#( and as bitter as the idea of my own existence coming to an end is. knowing I did all of this for. essentially nothing. )

[pastel-rights]

And then I finally end it off with some doodles of them… they make me feel things.

#ringmaster doodles #sona art #( they’re very much the theme of. love in the face of the neverending march of time. ) #( being immortal and knowing you will outlive the man you love because someone else deemed he unworthy of eternal life. ) #( he may still have tens of thousands of years left. sure. but you know that those will go by and he’ll disappear in the blink of an eye. ) #( and you’ll sit there on his death bed. wondering why did things end up like this? ) #( wondering what you did wrong. and if you could have done something different. you’ll always ask yourself. ) #( if he lives a life of happiness and comfort or did he live a life as gruesome and miserable as the wars on earth? but you won’t know. ) #( and the more you think about it. the more you realize it. how nihilistic he was. and how he never seemed to smile even in the good times. #he always seemed to have a frown or a scowl on his face. he always seems bothered and unhappy. ) #( so you wonder if it was something you did. because you know you aren’t perfect. you’re hardly good. ) #( you wonder if he’s mad at you. maybe he was. but he doesn’t have the heart to stay mad. ) #( and that’s love in the face of adversity. knowing that no matter how bad it gets. he loves you as you love him. ) #( and you wonder why he never smiles. because he truly never does. and so you ask him. honest and true. ) #( and he tells you there isn’t anything worth smiling for. nothing in this whole world. ) #( but he smiles at you. it’s always small. and it’s always brief. ) #( but that smile. that smile means love. ) #( that hug. as flimsy as it may be. that hug means love. ) #( of course. he isn’t affectionate. if anything. he detests it. he hates physical contact of any kind. you’ve noticed. ) #( which is a shame. you love your hugs and your kisses and your hand holding. ) #( but even if he doesn’t like it. he lets you do it. because it makes you happy. ) #( and you learn that when you’re happy. he’s a little less miserable. ) #( of course. not all love is equal. and not all love is fair. ) #( the love from a lover and the love from the father can never equate to one another. ) #( no one will love you in the same way a father or mother loves you. in the same manner. no one will ever love you the way I do. ) #( because my love will remain with you. long after I disappear. ) #( and as bitter as the idea of my own existence coming to an end is. knowing I did all of this for. essentially nothing. ) #( that I’ve gone through all this pain and suffering and hardship just for it to all amount to nothing. for it to be fucking useless to try. #I get to die knowing that you’ll always love and be loved. and that’s enough for me… ) #( … maybe there is something worth smiling for after all. )

[meanbossart]

omg i loved that insight into some of drow's most important relationships it was so juicy...now...i gotta know what orin thought of this guy. we get some idea based off the game and other asks but what did orin really think of drow? especially when he first arrived at the temple it must have been something to be told this feral bastard is another of Bhaal's chosen. when do you think she decided to betray him?

GLAD YOU ENJOYED THE READING I love love Love getting into the nitty gritty of personal relationships so thank god some of you guys also like hearing about it LOL

But boy! That's a difficult one. Orin is a very mysterious character to me, we get a fair bit about her life and a vague idea of her relationship with you, but it's always from a second-hand source - the woman herself seems so stripped of humanity that it's difficult to imagine her doing trivial things like going to sleep at night or eating lunch - let alone how she felt about the people around her.

And there's an allure to that that I'm hesitant to try and demystify; not to mention how it itself was a source of frustration to DU drow. While its not like he ever desired to have a sit down and talk about their feelings together as a bhaalspawn, he did want to be let in, whatever that meant - and Orin never ever allowed that, though she did let him get close enough to keep trying.

I do like to believe they were both much less brazen when they met as young adults, DU drow being the shellshocked looking freak who barely knew how to carry out human interaction that he was, and Orin being a lot more explicitly reliant on Sarevok's approval and guidance to exist in the temple. With this, I think there would have been room to some insecurity - if there's another bhaalspawn, her need and effectiveness would come into far more scrutiny than it already did, after all. She would have probably disliked and avoided DU drow not on the basis of his appearance or past, but just because of this threat that he represented to her alone.

And while they inevitably grew close in a very weird way, that very first impression would have planted this seed of resentment in her which would eventually result in the betrayal; but it definitely wasn't the only thing that led to it.

Orin would have been all too aware that DU drow wanted her as more than a sister or a cohort; he was INCREDIBLY unsubtle and would have made attempts to escalate their relationship at least a few times. Because of my theory that Sarevok wanted them to breed together, this behavior was never discouraged, and while I highly doubt it was ever explicitly and openly discussed, I do think Sarevok would have found ways to imply to her that he would like to see the line continue through them.

Obviously Orin never reciprocated DU drow's feelings or desires, but she did enjoy toying with him - while she probably did love him as family, I don't have to spell out to you how weird a situation this is and how it might lead to a lot of bitterness on her end. I don't know if she "led him on" out of malice, out of a desire to feel in control of the situation, or just because she enjoyed the mind games, but these instances of teasing and holding things over DU drow's head only came after many blunt attempts at shooting him down, and looked very different from any sincere displays of affection they may have had as "siblings". Whenever DU drow wanted to push her boundaries, it would be as if a switch flipped and their dynamic ever so slightly changed - and she met in kind. This would usually reach a peak where it broke out in violence, and always ended with them beaten, bleeding, but laughing. And then it would never be spoken about again.

So, with this growing resentment, plus Sarevok's growing favoritism towards DU drow and his seeming desire to see them mate, PLUS Orin's very real ambition to pursue Bhaal's plan and gain some recognition of her own, she would have eventually decided that she didn't want want DU drow around anymore. What feelings precisely led to this decision I do not know, but whatever they were they had been festering for a very long time.

#ask #du drow #orin the red

[funnycreatortimetravel]

So the Madoka Magica movie is coming out and there's a lot of speculation about how it's going to end (or rather, be the start of a new series of movies/a show? Idk, it was extremely vague.)

And while I love the idea of Homura and Madoka ending up together because they both deserve some happiness, I can't help but feel like the best ending for Homura at this point is letting Madoka go so she can become a healthy adult (which, let's be real, that's not possible in this world.)

And by "letting go," I don't mean cutting contact or abandoning her, I mean they can still be friends while Homura can become a person who sees herself worthy of living with or without Madoka. Because as much as I love my favorite tragic lesbians, Homura isn't her own person in the relationship with Madoka.

Like, Madoka has a loving family, loving friends, and people cheering her on. And even if she doesn't believe she's good enough to do anything, she still objectively has things going for her, a safety net if you will. And she still has a goal in mind that doesn't involve one specific person, but rather she wants to become someone that people can depend on/wants to help other people (regardless if this is at the cost of herself.) I'm not saying it's a good or even a healthy goal but with some tweaks, I could see the goal becoming something she could work toward as a means of personal growth and not just because she thinks she's useless.

Meanwhile, Homura doesn't even have parents as far as we're concerned.

The only ties she has that we're told about are the catholic school she attended and the hospital she pretty much lives in. No friends, no family, and no aspirations of her own. And because of her circumstances, she really wouldn't be able to. It's no fault of her own. I get why, then, she attaches herself to someone like Madoka. I'm sure ANYONE would attach themselves to Madoka if they were in the position Homura was in.

And then that starts the obsession. A long, tiring journey in which this poor girl sacrifices her mental health, her youth, countless years spent trying to save this doom girl and her doomed friends while she herself is also doomed. She's pretty much made herself Madoka's sole protector while also not allowing herself to even do or enjoy the one thing she wanted in the first place; being Madoka's friend.

It's all but confirmed that Homura hates everything about herself as seen in her backstory and rebellion when she was destroying her labyrinth. Her saving Madoka is the one good thing she thinks she's associated with, so much so that she's OK with dying either to protect Madoka or in a world without her.

