes about because of two factors, number one Gojo helping him with the implication that this help means that Yuta owes him something which makes Yuta desperate to pay him back and therfore easy to mold, and number two Gojo's intentions to begin with to take Yuta and make another Gojo out of him. To make a successor who would carry on the same burdens that Gojo did.

Gojo succeeded one hundred percent in making his successor as opposed to Megumi who turned out to be too different from Gojo i the end. He took what make Yuta unique and ironed out all those wrinkles until he was left with someone willing to make the same inhumane, pragmatic decisions that Gojo was.

I think it's tragic that as much as Gojo wanted to make things better for the next generation, he basically led Yuta down the same road he did, to make the same choice to throw his humanity away along with all of his loved ones. Especially since Yuta started out in such a different place.

Yuta has learned to become selfish like Gojo, because selfishness is apparently now the only way to get by in this world. A cycle that has been started with the elders, and continued on with Gojo, remains unbroken as Yuta becomes just another link in the chain. Yuta's likely going to die in a stranger's body, leaving all of his friends behind to mourn him, but even if he lives what life will that be exactly?

It speaks to the arcs in Jujutsu Kaisen that they're all kind of circles at this point. We have this heartwarming goodbye of Rika telling Yuta to live, and Yuta's whole arc was to learn to try to live without Rika and make new friends, but it's now likely goig to end with Yuta dying a year after Rika finally moved on.

Choso was told to try living on as a human and Yuki even sacrificed her life to give him the opportuity to escape the fight, and he only lived a month longer to die right in front of Yuji's eyes.

Gojo put all of his hope in the next generation, but now not only did he put all the power in Gakuganji's hands but he ended up dying a year after Geto did just like Yuta will likely die a year after Rika.

I think these character arcs are turning out to be circles because the characters aren't actually doing anything to try to break the cycles that they're trapped inside of - they're only trying to get stronger. Which is why they end up resembling the actions of the villains, Yuji becoming more curselike, Yuta stealing Gojo's body the way Kenjaku did with Geto's.

It reminds me of a quote from Critical Role that I absolutely adore.

“I have just taken an audience with the Raven Queen who has snuffed any hope of my redemption, for which I am truly grateful. With new clarity, I can finally see my life as a series of compounding, poor choices.” Vax winces. “There was nothing I could’ve done to save my family, yet I still sold my soul in search of vengeance. Later I allowed Ripley to leave, knowing full well she was a greater threat to the world than the Briarwoods would ever be. I traded the world’s safety for the belief that I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back. And once this lie was shattered I scrambled to find asolution, to make a deal, to undo my mistakes and balance the scales. I nowunderstand that there are no scales, there is no redemption, and no ledger that judges me good or evil. I am free to simply be myself and live with the terrible mistakes I’ve made."

Especially this sentence: I believed I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back.

Maki is a character that I have not found all that interesting in a while because she committed such a huge mass murder, only for it to have no consequences in the narrative and never be mentioned again, but this chapter she suddenly became an interesting character again.

Maki who lost everything but gained strength, doesn't seem all that bothered by the loss. People compare Megumi's reaction to losing Tsumiki to Maki's reaction to losing Mai, but Megumi's reaction is much more interesting because it's always better to see a character be weak and fall apart then to be strong and power through things.

However, maybe the reason Maki hasn't experienced any grief at all towards Mai and has instead delighted in her newfound strength and independence is because of this, because she still had Yuta.

Maki is a character who's not really said anything other than exposition the past like twenty chapters, but now she's the most vocally against Yuta sacrificing himself for the greater good. Yet this is against Maki's own ideology of doing everything you can to be stronger, to win. Maki was always about individualism, not about friendship or the bonds between others, she severed her own bonds to be free. Yet, she can't stand to see Yuta do the same thing as her, to become more like her.

This might be the consequence of Maki's continued choice to value freedom and the power to achieve that freedom over all else. Now, the one time Yuta is trying to throw away the same things that she threw away she can't say anything meaningful or convince him to stop him.

Which reminds painfully of this chapter as well.

Mai killing herself in order to free Maki from cursed energy is an obvious parallel to Sukuna devouring his own twin in the womb, but the difference is in this situation Maki didn't want Mai to go, she begged her not to. However, just like with Yuta there was nothing Maki could ahve said or done by that point to convince Mai to stay. Maki has always chosen power over her sister, she's always abandoned Mai, so what exactly can she say to convince her that she cares more about Mai more? That her dream of defeating the Zen'in and having revenge against them isn't worth the price if it comes at the sacrifice of Mai?

Maki didn't want to abandon Mai, or for Mai to sacrifice herself, but tragically her every action indicated otherwise. It all comes down to this: I believed I could murder my way to peace; that if I could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back.

Maki seems to have achieved peace by murdering the Zen'in, but we see the same kind of circular arc that we have for Yuta.

Maki gave up on everything for strength, but Maki's not strong enough to finish Sukuna then and there, forcing Yuta to sacrifice himself the same way Mai did.

Maki can't talk Yuta out of making that sacrifice, or come up with any convincing argument with why he shouldn't because of all the choices she's made before this.

Maki chose to murder her way to peace, but it came at the cost of her humanity and growth and thus she's faced again with the exact same situation with Mai and she's forced to watch her heart be taken from her again.

It goes to show that we think these characters are getting stronger but they're actually sacrificing something vitally important.

These characters are just going to keep going around in circles and you have to wonder just when is it going to stop?

#yuta okkotsu #gojo satoru #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #yutamaki #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk 261 #jujutsu kaisen 261 #jjk 261 spoilers #jujutsu kaisen 261 spoilers

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see-arcane · 1 year ago

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I think what I love most about the idea of Jonathan clearly becoming Something Else is that it's so much scarier than a vampire. We know the rules and limitations of a vampire. Van Helsing can even provide a list. But Something Else? Let's be real, not even Jonathan knows.

Quincey: Hey, I couldn't help but notice Harker is kind of, uh. Metamorphosing in the corner over there.

Van Helsing: He is going through a grief-filled and harrowing time, Friend Quincey.

Quincey: True. But I don't tend to recall 'spontaneous hair color change, wall-crawling, inhuman speed, blazing eyes, and having an omnipresent heightening scare chord present in the soundtrack whenever you do things' as part of the grieving process.

Van Helsing: Are you not supposed to be laconic?

Quincey: Are you not supposed to be up every available textbook's ass about supernatural happenings in our vicinity?

Van Helsing: Friend Quincey, in fullest honesty, I feel it is best that he copes as he likes. If that means he has to transmute into an entity unknown to the written word or human recognition, that is his choice.

Quincey: ...

Van Helsing: ...

Quincey: So you're putting caring on hold because the Cross and Wafer combo hasn't given him hives.

Van Helsing, pouring himself his third stress-brandy: Perhaps.

Quincey: Jack, back me up here? We should be a little concerned, right?

Jack, has been melting into a manhood-admiration puddle as he watches Jonathan 'White-Haired Romantic Horror Anime Man' Harker handling his kukri in plain view for the past 3 hours: yeag

#let Jonathan be a confusing solicitor cryptid #he wears it well #monster jonathan harker #Jonathan Harker the Something Else #jonathan harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

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hotvintagepoll · 4 months ago

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I love these polls. But this feels like a weird and uncomfortable time to continue them. While we are in the process of deciding whether or not to give fascism unlimited power in the greatest military power currently on the planet, these posts feel uncomfortably out of touch with the existential threat facing all of humanity. I cannot enjoy voting in silly polls when I know that all of humankind faces the threat of extermination.

When we can return to a less horrifying reality, I would enjoy revisiting these polls. At the moment, to continue them feels like a cruel celebration of privilege from those who are insulated from the most extreme consequences of current proposed policies. It is hard to think of what level of inhumanity is necessary to continue laughing in the face of so much world-wide horror.

Of course you don't have to stay, and I won't begrudge you at all for going. But there's one point of yours here I feel is worth discussing, and it's your last one: laughing in the face of world-wide horror.

There is a difference between laughing at horrifying things and taking a break to laugh. In a world that is horrifying—and, to be honest, has been horrifying since this blog began, and long before then, and will be after it's done—you need to laugh to keep your endurance. I mean that every step of the way. You will not be able to keep fighting for the people who need your help, including yourself, if you don't give yourself a break and let yourself have joy and silliness in little dollops on the regular.

In my real life, when I'm not posting hot silly people on the hot silly people blog, I try to find ways to help change the world for the better. I've been trying for a while. And one of the key things I've learned in that while is that having a little fun and silliness does not dilute the work of making the world better—it gives you the fuel to keep doing it. Your human brain and body need a muchness. They need joy and sorrow and work and rest and laughter to keep going—and before you say, that's a privilege! yes, in today's broken world it often is. It should not be one. It is a right. You have the right to find spots of joy, silliness, time off from the world.

Stuff sucks right now, but taking ten minutes off to let yourself rest is not going to contribute to the end of the world. We need to rest and laugh if we want to keep going. I've always said this is a silly blog, and I maintain that yes! it is silly, it is pointless, this is nothing big at all. Nothing here has any consequence. And that can be a small good thing at the end of the day. It doesn't mean the big stuff doesn't matter if we have the small stuff too. We can have both. We need both.

I hope you find peace, wherever you are.

