#I was wrong the rock sound is 2005 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nuhuhwinniethepooh · 29 days

Text

Anything?

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Tags : Dubcon, oral (female giving), penetration, smut with plot, man-handling, death, heavy angst, mild gore, unprotected sex (use protection!).

Notes : Gojo is the victim here. Also if you know, you know. Minors, the drill. Out.

"And they have to do one thing, anything, that the winner says."

You turn back with a small hum of acknowledgement, the lilt of his voice calling your name distracting you from the mangled curse corpse in front of you.

"Satoru, you're here early today" you beam at the white-haired man in front of you as you messily wipe the blue blood on your jacket, his large figure seemingly blocking the doorway. Oh well, you weren't needed anywhere at the moment anyways.

He stares at you quietly, you stare back. You don't need to see his eyes to know. His gaze is hard to ignore when you can clearly feel yourself be picked apart and put together again like pieces of a puzzle, trying to decode you, your mind and soul with his six-eyes. You won't let him. Not this time.

"Ever the difficult one, I'd have enjoyed this rare tryst otherwise" you sigh at his silence, your smile never faltering. Gently flopping down on the dusty, rickety bed behind you with your legs crossed- a sight to behold with the splattered corpse decorating the headboard and walls.

"You're as annoying as ever" His voice is cold, despite the smile on his lip, his gaze even colder when he pulls the bandage off his eyes and positions himself to blow you off- his cerulean blues staring right into yours like you guessed. You grin, you can't help it, lazily positioning yourself in a defensive position.

Your eyes distractedly flickers back at the muted sound of blood dripping down from the curse's body, a 1st grade incubus. How ideal. "Any last words?" Satoru. Sweet as ever. He owes you though.

"Can I kiss you?" You lick the speckles of blood from your hand, drifting the other one down right above your womb "I'm rather aroused right now, aphrodisiacal effects and what not" You move towards him, showcasing the mutilated corpse on the wall. An incubus. Aphrodisiac blood. Satoru sighs, his hands moving to his pockets "Seriously? You could've said anything and that's what you're going with? Are you sure you want those to be your last words?"

It's funny he said that, you have no intention to make this your last moment.

"Speaking of anything, I believe there's something we've forgotten" You murmur, fingers trailing up his torso and his neck to pull him down.

"Satoru, I wonder if you remember"

2005

"Rock, paper, Scissors! Winner gets the tart!" You pull at Satoru's hair to stop him from eating the oh so delicious lemon tart that Shoko purchased for her adoring kohai, you. Only problem was that Satoru came in at the wrong moment. He grunts, setting the plate down to loosen your hold and tackle you in the common room floor "You've had three already! Don't be so selfish, will ya?!"

"Don't care! It's mine, you should be glad that I'm even willing to compromise with you" you huff, looking up at him from your position on the floor as he glares down at you, his legs straddling your waist. He narrows his eyes, you narrow yours right back and with a sigh, he puts his glasses back on with a quiet 'fine'.

1 : 0 Satoru wins.

Damn that technique of his, you grumble as you watch him eat the tart with a smug smirk.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors. Loser treats the Winner to dinner." You challenge Satoru, holding onto your wounded arm as you make your way to the infirmary with the pair. Suguru sighs, Satoru smiles. A cheshire-like grin quickly gracing his face "Does the loser pay for the winner's friends too?"

You shrug in agreement, that only meant free dinner for Suguru, Shoko and you. Haibara and Nanami were out of town.

A shame. It would've been easier to burn through Satoru's pocket if they weren't.

4 : 0 Satoru wins and you don't learn a lesson.

You also burn a hole through your wallet, Suguru and Shoko's bill were fine. Satoru ate a horse.

You look left at the sound of your name, finger pointing to the right, Satoru looks left. He points up, your gaze follows his fingers and stupidly looks up. Nanami and Shoko only sighs at the sight, uncaring of the outcome. Too tired to chide you anymore, you just don't listen.

30 : 0 Satoru wins

You're forced to massage his stiff shoulders for an hour while he watches his soap operas with a victorious hum.

2007

"Come in" you call out at the sound of the knock, kicking your feet in the air and against the wall as you lie on your back. Hair falling off the edge of the bed into small cascades.

Satoru walks in, drawling out your name as he settles down on the floor and starts fiddling with your hair. He's different, you've seen that curious glint in his eyes one too many times to not notice. It never led to anything good. Never. "What is it?" You sigh, it's the only thing you can do.

"What do you do at times like this?"

You pause, tilting your head back to look at him and his cryptic question with a quirked brow "Times like what?" You ask, your fingers twitching at the sight of the small blush rising in his cheeks. A little pinch wouldn't hurt, right?

"Times like when you've got a boner...y'know"

You still, completely and perfectly as you stare at him. You're not sure if you're dreaming or hallucinating because this could never be reality, the nonchalant look on his face further irks you. You don't understand him, you knew him but you never really did understand him- mostly because of questions like such. You don't have a dick, never did....or do you? Your hand drifts up to your cunt and cups it, brows furrowing at the realization- you were so utterly baffled at his question that you doubted the very equipment you've had for years.

"Why are you asking me this? Nanami, Haibara and Suguru exists-" you start, moving to get up. Satoru doesn't allow it. Gently tugging you back down by your hair with a click of his tongue "They all kicked me out"

No surprise there.

"Seriously though, why me? Ask Shoko. She's the expert in thi-" he pinches your cheeks, effectively cutting you off "Just answer me, will ya? Help a friend out here, geez." You pry his hands off, pulling it away from your face with a sigh as you answer reluctantly "I guess I'd take care of it"

"Do ya wanna help me?" You let go of his hands and finally shift to sit up. You're dreaming. No doubt.

"What?"

"Isn't it normal for friends to...y'know, help each other out? So let's do it together" He leans forward and looks up at you expectantly. Any other time, the sight would've rubbed your ego. Hell, you'd have found it cute. However this time, the air starts to buzz, small sparks of electricity running down your skin. At least he doesn't look immune to the tension either, a small mercy.

"You mean like mutual masturbation?" You ask, Satoru nods quietly. You're not sure which is more surprising. Him being straight, you always thought he had a thing for Suguru, or him being interested in sex in the first place.

"Left and right, winner gets the say?" he offers, breaking the silence and holding his index up. You sigh, again, nodding with a smile "Left and right, winner gets the say." You point to the left, your gaze falling towards your right at the sound of your pillow falling. Satoru looks right.

43 : 0 Satoru wins

"Wanna make one more bet?" Satoru asks coolly, pumping his pre-cum on his hard cock while you shimmy your shorts down. You nod quietly, trying your hardest not to look at it or at least stop yourself from staring. You knew he was big, all the time he spent straddling you gave you enough reasons to not doubt it. Add his height in the equation and it results to something you're not sure you'd ever want inside you.

He's oblivious to your dilemma as you settle down on the bed with only a shirt and your cotton panties on- facing him, of course.

"How about the first one to cum loses? And they have to do one thing, anything, that the winner says."

Anything?

"Satoru, you do know that 'anything' is a ruinous- hah- word, right? You should really stop using that word for bets in the future" You breathe out, rubbing up and down your slit through the thin material. Satoru's gaze zeroes down with a smirk "So are you in or not, your highness? Unless you're too afraid to lose." You know you shouldn't fall for his words, you shouldn't fall for that husky voice of his that only gathers heat low in your stomach but the hazy mist enveloping your mind accepts it before you know it.

Small whimpers leak out of you, pushing the soaked material aside and rubbing gentle circles on your clit as you look at Satoru through hazy eyes. The clumsy technique of his when he touches himself, a contradiction to his skills in other areas. His snow-white hair sticking to his forehead and the way he closes his eyes when he gets really into it, the small grunts and pants escaping his lips. You can't help it, he's so beautiful. Leaning forward, your forehead taps against his with closed eyes as you push a finger past your folds-

Warm, something warm gushes on your hand. Eyes snapping open only to see a blushing Satoru cumming on your hand, your thighs, your arms- basically everywhere. He came. On you.

"Yessssssss" You hiss in delight, your rising orgasm in the back of your mind when you finally get your first victory, pumping your hands in the air excitedly; a low muffled groan emanating from in between Satoru's hand. The complete opposite of you.

Satoru's not sure why he's burying his face, was it from his loss of win streak? His defeat? Embarrassment? Or post nut clarity? Satoru's really not sure but what he is sure is the fact that he just can't look you in the eye right now.

"We barely started and you already came so quick!" You giggle delightedly, your dripping core completely forgotten as you revel in your victory. He peeks at you, your forehead to be precise, from in between his fingers with a pout "I couldn't help it, I thought you were gonna kiss me"

Kiss him? You? He thought you were gonna kiss him? Now that he mentioned it, his lips did look really kissable- "Did you want me to?" You ask. He blinks weirdly, one eye lagging behind the other like a broken doll before his face scrunches.

First was digust? You're not sure, the glint in his eyes says otherwi- Then came more disgust, his nose scrunching at the thought of it "Ew, why would I do that with a friend? That's just weird. No way, that's just gross"

"But what we did wasn't???" You question yourself, pursing your lips to shut yourself up as you move to clean up. You don't think you'll ever fully understand Satoru.

1 : 43 You win

"Satoru, go back to your own bed" you groan, your back pressed against his as he pushes you closer to the wall with a small grumbled 'don't wanna'.

"It's fuckin' cramped here" You shift, pulling the blanket towards your side. Rolling your eyes when he tugs it back with a quiet "Don't care, 'm sleepy." Maybe it was your fault, you spoil him too much. You reap what you sow afterall.

Only if you had stolen a kiss from those lips and stayed in the blissful ignorance of the past.

"Suguru, wait up. 'M coming with you" You grab hold of his sleeve, your lips pursed into a grim line. You've never seen Suguru so liberated. You can only hope that you're making the right choice- you probably are though. Afterall, it was them that killed her. Not Suguru.

You don't believe in any higher beings. You are the living definition of one- one with filthy blood.

"Does Shoko know?" His tone is light but your grimace only deepens, sighing as you move to stand besides him "She'll understand"

He smiles at your answer, leisurely walking at your pace "What about Satoru?"

You hum a soft tune as you look up at the clear sky, cerulean blue with scattered tufts of white clouds. A small smile graces your lips. How untimingly beautiful.

"Him? He'll survive"

2017

You lean up, pressing your lips against his gently. A feather-light touch. He doesn't move, he only looks. His arctic eyes glaring down at you.

"Satoru, do you remember? You promised to do anything" you whisper in his ear, brushing your thumb against his lips before slowly wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'll use that promise now, have sex with me"

"Are you high right now, your highness?"

You giggle at the nickname, how amusing that he's still using it, trailing your hand down his spine. "You know my technique, Satoru. Royal Authority takes a toll on me if I use it for too long" you sigh, nuzzling his neck. Breathing in his oddly familiar scent. "I'm all weak right now, the aphrodisiac should be three times more potent when I'm like this. You know that as well as I do "

You pull away when you're met with silence and his unchanging face, lowering your voice to a soft coo "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, Satoru. Just don't come blaming me when some of those monkeys, like Suguru so kindly puts it, gets hurt when I try to help myself."

"You-"

You click your tongue, cutting him off. "You're a fool, Satoru. If you really want to save them so much you should be killin' me, not listening to my ramblings" He's glaring down at you, you know he is. The feeling of a hole burning through your head was more than enough of a warning for you to stop, to pull your hand back and run away, leaving him behind. Like always. You don't. Not this time.

Trailing your hand down, you giggle when your hand flutters against his cock clearly straining against his leggings "Consider me entertained, you're already hard. And here I thought you hated me, I guess you still have that cute side of you-"

You're cut short when Satoru grabs you by your hair, apparently a habit of his now, roughly tugging it back and crashing his lips against yours wantonly- bordering on desperation with more teeth and tongue than lips. His other hand trails down the arm that was pressed against his crotch, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours. Pulling you closer, closer and closer still until you taste blood on your lips. He bit you. Canines pressing down on your tongue to draw droplets of blood- the bloody red decorates itself against his kiss-bitten lips, a stark contrast against his cerulean eyes.

How unfairly beautiful.

You pull away to speak. To tell him 'let's take this business to bed', he doesn't give you a chance. He follows your lips, chasing after it. The more you lean back, the more he leans in- your heaving chest completely pressed against his as he tangles his hand in your hair, supporting you up when you lean too far back. He's too rough, you're not sure if he's trying to suck or nip at you. He does neither, he just bites- not hard enough to bleed but just enough to feel.

