#she's a sweet cat she's just a homicidal maniac | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-some-random-blogger · 9 months ago

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He wanted the Conqueror’s crown, it took his brother being burnt to get it.

Damn that's how aegon dies. Rip aegon he would have loved happy hour

He wanted a legacy that would surpass his lifetime, etched into the very being of Westeros itself. The sacrifice needed for this would be to chain himself to a woman he likely wouldn’t be interested in.

Okay get it I guess

You were sweet, he supposed. Sweet in a way that made his teeth ache. Sweet in a way akin to a mouse and how it looked up at the cat just before his jaws snapped around the mouse’s head.

Okay homicidal maniac 😃👍

He didn’t need to like you. Many marriages were forged in dislike or just plain indifference, set to a mutual goal. He supposed your mutual goal was children. All he needed was to use you as a vessel, a womb for his seed to take hold.

NO CUZ IM USUALLY SO SILLY FOR BREEDING KINKS BUT I MUST NO LONGER BE OVULATING HUH HAHAHAHAHH CUZ WHAT THE FUCK WAS RHAT

Opportunist recognizes opportunist amirite

[...] a paltry lady of some low house bred in the Riverlands would do just fine, he expected his Valyrian seed to dominate any of their week genes anyhow.

😀✋ ur sick. What am I a dog?

He had met you once before, many years ago before he lost his eye. When he was forced to tag along on some meager diplomacy meeting with his grandsire– he remembers it as being forced, but in reality, he wished to attend. What else was a second son with no dragon to do? – and you had been there, hiding behind your father’s trousers. You had been wearing a blue dress, he remembered this distinctly, as it stood out against the ruby red of the apple you had offered him.

you remember a lot for someone who doesn't give shit bruv dafaq?

He never understood why he remembered this girl, as you were insignificant in the seas of faces he’s met over his life.

LIKE I JUST FUCKING SAID

Mayhaps it was your quiet nature that he remembered, something that, now at his age and state of mind, struck him as malleable, easy to mold into what he needed you to be.

This fucker still goin dafaQ

The council meeting had gone south, ending in most of the lords bickering over one another like children.

I've realized boys don't really grow up, they just get louder, bigger and more audacious

The pain was debilitating at times and if anyone dared to test his patience when it was particularly bad, he would snap at them like a cornered animal, no matter who it was.

Damn, you can scream through a headache???????????????? 😰😰😰 GO OFF IG?????

“… reading. I was waiting for you.” you murmured in your usual hushed tone, the sound of your book closing was louder than your voice.

Damn, aemond has sonic hearing or smth 😭😭😭 that or she just slammed that book HARD

“You need proper rest. I won’t have my wife looking like a sleepless, sloven mess,” Aemond chastised, discarding his shirt.

First of all, shut the fuck up

“Now, what are you reading?” he was becoming increasingly irritated with you, feeling as if he had to force you to take care of yourself and unlatch you like a leech from him.

Second of all, I thought you didn't give a shit

When you looked upon him with your wide eyes filled with uncertainty and fear, he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze until you passed out or mayhaps went limp, like a doll.

😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃👍 ok I fucking hate him this is gross but I'm sorry to say I'm into choking let's see how I feel after folks

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “What use do you have to learn High Valyrian, wife? Issa dōna ābrazȳrys mijegon nykeā notion isse zȳhon bartos, wanting naejot gūrēñagon mirros ziry daor.” My sweet wife without a thought in her head, wanting to learn something she cannot.

“Come to bed,” he said, moreso as a command than a suggestion. “I know you are cold, ābrazȳrys.” Wife.

I dont remember if I was disgusted or kinda 👀 with him HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAAHHAHAHHAHAHHA

He surely hoped that your children together would inherit his fiery blood and not the weak-willed, uninsulated Andal blood you possessed.

SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU RAT ASS STRING OF PISS THATS LITERALLY YOUR FAULT YOU CHOSE HER MISS ME WITH THAT BULLSHIT DAFAQ OH NOW IF IT ISNT THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS

Oh ho ho but you'll be glad to know you stupid fucker one eyed freak aemond that women you fuck are perpetually changed because of your shlong and cum. Yessir!! Esp if they get pregnant 🤩 like your DNA has the capacity to borderline alter her fucking DNA 🥰FOREVER🥰 isNT THAT AMAZING?!?!!!!! WOWWWWWWWW HOW GREAT FOR YOU U SACK OF SHIT. ID PULL OUT REFERENCES FOR THIS BECAUSE WOMEN SHOULDN'T DATE UGLY LOSERS FUCKING HELL AS IF WOMEN DON'T HAVE IT BAD ENOUGH But I'm lazy

Aemond bounced from being indifferent to you, paying you no more mind than a maid or a whore, to needing you, every part of you. He didn’t see you as a person, moreso an extension of himself, latched onto his body until he consumed you entirely, your bones fusing together as one. To him, you were a doll or plaything to entertain him, testing the mettle of your will, to see if you were of poor craftsmanship and would break. He had always broken his toys as a child.

Ok first of all... I'm kinda into being a rag doll daddy 😋 OOP I KNOW I KNOW BITE ME. second of all, AEMOND BROKE HIS TOYS AS A CHILD CANON? HEADCANON? IDK IDK I feel like he would take care of them UNLESS they were hand me downs from aegon, in which case aBSOFUCKINGLUTELY DESTROY THEM. But but also I kind of imagine him being look mother, I am so much better than 🤮ae🤢gon🤮

No, it wasn’t so much as a threat than it was a promise– he quite liked applying pressure to your airways when you coupled, his lone violet eye centered intently on yours as they went from wide to half-lidded, soft whimpers of pleading to stop, sometimes for more, more. He relished in holding your very life in his hands and you let him.