#i disagree with a lot of this ask fundamentally but genuinely do wish the best of the asker #laughter + joy are resilience. you need them. we need them.#[also i cannot go another second without adding this blog only started in december which was ALSO a terrifying horrifying time to be alive.#[there is never a good time to be silly! there is never a time you're “allowed” to be silly.]#[so be silly. and once you've caught your breath from the belly laugh kick the horror in the fucking face.]#asks

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teslacoils-and-hubris · 2 years ago

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so here's my thing right? everyone loves to talk about the ways various media waters down common monsters. specifically vampires and werewolves. specifically like- a vampire who doesn't have to drink human blood waters down the inhuman need to prey on humans. A werewolf who can control when they shift doesn't have the same implications as one who is tied to the moon. And I think there is truth to that. I'm not nearly as scared of a vampire who can survive on rats because I know they aren't completely depandant on getting my blood to survive. A werewolf who can shift whenever is a lot more like a regular shifter than specifically a werewolf.

but I don't think these things ruin the effect? Like primarily you have to consider what the monster Represents in the story and the genre you're working in. like it really comes down to what the author is trying to do and how well they pull it off. A story about someone turning into a vampire, loosing their sense of humanity, and slowly turning to hunting animals like a beast in the forest is a very different vampire horror story than a freshly turned vampire slowly loosing their ability to not drain the people they love. A werewolf who can shift whenever they want, learning to love the wolf and what it represents (anger, queerness, various Repression metaphors) and using the wolf to protect themselves and finding it freeing is a completely different story than someone unwillingly tied to a wolf, that changes against their will and that they have no control over. But that doesn't mean either story is a better depiction of their monsters just by plot beats. they're just different metaphors and versions.

#doc rambles

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kwanisms · 25 days ago

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Kinktober 「10:30」 — b.seungkwan

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➮ gorgon!Seungkwan × fem!Reader wc: — summary: Seungkwan is the youngest of three siblings and the only male gorgon in his family. Probably due to his half-human heritage on his father’s side. He’s lucky that his appearance is much more human than his sisters’. Although he looks mostly normal there are still some things that aren’t quite… human. His inhuman strength and other snake-like features set him apart from the rest, so why his best friend and roommate likes him so much, he doesn’t know why. All he knows is that he’s madly in love with Y/N. genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes, MORE TBD; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this could have been longer but tbh i’m tired of Kinktober lmao i’m ready for it to end already. I love Seungkwan and I would love to write something longer for him like he deserves but I don’t have the time anymore. I’ll make it up to him another time. Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), shower sex (this is dangerous. Proceed with caution), drunk sex (unless previously discussed, do not do this either), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (use protection!), no one is dom or sub they’re just hella whipped for one another, use of pet names (hers: baby, darling, angel, etc.; his: babe, Kwannie, love, etc.), I think I got everything but of course, let me know if I missed some! kinks: Shower sex + drunk sex dialogue prompt: ❛❛ We’re not just friends and you fucking know it. ❜❜

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“But, we’re friends,” Seungkwan,” you whispered, back pressed against the white tiled wall of your shower as your best friend stood in front of you, hands resting against the cool tile as the hot stream water cascaded down to the mat, splashing your feet. The only thing shielding you from your best friend’s gaze was a thin towel that barely covered anything.

Seungkwan’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. You weren’t sure what the driving force behind his actions was. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the years of pent up love and adoration he only just spilled out of mouth in the confines of your small bathroom. His confession came as a shock to you although, if you looked back, it only made all of his past actions make all the more sense to you.

But you couldn’t take a trip down memory lane right now, now when you were staring into the bright, almost glowing, green eyes of your best friend. Eyes that looked at you with a mixture of frustration, love, and another emotion you never expected to come from Seungkwan.

Lust.

The night had started innocently enough, attending a simple house party with your best friend. The night had gone as expected, drinking whatever mixed drinks Seungkwan made for you because he refused to let anyone else do it, downing a few shots and joining a couple rounds of whatever party games were going on. The night ended quickly for you when you couldn’t get up alone after a round of Truth or Drink and Seungkwan had to all but haul you out of the living room, very nearly carrying you out of the house.

Seungkwan didn’t exactly look like he possessed a lot of strength but looks were deceiving with your best friend. He was the product of a human and a gorgon falling in love and marrying. His sisters had taken after their mother, inheriting her snake-like attributes but Seungkwan on the other hand took after his father, only his eyes a physical give away to his half monster nature.

He didn’t mind, in fact glad that he could pass for human. It also meant he didn’t have to wear special blinders and be confined to the house as he didn’t inherit the Gaze like his sisters did. He could make direct eye contact and not have serious repercussions. He was also the only person who could look his mother directly in the eye and not be affected.

His human nature meant he wasn’t tormented or heavily bullied like some of the other less than human looking classmates. He also was a child who never took shit from anyone. One of the reasons you liked him so much. He made it his role to stand up to the bullies and look out for his fellow non human classmates. This made him extremely popular with the other kids as well as he stood up to all bullies, not just playground ones.

As he grew up, he gained more and more popularity due to his good looks, kind nature, and friend disposition. Despite how popular he became, he never let that go to his head. Well, not too much. He always made time for you and insisted you were his only true friend.

He wasn’t sure when the line blurred and he started loving you but he just knew one day, you weren’t just a friend to him. He wanted more with you but he never spoke out. He was far too shy and afraid of you rejecting him so he stayed silent for years until that night. The night he finally let it all out and confessed his true feelings and what he really thought about you.

After returning to your apartment, you had said you wanted to take a shower. Normally Seungkwan would wait on the couch and watch TV or play a game on his phone but you insisted he sit on the toilet with the lid down and keep you company while you showered.

He knew it was a bad idea, being that close to you when you were vulnerable on the other side of a thin sheet of vinyl and fabric. He should have just said no and sat on the couch like he usually did but he wasn’t thinking clearly. Neither of you were.

And so there he was, sitting on the toilet while you chatted about the most mundane things until you made an offhand comment about your shower head and how you were so glad you replaced the standard shower head in the apartment with this one you had gotten online. It had more settings than the standard one, was detachable, and came in handy when you needed to get yourself off.

That was the comment that had Seungkwan’s breath catching in his throat, his cock twitching in his pants and his heart racing. The idea of you in the shower, using the pulse setting to pleasure yourself. It made him bite his tongue almost hard enough to make him bleed. You had noticed he’d gone silent, cause of course you did, and asked him if he was still awake.

Seungkwan had to take several deep breaths before finally answering that he was awake and that he needed to leave. You whined, asking him to stay, insisting that he stay, asking him what was wrong and that was when he snapped, blurting out the sentences that would change your lives forever.

“How can you expect me to stay after saying something like that? How can you expect me to sit here and pretend like I’m not imagining you doing that right now? How can you expect me to sit still when all I want to do is rip this curtain open and take you against the shower wall?”

Initially you wanted to laugh it off but something in his voice told you he wasn’t kidding. You grabbed a towel, holding it over your chest and letting it fall to cover your mound before pulling back the curtain to peer out at him. “Are you being serious?” you asked. Seungkwan looked up, eyes meeting yours and he quickly turned away, averting his eyes.

“Don’t,” he grunted. “I can’t look at you right now. I won’t be able to stop myself.”

You weren’t sure if you weren’t taking him seriously or just being stupid but you pulled back into the shower and challenged him. “Maybe you shouldn’t stop yourself.” In an instant, Seungkwan had gotten up, pulling back the curtain abruptly which led to where you were at that moment, back against the tiled wall as he caged you in, ignoring the water splashing his clothes.

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it,” Seungkwan said under his breath.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. There had been some… experimentation in your youth. You both had agreed to keep it a secret but when you were around the age that you started learning about yourselves, there had been a lot of talk, stolen kisses. It had been mostly innocent but when you were older, in college, it had continued. Neither of you had dated in high school, only spending time with one another outside of school events.

You managed to get a dorm to yourself when your assigned roommate dropped out just before classes started. Seungkwan would come over to your dorm most of the time to study but you didn’t get much studying done. You’d never gone all the way but there were times where you ended up straddling him, tongues meeting in a frantic mess as you grinded against him until one or both of you came in your pants.

There had also been times where Seungkwan’s hands wandered when he had you on your back, fingers slipping into your panties to touch and explore your bodies. You never dated, never went out once, and yet throughout college, you fooled around a fair few times. Yet you both always introduced one another as your friend. But friends didn’t do that, right?

Your eyes watched Seungkwan’s dip down to your lips quickly before you reached up, your wet hand curling into his hair. “You’re right,” you murmured. “We aren’t just friends.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, your lips meeting in a very practiced dance. This was familiar for you. Kissing Seungkwan was familiar. You let out a sigh as his lips kissed across your cheek to your ear. “I want to take my time with you,” he muttered. “But I can’t wait. I’m sorry.”

Your hands moved, pulling at his shirt, untucking it so you could help him pull it off, tossing it to the floor. The rush to get him undressed left your towel forgotten and it slumped to the floor, landing on the mat where the shower water started to soak it. Seungkwan kicked his pants off before rejoining you in the shower, tugging the curtain back to block the rest of the bathroom as he guided you under the stream of hot water, drops cascading down both your bodies as his hands grabbed your hips.

“Do you trust me?” he asked as he backed you against a different tile wall. You nodded as you looked at him. He leaned in, pressing a much softer kiss to your lips before he started to slowly kiss down your body as he lowered himself to his knees. You watched as he lifted one of your thighs over his shoulder, glancing up at you briefly before pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the inside of your thigh, moving closer and closer to your aching heat.

You let out a gasp as he nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you felt his tongue lick against your clit. “F-fuck,” you cursed, head falling back against the hard tile, eyes sliding shut as Seungkwan’s tongue moved over your most sensitive parts. This was new territory with him. You’d never gone this far before and you were regretting not doing it sooner.

“Kwannie,” you moaned as he teased your clit with his tongue. “I need m-more.” You stumbled over your words. “Need your c-cock.” Your cheeks burned as Seungkwan licked and sucked at your clit, the shower barely covering up the lewd sounds.

He pulled back, looking up at you. “So impatient?” he muttered as he slowly got up, lowering your leg back down. “Fine,” he said as his hands moved up to your hips. “But remember, you begged for this,” he added as he turned you around to face the wall, pulling your hips back and making your back arch. “But I wanna see,” you whined as he guided the head of his cock to your entrance.

