#that it is bad to try and flesh out the story and characters and it needs to be more simplistic to get to the ending quicker

[gnohomotho]

May I play with you? 「✦Pt.1✦」

Pairing: The Recruiter // The Salesman x fem!reader Summary: Responding to my prompts, just a little start to something I hope you'll enjoy. Warnings: General Salesman warnings, though no NSFW yet. Fowl language. Implied very bad things™. Word count: 2.4k A/N: Truly trying this out, if you like it, I'll gladly dive straight into the angst/smut/fluff but I do like to flesh out my stories and characters. (ᵕ—ᴗ—) He is a very novel character for me to write, so I'm trying. ฅ^._.^ฅ Link to next If you like my writing, I appreciate every like // reblog // follow // message // request! <3

Isn’t it funny how one can keep running into the same people?

The subway. Each and every day. You learned to scan your surroundings, wherever you were.

Just a little proclivity you adopted along the way.

Head, face, count, danger, normal.

You avoided sitting down but today, you were tired. Your grants didn’t work out. Your family needed money. You wouldn’t care, you tried not to, but your little sister meant everything to you.

Moving away so far was never something you wanted. And their ways of getting back at you, or even trying to find you (by accident, of course) never let you rest.

Head count. All normal. A few errant people on their way to work. A group of girls obviously on their way to school, laughing together. A group of older men. A well-dressed lady in her late 40s.

Gosh, you were tired. You sat down and ran a hand through your hair which fell past your face with utter indifference. Knees together, straightening your skirt, you notice your shoes are on their last legs.

“Damn it.”

You forgot the head count as the minutes went by.

Damn it!

There go the obsessive-compulsive allegations, you can almost hear them sauntering down on you. No. Your shoes get quite literally outshined by a pair of incredibly posh black spades too close for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss, I’m sorry to bother you.”

Oh no…not this again.

You lift your head and gaze to firmly tell whoever is there to kindly leave you alone. Yet your eyes meet a beaming pair themselves, accompanied by a quietly radiant smile like that of a very glad reptile.

The man was a tad leaned forward, very unassuming, with hair too perfect for the subway – come to think of it, his entire attire and demeanour did not belong here one bit.

You say nothing. Perhaps he was just apologising for sitting so close when there are, as you scanned, enough free benches elsewhere.

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting all alone while most of the carriages already went by.”

How did you not notice him? How did he know?!

Your alarm bells are swinging off their hinges and you blink, averting his gaze immediately. You still see him smiling that unassuming, almost innocent smile from the corner of your eye – truly reminding you of a snake who has zoned in on a particularly slow mouse.

“I’m…waiting for someone. My…friend. Should be here any minute!” You smile with your eyes firmly closed.

That was stupid.

“Boyfriend. Yes. That.” My 6-foot-5 boyfriend whose hobbies include kickboxing, day-drinking, LARP wrestling and very long swords. Who certainly exists.

“Oh?” His voice is full of curious intrigue now, your plan backfiring spectacularly. You try not to look at the line of his perfectly ironed trousers revealing the very elegant ankles too close to your shoes.

“In that case, I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting.” He gets up just as fast, playfully patting his knees as he does – why does this feel so…odd? Like you’re getting played? – “I wouldn’t wish to be rude.” He begins to walk away, and you notice his full height, the briefcase, the persona itself leaving you safe once more. An exhale escapes your lips. Enough slimy businessmen for one day.

“Oh, but miss…” He turns around, that charming, far too kind smile hitting you right between the eyes.

“…when he does show, do tell him how lucky he is to exist.”

❥❥❥

DAMN. IT.

You tried your best to focus that day. You really did. But in the back of your mind. There he was. That tall, weird, creepy, incredibly handsome mother---

“Hey, it’s ok, Y/N. Just a weirdo at a subway station. As if that’s never happened to you before.” You smile into the phone hearing your sister’s voice.

“Did you use the fake boyfriend?” She asks pointedly.

“Yes. And it didn’t really work.” You don’t wish to worry her.

“Ok, next time try the fake Instagram, fake number, and just use one of the people who didn’t like your research! Boom!” You could hear her smiling into the phone and you smiled too, warmth growing in your chest.

“You’re such a darling, you know that? I miss you…”

“I miss you too, big sis, I really do. Mom and dad can’t shut up about you.”

You massage your temples. Of course they can’t. The disappointment of the family needs to be taken into account at least thrice a day.

Her voice grows quieter. “Pretty sure they didn’t send someone this time; I’ve been keeping track.”

She read your mind, and it doesn’t calm you down. But you truly do not wish to worry her.

“It’s ok, lovely, really. Have you got everything you need?”

“Of course!”

The talk winds down into logistics and her school day, you patiently nod and laugh and wish her a sincere goodbye as you check the phone for her to hang up first.

As if by clockwork you notice your shoes are no longer alone. A pair of shining black spades rest beside them, too close for comfort.

You breathe out an exasperated breath which shakes at it last few steps.

“Can I help you?” You look up, summoning the bitchiest of bitch faces and stare into a jovially smiling pair of eyes that have sized you up three times over.

“Oh? What a lovely offer from such a lovely lady.” The words seemed to roll off his tongue as if he had practiced each and every one of them.

Nonchalant yet polite. Polite yet intrusive. Intrusive yet unassuming. Unassuming yet so very…volatile underneath.

Creepy, affluent, and pedantic? Wonderful. Just wonderful. Your sister was right, the weirdos really do tend to zone in on you.

“I thought I would keep you company since your boyfriend doesn’t seem too punctual.” His lips curl into a momentary frown, playing with you.

Even his voice is exaggerated in its faux sympathy.

“Such a rude man, letting you wait all evening. All morning. And all evening once more.” He cranes his neck to one side to be closer to your gaze, arms resting on his slightly outspread knees and hands closed into each other. You feel ice run through your back all the way down your spine.

“Do you have nothing better to do than patronise random women on the subway?”

His eyebrows lift in a combination of admiration and intrigue, hair still perfectly in place underlining those dark eyes staring right through you yet revealing nothing. The man is a walking one-way mirror, you think.

“Oh, definitely.” He looks up, shifts his gaze to the other side, as if mimicking thinking very hard upon his answer, but rests back in your eyes with a small knowing smile playing in the corner of his lips.

“I’m a busy man; I prefer to watch a specific woman on the subway. And would never wish to patronise her.”

You’re too tired for this.

“Oh? Who is she? Is she in the room with us?”

“Oh…” His entertained smile grows, fully lifting to his one cheek as he leans in even closer.

You don’t pull away for fear of letting him know you do feel fear. He leans in so close you can hear him whispering, as if trying not to be heard. He really is weird. And not in a very charming way.

Moreso in a “I wonder where the rest of the body is scattered” kind of way.

“She’s very specific,” he continues, “I hear she waits here in the morning, for a 7:00 carriage, sometimes, she lets that one leave and boards the 7:10 instead. She then, probably, based on a rumour, comes back at 20:00 but doesn’t take the immediate train – it’s been said she can be seen walking until 21:57, marking the very last train. And…”

He lets his head fall even further to the side getting very close to your line of sight, hands still clasped together, smile growing to the entirety of his mouth, “I’m rather sure she’s been seen missing that one a few times, too.”

What. In the ever-loving. Fuck.

“She rarely sits down, so it was quite hard to get all this information – classified sources, I’m sure you understand.” He straightens, but his eyes are piercing you even if you aren’t looking.

“And this particular woman seems very fond of her younger sister, [sister’s name], who loves her very much. So, so, so sweet.”

'Patronising' is a very weak word for the tone and facial expression his slightly closed, smiling eyes conveyed. His words felt like cyanide ice-cream must taste.

“What exactly is your endgame, before I call the police.” Your voice is level, your eyes missing his, your hands…shivering. You feel utterly exposed and the ice on your back has ossified into a glacier.

“I don’t think I have just one specific game in mind, miss Y/N.”

He looks fondly into the crowd boarding the current train.

“I just enjoy her company.”

❥❥❥

It became a bit of a game in the following weeks.

You changed stations, he was there, pretending to be a stranger in the crowd.

A subtle smile above the heads of all other onlookers.

You changed times, it took him a few minutes, but he was there.

Sitting on a bench in that knee-outstretched leisurely yet elegant pose, nonchalant smile finding your eyes.

You changed your favourite coffee spot; he was a few people behind in line.

Catching the corner of your eye and giving a small glimmer of a narrowed look, smile never missing.

In the end, you thought a very silly thought:

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

❥❥❥

Your shoes were once more joined by a pair of perfectly shined spades, resting too close for comfort.

“Would you like to play a game with me, miss Y/N?”

Your eyebrows lift at him, you’ve grown quite accustomed to his presence over the weeks. Though this was a change in routine.

“A game? Why?”

“I think it could be quite…beneficial to the both of us.” He smiles that charming smile and leans in closer. “I missed our little meetings, to be quite honest…the lady seemed to prefer the company of someone else over me in the last few days.”

Were those puppy eyes? An upside-down frown? Maybe your silly thought was sillier than you thought. There was something very dark in those eyes hiding behind the playfully innocent expression.

And you were spending time with your colleague, mostly working, but you cherished the presence of someone you didn’t feel would stab you in the eye the moment you looked at him the wrong way. And yes, he was clingy, and no, you didn’t feel that way about him, but at least he was transparent about it.

“Late nights spent around another man, you can imagine how lonely the station could get as she enjoyed his company.” The end of the sentence seemed to lose its usual jovial tone and made way for something far more genuine – and very worrisome to you.

“Or should I say, as he enjoyed hers?”

Was this man, with his ostentatiously perfect slick black hair, cheerful yet foreboding smile, truly accusing you of what you think he was, after everything he put you through?

“So, I think a game could cheer the atmosphere up a bit,” he purred, back to the ever-sweet persona, “and give us both an opportunity to have some fun.”

You are not particularly amused, but find it warily harmless so far. You shift away a bit, straightening your back, pulling your knees together.

“What happens to the winner?”