Your honor I have nothing to save rather than 🫦🫦🫦🫦 ooh into choking are we daddy 😋😋😋

“Mayhaps I should get you a collar, wife,” he hummed, his voice husky and deep, reverberating deep within your chest as your heart pounded. “But I think you like my hands much better, don’t you?”

Aemond all but growled at your comment, positioning the both of you to where you were laying with your back upon him, as if you were lazing upon him like a chair. “Feeling courageous tonight, are we? No matter, my dear, you will break all the same,” his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe. “Like every night before, and every night to come– your life is in my hands,” he enunciated this with a squeeze to your neck, eliciting a small mewl from you. “Is it not? Say it.”

“M-my king, your grace,” you rephrased quickly.

Damn he's kinky lmao but what do you expect from someone who grew up with a family wreath

Your mouth hung open, you were sobbing freely now, your lips quirked into a euphoric and maddened smile. “Thank you, tha-nk you, t-thank you, I love you, I love you,” you gasped, your lungs ballooning with air as you begged him further, “P-please, around my neck–”

She like me fr

“My love, my wife– I love you.”

🙄 simp :p

To be completely clear, I really liked this ok. This is just my honest reaction lmao. You write beautifully with so much detail 😔 I wish, ya know

foxfaced, dragonhearted - oneshot.

dark, mean prince regent aemond x wife reader

for my 200 followers poll, i've actually had this one cooking for a while so i'm happy this option won! this is absolutely filthy, i'm sorry in advance.

word count: 2.4k

i don't do taglists any more unfortunately, its mostly because i never remember and then feel bad about it so i've made a second blog just for reblogging my fics! @huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: slight dub-con, smut (specifics below cut), angst, mean aemond, toxic relationship, like in no way is this healthy, good god, smut with little plot, reader is described being from riverlands w/ auburn hair and brown eyes, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes

tonight you belong to me - patience & prudence • vampire - olivia rodrigo

warnings: p in v, choking, breath play, dom/sub, degradation, creampie, cockwarming, orgasm denial, breeding, aemond is so mean here thats its own damn warning

Aemond knew what he wanted and the sacrifices that needed to be made to get such things. He wanted a dragon, it took an eye to get it. He wanted the Conqueror’s crown, it took his brother being burnt to get it. He wanted a legacy that would surpass his lifetime, etched into the very being of Westeros itself. The sacrifice needed for this would be to chain himself to a woman he likely wouldn’t be interested in.

That is where you came in.

You were sweet, he supposed. Sweet in a way that made his teeth ache. Sweet in a way akin to a mouse and how it looked up at the cat just before his jaws snapped around the mouse’s head.

You poor thing, you didn’t really understand that he didn’t truly care for you. You were nice enough looking, of course– hair that reminded him of autumn leaves, always styled in some intricate style with half a hundred braids, dozens of pins and decorative pearls. You reminded Aemond of a fox, dark eyes against muted auburn fur, lips always pursed, sniffing the air in search for hounds on your tail. You certainly were a skittish, jittery little thing.

The marriage was a quick affair, done at the Sept two days after Aemond wore the Conqueror’s crown for the first time. You weren't a part of some major house, all of the major houses were too close, too greedy, their breaths hot against his neck as they shoved their wedable daughters at him. The last thing he wished for was to be indebted to some trivial lord who thought his name elevated him to the same stratosphere as Aemond– a paltry lady of some low house bred in the Riverlands would do just fine, he expected his Valyrian seed to dominate any of their week genes anyhow.

Aemond had tried to speak with you, but you only communicated in nods and soft noises– something you only partially grew out of. He never understood why he remembered this girl, as you were insignificant in the seas of faces he’s met over his life. Mayhaps it was your quiet nature that he remembered, something that, now at his age and state of mind, struck him as malleable, easy to mold into what he needed you to be.

And so it shall be.

–

It was about two and a half moons after your marriage, he returned from a late council meeting. Rubbing his eye, feeling the familiar thrum of pain right behind the socket, he was already in a particularly sour mood. The council meeting had gone south, ending in most of the lords bickering over one another like children.

It irritated Aemond to no end, the strain of an oncoming headache ever looming. He still struggled with intense pain from his eye, or rather, his socket and severed nerves. The pain was debilitating at times and if anyone dared to test his patience when it was particularly bad, he would snap at them like a cornered animal, no matter who it was.

Raising his head, he noticed the hearth was still going strong, multiple candles still lit in the solar, despite it being late at night. The now familiar crop of auburn hair was peeking from behind the couch— his wife was usually never up this late.

“Why are you still awake, wife?” he asked as he took off his gloves, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“… reading. I was waiting for you.” you murmured in your usual hushed tone, the sound of your book closing was louder than your voice.

“I told you not to do that. It’s unnecessary.” he grunted in response, undoing the latches of his leather doublet.

“I-I don’t mind it… I just sleep a bit easier…” you continued, no doubt twiddling the end of your braid between your fingers— an anxious habit.

“You need proper rest. I won’t have my wife looking like a sleepless, sloven mess,” Aemond chastised, discarding his shirt. “Now, what are you reading?” he was becoming increasingly irritated with you, feeling as if he had to force you to take care of yourself and unlatch you like a leech from him. When you looked upon him with your wide eyes filled with uncertainty and fear, he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze until you passed out or mayhaps went limp, like a doll.