You heard him chuckle from behind you as he rubbed the tip against your folds. “If you think I’m not going to spend all night fucking you in your bed after this, you don’t truly know me,” he said as he pushed into you, groaning as he very quickly slid in until all of his cock was nestled deeply in your cunt, your warm walls wrapping around him, hugging him tightly.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he groaned, resting his forehead against your back as he leaned over, ignoring the stream of water falling over the both of you. “You feel so fucking good, baby.” You pushed back against him, urging him to move. “Kwannie, please,” you begged. “Please fuck me.”

Seungkwan let out a breathless chuckle as he stood up straight, his grip on your hips tightening. “Oh don’t worry, angel,” he said as he pulled out slightly, thrusting into you roughly and shutting you up immediately, only a moan leaving your lips.

“I plan to.”

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valtsv · 2 years ago

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was thinking about this earlier but the dynamic of cannibalism being associated with high society and the culinary elite (hannibal comes to mind specifically) while also simultaneously being associated with the socially isolated and economically impoverished (as in texas chainsaw massacre) is so interesting to me i want to read 10 million books on why it happens so much in media....

i can only speak from a place of personal opinion and general knowledge, because i haven't read that many papers or in-depth studies on cannibalism, but i think it often comes down to an interesection between the themes of the story you're telling and class structures and divisions. cannibalism is a compelling form of narrative symbolism because it's undeniably impactful and hard to ignore. when portrayed as a practice associated with the culinary and social upper class, it might be used as a critique of the rich and powerful and their lack of ethics and willingness to consume and destroy others for their own self-interest by showing them literally preying on and consuming their victims, or a horror story/cautionary tale about how having everything can lead you to never be satisfied and turn to increasingly extreme measures to feel like life is worth living, or a dark fantasy of indulgence and excess. when associated with the poor, marginalized and isolated, it's often based in bigotry and harmful stereotypes of the "primitive" "inhuman" "savage" "other", however it might also function as a revenge fantasy where the most oppressed and exploited members of society turn on their oppressors and take "eating the rich" to its most literal extreme, exposing the fragility of class divisions and pointing out that those in positions of social and economic power are hardly the mythic titans their propaganda tries to make them out to be, but ultimately just as mortal and made of flesh and blood as any other human being, and not immune to being dragged down from their position at the top of the food chain and torn to pieces by the crowd (as well as reminding the audience of their own fragile mortality and precarious position in the social order, and the humanity we all share in common - however cannibalism often divides the perpetrators from both their victims and the audience, so this is rarer than the other interpretations mentioned).

cannibalism and power often go hand in hand. cannibalism has historically been used as both a means of displaying your power over defeated opponents and delivering a final, humiliating blow to their image by consuming their flesh, and a means of othering and dehumanizing your opponent by portraying them as the cannibalistic monster.

both the very rich and very poor also tend to be perceived as more distant from the people who make and consume these stories, making them easier to project fiction onto and transform into symbols and narrative devices (or, in the worst cases, dehumanize) than those who occupy the same social spheres as the creator. they can be held at an arm's length without discomfort and, depending on the target audience, may be a source of fascination due to the differences in their lived experiences. it adds to the fantasy, and makes any inaccuracies, exaggerations and fabrications feel more plausible because the majority of the audience probably don't have any personal experiences of being in those positions to draw on.

#cannibalism #classism #like this is literally just my interpretation based on my knowledge of media studies literary analysis and sociology #i cant say with any certainty whether its a True and Accurate assessment

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painted-flag · 4 months ago

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Little Red Riding Hood (Part 2/2) - Cregan Stark

Story 2 in Between the Pages: a HOTD x Fairytale Series.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ PART ONE .𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist. main masterlist. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ pairing: cregan stark x f!reader (no use of y/n) .𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: 18+ MDNI. descriptions of violence/blood, period-specific misogyny, aegon, and smut (oral f!receiving, nipple play, and biting) .𖥔 ݁ ˖ wordcount: 7.5k .𖥔 ݁ ˖ notes: this was going to be shorter than how it turned out, but then i got caught up in writing the smut at the end so... it is longer than originally planned.

That shriek of hell spurred you from your bed. You fought the imminent feeling of danger, of something lurking beyond the surface of your consciousness, to steel your emotions. The sound was almost inhuman, a cry reverberated from depths of eternal despair. Whatever fresh nightmare was outside demanded attention and your soul was calling out to it.

Your bare feet thudded against the stone flooring as you rushed outside your room. The chill of the night was not felt as you rushed to the door to leave your grandmother’s house. Your nimble fingers gripped the steel doorknob with a fury of strength as you yanked it open. Wearing nothing but your nightclothes, you venture out into the night. The door closed and the final rush of air breezed passed your scarlet cloak - hung up and forgotten in your frantic movements.

You weaved between the streets of the town, looking back and forth for any sign of life. There was nobody outside. No signs of anything. The pubs were oddly closed and no fool stumbled through the streets drunk on ale or wine. Your feet made crunching noises on the snow-laden ground.

It was then that you saw a figure in the distance. The haze of darkness, only partially alleviated by the moon's light, shrouded the person. They moved like a hunter, impossibly fast and calculated. You stopped moving and watched in paralyzed fear as they came closer. Adrenaline pumped through your body more than blood. Fear clouded your judgement and incapacitated all means of movement; both physically and mentally.

It was only then when the figure got closer that relief doused those flames of horror.

“Cregan?” Your voice, terribly quiet, floated through the cold chill of night. Cregan stood before you in nothing but a tunic, pants, and leather boots. His chest heaved and a sheen of sweat covered the exposed parts of his skin.

You had never seen him so uncovered before, and the white tunic he wore had the sleeves cut up just below the elbow and showed the top of his chest. On his skin, you could see the presence of countless scars. They marred his flesh and you could not help but wonder what creature could make such marks on him. The veins in his forearms flexed as he brought his hands up to grip your biceps.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice was deeper than usual, and the timbre sent vibrations through your bones.

“I… I heard something…” You stuttered out.

Cregan’s squeezed your flesh gently and looked down for a moment, “Fuck,” He lifted his gaze to look at you and that is when you noticed the unusual tint in his eyes - an odd glow, “You need to go back home. Lock all of the doors and windows and stay inside.”

“I don’t understand. Cregan, what is going on?” You had not heard the unknown shriek in a while, but the calls of wolf howls sounded closer and closer.

“Please just go inside.” His tone bordered on a plea, something completely out of character for him.

You blinked at him as his face got closer to yours. It was then that you realized what little clothing you also possessed. Your thin white shift with silver embroidered details glowed in the moonlight, but the thinness of the fabric left little to the imagination. Cregan took notice of your hypervigilance and his gaze swept over you quickly. He flushed slightly and looked at your face, unwilling to compromise the situation any further.

“Where is your cloak?” He questioned.

“I left it… the screaming… what in the seven hells is going on?” You tore your vision from Cregan and scanned around the empty street. The pounding in your head came back and you winced in pain.

You looked up at the full moon and the pain intensified. It felt like your skin was being peeled off. Tingling needles shot across your limbs. Your knees buckled and you lost your balance. Cregan cushioned your fall as the two of you reached the ground. His arms wrapped around your body and held your upper body off of the snow, resting it on his knees.

You tried with all your might to not voice your pain, but with each second it was becoming increasingly harder to resist. Tears pooled in your eyes and a sob ripped from your throat. Your eyes were locked onto the moon, its light enchanting you.

“Sweetheart, hey, look at me.” Cregan cupped one of your cheeks and patted it gently. You were not responding, completely unable to do so.

“Darling, you’re okay. Just come back,” His thumb brushed a stray tear from your skin, “Come back to me.”

The edges of your vision got dark, but the call of his voice drew you back, “What is happening to me? Why does this hurt so much?”

Your questions elicited a broken look from Cregan and a defeated sigh, “It’s alright. You’re okay, I got you.” The warmth of his embrace shrouded you from the cold. He gave off an unusually high temperature, but its comfort eased the intensifying pain. The wolf hows got closer.

Movement in the corner of your dimming vision caught your attention. Turning your head caused immense tension in your neck. Behind Cregan, in the distance, was a collection of a few wolves. They were larger than you had ever seen before and stared the two of you down. None of them moved forward, all watching carefully.

You wanted to warn Cregan of the danger - to have him make a run for safety - but your body could not take the anguish anymore. You collapsed into blackness as snow fell around you, in the arms of your friend.

⋅───⊱༺ ☾ 🐾☽ ༻⊰───⋅

There was no way any ounce of sanity remained in your body. It had been a few hours since you woke up; breathing heavily and stuck in a sweat. You had awoken in your room with your grandmother sleeping soundlessly in a chair next to your bed. It took a long time to get a grasp of your surroundings. Your grandmother helped you drink water and get your bearings.

However, what little consciousness you acquired soon fled with the conversation that followed.

It felt partly like a betrayal. Having information - vital information - about your past, family, and self withheld from you for so long was an unknown horror. Your grandmother explained it as calmly as she could, but truthfully there was little one could do in that situation.

Learning that your family had a history of werewolf tendencies was never a possibility one could consider encountering in their lifetime. Your grandmother had informed you of it all. How it had been a part of her family and typically skips a generation. You had pieced it together after that. Her being one and your mother not had led you to conclude that you were one.

In your grandmother’s words, you had been repressed. One typically knows if they inherited that trait when of age, but it had been purposefully hidden. The gift from your grandmother, that beloved scarlet cloak, had been the reason for your lack of transformation process. A simple enchantment that your grandmother had gotten passed down from her grandmother.

It was an attempt to keep you safe but ended up hurting you more than you could truly grasp.

Truthfully, you had not believed it. It took more convincing but you eventually relented. To your little gained knowledge, those who can transform are able to do it in the few days leading up to and after the full moon. Outside of that window, transformation is not possible. Though the person benefits from other skills. The possession of unusual strength, the ability to bear the cold, quick healing, and faster speed and agility.

It would have been a win if not for the fact that you were freaking out internally and had your entire worldview shattered.