"Bed" you finally breathe out, taking in deep breathes when he moves to kiss your jaw. He's so cute when he acts like he can't part his searing lips away from you for even a second. He won't have to, there's a perfectly working bed behind you, albeit a little dusty, rickety and slightly bloody- he clicks his tongue when he catches sight of the bed's condition.

"I'm not getting naked here, I have standards"

"Ijichi? He's your assistant now, isn't he?" You hum, leaning back into the motel's bed- watching Satoru watch you as he walks in and shut the door behind him. Effectively clicking it shut. You feel so much better, having scrubbed the grime off-

"I sent him back" he nods blankly, standing right in front of you. For all the air he puts on, his cock sure was honest- already so hard that it bulges out through the thick layer of his leggings and jacket. You press your face against it, squishing it beneath your cheek as you take in his heady scent. Fingers hooking against the hem of his leggings, you pull it down, down, down to his ankles.

You quickly move to do the same with his boxers but his hands quickly grabs your wrists to a halt, earning him a frustrated huff. "What is it now?" You ask with an exasperated smile.

"Are you serious about this?"

This man was gonna be the death of you. He doesn't have a choice and yet, he still acts like he does. Typical Satoru.

Your smile turns into a smirk, a teasing one "Don't tell me you've never slept with a person before? Because I am, I am serious" Prying your hands off his hold, you pull his boxers down to meet his fully erect cock. His tip an angry red and leaking- so hard and red against his soft, white tufts of hair lining up his pelvic bone. "Totally serious"

It's unfair to be so beautiful.

"Shall we start with a blow job?" You murmur, placing a small kiss on his tip, smile widening when you feel him shudder against your touch with a muffled groan. "You don't look like a virgin" you murmur, flicking your tongue against his slit- precum salty in your mouth "but you sure act like one"

Licking your lips, you part your mouth wider, lips stretching around his length almost painfully while your tongue glides itself against his throbbing veins and pulls out such pretty, little sounds from him that it makes you wanna play it on repeat over and over again. But it's not enough. Not for you.

Holding yourself steady, you push his cock all the way down your throat. Forcing him in impossibly closer until his white tufts tickles your nose, your hands digging into his thighs as you start a sinful, torturous pace. Gagging and choking around his length when you fall into an unstopping rhythm that has him pulling at your hair and groaning your name out to stop. You don't listen.

The past silence all but forgotten by your loud, pathetic slurps and his low, guttural moans of 'wait' and 'stop'. You don't stop, more like you can't stop.

Satoru's protest was as false as his hatred for you, you're not the moving anymore afterall. His hold on your hair pulls you in and out, each one deeper and harder, thrusting into your throat so wildly that all you can do is dig your hands into his alabaster skin.

No doubt creating pretty little moon-shaped dents that'll last for days in the back of his thighs.

Tears pool in your eyes as you look up at him, face all scrunched up with closed eyes and you realize that he's getting really into it. A wet, gurgling sound emanates from deep within you when you see the veins tick in his jaw. He's close. Cerulean blues stares into yours, his free hand brushing against your cheek to wipe at the few tears that escaped.

"Don't go crying on me now- hah- you're the one who wanted this"

He's so mean. And so very condescending. It's all too much- you can't help but clench your thighs together, slick leaking through the flimsy motel robe and wetting the sheets beneath you. You've fallen too far but you just can't seem to care. He looks so fuckin' hot.

And he is fuckin' hot- more like his cum is when he shoots it down your pretty little throat and ruts against it, holding your head in place to stop you from spitting it out. Grabbing hold of his shirt, you swallow desperately so that you can finally pull away and heave for air, the salty taste of his cum resting thick in your mouth as you pant, knuckles going white from how hard you clutch onto his shirt.

Satoru loosens his hold on your hair, kneeling down to look at you. He's no longer glaring, he's just looking. Something unfamiliar swirls in his eyes besides lust, you can't put your finger on what it is. And that pisses you off. You'd rather have him glare at you. It's easier for you to decode him that way. It's also far easier for your throbbing heart.

"We can stop here" His voice is soft, almost loving. It makes you want to rip your ears off.

"No, I want you in me. Can you do it?" You're adamant, Satoru can only give in. His hands trails down to undo the bindings of your robe, pressing a light kiss on your collarbone. "Trust me"

"The bet was to do anything, right?" He murmurs in your ear, his breathe hot and heavy against your skin. You're a mess- all but reduced to a pile of whines and whimpers when he pushes his leaking tip past your fluttering folds and splits your drooling walls apart. Forcing himself past the first rim of muscles and stretching you so wide, it almost feels like you'll tear.

"Wanna make another bet?" He grunts, giving shallow, experimental thrusts to give your gummy walls the time to adjust to his size. He's nice that way.

"Seriously? Right now?" You breathe out in short puffs, tilting your head to the side to look at him unamusedly, trying so desperately to get used to the delicious albeit painful stretch. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his only reply? A nod.

"The first one to cum loses. And the loser has to do one thing, nothing serious of course" He looks at you with a grin, the corner of his lips stretched knowingly at you. He still remembers, you smile back. It's the only thing you can do "Deal"

"Perfect" Dragging his swollen cock out just enough, he kisses your forehead. A soft-featherlight kiss, one that you barely register. Before he's ramming back in and out, over and over against your sweet, sweet spot with a pace so brutal that you're sure he's rearranging your insides- It'll probably be bruised by the end of it.

"For someone- ah who a-acts like a virgin, you sure know y-your way around"

He chuckles shakily above you, pace refusing to stutter for even a moment "Six eyes, remember?" Damn that technique of his.

"T-that's unfair" you grit out and he only smiles, it's a mean one. One that gets your drooling cunt even wetter and your already snug walls even tighter.

"Everything's -nghh fair in love and war, y-your highness. And I for one, am in lo-" you slap your hand over his mouth with a small no, your spotty vision not doing anything to help block his burning gaze. Everything else goes blank after.

You're digging your fingers into his cheeks with your eyes screwed shut when an unfamiliar white-hot sensation of electricity shoots through you. Kissing and marking every inch of skin with its delicious burn. Making sure to milk his very soul out of him- he follows right behind, shooting that forbidden ropes of his cum in your womb.

Almost as if trying to paint over your bruised insides with it's milky tone.

143 : 1 Satoru wins

You're heaving, gasping and sucking in lungs full of air one at a time but you still can't breathe. It's suffocating. So very suffocating.

You look down at Satoru only to find his hair staring back at you, only registering the kitten licks he's placing over your perked up nipples when he places an unusually harsh bite on one side and a mean tug on the other which elicites a high pitched squeak out of you. You clamp down on his still hard coc-

"Didn't you already come twice? H-how are you still hard, so quickly that too" You question, grinding against him in disbelief- that action earns you a teethy bite on the curve of your breast, leaving pretty, little red teeth dents.

"The thing is, until today, I wasn't able to get it up properly for the past few years" Satoru leans up, suckling on your kiss-bitten bottom lip. His eyes everything but the usual cesspool of infinite void when he meets your gaze- something dark and warm has taken it's place, filling the infinite void till it reaches the brim and spills out.

"And it's all thanks to a certain highness who ran away from her knight in shining armor."

How absurd. He's finally gone crazy. "You're joking" you breathe out, leaning your head back to tug your lips free. That pisses him off.

"Joking?" He clicks his tongue, his tone low and gravelly, and swipes his finger over your lips to force it's way past and pry your lips open.

You move to bite down but he's quicker. Crashing his lips against yours to swallow you whole, licking and searching for the small dents of his canines on your tongue with a groan as if looking out for remnants of your blood.

He doesn't find any, he curses your RCT. Wait, RCT? Oh you little liar.

Your heaving chest presses against his, effectively distracting him from his thoughts, back arching off the bed with a loud whine when he bucks into you with a painfully sweet thrust.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to show you what a few years of build-up looks like to make you believe me"

It's been hours, your insides have been molded perfectly to his size but he still hasn't stopped, he's relentless.

"I-I would've followed you-nngh anywhere if you only asked me to" He groans, your name falling past his lips like a mantra, harshly bucking his overstimulated cock into your sloppy cunt with every word he utters. His grip on your thighs so bruising that it leaves angry purple and red splotches against it.

"W-what?" You stutter out, barely lucid, sucking his every inch in over and over again with a sinful squelch.

"W-would've followed-hah you anywhere if you j-just asked" he repeats, rolling the pad of his thumb against your abused clit with sharp, calculated moves. Almost as if trying to rip and tear through you to squeeze out another orgasm.

You squeal under his touch, thighs hooking around his sculpted waist to pull him closer still- the very same thighs which now trembles and shakes at the force of your orgasm, giving him exactly what he wants for the umpteenth time with a loud and stuttered babble of incoherent words as you gush around him.

Satoru follows behind, like he always does, his spilled seeds leaking out of the side and dripping over the damp mattress. You try to blink the hazy mist of your high off when something warm drips on your cheek with a small plik. Once Twice Thric-

Looking up only to find Satoru's watery blues brimmed with tears which steadily falls down to your cheek and slides down to the pillow underneath. "I s-swear I would've, if you only asked me to"

And you know he means it, you know he would've done so without any hesitation. His bags would've been packed before you were done asking and that's exactly why you didn't do so. You don't deserve him.

Satoru deserves so much better, he doesn't deserve you. Not when you have filthy blood running in your veins. All you can do is steel your heart for him.

"Get off" Your tone is cold, the first you've ever used towards him in a long, long time. The hurt flashing across his flushed face prickles your skin, it burns and squeezes your heart so tight that it knocks the wind out of you. "It's for the best."

His face is blank again, the warm blues in his eyes flickers and turns cold. The last of his tears dripping on your cheek feels icicle, sliding down and leaving a trail of ice as he moves off of you. Pulling out with a lewd slosh and pop, thick globs of cum spilling out onto the already damp mattress.

You quickly move to sit up despite the uncomfortable throb, everything hurts, but Satoru is quicker, he doesn't allow you to do so. Grabbing you by the waist, he pulls you back to bury his face in your hair.

"Wait, no no no- Stay. Please. I'm sorry" His tone is urgent, leaning to borderline deperate. You try to pry his hands off, he doesn't relent. He has an iron-grip on you.

"I won't ask you to take me back" he starts, voice muffled by your skin as he presses his lips against the back of your neck wantonly "I won't ask you to come back"

"I won't ask anything serious off of you, I swear. I just want you to stay" he murmurs, pulling you so close that his chest presses against your back. "I can't, Suguru needs me"

She gave her life to save yours so you'll give yours to protect his. Protect Suguru for her, it's the least you can do fo-

"And you think I don't?" Satoru chokes out, tangling his legs with yours. Holding you still, keeping you there. He doesn't plan on letting you go anytime soon. "Why is it always him? I needed you too, I always did. Hell I still do"

"Satoru-" he cuts you off, letting go of you to quickly shift and make you face him before you even realize it. Snaking an arm around yours to pull you flush against him, burying his face in the curve of your breasts. "What about me?"

"What about you?" You whisper, cupping his cheek, gently making him look up. He's tearing up again, you made him cry again. You don't know how you'll ever forgive yourself. But you can't go soft on him, not now.

"You'll survive" you brush his tears off "you always do"

"I won so you have to stay...even if only for tonight" he whispers defeatedly, leaning up to kiss you- he can't change your mind anymore, no one can. It's far too late.

It's your fault, you've spoiled him too much. You reap what you sow.

"Fine" you murmur in his salty lips, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

You'll indulge him one last time. Even if it's only for tonight.

December 24

"Can't a woman have any privacy around here?" You rasp out, a smile flickering at your face at the sight of Satoru kneeling besides you. Quiet. And all too solemn. It doesn't suit him.

"You're bleeding" He's a genius, isn't he? Always pointing out the obvious. You look down at the open gash in your chest, barely surviving, barely breathing as you use Royal Authority to it's full extent to forcefully keep your heart pumping. Your energy diminishing rapidly, curse your technique for using so much of it.

"Suguru?" You ask, head falling back against the wall when he shakes his head. Gone. Suguru's gone. You will be too, soon enough. "Stay with him, he gets lonely easily" you murmur, breathing in shakily. He tucks your hair behind your ear gently, a small smile on his lips "He'll understand"

Your heart throbs painfully, the crushing pain moving on to every single part of your body at the sight of his smile. How painfully beautiful. Your mortal wounds could never hold a candle against this pain.

"It's funny how you're still so beautiful even when you're on the verge of dying"

Warmth blooms in your slowly freezing body, a genuine smile fluttering against your lips at his praise. Like the smiles you graced him with in the past. The painfully beautiful smile that grabs hold of his heart and doesn't let go, it never did let go. Even after everything you've done.