“Oh,” you slid the book towards him on the side table, it was a book on the history of Old Valyria and its language, usually used for children to begin speaking it. “Nyke j-jaelagon… naejot ēdrugon… va ao.” I wish to sleep next to you.

You reached for the book, your comprehension not skilled enough yet to pull what Aemond was saying to you. Before you could grab it, he slammed his hand down on the book, effectively snatching it from your grasp. You pouted her bottom lip. “I want to learn… mayhaps it might bring us closer together.”

Aemond scoffed, the sound sending a sting of pain right into the core of your chest. “We are as close as we need to be, little one. We are married in the eyes of Gods and men and we fulfill our marital duty by trying to produce heirs, hm?” He placed the book back on the shelf. “This nonsense of wanting to be closer is moot. I won’t hear of it anymore.”

A glaze of sorrow flashed through your eyes before you got up from the couch, tightening the housecoat around your shoulders.

“Come to bed,” he said, moreso as a command than a suggestion. “I know you are cold, ābrazȳrys.” Wife.

You made a small noise of discernment, crawling into bed after him.

He looped his arms around you, pressing you to his bare chest. He radiated heat like a furnace and was quick to warm you up– you were always so cold, he noted. He surely hoped that your children together would inherit his fiery blood and not the weak-willed, uninsulated Andal blood you possessed.

You could tell by the rhythm of his breathing, he wasn’t going to sleep just yet– you’d become very attuned to his moods, his small intakes of air against your neck causing your skin to prickle into goosebumps. His lips ghosted over your throat, one of his arms coming up to wrap near the base of your windpipe, not yet applying pressure, but the threat was there.

“Y-yes,” you breathed, the small swallowing bob of your throat felt against the palm of his hand, causing him to grin. “... I fancy them– on my tender neck… between my legs…” you responded, feeling slightly bold at the notion you put forth. The heat of his body permeated your skin, warming your core into an ever familiar feeling.

“M-my life– belongs to you, husband,” you managed to squeak out.

“Not husband, not now. You know the rules.”

“M-my king, your grace,” you rephrased quickly.

He clicked his tongue in slight admonishment. “A bit slow on the take tonight, little one,” Aemond muttered, slotting his leg between yours and kicking your thighs apart. “Keep them open.” his voice was dripping with something between venom and sticky sweet honey. He felt akin to a God every time he was in the sky, every time he sat the throne with the crown on his head, and every time he rested his hand on your pretty little throat as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you so easily, so free of resistance. “So slick for me, just from the smallest of chokes– fucking whore.” he hissed, starting a slow, deliberate pace as his hips met against your bottom. The pair of you were like two threads, intertwined with his legs pretzeling around yours, keeping you spread open.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he continued to bully that sensitive, spongy spot within you– but you craved so much more, feeling waves of heat emanate from your sensitive bud as it screamed at your brain, begging to be touched. You made the critical error, thinking your husband was too focused on his own pleasure to notice you going for your own, as your hand slowly descended between your legs, rubbing small circles upon your pearl.

How wrong you were.

His arm came up further, his bicep pressing to the bottom of your chin, his free palm slapping your hand away from yourself. “Are you truly fucking stupid tonight, wife?” he spat, stilling his thrusts. “When did I say you could touch yourself? Have I fucked you stupid already?” Aemond huffed in frustration. “My poor, dumb wife– you cannot do anything right, can you?” he slid you off of him, then flipped over to loom atop you, taking both of your hands within one of his, his large hand encapsulating your wrists with ease, trapping them above your head.

You sniffed, tears welling at your lash line, threatening to spill– not just from his downright mean admonishments, but from your stolen gluttony, your pleasure stolen so close to the precipice. “‘M sorry, your grace,” you cried, “Forgive me.”

“You’re lucky you have such a sweet cunt,” Aemond mused, his immodest and downright sinful language going straight to your core as he nestled inside of you once more, menacing atop you like a darkening cloud. “I forgive you– and will even pleasure you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To come?”

You nodded fervently, your lamenting tears spilling over and running down your cheeks.

“I’m feeling quite generous, then– I’ll let you. If you beg me.”

“P-please–” you blubbered, “Please let me come, my king.”

A sickly smirk came over his face once more as he pushed forward again, not bothering with the slow and meticulous pace he had before. His hips slammed into yours as he surged into you, as if you were nothing more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure. And yet, and yet– his hand didn’t move to the apex of your legs, chasing his own high before he would give into yours.

“Aemond, please, please– please touch me, f-fuck, your grace– my k-king, please!” you were all but wailing now, half in ecstasy and half in pure beseechment, pleading for just some semblance of the lecherous, stimulating and lewd sensation that only he could give you.

He took mercy on you, the pad of his thumb zeroing in on your leaking folds, giving your clit a cheeky pinch. It was a delightful pain– that was what being with Aemond was, what it came down to. Every waking moment with him was thrilling, sublime, agonizing, unending torture– and you fucking loved it.

Something animalistic came out of Aemond at your request, his hand draping around your throat like a necklace. “My sweet, dumb wife– you don’t know what to do unless I tell you, unless I let you, unless I guide you to your release, hm?” he prostrated each word with a deep thrust. The combination of his ministrations on your bundle of nerves, the head of his cock callously beating into your sweet spot, and the squeeze of his hand around your neck– it was enough.