You and your grandmother sat in chairs by the fireplace when a knock sounded at the door. Cregan walked in with a nervous look. It felt all too familiar to the first day you arrived in Winterfell. Yet, in just a week, the circumstances of the situation had changed drastically. Your grandmother, ever the peacekeeper, stepped away to allow privacy. Cregan did not sit in her seat but chose to kneel in front of you. He made no attempt to reach out to you and kept his hands on his knees. His eyes were kind and understanding, and his hair was put up in his signature knot.

You wanted to curse him out for looking so perfect in a situation where your trust was strained. For if he asked, you would fall into his arms.

“I know you may have a lot of questions, all of which you are entitled to. I promise that.” Cregan spoke, his voice soft and caring.

“Questions?” You huffed out with a hint of a laugh before channelling your frustration, “I have more than just questions.”

Cregan nodded, “Hit me, if you feel like it, just don’t be angry with me. I can’t take that.”

You were looking at your hands placed in your lap, “I am not angry at you. I couldn’t if I tried.” You heard a relieved sigh escape his lips before you spoke up again, “Are you… one too?”

“Yes,” Cregan answered. You looked at him and he continued, “Many people in Winterfell are. I am the leader.”

“I am just trying to wrap my head around all this.” You explained.

Cregan gave you a ghost of a smile, “Take all the time you need. But, now that you know, I need to warn you.” Cregan leaned forward and took your hands in his. His fingers swiped along your knuckles and he prepared to speak.

“Aegon is not who you think he is,” He spoke, “Darling, he is one of us and he is not a good man.”

You almost scoffed at his words, “Aegon isn’t one of us. He has also been nothing but kind and treated me with respect.” You were curious as to what angle Cregan was getting at. What gain did he get by undermining the man you were with?

“Be honest with yourself. Have you noticed anything unusual about him?” Cregan pressed further.

You leaned back in your chair as Cregan stopped rubbing your hands, but still grasped them. Your back hit the chair and you looked at the crackling fire. You could not curse your past self for being so oblivious, for you had no knowledge that such a world existed.

All of the quirks Aegon possessed seemed to compound; adding to another startling realization. It was curious how often a person could experience such amount of life-changing realizations in a short period. His unnatural strength for such a lean figure and how he never seemed cold. There was also a time he had injured himself - a long cut down his forearm - that healed within the week and left an almost indecipherable scar. Aegon claimed it was a good balm, but now you knew the truth.

“Seven hells,” You whispered. You were not fully satisfied with getting caught up with the events from last night. “What happened last night? What was that shrieking?”

Cregan hung his head in shame, “Someone from Winterfell was found outside of the walls… murdered. All signs point to it being a wolf.” You did not think of doing so, but your fingers instinctively traced his hairline down to his chin and he lifted his head at your touch.

“Is Winterfell safe?” You asked.

“As safe as it can be. Constant watch around the wall. I truly don’t know how this happened.” He seemed to get lost in thought and began to rant, “I am the Lord of Winterfell and I cannot even keep my people safe. For all I know, it could have been one of my men and I have no way of knowing.” He had got off his knees by you and moved to face the fireplace. His right arm rested against the stone mantel.

You got out of your seat and approached him. Cregan, in your time at Winterfell, managed to seize your heart. A feat not yet achieved by any man in your life. It drove you mad, how easily his mere presence made nerves harbour your stomach. While he had spent so much time ensuring your comfort, you felt as though you had failed to do so for him.

You rested your hand on the spot between his shoulder blades on his back. His muscles tensed for a moment before relaxing into your touch. You brushed that spot gently. Cregan slightly turned to you behind him. Your other hand cupped his cheek. He leaned into your warmth like flowers to the sun drinking in its light; their life depending on its radiance. You moved your hand to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair. You pulled him in to duck down and rest his head on your shoulder. His nose brushed the crook of your neck and his breath tickled your skin. Cregan’s arms circled your waist.

You knew he was often a man of little words and action. A large part of you wished to fill that wordless void in his life.

“You are a good lord, Cregan. Most importantly, you are a fine man. There are times when you will be challenged when events beyond your control transpire. It is not how they come about that is of importance. It is how you act afterward that dictates who you are.” Your words seemed to strike a chord in him and his hold tightened. He did not say anything, but his breaths seemed to ease. You stroked his back in comfort and gently swayed side to side.

It was there, in front of the cracking fire, that you felt your relationship with Cregan had begun to expand past the bonds of friendship.

⋅───⊱༺ ☾ 🐾☽ ༻⊰───⋅

“Do you get fleas?” The question you voiced as you sat on a wooden fence outside of the blacksmith building in Winterfell was met with laughs from both Cregan and Ser Dustin.

It had been a while since your morning conversation with Cregan and the tension between you two was palpable. You had followed him around for the day, asking countless questions regarding any detail of being a wolf. Cregan took your questions with grace and answered them all with no hesitation.

You had ended up at the blacksmith, where Cregan liked to help when he could as it was a skill he preferred. Normally, had it been Aegon, you would have excused yourself to be spared from the boring process of smithing. However, the image of Cregan in a thin white shirt, covered in a sheen of sweat, and with exposed forearms as he showcased his strength was not a view you wished to part from so easily.

You acted rather nonchalant for the view in front of you. Each time he hammered down on some fiery sword, you had to avert your gaze afterwards as he had a habit of looking at you. You know he knew you were looking, and you knew he did it on purpose. That damned man sure knew how to infuriate you, as stoically as he portrayed himself to others.

Ser Dustin placed down a tool he was wielding, “No we do not have fleas. I must leave for my shift of wall patrol. I’ll see you both later.” While Cregan was focused on his hammering, Ser Dustin sent you a teasing wink and gestured to his friend. You returned his glance with a look of disbelief. Once you and Cregan were alone, that tension that had been building only intensified.

Cregan grabbed the heavy sword and picked it up with one hand, his bicep flexing, and dunked it into water. He glanced at you briefly before looking back down on his task, “If you could tell ten-year-old me what would happen in the last week, he would not believe it.”

“It's a big thing, all of this stress.” You replied as you munched on a piece of bread. Your feet swung back and forth.

“I don’t mean that,” Cregan spoke before letting out a laugh of disbelief, “I spent most of my years as a child waiting for your summer visits and all of my summers competing for your attention.” He seemed focused on his task, but there was trepidation behind his actions.

You finally understood his actions towards you. How he was so quick to welcome you to Winterfell and spend every available moment around you. In your family’s absence, he took it upon himself to look after your grandmother. Cregan displayed a heartfelt dedication all these years since he was but a boy, just for the possibility of seeing you again.

Nobody had ever dedicated themselves to you with such fervour before. That fact alone had you stuck in shock upon the fence.

After a moment of your heartbeat skipping, you spoke up, “You’re rather bold to say such things.”

Cregan moved to you, his figure towering over yours. The tops of his thighs brushed your knees as he leaned in towards your right ear, “I am,” he declared, “Do you think I would be a fool and let this opportunity pass?” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and let his touch linger. By now your faces were close and breathes intermingled. If you could just lean in…

“And what is this opportunity that you speak of?” You whispered.

“Do not dance around the subject. Must I cut my heart out and show it to you? Show you the lines in it which spell out your name?” Cregan matched your whispered voice, “Or will you continue to torture me so? Please give me an answer, for in both sleep and awake I am plagued by you. This is the closest you have been to me in years, yet you are impossibly far away.”

His nose brushed over your cheek and you saw him close his eyes and inhale your scent, “Tell me now if you do not feel the same and I will leave you alone. I will cast myself out as lord if you simply wish to never see me again. But please, do not leave me with no answer, for I fear that is worse than death. Do you share, to any degree, the familiarity I feel for you?”

Cregan opened his eyes to look into yours. You were stuck by their intensity, the sheer volume of care confined into such a small area. You remember your mother saying they were windows to the soul and as a child, you thought it silly. Now, you understood. You truly understood the gravity of such words and relished in it.

He showed you, at that moment, that he could be a man of words if he willed it - if it was worth it. You saw that you were worth it to him. You nodded to his question, unable to form words other than some shaken breaths.

“Words, sweetheart, I need to hear you say it,” Cregan responded.

You swallowed before answering, “Yes, Cregan, I do.”

He pushed his body closer to yours - erasing what little room was left. Cregan’s forehead rested against yours and his nose brushed across your cheek as he leaned in. He paused, staring at your lips with intensity before coming to look into your eyes. He did not move but rather waited. You leaned towards him and brushed his lips with your own. The moment contact was made, it opened a floodgate. Cregan’s lips were soft and warm and he kissed you with an intensity not felt before.

He took it upon himself to slot his body between your legs with one hand splayed on your lower back and the other at the base of your neck; his thumb brushing your skin just above the collar of the pelt that rested on your shoulders. Your hands moved to his chest, feeling the small scars that marked his skin and his thumping heartbeat. His lips melded against yours, moving to express his feelings beyond words.

You were lost in the comfort of it all. His scent, pine and firewood, engulfed you and sent a tickling feeling to your stomach. It all dulled your senses to everything around you. Each moment you two slightly parted to breathe would quickly come to an end as you found each other’s lips again. Cregan drank you in like a man poisoned and given an antidote; his life just grasping for that reprieve.

His ability to drive you crazy no longer angered you. If Cregan could hold and kiss you like this again, you would forsake your mind and drown in madness.

He pulled away only slightly with his forehead resting on yours. The two of you breathed in and out erratically. You finally opened your eyes to meet Cregan’s already looking at you. His gaze never wavered. It was then when he gave you a full smile, the first one you ever saw on him. It almost left you as breathless as the kiss you shared. One of his hands cupped your cheek, its size engulfing a portion of your face.

“You need not make a final decision now. I have no doubt this last day alone has drained you. Know that I will wait for your answer, and I will obey your wishes.” Cregan left a searing kiss on your cheek and squeezed you in his hold a final time before pulling away. The sudden increase of cold as his warm body parted from yours could have sent you into shock if not for the fact that you too possessed that strange ability. He nodded his head to you, “Sleep well, my love.”