"Truly beautiful" He whispers, his voice hoarse and thick, grazing your cheek. "Satoru. Go" You whisper back, leaning into his touch. "Suguru needs you more than I do, I'm better off alone"

He opens his mouth to protest. "Left and right, winner gets the say" You hold your index, cutting him right off. "Loser has to do one thing, anything, that the winner says"

He smiles. A bitter one, his furrowed brows gives him away. "I thought you told me to stop using that word for future bets"

"Consider this an exception" you smile back sweetly "Satoru, live the life you want to live okay?"

"As long as I survive, right?" You answer with a nod.

"Don't worry. If it's for you, I'll do it. I'll survive." He sighs, holding his finger up and pointing to the right, you look down. You point to the direction he came from, the direction Suguru is in, the direction that your gaze falls at. Satoru looks left.

"Leave"

2 : 143 You win

"I'll be right back" Satoru whispers thickly, gently closing your lifeless eyes shut. "So stay right where you are this time, your highness"

__________________________________________________

It's always the midnight inspo, I swear. Lost braincells trying to write the smut scenes.

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laenordeservedbetter · 2 years

Text

the demon i cling to

Words: 8.1k

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You couldn’t escape madness no matter how hard you try, but maybe there’s a way where you don’t have to lose your mind alone.

Warnings: (18+) violence, murder, blood, gore, mentions of substance abuse, cussing (+ reader is morally grey!! she's complicated and unhinged.) lmk if I missed any.

A/N: I finally wrote something after three months and it's 8k words of word vomit, making this my longest fic ever. Again, it's been three months of not writing, so please be nice.

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

[September 2005]

There can only be a certain amount of restraint one can have before they snap.

You discovered that at a young age. You can’t put the entirety of the blame on growing up in Woodsboro, but it is most likely one of several reasons. The murders have been looming over the town since you’ve been born. Woodsboro, the city where Billy Loomis and Stu Macher went bonkers (that’s a kinder way to put it). Even though there hasn’t been another set of killings since that year in this town, there’s still a good amount of trepidation whenever it gets brought up.

According to your parents, Billy and Stu were like all the other normal kids.

Until they weren’t.

“It’s not something you should worry about, Y/n.” Your mother told you during the thousandth time you brought it up. When you try to say something in protest, she’d shut you down. You were a weird kid, your teachers say so. Attentive, sure, but maybe a little too much.

It wasn’t until the Jenny Willoughby incident that your parents started to suspect that everyone was right about you.

You were in a playground with the kids from your class as an activity to get to know each other. It was pointless, you thought. Everyone already knew each other from the previous years. There are already friend groups and bestfriends. And why did you have to be outside anyway? The classroom has enough space.

You kicked the rocks in front of you to see how far they can go, quite enjoying yourself before one of the rocks hit Jenny’s scrawny leg.

“Ow! Mrs. Bishop, she hit me! Y/n hit me!” She wailed, clutching her foot. Jenny looked like a kangaroo hopping around with one leg while the other was injured. You found it quite funny and laughed without a care in the world, which your teacher didn’t appreciate.

Mrs. Bishop looked at you through her glasses, “Why did you do that, Y/n?” She asked, frowning.

You liked Mrs. Bishop. She was nice. She always gave you extra time to nap and she was patient with you unlike the other teachers. So, seeing her look disappointed made you feel ashamed of yourself. You had let her down. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bishop.” You mumbled.

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.” Mrs. Bishop told you, nodding her head in Jenny’s direction.

“I know.” You pursed your lips, taking the courage to walk up to Jenny and apologize. Bowing your head, you say, “I’m sorry for hurting you, Jenny. I swear I didn’t mean to. I didn’t see you, so I-”

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Suddenly, she sounded cheerful.

What?

You never understood how people can go from sad to happy in a matter of seconds. Analyzing Jenny’s face, you saw that her smile didn’t reach her ears. She is giving you the same smile she gave Samantha Carpenter when the girl accidentally took her bag that had the same color as hers. That smile sets an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something is wrong, you know it, but you say nothing else except “Thank you. Again, I’m really sorry.”

And there was that.

You went back to your original position. Instead of kicking the rocks, you opted for counting the flowers in the bushes.

“Children, please behave yourselves! I’m going back inside the school for a few minutes because I need to use the restroom!” Announced Mrs. Bishop.

Too busy admiring the flowers, you failed to comprehend Jenny settling beside you with her group of friends. “Look at her. She’s such a freak. All alone with no friends. No wonder why she hurt me. She just wants something interesting to happen in her life.” Jenny sneered, acting like you weren’t next to her.

Kris, her equally evil twin, chuckled, “It runs in the family. Her parents are freaks too.”

At that, you recoiled. “Leave me alone, Jenny. I already said I’m sorry. Don’t bring my family into this.”

“Or else what? You’re gonna hurt me with a rock again?” Jenny taunted, showing off the gap in her two front teeth. She took a step closer to you while you stayed put. “Oh, I’m real scared of you, alright. Oh, no, she’s gonna murder me! Help!” She mocked, placing the palm of her hand against her forehead as if to show distress.

Shut up.

“Don’t be silly, Jen. She doesn’t have the guts to do it.”

“You’re right. She doesn’t. That doesn’t make her any less of a freak, though.”

Shut up.

“Speak, you freak!” Jenny shoved your shoulder as hard as she could, sending you tumbling backwards. Her figure stood over you, satisfied by the results of her actions. Bullies like Jenny thrive off of fear. They want to make you feel small so that they can feel better about themselves. Be the bigger person, adults say. Don’t give in.

“Go away.” You mutter, clenching your fists tightly as your palms begin to sweat.

“Why should I? Bullies need to be taught a lesson. Isn’t that right, girls?”

Shut up.

You close your eyes.

Shut up.

“Father said her family is full of losers. She’s one of them.”

SHUT UP.

“He’s right, you know.”

Your sprung to your feet, your fist colliding with Jenny’s face. Her sister and friends let out a scream of terror as you hit her. Over and over and over again. “SHUT UP!” Punch. “SHUT UP!” Punch. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” She wouldn’t stop talking (the excuse you would give later on). I just wanted her to be quiet. Your knuckles were starting to turn red, you notice, and your entire fist was coated with blood that wasn’t yours. That’s what urged you on. The satisfying sound as your hand collided with Jenny’s face.

“Y/N!”

You were about to land another blow when four strong hands pulled you back.

You don’t remember what happens next.

“SHE BEAT SOMEONE UP!”

“She’s just a kid! Kids make mistakes!”

”THAT WASN’T A MISTAKE. THAT WAS ASSAULT!”

Your parents were in the room next to yours, arguing about what happened. Jenny was sent to the hospital. Fortunately, there wasn’t any permanent damage. Jenny’s parents wanted you expelled, but your father made a bargain to the principal. What kind of bargain, you know not. Just that your mother appeared to be bothered by it.

Eventually, the shouting became unbearable. A part of you felt guilty - not for hurting Jenny but for being the reason your parents are fighting in the first place. You twisted the rusty door handle of your room (your parents should really have it replaced), double checking to see if they heard anything. When the yelling didn’t cease, you took it as a sign that you were free to go.

It’s not the first time you snuck out. The first time you discovered that it was possible was when your parents grounded you because your grades were lower than the year before. They instructed you to stay inside the house. As the curious child you were, you made a careful analysis of every room. That’s how you found out that the backdoor had a faulty handle.

Putting one foot in front of the other, you let your feet lead you to the park a few blocks from your home. You weren’t worried about anybody bothering your moment of solitude. Most of the children have been told by their parents to steer clear from children like you - whatever that means.

Being feared has its perks sometimes.

When you finally arrived at your destination, you were baffled to see Samantha Carpenter on the swing alone. Her long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves, paired with her blue jumper and white shirt. She spotted you approaching and waved, a small smile spreading across her face.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing back behind you, searching for someone else she could be directing the wave to. As you realized there was no one, you were disinclined to wave back. But you did so anyways.

Sam, no longer seated on the swing, came up to you, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Heard you kicked Jenny Willoughby’s butt.”

Your lips pursed into a thin line, “That’s none of your business.”

She raised her hands up in surrender, “Hey, I was going to say that it was pretty cool. It’s about time she learned her lesson.” Sam smiled without a care in the world - like what you did was no big deal.

You nod, your mouth unable to release a response to her statement.

Sam caught how tense your shoulders were and seemed to remember one important detail. “Oh. Sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sam-”

“Samantha Carpenter. I know.” You shrugged, “You’re pretty hard to ignore.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It can be.”

“Thanks… Anyway, you can call me Sam for short. All my friends call me Sam. My parents, too. Except when they’re mad at me.” Sam rambled, waving her arms as she spoke each sentence. Then, she took your hand in hers, leading you to the swing that she previously occupied.

You shove your hands into your jean pockets, unsure of what to do.

Sam seems to think two steps ahead based on the way she guided you to sit down. “I’ll push you now. Just lightly. I don’t want to hurt you. Is that okay?”

“I- yeah. Sure.”

True to her word, Sam began to push your body so the swing can move. Each time you go forward and back again, Sam makes sure to place a hand on your back to support you and to literally push you in the right direction. Although you weren’t sure what made Sam Carpenter act like you knew each other your whole life, you felt at ease being the kid that you currently are. Laughing in glee with Sam felt right. When she talks to you, you don’t feel the apprehension that others usually have. You decided right then and there that you were going to be her best friend.

[June 2010]

Sam slumped down beside you, back leaning against the tree you were resting on. Her eyes were red. There were bags under them. It didn’t take you long to realize that she’d been crying.

“Holy shit, what happened to you?! Are you okay?” You hastily take off your headphones, hands planting themselves on Sam’s forearms. Sam hasn’t been seen around town for two weeks. You tried calling. You even went to her house, but got no response except for when Christina told you that they were dealing with family matters and that it isn’t a good time to visit. Now, seeing her like this made you curse yourself for not trying harder to be there for her.

“My dad left.” She said, defeated. “He left because of me. It’s all my fault.” Sam sobbed as you took her in your arms. It was something akin to a chant. Something you knew she made herself believe.

It breaks your heart every time you see her like this. Even if it wasn’t often that the Sam Carpenter broke down in front of you, it doesn’t take away the hurt that it causes you everytime she does. You’re not mad at Sam. You can never be. You’re mad at the world. However, you can’t do anything about it except be there for her when she needs you the most. This is definitely one of those times.

So, you hold her; conveying using your actions that you will always be here for her to lean on when nothing or no one else could. You let her cry in your arms for as long as she needs since that’s what you do for the people you love and because she told you that your arms are the only place she feels safe in. And lastly, you tell her that it’s not her fault. You don’t do it because she wants to hear it. You do it because she needs it. “Sam, it’s not your fault. You hear me? It’s not your fault.”

Sam shakes her head indignantly. “It is. It is m-my fault. Billy Loomis is my father.”

Your blood runs cold at the mention of him. “What?”

“I was looking at my mom’s old diaries to see what kind of cute memories she had with my dad. Then I found out he wasn’t actually my dad at all and that my mom was seeing some other guy, Billy Loomis. He got her pregnant and told dad that it was his . . . When I confronted her about it, screaming, I… didn’t realize that dad was right behind me all along. He didn’t know. That’s why he left. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I… Mom is blaming me. So do I.

“There’s more. See, ever since I found out, I’ve been having these visions of Billy, my biological father. He says things and I can’t… I don’t know how to deal with it.” Sam finishes, turning away so as to not meet your eyes, afraid that there might be abhorrence occupying the space in them. The whole world could judge her and she wouldn’t bat an eye. Her only concern is you being a part of that as well. She fears that one day you’ll realize that she’s no longer worth the effort. She can’t lose you too.

The air lingered with words that are yet to be said, but both of you knew that now was not the time nor place.

“What kind of things does he say, Sam?” You ask gently, rubbing circles on her back to soothe her. By now, your white shirt was soaked in Sam’s tears, though you could care less. Sam is more important than a shirt that you could change out of anytime you want.

There’s a long pause before Sam gives a response to your question. “If I tell you, will you run away?”

“Sam, even if you killed someone, I won’t run away. I’ll even help you bury the body. And even then, I’m staying.” You say, instantly regretting your words once Sam visibly flinches. “Shit. Sorry. Bad take. Anyway, my point is, I’ll always be here for you. No matter what. Nothing you say or do will change that.”

Sam looks up at you, then. There’s something that shines in her eyes that you can’t decipher. Trust? Hope, maybe? “He tells me to just go out there and cut some throats.”

“Do you want to?” You ask, not out of judgment, but out of pure curiosity.

