#and then he doesn't see her again til he murders her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write anything else for the steve zombie au with the established relationship! It's seriously so good I can't get enough

hi I hope you don’t mind me using your request for the kidnapping fic! r and steve live inside a community during the apocalypse, and she gets kidnapped :( but he’s not gonna stop til he finds her :) pls forgive typos

steve zombie!au <3 fem!reader. tw abduction, drugging, mentioned SA (reader is NOT sa and there is no graphic imagery), guns, general violence. 8k words

When you get 'home' that evening, arms aching from a full day in the community pantry, there's somebody sitting in your bed.

"Fuck, Stevie," you say with a flinch, hand hitting your chest with an audible thud.

"Sorry!" he apologises immediately, springing up to meet you. He's in pyjamas, a foreign sight, freshly washed up. "I got home early and thought you'd be happy to see me."

You reach for his wrists, relief that he's not a murderer or a zombie dulling the panic. "I am," you assure him softly, "of course I am. I missed you."

He smiles and moves in for a hug, kissing your cheek quickly. "I missed you too."

Missed isn't truly the right word. Steve goes out on scouting and scrounging missions for the community voluntarily, and every time he leaves you worry he's going to die, because it is a very likely outcome. There hasn't been a community fatality in weeks, but that doesn't help soothe the ache of his absence.

"You smell really nice. Did you get a hot shower?"

"Perks," he says, faking modesty.

"Perks," you grumble. "I spent the whole day lifting canned tuna and I don't get a hot shower."

His smile doubles in size. "No? Well then, it's a good thing you have such a nice boyfriend," —he digs in his pocket, unveiling a green plastic shower token with a smirk— "huh?"

"Is that for me?" you ask, grumbling completely gone.

"If you want it. There's a catch, though."

"What's the catch?"

You can both hear how in love you sound. In a world where hot showers are rare and valuable as diamond, his giving you a shower token may as well be an "I love you'. It's selfless.

"Kiss before you go?" he asks.

"That's not a catch," you say, taking his face into your hands. His cheeks are soft, stubble shaved away.

You rub his bottom lip with your thumb. "Get into any danger?"

"None. Not a geek in sight."

"Good boy," you say, thumbs either side of his lips now, leaning in for a perfect, prim kiss.

You move back and rake the hair away from his face, upward, and for a moment he looks as he did before again. His hair falls back down and he's still beautiful, the guy you love.

"Are you sure I can have it?"

"I got it for you," he says, "but if you really don't want it-"

"No, I want it," you deny quickly, eyes narrowed at his nearly ditzy smile. He can be so evil.

Steve climbs into your bed, a myriad of blankets and quilts and sheets, anything to stay warm. Honestly, you and Steve are pack rats now you have a place to keep your things, and you love to be comfortable together. That means soft things and nice smells are a must.

You turn to your bathroom hamper and pick up one of your two shower gels, a silver of soap, and the brand new bottle of shampoo you'd been given a few days ago. It's your prized possession.

"Don't take that soap," Steve says, "there's a new bar by the sink, take that one."

"We really shouldn't waste it."

"We won't."

You shake your head at him fondly. "It's fine, I'll use it. Keep the new one for cold, sad showers."

His head sinks back into your pillows, his face turning toward your side. He couldn't be less obvious about it if he tried, pulling your pillow toward him until the pillowcase is rubbing his nose.

You wrap your things in a towel, also nice and soft, and hesitate at the door. Steve's eyes have closed. You know he isn't sleeping, and that if you ask him to, he'll come and sit outside of the shower stall to fend off your paranoia. But you're trying to give life here a chance, a proper one. You have no reason to fear for your safety — the shower block is only five minutes away in the old College's gym.

You put your stuff down at the end of the bed and climb on knees beside him.

"I'm gonna go shower now," you say.

Steve goes to sit up, eyes fluttering open, and you hold him down, peppering his cheek with three, four, five quick kisses. "No, stay. Love you."

“You stay and sleep. I’ll be back soon. So soon.”

"You sure?"

"Yes," you say, smothered against his cheek. You give him another kiss for good measure, a selfish one, as most of them are. You hope he enjoys receiving them as much as you love bestowing them. Your lips practically tingle.

"Okay. Love you. See you in twenty."

"Twenty," you promise.

Another kiss sneaks its way in there before you're grabbing all your stuff; your bathroom necessities, your change of clothes and your room key on a string you hang around your neck. You slip out the door and down the hall of Little Hawkins, stepping over a hallway game of speed played by two opposite tenants you recognise from high school and slinking sideways round one of Mallory's huge art projects propped up against the wall.

It's dark outside. To keep a low profile, the community you live in, sometimes called The College, or some variation of its real name, Valley Pine Community College, opts to keep the lights off at night. There are fairy lights strung up to gently guide anyone who needs to move around, and considering it's not even 7PM yet, there are lots of people outside.

"Hey, kid."

You hug your bundle of things closer. "Hi, Hopper."

Chief Hopper is standing in the middle of the squad with Joyce Byers and Jeremy Livingstone, his second in command and his co-leader, respectively.

"Shower?"

You smile sheepishly. "Steve gave me a token."

"How romantic," Joyce says sweetly.

"He's a secret sweetheart," you mumble.

"Could you tell him to be a little more secretive? He's setting a precedent here," Jeremy says.

The three adults laugh. You nod politely and bid them goodbye with a smile, cutting over the grass of the quad where a path has been worn by shoes just like yours to the gym.

There's usually someone there until 10PM. Everyone needs a shower after a long day, and lukewarm ones are totally free. It's hot water showers that need a token, because they need the generator to run. Jeremy does his best to keep the distribution of tokens fair, but people still use them to barter for other things. You imagine that's how Steve came to have two.

Sure enough, a young woman you think is called Tori sits in a chair by the door to the shower room, foot propped up on another chair and crutches on the floor.

She accepts your token and puts it in a basket with the others, all handmade and flimsy. "You need me to do it?" she asks.

"No, that's okay. Stay sitting." She smiles gratefully.

The shower room is clean and cool. You put down your towel, grinning at the leftmost shower. There you are, you think cheerfully. Then a sound behind you, the soft fall of one step.

You don't remember much after that.

—

Steve falls asleep waiting for you.

He wakes, reaching for your body in bed next to his, expecting an armful of your softness, your tummy or your chest. He opens his bleary eyes in search of you when he comes up empty, mumbling your name in the dark. His arm feels heavy as he lifts it to check the time. 9.44PM. He looks around the entirety of your small room. You're not here.

He bolts up fast, bone deep nausea spreading and pervasive, his neck protesting the sudden movement with a twinge. Thighs swung over the sheets, he stumbles onto discordant footing.

You're not out on the quad, and neither is anyone else. He follows the string lights to the gym and there are no signs of life. He makes it all the way to the shower room before he sees somebody, a girl on crutches hobbling toward him with a flashlight helmet clipped over her forehead.

"Hey," he says, slowing, "have you seen Y/N? She's this tall, wearing a royal blue hoodie? You can't miss her."

She falters. "I- yeah, I saw her. Maybe an hour ago?"

"Is she still here?"

"The building's presumably empty."

Steve skirts around her to look for himself, but she says, "Wait, wait."

She readjusts her grip on her crutches. "I didn't see her leave, but she wasn't in the showers. I checked."

"You didn't see her leave?"

"No, I thought it was weird, but I figured she'd had too long in the hot water and felt guilty about it. I was gonna tell Hopper at the town hall."

The town hall isn't a town hall at all, it's a space cleared in the cafeteria. Hopper lingers there most nights so people can talk to him without feeling pressured by their peers. You and Steve always call it the 'snitching hour', instead of the witching hour.

"You're sure she's not there?"

"I checked every stall."

He doesn't believe her, because if you aren't in the shower, where are you? You haven't made any friends yet, you aren't situated, you have Steve and you have the older lady Mallory, and that's it.

He's not too proud to admit he sprints to the shower room, calling your name and checking behind each stall door, each changing partition curtain. The only thing he finds is a slither of soap, the shard of bar soap he'd told you to throw away, lying on the floor.

You'd insisted you wouldn't waste it.

He picks it up and pockets it, throwing his gaze around the room in another circle to be sure.

You aren't here.

He runs back up the hallways and through the front entrance, where the girl on crutches is hobbling toward the main building that houses the cafeteria. His heart races with a strange adrenaline — he shouldn't panic, right? You could be anywhere, and anywhere doesn't have to mean somewhere unsafe. You could be with Mallory, with Robin. Hell, you could be with Dustin. He's half expecting to find you in the canteen, fresh and smelling sweet, sitting at one of the long dinner tables for club night. You'd said you wanted to learn gin rummy.

You aren't in the cafeteria and neither are the cards club, but Hopper is. He has a paperback in his lap, and a cigarette is held between his lips pointing down, illuminated by a small lamp on the table behind him.

"Woah, where's the fire?"

"Have you seen Y/N?"

Hopper doesn't like his tone, the panic it's laced with. His expression hardens from surprise to concern, paperback closed. "Hours ago. She was on her way to the gym. She didn't come back?"

"No."

"She usually stray?" Hopper asks.

They both know the answer is no. You don't go anywhere that isn't scheduled work or the gym showers without Steve; while your distrust of this place and the people here has waned since you arrived, it's still very much alive.

"Never."

"Don't panic," Hopper says, though he looks a little unsettled himself. He hides it swiftly. "Half the people here are your age, she probably just got to talking."

He stands up, shoving his paperback on top of the fold out chair and zippering his jacket closed.

Steve rubs his mouth, in a daze, searching his thoughts for where you'll be.

"Harrington?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking up.

"You might want to get some warmer pants on. We'll start searching. Door to door. Wake your friends up." Hopper clears his throat. "She's here somewhere."

His confidence eases Steve's roaring pulse. He looks down, finds he's still wearing the polka dot pyjamas he'd fallen asleep in. He'd been too worried about you to notice.

—

You feel majorly unwell. Eyes so sore they beg to stay closed, throat raw like you've been forced to eat sandpaper. Your hand knocks out and hits something solid.

"Stevie," you say. Your voice is patchy, frosted over. "It's freezing. Did you," —you cough as you raise your head from your pillow— "leave a window open, baby?"

A cold gale of wind rushes over you. Goosebumps erupt down the lengths of your naked arms, and your eyes open finally, searching for the cause of the desperate cold.

You fear for a moment you've gone blind.

The sky is dark. A deep, formidable blue with a smattering of stars. Your breath catches as you take them in. They appear by the handful, flecks that well like drops of blood to pinpricks.

You are not in bed.

This is not your room.

"You've been sleeping for hours. You're fucking heavy, did you know that?"

You turn your head slowly, prey and predator, hoping your stillness will deter any sudden movements.

"Where are we?" you ask, trying to get a good look at the body next to you.

You're not sure if it's the right question. He likes it, though, and his hand squeezes yours where your fingers rest, intertwined, against his chest. Sickness wraps around your stomach and wrings it, a strange haziness concluding your thoughts.

"Don't worry about it."

Panic lights every nerve ending and a wretched trembling runs down your arms, your legs. You try to make it stop before he can feel it. You know your fear is a currency.

"Are you cold?" he asks. His voice is neither warm nor frigid, each syllable said with an impassiveness that leaves little to be inferred.

"I don't have my coat." The words don't want to be said.

"We left in a hurry."

"We did?"

Your throat aches. You try to remember why you're here, fingers dead still in his hold. There's something soft behind your head, a throw blanket that scratches your cheek. You don't know who he is. You don't recognise anything about him, moonlight splashing milky light over his face and neck. He has a broad scar under his jaw, but beside that, this man is completely unassuming.

"You don't remember?"

You shake your head. "No," you say softly.

"You fell in the shower. I helped you up. You told me you wanted to leave."

"Leave?" you ask.

"The College."

"I said that?"

"You didn't have to say it. I know you hated it there."

You swallow, uselessly, over and over. The night sky pours Onto you. Your pulse bumps, bumps, bumps.

"Who are you?" you ask.

"You don't know me?"

His fingers tighten around yours.

"I- I'm new," you defend.

"Of course you don't know me. Nobody fucking knows me. I thought shit was bad before all this, you know?" His grip tightens worse. "Invisible at work, at home. And there were so many people, I mean, fucking thousands of people, I was a nobody. I thought maybe now I'd be somebody, but you don't know who I am."

Please, you think, please. What's his name?

"Connor," you say quietly, hoping to pass it off as nothing if you've gotten it wrong.

His grip relaxes ever so slightly. "I knew you were different. You see me, and I see you."

He moves toward you, and he must see you flinch backward into the solid, frozen earth behind your back. His smile flickers. He leans over your face, dark, long hair tickling your cheek.

"I know you hated that place just as much as I did. So we left."

Looking back, you'll wonder why you acted as you did. Acting into his delusion. That night, you wait hours for him to fall asleep. He never does. Each time you try to pull your hand from his, you're met with a fiercely suspicious look. You feign sleep.

The sky slowly lightens. You stand when he stands and you pull your hand from his whether he wants it or not, so cold you feel like you've been burned all over, so tired you're surprised you have the strength to scramble backward.

He turns, and you notice the gun tucked into his waistband for the first time.

"Where are you going?" he asks, hand inching up his leg.

You take a step toward him, wobbly on purpose. "I think I'm stiff from the floor." You smile at him awkwardly.

He sees bashful where he should terrified. "I will miss the mattresses. Don't worry, we'll find you something to lie on." Your skin crawls.

"Where are we going?"

He points southward.

You're no genius, but you assume that means The College is northward.

A bullet can follow you a hundred feet away. Running brazenly won't work. Though you're guessing he'll kill you outright rather than let you escape, which may not be the case. He's running on delusion — he has a saviour complex, clearly, to have stolen you like this. He wants you, and you have to assume he wants you alive.

"Can I have some water?" you ask.

The ache in your throat is a burn. You imagine this is how it feels to have a geek maw deep in your flesh, a sizzling burn, a heated fear.

He digs through his singular rucksack and pulls out a litre bottle of water full to the cap. You take it, guzzle it, and choke when he cusses. "Fuck- Stop! Are you stupid? We have to make it last."

Water dribbles down your chin as he snatches it out of your hand.

"Sorry," you say. It feels as though you've swallowed a stone. "Sorry, I didn't know. I couldn't know, I don't know any of your plans, Connor."

He stuffs the water back into the bag and procures a white length of plastic. It takes you a second to realise it's a zip tie. Much less to feel terror reignite itself in the depths of your stomach.

"Wrists together."

"Connor, I don't think-"

"You're smart, aren't you?"

Quiet stretches. The sun leaks desperately needed warmth through the thick tree branches, sun rays painting his skin blazing white as he rags your wrists together and wraps the zip ties around them. The plastic bites into your skin unapologetically.

"I wanted you to take me," you say. "What's the need?"

He smiles. Teeth white, gums red. Stark.

"You're smart," he repeats. "I'm smarter. Now come on. Walk."

—

Steve doesn't find you.