“Aaah, a woman after my own heart,” he exhales into a grin, steadying himself, though you can see it’s already all a game to him. It has been all along.

He unnoticeably shifts towards you, closing your newly gained distance and laying a hand between the two of you. Just close enough to not touch you. Too close for comfort.

He then leans into you, so close you can smell his perfectly chosen cologne. You feel his breath on your ear as he whispers:

“The winner gets to the location of a certain young man first.”

��❥❥

You never really played Ddakji before. And it showed.

“Oh, miss Y/N, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Please stop enjoying this so much, I’m trying to concentrate.”

As he hands you the envelope once more, he uses the lack of distance between you to brush your hand and lean into you, once more clouding your mind with his cologne and presence far too close for comfort.

“I am enjoying this, but I’m afraid time is growing short for your little acquaintance. And I would delight in playing with you a little more.”

He pulls away from you as if he said nothing at all, smiling still.

Yet his free hand lingers close, taking its time to brush the hair from your shoulders and place it around your neck.

You pull away with the speed of a startled bird.

“Do excuse me, just making sure the view isn’t obstructed,” his lips purse into the tone as if he were doing you a favour; he points his head towards the envelopes, yet ends up looking at you as the sentence concludes:

“I prefer my games fair.”    

❥❥❥

You have no idea how, but you managed the best of three. The man doesn’t look displeased nor too amused, merely smiles and hands you a piece of paper.

Coordinates.

Holding his briefcase in both hands, once more looking more like a suave salesman, he merely leans towards you, eyes firmly holding your gaze. His face is almost plastic in its unbothered expression, but once more, something very dark seems to lurk just below the surface. He speaks as if having your very best interests at heart.

“I suggest you hurry.”

[j0kers-light]

Trust is for Fools

Still can’t get over how I quoted Azula from ATLA for this chapter title 🥹

“Ah yes.. that night." Joker continued telling his story to the audience.

Back to the story! Isn’t J such a good storyteller? 🥳

“Joker! What are you doing in here!?" You placed a hand over your beating heart. His eyes trailed down to watch it heave with every startled breath.

Is he? Is Joker checking us out on the low?!

He snagged a cooked shrimp from a platter sitting on the counter and bit into it. "I decided to eat dinner out-sidee of my room today."

Seems familiar huh?

“And you'll sit there and behave?" You asked. "Mhm yes ma'am." Joker purred.

Your honor he’s a slut I fear. His knife kink is showing and he does not care. 😳

Another thing you were slowly teaching him; patience.

Love is patient, love is kind. Y/n is teaching Joker a lot. Patience, empathy, table manners, you name it! He’s becoming a better person for us!

“Duhh. You have to be more careful playing with fire." Joker's green eyes snapped up to meet your own e/c. His words held a double meaning and you both knew it.

The man was fiddling with his chopsticks trying to hold them properly. Key word, trying. This was the person you were slowly catching feelings for. God you were so desperate.

Hey hey!!! That’s your man now stick beside him! 🤣🤣

“Good." He squeezed your hands tighter and you whined feeling the sharp knife bite into your hands. "Now you know how it feels."

This is how Joker feels whenever we’re around. Like a sharp stinging pain that won’t go away. And instead of talking about it, Joker decided to hurt us back because that’s all he knows how to do.

He hurt you and he had no idea how to apologize. "I uh. Y/n... give me your.. um let me seeeee."

J is trying yall he really is. 😭😭

He wanted you to fear him since the moment he met you. At last you treated him with the respect and fear that he deserved, so why did his victory taste so bitter?

Sucks don’t it? Don’t always like the outcome of what you want.

How you managed to survive this long without him killing you was a miracle. You yelled at him, talked back, scolded, and belittled him numerous times over the past week.

It’s because he likes you Y/n. Trust me. Earlier drafts had the two of them fighting left and right. Throwing things, to Joker leaving pranks and boobytraps. A true, enemies to lovers if you will.

You almost forgot she asked you a question, you were wondering if you were being pranked. Did all medical personnel act like this?

Nope! This is just Dr. Sarai an oc of mine based loosely off of a friend ☺️ she’s quite the character.

Sebastian surprised you though and smiled, "You're Y/n Y/L/n that YA author my son won't stop talking about!"

Again I would dissolve if I met a fan in real life.

“Oh no.. I hope I haven't created an ax murder of your son!" You knew firsthand how the more mentally ill citizens of Gotham twisted your literature.

Okay Harvey Dent? 👀🙄😒 let my girl breathe!

“I am." The lady standing next to Sebastian spoke up and in that moment the posh names made sense.

I remember receiving a lot of compliments about how much I flesh out side characters. I give them names, character, and a moment to shine. 🥹 all my babies deserve it!

“But how? I know I was gone for a while but I mean.. do you even know how to wash dishes? No offense." None taken judging by his head tilt.

For the life of me I could not write Joker washing dishes. I’m sorry, it’s not something I ever see him doing.

“I did this." Joker stroked your hands over the gauze and you nodded slowly. "And I can do it again, far.. far worse. I wanted to hurt you more but.." He stared off to the side, missing the panic flash across your face.

He found his resolve and squeezed your wrist where the gauze ended and began. "I can do far worse to you Y/n but I won't. Never again." He vowed.

Oh my GOSH he’s down bad!!! He promised never to hurt us. Never again!!

A soft pressure, so gentle you thought you imagined it settled on the crown of your head before disappearing. Did he just kiss your hair? Were you dreaming?

NO YOU ARE NOT DREAMING! Joker kissed our head! But at the cost of him pulling away to “protect us.”

His Lighthouse Re-Read Thread

Hey hi my loves!!! I've read my own story 14 million times but I never did an official reread thread so thank @jaysmentalspace for what's about to happen! 🖤✨

This will be an interactive thread. Yes, you can join in with your own comments, reblogs, whatever! I will start from chapter one and I guess, review/commentate my own story! I hope you enjoy the ride. There's gonna be fun facts, behind the scenes commentary, who knows. 🤷🏾‍♀️

His Lighthouse masterlist let's get started.

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Can't believe this writer is trying to argue the problem with the show is that it isn't treating the main villain like a one-note, simplistic character and this is somehow too confusing because viewers won't know he's the villain despite all the villainous things he does like murder, manipulation, gaslighting, and orchestrating the complete destruction of an entire Elven realm. How media illiterate do you have to be to think exploring a villain's motivation in some way constitutes trying to trick the audience into think he isn't really a villain?

[dykedvonte]

One of my mutuals opinions is the "bro code" thing, that Curly is one of those guys who wouldn't care about the victim because the perpetrator is his friend and I'm really banging my head on the wall like that other anon. I've only played through the game once but Curly's behaviour/reactions etc read completely different from the "bro code" thing and I have to wonder if my mutual and I even played the same game.. like the constant digs at him from Jimmy, his body language in his face reveal and so on like you mentioned in your post. While this game is a little different obviously, it kind of reminded of a point in Alice Madness Returns that makes it very clear that Alice's pain blinded her to the abuse of the other children and her failure to act earlier because of it. Curly is guilty of a similar inaction but it doesn't change the fact he was a victim of Jimmy too. I don't think I can look at it any other way because both of these games have really stuck with me.

I genuinely think it really is the idea that people want a simple easy to blame problem and the idea that the only relatable victims of abuse are those that "surpass" it or do a lot to help others. When it comes to victims, especially those that don't fit the typical demographics, who either accidently perpetuate it, enable it or aren't ideal in some way shape or form, people jump to ignore what they went through as it's easier than dealing with those conflicting sentiments.

The bro-code conversation in Mouthwashing stems from a concept I generally dislike that there had to be something about Curly that made him meet or keep being friends with someone like Jimmy. I think people genuinely underestimate how many like decent and good people just know an asshole or are friends with someone who is really bad outside of their view/established dynamics. The game makes it clear none of the inaction against Jimmy is because of a lack of care, it is a lack of understanding from the privaleged postions they have as men to not have to worry about what Anya does/went through and the type of extremes men like Jimmy will go through to cover it up. They are all too preoccupied in their own strifes.

Another thing I see being oversaturated the idea that you have to be a freak, misanthrope or have a disorder to do the thing Jimmy does. The game is an escalation, it's a spiral that I don't see people comment on that Jimmy was not likely having the mood swings and episodes of rage/frustration we were seeing in the game. This is after they all start experiencing the worst moments in their lives that he got THAT openly bad. Of course, this is just my interpretation but much like in real life, people that go to extremes like that usually live mundane lives. It's a pressure cooker affect to where the stress made them pop. It's self inflicted but still the case.

I really think people need to be more willing to acknowledge that not everything needs to be an extreme or in black and white or easy to understand. It doesn't need to be happy or have an answer or solution, especially in the cases where the abused sadly helps perpetuate what they experience. It's not he should've known better from experience or shouldn't he have known what could've happened because victims tend to not like to think in matters of the worst. Not to mention, especially in cases of abuse where it feels so personally directed that you don't expect to happen to someone else.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

And another thing-

I'm not a super big fan of the way that CK subtly reframes (through the perspective of other characters criticizing Daniel in story) Miyagi very obviously sharing his culture with Daniel out of mutual respect and affection as, instead cultural appropriation.

Why? For what purpose?

[hundredowls]

silly oc doodle..... ballroom yuri

[forestgreenlesbian]

hmmmmb private rites. what did everyone think

[leniisreallycool]

"His brown is short and but wavey and pretty and he has eyes." I'm such a good writer

[mauvecherie-writes]

ru’s 💌: this is a test run! An idea I had brewing. I will build up around this scene as it will be a coming story in the new year. everything I had planned to post over the Christmas break, I’m hoping to post it all before the end of January. Love you all 🩷.

current title: tell me lies (could possibly change in the future)

w.c: 2.39K

warning: NSFW 18+, explicit sexual content described, cheating, morally grey characters. NOT EDITED

You were wondering how you ended up with your legs on his shoulders as he dug deeper into you. He was hitting your spot over, and over until you created a puddle beneath your flesh.

