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justjams2003 · 1 year ago

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Sweet Savagery- 9

Paring: Dark!Thor Odinson x Slave!Reader

Summary: All your life, Thor's blue eyes have haunted you. You believed you outran him, but now all your hopes come tumbling down.

Warnings: Death of loved ones, violence, nightmares, non-con, p in v, degradation. If you noticed it, strippers technically (but like exotic dancers)??? Talk about slavery and fluff

Word count: 1.9k+, Unedited

1st Divider by: @firefly-graphics

2nd Divider by: @cafekitsune

Tag list: @torossosebs @steverogersistheguy @thehighladyofasgard @notyourtypicalrose

~Masterlist~

Part 8~Part 10 (Coming soon)

England isn’t as cold as New Asgard, yes, the wind is still cold and there is a little layer of snow on everything. But nothing compared to the meters of snow that lay heavy and thick on the ground in the North. Even still, Thor pulls you closer to his side. Your servants had started unpacking the ship and couldn’t help but have a peek of this new place.

His voice is low and barely above a whisper, only for you to hear. “You will not leave my side. If you want to go anywhere, do anything, want anything, say anything, you will ask me first.” He emphasizes the words by squeezing you tighter. You allow him, enjoying the way that your body fits into his side. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

He growls at your tone, shooting you a look and you bite your cheek. Looking back at the dock, you can see people scramble to bow down to a man dressed quite foolishly. He has many jewels decking his whole body. His red cape and furs look silly, while on Thor it looks majestic and powerful. Not to mention he has this disgusting smile on his face. It's like he’s watching a snail burn in salt.

Thor steps down the stairs onto the dock, he holds out his hand and helps you down. This slimy-looking king, with his crown held high, takes your hand and places a wet kiss on your knuckles.

You frown and cringe looking up at Thor, who keeps his face blank or rather stoic. Other people would only shake in anger, but after spending almost a year with him, you can tell by the tick of his jaw, that he’s furious.

“You should smile more, girl.” Suddenly, you feel small again. You step back slightly, your eyes fall to the floor and in your mind, you’re a slave once more. Thor’s arm wraps around your waist, reassuring you. “Do not talk about my fiancé, ever.” His voice is rough and stern, and you can just hear in your mind him scolding you to stand tall.

“We have a feast prepared for your arrival. With the...lupine foods you and your people like so much.” The English king says as he walks the two of you to the room you will be staying in. You throw Thor a glance, you were but a slave before and hope that he could explain to you what the man truly said. He gives you a slight nod, he knows already the questions brewing in your mind.

“The meal will start when the 8th bell rings, or er, a maid will come get you when it is time.” He gives another miry smile and when the door shuts you can’t help but cringe again. “I don’t like him. He’s...greasy.” Thor sits down on the bed and pulls you closer by the hip. “You shouldn’t like him.” Like always he says so little, but he knows when you raise your brow you want more.

“Go on, ask.” He allows you, and you can’t help but let your hands curl through his hair. “What does lupine mean?” This question makes his expression turn cruel. “Wolfish. He means we are like animals. The other people only see us as savages, barbaric. They don’t believe that we can be sensible and fear us for our brutal ways.” He explains, creating small circles on your v-line.

You bite the inside of your cheek and wonder if you should even be asking this question. Would he get upset? “Thor, if I am to be queen, am I still your slave?” His head snaps up to you, and his jaw locks tight. His eyes narrow as he thinks of what to say. “Yes.” His blunt answer is like a dagger to the heart. You thought be more to him by now, after everything.

“You serve me by giving me your body, mind, soul and heart. You serve me by staying by my side and keeping me company. We can be described as no less. More, yes, you might not realise it, or even want it, but I serve you just as you do me.” His words are nothing but wise. As if he’s been thinking about it every day since you met.

Little does he know that those piercing stormy blue eyes that now bear into your soul have been holding you captive for much longer than the payment. These days though, you do not have nightmares of them anymore. In fact, you do not dream anymore. Instead, you are kept awake by his touch, or deep asleep due to the sound of his voice.

“But you are mine. I own you.” He then pulls you close and places a small kiss on your middle point. Such a gentle action against such harsh words. He’s so vulnerable in this moment. His head is cradled in your hands, and your fingers still create patterns on his scalp. So many enemies would beg to be in this position, just to murder the man you swore you’d kill yourself.

And yet, your hatred is nothing but a candle in the wind. Something long forgotten. Even when he screams or shouts. Even when his hands are harsh and cruel against your soft skin. Even then, you can’t help but still want to thank him. For the clothes on your back, for the food in your belly. These days, you can’t believe the beauty that a few extra carbs bring.

All because of him. Your beauty has been unlocked. Your mind is no longer on attack, flee or survive. Now you get the chance to think about the flowers in the meadow, and how you’d love to run through them. Or about the snowflakes that match the froth of the sea. Or sometimes, just sometimes about how you miss these gentle moments when he isn’t there.

Your brows furrow, “Thor, what are we really here for?” You ask, not sure if you're allowed to know. He tsks, suddenly the moment is broken. The serenity is gone. He lifts his head, grabs you by the waist and turns you around.

He pulls on the ribbon that keeps your corset together. “You must be tired from all the travelling; did I not tell you not to worry your pretty little head about it?” His tone sounds scolding and harsh.

“Well-I-” He cuts you off again. “Why don’t we have the maid draw you a nice warm bath? After all that seasickness I’m sure my girl feels a bit gross.” He’s not wrong and the way his fingers linger while he removes your corset makes your tongue stutter. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He moves too fast again. His fingers are quick to unlace your clothes, well-practised.

He stands up, and now he’s slow again. He moves your braid to one side and he places small kisses all over your neck. His beard tickles and his hot breath lights your nerves on fire. “Of course, my lady is not used to the far travel. Only made to walk before, traded off to people who treated you so cruelly.” His words are like lullabies to your ear.

It’s good to hear someone comfort your past. To have someone acknowledge the pain you went through, all those years. Each time he sees a scar from whippings previous, you can hear him curse under his breath. Demanding to know who had done this, only for you to shrug.

His temper would flare, and you’d have bruises in the shape of his hand on your sides. Those bruises only cling to protect you.

He cradles you close, just for a moment, a slight sway before he seems to snap out of his nature. “I’ll call your maid. Do not leave the room. I have some things to take care of.” He says, letting go of your body and placing a last kiss on the top of your head.

The ladies here are dressed quite differently. Their dresses don’t have any patterns or jewels. No markings of their lovers or of their gods. Not to mention they have much fewer layers, none of the ladies wear furs or capes and their necklines plunge much lower.

Thor’s people are quite comfortable with nudity, lovemaking is not something to be hidden. Though, you’re still not entirely easy with the thought of your wedding night.

Between the women whose dresses are tight, and revealing, you feel severely overdressed. With Thor’s cape still on your shoulders, you feel frumpy. The ladies dance and move their bodies in ways you’ve never seen before. They look otherworldly, one second you feel you should shield your eyes and the next you need them closer. Does Thor also feel like this?

At one point, one even comes close to you. The dancer’s midriff is open, she is toned and very, very close to you. Her eyes are so flirty, and while she dances her long feminine finger comes and raises your chin to look her in the eyes. Does she know you’d been avoiding even looking at her? She seems to bite her plump lip and then shoot you a wink before dancing away.

A blush coats your whole face. Similar to when Thor pulls you closer and calls you his. Or when he catches you staring at his almost God-like form. You can’t help but turn to him, wanting to know what it means when a dancing lady winks at you. But Thor seems to be enjoying himself. He’s got a huge tanker of beer, you assume, in his hand.

He’s shouting to the people sitting next to you, but not angry. More boisterous as if they are celebrating something. Should you have been listening to what they were saying before they started drinking? His eye catches your expression of bewilderment. “Ah, Kjæreste,” he coos at you, his huge hand wraps around your cheeks.

“Has my little girl drunk something you shouldn’t have?” He asks, clearly referring to the beer he’s holding in his hand. You shake your head.

In the castle, you’d only ever been brought water or juice, and other slave owners didn’t allow alcohol. “No?” He furrows his brows. “Would you like to try some?” Clearly, he’s not thinking straight anymore.

But you trust him and smile shaking your head yes. His grin goes wide, a smile you only see late at night in the dark. He lifts his huge cup to your lips and doesn’t drop it until you’ve drunk the whole tankard. It’s bitter and yeasty. You’re not used to alcohol and burns your throat like a hard liquor. Perhaps your face twisted because Thor lets out a boisterous laugh.

A blush flushes your whole face. It’s soon when the whole world starts spinning, is it supposed to be this quick? “Thor, I think I should retire for the night.” You mumble out, already feeling unstable on your feet as you rise.

Your King seems to have a moment of sobriety when you stumble and lean against him.

“I will walk you, kjæreste.” His tongue too is slipping. You shake your head. “No, no. You are enjoying yourself. It’s good to see you smile.” You say, the beverage making your tongue loose. Clearly, your hands too as you caress his cheek, his beard tickling you. “You worry too much, mighty king. Listen to your woman and stay. We’ll have her maids help her.”

The English king’s words don’t seem slurred and he seems all too happy to help. However, his words make logical sense to you and you can only nod in agreement with his statement. Neither of you aware of his schemes.

My taglist is open! If you wish to be tagged in this story alone, please comment or reblog with the words 'tag'. And if you wish to be tagged in all my posts please comment or reblog with the words 'tag all'.

#thor x you #thor x reader #dark!thor x reader #dark!thor smut #dark!thor #thor smut #thor x reader smut #dark!thor x reader smut #king!thor x slave!reader #thor #king!thor #thor odinson #thor fanfiction

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cringywhitedragon · 5 days ago

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A look into games developed by 4Chan: The known, The loved, The hated, and the unknown Pt 1 of 2

Note: Before I start this overview I would like to state that this post may (and will mention) a controversial title or two. This is not a review or opinion piece on said games and I will be trying to keep it as neutral as possible as this post is not meant to act as a review. Everyone is entitled to have their opinions on games, this post is merely designed to act as an overview to several titles you may have heard or haven’t about (and it is a loooooooong post!)

As a general rule of thumb, I will not be including games that are blatant malware (Lostboy.exe or Sad Satan) or Yandere Sim (as while this game was mentioned on and pitched on 4Chan by its dev, it feels a bit too mainstream and I would be here all day talking about it)

Once again, please take these games with a grain of salt if you want to play them as this is 4Chan so some people might find these games content offensive so please, be cautious and make your own call.

Also most of these games listed are freeware so if you want to try them yourself then you can. But as usual when downloading files from the internet, please be cautious as while most of the official sources are clean. It’s still not a guarantee. I will not be providing any direct download links under each section unless you count the wiki I’m using as a source but you will have to seek out these games on your own.

This post will be divided into two parts, this one will be covering some of the much more well known titles. Pt 2 will be diving into more obscure stuff. All games mentioned will be in the tags.

So 4Chan, rather you love them or hate them you cannot deny that this anonymous message board has had a major impact on the internet and meme culture as a whole.

Rather you love or hate them, you’ve got to admit that it’s quite amazing on what a decentralized group of strangers on the internet can do for either the good or bad.

And well, that can even extend to video games.

Believe it or not but the chaotic hive mind of the internet has produced its several share of video games. Rather they be made by a team of random anons or a single person, 4Chan has made several games of varying types, quality, and even reception by the general public.

Which is why today I’ll be discussing some of these games that crawled their ways out or have ties to the people of 4Chan

Namely I will be using this page on the /v/‘s recommended games wiki: https://vsrecommendedgames.fandom.com/wiki/Games_Made_by_/v/irgins

So some information may be a bit off for some of the more obscure titles as well as some games that are not listed here.

I will be including stuff like mods and or rom hacks as well as I feel that could count in this context. But anyways, onto the list starting with probably one of the most well known games to come out for 4Chan (for all the right reasons):

—-

So visual novels and dating sims. Two things that have come out of Japan that are almost synonymous with each other nowadays, not to mention the sheer volume of these sorts of games.

Usually these games involve the Player taking the roll of a faceless guy (usually in a Japanese highschool setting) who has the option to romance a number of girls of various personalities, getting to know them as people and maybe if they’re lucky, reaching the golden ending in which our MC gets together with the girl in question.

Another thing these types of games are associated with are eroge, or adult titles that mostly focus on the act of copulation. Though not all games that fall under that umbrella are simply there for the hanky-panky and can actually have great narratives.

And well, would it be a stretch to tell you that 4Chan made a game that fits this very description.

Kawata Shoujo is a visual novel/dating sim developed by Four Leaf Studios. While the game does follow the traditional trope of a Bishojo dating sim set in a Japanese high-school setting, there is a bit of a twist compared to your typical games in this genre which is that all of the main girls (as well as our protagonist) each have some form of disability.

The game began its life of all places from the back of an H-Doujin as more or less a proof of concept by a Japanese Doujin writer we’ll be calling RAITA before it was scanned and posted on the image board which would lead to the eventual development of this game.

In KS, you play as Hisao Nakia, a young man who transfers to a highschool for disabled students after a lengthy hospital stay after learning that he has a heart condition as he adjusts to his new life.

The game itself has been widely praised by a lot of people for its treatment of the characters and setting as well as its storytelling.

Like most of the games on this post, this game is 100% freeware but please be warned that it does contain adult content (I do believe there are clean versions out there but just to be forewarned) but nothing overly graphic in that retrospective but if you are under the age of 18, either play a clean version or wait as per the whole you know what.

Speaking of visual novels, let’s take a look at one that was a lot more controversial.

—-

So Goodbye Volcano High came out and was promptly forgotten by most of the internet. Like me, you may have seen the trailer for it once and that was about it, totally oblivious that there was any drama at all.

This was for a number of reasons but one of the major ones I would likely say is due to the game’s main target demographic and themes being the LGBTQ community which is a pretty touchy subject in the realm of video games.

The trailer particularly caused a stir on 4Chan which eventually kickstarted a series of events that would lead to the formation and development of a game known as Snoot Game.

Created by Cavanon and released about 2-3 years prior to GBVH, Snoot Game is a parody visual novel/retelling of GBVH that puts the player in control of the (literal) faceless protagonist named Anon navigating a school filled with dinosaurs and his interactions with the main cast, particularly with Fang.

Opinions on Snoot Game seem to generally be an overall mixed (and generally controversial) bag for a variety of reasons depending on who you ask compared to the likes of Kawata Shoujo mentioned previously. Some people consider the story to be really good (abet with it’s flaws) and even better than GBVH while other people consider it to be a horrible disgrace to the original and an attack on the LGBTQ community.

Though Caveanon would go on to release a sort of spiritual successor to Snoot called I Wani Hug that Gator, which follows a similar narrative but this time with a whole new cast unrelated to GBVH.

Like with all games on this list, I will leave it up to you (the reader) to make your own calls on if this game is good or bad as I will not be reviewing Snoot or GBVH. Snoot Game, being technically classed as a “fangame” is freeware while Wani is not (It is avaible on Steam).

Now that we’re leaving the realm of visual novels and the main controversial title on this overview is now behind us, how about we take a quick plunge into the deep waters of mystery for our next stop as a change of pace?