Hopper gives him invasive free reign over the community like a dirty cop. He tells everybody at breakfast exactly what's happening. He asks if anybody has seen you. He asks if you've made plans to run away. He says that, if you're in hiding, he'll protect you, even if that means protection from Steve.

Steve's not even mad. If you are hiding from him (you're not, of course you're not, but if you are — Steve almost wishes you were, just so he'd know you were safe) you're doing an amazing job. There are no traces of you, and as the hours stretch into a full day without you, Steve's borderline homicidal. He has slammed on every door. He has checked every dormitory room, every public space. He has pulled boards from closed over windows, and kicked in weakened door jams of every building within the fences.

Currently, though, he's having a breakdown. Tears, ugly and messy and loud, race down his face. He's running so hot they practically steam. Robin stands on the other side of the stall. He's really hoping she'll pretend she can't hear him, but she says, "Yikes, Steve."

"Where the fuck is she?" he asks, sounding about as numb as he feels.

"I don't know."

Her response is softer. Robin knows Steve isn't angry at her, and doesn't take his scathing question personally. The fear he's feeling is overwhelming, hence his tears. (The tears are made of worry, too.)

"Somebody-" God, the thought is like white hot heat cattle poked into his spine, anger wells to the surface. "Has her. Somebody's fucking done something to her. She wouldn't just leave."

He stares at the stall door and wills tears away. This isn't helping you.

"Steve," Robin says, "don't bite my head off. What if she did leave?"

It hurts because it's what he's been asking himself. Under the anger and the fear for you, there's fear of you. What if you've abandoned him? Loved him this long to toss in the towel at the finish line?

Still, he defends the you he knows you are. "Fuck off, Buckley. I love you, but fuck you."

"No, listen to me Steve."

"Robin-"

"I believe she wouldn't 'just leave' but that doesn't mean she didn't leave," Robin says in a rush, fighting to be heard. "I know she's- I know you're both in that gross, disgusting, married for sixty years, buried in the same plot, holding hands kind of love-"

"The point?"

"So I'm agreeing with you, asshole. I don't think she'd leave of her own volition, but she's not here."

"What if she is? What if I go look for her and she's here and Barney from the kitchen has her tied up under his mattress?"

"We've looked," Robin says, anger colouring her own tone now. "We've fucking looked, Steve, you and me and Dustin, Mike and Hopper, we've been in every room and hashing this out won't make her magically reappear, we need to go look for her. Maybe she did fucking leave you, and maybe she's lost. Whatever it is, you're gonna kill yourself not looking.

"Time to make a decision," she adds. "The longer we sit here the further away she gets."

Tears burst unbidden in a race to his jawline.

He knows you better than he knows himself. He knows you've loved him for a long time, maybe since the day you met. He's loved you almost as long, and he doesn't care how selfish it sounds when he says he loves you so much more. If the last time you'd spent together is it — sorry, but Steve can't accept it. A slurred out 'Love you' and your kisses warming his cheek. That can't be all there is.

He'd spend the rest of his life looking for you, if only to feel the weight of your body between his legs, your sleeping face tucked under his chest. Your hands, forever cold, chasing the heat of his spine as you slip them under his t-shirt.

Hopper looks reluctant at the suggestion.

"Kid-"

"I'm not really asking. I need permission to get my bat back from the armoury, and food. Or forget the food." Someone knocks into his back and apologises. The cafeteria is teeming with people. Steve doesn't stop to look back to see who it is.

"It's not about supplies. Everybody is accounted for, we checked, do you know what that means? Nobody else is with her." Nobody took her, he implies. She left of her own volition.

"That's exactly why I need to go."

"She took a rucksack with her."

Steve blinks.

"Three litres of water. Enough food for a month, and a pistol."

You're smarter than three litres of water. And—

Steve's heart skips. "She doesn't know how to use a gun."

He knows exactly what's happened to you. Even if everybody else thinks he's crazy, or stupid, or plain naive, he knows you wouldn't take a gun, so somebody else took one, and then they took you. He imagines you with the barrel pressed to your nape and brims with indignation.

Hopper grabs Steve's arm tightly before he can turn away. He likely doesn't want a scene in the cafeteria, not when the arts and crafts club is sitting two tables away, a whole classroom of children with delicate dispositions.

"You're sure you want to go out there and look for her? Kid, nobody saw her leave, there's no signs of struggle. Chances are she left willingly."

"You really believe that? Honestly?"

His expression says everything Steve needs to know. Hopper doesn't believe what he's saying — he's feeding Steve a narrative in the hopes that it'll spare him. His decision is a hard one to make, prioritising the lives of the many over the few, and it's noble, but Steve couldn't care less about the risks.

Hopper realises his plan is not going to work. He roughs up his hair and sighs.

"Can't work a gun?" he asks Steve, nearly defeated.

"She would pick the knife."

"Fine. Better round up anybody stupid enough to go with you."

—

"I think you're handsome," you say.

Connor glares at you. He'd been in the middle of a self-hating rant, how he's ugly and how girls are all shallow. He's not even that ugly, but his expression, so full of hate, makes him monstrous.

"I do," you further.

"Yeah, right."

Your wrists hurt. The zip tie cuts into your skin even in efforts to hold your wrists together. You're raw, almost bleeding. And you're so fucking cold; this guy's an idiot, and you're gonna die of hypothermia if you can't charm him into giving you his coat.

Your plan is awful and it likely won't work. You're trying to seduce him so you can take his gun, and hope you don't have to actually fire it. You've never killed somebody before, but you're willing to do what you need to if it means you'll survive. Your thoughts won't stop spiralling about Steve. He loves you. He's looking for you. If he never finds you, his life will be more ruined than it is already, and you'd never forgive yourself for that. You care about him too much to want to put him through the guilt of losing you. How he'd been looking for Robin, you don't want him to be that version of himself again. Closed off to everything, and everyone.

Under all that you're still hoping he's going to save you. You're gonna hear him calling. You hope — you know — Steve won't think you've left. While you haven't been quiet about your doubts living in The College, you wouldn't leave without him. Steve is the safest place in the world.

"Connor," you say, eyes on his face and unflinching, determined to lie well, "are you kidding? Out of everyone, I only showed you how I was feeling. Why do you think that is?"

He stares at you.

You make a show of shivering. It isn't difficult.

"You're the kindest person there, I know that," you say. "Nobody else would risk what you are to help me escape. Nobody, not even-" You wince. "Not even Steve."

"Ugh, don't talk about him," Connor says. "You won't ever have to see that mindless idiot again."

"You promise?"

He stops walking. "You don't want to see him?"

"No," you lie. "I- look, Connor, I know it's not something to be proud of, and I'm not proud of it, but I knew he could take care of me, you know? We were all alone, and I just needed someone to look after me. I was so scared. And I felt like I owed him."

"You could've left him the moment you got to The College."

You put on a sad little smile. I'm sorry, you think desperately. I'm sorry, Steve.

"He wouldn't let me."

Quiet prevails again, the only sounds the wind and your shoes over brittle foliage.

"I wanted to talk to you, and I think he could tell. He'd always pull me away when we s-s-saw you."

His eyebrows furrow gently, a softness on his face that might seem genuine if there were any light behind his eyes. Connor peels off his jacket and tries to help you into it.

"My wrists."

"Right," he says.

He pulls out a penknife. You know what to do, planning how you'll enact your next move in your head as he cuts you loose and helps your numb arms and fingers into the sleeves. He zips you up. You try not to breathe.

He takes a half step back, and his breath turns to a grunt, hands cruel at your wrists when you throw yourself at him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Trying to hug you…" You say, heart a hummingbird in your chest. "I'm sorry, I just- I just wanted to say thank you."

"You want to say thank you?" he asks,

You regret it. You've already decided, as horrible as it is, that if he tries to hurt you or force you to do anything intimate with him, you're going to run, gun or no gun. This decision changes every other second. Better to let him hurt you like that and live, or better to die?

"Yes," you say breathlessly. "I want to say thank you."

"There's a cabin not far from here. That's where we're going. I've been getting it ready for us. You can show me how grateful you are when we get there, so pick up the pace."

"A cabin?" you ask, tripping over your untied laces in your hurry to do as he says.

"I've been getting it ready for weeks," he says. "Sneaking back and forth hasn't been easy, you know? Fucking migraine."

Sneaking back and forth.

Who is he? Sneaking? Why would he need to? Who the fuck is he? You know of him as you know most people, and you'd been lucky to remember his name. If he hadn't gone on supply and scrounging trips with Steve, you wouldn't have.

A memory.

He'd been with Steve.

Two weeks ago, Steve had come home depressed. Deflated, he'd encouraged you down into bed and laid out on top of you, frown pressed to your collar. You'd drawn a confession from him in ribbons, one hand rubbing his back until the tension he'd carried slipped away, the other resting at the back of his head. He'd been on a scouting trip, and he'd lost his partner. No sign of him, no signs of a geek death, nothing. He'd disappeared.

That had been Connor, and everybody thinks he's dead.

If they believe you left, they believe it was by yourself. You have to hope Steve believes you'd never go without him.

If he doesn't, you are completely alone.

—

Robin ties her shoe laces tightly. They're new, and they're startlingly white. Nothing ever looks so white these days. Bleach is a resource they can't make, and it gets hoarded by the medical team whenever they find any. Clothes here aren't dirty, but they'll never be pristine.

She puts her foot back on to the floor next to Steve's back, where he poked around under her bed for useful things to take. Her torch, her batteries, her rucksack.

"Robin… is this a fucking illegal food store?"

"That's blowing it out of proportion."

He climbs out from under the bed and drops her armful of twinkies, moon cakes, and a single Hershey's cookies 'n' creme.

"You can take that one," she says, pointing at the Hershey's. "A treat for lovergirl. You may need leverage to win her back."

He takes it. At this point, Robin's sure he'd cut his own hand off to bring you back with them. She kicks the rest of her contraband haphazardly under the bed and gets into a sweater, then another sweater, before zippering a winter coat over top. Robin's young, and mildly fit, not in shape but not out of it, so she volunteers for supply runs when Hopper asks for them. She can climb, and she's skinny enough to fit into places that other people can't. She's ready to go look for you.

Steve stands and makes his way to the door, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder.

They move out to the quad, where a sad roster of rescue squad applicants wait. Jonathan Byers sits on the low wall of the fountain, with a girl called Vanessa on one side, and a guy called Christopher on the other. Dustin and Mike stand talking, and Steve is barely in hearing range when he says, "You aren't coming, Henderson."

He stops in front of the fountain. "Are you ready?"

They all stand. Jonathan, surprisingly, has a gun strapped to his hip. "Hopper's orders," he says, sounding how Steve feels.

"Steve," Dustin says.

"You aren't allowed to come, for starters."

"I am, we're sixteen, we can-"

"Can't. That's why Will isn't here, right? Or Lucas? Because they actually listen when Hopper says no."

Mike glares. "I'm not here to go save your girlfriend."

"Awesome." Steve relaxes the tiniest bit, slapping Dustin's arm as they pass. "Thanks, Henderson, but you can't come. Stay here and make sure nobody claims our room."

Dustin shouts a string of expletives at their backs.

They pass through the North fence checkpoint. They're trying to retrace your steps. There aren't many to retrace. They assume you've gone North of the camp because South of it is Indiana, and Steve can't see why you'd backtrack.

They walk for hours. The sun moves through the sky all lazy and slow, tortuously so, and the only thing Steve can think of is you. It burns.

The first hint of you is a scrap of fabric. It isn't yours as far as he knows, but he and Robin look at it, look at each other, and then pick up the pace. A half hour later they almost miss it, a black button in amongst dry earth. An hour later, there's a water bottle cap.

"Holy fucking shit," Robin says. "She's leaving us breadcrumbs."

"She's a smart girl," Steve says, too defensive considering Robin's praising you. "Of course she is."

"I've been thinking," Jonathan says, his voice low and gravelly from a long period of quiet. "The theory is that she's uh, been kidnapped, right?"

"That's the theory," Steve says tightly. Trying his best not to be a dick, because Jonathan hasn't done anything wrong.

"So who took her?"

Steve's migraine throbs. He has this tension like a knit behind his eyes. He doesn't know who took you, he can't work it out, and it doesn’t make any sense. Hopper checked the lists and everybody in the community had been accounted for, and Steve had seen nearly every face himself hammering on doors.

"My mom poured over that list, she ticked everybody off," Jonathan continues.

"It doesn't make any sense," Steve says, "I know that, but she wouldn't leave like that, not–"

"No, I'm not saying that," Jonathan says quickly. "I'm not saying you're wrong. I'm saying we have to think outside of the box. Whoever took her isn't on the register."

"But they somehow knew enough about The College to take her without anybody seeing them," Vanessa says timidly.

"They took her from the shower room," Steve says quietly. "Her soap was still there, 'nd the girl on duty said she never came out of the first door again, so they took her from the back, and quietly."

"Maybe she got lured out," Robin says. "Maybe they tricked her."

Jonathan closes the small walking gap between himself and Steve, face earnest and concerned. He looks like a friend.

"Remember Tina and Sadie, they left two weeks ago to look for their mom? They're not on the register, they could still be close."

"But what would they want from her?" Christopher asks sceptically.

Steve feels an inkling of memory…

"Steve," Robin says apprehensively, giving him major side eye.

"It's fucking–" Heat like nothing he's ever felt burns behind his eyes. If he could, Steve would squat down on the ground and just sit there for a while, until this rush of fire and fear and missing you had toned it down, but he can't stop moving, so he staggers to keep walking. "Connor. It's Connor."

"The Creep?" Robin asks.

"I thought he died?" Vanessa asks.

Steve picks up the pace of his steps, and tries to explain coherently, though his voice sounds ragged as his thoughts, "He didn't die, he– he disappeared. And he was so weird, he kept asking me about my girl, and just thought he was a perv, he–" Steve looks at his small group. "He was too interested in her. I should've seen it."

"So he's not dead?"

Steve's thinking that might be up for debate.

—

The cabin is a shit show. When Connor bragged about fixing it up, you'd stupidly believed he actually fixed it up. His delusion stretches beyond you. It's cold to the point where your worries of hypothermia are no longer worries but eventualities, especially now he's realised the same thing and taken his coat back off of you. It hadn't fit well anyhow.

You huddle in the corner of the room where a small wood fire burns in the stove, not too shameful to hold your numb fingers over the flame. Connor rages behind you, grumbling hate to himself and slamming whatever it is he can find against other things. Door to the frame, chair to the wall, his bag kicked across the room. You know that, eventually, his anger will turn to you. Projection of anger has rules. The wall won't look nearly as satisfying as a bruise.

You turn to look at him over your shoulder as demurely as you can. You've smoothed down your hair, wiped your dirty face, and while you're no angel, he chose you, right? You must at least be his type.

Or maybe you'd been an easy target.