Your skin was drenched in sweat as lust drove your bodies to move in perfect tandem. He was touching all of the right spots in the most perfect of ways.

How you ended up with his hand around your neck as he whispered the dirtiest things in your ear, you’ll never truly understand but you were enjoying it.

“Baby…” You gasped as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he sucked on your neck, his free curls brushing against your skin.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He lifted his head from your neck and looked down at you. The curls framing his angelic face despite the lustful wickedness glazing his eyes. You tugged at his growing goatee and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Why are you fucking me like this?” You looked into his eyes as you spoke against his lips.

“Because you wanted keep to playing games with me knowing how I feel about you. This is just the beginning of your punishment, YN.”

You gasped out loud as the memory of that fateful night took a hold of you. You had been trying to forget about the way he handled you, folded you and kissed you. It was the devil on your shoulder that led you to temptation in your darkest moments.

A moment of weakness. You told yourself.

A very bad argument with your fiancé led you into the arms of the worst possible person to find comfort in, his best friend.

The very friend who you knew had feelings for you.

He was saying all of the right words, doing the rights things. It was just a moment of weakness you self soothed.

It was never going to happen again.

The stress was wearing you thin as you pondered over how you were going to move on from this. Your fiancé, Zander was out of the country on a contract building a new resort for the company he worked for. You were missing him and Zander was missing you too but for some reason did not want you flying out to see him even for a weekend. It frustrated you to no end how much he was resisting your presence.

You were angry and you needed to vent. The only person who seemed to be in reach was Lewis. Zander’s best friend. The very friend who you knew liked you in more than a platonic way but chose to reserve his feelings.

And now that friend knew you intimately and so passionately that you were afraid of the feelings that he evoked out of you that night. You made noises that you never knew you could make, you said things that you had never said, made you do things you’d never done before.

“Yessss, suck that dick baby.“ Lewis groaned as he moved your hair out of the way. “You look perfect just like this.”

You snatched the bottle of wine in front of you and poured the rest of the beverage into your glass. You downed half of it as fast as you could, trying to blur the memories of that night away.

They had consumed you. Overwhelmed you and had you so lost that you had to call in sick for the past few days.

It wasn’t guilt that you felt. No - there was no guilt in your actions. The feeling was the heavy burden of shame. The shame of how much you enjoyed it. How much you loved the way he used you for his pleasure. The pure shame of how much you wanted to do it again.

And that made you afraid.

As you sat on your couch, the thoughts of that night took hold once more. The difference in how each man handled you had never been more stark. Zander loved treating you like you were fragile, a treasure to be cherished - as much as you liked the way he loved on you, sometimes you wanted things a little rougher. A little more degrading and Zander never wanted to do those things.

But Lewis did.

He pulled, he slapped, he spat, he choked. He did it all. And you fucking loved it. Because he knew you could handle it. He knew you could take it all and give it back.

No. NO!

You needed to stop this. Reminiscing on the memories of one night that could not happen again was not good for you. You had already wasted enough time and you could not do this anymore.

With the last sip of your wine, you stood up from your couch and began to keep your hands busy. You cleaned the kitchen and began to cook. You got so lost in the preparation that you almost didn’t hear the doorbell ring.

You whipped your head and looked at the security feed of the front door. Your breathing dropped as it dawned onto you who was standing there. You slowly washed your hands as you watched him press the intercom.

“I know you’re in there, sweetheart. I can smell your cooking.” His smooth and rich voice melted you through the speakers.

You wiped your hands and pressed on the microphone button on the security screen. “Go away, Lewis. I don’t want to talk.”

“Then you can listen to what I have to say.”

You took a deep breath as you tried to weigh in your options. You had been avoiding his calls and texts for close to three weeks now, thinking it would help but in his absence, your imposed solitude caused your heart to yearn for more than it should.

How greedy of you.

“You can’t keep avoiding me YN. We’re going to need to at least be on the same page before Zander comes back.”

He was right. You needed to be aligned in the timelines of things, you thought.

That thought led you to opening your door. His presence was immediately felt as he crowded your space. The longer he looked down at you, the more the last of your resolve melted. Before he even came knocking, you knew that when facing Lewis, you were weak.

“You’re only here to talk right? And then you’ll go?” You licked your lips as you watched his draw into a smirk.

“If talking is all that you want to do then that’s all that we’ll do, sweetheart.” The saying of his preferred nickname for you caused your stomach to clench.

You took a deep breath and moved aside to let him through. Closing the door behind you was a seal of fate. Another bad decision being made.

You just couldn’t help yourself.

The both of you ended up in the kitchen, a plate of lentil curry in front of him half eaten with his whiskey glass sitting empty on the island counter.

“Are we going to talk about what happened?” He finally spoke up. Your hip leaned into the side of the kitchen counter as you tried to figure out what to say.

“There’s no need for us to get our story straight right? It’s just going to be a one time thing.”

“YN…”

“No, Lewis. Let’s be good people. It was a moment of weakness in the heat of the moment. And as good as it was, it can’t happen again.”

“And why not?” Lewis asked as he stood up and crossed the island towards you. “You loved it as much as I did.”

“Because I am your best friend’s fiancé!” You exclaimed as you rubbed against your forehead. “That should mean something to you!”

“But it doesn’t! You think him being my friend was going to stop me when you were right there in my arms practically begging me.”

You ignored the last part of his statement. “Maybe your conscious should! You don’t do this type of stuff. I don’t do this.” You exhausted as you tired to place some distance between your bodies. However, Lewis grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into him. You gasped as you braced yourself on his chest, your fingers curling to grab onto the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“You think now, that I’ve had a taste of you that I’ll just stop and walk away?” He expressed as he raised his eyebrow as he licked his lips at the sight of your softly rising chest and parted lips.

“You had all night to do what you wanted with me and you did. We didn’t stop until the morning … that should have satisfied you.”

“But it didn’t. You left me wanting more of you. You left me craving. You left me a greedy man , YN.”

“Kill that greed. You can’t want more. Not with me.” You whispered as you felt his hands begin to travel up the length of your back and push you closer to him. A sigh left your lips as his head dipped around and kissed the nape of your neck.

“I need more of you.” He murmured as he shifted your positions so that your back was pressed against the island with his arms on either side of your body, trapping you in.

“Tell me that you don’t think about us.” He forced you to look into his eyes by angling you upwards by the tip of your chin. His eyes held the same desire that they held that fateful night. You unconsciously licked your lips as you felt the heat of his stare.

“I don’t.” You lied, shaking your head as if to get rid of the memories fogging your thoughts. As if to detect your lies, Lewis smirked.

“I do.” He admitted. “I think about the way that you felt beneath me. The way you felt so good wrapped around me. The way you said my name.”

“Lewis..” You whimpered.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “You said it just like that.” His hands squeezed your hips in response.

“We can’t.” You mumbled as your eyes closed, embracing his hold. He chuckled and the sound rang wonderfully in your ears. He knew that you were not going to put up a fight. You had come to terms with the reality that you wanted more of this, more of him.

“Why not?” He whispered into your ear as he began to place soft kisses onto your skin. “Humour me.”

“It’s going to hurt Zander if he finds out.” You gasped as he sucked harder on your skin.

“Then let’s make sure that he doesn’t find out.”

“The wedding is in two months.” You further argued.

“You won’t make it down that aisle.” He spoke with conviction.

“Why not?” You frowned as you pushed him away from your neck to meet his eyes.

Deviance was all you could see swirling within the whirls of brown. There was more that you could see. The longing that had been lying dormant until now pushing towards the surface.

“That night you met Zander, it was me that you saw first and our eyes locked and it felt like forever. Do you remember?” You nodded your head in agreement. “You captured me then and you’ve let go since. My biggest regret was letting Zander approach you and letting things get this far. I thought it was too late for me and that I wouldn’t be able to stop him.” His confession caused your heart to beat faster. Realisations dawning onto you as you confronted the feelings within that you had long buried.

“That night we shared together gave me my opening. I won’t let that opening close YN. You know that there’s something undeniable between us. That’s why you don’t fight me. That’s why you won’t walk down that aisle.”

“How can you be so sure?” You questioned. You held his gaze as he picked you up and placed you on top of the counter with his body wedged in between your legs.

Your heart was thumping in your chest as you stared down at his lips. Time seemed to have frozen around you, the only sound being heard was the humming of the fridge along with your heavy breathing.

“I’m sure because I’m in between your legs right now. Your head is leaning forward, silently begging for me to kiss you. Your body is answering the questions your mind and heart already know.”

Lewis didn’t move any further, he was waiting for you, waiting for you to make the final move.

You leaned forward. He did the same.

The distance between you disappeared and when your lips were a hair’s breadth away, you stopped.

“This stays between us until I can end things with him.”

Lewis softly smiled. “No one will ever know.” He muttered against your lips.

You then shut your eyes and pressed your mouth against his. His lips were as soft as you remembered and your moans blended together into a tune, a blissful symphony to be caged within your memories. Your heart pounded in your chest as he slid his tongue between the seam of your lips and into your mouth.

A noise left you as you exhaled, your hands went around his neck as the kiss deepened. Your tongues twisted and twirled, a dance to the sounds you expelled. Your pussy clenched, trembling with need as he thrusted his hips forward, rubbing himself against you.

Lewis cradled your face in his hands as you hungered for the taste of his tongue before meshing your lips once more.

“One rule.” You said as you pulled away.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“We’ll never use the master bedroom here.”

Lewis groaned as he rolled his eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“We’re already crossing a massive line by doing this. The sanctity of that room is one I don’t want to cross.” He chuckled at your justification as he carried you in his arms to the guest room that he often used.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have our own master bedroom soon and I’ll fuck you on every inch of it.”

