#it was so mean to him FOR WHAT!!!! HE WAS JUST BORN

[starcurtain]

Female Guidance in Aventurine's Life

One thing I haven't seen discussed in much depth yet, but which I think is especially interesting, is the consistency of female guidance in Aventurine's life: Every single person who we have seen on screen offering Aventurine assistance or making a positive difference in his life is female (with one exception, yes, I'll get there).

Under the read more cause it's longggg:

Before even diving into his family, let's just get the obvious out of the way: Aventurine is, at least supposedly, blessed by a goddess. The very origin of his good fortune--be it actual blessing or curse--comes from the literal "mother goddess" who watches over him. This is one of the only instances in Star Rail where a god character is specifically given a gender, and Gaiathra is not ever ambiguous. She is the classic female fertility goddess with all the trappings of other famous triple goddess figures of the real world. Aventurine's personal belief in the goddess may be shaky, but he nevertheless continues to treasure his people's faith. Thus, at the core, we can say Aventurine is a character who is guarded by the most quintessential mother figure possible.

Now, with the most obvious out of the way:

We know that Aventurine's father died before Aventurine was even born, and therefore he would not have any memories of his father, leaving him to be raised by his mother and sister.

Both women clearly made an enormous and lasting impression on Aventurine; they haunt every single one of his memories of Sigonia and are the key elements of the family Aventurine longs to return to. While he flirts with the concept of death as a way to see his family members again, it was also his mother and sister who instilled in him any sense of self-worth and meaning to his existence, the only things keeping him from giving up on living. His mother believed him to be blessed; his sister insisted to his face that not even the only remaining remnant of their mother had any value in comparison to his life.

It is for his sister that Aventurine first begins expressing a self-sacrificial nature, and from his sister that this self-sacrifice is reinforced when she uses herself as a shield to help him escape massacre at the hands of the Katicans.

It is also from his sister that Aventurine learns many of the deeply meaningful actions he holds onto to the present day, despite having been so far removed from his own culture.

Conversely, every one of Aventurine's early negative experiences on screen appear to have been driven (at least primarily) by men.

Although the Katican tribe of course would have both men and women, the tribal societies on Sigonia appear to be on the fairly traditional side, with Aventurine's mother staying at the camp with her child while his father was the one to go out and hunt for offerings for Gaiathra. This is also supported by Aventurine asking Jade to take him to her "chief" later on. Therefore, it is likely (although of course not guaranteed) that a majority of the Katicans' army was male, and that Aventurine's early experiences with outsiders consisted almost entirely of indiscriminate pillaging and massacre at the hands of what the Avgin viewed as savage, invading warriors. In separate instances, Aventurine was traumatized by these warrior figures three times--first with the loss of his father, then his mother, and then finally his sister.

And even their hope, supposed to come in the form of the "men in black" from the IPC, completely abandoned them, leaving Aventurine once again betrayed by masculine figures that were supposed to be there to protect him. Led by Oswaldo Schneider, another cruel male authority figure, the Marketing Department of the IPC permitted the wholesale slaughter of Aventurine's people--something which we know Aventurine is now aware of.

Then, of course, the next piece of Aventurine's backstory we're given is his male slave master. I don't really need to say anything about this, do I? This man violated Aventurine's human dignity and bodily autonomy, and forced Aventurine's hand in a life or death battle for which Aventurine still punishes himself mentally, even years in the future.

In part to escape the difficulty of his situation and rise to a position where he would have enough resources to--he thought--help his people, Aventurine joins up with the IPC. But when he attempts to make contact with a powerful man in the organization, Diamond, he is instead met by a woman, Jade, who against Aventurine's own expectations determines that she will raise Aventurine up (or use him as a tool, depending on how you currently choose to interpret Jade's motivations), granting him wealth and status beyond his imagination.

(And this line in particular is interesting, because you can take it one of two ways: 1) Aventurine comes from a patriarchal planet that traditionally put men into positions of power [thereby making his own slavery an emasculating act, aligning him further with disenfranchised women]; thus, he is making the assumption that to get anywhere in this organization, he will need to work with a man; or 2) He actually was counting on Jade taking his bet and helping him right from the beginning, because Aventurine perceives women as inherently more likely to protect and aid him than men would be.)

In the end, Jade does exactly as she claims she will, launching Aventurine into a position of power while also closing golden handcuffs around his wrists. She positions herself not only as his supervisor, but as his advocate and ally. She entrusts him with her Cornerstone, a sign of significant faith in his abilities. She even seems to be keenly aware of his bias towards the mother figure, referring to him as "child" in their conversations.

Whether this is genuine or a manipulation tactic can certainly be debated (and I'm not inclined to think at this point that Jade is a genuinely good role model or selflessly supportive person in Aventurine's life), but whatever the case, women are the only people Aventurine even remotely considers to be "in his corner."

We see this even earlier, in Aventurine's call to Topaz. Like with the example of his mother and sister, Aventurine trusts in Topaz's ability implicitly, and considers her above anyone else when it comes to completing the mission in Penacony.

Although of course we don't know if Aventurine has any other friends or allies among the Strategic Investment Department, it seems very likely that Topaz, yet another woman, is the one he is closest with. At the very least, she is the only IPC character (so far) that Aventurine has a complimentary voice line for, one that shows his respect for her talent:

Over and over again, the story aligns Aventurine with female figures in positions of authority, and demonstrates that he is comfortable (although maybe not too comfortable, in the case of Jade) with relying on them and trusting their judgment, just as he did with his mother and sister.

And this pretty much goes off the charts in Penacony, where Aventurine has more involvement with the female cast than virtually any other non-female character (even the Trailblazer!). We set the pattern off right away, with Aventurine immediately being placed into a negotiation situation with Himeko, respecting her role as the Express's leader and working to get himself aligned with the Express by acquiescing to her request for support.

Then there's the fact that Aventurine is the one who finds Robin's body, an event which, although he didn't let it show too much, was almost certainly traumatic for him, given the violent death of his own sister.

Next, twice in Penacony's story, we see Aventurine seek out Sparkle for information. He may not personally like her and her comments may be both racist and dehumanizing, but Aventurine does rely on her--being the only character explicitly seeking her aid, which no one else in Penacony seems to want.

In 2.0...

And in 2.1.

Now, say it with me, guys: Aventurine built an entire portion of his grand plan around the idea that if he looked pathetic enough, a female character would absolutely come and help him. And sure enough, the women come through for him, always! Sparkle gives him the exact last clue he needs to confirm his belief that he could use "Death" to reach the true Penacony, sealing the deal for the rest of his plan.

His plan which also hinged significantly on Black Swan's involvement too, another woman that he views as, if not trustworthy, then at least intelligent and hyper-competent.

Contrast all this, of course, with the treatment Aventurine receives at the hands of Sunday, the lone opposing male character he faces in Penacony.

Sparkle implies that Sunday would humiliate Aventurine in an unmistakably sexual and degrading way, and Sunday himself professes this same desire to see Aventurine humiliated.

Then we're "treated" to the moment in which Sunday uses the Harmony's (or perhaps actually the Order's?) power against Aventurine, in a scene which is supposed to reflect an interrogation but is also, very clearly, another nonconsensual violation of Aventurine's bodily autonomy and dignity by a man. While ostensibly seeking confirmation of the Cornerstone ruse, Sunday instead subjects Aventurine to unnecessary questions about his past on Sigonia, which recall and force Aventurine to re-endure memories of his trauma.

Even if this is what Aventurine prepared himself for and planned to have happen, the pain he experiences is very real, and he suffers both the physical and emotional consequences of Sunday's assault all the way up to his "Death" and possibly even beyond.

(Also, Sunday fans please don't get too up in arms with me for this; I also like Sunday! It's okay for characters to be morally grey!)

I think there's one other interesting example I would bring up here too, and that's Aventurine's conscious decision to weaponize his own masculinity against the Trailblazer. Through the 2.0 and 2.1 Trailblaze missions, Aventurine deliberately acts in an off-putting manner to the Astral Express crew, particularly the Trailblazer, in order to build up to the 2.1 climax where the Trailblazer is supposed to view him as an unrepentant villain and attack him without hesitation.

In order to achieve this uncomfortable, villainous effect, what does Aventurine do? Exactly what other men have done to him.

This is especially apparent if you're playing Stelle because of the ingrained societal taboo of a man entering a woman's personal space without consent, but even as Caelus, it is very clear that Aventurine is leveraging behaviors typically used to show dominance: In a complete 180 to all Aventurine's other body language in the game (normally quite withdrawn, frequently in defensive postures with his arms crossed or hand behind his back, almost always standing several feet away from other people), Aventurine violates the Trailblazer's personal bubble, looming over them (Caelus was sitting in this cutscene, lol), forcing eye contact, and commanding the space while informing them that they will have no choice.

For someone who was hunted, enslaved, had his movements restricted with chains, and due to his own slight stature has very likely been towered over by others who were intentionally asserting their power over him all his life, it is clear that Aventurine associates dominant, typically more masculine-coded physically-imposing behaviors with discomfort and even villainy.

Any girl who has ever had a man loom over her like this will realize very quickly: Aventurine wanted to make himself scary so he made himself act more like a bad man.

(Yes of course I know "not all men." I'm not saying every man behaves in this domineering way or that women cannot be domineering too, obviously, just that Aventurine had a very specific image in mind when constructing a "villainous persona," and the physically controlling tactics most typically used by aggressive men toward women was his immediate go-to.)

But where does that leave Dr. Ratio, the one male character actually on Aventurine's side?

Frankly, I don't want to derail my post about how intensely Hoyo chose to hammer on the message of "Women will protect you" in Aventurine's story with a discussion about a mlm ship, but the take-away here is going to lead in that direction anyway--so yes, Dr. Ratio is the exception.

What is interesting is that he does not come across as an exception at first, and in fact initially appears as another male character being rude and dismissive to Aventurine. Like, there are still people out there calling Ratio an unrepentant racist for this one.

Of course, it's later clarified that this is an act--likely even these insults were scripted specifically to give Sunday's spying ears the "insight" he needed to exploit Aventurine during the interrogation.

But even though it is an act, Aventurine still has noticeable trouble putting his faith in Ratio. He does genuinely doubt him a few times, despite knowing that they are working together to fool the Family.

Even his voice line about Ratio confirms that he doesn't think Ratio particularly cares for him; rather, he thinks Ratio simply tolerates him because he's slightly less unintelligent than those around them.

Ultimately, the entire act with Ratio ends up being a mirror of the real scenarios Aventurine has been experiencing with men his whole life (at least as far as we are shown his life). Men abandon him to fend for himself (unwillingly, like his father, or willingly, like Diamond leaving Aventurine to deal with Penacony alone on the inside). Ratio keeps leaving Aventurine completely alone. Men attempt to humiliate him and violate his boundaries (like Sunday and his slave master). Ratio insults Aventurine's appearance and intelligence repeatedly. Men betray him (like Oswaldo Schneider and his men leaving the Avgin to die). Ratio "betrays" him.

I'm not saying when Aventurine devised the plan for their act, he consciously drew up a list of all the ways men had hurt him in the past and had Ratio re-enact them one by one, but like... that's what happened, whether or not Aventurine intended it.

And okay, the shrinking scene in Dewlight Pavilion was just for fun and probably only slightly fetishy, the devs promise; yes, it was supposed to be a joke! ...But it's also not a mistake that this is yet another instance of a male character in a glaringly metaphorical position of power over Aventurine. Aventurine's tiny in this scene! He's completely vulnerable! He's in a dangerous position and the male character could very much hurt him in this moment.

But Ratio doesn't. (In fact, his line here is supposed to be sarcastic, very ha ha--but also, what is Ratio really saying? "I won't do anything to you without your express consent." What a good guy.)

Virtually everything negative that we see in 2.1 is Ratio doing these things as an act at Aventurine's own request. He doesn't actually disdain Aventurine; his own voiceline about Aventurine reinforces that he sees Aventurine as talented and intelligent.

Whatever you think he was apologizing for in their early scene, he's the only person we're ever shown in-game apologizing to Aventurine at all.

He worked hard to "betray" Aventurine but only as he was instructed to do, and immediately checks in on Aventurine's well-being afterward, even urging him to give up the plan if it becomes too much to handle.

And then, of course, there's the note: "Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck."

After this point, it cannot be denied that Ratio is unequivocally on Aventurine's side, wants to help him, and is not doing so out of any sense of self-gain but largely because he is a good person who simply cares about Aventurine's fate. By the end of 2.1, it can no longer be doubted that Ratio is the exception to the "gender rule" of Aventurine's life, which--the story shows us again and again--was that guidance, protection, and care for Aventurine come from women, while men repeatedly represent dismissal, betrayal, or pain.

Ratio is, at least as far as Aventurine's story shows us, the proof that men can be good, that things are not as black and white in Aventurine's life as they might appear, and that--if you do choose to ship him with or see Aventurine as attracted to men--his attraction could be validated (and potentially reciprocated) by a male figure who would not bring additional harm to Aventurine's life. Aventurine makes the final decision to live after seeing Ratio's note--the exception to the rule ultimately proves to be the last piece needed to keep him alive.

But I promised I wasn't going to derail my own post about w o m e n, so let me get to the final point, and the one I really wanted to talk about: Although Ratio gets virtually all the credit for "saving" Aventurine in the fandom, Aventurine was actually saved by, you guessed it, another woman.

Not going to lie, the reason I started this post was specifically because I wanted to talk about how Acheron and Aventurine's dynamic was completely unexpected but actually fits flawlessly with the theme of feminine guidance in Aventurine's story.

Despite the fact that Aventurine made Acheron's life much harder and actively used her as a chip in his grand gamble, she doesn't blame or chastise him for those actions. Although she expresses some incredulity that Aventurine is actually that lucky, she then turns around and congratulations him for his ingenuity, immediately supporting him despite the fact that they don't even truly know each other.

Then it gets even more interesting. Acheron, who frequently hits her companions with deep and sometimes very emotionally fraught questions, asks Aventurine: "Have you never wavered?"

We as players know for a fact that Aventurine is constantly wavering, constantly doubting himself, his luck, and whether he'll even live--or even wants to live--to see tomorrow. But we also know that Aventurine is not forthcoming about those truths, refusing to express them to anyone, even himself. The only way we hear those dark truths is through his "future" self (who by the way, is once again another male figure cutting Aventurine down--of course it's himself but it's also, from the player's perspective, once again reinforcing the message that he isn't going to find safety or kindness in an adult male presence). Aventurine almost constantly deflects and diverts when his emotions or struggles are brought to the fore (unless he's divulging them for the specific purpose of allowing someone else to weaponize them). "I'm fine," he says, like a lying liar who lies.

But he doesn't lie to Acheron.

He chooses to be completely candid with her, to lance open the deepest wound of his life--that he can win and win and win and still have lost everything. The glitz and the glamour has all been stripped away here, at the end of everything, and Aventurine finally feels safe enough to admit that he fears he has absolutely nothing in his life worth living for.

And then, we get this direct parallel: Aventurine looks to Acheron, the woman now before him, for guidance, for explanation, exactly as he looked to his sister in the past.

He needs help, he needs answers, and he is continually seeking that help from the female figures in his life, whose support and kindness echo the lost care of his mother and sister.

"Go where you should be," Acheron tells Aventurine, guiding him across the river of death just as his sister insisted that he flee through the rain toward life.

Look guys, Acheron's even the one who reminds Aventurine to look at Ratio's note in the first place because apparently being an emanator of Nihility gives you x-ray vision, but my girl just gets no credit at all for being Aventurine's real savior, come on now!! Yes, Ratio's note was the final reminder Aventurine needed that someone would be waiting for him on the other side, but Aventurine would never have even gotten to the point of being willing to read that note if Acheron hadn't stepped in and provided him an answer to his question.

She feeds him back his own answer: "Why does life slumber? To rehearse the death for which we are not currently prepared." It is Acheron who reminds Aventurine that giving into the Nihility is pointless, and that rather than simply embracing a meaningless death, it is up to humanity itself to find and make meaning by living. It's this, not Ratio's note, that Aventurine gives as his reason for choosing to go on when asked by his own younger self. It's Acheron's words that finally give Aventurine an answer--why do we live just to die? Because there are people we can still make proud. Because when we go into death, we should do so with our heads held high, having achieved our own sense of purpose in this life.

Ratio gave Aventurine a promise: Someone is waiting for you to come back.

But Acheron gave Aventurine a reason: If life is inherently meaningless, doesn't that just mean you are free to give it meaning yourself?

She saved him, as women have been saving him all his life.

Anyway, this has already been horrendously long, but really what I wanted to say is that I think it is absolutely fascinating how consistent Aventurine's writing is when it comes to portraying where his support comes from and who he seeks guidance from. (Psst, just in case you still haven't figured it out, it's women!) In virtually every instance we are shown, we see the message reinforced that women are Aventurine's greatest allies and role models, while male figures are continually positioned to intentionally or unintentionally let him down and cause him distress.

"But women playing the supporting role to a male character is nothing new, Star, why are you so excited by this?"

Because the role women are playing in Aventurine's life is not the subservient supporter and emotional crutch role that female characters all too often play to male counterparts. None of the women in Penacony or Aventurine's past were there to do the emotional labor for him, to be a trophy or prize, or to cater to his needs. They don't exist solely to help him fulfill his character motivations; they aren't following him around waiting for his next request as their only role in the plot.

Instead, with Aventurine's story, we almost have an inversion of gender roles, where the male character eschews the stereotypical "men are leaders, fighters, and stoic heroes" archetype. Instead, no matter how hard he tries to hide it and keep a stiff upper lip, it is clear from 2.0-2.1's story that Aventurine is a deeply insecure, lonely, and explicitly traumatized survivor of genocide, slavery, and exploitation. Unlike most male characters, who are very rarely portrayed as genuine victims--because come on, shouldn't men be strong enough to fight back? Shouldn't men be able to shrug it off when they are hurt, emotionally or physically? (Of course I'm rolling my eyes here!)--Aventurine is belittled, humiliated, emasculated, and victimized on-screen, roles almost exclusively reserved for women, for whom surviving victimization in fiction is seen as noble.

Meanwhile, the women in Aventurine's life take on the roles traditionally given to male characters. They're both emotionally and physically his protectors. Aventurine's sister gave her life to guard his safety; Acheron ensured he could safely pass beyond the river of Nihility into the Primordial Dreamscape. They give him the tools necessary to succeed where he could not succeed on his own. His plan could never have gotten off the ground without Topaz and Jade entrusting their Cornerstones to him. The knowledge and capabilities of the women around him--not their "feminine charms"--are what allow them to help keep Aventurine on the right path even though he does waver. Even women who disrespect him, like Sparkle, still play a positive role in his life, able to provide him insight gained with their own intellect and talents.

When he has no one to rely on and doesn't know what to do, Aventurine is able to continually turn to the women around him, asking for and receiving not servitude or fawning, but their genuine wisdom and guidance.

tl;dr: If nobody else has him, Aventurine knows this random woman he met two minutes ago on the street will have him, because the women in his life literally never let him down.

(It's just so, so good, and ultimately, it should be very clear why Aventurine's story is as popular with women as it is! A+, Hoyo!)

#honkai star rail #aventurine #acheron #topaz hsr #honkai star rail meta #character analysis #there's a bit of #ratiorine #in here too #but mostly I ramble about WOMEN #thematic parallels #thematic parallels everywhere #it's long #I'm sorry but not really #sometimes you act like a normal fan #other times you're me #and write essays that wouldn't be out of place in gender studies class #also I hit the '30 images per post' limit and had to make do #please ignore the terrible merging I did of the photos #don't perceive my MS Paint job

[batterygarden]

blessed (satoru x fem & afab! reader)

contents: breeding cursed technique fic, dead dove do not eat!(reader's technique is basically for conceiving strong babies), arranged marriage, stockholm syndrome, he's your second cousin so incest, explicit nasty smut & breeding, pregnancy, misogynistic society, crybaby reader, satoru is sweet ultimately, ominous but happy ending, weird montage of sex scenes + the past + the present, 3.8 k words

18+ pls MDNI!

Divine fertility.

It’s gross—somewhere inside your brain (in a locked filing cabinet, underneath a false drawer and written in invisible ink), you’re conscious of the fact that it’s gross.

Your technique, its consequences, your life; everything you’ve been born unto is filth cloaked in blessings, but, on principle, you don’t allow yourself to look at things objectively. Disgust would only make things miserable and you’re designed to be happy. 

Blessed with a cursed technique to conceive, you’ve always had a role and it’s never been disputable—one of producing heirs. Your life was planned from the moment you were born, a whole future tied in a neat little bow—you’re lucky. That’s what everyone’s always promised. 

You’ve been told how happy you are so much that the words have seeped into your skull—you’ve long since found peace with Divine Fertility and what it means. 

More than that.

You want to be bred so badly it aches. 

You can’t go huge lengths of time untouched. You grow volatile when you’re empty too long, a weakness that chains you to your betrothed’s bed. But you’re most useful that way anyways. Hormonal and needy, but certain to pass your partner’s techniques—actually you’re more than useful as a clan member, you’re honored. Enough to marry the strongest man alive—your second cousin in your own clan. 

Whether you’ve always known it or not, you’ve always lived for Gojo Satoru. 

“Do not come in Ijichi—fuck! Not…not right now.” 

Gojo stands a foot away from his bed when he says this, clothes half on while you kneel at his feet, sucking him absolutely dry. That’s as far as he was able to get this morning before you were trying to lure him back to you, looking up at him with giant, glassy eyes while you tugged the waistband of his boxers. He wasn’t about to turn you down. 

“Ngh your mouth feels so perfect. Wanna fuck it…” 

You pull back with a gasp, catching air wherever you can get it with your fiancé’s suffocating girth, nodding while you pump him in your hands. Your lips are spread for him then so he can thrust through them himself, staring down at your teary eyes while he sets a rhythm down your throat. 

You’re quickly gagging, he’s thick but also long and he’ll choke you if you’re not careful. But the relief he brings is worth it. Your craving for him didn't let up this morning even after a creampie and some cockwarming—this is just what you needed. 

He throws his head back when he’s getting close, fingers gripping at your hair but careful not to tug, and he does this cute little whine that has your pussy throbbing. So you touch yourself, too—some fingers to your clit in little circles have you toppling over the edge just in time to match your fiancé, swallowing his milky cum while his last batch leaks down your thighs, mixed with your own release. 

He’s panting when you pull away, eyes open but unfocused while the fog in his brain clears, his hand stroking your head absentmindedly. When he finally comes back to earth, he finds you’ve pulled his boxers up for him but remain clinging to his leg, squishing a cheek against his hip while fingers trace his inner thigh. 

He breathes out a little hooo.

“Did so good for me, pretty. Okay. Now I really gotta go.” 

He tries to take a step but you don’t budge, so he bends to see you better, making an expression of dumbfounded horror when he sees you’re crying. 