You wish you'd listened to Mallory all those weeks ago when she'd told you that having only Steve was a terrible idea. Not because having Steve is terrible, having Steve is everything, but because you can't imagine many people who'd be willing to fight for you. If he's coming to find you it's likely all by himself. Can Steve overpower this guy? You'd thought you could but you're not so sure. He's a tall man, an easy six foot.

He's scaring you.

You would try to calm him down if you weren’t worried he’d want you to show you how grateful you are for being rescued. You’d rather he rail at the window than touch you.

A sound like splintering wood has you flinching forward and away from him, hands dangerously close to the fire. You pull them away with a gasp, reminding Connor of your presence.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say hurriedly. “You should come and sit down, huh? You’ve been walking all day.”

He sits down beside you after a pensive, dramatic minute rubbing his own head. He drops his bag by your feet and you take whatever warmth you can, hiding your shoes underneath it.

When he puts his hand on your thigh, you try to pretend it’s Steve. Steve sitting next to you, warm and soft and ready to pull you into his lap, that place between his legs, chest to chest and eye to eye. You want his hand in your hair, and his hot back under your frostbitten fingers.even when you were new, not quite in love, he’d let you hide your hands under his t-shirt. He’s that kind of good, right down to the marrow in his bones.

You wish you’d known what was going to happen. Not even to ask him to come with you. You think after everything the two of you deserve a proper goodbye. All that pain and all that affection and this is how it ends?

Connor’s hand creeps further down the length of your leg. You think, alright. Alright. I’ll do whatever I have to do if I get to see Steve again.

A sound like cracking wood echoes outside.

Connor is up and against the wall in two blinks. You follow him, breathing shallow as you peer outside. You’d agreed to the wood fire, knowing you’d get irretrievably sick without it, but you hadn’t mentioned the rule. You and Steve didn’t have too many, just enough to keep you alive, and the most important was to know the area before lighting a fire while it’s still light out. The smoke is a dead giveaway every time.

Another sound.

Someone has seen the smoke.

“What do we do?” you whisper.

He holds up his hand.

“What are we gonna do?”

“Let me think.”

“Should we put out the fire?”

“Shut up!” he says harshly. “Shut up, Jesus Christ. I can’t think with you jabbering in my ear.”

Connor opens his backpack and takes out a zip tie.

“No,” you say, shaking your head emphatically, “no, you can’t.”

“It’s this or I handcuff you to the radiator,” he says.

A silence stretches between you both. He grabs your wrists and closes the zip tie around your wrist until you’re sure your hands will fall off, plastic digging cruelly into the lines already there.

“You’re evil,” you murmur.

His eyes turn to frosted glass. For the second time, you think, There’s nothing there. Nothing kind. Obviously not: he’s such a loser he felt he had to take a girl captive to get some. Fucking freak.

He takes your face into his hand, squeezing your jaw in his paw of a hand. You whimper, your teeth grinding and your bones creaking from the force of it.

“Stay quiet.”

You stare.

“Say ‘yes’.”

His fingers dig into your skin so hard you know you’ll have fingernail welts.

“Yes,” you say, feeling as though you’ve choked on your own tongue. “I’ll be quiet.”

He throws your face away and your head smacks the wall. No more happy families. You cringe and slide down into yourself, a curled ball as he leaves the room. The gun clicks in his hands as he switches off the safety, and another metallic sound follows. You know it isn’t good.

You cower for a moment, freaked out beyond words, and then you pull it together. For Steve. You sit up and press an awkward hand to your aching, stinging jaw. There’s blood on your fingers when you pull your bound hands away. You slide onto your knees and struggle to stand, shoulders riding the wall. Your ears are posted for a sound. There are a hundred options and you don’t want any of them. Run away, get killed by whoever’s out there. Run away, get killed by Connor. Run away, get killed by a geek. Run away, survive, and never find a way to unbind yourself. Run away into the hands of someone crueller. Run away and never find Steve.

A female voice calls out.

“We just want to talk!”

That’s nobody you know. It’s not Robin. You try not to feel heartbroken, and when you do you try to hold it rather than have it drag you down. It’s not Steve, fine, but it’s a woman, and she’s probably a whole lot safer than Connor.

“I’m armed!” Connor shouts.

You walk slowly to the window and peer through. Down the cabin steps and in the grass stands a dark silhouette you know is Connor. Further along is a woman and another figure. You’re not sure who.

“So are we!” she calls.

“Fuck,” you whisper, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. What are you supposed to do? What’s the answer here?

The shouting out front continues, but that’s not what distracts you— there are sounds coming from behind. There’s someone at the back door. You cast your gaze around the room to look for something that can help you. There’s a fire poker on the floor near the wood stove. You rush to grab it, almost falling at the weight of your own head.

The first pop of the gun makes you drop it. Tears roll down your cheeks as you scramble to grab it again, hands shaking hard as footsteps sound in the hall. Another gunshot makes you gasp, the third has you swallowing a sob. You press yourself hard into the wall with the poker held aloft.

The door opens.

For a second, a split-second, you don’t recognise him.

“Steve!” Jonathan Byers shouts, grinning, “I got her!”

Thudding races from the kitchen and down the hallway. Steve appears behind Jonathan like a dream, a dizzying relief to see in all his pale sweetness.

You drop the poker and a sob comes so hard you can’t keep your eyes open. You’ve never felt anything like this. A nightmare over so suddenly and all you can do is fight to open your eyes.

Steve crosses the room, steps over Connor’s tantrum like it isn’t there, and wraps his arms around you. It’s a different kind of tightness, nothing like the cruel press of Connor’s fingers. Steve pulls you together, steadies you, cheek smashed into the top of your head and arms circling your shoulders. Your fingers shake, you can’t move your hands, and still you curl them around his coat uselessly. You can’t get a hold on him, but it doesn’t matter. Steve has you.

“It’s okay,” he’s saying, strands of panic sewn between the reassurance in his lovely voice. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Come on.” You’re crying like a little kid. You can’t stop, and you can’t breathe. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

Steve draws away from you, barely an inch, to slide the blade of his pen knife between your wrists. The zip tie splits and you vy for him weakly, your hands to his waist.

He shoves the pen knife into his pocket and grabs your arm. “I know, I know, but we have to go. We can’t stay here, the noise’ll draw company we don't want.” His hand roams up to your neck. He cups your face, his palm blistering to your chilled cheek. “Hey,” he says, smiling a rare smile. “My girl… it’ll be okay. I’m gonna fix it. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

He nods at you hopefully. You swallow your sobbing until it’s a wet gasping sounds and nod back. He looks at you for a charged second, before he wraps his arms around you again. Gentle, so, so careful. Your head rests in the crook of his arm, a crop of kisses laid over your cold cheek.

“You’re freezing,” he murmurs.

“I’m okay,” you say. “I’m fine now.”

—

Steve sits in the path of the window, afternoon light drizzling into his eyes and over your sleeping face. He squints against its brightness and stands to pull the curtains closed, fingertips on your shoulder. He has to stretch to reach, but he refuses to stop touching you. He’s worried you’ll disappear if he does. Contact keeps you here.

Curtains closed, he sits back down tentatively, looking for your hand in the mess of blankets and quilts covering your body. He’s wiped the blood from your cheeks, tended to your small inflamed cuts with disinfectant. He’s wrapped your sore wrists, spent hours rubbing your frostbitten fingers, worried the cold killed your circulation. You’ve slept for hours now, only stirring when he had to use the bathroom. He’d been gone for less than a minute, a heart attack in sixty seconds, and you’d been awake and trying to get out of bed when he got back.

He stays close.

He just wants you to rest.

Steve pulls back the blankets and slips in beside you slowly. You turn into his movements, and when he’s flat on his back you let your weight rest on him completely. Your breathing tells him you’re waking up, not quite slow, not quite deep.

He takes your hand into both of his and hugs it. Found it, he thinks.

“Stevie,” you utter.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

You smile and push your face into the juncture of his neck.

There aren’t really words for what Steve feels. Relief like a hurricane. Guilt something worse. Love, anger, worry. It’s all mixed together and he can’t pull one from the other, but he knows one thing.

“I couldn’t live without you,” he mumbles.

“Good,” you say. You snort into his skin. “Not good, baby, that’s awful, but-” You pull your hand from his to wrap it around his shoulders. He pulls you up onto his chest. “Good, ‘cause I can’t live without you.”

“You don’t have to.”

Your voice is scratchy from a lot of tears. He never wants to hear you cry like that again. He’s only heard it once before, when you’d fallen through the first floor of a dilapidated house a hundred miles away, and after hours where he’d assumed you’d never wake up again, you did, and you’d been in so much pain you couldn’t stay still. You’d shook for days.

“I would’ve looked for you until I found you,” he says, unsure what he wants. He thinks, selfishly, that he’d like some comfort.

“I know,” you say, your hand moving up, up to his hair.

You lean back to see him, the two of you nose to nose, and stroke his hair away from his forehead one strand at a time.

“Will you kiss me?” you whisper.

“Depends,” he whispers back. “What’s in it for me?”

“Anything you want.”

He smirks at you. “Already got everything I want right here.”

“In that case, you’ll have to consider it part of your philanthropy, handsome. I’m a charity case.”

“How dare you say that about my girl,” he says, his feigned indignation hard to believe with the mildness of his tone, and his lips so close to yours.

He kisses you, worried you’ll fall apart. It’s a sad kiss, not what he’d expected, though it’s better than the terrified one he’d stolen before you fell asleep. That had been nervous energy and imprecise, all the urgency of your first kiss and none of the finesse.

“Are you okay?” you ask, peeling away from his case to frame his face in your hands.

He could say no. Tears burn behind his eyes, his nose stings, he could burst into tears in your arms.

“How can you ask me that?” he asks, watching as your eyes pinch into a squint and all your eyelashes kiss.

“I love you,” you say.

He chokes on air. “I know that. I love you, too, but you’re the one who got hurt. You’re the one who’s hurting, why would you ask me how I am? You’re—“ Too good. Too good for me. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Steve.”

You have tears in your eyes and he’s flooded with guilt. He brought it up too soon, he knows. It’s barely over — you need to feel safe, and won’t if he keeps reminding you.

“I’m okay,” he says softly. “How are you feeling, huh?”

“I’m actually starving,” you admit, squishing his cheeks with your hands.

“You want me to go get you something?”

You look down bashfully. “I really need to shower, Steve. You might be blind to my grime but I’m gross right now–”

He kisses you to cut you off, a sharp, saccharine kiss that makes you giggle. “That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, idiot.”

“Your girlfriend is a creature.”

“A creature!” He uses his weight to push you onto your back, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re done. You’re done,” he repeats, beaming at your infectious laughter, “you think you can talk about yourself whatever way you like, don’t you? It’s not happening.”

“Okay, I won’t,” you say, your eyes locking with his.

He watches your lips part, feels the rise and fall of your chest under his.

I’m so sorry, he wants to tell you.

You’re finally smiling. He won’t ruin it.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling his lips into a big smile.

It’s easier than he anticipates to smile. You needle your arms over his shoulders and tug him to your chest, your own smile like a brand next to his ear.

“I missed you,” you say. “I know it’s stupid.”

He exhales heavily. “I missed you too.”

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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welcometogrouchland · 11 months

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I feel like for the first few years of guardianship Darius and Hunter really struggle to figure out how to refer to each other.

Like it's easier for Hunter, he pretty quickly settles on "guardian" for explaining their relationship to other people and just referring to Darius by name when talking to the man himself. Overtime the phrasing gradually warms, becoming "foster parent" and eventually, once Hunter's already an adult old enough to move out, "Dad".

(Sidenote: he doesn't move out til he's in his mid to late twenties, bc he's under no obligation too, Darius low-key doesn't want him too, and the two of them want to make up for lost time in a sense, since Hunter only had 2 years of legal dependency on Darius before aging out of the system. Darius adopts Hunter retroactively as an adult)

Darius on the other hand has a real conundrum on his hands for those first few years. He has a lot of options! But "ward" is too formal and makes it sound like Darius picked him up off the street like after his parents were murdered, "apprentice/student" isn't really accurate considering the focus of Darius and Hunter's relationship has less to do with Hunter learning magic and more to do with Hunter being housed and fed. "Kid" and "foster son" are there...but...

Look, Darius isn't going to refer to Hunter more familiarly than Hunter refers to him! He's not gonna make it WEIRD. He's not a dad, because Hunter doesn't want/need him to be (and also parenthood is scary <3). Darius doesn't know the first thing about being a dad, despite how his friend group teases him.

Eda and Eberwolf are the two who are worst about it. They torture him with how 'fatherly' he's allegedly being (allegations Darius will DENY til his GRAVE!!!) And Eda specifically compares his journey to hers, saying it always starts off with you referring to them as your apprentice (again, Darius doesn't plan on doing that), as your roommate (...kinda weird in Darius' opinion? But okay Eda), or even your pet (????HELLO???). But eventually, they always become your dumb kid when you least expect it.

She's had a couple cups of appleblood by this point, but Darius knows on some level she's right and he's steadfastly ignoring that fact, even as Eber continues to refer to Hunter as his "cub" (kinda cute but Darius doesn't know how Hunter would feel being compared to an animal). The only people who are even remotely reasonable about all this (besides Lilith who's a bit disinterested in kid talk) is Raine and Alador, who both sort of neutrally, a bit awkwardly refer to Hunter as Darius' Boy.

Darius referring to Hunter as "my boy" is funnily enough what sticks the longest before it evolves to son boy. Hunter's crushing it at a derby match? Darius is whooping and cheering, yelling "THAT'S MY BOY!!!" At the other parents in the stands. Hunter is doing something dangerous or inadvisable where others can see him? "Darius, your boy-" "AHH! MY BOY". Hunter, a year into his stay with Darius finally comes clean about everything to do with him being a grimwalker, and is afraid that he's going to go back to seeing him as just an inferior replacement for Darius' beloved mentor? Darius (who has just had to process some of the most bonkers, emotionally heavy information in his life) gently, hesitantly puts a hand on his shoulder (the 'good' one Hunter doesn't mind people touching), and says that Hunter's much more than that. He's Darius' Boy and he's not going to kick him out or get angry or love him any less for things out of his control. It's good. They're good.

Like I said, it evolves over time and 'boy' becomes somewhat obsolete as the two get caught up in the joy of finally feeling able to explicitly refer to each other as family. But unlike "guardian" or "ward" the word never gets fully retired. Even when Hunter is 30 and is arguing that he's more of a man than a boy now, he is still getting referred to by Darius as "his boy", the way some parents never really stop calling their adult kids baby or kiddo (Camila and Eda respectively btw).