With a garbled string of words, prayers, denotes of love, pronouncements of his prowess, his titles, his name– the coil inside of you snapped, lighting every nerve you had in your body on fire. You saw stars as your climax wracked through you like a tempest, the absolute vice grip of your core sending Aemond into his own completion, his seed painting your walls and then some.

In your fucked-out delirium, you thought you might’ve heard him say something– you didn’t decipher it until later when you were half asleep, his softened member still lodged inside of you somehow as he curled you into his chest.

“My love, my wife– I love you.”

#aemond fanfiction #aemond smut

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howl-fantasies · 3 years ago

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A/N - LONG POST - Here's the part 5 of the GOTHAM ASSASSINS series. Takes place during the last episode of season 1, when Penguin tried to convince Connor, a hitman, to kill Maroni and his underlings. It still follows the main story but there are mostly Y/N and Zsasz interactions in this one.

Hope you'll like it, here are the

Masterlist

Enjoy! 🥰

"We are looking for a dangerous serial killer who was responsible of the murder of numerous women during the last decade. The Ogre..." She cut the TV with a grunt and stretched like a cat.

So Jimbo has indeed decided to play with the big guys and publicly targeted one of the most terrible serial killer in town. The dude had strong steel guts thinking he would catch the Ogre that easely.

Nobody, even her, knew the face of the killer. Only that he was some kind of maniac, obsessed with women who he kept for weeks or months, before killing them and tossing them on the side of the road.

And here comes St James, on his white horse, thinking he'll catch the psycho and succeed where everyone failed. Don't misunderstand her, if someone was capable enough to do it, that would be Jimbo. But at what cost? That, was the interesting question here.

Two bare forearms trapped her throat and tightened around it, and she felt a hot breath just against her left ear which makes her shiver. "Be aware of the terrifying Ogre, who devoured defenseless little lambs" whispered the owner of the voice.

She snorted and lean her head back to watch Zsasz from upside-down, offering him a very tempting view of the delicate flesh of her throat. "Sorry Mister Ogre, but you just really happen to look like an homicidal maniac I know for a long time." She blankly said.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You're no fun". The woman falsely beamed like an idiot and put her finger between his slightly frowned eyebrows. "I absolutely love role-playing with you dearest, but The Ogre doesn't really excite me you know..."

He hummed pensively and finally freed her throat, after putting a peck on her forehead. Zsasz walked around the sofa and sit next to her where he grabbed the remote and launched the TV again. He then leaned back too and put his left arm around her shoulders.

They didn't have much to do that day. A few marks to track on separate ways, then a bit of Oswald stalking at night. Uneventful, really.

Before that, here they were. They bought this flat last year because it was perfectly situated, in the middle of the city. Pretty convenient to store a few weapons, electronics, tools and just relax between two contracts.

Y/N closed her eyes, perfectly at ease, and lulled by the sound of the TV. "Some news about how Maroni will try to deceive Carmine after their touching little truce?" She asked airily while laying down and putting her head on his thigh.

Victor's hand was now playing with her hair pensively and he hummed. "Not really", he seemed disappointed a bit. "Calm before the storm, uh", she mused. "Never liked that bastard. Can't wait to see his third eye being opened with the help of a bullet" She Added.

Victor sneered at her comment and pulled her roots a bit, making her groan. "You don't like much people for starters, sweetness" He said. Y/N cracked an eye open and glared a bit at him, "Look who's talking, Mister psychopath".

He just shrugged her comment in a carefree demeanor. She was right after all, and he wasn't ashamed of it. At all. And she was not that different on the matter, the woman saw more than one horrible thing here in the crime city without being moved by it. And he tends to think that Gotham itself represented one big factor in the numerous cases of sociopathy and psychopathy blooming days after days.

Y/N herself was a good example of it. Psychopathic tendencies appear in general during teenage years. Young teens develop it has a way to deal with violence, and traumatic events. She did it so well, that she never ever look aside during his best torturing sessions. She stayed perfectly still, watching him as if he was painting or doing some mundane activities.

From what he knows, she used to be a wary little thing, cunning enough to survive in the Narrows and escape human and organ trafic which were two of the top activities in this part of the city.

She told him she had once been abducted and placed in a brothel. She litteraly cut her client in half with one of his own blades, decapitated him and scared the shit out of the clients and staff.

When the manager came and saw the massacre, he was ready to kill her like a mad dog. But she had been cunning enough to offer him a deal: ruining his rivals business by infiltrating them and perform the same slaughter to scare the clients enough to never come back again. It was a big bet on her life, but the manager accepted the offer.

The brothel slaughtering was her first contract. And even him, before his spiraling to hell, heard about it. The cops and coroners rarely saw a massacre like this one that time.

After his fall from sanity, a bit after he started to work as Falcone's hitman, he had to find her for a trivial thing. The Godfather didn't appreciate the death of one of his closest men she had kill for a contract. And when he stalked her and found out about the brothel slaughtering, he had became a big fan of her work.

That was probably why he didn't shoot her from distance that day and choose to broke in her flat to see what she was going to do.

And man, she didn't disappoint. Without using force, just with her silver tongue, she snaked her way out of Carmine blacklist with only a few words. She also convinced him to offer her a job. The rest was history.

*Are you already in position?* Asked a voice in her earpiece. Y/N was currently on the top of a building, laying down on her stomach and aiming at an empty street, minus some cars driving down the road.

"Not my favorite one to be honest, dearest", she hummed quietly. "I would much prefer lay on my back, like a few hours ago", She sneered with a toothy grin she was sure Victor could picture right now.