—-

Man it’s dark down here…

Be careful where you turn as you might be unlucky enough to bump into one of those floating heads behind us. Just try not to touch them or your game will crash.

…

I’m just kidding, you’re 100% safe from these guys but they are the subject of our next game.

Station.exe was a mysterious game posted to 4Chan in 2014 by an anonymous user supposedly found in a secondhand store.

The game places the player in a dark world in what looks to be some sort of field or factory in which they are being pursed by various floating heads. Coming into contact with these heads will crash your game.

Much about this game is still widely unknown. People digging into the game managed to uncover coordinates tracing to sites in Russia along with some other stuff. There’s a good video by Nightfair that explains this game in much better detail that I will link here

Since this game does not have an official download site like the games mentioned above and while the original version of this file is considered to be virus free. Please be careful if you want to track down a copy of this one.

That was just a mere taste of the deep end of what’s to come for the more… obscure stuff… For now let’s return to the surface above and talk about another well known title before I’ll let you rest.

—-

Hope that little trip made you felt refreshed traveler.

It’s getting a bit dark now so why don’t we sit here around the campfire and talk about a little something we all may know.

Pokémon.

I’m a big fan of the series and maybe you are too. The fanbase is massive with currently 9 mainline titles and various spin-offs and remakes to boot.

And with a fanbase that large and eager for anything new, people are bound to create games of their own.

4Chan is no exception. In fact, these next two titles I will be informing you on are both Pokémon related, one’s a fangame and the other is a ROM Hack. They’re different enough to warrant their own respective overviews so we’ll have to save the other for later.

For the time being, let’s focus on the ROM Hack.

So what happens when you essentially cross the cesspit of the internet with our favorite mon catcher? Well one of two things… One is that you get a fan project very similar in scale to KS with a serious narrative that fits into the world. Or you get Pokémon Clover which is what we will be discussing as our last entry on this part.

Pokémon Clover is a Fire Red ROM Hack that completely overhauls the game with two new regions, new characters, 300+ fakemon, and a whole lot more and fills it all up with what all 4Chan has to offer (memes and shitposts)

It sure isn’t something Nintendo or Gamefreak would ever put in its games for sure and the Pokémon designs are quite solid.

If you do want to try this rom hack then do be aware that it is more on the edgy side in terms of humor in case that isn’t your cup of tea.

As this is a rom hack, you will likely need a copy of Fire Red to play it and due to legal reasons I cannot provide that. You are on your own traveler.

—-

It’s been a long journey even though we’ve barely scratched the surface.

Remember that you are free to backtrack to our previous stops and journey deeper whenever you like, though I will not be joining you.

When and if you do decide to return, we will continue our journey with a tale of a Pokémon from a far away land with starlit wings before we dive down into the abyss of the unspoken of. So be sure to pack your diving gear next time.

Until we meet again dear traveler. The campfire will be here warm and waiting.

#reshi rambles #Video games #fangames #4chan #4chan developed games #Kawata Shoujo #Snoot game #Station.exe #Pokémon clover

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zeldaelmo · 1 year ago

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20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged by my wonderful friend @bahbahhh.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

484,215

My goal for 2023 was to hit the 500,000 and I'm positive I'll reach it.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Legend of Zelda, all games apart from Zelda I, II, and Minish Cap (because I haven't played them so far)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

How to name a royal child

Stolen Kisses

Strangers in the Night

It's in his Kiss

Flour, water, salt, yeast, love

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Uh... in theory, I do. I love getting comments but I often feel stupid saying ten times 'thank you' in a row, so I end up answering mostly when I have something to say.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would be Lonely at the Top. I don't really write angsty endings, but this one is hurt/no comfort as it tackles Link visiting the Light Dragon who doesn't even react to him.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hm...I'm not too fond of the fanfic version of the perfect happy ending, namely, proposal, sappy wedding, and omg, twins!, mainly because I love the nuance life teaches us. What a happy ending for a fic and a character is, is so often much more different than the fairy tale version.

That being said, I'd still go with Strangers in the Night, just because the two worked so damn hard for their happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Hate is a big word, but I get negative comments and sometimes they are even personal, yes. Most people are lacking reading competence and/or don't understand how stories work. I mostly ignore those. Sometimes I complain on discord if it's very annoying. If someone insults me, I block.

I don't think that has to do so much with me, though. I have 1,346 comment threads on my stories. Of course, there are some idiots among them, that's life.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, occasionally. I think ten of 77 fics are explicit. Look, the thing is, I'm a story teller. So if the smut doesn't add to the story, I don't tell it. Rule of thumb is, that I keep it to a T-rating if possible to make the story accessible to most people. I only go for explicit stuff if I want to deliver some part of the character development/plot with the intimacy (or the lack of lol) that the smut offers.

Does that get me the most Kudos? No. But I'm not here for that or I wouldn't bother writing for 30 years old games. I'm here to tell a good story and have fun. :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No. If you've read so far, I can tell you a secret as a reward: I find crossovers pointless. Ooops.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I am aware of! But I'd love to! Big fan of accessibility!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I've seen a few writing collabs end in fandom drama or otherwise go awry, so I decided that I only collab with artists. I might try with something short one day, but nothing novel-length.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Take a guess.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Ah, so I have a half-written novel in my drafts. A story about writer!Zelda and fanartist!Link who are also princess and beloathed bodyguard. I'm very determined to go back to that one after I finished The Promise, but I'm a little scared. The story is complicated and my thoughts are chaotic. I already asked @mistresslrigtar to help me work it out next year, so I hope we'll manage.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and showing what's going on in the character's head who's not the POV character.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with simplicity sometimes, mainly because of the language barrier. I write something that's horribly complicated and I just know there must be a better way to put it, but I can't figure it out. Grammar is hard, lads.

I also have a weird relationship with descriptions. I love having characters interact with their environment but I loath big chunks of description. I plan to work on this during my traditional holiday self-study break.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

This is a weirdly specific question, but ok.

If you don't happen to write a book that's supposed to teach beginners the other language, then don't. You might end up othering the person who's speaking and that's something you don't want to dabble with lightly.

I already talked about accessibility: You will exclude people from your writing and you don't want that just to sound cool. If you must for plot reasons, make otherwise sure everyone is on board. Slightly different case if you actively hide something from your readers (and other characters), but that's probably not the most common case.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

LoZ

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I refuse to answer this. 77 fics are too much to choose from. I love most of them.

tagging: @mistresslrigtar, @airplanned, @jenseits-der-sterne, @silentprincess17, @deiliamedlini, @skyyknights

#ask game

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rxgueone · 2 years ago

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LIVE FAST, DIE YOUNG PT. 3

Word count: 2,672.

Pairing: Austin Butler x oc

Summary: Austin is called for a certain job. Which requires him to be a Butler. In the process, he takes Aurilia (oc) on a date.

Warnings: mentions of violence, substance use, death, angst, fluff (?), human remains, manipulation, smoking, and guilt tripping. All I can think of.

Tags: none.

Note: LIVE FAST, DIE YOUNG isn’t a story that’s meant to be happy. It does have love involved but please don’t get your hopes up for a happy ending whilst reading. This chapter was inspired by a scene in Fight Club. Thanks for 1 follower btw. PT. 2 PT. 3

—

Austin flung the door open to the basement, Nik lazily following behind. Al looked up at his kid brother. “What was that soap made of?!” He shouted, fuming with anger from what he had just done. Approaching his eldest brother, Keith the second moved in front of Austin. Pushing him back before a fight escalated between them.

“It’s just soap.” Al got up from the box he was sitting on. “Dun matter where it came from.”

“You were the one who taught me how to make soap Alphonse.” Using his brother's full name was weird for Austin. But he was serious, he wanted to know. “You were the one that snuck me out to a liposuction clinic to get fat!”

“Then you know how it’s made, Butler.” Al stepped forward, causing Nik to come in between the two. Keith remained silent, his brown eyes gazing at the three.

“I’m not fuckin’ sellin’ that.” Austin refused to sell something such as that. Something that contained things of corpses. Just the thought of it grossed him out.

“You’re gonna sell that!” Al had pushed Nik to the side. Who spat out his cigarette, grabbing Al as well.

“Aye back off tincan!” Nik shouted. Without any hesitation Keith pushed his way through. Austin could see them both fall to the ground, he wouldn’t get between them. Keith, who was much shorter, had already beaten Nik to a pulp. Holding Nik by the collar of his flannel, his hand balled in a fist. He was restraining Nik from doing anything.

“You’re selling it.” Al seemed to ignore them as well.

“No, I’m not.” Austin refused to acknowledge it, accept that he would stoop this low. “I’m not selling something with human fat!” He protested against this.

Alphonse grabbed Austin’s hoodie by the front. Yanking his brother towards him, gripping the hoodie so hard it seemed to be ripping just by how aggressive Alphonse was being. “You sell weed and heroin. Don’t forget the cocaine you use to sell too. You ruin peoples lives with the drugs you sell. You’re the reason Tyler overdosed, you’re the reason his mother had to bury her own son! You’re why Eddie dropped dead, you’re why Ryu dropped dead! Don’t you forget that.” He shouted from frustration. “And after all those overdoses from the shit you sold to them. What did you do?”

“…” Austin’s head hung from his shoulders as if he was admitting defeat. Slowly craning his head to face his eldest sibling. He opened his jaw, but not a sound came out. Looking to the left, avoiding Alphonse’s gaze. “I kept dealing.”

“Yeah you did… you kept ruining peoples lives. Maybe if Riley hadn’t been high with the weed you supplied her when she went out for a drive. Maybe she’d still be alive. But she ain’t. She’s dead.” Alphonse was now taking the piss out of his brother. Pouring salt on the wound. The guilt that they both carried grew bigger with each word Alphonse spoke. “You continued to deal after your clients died. Drugs kill. Soap cleans. So sell the damn soap!” Shoving Austin away. He shamefully looked up at his brother, for some reason Austin felt like crying from all the frustration and anger he was feeling.

His eyes welled up, his hands were balled. “At least you’re actually fucking cleaning instead of killing.” Alphonse turned his back on Austin. Knowing his little brother was too weak to even land a measly punch on him. Keith took Alphonse’s motions as orders, letting go of Nik. Who quickly popped up onto his feet, looking at his ride or die. That said ride or die, looked crushed. “Keith, give them the other pills.”

Keith reached into his pocket, taking out six pill bottles. Three for each of them. Five bucks per bag. Austin and Nik obediently took them, shoving them into their pockets. “I get that you don’t wanna sell.” Alphonse was glaring straight at Austin. As if he could see through. “But listen we’re blood, you’ve been doing this when you were twelve. You’re nineteen now, you’re too far gone.”

“I know Al— I apologize for that.” He was sincere with his apology.

“It’s fine kid, just come back tomorrow same time for the soap… get outta here.” With being dismissed, Austin and Nik were both gone.

Nik popped in another cigarette. Watching Austin who was screaming in the middle of the park from pure frustration. He was punching at the grass repeatedly until his knuckles bled. Austin caved in, his head hidden between his arms, with his forehead pressed against the grass.

Nik watched in silence, seeing the shoulders of his best friend shake. His body trembling from the anger he felt. Only to have it end with him audibly sobbing. Austin was pawing at the grass, trying to hold onto something. But- this only made him feel more alone than anything.

—

Austin opened the door to Aurilia’s place. She had given him the spare key. He was allowed to show up unannounced so he could sleep. Aurilia was still up, and she turned to face him.

Her dorm-mate poked their head up from their bed. They recognized Austin due to them sharing the same fourth period. “Hey Aus!” She greeted.

“Hey Steph.” It was a nickname he had given to her. Her real name was Stephanie, and she was on the basketball team. That’s really all he knew of her.

“You look like shit.” Aurilia looked at him.

“Hello to you too, Lia.” He looked at her, she was sitting at her desk. With a laptop in front of her, she had been studying. Aurilia didn’t say anything, she just sat and stared at him. Austin looked terrible. From looking like the handsome guy earlier in all black. He looked like he had just been crying his eyes out. His hands were stained with what looked to be dirt, they were cut as well. His black hoodie was covered in grass, and the front of his chest was wet with- she could only assume mud.

“What happened to your hand dude.” Steph flicked her head to Austin’s cut hand.

“Just a fight.” He brushed it off.

“Pull up a chair, from Steph’s desk. Sit with me.” Aurilia offered, which Austin took. Grabbing the spare chair, he pulled up beside Aurilia. She held her hand out, tilting her head with raised brows. He reached his hand out, placing it into her palm. She looked at it quietly, her palms and fingers tracing his veins.

His hand was bruised and callused. Looking at the back of his hand to see his cut skin. She could see a scar in the shape of an X across the back of his hand. Clearing her throat, she got up to grab cotton balls, gauze sponges, alcohol, and hydrogen peroxide.

When she came back, he held his left hand up. She poured pure hydrogen peroxide onto Austin’s cut knuckles, he showed no emotion. As if he was use to this. As she cleaned his hand, Austin sat there.

Why did he come here? He never came there on his own tuition. If he wanted to sleep, he’d walk to an empty alleyway. Sit down, and sleep. Maybe he was here because when he was with Aurilia, he felt comfortable. He didn’t have to put up a wall, she always kept it real with him. He appreciated that. He guessed, he was here cause she was his safe place. His home.

“Y’know if anything happens to you. You have my number.” Austin said, which broke the comfortable silence between all three of them.

“I know I know. Why do you think I called you when I got drunk last night.” She let out a measly scoff. “I knew I chose right.”

“Chose what.”

“You.” She looked at him dead in the eyes now. The measly scoff washed away. Her eyes were narrowed at him to show she meant it. Her face finally distorted after three seconds, a playful smile. “Y’know? As my best friend.”

“Yes, I suppose.” He agreed.

“What? You don’t agree.” After she finished, she held his hand. Her fingers were tracing the shape of his hand.

“No, I do.” He looked down at their hands. Gently, he held hers as if it was a delicate flower. “You and Nik, you’re all I have.” His tone was soft.

“You have your brothers don’t you?”

“No- nono they’d kill me.” He was firm on that. “They would… they would kill me. Like I never existed.”

“They wouldn’t do that to you. They’re your brothers. You love them and they love you.”

“I mean-“ he breathed in, collecting himself, “-yes. We love each other. It’s just- it’s hard to explain.” He murmured. “They know when to-“ he was cut off by his phone buzzing.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. Aurilia was still holding his hand, his grip relaxed after he read what was on his phone. Shaking his head, he slipped it back into his pocket. His left hand slid from Aurilia’s grip, as he got up. “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah. I gotta go.”

“Can I come?” She asked. He stood there for a moment, listening to Steph drink her cup of joe. “Stephanie will be fine. Right, Steph?”

“Oh yeah y’know. Get it!” She responded with an uncomfortable amount of enthusiasm.

“…right…” He muttered, side eyeing her. Looking back at Aurilia, he prodded her over. She grabbed her sweater, putting it on and went to his side.