“Hey, hey—I’ll be back! What’s with the tears!” 

You sniffle while his big hands wipe at your face, frantic as he tries to make you better. Ijichi’s pacing footsteps are heard outside the door. 

“I don’t know, it just feels so—sniff—bad when you leave sometimes! I still want more of you!” 

Gojo frowns at that, rubbing your head some more. There’s a knock at the door which he ignores. 

“Baby… I want more of you too, but you know I gotta go. No days off when you’re the strongest. Can you be my tough girl, just a few hours?” 

You nod, your breaths calming. What is getting into you? Apparently your separation anxiety can’t even let your fiancé go to work without a break down. It takes you a minute to connect the dots and realize you’re likely ovulating—your hormones can make you a little crazy sometimes. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“My pretty baby wants to be a mommy so bad, huh?” 

“I do! I really do, Satoru!” Your voice is a sob. Satoru has been going at it since the moment he came home today—told the maids to leave him alone, locked his door and folded you into the mattress.

“Gonna make me a daddy?” You clench automatically—just like Satoru knew you would. 

“Ye—ah! Wanna have your babies, need to give you babies so bad, daddy!” 

Your neck is craned as far back into the pillows as it can go, your entire body curling in ecstasy from your cousin’s heavy thrusting. Your words have his movements turning frantic, your legs folded up by his shoulders so your silver anklet with his name on it can jingle by his ear. Satoru lifts you then, utilizing his ridiculous strength and huge hands to pull your hips higher where his cock can split you easier.  He starts hitting so deep you see stars. 

Your head tends to scramble and slow when he fucks you like this, eyes barely open, blindly clinging to the man you were born to cling to while he makes a home for himself near your womb. It’s hard to focus on him like you want to, but if you did you’d see eyes drunk on lust and power…

Satoru Gojo can be a greedy man. Spoiled, too—He usually already owns what he covets and never waits long for things he doesn’t. But even the world at his fingertips, you at his fingertips, doesn’t fully sait that want like most would expect. For example, as much as Satoru owns you, he doesn’t feel he really has you until your body’s fucked out of commission in his grip, eyes blank and stupid while your cunt spasms around him, milking his cock for everything he has. 

This is when he’s got you, he thinks. This is when you’re his, like putty in his fingers, warmed up and malleable. This is when everything’s how it’s really supposed to be. 

The two of you don’t come out of satoru’s room the entire rest of the night, except when Satoru darts his hands out of his doorway to grab trays of food the servants dropped by. It’s exhausting the way you’re used, body split and bent and bruised so that satoru’s seed can take root, but it’s also addicting. You beg for more of him, latch any remaining strength onto his limbs while you cry out his name. Satoru’s cock is addictive in a natural way—stronger than any drugs. Your betrothed’s cock is addicting like food and water and air… sometimes it’s the only thing that makes you feel alive. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Today marks the day you’re officially seven months pregnant. 

Despite the fact that your technique has you strong and glowing (this is what you were made for, everyone continues to insist), you spend much of your time in mild discomfort. You get the feeling satoru’s passed his ridiculously long legs to his baby, who’s adamant in kicking you constantly, plus your lower back is often sore.

Still, you go about your daily life as normal—lounging, eating, making infinite baby preparations and, of course, waiting for satoru to come home so he can fuck you. 

Lately your husband is the ultimate harbinger of gifts and treats—your pregnancy has been the opposite of helpful towards satoru’s impulse spending habits, not that it’s too great a concern with the family’s bottomless wealth. He rarely comes home empty handed. Today, he’s brought a teensy yellow beanie he apparently stumbled upon at a shop and some artisan ikigai strawberries—a favorite of yours amidst pregnancy cravings—satoru’s encouraging his child’s expensive taste that’s for sure. 

You’re currently spooning in bed to enjoy them, watching a cheesy hallmark movie while satoru feeds you bites—he’s focusing much more on you than the movie. 

Honestly, he doesn’t seem to focus on much else when he’s home at all… he finds pregnant you to be more than captivating. It’s like he could watch you day and night, doing the most mundane tasks to nothing at all—in his own words he’s fascinated by how precious you manage to be. Eyes following you like you’re the most engrossing little thing, cooing to himself when you’re particularly cute. It reminds you of how you used to treat your pet cat growing up. 

You’ve gotten used to the excessive attention and coddling—it’s not like you’d ever mind a little clinging, nor was satoru’s babying completely foreign in the first place. So you let him feed you without comment, enjoy his hands wandering over your belly and curves without fanfare. 

This process quickly gets messy though; red juice keeps dripping from the corner of your mouth towards your pillow only to be saved in the nick of time by satoru’s quick fingers, reaching around to wipe at your cheek again and again, having you lick his fingers clean for him each time he does. Things get even messier once he gets the bright idea to split each berry, biting before offering you the other half. 

“I like sharing with you, this way neither of us miss the best ones.” He says with his mouth partially full, reaching down to pop part of a berry into your mouth. You hum, mostly engrossed in your film, managing not to drool this time. 

But the next bite of berry he performs directly over your neck, dripping juice directly onto your skin when he does.

“Hey!” You start to turn but he holds you in place on your side, darting down to lick up the spill with his tongue. 

You whine when he does, sensitive skin set ablaze by your lover’s mouth. 

The movie is forgotten when things easily pick up from there—things easily pick up between the two of you, period. It’s not even your first time having sex today, you took his cock first thing in the morning after a particularly needy grinding display. 

But this time it’s extra slow, extra attentive—like Gojo’s savoring you to the fullest extent. The berries are an added component, dripping sweet juice on your skin once gojo fully undresses you, only for him to lick and suck and kiss you clean. Your pussy has his attention then for what feels like eternity, your husband’s soft lips kissing and kissing and kissing like he needs to clean your juices there too. You cum so easily—you always have, but pregnant and sensitive like this your rate is almost ridiculous. Satoru, adoring as he’s been lately, doesn’t even tease, just savors. Dotes and flexes his cuteness aggression through his careful arms. He’s cautious with that—his urge to squeeze you—thinks he ought to get a medal for the self control he has to be soft. He caresses and pets like you’re a newborn yourself, fucking you just as thoughtfully. 

You’d only been alive ten short months the day the earth shifted upon Satoru’s birth. Of course you don’t remember it, but you know intimately well the way your own path was no exception to his influence. You were already confirmed to have a fertility technique, almost as rare as the six eyes themselves, when the strongest sorcerer of your time was born—the match up was obvious. You were groomed for it until his parents said yes, and then only more intensely once they did.

And as much as you love Satoru, as much as you’d live for him and die for him and anything in between—it was sometimes hard. You had to grow to love him, to accept his power over you. 

Because among the list of cons to a lifetime betrothal—a lifetime of devotion in your case—was that Satoru always knew you were his. You had an owner at the ripe age of seven, aged six and a half. 

And, unbelievable as it may be in hindsight, at times he was a tyrant. 

Tugging and clinging and pushing—at first he had as much respect for you as a child might for a cheap toy (the kind their well-off parents taught them were replaceable). 

And there wasn’t much you could do about it besides grieve and sulk—your parents didn’t let you talk back how you wanted, and Satoru wasn’t above tattling. 

You didn’t dare wish for a different husband—what with how lucky everyone insisted you were, but at times you’d wonder. What would it be like to be assigned someone polite and thoughtful, like satoru’s friend he brought around the estate from time to time…

Suguru never really got to know you enough to form an opinion on your character. It was rare he visited the extravagant Gojo estate in the first place, and when he did, Satoru often gave the impression that he wanted to keep you private. It was clear you were a permanent fixture on those grounds—just another layer to Satoru’s mystifying lifestyle. You were a complete contrast to Suguru’s friend, all reserved and polite; the only thing you really inspired Geto to feel was pity. 

Gojo was a little shit as a kid—still is in many ways—and sometimes even Geto himself couldn’t stand him. But Suguru’s always had a backbone. There was a reason he was capable of maintaining best friend status with the strongest sorcerer alive while others couldn’t (or wouldn’t) get close—and it’s that Geto knew how to tell Satoru off. He could see through Gojo’s dramatics and put him in his place—something you clearly had not mastered.

Geto saw your lenience first hand the first day Satoru tried to have the three of you hangout, watching in fascination as you protested, gave in, and then were immediately reprimanded for sneaking into a forbidden wing of the Gojo estate. Satoru got a mild scolding, a barely-there stern edge to the maid’s voice who caught the three of you—telling him that he knew better and that he had to think about his future wife’s safety as well as his own. You got a cold glare when the maid set sights on you, a tug of your wrist to your room where it was clear you’d go on to get a firm lesson on obedience. 

Once you were gone, Suguru spoke to Satoru in a hushed tone. “I feel kinda bad your girlfriend’s getting locked up now. Aren’t you gonna do something?” 

“She’s not my girlfriend, asshole!”

“You’re getting married someday. Same thing.” 

“It’s totally different. But whatever, yeah, I feel a little bad too. Probably I’ll break her out of her room later,” Geto watched Gojo absentmindedly pick a fuzz off his shirt—not a care in the world before he perked up to add, “Right now let’s play tekken.” 

And they did, but soon Geto brought you up again. This was the first time he’d met you, and really begun conceptualizing the situation Gojo was in—he couldn’t imagine being tied to someone like that at his ripe and girlfriend-less age of thirteen. The idea fascinated him.

“What’s it like, living with ___?”

“It’s fine,” Satoru sighed, going back and forth between different characters to try. “She’s annoying—got some needy physical touch technique so she’s always clinging to me in my sleep, it’s honestly creepy. But it’s fine.” 

This took Geto moment to process… 

“You sleep in the same bed?!” He put his controller down at that point, fully engrossed. 

“Yeah, ‘cause of her technique she’s like, unable to sleep alone basically. It’s weird. But other than that she’s fine I guess—a little slow. Her parents won’t even put her in school.” 

Suguru could think of so many questions he didn’t even know where to start. 

But what stood out most was how Satoru remained calm about the whole thing, at peace even. 

“Have you tried fighting it? Didn’t you say your mom does whatever you want? Tell her no.” 

Satoru waved a lazy hand at Suguru before he even finished talking.

“That wouldn’t work, ___ would just get betrothed to someone else, then. Her parents really want that for her. ‘Sides, she’s mine, Y’know? Even if she’s a weirdo it’s not like I’d give her away.”

It’s been years now since Suguru Geto has seen you last—he hasn’t been back to the Gojo estate since before his enrollment in jujutsu tech. He’s changed a lot since his starry-eyed youth, and he vaguely wonders what it will be like to see you again, if you’ve changed as well; over the years he’s found that his friend prefers to bring you up as little as possible, so he hasn’t had many updates. Though his primary focus is on the man he’s escorting, a dizzy and bleeding Gojo Satoru who managed to get hit by a scorpion curse while they were messing around on their mission. Gojo insisted on heading home after, despite shoko’s offer to provide more thorough reversed technique than his own, frowning but easily relenting when Suguru insisted on at least helping him get there. 

It’s late, not even staff around to notice as Suguru tugs Gojo along, supporting half the man’s weight through the threshold and fumbling to find light switches as he enters new rooms. But then you emerge, and Suguru can’t pick his jaw up off the ground when you do, this heavily pregnant girl in a frilly nightgown and bare feet, storming in with tears absolutely pouring down her face. After one heartfelt “Satoru!” you can’t manage to get out a single sentence you’re crying so hard, and Suguru watches the most mystifying thing: Satoru comforts you. His unserious asshole of a best friend (he thinks with fondness in his heart), a man who’s long since lost the will to show vulnerability in even the most gut-wrenching moments—Suguru watches as he meets you with this sympathetic, earnest frown on his face, crouching to let you hold him and mumbling little sorry’s. 

Suguru isn’t sure what they’re for, but he does know that Satoru has never seriously apologized to him for anything in his life. He’s expressed regret, learned from some mistakes, sure. But the word sorry, as far as Suguru knew, wasn’t in Gojo’s vocabulary. 

He says it a lot now, with this cooing voice that Suguru also finds foreign. He learns through some mumbled words you manage that your tears are from worry, that gojo promised he’d be home earlier and that he wasn’t answering his phone. Then your wails turn fresh when you notice gojo is bleeding. 

“Baby this is literally nothing—“ Geto, who saw Gojo’s initial wound and can actually see the man swaying on his feet, almost chuckles. He saves it with a cough. 

“—I basically already healed myself. You know nothing could ever happen to me.” 

This makes you mad, Suguru can practically feel how your anger tinges the air. 

“Satoru Gojo I do not know that and—hic—you’d do better to answer your phone next time!”

“Ahh yes ma’am, yes ma’am.”

That secret filing cabinet in your mind rattles from time to time when you reach your ninth month pregnant. You’ve somehow managed to stave off any ill second thoughts towards your fate till now, letting it hit you last minute like something you’ve been putting off. It’s not that you’re unready for motherhood—you’ve reached acceptance of what’s to come—but you’ve developed a slight fear of your own personal eternity being reached. Slight because you’re excellent at burying and vaulting—slight because you love satoru and your baby so deeply. 

But around your nine month marker, sore and barely even able to fuck properly, your husband makes an off-handed remark. You’d just taken him on all fours, cumming so easily despite satoru’s unusually tame treatment, and were laying in the aftershocks with sticky thighs while satoru fetched you a warm washcloth. The bath water was also running loudly, so he had to speak up while he said, “I’m gonna look to see how soon an in-ground pool could be installed, bet it’d be good for your poor hips next time you’re pregnant.” He speaks while he opens up your legs, casually wiping your shared mess clean with a soft damp towel, like he has a million times. 

Maybe you’re tired, maybe it’s his casual tone paired with such a ludicrous sentence, but the idea of buying  a pool because of what should be temporary pregnancy ailments and the implication that you’ll have them again and again… it sends you in a spiral. 

It’s not unusual for you to burst into tears with your wacky hormones—satoru’s seen your puffy crying face, especially while pregnant, more times than he could count. So he isn’t particularly alarmed when he sees the silent drops rolling down your cheeks when he returns from the laundry shoot a moment later. But he is concerned, crawling up the bed till he’s hovering to kiss your shoulder, scooting behind you to spoon your lightly shaking frame. 

He doesn’t talk for a moment, trying to decide the best course of action. He’s familiar with the tears, sure, but he knows he’s not an expert on them, sometimes he tries to talk to them when he shouldn’t and vice versa. 

Eventually he settles on a little “I got you,” for comfort, his warm hands rubbing over your arms then your belly in what he hopes is a soothing rhythm. 

You think about telling him your issues, your deepest secrets, but you deliberate too long. Soon he’s kissing you again, pressing lips in a slow trail up your shoulder and neck before switching directions. 

“I love you,” he adds. 

You won’t tell him. You love him, too. The uck and grime of it all gets buried once again, shoved in the section of your head that stays locked up with high security. You turn around and, instead of answering, capture his lips in a salty kiss, the kind that starts out soft and clumsy—sweet. It doesn’t take long for your lips to get needy though, for the sweetness to be replaced with aching. The kind that always spreads between your thighs. 

Thanks for reading eeeek! feedback and rbs appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #tw.pregnancy #gojo satoru smut #tw.breeding #tw.incest #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo fic

[adriennebarnes]

just read The Happy Throuple and I love it so much, i would love to see more of them whenever you have time, like maybe the internet's reactions and / or the drivers. meeting the parents, baby showers, the bay being born, etc. I just think it's a great fic with lots of potential.

YES!!!!!!! I’m thinking the internet’s reaction is the first half and then the drivers’ reaction, meeting the parents, baby shower/gender reveal, and the baby’s birth will be separate, all of them will be in my Masterlist in the same bullet as “The Happy Throuple”

Nobody Everybody Knows

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux

Summary: posting their relationship for everyone to see means that now everyone gets to comment about something they know nothing about

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: Y/N faceclaim will ALWAYS be Becky G for social media posts just because I love her. There will be MULTIPLE “chapters” of the happy throuple’s story. For all intents and purposes, all the drivers who live in Monaco hang out outside the paddock except for “adults” like hulkenberg and Bottas. I also changed how Y/N and Alexandra know each other so they met at a party when Alexandra was 19 and Y/N was 18, okay? Okay

Since Charles posted on Instagram that he has another girlfriend and that he’s expecting a child, everyone has opinions. What’s great about Charles is that he disabled the comments, but that doesn’t stop other accounts from talking about their relationship.

Liked by user67 and 926,639 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc reveals that he was been in a polyamorous relationship with Alexandra Saint Mleux and her best friend, Y/N L/N. Not only that, but Y/N is carrying his child. How do you feel about the news?

View all 582,305 comments

charlosfan Charles got tired of white girls and started dating Latinas 😂. Alexandra is half Mexican and Y/N is _____, he really does have a type. Y/N seems sweet though

user92 Y/N baby trapped him for sure, like what does she even do?

queenalex Charles and Alex seem so happy with Y/N,

user19 Y/N is only with them for money

xoxolando doesn’t anyone find it weird that Y/N started dating them AFTER Charles and Alex got together? Like “oh he’s dating my best friend, I want to date him too”

user23 yes!! What is up with that?

heartf1 Y/N seems super messy imo

Liked by 1,029,483 users

f1wags Y/N M/N L/N was born in 2002, making her younger than Alexandra. Y/N is actually a singer signed with RCA Records

user59 say what you want about Y/N but that outfit ATE

kikafan25 she must not be a successful singer because I have never heard any of her songs.

user54 you’ve heard her songs. All those dilf edits to “a mi me gustan mayores”, that’s Y/N’s song

y/nbae she is so pretty! I love her music and now she’s going to be a mom, I’m happy for her

2 days after Charles posted, Y/N was washing dishes when she received a phone call from her mom.

“Hola mami, qué pasó?” Y/N asked.

“Como que ‘que pasó’, tu papá y yo nos enteramos por Despierta America que estás de novia con el piloto ese de fórmula uno y la otra niña, y encima de eso, estás embarazada. La relación va en serio? Sabes que ese muchacho cambia de novia cada 3 años, por dios. Y el bebé? Sigues siendo muy niña para criar a un bebé, por qué no usaste protección? No te eduqué para que salieras embarazada antes del matrimonio. Ni siquiera conozco esos dos, y te va a pedir matrimonio el Chuck ese?” Her mom lectured her. What do you mean ‘what happened’, your dad and I found out on Wake Up America that you are dating that F1 driver and the other girl, and on top of that, you’re pregnant. Is this relationship serious? You know that boy gets a new girlfriend every three year, for god’s sake. And the baby? You are too young to raise a baby, why didn’t you use production? I did not raise you to get pregnant before marriage. I don’t even know those two and is this Chuck guy going to propose?

“Mami, no quería que esto pasara, tuvimos cuidado, te lo juro.” Y/N said. “Estas cosas pasan, lo siento mucho, de verdad.” I didn’t want this to happen, we were careful, I swear. These things just happen, I’m sorry, really

“Bueno, está bien, pero habla con tu papá que él está más enojado que yo, te hablo luego, bye,” Y/N’s mom hung up, Y/N sighed and continued to wash dishes until she felt someone hug her from behind, placing a kiss on her shoulder. Okay, it’s fine, but talk to your dad, he’s angrier than I am, I’ll talk to you later

“Mi reina, of you keep doing that, I’m not going to finish the dishes,” Y/N said. Alexandra turned her around and kissed her lips.

“Then rest, ma papillon, you’re pregnant, you shouldn’t be doing dishes.” Alexandra said, leading her to the couch.

“Have you seen Instagram lately? Everyone’s been talking about me.” Y/N said,

“Yeah, everyone was talking about me too when I first dated Charles. It comes with the territory I guess. We should go shopping!” Alexandra said.

“For what? We won’t know the baby’s gender until it’s 4 or 5 months old. Wait, google it to make sure.” Y/N said. Alexandra pulled out her phone,

“It says 18 to 22 weeks.” Alexandra said.

“Eh, I was close. So what are we going to shop for?” Y/N asked.

“For you! Now that people know we are dating, you get to come with us to events! So we need fancy maternity clothes, cocktail dresses, shoes, purses, this is going to be perfect.” Alexandra said,

On the other hand, Charles was getting calls from other drivers left and right so he decided to have Max, Lando, George, Lewis, Daniel and Alex over at his apartment.

“I ordered pizza, there are drinks in the fridge, I will answer all the questions you have about my relationship.” Charles states, putting Leo on the ground so he could roam around

“So Y/N and Alexandra are together?” Lando asked.

Yes.” Charles answered.

“But you are also together with them?” Lando followed up,

“Yes, that is how a polyamorous relationship works, mate.” Charles said.

“How did you decide to have Y/N join?” Max asked.

“Alexandra and I were dating for a while, sometimes Alexandra would invite Y/N if we were shopping or going out to eat. Sometimes I would be left alone with Y/N and we would hit it off so well, I felt the same thing for her as I felt for Alexandra. One night Alexandra told me the reason why she kept inviting Y/N was because she had a crush on her and I confessed the same to Alexandra. So one day all three of us went to the movies, we told Y/N our feelings, Y/N took time to think about it, and when she said she had feelings for us too, we started taking it slow.” Charles said.

“So the relationship is all about love and not wanting to spice up the relationship?” Daniel asked.

“Nope, all love.” Charles answered.

“Do you even know Y/N’s parents?” Alex asked.

“I do not, they love back in New York.” Charles said.

“Do you think you’re going to marry Y/N and Alexandra and have a polyamorous marriage?” George asked,

“I would like to in the future, I love both of them so much, I have never felt so strongly about anyone.” Charles said.

“For ultrasound appointments, will both of you go with her?” Lewis asked.

“Yes, both of us will go with Y/N, it is more likely that Alexandra goes if the appointment falls on a Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday during race week.” Charles answered.

“So if Alexandra is doing something, and it’s only you and Y/N, that’s okay?” Lando asked.

“Yes, it’s okay if I’m just with Y/N. It’s okay if I’m just with Alexandra, and it’s okay if it’s just Alexandra and Y/N, it’s alright. Since Alexandra is still studying art history, Y/N is a singer, she is able to with me a lot more and now she Can because our relationship is public.” Charles said.

“Until she hits the 3rd trimester.” Max stated.

“Anyway, our relationship is healthy, we love each other very much.” Charles said, the doorbell rang. “Must be the pizza.”

Charles was glad that his colleagues understood his relationship and didn’t make any crude remarks. He would have to talk to Pierre whenever he goes to Maranello. For the most part, the internet’s reaction was more positive than negative and that makes Charles more than happy.