Hunter makes one of those corny matching shirt sets at some point for a father's Day gift when he's 17/18, where the two shirts say "if lost, return Boy to me" (Darius) and "I'm Boy" (Hunter). Hunter mostly did it so he could own a funny shirt that says "I'm boy". Darius openly weeps upon seeing them. Like Oh my Titan he's boy. He's my boy. Oh wow

#ramblings of a lunatic #the owl house #toh #hunter toh #darius deamonne #dadrius #made this instead of finishing my dadrius week day 1 comic. it's okay i have time #i think this post dips it's toes into being one of those 'part writing drabble/part textpost analysis' posts #which I'm okay w/ tbh i love those #i just hope it reads well #the important thing about dadrius + eberwolf to me is that it's just as unlikely a trio as King Eda and Luz are #just as weird and has just as gradual and retrospectively funny a journey as them #i also specified foster parent instead of adoptive parent just bc i read it in a fic once where Hunter was placed in isles foster care-#-post canon and he had a social worker who was a gargoyle named Chantelle. it was delightful #this is my homage to that. the fic was 'the titan laughs in flowers' i think (thank you user yardsards for the rec)#alador still gets the instinct to refer to Hunter as the golden guard and amity gets on his case about it #so referring to Hunter as darius' boy grew out of that and spread to raine who finds it kind of adorable #darius refers to hunter as his foster son for the first time when his (darius' i mean) family comes to visit #not as like a statement of anything they don't deny Hunter as a deamonne. they love him like they love a scraggly cat #but just like. it felt right for Darius in the moment and Hunter got emotional about it #anyway happy early dadrius week I'm rotating them in my mind I'm biting down on them like a chew toy etc etc

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columboscreens · 1 year

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I get ppl who theorize that Columbo’s wife is actually his husband.

But personally I like the idea that Columbo actually genuinely loves his wife, considering how commen it is to see husbands fucking despise their wives, it’s a nice change of pace.

But then again, who’s to say Columbo’s wife cant also be his husband? Who are we to assume Columbo’s wife is limited to a single gender?

i admit it's interesting on the outside. it jibes well with his whole aura of mystery and obfuscation, and i even entertain the notion sometimes for fun, but i agree. i find the "oooh he's LYING about HAVING A WIFE he's actually BACHELOR" school of Columbo Theory rather...boring.

canonically, we do substantiate her existence via phone calls and secondhand appearances/references (see: any old port, exercise in fatality, and rip mrs columbo for phone calls, troubled waters for phone calls/being seen by others, and caution: murder hazardous for a third party phone call). i talk a bit about this here and a few headcanons of mine here. there's little refutation of the point that the show wants you to know he does have a wife.

but more importantly, it is not only important that columbo's wife is real and that he loves her, it's central to his whole character. he brings her up constantly, even to people whom he isn't trying to manipulate.

wait til she sends you out for maxi pads at 11 pm sergeant. you try and tell me the difference between super and maximum and overnight and with wings and without wings and

it is in itself a statement about the character that, in an era in which he'd be right at home making jabs at his wife, there are not only none to be found, he blabs about her to anyone who will listen. he stands in opposition to the tropes of detectives who are cold, lonely, chauvinistic, and/or womanizing; he's a person who understands love, dedication, and lasting relationships, and uses that understanding to his advantage in his work.

i just think it's a far more interesting thought experiment to imagine what kind of person could make a marriage work with a man as unique as columbo.

of course, it doesn't matter what you like to imagine columbo's partner is--man, woman, neither, trans, a bee hive--the important thing is that he loves them.

(...so long as it isn't mrs. columbo from the failed and horrifically miscast show)

#columbo #ask #misc #mrs c #every time someone asserts that mrs columbo is kate mulgrew a baby kitten vaporizes into dust

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howlingday · 1 month

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So this may sound crazy, but do you think that Lancaster and BMBLB are parallel/foils to each other?

When I look at Lancaster, both Ruby and Jaune have a lot of character depth that romance was not their top priority or part of their character dynamic. He even treated her as a person and not a kid. And that over time, they naturally develop with one another that it doesn't seem forced, and they have a better understanding of each other, that they know what the other is thinking.

For Yang and Blake (I'm not going into full detail and rant as to why those two shouldn't be together), it seems more shallow. These two didn't have great chemistry for each other. Even after the end of vol 1, Yang (in my opinion) treated Blake more like a cat than a person. This could be evident in vol 5, Yang has been Blake's partner, yet she didn't know why Blake ran away until "Weiss" had to explain it. It wasn't til vol 6 that their characters devolved to being romantic interest to one another. And besides the trauma and RWBY, they have nothing in common or share any interest

What's your opinion?

Part of me wants to argue the "romance" bit simply for the fact that Ruby's favorite genre of reading material is romance, but I do see what you mean. Jaune and Ruby were definitely more focused on their own self-improvement, albeit for very different reasons, while attending Beacon. Ruby wanted to be a huntress like the stories she'd read about and like her mom. Jaune wanted to prove himself as a huntsman just like his father and grandfather and their fathers and grandfathers. And yes, every time Jaune and Ruby talk to each other, it's as equals, though Jaune will admit that Ruby is better than him in every way. If Lancaster were endgame, it would be a fantastic showing of true friendship blossoming into something more. Although it's more likely Rosegarden will be Ruby's endgame

I will also spare the rant since it's already been said to death about the significance of Blake and Yang being the endgame ship for their characters. Instead, I'll talk about BMBLB as a ship that was "set up" to be endgame. While I firmly believe that until Volume 5 and 6 that Black Sun would be endgame, I could honestly see them working out pre-Volume 3. Their heart-to-heart in the classroom after Blake was practically killing herself to find a lead on the White Fang was a very touching moment that showed me that Yang really does care about Blake not only as a partner and team-member, but as a friend.

"I'm not asking you to stop. I just want you to take a break."

This is such a beautiful scene and perfectly demonstrates their friendship. In fact, it's, in my opinion, THE BEST BMBLB SCENE EVER! Yes, yes, the forehead touch was very cute, but it felt so out of place for characters who "aren't sure about their relationship". Sure, the "I won't run away again, I promise!" scene is very touching, but it's soured by the fact that they just committed murder and don't acknowledge that fact at all, and it stands better as an acknowledgement of Blake staying with her partner and best friend, Yang. And teaching Blake to dance was a cringey moment that, sure, it could have been a BMBLB moment if we were shown MORE THAN JUST THAT! WHY DIDN'T YOU GIVE US AN EPISODE TO EXPLAIN ANYTHING THAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT?!

Ahem! Excuse me.

tl;dr: Lancaster would have been a great ship if it weren't being torpedoed by Rosegarden, and BMBLB might have made more sense if more effort was put into it in the first place.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #my thoughts #rwby ships #my answer #my answers #bmblb #lancaster

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ashintheairlikesnow · 11 months

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Ghost Story

Jameson's masterlist (scroll down)

CW: Traumatized whumpee/PTSD, references to past murder and torture, some dehumanization references, chronic pain, grief, a wee teensy bit of choking at the end

He fell asleep on the couch with a movie playing, Vincent Shield and Nat settled into armchairs on either side. Shield holds his water bottles like they'll vanish if his knuckles aren't white from the effort, and Jameson had watched him off and on, catching the way one hand shakes a little, the bouncing of his knee. The nearly visible craving for a drink that he tries to drown in juice and water and coffee.

They were there, when the movie started. When he wakes, they're both gone and there's a heavy blanket laid over him. That'd be Nat, always taking a second to do a good thing when she could just ignore it and no one would mind. His crutches are still leaning against the wall, waiting for when he gets up.

He can, vaguely, hear Trash Cat trying to break into a the cabinet in the pantry where her food is kept. The sound of her little paw trying to force it open despite the baby-proofing cabinet lock Nat bought is a constant soft thunk. thunk. thunk. thunk.

"Fuckin' quit it," He groans. The thunking sound briefly pauses.

Rrrrrow? Her little chirp is barely audible, curious and surprised. She must've forgotten he was down here. He hears her tap-tap-tap her way into the doorway, look at him, and then tap-tap-tap her way back to the pantry again.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

His eyes barely blink, working hard to squint and see the time on the clock.

2:45 am.

"Jesus fuck." His voice is a mumble, heavy with his exhaustion, as he rubs a hand over his face. There's stubble around the spaces where scars stay smooth and hairless, the cockeyed lift of one side of his mouth pulled always where a knife had been dragged like cutting cold butter.

Even goddamn better: his legs won't unbend. They stay curled, bent at the knees, throbbing agony down to his toes and up into his hips when he tries to straighten them. He can damn near feel the buckles from the braces he hasn't worn since he stabbed Brute to death. He can damn near hear Robert's echoing, rasping laughter.

He can't walk. He could hardly crawl.

He doesn't want to crawl around like a fucking dog anymore.

Maybe he'll just stay here til dawn. Why the fuck not?

The house is silent around him, with that particular empty weight of a home waiting for its people to bring it back to life come morning. A place between something and nothing, and Jameson isn't enough on his own to fill it.

He's barely a drop in the bucket of what you need to feel alive, at a time like this. Absolutely alone in the darkness, staring up at an old popcorn-style ceiling where a fan spins lazily, barely moving air.

Hey.

His head whips to the side at the voice, wide-eyed, pushing himself up on his elbows, heart pounding. There's someone in the doorway between the entryway and the living room, where Trash Cat had been before, watching him in shadow.

You passed out on the couch again. Gonna go to bed any time soon, or am I going to have to tiptoe around your dumb ass in the morning?

His head hurts. Maybe from having woken up from dreaming at the wrong time, it pulses pain with the same rhythm as his heartbeat, at the throb in his knees. They pull up even tighter, and he has to bite back a whimper he absolutely will not let out.

"... who the fuck-"

Call Mom, by the way. You haven't called her in like a week. She says you have 48 hours or she's calling the cops.

He collapses back against the arm of the couch, breathing slowly. His headache is taking over, wiping everything away but itself. Jameson closes his eyes.

Is he still goddamn asleep?

He counts to ten, breathing more slowly and evenly with each number. Then, on the final, torturously slow exhale, he cracks his eyes open again.

The shadow is still there. It hasn't turned into a person, only sort of smudged outline of one. There's a hint of blue jean seams down the legs, the suggestion of hair very much like his own. Even the glimmer of dim moonlight and streetlight from outside against a pair of hazel eyes.

Not that he can see what color they are from here.

He just... knows.

Just like he knows the taste of that voice, even though he can't remember having ever heard it in his life. It's a taste he's known his entire life.

Did you hear me, dumbass? I said call Mom.

"... who the fuck are you?"

Hey, so, while you're here. It's like he didn't say anything, or like the shadow is acting out the words of a script, not actually present or hearing anything he says. It moves, and Jameson flinches violently backwards only to see a beam of moonlight pass right through it as it goes past him, to the window. One grayish-nothing arm lifts, like peering through the blinds. I wanted to say... fuck. I guess just... sorry. About the other night.

"Wh-what-"

It was stupid. I knew you liked her and I still asked her out. That was really shit of me to do, Johnny, I'm sorry about that. You're just way better than me at getting girls to, like, see you...

"I d-don't know what the fuck you're talking-... who's-"

His head.

The pain is like a flash of lightning, bright white and chilled ice behind his eyes. He can't hold this sound back and whines like a goddamn animal as he curls up, hands up over his head, pressing his palms against his eyelids like somehow he can force the pain out of him if he only tries hard enough. The flashes keep sparking, again and again.

"Oh, God-... oh fuck, jesus-"

I broke up with her anyway. So, like. Sorry. Again. Can we not fight about shit like girls, anyway? I hate it. Who am I supposed to talk to if I can't talk to my brother, you know?

Tears run hot like tracks of sun-soaked water through desert down his cheeks. He's sure they'll leave rising blisters in their wake, as he chokes back one sob, and then another. His heart is twisted up in his throat and his legs are bent and useless, his hands hurt where his fingers are twisted into his hair, yanking at it ineffectually, unconsciously. "Please, it h-hurts, fucking stop-"

It's not your fault, Johnny. I was the idiot, you know? We had a fight, fights happen. I didn't have to leave it like that. I shouldn't have left it like that. Still. You didn't have to leave it like that, either. Takes two to fix a fight, right? You could have apologized, too.

There's a long beat of silence.

His headache starts, finally, to slide somewhere further back in his mind. It's still there, still a throbbing immovable force, but he can just barely manage to open his eyes.

The shadow is an inch away, staring at him.

Why didn't you apologize first?

He flinches backwards again, and the sharp spike feels like ice picks right through his eyes as his back arches, a tense bow of pain everywhere. An electric shock, discipline for the wrong thoughts, false memories clawing their way to the surface.

He hasn't worn a shock collar since training, but his body knows what happens when he remembers the life he left behind.

It punishes him anyway.

Why did you let me walk off by myself in the dark, Johnny?

"No-... no-... I s-signed up, I don't want you, I didn't want you anymore, it was t-too much, fuck, fuck off, fuck you, I didn't want to hurt anymore they promised I wouldn't miss you anymore, go away go away go away they took you out of my fucking head go the fuck away this hurts-"

Everything would be okay if you had stopped me. But you just let me walk away, like an asshole.

The shadow of his dead brother watches him with unsettlingly calm eyes, the thatch of his dark hair, the glint of teeth straightened by years of braces.

You let me walk away angry at you. You let me walk right up to him, didn't you? You never even tried to stop me from leaving. Who would I be if you hadn't let me die?

"Please... please, Hank-"

I was still alive when he threw me in that ditch near the woods, remember? Do you think I was awake? For that last hour or so? Do you think I was conscious? Do you think I was thinking about you?

The shadow of his brother might be smiling.

Do you think that I was still angry when he slit my throat?

Jameson pulls the blanket over his head. He can't think of anything else to do but hide.

The shadow can't find him here. The reality of everything he did, everything that's his fault, can't follow him this far into the warm darkness. The murder he could have stopped by being a better brother just one night out of a thousand belongs to the cold and the light.

It can't find him here.

It's ridiculous and childish and yet the voice goes silent, then, and his tongue goes numb. Seconds tick by, tracked by a clock Nat has on the wall. The quiet is heavy and Jameson fills it with every single thing WRU ever taught him.

His lips move mindlessly. He's never forgotten a single sentence. Every chant, every mantra, every constant repetition of his own lost humanity pushes the reality of what led him to it further and further away.

He keeps his eyes closed tightly, shivers in the chill of a cold white room entirely in his own mind, and whispers I signed up for it for a reason, I signed up for this, I was a slut with no future, I didn't want to be a person anymore, I ruined lives, it's all my fault, I'm better off this way, I don't have to hurt anymore, no one else will die because of me, I was made for this I was made for this I was made for this again and again.

The sense of the shadow watching him doesn't fully fade until he closes his own hands around his throat and tightens just enough to feel like a collar, just enough that he has to fight a little for air.

How long he stays like that, he doesn't know.

But eventually he realizes he can hear Trash Cat again, still trying inexorably to find a way into the cabinet where her food has been maliciously kept away from her need to constantly eat at all hours of the day.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Rrrrrow? Rrrrow. Thunk. Thunk.

He had a nightmare, he thinks.

Thunk.

Some kind of weird-ass dream. Something that tasted like a voice, frightening enough to have his heart beating and his body feeling wrung out and aching, like he was throwing punches in his sleep. Fighting something. Or fleeing from something.