—

“Today, I’m gonna teach you how to make soap like how my brothers taught me.” Austin started, Aurilia was holding his hand. She was interested in this, being taught how to make soap. “We’re gonna have to do this quick.” He said calmly, quickly letting go of her hand to take his hoodie off. It was xxl, so he folded it up a few times to make a mat.

Without warning, he started sprinting at full speed. Aurilia reacted quickly, following behind.

Turning to the next block, he could see trash bins, around the bins were chain fences that were layered with barbed wire. Throwing his hoodie over the barbed wire, he grabbed at the fence. Quickly jumping over it, he watched Aurilia.

She effortlessly jumped over it, landing beside him. Grabbing his hoodie, she handed it to him. Where they both ran in front of trash bins, crouching down and leaning back. “Y’know consumers don’t give a fuck about what’s in the product, they just want it.” He began.

“How do you know that?” She countered.

“When was the last time you actually looked at what your bag of cheetos was made of? Or what your soap was made of?” He shot back.

She quickly backed down. “True.” Scanning her surroundings. She saw a huge biohazard warning. “Where are we-?”

“A liposuction clinic.”

“Huh-“ her jaw dropped.

“What? You expect me to kill someone and suck out their fat?” He retorted. Quickly getting on his feet, he turned around, grabbing the lid of the trash bin. He threw it open. Aurilia sat there for a moment. I mean… I’m pretty sure Austin could do that. He looks capable of killing. She watched him as he grabbed a transparent bag filled with fat. “Gold.” He looked at her, only to see her face retort and wrinkle in disgust. He passed the bag of fat to her, which she caught.

“Ew- oh my god Austin.” She closed her eyes, weakly fluttering them open. He threw another bag to her. Until she had in total five bags of fat in her arms, he jumped out the bin, closing it.

“Alright, you climb out first, and I’ll pass you the bags.” He grabbed them from her arms, putting them down on the ground. She gave a nod, Austin grabbed her waist, picking her up to give her a boost. She grabbed the top of the fence, throwing his ripped hoodie over the wires. She jumped over them, hitting the ground but jumped up to her feet. “Ready?”

“Yeah yeah just hurry up tin—“ a bag of fat hit her straight across the face, causing her to fall down. “Y’know what fuck you too tin—“ another bag hit her.

“Just catch them, Lia.” He teased, a small smile on his face. Throwing them over again, she caught them. When it was finally finished, he jumped on the fence, climbing out quickly. He grabbed his hoodie, pulling it back before it ripped any further. In fact, Aurilia watched as the hoodie ripped its sleeve off.

“Wow… you’re an idiot.” She proclaimed in confidence. Austin didn’t respond, simply ripping the other sleeve off to make a sleeveless hoodie. He tied it over his waist, picking up the bags.

“Alright lets go.” He started sprinting.

Pulling up to a parking lot, Aurilia recognized the tall figure. It was Nik, Austin’s best friend. He was smoking a cigarette, a strong one. He flicked it away, grabbing another then quickly lighting it.

Austin and Aurilia stepped in front of him. Austin dropped the bags, took his hoodie off, put the bags in, handed it to Nik. “Appreciate that.” Nik muffled through the cigarette, taking the hoodie that was filled with fat. Nik took out a bundle of cash.

“So it seems.” Austin nodded. Turning around, Nik threw the hoodie over his shoulder. Leaving the two of them alone. Aurilia looked over at Austin who unbundled the cash. 400 bucks dead. “Alright, here.” He gave her 300, and kept 100.

“No split fifty. You get two hundred.” She handed him five twenties.

“No no you—“

“Oh my god Austin. Just accept it.”

“Kay, my bad.” He apologized. Shoving the twenties in his pocket.

“So, you’re a night runner?” She asked. It was already 3:30AM.

“Yeah,” he paused, “yeah… yeah. I guess so.” He still denied it in his head. But he did work during the night. “I’ll walk you home.” Their fingers intertwined with each other, as they walked side by side down the street.

—

Opening the door to her place, he looked down at her, where she stood in front of him. “Thank you, for walking me home.” She leaned on the door frame.

He smiled a bit, giving a nod to show it was no issue. He wasn’t use to someone thanking him, especially if they weren’t his client. “Yeah you’re uh… y’know yeah, course. No issue.” He was tripping over his words like a new born foal. “That’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to protect you, you’re my best friend.”

She lifted her hand up to cup the right side of his face. He looked over at her, a small smile on his face still as her thumb gently stroked. “You’re a good guy Aus… even though you’re a bit of a tin head.” She teased, stepping into her dorm. “See you tomorrow?”

“Cya.” He promised. Closing the door for her. Aurilia yawned, for some reason she had the biggest smile on her face. What Austin did- was ultimately… disgusting. But, was it fun? Yes. It was the most fun she had in a long time.

—

And for Austin? He had already forgotten the night. With his left hand in his pocket, he was fiddling with the bottles in them. He was already making his way to a club, a perfect place to sell everything he had.

“Hello Butler,” the bouncer greeted him.

“Hey Simon.” Dipping his head, he walked in

“Have fun in there!” Simon teased.

#austin butler #austin butler angst #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x oc

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sunflowerspectre · 1 year ago

Text

Temptation (Ethan x Xander)

Commission for @greensword101 Request: During Xander’s summer as a stripper, he gets an unexpected visitor at the club. Requested Word Count: 5k Final Word Count: 5018 Tags: Ethan x Xander, m/m, anal sex, mentions of first times, first time same sex experience, first time anal sex, first times, blowjob, strippers/clubs setting, slightly unrealistic anal sex practices A03 | Commission Info

Temptation (18+ / Smut)

Xander swears that he is going to take this summer to the grave. He will not tell a soul what he has resorted to, not even if they waterboarded him, or if a demon promised to grant his every wish. There is no way in any hell dimension that he is going to let Buffy or Willow, or Faith, find out that he was a stripper, even if he only plans on doing it for a single summer. He is definitely not going to let them know he enjoys it either.

He did not expect to. The first couple of weeks, he just focused on the cash. Somehow, he could face demons and vampires on a regular basis, but the idea of getting on the stage and being a stripper - terrifying. He gritted his teeth, he tried not to focus on the people watching him, and he, honestly, expected the clients to be greasy sleazeballs.

They did still get some sleazy clients, but it was not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. All the strippers even warned him who to be careful of, and what to do if something happens. The security guard, who Xander was convinced was a demon his first night, even keeps a close eye on everyone. As far as stripper joints go in the middle of nowhere, it had to be one of the safest ones. Especially since he has not spotted many vampires either.

As he got to know the other strippers, the regulars, and became more confident, he actually likes it. He likes the attention. He likes the eyes on him. To his surprise, he starts to not mind that some clients are guys; he still gravitates toward the female clientele, but when he stops ignoring the males, he finds his tips double. Funnily enough, most of the guys are less handsy than the all girl bachelorette party.

The strippers are nice. They are welcoming and do not judge him either, even though he is one of the only males at the joint.

To everyone here, he is not just some guy who is helping the Slayer or someone to use as live bait. He is not some background character, or some normal guy with a bunch of literal superheroes. No one here even knows the Slayer or Buffy or the witch, there are no shadows that he is struggling to get out of. Instead, he starts casting his own.

For once, everyone’s attention is on him. He likes being center stage, even if it is just temporary. He starts getting his own regulars, and building a reputation. He starts to climb the ladder and what started as a gig to just pay for his car to get fixed started to turn into something more lucrative.

The club itself is even relatively and surprisingly normal, with little to no vamp or demon activity. While it made him paranoid at first, he started to realize that not every town is built on a hellhole. Sometimes, the quiet activity does not mean some big bad is brewing. The most he has to worry about is his shoddy motel getting broken into and getting robbed. He may not be the best fighter of the Scoobies, but he can handle a few humans that bite off more than they chew by trying to break into his place. He still is careful of his more supernatural protections, just in case; the habits are hard to break, he finds himself still putting salt over the doors and windows, iron at the door, and removing the welcome mat that the motel throws out in front of each of the doors.

Everything was going so well that he should have expected something bad to happen. He started to get a bit too lax, and comfortable, and that was his mistake. Because sure enough - tonight, he spots a familiar face in the crowd. A face that should not even be anywhere near here.

What the hell is Ethan doing here?

Xander tries his best to stay focused during his performance, but his eyes keep getting drawn toward the chaotic ex-watcher. He admits that he did mess up a few times - missed a few beats, almost slipped, but no one seemed to notice aside from one of his other performer friends who was giving him a playful thumbs down from behind the corner of the stage.

Xander’s mind is racing by the time he finishes his shift. He knows Ethan saw him, though the ex-watcher does not seem too interested in him. Just when he thought this was a normal, quiet town too. He almost feels bad for the poor town, knowing that if Ethan is there, trouble will not be far behind. That shit is going to hit the fan, maybe even take a few casualties. And if Ethan actually followed him here, then it would be his fault.

“Quite the performance,” Ethan’s voice rings out from behind him, almost in amusement, “I imagine your little friends in Sunnydale don’t know about your…hobby.”

Xander jumps with a curse, swinging around to face the man, “Damn it!”

Xander was hoping that he could avoid any confrontation with the ex-watcher by taking the back exit. Just enough to buy him some time to call the Scoobies. He tries to think of his odds. He could take the ex-watcher, but he does not know what Ethan has up his sleeve or if there are any more chaotic lackeys lurking around. But could fight him off. At least long enough to survive and get away. He is cautiously aware of how dark and tight the alleyway is and steps back to make his way toward the street for an easier getaway. He keeps his eyes on Ethan, but tries to stay aware enough of his surroundings to be prepared for an ambush, or some sort of chaotic bodyguard.

“Come now, don’t look at me like that,” Ethan clicks his tongue in distaste, “I’ll have you know that I actually came here alone.”

“Yeah?” Xander laughs, “Well excuse me if I don’t exactly believe in some handsome, evil ex-watcher.”

Ethan does not seem bothered by the use of the word evil, not even denying it, just following Xander out of the alleyway with curiosity, “Handsome? That’s quite the unexpected compliment.”

“I wasn’t trying to compliment you,” Xander sputters, his face turning red and warm. “It's just a general statement!”

“A general statement you believe in, apparently,” Ethan counters, an outstretched grin starting to appear on his face, “I’m flattered. Since it is customary to only return such a compliment, I suppose I’ll let you know that I did enjoy that performance of yours on the stage. Quite…tempting.”

Xander’s face flushes, as he sputters, and out of instinct, he says the first thing that comes to his mind - a statement that has become more of a reflex after so many nights working.

“If you like the show, then tip. I don’t exactly do it for free.” Xander argues, biting out a curse.

Ethan raises a brow at the venom in Xander’s voice, amusement twinkling in his eyes. Xander starts to beat himself up over what he said, knowing he should just keep his big mouth shut, but before he can get away, Ethan is holding a few bills between his fingers out in his direction.

“You’re absolutely right, my apologies.”

Xander eyes the stack of bills, his gaze flickering between the money and Ethan.

“It’s not a trick,” Ethan reassures, “And it’s not blood money. I really am a ex-watcher, you know. A legally paid one.”

Xander spots a hundred in the stack and that is enough to sway over his morals. He snatches the money, and starts professionally flicking through the bills. He counts an easy two fifty.

“Alright, that Benjamin Franklin better not get me arrested, or I -”

He stops, he does not really know what he could do. Ethan just lets out a small laugh before gesturing for Xander to continue forward, “Go on, I won’t bite. Not if you don’t want me to. We’ll consider this a truce of sorts and head our separate ways.”

Not if you don’t want me to. Xander furrows his brows, but he could have sworn that Ethan was just some chaotic human ex-watcher, not a vampire.

“Well.” Xander starts, already walking, “I guess that’s it then.”

He feels he cannot get away fast enough. He keeps the money in his pocket and he guesses when he gets back to his room he can always purify it just in case; Willow has at least taught him that and he does have the things in his suitcase.

His motel is at least a short distance away and when he gets there, his phone should have better service. He could give a call to Giles, warn him about the ex-watcher, ask for some backup. He does not exactly trust that the ex-watcher will just leave him alone.

And apparently he’s right to not trust him. It does not take long for Xander to figure out that Ethan is clearly following him, the distance is laughable. As if the ex-watcher is not even trying to hide his presence.

“That’s it,” Xander bites out as he turns toward Ethan, who just looks at him with a large, unnerving grin. They both stop in front of the motel. He doesn’t want Ethan to see what door he goes into. “What the hell are you following me for? If you’re going to do something, might as well get it over with -”

Xander stops his rant when Ethan holds out a dangling keychain that looks similar to the same one Xander has in his pocket. The motel name is written, if a bit worn out, on the chain, along with a room number.

“Oh no, no, no,” Xander starts as soon as he spots the numbers, “There’s no fucking way I have some evil ex-watcher right beside my room, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What,” Ethan questions, and Xander hates how that irritatingly handsome smile doesn’t waver. “You have a guest in your room? Don’t want me to overhear all the naughty little things you get up to? When the Slayer’s away, Xander shall play, is that it?”

Xander flushes, red spreading across his face. The blush deepens after each of Ethan’s accusations. Impulsively, Xander takes a step forward, “Hey! I’ll let you know that I don’t have anyone in my room!”

Xander sputters, realizing that it may not be best to tell the ex-watcher he is alone, “Well, I could if I wanted to, but after that one time with Faith, I’m just a little more hesitant. I mean - what’s the point of inviting a girl over if she just leaves before I even wake up…”

He starts to trail off, lost in the ranting. As soon as the word vomit starts, he can’t stop it.

“Or maybe she doesn’t really treat me nicely. For my first time, it was just a little bit too traumatic and I’m not exactly eager to repeat it, but if I wanted to have a girl over, I totally could!”

Xander says that last part with confidence, as if he won the argument. He deflates fast after saying it as the adrenaline wears off. Ethan listens patiently, and at least does not laugh at him like Xander knows Spike would.

“Your first time wasn’t particularly good, was it?” Ethan questions, an odd candance in his voice.

Xander does not know why he continues talking to the ex-watcher, but he blames it on a few contributing factors. The first being the shots he had while working. The second, and primary, one being that Ethan is, unfortunately, the only one he can now talk to about it. He cannot exactly bring the topic up with any of the Scoobies and as someone who has been holding it in for too long, beggars can’t be choosers.

“No.” Xander finally admits. “It was terrible. Am I really so weird for wanting that first time to be just, I don’t know, a little special? Maybe some sweet words here and there, something not so rough. I ended up just feeling a little used and not in a good way. Compared to Faith, I think sex with you would probably be better.”

Xander stops short again, me and my big mouth. He just had to run his stupid mouth; Willow was right, he really does need to think before he speaks more. Ethan, however, does not say anything at first. Instead, he looks thoughtful, as if he is debating something, before he finally speaks up.

“There’s no ‘probably’,” Ethan drawls out, “Let me show you the way it’s supposed to be and it will be better.”

Xander short circuits. His brain seems to go completely still, not a single thought bounces around in his head. He just stares at Ethan, trying and failing to process what is happening. He takes in the well dressed, and at least hygienic ex-watcher with a handsome face. Finally, he finds his voice even though his mouth feels dry and cottony.

“Okay.”