You stayed sitting on that wooden fence, replaying the last few minutes in your mind. Cregan had been waiting for you, waiting since your shared childhood. Those days of running through flower fields hand in hand as children were behind you. Childhood innocence melted away into devotion. You felt hurt, just slightly, for having forgotten about him but him still thinking of you for all that time.

You shuffled off of the fence and walked home slowly. Snow began to fall once again. The silence that came with snowfall muffled the world around you. The people of Winterfell were in their homes, each chimney erupting smoke into the air. You could not leave Winterfell to go back home, for the concept of home shifted more and more in favour of wherever Cregan happened to be.

When you arrived at the house, the fluttering in your stomach had yet to go away. You shrugged your cloak and furs off and hung them up by the door. “Grandmother, I’m home!”

Your grandmother had her back to you as she fussed over something in the kitchen. She was dressed up in her cloak with the hood up, a detail that made you halt in your steps. She did not greet you back. You looked at her figure and felt off. She was taller than you recalled. You walked closer, each step taken slowly as if approaching a wounded animal. Uncertainty plagued your features.

“Grandmother?” You questioned.

The figure turned and the hood slipped off their head. You were met with a flash of silver hair and a wicked grin belonging to Aegon. The enchanted smile you once held after your moment with Cregan morphed into fear.

“Welcome home,” Aegon spoke, “Why the sad face? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

You knew you had to act like everything was okay. You needed to pretend you had no knowledge of who he was and plastered on a fake smile, “I am just so shocked to see you, my love.”

You forced yourself from gagging at those sugar-coated words and moved to wrap him in a hug. He accepted it and buried his head in your hair. He sniffed you and his hold strengthened.

“You think I would not smell that foul man on you?” Aegon’s tone was sharp and laced with venom. You pulled away and gave him a puzzled look.

“What are you talking about?” You left his hold. Aegon looked down on the ground, nodding his head and laughing sardonically. This moment of distraction is all you need to rush towards the door. You pulled it open. Just as you were about to call out, a hand covered your mouth and an arm wrapped around your waist. Aegon pulled you back into the house and threw you on the ground, his strength causing you to tumble into the nearby table and to the ground.

Aegon locked the deadbolt on the door and sighed in disappointment, “A man can give, and give, and give… Yet all women seem to do is take.” He stalked towards you and kneeled to where you were. His hand stretched out and stroked your cheek with his index finger.

Without thinking, you spat in his face. His head turned away from you as he used his sleeve to wipe it from his skin when he turned to you with a fire in his eyes. You took that momentary lapse of awareness he had to land a punch to his nose. It was the first time you exerted that super strength you had inherited recently, and it shocked you to see his body move back with force.

“You fucking whore!” Aegoin shouted as he pulled back his hand to show a flood of blood dribbling over his mouth and down his chin.

The front door pounded once. Both you and Aegon looked towards it. The deadbolt rattled against the wood. One final push was given and the door swung open and hit the wall. Your tense body eased slightly on the ground having seen Cregan enter. The man stepped forward to move towards you, but Aegon was faster.

He moved towards you and picked you off the floor. Aegon pulled a knife that had fallen from the table and wrapped his arms around your neck, holding the blade against your throat. Cregan immediately halted his steps.

“One move at all and I’ll gut you,” Cregan spoke. His face was not one morphed into anger. The expression he held was calm and neutral. No twitch of the brow or bead of sweat - despite pummeling down a heavy oak door just seconds prior. There was an air around him as if he knew who held the real power. The only indicator of his grievance, besides his voice, was the unadulterated malice in his eyes. It was a look that chilled the bone yet set the soul ablaze with animosity.

Cregan was, if anything, a calculating man.

“We are leaving,” Aegon spoke, “I am taking my woman back.” His grip on the knife tightened.

“You are threatening the life of the very person you wish to seize… Not exactly a wise move.” Cregan looked Aegon up and down with silent judgement.

“She means nothing to me, but she has wronged me and will pay for it. So tell me, Lord Stark, will you let anything happen to her?” Aegon sent him a taunting smile.

“If you so much as make one more wrong move towards her, do you think there is a corner of the continent that you could hide from me?” Cregan’s voice was steeled and calm. Your fear spiked at the feeling of cool metal against your throat.

Aegon cackled, “Oh, I am positively frightened,” sarcasm dripped from his mouth, “If I do not make it back to this little one’s hometown in two days, I made sure her mother and brother will not live to see a moment longer.” He then held out the knife towards Cregan, “We will go now.”

He pulled you along with him, past Cregan and out the door towards the gates of Winterfell. Tears stung your cheeks as the monster of a man paraded you down the streets you came to love. You knew Cregan stalked closely behind, unable to interfere for risk of your safety. Once outside the gates, Aegon turned around.

“Not so close, Lord Stark,” Aegon moved the knife to rest under your chin, the blade cradling your face, “You will stay here in your shit home.”

Aegon seemed lost in whatever high he achieved through his perceived victory. The blade moved and nicked your skin. It did not cut deep, but enough to draw blood. The once neutral expression on Cregan crumbled. His eyebrows twitched and his nose flared. An almost thundering-like growl emitted from his throat.

Cregan’s gaze moved behind Aegon and suddenly that anger cooled down a bit. You sent him a questioning look. His eyes communicated to you then - a message of safety and assurance.

Cregan feigned defeat and raised his arms in surrounder, “You’ve won, Aegon.” While the words sounded pleasing to the silver-haired man, you could sense the falsity of them.

A quick whiz sound shot through the air behind you. It was fast and ended with a thunk. The force of whatever it was pushed Aegon forward and released you from his grip. You tumbled down to the ground with him but used the momentum to push yourself back up and run to Cregan. You slammed into his chest and wrapped your head around his neck. Your neck arched behind to see Aegon, splayed on the ground, with an arrow lodged into the back of his shoulder.

Ser Dustin came out of the woods with a bow in his grip. You sighed in relief knowing it was someone you trusted. The man came up to you and Cregan while Aegon laughed hysterically on the ground, rolling in the snow while clutching his wound.

Cregan looked to his friend, “Take her to my home and see to it she is guarded well. Wrangle up a group to go to the town over and find her mother and brother - bring them straight back here and get there fast. Instruct other guards to patrol for her grandmother.”

“Yes, lord.” Ser Dustin nodded to him. Cregan unwrapped his arms around you and nudged you over to his friend. Ser Dustin reached his hand out and offered it to you, “My lady?”

“Your whore is not worth the trouble,” Aegon coughed as he lay on the ground. His body began to shake and you could hear the sounds of bones cracking.

Cregan kissed your temple hastily and spoke to his friend, “Get her out of here, quickly.”

“No, I am not leaving you.” You responded. Cregan did not listen to you and nodded to Ser Dustin.

“Apologies, my lady,” Ser Dustin spoke before he lifted you by the waist, your head and torso hanging over his back. You fought back against his hold, but it was futile. The man moved back and you lifted your head to watch as you were carried away from Cregan. His back was to you, but you could see his muscles flex under the fabric.

Once inside the walls of Winterfell and a street down, you could hear the animalistic growls and shouts of two wolves mixed with the slashing of flesh.

⋅───⊱༺ ☾ 🐾☽ ༻⊰───⋅

You had been pacing Cregan’s chambers for longer than you would like to admit. Ser Dustin took you here, posted guards outside, and left with a group to save your family. You were given a bowl and salve for your cut, but it did not matter to you. All of your thoughts were scrambled. Your mother and brothers' safety was at risk, your grandmother was nowhere to be found, and Cregan was fighting Aegon. Yet here you were, cooped into a room and unable to do anything. The powerlessness was crippling.

Shuffling sounded outside the door to Cregan’s chambers. The wooden door opened and Cregan walked in. You did not think before flying into his arms. He winced but wrapped his arms around you. His face nuzzled into your shoulder and he breathed heavily. His shoulders sank and exhaustion caused him to lean against you.

You helped him move to the couch by the hearth and set him down. Now that you were looking at him, you could see the dried blood that covered his shirt. Cregan’s white shirt had been torn to almost shreds and newer cuts adorned his old scars. His eyes were closed as he struggled to stay alert. When you sat next to him with supplies to clean his wounds, he reached forward.

Cregan lifted your chin gently to see the cut you had received. His thumb brushed over it, “I should have killed him all those years ago. Exile was not good enough.” His voice was scratchy and the timbre reverberated through the room.

“Is he…?” Your voice trailed off.

“Dead? Almost. He is in a cell,” Cregan spoke, “It is your justice that needs to be met, not mine.”

You nodded at his words and made quick work of your movements. A wash basin with a cloth was on your lap. Your fingers gripped the cloth and soaked it through the water. Only the sounds of sloshing water and crack of firewood as it burned filled the room. Candles littered the space, giving you enough vision to assess the marks on his skin. Cregan used what little energy he had left to shrug off the tattered shirt. You started with one of his arms, the one closest to you.

It was when you moved to the other arm that Cregan talked, “Your grandmother is okay. She was found outside the walls. No injuries except a bump on her head - from Aegon knocking her out and taking her cloak. She is home and being tended by healers with guards posted both in and outside the house.”

You leaned in to place comforting kisses on his shoulder, slow and meaningful. You moved from there to his collarbone while staying careful to not brush over any of his wounds.

“Thank you.” You whispered. It was then that you moved to his back. Cregan turned so you could clean the blood and put a salve on the cuts without any trouble. With every few swipes of the cloth, you would place a kiss on his back. He would sigh with each one.

When you reached his front, it was hard for you not to be distracted by his muscles. You cursed your brain for focusing on that when he was injured. Your hands mended the cuts, trailing down further and to the muscles over his stomach. The cloth in your hands brushed over one of the v-lines peaking out from his pants. You blush under his gaze.