You giggled at his optimism. Your attraction was magnetic and it was explosive. The rational part of you knew that this, what was happening, would crash and burn. But the irrational part of your mind was stuck in the moment with him and you wanted it all.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @cocobutterqwueen @emjayewrites @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @laneywrld @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @hotfudgeslug @iamryanl @pickingupmymercedes @eleetalks @ambs-06 @annisassintchaska @boujiestpoet @nayaesworld @nat-lh-44 @mochachocolatteyaya @melaninpov @kindan3rdy951 @elyseesarchive @sl33p-deprived-princess @soiguessimtheshit @acidlv @trinitoldyouso @gwenda-fav

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How to Write a Character

For creative writing to have as deep an impact as possible, you need to give the reader strong characters they can relate to on a personal level.

By borrowing from tried-and-true character archetypes and giving them your personal spin, you can create heroes, villains, and sidekicks that will affect your readers as if they were real people they knew.

Come up with a backstory

Crafting a backstory can help you flesh out an interesting character profile.

“When I’m dealing with characters,” says legal thriller author David Baldacci, “and I’m trying to explain somebody's situation and motivations, you have to look into their past, because [the] past always drives motivations.”

Ask what experiences your character had in elementary school or high school that shaped who they are today. Your character’s backstory can greatly inform your plot.

Develop a character arc

A character must evolve throughout a story.

“The character has to change,” insists crime fiction writer Walter Mosley. “The character doesn’t have to become better. The character doesn’t have to become good. It could be the opposite. He could start good and become bad. He could start off hopeful and end up a pessimist. But he has to be impacted by this world that we’re reading about.”

Plan out your storyline based on your character's goals and how achieving or not achieving them will change them as people. This sort of template can help anchor your narrative.

Do research

If you plan to set your story in a specific locale or period, do enough research to make your characters seem true to life and believable.

“What does it mean, for instance, in the Tudor era to be a male person?” asks Margaret Atwood, author of The Handmaid’s Tale. “What does it mean to be a female person? What do those things mean when they’re at different social levels?”

Empathize with your characters

No matter what the type of character you’re developing, try to find some reason you and your reader can relate to their internal conflict.

“You’re living with these people every single day for months at a time—in some cases, years at a time,” says acclaimed children’s author Judy Blume. “You had better feel for them. So, for me, yes, I have great empathy for them.”

When people can empathize with characters, they’re more likely to find them compelling.

Experiment with different approaches

If you usually write characters from a particular point of view (or POV), change things up to challenge yourself.

“Write about someone entirely through the eyes of their friends and family,” suggests journalist Malcolm Gladwell. “So do a profile of someone where you deliberately never talk to the person that you’re profiling.”

There are plenty of ways to craft compelling character descriptions—free yourself up to try new alternatives.

Give your characters flaws

To craft believable characters, you need to give them flaws.

“One, it makes the characters human, just by default, because everybody recognizes that we all have flaws and mistakes,” David says. “But two, it gives you plot elements and plot opportunities because somebody makes a mistake. Why? Because they’re flawed.”

Learn from real people

Pay attention to real people’s mannerisms, personality traits, body language, and physical appearances.

Do research, and be respectful, when you want to write characters with backgrounds that you are not familiar with. Become familiar with different people's cultures, sexual orientations etc.

Talking to people about their experiences will help form your character’s personality.

Let your characters surprise you

Character development can proceed down a host of different avenues.

“Spend a lot of time with your characters and getting to know them,” Judy suggests. “And the way that you get to know them can be different from the way I get to know them. But my way is: They don’t come alive until I write about them, until I put them down on paper.”

As you write, your character’s motivation or perspective might change from what you originally planned.

Play characters off each other

Ask yourself how a secondary character’s personality might thwart the main character’s motivation.

“One of the best ways, as I said, to develop a character is to put that character in relationship to another person,” Walter says. “So as they talk, as they fight, as they work together, we find out more about who they are and what they are.”

The character’s close friends, adversaries, and acquaintances might all have different effects on their behavior.

Take an organic approach

Over the course of the story, be ready for your characters to surprise you as much as the people you know in real life might, too.

Your characters may take on a life of their own.

Avoid static characters by letting yours have their own lives and personalities. Let their stories take you where they lead.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[waughymommy]

WM: Breastfeeding Kink & Diaper play

Disclaimer: all characters depicted in this story are consenting adults over the age of 18. If you are NOT 18 or older, Don't Read if UNDER 18

I startle awake from a throbbing pain in my breasts. Quietly groaning as I turn over onto my back not wanting to wake my sleeping little prince. My hand moves up to my big tits and oh god are they swollen. I’m not sure what’s been going on but for the past few days my breasts have been so tight and swollen and it’s just getting worse. I slowly begin to massage them in an attempt to ease the pain. “Oh fuck this isn’t helping at all” i whisper to myself. 

I pull my loose tank top away from my breasts and look at the swollen mounds. The only time I’ve ever seen breasts look like this were when my best friend breastfed her little in front of me… wait. It can’t be can it? There’s no way I haven’t even been taking the special pills she had to take to induce lactation! 

I open my phone to Google and type in “what can cause you to lactate?” I click the first site that pops up. “There are many things that can induce lactation such as Yada yada yada medications such a birth control… FUCK.” I whisper yell. I did not just accidentally induce lactation with the new birth control I’m on. Oh god we haven’t even had this discussion yet I’m not sure it’s even something he’d be into. But my breasts hurt so bad I need some relief. 

I get up from bed as quietly as I can and walk into the adjoining bathroom. I flicker the lights on and keep the door open just the slightest bit incase my little prince needs me. I look in the mirror and slowly pull my tank top down. My tits spring out all heavy and full. “Fuck” I hiss quietly as I press down in the swollen flesh.

I slide my finger down to my nipple and begin to stimulate it. A milky liquid starts to drip out and I almost can’t believe it. I moan as my finger squeezes some more out. Oh fuck that feels good. 

A quiet voice interrupts my ministrations “Mommy?” I look over to my left side and my little prince is at the bathroom door just in his princess t shirt and full diaper staring at my dripping nipples in wide eyed wonder. Fuck he looks so beautiful with his bed head and sleepy eyes. He rubs at his eyes and hold the door frame. 

“Mommy what’s that?” He points to the liquid still dripping from my hard nipple. 

“It’s nothing you need to worry about baby boy just turn your little tush around and go back to bed. I’ll be right there.” I say as I walk toward him and turn him around with my hands on his shoulders walking him back to the bed. He throws his head back and whines lowly, “but mommy I’m thirsty das why I woke up!” He says as I set him down back in bed. 

He looks up at me and his eyes move back to my nipples and his lips part and drool seeps out. “Okay baby you just wait right here and mommy will get you a drink of water.” I move toward the door but he grabs my wrist and with those doe eyes of his staring up at me and says “But I wan mommy’s milkies!” He whines again. His tonight peaks out and he licks his lips. “I’m not sure honey we havent really spoken about this.” I say as I softly caress the side of his face. He leans his head into my hand and pouts. 

“Please mommy please I just wanna try and see what it’s like. If you don’t like it or If I don’t like it we always have our safe word!” He trues to reason with me. And he’s not wrong so what could be the harm? I’ve secretly wanted this so badly for the longest time. I sigh and smile at him and nod. 

“Okay sweetheart you won, let mommy get comfy in bed first.” He claps his hands in excitement and slaps a sloppy wet kiss on my lips. I laugh as I crawl into bed and settle against my pillows. I pat my lap for him, “come here sweetie and lay side ways in mommy’s lap. Put you head right there in mommy’s elbow.” I maneuver him a little till he’s sitting just right, I cover him in the blankets and turn the low lamp on. A soft glow covers the room as he looks up at me with his lips slightly parted. I can tell he’s just as excited as I am. My sweet little boy. 

“Alright baby boy open those pretty lips for mommy.” I hold my boob up and my nipple leaks as I pull it and drop it in his waiting mouth. His lips close around my nipple immediately and he begins to softly suck. It takes him a few moments to really get the hang on how to latch on but soon his tongue is working in overdrive and hes suckling away like his life depends on it. I a gasp at the strength of his suckling and softly run my hands through his brown hair. “Sweetheart mommy isn’t going anywhere you can drink slowly, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” He closes his eyes and the suckling gets softer as soon as he realizes I’m not gonna snatch my nipple away from him. I moan quietly as I watch him drink. 

He’s such a sweet little boy suckling on his mommy’s nipples. I slide my hand down to his diaper and rub at his diapee covered cock. It’s so hard. I won’t lie my panties have absolutely socked through at this point. The feeling of his tongue lapping at the milk from my tits is just so erotic. He moans as my hand continues it’s rubbing. 

His hand reaches for my other leaking breast and he begins to fondle the nipple. Pulling and clutching at it, the milk dribbles done his fingers soaking them. I can’t help but moan out at the feeling. “Oh sweet boy that feels so good. You’re such a good boy just keep playing with mommy’s nipples like that.” I say a little breathless. 

I slip my hand into his diaper and just as my hand reaches the tip of his little cock he begins to piss right into my palm. I laugh a little and look at him a she pauses his suckling. His cheeks flame red, “I’m sorry mommy I couldn’t hold it.” He’s so fucking cute. 

“It’s okay baby you can go pee when you need to you know that. It’s why you have a diaper on to be able to lose control over your bowels and bladder whenever you need.” His stream continues as it hits my hand and I press down on the slit it’s pouring out of feeling the force of it. His piss is so warm on my hand as it fills his already soaked diaper. 

He smiles and nuzzles my breast and begins to suckle again as he pisses in my hand. He’s so fucking sexy sometimes I can’t believe he’s all mine. 

My sweet little boy.🍼😍💦🥰

[theorist-fox]

The concept of Bad Man Simon Riley who's aware he's a Bad Man™️ is one I hold very dear to me.

Masterlist 🦊

Simon Riley is, fully and completely, what people envision as a bad man. He's a convoluted character who carries a lot of baggage, and that same weight has crushed him into the beast he is today.

His reflection is his constant reminder of the bad things he's done and endured. And when you have such a blatant, ever-present memento of how dark you really are, it's hard to forget.

He doesn't bother putting up a facade. Won't help the lady cross the street, nor will he take a bullet for someone else. No one has ever done that for him, so it's only natural to give the world a taste of its own medicine. He doesn't even try; it just happens.