"Now, now, don't flirt during work sweetness, and don't tease me, I need to be able to walk without a painful pointer at my twelve" He chastised. This time, she chuckled. "Your problem, Vic. Now, back to business, I can see the car", she whispered.

He grunted in approval inside of her ear. "Same here, the two rats left their little secret reunion at the same time. Ready?" He asked.

"Since the day I was born". They pulled the trigger at the same time then looked down the street just in time to see the impact of the bullet and the blood on the windshield. While two drivers seemed to lose control of their black vehicles at the same time and in two opposite districts in Gotham, the assassins reloaded their gun.

"Mine is exiting the car", said Y/N just before a second muffled shot resonated and an Italian mobster fell on the floor, hit in the head. "Got him", she stated.

The silence from the other side, made her frown but didn't stopped her to place her riffle in a suit case then leaving her hidding spot. "Dearest?" She asked after a minute.

"Shot the mark but have some cops on my tail right now", She heard him sighed. "Need a hand?" Asked the henchwoman. "More you giving me a head, love."

"You can't knock out cops using your boner, Vic. Even a pretty honorable one, it would be a first in the history. Need help or no?" She asked, ignoring his previous comment.

"No, they'll become sweet sweet scars on my body in a min. Hang on." He purred. She rolled her eyes and walked to the fire esacpace stairs, climbing down. Soon, a few pained cries resonated in her earpiece and she sighed. "You're having a ball right now. Don't deny it Vic. You wanted all the fun for yourself, you greedy little thing".

He chuckled then admitted. "Guilty. How disappointing, they never last that much..." Now it was her turn to chuckled. "Don't pout dearest, makes you act like a brat after".

"You're the brat sweetness and I am the brat tamer" He growled a bit. "Eh, don't daddy me now, my love. I'm much more a mommy than a brat anyway." She laughed. "Let's put a brat in mommy then" He mocked and she can't repressed a shiver of disgust. "Nope, not even with a fucking gun pointing at my head". She said. "Now that's my woman~"

Hidding among the population had always been one of her talents. She just had to use the back door with Butch complicity to walk in Oswald's club. The poor brainwashed dear was loyal to Penguin, yes, but his maker's orders were absolute.

Here she was, blending in the shadows, looking Oswald from afar. The little conspirator was actively talking with Connor, another prolific assassin in Gotham, just after Victor and her. "Look at that little snake", she snorted quietly. "I can see that. Connor, uh. How disappointing", said Victor in her earpiece.

Since he was esay to spot in the club, they agreed for Zsasz to stay at their flat, spying via the cameras she hacked back when Fish was the owner of the club.

On the other hand, she, would enter inside and check what the ex-snitch was doing. And his little discussion with Connor wasn't good. Cobblepot was scheming something.

When the duo finally seemed to agree on something, Y/N waited to see Oswald walks back in his office and followed him a bit after. In front of the door, the drawed one of her guns. "Can't see what he's doing sweetness, stay alert", said Victor's voice in her ear. She hummed quietly and finally decided to open the double doors.

When she walked in, Oswald was behind his desk and lifted his head with a schoked face. "Y/N!" He squealed. "Oswald dear", she greeted with a calm voice and pointed directly her gun at him. "Now, now, how good your acting skills are, Mister Cobblepot. I can now see how you were able to deceive Fish, then Maroni. You've got some strong talent here".

The young man frowned and sighed deeply. He lifted his right hand, which had taken a gun from under his desk. "Bloody harlot" She heard him muttered. "Relax Penguin. Why don't you put your toy on the desk first, uh? You know you have no chance to be faster than me at this little shooting game. Victor is the only one to have that skill", She said while hearing said hitman cooed stupidly in her earpiece.

When Oswald put the gun on the desk, she walks until she was able to grab it. But the man was sly enough to draw a blade and pin it in on the surface. She just had the time to extend her fingers and dodge the weapon which was now deeply stuck right between her thumb and her index.

Y/N put the cold metal of the barrel of her gun against Oswald forehead. "Ha-ha-haaaa~" She warned him and lifted the security. "Swift, aren't we? Sorry to ruin your moment, but Maroni is more agile than you and even he, has some struggles touching me." She threw Oswald gun away in the room and took the blade in her now free hand. "I'll keep that, if you don't mind."

Threatened by the gun and the blade, Cobblepot was now livid. "Look, Y/N. I just wanted to defend myself, nothing personal here" He tried to argue quickly. "Against what? Aren't we suppose to be part of the same time, dearie?" She purred while he gulped loudly.

"Well, just so you know, you are quite intimidating. And I would be a fool to not be wary when you're around" He stated. She laughed airily, "My you have a valid point here Mister Cobblepot" But she suddenly lose her enthusiasm.

"You should indeed be veeeery wary when I am here and also when I'm not. I told you we'd see everything you would do." She put some distance between them and place the blade in her back, between her shirt and pencil skirt. "Now, I really would like to know why you were meeting one of Gotham's top assassins in here tonight." She said.

He blinked a few time and relaxed just a bit seeing her less aggressive posture. "I had a mission for him. Since Victor and you are devoted to Don Falcone, it's only natural that I try to find my own assassin's team, isn't it?" He answered with a convincing smile.

But he jolted and screamed when the cristal glass just behind his head was shot and exploded, hurting him a bit. "Cut the crap. Or next time I'll blow your ear Penguin. " She said with zero emotion on her face and her sharp eyes firmly locked into his. He was trembling like a leaf.