Once finished with your task, you got up and placed the supplies on a small round table by a chair next to the fire. You spotted what appeared to be a wardrobe and opened it. Shuffling through the shirt you found a nightshirt similar to the one he wore previously. You went back to him and helped him put it on as he winced to the movements.

Your hands went to adjust the collar. Cregan grabbed your right wrist and held it up, kissing the pulse point a few times with his eyes closed and brows furrowed. You wordlessly guided him to lie down on the couch with you. Your back hit the plush cushions as he rested his body partly over yours with his head on your shoulder. His arms encircled you and yours wrapped around his back. Mindful of the wounds, you rubbed his back gently. It was not much long after that he fell into slumber.

You waited a while before allowing yourself to sleep, for you wanted to make sure Cregan would rest.

⋅───⊱༺ ☾ 🐾☽ ༻⊰───⋅

The days following had been more eventful, but less chaotic. That next morning you had rushed to your grandmother to check on her. She was in good condition and more worried over your state, but when she saw the cuts and bruises across Cregan that peaked from his clothing, she fussed over his state. You remembered the words she uttered when Cregan told her he was alright.

“Do you think I was born yesterday, boy? Sit down and I’ll make some food.”

That day was spent drenched in worry for your mother and brother. However, Ser Dustin came back with his company of men and your family; completely safe and out of harm. That day you had cried in Cregan’s arms from relief. The stress of your trip, from your sick grandmother to discovering everything about your heritage, and Aegon had finally come down on you.

Aegon was executed after five days in a cell. Not an ounce of care was to be found in your heart. The trial he had was quick. Evidence collected by Ser Dustin caught him guilty to the murder of a resident of Winterfell, the one you heard screaming the night of the full moon. Cregan cut Aegon’s head from his body, and the remains were burned and discarded in the woods. All that was left of Aegon were memories - which would fade through the years to come.

Everything got easier as winter melted into spring. Your relationship with your mother healed over time, as you both got into a fight regarding her keeping such a secret from you for so long. To rectify this, you and her sat your brother down to tell him - to avoid every keeping secrets in your family from then on. Of course, that had quickly become a mistake as he began to hang around Cregan and his other friends who were wolves as well, asking an insurmountable amount of questions and counting down the days until he could become one. Cregan did not mind and reminded you of all the questions you had when you found out, to which you whacked his shoulder.

Over time, you and Cregan got into a routine. You continued to teach the children of Winterfell while taking on more duties to ease the stress off of Cregan. He welcomed your help and in exchange would visit the children often to give you breaks. You quickly found yourself spending more nights at his home than your grandmother's.

It was here, during one of your many nights together, that you found yourself under the furs of his bed. Both of your bodies were exposed and covered in a sheen of sweat. Cregan was on his back with your head resting on his chest. Your fingers traced the scars across his skin as one of his hands stroked your arm gently. His hand moved to cover yours and still its movements.

“My offer still stands for your family. There is plenty of room for them in this house.” Cregan brought your hand up to kiss the palm.

“I’ve been trying to convince them, but they feel you have already done enough to help.” You responded.

Cregan squeezed you closer to his body. “How bad would it look for the Lord of Winterfell to let his betrothed’s family stay in such a small cottage?” His tone bordered on teasing.

“Almost as bad as taking her virtue before the wedding.” You jested. You had lifted your head to look at him and Cregan feigned a look of offence.

“How dare you question the sanctity of my bride?” He began and then lowered his voice to an almost threatening tone, “That is a punishable offence.”

The two of you both laughed gently. You rested your head back onto his chest and sighed. Cregan adjusted his body to be turned and your back was lowered onto the bed. He sat up for a moment before trapping your head between his forearms, his body hovering over yours. Cregan lowered his face to be just inches above yours. You stifled a yawn and he raised one of his eyebrows.

“Why is my lady so tired?” He questioned.

You moved your hands up to push lightly on his bare chest, “Well, if you were not so insatiable with your appetite, I may have time to rest.”

A cheeky grin formed on his face, “And are you rested?”

“I could stay awake for a little while…” You answered. Cregan nodded at your words.

“That is good.” He lowered his face and captured your lips in a kiss. His lips were soft and pillowy against your own. It was slow and searing. Some of Cregan’s hair tickled your face. His mouth parted slightly with yours as he used his tongue to explore your mouth. You let out a whine and he responded with a low, almost indecipherable grumble from his chest.

His mouth moved to the side of yours, down your jaw, and to your collar bone; leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake. There were newly formed marks on your neck created just minutes prior and others over the past few days. He kissed each one again, marking his pride. His mouth would clamp down on the skin, biting and sucking ever so gently. Your eyes closed as you entered a state of relaxation.

You craved him more and more. Each day was a newly discovered ache of want, of need. Your attitude matched his own, though his unquenchable hunger for you had been undefeatable.

Cregan moved down further and further. One of his hands cupped your breast and began to massage it gently while his mouth went to the other. His finger teased your nipple, flicking it gently. He dedicated slow movements that made you suck in a breath and arch your back up closer to his touch. Cregan’s favourite activity in recent weeks was discovering every little thing that made you tick. Every inch of skin surveyed, most times more than once.

Keeping a hand on your breast, he shuffled down further to your stomach. His lips brushed across the smooth skin. The pelts were on his back but moved down with him, exposing your body to the cool air of the stone bedchamber. He kissed your hipbone, eliciting a sharp inhale of breath from you. You bit your lip as his hot breath brushed over your sensitive core. What exhaustion you previously had was completely abandoned as you felt your body come alive with an unrivalled energy.

Cregan could sense your newfound energy and chuckled lightly. Both of his hands gripped the sides of your thighs, parting your legs just enough for him. His fingers dug into the pillowy flesh and his thumbs rubbed hypnotic swipes back and forth. His mouth hovered just above your core when he stopped.

“Cregan,” you whined, “Please.” Your hips bucked up in desperation. He gave a quick swipe of his tongue along your core and pulled back. The single action made your head dizzy and your body thrum. You wriggled under his touch and intense stare, body shuddering in anticipation.

Cregan wasted no time in burying his face in you, ravishing every inch possible. His nose brushed your bud. The lewd moans that slipped from your mouth egged him on, encouraging him more. He groaned into your skin, sending a rumble throughout your core area. Your hands could not bear gripping the sheet below you so they moved to tangle in his dark locks.

When you tuged on the strands, Cregan growled lowly and picked up the pace of his movements. His tongue moved to your bud and sucked as one of his fingers moved up to rub your core, gently sinking into you. Your back shot off the bed and you let out a startled gasp. Your reaction only sparked more from Cregan.

His actions became feverish rather than carefully planned. His tongue worked in circular motions as he inserted another finger. His hand moved with reckless abandon, set on making you reach your peak. Your breaths became more erratic and lewd noises escaped your lips; each word encouraging Cregan more.

You were quickly reaching your peak when Cregan pushed another finger in, making your walls clench. The familiar pressure that coiled in your lower stomach built up. His tongue began making circular motions on your bud, speeding up intensity and pressure. Your body squirmed while it trembled under Cregan’s care.

In a moment of white-hot light, you reached your climax. It washed over you in waves, spreading out from your stomach. Cregan’s hands gripped your thighs and held your lower body down as you huffed and writhed on the bed. He pulled his fingers out but continued giving your core attention with his mouth. By then you were lost in the throes of ecstasy as he pushed you to overstimulation.

“Cregan!” Your shout was high-pitched as your lungs sucked in air. Cregan lifted his face and made eye contact with you. He smirked before kissing his way up your body again, similar to his trip down only minutes ago.

Cregan, now hovering above you, leaned down to give you a soft kiss. It was not feverish and rushed, but wrapped in care and devotion. You moaned into his mouth as his hands grabbed your hips and flipped you over suddenly. You let out a startled shout that melded into a joint laugh with him. Your thighs wrapped around his hips and it was then when you noticed the feel of him against your core.

You leaned down to kiss him and sighed knowing you would not get much rest that night.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ if you want to be added to any taglist, click here.

___________

This was my second time writing smut and I think I'm starting to get the hang of it!

Thank you all for your continued support!

series taglist: @uniquecutie-puffs @dracaryxzs @beebeechaos @libdarkheart @aisselasstuff @whodis? @void21 @l-uminescent @idontlikelizards @poppinspops @nixtape-foryou @bluryar14 @mynameisjxlia @asteria33

#hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #house stark #fairy tale retelling #fairy tale au

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scribblesofagoonerr · 4 months ago

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— Are we there yet? | Glastonbury Series

here's the first part of this small mini series i have been working so hard to create over the past week, this is one of my favourites so i hope you all enjoy it!

massive massive thank you to @alotofpockets and @lvnleah for the ongoing help throughout writing this and putting up with me throwing ideas at them all the time.

pairings: leah williamson x reader!monkey

summary: it's the first day of the festival and monkey's impatient as always to get there, being her usual self and causing chaos no doubt.

you can check out the whole masterlist here: chaos fc masterlist

“Are we there yet?” You question, impatiently as you huff and continue to drag your suitcase across the field that feels like it is never ending to get to wherever you need to go.

You have already asked this question a few times, you’re aware of that but you can’t help but ask it again.

Your suitcase is heavy and you don’t like it, not one bit.

Leah can’t help but roll her eyes from where she’s taken the lead to walk in front, “No— we’re halfway across a field still.” She reminds you, gesturing with her hands to show how far you’ve walked.

Not that far at all, unfortunately.

“My suitcase is heavy!” You whine and complain, doing no more than trying to kick it to see if that helps you to get it further across the field.

It does not.

The blonde in front pinches the bridge of her nose, “Then you shouldn’t have packed so much!” She states, more than used to your antics.

“I can’t help it, I’m an over-packer!” You exclaim in protest, you couldn’t help being excited about this weekend and wanting to pack… Well, pretty much everything that you could think about.