What did he dream about?

There was a shadow, and hazel eyes, and a voice...

Thunk. Thunk.

Trash Cat apparently gives up. He hears her little paws tap-tapping along the floor as she tries her luck at shredding the toilet paper in the bathroom.

The nightmare's gone. He can't remember what was bothering him any longer. Still, his heart races and fear is a cold stone in his stomach. Fear and the sense that he has done something terrible. Something he can never make up for or take back.

He doesn't go back to sleep.

He waits, watching the ceiling fan spin, for the safety of dawn.

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turianosauruswrex · 2 months

Note

Peregrine and alone, break, and ghost?

!!!!! Thank you I'm so excited to talk about my son

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there’s no one around to see them?

Ooh this is really good. I think Peregrine hasn't really been left alone alone that much-- they grew up in the Church of Bhaal, which I've been kind of playing as a conglomerate of 20th century cults with an added dose of murder (this is because I'm fascinated by cults), SO a lot of that was built-in community and isolation from everyone else outside of it. They've been alone in the sense that all of their companions from age 10 have been Bhaalists. It's dangerous to get attached to Bhaalists, because either they're going to kill you or they're going to die horribly. Or you both will! The Church of Bhaal is not one for fostering close relationships, so while there is like, a constant presence of others, people constantly watching you to see if you step out of line or live up to the whole Bhaalspawn thing, there's still loneliness.

Per thought they could handle this! They're Bhaal's favorite little prince (citation needed), they're basically royalty in the Waterdeep temple, less so in the Baldur's Gate one because of the Anchevs, but still! They're above the rest of the temple; all they need is their Father's approval, right? Right?

They don't, actually. They were painfully lonely for a hundred years, despite being surrounded by their Family. And then they kind of accidentally befriended a target they were supposed to kill, Eileen. And then they kind of accidentally befriended a priest, Caoimhe. And then they fell in love with the priest.

They deal with loneliness by suppressing it, tamping it down til it's barely anything at all, and then at the first show of kindness it all explodes. When they're alone, no one around to see them, they busy themselves so they don't get lost in thought. Per is naturally very anxious, and they have done literally a century's worth of work to get that in check. Their best method is distraction.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Hahahahahahahaha oh this has happened. Not in campaign yet, in backstory. So the priest, right? (hi @sparky-sparkerson) Like I said, they kind of caught feelings for him, it was mutual, BUT Peregrine thought he ended up choosing the Church of Ilmater over them. They got pissed, they lashed out, they said some extremely unkind things to this poor man, and then when the priest said he loved them and Peregrine almost said it back Bhaal stopped their fucking heart.

Just for a second! Just briefly! Just enough to flex. But it was enough to spook them and make them run, and they ran to Eileen's house brokenhearted and sobbing in her guest bedroom and wishing they'd never met him, and when she challenged them on that they stuck to their guns. There was another argument. Loud, nasty. They snapped and finally killed her in it, and a week after they reported the assassination done to the Primistress of the Waterdeep temple they ran to Baldur's Gate.

Then three years later they heard a new priest was coming from Waterdeep to Rivington. Ilmatari. They tried to write a paper bird to Caoimhe to apologize, to beg him to meet with them in person again. It turned to ash in their hands.

Peregrine's breakdowns are violent-- most often turned outwards-- and they are messy. Caused more often than not by abandonment, perceived or otherwise, and/or the loneliness they've let build up like toxins. They are feral. They are unstable. Caoimhe has seen them here, and Eileen, and Caoimhe is in Barovia and Eileen is fucking dead, so no one living. Their party hasn't seen a breakdown yet but that doesn't mean it's not coming. At this point, they don't trust the party enough to let them hurt them, so the only thing that could do it currently is disapproval from their Father.

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

Hahahahahahahahahhahahahahhahha Caoimhe and Eileen. They killed one, might as well have killed the other for what the breakup did to him. And while they regretted what they said to him almost immediately, they never got a chance to rectify it. They loved him. They loved him so much, and in the end they were too scared to commit to it like they accused him of being. Between him and Eileen Peregrine was almost ready to turn away from the Church of Bhaal, and instead they just dove deeper into it.

Eileen, their temper got the better of them. She had been working on it with them for so long, and in the end it didn't matter. She did her best and helped them, genuinely, she really did. And she didn't have to do any of it. She could have just called the Watch about the weird elf with knives breaking into her house, but she took a chance on them and how pathetic they looked and it helped them. She died for her efforts.

It haunts them that they hurt people they loved. It haunts them that this, seemingly, was inevitable. Bhaalspawn don't get to have partners. Bhaalspawn don't get to have friends. They don't get to have people who love them. It haunts them that they loved.

The third, secret thing that haunts Peregrine is this: Their only memory of their mother is her body lying broken and bleeding on the ground as they were scooped up and carried away by Bhaalist clergy in black and violet robes. They remember their hands were bloody. They're convinced they killed her. Bhaalspawn don't get to have people who love them.

#asks #latelylavellan #this was SO FUN thank you so much!!!!#per knezevic #blood feud #further context: blue and i do have an au where peregrine does not run when bhaal stops their heart and instead goes back to caoimhe #there are consequences! but there is an au where the breakup isn't permanent!#because i'm a SUCKER FOR IT #emily plays dnd

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ae-neon · 1 year

Text

Reading Throne of Glass (16-18)

Tw: has mentions of rape and suicide

Recap:

Princess Nehemia has arrived at the glass castle. She and Celaena clicked instantly.

The king departed on a secret voyage.

Kaltain Rompier remains pretty and rich as fuck.

One of the competitors died a mysterious and gruesome death.

The competition to find a Champion for the King finally started. Celaena might have found an ally in Nox Owen.

Chapter 16

Celaena and Chaol are having an early morning jog.

Celaena tells us Chaol is jogging and sweating lightly in a white shirt because she knows I'll eat it up. And I did.

Celaena throws up a lot. Like I get it's a physical reaction. But...vomiting hurts. The intense muscle cramps, the acid in your throat, it hurts. Vomiting like this everyday should and would damage her body.

2 weeks since Endovier. 10 days since arrival in the capital. 3 days since the 1st Test. Less than 1 month total. 4 days til the next elimination. Keeping score cause sjm timelines are hilarious.

Everything Chaol does is amazing.

Nevermind, as all men do, he immediately did something to show me I was wrong lol. Humbled and humiliated as I should be.

He sucked on his lower lip for a moment. “When did you get those?” She knew he meant the three enormous lines that ran down her back. “When do you think?” she said. He didn’t reply, (...) “Those three, I received my first day in Endovier.” “What did you do to deserve it?”

What if I jump through the page and curb stomp him

She stared at him without entirely seeing him as the ash-gray sky turned into the bleakness of Endovier, and the hiss of the wind became the sighing of slaves. No, it's actually so devastating, what happened to sjm?? This is such good writing.

The next day at practice, one of the competitors tries to run. Got killed instantly by the guards. So at least the castle security aren't chumps.

Again Celaena makes it clear that her escape attempt at Endovier was a suicide attempt. During her chat with Chaol the previous day would have been a better time to first reveal this. They also talk about a woman in the mines who was raped and murdered. Chaol asks if anyone tried to hurt Celaena in the same way

She says she would have killed anyone that tried. But a part of her wonders if Arobynn had paid for her "safety"

I think revealing the escape attempt was actually a suicide attempt would have tied all this together better:

Celaena sees what happened to that woman, she thinks about why no one has come for her yet and realises 2 things: 1) they eventually will come for her, maybe not a slave but a high up guard even and 2) if it is Arobynn keeping her "safe" it's not because he cares about her life but about her body

And then when she snaps, all of this leads her to the attempted suicide.

Dying—rather than playing in the king’s game—was the only choice left to him.

Chapter 17

The Queen and the Crown Prince are hosting a ball or a banquet, or something.

What had his father been thinking when he decided to host this contest? Dorian is asking the real questions.

The queen doesn't know about the competition and the criminals living in the castle? Divorce your husband, ma'am

...she was swathed in yards of forest-green velvet and floating scarves and shawls of gold, and her crown upheld a sparkling veil...

...he was wearing an outfit of his mother’s choosing, sent to him this morning: a vest of dark bluish-green velvet, with almost ridiculously billowy white sleeves bursting from the blue-and-white-striped shoulders. The pants, mercifully, were light gray, though his chestnut suede boots looked too new for masculine pride.

The Havilliards are dripped out.

Rhysand is somewhere crying, still wearing black on black when it's not Illyrian Leather Wednesdays

I like Queen Georgina.

She's worried Dorian frowns too much, he smiles apologetically, they talk about letters Hollin has sent from school - Hollin is naughty and hates school, Dorian was always well behaved - and she tells Dorian he needs to start thinking about marriage.

Do you wish to become king and die without an heir so Hollin can take the throne?” He didn’t answer. “I thought so.” lmao

This moment that hints towards Georgina being racist doesn't quite fit for me. There's something weird about how sjm is handling Eyllwe but that needs to be its own post.

Georgina is right. Dorian should marry Nehemia. (Again, if there's a fic, I need it)

But his father never did anything without a reason—and from the few words he’d exchanged with Nehemia, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had her own motivations in coming here, too.

???????????????????????

Dorian himself is a rebel who told his father to his face that he doesn't want to rule conquered kingdoms but we're supposed to believe he's suspicious of Nehemia because she's rumoured to side with the rebels and wanted to shut down a labour camp??

Dorian agrees with the second bit not because it's slave labour but because he saw "the horrors Endovier inflicted on Celaena Sardothien's body" ????

Celaena hates the kingdom of Ardalan and it's king because he is actively committing genocide but she's glad the people of the White Fang Mountains were oppressed to the point the women and children took their own lives rather than be captured... Because then Chaol - who is in Rifthold and not Anielle AND already gave up his lordship, so actually completely removed from the situation - wouldn't have to fight someone like Cain???

The answer is no. I refuse

“It’s a pity that Lady Kaltain has an agreement with Duke Perrington,” his mother went on. “She’s such a beautiful girl—and so polite. Perhaps she has a sister.”

I literally told y'all: Kaltain Rompier is hot af.

Sarah J Maas make a woman an antagonist without implying she's hypersexual or a sexual abuser challenge: failed.

I wouldn't be bothered or inclined to ignore something like that but it's 3 for 3 and men are never held to the same standard so just like sjm and her stans I'm gonna ignore what I wanna ignore. Sue me.

I like Dorian but SJM will not convince me to sympathise with a man - a prince of an empire, mind you - because he's bored of his nice life.

The idea that Dorian is dissatisfied and feels trapped by his position in life could and should have been conveyed better than that.

Some nobles started dancing, weaving in and out among each other. Many were his age, but he somehow felt as if there existed a vast distance between them. He didn’t feel older, nor did he feel any wiser, but rather he felt . . . He felt . . . He felt as if there were something inside him that didn’t fit in with their merriment, with their willing ignorance of the world outside the castle. It went beyond his title.

This is better.

I hate when authors write nobles or royals who are so surprised and offended at the idea of marriages arranged for power or the producing of heirs. Be serious for a moment, I'm begging you, you are making your character look insane.

Especially since it seems like Dorian has slept with many of these women before. He feels they are good enough to fuck but they aren't good enough to be his wife?? As if they themselves aren't nobles?? Jail.

This immediately makes him look like not just a misogynistic pos - which can maybe excused within the narrative context - it makes him look like a pompous brat, which clashes severely with his "actually smart and rebellious Prince wearing the mask of a flirty brat"

Dorian leaves the ball, restless and comes across Celaena training but...

There she was. Her golden hair shone as she wove in and out of a knot of three guards, her sword little more than a steel extension of her hand. She didn’t balk at the guards as she dodged and twirled around them. Someone began clapping to the left, and the four dueling figures stopped, panting. Dorian watched a grin spread across the assassin’s face as she beheld the source. The sheen of sweat illuminated her high cheekbones, and her blue eyes sparkled. Yes, she was truly lovely. But— Princess Nehemia approached, clapping. She was clad not in her usual white gown, but rather in a dark tunic and loose trousers, and she clutched an ornately carved wooden staff in one hand. The princess clasped the assassin on the shoulder, and said something to the girl that made her laugh.

Nehemia x Celaena >>>>

If Celaena really is sjm's self insert, she had to have had a crush on a girl around this time

Dorian: omg this assassin can't be alone with the Princess! I must intervene.

The Assassin and the Princess: 🤨🙄😒 ummm, we're literally in the middle of something, please leave?

She shrugged and made to turn away. Irritated, but slightly curious, he grabbed her arm. Her turquoise eyes glittered as she stared at his hand, and his heart quickened when her gaze rose to his face. Yes, sweaty as she was, she was beautiful.

"Aren’t you afraid of me?” She glanced at his sword belt. “Or are you as deft at handling your sword as Captain Westfall?” He stepped closer, tightening his grip. “Better,” he whispered in her ear. There: she was blushing and blinking.

I get what's happening but I still feel more for her interactions with Nehemia and Chaol.

“It simply can’t happen. She’s here to learn our customs, not to spar.”

“She’s a princess. She can do what she likes.”

Yea. I really like Celaena. Dorian is down 15 points.

Dorian and Nehemia sparing is unexpected but okay.

I get why this is happening and if the core 4 were our main characters throughout the series I wouldn't mind but I wish SJM had grown out of having every character be able to physically fight.

Chaol and Celaena being fighters make sense, Dorian and Nehemia being able to weapon play to some extent makes sense as well but I want there to be a clearer distinction between the warriors and the politicians.

Chapter 18

Celaena smiled as she watched the Crown Prince of Adarlan lead the Princess of Eyllwe through the basic steps of fencing.

Consider: polyamory

Ah, the first mention of Sam, Celaena's old assassin boyfriend I think. Everyone and their mom is sad about Sam.

Princess Nehemia lunged, slapping Dorian on the wrist with her sword. Celaena bit down her laughter. He grimaced and rubbed the sore joint, but then smiled as the princess began gloating. Damn him for being so handsome! She leaned against the wall and would have enjoyed the lesson had someone not grabbed her arm hard enough to hurt. “What is this?” Dragged from the wall, she found herself facing Chaol. “What is what?” “What is Dorian doing with her?” She shrugged. “Sparring?” “And why are they sparring?” “Because he volunteered to teach her how to fight?” Chaol practically shoved her from him as he approached the pair. They stopped, and Dorian followed Chaol to a corner. They spoke quickly—angrily—before Chaol came back to Celaena. “The guards will take you to your chambers.”

Excuse you?? Rude as hell.

“That’s absurd!” she cried, and a pinch from Chaol kept her voice down. not to bring irl problems into it but on a serious note, sometimes I really worry about Sarah Janet. Pinching, as a sort of warning or punishment for "acting out" is actually one of the most common precursors of domestic violence.