Like, the concept of one person being the only reason you continue existing is so unhealthy (note that I'm not saying their relationship itself is, it's just her mindset.) I completely understand wanting to help your friend you know...not die a terrible death, but Homura doesn't think she has anything going for her outside of protecting someone else and that's such a sad thought to me. She thinks of all her past friends as enemies now, and she alienated herself from everyone. She thinks, now, that it's her versus Kyubey, the other magical girls, and Madoka herself. The girl is borderline, if not entirely, suicidal.

I'm hoping so badly that in the next movie, this is the start of healing for Homura (though it probably won't be because Mr. Uro loves his sad/bitter-sweet endings.) I hope this is the start where she's able to piece together who she is outside of wanting Madoka, who she could've been had Kyubey not manipulated her and the other girls into making contracts, had her parents not died, had her body not been as fragile as it was, had her confidence been strong, had she felt she was good enough to befriend and get close to other people without fearing her hurting them or them hurting her.

Sayaka was able to let the bitterness of not being with Kyosuke go, accepting that even though she wanted him, she couldn't be with him and even if she was, she never would've been happy. She was able to realize the flaws in her "ideal magical girl" concept and accept the fact that she's just one person and even though she's not perfect and didn't get the thing she wanted, she's still able to be a hero in her own right in the company of people who actually love and support her because she's Sayaka Miki, not because she's a heroic magical girl.

Mami was able to be honest with herself, similar to Sayaka, that she's not a perfect person, that the perfect magical girl illusion was never her. She's able to admit to herself that she was inherently selfish that all she wanted was friends and family, and that there's nothing wrong with that. She doesn't have to keep up the pressures of being perfect and mature and all-knowing because, at the end of the day, she is still that little girl who almost died in a car crash that claimed her parents' lives, and she has to live with the fact that she didn't and wasn't able to save them even when she had the chance to. And she's able to come to terms with the fact that though she was alone, she didn't have to be lonely. She's able to realize that it's not too late for her and she can make her own family that will stick around with her, flaws and all. And she can be a good role model for her little sister surrogate and also orphan Nagisa, but this time, she can be a realistic big sister rather than an idealistic one.

Kyoko can move past the pain of her family's demise, and unlike Mami, feels as though she is directly responsible for it. She was a naive kid who only wanted the best for her family and yet, by doing the "right thing" her father goes on a massive suicide-homicide rampage and she's left to think that her naivety, that her wanting to do the right thing, was what killed them. But no, it wasn't. It's ok to have hope and to have the desire to help others and do the right thing. While the actions of the wish were undesirable, it didn't change the fact that Kyoko's heart was in the right place and that she could continue to try to help others without fear of it coming back to haunt her. She can let the tense guard she's had up since her family's death and enjoy the little things in life she never got to when she was too poor; food, drink, comfort, and having others around that care about you. While she thought that it was her wish and her misunderstanding of what her father wanted that ultimately killed her family, it's the same desire and intentions that push her to save Sayaka and befriend her and the other girls later on.

Now Madoka is an interesting case because she, like Homura, is sort of trapped in being who they were before they gained powers.

Now that Madoka is essentially back to where she started (unlike everyone else who at least has something/someone in their lives now in Rebellion compared to the OG series where they were missing those intimate connections) again,

she's left to feel like she's missing a key part of herself (only in the OG series, she was missing the confidence she had the in OG timeline as a magical girl whereas, in Rebellion, she's literally the missing part of the Law of Cycles) and you're left to wonder if she'll be satisfied, or will she challenge this new world that seems too good to be true, a world that was made just for her and only her?

And Homura?

Poor Homura.

Being an orphan and having no one, not even doctors or nurses it looks like, be close to you? Being unable to live comfortably due to a physical condition you had no say in? Having to be behind because of said physical condition and then having an inferiority complex WHILE teachers belittle you for things out of your control? So then you consider yourself a burden and truly believe only death and loneliness await you? AND YOU’RE ONLY 14???

And then you think you've met this amazing person, this girl who thinks you're interesting and cool with no ulterior notices, a girl with amazing powers that are as wonderful as her only to have the rug pulled under you and realize that the cost of those powers and your protection is her's and others like her inevitable demise.

So then you attempt to right that wrong because even further than your want to save your friends, you know the system that they're in is objectively terrible and needs to be torn down.

But then you try to warn said friends about the system and all they do is belittle you and admit they're comfortable in something that's designed to kill them before they turn twenty, and when (or even if) they're finally aware of the system and the terrible reality of it, they STILL blame you for not telling them sooner even though you tried your damn hardest? Or even worse, try to KILL you after they find out for themselves?

And then top that off with an oppressive alien race trying to control you and pretty much end your life prematurely or turn you into an immortal Lovecraftian Paper mache creature that looks like it was created by five-year-olds should you fall into despair at the hands of this default depressive system and you'll have to remain like that, killing and trapping people while you have no memories of your life as a human and have to live as an animal of pure instinct and evilnesses until some unknowing other magical girl puts you out of your misery, and the cycle will rise and repeat eternally.

Then not to mention other magical girls who try to "game the system" (which only leads to them dying/witching out even earlier, indirectly harming the girl you're trying to protect) or even worse, the girls see you as competition because they're insecure/power hungry instead of joining you in taking down the system set up so where death is an inevitable thing regardless, indirectly siding with the species that are literally killing them slowly but surely (and yet you're somehow still the problem in their eyes.) And then to add the shit sprinkles to this shit show of life, you have to battle this biblically accurate German clown of a witch that's a bunch of witched-out magical girls mashed together like a Cthulu-esque Ren and Stimpy-type creation (that's also pretty much invincible to everything that you and all of the nukes and missiles you store in a tiny, rinky-dink space-time shield you were pretty much cursed with while everyone else gets a built-in weapon.)

Not to mention the PTSD of having everyone and everything around you die and crumple to bits for 12 years over and over again, failing at every turn to complete the only goal you have for yourself (which isn't even for you, it's just saving another person because you believe you're extensible at that point) and at every twist and turn, you're beaten, bruised, belittled, scared, tired, pushed to the brink and all alone with no one to depend on because you're the ONLY one who can and will remember anything once you have to go back in time.

And then you learn the more you go back in time, the more fate and karma you're attaching to this girl which makes the aliens target her even more because of the level of potential she has. And even worse, you find out that the girl you've been fighting so hard to protect is now an entirely different person, lacking the confidence and outgoingness that made you fall in love in the first place, her desire to become a confident magical girl being unfulfilled because of you.

But you have to play the smaller evil. You have to deter her from making a wish, even if it means inadvertently scaring her away from the idea, even if it means being cold and calculated and harsh because she won't listen otherwise.

You have to crush that confidence because that desire will only lead to her death, but she can't know that because well, you still want her to trust you.

But because you've been trying so hard to scare her away from the idea of becoming a magical girl, she ends up becoming scared anyway and distancing herself from you, meaning you don't even have the comfort of knowing you two are friends anymore.

And even still, all of the other magical girls, including her, always end up dead or turning into witches no matter what you do, leaving you to fight the final boss witch alone and failing every single time because it's just too powerful.

But you can't stop. No matter what, you can't stop. Because stopping means death for you, the girl you love, and the entire world, whether it be because of Walpurgis or Madoka's witch which is only so powerful because of you and your time-traveling shenanigans.

So you do another timeline, and things go wrong like they have for the past 100 timelines so you're just numb to it now, and while you're fighting the boss witch, you get critically injured. And now armed with the knowledge that you'd just be putting an even bigger target on your friend's back, you resolve that your efforts were all in vain and useless and decide to just let yourself witch out because you have no other choice.

Only, you're interrupted by your friend, who's finally ready to put her fears aside and make a wish.

Your biggest fear is coming true and you're powerless to stop it.

So she makes her wish and becomes a magical girl Jesus pretty much and restores hope to every magical girl.

Every magical girl except for you.