It takes him nothing to leave Soap behind in Las Almas and find shelter in an abandoned church. Sure, he'll cover for him—if the lad is fast enough, that is. Saving Alejandro afterwards is a mere ploy to make this blasted mission end sooner—true, no one fights alone, but he'd like to get out of there as soon as possible, thank you very much.

Barely brushes the concept of Price's injury when he faints due to the inhalation of some Sarin gas of sorts. Can only think that if he'd died, he would have to take the captain's place in leading the operation. A fucking bummer alright—but cap's fine, thankfully, right? One less thing to worry about now.

Won't try to start relationships, because what good can he bring when he can't even drop a kind word for himself? He's awful, inside and out, and he's aware.

What happens, then, when he's suddenly loved?

What happens, then, when you're sliding under his skin, pretending you don't see the rot and the grime?

The question of "why" is pinned to the front of his brain like an annoying leech that plagues him day and night.

On the couch, you're absolutely unbothered by his dark presence next to you. You're just munching on popcorn and watching some film he doesn't even remember the name of.

"Y'should go," he says out of the blue.

You barely spare him a glance. "Film's not over yet."

No, that isn't what he meant, but he has an inkling that you've gathered that already.

"Ain't good for ya," he insists. "Ain't good for anyone, but that's a whole 'nother story."

You side-eye him from your end of the couch. "Self-deprecating at dinner time? Could you move it up the schedule a little, like—breakfast or somethin'."

He doesn't understand. Won't get through his skull. Share a home with him, and for what? What's he giving you that you're coveting so hard, enough to find it easy to snark back at a beast like him—poking the bear while wearing flimsy cotton shorts and a band t-shirt?

"Y'don't understand," he grits out. "I ain't a good man, love."

"Oh, I know." You say, popping a handful of popcorns in your mouth. "And?"

It irks him. Wants to bite off your head, but, surprisingly, he still has morals, and he wouldn't even dare touch you with ill intent.

"Don't act stupid, now." He warns.

"Ain't acting stupid." You reply as if there is some obvious thing he isn't getting. "You've done bad things, and bad things were done to you. That it?"

He hums as a frown paints his face.

"Should I love you less?" You go on, "Or not love you at all?"

"The latter."

"Wrong." You add as soon as he responds. "Wrong, because that's what you believe, not the truth."

He cocks a brow at your apparent arrogance. A nod in your direction, "What's the truth, then?"

You place the bucket of popcorn on the coffee table. "Truth is that you're human, Simon."

Now that's a word he wouldn't associate with himself.

Monster. Beast. Bear. Wraith, or demon. Ghost.

"As a person, good and bad can coexist—there is no such thing as night and day." You go on, seemingly unaware of the turmoil you've unleashed on his poor heart.

Keep saying the word person around him this often, and he'll start believing he is one.

So, you have seen the rotten flesh and the mud coating his insides. You have buried your hands in his viscera and coated your skin with his blood and the one he's spilled.

You know, and yet you're here. You're here because you've also seen something else, something he's not aware is there.

Same thing that made his heart lurch when Price wasn't waking up. Same thing that made him hide, prone in the bell tower of a Mexican church, making sure Soap would get back in one piece.

Same thing that has him gaze at you now, with eyes that sting with clear, fresh water. No rotting liquid, no oozing pus, or sickening blood.

You shrug, "Maybe your sun is a little eclipsed, but there's that. I can still see it, y'know?"

You outstretch your leg. Press the tips of your toes against his thigh. The world is suddenly in technicolor, and his chest warms like a rekindled flame.

You wink. "And it's bright as hell, too."

[errriiie]

The last practice before nationals

poly!yellowjackets x fem!reader minors DNI, all characters are 18 y.o

TW: smut, gangbang extra tags: porn with plot, praising, bodyworship, sharing is caring, fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), oral (r! giving), little bit of spanking word count: 5.1k not proofread english is not writer's first language! you've always been so nice and sweet to Yellowjackets, the one and only soccer team in your school, Wiskayok High. But you also were naive and innocent enough to constantly overlook the fact that every single girl on the team wanted your attention. And when, the last day before their nationals, they finally decided to make things clear between you and them.

When Coach Martinez first introduced you to the girls, they weren't too impressed. Average hair, average eyes, average height. Nothing special or anything to look at more than usual. You weren't even, roughly speaking, a full-fledged part of the team. At least that's what Taissa said. She was always like that - confident and sure of her opinions, even if they were somewhat offensive.

But you didn't mind, and even agreed. You were just an equipment manager, and you only became one because your mother and father were very close with Coach Martinez and asked him to find you a place out of old friendship. Of course, the coach made up a different story for everyone about how you came to be on the team - but every time you remembered the truth of your presence here, you wondered if you had the right to wear your signature yellow and blue bomber jacket. You felt ashamed, even though you didn't act like someone who got in because they got a pass. You were responsible, punctual, but you didn’t forget about empathy and responsiveness when communicating with girls. Over time, you began to be noticed by more than just Misty Quigley, who shared the same position with you.

Misty Quigley herself wasn’t too bad. Well, she was… weird. But you decided that everyone had their own cockroaches in their heads and she was just trying to make friends this way.

"You know, if we ever run out of food, I’ve always wondered what human flesh tastes like. I mean, they say it’s like pork, right? Maybe we should start taking notes just in case." Misty once said while you were cleaning up the cones after practice. You looked at her with wide eyes, full of confusion.

"Excuse me? Misty, this is a little weird…" You awkwardly continued to do your job, while Misty burned a hole in you with her gaze. Misty tilts her head slightly, her expression shifting from playful to earnest.

"Oh, come on! I was just joking… mostly. But think about it—survival is all about adapting, right? It’s just a thought experiment! Besides, we’ve got to keep our spirits up somehow. Want to talk about your favorite horror movie instead? I promise I won’t suggest cannibalism this time!”

But Misty didn’t always say such creepy things. She could talk about history, especially about Roman emperors, about her experience in first aid and medicine in general, about her interests, of which there were quite a few, but no one except you, apparently, wanted to listen to her. You didn’t understand the reasons and were patient with her. Misty immediately began to appreciate this - she did not throw away potential loved ones. Then Natalie Scatorccio appeared. Natalie did not have much experience with love, including the manifestation of care towards her. You didn't know anything about her, except that she lived in a van and was an extremely good and promising soccer player. But the more Misty shared the good news about your "endless love and care", trying to brag that she had such a tasty morsel and not the rest of the team, Nat couldn't help but become interested in you. People who lack love often don't quite realize how much they subconsciously want to find it.

She caught you after practice once and started talking to you. Nat herself didn't understand why she wanted to come back to you more and more every day - was it your manner of speech or how brightly you smiled at her after silly stories? She wanted to blush under your gentle gaze, and her heart beat strangely when you waved at her after she made a good pass to the other team members. But of course it wasn't always like that. The more attached she became to you, the more she focused on looking into your unexpectedly deep eyes, rather than at the ball.

"Natalie, don't you want to start playing properly? What are you constantly distracted by?" Lottie narrows her eyes when Natalie refuses to pass the ball to her and tries to dribble the ball to the goal herself, but hits the wall.

"Forget it, Lots. I'm just having a bad day." Natalie waved it off. It was odd that for someone having a bad day, she was smiling so stubbornly and persistently in the wrong direction. Lottie couldn't help but realize that she was looking at you. Perhaps you needed to have a heart-to-heart talk.

So, Charlotte Matthews quickly became next.

After practice, she caught you doing your job as you were supposed to, and called you out on it. She was annoyed, but more curious about your relationship with Natalie. You were blushing and apologetic, and it was hard to deny that you weren't to blame for Nat's deteriorating performance.

And then Lottie discovered that your shy face was extremely hard to get out of her head. Inadvertently, you began to talk after and before practice, Lottie sharing some details about upcoming parties at her house and inviting you. You, of course, refused. Your parents expected you to be decent, and Lottie didn't like rejection and didn't know what rejection was, being a rich girl. So she made it her goal to get you at least once. Or twice. So trying to get under your skin, subtly courting you, and trying to get through to your difficult parents was already routine. Including giving expensive gifts.

"Tai, have you seen the new hair clip in Y/N's hair? Those things cost a lot of money, I tell you, I saw it in the window of that expensive jewelry store." Vanessa was amazed at the new accessory you now had.

"I didn't really pay attention to it, to be honest. What do you… mean? Do you want one like that? I didn't think it was your style." Taissa chuckled, and Van rolled her eyes.

"Haha, very funny, but that's not what I mean… Hey, Lottie! Does Y/N have a rich mommy and daddy like yours?"

Lottie, passing by, chuckled, clearly filled with pride. "Not really. That was my gift. Y/N is very nice, you know. You shouldn't have doubted her, Taissa."

Then Taissa Turner and Vanessa Palmer appeared. They were already in a relationship and were amazed to see how quickly you changed the team's attitude for the better. And yet, from the very beginning, you were a black sheep for Taissa. Van, however, did not treat you with great disdain. She preferred to give people a chance to prove themselves first, and only then draw her own conclusions. However, they quickly liked you. Taissa was surprised that you had previously attended law and jurisprudence classes, and these topics interested her greatly. Van was pleasantly pleased with your taste in films and comics. You complemented their couple with something that they could not complement each other with on their own, after all, no relationship can simply be perfect. It was a matter of time before they both wanted your attention more than was possible. Van often invited you to her home to read or watch something, and Taissa loved to discuss social issues with you. You turned out to be more than either of them could have thought.

"Tai, I'm sorry, but I've already taken up Y/N's time for the evening with myself." Van smiled tenderly at Taissa.

Taissa raised an eyebrow in surprise, seemingly hoping for something. "Damn. How did you manage to come to an agreement with her faster than me? Maybe you'll take me with you?" she said with awkward hope. "Of course, I don't understand a damn thing about your conversations, but still…"

"No way, babe. You'll steal her attention again." Van shook her head.