I'm not saying Chaol is abusive or anything. This story obviously stands alone and has morality which is constructed with its context in mind. But Sarah never stops including serious but subtle signs of domestic violence in her romances - even the ones she herself believes to be best. I'm not talking about forcing someone to hike until they collapse or keeping personal information from them or even lashing out in anger - small things like following up disparaging language with assurances of love, pinching, being overly nice to everyone else but telling one person they have to act a certain way to earn that same level of affection etc the little things slip through the cracks and poison the minds of impressionable people

Celaena brings up her vomiting and the damage to her body. Very well done.

Anyways Celaena and Chaol argue and he orders her back to her room. The second Test is coming up the next day.

----------

The familiar cracks are starting to show - sjm will build up her characters to be a certain way then betray their characterisation through hypocritical thoughts or actions. She does this to try to show the reader that the character is changing how they think for the sake of the love interest but we're two weeks and less than 20 chapters in. It just makes the characters look flaky.

Overall I'm still riding the high of it being so much better than acotar

Chaol and Dorian are both down points

Nehemia and Celaena are precious darlings

Queen Georgina Havilliard is a legend. I love moms being moms.

#ae read #ae reads throne of glass #anti sjm #but not really #celaena sardothien #nehemia ytger #dorian havilliard #chaol westfall

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victoria1676 · 2 years

Note

(This is gonna be a long one so yeah, sorry—)

Aight, it's time for me to take this out or else I'll become a NO THOUGHTS, HEAD EMPTY. Anywho— got a scenario in my head that I laughed for a good solid 30 secs and such but, thinking about that one old(maybe?) clip of a stream where Tubbo and Ranboo are just doing their own respective shit and this is the clip btw; ya just incase if ya don't get what I mean hehe.. ("~ŪvŪ)~`` https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSdPmHmyx/

(It's from Ranboo's perspective btw-)

And I just imagine Reader and Rubedo on this one, just her trying out flirting (didn't just suspiciously get any advice from Tommy or Wilbur oh no no no— _(-_-*)>)

Anyway, imagine this scenario in Mondstadt oh boy CHAT would just be vibing while Reader's trying her best to test her flirting skills/abbilities on Rubedo; keyword, *trying* gosh my man can't catch a break on any SAGAU shit huh

Rubedo: *just noticed reader sipping her tea at Hunter's and whatnot and approached (,,Ô-Ô,,)!*

Rubedo: Hey Y/N,

Y/N: *who noticed, and an evil smug grin grew on her face* Hey, seggsy~~

Rubedo: *who's now an utter stuttering messy bitch* H-how are- How a-are y- How are- H-

Y/N: PFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT— *now slowly dying. AGAIN and spitted her tea, what another way to waste some good hot tea ,(Ù-Ú*)

Rubedo: *flushed as a red as a certain red head's hair and now "tUrNInG aWaY" yeah right ya scaredy little shit (ō—ō)* I DoN't wANt tO Be hEre AnYMorE—..

Whilst in the very background:

Chat and the other acolytes (who tried to murder us, ofcourse):

Acolytes: ThAT ShOulD HaVe bEeN mE!! (Well, ya tried to kill her at first glance ya sacks of shits. Go deal w/ it yourselves gosh, annoying little fucks thinking so high and mighty eh?? (*,ÒAÓ),)

Chat: *just fucking vibing their asses off while some becoming a bunch of cawking teasing little shitty gremlins

- Man acolytes, no bitches??

- Maidenlesssssssss~~~

- Now where did I see that from tho-

- L

- Emetional damage, right there.

Y/N: *still amused and laughing her ass off til she pass out from lack of air flows*

Acolytes: *sUlIkiNg SO SadLy* (yeah right cry)

Rubedo: *just wants to crawl into a hole and die-

And that's their kids, is how the creator; their devine grace flirted for the first to their most devoted acolyte. And also remember kids, be BI and do CRIME—

(Thanks for reading this shitty rant of mine, and hope you have a good laugh as much as I did gosh- dont stress urself and have good day/noon/afternoon/night!)

Unfortunately Reader is actually good at flirting HHAHAHAHAHAHA

Quackity commented that the only bold woman in the Dream SMP is Reader he says that she has a huge dom aura around after he saw Sapnap got his ass kicked from reader and also flirt with him to catch the arson off guard-he also wished to be stepped on and flirted by her-Wilbur vouched him even Techno and Tommy agreed that their sister is actually a good filrt ('And better at getting girls then Wilbur' Tommy said before screaming as he saw the brunette running at him).

So Naturally it's quite hard to find reader to flirt sometimes as she can flirt when she's bored or she's just doing it to see the reactions. Considering she's always very calm, kind and chill until you piss her off and she'll go crazy or battle maniac on her enemies.

Childe fell in love with his God ever since he accidentally pissed off his god and wish to be stepped on by her//slapped.

So honestly everyone wouldn't think she could flirt until they saw her being very bold in flirting with one of the characters.

Kaeya is one of the victims and both of been at it to the point chat kept screaming to the whole nation with the word "DEFFO FLERTING!!"

So yeah there is a chance she could flirt with Rubedo in Soft Au or in Imposter AU and Villain Au.

Although she doesn't flirt that much in Imposter AU and Villain Au but she does flirt only in a rare time in that AU. Soft Au she would definitely flirt to catch them off guard 😂😂😂

Anyways Imma stop rambling and get on with what you asked XD

In imposter AU she would flirt with Rubedo onky because she's bored and doesn't care if the acolytes saw it.

And in fact this could happen in Angels share :3 Not in Good Hunter cause ImposterAu/VillainAu SAGAU Reader still holds a grudge on them for killing her in the execution of the totem didn't save her.

Also take note this is a What if and not canon in my story unfortunately 😭😂😂

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Ah there you are (Y/n)" Rubedo said seeing you sitting down and drinking your tea.

You saw and decided to see his reaction while pretending your taking a sip.

"Hello there sexy~"

Rubedo froze.

Chat is laughing there ass off but you could hear one of the crows already dying from their wheeze when they just saw Kaeya spitting out his wine while Venti accidentally smashed his drink over his face, Eula choked on her beer and Diluc dropped the glass he was cleaning.

Rosaria just snorted as she continued drinking her drink. Not even caring of the chaos.

You one the other hand was waiting for Rubedo to say anything so you could say more of your lines.

Instead you gotten a cute Rubedo who looked very adorable in red seeing his calm composure be ruined

(Note: A bit of Spoiler here about my version of Rubedo here is that this Rubedo hasn't gotten bold or fire back at reader yet since I can imagine reader meeting him or finding him when he didn't know how to flirt properly then in the canon of my story where he can fire back flirts and insults yet)

"How-a-are- H-How are you-…How a-are y-oh my god"

You cackled out as you dropped your tea on accident and started smacking the table seeing the your acolyte just speechless and couldn't reply to you properly as he had never knew you would flirt at him.

Meanwhile the chat…

"HE'S BLUSHING!!"

"LMAOOO L!!"

"RIPPPPP"

"DEFFO FLERTING!"

"How…unexpected of our creator" Kaeya chuckled darkly with envy as he crushed his wine glasses.

Diluc tried to calm himself down as he almost burned the counter.

Eula looked liked she wanted to summon her claymore for Vengeance.

And Venti?

"IT'S UNFAIR!!" Venti wailed, "HOW COME HE GETS TO SEE A RARE SIGHT OF OUR GOD TO BE FLIRTING!?"

"TAKE THE L BITCH!"

"HAHAHAHHAHAHAH"

"F"

"L"

"LOSER!"

"KARMA BITCHES!"

The crows in the tavern insulted the vision users who didn't care and continued glaring at the red Rubedo as you kept laughing and wheezing.

"And that right there folks" one of the chat said before pointing both wings at the jealous vision users, "Is Emotional Damage"

-----------------------------------------------------------

Welp I just wrote this at 12 midnight HAHHAHAHAHAHA

I DON'T EVEN HAVE CLASS IN THE MORNING SO WHOOWHOO HAHAHAHAH

Anyways enjoy this one-shot ;3

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ghostboyjules · 1 year

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It appears the last two (2)….times I’ve tried creating this post, tumblr thought I was too wordy, so I’m going to attempt to get in and get out before it eats itself again

this playlist (a Dream of the Endless™ character examination via my silly brain and sad ass music) took me entirely too long and I'm going to throw my laptop out of the window if I have to look at it any longer so pls pls take it and I hope that if you listen or even read the lyrics that you find something new, or hear something you like.

This absolutely would not have ever seen the light of tunglr.hell if not for the beautiful souls of the Sandman fandom, and a few of my new friends and mutuals. So special internet cookies and hugs to these inspirational, encouraging, and beyond talented individuals; @wordsinhaled , @weirdfishy , @wizardofgoodfortune , and @xx-vergil-xx - i love y'all dearly and I hope this is even HALF of what you would have expected, or a quarter of the amazing content y'all have bestowed upon my lil eyeballs. Now Onward! to words that personally injure me!

Florence + The Machine -Too Much Is Never Enough

And the crown, it weighs heavy 'Til it's banging on my eyelids Retreating in covers and closing the curtains One thing's for certain, oh A year like this passes so strangely Somewhere between sorrow and bliss

Oh, who decides from where up high? I couldn't say "I need more time" Oh, grant that I can stay the night Or one more day inside this life

~I first encountered this song in it's source material FFXV, and there it destroyed me. Now, wearing my dumb lil blorbo glasses yet again, it is back with vengeance..goth royalty sad wet cat flavored (gross), vengeance. "too much is never enough" .... oh sweeties...

VIRA - God Complex

God, I could try To be the one To be the one I'll tear down the sky What do you want? I'll do it all for life My love, my alibi Tonight, tonight I'll try to do it for you

I'm gonna be where you are Doesn't matter how far Because we are meant to be I'm gonna be what you need Darling, please worship me Unless you prefer to plead

~pretty sure this is the angriest sounding song on this thing? but it is fitting.. and desperate.. and wanting and... painful. when she grits out 'try' and 'sky' the way she does.. god the emotion. this just brought to mind Dream and falling for someone hard enough to the point of destructive devotion...

AJJ - Body Terror Song

It will betray you Be used against you Then it will fail on you, my dear But before that, you'll be a doormat For every vicious narcissist in the world Oh, how they'll screw you all up and over Then feed you silence for dessert

~ I love seeing people explore the idea of Dream just...not vibing with being fully corporeal. At least not in the way he is while in the Waking.. what a mood, and especially after the fishbowl...whew.

Philip Wesley - Lamentations of the Heart

[Instrumental~]

~I wanted to include a few instrumental tracks in here and this one felt apt because I used to fall asleep to this album all the time. Like it was one of the only ones I could fall asleep to with any certainty. The feeling and title for this one tho struck me with Dream specifically so I went with it. The rest of the album is so nice though, highly rec.

Iris Lune - Paper Mache

Save me from myself I've been in the dark too long Paper mache love Make me believe that I can change Make me believe that I'm not strange At all

~ this song!! it sounds so so ethereal and her voice is GORGEOUS but the lyrics!! have mercy the lyrics! big ole owwie! "save me from myself" , "make me believe that I can change, make me believe that I'm not strange" hhhh (also if y'all couldn't tell, this will be dreamling flavored, I think I'll tag them too jic but. yes...)

Penny and Sparrow - A Kind of Hunger

tremble, recognize the distance Go try and murder every preference I’ll keep hangin' ‘round for reference come care about me come care about me

changing, watching you with wonder you’re less and getting even younger dying is just a kind of hunger come care about Me come care about Me

~this is... such a heavy song. hadn't heard it before starting this playlist but found it and immediately had to add it.. just. come care about me. changing, watching you with wonder. Dying is just a kind of hunger. that line specifically. -lays on the floor for 3hrs-

Carly Rae Jepsen - Gimme Love

Gimmie love (Oh) It's the way we are together (Oh) Wanna feel like this forever, forever (Oh) It's the way we are together And I never thought I'd ever say forever

~originally was gonna be a joke song to lighten the mood but haha! nope! I mean it is lighthearted but it still absolutely, in my mind, fits Morpheus. beautiful babygirl of the endless...smooch

Jon Bellion - Stupid Deep (Acoustic)

What if who I hoped to be was always me? And the love I fought to feel was always free? What if all the things I've done Were just attempts at earning love? Yeah 'Cause the hole inside my heart is stupid deep, oh, stupid deep

~this song fucks me up! 😀 for real though, I highly suggest watching the acoustic performance of this that he has on youtube cause the vibe is so.. intimate and dreamy and gorgeous.. and the lyrics.. jon bellion, sir.. smh.. the ending..

Marika Hackman - Undone, Undress

They heard my heart for miles The air inside Was seeping out In silent shouts It crumpled in my chest

~this is definitely... a nightmarish..creeping kind of song, and the lyrics are, according to the Genius annotations, rather distressing but I don't really see them the same way. I can't really explain it but hopefully y'all will see what I mean. love this one specifically "Load me heavy, I can't bend. Break me better, so I won't mend" break me better.... hhhhhh

DBMK - Switchblade

Did you hear I coughed my heart out? It never fit me so I'm likely to drown My body yearns for something real now Suggesting kitchen counters, can openers, and close encounters to hold me down Ain’t no one's boyfriend, wow I'm busy up in my brain but they don't see anything, yeah

I open up too easily, look at me Single sided blade of insecurities, yeah I open up too easily, speak to me Cutting through my comfort like its misery, sad

~this. SONG. he just like me fr 😔 azdcafs nah, honestly idk if this is projecting, but to MEE I like to think about Dream being so ready for a partner, and he gives so so much of himself to them and loves so passionately but he also has just... so many issues. just ugh this song..

Blegh - His Hands

He feels handcrafted just for you But he's a little bit too far away and You can't, you can't His hands are on you And you know you'll be gone by the morning but you know he loves you And you know you like his strong hands, strong hands

You're too real for me You should go to something better I'll give you to someone better I have friends that'll be on earth for longer I have friends that won't feel like monsters

~another song that I was not prepared for before hand that ruined me so viciously, that I had to scream at multiple ppl about it, most of which were mentioned in this post, but Verg's reaction was very memorable because I believe she told me she was on public transportation and the way she phrased it had me rolling around on the floor. but yeah y'all just gotta hear this fuckin,... bear mace of a song (with your Dreamling Glasses™ on pls, as i believe it is meant to be asxacsgdcvc)

Agent Fresco - Wait for Me

I can’t see clear The rage of rivers roam every tear They all fall through vague and vast tunnels With hurts of hatred came blinding years Will they disappear?

I’m far away, treading a path I’ve made and it’s laid with stones of fallen love I need to feel and to make atonement before coming home

~-motions to song- I mean... c'mon... this alone? nah nah nah..I gotta lay down.