“Well then it serves you right!” Leah remarks, rolling her eyes.

You huff and kick your suitcase again once more, giving it a death glare.

“Come on, we’ll be there soon enough if you don’t complain about it anymore,” Leah jokes, continuing to walk ahead of you.

“Urgh, I don’t like this. I don’t want to walk anymore,” You grumble, less than five minutes later as you had barely made it any more across the wide open field, “Are we there yet?”

Leah exhales a sigh and shakes her head, “Since the last time you asked, five minutes ago? The answer is still very much no, Monkey.”

You let out an inhuman noise that attracts a few looks from people walking past, who probably think you are on something, “Ugh— I can’t anymore. It’s too much!” With that, you do no more than flop down on the floor dramatically and refuse to move any more.

Much to the blonde’s absolute horror over the situation.

“Get up off the floor,” Leah shrieks at you, all but ditching her own case as she tries to pull you up off the ground, “You’re literally in the middle of a field right now!” She states in disbelief.

“But I’m comfy here, and my suitcase is heavy!” You whine and still continue to plant yourself on the floor, because it’s much better than lugging a heavy suitcase across a field in your opinion.

Leah decides to be a buzz-kill about things though, “Monkey, up off the floor. Now!”

“Mean Malfoy!” You grumble in protest.

“Really? I’m being mean?” The blonde towers over you as she scoffs, “Fine, okay then, but you’re the one who’s openly lying in a field that probably has cow muck in it…”

That statement is enough to make you bolt up from the floor as you have slight flashbacks to your adventures in Scotland, “Ew, ew, ew!” You whine and screech at the horror of it.

Leah is openly laughing now and finding the whole scenario hilarious, “Yeah I thought that would get you to get up!” She exclaims, proud of herself for that.

“That’s not funny! I have trauma about Scotland!” You whine and scowl at her, meanwhile she is still laughing her head off about it, “Where’s Derek?” You wonder.

“Wha…” Leah stifles her laughter and looks at you in concern.

“The fluffy cow! You said there’s cow muck round here— that means Derek is here, somewhere!” You automatically put the two together as you now eagerly looked around the open field for your newfound fluffy best friend.

Leah eyes you in disbelief and pinches the bridge of her nose, “Oh for the love of— He’s not going to be here, in the middle of this field,” She tells you, laughing a small bit, “Monkey, come on. Seriously?” She questions.

“But you said this place was a farm— You lied to me!” You gasp in outrage, pointing your finger in her direction.

“I didn’t lie, Monkey,” The blonde tells you as she tries and fails to stifle her laugh, “Do you really expect to see a cow walking round the field, free reign?” She questions, still clearly amused by your thought process.

“His name is Derek, and yes I do,” You’re quick enough to correct her with a mock scowl, “This is outrageous, I’ve had enough! Can we go home now?” You’re all but ready to turn back round and call it quits on the whole weekend.

Although the heavy suitcase does make you think twice about that.

“The weekend hasn’t even started yet,” Leah remarks, still finding the whole thing amusing much your own misfortune about it.

You continue to pout in protest, “But there’s no Derek.”

“No, but there’s music here. That’s enough to be excited about,” Leah reminds you as she beams a wide smile, “And don’t forget you are really excited to watch Scouting for Girls and Avril Lavigne perform, do you really want to miss the chance to see them live?” She questions.

“Eh, it would be better if Derek was here,” You tell her, shrugging your shoulders before you begrudgingly continue her through the field to meet up with the rest of the people here.

“Finally, we’re here!” You breathe a sigh of relief and all but abandon your suitcase now, eventually meeting up with Leah’s cousin and their friends, who you were somewhat familiar with.

“Oh don’t be so dramatic, it wasn’t that far!” Leah rolls her eyes and sets her suitcase down before she looks to try and spot her cousin.

You scoff at her in disagreement and shake your head, “It so was, and you made me lug my suitcase over a field!” You accuse her and point your finger at her.

“It wouldn’t have been too bad if you didn’t pack too much,” Leah reminds you teasingly as she ruffles your hair, “Hiya, Hol!” She waves over to her cousin.

“Hey, you guys made it!” Leah’s cousin, Holly, grins as she walks over to her and envelopes her in a hug, “Hi, Monkey. What aren’t you happy about?” She jokes, giving you a side hug.

“Ello’,” You return the hug with the blonde, “Your cousin made me walk so far and I ain’t happy about it!” You exclaim, slightly glaring at the younger blonde between the two of them.

Usually you would be shy around certain members of Leah’s family, like her grandma, but considering you see her cousin a lot more than the others, you have come out of your shell and feel like you can be yourself around them a little more than before.

“Oh she did, huh?” Her cousin teases you.

“She’s being dramatic, she wouldn’t have been complaining so much if she didn’t overpack her suitcase in the first place either,” Leah points out, rolling her eyes in disagreement.

“I see the problem, how much did you pack?” The older blonde turns to look at you in amusement, “Don’t tell me it’s the whole kitchen sink,” She jokes at your expense.

Leah snickers slightly and grins at her cousin, “She would’ve done it if she could fit it in– I found her trying to cram everything in by sitting on top of it,” She turns to look at you and smirk teasingly, “God knows what you actually have in there.”

“Stuff that I need! Like hair straighteners, my hair dryer and hair products!” You all but insist, pouting at the blonde, who’s cracked up laughing.

“Please tell me you’re joking?” Leah questions, not trying to cover her amusement up.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “No?”

“Monkey, we’re camping! Where… Where on earth do you expect to plug in hair straighteners, or a hair dryer?” The blonde questions, still continuing to laugh aloud, “You can’t plug it in the middle of an open field.” She adds.

“Oh,” You are left dumbfounded now, “I don’t know, I thought there might be places like that!” You protest, throwing your hands up in the air.

By now both of the two blondes’ are in absolute stitches about this and finding it completely hilarious about the situation.

“Oh, Monkey,” Leah speaks through her laughter as she rubs her hand over her face and licks her bottom lip, “What’re you like, eh?”

“I guess you should’ve helped her pack after all, Le,” Holly remarks, shaking her head as she tries to control her laughter, “Oh kid, seriously?” She questions you.

“I… I didn’t think,” You admit, slumping your shoulders and feeling a bit of an idiot about this decision now.

“Well, at least you know now,” Holly jokes and ruffles your hair, using your short height to her advantage, “Shall we put the tent up now?” She wonders.

Leah nods in agreement, “That sounds like a plan– Aye, no, where’d you think you're off too?” She wonders, catching you trying to dip off in the direction when something miraculously caught your attention.

“Over there,” You point in the direction that you want to go, “I wanna check out things I see. They look so cool!”

“We need help with the tent first,” Leah reminds you as groan in annoyance about it and let them be perfectly aware of your feelings about it, “Don’t be giving me none of that, the quicker it’s done then the quicker we can go and have a look around.”

“But I just wanna explore, and this will take forever to put it up!” You whine in frustration, really not liking the whole idea of putting a tent up.

“And there’ll be plenty of time for that when we’re here the whole weekend, but first we need to put up the tent and we need you to help with that,” Leah is of course stern about things like usual and it just makes you want to bang your head up against a wall if there was one in sight, “I don’t want you to wander of either like you always do, especially not here when it’s so crowded!”

“Oh yeah, I heard all about your time in Nashville from Grandma,” Holly chimes in as she laughs in amusement, “You do have a bad habit for wandering off, don’t you, eh?” She jokes.

“No, I’m not that bad!” You can’t help but huff in protest.

“Really? I do beg to differ there, Monkey,” Leah remarks as she shakes her head in disagreement, “I was this close to putting a tracker on you there, either that or a damn leash. So I’m not having that happen here!” Now she’s the point wagging her finger in your face.

“Well at least in Nashville I was able to pet Derek!” You exclaim, thinking back to the adorable fluffy cow that you were so excited to meet, ie, your new best friend.

You wish you could have a fluffy cow as a pet. Wouldn’t that be so cool?

Leah would never go along with that idea though, so it’s probably better to think about a puppy.

“Earth to Monkey?” The said blonde is now waving her hand in front of your face as you jolt at the suddenness of it, “You zoned out a bit there, where’d you go?” She wonders, amusedly.

“I was thinking about Derek,” You confess, shoving your hands in your pocket.

“Wha… Who’s Derek?” Holly asks in confusion.

Leah chuckles and shakes her head, “I– It’s better to not ask.”

“O… Okay then,” Holly agrees with her cousin.

You huff aloud and flop down on the floor, “How long is it gonna take to put up the tent? I wanna explore, listen to music. I wanna get down with the vibe!”

You are pretty excited to watch certain artists perform. It all feels so exciting, so why do you have to wait for them to put a tent up? You could be already watching the live music, right now!

“It’ll be quicker if you help us put it up– Monkey?” Leah states as she realises that you have been side-tracked once again, “Hello, earth to Monkey?” She’s once again waving her damn hand in your face.

“Wha?” You bat it away from you and look at her confused.

“You zoned out there again,” Holly laughs and shakes her head.

“Oh,” You shrug your shoulders carelessly, “Whatcha say?” You question.

Leah exhales a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose, “I said it would be quicker if you help us with the tent, rather than just leaving the two of us to do it by ourselves.” She repeats her words.

You huff in protest and reluctantly stand back up, “I still don’t get why we couldn’t stay in a hotel though.”

“We’re getting the whole experience of camping at Glastonbury,” Leah tells you, rolling her eyes as she knew you had a certain dislike for nature, and you really liked being able to have heating and wifi access.

“I wish Buddy could’ve come here with us,” You remark, you know it would be super more fun with your favourite little buddy around, but considering her age, Leah and Jordan discussed it between them and decided it’s better for her to stay with Jordan for the weekend.

You know it would have been great fun with you both here though, for sure!

“Oh yeah, and have the pair of you running around wild? No thanks,” Leah remarks in disagreement as she shakes her head, “It’s bad enough to have to deal with you alone.”