The End

Hope y’all liked this installment, I am also working on more installments of Meet and Greet if you wanted more of Charles, Y/N, and Vidia

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #becky g #alexandra saint mleux

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Cursed Spice | 18+ NSFW

Aight homies, I almost ran over like four old ladies speeding home on my lunch break to write this. It's cursed. BUt only a little...I don't think it's that bad. This was born from being challenged not directly by @anxiousgoddest so if any of y'all read this at work or in a public place, that's on you and your bad decision making.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Pegging mentioned, Zayne's Sanity™, Sounding mentioned, Biting, Alligator Death Rolls in bed, Xavier is too old for your shit, Simba, Rafayel wants to both laugh and cry, why are you like this situations, Oh SEX that happens a little in this, it's NSFW what did you expect?

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier was on top...again. One hand trapping both your wrists above your head while he ground his clothed cock against your heat. The only thing separating you two were his thin boxers and your skimpy underwear that you wore for the express purpose of him ripping them off you.

However, you wanted to be on top, and he knew it. You were pouting as you looked up at him and you could see the amused glimmer in his eyes as he continued teasing you.

"Something wrong?" He chuckled, his boyish laugh filling the room and you groaned as he managed to angle his hips just right. The bastard knew he was being unfair. He had been on top every single time this week. You just wanted to ride him, tease him a bit, maybe do a little edging for flavor. He decided otherwise as he continued taking control of your session.

"Lemme top for once, please?" You asked, batting your eyelashes at him, hoping that was all it would take for him to give in.

"If I'm not mistaken, last time you were on top you got tired halfway through and made me take over so you could lay down." He reminded you and you huffed.

"It was one time..." You tried arguing but he rose an eyebrow, "Okay it was a few times, but it's not my fault you have a surprising amount of stamina, okay?"

"Then perhaps we should work on your stamina next?" Xavier said it so nonchalantly and you bit back a remark as his hands snuck to your sides, snapping the elastic of your underwear, "We should start immediately."

He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, but you had another idea. You went in, biting down on his neck a bit harsher than you normally would. Xavier let out a gasp as his grip on your wrists loosened and you took the opportunity to wrap your limbs around him, your arms and legs locked into place around his neck and torso.

Then you rolled, mouth still clamped on his neck. Xavier let out a groan as he found himself on his back and you sat up triumphantly, looking at the angry bite mark you left on him. You ground your hips down on him and snickered.

"What was that for?" Xavier asked, his hand going to his neck to make sure he wasn't bleeding.

"Classic Alligator Fuckhouse. Gotta keep up, old man." You said, knowing that 99% of people probably wouldn't know what the hell that was.

"A what...that's a thing?"

"It is indeed, and I just did it...successfully might I add."

Xavier sighed before remembered what you said, "You called me an old man."

"You kinda are one, Xav."

"What does it mean if you like this old man?" Oh he was pouting now, how adorable. You just wanted to squish his cheeks...or fuck the shit out of him...perhaps both.

"It means I'm into Gilfs."

Xavier paused, thinking over what you said before sighing, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me and fuck me, babe."

Zayne

At this point Zayne was well aware that you had an obsession over his ass. It was unavoidable when you were always making a grab for it. He just never thought you would have...plans like these.

"Please Zayne, I am begging you. Just one time, and if you don't like it we never have to talk about it again." You were pleading, and normally it always worked on him. He had a soft spot for you, after all, and was almost a push over when you requested something. This, however, seemed to be something he wasn't prepared to do...at least not at first.

"I understand you like to be adventurous...but this?" Zayne said as he sat on the couch. His shirt was already tossed to the side and his pants unbuttoned. You had worked hard to get him in the mood before you popped this question. Your hand going teasingly over the bulge in his pants.

"I already have the stuff for it, if you'd let me..." You cooed, trying your hardest to make this seem like it was a good idea on his end. Zayne sighed as he leaned his head back onto the couch.

"Of course you've already bought the necessary items..." You don't know why Zayne seemed to surprised by this with your current track record.

"Lemme just grab them to show you. It won't be that bad, I swear." You said, getting up and running to your room and grabbing a bag filled with everything you'd need. Most items had to be ordered online, so you had literally been planning this for a while. You scurried back to the living room and took out the items.

Zayne paused as he took it all in before he finally spoke, "Why does it look like that?" He said as he pointed at the dildo that was very much not human.

"Oh, I got it off bad dragon. I think this one was called-" You got cut off before you could finish the sentence.

"You bought a large dragon shaped dildo...for me?" Zayne was already feeling the grays peaking through the dark locks of hair on his head.

"I actually measured and it's the same size as you, doctor. If I can handle taking your dick, you can handle taking mine." You said, placing the dildo next to the harness, "Now can I please peg you, I just wanna see that ass jiggle with every thrust. It'll be so hot." You whined.

"That is not going inside me." Zayne finally said.

"But consider if it did." He didn't seem like he wanted to consider the possibility.

You paused before looking back at more of your supplies, "Fine...then how about sounding?"

Zayne looked on in horror before zipping his pants up and standing up. You let out a small wail as you realized he was actually going to just leave you.

"No Zaaaaaayne, don't leave me! At least lemme suck your dick I've been so good."

"My love, I think we need to sign you up for a therapy session before we have sex again."

"I am mentally sound now lemme peg that ass!"

Rafayel

Your entire body was shaking from exertion as you came again, clamping down on Rafayel's bottom cock. You could hear the man underneath you groaning as well, clearly close to his own release. The waves lapped at your skin as you looked down, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating his flushed face perfectly.

He was always a sight to behold, but especially like this. Completely open with you in his Lemurian form was something you two were still exploring together. Every time you found yourself tangled with him like this you swore you were the luckiest human being to ever grace this realm.

Your hand wrapped around his top cock, jerking the slick appendage against your stomach as you helped him. His clawed hands dug into your thighs as he bucked up into you, groaning as he came both inside of you and all over your stomach.

When he finally settled down you both just basked in the afterglow. The sea breeze helping to cool you off as you stared down at him.

"Normally I'd ask for another round, but I don't think I can feel my legs." You admitted with a small laugh. You could see Rafayel's grin as he sat up with you. The scales of his tail were soft under your ass as he pulled you a bit closer to him.

"Can't relate." He said and you chuckled before getting an idea. You looked down at your stomach and how his cum managed to glow a dim blue. It had fascinated you the first time you had seen it, and you recall how embarrassed he was when you asked if it was safe to eat. Now you had other plans.

"Ah, I can get us a bit cleaned up before we head back inside." Rafayel was already pushing you two back into the ocean, slowly taking his length out of you. Before your stomach could be submerged, you took your thumb and swiped at some of his release.

Rafayel gave you a curious look before he saw the wide smile spreading across your lips. Before he could question you, you swiped your thumb over his forehead.

"Simba." You said.

Rafayel was at a loss for words as he just stared at you. He was used to you being eccentric, but this was...something else. You were pretty damn proud of yourself as you looked at his glowing forehead. He took in a small breath before speaking.

"Might I ask what you're doing?" He said, his voice a little clipped. He didn't know whether he should laugh or cry.

"NAAAAAAAAAANTS ingonyama bagithi baba!" You shouted as you began singing. Rafayel's hand went over to cover your mouth from continuing your song.

"You little nightmare." He said, hearing your laughter from under his hand. He then got an idea and smirked. He stared at you for a moment and you wondered what he had planned. Until suddenly he fell backwards with you in his arms, submerging you both into the ocean water.

It was worth it.

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Zayne Love and Deepspace #Xavier Love and Deepspace #Rafayel Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Rafayel #Lnds Zayne #Lnds Xavier #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #l&ds #l&ds rafayel #l&ds zayne #l&ds xavier #l&ds rafayel x reader #l&ds xavier x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #lads x reader #lads rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lads xavier #lads xavier x reader #lads zayen #lads zayne x reader

[wheelsnipecelebrini]

Generally speaking, I’m fascinated by how narratives around athletes are built. Some of the basic models are: Well He Loved It So Much So We Never Pushed Him He Is Just Like This vs. We Built This Phenom From The Ground Up With Our Genius Guidance.

Connor Bedard pretty firmly falls in the former camp (take a shot every time his parents are quoted saying their son is effectively a Terminator with hockey-playing software installed). Macklin Celebrini is definitely more in the “I, his father, handcrafted him into a more bespoke sports robot”; there’s been a lot of attention on his dad’s career as VP of player health and conditioning in the NBA’s Golden State Warriors org being a cornerstone of Macklin’s development.

I also generally have interest in the mechanics and minutiae of injuries and rehab. Anyone who’s rehabbed a serious injury can probably relate. Anyway, all this media is catnip to me, so, here, have a Rick Celebrini media roundup, focused on the last few years as draft buzz around Macklin increased.

ESPN | What makes Macklin Celebrini the next big thing in hockey

Rick helped Macklin and his siblings -- brothers Aiden, 19; RJ, 12; and sister, Charlie, 15 -- along each of their athletic journeys, where he balanced the line between trainer and dad.

"When they're working out, I tell them there has to be a professionalism to your approach and what you do. And that's when I'm not Dad," Rick said. "But in their times when they're vulnerable, then I become Dad, and I'll always be Dad."

…

"When Rick first got [to Golden State] his kids would be running up and down the court playing pickup 3-on-3, with the whole family, Robyn too," [Golden State Warriors head coach] Kerr said. "It's so funny seeing them as kids and then all of a sudden, you find out the two older boys are big-time hockey players.

"And then I started to really ask Rick more about his kids and what they were doing. Then there's little Charlie, the tennis player. And then I realized, Rick's cooking something up in his house. ... He's just churning out athletes over there."

…

There's a reason the Warriors wanted to support Rick. He's been crucial to their culture and success.

"He's one of the best human beings I know, and that's straight from the heart," [Golden State Warriors head coach] Kerr said. "He's got this great combination of emotional intelligence and technical knowledge of his field and humor and authority. The players see him every day, and so for us it means so much that he's one of the first people they see and feel, and he just sets an incredible tone."

[Golden State Warriors player Draymond] Green called Rick "a giver."

"He gives his time, he gives his energy, he gives his effort," Green said. "He's a magician when it comes to the body. He's a magician when it comes to the mind. He is our secret weapon and he's an incredible father. He's an incredible man."

━━━━━

Sharks on NBCS | 08 May 2024

Rick Celebrini: I’ve said this a number of times, you know, he was born to be a hockey player, as much as I tried to convince him into other sports or other activities, he always gravitated to being a hockey player.

━━━━━

The Athletic: Inside what may be Macklin Celebrini’s final days of BU hockey: Shoe Check, heartbreak, and a big decision

Plenty of college coaches reached out to Macklin. Pereira was the first to call Rick, who was in the 2022 NBA Finals with the Warriors against the Boston Celtics at the time. Pereira left a voicemail:

“Rick, this is Joe Pereira from Boston University. Before I go any further, I want to let you know I’m not a Celtics fan. I know you’re flying into town. I want to talk to you about your boys.”

Rick soon replied via text: “LOL. I’ll give you a call later.”

The next day, Rick met with Pandolfo and his staff. When the Warriors traveled to Boston for Game 6, the Celebrini boys came along.

…

Rick believes his son can see the bigger picture with this future-changing decision. He has been open to insight from his support system, including family, advisers with CAA (like Pat Brisson and Matt Williams) and coaches.

“Me and (Warriors coach) Steve Kerr talk about this all the time,” Rick said. “There’s a value to being patient and developing at a level that’s more conducive to development. The NHL is not a developmental league. The NBA is not a developmental league. You’re either ready or you’re not. But college hockey is more conducive to that with the schedule, the work in the weight room and practice schedule.”

…

“An Arizona scout called me and goes, ‘For what you do for a living, where would you say he is on his developmental curve?’” Rick recalled. “Honestly, he’s a puppy. He shaves once every couple weeks. He’s not even through puberty. He really is a kid, kid. He’s got a little bit of maturing and growing to do, just getting that thickness of a man’s body.”

━━━━━

The Mercury News | How Warriors trainer’s son became NHL’s top draft prospect — and possibly Sharks’ future star

“I think it’s been massive for me,” Celebrini told this news organization. “Everything from injury prevention to different things to work on and understanding how an athlete works, the tolerance of an athlete — all that knowledge kind of displayed onto us, it all helped massively in our development.”

Rick isn’t a mad scientist. He never forced any of his children to play sports.

But here they are, elite athletes anyway: Macklin soon the top pick, Aiden already drafted by the Canucks, Charlize, 15, one of the top Canadian players her age, and RJ, the youngest with perhaps the most potential in the rink.

“It’s been around them their whole lives,” Rick said, “so I think they’ve just naturally gravitated to (sports).”

…

Much else was taught, though, by one of North America’s brightest sports medicine minds, including cross-sport exposure.

“I feel like soccer helped me in so many ways, even ways I didn’t really think about,” Macklin told this news organization. “Vision or spacing, just problem-solving. There’s so many benefits to playing different sports.”

After getting his PhD in physical therapy at the University of British Columbia and playing pro soccer, Rick worked three Winter Olympics — first as a physiotherapist for Canada’s Alpine Ski Team and then as the 2010 games’ chief therapist and medical manager. He became the Vancouver Whitecaps’ team physiotherapist and co-founded the Fortius Institute, where he worked with close friend Steve Nash. In 2018, he joined the Warriors and soon became one of the most respected members of the organization.

Rick brought his work home with him, too. When his kids were little, he’d create obstacle courses for them on playgrounds, “gamifying” physical activity. During a flight delay at the Orlando airport after a trip to Disney World, he set up a sprinting circuit for the kids in the terminal.

“You’re really trying to tease out multi-directional movement and cutting, change of direction, ducking under things and jumping over things,” Rick said.

Part of Rick’s PhD research was in motor skill acquisition. In layman’s terms: how to optimize movement. In Rick’s terms: building a young athlete’s “physical literacy.”

On beach vacations in Maui, Rick would lead his kids through sprints and hops in the sand. In another game, Rick would kick a soccer ball and have Macklin and Aiden race to retrieve it, critiquing their strides.

The Celebrini family’s unofficial motto is “What did you do today to get better?”

━━━━━

The Warriors’ whisperer: If Golden State is to repeat, he’ll have a hand in it

“He just guided me through tough days,” [Golden State Warriors player Klay] Thompson said. “So many calf raises. So many days on the shuttle board. Then the HydroWorx? Pssh. If it wasn’t for Rick Celebrini, I wouldn’t be where I am today. That’s a fact.”

Celebrini doesn’t score points. He doesn’t make roster decisions. He doesn’t sign checks. Yet, owner Joe Lacob empowers him. President of basketball operations Bob Myers believes in him. Kerr listens to him. The team’s stars swear by him.

Celebrini might be the most powerful figure in the organization you don’t know. In many ways, the NBA’s most valuable franchise, while loaded with legendary figures and dynamic personalities, shifts on the acumen and decisions of this 55-year-old former soccer player from Canada.

“Coach is 1A,” Stephen Curry said, followed by a chuckle. “(Celebrini) might be 1B.”

…

“I think that position is one of the three or four most important in the whole basketball operations department — especially considering that the players are the most important people,” Myers said of Celebrini’s role. “We have $360 million invested in our players and their health. So finding someone to navigate that, you can’t overstate that level of importance.”

The Warriors are certain they’ve found the right person in Celebrini. At 6-foot-1, he still has the shoulders of a center-back and the jawline of a hockey goon. But his ready smile and friendly disposition give an unassuming vibe. His allegiance to the background, his preference for existing beneath the championship fray, throws people off the scent. Inside the franchise, though, Celebrini is a pivotal figure.

…

On the same night that Thompson returned from his 941-day absence — a milestone for Celebrini’s rehab process — Green felt tightness in his left calf in pregame warmups. He stopped his routine short, went into Celebrini’s office and gave him a heads up.

“All right, we’re going to get an MRI on your back,” Celebrini said.

‘No, but Rick, my calf is tight,” Green insisted.

“Yeah,” Celebrini said. “Let’s just MRI your back.”

Celebrini was right. The MRI revealed a disc injury in Green’s lower back. A nerve problem was causing weakness in his left calf.

“He knew right away,” Green said. “He’s blown my mind.”

Several athletes who have dealt with Celebrini say his ability to figure out the source of a persistent problem is key to his treatment process. He’s like Dr. House for athletes.

…

Curry immediately noticed Celebrini’s attention to detail and the creativity of his approach. Nine days later, the Warriors were in Dallas. Celebrini and Carl Bergstrom — then the Warriors’ director of performance — put Curry through a pregame workout he describes as one of the hardest he’s ever done. It involved a wall, a BOSU ball and 100 single-leg squats.

In between the 10 sets of 10 squats, Curry and Celebrini essentially … slow-danced?

“Basically, it’s like a ballet dance,” Curry said, “where you simulate real-life game movements, but you do it at such a slow, methodical speed. So it’s training your neurological system to be like, ‘I remember the pattern of these moves,’ even though you’re not going full speed. It was so methodical, but he was locked into every single set. And that’s when I knew, like, I was getting stronger in the process of healing and I was gonna come back ready to go.

…

Celebrini became interested in sports medicine as a teenager, after he fractured his ankle playing soccer. He did his rehab with Alex McKechnie, who was also treating professional athletes, and Celebrini was intrigued.

He played college soccer at Capilano University for his first two years. He transferred to the University of British Columbia in 1987, playing five seasons at the school and winning four consecutive Canadian soccer championships. He also played for Canada’s under-20 national team in the 1987 FIFA World Youth Championship and eventually defended for the Vancouver 86ers of the American Professional Soccer League.

After graduating, Celebrini began pursuing his career in sports medicine while playing professionally. His career on the pitch was constantly hampered by injuries, including multiple ACL tears. But his career in sports medicine was ascending. In 2010, Celebrini served as the manager of medical services and chief therapist for the entire Winter Olympics. In 2011, he was hired as the team’s physiotherapist by his former professional club, which became the Vancouver Whitecaps.

In 2013, Celebrini was a co-founder of the MultiSport Centre of Excellence in his hometown of Burnaby, British Columbia. The $54 million facility became an epicenter of elite sports medicine. It is from this post that Celebrini consulted and worked with athletes in the NBA and NHL.

…

[W]hen Green was recovering from a back injury that knocked him out of action for more than two months. Green said his rehab required relearning how to walk and run. Celebrini promised Green he would get him healthy as long as he committed to the process. Green did and Celebrini was by his side the entire way. He made the hour-plus drive from home to Chase Center to work with Green and often spent at least three hours per session in the weight room with him.

It was a brutal process, as mentally grueling as it was physically. Green remembers how Celebrini did every step of the work himself instead of delegating some of the work to his staff. Even during the 2022 All-Star break, when Green went to Cabo San Lucas, Celebrini went with him.

“I remember one day he needed to go see his son,” Green said. “He was in tears that he had to leave. We were in L.A. He was like, ‘I’m gonna go see Mack.’ He was in tears. He went for a day, came back and locked back in with me the next day. That might be the only day in the whole time that I did not see him.”

━━━━━

The Athletic | How NBA superstars showed the NHL’s next top prospect the way

The next day, Macklin underwent an MRI that revealed a significant injury, a partial posterior labrum tear. An orthopedic surgeon recommended immediate surgery.

“I’m thinking it’s my second game of the year and my season is pretty much done,” [Macklin] says. “I’m facing a six-month recovery and my year is over. All of this work for two games, and now I have to rehab my whole shoulder.”

That’s when Dad entered the picture. “He called me in tears,” Rick says. “I consulted with a couple of colleagues and people I knew.” Their consensus: Skip the surgery for now. Opt for rehab.

“So I was out for two weeks, rehabbed it, got it strong enough and stable enough to play,” Macklin says.

…

A subsequent MRI revealed that the once partial posterior labrum tear was now complete. The injury was now classified as severe and surgery was unavoidable.

Macklin’s surgery was conducted in Vail, Colo., by Dr. Peter Millett, a shoulder specialist who has operated on several NHL-level players, including Montreal Canadiens defender Arber Xhekaj last summer.

The surgery went well, but as Rick and Macklin settled in for a lengthy summer of rehab, doubts emerged.

Rick would say later it was the “most pressure I’ve ever felt working through an injury with a player.”

Helping top athletes recover and rehabilitate from injury is his profession, honed over years with teams in Vancouver and from 2018 with the Golden State Warriors of the NBA. But with his own son, he wondered: “Should I get someone else to do this with Macklin?”

“When it’s your son, with the emotional piece, and going into his big draft year, there was an element of stress and anxiety,” he says. “Once the dust settles and you focus on the task at hand, that’s when each day has its objectives, and you just execute on them.”

…

Rick and Macklin spent a large part of the summer of 2023 together.

On the Celebrini family ranch in Northern California, where they moved after Rick joined the Warriors, Macklin worked diligently to rehab his shoulder under his father’s watchful eyes.

Rick, the team’s director of sports medicine and performance, has been a leader in his field for years. He worked with the Canadian men’s Alpine ski team at the 1994 and 2002 Winter Olympics, served as medical manager and chief therapist during the 2010 Winter Olympics and was the director of rehabilitation for the Vancouver Canucks of the NHL (from 2014-18) and the Vancouver Whitecaps of MLS (from 2011-18).

…

[Macklin] said his dad helped him anticipate and endure the hard days. “He was clear to me, ‘This is a challenge you’ve never faced before, and it’s going to be difficult,’” Macklin says. “And … he kept telling me, ‘It’s going to heal.’ That was something I had in the back of my mind the whole time, like, ‘Yeah it’s sore, but it’s going to get better. Eventually it’ll be back to full strength and back to normal.'”

Rick spoke from experience. He had worked with Kevin Durant while he recovered from his torn Achilles tendon injury. He had helped Klay Thompson return from his torn ACL. He was able to tap into those experiences, helping his son trust that those difficult days would pass.

“Early on when the objective was to reassure him, you draw on those anecdotes,” Rick says. “With the surgeon and the injury that he had, there was never a doubt that if he was comprehensive and worked at all elements of the rehab of his shoulder and the rest of his body … that he would come back stronger.

“I was able to give him real life examples and that helps when it isn’t just encouraging words from his dad.”

San Jose Hockey Now | Rick Celebrini Pulling for Sharks to Draft Macklin Celebrini

Sheng Peng: Rick, you’re a soccer guy…even represented Team Canada in your youth…and your wife, Robyn, also a college soccer player. Yet all three of your sons are hockey players and your daughter is a tennis player.”

Rick: Yeah, we failed miserably. [laughs] I thought we had a chance of at least one of them becoming a soccer player.

TSN | Macklin Celebrini shares a special connection to Draymond Green and the Golden State Warriors

Draymond Green: He is someone that is invaluable to us. He keeps guys on the floor, and when guys aren’t on the floor, he puts plans together to make sure guys are firing on all cylinders. A guy you can go talk to and confide in, that’s who Rick is to this team.

Rick Celebrini: I truly feel a commitment to the players, to look after them as athletes but [also] as human beings, and I don’t say that lightly. It really drives not only what I do, but how I do it, these days.

…

Rick Celebrini: I have, at different times, challenged them: if you really love this, if you have a passion for it, let me help you get to the pinnacle of that sport.