She says your efforts are the reason why she was able to make such a powerful wish and thanks you for your service, as if you're an old veteran about to retire, and then she ejects you to a remade world, a world without her.

And you're doomed to fight in this world, the world she gave her life to protect, a world in which only you remember her. You don't let yourself become too close to the other magical girls for fear of losing that connection once the Law of Cycles takes them away.

So you're doomed, essentially. The one thing you've fought to protect is gone forever and there's no one but you left to grieve for her, and you start an endless fight against the new evil creatures in place of witches until you're about to disappear yourself.

But you don't even have the comfort of peaceful passing on because AHA!, that evil alien race wants to you use as a sadistic experiment to inflict suffering on you and the other magical girls while controlling the one saving grace you all had, to restart the terrible system you were trying to run away from in the original world.

So they place you in this fake simulation of happiness and fun and magical girl transformations all for the sake of controlling you and the girl you fought for and thought was safe.

So you take matters into your own hands and resign to destroy the labyrinth, even if it means your death, hoping the other magical girls put you out of your misery once and for all.

But if you die, then who would be left to protect that girl you love so much?

So you take matters into your own hands and override her power, creating an idealized world in which everyone can be happy at the cost of making all of your past friends your enemies later.

Even the girl you love and gave your life for time and time again.

All for the sake of keeping her safe once more from not only herself since you pulled a piece of her from the Law of Cycles, but also those terrible aliens who can only think about themselves and their sick curiosity.

I so badly want a happy ending for Homura, and I'm so hoping that that happy ending is one without magic or Karmaic fate or the weight of 26 years of repeated time travel or having to save her girlfriend from a terrible demise or dooming herself to magical Jesus type limbo for eternity all while she's the only one who can remember.

Outside of Madoka, what does Homura enjoy now in Rebellion? What were her dreams, if she had any? Her aspirations? What was her childhood like (even though we know it was lonely) was there anything in her life that even remotely made her feel that living was worth it?

If and when she becomes an adult, what will she be like? What career what she want to pursue? What interests her? What does she want the most for herself? Power? Fame? Company? Comfort?

And will it even be possible for her to enjoy anything outside of Madoka so long as she attaches her self worth to this one, ordinary girl?

Will she succeed in protecting her at the cost of herself? At the cost of anyone else excluding the kyubey?

Will she give up ultimate control over the world, or will she double down; ok with challenging her friends-turned-enemies all for the sake of her love?

And if so, will she succeed as Madoka's sole, eternal protector forevermore, or she be dethroned and killed, left to rot in a labyrinth of her self-hatred and mistakes? (God, I hope not.)

Or...will she finally be saved and released from the shackles of fate, time, and space so she can live her life as a normal girl, a life she wasn't granted even before she made her wish?

My excitement for this movie is beyond real.

#madoka magica #homura akemi #pmmm madoka #sayaka miki #kyoko sakura #mami tomoe #puella magi madoka magica #madoka x homura #madoka magica rebellion #madokami #magical girl madoka magica #devil homura

[party-hearses]

i am a nightmare, you are a miracle // 1

i'll bury us both, fed to the night as ghosts

series masterlist | next chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader, ex!Tommy Miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before. 

Series Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, language, infidelity, eventual smut, age difference, soft!joel, AU - no cordyceps outbreak, Sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), Tommy stans don’t come for me

Wordcount: 5.8 k

A/N: I’ll be honest — I have no idea what I’m doing. I haven’t written a fic in damn near 20 years, so I’m just kind of throwing this out into the void to see what happens. I'm playing fast and loose with years and ages; it's 2023 and there's no outbreak. Also, not a personal fan of the ‘brothers’ trope, but…here we are. 

…I can’t wait until your next business trip…

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes as hard as you can. Who even uses email to have an affair, anymore? 

…miss your hands…

The words are hot against your eyelids, seared into your line of vision, despite the dull ache from your own hands. It had been a week, and the wound still feels gaping — all consuming, bitter pain licking at your insides what feels like every minute of the day. 

     “Dammit, peach. I’ve barely seen you in a week and a half, and this is the bullshit you start?” 

     “Oh, so it’s my fault that you’re having an affair?”

     “I didn’t say that!” 

     Tommy’s eyes wild, hands on his hips, southern drawl like syrup over each syllable. 

     “You’re always workin’. In meetings. Pourin’ yourself into spreadsheets and budgets. What  am I s’posed to do?”

     His hands in the air, desperate, shoulders hunched.

     “Still sounds a lot like you’re blaming me.”  

You can feel the tears well up, and you swallow hard to stop them. Do not cry at work. Do NOT cry at work. You breathe deep, the burning in your lungs waning, but not extinguishing. The usual busy noises of your office are absent today, save the soft purr of the air conditioning and the receptionist’s furious clicking at her keyboard. Even the phones are silent; no frantic calls from upstairs to divert your attention from the constant replay of that night. 

Finally feeling steady enough to remove your hands from your eyes, you lock your fingers together and lay your cheek on top of them. Everything feels heavy — your workload, your personal life, your head. Your gaze slowly flickers to the office window, the sunlight streaming through, the heat scorching. It seems to call out to your blood, making you feel restless, agitated, but also so fucking tired.  

Sleep had eluded you since Tommy had left, and you’d barely been able to steal moments here and there, between dinner for one on the couch and the canned laughs of late-night talk shows. How different your life had been even two weeks ago.  

“Did you bring lunch?” 

Abruptly brought back to earth, your eyes snap up to the face of your colleague, Ava. 

“Um, yeah. Just some veggie sticks and hummus. I, uh, haven’t been feeling terribly hungry.” You smile weakly, the attempt at a joke feeling like a weight around your neck. 

Ava nods in understanding, her eyes sympathetic. She had been the second person you’d called the next morning, after your older sister. Kit, five years your senior, had answered, already sounding distracted by her two young children. 

     “Well, girl, I can’t say I didn’t tell you so. Getting involved with a man seventeen years older than you…” 

While Kit had been hard and borderline disinterested, Ava had served as a warm landing for your sobbing, rushing to the empty apartment on a Saturday morning to soothe you. 

“It’s Friday. We can duck out early, grab a drink? You could use one, and Jackson isn’t back from his meeting upstairs.” Ava checks her watch, confirming. “It’s not like anyone will even miss us.” 

Ava is dependable, fun, beautiful. Her cool California attitude compliments her chic New York style, but she had called Austin home since college. She could wrap anyone around her finger with ease, and her insistence on being your friend made your heart clench. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” You nod solemnly, tears now pricking at your eyes from the tenderness you feel towards her. 

She meets the tenderness with a wide grin. “Knew you would, doll.” 

As you turn to gather your bag, a sudden lightning bolt of fear strikes you. 

“Av, what if he’s there? What if we see him?” 

She swallows down a laugh. “Tommy Miller? Downtown?” She leans closer to you, raising her eyebrows. “He wouldn’t be caught dead at Taquero Mucho. Not willingly, at least.” 

Ava is right, as always. The lush pink floral interior and neon signage on the walls of the restaurant do not, and would not, mesh with Tommy Miller’s bearish sensibilities. You instantly feel more at ease, letting Ava order pink, fruity drinks for the both of you. 

One cocktail turns into two turns into three, and the warm buzz in your veins settles your mind for the time being. Ava sits across from you, happily munching on tortilla chips and chattering away. 

“I couldn’t believe Belinda said that! Like, retire already, grandma.” She grins, rolling her eyes. 

You chuckle, only half hearing the story she’s been telling. Noticing, she gently shifts in her seat, drawing closer to you. 

“Doll, I’m sorry to have been chatting your ear off. You know how I get. Let’s hear- ah, wait!” She notices your empty glass, and as if she had snapped her fingers, the server materializes. 