“Wha… What’s the supposed to mean?” Your eyes widen in disbelief, questioning the fact she had the actual audacity to say that right now, “I’m offended! I’m an absolute joy to be around!”

“You know exactly what I mean there– Are you going to help us put up the tent, or leave us to do it by ourselves?” Leah shouts at you to get your attention, considering the fact that you still haven’t helped them yet one bit.

“I’m bored,” You complain, not enjoying having to sit around and wait for the two older women to finish putting up the tent that you had given up on in a matter of minutes.

Well you didn’t go up so to speak, more like Leah accused you of doing it wrong and not even trying to help, before she got annoyed at you and told you to just sit down and not wander off, which you felt a bit offended about at first but then realised it is true.

You do have a terrible habit of just wandering off sometimes.

"Quicker we put the tent up, the quicker we can go listen to the music,” Leah tells you as she notes your general frustration to be anywhere other than where you are currently sitting on the floor while scrolling through Instagram, “What time is Grace on stage?” She questions her cousin.

“Her set starts at 3 o’clock,” Holly tells her, working to help put the tent up which is more than you did so you can’t really say a lot, “It’s the lonely hearts club stage.”

You peer up from your phone to look at them confused, “Wait, Grace is performing… Here? Wow. I had no idea!”

"I literally told you this the other day!" Leah exclaims, looking at you in disbelief.

You continue to look at the blonde confused, "You did?"

"Yes. Glad to see you were paying attention," Leah huffs and shakes her head.

"I must've switched off..." You admit as you shrug your shoulders, you always do have a terrible habit of doing that as well and well, whenever she is usually saying something most of the time it is negative that lands you in trouble.

The blonde clicks her tongue in disapproval, "Yeah, no kidding there, Monkey."

"Usually when you tell me things it's because you're telling me off for doing something I shouldn't be, so sue me for not listen' to you!" You comment, not even trying to hide the cheeky grin of your face as you definitely know you hit a nerve there.

"Unbelievable!" Leah murmurs and shakes her head.

"So, Grace is performing? Yay. That's great. Go, Grace!" You exclaim, clapping your hands in excitement for her as you slowly try to change the subject, although the blonde glaring at you might say differently, “Are you any closer to putting the tent up now?” You question, getting even more border the extra seconds you have to wait.

“A bit longer– Don’t think I will be so quick to forget about what you said then,” Leah warns you as she shakes her head and continues to put the tent up.

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it,” You remark as you can't help but smirk in amusement, you have to admit it is funny to see the blonde look so annoyed sometimes.

“Careful there, Monkey,” Holly looks between you and her cousin in caution, “Right, we’re just about done with the tent. Let’s go and check out the music now before you say something to end up making things worse, eh?” She jokes.

“Finally! I didn’t even say anything that bad!” You’re quick to insist and shrug your shoulders as you jump up from your spot on the floor, already attempting to head off in a direction even though you have no idea exactly where you are going right now.

“Are you going to put your suitcase inside the tent, or leave it out for people to take?” Leah points out, gesturing to the abandoned luggage on the floor, “No? Guess I’ll do it then– Jesus Christ, Monkey. What the actual hell did you put in here? This weighs a ton!”

“Stuff that I needed, duh. I couldn’t decide what to pack!” You told her, getting further impatient to get to the music so once the tent was zipped up with everything inside, you were keen to drag them towards where you could hear the music, “Do you hear that?” You ask them.

“No,” Holly furrows her eyebrows.

Leah looks at you in concern, “Hear what?”

“The sound of music!” You exclaim, sticking a finger up in the air as you gesture to it, “That means we’re getting closer. Come on!”

“I… I don’t hear anything,” Holly states, confused.

“Then you’re deaf,” You tell her cheekily as you try to run ahead, “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Monkey, that was rude– Don’t wander off!” Leah is quick to try and catch up with you, taking a grip of your bicep, “I told you it’s going to be crowded and I don’t want to lose you here!”

“We made it!” You cheer aloud in joy after the walk down from where the campsite is.

“We did,” Leah replies in agreement as takes a quick video on her phone, no doubt for her Instagram post dump at the end of it all.

You can’t help but jump in it and stick your tongue out while waving your hands around, “Wassup!”

“I swear you are not normal sometimes, kid,” Holly jokes and shakes her head.

Leah laughs and slides her phone in her pocket, “You’ve only just realised?”

“Hey! I take offence to that!” You scowl at the blonde before you take in the surroundings around you, “Whoa, this place is massive and there’s so many people!” You exclaim in awe.

“There is, so do you see why now I didn’t want you to run off?” Leah remarks, gesturing around to the people around you and you have to admit it is a really big crowd, “I wouldn’t have a chance of finding you at all.”

“But we’d have so much fun playing Marco Polo!” You peer up at the blonde and grin.

“Definitely not, no,” Leah is quick to shake her head in disagreement.

Boo! What an absolute buzz-kill.

Leah’s cousin checks the time on her phone before she puts it back in her pocket, “Grace’s set will be starting soon, we should go and find somewhere to stand,” She states.

“Plenty of space in an open field,” You can’t help but joke with them.

“Hilarious, you should be a comedian, kid,” Holly chuckles in amusement.

“Well, that’s the plan if the football career doesn’t work out,” You grin proudly and shove your hands in your pockets, “I’m hungry!” You complain aloud.

“They have a lot of stuff, we have time to go and grab something first before it starts,” Holly motions to the food vans that you just so happen to be walking past as your eyes lit up at the thought of it all.

You know exactly what you want to eat.

“Yeah, food!” You state as you glance around to figure out if they have what you want, “Ooh, I want to get churros if they have any here!” You declare.

“Oh, no way. We’re not having a repeat of last time,” Leah is very much against the idea as she is reminded of the last time you had churros, “You actually want to make it through all the music acts tonight, don’t you?”

“One won’t hurt!” You whine and huff in protest, while Leah is shaking her head, “Fine, can I get a hot dog then?” You ask, considering that she currently has your bank card in her clutches still.

“That’s a better option,” The blonde agrees, ordering you a hot dog before she pays for it and you’re handed it by the staff member in the stall, “Right, lets’ go and watch the set before we miss it.”

The three of you walk onto the open field in front of the stage where their friend, Grace is set to perform and you have to admit that you are excited to be able to listen to some of her songs, considering you are pretty familiar with a few of them.

“Wow, Grace is awesome!” You exclaim in amazement as you stand there and watch her perform on the stage with her two backing singers, one of them being another one of Leah’s friends you are familiar with, “She’s so good– Wo, go Grace! Slay girl!”

“Grace has her own fangirl,” Holly can’t help but joke in amusement.

“She’s awesome!” You continue to insist, “Her vocals are on point, they’re sick!”

“Sick?” Leah’s cousin continues to mock you before she looks at the former blonde, “Make sure you get this on video for evidence!” She jokes.

Leah chuckles and there indeed she does have her phone out recording you, “I’m already on it.”

Taking the opportunity, you can’t help scowl at them both, “I don’t even care that I am fangirling though! She’s really good!” With that, you still continue to bop your head along to the music and have a grand ol’ time.

Before you knew it, her set was up and according to the schedule you briefly had memory off, the plan was to next watch the Sugarbabes.

Which don’t get you wrong, you are looking forward to seeing them, but you aren’t totally excited about it.

Not like Scouting for Girls.

You are so pumped for that!

“You seriously expect me to get from one stage to another in the space of fifty-ish minutes?” You look at Leah completely gone out, it’s a large field and you have short legs, “That is so long to walk!”

“Yes, come on. We have plenty of time to make it,” Leah states determinedly although this time she is the one trying to pull you in the direction of the stage now, having had a couple of drinks already and you have to say you do sometimes prefer the drunken version of her.

“I don’t feel like running today though, Le!” You continue to complain.

“Oh, you don’t?” Leah chuckles and looks at you amusedly before she leans down so you can have an easy way to jump on her back, “Hop on then.”

Grinning and knowing you got your way, you took a short jump to grip onto the blonde, “Giddy up, horsey!” You joke, patting her shoulder playfully.

“I’ll give you giddy up horsey, you little menace,” Leah shouts loudly as she still gives you a piggy back over to the stage where the Sugarbabes were soon going to perform.

“Yeehaw!” You continue to shout aloud, getting a few strange looks from people walking past you, “We’re here!” You exclaim when you arrive at the stage and you are ever so kindly almost dropped on the floor by none other than Malfoy if it wasn’t for her friends catching you.

How many drinks has she had? Maybe you’ll spare another piggy back from her for a while, cos’ you don’t fancy almost being dropped again.

You do have to admit you get a bit bored waiting around for them to come on stage and you could easily take the opportunity to walk around and listen to other artists, but there are a lot more people here and it feels overwhelming.

You don’t really fancy getting lost in a crowd this big.

“How much longer?” You wonder, trying to figure out how much longer you needed to wait around for them.

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” One of Leah’s friends chimes in from where you stood in the small group of people.

You exhale a sigh in frustration, “It feels like we’ve been waiting for ages!”

“You’re always so impatient,” The blonde jokes, gently patting you on your cheek as she smiles at you.

Maybe you’d be the one carrying her back to the tent tonight if she carries on drinking the way she is going, no thank you.

Finally, the moment came where the Sugarbabes came out onto the stage and there’s a loud volume of noise from the crowd.

Being very much a part of that crowd, you do enjoy bouncing along to the music.

“Can we bring yesterday back around? Cos’ I know how I feel about you now!” You sang aloud, jumping up and down in the spot where you stood amongst Leah, her cousin and their friends.

“And you said you wouldn’t run to make it,” Leah teases, ruffling your hair before she gets hoisted up into the air and ends up on her friends shoulders and she was definitely having the time of her life.

Somehow you definitely think she’s going to continue to drink and enjoy herself more as the night goes on.

That isn’t necessarily such a bad thing though.

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