Aiden Celebrini: He was our dad, but he was also our director of player health and performance. “What’s your plan today? What are you doing to get better today?” That was his philosophy with us growing up.

…

Steve Kerr: We joke a bit with Rick. Do the kids really need to hear that every single moment? Can you just watch a movie one night? There’s no doubt, he treats his kids just like he treats his players.

Robyn Celebrini: What Rick would tell [Macklin] is: this is what it takes. You can’t do what everyone else is doing and expect to achieve greatness. Most people just see the glory, but a lot of people forget about all the hard work that goes into those moments.

Macklin Celebrini: He’s serious. When it’s time to work, it’s time to work. I like that, I respond to it.

Rick Celebrini: I mean, it’s a tough life. I think he understands it’s necessary for him to achieve his defined goals.

#macklin celebrini #rick celebrini #princessology #media roundup #web-weaving

[clairedaring]

why is ming such an interesting character - a thoughtful essay originally posted in the my stand-in mdl comments section

By MDL user Liltsu (reposting with permission from OP, just added some gifs to illustrate OP's points) - original comment link

Probably an incoming unpopular opinion ahead (read with caution lol, disclaimer that I am not attempting to justifying Ming's wrongdoings to Joe, more so trying to understand for myself and anyone else why I find his character so interesting):

Am I the only one who doesn’t hate Ming, and wouldn’t consider it to be a sad ending if Ming and Joe ended up together? At least as of now, especially from what I’ve seen currently and how I can imagine the direction the rest of the series might take. Let me expand.

For context, I went into this drama not expecting very much, and felt extremely sceptical of the trope of the ‘stand-in’ it uses, because one of my pet peeves in romance dramas is the ‘transfer’ phenomenon. If you haven’t heard that term before, it’s basically a psychological term about how a person (let’s call them A) will ‘imprint’ on someone else (person B). So to have a ‘transfer’ regarding someone else, for example, would mean that person A might have liked a person in the past (person C), and then meet someone new (person B) who resembles that person (C) in some way, and purely because of that, person A starts to also like or believe that they genuinely like person B. The problem with transfers is that they typically are rooted in a person’s (A) unwillingness to let go of the past person, and don’t truly love/hate (whatever emotion it is) the new person (B). This drama, reverses that trope.

This will link to why I find Ming’s bond with Joe to be more genuine than I’ve seen be believed on here (just based on a few comments tbf). My theory is that, ironically, it was Tong all along that was Joe’s metaphorical stand-in from the start. Why? We see a short flashback of Ming going to the cinemas and seeing the ad/clip of ‘Tong’s’ back, doing a martial arts scene, but we only see his back. That very shot/scene is what made Ming feel entranced by Tong and motivated him to seek Tong out with his sister for an autograph. He even mentions it himself to Tong. However, I believe that the ‘back’ that Ming saw, was Joe’s and not Tong’s. Ming « fell in love » with Joe’s acting/aura/presence on the screen first, but mistook him for Tong who is the ‘known’ actor of the film he saw. So all along, his feelings for Tong are somewhat illusory, and obsessive. Tong, who in my opinion gets off of happily at the notion of someone being infatuated with him, simply strings Ming along (and uses him), as we’ve seen.

In my opinion, Tong represents the side of Ming that was raised in a classist, materialistic family that rather obsesses about ‘spectacle’, in a way that harms Ming in the long-term. That kind of lifestyle or way of life makes him petty, distrustful, overtly and unreasonably jealous, and aggressive. Behaviours that manifest very evidently when Ming sees Joe with Sol, but particularly in correlation to scenes in which his affinity for Tong has been strengthened (Tong only sharpens the conditioning Ming has been raised through, that of being sceptical and always needing things to go his way, and fuels this, either by being in his direct company or feeding him seeds of doubt indirectly). Tong represents attachment and obsession but not love. Particularly the scene in which Ming renders Joe unconscious and keeps him captive is the most blatant example of Tong’s influence, which brings out all of the qualities of Ming that reflect the wealthy and entitled background he is born from and still lives off from.

Ming’s interest in Joe is different in my opinion, and the series carefully points to this in a nuanced way. If my theory is correct about Ming having been drawn to Joe first, rather than Tong, and the feelings that were initially meant for Joe came to be directed toward Tong (and became twisted due to that fact), we can assume that Ming’s feelings for Joe are more…instinctual. They awaken something in Ming. And to me this is perfectly shown in their first interactions: Ming hugs Joe from behind, believing he is Tong, but if my guess turns out to be true, he subconsciously went toward Joe and embraced him with the original feelings that he felt at the cinema (when he truly ‘first’ saw him), rather than the other way around, which the series makes us believe at first glance. Then, in their interactions after, Ming is consciously reluctant to open up to Joe (showcasing the walls he has up, even toward Tong), but is still intuitively interested in Joe, wants to be around him, and cares about what he is up to. In my opinion, he sets unfair and unequal conditions in their relationship at first because of the self-défense mechanism he has kept up (someone with his background would find it difficult to trust and be vulnerable with someone else easily). This is why the most crucial interactions between Joe and Ming, in my view, are the scenes at Joe’s home. We see that Joe had said that Ming had fulfilled HIS dream to come back to a lit home and with someone welcoming you back warmly. I believe this is something Ming has long craved as well for himself, and Joe expressing this, and being the way he is, makes Ming feel safe and allows him to become more open, more intimate, more honest, more ‘himself’.

I feel that Ming struggles to fully understand these sides of him, and has even more difficulty communicating it to others (especially Joe), but that his gentler moments show indeed the equal, and dare i say, even ‘healthy’ potential of this couple. We see this from the last scene of this episode. Instead of Ming indulging in luxuries for someone of his status, or succumbing to some kind of greed, he has pertained to what he has truly desired all along in his heart: a warm home, where he can lead an honest and loving life with the person who sees him past his social persona of the rich, pampered, entitled and obsessive kid. This is symbolised by the fact that he has continued to live in Joe’s home, waiting for him for the last two years, which reflects his commitment and earnestness which he had gradually developed for Joe, even before.

I think what people get (understandably) confused or feel betrayed by, is the scene in which Joe realises he has been a ‘stand-in’ for Tong by Ming, especially during sex (because this is somewhat what Ming consciously believes for himself too). For me, I saw it more so as, on one level, the revelation of what I just mentioned about Ming’s prior conscious intention (which evidently is form of betrayal to Joe), and on another level, it is a defining moment of transition, where Ming is still somewhat clinging on to Tong (because of the feelings he first felt for him at the cinema, which could really be Joe again), but also clinging still to what he knows and about his way of going about things (through manipulation and violence).

So a transition from that, into the growing feelings, appreciation, and warmth Ming did start to exhibit at Joe’s house (the symbol of vulnerable space). We see this through Ming buying the couple mugs with THEIR names (Ming and Joe), or the meaningful moments of genuine happiness that Ming feels in the simple, non judgemental moments between the two of them. This is something his sister comments about, that seeing Ming with Joe is surprisingly pleasant because it is the fist time in a very long time since she has seen Ming happy and so smiley (this is one of the biggest external piece of evidence to the idea that Ming’s « feelings » for Tong have a very different nature to his feelings for Joe). And we see this very clearly in the scene in which Joe bought a watch to Ming (and which I believe we see him promote now two years later on the poster he is). That scene is extremely significant because it shows the shift and differences of Ming alone with Joe compared to with Tong or how he is used to being. The watch is a gift from Joe, who believes it to be the « top » watch in terms of ‘quality’ and price, something we see Ming ALREADY HAS (and doesn’t have particular personal feelings toward). The top watch he has reflects his status, his wealthy background and the expectations on him by others and himself (to be considered societally the ‘best’, but in a rather vain way). However, Joe’s watch isn’t the top watch in a societal, classist sense, but it holds more value to Ming because it represents Joe’s sincerity and that matters more to him. The watch, which is typically a common symbol of time, also reflects, in my opinion, the difference in how Ming spends his time. By taking Joe’s watch and wearing it, his way of using time is also more personal and sincere, wanting to lead a life of authentic connection with someone on the same wavelength as you. In his act of taking of his old watch, which was the ‘top watch’, Ming leaves behind his old lifestyle, or at least takes on more step toward exiting it (the life of vanity and falsehoods). So all these signs of Ming’s genuine interest, endearment and feelings of care for Joe are sprinkled there from the beginning, and the series deliberately is setting a constraint between his potential for warmth and healthy sincerely with the baggage he still has from his past through Tong and his family (something he both feels and is to some extent very much controlled by).

The series has really made me invested, and that has really been invigorating for me (as I binged the episodes today) because I haven’t really felt that as much with a lot of BL series lately - not that there aren’t don’t get me wrong, just that it feels like fewer have my engagement than usual. And to me, the series’ strength at this point (excluding the very good acting etc) is the writing, so I am very hopeful that for the parts of Ming that would require a form of redemption, or improvement, that the series would allow him to have that arc by the time that Joe and him supposedly get back together (if they do). In the case where my interpretation is close to the series’ intention, then i believe that although it doesn’t make the previous scenes justified, that it would be very much possible for Joe and Ming’s relationship to take on a healthier, more mature turn, where their relationship would become more patient, communicative and understanding, just like the interactions they shared in their own shared home.

I’ll probably end my train of thought here, but would really like to hear if anyone disagrees or agrees with my opinions, would be happy to hear from anyone hihi. Thank you to those who read this whole e s s a y, i’m appreciative of that :).

#msi thoughts #NOT MINE #my stand in #my stand in the series #my stand-in

[yuri-is-online]

Okay so Trey in the Blotpocalypse timeline or where Yutu comes from also Overblotted right??

And I like to imagine he became an extreme sadist or really really evil once he overbloted, and his Yutu does NOT buy the stories of Trey being actually a very chill and “I don’t want problems, don’t involve me with whatever shenanigans you have” guy.

And when goes to the timeline of now he just.

“Wait, this guy fr??? I saw this guy overbloted and being a sadist maniac, the FUCK you mean he is just the son of the baker”

¬‿¬ you read my mind camrastuff. Overblot Trey is a sadistic bastard, and his children are three of his favorite people to pick on... because yeah the original idea for Trey! Yutu passed peer review, and Furubatsu was kind enough to give us the names Yutres and Yushi for the other two triplets. You will regret giving me this power because I am going to use it to hurt you ψ(｀∇´)ψ

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. This post is heavier on the angst than the other Yutu posts and contains references to gore, depression, and major character death. Please engage responsibly.

They grew up associating home with violets.

Yuu would always keep a few plants on their bedroom windowsill, but the violets spilled all over the house. "They remind me of your father." They would always say, with a gentle look in their eyes that turns sad when they reach for the memories that just aren't there. As the triplets grow, they take turns caring for them so Yuu can rest and wonder about what that man was like and how Yuu came to associate him with the flowers. Yutres is the one who brings up their association with newlyweds and wonders if they were planning a wedding.

"There would be a record of it if they got married." Yushi says it like she's searched for the license already, and knowing his sister like he does Yutu is pretty sure she has. Yutres pulls her blanket around herself in embarrassment and Yutu finds himself speaking up before she can feel any worse.

"She was just saying it's romantic." Yutu doesn't like fighting with his sisters. He likes it even less when they fight with each other, everyone who isn't the two of them says it's because he's the oldest. That he has an instinctive need to protect them as their big brother, . "A lot of the things they say about dad are very romantic." Yushi rolls her eyes, but doesn't disagree. Domestic is the word Yutu would prefer to use for how Yuu talks about his father. They think about him most when they're cooking or taking care of him and his siblings. It's not enough to give him a clear picture of the man, but it's enough to feel like he might have loved him. He's willing to go with what Yushi theorized after looking far harder than he or Yutres, that Yuu ran away from home and settled down with their dad, only for him to die and ruin the good future they were trying to build with each other. It does nothing to dissuade Yutres from seeing it as romantic, or Yushi from blaming him for all their problems. Yutu refuses to take sides, forever the peacemaker destined to drown his own opinion under the weight of not wanting to make anyone mad. Deep down though, he doesn't care about what his dad was like. He just wishes someone was there to help, to make things less financially strained so he could play a sport at school and maybe make some friends.

When he meets his father he takes it all back. He wishes he never met the man at all.

Yutu per tradition is the oldest sibling, Yutres is the second born and Yushi the third. I like to think they have darker colored hair since Trey's green hair is rather dark, their eyes are "normal" for Yuu's world but turn yellow when they arrive in Twisted Wonderland. Yutres inherits Trey's height and poor eyesight, and she's deeply insecure about both due to the large amount of bullying she received growing up. Yutu is also tall, just not as tall as his sister while Yushi is at least a half foot shorter than her siblings and enjoys complaining about it. She accuses her siblings of stealing her height in the womb, but says it's ok because she got all the brains.

The kids grew up extremely poor. Three kids on a single parent's salary is no joke, Yuu was deeply stressed for a lot of their younger years. None of the fyuuture kids like Yuu's home town but the triplets especially hated it there. They felt like animals in a zoo or cast members of a freak show with how acceptable it was to point and stare at them. When they moved away once Yuu managed to secure a place with a better middle school for them to attend they were ecstatic. It was a nice change of pace to just be bullied for being poor.

They spent a lot of time as children playing made up games with each other, a lot of them revolved around cooking since Yuu seemed to really like doing that. They used to run pretend restaurants, or ice cream parlors, or cafes, anything that served food really. They always colored the menus together and asked Yuu to give them good reviews (5 stars for the babies obviously, yuu has a bunch of them in a folder somewhere they look at when things get rough)

I really like the idea of Trey being with a Yuu who has a vague interest in candy making? Because it's a similar interest to baking but still very different and I really like the idea of one of the triplets being interested in it. As the three get older, Yutu and Yutres learn as much about cooking and baking as they can, from Yuu, from the internet and the local library while Yushi applies herself more to experimenting with making things like taffy and caramel. She convinces her siblings to sell their product on the down low at school to bring in some money they can hopefully use to start a business someday. She's the most business minded of the three of them, Yutu privately thinks she has the biggest personality in an effort to make up for being the shortest.

The three of them are obviously major sweet tooths, but they disagree about what desert is best. Yutu loves custards and ice creams, Yutres thinks cake is best especially if it's fluffy, and Yushi likes things made with jams and candied fruits. It made trying to do something for their birthday a nightmare until Yuu realized they all loved hot chocolate and was able to convince them to have a "tea party" for their birthday where they got copious amounts of hot chocolate and some homemade cookies. It's a memory they all treasure and recreate when they arrive in Twisted Wonderland.

That arrival is much easier on the three of them than it is on a lot of the other Yutus. It helps having two other siblings you're deeply connected to when learning you're from another world, your parent is dying from a curse, and that magic is real but only two of you have it. NRC has ceased to be a boys only or even a mage's only school at this point, but it's still hurts for Yutres to learn that her siblings have something special about them while she's still just her. Crewel takes her aside to speak with her as the ceremony goes on without him, asking her if she thinks poorly of Yuu for just being themselves and Yutres can't fathom why she would do that. "Because that's what you're doing to yourself. Your siblings won't love you any less and you won't be of any less help. You are your parent's child after all." Something that Crewel sees as being made all the more true when two first year Heartslabyul students burst through the door and start whining for their sister to do their make up.

Yutres draws a Spade on Yutu to represent a knight's spear, because she thinks of her brother as someone who wants to protect people, and she's deeply grateful for all of the times he's stuck up for her. Yushi gets a diamond because Yutres thinks her sister is very classy and well put together, "diamonds are a girl's best friend or something" is how she words it, but that trademark Clover smirk is there to suggest there's more to it than that. She settles in to Ramshackle almost immediately after meeting the ghosts, who are overjoyed to have another Yuu in their happy haunt.

Heartslabyul suits her siblings well enough. Yutu thinks all these rules are exhausting but he tries his best to do his best so as not to rock the boat. Yushi is more or less the same, but she sort of wants to become Dorm Leader so she can throw a bunch of Unbirthday Parties because those sound fun. The lack of fresh food available to cook with is a drag sure, but she's sure she can at least find some good teas to serve... she just feels like the people around her could use some hope and she drags Yutu into figuring out how to find it.

That journey is long, at the end of it are six known phantoms wreaking havoc on their father's world and one that so few people know about they aren't sure he exists. At some point, all three triplets join a mission to the Queendom and debriefed by S.T.Y.X. about the phantom that roams there.

"Your quest is not to kill the Queen or her mini boss level minions." Idia is a strange person, Yutu can tell he's on the same page as his sisters without bothering to look. "You're just there as support for the front line mages and to get a realistic idea of what they're fighting against." He lets his hands fall to his sides and drops eye contact, chewing on his lower lip as he hesitates. Finally he takes a deep breath and turns towards the display, flicking through footage of the various monsters he had been talking about earlier. "A phantom is a husk using what's left of an overblotted mage to find and feed off of new magic sources. They can get very creative in how they do that." He focuses on a video of the Phantom Hatter, enlarging it so the triplets can get an uncomfortable look at it's facial features and know why Idia was struggling to talk to them. The monster is tall, with glasses and a top hat that would be sort of comical if he wasn't overseeing a table filled with rotting cakes and pastires for a party attended by corpses in varying states of decay. "This one talks. Don't listen to a word it says."

Trey has lines during lessons and in various other places suggesting he could never obey the Queen, and since Riddle is more Queen now than himself Trey has a degree of independence when compared to the other card soldiers. The S.T.Y.X. staff classify him as a rogue phantom and highly dangerous. He can talk, he uses his unique magic to make people confused about their surroundings, to mimic the voices of their loved ones and lure them towards packs of monsters where he'll watch silently as they die. He's picky about who he "invites" to his mad tea party, it's difficult to get a drone close enough to his base to analyze who the victims are.

Idia was vehemently against sending the Clover triplets anywhere near an area that the Hatter could be. That's beyond cruel to them and extremely dangerous, he just knows that Trey will find them and that it won't go well. Phantoms corrupt the natural instinct of the person they're feeding off of, and while Idia thinks Trey was always a sketchy bastard he knows that he was a domestic one too. If there's enough of him left to recognize his children... his worries are soothed by Ortho promising to keep an eye on them and the fact the mission isn't in Trey's usual territory.

It doesn't help. A familiar sees the strange looking children and speeds off to fetch its master. The Phantom Hatter doesn't show himself immediately, he watches, waits for everyone to relax just a little bit before he strikes, chasing everyone into one of the Queendom's many hedge mazes and isolating them from one another. The stress causes Yushi to discover her unique magic as she desperately tries to feel for her siblings, she is able to form a brief telepathic connection with someone she knows and see things as they are. She can tell that Yutu and Yutres are in danger, and decides to run for her brother first. She's sure he'll be half way to their sister by the time she finds him, he's the oldest. He always knows what to do. And while she's right she's also wrong, by the time she finds Yutu he's already found Yutres, but someone else has too. The Hatter doesn't blink. He doesn't breathe either she notices, but her sister still shrinks back, pulling an injured Yutu closer to her.

"Well that's just rude." It's not a voice they've heard before, but he's somehow so familiar. Like they heard this voice before, sometime long ago, whispered into the warmth that existed before they were torn from this world to be born in another one. "I'm just trying to say hello." Yushi doesn't think he's noticed her yet, she focuses on holding her breath and looking for a way out. Yutres maintains eye contact with the monster as she applies a potion to Yutu's wound and prays, to who or what she doesn't know, that he heals. "Have we met before? You seem awfully familiar." The monster summons bones up from the ground, closing in around the triplets and knocking Yushi out of hiding as the phantom looks over his shoulder to tip his hat and wink. It's an opening Yutres immediately takes, throwing Yutu behind her and jumping to hit at the monster's rib cage, landing a blow that causes a sickening crunch.

"RUN!" Yushi screams, she thinks she grabs her sister and brother's hands and drags them on instinct and adrenaline back to the base camp until a senior smites down the phantom the Hatter had mimic her sister and takes an unconscious Yutu to the medical tent.

Ortho tries to track down Yutres, but he's unsuccessful. It's months later when Idia finally thinks to send drones to check what's left of the Clover family bakery and finally finds her body. She's been laid in a children's bed, covered with a blanket. He can't tell if what's left of Trey couldn't bear to look at his dead daughter or if the phantom thought he was just putting her to sleep. It's too much even for Idia, he personally retrieves her and helps the surviving kids plan the funeral. It's not the first time he's felt responsible for getting someone's child killed, but it's the most personal.

Yutu's numb. Yushi is looking to him for guidance, and he doesn't know what to say to comfort her or to make it better. They're missing a part of themselves and are much too quick to agree to Idia's plan to send them back in time, their parents are the last thing on their minds they just want their sister back. When Yushi arrives in the Queendom she's able to tell where everyone is and go searching for them. When Yutu arrives at NRC he's terrified he's lost his only remaining sister, and that's before he has to deal with his dad.

Trey is a freak, but he's a domesticated freak. A domesticated freak who is deeply in denial about being in love with you or anything other than normal. He appreciates that Riddle feels comfortable enough to invite you to Heartsabyul, whether it's for a casual tea or for an Unbirthday party since it saves him the trouble of having to do it himself and you're always so eager to help... but then Yutu arrives and suddenly your attentions are a bit split. You still come around for the parties, but casual teas are becoming less and less. He tries to tease you about it, asking where else you're going to get your cakes from and that's when you mention it. "Oh Yutu bakes a lot and he's really good at it. I always feel bad for bothering you so, it's nice to not have to do it so much anymore." Oh? Well isn't that just cute, Trey isn't bothered by this at all. He might not think there's a difference between something bought from a store or something "made with love" but he certainly thinks there's a difference between him and another guy. And he wants you to choose him.

Yutu is terrified of his father. He still has nightmares of what happened to Yutres, and he's afraid he's lost Yushi now too. No one had much to say about Trey in the future, most all of his friends were either dead or phantoms and while Grandpa Crewel was enthusiastic in describing his interest in science he didn't give them much backstory. Idia never spoke poorly of him, and tried to impress on him that what killed his sister was a monster using his dad's magic and not actually his dad but when that thing kills your sister...

He doesn't know what to make of him. Trey's extremely chill so long as no one is causing trouble, he convinces himself to keep an eye on the Phantom Hatter, but he doesn't see any signs of that. The guy is really weird about teeth, and definitely in denial about his feelings for his parent but he is, weirdly enough, closer to that word Yutu would have associated with him before he came to Twisted Wonderland than he is anything that would describe that monster. He's domestic, a guy who looks like he'd be more at home in socks and sandals than surrounded by corpses. He overworks himself and takes naps on the Guest Room couch, he confesses that he was hoping to join some sort of cooking club but settled for the science one, and the way he looks at Yuu when he thinks no one is looking is so soft Yutu wants to choke. Idia's original warning, that a phantom isn't a person anymore and that the monster will do anything to convince you otherwise. But what would his sisters think if he ever thought about forgiving him?