“No. God, no.” Sam shakes her head in the negative, face twisting at the thought of herself sending her peers to their graves. “I’m just scared.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“Scared that I’ll end up just like him. I’m scared that one day I’ll snap and I can’t go back.”

You hum, processing the information Sam just gave you.

“Y/n, say something.”

“You want to hear what I think?” You pull Sam away from you gingerly. For a second, fear flashes in her eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it came when you interlock your hand with hers. When you receive the green light from Sam, you look at her and say, “You’re not your father. I know that what you found out scares you, but Sam, I’ve known you for half my life. I know that you don’t want to hurt people unless they hurt the ones you love first. That’s one of the things I- that’s one of the things that makes you different. You have a heart. So, keep it. Fight for yourself and fight as hard as you can so that you don’t become the person you don’t want to be. Also remember that I’ll be here for you every step of the way to support you.”

Sam wipes away the tears from her eyes, chuckling lightheartedly, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Oh, I know, alright.” Your mouth opens in mock offense when Sam punches your shoulder. “That hurt!”

“Sorry.” Something in the way she says it tells you she’s not, showing from how her mood switches once more. “What if I can’t fight anymore? What if I go crazy? Will you still be by my side?”

You don’t hesitate to answer. “I always will, Carpenter. You’ll have to literally kill me to pull me away from you. It’s you and me till the end of time. We’ll go crazy together, I promise.”

Sam leans her head on your shoulder, letting out a breath, “Crazy together. Somehow, that’s oddly comforting.”

[October 2014]

The call comes at around 3 am, precisely 10 minutes after you had fallen asleep. You had been up all night studying for an upcoming exam that in all likelihood would determine whether you have a shot at getting out of Woodsboro. Sam would have told you that it was too early, that you at least have one more year to figure things out. That is, if she bothered to be around. The older Carpenter sibling has been pushing you away lately, much to your annoyance. You can’t help someone if they don’t want to be around you. Nevertheless, that doesn’t dissuade you from coming to her rescue every time she gets herself into trouble.

You rub the sleep from your eyes, reaching for your phone from the wooden nightstand. This scene felt rehearsed. That’s understandable, no doubt, if you take in the events like this that took place too many times for you to count. You can recall each time, each cop that called, the reasons for Sam being in jail again without missing a detail. If you try hard enough, you can even name all officers on duty during the ungodly hours of the morning. That’s a clue to how often Sam got sent to the precinct.

You press the green button, accepting the call without looking at the Caller ID. “Hi, Deputy Hicks.” Clearing your throat, you sit up, turning the lamp on.

You hear Judy sigh on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Y/n. It’s about Sam.”

“Always is.” You mumble, already on your way to the front door. Since you fell asleep still wearing your jeans, you only had to put on a sweater before going out. Your parents were still asleep and if they heard you steal the keys to the car and start the engine, they don’t make it known. A part of you had a suspicion that they knew what you do every other night, but they couldn’t be more indifferent. As long as you kept your grades up and maintained your family’s reputation, they will allow you to do whatever you please. It was both a blessing and a curse. “What is she in for this time?”

“She got high and drove while intoxicated, almost running a boy over. Before she could try to escape, the boy’s mother saw her and called the cops.”

You went quiet, having nothing more to say. This was one of the stupidest things that Sam has ever done. You would rather have her defacing school property while under the influence than being so close to putting other’s lives in danger, including her own.

“Does the mother want to press charges?”

“Lucky for Sam, no. They don’t.”

“Okay, thank you, Deputy. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Arriving at the precinct in record time, you parked your car to the side and turned off the engine. The officer at the desk barely acknowledged your presence, used to your face showing up. One of these days, you may start joking that the police station has become your second home with the way Sam has been acting.

Deputy Hicks looked up from her paperwork when she saw you, “She’s over there.” She tilts her head to the side in lieu of hello.

You ignore the sympathetic glance she gives, “Thank you, Deputy.”

Sam sits in a chair in the corner of the room, looking up at the ceiling, hands folded above her lap. She’s still affected by the drugs. It’s as plain as her mud-covered shirt. She sees you and beams, “Y/n! You came.”

You try to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach when she directs her gaze towards you. You’ve had a crush on Sam for a while now, though, you don’t plan on doing anything about it, fearing that it might compromise your friendship. It’s not a right time for feelings either. The two of you will be off to college in less than two years and as your mother put it, it’s best to not be in a relationship when your future is on the line.

Wait, why are you entertaining the idea of possibly being in a relationship with Sam when it’s very clear that she doesn’t like you back?

“Y/n?” Sam waves her hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Sam’s in the precinct, you remind yourself, you’re mad. This is not healthy anymore.

“Just get up, Samantha.” You say coolly, urging Sam to go ahead of you.

“Jeez, you look pissed.”

“That’s because I am.”

Sam rolls her eyes, “Okay, sorry.”

You’re starting to not believe the words that come out of her mouth. Even if Sam is sorry, she’s not exactly trying to get better.

Deputy Hicks grabs your arm at the same time you were about to head out with Sam. “Y/n, wait, I need to talk to you.” She sees you look towards Sam and adds, “Alone, please.”

“Go wait in the car.” You stare at Sam directly but you don’t look at her. Her breath hitches and you have to ignore how your heart clenches at the sight of her being crestfallen.

Sam holds her hand out. You gave her a questioning look. “Keys?”

You weigh out your options. On one hand, Sam is still experiencing the effects of the drug she took. On the other, you knew she wouldn’t put her life in danger - okay, well, that’s debatable. Sam is… Sam. She’s not completely irresponsible. You trust her. “Don’t do anything stupid.” You toss the keys, watching as she catches them effortlessly.

Sam lets out a sigh of relief upon seeing that your trust isn’t completely lost. “Got it.”

The moment Sam is out of sight, Deputy Hicks releases the grip she had on your arm, eyes softening after taking in your appearance. You don’t squirm under her gaze, having learned from experience that you don’t look so great when you don’t fix your hair before going out. “Look,” She starts, “You’re a good kid. You get good grades, you stay out of trouble, and I know you care about Sam, but-”

“With all due respect, Deputy, I think you should stop before you say what I think you’re thinking.” Your mood shifts, gaze hardening. When other people think of Sam as nothing more than a delinquent, they tend to make judgments based on what they see. They don’t think about what is really going on. They don’t know her. Deputy Hicks doesn’t like Sam. You know that much. But you’re not gonna let her talk shit about your best friend when she isn’t even aware of the full story.

Deputy Hicks doesn’t heed your advice. She goes on. “She’s trouble, that’s what I’m getting at. You have a bright future ahead of you, Y/n. Don’t let her ruin it.”

“She’s not ruining anything.” You argue.

“I know that you missed a test last week because you had to bail her out. It’s why - and I’m only assuming this - you stayed up all night studying for said test because the school gave you a second chance. I know that you will probably spend the rest of your morning taking care of Sam. You’ll go over to her house, take care of her and her sister Tara because their mother is barely around. I get it, trust me. However, I know how this goes. Trust me when I say that you’re better off without her.”

You don’t think too hard about what the deputy just said. “I know myself better than you know me. I’m not going to stay away from her because you said so. You’re not my mother.”

Deputy Hicks runs a hand across her face, knowing that she wasn’t going to get through to you. “Maybe not. But I am a mother. I know I wouldn’t let my kid go around like this.”

“Goodbye, Deputy.” You dismiss, turning to walk out the door with nothing more to say. Deep down, you knew she was right. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, though.

“If you find out who gave her the drugs, will you give us a call?” The deputy asks, changing the subject.

Your body goes stiff when the feeling of rage wakes the part in you that you so carefully hid from the world. It’s here again, stronger than ever. The blood in your body is boiling with anger, that urge to hurt someone in order to make it all quiet. You haven’t felt like this in a while.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

“Will do.” You plaster a fake smile. Needing to get out of this place as soon as you can, you sprint towards your car, opening the door, forgetting that Sam is inside. Ragged breaths come out of your body, throat clenching due to the never-ending thoughts swirling in your fucked up brain.

“Y/n?”

“SHIT!” You get startled by Sam’s voice.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.” She reassures, right hand resting on your shoulder. “Look at me.” When you don’t do what she says, Sam takes on a firmer tone. “Y/n, look at me. Listen to my voice.”

Her voice is soothing to your ears, driving away that anger; a remedy to whatever is happening inside your head. “Sam,” Your voice breaks when you say her name. “You can’t keep doing this. You have to talk to me instead of getting your hands on every stupid drug that ever existed. If you don’t want to explain it to me, then at least talk to someone. Please, Sam. You have to help yourself. There’s only so much I can manage and… I don’t want to do something I can’t take back.” Murder. The thing that’s left unsaid. You don’t want to have to murder the people causing this, but if it will help Sam, then…

Fuck. No.

You’ve thought about it for sure. You just never got to a point where you are actually considering doing the act.

Sam’s brows furrow, “You’re scared of saying shit to me? Is that what you mean? You don’t have to clean up my messes all the damn time. I’m not making you do this.”

“Sam, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant that I don’t want to be the person who tells Tara her sister is gone because she did something she shouldn’t have,” You lie. If you can’t make her understand things in your perspective, maybe bringing up Tara will make a difference. “Tara will be heartbroken, Sam. She doesn’t want to lose you too.”

That part is true. You spoke to Tara a few nights back when you saw her curled up on the living room couch, waiting for Sam to come home. After you guided Sam to her bedroom, you went downstairs to check on Tara, asking her what she was doing up. She told you everything she knew and felt, including how worried she was about Sam. It is not something a ten-year-old should have to feel, but then again, she can’t know why this is happening. She’s too young to understand.

Sam glances down, looking remorseful. What you said made her partially aware of how this was also affecting Tara. “I’m sorry.”

“Do better. That’s all I’m asking you. Promise me you’ll try.”

“I am trying. You have to know. I am doing better.”

“And what happened today was, what, a mistake? You say the same speech whenever you get caught. I’ll believe you when I see that you’ve actually been trying, because this? This is not what trying looks like.” The way you speak sounds harsher than intended. You should really listen to what your guidance councilor says. Bottling up your feelings will only make things worse. Word by word exits your mouth like a flood that you feel powerless against. Tears stream down Sam’s face as soon as her brain echoes what you were saying.

You were never this upset at her. Hearing you like this guided her in realizing how royally she fucked things up.

“I’m sorry.”

You can’t fight your own tears anymore. The two of you cry in front of each other, aware that although you were physically near, you could not be more far apart. You cry until there are no tears left, cry until your throat is aching and your heart feels like it has been sliced a thousand times by tiny daggers, leaving wounds that would take a long time to heal.

But it feels like a step in the right direction. Somehow, you knew you both were going to be okay.

You held that thought until Sam explained what went down last night.

“I swear I was going to get clean. But then, he approached me, said that he needed money. He didn’t look well, so I took the drugs. He said I didn’t have to take them - that I can throw them away and that he’ll pay me back as soon as he can, but I wanted it. The drugs. They were right in front of me. So, I told myself that it was going to be the last time. I was only fooling myself.” Sam said. “That’s not going to happen again. I’ll get help. For real this time. I promise.”

You stare at the roof of the car, closing your eyes in order to think clearly. “Sam,” You say nonchalantly compared to the tone you used earlier. “Give me a name.”

Sam’s eyes widen, “What?”

“Give me the name of the guy who gave you the drugs.”

She chuckles awkwardly, “Why does it matter? What are you going to do to him?”

“Nothing! I don’t kill people. You know that! I just want to turn him in, is all.” You were stunned by how convincing you sounded.

Sam seemed to believe you. Her shoulders relaxed a bit, the tension in them gone, “Jacob Parker.” She pauses, “Don’t let the cops be too harsh on him. He’s only trying to help his family.”

You purse your lips, “You know I can’t promise anything, Sam.” Sam appears despondent but she doesn’t speak another word. “So… Jacob Parker.” You repeat, testing how the name sounded coming from your mouth. “Thank you.”

Your smile is alarming. “You look psychotic.” Sam says plainly, shaking her head. “Stop that. It’s creepy.”

You put your hands up in surrender, “My apologies.”

“Get us home already.”

You don’t make a move to start driving, deciding to talk to Sam longer. “We’re not done with this conversation yet.”

“I know.”

“We still have a lot to work on.”

“I know.”

“But you’re going to be okay.”

“We’re going to be okay.” Sam corrects. “You and me against the world, right?”

“Damn right.”

You let silence go by on the way to the Carpenters’ residence. The air is lighter now, relieved of the tension that was around before your conversation with Sam. You were pleased by the outcome of this day, no matter how early it still is.