Talos - Endgame

I’m drawn across An empty space This dreamland now A tired waste O it’s the endgame

A blackout heart A seething truth There’s nothing in me Left for you We’re lies

~ Talos...Talos Talos Talos... y'all. if you don't know him, but like indie-ish electronic music with beautiful angelic Irishman vocals? pls... he makes me insane. He also just gives me Morpheus vibes in general, I'm not exactly sure why, but... I also think the cover art on his first two albums are very Morpheus energy, could just be me tho

Emma Ruth Rundle - Savage Saint

I held him, his whole life In my hands, in my heart

Don't be ever forgotten, Savage Saint Never draw blood in the garden, faint Don't be the name that's drawing shame and Never let your heart harden, little flame

~I knew I had to have Emma Ruth in here somewhere, but it took me a second to find the perfect song.. and I was torn between a few, but I saw this one and. Immediately my heart was out of my body. Thinking about Orpheus.. and Dream thinking about Orpheus.. draw blood in the garden,,, I held him his whole life.. in my hands in my heart.. little flame.. it seems I am upsetti spaghetti.

Sleeping at Last - Neptune

Stitch by stitch, I tear apart If brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy Thread by thread, I come apart If brokenness is a work of art Surely this must be my masterpiece

I'm only honest when it rains If I time it right, the thunder breaks When I open my mouth I wanna tell you, but I don't know how I'm only honest when it rains An open book with a torn out page And my ink's run out I wanna love you, but I don't know how

~Sleeping at Last my beloved <3 ... if I could snort 'atlas pt 1 the album' I fuckin would. also there's a song on there for literally any blorbo. i could bet my life on that. somewhere on there! "if brokenness is a work of art, surely this must be my masterpiece" ah hah.. hahaha..

Sea Power - Want To Be Free

Now we're under the stars Smoking cigars On top of a motorcar Hanging out Like some kind of nebula We

Want to be free Want to be free It will last forever Eternally

~this one was more for vibes and because it's beautiful, but also if I think too hard about Morpheus and how he just wants to be normal and rest for a little while, then I will have to go eat a whole bag of chocolate chips and cry myself to sleep.

Clem Turner - Divine Loser

"Connect yet stay opaque," I cannot have it both ways Please do not tell the time I can't be trusted with the date

My god, you break the skin But may I be thy heaven? Will you take my sickness While I deprive you of your health?

~haha Divine Loser..defo Morpheus (jk. or am I) that second part I included.. I keep having to re-read those lyrics, cause.. my goodness. there's a part later that says "baby just let me bleed in peace" like... whoof. Clem Turner is the only person on here twice, mostly cause these two songs are just so phenomenal I had to and the lyrics... SHMACK.. and Clem's VOICE?? pardon me?

Clem Turner - Honeywell

Get it through your pretty head Take me with you instead Forget her, she's gone So, tell me, dear stranger What's got you distraught?

Mm, here I am to bring Psychosomatic freedom to your head May I be of service, newlywed? See me as a host to all your greatest dreams And then some change As long as your compassion stays the same

~"So tell me, Dear Stranger, what's got you so distraught?" Um..is that in a dreamling fic, cause... 👀 and then "see me as a host to all your greatest dreams and then some change, as long as your compassion stays the same." running in circles, sobbing, hopping out my window, running into the woods...etc

Mustapha Kamel - Can You Feel Me

[Instrumental~]

~ this song just makes me -lays face down in the carpet for 2+ hrs- and the cello is gahdamn gorgeous..

The New Basement Tapes - When I Get My Hands On You

When I come home to you Gonna take you down to the riverside When I come home to you Hold you in my arms all night

And now you know Everywhere on earth you go You're gonna have me as your man

~ Mushy Dream Rights!!! let this inconceivable being be a sap!! I love seeing him clingy and sweet and so so in love and just AAAHHH I could literally weep, I love this weird scrungly man.

Glass Animals - JDNT

I'm all armored up I've got my old helmet on Keeping out an eye Puffing all my feathers up One more little blow One more tap and I collapse

~heehee another nightmarish song. not only is this a fuckin BANGER, but Glass Animals has such a.. Sound. that's dreamlike most of the time, but sometimes can be so.. tense and creepy, and the lyrics can be violent and just downright odd. mostly from the zaba album, but regardless. I could talk about Dream + Glass Animals for hours, as proven with N (@wordsinhaled) because we have done exactly that, I think twice now lolololol (also I thought the line abt the helmet was.. hehe funny)

ABRA - Pride

Palms up, no crown You wanna mess around I wanna hold you down It's not okay I need you everyday

I lost all the pride That I thought I could keep Can you see me Say you feel me It's a big world But I fall at your feet Reach out and touch me

~ this was originally an entirely different song! but I switched it out last minute and I am v happy that I did because this song..this song fucks severely, but also it lets me put a facet of Dream on this playlist that I love seeing, which is the needy and seductive lil bastard that he can be. i think i could make a whole other playlist dedicated to that aspect tbh azcacdfavcg

Purity Ring - Asido

Oh, the madness in weakness Doubled o'er on the plate Fill an ocean with weaponry Hurricanes of our grace

Feel as lonely as I do, as I do Feel as lonely as I do, I do Feel as lonely as I do

~I wanted some Purity Ring on here because I know their genre is sometimes described as dream pop or witch house, and their lyricism has this... poetically visceral aspect to it sometimes that I adore while also being very ethereal. Love them. also tho, feel as lonely as I do?? of course it had to be in here.

Hozier - It Will Come Back

Don't let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey, don't feed me, I will come back

It can't be unlearned I've known the warmth of your doorways Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you Oh, please, give me mercy no more That's a kindness you can't afford I warn you, baby, each night, as sure as you're born You'll hear me howling outside your door

~ okay look, I know everybody and their mother who has made a playlist like this has put Mr. Andrew Hozier-Byrne on it, but like - come on.. look at those lyrics. He just Gets It™ and the music slaps ass! I have like, an actual Dreamling playlist in the works as well, which I'm sure will be... longer. but hopefully I'll have the foresight to work on it a bit at a time, and PERHAPS prepare a word document, since I cannot seem to help rambling at any chance I get 💀

Son Lux - Labor

I will break with you For your body to be freed and pleased Take the weight of you For your gravity to be erased

Come to life, my hungry arms are begging you But what more can you do?

Labor reveal before our eyes Into our ears Unfurl with light The stars around us disappear Just what is torn What comes alive inside of us

~ I wanted.. something big on here. I don't necessarily have a desired order for this to be played in, but this was the last one I added, if that tells you anything. The opening of this song is a little jarring, but the piano is so. beautiful. Son Lux has such a way of composing their music that just leaves me breathless and astounded at the feelings music can bring forward in me, and speaking in Dream terms, I feel like that would be the kind of song he really appreciates. I'm not gonna end this with rambling about the complexity of human emotion, because I don't believe tumblr could handle me doing that - operation-wise, i feel like it's abt to stab me as is- It's also not why I'm here lol. "I will break with you. For your body to be freed and pleased. Take the weight of you, for your gravity to be erased." the rest of that line literally mentions a phantom muse.. I think, viewing this in terms of Morpheus' marriage, and maybe even how he thinks about marriage as a concept is interesting. On Genius they mention that on a Son Lux insta story they talked about the first half of the song being about helping a friend die, and the second half about the birth of Ryan Lott's son. Looking at in that framing is also,,, WHEW.. okay this paragraph has been long enough lmao

WELL GEEZE.. looks like I've finally made it to the bottom without tumblr shitting itself again, so I'm gonna wrap this up before it gets the chance to. HAH.

If anyone has bothered to read this far; I cannot thank you enough nor can I tell you how much I appreciate you reading my inane mangling of the English language to be overly emo about music and a spindly nightmare of a man, but REGARDLESS. Thank you, I love you, and I would absolutely take a stab wound for you and make you cookies. 💕🖤💕🖤✨

#holy shit.#this is I think. the longest thing I have ever worked on and posted to tumblr dot hellsite..#the sandman #dream of the endless #babygirl of the endless <3 #heh heh sorry i had to. it brings me joy.#also if y'all see typos -other than the on purpose shortening of words cause i am a lazy bastard first and foremost- ... no you didn't #i really mean it tho if you've read all of this AND listened to the playlist?? i would straight up die and kill for you sorry not sorry #okay i'm ... leaving my computer now because i've been here for..#longer than i would like to disclose in my tumblr tags so.. tata for now beloveds #playlist #Spotify #dreamling #a hint of..or flavored ig..#almost forgot to tag them hehe oops

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agena87 · 5 months

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What's In My Bag? Tag game

I was tagged by the awesome @ezra-trait a billion years ago, and I'm sorry for only answering now...

Of course, I had to choose my baby Alfie. One, because I love him (he's like my son), and two, because he's my one OC that carries a bag most of the time (weeeeell, Casey does too, a backpack, but you don't wanna see what's inside, believe me - murder stuff).

Yeah. So, I think that what's inside this bag describes perfectly who Al is and what his story's been 'til now. The most important items - at least for him - are the (too many) meds (some necessary, some... not), the vodka (*sighs*), his parents' picture, his blade (ALFRED! NO!), and his blasted engagement ring (that he still wears most of the time, but will take off sometimes when the situation needs him to - like when he's trying to pull)(someone needs to throw this piece of garbage at the bottom of the ocean asap).

There's also a ton of makeup/beauty stuff 'cause he loves that shit.

The magazine has nothing to do with Mal being naked, what are you saying? He's just proud of his best friend (Wolfie) being such a successful artist (and no, he doesn't have a crush on him any more, pff! Nor does he have one on Mal either. They're happy together, alright? They don't need him.)(YES THEY DO, AL!).

The sweets and Kit Kat aren't for him (except the Tic Tac - he needs them to keep the scent of vodka from being noticeable when he visits his mother) but for Joy because the kid has a sweet tooth (as kids are wont to be) and he wants her to like him. For no other reason than her being his best friends' daughter; he doesn't need her to love him like a parent or anything like that (OK, it was super cute when she called him "Papa" that one time, and maaaaaaaybe he wished she did more often - like, forever)(still, it doesn't mean he's in love with Mal and/or Wolfie, OK? Stop suggesting it!).

The rest is utilitarian/necessary and doesn't really have any significance (OK, he has several tissue packs because he cries quite often; BUT HE'S ALLOWED AFTER ALL THE TRAUMA).

(And look! He's smiling here! Well, smirking, but still! He's starting to heal - veeeeery slowly, but he's doing it! *cries*)

* * *

As for tagging people... I'm so late to answer that I'm pretty sure everyone already did it, but if you didn't (or want to do it again with another character) feel free to say I tagged you, OK?

#tag game #ts4 #the sims 4 #render #oc: alfie dubois #ts4 render #i don't even know why i'm screaming or going on tangents about mal and wolfie and how al doesn't love them (when he does) but whatever #i have so many feels about this kid #he's my baby and i love him as if i carried and delivered him ok?#which i will never ever do because no way in hell i have a child (i would be the worst parent ever)#aaaaaaanyway this was fun to do

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givehimthemedicine · 2 years

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oops I trash talked what I thought was bad writing but it turns out I was the stupid one: Max Mayfield edition

I'm probably the last one to this party but here comes a Max/Billy analysis post in case anyone else is dumb too.

In season 3 I was annoyed that the writers didn't allow Max to be the one to notice something was wrong with Billy. Like, ok, you gotta give certain observations to Eleven because she's the one who Does The Stuff, but can't we let Max have a brain cell too?

She's the only one who knows Billy at all, and yet it takes El to insist that he "seemed wrong" after (1) brief and courteous conversation with him. We know he's being fake-charming in that scene, and so must Max, but El doesn't know what's out of the ordinary for him. She's never met him before.

Then it takes Lucas to point out to her that it's out of character for Billy to be acting like a vampire at the pool, and she concedes that it's "a little weird." Again I was like, why can't SHE be the one to notice?

Actually, Max is smart enough and attentive enough to know something is off about Billy. If anything, she would be hyper observant when it comes to him, as people usually are of their abusers. I guess I should've seen it the whole time if I gave the writers more credit, but: she's not missing anything. She's in denial.

I went back to watch the finding-out-about-Billy parts and wow, somehow I didn't notice how hard Max is trying to NOT find out something is going on with him.

El tells Max about the disturbing Billy/Heather void sighting and Max is like lol, happy screams. She's all reluctant and dragging her feet when El wants to go check out Billy's stuff, like it's some dangerous mission into Billy's House, when she literally also lives there. They're going to have a sleepover there in like 3 hours.

Inside, Max is kind of acting like this isn't also her bathroom (judging from the way we see El brushing her teeth here later, it is). She hangs back. El is the one to notice the ice in the tub and the blood on the cabinet - both in plain sight - and she's the one who goes looking through the trash to find the bloody lifeguard accessories.

Even after they start finding objectively weird stuff, Max tries really hard to explain everything away. The ice was for Billy's muscles. The bloody stuff was, uhh, probably something super normal??

By nightfall she even has an alternate totally normal explanation for the ice tub and missing girl.

Max: Hey, there's nothing to worry about anymore, okay? El: It doesn't make sense. Heather. The blood. The ice. Max: Heather had a fever, so she took a cold bath, but she's better now. That has to be it. I don't know where that blood came from, but we saw her. We both saw her. She's totally fine. El: What about Billy? Max: What about him? El: He seemed... wrong. Max: Wrong is kind of like... his default. But it's nice to know he's not a murderer, because that would've totally sucked.

Dialogue is a nice reminder that El and Max's only concern til now is that Billy is a plain old murderer, because WE already know he's flayed. It takes a huddle with the rest of the gang for them to know that Billy might be in Upside Down trouble. El asks how to tell if someone is a Mind Flayer host, and the next thing you know, we're at the pool and Mike is insisting the tub of ice is MF related, but Max is still rationalizing.

Max: He looks pretty normal to me. Lucas: Normal? How many times have you seen him with a shirt on? Max: I mean... it's a little weird. Mike: More than a little. He was in a tub with ice. The Mind Flayer likes it cold. Max: But he's lounging at the pool, which is like, the least Mind Flayer thing ever.

Now, Billy being flayed is a whole new psychological can of worms for Max.

Her only concept of "flayed" is how Will was last year, and last year, nobody was like "ope, guess Will's evil now, let's kill him." Even after he caused a bunch of deaths, he was (rightly) never considered anything but an innocent victim, and every other character went above and beyond to save Will as their primary objective before stopping the Mind Flayer from literally ending humanity.

So if Billy is flayed, it would cause her to have to potentially help save him, like everybody did Will. But the thing is, Will is a sweet kid and everybody loves him. Nobody loves Billy. Billy is a hard guy to go above and beyond for. The gang's general response to him being flayed is kinda "oh hey, can we kill him now?"

Max is the only one who expresses any desire to help him. This is forcing her to face the concept of Billy being a victim at the same time as a villain, and to try to decide which way to treat him. She chooses compassion. I think it's because she's not thinking entirely about Upside Down stuff, she's thinking about their family.

Billy has the same relationship with the Mind Flayer as he does with his father.