"Is there a specific reason you wanted to grow violets?" Trey tries to keep his voice down, but Yutu still starts when he hears him. He didn't jump 10 feet in the air this time, so he likes to think he's making progress, though towards what he doesn't know. Yutu looks at the flowers, Trey can't see his eyes, but his grip on the watering can is tense. "Not judging, just curious." He tries to soothe him in the same tone of voice he would one of his younger siblings, and it does seem to work somewhat. "I really like them myself."

"My sister..." Yutu chokes on what sounds like a half sob, and Trey immediately regrets trying to help. "My sister really liked them she... she always thought they were romantic." The past tense catches Trey's attention immediately and something in him aches, he couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose one of his own siblings and he does talk about them a lot... was he being insensitive? Did he hurt Yutu by reminding him of his sister?

"Are they?" He isolates a few particularly well tended blooms and snips them to add to his basket next to Riddle's strawberries. "I'm not really good with those sorts of things." Yutu snorts, and Trey can't help but feel slighted somehow. "To me they just taste good."

"They taste good?" Yutu squeaks. He sounds indignant and Trey just shrugs.

"Yeah, candied flowers are really popular in the Queendom of Roses. I really like candied violets, ha when I was a kid I didn't realize you needed to cook them first and my parents had to stop me from eating them off the ground." There's quiet for a moment, Trey wonders if he's pushed it too far but Yutu's mouth finally lets out a small noise before he breaks into loud peels of laughter that sound like a weight is lifting off of Yutu's shoulders.

The first thing Yutu thinks when he hears about his father eating flowers is how Yushi tried to do the same thing when she was little. The second is how funny Yutres had thought that was, how she had smiled and laughed and Yutu cannot keep himself from laughing as well. How did this man become that creature? Did the loss of his home hit him that hard? Yutu doesn't know, but he's not afraid anymore. Some of his tension lifts, Yuu tells Trey during one of their hang outs that he's started speaking about his sisters more and that they now know he's a triplet (trey: wow those poor parents yuu: i know right? i could never). He starts getting into lighthearted (from his perspective anyway) spats with Trey over who can bake better. Trey says he has no complaints because he doesn't have to make as much for Unbirthday Party's now but ooooooh he'll be so upset if you say you think Yutu is better than him. If that was the case why's the little shit so interested in listening to what he has to say huh? And how did he pick up on Trey's feelings enough to reassure him he's got nothing to worry about?

The truth about Yutu is revealed during another monster attack. It happens during a science club trip to Crane Port, the sky grows eerily dark, and Yutu tenses out of instinct. Everyone else is confused, is it going to rain? And why is Yutu sprinting away from the group like a bloodhound with a scent? Rook is the one to give chase, Trey tagging along begrudgingly determined to keep the two of them from causing more trouble. But a bunch of trouble is exactly what they find, a monster that resembles an undead, overblotted version of Yuu is thrashing about as a group of... mages they don't recognize attack them. Trey and Rook prepare to help when Yuu notices them and their eyes narrow onto Trey and two of the unfamiliar looking mages absolutely lose it.

Yutu's disguise is knocked off, and Yushi was never wearing one to begin with so it's difficult to deny the similarity between the two now that Trey has a look at them. It's the eyes that he notices first, yellow just like his but bereft of glasses. Yuu's story about Yutu being a triplet rings dully in his mind as the fake Yuu fades from view, banished back to wherever it came from and Trey closes his eyes to do some math.

"There's one of you missing." It's not the statement they're expecting clearly, all justifications for their existence die on their tongues as they exchange a painful glance. Yushi was able to use her magic to see some of what Yutu's life was like at NRC, and she warmed up to what she saw of her dad much faster than Yutu did. Yutu doesn't want to be the one to tell Trey he killed their sister, but he also doesn't want to push that burden onto Yushi so he steels himself, and explains his story. Trey listens and he thinks. He's silent, arms folded as Yutu stumbles through his story before he interrupts his grief by pulling both of his children into his arms. He's a big guy, but they're big kids and he can barely get his arms around them both but he still feels empty.

Trey hates doing work he isn't responsible for, but he loves his family and doesn't see them as constant work. Three children? That Yuu was forced to raise by themselves? Unacceptable, the closer he has been getting to Yuu the more plans he's made for the future he wants with them. He knows what he wanted for these kids, and none of it is what they're describing. Trey might not want to be the best of all time, but he still wants to be the best he can be. Changing the future sounds like a big ask, something that Trey Clover should see as none of his business and easy to ignore. But it's not, it's different when it's his own family. If Idia thinks he's scary now just wait until three Clovers show up on his doorstep demanding he get in their party and stop the apocalypse. Four technically if you count yourself, something they really hope you do.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #trey clover x yuu

[zukosdualdao]

just… the absolute trust between zutara in the finale is unreal. after zuko’s impromptu training attack session, yes, katara is surprised and even somewhat angry as she confronts him, but when she says “you could have hurt aang!” all it reminds me of is the fact that just a few episodes ago, she literally threatened to kill him if he ever gave her a reason to think he might so something to hurt aang. but here, now, even as she’s confronting him, she just… waits for him to explain, and she actually sees and agrees with his point once zuko tells the gaang about ozai’s plan.

there is also the absolutely, 100% synchronized way they fight during the simulated training session, something that calls back to their synchronization and teamwork in the southern raiders, and that inherently shows a lot of trust and understanding between them.

katara is the one who initially asks zuko what they should do after aang disappears. everyone else agrees, but it's katara who trusts him enough to position him, not just to herself but to everyone else, as someone they should listen to because of his history, skill, and experience, especially noteworthy because the reason she gives—“you are sort of the expert at tracking the avatar”—is what used to make him untrustworthy in their eyes. they’ve come such a long way.

then katara notices zuko freeze and sit in front of iroh’s tent, and when she asks if he’s okay, he just… completely trusts her with exactly what he’s feeling, and if he’s even a little worried that what he’s saying might cause her to act derisively, because what he’s referencing here is also what katara was angry and hurt about, he doesn’t show it. he just so completely trusts her with it, and her insistence that iroh will forgive him is born from her own trust of zuko, and she's able to tell him what he needs to hear because she was once in iroh's position and zuko proved his genuine remorse and care to her.

then, of course, we've got zuko not missing a beat as he asks katara to be the one to come with him to confront azula, and her ready acceptance. they make a good team, and they know it.

but when they get there and azula challenges zuko to an agni kai - though she initially has misgivings, katara ultimately trusts zuko when he says he can handle it and understands that he doesn't want her to get hurt if she doesn't have to. (an aspect of zuko's "i can't explain it, but she's slipping" line that i think gets underexamined, btw, is that that's not an inherently good thing for them. yes, maybe that means zuko will be able to take her, particularly because he knows azula and her fighting style well. but someone who is "slipping" is also, in this case, desperate, and more prone to being reckless with people's lives. zuko tries to mitigate that by fighting her alone, but it doesn't work because azula can't follow the terms she sets when she realizes she's losing.)

the lightning scene is a really interesting example of trust as it relates to zuko and katara, because to me, the emphasis there isn't quite so much on zuko and katara trusting each other. there's barely time for katara to think through what will happen to as azula aims for her or wonder what zuko will do, after all, and zuko is probably in too much pain and too out of it to think about katara coming to try to heal him. (though if they did have the time and mental faculties to think it through, i think they would both 120 percent trust the other to help them.)

instead, the emphasis is on the audience trusting the characters. from the moment zuko sees where azula's aiming, he doesn't hesitate, doesn't even think about, just. immediately jumps in front of the lightning before it can reach katara. i've said this before, but as soon as he understood what was happening, there was just no chance of that lightning ever getting to katara and that's the point. we've seen what zuko looks like when he's hesitating or conflicted, and the difference is stark. the show never wants you to question exactly what zuko will do, that he refuses to let katara get heart, that he'll save her.

and for her part, katara immediately runs to try and save zuko despite azula still being around and attacking, and tries again before realizing she needs to defeat azula in order to do so. but the entire scene of katara's defeating her, while obviously heroic and emblematic of katara's power and the culmination of her arc as a girl whose culture and identity was nearly stripped away from her to being a master waterbender, is also framed as katara defeating azula so she can get to zuko. she would have done it anyways, yes, but in this context, right now, she is fighting azula so she can get to zuko to heal him.

here, in the narrative culmination of their arcs together, it shows not just that they trust each other, but asks the audience to not doubt the development of the dynamic that’s been built, to trust that they will take care of each other. and they do.

#will never be over it ! tbh! #atla rewatch ‘24 #zutara #sozin’s comet #zuko #katara

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

Something I noticed that I wanted to point out: When we see Aven as a baby in that flashback he’s clearly being swaddled by some white fabric, but when you look closer you notice the burnt edges. The same burnt edges that are on the shirt we see him wearing in every flashback at all his different ages. The shirt his dad left behind after he died is the same shirt that held him as a baby. Idk I just thought it was sweet and sad that that same shirt was all he had of his dad even then, and it’s been with him since he was born (also it’s sweet to imagine ratio finding that shirt one day and asking Aven about it)

Oh it's so touching and sad, I didn't pick up on that when I played the quest so thanks for pointing it out! And yes Aven explaining to Ratio what the shirt means to him would be very sweet indeed!

And speaking of the few objects Aven still has from his parents, thinking about it made me realize something: you know how at one point, future!Aventurine mocks Aven for never selling the charm and necklace he inherited from his mother, even though it could have granted him a comfortable life? Well, it just dawned upon me that selling those wasn't his only option. He could have used them as his first gambling chips (and then kept them, since he is so lucky). But he didn't. Even with Gaiathra's blessing, he just couldn't take the risk to lose something so precious. Which means that Mr. "I'm going all in, even with my life" actually owns something he is unwilling to put on the table, something that in his eyes holds more value than his existence itself, and that something is his last link to his family. And that is just so incredibly tragic and sweet too 😭

#aventio #ratiorine #dr ratio #aventurine #asks #rambling

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 4: Winter

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: Mature.

Warnings: Mentions of sex but nothing explicit. Canon-typical violence, bodily harm, death,  (blood, broken bones, knife wounds, shooting, blunt force) and PTSD.

Summary: Revenge comes calling and you work though it as a family.

A/N: Series set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although it does use some characters/elements from the second game.

I’m so sorry it’s taken this long to get to winter. This one was difficult for me to face writing for reasons that may be made clear. But it was very rewarding. <3

The air is thin and cold this morning, takes your breath and makes a show of it as you quickstep it down to the stables. The sun is just starting to make the frost sparkle and no doubt Goldie will be using up the rest of the firewood at the Roost today.

Good thing you have a Joel who’s ready to chop more.

Although he’s also a Joel that’s forgotten his tea, the “stuff with the things in it” that Willa gave him for the stiffness in his knees. With this cold he’s going to want it today on patrol and the last thing you think you can stand is the tug in your heart when he comes home complaining of the cold and the ache and you sitting warm and cozy with his thermos on the counter when you had the legs to trot it on out to him.

It’s a relief to round the corner and find the patrol party still at the stable gate, Tommy helping one of the teens with their rifle strap, and Joel waiting on horseback, weaving his gloved fingers together, packing them down at the valleys to get his hands all the way in.

He’d laid one of those hands on your cheek this morning. Gentle. First thing you saw when you opened your eyes. Like most mornings now. His thumb rounding the rim of your cheek so he could lean in and take a good long drink of a kiss.

He likes it that way…soft, slow. Likes to pull you in as close as he can, twist his forehead into your temple when he hits his peak, jaw clenched in agonized pleasure, kisses along your jawline when you find yours, his eyes half-lidded and watching you in a hazy awe. He’s quiet but thorough, completely  present like he can’t believe he’s got this little slice of warmth, sighs a hushed curse in your ear and calls you sweetheart in the same breath, and then sleeps like a baby the whole night through.

He doesn’t like to talk about the past much, but listening’s your specialty and it comes out in bits and pieces, stuck between the little he does say. You come to understand that he very rarely got to be very close with anyone while Sarah was growing up. There were the years when everything was a nightmare. Then there was Tess and she brought him out of that, thank goodness. But it took time. And there was also denial and survival and means to their ends. There might indeed have been strong love there. But you have the feeling he’s not had this–or anything like it–for a long, long time.

So if he wants it soft and slow, then who are you to deny him?

Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising that it was him who pulled you in a little closer.

“What if you didn’t move in with Tommy and Maria this winter?” He’d lingered the morning after Christmas, leaning one shoulder against the frame of your bedroom door, savoring the show of you getting dressed for the day.

“And waste the fuel? Why? So we can cuddle up now and then without your brother down the hall? You keep me plenty warm, Joel Miller, but I’m not going to heat this whole house just for me and your more-than-casual visits. Everyone’s got a responsibility here to conserve in the winter. This is how I do my part. And besides,” you purred as he stepped in to button up your flannel for you, freeing up your fingers so they could run through his curls, “I know where you live and your bed’s good as mine.”

“You seem to like it there well enough.”

“I do.” His beard was growing in all but a patch on his jaw that was now your right to kiss.

“Well I was thinkin’ we just make it ours for the winter.”

His hands had circled your hips and his words had stopped your heart, but there was little for to say with his lips pressed against yours.

So mornings often started as they did today, waking to find Joel beside you, roused because you can feel him watching you with that little half smile that reveals the crack in his weary heart where the light shines through. Who needs spring to come with sunshine like that to turn to? Now there are family breakfasts with Ellie and cozy days knitting in the company of Maria and Riley and then warm nights with Joel on one of those pillowtopped mattresses that were all the rage before the outbreak…the ones that are great when you have a stiff back, but even better because the springs don’t squeak…

“Aw dammit,” Joel says when he sees you nearing the stables with the thermos, “Knew I forgot something.”

“Two somethings,” you say pointing to his bare head and passing your hat up to him in the saddle. “Your ears are already bright red. Here. Take my hat.”

“This’s Ellie’s.”

“Huh. Guess I just grabbed one on my way out. Oops. Be a man. Wear a pompom.”

He pulls it down over his ears and smiles. “Matches my scarf.”

You’d had a small batch of deep red wool you’d managed to squeak a hat and scarf out of and gifting the hat to Ellie around Christmas, but the scarf went to Joel. He may not want anyone to think of him as sentimental, but it was worth your while to make it easy on him by giving him something that was also practical. Even if he had his jacket zipped up all the way, it was always there, tucked around his neck; he may leave his ears to the elements but he never went anywhere without that scarf.

The line of horses start making their way toward the Jackson gates and you squeeze Joel’s shin before stepping out of the way, letting him and his horse follow the group. He simply lets a gloved finger glance your cheek as he passes by.

All the way out here on this side of the apocalypse and humans still have a million variations on saying “I love having you around and I’d like to keep it that way.”

________

“Ellie’s more than welcome around here if you and Joel don’t want to leave her home alone.”

Maria’s lightly bouncing a wet-faced and blubbering Riley on her lap, trying to tempt him with a frozen carrot for his teething. He has tommy’s curls and they sproing with every boing.

“Nah, she wants to come out. We’ll be dividing the ewes and driving part of the flock into the old town for the rest  of the overwinter and she wants to see how it's done. Should see it, if she thinks she’ll be entering the rotation at any point. Speaking of,” you grunt, leaning down to gather your knitting basket and gather your things, “I promised I’d meet her after school. She’s gotten into collecting cassette tapes and the commissary says she’s hit her quota on goods this week. Gonna give up a couple credits so she can discover the wonders of Joan Jett and the Beastie Boys.”

“That’s throwing gas on the fire. She pick those out herself?”

“Nope. My points, my choice. And I say that girl needs to fight for her right to party and put another dime in the jukebox, baby.”

Maria rolls her eyes, chuckles, goes light on the sarcasm. “You’re the coolest auntie.”

“Don’t I know it,” you laugh, tying up your boots.

“Joel’s gonna just love that.”

Leaning in to bop a quick kiss to Riley’s head, you give Maria a crazed grin. “So much.”

Ten minutes later, Ellie has her doubts, holding up a cassette at the commissary. “But there’s a dinosaur on this one! How can it not be great?”

“Listen, missy. I’m not saying Dinosaur Jr. doesn’t have a place in music history, but I’m telling you that you’re likely to be disappointed. Trust me. Just this once.”

Ellie makes a face but you glance past it, distracted by what you see through the window behind her. Following your focus, she turns to look too. “Who’re they?”

All of the patrol horses coming back in have two people on them–a member of the party, and a stranger. And all the strangers can’t be more than teenagers.

“Dunno, but it looks like you’re about to get some new classmates. I’ll sign these out. You go ahead and make a good first impression.”

“You’re just sending me out there because you know if they’re infected, I can’t catch it.”

“If they were infected, they wouldn’t be on those horses or inside those gates. I’m sending you out there because you have a way of reading people. Go.”

Something in that puts a gasp in her throat and a sparkle in her eye and her ponytail whips behind her as she goes, striving to live up to the compliment.

But really, you just want half a minute to take a good look at the kids without Ellie asking questions. They’re all scrawny and filthy. Backpacks. Been traveling and living rough for a while now. Where’d they come from? What’s their story? Not an adult among them. How have they survived? You’d swear something feels off, but that’s the world now. Can’t be too careful. Everything seems off all the time. 

Question is, off by how much?

You find Joel in the group; he’s the only one riding with a kid in front of him rather than hanging on behind. And once he gets down off the horse and reaches up to help his passenger down, you can see why.

She’s pregnant.

Shit. She’s what, fifteen? Sixteen?

Shit.

“There’s a house up near mine has good plumbing turned on.” Tommy’s speaking over his shoulder to the small group and leading his horse to the stable door as you come out of the commissary. “We’ll get you all washed up and fed. There’s at least two beds there and some other furniture fit to sleep on if it makes you comfortable to stay together. Give me a minute to put Lady away here and we’ll walk on up together. Joel? A word?”

Handing off the pregnant girl’s backpack to her, Joel takes the reins of his horse and follows his brother inside, leaving the newcomers to look around them and take in the town.

All but one. A girl with hair that’s neither light brown or dark blonde, somewhere in between. Your mother would have called it dirty dishwater blonde and you always thought that was rude. But your mother also would have said the girl had a hatchet of a face with a strong jaw like that. And it’s that girl whose head whips around the second she heard Joel’s name, quickly scanning the patrol to ascertain who belonged to it, and stands watching the stable door in thought long after the Miller brothers were gone.

Was Joel her father’s name? Her brother’s? Is it hers or close to hers? Is she a Jo or Joelle?

“Abby. Hey,” a boy calls and she turns. “Mel should get a bed and we can share. Manny and Nora can share too…if you’re okay with taking a couch.”

“Fine,” Abby says. Her eyes and mouth all unmoving lines.

“Hey. Welcome to Jackson. I’m Ellie.” Your starling jams her hands in her pockets as all the new eyes turn her way. “It looks like you’ve been wandering. Where you coming from?”

The boy who spoke before blinks and opens his mouth to say something, hesitates. You’d take him for the leader up until the moment Abby speaks for him.

“West of here. QZ. Seattle.”

“Oh. Cool,” says Ellie with a bounce to her nod. Easy. Instantly welcoming. “I came out of Boston.”

Seattle QZ. The same one your dead husband and his sister came from. Not a good place. Warring factions and nothing but oppression and disease, last you heard. Good that they got out. They’re gonna need to be de-loused. 

But Seattle’s also much harder than most zones to break free of. You’ve been told the Western Liberation Front makes FEDRA look like a bucket of clowns.

“Seattle?” Now it’s your turn to pull focus from the group. “We’ve had refugees from there before. You really get out of there in one group like this? With no grown ups?”

Abby rips her eyes away from Ellie. “It’s a long story,” she says, shutting the questioning down.

There’s a moment that hangs between you and that stinks faintly of threat, but is mostly just the smell of feral kids. Tension breaks as the men emerge from the stable.

“We all ready?” Tommy says, making his way down the road and waving a hand for them to follow. “New home’s this way.”

Ellie starts to fall in with the group and you pull her back in close, speak low. “Go with them if you want, but keep your distance.”

“What? Why?”

“These are your first refugees. You’ll learn that they sometimes bring things with ‘em.”

Her face screws into a question mark. “What things?”

“Fleas. Lice. Viruses. Just give ‘em some space for a while.”

After the quickest flash of disgust, Ellie’s tried and true compassion kicks in and she gives an understanding nod as she turns to go, tape cassettes clattering in her jacket pocket.

You keep watching her even as you speak to the owner of the hand snaking around your waist. “Where’d you find them?”

“Up at the old crossing. They were under attack.”

“Jesus.”

“Nope. Infected.”

“Been a while since we’ve seen any of those stumble through here.”

“Infected? Or the kids.”

Turning to him in exasperation you look him over. “Both. And the same goes for you as for Ellie, Foxy. Let’s take you home and wash that scarf and hat. Run a fine-toothed comb through that hair just to make sure.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says, stopping when he catches your zero-temperature glare. If it’s something else you love about Joel, he recognizes when something’s important to you and answers a lady with composure and respect. “Yes, ma’am.”

____

“You couldn’t have found her some Cash or Fleetwood Mac or something?”Joel grumbles into the fireplace as he places another log on the coal bed and moves the poker around like he’s doing something.

Ellie sits on a blanket near the fire, reading a comic book, headphones on, Joan Jett’s grinding guitar bleeding out into the otherwise quiet living room. With his face turned to the fire and Ellie facing away from you, she most likely can’t hear the conversation that’s happening around her if you keep your voices low.

“You’re just jealous that she asked me to pick something out instead of you,” you smile on the couch, picking up your feet and swinging them into his lap as he sits down beside you. “80’s rock is good for her spiky little soul.”

“80’s means trouble,” he counters, considering her as his hands absently squeeze and rub at your feet.

You go back to your book. Seemingly anyway. It’s easy to steal observing glances from where you are. The thoughtful concern he has for Ellie. You can see him looking over the wood in the hopper and calculating how many days of fuel he has before you all head out to the Roost. A twist of a lip tells you he’s realized he might be a day short and needs to chop more. His gaze drops to his lap as he lightly massages your feet–just running his hands along their contours, pressing a thumb in here and there to tenderize a muscle. The firelight loves him, plays at the edges of his curls, slides down his nose, kisses the purse of his lips.

You jump as he slides a tickling fingertip up the sole of one foot. “Hey!”

“What you get for staring.”

“I wasn’t staring at you, I was reading.”

“Must be pretty small print you don’t turn a page for five minutes.”

Taking off your readers and closing the book, you sit up and deposit them on the coffee table. From here it’s easy to scoot up to him and lean an elbow on the couch back. “What’s got you so thinky tonight, hmm? You look like you’ve got your worry pants on.” There’s a curl right behind his ear that’s so easy to twirl in your fingers and you indulge. You’ve found a little touch helps him open up.