You shouldn’t.

You really shouldn’t.

If someone had told you two years ago that you’d be outside Jacob Parker’s house wearing a Ghostface costume, you would have shit your pants while laughing maniacally, but you’re here, doing exactly that.

It’s 4 am, which means that the sun will come up soon, giving you an hour to get the job done or else it will all be fucked and you’d have gone through trouble for nothing.

The house itself was pretty neat. It had a white picket fence and a yard three times bigger than your room. Sam was wrong. Jacob has it good. That motherfucker lied to her. You can’t blame Sam for having a kind heart. She got taken advantage of. That’s not on her. It’s on the guy who saw her vulnerability and turned it into a business opportunity.

Your disdain takes over whatever ounce of hesitation left within you. You have to do this. You have to protect Sam. You’re doing this for her. This is the only way you can protect her.

Plucking out a burner phone from your pocket, you dial Jacob’s number, the one you asked Sam for prior to leaving her house. You turn on your voice changer and press the call button, waiting for Jacob to pick up his phone.

It took three rings, but eventually, the boy answered, a bit disoriented, “Hello?”

“Hello, Jacob.”

You can hear Jacob shuffling around, dazed. “Who is this?”

“Let’s play a game, shall we? I give you ten seconds to hide and if I find you, I’ll gut you like a fish.” You say cheerily, moving towards the house. The back door is the most favorable option, seeing that it wasn’t locked. Idiot, you thought. There’s no car parked in the garage or in front of the house, which implies that his parents aren’t home. Is it this easy?

“Look, I don’t know who you are or why you’re having the Ghostface voice, but that’s not how they usually speak in the movies. They don’t play hide and seek.”

You’re positive he can see you smiling through your words even if you’re not in front of him, “Ah. A fan of slashers, I see . . . What’s your favorite scary movie, Jacob?”

“There. Now you got it.”

His breathing is too relaxed, indicating that he’s not moving, possibly not counting you as a threat. You slide open the door as quietly as you can, ambling through the stairway leading up to the second floor. Jacob’s room is very hard to miss. There’s a big sign on the wooden door that spells out his name in bold, cursive letters. Your eyes scan through details of this place, looking for one you can use to scare him.

A picture frame on the counter with him and a little boy. He has a brother. You remember, overhearing a gossip from school that his brother was sick. There’s a rumor that went around about how that is the reason why he’s selling drugs. His family is loaded, so it can’t be about money. It’s about finding a distraction.

You read the writing on top of the frame.

“Jacob and Barry”

That’s the same moment you notice another door next to Jacob’s room.

Bartholomew.

You walk over there first, peeking inside the room. On a bed lays Barry, wires hooked into his body, a machine next to him, displaying his heartbeat. You almost feel bad about what you’re going to do.

Almost.

“Give me an answer or else I’ll cut Barry’s head off! You wouldn’t mind if a few years gets removed from his lifespan, right? After all, he’s already sick. Might as well stop his suffering.”

“NO!” You hear hurried footsteps coming from the other room, no doubt that it’s Jacob on his way to save his little brother from his own end, not knowing that it secured his. “Don’t touch him, I swear to God! You better not! I’ll do anything, please!”

“I’ll ask again. What is your favorite scary movie?”

“STAB 5! THERE! I SAID IT! NOW LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

As soon as he steps out of the room, you shove him against the wall and plunge your knife into his stomach, twisting it until the blood begins to pour out. You use your free hand to cover his mouth, muffling his screams. “Stab 5 was the worst movie of the entire franchise! It’s no one’s favorite!” You pull out your knife for a moment before driving it into his shoulder.

You glance at the blood on your hands in awe. It was a dream come true. You could not apprehend how so much blood can reside in one body, taking your time in watching Jacob bleed out in front of you, the voice in your head quiet at long last. The rapture followed. He can’t hurt Sam anymore. “This is what losers such as yourself get.” You state, withdrawing your hand from his mouth.

Jacob’s eyes are silently pleading. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but Barry is innocent. Don’t hurt him. You owe me that. He’s my family.”

“I don’t owe you shit!” You laugh incredulously, “No one owes you anything! I don’t give a shit about your family. You messed with mine first.”

“W-what?”

You don’t give him a response, perforating his heart with your blade.

His head lolls to the side, staring at nothing in particular.

That’s one less person who can hurt Sam.

The thrill of the kill sticks with you long after you went home to clean yourself up, ensuring that you left no trace behind. You got rid of the body, of course, so the police doesn’t suspect that another psychopathic Ghostface is on the lose.

You’d do anything to protect Sam.

It’s all for her.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam saw the full extent of what you were capable of doing - adding another name to her list of fucked up connections.

[May 2015]

“It’s not gonna work, Sam.” The ghost or hallucination (depending on who you’re asking) of Billy Loomis states, standing behind Sam, their eyes locking in the bathroom mirror. He has a calm exterior, as if he knows what’s about to happen to Sam before the latter can begin to think. “You can’t avoid her forever. She killed someone. Acknowledge it.”

Sam opens a bottle, taking out an antipsychotic pill, shoving it into her mouth without hesitation. “I have acknowledged it. She killed the guy who gave me drugs.”

Billy shoots her a no-nonsense stare, “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Okay, then speak to me since you’re such a know-it-all.” Sam clenches her fists, “You’re not even real.”

“Aren’t I?” Billy challenges. “Wanna hear the truth, Samantha? Here it is: the murder is not what bothers you. What bothers you is the fact that it doesn’t. You would care if it was an innocent person, but Jacob wasn’t an innocent. He manipulated you, knowing damn well you have a problem. You feel relief that he’s dead, but you’re guilty because you think that his blood is on your hands, thinking that you’re the reason Y/n did what she did. You don’t want to destroy her.”

Sam’s throat clenches, knowing Billy was right. However, that doesn’t mean she’s happy about it. “Shut up.”

“You’re the one who wanted the truth. I’m giving it to you.” Just when Sam thinks he’s done talking, he goes on, similar to a man on a rampage (which he has really done before he died). “You did not corrupt her. It is not your fault. That girl you’re in love with - oh, don’t give me that look - has had a darkness inside her that existed before you came into her life. The same darkness that you and I have; the only difference being that she’s not doing it out of revenge like I did. She does it for you, which makes it difficult for you to understand your feelings because you believe that if you accept her for who she is, you will go crazy. That maybe she’ll convince you to kill for her or something. She won’t. You know that. You are just afraid.

“Crazy runs in our blood. One day you are gonna stop fighting and accept who you are. The only choice that is presented to you right now is you either accept her for who she is or push her away.”

“You say that as if murder is something simple.” Sam scoffs.

“You will forever have an argument against the things I say because I’m a murderer. That’s who I am to you. But what do you truly believe, Sam?”

Sam (surprisingly) simply shrugs defeatedly, “I don’t know.”

“Well, figure it out. Must I remind you that she’s leaving. Today.”

At the mention of your departure, Sam shows her father an emotion other than ire. “That’s today?” She blinks and sees that Billy was no longer there. Quickly, she checks her phone and see what the date says. “Fuck.” She grumbles, rushing out the house like lightning.

You look out your window for the umpteenth time, hoping that somehow, she will show up. The last time you spoke was three weeks ago. It’s like she’s purposely pulling away from you and you have no idea why. Though Sam was true to her word and stopped getting herself into trouble, she decided to talk to everyone but you. You gave her space while you thought about what you could have done wrong. When you bumped into her at school (which was unexpected since she has been doing a good job at using alternative routes to her classes just to avoid you), you told her you were leaving.

You got accepted at NYU and were leaving earlier than expected. New York is about as far from Woodsboro as you can get. You can’t wait to leave this place yet there is someone you don’t want to leave behind. You don’t want to leave Sam, but you know that eventually, everyone leaves. You would only be putting off the inevitable.

As for the Jacob situation, the cops never found out who did it. They assumed he ran away (you grabbed a suitcase with you that belonged to him and put clothes and essentials into it). That was all. Cased closed. Simple as that.

You don’t feel an ounce of remorse. Even so, from time to time, you get nightmares. You don’t remember much from them. The only things you know is that you wake up sweating, your heart racing, and tears stream down your face at the same time a name makes its way out your mouth, sounding like a prayer. Sam.

“She’s not coming.” Your mother says sympathetically.

You forgot she was standing near the doorway, watching you pack your things. “She will.” You’re sure. Sam was many things, but time showed that even if she was upset at you, she would still show up for the events that matter. And this, moving to New York, was a big change. She wouldn’t dare miss it. “I know she will.” You say, determined.

“Okay.” Your mother nods. She opens her mouth to speak, but Sam appears by the doorway, sweat dripping from her forehead, both hands on her knees as she caught her breath. “I stand corrected.” M/n grins, “Sam.”

“Good morning, Mrs. L/n.” Sam breathes out, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a moment.” M/n lightly shoves Sam inside the room so that she can close the door.

“Did you run here?” You asked, amused. Walking over to your nightstand, you grabbed an unopened water bottle and handed it to Sam, who downed the drink in one gulp.

“Sure did.” Sam wipes her sweat with the back of her hand. She sits next to you on the bed, shuffling her fingers, something you knew she does whenever she gets anxious. “I’m sorry for avoiding you these last few months…” It’s because I followed you to Jacob’s house without you knowing and I saw you kill him for me.

One look at her and you knew she knew. The one thing you’re good at other than stabbing is reading Samantha Carpenter. You’ve spent so much time memorizing her that you knew immediately. You don’t know what to say except “It’s not your fault, Sam. Please know that. It was my choice. You didn’t force me to do it.”

“Why did you?” Sam asks, unsurprised by how quickly you caught on. She didn’t make a move to step away from you because she wasn’t afraid. She never was. That never changed.

“You probably don’t understand, but there’s this… thing that has always been a part of me. I could control it most times but when I can’t, I hurt people. There’s so much noise going on in my head. The two things that can pull me out of that is by inflicting pain onto others or just being in your presence. I know it’s fucked up. I would much rather choose the latter every time, but I can’t. When Deputy Hicks asked me to give her a call if I found out who sold you the drugs, that anger came back. Maybe it never left. I don’t know. I did what I did because I thought that if he’s not there anymore, nothing can hurt you again. It’s stupid. I know. I’m sorry.”

Sam does the last thing you expected her to do. She kisses you, her hands going to the sides of your face, cupping them gently, afraid that you would break.

You freeze, unable to form a response.

What the fuck?

Sam kissed you.

You grin from ear to ear, surprised by the action, but not deeming it unwelcome.

Sam pulls away, mortified, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I thought you-”

You cut her off, “Shut up and kiss me again.”

She wastes no time in closing the gap, reconnecting your lips once more. Your hands went to her waist, needing her to be as close to you as possible. This time, you kiss her back passionately. You’ve had many roles in your life, but nothing felt as right as being the one to kiss Sam Carpenter. You were made for her.

Sooner than what you wanted, Sam pulled away. You open your mouth to protest but she presses a finger to your lips. “If we don’t stop kissing, we’ll run out of air.”

You scrunch your nose, “I don’t know, Carpenter. Dying in your arms doesn’t sound too bad.”

Sam shakes her head fondly, “God, you’re such a dork.”

“You like me, though, right?” You asked jokingly even though deep down, you were quite unsure.

“Yes, of course I like you.”

“I like you too.” You say immediately, satisfied with the answer.

After a while of kissing and… more kissing, you lay beside each other, doing nothing in particular except staring at the ceiling. You break the silence. “So what now?”

Sam ponders the question, “Now… You go to New York.”

You roll over to the side, propped up on one elbow, using your free hand to brush hair away from her face. “What about us?”

“We’ll see each other again.” She asserts, placing a kiss on top of your head.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I do understand. More than anyone.”

She rolls you over on your back in a mission to kiss you for as long as time allows it. Caught up in the moment, you fail to question what her words meant. Your mind fills with thoughts that consist of how perfect this moment feels. There was noise, yes, but they lie in the form of the most beauteous poems. Samantha Carpenter gives you clarity yet she is capable of bringing you down to ruins. The best part is that you’d let her. You would authorize her to bring out a sentence; to amplify the light inside of you or to let the madness consume you both. Regardless of the outcome, you would not mourn the debris that would rain down upon you. For the sweetest poison is in the form of her lips.

[August 2022]

You were scanning mountains of paperwork when your phone buzzes. Although normally, you would let it ring until whoever is calling realizes that you are occupied, the name that flashes on the screen makes you think twice. Pressing the green button to accept the call, you bring the phone to your ear, anticipation bubbling inside your veins.