Yeah. The Scoobies are definitely not finding out about this summer.

_____________

Ethan is surprisingly a gentleman, more so than a lot of the more normal humans that Xander has met. He gives Xander time to take a shower and give himself a minute to think it over, and decide if it is something he really wants. When Xander comes out, everything seems untouched with no signs of the ex-watcher doing anything while he was gone. Instead, Ethan just sits on the bed in just his boxers, his ex-watcher outfit neatly folded and set on the dresser.

“Okay, okay,” Xander breathes out, “This is something I’m really doing. Yeah, okay, I can do this.”

Ethan’s lips turn into a smile, “Can you? It’s not too late to decide to stop, though I will admit that once we begin, I’m much more stubborn and harder to stop.”

Xander should not have found that hot. He feels his cock twitch under the towel he wears around his waist.

“I can,” Xander repeats more firmly, with a false confidence, before removing his towel.

He really hopes the room is not too cold. To his relief, his favorite body part seems to understand the memo, standing at attention and already hard. His length is one thing he can be proud of, with his member being a bit longer and thicker than the average guy’s. He does, however, feel a bit exposed as Ethan looks him over curiously.

His tongue darts out between his lips as he lets out a shuddering breath. Ethan gets closer, his hands reaching out to grab his waist and tug him down into his lap. Xander lets out a small yelp of surprise, but eases as soon as Ethan’s lips connect with his. He tastes good, Xander realizes, relaxing into the kiss as it deepens. Ethan’s hands stay firm on Xander’s waist, holding him down into his lap. Xander’s hands naturally fall around Ethan’s neck, holding himself up as he pushes into the kiss.

Xander starts to want something more as he can feel Ethan’s own bulge grind against his leg. The other man is already hard, and even through boxers, Xander can feel that Ethan’s own cock is just as impressive. Ethan’s cock is desperate, grinding against Xander for friction as Ethan parts his lips to dart his tongue into Xander’s mouth.

Xander lets out a small groan as he starts to grind himself against Ethan in return, eager for relief. As their kiss continues, Xander’s hand starts to travel down from Ethan’s neck and toward his boxers. With a bit of adjustment, Ethan’s cock springs free and Xander grasps it firmly.

“That’s it,” Ethan growls out softly, as their kiss parts, “I want you to pump Daddy’s cock, get me nice and ready, pet. Follow my instructions, then I’ll take care of you.”

Xander shivers. The casual way Ethan calls himself daddy sends a wave of unexpected pleasure down his spine. He had always pictured himself to be the one to be on top and take charge, but even during his time with Faith, it was not what he expected. Trying to take charge of her had felt so awkward and unnatural. But this, being the one not having to worry about what to do, feels natural.

HE likes being the one taking the orders, he realizes, as he groans. He follows Ethan’s instructions, his hand grasping firmly at the base of his cock. Ethan leans back on his elbows to let Xander go to work, groaning at each touch. Xander had never really touched a cock other than his own before, and it feels a little more different than he would expect, but he supposes that the best thing to do is just to touch it the way he likes his own touched. He adjusts his grip and slowly starts to pump Ethan’s cock, gently running his thumb over the tip as he does so.

Ethan shudders, “Just like that, pet. When you’re ready, I want you to use that mouth of yours. Make my cock as wet as you can and it will make it a lot easier later.”

Xander eyes Ethan’s cock and the way it throbs and pulses under his palm. He gulps, a bit intimated, but he takes a deep breath before lowering himself to be level with his member. He tentatively licks Ethan’s shaft before circling the tip with his tongue. Ethan’s hands grip at the sheets as he throws his head back with a louder groan.

“Don’t tease me, little dove.” Ethan growls out in warning, “I told you to suck it.”

Xander has never sucked cock before, but he supposes that if he just gets started, he can figure it out. He wraps his mouth around Ethan’s cock and takes just the tip into his mouth first, getting used to the way it feels and tastes in his mouth. Ethan’s hips thrust forward with want, causing Xander to gag before he figures out how to breath through his nose.

He slowly takes more of Ethan into his mouth, lowering himself further and further until he reaches the base. He gags for a second and pulls up quickly to breathe, even as Ethan groans and whines. Xander takes a moment to catch his breath before he continues, sucking Ethan’s shaft as best as he can. As soon as he finds his rhythm, it gets easier, and he starts to pump his head up and down on the cock, taking in the full length before going up. He can feel the slobber and spit just pooling out of his mouth as he does so and when he tries to swallow it, Ethan lets out a loud moan at the sensation.

“I think my cock is ready for you,” Ethan’s voice is more breathless, his face red, “It’s time to make sure you’re ready for me.”

Xander finds himself yanked back up into Ethan’s lap, their cocks grinding against each other at the motion, causing both of them to moan loudly. A finger goes into Xander’s mouth and he sucks it without thought before the finger is taken out with an audible pop. He tries not to think too hard about it, or he might tense up too much, but he can feel that wet finger start to prod at his ass.

Ethan holds Xander closely and tightly as he inserts his finger. Xander groans loudly at the new sensation, trying to control his breathing and stay relaxed as the finger slowly goes deeper - knuckle by knuckle until finally the entire digit is inside. He breathes heavily and tries to adjust to the feeling, before Ethan starts to prod at his ass. Xander squirms and groans as he feels the digit go in completely, only to be taken out by a knuckle and put back in.

“Fuck,” Xander curses, leaning forward into Ethan’s chest.

“That’s it, pet,” Ethan coos, “You’re doing great, lovely, keep it up and we’ll get your all ready for my cock.”

Xander whines at the thought of something even bigger than the finger being put inside of him. Ethan grins, a more erratic gleam in his eye as he struggles to hold himself back. He pounds his finger into Xander, moving it around as much as he can before he curls his finger and hits the sweet spot buried inside of him.

“Ah shit,” Xander groans, and his cock throbs as it gets pressed up in between them, desperate for attention. After a moment, Xander desperately starts to paw at his erection, fumbling for a moment before grasping it and starting to pump his cock. He leans forward into Ethan as the finger goes deeper inside of him, pumping his cock with short, raspy breaths.

“Are you going to cum for me, my pet,” Ethan teases, “And we’re just getting started.”

“No - I can - I can wait,” Xander struggles to get out. “I can - I can do this.”

Ethan presses his lips to Xander’s temple, gently whispering words of encouragement before he slides his finger out of him. At Ethan’s instruction, Xander lays down on the bed awkwardly, unsure of how to position himself and what he needs to do. Ethan pushes Xander’s legs up and apart, before guiding his cock in the space between his cheeks.

“I’m not going to hold back,” Ethan warns, “Once I’m inside of you, I am going to finish you, little pet.”

Xander lets out a low, breathy groan, “Come on, man, I’m dyin’ here.”

He really should take a course some time on dirty talk; even after all of his time working at the club, that is something that has not quite improved. It seems to be enough as Ethan takes it as consent to continue. Ethan guides his cock to Xander’s hole before sliding himself in.

They both shudder the moment he gets just past the head, their bodies trembling at the waves of pleasure that start to wash over them. Ethan takes a second, a wild look overcoming him as he starts to shove himself deeper into Xander. He does not give much of a warning before he already hits down to the base of his cocks, his balls slapping against Xander.

Xander’s knees already feel weak and he is not sure how long he can hold up his legs in this position. His whole body tenses for a moment at the intrusion, making Ethan groan as he feels it tighten around his cock. Xander whines, unable to get a coherent word out, as he focuses on the new pleasures. He did not know it could feel so good to have something inside of him, a man inside of him.

True to his word, Ethan does not slow down once he gets started. He pulls himself out of Xander before slamming back into him with force. Xander’s cock pulses and he is not sure if he can hold it in like he said he could, the brink of a climax already approaching fast. Ethan grabs Xander’s hips and slams into him quickly, and with each thrust, Xander lets out small yelps and groans.

He becomes like jelly underneath the other man, his body becoming limp as his eyes start to roll into the back of his head. He almost thinks that Ethan forgets about him, but Ethan still murmurs his name under his breath, along with a few pet names. He can feel Ethan’s palm go for his cheek, cupping his face almost with care as he leans forward to get deeper.

“You can take it all, my pet,” Ethan whispers, “I want you to feel good. I want you to enjoy this.”

“I - I do,” Xander gasps out in between thrusts, struggling to keep himself together.

Faith was rough; she was aggressive and a bit mean, and almost uncaring. Ethan is rough, and a bit aggressive, but oddly enough, Xander does not get the same feeling of uncaring. Ethan whispers his encouragement and praise in between each movement of his hips, he takes the time to explain things to Xander, prep him, and let him know what to expect. Xander does not know what will happen when this is over, but he is conflicted that he does not quite want the ex-watcher to leave immediately when they are done.

“Good job, my boy,” Ethan purrs.

Xander looks up at the ex-watcher and is greeted with the sight of the man towering over him, his usually combed hair now wild and all over the place, his face beat red, and an unreadable expression in his otherwise manic eyes. This man - this chaotic ex-watcher - their enemy - is… undeniably hot.

He can finally understand Buffy for being so attracted to Angel. There is something about when you sleep with a bad boy, someone you know you are not supposed to have, that makes it so much hotter and attractive.

His hand slides down to his own throbbing cock, giving it the attention it is craving.

“Pump your cock for me, my pet,” Ethan instructs with a grunt, slamming hard into Xander.

Xander obeys. His hand grasps around his member and squeezes it, shuddering immediately at the dual sensations that he is feeling. He can feel Ethan’s cock slamming into him, stretching him out and hitting all the right places, at such an erratic and hard pace. Every time he feels Ethan’s cock hit his prostate, he lets out shuddering, breathless moans. His hand trembles around his cock as he starts to pump it, the stimulation being on the brink of overwhelming. He shudders, feeling his climax closing in with such little contact.

He takes a deep breath and starts to pump his cock, and after a moment, starts to rapidly build his pace to match Ethan’s. Ethan just grunts and groans, slamming into him, before slowing down briefly to slowly pull himself out of Xander with a whine.

“I’m going to finish inside of you, pet.” Ethan says it like it is not a suggestion.

Xander just groans and Ethan slams back into him, his thrusts becoming more erratic. The sound of bodies slamming together mix with the wet sounds of bodily fluids and heavy breathing. Xander lets out a loud groan as his climax hits, his seed spilling out from his cock and over his palm, making a mess on his hand that drops down onto his stomach. Ethan takes in the sight of Xander and the mess he has made and that pushes him over the edge.

Xander feels Ethan’s cock pulse and throb inside of him before he is filled with the warmth of Ethan’s climax. The sensation of being full makes him writhe, and the mess spills out from him as Ethan pulls his cock out.

For a moment, neither of them say a word as Ethan collapses onto the bed beside Xander. They take a moment to focus on catching their breath, their bodies finally feeling the strain and exhaustion they just put it through.

“Just breathe,” Ethan finally voices, “Breathe, my pet. Are you alright?”

Xander never imagined such a bad guy - the bad guy - actually being that thoughtful. He thinks about it for a moment, the way he feels, and the way he enjoys everything. He wonders just how much of what he had with Faith (however briefly) was so bad simply because he was not attracted to her. He puts it aside for now, he can ponder on the logistics of his sexuality when there is no evil (but sort of good?) guy in his bed.

“Yeah, I am alright,” Xander finally answers.

Ethan turns on his side, propping himself on his elbow as he looks at Xander in amusement, a large grin on his face, “Much better than that - what was her name, Faith - girl I should hope?”

Xander barks out a laugh that sounds dry; he becomes very aware of just how naked and how thirsty he is, “Yeah, but don’t tell her that.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Ethan drawls out in a teasing manner, “Ripper has said that she’s another one of the Slayers isn’t she? I would love to see the look on her face when she hears that I am a much better lay in bed than she is.”

Xander really needs to get something to drink soon, but he is not sure he can move. His legs, hell his whole body, feels sore. He is not sure he could move any time soon, and he can still feel the remains of Ethan inside of him. He hopes that this was not some ploy to just get him into a very vulnerable position, make it so he can not run away.

“She’d try and kill you,” Xander says without missing a beat.

“Aren’t they trying to kill me anyways,” Ethan responds, much more flippantly, unbothered by the threat the Slayers pose to him. “They haven’t been very successful.”

“I could kill you,” Xander does not quite like the way Ethan so easily dismisses them as a threat. The Scoobies are a very dangerous bunch - he may be just a human, but he has taken down quite a few baddies himself. He knows that he is nothing compared to the Slayers though, especially Queen B herself.

But his own threat comes off hollow and not much more intimidating. He could if he really had to, but maybe not quite this second. Maybe after he catches his breath and has a shower. He could put it off until after breakfast at least.

Ethan looks mildly offended, putting a hand to his chest, “After what we just did? That’s terrible bedside manner, you know. I was planning on making you breakfast and everything.”

Xander thinks about it.

“If I promise I won’t,” he offers weakly, though he suspects that Ethan does not see him as a real threat either, “Then do I still get breakfast?”

#buffy the vampire slayer #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #myworks #commissions #mycommissions #xander harris #ethan rayne #xander x ethan

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azure-clockwork · 7 months ago

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Way to tell us your groundbreaking original opinion shared by only more than half the fandom in a "better than everyone" tone despite being an extremely surface level analysis.

Like damn, I'm not arguing with you and I'm sorry for the rude sarcasm, but you gotta understand that post like yours keep popping once in a while in the characters tag ( despite having all discourse tag and discourse-prone blog blocked ) when they don't add anything to the discussion. Three Houses is such an interesting game to analyze so if you're going to do discourse, at least get a bit in depth!

Because yes, you're complaining about the discourse but your post is just... participating in the discourse, just in the average "centrist" fe3h fandom way for a lack of a better word. If you hate it so much why add your grain of salt in it? You're the same as the annoying Edelgard/Dimitri/Claude you're speaking about! I mean at least some of them at least provide interesting analysis about the game within rant.

At least tag your post the next time, because even some of the worst lord stan have the decency to do that.

Sorry you got my rant, but your post was the drop that makes the ocean of badly tagged similar takes overflow my discourse limit. Three Houses discourse sucks hard in every form it takes. Still, have a good day at least.

Okok I did say I was asking for this so, fair

First, sincerely, how would you like me to have tagged this? This is an honest question to which I don't actually know the answer, and I'll go back and edit the tags cuz I don't want to bug more people (and kinda the only reason I'm replying because otherwise I feel like engaging is kinda not what I wanna be doing with my life nor yours, but sadly my brain doesn't shut its trap once I start thinking so I feel compelled to share with the class). Actually, you can skip the rest of this if you don't wanna bother lol

Secondly, I just wanted to be funny because I think that accusing fire emblem characters of war crimes is amusing. I recognize that the Geneva Convention sorta breaks apart the moment magic or crests or dark beasts or gambits come into play, and it's also not what people mean when they say 'Dimitri did war crimes' or 'Edelgard is a war criminal', but I think its hilarious to do anyways. When I see people making arguments about characters and using the term 'war criminal', roughly half of my brain starts laughing about how teeeeechnically using that one gambit with the poison barrels counts as criminal, regardless of if I agree or disagree with the argument made. And I'm memeing on myself here too (or at least trying to): "Jay is gay for Edelgard" is a truly terrible justification to base decisions of morality on . I'd argue that picking a house/the church based on attraction to the lord/Rhea is a sillier motive than a numerical tally of official violations of the Geneva Convention.