“Two more, please.” She nods toward the server, who rushes away to put the order in, lest they keep Ava waiting. “Okay. So… what are you going to do? We need to get you out of that apartment. And since you refuse to stay with me…” 

Your gaze drops to your hands in your lap. If you thought crying at work was bad, crying at lunch was worse. You clear your throat, eyes catching your chipped fingernail polish.  

“I don’t know, Av. He- it’s his apartment. It’s not like I don’t make enough to get something on my own, but… I don’t know. It all feels so empty.” 

Ava nods as the server places two more pink cocktails on the table. Mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ to him, she reaches for it before responding.  

“Where’s he staying? And for how long?” 

“His brother’s. Said he’ll give me as much time as I need…but I don’t want to be there anymore. I don’t feel like I can be. Maybe I should get out of Austin?” 

Ava raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. You can’t let him run you out of town! That’s outrageous. He’s not even worth that.” She rolls her eyes again. 

You reach for your drink, sipping it slowly, willing it to quiet the bitter fire in your blood. 

     “Peach, come on. I- I didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything. You’re gonna throw two years away over a one time thing? A-a mistake?” 

     “It should have never happened, Tommy! Fucking a client? And I know it wasn’t just once! What the fuck were you thinking?” 

     Tommy’s eyes soften, but he doesn’t speak. His hand goes to the back of his neck, kneading. 

     “Guess I wasn’t thinkin’.” 

Tommy had shattered you. Betrayed you. Split you open and cut your insides out. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that he wasn’t a good man. Complicated? Yes. Hard to read? Yes. Prone to making colossal fucking mistakes? Absolutely. But you knew, deep down, that he wasn’t bad. 

You shake your head at Ava slowly, sadly. “I don’t know what I did wrong, Av. Two years. I don’t know what happened.” 

Your eyes well up, and this time you can’t stop the tears. You sniffle, wiping them away quickly, as Ava puts her hand on your forearm. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, doll. He’s the one who fucked up. He’s the one who ruined everything.” 

“H-he said I work too much. I’m ‘not there’ enough. And…and…the worst p-part is, I don’t think he’s wrong!” It takes everything in you not to wail. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, trying to focus on the in-out in-out of your breathing. 

Ava signals for the check, another of her magic abilities. You can feel the server’s eyes on you as he brings it, quietly clicking his tongue against his teeth. Another sad drunk girl. Tsk, tsk. It’s barely 3 o’clock. Ava hums softly, scribbling her signature on the receipt. 

“There’s not a justification in the world for what he chose to do. You worked hard for your career, busted your ass to be where you’re at. It’s no excuse for him to have a full-blown affair with a client.” She closes the receipt inside the booklet and stands. “Now let’s get you home, so you can cry it out in peace.”

Unlocking the door of the apartment fills you with dread. The key feels unwieldy in your hand, and you consider for a split second whether it will feel daunting or freeing to give it back to Tommy. You let yourself in, the apartment hauntingly empty — just as you had left it, just as it had been for the past seven nights. 

You’ve only spoken to Tommy sparingly over the course of the week. A few short texts here and there, mostly about the logistics of the arrangement you are both now navigating. He had left for Joel’s late the night it happened, a duffel bag slung low over his shoulder, slamming the door on his way out. 

     “This it, peach?”  

…miss your hands…

 Dropping your bag next to the front door, the tears don’t stop once they start.

Ava had offered to come up, but you knew you couldn’t let her. She didn’t deserve to have to wallow with you, no matter how much she wanted to be there for you. 

 It had been a good distraction, lunch with her, but you still didn’t know what your plan was. Where you’d be going, where you’d be living. 

Hugging yourself, you shuffle into the guest bathroom to wash your face. After Tommy had left, you’d moved everything you needed out of the main bedroom and bathroom, suddenly feeling like a trespasser there. 

     Had he brought her here? Did she sleep in this bed? Did they talk about the future together? What does Joel think?

The last question to run through your mind catches you by surprise, a small gasp escaping your lips. What does Joel think? 

If Tommy was stoic and gruff, Joel was downright intimidating. You’ve only seen him smile a few times, and you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard him laugh. He wasn’t, however, unkind, taking to calling you by the same nickname Tommy had, albeit a bit awkwardly at first. Like he couldn’t form his mouth around the languid, round letters - p e a c h. Angular as he was, he had always made you feel welcome, in his own, quiet way, teasing Tommy about you being out of his league. The familial resemblance was strong between the brothers, with their dark waves and warm eyes. But something about Joel made your soul clench, as if he had curved his fingers around your ribs and impressed himself upon your heart. He was comfortable, in a cloudy way — never revealing himself, but not pressuring you to, either. Amicable silence, as it were. 

Thinking about Joel calling you out of Tommy’s league makes you scoff, now. 

“The rich client with the kitchen remodel isn’t too out of his league, is she?” You mumble to yourself, cold water pooling between your palms. 

     “I don’t want it to end this way, peach.”  

     “I didn’t want it to end at all, Tommy.” 

 You bring the water to your face, scrubbing away the salt of dried tears and sting of betrayal.

The sun had dipped below the horizon when you wake up later on the couch. Fumbling for your phone with one hand, you rub your eyes with the other. As you check the time, your phone alerts you to two new text messages, delivered two hours ago.

Tommy Miller: Will you be home tonight? Tommy Miller: I need to stop by to get a few things. 

Your hands tremble as you read and reread the messages. You rub your eyes again, unsure if you’re understanding the text in front of you clearly. It doesn’t change. Panic rises in your throat, searing and sour. 

A vicious cross between fury and complete despair surges through you, and you drop your phone into your lap. Tears pinch at the backs of your eyes. Forget figuring out where to live, you hadn’t even considered how you’d next face Tommy.  

     I don’t want to see you, Tommy. Do you want to talk? I’ll be out, feel free to drop by. Please come home. 

You weigh your options, constructing and dismantling multiple messages. Retrieving the phone, you pray he can’t see that abhorrent blue bubble that indicates you’re typing. That shows him you’re there. 

As if he’d read your mind, your phone vibrates, his name and picture flashing on the screen. The picture gives you pause — a day you had spent on Lake Austin, the wind whipping through his hair, a broad smile on both of your faces. You feel like you’re going to be sick. 

Focusing on your breathing, clenching your teeth, you accept the call.  

 “Hey, Tommy.” Your voice is small. So small. You feel your cheeks burn at how stupid you feel. You should be screaming at him — biting back the venom he instilled in you — but all you can manage is barely a whisper.  

He sounds relieved. “Hey, peach. Didn’t know if I’d catch ya.” 

You hum discontentedly. How can he be so cool about this?  

“Uhhh, well, I, uh, need to stop by the apartment tonight to grab some things. Would that be okay?” 

You don’t know what to say. Would it be okay?  

“It’s your apartment.” 

The response surprises you, that same venom bubbling over without your permission.

Tommy sighs. 

“I don’t want it to be like this, darlin’. Can we talk? Please?” 

“Can you make it here without sleeping with a client?” 

Tommy laughs hollowly. “Guess I deserve that. Sassy today, huh?” 

You picture him then, on Joel’s couch, fidgeting with the hem of his button down with his free hand. Pressed against the cushions, eyes to the ceiling. Gently annoyed with you for ignoring his texts. Football would be switched on in the background, and your heart thrums when you think of Joel being there, watching him. What does Joel think?   

You clear your throat, refocusing your attention. 

“Let’s get this over with, Tommy.”  

Sassy, indeed.

It was easier to be hard over the phone, joined by nothing more than wires somewhere in space. But as Tommy stands in front of you now, elbows on the kitchen island, hands stretching towards you, all you feel is the velvety pull of attraction. The soft lull of two years spent shrouded in each other. 

His voice is low, but soft — practically a purr. 

“Baby. How do we move past this?” 

You don’t meet his gaze, wrapping your arms around yourself. Looking at anything but him, anything but those warm eyes. You know that if you do, it will be over. 