The voice that comes from the device is not the one you were hoping to hear. It sounds eerie, sending a chill up your spine.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

[The End.]

Taglist: @daddy-jareau

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #samantha carpenter #melissa barrera #scream 6 #scream vi #scream franchise #scream

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

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Hi! Vod’ika! Could I request Dogma x fem!reader with your mermaid AU?💕

Thousand Years

Summary: You know that Dogma loves you, he’s your soulmate and you're his after all, but you know that you’re not like other soulmates, and you hear the comments his brothers make, though you know that they don’t mean for you to hear them. And sometimes you wonder if he would have chosen you if he had the choice.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x F!Reader

Word Count: 2005

Warnings: Angsty but with a happy ending

Prompt: Mermaid AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, this wasn't supposed to be sad, but I had an idea and decided to run with it. As ever, I want to thank @kimiheartblade @the-bad-batch-baroness @mire-draws-things and @t3mpest98 for helping build this AU.

Adjusting to life as a mermaid was easier than you thought it would be. Honestly, the biggest adjustment for you was having to reteach yourself how to swim with one appendage rather than your legs.

According to the other mates who live around you, none of them had as much of an easy time.

Generally, after that, they’ll toss you an odd, awkward, smile and tell you that you’re just unique and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Funnily enough, it never sounds like a compliment when they say it though. You try not to think about it too much, it’s not like you’re unused to not having friends after all.

And some of the other mates are very…well, calling them shallow would be an insult to puddles. At least you’re polite enough to not tell them that if they were a puddle you could stand in them without getting the soles of your boots wet.

You know if you could wear boots.

You just think it. Loudly.

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sensation of little hands drumming on your torso, and you cast your gaze on the dark-eyed baby resting on your stomach.

Your dark-eyed baby.

Little Faith has the good fortune to look like her father, though it’s starting to look like she has your personality. Dogma claims it’s because you take her everywhere, you point out that a strong parent-child bond is important for a baby's development.

Luckily, he doesn’t disagree. And he’s just as guilty as carting baby Faith around rather than leaving her in the care of the nanny shark, so it’s not like he has a fin to swim with.

You smile brightly as Faith blows bubbles at you, and you reach out to lightly tap her little nose. Her brow furrows as she tries to watch your finger, and then she releases a happy gurgling noise.

In truth, you should be home, at the grotto. But Faith likes looking at the coral, and watching the clown fish, so here you are, resting on your back on a rock while the fish swim around the pair of you.

You’re close enough to the mervillage that you can still see the arch that leads to the shopping district, and you can even hear some of Dogma’s brothers if you strain your ears.

Faith lets out a happy shout as a clownfish gets close enough to her to bump into her, and you smile fondly at your baby.

She’s something of a miracle, your baby. It normally takes time for a mate to get pregnant, but you wound up pregnant within two weeks of solidifying the bond with Dogma. And the fact that you have a daughter rather than a son? Even more of a miracle.

Natural-born daughters are rare after all.

Faith twists so she’s able to watch the fish a little better, and you allow your attention to wander. Your hands are secure around her waist, so she’s in no danger of getting hurt, after all.

And that’s when the whispers reach your ears.

“—Dogma’s mate? Her?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” As much as you don’t want to listen in, now that you know that they’re talking about you, you can’t not listen to them.

“I feel bad for Dogma,” The first man says with a laugh that sounds cruel to your ears, “I bet, if he had a choice, he wouldn’t have chosen someone like her.”

You keep yourself from flinching through sheer willpower, though there’s no stopping the hurt that blooms in your chest. Because he’s right. Dogma wouldn’t have chosen you.

You’d choose Dogma in every lifetime, but he’d never choose you if given the choice.

“Come on, he loves her.”

“Because of the bond. And I guess she’s pretty enough, but there’s no way that her looks make up for her personality.” The first man replies, “Anyway, someone as steady as Dogma deserves better than her.”

“Yeah, well. The magic makes that choice, not us. So drop it before she hears us.”

Your gaze flickers to the side as the two men stop talking and swim away.

You feel…heavy. And it has nothing to do with the baby sitting on your stomach.

Faith smacks her hands against you again, and you smile weakly at her, “Want to go on an adventure, Faithy?”

Your baby doesn’t, fully, understand what you’re saying to her. Not really, she’s too young, but she does know her name and she knows your voice, so she bubbles happily.

Some of the weight lifts at the sheer delight your baby shows you when she sees you, and you carefully cradle her in your arms as you kick off the rock and head up.

Your heart hurts and you feel sad. And lonely.

The only person who can make you feel better is your mom. And, as luck would have it, after you became a merperson your parents sold their home to buy a houseboat, so they could stay close to you.

You swim towards the surface, moving carefully to make sure that your baby doesn’t get hurt. It’s hardly the first time your baby has been to the surface, though you know it’s just another reason that people think that Dogma shouldn’t leave Faith alone with you.

Your argument has always been that your parents deserve to know their grandchild. Dogma doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it when you go to the surface either, but he wants you happy more than anything.

Your parents' houseboat is named after you. They love you and have always been your biggest supporters, even when you told them that you were going to become a mermaid.

They, at least, look delighted to see you and Faith as you pop up next to their home.

You hand Faith to your mother, who sets her in a baby pool they have for this very reason, and she lightly places a sun hat on the baby’s head, while you’re father helps you out of the water and then helps you into the, slightly bigger, pool they have for you.

Your parents know you better than anyone, save for Dogma, so your mother takes one look at you, clicks her tongue, and sits in the pool next to you. She wraps her arms around you and pulls your head to her shoulder to stroke your hair.

And that’s all it takes for you to dissolve into tears as the whole story falls from your lips.

“Oh, my little coral,” Your mom says softly, “Why does it seem like your life is always so much harder than the people around you?” She smooths some of your hair off your face, “You can stay as long as you want. You and Faith.”

“Do you agree with them?” You ask as you press the top of your head against your mother’s neck, “That Dogma deserves better than me?”

“Never.” Your father’s answer is immediate, from where he’s sitting next to Faith and feeding her some mashed apples. “Never, sweetheart. Your man is lucky to have you.”

“You have to say that, you’re my parents.”

“Nonsense. We say it because it’s true.” Your mom kisses your forehead, “You and Faithy will stay for a bit, of course.”

You sniffle, “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

Your mom tightens her grip around you and cuddles you as best as she can as your father starts telling a story about your uncle, giving you an update on the rest of your family. And some more of the weight fades from your heart.

It’s later, when the sun is starting to set, that Dogma emerges from the water next to the houseboat. He easily pulls himself up on the deck, and a relieved smile crosses his face when he sees you sitting in a pool with Faith at your side.

“Cyare,”

You turn to look at him, and a weak smile crosses your face. “Dogma,”

“I figured I’d find you here when you weren’t at the grotto. Where are your parents?” He asks as he moves over to the pool and smiles at Faith.

“Inside, they’re getting ready for bed.” You reply as you carefully don’t look at him, you know your eyes are still red, and you don’t want him to worry.

“You didn’t mention that you were coming to see your parents today,” He says lightly, there’s no heat in his words but you curl in on yourself as if he just shouted at you.

“Sorry.”

Dogma is silent for a moment before he reaches out and lightly turns your face towards him, “Riduur, I’m not upset at you. Why are you acting as if I am?” His breath catches when he turns you to face him fully, and slowly he brings his other hand up to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing the skin under your eyes, “You’ve been crying.”

“It’s…not important.”

“It’s very important.” He corrects, “Someone made you cry. Upset you badly enough that you fled to your parents.”

You shrug, “It’s dumb.”

“You are many things, Riduur. Dumb isn’t one of them.” Dogma corrects. He carefully leans in so his forehead is pressed against yours, “Tell me?”

“Someone said something that I know is true and it made me feel…bad. So I came to someplace where I never feel bad.”

“What did they say?”

You don’t answer, don’t want to answer. But his gaze is so earnest, and his hands are so gentle, that your lower lip starts trembling again, “The truth.”

“I highly doubt that, riduur.” His voice is so gentle, that it's easy to forget that he didn’t choose you.

“They said that if you had the choice in picking a mate, that you wouldn’t have looked twice at me.” You reply quietly, “And I know that it’s true.” Your lips twist as you try to keep yourself from crying, “If I lived five different lifetimes, I would choose you in all of them. And you—”

“Would pick you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Dogma sighs, his breath warm against your face, “I love you, riduur. And don’t even think of trying to say that it’s because the magic chose you for me.” He says quietly, “The magic chose you to be my soul mate, and I chose to love you.”

“But—”

“There are plenty of platonic soulmates, riduur. And I chose to love you. From the beginning, I chose to love you.” He smooths his thumbs across your cheeks, “You doubt that?”

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, “I know I’m not, really, your type—”

“Whoever made you think that is going to get introduced to my fist,” Dogma interrupts, “I don’t want anyone else. You’re perfect for me. And I’m sorry if I made you believe differently.”

You shake your head, “Not your fault.”

“It is my fault. I should have put an end to those comments, but I didn’t think that they bothered you.” Dogma lightly brushes his lips against yours, “I love you. Always. Forever. In this life and every other.”

You sigh softly, though it’s not an unhappy sigh, “I love you too.”

He chuckles, “Oh, I’ve never doubted that.” Dogma drops one of his hands to scoop Faith against his chest, “Now, are we spending the night?”

You shake your head, “Mom and Dad have to head back to shore early. Better we should leave.”

“Then I’ll leave a note.” Dogma leans in and kisses you one more time, “I love you, Riduur.” He murmurs against your lips, “Despite what everyone else thinks.”

You smile at him, believing his words for the first time today. “I know, I’m sorry for doubting you.”

He smiles, reassuringly, and kisses your cheek, before he drops a kiss to Faith’s head, “Come on, Riduur, let’s go home. I’m going to rip my brothers a new one for making you cry.”

At that, you laugh. And, finally, the last of the weight weighing your heart down fades away, as you’re once again secure in Dogma’s feelings towards you.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #vodika-vibes 650 event #clone trooper dogma x reader #dogma x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks #mermaid au

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 1 year

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Actually, John O’Bryan or Joshua Hamilton (I forgot which one) confirmed on the Braving the Elements Podcast that Zutara was in the original bible and that there was a fight in the writer’s room for making it canon. He even says he’s still Zutara, that they did it wrong, and that in an alternative universe they’re together.

But his version doesn’t really make sense bc the original bible that can be accessed online doesn’t confirm ANY ships. Also, kataang was literally hinted in the pilot. Not to mention that either Joshua or John - whoever wrote CoTL - literally confirmed that Mike and Aaron made him write Omashu for Kataang’s romance. One of them (Joshua or John) pitched the episode as just being a story of Sokka suffering with the nomads, but Mike and Aaron felt it was important to tie Oma and Shu to Kataang. I also believe it was Joshua Hamilton who wrote the inaccurate “Avatar Extras” that confirmed that Zuko was supposed to be Katara’s love interest.

So essentially, what happened was the following (imo): In the early development stage prior to book 1, the idea of Zuko and Katara were thrown around. Some of the writers might’ve latched onto it and, as a result, the ship was teased in late 3.5 (especially given how POPULAR the ship was in 2005-2008). However, Bryke and Aaron felt that Kataang was always the natural direction and made sense story wise. And ultimately, that’s what happened as endgame. The creators and the head writer feeling that a popular fanon ship with a friendship developed in under 5 episodes doesn’t make for a romantic endgame, in addition to a preference for Kataang.

At the end of the day, no one is denying that Zutara wasn’t teased (not even Bryke themselves). We just don’t think it’s a plausible endgame that makes sense as per the series. I can also sort of understand why some of the writers would still prefer Zutara - it does sound intriguing on paper (very YA and disney), but doesn’t make any sense execution wise. Good on the creators for denying that shit.

Assuming that's true at all, and that is something I likely truly won't do until I search said podcast and hear it myself because God knows zutarians lie all the time, that still make it the power-struggle some people claim it was.

One writer having an idea, latching onto it, and then trying to pass it off as "my idea was totally going to be canon at one point, trust me even though everyone else on the team says another thing and the actual main couple was present from episode one."

And even if we exclude the Kataang angle in Cave Of Two Lovers (that Joshua did write) an intervention on his writting process would still be necessary. I love Sokka, but watching over 20 minutes of him just being annoyed would get repetitive and boring really fast. It makes far more sense to balance it out with two of the other main characters learning about a legend of a city the viewers are familiar with (and will see being at the mercy of the Fire Nation) the following episode. It makes the episode more engaging and reminds us of what will be at stake if the Fire Nation wins.