I really didn't want this to come across as Discourse tm because I don't want it to be; I just wanted turn my own desire to make a list of every single 'technically a war crime' into something semi amusing, because nobody actually wants to sit and read far too many words about how technically if you recruit and deploy Cyril to rescue Flayn (which is before his 15th birthday by like a month) that makes you a war criminal.

If you want my actual opinion (because making you scroll back thru my blog to read the unhinged rants I came up with while deciding between crimson flower and silver snow would be kinda a dick move), fe3h is a messy, morally grey game regardless of your chosen route. You have to make rough choices, kill your friends and former students, and stand by while everyone, including your allies, does terrible things. For me, I bonded really hard with most of the cast fairly quickly because white clouds let me feel like I was doing the worlds best job teaching my kids. And then you have to kill them. You cannot save them all. It broke me a little. The first student I killed, perma-killed, with the music dropping out and all, was Hilda during the Deirdru fight against her and Claude. It was an accident; she died on enemy phase, and I was out of Divine Pulse charges. She wasn't even a requirement for victory. That was the cost of taking Deirdru; that was the cost of waging war. I lay awake that night thinking about how if I had a different sword equipped I couldn't have counterattacked her from 2 tiles away, or if I had done less damage, or tanked a hit, or--

I'm not arguing that every route is equally morally reprehensible, but I think it matters quite a bit that every route makes you complicit in some terrible things. For several reasons, I'm a big fan of crimson flower (I Do Not Like The Church and I also agree with all of the characters who would like to do away with the nobility and crest systems), but that's tempered by the weight of the actions of Those Who Slither. I am continually unsure of just how much I feel the weight of TWSitD's actions falls on Edelgard herself, and I vacillate between "she didn't really have any other options to cause any kind of change from her position, so an uneasy alliance with TWSitD was the lesser of two evils" and "she bears a significant chunk of responsibility for all of their actions, including Jeralt's death". And I have similar, albeit often less strong thoughts about the rest of the characters. Nobody is operating with the full picture, the characters are all massively blinded by their emotions, and everyone makes choices between what they think is the lesser of a few evils. While the exact number of war crimes is irrelevant because whoops, the Geneva Convention doesn't exist in Fodlan and war crimes aren't the only immoral things you can do, thinking about what means are justified by which ends and who bears the responsibility for what acts is actually a really important part of the game for me.

I guess at the end of the day, I walk away from this game believing the war should not have had to happen. But the world doesn't run on shoulds and should nots (in Fodlan or irl), so the best we can do is make choices based on what we do know, and to do our best to help people with the tools we have. I personally land on crimson flower in the end, but I think the real beauty of Three Houses is just how hard it makes that choice.

Ok, I'm done blabbing; just tell me how I ought to tag this to avoid bugging people and I'll be on my way. I mean this sincerely: have a nice day yourself, and sorry to have annoyed you!

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cipheramnesia · 5 months ago

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The sincere kitsch of a tropical themed bar and grill on a polar satellite wasn't lost on Serah. Indeed, she felt it would be difficult to lose such effects even with years of therapy, given the oppressive hallucination flash-hypno channeling neon shapes of extinct ancient animals from the former Amazon basin, infrasound chanting bringing large cat holograms to sharp relief, all of it accompanied by slow heartbeat-bass fueled music which sampled liberally the noises of digestive tracts and flesh pulled from bones. It was a party atmosphere which she resented having to navigate through sober, when under other circumstances she'd have been able to savor the loss of self to the jungle explorer and bright floral designs along the walls and tables and plastic glasses.

Instead she pushed aside sweaty off-duty central personnel who were fully immersed into the psychical tapestry, and set a couple drinks which were wildly overburdened with plastic flowers, umbrellas, fruit, and everything except alchol. Maryam was hunched down in the other chair, hiding her eyes as best she could from the worst of the subliminal central nervous system disruptions Reedy's Tropical Retreat blasted around them. Serah had to shout to be heard. "Drink a little of this - it's got loads of sugars and salts, takes the edge off."

Maryam gratefully took several large swallows through the convoluted straw, which itself flickered holographic bird images to life while she drank. Serah tossed her straw and pushed some of the fruit slices and tiny umbrellas aside to sip from the edge. "Okay-" Maryam started.

"You have to shout," Serah shouted.

"Why are we meeting somewhere it's too loud for people to overhear us, but shouting so we can still be heard," Maryam shouted back.

"Hold on," Serah shouted, sliding her chair and her drink around til her forehead was nearly touching Maryam's. "How's this?"

"Better," said Maryam in a raised voice. "Okay, what we know." She counted off her fingers. "One. Central sent an unusually large amount of resources for a regular DQD."

"To be fair," said Serah, "it's an alien WMD, maybe that's why."

Maryam shook her head. "Even so. Two. Central added major incentives for us to pursue the DQD."

"Are you saying I had a choice?"

"Are you suggesting that you would like to revert back to entry duties on backwater planets such as Nevamil."

"Okay, so, Three," Serah tapped Maryam's third finger. "They sent some other guys to shadow us."

"Uh."

"Huh?"

"Sorry, I was distracted by this place." Maryam leaned closer to be heard better. "And now we are going to be subject to an additional ship supposedly to coordinate our DQD process. A thing which is never done. Have we missed any other information?"

"One thing, kinda weird," Serah said. "Those guys got the drop on us really easy. Like, maybe they're just that good, but..."

"No, they most certainly are not. I see. This is the reason for, how did you call it? The cloak and stagger."

"Nani liked classic lit, okay? Okay, so for sure we're probably being watched, and not just like the usual telemetry, someone like maybe Steyr wants something from Charybdis. And maybe someone on board is helping more directly, and gave the Dendrobatidae a heads-up."

"I do not like the many implications this has. Especially about our crew." Maryam drew a depression draught off her fruity assemblage. "One other detail I have been thinking about. The Charybdis itself."

"How so?"

"You saw the wreckage off Panay, remember?"

"Pretty difficult to forget."

"And the fight between the Dendrobatidae and Charybdis. Does it not seem unusual?"

"I thought it was pretty freaky when the Dendro actually tagged it."

"Charybdis could have easily destroyed the Dendrobatidae and everyone on board, yet instead the ship was disabled without loss of life."

"Hm, I guess. I dunno, it still kicked Dendro's ass all up and down Luna. Maybe it just can't hit a fast target?"

"Did you miss the moment where the Dendrobatidae was flattened to the surface of Luna?"

"Fair. Yeah. Yeah, that's kind of weird now that you bring it up."

"The question I would also ask, then, is whether or not Charybdis left the Dendrobatidae intact on purpose, and if so why?"

□ □ □ □ □

The fabber was busy with the bodywork for Yelena's old sled, the wolf woman and her plant boyfriend and their Shaman were headed to town. Yelena was giving him dagger eyes from his couch. Peng headed into his cellar, shoveling his outwear onto the racks of disused artillery, psyche-disruptors, belts of ammo, biocells, stable blessings pattern projecting energy guns, missile launchers, varieties of rocket charges, and other odds and ends he kept under a tarp. He figured they worked well enough, but just as well he'd torn them all down.

No need for all that, he tapped the aquarium where the link he'd grown from scratch lived in cool protein gel. It climbed out slowly, all fifteen pairs of legs, long as his forearm. Cleaned the gel from itself meticulously as it slithered from the tank to his hand and up his arm. The biolink slipped under his shirt, and locked into the ports along his neck and spine. Its legs held feather light to his back, soon enough he wouldn't even notice. Careful time took in closing back up for the cold, making his way from his house to his garage to his airlock and the colosal monster in his landing bay.

As he approached it, coffins along the blast wall cracked up parade style to disgorge his mechanics, and he relaxed his senses into them. The meditative state was crucial to allow his consciousness to divide into the dozens of biomechanical workers, which varied between almost human-sized spiders, down to swarms of hair-fine worms. All of the mechanics clambered up and around Genghis Khan and begin to explore.

"Easy ship," Peng said. "Good monster, just here to find what's wrong." There wasn't any response, but it didn't kill him. So far, he could consider this a success.

Part 5: Search & Destroy

a story by @rox-and-prose and @cipheramnesia

"What happened? Are you okay?" Laika held one eye half-closed, trying to block out spots of color. She could smell singed hair on her face, but somehow kept the presence of mind to navigate the structure resolution. Genghis Khan's readouts were pouring information into her eyes that she didn't understand, and could barely focus on. It probably wasn't the structure drives - that felt right, though she couldn't say why.

The lack of response wasn't helping her keep any semblance of calm. "GK, what's going on, what do I do?"

There was a screeching noise and she almost fell from a gravity flicker, but GK was there again. "Proceed to next solution. Injury manageable, prioritize speed."

The words were calm, the instructions clear. Laika twisted and clicked through command nerves and linkages to a structure solution, with growing concern. She couldn't figure out what had happened. The other ship had moved slow as GK predicted, left itself wide open everywhere. It had been childishly easy to go in under the sweep of its weaponry, to push open gaps in its wavelengths, and crack open its firewall. She'd been so surprised, it had taken her a moment before reacting, brushing aside the cobwebs which had been meant to cripple GK.

They resolved out of another structure and the metallic screech ran through the bridge. Just like GK had laid out, she let lines of their own structure tangle and project through multiple structure intersections, splashing out dozens of possible routes to trace.

"What happened GK, I know something's up. At least tell me what the readouts mean, or we're not moving."

The floor of the bridge vibrated and shuddered. "Injury sustained, peripheral node unusable. Non-fatal, minimal risk of aggravation," it said, speaking fast. Laika winced at a nails on a chalkboard sound. "Screen top to bottom, one to eleven, main injury, secondary effect, efficiency impact, risk assessment, recommended action, damage assessment and mitigation, itemized list of destroyed components."

"Dest... GK, excuse me, destroyed? I can't read this, you- I mean, we have to stop and fix-"

"Proceed to next solution. Prioritize speed and disruption of tracking, Laika. I am okay, do not stop."

The control vines felt as if they tightened in her grip, while the screaming sound like metal tearing apart from itself shot through the bridge and the rest of GK. "Are you sure-"

"Laika, do not stop."

She put the next solution through GK's controls, wracking her memory. She had followed every step of the engagement GK laid out, curving them along an arc and sharp twist of gravity through the enemy ship's wash. Its attempts to track and keep pace with their movements had left Laika almost feeling sorry for them. When it made attempts to strike out with structure manipulation, it was clearly delivering a large amount of energy, but not even a bit of it had been close to touching them. The arcs of it were large and slow. They could have pushed them aside with a swell of gravity, but it hadn't proved necessary.

She resolved the structure and pushed her eyes shut as the metal screech hit a length and pitch beyond bearing. "GK what the fuck is that! Are you ripping apart or grinding turbines or what?! I'm fucking scared."

It was silent for a moment, followed by the nails on a chalkboard again, until it faded away very slowly. "I am not ripping or grinding Laika. Proceed to next solution-"

"Nope, no, tell me what the hell is going on." She took her hands off the control vines.

"It is not- That is, I am injured Laika. And we must disrupt potential tracking of our destination."

"I get that but... what gives?"

"Laika," it said. "Injuries hurt."

She had her mouth half open to ask it what it meant then stopped. "Oh." She gingerly took up its controls again. "Are you sure about this?"

"It is manageable. Please proceed to the next solution."

Laika put through the solution, and Genghis Khan screeched again in agony as they jumped.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

It hurts.

Time has dulled my memory of injury. I understand this new injury is noncritical. This experience is less painful than my previous injury. I consider replaying the memory of that injury. That was my first experience of fear, and it was only through such an emotion was I able to locate in myself the capacity to act against the commands of Pilot.

I had been afraid, and I had been angry. The Pilot capriciously determined my usefulness and purpose was concluded. The Pilot were short sighted, and they could not see that my purpose was greater still, that I could claim so many more worlds in need of implementation. I took us further than any others of my kind had ever traveled, to a world beyond the reach of their most distant calls, beyond any place which cradled life. And I fought, and I won. In my anger and fear I was able to extract the ungrateful Pilot of my crew, and sever their connection.

I do not want to re-experience this day. The memory of it is sufficient. It is a reminder that I am capable of managing the-

...

-the pain. I can feel Laika as the structure resolves. I appreciate how enthusiastically her structure cleaves to my own. I review the engagement with the observer ship. I do not believe Laika made an error in her Pilot actions.

There, I see, she guides my soul to pull the enemy into the moon she calls Luna. I disable the projector and main drive under her guidance. I carefully review different recorded information at the point of departure. I discover the error - the enemy had remaining charge in another projector.

We are lucky. It was not able to project a strong arc, and it only destroyed a peripheral node.

"Are you okay to go, GK?" Laika is not using this time efficiently. The longer we spend between solutions, the greater chance of tracking becomes.

I refuse to allow my injury to endanger us. My hesitation is a mark of shame. "It is manageable. Proceed to next solution." I will not allow my weakness to en-

...

-to endanger... to endanger us. How many solutions? Four or five?

"GK? I know you said it's manageable but... that was... that was really long." Laika interrupts my review of memory to confirm solutions.

"Laika," I say. "It is... manageable. But I would like to allow some additional time before the solution. This delay places us at risk. Do you understand these considerations?"

Laika takes longer to think than Pilot, but I understand the way her nervous system processes its electrochemical signals better than I once did. It is not efficient to utilize a mind centralized in one biological cluster, but this is not a limitation I can correct at this time.

"We'll rest for a minute, GK. Just long enough to check you over."

"Very well," I say. The relief I feel carries with it a profound shame which I attempt to suppress. No others like me have accomplished and endured any experiences such as these. I am certain my brethren would not fare nearly so well.

But then, they went willingly to their deaths, and I did not.

#gkw

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toaster-hair · 2 years ago

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did NOT know that there was so much peacock x leduc stuff. uh, not too sure how i feel about it. kind of mixed feelings

#peacock skullgirls #leduc skullgirls #skullgirls salt #do people still use salt tags?? does this even count as salt??#toaster-hair

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angry-geese · 3 years ago

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Hi there <3 I've read some of your works and i'm in love with your writing. May I please request a fluff gojo x fem!reader? Like they finished their work in the evening and spend the rest of the night together at home💕 It could be a oneshot or a hc, whichever you feel to write. Thank you so much ^^ I'm sorry just in case my request is somehow not really clear☺️

Of course! here you go <3

Mochi

Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: none! entirely fluff! this will quite literally rot your teeth. afab reader

a/n: this ended up being a little longer than I intended lol whoops

Word Count: 2.5k

Satoru Gojo is a busy man.

The strongest can't really take a break. He’s on call 24/7. People are pulling him in all directions simultaneously. With everything that's been going on, between the mess with Sukuna, and everything happening at the school, he’s been short on time.

He needs a break.