He seemed like a fine little boy until he was isolated with his abusive dad, and eventually grew into an abuser himself. I doubt he ever had a heart to heart with Max about how his parents' divorce affected him and what his life was like before, but Max would obviously know that he's just another cycle of the dad's abuse. (Side note, having been abused does not justify him becoming an abuser, he's responsible for his own actions, this is not a Billy apologist post)

Here is the entirety of Max and Billy's dialogue in the sauna scene. I'd like you to read or watch this and pretend they're talking not about the Mind Flayer, but Billy's dad.

Billy: It's not my fault. It's not my fault. It's not my fault, Max. I promise you, it's not my fault. Max: What's not your fault, Billy? Billy: I've done things, Max. Really bad things. I didn't mean to. He made me do it. Max: Who made you do it? Billy: I don't know, it's like a giant shadow. Please, Max. Max: What did he make you do? Billy: It's not my fault, okay? Max, please. Please, believe me, Max, it's not my fault. I tried to stop him, okay? I did. Please believe me, Max. Please believe me. Max: Billy, it's gonna be okay. We want to help you. We want to help you. You just have to talk to us, okay? You have to talk to us. I believe you, Billy. We'll figure it out together, okay? I need you to trust me.

It works, with the sole exception of the "giant shadow" line (and even that, if I reach, I could make some looming-dad-symbolism argument about).

Max has compassion for this total asshole because she's thinking about how he's also been a victim. And she knows how a victim can become an abuser because she's next. She's already felt the cycle starting over with herself. It was the first real thing she ever said to Lucas.

Max: My stepbrother's always been a dick, but now he's just... angry. All the time. And.. well, he can't take it out on my mom, so.. Lucas: So he takes it out on you? Max: I don't even know why I'm telling you this. It's just I know that I can be a jerk like him sometimes, and I do not want to be like him. Ever. I guess I'm angry, too. And I'm sorry.

Besides being new in town, S2 Max is pretty isolated with her abuse too - she's almost never shown interacting with her mom or stepdad, only Billy. She already has 10 foot walls and a reluctance to show vulnerability or emotions instead of a defensive sarcastic exterior. She's a few steps behind Billy, who you can bet hasn't shown anybody anything except a façade in about a decade.

So well before the sauna, Max has already seriously acknowledged what kind of road she may go down too unless she actively fights it. Unlike Billy, she does. She accepts responsibility, apologizes, and okay she doesn't instantly become a ray of sunshine but over the next year I think she makes some progress.

And I think that's why Vecna says this:

You are brave, Maxine. Much braver than your brother. But in the end you are weak a fragile, just like him.

Yes, in their last encounter, Max yanked out his neck tentacle and ran up that hill. But why would that be the bravery he's talking about? Billy sacrificed himself to physically hold off a gigantic monster for a few seconds. That's not nothing. Why would Max be "much braver"?

Vecna isn't talking about them vs. him. He's talking about them vs. the abuse. Knowing about this stuff is his whole thing. He knows Max is fighting to end the cycles of abuse and addiction in her family while Billy never did. He knows Max as a little girl stood up to Billy, the same way she fought back against Vecna (neck attack parallels btw), while Billy never stood up to his father even as a grown buff dude.

But now Vecna's got her depressed, and those walls are back up and higher than ever, and that isolation makes an easy target. Hence in the end, weak and fragile just like Billy.

Max: Billy, he made my life living hell. Every chance he got. So, sometimes when I would lie in bed at night, I would pray that something would happen to him. Something awful. I knew that he drove too fast, so I would imagine him crashing. Dying in that stupid car. I just I wanted him out of my life. Forever. I wanted him to disappear.

4 Max suddenly makes it much clearer why 3 Max is so deep in denial about anything being wrong with Billy. She wanted something awful to happen to him, and it sure did. And she feels like it's her fault. Not just for standing there and letting him die, but for causing it to happen in the first place.

And that goes for the beginning, too, when all they thought was that Billy might've hurt or killed that girl. Not all of her prayers specified wanting him to die - she just wanted him out of her life. You'd think Max might have been delighted at the possibility of Billy going away to prison, but she wasn't. She was already starting to sweat over a crime she wasn't sure had been committed, because if it had, she would've felt indirectly responsible for that too.

2 Max @God: delete him please 3 Max @God: wait. uhoh 4 Max @God: can we make a deal

#stranger things #max mayfield #billy hargrove #analysis #she been knew #help i love her #mine #character analysis #givehimthemedicine analysis

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historicalasiandramas · 9 months

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CLJ Recaps

TW: child abuse, torture, self harm, gaslighting

Orchid thinks she's in an ep of Scooby Doo while I am in hell. I hated this episode. I hate what the writers are doing and I hate Orchid for constantly ignoring DFQC's boundaries.

Shangque tells her that he doesn't really know much about the murder of DFQC's father. The only thing he know is that forbidden magic was performed, and apparently no one else has ever been able to do it before.

He says that the ritual is recorded in an ancient, secret book and is extremely difficult to perform. It was also extremely difficult to watch, and guess what! We get to see it happen again :)

Ofc Orchid wants to know where the book is and SQ tells her: in the late Moon Supreme's room. Which has been burned to ashes. Let's go anyway!

Shanque and Jieli both try to stop her from entering the forbidden chambers. The punishment for being caught here is: branding, tongue removal, and torture til death.

He straight up tells Orchid that she gets away with shit that nobody else can, but the ONE thing that always sets DFQC off is his father. In 38k years, none who have offended Moon Supreme in regards to his late father have been left alive. Orchid insists that she wants to help ease DFQC's worries and this apparently moves SQ. Jieli babe, you're the only brain cell left!

Meanwhile, Moon Supreme himself is hardcore suffering. The accelerated healing of his Heart Tree has now caused the frozen tundra to reveal an ocean and sunlight. It's too much too fast, and it's causing him to have seizures and sweat. In his frustration, he goes directly to the source and attempts to burn the tree with hellfire. Despite being engulfed in flame, the tree continues to heal.

There's something about this scene, with DFQC slumped on the ground in defeat. Up until now, we've seen him defeat every foe and overcome every obstacle with ease. This is the first time the viewers see a weak and scared version of this man. He's used up his power and it didn't work.

And it doesn't stop the memories. Milf maid is apparently called Auntie Wu, and when it's discovered that she was the one who taught the young prince woodcarving and playing the guqin, the previous Moon Supreme decrees that she should be executed. While the young DFQC begs for her life, Auntie Wu remains graceful and still.

She brushes the tears from his cheek before being hauled away. In his anger, young!DFQC grabs the blade from the nearest guard and launches at his father, stopping just before the blade hits his neck.

Old Moon Supreme demands to know why DFQC didn't kill him. "Because you're my father," he says. We then see the young prince battered and bloody as he spars with his father, who calls him a coward and asks when he'll learn hellfire. He is physically abused.

Tormented by having to relive not only the physical but emotional pain, the present DFQC opens the door to a cave that reveals a very familiar iron maiden type device. He takes a deep breath, casts a spell, and then puts himself back inside. He'd rather go through the entire ritual again than feel. I absolutely hated watching this part.

Back to the Scooby gang, Jieli unsuccessfully tries to convince the other two that their search is a waste of time and they should go back. But there's one last place they haven't checked: the throne. Push the button, Kronk Orchid!

Turns out there's a secret compartment! Ofc there is. And in that compartment is a box that contains...the ashes of the book she was looking for. SQ says, "I told you so" in the nicest way possible and he and JL turn to leave. Orchid stops them with an important revelation:

I didn't make the connection between Orchid's powers and restoring the book until I saw that the box was made of wood. I forgot that paper is also made of plants. And her powers work!

Back in the torture chamber, we go from current day DFQC to when he first had his emotions removed. His younger version begs his father to kill him instead. Old Moon Supreme says that until his son forgets about parental love & brotherhood, he will not be released from the spell. He then questions DFQC to see if the torture worked. Young!DFQC answers that he remembers the vow to revive the Moon Tribe and crush Shuiyuntian. This pleases his father, who says there's only one more step to go.

The scene changes to a cavern of lava where father and son are sparring. This time, Old Moon Supreme seems winded and young!DFQC seems completely changed.

His eyes are cold and he is focused only on his victory. As he passes his father, the court members present kneel and declare him the new Moon Supreme for defeating his father in combat. And the theme song lyrics perfectly match the scene that unfolds:

As I said before, I'm really not interested in redeeming his father or finding out why he did anything but it seems like he thought that being alive was a stumbling block for his son's greatness. Personally I think that abusing your son is a bigger stumbling block, but what do I know? :)

Now that Orchid knows exactly what DFQC went through, she sheds a single tear and stumbles backward. Shangque also understands why his lord has been so unstable recently: because his Love Tree coming back to life means that DFQC's childhood memories also came back.

Orchid doesn't understand why Old Moon Surpreme would put his son through all this, and refuses to accept it. Why? This entire thing is none of her business! Despite Jieli repeatedly trying to get Orchid to leave, she continues rifling through the room for some sort of "clue" to her whackass theory.

Shangque even tells Orchid that she can't undo over 30k years of a grudge and should just walk away. But ofc she finds "proof": the guqin that young DFQC carved for his father, the ball he played with as a child, and a record written by an attendant who shadowed the boy and wrote about his daily activities.

She unravels the account to read from it and discovers something shocking:

Old Moon Supreme tested his sons' ability to wield the Hellfire Sword. Xunfeng couldn't even lift it, but Qingcang had no difficulty. That was when Old Moon Supreme realized that his eldest son was the only one other than Yannu who could wield the blade. Orchid goes on to hardcore project onto the old man, claiming he must have felt sad to discover that DFQC had such a lonely life ahead of him.

But then my girl Jieli reality checks Orchid. Thank gods.

Unfortunately what Orchid hears is "go ask him yourself." Which is something she can do! When they die, the spirits of both fairies and Moon Tribe members go to the realm at the bottom of Memory Loss River. One cannot simply walk into the land of spirits and strike up a conversation, though. All you need is a ranxi flower, but those have apparently been extinct for millennia.

JL's primary concern is always money, so she mentions that even a dead ranxi flower would cost thousands of spirit stones. This catches Orchid's interest and she asks if JL knows of any withered ranxi flowers. Guess what! There's one in the palace! Ofc there is.

Someone was able to obtain a dead ranxi flower and presented it to Xunfeng. It's being kept in the Pavilion of Spiritual Treasures. Orchid excitedly declares that they should go and get it! JL says there's no need since she's already stolen it. Why would she mention something is worth a lot of money and NOT have an interest? Unfortunately everyone in this gd show is weak to Orchid's puppy dog eyes.

After acquiring the withered blossom, Orchid attempts to use her magic to heal it. It proves resistant and JL isn't surprised. Orchid insists that if she can heal a Love Tree, she can definitely heal an ancient plant that lets you speak to the dead. While JL goes to take a nap in annoyance, Orchid continues to feed the flower her spiritual energy until it's late at night. She doesn't even notice that her wound has opened up again and she's bleeding.

JL wakes up and demands to know why Orchid is still trying before she notices the blood. While she attempts to force Orchid to stop, the ranxi flower suddenly comes back to life.

I assume that it only took a few drops of blood to revive the flower because it was Orchid's blood and her greatest power to unlock is purification. Naturally, since Orchid is bleeding, DFQC is too.

He seems to contemplate for a moment but then pulls his sleeve back down. You can see that he's wearing the jade ring and Orchid has kept the Heart-Hidden Hairpin on as well, so neither of them can sense each others' emotions.

When we jump back to the girls, Orchid is suited up to go for a swim that she might not come back from. JL warns her of the danger and asks what Orchid will do if she finds the previous Moon Supreme and he can't remember anything. She also says the same thing I've been saying this entire godsdamned time!

Sometimes it really isn't that deep! But Orchid says that she doesn't want people to misunderstand DFQC and thanks JL for worrying about her. Of course, Jieli herself doesn't admit that her love language is words of degradation and scoffs at the idea of being worried about Orchid. Moments later she tells Orchid to be careful. What's the Chinese term for tsundere?

After doing the MOST Sailor Moon-esque dive I've ever seen, Orchid leaps into the whirlpool and immediately gets tossed around by the current before steeling herself and pushing through.

The scene then switches to Xunfeng being prepared for his execution. He stares up at an empty throne, surrounded by lava in the very place their father was killed.

As DFQC is heading to the execution site, another wound appears on his arm and he decides it's time to investigate the mess Orchid has gotten herself into this time. It's apparently been 4 hours on the surface, and JL is worriedly hovering near the edge of the cliff when Moon Supreme appears. He demands to know where Orchid is and then immediately jumps in after her.

Orchid makes it to the Realm of Return to Ruin (Viki subs. I can't make sense of it either) and it literally just looks like a palace at the bottom of the river.

After all her bravado, Orchid now seems back to her timid self. She asks the glowing ball if it is the spirit of the previous Moon Supreme and it makes a chime in affirmation. The spell seems to require several steps. First, she needs the mirror JL gave her to make sure Orchid remembers this conversation when she returns to the surface. Second, she needs the ranxi flower. As she's preparing, DFQC grabs her wrist to stop her.

HIs voice is flat even though he asks what she's doing and tells her to go back. Orchid refuses, saying she has questions to ask. When he asks what questions, she admits that she intends to ask his father why he abused his son.

THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING! When DFQC raises his voice at her, Orchid falls silent. The spirit orb circles them and his voice becomes reflective. The father that seemed so tall and mighty in life is now nothing but a blip of light. He says that Orchid needn't ask the spirit anything.

He turns to leave, but Orchid is relentless. He clearly wants to drop the subject but she won't let him! It's driving me crazy how insensitive she's been this entire ep! She asks if Old Moon Supreme didn't love his son, why would he keep his zither? DFQC angrily retorts that the instrument was destroyed by his father's own hands.

Orchid presents the intact zither and he jerkily moves his head to stare at it, and then her. He states the obvious: "You broke into the forbidden palace." She admits that she did and begs him to let her ask since they're already here. He softly refuses and again tries to get her to leave, but Orchid goes back and places the ranxi flower on the throne to summon the previous Moon Supreme.

DFQC remains still as a stone but doesn't turn around as the spirit takes human form. He asks how long he's been there and Orchid tells him it's been 30,000 years. He then turns and asks who she is.

With this wig, he looks SO much like Xunfeng! Orchid simply says that she was sent by his son, and Old Moon Supreme immediately assumes that she's talking about Qingcang. The first thing he asks is if DFQC has wiped out Shuiyuntian.

DFQC sounds annoyed but not surprised. It's always, "Have you committed genocide yet, son?" and not "How are you?" Orchid then presents the zither and asks if the old man recognizes it. He recalls that DFQC gave it to him on his birthday, but he destroyed it. It made him sad.

Old Moon Supreme tenses when DFQC yells and he finally turns around to look his father in the eyes.

The episode ends with the old man looking at his adult son and whispering his name. It would be funny if the ranxi flower acted like the Speak with Dead spell in D&D and Old Moon Supreme disappeared after 5 questions. Alas, this seems plot integral.

#clj recap #clj #苍兰诀 #love between fairy and devil #lbfad #cdrama

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