“I can’t help thinking about those kids, thinkin’ they could just wander out in the world like that. If it weren’t for us hearing the runners….” He goes quiet a minute and you let him, his gaze haunting Ellie’s direction but living somewhere in the past. “They gotta be somebody’s kids. I can’t believe Seattle’s so bad they just let ‘em run wild…let ‘em run away from the best you got for ‘em.”

A faint guitar blares from Ellie’s headphones as she flips a page, purses her lips, absently nods along.

“Yeah, well teenagers rebel, Foxy. That’s what they do.”

“No,” he says, softly, resolutely, a tick of his jaw. “Not all of ‘em. Not if they’re loved. And fiercely. And I don’t know a love that isn’t fierce.”

It’s the look on his face that makes you believe him.

Love isn’t a word that Joel bandies about. It’s easy to see it work in him. The way he tells Ellie no when she wants to do something reckless but promises her something just as exciting, going to any length to make her smile. The way he holds Riley’s head in the crook of his arm, his other hand reflexively coming out in defense if anyone gets too near the baby’s soft spot. The way he shoves his brother with a laugh when Tommy picks on him or how he helps Maria to her feet when she’s been on the floor too long, even if she says she doesn’t need it.

The way he… with you he…

His hands work at your feet again. He understands the minute levels of his strength, knows how firm to go without bringing pain.

With you, it’s the way he rolls over and shows you his soft places, invites you in to be a part of it.

Not really what you’d call fierce. Does that mean he doesn’t–

“Is a cherry bomb like a little bomb or a big bomb?” Ellie asks, an earpad pulled away from her ear and spilling Cherie Currie’s stuttered chorus.

“It’s a little one. A firework. But it packs a big punch. It’ll take your fingers off. Hello, world, I’m your wild girl, I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch cherry bomb,” you sing, pushing your foot against Joel’s thigh with every beat. 

“Alright, that’s it,” he says, wrapping a big hand around your ankle to secure it. “Ellie, run on up and get my guitar. Lemme teach you a better song.”

In the minute it takes for her to come back, Joel foregoes softness for force, tickling relentlessly, almost ending up with a foot in his face with how much you squirm.

___

Church isn’t really your thing, never was. You have your own way of listening to the beauty of the earth that doesn’t mean sacrificing a morning sleeping in to listen to lessons you’ve already learned and hold true.

But today you’ve come to the after-brunch curious to welcome the new residents and managed to show up a little early. So you’re standing in the back of the mess hall with Maria and Riley, waiting for the final hymn to end, for the preacher to call an end to the service and a beginning to the meal.

Maria leans in and murmurs in your ear as the final chorus comes. “Tommy and the crew are working on one of those bigger houses with the vaulted ceilings in the new district so the church can have its own building.”

“They’re not gonna like having to walk over there.”

She shrugs, adjusts Riley’s teething toy and bounces him up a notch. “Might cause some of them to move over there. Thin out the density. Easier on the power grid. We do have five new residents.” 

You watch as one of the new boys–Owen–helps the pregnant Mel to her feet. “Soon to be six.”

Once the kitchen starts serving, Owen and Mel find their way over to your table, eager to meet Riley and ask Maria all kinds of questions about childbirth and your friend finds herself in a mentoring role she didn’t ask for. She’s not opposed to being helpful, just lets her judgment slide through on the whole babies having babies thing which completely flies over the kids’ heads.

They’re good enough kids, but something tastes a little sour when Owen tries to include you in the conversation.

“What about you? You and…is his name Joel? You gonna have any kids?”

It’s a rude question. He’s earned your side eye and he knows it, but smiles through it, playing innocent.

“Already got one. One’s enough,” you laugh, sly, chewing through some boiled oats and letting him know you’re gonna let that one slide.

“Oh, yeah, right. Ellie, right?” he asks, with a flick of his eyes to a table behind you. Turning, you find Abby at a table with some other residents and when you turn back it’s with a dry expression that tells him he’s worn out his turns at beating the bush and should be out with it.

“We just were wondering if she’d show us around,” Mel explains. “She’s the only one of the children here who will talk to us.”

You snort. “Don’t let Ellie hear you call her a child. She’s short for her age, but she’s not much younger than you. She likes people, but that won’t win you any points.”

“And don’t worry about the other kids,” Maria takes over, shooting you a look. “They’ll come around. A lot of them were born here and they don’t see a ton of new people.”

“Are they not coming to the brunch today?” Owen asks.

“Who?”

“Ellie and Joel.”

Shaking your head, you swallow your latest bite. “Joel and Tommy are off getting some work done in the new sector and Ellie would bite my face off if I woke her up before high noon on a weekend. But she knows where you’re staying. I’ll send her around to you once she’s up and acting like a whole human.”

You’re about to change the subject and ask them a few questions of your own but Riley starts fussing and Mel asks to hold him and the whole baby talk starts up again.

When you look over your shoulder, Abby is gone from the table. Left her dish for someone else to clean up.

There’s a thought creeps in that maybe Ellie can teach them all some manners. And then you remember the mouth on your starling and smile.

____

“And Owen showed me some of his drawings and they’re so amazing. He’s like a fucking Picasso or something. He says he’ll give me lessons if I can get Mr. Scowlface here to take him out hunting. Says he misses hunting deer with his dad. And Abby wants to go too. I told her how you taught me to use a shotgun and she seemed really interested to learn. She might want to join the patrols some day. But I told them not this week since we’re going out to the Meadow and they all had questions about that. Abby especially–” 

Ellie has a remarkable talent for chewing and talking at the same time. She catches a piece of apple that escapes her mouth, slurping it off the back of her hand where it landed, then downs the rest of the milk and wipes her mouth with the cuff of her sweater, leaving you to negate your silent praise of her manners from earlier in the week and giving you a break in the chatter to speak.

“Well, you’re a little young to be recruiting your own Roostlings, but if Abby or any of the others want to come out sometime and see what the fuss is about, they’re welcome. I’d rather them wait until spring though, or at least until we get the whole of the flock back from the deep winter holding grounds. Chickadee’s taking up the caboose on that.”

As you push the carafe of chicory coffee toward Joel and clear the breakfast plates, Ellie snatches the last hunk of bread you left on yours, shaking her head. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

Joel scoffs. “Last car on a train.” He takes a long, loud drag of his coffee, pouring on the annoyance to get a glare out of the girl and succeeds. “Well, if she don’t like heights, she’s not going to enjoy learning patrol duty either, not with the watchtowers and the mountain trails. And don’t go promising services you can’t guarantee. I’m not a scout leader.”

“What’s a scout leader?”

“Someone with a lot more patience than me. Get.”

Taking up her backpack, Ellie makes her way to the front vestibule to pull on her gear.

“Don’t forget your hat and scarf!” You call to her, but smile at Joel as you perch your butt against the table and tuck a little curl behind his ear. He’ll ask you to cut it soon. And you’ll put it off for as long as possible.Tickles, he'll say. I know, you'll say.

“Thanks, Gramma Betty!” she calls back and pulls the door shut behind her as Joel lays a warm hand on your outer thigh.

“What’er you getting up to today?” he asks.

You shrug. “I’m in carding mode. Got a whole bag of washed fleece needs combing. I’d ask you what you’re up to, but I assume you and Tommy are gonna be tearing down some poor old house.”

There’s a moment where he squints, thiinking. His thumb tracing the outer seam of your jeans. 

“I want you to come with me. Got something to show you.”

“Really. Well I like the sound of that. I could use a little walk in the bitter cold with a mystery at the end of it. Gonna have to go pull on a heavier sweater though. Might need to take this one off first. You wanna come watch?”

There’s a knock at the front. Tommy. The door opening.

Joel only grins fondly and pats your thigh, sending you off, before pushing the chair back from the table and separating himself from his coffee mug. “I’ll catch the later show. ‘Specially if it calls for audience participation.”

Five minutes later, bundled and booted, the three of you head out toward the new section, Joel with his scarf tucked in tight and hat pulled down low, and Tommy with a set forced upon him because you’re quickly becoming the winter clothing police around here.

It’s not a long walk. Jackson was never more than a few miles wide and this is just the first expansion of the wall. You’ve wandered over during the construction crew’s activities enough to know the way without being led, but what you’re expecting is for Joel to lead you away from the furthest street, away from the beautiful A-frame house so neatly repaired along with its pretty neighbors and up the street with Tommy to the next clutch of houses they’ve been working on. 

But instead, Joel tells his brother he’ll be along in a minute, and Tommy smiles knowingly as he continues on, leaving the two of you in the walkway up to the pretty A-frame that’s so much like the Roost’s bigger sister.

“You know what today is?” Joel asks, hands in pockets, squinting up at the peaked roof.

“Friday?”

“Probably,” he says, shifting focus to his boots. “I was thinking more holiday-wise.”

The air’s particularly crisp today, hitches in your lungs as you take each mental step and catch up with him.

February 14. Valentine’s.

As your mouth drops open, he jerks his chin at the house. “You like this one, right?”

“What…what are you….Joel?”

There’s a cringe that belies his confidence, maybe a tinge of regret. “I just figured we were gettin’ along so well, that maybe you’d… It was just an idea–”

He can’t even look you in the eye until you yank his hand awkwardly out of his pocket and wrap your gloved hand around his. He seems almost shocked to see your tears welling up–true, half from the cold–but he’s also relieved. Big breath in, big breath out. That must have been the hard part.

Words aren’t Joel’s way. This is how he tells you just how deep his feelings go. You know he’s had time to imagine with every window replaced, every floorboard leveled out, every load bearing wall reinforced,  just which family was going to get to live in this house and what kind of life they might make in it.

What kind of life you might make together here.

So you take his lead and say only what’s necessary, as steadily as you’re able. 

“Take me inside.”

His sheepish grin confirms that it was exactly what he’d hoped to hear.

The interior’s simple, but gorgeous. The dark wood gleams, and the whole back wall of the A frame is windowed. The triangle at the top replaced with a leaded stained glass in a sunrise of orange and rose that reflects the undertones in the timber inside and the pines out the window, the mosaic just high enough to catch the last rays that will come in over the mountains at the end of the day and turn the whole place into a dream. The open floorplan has the kitchen near the door, but over by the windows….

Joel gives the tour. The hand-laid stones in the fireplace. The built-in shelves for your books. This is the corner where your favorite chair can go, nearest the fire and where there’s good light for spinning. This rug was here, still good. He points out to the little shed in the back–a place for wool dying, he can hang pegs in there however you need them.

If he weren’t so occupied in explaining the wood he chose to finish the countertop, the way he followed the original dovetailing in the doorframe, the pattern he made with the reclaimed wood in the floorboards, he may have seen you admiring the most important part of the house…or, rather, the most important person in it.

There’s more. Two bedrooms, one off each side of the main part of the house, each with its own bathroom, the larger one with its own porch overlooking a little creek.

“The basement’s not quite done, but I figure I’ll just use that for my own. Felt you might not like the…vibe…”

Ah yes. The former owners. He took care of that too. 

He took care of everything.

“I love it, Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“If there was a stronger word, it would be yours, believe me.”

He only wraps his arms around you as you dive in to squeeze him.

“Good,” is all he says. Breathes in the scent of your hair. “That’s good.”

________

The ewes hate the leader ropes, but they follow, bleating now and then as you slowly guide them through the woods toward the Meadow’s north entrance. Joel’s got two behind his and Ellie’s horse, and you’ve got four behind yours, a small party, but the only ones that were ready to come on back out after the coldest weeks.

Goldie’s happy to lead them out to the rest of the flock while you and Joel go up and get situated, get warm, get ready for the week ahead. Ellie follows Goldie and Joel hangs his watch by the door. All’s quiet in the Roost.

Until Joel’s tongue clicks. “That beam is bowing,” he points up to one of the main rafter struts on the far side of the room. “Wood stove keeps this side warm and the snow melts off, but there’s no balcony on the other side. No way to rake the snow off the roof. Tommy should have known better.”

“Well it’s not like he’s had a lot of practice with big boy tree forts, I’m guessing,” you say, dumping a sack of potatoes near the cook pile and throwing the stack of fresh sheets onto the bed. “Does it need to come down?”

“Don’t think so. But come spring we’ll add on another balcony and do some reinforcement.”

As he runs his hand up the wall seam, you come up behind him, hugging him from the back with the sole purpose of distracting him, your way of letting him know he’s obsessing like an old man. It gives you the right angle to grab onto his open jacket and start pulling it off him. “Take this off and stay awhile.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Goldie takes her leave on your horse, guiding Joel and Ellie’s behind, glad to be going back to more warm water than she can heat on a stovetop, and Ellie helps to cart a few buckets of the colder variety up from the stream so you can all just stay in for the night.

Then it’s stew and cards, and Ellie kicking Joel’s ass at Scrabble, all of you bundled in wool sweaters and slippers handmade by you and Chickadee, the firelight glinting off the game tiles, highlighting the glee in the girl’s eyes, the resigned agony in Joel’s smile.

Almost a whole year now she’s been coming out here with you, and it’s wondrous how much she’s grown inside and out. You never felt lonely at the Roost, in fact, you had always very much enjoyed the solitude. Now you don’t think you could abide it. It’s only a home for a week at a time, but only when they come out here with you now.

It’s a nice night. Stars are out. Ellie’s still staring out at them as you and Joel fall asleep in the big bed.

_____

It’s the scent of woodsmoke that wakes you in the middle of the night, sitting you up straight in bed. Or so you think, except that the embers in the stove are low, so it can’t be that. 

No. It’s a voice outside.

“Burn in hell, Joel Miller!”

Is that…Ellie? What’s she doing outside? No. Not Ellie. No it’s–

“Abby?” Ellie says blearily from the bunk above you.

There’s someone in the room moving swiftly toward you from the windows, hulking, with a rifle–

Joel.

“Get up. Both of you. Get out. The place is on fire.” 

It doesn’t register.

“What? What fire? Joel? What’s happening–”

He shakes your shoulder, pulling you from the bed. “Get Ellie out. Now!”

There’s no other thought, just fumbling in the dark as Ellie jumps down beside you and dives for her jacket, shoving her feet into her boots without doing up the laces while you reach out one hand to catch hers for when it comes to you. The other gropes the near table for the walkie and thumbs the button.

“Meadowlark to patrol. Meadowlark to Goldfinch. We’re in trouble, there’s a fire and–”

The whole cabin sways. A gunshot from the balcony. Joel growling over his shoulder. “Get out! Now!”

“Joel–!”

“NOW!”

The ladder is still sliding down into place when you jump on it and ride it part of the way down, still waking up as Ellie’s boots come fast, almost kicking you in the face as she follows you down the rungs two at a time, moving through a plume of choking blackness only to come out below it to a roaring bonfire that’s eating through the Roost’s supports.

Oh god. The Roost…

is burning….

“JOELLLLLL!” you scream up as your stocking feet hit the ground hard, as you catch Ellie and pull her off the ladder and stumble backward, as something hits your head hard and causes you to let go, as separate sets of arms grab each of yours and drag you roughly backward, fast enough to keep your feet from catching up until you’re on your knees.

There’s a crackle in the air– “Patrol to Meadowlark. What’s the trouble?” 

The walkie lies somewhere in the pine needles just out of reach and you’re screaming at it for help but all that comes out of your mouth is a string of names and no’s and helps. You’re able to yank your non-dominant arm free, pitching forward, clawing for the radio, until a flash of hard silver–a meteorite, exquisitely dense and smooth, malignant, swift, direct–cracks down on your forearm with a sickening thud, shattering the bone.

The world slides out of focus through a screen of sudden pain.

At first, you assume you’ve been shot in the arm. But then a figure steps around to your line of sight. Abby. With a golf club? What? Why? Where did she get that? The commissary? Why the fuck would they stock golf clubs? What the fuck is going on? 

And you watch as Abby picks up the walkie. Tosses it into the fire.

The hands are back upon you now, forcing you back to your knees, and a third set joins them, wrapping around your forehead and chin, pulling you back against a belly and you struggle.

Where’s Ellie.

You’re able to twist your head to one side despite being held. She’s there on the ground, face down, groaning, with Owen’s knee in her back.

“Ellie? Honey?”

One pair of hands holding you twists you hard, meaning to pull you further away from her without compliance from the other hands or consent from your muscle structure and there’s a sickening pop as your shoulder leaves its socket and then your scream drowns out everything even the roar of the fire.

“She keeps it in her pocket,” Abby says. Rooting into Ellie’s pocket, Owen finds the knife and pulls it out–the one she cherishes, imbued with the legend of her mother, given to her on the same day as her name, her life, and her orphanhood.

The day Ellie told you the story, you’d taken steel wool to the knife and cleaned it. Oiled the hinge. Shined it up good and pretty.

It flips open easily in Owen’s paw. It twirls swiftly around, and points downward, his fingers closing over the hilt, thumb curling over the butt of the handle to give it more leverage when he’s ready to bring it down.

The night is horribly black and lit along the edges in orange fire.

There’s a loud crack. Owen’s thigh explodes in a splatter of blood and he falls backward off Ellie, screaming. The hands around your head let go and Mel runs to him.

Joel stalks out of the plume of black smoke, cocking the rifle, pointing only long enough at Owen to confirm he’s down and then swinging the barrel around to Abby.

A stand off. No sound or movement but the whoosh of flames and a few ground-muffled cries from Owen, a few sniffles and shushes from Mel.

“Who the fuck are you,” Joel growls out over the steel barrel, his cheek quivering in barely hinged anger.

Abby stands, solid, unyielding, straight as the blonde braid hanging down her back, club wound up tight, ready for the pitch, a face full of lines and soot and destruction.

“The last survivors of the Firefly massacre. You didn’t think to check the rest of the compound? Like the whole team was just one-offs? Like none of them had family, you sick fuck? You fucking orphaned us. Left us to fend for ourselves. Go ahead and shoot, old man. Marlene always said you weren’t so good at keeping kids alive, actually surprised you got as far as you did. So go ahead. Not like we’ve got nothing to lose. We just came to return some favors and finish the job.”

It’s only in the moments later, before the dawn, when you’re laying on your back looking up at the stars, one arm laying broken and useless in the snow beside you, the other cradling a weeping Ellie Williams as tight as you can, that you’ll be able to slow the film of your memory and play out the next thirty seconds frame by frame.

The series of snaps and cracks as the support under the Roost gave way and the whole structure tumbled out and away from the scene, pulling several pines down with it, the crashing and burning the only sound you remember now.

Ellie trying to shuffle along the ground toward you and away from the fire.

Owen pulling himself up enough to raise the knife and bring it down into the meat of Ellie’s calf.

Owen’s body flying backward as a bullet ripped through his skull.

A wrench of your neck and the warm splash of blood from above you as another shot rang out, one person holding you falling away and back, gone, but still pulling you down with their dead body.

The roar of an angry Abby and the clank of a club shaft on a rifle barrel.

Another gunshot.

The sound of metal hitting flesh.

Thirty seconds. And now you can see the stars. Orion. The Milky Way.

Somehow you’re lying yards from the little patch of burning trees with Ellie cradled in your good arm. Someone dragged you here.

There are voices and flashlights. The patrol. Bear and Tommy. Goldie and Willa and Chickadee.

And Maria. Laying on the ground beside you, exhausted from the effort of dragging two humans out of the burning thatch of trees.

“Joel. Where’s Joel.” It hurts to speak. Breath comes fast and shallow.

Then he’s there with the others, a bruise blooming purple beneath his eye, saying only what scant words he needs to move past them and get to you. To Ellie. 

His hands are gentle, but his eyes are cold.

Two still, black pools reflecting fire.

_______

Perhaps unsurprisingly, you dream of Troy, his mangled face open and bleeding, laying in the hole next to Ash, mutilated, stopped at the moment of transformation into something more sinister, your ex-husband and his sister lost to you because they were headstrong, foolish, too devoted to each other….

Ash’s eyes open, what’s left of them anyway. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

They didn’t know the Roost was elevated. They followed us out here and didn’t have a good plan. Is that it?

They don’t answer. They get up and climb out of the hole, turn their backs on your and walk into the forest. You call after them, desperate to have them back after all this time, begging them not to leave you.

But you’re calling after them wrong. You can’t seem to say Troy. You can’t say Ash.

You’re only calling out for Joel and Ellie.

_____

The next thing you know, you’re sitting up in the snow, leaning against Goldie, the girl patting at your cheek as you’re coming around. “Come on, come on back, baby.”

The sun’s up, but not high enough to breach the mountains circling the meadow. Everything’s still lit by the slowly dying flames.

The one two punch of Willa setting the bone and popping your shoulder back in must have sent you off. Looking down, you see you must have thrown up as well. 

“Holy shit,” you groan, “I’m sorry. Oh my god, holy shit that hurts.”

“I know, I know,” says Goldie, smoothing your hair and kissing your forehead. 

“Here,” says Willa, handing you some dark root. You forget what it’s called, you just know you gotta chew. “Don’t swallow,” she reminds you. “You ride with Goldie. She’ll keep you upright once that sets in.”

“I gotta get up,” you mumble, struggling to stand and inhaling sharply at the twinge of pain the movement brings to your bandaged and immobilized arm. Goldie’s able to help get you up, but seems hesitant to let you go. “Ain’t nothing wrong with my feet, lemme go. Where’s Ellie?”

But you don’t need to ask, she’s just behind you, laying on her back in the snow, one arm flung over her eyes, breathing heavy to manage the pain, leg bandaged and tourniqueted.

Good. Next priority. “Where’s Joel?”

Goldie points to the fire. It’s starting to die down, enough to make out the bodies of three teenagers consigned to the flames. Past them, the group of the regular patrol. Joel shaking his head at them, speaking. Jacket zipped up to the top, no scarf, no hat; probably got left behind in the Roost. Rifle over one shoulder. A backpack over the other.

But not his backpack. Why would he have someone else’s backpack? Why would he have one at all…

He’s…. No.

Pushing off Goldie, you immediately find out that walking is hard. Even if the pain’s just in one arm, everything’s connected, everything hurts; it’s disorienting. Your knees are bruised and even your soft sleep pants feel like sandpaper on them. Feet cold and wet, no boots…

Joel sees you struggling to get to him and walks away from the group and the fire, meeting you partway, catching your good arm as your fist falls hard on his shoulder and yanks, fingers digging in hard to his coat, doing your best to hold on tight, to keep him here, to convince him not to go.

“Don’t you dare, Joel Miller. What do you think you’re fucking doing???”

He says nothing, only lets you collapse onto his chest, to sob. There’s not even an arm to comfort you, he gives you nothing but the bare necessity, a wall to keep you standing, and you know nothing you say will make a difference. In essence, he’s already gone.

“Please. Joel. Don’t. Please don’t go.”

“Trail’s fresh. Best to get on before it snows and covers the tracks. One of them’s the pregnant girl. One of them’s bleedin’. They can’t get that far.”

“You don’t have to. Just come home.”

“They’ll just come back. Maybe not soon, but someday.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. Stepping back, it hurts to look at him. The Joel you love has been asked to step aside, the care and fondness he’s come to show you locked up somewhere secure, somewhere where it won’t get in the way. 