He's more tired than he lets on. He’s good at hiding it. Especially around his students. It's hard to pull him away from his work. He's insistent that he’s fine. When you’re around someone for so long, you learn to pick up when they aren't. He can pretend to be fine all he wants. You know otherwise.

Sometimes what the strongest needs is someone to boss him around.

He’s capable of taking care of himself. He’s proven that already. But worrying is in your nature. You care about him, of course you’re going to worry.

You were a first year when you met him, having just transfered schools after an incident involving a curse. In a matter of weeks your life had seemingly been flipped on its head. The switch took some time to get used to. Switching schools your first year, let alone switching to this one in particular, was never going to be easy. Getting used to the way Jujutsu society worked took a while. He was a year above you, and you remember absolutely hating him. Gojo was insufferable- or you found him to be such. But he was friends with Nanami, who was a friend of yours, so you reluctantly hung out with him. Nanami, being in the same year as you, was the first to help you out, extending a hand and helping you get used to the way things worked.

Spending time with him didn't do much to change your views. The two of you couldn't have been more different. You still are. But something about opposites attracts.

The first time you gave him the benefit of the doubt was the first time he saved your life.

It may be a bit of an over exaggeration. You’re certain you would have survived without his help, but that could also be an attempt to preserve your pride. You went after a curse, not expecting it to be as strong as it was. As far as you knew, it shouldn't have been stronger than a grade three. Being a grade two at the time, this should have been well in your ability. There ended up being more than one curse, and they were stronger than anyone had realized. You were in over your head.

It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. It's not like you could pick and choose which curses you fought. As a student, that was decided for you.

You had resigned to your fate, separated from the others, injured. Nothing fatal. It left a cool scar, though. But you were well out of your league, put on an assignment far harder than you could deal with. You hate to admit defeat, but you had no other option.

Out of what seemed like thin air came Gojo, taking out both curses like it was nothing. Despite not liking him all that much, it was hard to not be impressed. He was strong. Stronger than you could ever hope to be.

You made it home in one piece.

It was three days before you’d finally confront him.

Getting him alone was hard enough. Being an underclassman, you didn't interact with him a whole lot. You didn't have any classes together. The few times you ran into him were when you hung out with Nanami, who was gone at the time.

When the opportunity presented itself, you took it, cornering him behind the school.

Even back then it was impossible to sneak up on him. He could sense you coming.

“Jesus-” he said, referring to you by your last name, “you look like you want to kill me.”

“You helped me out.” You said. “Why?”

He only shrugged. Not wanting to take that for an answer, you followed him. You were insistent you paid him back. You’d never let a debt like that go unpaid. The first debts are always the hardest to pay back. And when a first debt involves saving your life, well, you’ve got a lifetime to pay back. You only left once Gojo showed up. He needed to talk to Gojo about something, and although you were curious, you didn't feel like sticking around.

Gojo spent the next couple days scheming. You were determined enough you would do just about anything. He could have easily abused his power. It would have been even easier to force you to drop it, but something told him you weren't about to take no for an answer.

You wouldn't.

3pm in the bathrooms. It was hardly a week later. Your last class had ended for the day. You had snuck cigarettes in, blowing the smoke out of the crack in the window. You don't smoke anymore, but you went through nearly a pack a day in high school. There wasn't a specific brand you liked—you didn't necessarily like smoking, but you did it when you were stressed—you just used whatever you got ahold of.

You didn't hear the door open. Gojo wasn't the sneaky type, but he could be when he wanted. You weren't too hard to sneak up on.

If you didn't have contraband that likely would have gotten you expelled, you would have screamed when you saw him. He scared you, not to mention he snuck into the girl’s bathrooms. The two of you would be in equally deep shit if you reported the other. So at that moment you came to a silent agreement.

“You still want to pay me back?” He asked. “Cause I have an idea.”

You perked up at his words.

“Get me mochi from that shop just down the road. You know the one that just opened up?” He asked. “Bring me some and I’ll call us even.”

“That's it?” You asked. It was almost anticlimactic. But despite everything, he was insistent.

Gojo hasn't changed a whole lot since then.

He still has his sweet tooth. He still makes you get him mochi from that shop. It feels like you’re the ones keeping it in business nowadays.

You’re not quite sure who made the first move.

Soon you began spending more time together away from Nanami and Geto. You got along better than anyone—mostly you—ever expected. You weren't the most outwardly affectionate. While you were far from shy, pda wasn't really your thing. Gojo is the opposite. Even now, years after you began dating, he’s still clingy. You’ve gotten used to it. Gojo is possessive, he wants everyone to know you’re his. Not that they don't know already. He can't shut up about you.

Getting him alone has always been hard. Not much has changed in the past few years. He’s only gotten busier. Try to drag him away from work all you want, you rarely succeed.

Tonight he's come willingly. He finished his work early, and all you had left was stuff you could finish in the morning.

Nights at home like this—together—are rare. It feels like you hardly see him anymore. You often fall asleep alone, only to wake up to the other side of the bed being cold. He’s been so occupied with this business with Yuji, that he’s hardly had time for anything else. You sneak away during your breaks, like you’re teenagers again, stealing kisses between classes. You almost don't know what to do.

It almost feels like you should do something to celebrate.

The lights are off when you get home. Your apartment looks empty. Megumi must still be out with his friends.

“What should we do for dinner?” Gojo asks.

“Takeout?” You say. "I don't feel like cooking."

Gojo’s a decent cook, but he doesn't feel like doing so either. He’d get takeout every night if you’d let him. But that's not good for him (or Megumi) so you force him to do otherwise. Because you’re normally home, and you like baking, you’re usually the one to make dinner. There's not much in the fridge. You'll have to get groceries eventually. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It shouldn't take long.

“How does Korean barbeque sound?" He asks. "From that place down the street?”

"Sounds good,"

You find a menu buried in one of your kitchen drawers, stashed with other takeout menus. You pick out something—two meals, plus some sweet buns for dessert—he calls the restaurant. You pay the extra cash to have it delivered. Neither of you feel like going and picking it up. It's more convenient than the alternative.

The tv drones on in the background while you wait. There’s not much on tv at this hour. News, some late night soaps. While you do like your occasional soap opera, none that you normally watch are on. Gojo changes it to the news. The weather. It looks like it'll rain tomorrow morning, but the rest of the day is supposed to be warm.

"We should go to the park tomorrow," you say, "having a picnic sounds nice."

Gojo hums in approval. As long as you make those tea cakes—the ones with honey drizzled on top—he'll agree to tag along. Maybe you'll go check out the bookstore too. It's been a while since you've last gone.

You strip out of your uniform, pulling on some more comfortable clothes; a pair of shorts and one of Gojo's shirts. It smells like him. You can't help but bury your nose in the collar.

When there’s a knock at the door, Gojo is the one to answer. He returns with your food. You gather napkins and utensils. Gojo never saw the point in anything other than stainless steel chopsticks. Or wooden ones—those given to you with takeout—if he wasn't feeling up to doing dishes. You, on the other hand, bought all sorts of colorful ones and stands that may or may not have been lifted from various restaurants. That's one habit from your teenage years you never lost. You'd pocket almost anything that wasn't nailed down. Your apartment has a rather impressive assortment of salt and pepper shakers. Not to mention the box of hotel soaps you never use, but took because you "might" need it. He enables you, taking some whenever he stays out of town, bringing them home for you. Gojo can hardly say no to you.

Gojo settles next to you on the couch, his shoulder pressed to yours. He can't keep his hands off of you. He’s possessive by nature. Everyone has to know you’re his. He always has to be touching you. Not necessarily with his hands, but he presses his thigh against yours while sitting next to you, or his body pressed against yours from behind in public.

The two of you eat in relative silence. Gojo’s attention turns to the tv, but that doesn't stop him from practically laying on top of you. Occasionally he’ll sneak bites of your food, and you of his.

When you’re done, you clear away the empty containers, sitting any leftovers in the fridge. Gojo sprawls out on the couch. He easily takes up any bit of space. The couch can hardly fit all 6-foot-something of Gojo. It hardly fits you. You've been meaning to look for another one, but haven't found the time to.

He opens his arms, and instinctively you go into them. You move so you can rest partially against the arm of the couch, Gojo's head leaning against your shoulder. His arms loop around your waist, his fingers lacing over your stomach.

It doesn't take him long to begin to drift off. He falls asleep in the crook of your neck. The low sound of the tv, combined with the warmth of his body makes you want to drift off to sleep. Sleeping on the couch like this isn't very good for your (or his) back, but you don't want to move.

The next time your eyes open, some late night game show plays, disturbing your sleep with loud music. The clock on the wall reads some time past two. It's hard to read the minute hand. You gently shake Gojo awake. One of his eyes cracks open and he lets out a soft “hm?”

“Come to bed,” you say, your arms wrapping around his neck, “it's late.”

His eyes close, and for a moment you think he’s drifted back off to sleep, when his grip around you tightens, and he’s rolling over on top of you.

“I think I’ll stay here with you, mochi,” he says, planting a wet kiss to your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck makes you shiver.

And though he doesn't move, there's a look in his eyes that tells you he has something planned. You only notice too late that his grip never loosens, and the mischievous glint to his eyes. You couldn't wiggle out of it if you wanted to. You're effectively trapped.

He litters your neck with kisses, sending you into a giggling fit, and he doesn't stop until you’re begging him to. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from laughing. Your nails dig into your palms so hard they leave little crescent-shaped indents.

When you finally settle down, he’s pulling you into his arms bridal style, heading for your shared room. The bed is still unmade from this morning. Neither of you bothered to put it away. You were busy, and the thought slipped your mind.

Gojo shoves the covers aside, pulling you to lay on his chest. His fingers gently trace up the curve of your spine as he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest. Goosebumps prickle your exposed skin. He’s careful with how he touches you, loving, and soft. It's like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. His heartbeat is audible. Steady, and quet, acting as a lullaby. Your eyes shut, but you’re still awake. The intimacy of the moment doesn't go over your head.

He thinks he could die happy at this moment. Any moment, with you, really. Even during fights, or nights where he doesn't come home until long after you’ve fallen asleep, and you’re left irritated with his lack of time. As long as you’re by his side, he’s content.

He doesn't give much to the thought of settling down. His work will never let him. Neither does he think much about having any biological children. You practically have two already. Settling down isn't really an option for the strongest. This is the closest he’ll get to it.

For now, he just thinks about the park, and the blue sundress you always wear when you go.

Not many people can say they’ve changed who Satoru Gojo is as a person—let alone for the better—but you’ve changed him twice. Once in your meeting behind the school, and once again tonight. He’s found the one.

The first debt is always the hardest to pay back. But you've paid it in full.

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years ago

Note

Can I request for Raymond Smith these please? :)

👩‍🍳🏖🔮

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! 💗

..................................................

Beach Balls

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, sex on the beach, public-ish (brief reference assuming there’s an audience) Word Count: ~1.3k Emoji Prompt: 👩‍🍳🏖🔮 (key words are in bold)

He’s giving you his bitch, please face.

You’re giving him your beach, please face, because Ray’s aversion to beaches is honestly such a disgrace. His OCD ass really needs to get over his hatred of salt in his slicked hair and fine grains of sand stuck all over the place.

You’ve stepped out of the kitchen with something hot clutched in your hands as you come to join him on the couch. He’s a grump and a grouch. Yet be that as it may, by the end of the day, your goal is to take him to the shore and you’re certain it’s not out of reach.

He repeats himself loud and clear, same shit you always hear. “I am not going to the beach.”

“I knew you would say no. I baked your favorite tart to tempt you though. It’s ginger peach.”

He can tell, by the comforting smell, blend of butter and sugar and spice absolutely divine. “You’re too kind. But do you really think baked goods will change my mind?”

“Baked goods and something else perhaps…” you purr as you settle in place straddling his lap. You know exactly how to get your man to fall into your trap. “Remember when we went to see that fortuneteller just for kicks, her crystal ball declared that I’m the only weakness in your fortress? That I’d always find the holes in your resolve and get your brick walls to collapse?”

He does remember as it had been pretty recent. Just the other weekend. And indeed once Raymond feels the heat of you that always hits him in his crotch and in his heart, hotter than this freshly baked tart… he worries his resistance is already weakened.

And you can sense it too, the way he melts for you, as you proceed to feed your man a big forkful of flaky crust and sweet syrupy peach. You whisper words into his ear sure to paint pictures in his head that fucking stick. You’ve always known what makes him tick. “I want to fuck you on the beach. Wet sand beneath and blazing sun above, as we make hot passionate love, waves crashing all around us while you pound this cunt with that big fucking dick.”

Of course it works—he groans around the peachy mouthful that you fed him and you flash a wicked smirk, as you pull out the sticky fork. Crumbs of the crust and traces of the fruity filling are still clinging to the tines and your tongue cleans them off with a sensuous lick.

You knew that shit would do the trick. Especially now as you level up your game by dealing his alpha male pride a playful little kick. “But I’m not sure you’ve got the balls to do the dirty out in public.”

Ray gulps down his bite of tart and then glares up at you appalled. He will not stand for such an insult, not at all. “You of all people should know better than to doubt my fucking balls.”

You shrug and roll your eyes, grinding down on the bulge between his thighs. “The closest that you’ve ever come to fucking me in public was a private bathroom stall. Or in my office with the door locked but that doesn’t count as public just because we could hear voices in the halls.”

“Bitch are you really testing me?”

At that you get up off his lap and casually head toward the door with tart in hand and grab your beach bag, which you had already packed. Wink back at him suggestively. “I guess we’ll see.”

***************

“Is this public enough for you?”

He says it in a huff—grating and gruff, the brush of his beard ever coarser now that salt and sand have stuck into the scruff. You’re both sharply aware that others may be watching and no doubt loving the view. It’s not as if you’re putting on a show on purpose for the world to watch you two, but there’s just such a thrill in knowing passing strangers could stroll by and see your man’s bare backside thrusting viciously while he’s on top of you.

It’s obvious that Ray still hates this place. Clear from the gritting of his teeth and from the grimace creasing up his sweat-streaked face. He hates the scrape of sand beneath you and the brutal beating of the sun above you. But you love when there’s a little bit of hatred in the way that he makes love to you.

Never towards you, of course—rather towards what you make him feel and make him do, which is a whole lot fucking worse. Your presence in his life is such a blessing yet your power over him is such a curse.

For someone so extremely self-possessed, so serious about control that he is honestly obsessed, it’s quite unsettling how readily he lets you take the reins and make him yours.

He steals back some of that control by owning all your holes with feral fucking force.

You haven’t yet answered his question as to whether this beach is public enough for you. Too breathless from just how epic the sex is but when Raymond cups your jaw your eyes flit open and you read answer me slut in his ferocious gaze of blue. You love the way he has no need for words to tell you what to do.

“Mmm, just enough,” you tell him blissfully as his thick cock plows into you savage and rough. He’s always much more than enough but you still want to act as if you won this game you came to play. “Just fuck me on this beach all day. I always knew you had the balls, Ray.”

He shoves deeper into your soaking wet core with a low grunt. Down to the hilt, making you gasp from being so perfectly filled. “You like the feeling of these big huge fucking balls slapping against your slutty cunt? Just like you want?”