“Tommy…I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s that easy. You had an affair. You didn’t forget to take the trash out, or-or-or make a shitty comment about my friends. You slept with someone! You had a relationship with her.” Your voice is measured, eyes dragging from the floor to the ceiling. Avoiding. 

“What can I do, peach? Please, just tell me. I’ll do anything.” 

 “It doesn’t change what happened.” You cross your arms over your chest, defiant now. “It won’t change what happened.” 

Exasperated, Tommy slams his hand on the counter, drawing his body to its full height. He’s broad — so broad — his shoulders squared. 

“I get it, okay? I fucked up. You’ve made it clear. Joel has made it clear. I fuckin’ get it!” He clenches his fists, bringing them up to his face. “I fuckin’ get it.” 

You drop your eyes instantly as your pulse quickens. “What do you mean, Joel made it clear?” 

Tommy sighs, deeply, not removing his hands from his face. “Joel will barely fuckin’ talk to me. Can’t get more’n two words out of him. Said he doesn’t blame you for bein’ done with me. Said I know better. And you know what? Yeah, he’s right. I do. Can’t even argue with’m.” 

You hum cooly in agreement, your pulse thrumming in your ears. There is a sudden acute awareness of the change taking place in your perception of Tommy following his words; he’s been wrenched open and put on display for you, and the need to step back from the jarring offering is nearly suffocating.  

“Okay. Okay.” Hands falling to his waist, revealing his eyes. Bloodshot, tired. Surrendering, but sharp. His voice, softer now, velvet dipped in whiskey. “I’m sorry, peach. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. I wish I could take it all back. I…I know I really fucked up.” 

You hold his desperate gaze for a moment before lowering your eyes to the floor again. 

“Tommy… ” His name splintering across your lips. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” That small voice again, cracking. Shattering. Sparkling pieces scattered across the kitchen floor around your feet. Meeting his offering with outstretched, empty palms. Nothing left to give. 

He drops his head, tucking his chin to his chest, and exhales a shaky breath. “Okay, peach. I hear ya.”

You can see his eyes bright with unshed tears. This is the softness that you know, that you’ve craved. The hushed tenderness that you’d shared beneath bed sheets, woven between fingertips brushed against silk skin, delicate whispers in the dark of a once shared bedroom.  

As good as strangers, now. 

The silence settles between you, mourning both what once was and could have been.

When the door closes with Tommy on the other side of it, it feels final. An unfamiliar liquid sense of relief floods your veins, and you breathe deeply. For the first time in a week, you feel like you can suck in enough air to actually fill your lungs. You hadn’t recognized the somber, weepy creature you’d become, and you were sure no one else had, either. Ava had treated you like you were made of glass, afraid you would shatter at any moment. And as much as you had needed that, your stomach twisted into knots at feeling so helpless. Ending things with Tommy — officially — felt like giving yourself permission to dig out the shards and stitch the wound.  

You take in the room around you - a blanket strewn across the arm of the couch, wine glasses littering the coffee table, bottles lined up on the floor in front of it. You shake your head, in something that feels a little like disbelief. The reality of leaving this apartment - your home - had begun to truly set in, but the question of where you would land hung heavy in the air. 

Of course Kit would take you in, if she wasn’t multiple states and thousands of miles away. Ava was an option, having offered her couch to you almost the moment she found out, but you had leaned so heavily on her already that taking more would have made you feel too guilty. A hotel would be too expensive for an open-ended move out date, though the prospect of not having to make your own bed or wash your own sheets was tempting.  

Dropping yourself onto the couch with a heavy sigh, you begin to aimlessly scroll through the contact list in your phone. You know, deep down, that it’s for show, though you don’t know for who. You know, too, that you’ll end up at Ava’s, despite your unwillingness to do so. 

 You lean back, pulling your legs up and stretching them across the cushions. Reaching across the empty wine glasses for the television remote, you click it on before throwing your arm over your eyes. You don’t care what’s on, you just need the sounds. Of people. Of laughing. Of life. Resigning yourself to calling Ava in the morning, you slip into a restless, dreamless sleep.

The Saturday morning sun finds you still curled up on the couch, your legs pulled close to your core. Without opening your eyes, you drop your hand to the floor, feeling for your phone. Finding it nestled partially beneath the frame of the couch, you bring it up to your face, cracking your eyes as little as possible to check the time. There’s a missed call, and when it catches your attention, your eyes fly open completely. 

 Joel Miller - 1 Missed Call & Voicemail

“What the fuuuuck… ” you mumble, swiping to your calls app and bringing the phone to your ear. 

“Uh, hey peach. It’s Joel. Gimme a call back when you get this.” 

You can’t quite place his tone of voice, and your hands tremble as your brain rolls through all the reasons he might be calling you. Did something happen? Is he angry that Tommy is still at his place? Is he angry that you ended it with Tommy? Is he going to try to convince you to take him back? You play the voicemail again, to see if you can catch any stormy inflections in his deep voice - though you glean nothing more than a hazy awareness of the hunger coursing through your blood when he speaks.  

Finally sitting up and crossing your legs beneath you, you stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity. It’s not that Joel scares you, but you don’t know of any time that he’s called you for any reason. Worrying at your bottom lip with your teeth, you finally press the little image of a phone next to his name and wait for the call to connect.

“Yeah?” Joel’s tone is curt, and you can tell he’s at work based on the construction noises you hear in the background. It sets your teeth on edge. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself. Steeling your nerves.  

“Heyjoelit’s-” you manage to squeak, before you recognize the quiet way his breath hitches. 

“Peach.” and he’s soft. So soft. Softer than you’ve ever known him to be. And it’s your name on his tongue; honeyed and heavenly. You could drown in it. 

“Hi,” you whisper. “I’m just…returning your call.” 

He doesn’t answer immediately, but you hear the opening and closing of a door, the groan of an office chair, and then silence. You would think he’d hung up if you couldn’t hear his deep, even breathing. 

“Peach,” he finally says again, and your skin flares. He clears his throat. “I—there’s— you doin’ okay?” His words are rushed, clumsy, as if he’s trying to get them all out at once. The thought that Joel Miller has anything to say to you, much less too much to say to you, clouds your mind. “Could kill Tommy. Fuckin’ bastard.” 

You laugh once, idly. “I’m holdin’ it together, Joel.” 

“Attagirl.”  

Your skin prickles, and you draw in a surprised gasp. 

He continues, unaware of the change in your breathing. “Look, I, uh, know you’re busy, so I’ll get t’the point. I’ve got an extra room. For you. If ya want it, I mean. I know you’re tryin’ to get out of Tommy’s place, and I’m not lookin’ to rush you or anythin’, just..wanted to offer it up. Rent free, ‘n all that.” You imagine him running his hands through his hair as he stumbles through his speech, clenching his teeth. “Least I could do, with my brother bein’ the dickhead he is.” 

Oh. It’s pity — he feels sorry for you. You bite your tongue, sink your fingernails into your palm, force yourself to focus through the haze in your eyes. Stupid. Stupid girl. 

“Joel, I—” 

“I know ya probably have friends you can stay with. I’m not tryin’ t’be weir — peach, is this weird?” He’s lost in his own thoughts, but stops abruptly when the question escapes. He sounds just as surprised by it as you are.  

 It hangs in the air between you for a moment, and you relish just slightly in the idea that he’s floundering.  

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.” you reply, gently. “I’m okay to figure something out on my own. I’m a big girl.” 

“Oh, peach, no. No.” His response is quick, and firm; without any hesitancy, or a second thought. “Don’t for a minute think I don’t know how capable y’are. I know you can, I just don’t want you to have to.” 

 His words sizzle across your flesh, urgent and pleading. They leave you feeling dazed, unsure of the reality of the conversation. Your eyes flick to the furnishings of the apartment, desperate for something to ground you. Trepidation clutches at your throat, rendering you speechless. 