"Why do I keep hearing everyone talking about Y/N from every corner of the room?" Jackie folded her arms in displeasure as she found herself next to the couple. "I understand that she's new and all that… but what's so unique about her? I swear, we won't get to nationals like this."

Jackie Taylor was annoyed by your popularity within the Yellowjackets. She could see the effect you had on the girls - they were going crazy trying to get a piece of you. She wasn't interested in you at all, but she had a feeling that if she didn't get a little bit closer, they would dethrone her and make you the team captain and even make you their mascot. She had to do something, and fast.

One day, Jackie stayed with you after practice, kindly offering to help you clean up the equipment. When you both walked into the warehouse, she almost pinned you against the wall, demanding answers to her questions.

"Y/N, I can see something's going on. I understand that you want to be friends with everyone, sure, but… we're trying really hard to get to nationals. And you're being way too… outgoing, you know? You need to stop. For the good of our team, as captain, I'm asking you to…"

"Your hair looks great today. Even after playing so hard." You blurted out, unable to contain your genuine respect. "Oh. Sorry. Keep going."

Jackie froze, her combative attitude seeming to completely falter. "You… you think so? Finally, someone sees how much I work on this hair, trying to get it just right every morning! I use powder and hairspray literally all the time, and no one has even bothered to compliment me… until you, of course."

Jackie took pity on you after that. Not when you were willing to spend hours shopping for clothes with her, stealing your clothes and trying on what she told you to try on, making you her model. No one had ever shown such steely restraint with Jackie Taylor, and every time she put on your makeup, it was so hard for her to resist the pounding of her heart and the strange desire to cover your lips with hers. But there was a catch to being with Jackie. The amount of time you spent together didn't sit well with Shauna Shipman. She was the only one who showed no interest in you at all. She didn't care about you, and that was surprising. She never, not once, approached you. You doubted she even knew your name, although considering Jackie told her everything, your name was the only thing she knew about you.

And the fact that you were a real suck-up. That's what she called you when she decided to have it out with you.

"What do you have with Jackie? Do you think I can't see how you're trying to pull the wool over her and everyone else's eyes?" Shauna narrows her eyes, looming over you. "What is it about you? Are you such a good suck-up?"

You felt hurt, but even more so, you felt a seething injustice. "I don't know what you're talking about, Shauna, I was just trying to be friends with everyone. It's not my fault they saw something in me."

Shauna snorted, unsure of what to do with you. "Well. Fine. Just stay away from Jackie, okay? And you'll be fine." Shauna had already turned away from you, about to leave. She adjusted her backpack, but a book fell out. You quickly picked it up.

"You dropped…" You looked at the cover, sighing in surprise. "Pride and Prejudice? That's my favorite book!" You exclaimed, surprising Shauna. She rolled her eyes, simply taking it from you, pretending not to care, but in reality, she was even a little impressed. You were left standing in the hallway, not quite sure what you did wrong.

And then you were surprised when Shauna came to you wanting to discuss the book, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps she was so eager to discuss her interests with someone that she decided to choose the worst option of all - you (Jackie, as expected, did not like reading books at all). You liked to read in your spare time, and Shauna was pleased that you had read a lot of female writers from the 18th and 19th centuries. She sometimes shared her thoughts on them with you, but the main thing was that at one point she made you a playlist of songs named after you. You were flattered and too busy enjoying the gift to notice how much Shauna blushed as she tried to hold your hand.

You didn't even know it would be like this. It seemed like almost all the girls on the team were literally tearing you apart. You'd never received so many gifts, compliments, and, it seemed, hints? Of course, you were pleased. You were a girl, after all. And you suddenly had little free time. Sometimes you spent time with two or even three girls at once a day. Of course, sometimes this led to conflicts between them, but they never dragged you into it. You were untouchable.

But you didn't expect that they would all decide to fix it in one day.

Despite everything, training for Nationals continued. Luckily, the Yellow Jackets team still managed to get their game together and win the filtration game that determined their participation in the competition. Everyone, of course, was incredibly happy. As were you for your favorite team.

There was just one thing. Your parents forbade you to fly with them. You begged as much as you could, but they were adamant. They wanted you to stay home and use your free time from your team to good use, studying and preparing for college. You shed so many tears in front of them, almost begging, but nothing worked. Sometimes you wanted to curse your parents.

Tomorrow, everyone was supposed to fly to Nationals. You entered the locker room, terribly dejected. You were immediately noticed, and the girls were insanely worried. Lately, all of them had been very attentive to you.

"You don't look well, Y/N," Natalie said, her smile from earlier quickly fading.

"Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Maybe a stomach ache?" Misty jumped up to you as if your life depended on it.

"Get away from her, Misty. Y/N might need some space." Vanessa shook her head, and was just as concerned about you.

"I-it's okay…" you sniffed. "It's just… I couldn't convince them. I did everything I could, I begged as hard as I could, and they still refused me. You… you'll have to celebrate your victory at the nationals without me." your eyes sadly looked around at everyone. The shared sadness touched every girl present.

"Y/N… I'm so sorry." Lottie took your hands in hers, looking at you sadly, but Jackie quickly jumped up to her.

"How so? Do they not care at all that you want to fly with us?" she snorts, angry at your family. Being spoiled by her own parents, she did not understand this attitude, especially towards you.

"At least you will be here when we return." Taissa tried to find the positives, although she was disappointed too.

"It does not make much sense, she will not be able to share the joy of us taking the first place in the moment." Shauna said, shaking her head. There was silence between all of you. You were so upset that you didn't even notice how all the girls were looking at each other meaningfully and nodding silently. Suddenly Lottie ran a gentle hand down your cheek, took your chin.

"Don't be so upset, Y/N," Lottie said softly, looking soothingly into your eyes. "You know… in all this time that you've been part of our team, we've grown attached to you. You've always been so kind to us. I think we can come to an agreement and find a way to thank you properly."

You were very embarrassed, and suddenly you felt a little awkward. "I was just being myself, you don't have to do anything for me." You, of course, felt pleased. But you were surprised when you felt hands behind you, and out of the corner of your eye you could see blonde strands of hair, and then you heard the familiar voice of Nat, who decided to come up to you from behind.

"Don't be such a shy princess. Why don't you let us comfort you?" she almost purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. It felt… oddly pleasant, like a wave of excitement had washed over you.

"I, um… I don't know… how are you going to do that?" you ask. You can already see and feel Misty wrap her arms around your right hand, stroking it, looking at you in awe.

"You see, Y/N, you have some kind of influence over all of us." Lottie continues. Jackie glares at Matthews, apparently annoyed that Lottie is in charge. While she's busy burning a jealous hole in someone else's body, Shauna approaches you, her hands stroking your neck, and you shiver, vaguely aware of where this is all heading.

"We feel an irresistible… attraction to you. It's hard for us to share you between us. Haven't you noticed how hard we try to please you?" Lottie asks, genuinely concerned. "And you still wouldn't give in to any of us. We tried to figure out what you wanted, but we failed every time. So we thought you'd have to try each one before you figured out which one of us you wanted to be with."

Your brain was already running out, and now that Van's hand was stubbornly touching your thigh, and Taissa was holding your waist, whispering something in your ear, you completely stopped thinking. You were surrounded by a crowd of girls with whom you spent all your free time so happily, and they were trying to get you all the time. Was it all of them? Each of them wanted you to be their girlfriend? These thoughts left you shocked and you didn't even know how close or far from the truth it was. You, of course, dreamed about them. About each of them at least once, though about some more than others. But for you it was not serious, you did nothing! Did they really want it that much?

You yourself do not notice how you let out a quiet sigh when Shauna kisses your neck. She does it roughly, as if she is having difficulty containing the desire that is accumulating in her. Shauna is silent, examining, analyzing and suppressing in herself, and then explodes like a time bomb. And now she wants to explode at any moment.

Misty's hand undoes the button of your pants in irritation, and Van and Taissa pull them down. You are brought back to reality, and you feel panicked. You were definitely not prepared for being undressed.

"W-wait, there's no need to go anywhere-" you break off with a groan. Nat, still standing and supporting you from behind, bites your ear, licks it, makes your sensitive earlobe wet. You sigh at the newness of this strange, disorienting sensation.

"Don't worry, sweet thing. Everything is going to be just fine." Natalie purrs, and you can't tell if she's stoned or not. Your pants are thrown to the floor. And then your panties. You are naked for all the girls, and they are looking at you so mesmerized, like this is the best thing they've ever seen in their lives. Even Jackie and Lottie, standing behind you, are watching you in awe.

This time, Van is first. Her tongue touches your already wet cunt, and she circles it, tasting you. You moan, and Natalie tugs your hair a little, exposing more of your neck. Taissa gives you a couple of loud slaps on your ass, interested in seeing your reaction. You shudder and your hips jerk, because you like it. Misty's hand goes under your shirt and gropes your breasts, pulling your nipples almost painfully, while Shauna leaves wet marks on your collarbone from her mouth, wanting to leave marks on you that will definitely last until their collective return from Nationals.

You are so turned on, and you feel stimulation from all sides. Your hand wants to reach for Van's red head, to press it harder, but Nat, watching you like a hawk, pulls you back.

"Let her do it herself." She whispers in your ear. You nod frantically, it's best not to argue with them. A few more movements of Van on your clit, her skillful tongue, which had probably done the same with Taisa before, could easily bring you to orgasm. You moaned more actively, your chest moved a hundred times more intensely, and then she pulled away.

"She's ready, Lottie." Van said, wiping her mouth. It was hard for you to understand what was happening, and you just whined, saddened that you were not allowed to come. For a moment, everyone broke away from you. Everyone was listening to Lottie.

"We'll help you after you help us, Y/N," Lottie says with a smile that sounds like she's some kind of prophet. "We've been waiting so long to get your attention. We think we deserve to come first. But I promise you won't regret it."

You nodded at her, mesmerized, but you felt like this wasn't quite the Lottie you knew. She was so mysterious, and you couldn't tell what was on her mind.

"Get away from her, all of you." Lottie commanded. "And you, Y/N, sit on your knees, please. Put something down so it won't hurt her to sit on the floor."