"I-I... Ok! OK! Please calm down. I made a contract with Connor ok? I asked him to kill Maroni. I know he'll be in a bar to celebrate Tommy Bones' return!" He said, now sweating bullets.

The silence which answered him was oppressive and he had to hold his breath and pray to see another day. "You want to kill Sal. Why would you do that exactly?" She finally asked.

"To prove my sincerity to Don Falcone! To prove him he can trust me and that I'm on his side!" He snapped. Again, a tensed silence answered. Then, he saw her slowly put her gun down. "Alright." She said. "Alright?" He asked skeptically. "You'll have to call the Don to tell him, but alright. I'll not interfere further in your grand Master plan." She explained. "But please pay an extreme attention at what I am going to say, Oswald." In a few steps, she was on him, looming on him and gripping his jaw painfully. "Be very careful about what you are going to do in the next days. Or it could backfire pretty badly. Got it?"

Penguin nodded quickly and closed his eyes, too scared to look into hers. He didn't move until he heard the 'click' of the double doors.

She was in the gloomy streets, walking peacefully. "What do you think, my love?" Asked finally Victor who stayed silent during all her interaction with Oswald. He trusted her judgment, deeply when it comes to find out what a potential foe was planning. He was himself pretty smart and sharp, in an instinctive way, but he had to admit that Y/N's capacity to think two or three steps ahead made her better at plotting. A quality she shared with Carmine. "I'm calling Carmine before the rat". She said in a very cold tone. She was furious.

She didn't had to wait too much for him to answer, and she made sure to find a spot on a roof where she wouldn't be seen nor heard. "What are the news Y/N? " Asked Carmine in his Godfather's demanding tone.

"Just came out from Penguin's club. He enrolled a killer to blow Maroni's head tomorrow during the celebration of Bones new freedom." She said quickly. "I told him to call you and inform you himself. He doesn't have the choice now." She added.

"What were his reasons, to do it without informing me before?" Asked again Falcone in a cold tone.

"A full package of bullshit to be honest, Carmine. May I speak freely?" She asked too. The Italian boss chuckled but hummed. After all he told her himself that she was now allowed to talk when she wanted to.

"I think he's plotting against you. I don't know how exactly, maybe he asked Connor to send lame underlings and fail the mission, maybe he wants to send him to negociate with Maroni and will plot against him later again, or something else completely. But I think you are his main target, Carmine. And he'll not be the one to directly pull the trigger on you, he's too fucking coward to do that. But he's clever enough to make other people do it. Directly or indirectly."

Falcone let a very long silence on the line after that. Then, after two solid minutes he sighed deeply and tiredly. "All those traitors, the betrayals, the shootings, I'm tired of this." She clicked her tongue and sighed too, "If you're tired, prepare your retirement and go spend the rest of your life in a boring mundain way somewhere safe. I don't know, buy horses, chickens again... God the chickens... Do some gardening, cook pastas... But don't you fucking dare die here, die on Victor and I, because of a petty power struggle you don't care about anymore." She was harsh but he needed to be told that.

Carmine Falcone needed to step back, maybe, but not killed by an opportunistic brat. He was respected here in Gotham, he was a legend and guaranteed 30years of relative peace, which was incredible, knowing the monster which was the city.

She heard another long sigh. "You've got quite the sharp and foul mouth, you know that my dear?" He mocked a bit. "But you're right. I need to plan my retirement properly before things go south. Thank you, Y/N. See you at the mansion."

She hang up and started walking again. "I'm in the car, sweetness. I'm taking you then we join the boss" Zsasz said and she hummed. Now it was their turn to plot against Penguin.

#gotham imagine #gotham #gotham x reader #victor zsasz #victor zsasz imagine #victor zsasz x reader #gotham fox #carmine falcone #oswald cobblepot #Oswald x reader #Oswald Cobblepot x reader #gotham fic #gotham fandom #gotham fanfiction #gotham x you

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hellenhighwater · 7 years ago

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Oooooh tell us stories about Nimitz the Hunter!

Oh man, there’s a reason I call that sweet babe the Deathmonster. (and why, when possible, it’s good to keep cats indoors–they are voracious hunters who can have a sizable impact on the local ecosystem. Nimitz absolutely hates being kept indoors, and she’s really sneaky, so we’ve given up on trying to keep her in, but still.)

When Nim decided to move in with us, our house was on a block that had, at one point, been farmland, and only one side of it got developed into houses, so our yard backed up onto acres of open field–the perfect hunting grounds for a cat. Nim was a very friendly feral when she first turned up, and even after she moved in, she wanted to spend most of her time outdoors.

But now that she was being fed, she found herself with an excess of prey. Being a generous sort, Nim felt it was important to share. So we rapidly wound up with at least a mouse a day on the deck at the back of the house. We never ate them, which concerned Nim.

She confronted this problem several ways. Maybe we just hadn’t noticed them? Nimitz began sneaking prey indoors. She’s very poofy, very light-absorbing, and very low to the ground, so it wasn’t hard for her to carry a small rodent in without us noticing the first few times. Unsurprisingly, the mouse corpses on the rug were not well-received. The live bird she carried in and then released went over even more poorly. She stopped trying to carry prey indoors.

Maybe the food was too small? Nim started catching bigger prey–once, she brought home an adult rabbit, which was just impressive. But we still didn’t eat it. Finally, Nim seemed to give up on getting us to eat what she brought, and started just showing off instead.