Joel shifts in his chair, and you hear him let out a long breath. “I- I know we don’t know each other. I feel like I’m scarin’ you, darlin’.” 

You shake your head, grasping for what to say. Chest tightening at the thought of his worry, the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them. “What would Tommy say?” 

It feels like a condemnation; speaking it aloud, between the two of you. As if it would make Joel suddenly realize how wrong it was, to ask this of you. To offer this to you. 

“Tommy doesn’t get to say anythin’.” His whisper-soft tone now a growl, clawing at your insides. It covers you from head to toe, and you feel, for the first time in a very long time, shielded from the hurt. A hurt that exceeded the past week, or Tommy entirely. A hurt that was buried so far inside yourself that the aching reminder it even existed left you reeling. Tears prick at the back of your eyes, and you silently scold yourself for crying again. 

The silence on the phone is comfortable, as if Joel knows that you’re digesting everything he’s saying. True to his word, he’s not rushing you — just sharing the space with you, allowing you to take it all in. 

A loud knocking sounds from his end, and it snaps you out of your trance. 

“Shit, sorry peach. I gotta go.” He sounds further away, muffled; the intimacy of the conversation shattered, as if you had imagined it altogether. 

Then, abruptly, his warm, inviting timbre restored: “Please think about it. Bye, darlin’.”

 “I mean, are you thinking about it?” Ava questions, her eyes on the shirt she’s folding. She’s cross legged on the floor, while you stack books in the cardboard box at your feet. 

It hadn’t occurred to you how little you had to call your own, until you had to put it all in boxes.  

You don’t respond to Ava’s question immediately, instead chewing on your bottom lip gently. Turning it over and over in your mind, formulating the most diplomatic response. 

“How bad would it be if I was?” You avoid her eyes, which you know have turned to daggers at your back. 

It’s her turn to mull the question over, bobbing her head side to side as she considers. 

“Tommy’d be pissed.” It’s pointed, but not malicious. Honest. “But…we don’t care what Tommy thinks anymore, do we?” 

 You drop your head, smiling mildly behind the curtain of your hair. No, we in fact, do not. 

“Plus, he’s very…handsome.” Ava chooses her words carefully, but you know to read between the lines: Joel is fuckin’ hot. “The whole ‘older man’ thing really works for you, babe.” 

“Kit would be more upset than Tommy, I guarantee it.” You laugh softly, unable to help yourself. You get cheated on by someone more than fifteen years older than you, and immediately move in with someone even older? You imagine your sister tutting at you, ever the mother-figure. 

“No doubt.” Ava rolls her eyes affectionately as you turn to her. You plant your hands on your hips and survey the bedroom around you. “Seriously, though, how would the…logistics of living with Joel work? Would you, like, have dinner together? Hang out? Be friends?”

You laugh, despite the anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t know, Av. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m kind of hung up on the whole ‘moving in with my ex-boyfriend’s brother’ part of it all.” 

Now it’s her turn to plant her hands at her hips. “Are we still harboring some feelings about Tommy Miller, doll?” Her eyebrow quirks. 

“Av! Come on. We spent two years together! I’m not just gonna get over it like that.” You snap your fingers before bending down to close the now-full box below you. 

“You know what they say…the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Ava waggles her eyebrows, and you laugh, full-bellied, at her levity. “You’re a fox, girl. Believe it or not.” 

You roll your eyes, shoving the box out of the door of the bedroom, into the hallway. 

“And he’ll be helping you move all this, right? To his house?” 

“Nope!” you chirp brightly, “that would be you, babe!”

Kit, as you had anticipated, is not thrilled about the idea of you moving in with Joel. You call her from your office phone on Monday morning, gripping the receiver so hard your knuckles are white. 

“Are you kidding? How are you even entertaining the idea?” Her voice is unflinching, and you tap the fingers of your free hand against your desktop, mildly annoyed. 

“I’m 28, Kit.” You remind her, as you always do. “I’m the one who would deal with the fallout. Not you. Besides, it’s not like I have a ton of options.” 

She scoffs, and you can imagine her rolling her eyes. “So you’ve told him yes, then?”  

“No! That’s why I’m…taking a survey. Feeling it out.” You mumble, “You’re obviously not on board.” 

Kit sighs, drawn out and heavy. “I know you don’t care what I think. I know you’re an adult. I just…worry about you. I’m so far away, and if anything happened…” 

You cut her off. “I appreciate that. A lot. But at some point, I have to take care of myself.” 

“I don’t think moving in with a 50 year old man qualifies as taking care of yourself.” She’s trying to be delicate, you can tell, but her remark is biting. 

Twirling the phone cord around your fingers, you purse your lips. 

“Why don’t you come stay with us for a bit? Maybe an extended vacation?” You can picture the sticky countertops, loud toys, an uncomfortable pullout couch. And Kit’s husband, awkward and gangly, never shutting up about ‘the economy’. Kit sounds somewhat hopeful, though, and it makes your heart quiver. 

“Kit…I can’t leave my job. The one stable thing I have going for me.” 

 “They have finance jobs here.” 

 “I’m not letting Tommy run me out of Austin.” You echo Ava’s words, an indignant feeling rising in your chest. “I’ve got a whole career here. This is…a minor setback. If I do move in with Joel, it won’t be for forever.”    

She laughs softly, but you clock the reluctance. 

“I promise. I’m okay. I am okay. I will be okay.” 

Kit pauses. “You’ll tell me if you’re not?” 

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.” 

“Well,” she clicks her tongue against her teeth, “best of luck, peach. It sounds like you have your mind made up.”

You shove the last box into the back of your Subaru, and dust your hands off on your leggings. 

     “Are you absolutely sure you’re okay with this, Joel?” 

     “Yes. Stop askin’ me.”   

      “If I’m too much, at all, I don’t have to stay.” 

     “Peach.” It’s a warning. “It’s Tommy that I need out of my space.” 

Calling Joel back to accept his offer had been harder than every other aspect of moving out of Tommy’s apartment. Once you and Ava had packed all of your belongings, you stood back to observe — and it was like you had never lived there in the first place. The only thing that truly felt different about the space was that you knew you didn’t live there anymore. You feel a pang in your chest thinking about how Tommy would feel without you there — you didn’t know if him missing you or not missing you would be worse. 

“Anything left?” Silas, Ava’s boyfriend-du-jour asks, from your elbow. 

You shake your head, pulling down the hatch to close the back of the car. “Just the key. Which you don’t have to stick around for.” You give him a watery smile, feeling the weight of the day through every muscle in your body. 

He nods. “Cool, cool. I’ll grab Ava. We can meet you over there?” 

You hum in agreement before turning back to the building. Going up the steps to the second floor feels mechanical, a recreation of the thousands of times you’ve done it before, and your legs carry you automatically. The last time, now. Pulling in a large breath, you exhale through your nose, centering yourself while you click the door open.  

Sunlight streams through the windows, bathing everything in the late afternoon light. You glaze your eyes over the room, not searching for anything forgotten, but committing it to memory one final time. You recognize that it feels less like a chapter closing and more like a freefall into something entirely unknown — into the mouth of something that lurks beneath the surface, teeth gnashing, ready to consume. 

Leaving the key on the kitchen island feels like an offering to that dark entity, but you’re ready — willing — to tumble headfirst into it. So you do, with no grandeur, and no looking back, just a deep breath out and the millstone around your neck lifted. 

Joel’s truck isn’t in the driveway when you arrive at his house. Ava is posted up against her car, Silas still in the driver’s seat, arm out the window at her waist. You wave as you pull up, masking the fear radiating through your extremities. 

You throw the Subaru into park, and Ava jogs over to meet you. Her eyes are wide, but kind, as you close the door behind you. 

“Okay?” She asks, her hand gentle on your arm. 

You nod, swallowing hard. “Feels kinda surreal, Av. But I’m good.” 