Van and Nat dutifully laid out their own jackets so your knees wouldn't hurt from what you were about to do. It was a pleasant moment of care. You obediently settled down on your knees in front of Lottie. You were literally being eaten with their eyes, and you were ready for what was to happen.

Lottie was already reaching for her shorts, but Jackie spoke up. "Sorry, Lottie… but I'll be the first." She said, raising her chin high. Jackie's voice was filled with nervous confidence, and she tried to withstand Lottie's and the other girls' piercing gaze. "I'm the captain of our team, and I want to be the first one to do this. What made you think you could lead?"

Lottie was silent, and you couldn't even understand what she was thinking right now. Then she nodded, and her voice was cold. "Okay. Be the first. But don't ruin it too soon."

You didn't understand the meaning of the words, but Jackie frantically replaced Lottie, pulled down her shorts, and the taste of her cunt quickly imprinted on your tongue. You didn't know what Jackie really wanted to achieve by this - to let you fuck her first or she just felt depressed because of how Lottie quickly took control and everyone, even Shauna, was ready to obey her. In any case, you didn't mind. You devotedly licked her pussy and tried to watch Jackie's reaction, just to please her. In your fantasies, you tried many times to make Jackie as good as you could. In your mind, Jackie was not the type to give - she liked to receive more, and if she had to be on top in your fantasies, she was so gentle and timid, afraid to make an extra move, that it only excited you more. But here she was — trying to have your whole mouth, like she had been fantasizing about it for so long that you were almost dizzy with the realization. Your drool and her juices were running down her thighs while she moaned, and the others were watching, some daring to stick their hands down their own shorts. A couple of minutes passed and Jackie came convulsively, sitting down on the bench. Now she wouldn’t object. She had no strength.

Shauna was next. She was never patient, not with what she liked - her hand grabbed your hair (no one protested, everyone decided she deserved it for scoring the final goal during the nationals qualifiers) and she pulled herself roughly-gently towards her vagina. Your eyes rolled back and you almost got lost in her thick dark pubic hair, but fuck, she was delicious and you were ready to continue as long as it took. You even forgot how to breathe sometimes - Shauna was a little rough, muttering something harshly under her breath and moaning, repeating your sweet name. She came quickly and took a step to the side, pulling up her shorts and retreating to the bathroom, apparently to rethink something.

Then there was Taissa… and Van. They were both allowed near you at the same time. You were dumbfounded, not knowing how to cope with taming two pussies at the same time, but you didn't even have time to wipe the saliva and cum from your mouth, as the red vagina was in your mouth. You had to change one pussy to the other every 15-20 seconds, trying to lick both like never before. You were forbidden to use your hands, but they both frantically encouraged you as best they could, while your tongue circled their clits, and the dirty noise filled the locker room, already filled with heat and languid sighs.

"You're holding up great, Y/N… Come on, help Van a little…" Taissa whispered, tearing you away from her pussy, because you stubbornly did not want to stop. However, upon hearing her order, you quickly set to work on Van, drawing a sigh of excitement from her, and ten seconds later, an orgasm. Taissa followed.

Then there was Nat. You licked your lips, ready to receive her. You were surprised that her pussy was shaved, maybe she was getting ready and wanted to please you? This thought caused a sweet warmth in you. And Nat's pussy tasted sweet too. You sucked on her clit, wanting to please her in a way that no guy had ever done. Natalie moaned surprisingly softly, and it excited you so much that there was almost no dry spot left in your panties. She let you use your hands, and you held her by the hips, because she was shaking while your wet tongue caressed her tender folds, and the hot air from her nose came straight to her pubis. Needless to say, Nat came quickly, but for some time she did not want to leave your mouth? Misty didn't even ask your permission. Her head was wrapped around yours, her fingers tangled in your soft hair, and she was holding you to her bushy pussy like she was dying without it. You were taken aback, but that didn't stop you from wanting to please her, even if her actions were met with disapproval from the other girls. No one wanted to be played with more roughly than the rest. You licked her, trying to please her as much as possible - Misty looked like she was not easy to please, but she was whispering so sweetly in your ear, praise and advice, that your arousal literally flowed out of your panties.

"Yes, t-that's it, Y/N… That's just perfect, oh, you're so beautiful. You're just an angel, a little perfection." She muttered selflessly, her glasses falling to the tip of her nose as she came loudly in your mouth.

You were exhausted, but Lottie was still there. She was the last one. You looked up at her, tired, sluggish, and excited. She gave you a quick smile, but there was undisguised triumph in her eyes. She had you after all. Did we mention that Lottie hated rejection and not getting what she wanted?

Lottie lifted your chin, gently stroked your hair and tidied it up, wiped the tears of pleasure from your eyelashes. She let you dive into her pussy yourself, start licking it yourself, as if you were in some kind of licking contest and were going to take first place there. She let you keep glancing at her, watching every movement of her moaning mouth and trembling hands, just to please her. Your heart was beating so fast and it was so hot and you wanted to please her so much, plunging your sweet tongue into her pussy over and over again, that you had a hard time holding on. Lottie took the longest, savoring every second and apparently holding herself back. Eventually she pulled your head away from her, pressed her pussy to your forehead and came, covering you even more with her wetness. You were all for it.

"You did well, Y/N. You love us so much, you were ready for everyone." Lottie said tiredly. She nodded to the girls, and they sat around you. "Now you've earned a reward, huh?" You nodded vigorously, needing release. You were so wet, and almost whining with excitement. Your head ended up in Shauna's lap, and Nat, Misty and Jackie quickly found themselves at your feet. Misty nibbled on your calves and thighs, often not hesitating to do it quickly and hard, while Jackie, on the contrary, licked them like a kitten, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. This crazy contrast made you breathe quickly and roll your eyes, and all for the sake of Shauna watching this cute picture. Nat touched your pussy with her tongue, her two fingers slid inside your wet cunt - after such a long abstinence, taking two fingers at once was not at all difficult. You moaned, letting them all work on you while the others watched. Natalie's tongue was trying so hard to please you, playfully sucking and pulling on your clit, playing with your labia and purposely quickly driving her fingers into you, wanting to bring you to the peak and play on you like guitar strings.

"We love you, Y/N, such a gift for us." Jackie purrs, watching Natalie fuck your helpless pussy.

"You're the best!" Misty agrees with a smile, biting you and licking it slobberily.

"All that's left is to cum." Shauna says calmly, not hiding her smirk, constantly keeping her eyes on herself. "Come on. Nat's mouth is waiting for it."

As if on cue, you spill into Natalie's mouth with a loud moan. Everyone exhales relaxedly, and Natalie cleans your pussy with her tongue. "You're just sweet, princess." She smirks at her own abilities.

You let yourself sink into the girls' arms, catching your breath. You don't know yet that later they'll help you get dressed, each of them will kiss you on the lips, and you'll tell them to talk about it after Nationals. In the end, you still can't seem to choose one. You love them all, and you're waiting for them to return to Wiskayok, safe and sound, with victory in hand.

[take-it-on-the-run]

And I Love Her

Sam Winchester x Reader

The reader and Dean are being tortured by Gordon Walker because of her relationship with Sam, and all they can do is hope he'll get there in time.

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Torture, graphic depictions of being cut into, descriptions of gore and severe bodily harm, Sam Winchester is out of character depending on who you ask

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! Can I request a Dean and/or Sam Winchester (sepperate) x fem! Reader set in season two, with an established relationship, where it's like when Gordon kidnaps Dean, but instead of just Dean he also kidnaps reader. (I can imagine if it's a Dean x reader Gordon uses reader to get Dean to not try anything, and if it's a Sam x reader Sam just going even more ballistic than he originally does in the show). Thank you!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Beatles title. My first Sam fic! Honestly, it was really hard writing this one for some reason, and after five revisions I'm still not completely in love with it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and heed the warnings! Do not read if this will make you uncomfortable!

Sam Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Gordon stared blankly at the wall in front of him while you tugged at the ropes on your wrists. A bandana was tied tightly around your mouth that tasted like dirt and your own blood. Dean was tied up to the left of you in a similar state, and both of you were staring down Gordon like it would kill him.

Traps lined every entrance from the doors to every small crack in the wall. Sam was powerful, but you doubted he could break through solid brick. Grenades, tripwire, even a shotgun trap that looked like something straight out of a movie; Gordon wanted Sam dead at all costs.

You knew your boyfriend would come to you and Dean’s rescue, but damn was this cutting it close. Gordon had already tried his best with Dean, but when it was your turn, he took his sweet-ass time.

He punched you, kicked you, even spit on you. Now, you tried your best to not scream as he dragged a knife against the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder.

You failed.

Biting down on the bandana, a muffled scream ripped through your lungs. You tried focusing on Dean, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes which were spilling over with more tears than you thought were in your body.

You could feel your blood dripping down your back and your chest, slithering its way to the floor as Gordon wiped his blade with the rag in his back pocket. He wrenched your head to the side, forcing the fresh wound close and for more tears to streak down your face.

He repeated his process on you a few times.

Your arms.

Your hands.

Your legs.

Every time somehow hurt more than the last, the hunter pulling open your skin and snapping it back together like a rubber band. Your vision was spotty, but you held steadfast to the thought that your boyfriend would be here any minute to save the day like he always did.

Gordon took a step back, wiping sweat and blood from his face and arms. He looked down at you with a glare that you’ve held plenty of times for the less-than-human creatures in the world. You guessed that, in his eyes, you, Sam, and Dean, were held in a similar regard.

Snaps.

Taunts.

Cracks.

Screams.

All because you fell in love with someone born under a bad sign.

You didn’t regret meeting Sam. Kissing him, falling for him, even the idea of just having him in your life was enough for your mind to justify the situation you were in. It wasn’t his fault you were having your life drained out of you minute by minute, and you hoped he would be smart enough to know that.