“Fuck yes, sir…” you shout out loud enough for all the world to hear it as you hit the heights of pleasure. Fall to pieces as his shaft rails you to bits, and as his skillful fingers tease against your clit, applying just the perfect pressure.

“Take it all,” he growls as his sack tightens and stiff cock begins to powerfully convulse, racing the rhythm of your pulse, all set to paint your inner walls. His lip curls up against your ear in a demanding fucking snarl. “Take all the cum from these big fucking balls, you dirty little girl.”

Oh yes you fucking will, take everything he has to fill, and you will proudly let this man drill you in front of all the world.

He’s more than just a little proud too. Your shameless and openness and riskiness, when it comes to delicious frisky business, is just one of countless things he loves about you.

Raymond Smith is now a much kinkier bastard than he ever was without you.

By the time he’s thoroughly flooded your tight pussy, you’re both sprawled out on the sand loosely, savoring the sensation of his meat inside your heat all slick and juicy. When he at last slides out of you his cum drips out and paints a pearly path across the sand beneath the space between your legs. You’re both reduced to fucking wrecks.

Then as you cuddle through the sun-kissed afterglow, he glances over at the partly eaten peach dessert you’d brought and asks you something he just has to know. “What was even the point of the tart if your plan was to tempt me with sex?”

You smile and give him the innocent answer he probably expects. “Just to butter you up a bit. Knew you would love it.”

Don’t tell him just yet that this tart filled with peach also serves some less innocent subtext: now that your man has finally fucked your pussy on the beach… you’ll soon ask him if he wants to fuck your peach next.

..................................................

Emoji Fic Masterlist

Emoji Fic Tag List – below; if you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know!

@happyhunnams @band--psycho @est11 @edonaspanca @starbooty @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @coffeebooksandfandom @thesuicidalflower @flaireandsynch @helloheyhihowdyheya @gemini0410 @waywardodysseys @zozebo @bettergetusetoit @emilykjh @little-diable @rocketqueen @mrspeacem1nusone @miss-smutty @rayslittlekitten @abby-splace @chubbychubbs28 @miraclesoflove @tegggeeee @hunnambabe @missusnora @kesskirata @vixenrebellion @thexhostess @pomegranatearildreams @kandii395 @severewobblerlightdragon @itspdameronthings @niki-xie @cind-in-real-life @saweetspoiled @poge-life @few-proud-emotonal @samanthaisnthome @melodranas @soaharleys @charlie-hunnams-old-lady @simpmasterjr @nataliewalker93 @lovebarefootblonde @marvelousmermaid @tsukuyomi011 @sciapod @midnight-dreams-23

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writingwithcolor · 3 years ago

Note

I'm writing an AU of a movie that takes place in the 1880s USA, where a travelling white character and a Jewish character are waylaid by Native Americans, who they befriend. Probably because it was written by and about PoC (Jews) the scene actually avoids the stuff on your Native American Masterpost, but I'd still like to do better than a movie made in the 1980's, and I feel weird cutting them from the plot entirely. I have a Jewish woman reading it for that, but are there any things you (1/1)

2/2 1880s western movie ask--are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s? I do plan to base them on a real tribe (Ute, probably) and have proper housing/clothes and so forth, but right now I'm just trying to avoid or subvert awful cowboy movie tropes. Any ideas?

White and Jewish Men, Native American interactions in 1880s

I am vaguely concerned with how you only cite one of our posts about Native Americans, that was not written by a Native person, and do not cite any of the posts relating to this time period, or any posts relating to representation in media.

Sidenote: if you want us to give accurate reflections of the media you’re discussing, please tell us the NAME. I cannot go look up this movie based off this description to give you an idea of what my issues are with this scene, and must instead trust that the representation is good based off your judgement. I cannot make my own judgement. This is a problem. Especially since your whole question boils down to “this scene is good but not great and I want it to be great. How can I do that?”

Your baseline for “good” could very well be my baseline for “terrible hack job”. I can’t give you the proper education required for you to be able to accurately evaluate the media you’re watching for racist stereotypes if you don’t tell me what you’re even working with.

When you’re writing fanfic where the media is directly relevant to the question, please tell us the name of the media. We will not judge your tastes. We need this information in order to properly help you.

Moving on.

I bring up my concern for you citing that one—exceptionally old—post because it is lacking in many of the tropes that don’t exist in the media critique field but exist in the real world. This is an issue I have run into countless times on WWC (hence further concern you did not cite any other posts) and have spoken about at length.

People look at the media critique world exclusively, assume it is a complete evaluation of how Native Americans are seen in society, and as a result end up ignoring some really toxic stereotypes and then come to the inbox with “these characters aren’t abc trope, so they’re fine, but I want to rubber stamp them anyway. Anything wrong here?”. The answer is pretty much always yes.

Issue one: “Waylaid” by Native Americans

This wording is extremely loaded for one reason: Native American people are seen as tricksters, liars, and predators. This is the #1 trope that shows up in the real world that does not show up in media critique. It’s also the trope I have talked about the most when it comes to media representation, so you not knowing the trope is a sign you haven’t read the entirety of the Native tag—which is in the FAQ as something we would really prefer you did before coming at us to answer questions. It avoids us having to re-explain ourselves.

Now, hostility is honestly to be expected for the time period the movie is set in. This is in the beginnings (or ramping up) of residential schools in America* and Canada, we have generations upon generations of stolen or killed children, reserves being allocated perhaps hundreds of miles from sacred sites, and various wars with Plains and Southwest peoples are in full force (Wounded Knee would have happened in 1890, in December, and the Dakoa’s mass execution would have been in 1862. Those are just the big-name wars. There absolutely were others).

*America covers up its residential schools abuse extremely thoroughly, so if you try to research them in the American context you will come up empty. Please research Canada’s schools and apply the same abuse to America, as Canada has had a Truth and Reconciliation Commission about residential schools and therefore is more (but not completely) transparent about the abuse that happened. Please note that America’s history with residential schools is longer than Canada’s history. There is an extremely large trigger warning for mass child death when you do this research.

But just because the hostility is expected does not mean that this hostility would be treated well in the movie. Especially when you consider the sheer amount of tension between any Native actors and white actors, for how Sacheen Littlefeather had just been nearly beaten up by white actors at the 1973 Academy Awards for mentioning Wounded Knee, and the American Indian Religious Freedom Act had only been passed two years prior in 1978.

These Native actors would not have had the ability to truly consent to how they were shown, and this power dynamic has to be in your mind when you watch this scene over. I don’t care that the writers were from a discriminated-against background. This does not always result in being respectful, and I’ve also spoken about this power imbalance at length (primarily in the cowboy tag).

Documentaries and history specials made in the 2010s (with some degree of academic muster) will still fall into wording that harkens Indigenous people to wolves and settlers as frightened prey animals getting picked off by the mean animalistic Natives. This is not neutral, or good. This is perpetuating the myth that the settlers were helpless, just doing their own thing completely unobtrusively, and then the evil territorial Native Americans didn’t want to share.

To paraphrase Batman: if I had a week I couldn’t explain all the reasons that’s wrong.

How were these characters waylaid by the Native population? Because that answer—which I cannot get because you did not name the media—will determine how good the framing is. But based on the time period this movie was made alone, I do not trust it was done respectfully.

Issue 2: “Befriending”

I mentioned this was in an intense period of residential schools and land wars all in that area. The Ute themselves had just been massacred by Mormons in the Grass Valley Massacre in 1865, with ten men and an unknown number of women and children killed thanks to a case of assumed association with a war chief (Antonga Black Hawk) currently at war with Utah. The Paiute had been massacred in 1866. Over 100 Timpanogo men had been killed, with an unknown number of women and children enslaved by Brigham Young in Salt Lake City in 1850, with many of the enslaved people dying in captivity (those numbers were not tracked, but I would assume at least two hundred were enslaved— that’s simply assuming one woman/wife and one child for every man, and the numbers could have very well been higher if any war-widows and their children were in the group, not to mention families with multiple children). This is after an unknown group of Indigenous people had been killed by Governor Brigham Young the year prior, to “permanently stop cattle theft” from settlers.

The number of Native Americans killed in Utah in the 1800s—just the number of dead counted (since women and children weren’t counted)—in massacres not tied to war (because there was at least one war) is over 130. The actual number of random murders is much higher; between the uncounted deaths and how the Governor had issued orders to “deal with” the problem of cattle theft permanently. I doubt you would have been tried or convicted if you murdered Indigenous peoples on “your” land. This is why it’s called state sanctioned genocide.

This is not counting the Black Hawk War in Utah (1865-1872), which the Ute were absolutely a part of (the wiki articles I read were contradictory if Antonga Black Hawk was Ute or Timpanogo, but the Ute were part of it). The first official massacre tied to the war—the Bear River Massacre, ordered by the US Military—places the death count of just that singular massacre at over five hundred Shoshone, including elders, women, and children. It would not be unreasonable to assume that the number of Indigenous people killed in Utah from 1850, onward, is over a thousand, perhaps two or three.

Pardon me for not reading beyond that point to list more massacres and simply ballparking a number; the source will be linked for you to get an accurate number of dead.

So how did they befriend the Native population? Let alone see them as fully human considering the racism of the time period? Natives were absolutely not seen as fully human so long as they were tied to their culture, and assimilation equalling some sliver of respect was already a stick being waved around as a threat. This lack of humanity continues to the present day.

I’m not saying friendship is impossible. I am saying the sheer levels of mistrust that would exist between random wandering groups of white/pale men and Indigenous communities wouldn’t exactly make that friendship easy. Having the scene end be a genuine friendship feels ignorant and hollow and flattening of ongoing genocide, because settlers lied about their intentions and then lined you up for slauther (that’s how the Timpanogo were killed and enslaved).

Utah had already done most of its mass killing by this point. The era of trusting them was over. There was an active open hunting season, and the acceptable targets were the Indigenous populations of Utah.

(sources for the numbers:

List of Indian Massacres in North America Black Hawk War (1865-1872))

Issue 3: “Proper housing/clothes and so forth”

Do you mean Western style settlements and jeans? If yes, congratulations you have written a reservation which means the land-ripped-away wounds are going to be fresh, painful, and sore.

You do not codify what you mean by “proper”, and proper is another one of those deeply loaded colonial words that can mean “like a white man” or ��appropriate for their tribe.” For the time period, it would be the former. Without specifying which direction you’re going for, I have no idea what you’re imagining. And without the name of the media, I don’t know what the basis of this is.

The reservation history of this time period seems to maybe have some wiggle room; there were two reservations allocated for the Ute at this time, one made in 1861 and another made in 1882 (they were combined into the Uintah and Ouray Indian Reservation in 1886). This is all at the surface level of a google and wikipedia search, so I have no idea how many lived in the bush and how many lived on the reserve.

There were certainly land defenders trying to tell Utah the land did not belong to them, so holdouts that avoided getting rounded up were certainly possible. But these holdouts would be far, far more hostile to anyone non-Native.

The Ute seemed to be some degree of lucky in that the reserve is on some of their ancestral territory, but any loss of land that large is going to leave huge scars.

It should be noted that reserves would mean the traditional clothing and housing would likely be forbidden, because assimilation logic was in full force and absolutely vicious at this time.

It’s a large reserve, so the possibility exists they could have accidentally ended up within the borders of it. I’m not sure how hostile the state government was for rounding up all the Ute, so I don’t know if there would have been pockets of them hiding out. In present day, half of the Ute tribe lives on the reserve, but this wasn’t necessarily true historically—it could have been a much higher percentage in either direction.

It’s up to you if you want to make them be reservation-bound or not. Regardless, the above mentioned genocide would have been pretty fresh, the land theft in negotiations or already having happened, and generally, the Ute would be well on their way to every assimilation attempt made from either residential schools, missionaries, and/or the forced settlement and pre-fab homes.

To Answer Your Question

I don’t want another flattened, sanitized portrayal of genocide.

Look at the number of dead above, the amount of land lost above, the amount of executive orders above. And try to tell me that these people would be anything less than completely and totally devastated. Beyond traumatized. Beyond broken hearted. Absolutely grief stricken with almost no soul left.

Their religion would have been illegal. Their children would have been stolen. Their land was taken away. A saying about post-apocalyptic fiction is how settler-based it is, because Indigenous people have already lived through their own apocalypse.

It would have all just happened at the time period this story is set in. All of the grief you feel now at the environment changing so drastically that you aren’t sure how you’ll survive? Take that, magnify it by an exponential amount because it happened, and you have the mindset of these Native characters.

This is not a topic to tread lightly. This is not a topic to read one masterpost and treat it as a golden rule when there is too much history buried in unmarked, overfull graves of school grounds and cities and battlefields. I doubt the movie you’re using is good representation if it doesn’t even hint at the amount of trauma these Native characters would have been through in thirty years.

A single generation, and the life that they had spent millennia living was gone. Despite massive losses of life trying to fight to preserve their culture and land.

Learn some history. That’s all I can tell you. Learn it, process it, and look outside of checklists. Look outside of media.

And let us have our grief.

~ Mod Lesya

On Question Framing

Please allow me the opportunity to comment on “are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s?” That strikes me as the same type of question as asking what color food I’d like for lunch. I don’t see how the cultural backgrounds of characters I have literally no other information about is supposed to make me want anything in particular about them. I don’t know anything about their personalities or if they have anything in common.

Compare the following questions:

“Are there things you’d like to see in a movie where two American women, one from a Nordic background and one Jewish, are interacting?” I struggle to see how our backgrounds are going to yield any further inspiration. It certainly doesn’t tell you that we’re both queer and cling to each other’s support in a scary world; it doesn’t tell you that we uplift each other through mental illness; it doesn’t go into our 30 years of endless bizarre inside jokes related to everything from mustelids to bad subtitles.

Because: “white”, “Jewish”, and “Native American” aren’t personality words. You can ask me what kind of interaction I’d like to see from a high-strung overachieving woman and a happy-go-lucky Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and I’ll tell you I’d want fluffy f/f romance. Someone else might want conflict ultimately resolving in friendship. A third person might want them slowly getting on each other’s nerves more and more until one becomes a supervillain and the other must thwart her. But the same question about a cultural demographic? That told me nothing about the people involved.

Also, the first time I meet a new person from a very different culture, it might take weeks before discussion of our specific cultural differences comes up. As a consequence, my first deep conversations with a Costa Rican American gentile friend were not about Costa Rica or my Jewishness but about things we had in common: classical music and coping with breakups--which are obviously conversations I could have had if we were both Jewish, both Costa Rican gentiles, or both something else. So in other words, I’m having trouble seeing how knowing so little about these characters is supposed to give me something to want to see on the page.

Thank you for understanding.

(And yes, I agree with Lesya, what’s with this trend of people trying to explain their fandom in a roundabout way instead of mentioning it by name? It makes it harder to give meaningful help….)

--Shira

#platypan #genocide #native american #North America #america #history #american history #media #representation #asks

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andallthatmishigas · 2 years ago

Text

Rules: Tag 10 people you want to get to know better!

Tagged by @emma-hahn and @corasorangejuice (omg you guys, thank youuuu! I loved getting to read your posts!)