Brushing her off, you make your way to the front door. There’s an envelope clipped to the mailbox, ‘peach’ scribbled on the front of it, and your hands shake as you grasp it. 

‘I wanted to give you some space while you got settled. Your key is in the envelope. Make yourself at home — I’ll check on you in the morning. —Joel’ 

Your heart flutters as you pull out a house key, with a keychain in the shape of a peach threaded through the top of it. Your breath catches in your chest as you run the metal through your fingers, tightening them around it. If Tommy’s key had been an anchor, Joel’s feels like a lifesaver. 

Blinking back tears, hands still shaking, you slide the key into the lock and twist. 

Eat your heart out, Tommy Miller.

#my therapist would be so proud of me for actually posting this #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal fanfic #tommy x reader #joel miller x f!reader

[nnaminxz]

“𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖞 𝕲𝖎𝖗𝖑𝖘 𝕯𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝕮𝖗𝖞“

↳ 𝔰𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔯𝔲 𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔬

⤑ 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut & angst

⤑ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: if the saying is “misery loves company” why isn’t Suguru happy right now?

⤑ 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰: Gojo Satoru slander I’m sorry but I had too, I love him very much tho, sad feelings, sad reader, suguru is kind of ass too, maybe a lil ooc but it’s fanfic so don’t attack me, vaginal sex, riding, the ending may be dumb but it’s whatever, minors dni

⤑ 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: I wrote this for an another fandom a WHILE ago and always wanted to redo it so I thought why not redo it for my first jjk fic. I hope you guys enjoy this is my first time posting for this fandom so I’m vv nervous/excited. Pls be kind

Suguru always thought this would make him happy.

Seeing you around campus with Satoru made him angry enough, so he just knew that when the inevitable happened and Satoru started acting like well—Satoru again the sight was guaranteed to bring much happiness to his heart.

He knew it was sick, that he wanted to see whatever you and Satoru had going on fail but Suguru couldn't help it.

None of it mattered though because it didn’t happen.

Suguru sat in the same place for two hours watching the two of you—waiting for the feeling of bitter happiness to fill his bones but it never came.

In fact, it was the exact opposite.

Watching you fight to get Satoru’s attention made him sad. Seeing how no matter what you did he would rather pay more attention to everyone else made Suguru angry. And watching you finally leave the room and the other boy not even bat an eye made him furious.

If he was truly surprised or even thought the other boy would care, Suguru would’ve went over to him and said something but it wasn’t worth it. Satoru was just like him.

An idiot.

A dumbass.

They couldn’t tell when they had a good thing even if it’d slapped them across the face.

“Where you going?” Haibara questions as Suguru stands to his feet.

“Need a smoke,”

“Ah,” The other boy nodded his head. “Are you having fun?”

Suguru decides to lie again. The happiness on his friends face to pure to ruin with his sour mood.

“I told you coming out tonight would be a good idea.”

“Yeah,” Suguru fakes a grin. “I’ll be back.” He took the pack of cigarettes out his pocket waving them before walking away.

Suguru easily maneuvers his way through the thick crowd until he was standing on the back porch. The screen door shut with a thud causing you to swiftly snap around. There was a hopeful and expectant look on your face but when you saw it was him all that fell as you turned back around.

“Well, hello to you too,” Suguru jokes trying to hide the actual physical pain he was feeling in his heart.

That used to be him you were so eager to see.

“What do you want?” You huffed softly.

“Needed a smoke.”

The way you turned to look at him with such concern almost made Suguru laugh. Here you were angry at him, going through your own shit, and still somehow harbored enough care to be concerned with his health.

“I though you quit?”

Suguru plops down next to you pulling the carton out his pocket flipping the cap open. “I did.” He says showing you the empty pack..

“You carry around an empty pack?”

“It’s a good way for me to make an exit,”

You left out a long sigh. “I looked that pitiful huh?”

“You don’t look pitiful. He just looks stupid.”

Though you didn’t say anything back you didn’t need to for Suguru to already know what you were thinking. He knew you like the back of his hand and no doubt you were beating yourself up, angry with yourself when in reality you should’ve been focused on the one who deserved it.

“I’m so stupid,” You whisper and its so low that it Suguru wasn’t already so hyper-focused on your very existence he would’ve probably missed it.

“No, you’re not.”

“You told me he was like this.”

“People told you about me and you still gave me a chance,”

“So I am stupid.”

“You’re trusting,” Suguru counters. “You give people the benefit of the doubt.”

“why is it that trusting people always end up looking stupid?”

“because others take advantage of it.”

Something he knew all to well.

You both fall silent again. The only noise filling the space are the sounds of nature and the muffled thumping music that escaped the noisy house. Suguru looks over at you wishing there was something he could to do. Something he could say. Seeing you like this hurt him.

He hated seeing you cry.

He felt like dying when you were upset.

But it also hurt to see you happy so Suguru wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted.

All this shit was so weird. An uncharted territory before you came along.

Every time the screen door would creak open you’d twist around to see if it was him and every time you ended up turning back around in disappointment. As your disappointment grew, so did Suguru’s anger.

You only deserved the best things in life. None of this push and pull, ‘I’m here but around others I’m not’ bullshit.

Suguru was such a hypocrite.

Here he was furious with Satoru when he used to just as much of an asshole to you as well. He too would push and pull right until he pushed you away completely.

“I’m sorry,” He quietly apologizes. If he’d just gotten his act together sooner there would be no you and Satoru. You wouldn’t be sad and he would still have you.

You shake your head softly shushing him. “Not right now please,” You say. “Can you take me home? I just really want to go back home.”

Without saying anything else Suguru nodded. As both of  you were walking to his car you passed a big window. Sadly it was a clear shot to Satoru who now had another girl seated next to him in your place.

Not only had he not noticed your absence but that easily he’d replaced you.

“He’s such a fucking ass.”

“Yeah,” You agree. “Let’s just go,”

Suguru had evert urge to go in there and go off but when he looked back over you were already halfway to his car so he kept it moving. Satoru wasn’t worth it anyway. He was just another dick who thought way too much of himself.

Satoru didn’t deserve you.

Neither did Suguru.

One in the car Suguru sent Haibara a quick message saying he was going home before shifting the car into gear.

As expected the drive was silent. There wasn’t much to say. As much as Suguru wanted to comfort you he didn’t know what to do even if he did you probably wouldn’t want to hear it from him. Why would you?

Suguru knew every route to and from your apartment but decided to take the longest one. If you noticed you didn’t say anything. All you did was keep quiet as you looked out the window.

You stayed that way until he pulled up to you complex. Before getting out of the car you whisper as soft thank you and force a smile.

“yeah, no problem,” Suguru murmurs.

He’s about to pull away when out the corner of his eye he spots your small tube of lip gloss sitting in his cup holder. You had a million of them and even thought you probably wouldn’t even realize this one was missing Suguru still found himself on a journey to your front door.

Who know this could’ve been your favorite one.

The one in the pink tube was your favorite actually.

But Suguru already knew that.

“You left this,” Suguru says once you open the door.

“Thanks,” You mutter grabbing it from his hand. “I have a million in this flavor.”

“I know.”

For the first time tonight a genuine smile filled your lips. It was small and not the one he was used to seeing but for right now it would do. It was better than nothing.

Though your eyes were sad and bloodshot you were still as beautiful as ever to him.

“Please don’t cry over him. He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

“I just want something real,” You say in a small voice your arms wrapping around your body.

“What we had was real.”

“You were just like him.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Suguru adds, his voice wavering as he tries to get out the words. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” you say this time.

Suguru is walking away when you call out his name. As soon as he turns back around your lips are on his. He’s shocked for a moment, standing there with wide eyes, but quickly he fall back into your old routine. His heart is pounding so hard against his chest and Suguru wonder if you could feel it as well.