“Sam’s going to be here any minute, you know. Gotta convince himself he’s the hero of this story, and I’m the big,” Gordon turned to you, knife in hand, “bad, evil dragon. But I’m not the one with demon blood, am I, Y/N?” He placed the edge of the blade against the bottom of your chin. You could feel the cold steel heavy against your skin, and any sudden move would surely spill even more of your blood.

Dean glared at Gordon, his face shades of purple and blue, which mirrored the pain you felt along your entire body. Gordon dug the knife into the bottom of your chin, piercing your skin ever so slightly, but not enough to fatally wound you. Your mind was trying hard to hold onto the cracks of reality that remained in your vision; the smell of the dingy house you were in, the feeling of the carpet making contact with your boots, anything that wouldn’t send your consciousness reeling over was enough of an anchor for you to hang onto.

Gordon walked away from the two of you, returning to his position of peering out one of the boarded-up windows in wait for Sam. You glanced at Dean, which granted you a glance back from him. His eyes were dry, but they held enough behind them to let you know what he was thinking. Sam was going to burst into this booby-trapped hellhole, and Dean could do nothing but blame himself.

It’s all your fault, really, a thought that smashed through what you knew was the truth said.

This isn’t any of our faults, you told it back, wanting to tell Dean the same. Sam wasn’t to blame for the two of you being taken, and neither of you was at fault for being used as bait; it all landed in the hands of the rogue hunter who deemed himself holier-than-thou.

Though you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you were starting to resemble a bloody pulp more than a human being. Dean could barely look your way for longer than a second, and deep cuts that surged whether you moved or not continued to scrape away at your consciousness.

Gordon disappeared, and as you tried to turn your head to follow him, you felt a burning pain across your chest. Highlighted by a spurt of blood splattering over your thighs, you wanted to vomit. The top of your head started to feel like it was being lifted off from the rest of your skull, and the black spots in your vision connected at the edges of your eyes.

You grunted, head going slack and opening wounds on the back of your neck. Either spit, blood, or bile dripped out of your mouth, but at that moment you didn’t care- the black at the corners of your eyes bled together, and all you could do was limply hope Sam would find you.

You blinked, slowly, noticing light creeping in from the boarded-up windows. The second thing you noticed was the searing pain in your body, coupled with grunting and what you could guess was a well-landed punch.

“Y/N!” Someone called out to you, but you could barely lift your head to meet their voice. The bandana in your mouth was pulled away and hands cupped your face, warming your skin that was ice cold after losing so much blood.

The hands left your face and moved to the ropes at your wrists, cutting them off quickly and placing your arms in your lap. You forced your eyes up high enough to see it was your hero, Sam, standing before you with tears starting to fill his eyes. If your face would’ve let your smile, you would’ve, but every movement flashed the memory of Gordon cutting into you.

Gordon.

“Where’s-” You managed to sputter out through a sore jaw and a severely dry mouth.

“Dead,” Sam answered coldly. For the first time, you noticed his knuckles were a hue of bright purple, complimented with blood splattering up his arm. Sam moved your arms around his neck and picked you up as gently as he could.

“Dean’s already in the car patching himself up. I’m going to try and lay you down in the back seat so we can get to the closest hospital. I left Gordon in the room by the first door, so keep your head to my chest if you don’t want to see him, okay?” He asked softly. The tears that were in his eyes had faded slightly, but you could see the emotions he’d no doubt try to hide later on. Regret, blame, guilt - the more he looked at you, the more you could sense that your battered state was tearing away at his consciousness. You wanted to reach out, hold his face, and tell him you’d be okay, you’d survived worse, that it wasn’t his fault, but your thoughts were halted by Sam stepping past Gordon’s body.

If you could call it a body, that is.

His nose was sunken into his face enough that his eyes were slightly popping out of their sockets. His mouth had more gums than teeth, which were scattered around the room. He was lying against a dresser, and his limbs were spread out in the wrong directions. You thought you saw a bone, but before you could look closer, Sam turned and shut the door behind you.

Sam laid you across the back seats of the Impala, trying his best to be gentle with the abhorrent number of cuts across your body. You couldn’t guess how the hospital wasn’t going to ask questions, but you hoped the brothers would figure that out. Your head laid in Sam’s lap, and he looked out the window as Dean buried Gordon.

“Sam,” you slowly moved one of your arms to his face, bringing his attention to you, “thank you. You saved us both. You had to do what you had to do.”

Sam smiled but still didn’t say a word as he dipped down and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You wanted to be able to tell him everything your racing mind was coming up with but were beaten by the overwhelming need to not move. Dean climbed into the front seat, beating the gas pedal to the floor and hitting the highway as Sam ran his fingers comfortingly through your hair.

[thesilverlady]

rhaenyra does have flaws in the book. Nobody denies it. But her "taxing starved people" was due to Aegon/the green party having robbed all the gold. So her choice was to raise taxes in hopes of somehow stabilizing the economy.

it wasn't a great plan 'cause war was still happening so the backlash is expected. But in desperate times you take desperate measures.

also lmao let's not be hypocritical here; Aegon at the start of the war threw feasts, and even built statues. Do you think those came cheap?

He fucked the economy and Rhaenyra had to deal with it.

Also you addition really adds nothing neither to the question from the anon nor to the reply from me.

Do you think rhaenyra was whitewashed in the show?

100%

whitewashed, butchered, whatever you wanna call it she's definitely not canon rhaneyra.

show Rhaenyra has two personalities; young vs older her. Because the two never had a nice transition that interconnected the two versions.

young Rhaenyra is basically show Arya coded. She's a tomboy, rebellious, and short tempered. She wants to make change but she doesn't know how. She's insecure about whether she'd ever be accepted but at the same time does nothing to learn and to stand up for herself other than whine to her father and uncle. She's terrified of childbirth, has no interest to get married but gives in to... kick otto out. yep

Older Rhaenyra is incredible passive, somehow more naive, is ready to give up her throne to avoid violence (because sure that's how it works). Is protective over her children but still doesn't stand up about herself.

Neither versions are anywhere near to how book Rhaenyra is written, and it breaks my heart because she was one of my favorite characters from the dance but unfortunately she's as much of a victim as the rest of the characters are

[mask131]

I am re-reading the Silmarillion, and something strikes me. The women of Tolkien's world have been talked about TO DEATH especially with all the recurring debates surrounding the Rings of Power series.

As we all know, Tolkien was not a "feminist" in the modern sense of the word. He had a very male-centric point of view and appreciation of the world, he had male-driven and male-centered stories, and actual women characters were sparse and rare. There are only five really big female characters in "The Lord of the Rings" - the quintet of Galadriel, Eowyn, Goldberry, Lobelia and Shelob. [No, don't talk to me about Arwen, she only really was a character in the movies, in the book she's just there in the appendix and she was literaly an afterthought of Tolkien to act as Eowyn's romantic double...]

Consider this. Galadriel, Eowyn, Goldberry, Lobelia and Shelob. This tells you everything you need to know about Tolkien's women, in good and bad.

The Silmarillion has the same motif of having a lot of female characters, only for most of them to be just footnotes, secondary characters with no lines, under-developped one-liners... with in a contrast a handful of super-cool, super-badass, complex and developed heroines at the center of the plot.

Aka, on the bad side, when listing the Valar, while Tolkien gives an interesting personality, great domains and cool attributes to all the male ones, half of the female ones are just... there. And do one stuff. And never appear again. I mean come on... Vana and Nessa? Estë and Vairë were done dirty... That's the actual type of "non-feminism" Tolkien has. It isn't about him hating women or trying to be offensive in his depictions - it is about him just, not putting as much thought, effort and care into his female characters as his male ones, a bit the same way he creates the vast expanses of the East and South of Middle-Earth and then never bothers actually developing more of it or seeking to tell tales of it - but that's for another discussion about Tolkien's "racism". Here we talk about women.

But here's the thing, aka the good side... When Tolkien does find the time and care to develop and flesh out a female character, by Iluvatar he goes all out! Again, we are back on what I said earlier: the women of Lord of the Rings can be counted on one hand... but these fingers are Galadriel, Eowyn and Shelob, so you can't claim he isnt writing powerful, important or uninterestng female characters. Which leads me to my original remark - as usual I get driven away in digressions of all sorts and kinds.

Have you ever noticed that Melkor's greatest enemies, the ones he fears the most, and his most effective foes... are women? Tolkien might not like to put them front and center of his tales, and he might have been a man of the early 20th century England in culture and mind, but boy does he has something to say about how women are actually the first enemies of the literal embodiment of evil and destruction! I mean think about it. Varda of the Stars, and Yavanna of the trees. Nienna has her ambiguous relationship to him - her tears work against him, and yet without her plea for him he likely would not have been released from the dungeons of Mandos. You have Melian with her Girdle, and Luthien with her Hound. And of course most of all Arien, guardian of the Sun, not only one of the rare fire spirits that Melkor couldn't corrupt (despite him basically ruling over all fire), but that frightens him so much he keeps hiding away and doesn't even dare to attack her... [I also reblogged some times ago a post praising the brilliance of Tolkien keeping the old European sun-moon motifs but switching the genders. The weaker, inconsistant, lustful, whimsical, disorderly, untrustworthy Moon is now a male principle, while the steady, dangerous, strong, powerful and beautiful Sun is a woman.]

It is actually REALLY easy to do a feminist retelling of Tolkien's work. Melkor doesn't fear Manwë as much as Varda. Aulë's works and servants get corrupted by Melkor, while Yavanna's do not. Melian and Luthien actively works against him. He friggin' pisses himself when the Woman of the Sun shows up. Sure, there are some evil female characters that serve him down the line and are relegated to the "obscure footnotes and undescribed secondary characters" zone - Thuringwethil the vampire or queen Beruthiel. I coul also dropped deleted characters from early drafts, like the ogress Fluithuin. But among them stands Ungoliant... THE only true female big bad on the dark side of Arda. THE badass, nightmarish, creepy eldritch abomination. And who ends up double-crossing Melkor, almost KILLING him, and again making him basically shit in his pants - as Varda and Arien do.

The first enemies of Morgoth are not the Valar, or the Maiar, or the Elves... It's women.