She’d go out, catch a mouse, and sit on the back deck and “knock”, which she did by throwing it at the door over and over until somebody came outside to watch, and then bite its head off and eat it.

This grossed out about 50% of the household, but the rest of us were mostly impressed, and glad that she wasn’t leaving corpses anymore.

Interestingly, Nim was never interested in ‘domestic’ prey animals–when my allegedly same-sex hamsters had seven babies, Nim never showed any interest in them, even when they accidentally wound up loose in the room with her. Same with the black mice I had later, and the doves I currently have–but when we tried to rescue a wild mouse, Nimitz pushed his cage down a flight of stairs so it broke open and ate him.

When we moved to our current house in the woods, Nim found that she couldn’t throw mice at the back door anymore because she ran the risk of hurling the mouse into the underbrush–our deck is narrow near the door, with a 15-foot drop over the railing. So she stopped throwing mice, and her hunting habits became more typical. But Nim is a homicidal maniac at heart, so of course weirdness manifested in other ways. One winter, I spotted her jumping up on the deck railings regularly, sometimes carrying stuff in her mouth. When I went out on the deck later, I found a half-dozen mouse corpses frozen to the railing, as though she was mounting heads on her castle walls as warnings to the forest animals below.

She also likes to use the doormats outside the deck door like the world’s worst pill sorter–it’s one of those black rubber ones that has round holes in it for grip, and she likes to eat her prey beside it. And then later, we’ll find flawlessly removed mouse organs in separate holes. Why? Because Nimitz.

#tw animal death #tw gore #not sure what to tag this #tw circle of life #??#Nimitz #the Terror of the Underbrush

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lowkeyjustvibing · 4 years ago

Text

Time for some more EOTE :)

Chapter 1: Hello World

Regenold Schippel P.O.V.

So you may be wondering how we got into this situation. To put it simply, World Ender managed to end the entire world. The apocalypse isn’t as cool as you may think. There are no zombies to beat the crap out of or even cool vehicles to ride around in. Instead, we need to survive every day while avoiding homicidal maniacs. It isn’t fun at all.

I have tanned skin and brown eyes that go along with my black hair. I wear a red t-shirt and grey sweatpants and I love running and am always hyper. And I love doing anything dangerous that I will get a kick out of. Most of the time, I tend to wear my own man-made armor since, y’know, the world is overrun with psychopaths, and I have always had a passion for building things, especially weapons. I made my first well-functioning weapon when I was 8, but honestly, my favorite weapon I ever crafted was, when I was 11 where it has 2 chambers, one for producing lightning, and the other that emits flames. On the right side of my face is a scar, which I got from being pushed off a building right onto a pile of bricks. Before the entire apocalypse, I used to study reptiles and tried to save them from any animal-abuse related situation. I did save an alligator not too long ago that was being abused by poachers, and it was only a baby. The baby and I have grown attached and I now carry him wherever I go. I did have a family, but once the apocalypse struck, I was all alone.

Lucky for me, I managed to find fellow survivors of the incident, Blaize, Germ, Datura, and Ahiru. Weird names, I know. Blaize has dark red hair and golden eyes. He wore a leather jacket and a black shirt. He also wore blue jeans and black sneakers. On his left eye was a scar that he got when facing off one of the members of the elusive yet horrifying Class 09. Despite the fact that it was obviously a very traumatic experience, he likes to flaunt the wound, using it as a sort of badge of honor. He tends to make jokes during tense or dangerous situations and if not jokes, then occasional flirty comments. He’s a really friendly guy and only managed to stick around with us because he was nice and I figured going for strength in numbers was a good plan.

Germ is a short girl with dark brown hair and tanned skin. She wears a gas mask, sweatpants, and an oversized T-shirt. To add on, she also wears worn-out climbing gloves and hiking boots. She got her nickname due to her extreme germaphobia, which is also why she wears that gas mask all the time. Due to isolation, she tends to talk to herself when she isn’t listening to music. Strangely, she tends to ramble on and on about souls and the main components. When she isn’t doing any of that stuff, she is making us weapons and her lifelong project, the ETPD or Electronic Task Performance Drone. I guess we allowed her to join because we were in desperate need of weapons at the time.

And then we have Datura. To be completely honest, I wouldn’t say she is part of the group or even trustworthy. Why? She is one of the original members of Class 09 and still is. She isn’t even with us half of the time! She has sun-kissed skin and curly, black hair. She has feline-like emerald eyes that gleam with mischievous intent. On the bridge of her nose and cheeks are freckles. Like, freckles galore. She tends to wear a plain shirt underneath a pair of green overalls. She also wears a sun hat with several lovely flowers on it. She lives farther away from the rest of the group, in a little run-down tree house, atop an old willow tree. From the branches hang bottles and charms. When the sun shines down the under-side of the tree it is like a disco. Her house is creaky and old, having lived there since...well, I don’t really know. The inside is dirty and filled with herbs and other plants. She has many cats, all of them with odd names. She says she’s a witch but I just think she’s crazy, just like all the other World Enders. She also seems to enjoy what the world has come to. She loves how nature runs rampant, along with all the psychopaths, but she can be sweet. She helps the group occasionally, giving herbs and healing wounds.

But even with all the help she provides, I still consider her untrustworthy as she did help end the world and she is kind of a psychopath herself who jokes about murdering us at times. Unfortunately, the other two don’t entirely share my caution. Blaize is quite neutral towards her but is a lot less casual when she’s around. Germ is the exact opposite of me, she actually tends to hang out around Datura. She says that it’s because the treehouse is very clean and Datura is nicer than we thought. After the first 10 times, I stopped trying to stop her and figured that if she got killed, it was her fault.