I warned you, this Joel seems to say, void of emotion, jaw set, brow even and low, hand on the strap of his rifle. You took me in knowing exactly what I am.

He’s right.

“I need you here, Joel. Ellie needs you here. Don’t you dare go…unless you can come back.”

“I need you here too. ‘S why I’m going.”

Nothing. No kiss goodbye, no waiting for approval, he just turns and walks. 

Maybe this is the last of it, just one last loose thread, then he can finally leave off wandering, finally shake off the killer and just come home, just be your Joel.

Convincing yourself of this is the only choice you’ve got.

________

You find yourself out on Maria’s back porch that night. Unable to sleep from the ache of the mending bone and the swell of your assaulted shoulder, it seemed like the best remedy was to find the toughest jerky in the kitchen, to sit on the porch in the cold and chew through the pain, and to lean back in one of the porch chairs with a soothing snowpack between it and your back.

The moonlight plays illusions like the canteen filmstrips–a summer image of Tommy and Joel teaching Ellie the mechanics of tackle football. The twinkle of the fireflies lending veritas to the picture…which in reality is only the twinkle of a dusting of new snow.

Not enough snow to make tracking impossible, but enough to make it difficult.

The back door opens and a blanket lands over your lap.

“Was gonna ask you if you wanted company, but then I decided, it’s my house and you don’t get a choice.”

Maria plops her own blanket in a nearby chair before disappearing and returning with two steaming mugs of tea as offering for the table between you. She takes her time covering you just so before wrapping herself up and joining you on the porch. “Suppose I should have asked if you want that cold pack changed before I get too comfortable,” she says, not really offering, but leaving the suggestion there between you if you need it.

It’s not necessary to talk for a while. She knows exactly what you’re thinking. Sees what you see.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Riley did,” she lies. You’d heard her shift when you got up from the bed–her bed, well, hers and Tommy’s. But hers and yours for now.

“Thanks for taking care of us.”

“You say that like you’re not my family.”

“Well then, thanks for staying behind as if you are.” 

It’s hard to see her out of the corner of your eye, backed by dark shadows. But the moon plays little crescents on her face, the curve of her nose, her cheek, her chin. Her voice comes out velvet from the dark.

“I know you’re pissed at Joel for going, but he’s doing the right thing.”

Now you make the effort to turn, rotating more from the waist than the neck to save the injury from twinging, but it does anyway, mirroring your spike in irritation. “Really? You think so? Is that why you sent Tommy with him? After all that time you spent bemoaning the things Joel made Tommy do all those years ago–”

“This is different. This is about the greater good.”

“You know that’s what the villain always says, right?”

She presses her lips together, hating that you’re right. “Okay, so maybe not the greatest good for the morality of the remainder of the human race, but. For the good of Jackson.”

“Two grown men hunting down two teenage girls is the greater good.”

“They won’t be teens forever. They’ve both got reasons to come back for their revenge. And now they know where Jackson is. They get taken in by the wrong people, and then the wrong people will know where Jackson is too and when they come back they won’t be alone. They’ll know exactly how many and what kind of folk to bring.” She holds your gaze for a few seconds, steady and wise but also warning, her warmth only thinly veiling the matronly protectress behind it, like a Durga on her throne. “You know why we have patrols. You know what happens to people that get too close. Two more drops in the bucket is all.”

“Three. One of those little girls is pregnant.”

She has no answer to this. Rather, your dig brings no new argument to the table. It’s just words, just a fact on the wind. It doesn’t sway the needle one way or the other.

It’s exactly what you’d been thinking about, staring up at her bedroom ceiling. Then out here on the porch. It’s like she knew you needed to hear the justification out loud.

“They would have killed him, lady. And Ellie. And you. I’m surprised you don’t want them hunted down like dogs.”

You turn your attention to the back yard, the smallest hump of leaves under the big tree there not quite scattered to the wind, sparkling with snow cover. You can almost still hear Ellie’s high laughter as it sounded the day she experienced her first leaf pile.

“Oh, I want them run down,” you say. “I’m all for that, let ‘em eat lead. I just didn’t want…” It’s not really necessary to continue. Maria knows exactly what you want. She always does. That’s why she sent Tommy with him. To keep him tethered to humanity.

To the way Joel watched Ellie jump and disappear into a poof of leaves. The sun in his smile. At peace. At home. Free from the old violence. Reborn.

I just didn’t want Joel to be the one to do it.

______

Maria’s dinner table feels empty. Funny, you think, it was always the two of you. For a while there was four, what with Troy and Ash, but most of the time just the two. Then Tommy. Then Joel and Ellie. Now Riley…well, that is, if he’s still up during family dinner.

You’ve slept through most of the light of day and was hoping to talk to Ellie at dinner, but Maria’s been taking all her meals to the guest room for her. Mostly so she doesn’t have to walk down the stairs on her healing leg, but also because Ellie’s not been talking since that night.

And you can guess why. It has less to do with the injury and assault or the fire, and more about the truths she learned during them. 

Not much to do. The arm has to stay stable, strapped to your body. At least they fucked up the non-dominant one so you can still hold a fork, still brush your teeth. But knitting? Spinning? Helping Maria clear the dishes? Fat chance.

Not much to do but chew root, smoke wild weed, and sleep it off.

Maria reappears with a plate needs washing. “There’s a break in the clouds. I got three whole words out of her. This might be your chance.”

“Oh. Joy.” It’s getting to be less of an effort to stand now that you’ve got rest and food in you. The stairs are daunting only because of the conversation that waits at the top.

A knock on her door only grants you silence.

“I’m coming in, Starling girl. Best not be naked.”

No answer. You take that as the opposite of opposition. Tolerance.

She’s sitting on the bed, propped up by pillows behind her back and under her knee, her bandages freshly changed, no more blood pooling or free bleeding. She plays with the cuffs of her sweater, tugging at a loop in the knit, a book abandoned by her side as if she’d put it down when you knocked. A good sign. She doesn’t want to hide.

You crawl in beside her, awkwardly, one-handedly, a big showy sigh of relief when you finally land. “You know, if I was your mom, I’d probably start off with ‘what’cha reading there, kiddo?’ just to get you to say something, but I’m not your mom and I’m not here to make you talk if you don’t wanna–”

“Well I don’t.”

“Good. I didn’t come up here to hear you yap anyway.” You detect the tiniest twitch of her cheek, not quite a smile, perhaps a sneer…to scare away a smile. “Don’t talk, just listen.”

“I don’t wanna do that either.”

“Tough titties. I’m cashing in exchange for all the time I had to listen to you go on about Sally Fucking Ride.”

Now she does smile. Barely. Gives you the teenager face you wanna slap sometimes. “Tough titties? Really?”

“They didn’t have tough titties in the orphanage? Seems off-brand.” The smile fades. “Tell me how you’re healing. I’m not asking, I’m demanding.”

A big breath in. But the air doesn’t come rushing back with a dramatic sigh, just melts out of her with a single tear she doesn’t move to brush away.

So you do. “That bad, huh.”

“It fucking sucks. It fucking sucks so bad.”

“Heh, tell me about it. I miss the good old days of ibuprofen. Shit. I miss morphine. You’re young though, you’ll be up and running in a week or two. Me? I’m gonna be aching for–”

“He fucking lied through his teeth.”

Ah. There it is.

Now the colony of tears follows the first scout, pouring out over the plains of her cheeks until she covers her face with those cuffs she’s been picking at, relieved at being able to let it all out in front of someone who might understand, but probably scared as hell to let herself be this messed up in front of someone who might not. A gamble.

And a win. You’ve still got one good arm and you put it to good use, pulling her into your side. “Yeah, you’re right. He totally did. He’s a fucking asshole. Why the hell would he do that.”

“It wasn't time that did it,” she hiccups from under her woolen cuffs.

“I don’t know what that means, Starling” you say, unable to stop yourself from kissing the crown of her head.

She wipes her nose and comes up for air. “I mean I know why. But he fucking lied about everything. Straight to my face.”

“Well, you’ve got every right to demand an explanation and an apology when he comes back. Straight to his face.”

“If he comes back.”

You let that sit a moment between you. It’s her way of saying that she knows you’re mad at him too, that she heard the conversation you had with him when he left. It’s her way of poking at your own fears and getting you on her side.

“Those girls aren’t armed and the Miller boys have a lot more experience with being hunters than those kids do being prey. He’ll be back.”

“I hate him.”

“I know. But also. You don’t.”

“I had a… a purpose. A fucking purpose.”

“Well….I know you did, but…probably not so much as you think.” She looks up at you but you can’t meet her eye, she’s right to mourn, and you can’t deny her that. “Remember what I told you about my sister and her treatments?”

“The research hospital.”

“Yeah. Cancer’s been killing people on this earth far longer than cordyceps and they’d had millions of patients to test on. Still couldn’t crack it. How many people are immune like you? Because if it ain’t millions, you just become one part sample in a petri dish and another part dead body that maybe give some vague clues and then you’re all parts in the bin, end of story. I mean, I’ll be honest. I don’t blame him. You’re quite a keeper.”

Now her sigh is dramatic. “And then he fucking lied about it.”

“So you would feel good about it. Accomplished in your goal. Also so you wouldn’t hate him for caring about you more than you do.”

“Why didn’t he just say–?”

“Do you know that man to be good with words?”

This quiets her. Both of you. For a few minutes. She goes back to picking at her sleeves.

The sun’s set completely now and her little bedside lamp can’t even drown out the stars so bright on the other side of the window. Clear night. Cold out there.

After a moment you take your arm back, jostle her with your shoulder. “Hey. I’m going out to the Meadow tomorrow, check in with Willa, look over the damage. If I bring you back a piece of the Roost, you wanna do some carving or whittling or something? We’ll build a platform like the old one and it’s probably just gonna be a tent up there for a while like it used to be, but hopefully this spring or summer we’ll get a structure up there and we’ll need a cornerstone or a plaque or something signifying its importance. Since you’re on your ass all day with nothing better to do, and you’re the star recruit, I’d love for you to do it.”

Her lips twist, half smiling at the request, but then in regret. “I lost my knife.”

“The one from your mom?” She nods. “Well if you’ll do some carding for me while I’m out there, I promise to look for it, ask around, maybe one of the patrol picked it up, okay?”

“Okay. Oh. By the way…How are you healing?”

“I’ve been worse. But mostly I’ve been better. Thanks for asking. ‘S kind of you. But don’t you worry about me.”

“Okay. Um…I’m…sorry about telling them about the meadow and all.”

“Why? You’re a Roostling. It’s your story to tell.” Sliding off the bed you head for the door. “Oh hey. I meant to ask–” you nod at the book by her side. “What’cha reading?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh…just porn.”

“Cool. G’night.”

“‘Night. Hey Meadowlark?”

You poke your head back in before the door closes completely. “Hm?”

“Thanks. For all that. But mostly for not calling me kiddo.”

You smile. Nod. Give her a warm wink. “Sure. I gotchu, kiddo.”

It’s worth the eyeroll you catch as you close the door.

________

The most sickening part of coming in through the north passage isn’t seeing the burn scar on the pine grove in the middle of the Meadow, isn’t missing the outline of the Roost through the trees, but rather the feeling that your home has been breached, that for a moment it wasn’t safe and now you’ll always wonder if it will be.

Riding across the north plain, you close your eyes and breathe, let the horse plod on without your guidance, he knows the way. Once spring comes and the valley fills with flowers and the music of the lambs calling for their ewes takes over from this cold silence that comfort will be renewed. 

But for now, there is no comfort on the Meadow in winter, not without a pretty little fireplace and a warm spot to watch the snow build up on the mountains.

You know what’s coming, but it turns your heart inside out all the same when you open your eyes.

Where once there was a cabin in the treetops is now a void leading downward to a pile of blackened rubble and debris. Off to the side under some lower trees is the old canvas tent with the vent hole and a friendly little trail of smoke rising from it. Willa always knew her way around a fire and didn’t mind keeping a low one going on the inside. You never were that confident, even with a fire-treated tarp.

She’s been at work out here, pulling useful things out of the rubble. The woodstove. The pulley jacks. A few timbers that are mostly unburned. 

But there’s a pile of other things too, useless items that shouldn’t be mixed back in with the earth: a burned walkie. Twisted silverware and blackened plates. The iron tools from the rafters. Shattered tile. Your charred and mangled boots.

All that’s left in the major wreckage is wood. And glass. And bones.

Three blackened skulls, three sets of eye sockets and three jaws gaping up at the sky as if they were caught in the moment of realizing their plans were going terribly awry. 

Stupid fucking kids. ….Just kids.

If someone asked you how you knew which one was Owen’s, you wouldn’t be able to say. You just know. The memory of him sinking that knife into Ellie’s leg…of hurting her…intent to kill… His skull breaks like a cracker when you put your weight on it.

Willa doesn’t say anything when she comes up along side to stare down at the bones with you. It's not the first time you've stood with her at the edge of a burned down home.

"I hate that it’s gonna take me a while to sift though all this,” you say.

“We’ve decided to skip your turn for a while. At least until there’s a new platform.”

You nod, resigned. You don’t love it, but it’s best. Trauma lingers longest of all hurt. 

“How’s the flock?”

“They’re over it.”

“Figures. Fluffy shits. Any chance you found a pocket knife out here?” You ask her.

She nods, reaches into a jacket pocket and there it is, like it’s been waiting to come back to its keeper, made itself shiny and easily found. It’s passed between you like a sacred object, holy, a relic saved and cared for, a thing infused with deep love and meaning. There’s an instant relief as your fingers curl around it, your shoulders relaxing and releasing a little of the pain.

“Thank you.”

“There was this too.” From the same pocket Willa pulls a disk of silver and glass, turning it over and placing it in your hand with the knife.

The watchband is burned away. But it’s otherwise unharmed.

Willa may be a stoic, but she knows enough to recognize a release through tears and to hold you while you cry.

Later that afternoon when you knock on Ellie’s door, you’ll hand her the knife and a piece of the old Roost to carve to consecrate the new one. And then you’ll give her the watch and ask her to be your hands, to help you with one more thing.

________

Two days later, you’re standing in Joel’s living room, never having been here when it’s so quiet, dark, and cold. With you and Ellie staying with Maria, there’s been nobody here to light a fire, to make the place live. You wouldn’t be here if Maria hadn’t made a side comment about maybe you and Ellie’d been in the same clothes for a day too many. Not that you thought you’d be with her that long.

She was right. It was nice to change into something clean–a soft fleece and some sleep pants. While the sword of Damocles kept things in check at Maria’s house, it did feel just this side of an extended girl’s night sleepover, might as well dress for it. Ellie had asked for something soft and comfy so you decided to go for it, an assortment of sweats and sweaters in the duffel at your feet.

What you’re eyeing at the moment is an empty hook on the wall by the fireplace.

You put your hand in your jacket pocket and pull out the watch.

Ellie did a beautiful job with it, took directions like a champ. Sitting together on her bed, listening to Joan Jett and Pat Benetar, you’d instructed her how to design the plaid stripes into the strap, how to knot and plait in patterns.

“Macrame. MACrame. Mac. Ra. Mayyyyyy,” Ellie’d chanted. “It’s a fun word to say. What’s it mean?”

“Fringe. Knotting. It’s just the name of the technique. I dunno. Probably something prettier in French.”

The strap clasps had been lost in the fire, so you’d had Ellie work him a new strap out of dyed and tightly-spun wool, something a little longer so he could tie it on. Most likely he’d come back here first, so you want to put it somewhere he’d see it, that way he could have it again without a lot of fuss but knowing at the same time you were thinking of him. So you slip the end loop over the hook, gently let it slip through your fingers and rest against the wall.

If he comes back…

The front door opens. Boots on the wood. The thump of a backpack.

By the time you’ve turned, he’s coming in through the front hall.

When he sees you standing here, he stops.

You never imagined this moment. You should have. It might have prepared you for the yellowing bruise on his face, the majority of his left pant leg browned with dried blood, his knuckles raw and just beginning to heal over.

You struggle with finding the right question. Find ‘em? They dead? Finish the job? No survivors?

I’d ask you what the hell you did, but I know and I don’t wanna hear you say it.

Instead all you can muster is a nod at the blood on his jeans.

His eyes slide to the staircase, already looking to move on, and he only answers with a short and shallow nod of his own before doing just that.

You find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at your hands, the duffel, the watch, back at your hands. Listening as he moves around upstairs, dropping boots, his belt buckle clapping to the floor. The shower running for a long, long time.

Sun’s going down. Getting colder.

The squeaks from the staircase are slow, softer than usual. He’s taking his time coming down. Doesn’t want to force himself back into a space so safe and quiet after pushing through one so big and mean.

He barely shifts the couch as he sits on the far side. Clean shirt. Clean jeans. A pair of socks you knit him.

“Where’s Ellie?” He sounds like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. You’d wager he hasn’t.

“With Maria. We’ve been staying there. I was just getting us some clothes. Didn’t think you’d be gone this long.”

“Neither did I. They had a head start. Younger. Faster. But you’re safe now. You’re both safe now.” He’s quiet long enough for the house to give a settling creak as the wind picks up outside. “How’s that arm?”

“Joel, you can’t keep us safe from the world. The world is what it is.”

“The fuck I can’t,” he whispers back, defiant, stubborn, with enough venom that he seems to scare himself and he breathes in deep, keeps it, holding back.

All you want is your Joel back. Even in all this mess. All you want is for him to lay down his fear and love you the right way. 

So instead of arguing, you get up and stand before him, give him the time it takes to understand you’re going to straddle his lap whether he helps you or not. He reaches for you on your way down, guides and supports you, allows you to rake through his wet curls before leaning in to take possession of his lips, to will him–by kissing through to his very soul–to come back to you.

He can’t help but respond, his whole body coming to life, and in the cold, twilit living room, you become a tangle of silhouettes as his hand pushes up under your sweater–somehow still keeping an aura of care around your ruined and wrapped arm–to squeeze almost painfully at your curves, rough and wanting, panting between devouring kisses as he paws beyond the waistband of your sleep pants, sucking at your neck when you throw your head back as he reaches what he was searching for….what you hoped he’d find…

There’s a tousle of repositioning and a clatter of belt and zipper. You’re both raw and rough and needy, and you both take advantage of the emptiness of the house to fill it with the sounds of desperation, of effort, the song of casting off of all inhibition, a duet of total and grateful release. 

But through it all, it’s the way he holds onto you that tells you how much he wanted to get back to you, how close he intends to hold you and never let you go, a desperation that tells you exactly where his faults lay…

…that it was necessary–and always will be–to eliminate any chance of someone taking you from his world by force.

It’s not so much possession as a fierce and burning need to be possessed. A need to belong, concentrated down to its basest form.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he softly kisses your temple, spooning you in the afterglow that burns bright in the darkening room.

“For what? You didn’t hurt me.”

“Rushed it a little. Tend to act before thinkin’ sometimes.”

You’re not completely sure what he means by that. At first you think he’s talking about the rough sex, but you get his meaning. Stalking off after Abby and Mel so impulsively. For being impulsive in general.

For acting out of trauma.

Or love.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to for that, Joel.”

You can tell the moment he understands when his forehead gently meets your shoulder. “Shit.”

It’s probably the best time to break it to him, while he’s still a little softheaded and euphoric. “She’s ready to listen. But I won’t promise it’ll be easy. It might just be you and me here for a while.”

Once his breathing evens out, he shifts, still holding onto you, but just coming back down, settling back in.

“What’s that?” He mutters, just on this side of falling asleep, lazily pointing at the watch on the hook by the fireplace.

“Your Valentine’s Day present. From both of us. Sorry it’s late.”

________

Taking some shifts off from the Meadow rotation affords you time to start slowly moving things over to the new A-frame, Maria helping you to load up a skid now and then and unload it, walking beside you as you lead the horse that tows it.

After a week or two, Ellie’s up and walking–well, limping, but healing–and starting to talk to Joel at dinner again. She’s on the verge of actually gracing his bad jokes with a smile or even a laugh, but she’s making him work hard for it. Good for her.

You haven’t asked either of them how the talk went. Don’t know if you ever will. That’s between them, the less you interfere, the better.

But you know that things are on the mend when you find Ellie playing Joel’s guitar–learning some Johnny Cash song you know he loves.

And you have a feeling that spring is on the way when you drop off another load at the new house and find a new frame on the wall–a handmade, custom carpentry display shadowbox.

With a watch hanging inside.

_______

PREVIOUS: AUTUMN

NEXT: SPRING AGAIN (coming soon)

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

#leave off your wandering #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x meadowlark #joel miller x mature reader

[thewertsearch]

CURRENT carcinoGeneticist [CCG] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board TEAM ADORABLOODTHIRSTY. […] CCG: THE BARD OF RAGE IS ON THE LOOSE.

Bard of Rage, eh?

I don't see how it matches his Land, but it's becoming abundantly clear that it does match him. It probably means that the murderous frenzy he's about to unleash is aspect-enhanced, just like Eridan's Hope Wand.

This, I'm fairly sure, is the first time we've ever heard of Rage. We have no idea how Gamzee weaponizes his Title - nor what boons it might grant him, now that he's fully embraced its Aspect. His powers are a complete unknown, and a Rage attack could take many forms.

CCG: HE'S COMPLETELY SNAPPED, AND FOR THOSE OF YOU FURTHER AHEAD ON THE TIMELINE, I DON'T HAVE TO TELL YOU HOW DANGEROUS HE IS. CCG: REMEMBER WHAT HE DID TO THE BLACK KING.

We didn't know there was something off about Gamzee, but the trolls did.

His power was only hidden from us, as we laughed at the funny dancing clown, completely unaware of what was under the surface. Who would suspect the juggalo parody of being dangerous?

CCG: NOBODY COULD EXPLAIN IT, AND THEN HE JUST WENT BACK TO SPACING OUT FOR THE REST OF THE BATTLE. CCG: I MEAN SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT. CCG: I DON'T EVEN THINK THE KING COULD FUCKING BELIEVE IT, FRANKLY. CCG: DID ANYONE'S ATTACK DO AS MUCH DAMAGE? I DON'T THINK SO.

His power is definitely applicable in combat, then. This is just a guess, but maybe he can store and release his repressed emotional energy?

Perhaps there was a moment where all of Gamzee’s latent Rage was released at once - and for one awful second, it was aimed directly at the King.

CCG: I DON'T EVEN THINK VRISKA'S DID, ALTHOUGH IT'S HARD TO SAY SINCE THAT WAS THE KNOCKOUT BLOW.

Typical. That girl's a born kill-stealer.

CCG: I GUESS WE THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE A SECRET JOKE POWER OR SOMETHING?

Well, there’s no reason it couldn't be. The problem is, joke abilities are often extremely effective when used strategically. Do you really want to face someone who’s using their meme powers competently?