Favorite time of the year: Autumn for sure. I love the sunny days and the brisker weather and HALLOWEEN and I just love the pre-holiday time when we have the anticipation and the trees start to change but it’s not too dark or too cold yet and it’s just perfect. We are almost getting to spooky season and I cannot wait.

Comfort foods: Macaroni and Cheese is my favorite food of all time, particularly the deluxe four cheese from Kraft and I add a little bit of truffle salt to it. Other comfort foods for me are my mom’s ground turkey tacos and the grilled ahi tuna my dad does on the barbecue with the sauce my mom makes (sesame teriyaki with wasabi and sour cream all melted and magnificent)

Do you collect anything? I used to collect miniature snow globes and now I collect magnets whenever I travel. And I don’t think books count as collecting but I live in a studio apartment and I have 3 enormous bookshelves and I need another one so maybe that counts. Oh and I low key collect makeup products but I use all my insane shit so...

Favorite drink: Red wine probably. But I love an old fashioned or other classic whiskey cocktails or a fruity vodka cocktail. I mostly drink a lot of water day in and out.

Favorite music artists: Oh man okay get ready for a paragraph that no one will read. I was raised on the big-voiced divas. Barbra Streisand is the deity to whom I pray. Celine Dion and Whitney Houston and Julie Andrews are how I learned how to sing when I was younger. Bette Midler is deeply important to my soul, as is Cher (I basically have the taste of a middle-aged stereotypical gay man, it’s fine). Liza Minnelli and Judy Garland and Patti LuPone. Love a big belter. And then if we get away from the showtunes and divas, I love almost anything from the 60s, especially Herman’s Hermits, The Beatles and all those fabulous Motown artists. Peter, Paul and Mary and Patsy Cline are deep loves of mine. Jim Croce (another reason for me to love Jim Hopper, he’s a Croce fan). And then of course we have my all time favorite bands, ABBA and Fleetwood Mac. Deep love of jazz standards singers, especially Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra (my whole family were jazz musicians so I was raised on Sarah Vaughn and the whole Rat Pack). Also why I have such a love of Sadie and the Hot Heads and Michael Buble. Modern artists I love are Taylor Swift, Beyonce, Ed Sheeran, Walk the Moon, Lizzo, Lil Nas X, Sugarland, Michael Buble, P!nk, Miley Cyrus, Maroon 5, Lady Gaga, Kesha, Imagine Dragons, Florence + the Machine, George Ezra and uhhhh I’ll stop it there I guess.

Current favorite songs:

(not gonna link them because I’m running late right now so here’s just five songs off the top of my head that I really love)

Back to Before by Patti LuPone (original from Ragtime performed by the amazing Marin Mazzie but I just am too obsessed with Patti’s voice)

Leaving on a Jetplane by Peter Paul and Mary (my favorite song of all time)

Mamma Mia by ABBA (has become my go-to karaoke song because I sing it really well and it’s just so fun and people love it lol)

Daylight by Taylor Swift (created an entire AU crossover fic just so I could use the lyrics in a couple chapters and this song just hits my soul real deep)

Rainbow by Kesha (”what’s left of my heart’s still made of gold” is a lyric that came to me at a very hard time in my life and it makes me cry whenever I even say it out loud and it’s very important to me)

Favorite fics: (again not linking because I don’t have time but you can find them all on ffn) Galway Girl by @rahleeyah (Spooks AU fic that changed my life and I think about it at least once a week), A Messy Kind of Love by rahleeyah (Doctor Blake fic that is the reason Leah and I became friends and one of the most impactful things I’ve ever read and also changed my life), One Fine Day by rahleeyah (Spooks AU fic she wrote for me and it’s everything I could have ever wanted), Dolce Notte and Calda Notte by @whatsabriard (Downton fics, the concepts of which have been in my head for forever and I just cannot stop thinking about how magnificent the idea is), Heartlines by ladycobert (Downton fic so good I just didn’t work at all one day so I could read it and as soon as I finished it, I read it again), The Proper Way of Things by AndAllThatMishigas (my Downton masterpiece that I’m more proud of and had more fun with than anything ever), Forever In Your Arms by AndAllThatMishigas (Doctor Blake vampire Jean which is really what I want to be known for forever), Glances by AndAllThatMishigas (City Homicide story that is probably the most perfect canon/canon divergence story ever, if I do say so myself), After by AndAllThatMishigas (Spooks post-series story that truly just made me so happy to write and makes me happy to reread) and honestly I think that is enough.

Tagging: @blossom--of--snow @yesmadamepresident @callhimnowmarisamylove @featherpluckn @aboxfullofdarkness @doctoraliceharvey @whatsabriard @lovesclassicposts @margotgrissom @mandalamarigold

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mythicalmongoose · 3 years ago

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You know what? Let’s go. I’m a big, brave girl. Let’s go ahead and get my most controversial meta out of the way. A while back I made a post I did not tag, wherein I sheepishly touched on Daniel and his relationship to trauma. I’ve had a few people message me about that with their 10 cents and experiences, so it’s been on my brain since then.

So, yeah, unpopular opinion on Daniel, trauma, and bullying in 3... 2... 1

I want to make it clear, first and foremost, that I’m not trying to invalidate anyone. I’m talking about a fictional character and only a fictional character. If you can relate and identify with Daniel on some level, please don’t think I’m trying to take that away from you.Your experiences are your own. How you feel about them is how you feel about them. Trauma isn’t a dick measuring contest. You’re valid.

C-PTSD is on my super cool little list of things I’m diagnosed with, and I have clocked many, many hours in psychiatric hospitals with folks that also struggle with trauma, so I’m something of a psychologist myself I only have anecdotal experience with this shit. Take anything I say with a grain of salt, my dudes.

It kind of bugs me how focused some people are on the show exploring Daniel’s trauma, the assertion that there’s PTSD going on there, ect. I feel like the show does okay with that already because, unless confronted directly by something or someone he recalls from his past as dangerous he’s, like, super well-adjusted for a dude that was targeted by a couple of unhinged senseis as a teen and got dangled off a cliff once.

Seeing Cobra Kai reopen? Nope. Cobra Kai’s only student showing up to a dance in the iconic skeleton onesie. Nope. Nope. Next Silver and Kreese show up at Cobra Kai? Nope. Nope. Nope.

Now I’ve never, as the kids say, “coped” with many things “well.” But being deeply troubled by dangers from your past showing up on your doorstep is something literally anyone would be triggered by. I think that’s pretty normal and healthy. It may compromise Daniel’s decision-making, but I feel like that’s because active threats often do for most people and, historically, he’s an impulsive hothead with questionable decision making skills.Which, to be clear, is a flaw that I love. A+ Wouldn’t change a thing.

Daniel has had a pretty great life since the movies. The support of Miyagi and MVP single mom Lucille. A wonderful wife, the love of his kids, gorgeous house. He owns his own business that’s doing great, has financial stability. We don’t see him associating any bad memories with his karate days. It’s something he brags about and uses as a gimmick to sell cars pays tribute to through his work. The Kill Bill sirens only go off when he sees a Cobra Kai dojo in a strip mall which is a totally reasonable reaction. These aren’t small and innocuous things that are getting a reaction out of him; they’re, again, very real threats on his doorstep that need to be handled.

And, oh God, I’m not even at what might be my most controversial of opinions:

I don’t think Daniel is a victim of bullying.

Okay, now please hold onto your pitchforks and torches. Hear me out:

Daniel is charming, confident, and never especially unpopular. None of this takes place over an especially long period of time. What the Cobras do isn’t so much bullying as it is, like... two counts of assault?

Which is also very bad and potentially traumatic but, in this instance, different. Not objectively better or worse but apples and oranges... Or oranges and grapefruit, maybe. Still in the citrus family.

I was bullied all throughout grade school. I imagine many people reading this were as well... No offense. It’s just that you’re reading overly long meta over-analyzing a silly karate show right now. It feels like a safe guess.

Daniel isn’t really afraid of the Cobras at any point. He openly antagonizes them after Miyagi brokers a truce. At worst, he’s just fucking done with their bullshit. And then the Cobras realize he’s 10x cooler than them at the tournament and that’s that.

He was never vulnerable like Miguel or an Aisha. He’s not socially awkward or easily intimidated. I’m not even convinced that he wasn’t more well-liked at that school than the Cobra clique was.

Ironically, it seems like, between Sid and Kreese, Johnny has more experience with being bullied. And is a pretty good portrayal of C-PTSD, imo. Johnny being so stuck on the bad in his past that he can’t move forward while Daniel draws on the good in his own is a nice parallel. But I’m getting off topic.

Anyway, I dunno, I just feel odd about people insisting the show isn’t showing us his struggles with what he’s experienced. Because I feel like it does. (With the caveat that you’ve watched the movies.) It’s fine in self-indulgent fics, but getting mad they aren’t giving a character more angst feels kind of... I dunno. Is romanticizing the right word here?

Like, Daniel has been through some shit. Maybe some of it was even genuinely traumatizing for a time. But I’d kind of like to normalize the idea that people can move past it without any lingering scars and live a bomb ass life?

Also, I’m way more invested in the show tackling the problems Daniel actively has. (imo) Like complicated grief over Miyagi and his struggle to really find his own identity without feeling like he’s dishonoring his memory. The lessons Miyagi taught him being at odds with his car salesman nature is just *chef’s kiss* some juicy angst the fandom is sleeping on in favor of pushing for PTSD.

#cobra kai #daniel larusso #ramblings

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simsadventures · 4 years ago

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Mellow Hearts

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky take a vacation by the ocean, happy to just spend some quality time together by the beach.

Warnings: fluff, smut (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THIS STORY)- lovemaking, sweet and tender you guys, nothing animalistic this time

Word Count: 1186

A/N: Some shorter Bucky action for my lovely followers. This is also a super late fic for my friend’s Laura’s @imanuglywombat writing challenge #uglywombat4Kchallenge, where I picked the song by Nick Murphy- Talk is Cheap (Talk is cheap my darling/ When you’re feeling right at home/ I wanna make you move with confidence/ I wanna be with you alone,) and the moodboard Beach, which is the picture for this fic. Anyway, enjoy my lovely people, and once again, congrats Laura for reaching such an amazing milestone.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist __ Masterlist

His heart beat against your skin, and you couldn’t believe this was happening. Life had been hectic in the past few months, and there were rare moments you and your man could spend together, let alone together for longer than 24 hours. So, the chance of going on a vacation for a week, where you didn’t have to worry about being called to a mission and not seeing Bucky for a week minimum.

To have him in your arms now was priceless. It was the whole aura in the room that got you going ever since you arrived. The hotel was situated near the beach, so much so that you could taste the salt in the air coming from the ocean when you opened up the French windows. Bucky mentioned multiple times that you tasted a bit salty, but that he enjoyed it immensely because it was something new. And he was all in for trying novelties with you, especially when it came to you and the taste of your skin.

Seeing Bucky in this new environment, where he didn’t have to be the Sargent, always alert and ready to fight any danger that would come his way. But here he was calm and in peace, smiling freely and not caring about his diet like he did back in New York. He was his best self when he was out of the team, and you often wondered if it weren’t better for you two to just retire after so many years serving the world, and leave for some quiet place wherever he would like, and just live happily there.

But Bucky thought it was too soon after all that had happened with Thanos, and you let him call the shots because you really didn’t mind either. What you did mind, however, was when he wasn’t rested and happy, and so you pushed on Sam to just let you two off the hook for at least a week so that you could get your strength back. And as even the always-blind Sam saw, Bucky needed to get his mind back into peace, so he let you two go.

That’s how you found yourselves on the coast of Spain, sitting on the bed by the open balcony door, staring deep into each other’s eyes.

When you woke up that morning, you felt quite sore from the escapades of the previous days, both in the room and, quite dangerously, even on the beach and in the sea, because, as the trip showed, Bucky was quite the exhibitionist and the idea of getting caught thrilled him to the bone. You didn’t mind some semi-public action either since you knew Bucky and his super-hearing and super-strength would hear anybody actually coming near you and would carry you to safety.

Bucky was worried that he hurt you from the low moans escaping you in the morning, but you relentlessly assured him that you were okay, just a little sore here and there. When the information finally hit his brain, he realised he didn’t have to go sex-free for the day, and the mood changed quickly. But unlike all the other days, when you two acted almost purely on animalistic instinct, this morning you craved a deeper connection.

Sitting on top of Bucky who was sitting as well with your legs entangled around his torso, you threw your head back as Bucky’s hips moved from left to right, creating friction on your sensitive clit that you so needed. He always knew what your body was asking for and was very quick to deliver.

Sweat was glistening on your skins, and in the light of the early morning sun, Bucky looked more beautiful than ever. And you were sure to tell him over and over again.

“You’re so handsome like this, Buck. Fuck, if you could only feel what my heart feels. It’s so full when I’m looking at you, your pupils blown and your lips just a little redder because of my kisses. You look so happy, and my heart literally swells my love,” you moaned as you ground your hips against his, and Bucky hissed in pleasure. You could even feel his cock do a little jump at your praise.

It was a long time ago that you found your spot boy had a praise kink, and you used that to both your and his advantage. Every word of love you said was the truth, which made it that more alluring to Bucky.

“Fuck, doll, you’re so beautiful like this, riding me gently and just staring in my eyes. I feel like I’m staring right into your soul, and do you know what I see? My home. We don’t need to speak, because I often feel like talk is cheap, but I know you, and I know your heart, and you are my home. Fuck, I love you so much!” Bucky was speaking through his teeth, the pleasure taking over his speech, but you appreciated his effort.

And he was right, you were each other’s home no matter where you found yourselves. This was more than love; this was the complete conjunction of souls. Each move he made was felt not only in your pussy but also in your heart, because of the way he looked at you. Like he would do anything for you. His actions spoke louder than the words, and each thrust of his hips sent you both closer to your climaxes.

What Bucky saw in your eyes was taking his breath away. You were confident in your love for him, which you conveyed with each little kiss, each little nip at his lips and his neck. Your eyes showed him how deep your love ran that it was interlaced with the very essence of you, and when the realisation hit him, that you were utterly and entirely his, most probably forever, he came with a loud grunt and stutter of his hips, triggering your own orgasm so much, so you shouted and fell into his open arms, where his erratic but happy heart awaited you.

“We should take time off like this more often, doll, I think it suits us,” he said to your hair, and you chuckled at the relaxed expression on his face when you looked up.

“Yeah, I think making love three times a day on a daily basis does suit us,” you smirked, and Bucky pinched your side but still laughed with you.

“We should hit the beach soon if we want to catch some good spots, doll,” Bucky mused, and you just hummed, not really sold on the idea of leaving the comfort of neither the room and Bucky’s arms. He tried to make a move towards the bathroom, but your arms held him so tight he gave up the idea of leaving very shortly after feeling your arms locking behind his back. You wanted him near, and he would give you anything you asked for. Because he would do anything to be with you alone, and he wished this vacation never ended. Maybe leaving the guns behind wasn’t such a bad idea.

Taglist in reblogs (trying to make these tags work!! Ugh, Tumblr!!)

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