This other guy that we met during one of our supplies runs was very strange. He acted like the whole apocalypse never happened. When we asked him if he knew where was going he said he did, but just didn't care or worry about it. He seemed to be able to handle himself since he's been able to survive for this long on his own. He said his name was Ahiru Fujita. He wears a cyan hoodie and jeans all the time, maybe he's cold or maybe he doesn't have a shirt I don't know. It's not something you really ask during the apocalypse. Ahiru had short black hair, light brown eyes and he isn’t that tall he's only like, 5’4. There isn’t anything special in the way he looks, he’s just an average person who has done what is needed to survive since there is no way he survived this long if he didn’t do that. The way he acts as if everything is alright is worrisome but there is strength in numbers so after some convincing, we managed to have him join our group.

That’s all of us, just a group of idiots trying to survive. It isn’t easy but things turn out better with people by your side. Sure, they are weird but they are better than nothing. We are planning to head out into the city this morning. I just hope we don’t die before we get there.

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We reached the city unharmed, somehow.

It didn’t help that we had to wrestle Germ out of Datura’s treehouse and then fight off a bunch of the man-eating plants around it, but after that, it was smooth sailing. We were all surprisingly silent the whole time. It wasn’t awkward though, it was a mutual sense of peace. When we finally got to the city, it was as destroyed and overgrown as usual. Vines covered the buildings and trees had grown up through the pavement, shattering it like glass. There were still lots of people living in the ruins but you had to know just where to look to even catch a trace of them. Honestly, it was a choice between the Wastelands and the Ruins that were occasionally visited by the 09’s.

Germ carried all our weapons in her backpack in case we came into contact with one of them. Today, we planned to raid a couple of stores for any food we could get our hands on. We split into groups of two, I went with Ahiru while Blaize and Germ went the opposite way. Ahiru was silent as usual and only spoke to point out possible locations of food. We also had to be careful of crumbling buildings and the fairly hostile plant life. There were patches of poison ivy that had become even more potent and could give you a bad fever or even kill people if they came into contact with it too much.

Thankfully, we were able to avoid all of it and find a couple cans of noodles, beans, and even a couple of seeds for growing our own food. After stocking up on all the supplies we could find, we started heading back to the rendezvous point. Halfway there, Ahiru stopped me.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“There’s more poison ivy” He responded, pointing his katana at a patch of bright green leaves poking up through the road.

“Oh shoot,” I muttered, “glad you’re more observant than I am.”

I was about to continue on around it but he stopped me again.

“That’s not the thing.” He said, “There wasn’t any ivy there before. That’s an entirely new vine.”

I slowly started to piece what he was saying together, “That either means we didn’t notice it the first time, or someone’s trying to kill us with plants, or…”

“Datura.” We both said simultaneously.

He tightened his grip on his katana and I grabbed my rifle and glanced around.

“What’s the game plan?” I asked, “Do we go after her or head back to the meet point?”

There was silence for a moment and I glanced back at him. He was staring down the empty streets viciously, as if he was about to see some monster appear from nowhere.

“I think we should head back.” I said, nudging his shoulder, “It’s probably not a good idea to go after her when we’re surrounded by huge plants.”

He nodded, still looking around. We made our way back slowly, twice as cautious now. After a couple minutes, I spotted Germ and Blaize. Blaize was carrying the food and Germ was showing off one of her newest models for the ETPD.

Blaize noticed us and waved, “Over here guys!”

We made our way over and after receiving a few snarky “Did you get lost?” comments, I explained the situation. Blaize looked worried and Germ… Well I couldn’t tell if she was indifferent or happy, it’s hard to tell with the mask.

“We should probably get out of he-” Blaize started but was interrupted by a squeaky voice.

“SQUEEEEEE!!!!!” There was a high pitched squeal coming from a nearby alleyway, “A TRILLIUM! IT IS PERFECTION!!!! IT IS HAPPINESS! THIS GORGEOUS PLANT. Look at you!!!! How amazing you’re thriving in this chaos! Have the animals been leaving you alone? What a wondrous thing! What a fancy plant!” the voice continued in a high pitch, indescribable to human ears, and tortuous to most animals.

“Is that..?” Ahiru asked.

“Definitely.” I responded.

Germ looked up from her blueprints and I could practically feel her smiling, “Datura!”

“Blaize stop her before she goes after Datura.” I said.

“Alright.” He said, running up to stop Germ, and hold her back.

From the alleyway where the voice continued to screech, plants, and vines were protruding in every which way, blasting out of the alleyway. The vines were going crazy.

“Guys, look!” I said pointing at all the greenery, “What’s happening?”

“I think Datura’s doing it.” Ahiru said, slicing a nearby vine in two.

Suddenly, the screeching stopped along with the vines. The street was eerily silent for a moment before a soft “Ow!” came from the alley.

“What did you do?!” Germ hissed, “Everyone knows you don’t attack Datura’s plants!”

“Uh oh…” Blaize muttered and Germ squirmed out of his hold.

“Germ wait-!” I tried to stop her but she was already running towards the alley.

“Datura!” She called, disappearing into the alley.

We all glanced at each other and I sighed, “Well, I think we know what we’re doing now.”

#This one is a bit long #Wait a little bit and I'll give yalls some Germ POV :)#To The Ends Of The Earth #Original Story

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