PTC: nOw wHaT ThE MoThEr fUcK WiLl i bE SuPpOsEd tO Do? PTC: i'M nOt FoLlOwInG. CCG: PAST GAMZEE, GOD DAMN IT. CCG: I AM TRYING TO WARN PEOPLE OF YOUR MURDEROUS FUTURE SELF. CCG: THIS PRACTICALLY DOESN'T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU. CCG: NOW GO BACK TO GROPING YOUR HORNS AND BEING DISTRACTED BY COLORS YOU USELESS FUCK.

Karkat, god damn it, you have to respect him now! His future self will remember this when he’s sober, and he’ll be coming for you!

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3360 #s121

[xjulixred45x]

Zagreus (Hades) x Albino! Mortal!Reader

Imagine that the reader is a mortal who lives (unknowingly) near the gates of the Underworld (perhaps near one of the temples in honor of Hades next to the Cocytus River), and not only that, but she was born with ALBINISM.

I mean, skin very sensitive to sunlight, eyes just as sensitive, hair without color, etc.

Thanks to this, she gained a certain reputation in her hometown, both good and bad, but the general consensus was that her "exotic" appearance would make a good trophy wife.

So the reader resorted to an old Greek custom, covering herself as much as possible with veils and cloth, not only to protect herself from the sun, but to give the illusion that she was married to someone important, someone her suitors were afraid of.

and it works, sort of, but unwanted attention one way or another appears, so she decides to take a break from the people at the temple in honor of Hades, knowing that no one would dare go there.

What she didn't expect was to have company at some point.

Let's say this is for when Persephone returns to the Underworld and Zagreus goes to the surface at first just to tend to his mother garden, but eventually wants to wander, which leads to him stumbling upon the temple to Hades.

which leads to him running into reader.

Even if he dies before talking to her, curiosity is quite powerful, Zagreus knows that his father has very little culture (and understands VERY well why) so seeing a mortal for the first time and on top of that one who adored his father ? unusual.

The next time he surfaces he goes directly to the temple, and there is the reader, taking care of the almost abandoned place a little.

Definitely both at first are a bit wary of each other, mainly reader to Zag because of her bad experiences with men, but once she sees that he is a friendly guy (I say "see" as a way of saying because with all the veils that she wears she doesn't see shit) starts having a conversation with him.

Zagreus thinks that Reader surely uses the veils as a way to cover herself from the cold at first, but since Demeter has softened towards mortals and better times are coming and Reader continues wearing veils, Zag is confused. Isn't she roasting in there?

At the same time, as reader also covers her eyes to protect them, She probably does not know or realize at the beginning that Zagreus is a god, simply because she does not see the need to remove the veil to find out what this friendly person looks like. although she definitely thinks it's strange that be disappears after a couple of hours out of nowhere. rude.

It takes several trips to the surface for both to open up, which causes both to begin to generate a certain playful dynamic taking advantage of the circumstances. It's something...tender.

Zagreus learns more about mortal customs and their history thanks to the reader, how they see the gods, how they differ, in general, it is something quite important for Zagreus, being the most empathetic than his relatives, he wants to be aware of how the gods live. mortals. After all, without them the gods have no work, right?

Reader definitely didn't buy Zagreus about being the son of Hades at first, and it will take a little time for her to believe it, but I think the most important step for both of them would be to know why Reader is always covered and her condition.

Let's say that one day while being outside (reader in the shade and Zagreus in the sun) Zagreus accidentally pulled a bit of the reader's lower veil while playing and that generated a HORRIBLE burn on her arm, poor boy felt so guilty :(

Although it also helped him to start connecting the dots for him because she was always so covered, and he just started asking about her condition in order to help her.

The reader would tell him some basics of her condition and how it affected her life in many ways. Coming to the topic of suitors. and I imagined something like this:

"So you wear your veils to protect yourself from the sun?"

"not only that...women in my city usually cover themselves when they get married"

"(between berserk and heartbroken mode) are you...married?"

"Oh no! Gods no! It's just a move I made to protect myself from both the sun and the men who won't leave me alone!"

"Are they that bad? Do you think that will stop them for long?"

"The worst... and the more covered the woman is, the more powerful the husband is. What do you think these men think when they see a woman covered from head to toe?"

"that you must be married to the king of Olympus himself"

when the reader finally decides to show Zagreus her face and as you can see, boy is so ANXIOUS, because well, he was already quite in love with this girl just with her personality and her attitude, so being able to put a face to the name was simply exciting . And when she takes it off? he dies (figuratively).

And for her part, the reader is quite surprised to see that INDEED her recent friend not only has a strange divine aura but also fucking BURNING FEET and begins to believe his anecdotes much more 😅

Zagreus getting her Ambrosia 🥺 I have the hc that in normal living humans the ambrosia of Hades has a certain healing effect (as ambrosia had a rejuvenating effect in mythology) and perhaps thanks to this reader can walk in the sun without getting hurt.

Zagreus definitely dislikes reader's suitors as much (or even more) than she does. If she wants him to scare them, he'll be happy to do it :)

(It goes without saying, if the reader ends up in the Underworld suddenly, er, because of the suitors, Zagreus is DEFINITELY going to retaliate by giving them a direct step to Tartarus).

If reader could somehow go to the house of Hades (maybe for Charon) she would be SO HAPPY that finally there is no sun damaging her skin or stupid men harassing her, being able to move freely is so.. MAGICAL! Her joy is contagious to Zagreus, who had already gotten used to seeing her always confined by her clothes and veils, but this is not bad at all.

Overall, I think it's a cute concept😚

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Soon i may or may not post something about Achilles! So, stay tuned.

#drabble #fem reader #supergiant hades #hades supergiant #hades spoilers #hades zagreus x reader #zagreus x reader #hades zagreus #zagreus #albino #hades defo does the thing of “you(the Reader) deserve better” #just a thought #lol #hades 2 #hades ii #hades game

[sigmasemen]

TEXTING.

tags: fluff, awkwardness in relationships, established relationships,

taglist: n/a currently.

characters: sae itoshi, reader.

word count: 970

extra notes: repost from my thread fic on here, again not gonna be all fancy sadly. will be writing some on here from now on.

sae itoshi was what people called an enigma. even after being with him for a little under half a year, you didn’t get certain mannerisms. why did he push his bangs back like that? what happened between him and his brother? why did his eyes show so much more expression than the rest of his face?

all of that seemed too distant to be solved. you just hoped he’d tell you one day. but in the meantime? you had to find small ways to help him with things he struggled with. namely, physical and verbal affection.

he was a bit better with physical affection. maybe it was because every small touch ignited feelings you didn’t know people could have. but you still had to think of a way to make him feel more comfortable.

that was why you had suggested this seemingly silly concept of texting while in bed. it was a way to communicate then build up to more. he didn’t realize you were serious until you directly told him you were.

why he cocked a brow before agreeing, you didn’t know. it still landed you on distant sides of his luxurious bed. he hadn’t typed a word, but he had been on your chat the entire time. 

making the first move, you typed first.

— etc. is typing…

‘you remind me of a red panda.’

there wasn’t any noise in response, just shifting.

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘What?’

you giggled.

— etc. is typing…

‘you remind me of a red panda. one of those big ones that look like they’re always mad.’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘Thank you?’

‘That doesn’t make any sense though.’

— etc. is typing…

‘does it need to?’

— saeitoshi. is typing… 

‘I guess not.’

there was a second of a pause while he typed another message out.

‘You remind me of a starfish.’

— etc. is typing…

‘that seems mean??’

‘are you calling me lazy??’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘You can be’

‘Not why I said it though’

‘Seagulls are known for carrying around starfish. I carry you around a lot from place to place.’

you were about to type another message before he had to toss one little thing in.

‘Then you laze around in that place.’

— etc. is typing…

‘that was gonna be sweet :C’

‘can’t even be too nice for a second?’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘I was.’

— etc. is typing…

‘k then, would you still love me if I was a starfish??’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘??’

you could hear a scoff come from over your shoulder.

‘Did you suddenly turn into one or were you born a starfish??’

‘I wouldn’t be attracted to something born a starfish. I would take care of you if you were turned into one’

— etc. is typing…

‘so we aren’t star crossed soulmates?’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘I don’t get your whole deal with soulmates.’

— etc. is typing…

‘seriously??????’

‘soulmates are such a fun concept, you don’t want to be destined to be with someone for life??????’

— saeitoshi. is typing…

a pause.

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘Maybe, it doesn’t seem realistic though’

— etc. is typing.

‘you don’t understand true love…’

‘i’ll pretend you undoubtedly believe in soulmates.’

shockingly, you heard a shift in the bed. as you turned your head around, sae had rolled over to face you. there wasn’t even a second of hesitation as you did the same thing.

then you had to think of another conversation prompt.

— etc. is typing…

‘your fave song doesn’t fit you like i thought it would’

you glanced up to see sae’s eyebrow raised.

— saeitoshi. is typing…

‘It doesn’t need to.’

‘It helps me focus while I’m working out, isn’t that enough to make it a favorite song?’

you let out a gentle hum. you could start to inch towards more pretty easily. all you needed to do was dip your toes into the water.

— etc. is typing.

‘then play it?’

‘C:’

there was pure silence. you didn’t look at your phone, instead at the soft expression of sae. he only shifted a bit before the virtual clicking came from his phone. his nail pressed against the screen before the music started.

it was enjoyable at first. you felt yourself ease in his presence. his eyes drifted to your’s.

“it still isn’t that good.”

sae hummed, “i think it’s good. you’re ust being picky.”

“like you aren’t the pickiest of them all?”

neither of you were actually intending this. it wasn’t a conscious movement, instead a natural one you weren’t even thinking about. yet as your body inched closer and closer, you started to forget about what you were saying. they were words without meaning. actions had ripped that right away from them.

your leg flopped on top of sae’s, and his arm rested on your waist. at some point, your head had started to press against sae’s chest. even though you both had to adjust to look at the other, it seemed like neither of you had noticed the position.

and once you noticed, you had absolutely no intention of showing it. “hey sae?”

“yeah?”

“your heart is beating really fast, did you know that?”

“oh,” a pause, “i’m sure your heart is beating just as fast.” 

it was a rare notion of romantic confidence from him that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“it is.”

“… let me listen to your heartbeat before you go to sleep. i can even use your wrist to listen.”

“huh?”

as sae set his phone down, he grabbed your wrist and pulled it to his ear. the soft thumping of your heart sped up. only a very gentle scoff escaped him as a reaction to it. you hoped that meant he hadn’t noticed.

“sleep… sleep well sae.”

with a gentle kiss to the wrist, he spoke, “you too.” he really could’ve be a killer romantic if he wasn’t so awkward…

#sae itoshi x reader #bllk sae #bllk x you #bllk #blue lock #sae Itoshi #x reader #reader insert #x you

[lostthistime]

I feel like Gojo becoming a vessel, and especially a vessel for Yuta is shitty writing. Listen I completely get the perspective of Yuta, and I don't blame him for this action. He is Gojo's unofficial successor and he knows they have to push the limits in order to win against Sukuna because Sukuna is incredibly powerful and he is the current biggest problem they are all facing. But this is wrong on sooooooo many levels.

First of all, why give Yuuji that fuck ass montage of him switching bodies with people if he was not going to fucking swap with Gojo, I would have honestly let it go because Yuuji is the main character and was literally born with the ability to do so. Now WHY TF WOULD IT BE YUTA TAKING KENJAKU'S TECHNIQUE TO GO INTO GOJO'S BODY?!!!!

Yall just gonna do Itafushi like that???? Crazy I thought they were the new Geto and Gojo.

ANYWAY besides that, Gojo giving Yuta some fuck ass consent to use his body after he is dead pisses me the fuck off because OF COURSE HE FUCKING WOULD!! WHAT IS THE ALTERNATIVE HE SAYS NO AND ALL HIS KIDS DIE??!!!

The man has been a weapon his whole life, his family has considered him one, his friends, his teachers, his students like the only fucking person who ever saw him as human was Geto Surguru and HE HAD TO KILL HIM FOR THE SAKE OF THE FUCKING WORLD

can you fucking imagine, for the sake the world that has always treated you as some sort of justice adbiding monster, you have to kill the literal only person who ever saw you and understood you as a human being with feelings and thoughts. Imagine that person that you love so much, literally going out and changing society because he realizes that if he doesn't change the status quo you will always be trapped having to be the strongest. Then that same society that you are being told to protect, they are the ones who fucking make you kill him and then it turns out that EVEN WHEN YOU DIE THEY CONTINUE TO USE YOUR BODY WHEN YOU DIE.

I think his skin fucking crawled at the thought of his body being used after his death. I think he saw what happened to Geto and for the first time in his life Gojo was truly afraid of death and what it would mean for him to actually die.I think he wanted to die for sure, like he wanted to be at rest with the people he cared about, but I think that after witnessing what happened to Geto first hand, that he would not have agreed to be used after his death unless he deemed it absolutely necessary. He literally was crippled with guilt for not disposing of geto's body properly and indirectly causing his possession and now you're telling me that he is a-okay with being a weapon even after his death????

Doesn't make any fucking sense

like even in gojos body, you're telling me Yuta is going to finish off Sukuna within 5 minutes????

Like this is not gonna work, yall had Shoko stich up Gojo for no reason and now Yuta is also gonna die on his mission to become the new Gojo martyr. LIKE GEGE WHYYYYYYYYYYY

you honestly should have just left him as an off screen death because what the actual fuck is this arc

#Gojo #Gojo satoru #jjk #jjk gojo satoru #jjk Suguru geto #Suguru geto #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #jjk manga leaks

[aghostnamedcalamity]

Hi! first off i would like to say how much i love your blog and art, little Ben is just the cutest creature in the entire world. Second off, quick question: How did Mordecai react to Benjamin's....well, birth? or just by knowing that his mother was pregnant of him by Mordecai, since for what i understood by posts it was a sort of accident. Did he freaked out or denied till the last? what was the dynamic of the pregnancy and Mordecai's overall thoughts? any fun fact?

Thank you so much for the compliment! It really means a lot ♥️

My head canon is not particularly the cutest at the beginning. Sorry! 😅 Mordecai essentially refused to be involved with the pregnancy any more than just giving her money every now and then. Basically the deal was ‘I’ll support financially if you stay away from me and keep this under wraps’. Millicent was more than happy to receive funds and frequently came up with different reasons more money was needed than truly necessary. Unfortunately, neither Millicent nor Mordecai are particularly concerned with personal morals. Benjamin is probably the only innocent party in the situation. Mordecai does go to see him the day of his birth, but in my mind it kind of goes like this:

He’s not impressed. After that, he doesn’t see him again until Millicent drops him off at his doorstep two months later. Small fun fact: Benji’s design was originally going to be different, but I decided I wanted him to basically be a tiny, happy version of Mordecai so he was so undeniably his. That way Mordecai would not be able to weasel his way out of it lol. Benji was born at a small charity hospital and Mordecai told them he was there to see his nephew.

Hope you have a good day!

#QnA #lackadaisy mordecai #lackadaisy oc

[mama-qwerty]

Understanding SCU Knuckles

Okay, one of the big things I keep seeing a lot of people bring up is the fact that movie!Knux talks about being a warrior all the time, and how different he is from other characterizations of Knuckles, specifically the games and comics. He doesn't seem to care about guarding the Master Emerald, and always seems ready to jump into things fist-first.

So I thought I'd do a deep dive into his psyche to see what truly makes him tick.

Buckle up, this'll get long.

Before I start, I wanna just put it out there that I headcanon the SCU is a separate universe from any other Sonic media. I actually take ALL Sonic media as separate universes--Boom is separate from Prime, which is separate from the SCU, which is separate from the games, which is more connected to but still separate from the comics. They're all different, which means the interpretation of the characters will be different too, to varying degrees.

The Knuckles of the SCU isn't like any other version. He wasn't born and raised all alone on Angel Island. He wasn't always the last of his kind. He wasn't essentially raised with the knowledge of what the Master Emerald truly is, and understood his role as its protector and guardian. He wasn't completely removed from what happened to all the other echidna, all those many years ago. He doesn't have the benefit of hindsight, to recognize that the warrior ways of the echidna were what ultimately led to their own demise.

Movie!Knux knew his tribe. He was raised by them. They were still in the middle of a war with the owls, so yes, they would still be warriors. That was what he strived for, too, because he's been raised on the stories of his people, with likely a heavy slant toward the "we did nothing wrong!" angle of what happened all those years ago. (And honestly, we don't have a completely unbiased story on what truly happened back then, so who knows what the actual truth is. But, anyway.)

He lost his tribe to that very same war. All of them. As a very small child. One who was then thrust into a dangerous galaxy, whether willingly or unwillingly, to figure out how to survive and try to complete the quest of his people. That was the only thing driving him, the only thing keeping him going. That quest.

So yes, being a warrior was, and is, a very important aspect of how he sees himself. That was his people's legacy--how they worked to retrieve the ME and regain the honor that had been stolen from them all those generations ago. Seeing this mindset through the eyes of a small child, he would accept that as being the way he should carry himself as well.

Movie!Knuckles has been living in survival mode for most of his life. He felt a tremendous amount of pressure to find the Master Emerald and complete the quest of his lost tribe. He was all that was left, it all fell to him, and failure meant his entire race died for nothing.

Fighting is what kept him alive. He didn't have the luxury of staying out of conflict, like game!Knux. He didn't have the advantage of being on a nearly inaccessible floating island, surrounded by harmless chao and flickies and other critters as he grew up. Movie!Knux was hunted and forced to fight in arenas for the entertainment of others. He fought, or he died. It was that simple.

And, it could be, over time the idea of what an echidna warrior was became warped in his head. He only had his memories of a young boy of about 6-ish to guide him as to what an echidna warrior stood for. Being out in the galaxy and having to fight for survival may have gotten the ideal of "being a warrior and fighting for a cause" confused with "everything requires a fight to solve".

He calls himself a warrior because he wants to keep his people's legacy alive. He wants to make his ancestors--his father--proud of him, by carrying on their tradition and honor.

He lived his life how he thinks they would have wanted, based on his memories as a child who lost everyone he loved.

He fought. He survived. He searched to complete that one quest that had plagued his people for generations. And when he finally, finally got his hands on the Master Emerald, he had this look:

This is not the look of a brave warrior, proud to have finally finished his quest.

This is not the look of a proud warrior, celebrating his victory after so many years.

This is the look of a boy, who'd lost everything he held dear, because of the pursuit of this little rock.

This is the look of a boy who thinks "Is that all? Is this truly what cost his entire tribe, his entire clan, his entire race, their lives? Was this rock truly worth the sacrifice made in its name for all those years?"

Maybe part of him hates the Master Emerald. Hates that the single focus his people had with it is what left him all alone. It was well hidden on Earth, tucked beneath the waves of a secret temple. The very second it was found, someone he trusted used it to cause great destruction and harm.

He had caused great destruction and harm in his own pursuit of it. However noble he believed his own goals were, he had behaved in ways he may be ashamed of now, all because of the belief that the Master Emerald belonged back in echidna hands, by any means necessary.

And now look.

The sacred temple, destroyed. Green Hills, partially destroyed. Sonic and his guardians, very nearly killed.

All because of this rock.

All because of him.

No one would have ever found the ME if he hadn't come looking for it. He nearly brought the same fate as his people unto the heads of who knows how many others.

All for this little rock.

Remember that the legend indicated that the Master Emerald was created from the chaos emeralds. The ME shattered, releasing the chaos emeralds that allowed Sonic to go Super. When Sonic released the chaos emeralds at the end of the fight, he scattered them throughout the world, and severed their connection to the ME in the process.

It's very possible no one really considers the Master Emerald to have any power itself. It was simply the container that held the smaller emeralds with all the power, and once they were released, the ME itself was simply a pile of crystal shards. Knuckles reformed the ME, but at this point, there's no reason to believe it holds any power at all.

When Knuckles fixes the ME, he doesn't say that the emerald itself is a threat to the safety of the universe. He doesn't say they needed to band together to prevent others from using the emerald's power to cause harm. He says they needed to use their power to keep the universe safe. This is a very vague statement, and does not indicate to me that he's looking at this as a "This emerald is a danger, we must keep it out of evil hands at all costs."

At no point in the series did Knuckles make any mention of the Master Emerald as a source of great power. (At least I don't think he did.) He simply said he had sworn his life to protect it. It's possible he looks at it as simply a totem of his people, a reminder of their fall. A sacred relic that is tied so firmly to his people's history, he feels responsible for keeping it safe and well-guarded. His people all died going after this thing, so he will honor their deaths by keeping it near.

So it's not surprising movie!Knuckles isn't all about guarding the ME and never letting it out of his sight. It's a dead rock, one that holds no power at all. An heirloom that carries his tribe's history, and that's all.

The series picks up very shortly after the second movie, so Knuckles is still leaning really hard into his warrior status. It's all he knows, it's what will keep his people alive in his own heart. Just because he's not constantly on the run anymore doesn't mean he can simply stop doing what's essentially ingrained in him at this point.

He's spent his whole life on the move. Training, fighting, questing. He's a work dog who can't adjust to life as an indoor companion pooch. He needs something to do.

He's a warrior, and a warrior doesn't just relax. So he's not gonna just sit around and make his entire life revolve around the Master Emerald.

Yet.

Keep in mind that we haven't seen the entire story of the SCU yet. Just because he's still leaning into the warrior thing now doesn't mean he always will. It doesn't mean he won't have some epiphany or vision or just a change of heart after some time in the Wachowski's care, and realize that being a warrior maaaybe isn't the best path for him at this point. That maybe that part of his life is done, and although he'll still need to fight when necessary, he is free to pursue other interests now. That he doesn't have to live his life according to what his people would want or deem appropriate.

I don't believe he's actually grieved for his loss yet. Not fully. I think a part of him always felt like an open wound because the ME was still out there, still tainting the memory of his people. And now that he has it, and is on a planet that allows him to feel safe, he'll be able to work through those emotions. Work through that grief and maybe discover who he is, apart from his people and their legacy.

The fundamental aspects of what makes Knuckles who he is is still within movie!Knux. In the series he told Wade that he had been betrayed over and over and over again, which indicates that even though he was in a rough and dangerous galaxy, he tried to trust others. He tried to make friends. But each time he did, they betrayed him. But that didn't stop him from trying again.

We saw glimpses of a different Knuckles in the series. One who opened up to others. One who cared about others. One who acted like the boy he was, instead of the hardened warrior he thought of himself as.

Movie!Knuckles needs time to figure out who he is now that his quest is over. Change doesn't happen overnight, and given his backstory, it makes sense for him to still hold onto that warrior title with both fists. He's an echidna, the last echidna, and he doesn't want to turn his back on what he remembers his people to have been.

I'm eager to see how he'll behave in the 3rd movie.

#knuckles the echidna #scu #sonic movie 2 #Youtube