Another thing that makes this story hard to believe for me, is the fact that Joshua didn't write any episodes until book 2 (though obviously that doesn't mean he couldn't be part of the creative team in some other ways), of all the episodes he did write only "The Chase" has Katara and Zuko interacting at all or so much as mentioning each other, he was the one who wrote Boiling Rock Part 2 which has some major Maiko moments, and he was also part of creating the episode "Ember Island Players" which mocks the very idea of Zutara and has the characters themselves be visibly uncomfortable when they hear of it.

Even if we assume that man was secretly hoping Zutara would be a thing alll along, it seems pretty clear to me that he is NOT this "Zutara champion" that hates the canon ships and fought tooth and nail to make his OTP happen, but the other evil writers stopped him.

Hell, let's look at someone who has been very openly shipping Zutara for years: Dante Basco, aka Zuko. That man has said he refuses to watch the live action movie and to say anything too bad about it because he's an actor and doesn't want to risk angering a guy that could end up being his boss in the future. This same Dante has REPEATELY said Zutara is his favorite ship, and that even though he really likes how the show ended, he wishes that pairing had had a chance to happen.

He says that without any fear, and doesn't seem to have suffered any consequences for it. To me, that shows that "Zutara VS Kataang/Maiko" is not the epic power-struggle amongst the team that zutarians love to pretend it was. It was just people throwing ideas around. Some were used, some were not. Just the ordinary creative process, not a ship war.

And once again, this is me assuming that there's any chance that Joshua ever wanted Zutara to be a thing, and that this is not just another case of obsessive fans lying to everyone again to convince themselves they have canon validation. God knows Zutarians have cried wolf MANY times (and I'm amused that in this version, Aaron Ehasz is one of the "bad guys", even though they are still using that fake interview of him confirmig a zutara endgame as proof that their ship was supposed to be canon. These people lie so much, they lost track of who they claim is "one of them" or not).

#anti zutara

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rastronomicals · 1 year

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11:35 PM EDT September 21, 2023:

Eno/Cale - "In The Backroom" From the album Wrong Way Up (October 5, 1990)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

Back when it was new--and I was 25 years old--I eagerly purchased this compact disc. Oh, it was a time, man. The CD was packaged in--get this (if you can: most people today I would assume don't know what it had been)--a longbox. A theft deterrent then, and a music geek collectible now. Funny the way things transform, sometimes.

So. It being that time, I didn't know as much about Brian Eno or John Cale then as I do now, but I still knew Here Come the Warm Jets and White Light/White Heat. And because those records had been great, I expected Wrong Way Up to be pretty awesome.

Did I know then that the 3-1/2-minute revolution called "Sky Saw" featured Cale? Or that there was a cult album named June 1, 1974 that featured them both?

Not sure. Wise now, was I wise then?

Anyway, the excitement before the purchase turned into disappointment afterwards. This album, it did not rock, it bore no traces of Warm Jets or White Heat, and it wasn't weird at all, and I sold it and I forgot about it as quickly as possible.

Lately though, nearly 30 years later, thinner of hair, and wiser of the music, man, I've been on an Eno jag, and I came across a review of the album on Pitchfork that suggested the album, synthpop though it was, achieved nothing less than brilliance in its rather conflicted creation.

Hell, I hadn't even known that the artists hadn't gotten along. . . . So I figured, what *had* I known, in my judgement 30 years ago? I'd been only 25, and had probably been a little bit um, over-influenced, by hardcore punk. My tastes are more sophisticated now! I could like an album that maybe wasn't so manic. Really I could. And shit, everything I've been doing for the last month was all about what a fucking genius Eno was. . . Maybe I'd been hasty in my dismissal of WWU back then, simply because it didn't sound like "Third Uncle," or "I Heard Her Call My Name." 'Cause hell, on reflection, thinking about it in 2019, in the midst of a Brian Peter George St John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno freakout, neither does "Luftschloss."

Goddamn, then, let's try it again, I thought. So last week, I bought a CD copy off Discogs. Received it yesterday, listened to it on the way into work this morning, and ... it's unabashedly awful.

It's lame, predictable, and without a trace of the genius which otherwise marks both men's work. You're tempted to say a few things, although you should probably resist the urges. You're tempted to say that it was a case of men outside the times attempting foolishly to sound like them, but that's wrong. 1990 had no great rush of synthpop albums.

1990 was about Jane's Addiction; Jane's Addiction, and Happy Mondays and Sonic Youth's major label debut. Nobody was making synthpop. That these two major artists felt like going there, I don't know, it's odd, it's strange, it's fucked up.

You're also tempted to say, maybe, if you're not that familiar with the facts, that this was the work of giants who had exhausted their creative energies prior to its making, young lions become old farts. But, of course, that's ridiculous. Five years after this mistake of a record, Eno would record Nerve Net, which showed him as able as his youngself to stretch things out. And if you want pop, shit, Eno made Another Day on Earth in 2005, as he was approaching 60, and that is a brilliant, quirky, intelligent pop record, even if it's not as much like M83 as I might prefer.

Wrong Way Up is a detour into mediocrity. Definite, and puzzling, that is.

It all goes to show many things, perhaps most importantly--and I swear I'm not looking to trash Pitchfork specifically here--that if an artist known for making good things makes something crappy, there will always--always--be somebody around to tell people that, fuck the facts, it is in fact pretty good.

There's also the reminder given that I had the suss of the thing down back in 1990. I like to think of myself as smarter now, wiser if you have to go there, and I was prepared to second-guess myself, and take a lesson from it too, but at least in this case, me and the version of myself that existed three decades ago are smack dab in agreement. There's a stolidity about that I find appealing, but maybe, just maybe, there's also a disappointing inability to evolve.

Funny the way things don't transform, sometimes.

https://lahistoriadelamusicarock.blogspot.com/2019/04/enocale-wrong-way-up-opal-records-back.html

File under: Fool Me Twice

#Eno/Cale #Wrong Way Up #In The Backroom

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akwardlyuncool · 5 months

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Sitting To Know Your Collection January Roundup

Week 1 (January 5th- January 7th)

Album: Learning Logic (2016) by Camilla Recchio Play Count: 5-ish times. Top 2 Tracks: I’m Gone (Track 9) I Don’t Wanna (Track 2)

I started week one a little late, cause the idea for this challenge/project came to me late, but I still managed to get a few good listens in. I had the wheel picker spit an album from my collection out and this is what it gave me. If you haven’t heard Camilla Recchio before I highly recommend you check her out. Listening these last few days just reinforces how good I think she is. The album is soulful and vibey and I didn’t mind having it on repeat. Solid first week.

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Week 2 (January 8th - January 14th)

Album: Peace Love Death Metal (2004) by Eagles Of Death Metal Play Count: 4 Top 2 Tracks: San Berdoo Sunburn (Track 13) Whorehopping “Shit, Goddamn” (Track 12)

Not gonna lie I was not immediately siked for this one. I thought I was gonna have to sit through a week of death metal on repeat and although I do enjoy metal, I just wasn’t ready for that lol. Now that I’ve given it a few plays I can first tell y’all I was wrong, it’s for sure not death metal and second it was not bad at all. It had a funky, classic rock kind of vibe and I was actually super here for it. I think the metal dudes would get down with them for sure.

I got this CD sometime last year I believe, when my boss was getting rid of a whole bunch of CD’s cause it seemed cool and different and I don’t have much metal in my collection lol and it’s for sure staying. I took a chance and that chance paid off. There were some things I didn’t completely rock with, but for the most part I’d check out whatever dive bar these folks are playing at. Week 2 was the prime example of why I’m doing this.

Also I just checked their Instagram and their look matches PERFECTLY to this sound. Love the mustaches, love the suits, love the entire energy.

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Weeks 3 + 4 (January 15th - January 22nd)

Week 3 Album: Corinne Bailey Rae North American 2X Disc Deluxe Edition (2007) *Emphasis on the 2nd disc by Corinne Bailey Rae. Play Count: 4 with 1 full run through. Top 2 Tracks: I’d Like To Weekender Remix (Track 8) Daydreaming (Track 6)

Week 4 Album: I Am Me (2005) by Ashlee Simpson Ross Play Count: 5 Top 2 Tracks: Catch Me When I Fall (Track 8) Say Goodbye (Track 11)

Sorry this is a long one. You’re getting a double feature this week, because I paused my posts cause that was one of the ways I was participating in the strike that was happening last week. Anyways, but not really cause Free Palestine, both albums were good.

Corinne Bailey Rae’s self titled is one of my favorite albums of all time, however this second disc took me a minute to get into. The flow just wasn’t as automatic as I thought it would be, but it eventually picked up with help from the lyrics and a full run through of both discs. Once you’re there, you’re vibing.

Made an exception for this album because of the second disc that I had never listened to.

As for week 4, it was automatic with I Am Me. The album starts with Boyfriend, which is never not a good time and just continued from there. It was fun and poppy and had that little rock edge all the pop girls who dated rocker guys from that era had. Good stuff. __________________________________________________________________

Week 5 (January 29th - February 4th)

Album: PETALS for ARMOR (2020) by Hayley Williams Play Count: 4 Top 2 Tracks: Why We Ever (Track 10) Sudden Desire (Track 5)

Not gonna lie this one wasn’t automatic for me, like I thought it would be. It took a moment and even then I wasn’t sure. That being said the 80’s vibe did grow on me and the songs that I wasn’t really feeling at the beginning almost became favorites, particularly “Roses/Lotus/Violet/Iris” and “Simmer.” I can see the bleed from what Paramore is putting out and her solo work, even if it’s only a slight bleed. It’s Hayley Williams so you’ll probably find something to like.

PS: I saved this one from getting tossed at the library and I’m glad it got picked cause it makes me not regret saving something I didn’t have space for.

So those are the albums that I sat with in January. I think it was a good variety. Which one would you check out?

Stay tuned for February.

#Sitting To Know Your Collection 2024 #Sitting To Know Your Collection #Learning Logic #Camilla Recchio #Peace Love Death Metal #Eagles Of Death Metal #Corinne Bailey Rae Deluxe Edition #Corinne Bailey Rae #I Am Me #Ashlee Simpson Ross #Ashlee Simpson #PETALS for ARMOR #Hayley Williams

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buzzkillzine · 1 year

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The year is 2005: I was in year 9 in high school and was well into my era of loving crushingly brutal heavy metal, sludge filled grunge and my hidden way underneath a secret love of pure, dumb, bubblegum pop.

Being in a small country town, the only access we had to music was the single record store in town and the local newsagent where I would buy and read music magazines.

I would usually flick through Rolling Stone but it was too mainstream for me at the time (yes, I was obnoxious back then. I'm sorry), I would read the classic rock magazines with the opinion that 'Old Music' is better than new music (I said I'm sorry, ok! I have changed. I promise) but the main magazines I devoured were Kerrang and Metal Hammer, the later being the best value for me because it would include a free CD with each issue and occasionally, on the best days, a DVD filled with new heavy music for me to discover.

The DVD issues were always great because you could watch a huge mix of bands from different genres: Black Metal, Viking metal, Death Metal, Emo/Screamo, which I usually skipped because emo 'wasn't heavy enough' (I should've just done a blanket apology at the start for most of my highschool opinions), and would include live tracks, interviews and music videos.

I forget which specific issue it was but I was working my way through the DVD one day, skipped past a couple of emo songs and then onto the screen of my very old television came this image...

At first I thought it was going to be some black metal band, in Corpse paint, holding some satanic sermon. The song was called Burning Beard by a band called Clutch. That didn't sound heavy. I might skip it. But then, the band appeared...

Clutch? Who's that?

Who were these bunch of Dads?

Then, the there was lyrics...

Every day, I wake up we drink a lot of coffee and watch the CNN

Every day, I wake up to a bowl of clover honey and let the locusts fly in

What? And what the hell was this time signature they were playing in?

Every time I look out my window same three dogs looking back at me

Every time I open my windows cranes fly in to terrorize me

I was puzzled. This band that looked like a bunch of men who got together on the weekend to play a set of covers at the local pub were playing the most exciting thing I had heard since I started buying Metal Hammer. They didn't wear chains, didn't have long hair, weren't screaming, didn't have wild guitar solos... they just fucken rocked. Hard.

The lyrics are still some of the best bits of weird poetry with hidden layers and meanings that I've heard.

Swan diving off the tongues of crippled giants

Okkam's razor makes the cutting clean

I was hooked and had to find out more.

I bought the album Robot Hives, then went back and got Blast Tyrant. Then over the years, Clutch have become one of my favourite bands.

They pulled me out of so many shitty preconceptions I had about music, people and life in general.

Oh this burning beard I have come undone

It's just as I've feared, I have, I have come undone

A decade or so after first hearing them, while hosting my community radio show, I played a Clutch song. The text line lit up with people asking 'who is this? It's great!'. These listeners would then fall in love with the band the same way I did.

I guess the moral of this story is to not judge books by their cover. Enjoy the stuff you like, even if it's not what you have painstakingly engineered your entire personality around. Admit that it's ok to like different things and that your opinion on music is subjective and can also be flat out wrong.

Oh. And go and listen to Clutch.

#music #clutch #burning beard #journal #stream of conscious writing #writing #rock #rock n roll

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catchmewjsn · 1 year

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is it ok if I wear a white turtleneck and a stripes shirt over it skdhdkdd because my black turtlenecks are all dirty also this sounds like some 2010 punk rock outfit(i wrote wrong years but everything after 2010 feels the same.. may be even 2005)

#almost all my clothes are still dirty and im lazy and not doing laundry 💀

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eurovision-revisited · 21 days

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Eurovision 2005 - Number 6 - Helena Paparizou - "My Number One"

youtube

Here she is again, and for her crowning moment in Eurovision history. She'd already finished third in 2001 with Antique, and for 2005, ERT had decided that what they needed was a proven success for Greece. To that end, the changed their selection process from a national final to a song selection final in which Helena was to sing four songs and the public got to chose which was the best.

I strongly dislike song selection finals. It's the worst of both worlds. There's already been an internal selection. If they've chosen the wrong artist, nothing can be altered. Then you're relying on the public to chose the best song - and there's a reason several countries are increasingly choosing internal selection. The public can't often be trusted to make a good decision.

In this case, however, Helena is a proven Eurovision artists, who can sing, perform, and who fits perfectly the genre du jour, the girl-bop. She is the boppiest girl around. It had taken a while to confirm her as the selected artists as it seems other names were in contention who had demands that ERT deemed unreasonable. In the end, even if Helena hadn't been the number one choice, she was the correct one.

The song that won the selection was, appropriately, My Number One written by Christos Dantis, Manos Psaltakis and with lyrics by Christos and Natalia Germanou. Three song-writers with some music industry experience but no Eurovision pedigree. It had to beat only two others songs as one of the four songs she was supposed to perform was disqualified before the final. The song-writer had already released a version on Amazon prior the cut-off date, thus breaking the hallowed rules of Eurovision.

In fact none of the songs Helena had been given had any writers with Eurovision experience. The songs had come from an open submission process and were selected not just by ERT, but also in conjunction with Sony BMG. The music industry were continuing to find Eurovision to be an opportunity they couldn't ignore.

There is one other magic factor that led to Helena and Greece's success. The staging. One of the reasons that the girl bops dominated from 2003-2005 was the bopping part. They needed choreography and staging. They weren't content to stand in front of microphones and sing. Dancing, costuming, lighting and camera movement were just as important. Here Greece used Fokas Evangelinos, who had first directed Greece's Eurovision entry the year before. He knew what he was doing and would go on to have a very lengthy career as a Eurovision stage director.

What Helena, Ruslana and Sertab proved was that you needed something else besides just a voice and a song. They could all sing while performing increasingly energetic and elaborate choreography. If you were a rock band and wanted to win Eurovision, you were going need something else, something extra...

The song itself is perhaps the most ideal example of the combination between pop and traditional and ethnic sounds. Here it's not just in the instrumentation chosen, but also the dance moves in the staging. That Helena and Greece share the same name origins only makes it more perfect - even if she is Swedish.

When it came to the scoreboard, it wasn't that close. This was no 2003 with a dramatic conclusion. There had been boos for some acts, but they weren't in the running this year. Greece won its first ever Eurovision maintaining the streak of first time winners that stretched back to 2001.

Helena is Eurovision icon - she's had a long and highly successful career with Europe wide-touring, eleven albums, nearly seventy singles, the most recent two of which were released this year (2024). She has been rumoured to return on other occasions including the possibility that she would have sung Fuego for Cyprus in 2018. She also entered Melfest in 2014.

Here's one of her more recent singles, form 2023, Δε Μου Τα Λέει Καλά. She's still got it.

youtube

#esc 2005 #esc #eurovision #eurovision song contest #Kyiv #Kyiv 2005 #Youtube #national finals #Eurovision Party 2005 #Greece #Helena Paparizou #Fokas Evangelinos #Christos Dantis #Manos Psaltakis #Natalia Germanou

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crying-over-cartoons · 5 months

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Ben's First Kiss (With the Ground)

Sliding downhill on an ice block is a great way to go sledding in summer- that is, until Ben loses his grip, and maybe a few teeth.

(Canon-divergent of s4e6 of the 2005 show)

(CW: blood & injury, doctors, dentists, hospitals, surgery)

this fic is based off a true story, from when i was about twelve. i was sledding in actual snow, though. i still have scarring on my gums!

(also, i only just started watching Alien Force. no spoilers, please!)

Also on AO3

XLR8 shrieked with laughter as he flew down the hill, the wind whipping past. Who needs snow to go sledding? He thought. A block of ice works just as well!

He whooped as he crested the lower hill, his momentum carrying him into the air. "This is AWESOME!" he yelled.

But his fun was cut short by the sound of the watch deactivating. Within seconds, he went from speed-demon XLR8 to regular human Ben.

And without XLR8's claws, he lost his grip on the ice block. He cried out as he tumbled through the air, on a collision course with the ground.

"Ben!" Grandpa called. But he was too far away to do anything.

Ben's eyes snapped shut, and he hit the ground face-first.

-=-

When Ben opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a small rock laying in the grass. Man, good thing I didn't hit that, he thought.

Then he saw the blood.

Then the pain hit.

He screamed as his entire face was engulfed in flame. Hot blood pooled in his mouth and dribbled onto the grass, and he gagged at the taste.

He stumbled to his feet, trying to find Grandpa- there were suddenly a lot of people here. He could barely see through the tears streaming down his face, and he ran through the crowd until he spotted a familiar Hawaiian shirt.

"G'wa'pa!" he cried, running towards him. Grandpa caught his shoulders before he could run into him and knelt in front of him. "Ben, what's wrong? What's hurt?"

Sobbing, Ben opened his mouth, pointing at it. Grandpa tried to move his upper lip, but stopped when Ben cried out and shoved his arm away. "C'mon Ben, let's get you in the Rustbucket." He kept an arm around Ben's shoulder as they walked. Ben hid his face in Grandpa's shirt, unable to stop crying. "You're gonna be okay, Ben, I promise."

But the words weren't doing much to make him feel better. Sharp pain lanced through his gums with every beat of his heart, and he was drooling blood all over Grandpa's shirt. And, Gwen had seen the whole thing. Both him wiping out and then crying like a baby over it.

Now his face was burning with both pain and embarrassment.

Once they were inside the Rustbucket, Grandpa pulled Ben towards the sink and took a cup from the cupboard. He filled it with water and handed it to Ben. "Here, rinse your mouth out. I don't want you swallowing any blood."

With shaking hands, Ben attempted to do as he was told, but the cool water made the pain flare, and he ended up coughing water and blood all over the inside of the sink. He went light-headed at the sight.

He was breathing too fast. His chest was starting to hurt. But he couldn't slow down.

Grandpa took the cup from his hand and put it on the counter. He knelt down again and pulled Ben into a hug. "You're okay, Ben. Deep breaths, you'll be fine. Deep breaths."

Deep breaths. I can do that, Ben thought. He began to calm down, raising his arms to return the hug.

Once Ben was in control of his breathing again, Grandpa stood and fetched an ice pack from the freezer. He wrapped it in an old dish towel, and handed it to Ben, who pressed it gingerly against his face. "This should help with the pain. Now you go ahead and sit down, I'm gonna drive us to the hospital."

Ben sat at the table, watching Grandpa walk to the driver's seat with wide eyes. Hospital?

He'd gotten hurt a lot over the course of the summer so far. So had Gwen. But never anything worse than a bad bruise, or a few scrapes.

Grandpa had been hospitalized, once- and he'd turned out okay. But Ben couldn't remember the last time he'd been to a doctor for anything other than a checkup.

He must be really hurt.

Gwen sat down in the seat opposite him, and pulled out her laptop. Ben hid his face in his knees- he was starting to panic again, and Grandpa was too busy driving to calm him down this time. His body trembled with sobs as he desperately tried to catch his breath.

"Hey Ben, check this out."

Ben looked over his knees to see that Gwen had turned her computer around to face him, playing a video showcasing a snake enclosure, complete with a six-foot-long boa constrictor. He watched the owner feed the snake a giant frozen-thawed rat, before glancing at Gwen.

Ben had loved snakes (and pretty much all reptiles) his entire life. He thought the way they ate was super cool, but he knew Gwen thought it was a little gross. She didn't like seeing the dead mice and rats, which was why he made a point to try and show her pictures or videos of snakes eating every time he found a new one. When they were six years old, he'd caught a wild garter snake and shoved it in Gwen's face, just to hear her scream. She'd chased him around the entire park threatening to pull his hair out.

And now, four years later, she was willingly visiting a snake blog for him because she knew they were his favourite animal. She wanted to make him feel better.

And it was working- he couldn't seem to stop crying, but even as his gums throbbed and the ice pack became stained with blood, he felt less panicked, and his sobs calmed to tears and sniffles.

They arrived at the hospital only a few minutes later. Grandpa held his hand as the three of them walked in.

He spent most of the visit clinging to Grandpa's shirt, in too much pain to even speak. Gwen was there too, and Ben knew it was just because Grandpa didn't want to leave her alone in the Rustbucket right now, but he was silently grateful anyway.

The doctor looked inside his mouth and asked a few questions. Gwen answered any that Ben couldn't answer by pointing, and the doctor told Grandpa that he most likely needed dental surgery. They couldn't perform the procedure at the general hospital, but there was a dentist's office nearby that could. He gave them the address, and wished them luck.

The trip to the dentist's office was even worse than the trip to the doctor. The adrenaline had long since faded, leaving Ben to bear the full force of the pain. Not to mention, it was getting late, and Ben was exhausted. Not even fun facts about green anacondas and American alligators could make him feel better, but he couldn't fault Gwen for trying.

When they arrived at the dentist's office, it was dark out. The streetlights blocked any stars from view, leaving the sky looking like a black sheet.

Gwen had to wait in the lobby this time, while Grandpa followed Ben and the dentist to a room with a giant x-ray machine. Somehow, Grandpa managed to sweet-talk the dentist into ignoring the unremovable metal watch, and she only had Ben take off his belt before he laid down on the table. She gave Grandpa copies of the images, who told Ben he wouldn't get to see them until he was feeling better, which Ben thought was very unfair.

After taking the x-rays, the dentist brought them to the operating room. She had Ben sit down in the dental chair, and explained what she was going to do- though most of it flew over Ben's head.

He wouldn't normally describe himself as afraid of doctors or dentists- but a check-up or getting your teeth cleaned was way different from getting surgery. The darkness of the windows and the shine of fluorescent lights on pointy metal objects did little to settle Ben's nerves.

He was less than thrilled to discover they'd be putting braces on him- though he was happy to get to choose the colour of the bands. He picked a bright green that matched the watch.

He held Grandpa's hand tightly as the big chair leaned backwards. A mask was placed gently over his face, and he fell asleep.

-=-

After the surgery, he woke up, feeling hazy, but free of pain. Grandpa was carrying him, and he could see Gwen walking alongside. Grandpa had changed his shirt at some point- it looked exactly the same, but without the bloodstains.

When they got inside the Rustbucket, Grandpa set him down at the table, leaning him against the wall so he wouldn't fall over.

"Good news, you get to keep all your teeth!" Grandpa said. "And to make sure it stays that way, the dentist said soft foods only for a few weeks, so I'm gonna make us some soup for dinner."

If Ben was a little more awake, he would probably have been overjoyed to be eating normal food. As it was, he couldn't even really taste the soup through whatever numbing medication he'd been given, but he could tell it was warm, and that was good enough for him.

After dinner, he climbed into bed, and fell asleep near instantly.

-=-

Of course, having to spend the next few weeks living off of soup and baby food was utterly miserable. At the very least, the x-rays were just as cool as he'd hoped.

And somehow, Gwen's new nickname of "Braceface" didn't upset him nearly as much as it once would have.

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i've decided that it's my life's work to make Ben comprehend mortality. today, i do that by putting him through the worst experience of my life.

#b10 #b10 ben #b10 grandpa max #b10 gwen #ben 10 #crying over writing #fanfic #fanfiction #blood #injury #hospital #doctor #dentist #surgery

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