With every kiss he pulls you closer to him. It’s been months since he’d last had you this close and Suguru didn’t want it to end any time soon. He missed this, the soft breaths that escape you, the fruity taste of your lip gloss, the way your hands cradle his face.

Slowly your hands roam from his face to his jacket and then finally when they land on his belt Suguru forces himself to pull away.

Suguru lets out a sigh resting his forehead against yours. “We can’t.” He mutters.

He wanted you but not this way. Not when you were like this.

“Why?”

“You’re….” his voice trails off.

“I’m sober,”

“You’re sad.” He counters.

You give him a shrug. “ I want this. I need this.”

Suguru knows what this was. A rebound fuck. Simply a way for you to get back at Satoru in your mind but couldn’t bring himself to care as he kisses you again. He knows this was going to hurt in the morning but he’d deal with that when it came.

A satisfied moan leaves your lips. “Please,” You beg and Suguru nods, not even needing to know what exactly you were asking for because he already was prepared to give you everything.

Reaching behind him Suguru pushed the front door closed. “Where?” Without saying anything you guided him both over to the couch lightly pushing him down before climbing on top.

You pulled off your dress and without a second thought, Suguru hands find their way to your breast, lifting the mounds out of the cups. His tongue gently swipes over both nipples before picking one to suck on while he twisted the other between his fingers.

“Fuck,” Soft moans escape your plump lips as you arch further into him. “It’s always about him.”

Suguru pulls away for a brief moment and shushes you before taking in the other nipple. He didn’t want to hear about you and Satoru. The thoughts tortured him enough. 

It did bring him a sick satisfaction to know that Satoru was a lazy lover.

“M’sorry,”

“Don’t be. This is just about us right now.”

You nod, pressing your fingers underneath Suguru’s chin as lift up his head so you could kiss him again. Suguru’s hands were everywhere. From your ass to your stomach, your thighs, he couldn’t get enough.

“Touch me,” You command.

Suguru happily listens, his fingers easily finding their way into your panties. You were already so wet. The juices soaking him with just a few movements. His fingers dances across your clit pulling airy groans from your mouth. To him you look so beautiful, your head tossed back, eyes fluttering, as your hips rocks into his fingers.

“Need you in me.”

“Wanna taste you.”

You shake your head, big glossy needy eyes focused on him. “Next time maybe.”

His heart jumps at the words ‘next time’. Suguru really hopes there is a next time. Not even for the sex. He just wanted you.

You lift up allowing Suguru the room to pull his pants down. After pulling your own panties to the side you grab his cock and align it before sinking down.

Groans leave both of your mouths and before Suguru can even collect his thoughts you began to bounce up and down. Suguru isn’t even sure were to focus. Your bouncing breast, the perfect contortions of your face, or the lewd scene between your legs.

He leans forward and takes your nipple into his mouth again. You felt so good. So wet. So warm. The tight grip on his hair only sending more pleasure through his body while you alternate between bouncing and grinding. Your eyes were closed and you weren’t focused on anything but yourself.

You were using him but none of that mattered.

“Suguru,” you whine, finally looking at him. “feels so good. It feels so good.”

“Only ever want to make you feel good y/n,”

 Suguru says it so quietly that he wasn’t even sure you’d heard or if you did you’d understood what exactly he meant but when your eyes began to water again Suguru knew you had.

You hide your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. When your hips began to falter in pace Suguru knows your close. Once your pussy tightens and your legs begin to shake, Suguru lets himself fall apart too.

You both stay like that. Breathing labored wrapped in each other's arms not saying anything. You stay that way until he hears your little sniffles and feels the tears falling onto his shoulder.

“Don’t cry. Pretty girls don’t cry.”

“Then stop making me.”

#geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou suguru x you #suguru smut #suguru angst #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #jjk smut #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

A quick analysis of AFO's origin, the world frame of bnha and the core themes of the story :

From reading other people's metas and reading the leaks when they came out, my only solid take about it is that you cannot talk about bnha and the core theme of the perpetuation of violence without understanding how the Hero Society and the hero vs villain culture came to be.

That's what AFO origin is for.

Let's see if I can explain it:

In stories where a group of people suddenly gains powers, you'll always see that authors worry to portray how a change like that would affect the world at the moment. What does it mean that part of the global population now has access to something that others don't? Does that make them "better humans"? Are they superior to the rest and therefore should control them? Are they a danger to society? Should they be repressed or eliminated?

The thing is that powers can be viewed as a metaphor to real life situations we face. People with disabilities deal with the whole stupid idea that they are less than the rest of humanity all the time. You have sexism and racism and a bunch of other problems that at heart are about how to deal with different existences. Should people with certain privileges rule the world? Etc etc etc.

For a second, think of having superpowers as having a ton of money. Those with more money can help others or totally ruin their lives, right? In our world, people with money are directly involved in how justice works. They can corrupt the system or make it work, you know how it is. Yet, people with money are only people. We are all just that. Humans. No matter the amount of privileges, you can't escape your own humanity.

The way a person looks, the amount of money they own, where they are from, how they identify as, none of that makes a person more or less human. Similarly, having powers or the nature of said powers... It doesn't make a person less of a person, you know?

When you apply that logic to superpowers, you get what MHA is trying to say.

AFO lived in these specific conditions that were a result of the violence of his time. He would have ended up bitter anyway, because since he was born he was marked as a threat. When you reject someone like that, when you reject their humanity and you make an enemy out of there, you're not asking for a nice ending. If you teach them that they have to fight for the right to exist, you are asking for a war. It's like that in our world, it's like that in bnha.

What I'm trying to say is that superpowers are just an added variable in the complex equation of human coexistence.

The moment superpowers start to appear, society has to adapt fast. People that are also weapons don't mix well with the world's problems, after all. If you want to prevent mass killings, you need to set a system that rules the allowed behaviors and balances out the board. It's a relief that humanity is both capable of great horrors and wonders, so to every criminal that's set to use their powers for evil, you'll get an individual that wants to use their powers to stop them.

That's how vigilantes were born.

Then comes the legalization of powers and the individuals who use it to protect the system. That is how you get villains (people outside the law) and heroes (people following the law).

Violà. You have the same set of problems with a new feature: quirks.

How does this connect to AFO, you ask?

AFO's origin explains the complexity of the bnha universe, comparing it to our own. It also shows that there is always a context, as in situational factors that contribute to a person being the way that person is.

That doesn't excuse who AFO became, tho. The general rule dictates that we are responsible for our choices and actions in the face of the reality we were presented with. Maybe not while we are kids, because we don't have the maturity to make those choices. However, the moment we become adults, we cannot blame our choices anymore in the world around us. If you have the frame of mind to stop hurting people and you don't, that is on you. You chose to perpetuate the violence.

Of course, simplifications don't do any good and bnha makes that clear too.

A tale of heroes that are always good and villains that are always bad is just that, fiction. When the bnha society started believing that said fiction was their reality, that's when the real struggle of bnha started. Villains and heroes stopped being perceived as such. The dehumanization went both ways. The heroes became untouchable gods and the villains unforgivable demons. The civilians all excused their apathy and lack of action by saying they couldn't do anything in such a world.

People ran away from their responsibility by putting all the weight on the heroes shoulders and ignoring whatever felt uncomfortable or mildly disturbing.

See how quickly we were able to analyze bnha?

That's what I meant when I said at the start that AFO's backstory is crucial to the story frame of the manga. If AFO had been a villain just because, then you'd have a story of evil without reason that would validate the idea of extreme moralities of black and white. Since that's not the case, we got more depth in general.

It all connects to the message Horikoshi is trying to communicate. If you compare bnha to other shonens, you'll get the feeling that they all have something to say about that violence, about the way the world is structured and how people move around it.

It's a basic of storytelling, sure. It's just that now you have the knowledge to properly study bnha, or something like that.

At some point I'll have to reread the manga and pay attention to AFO's origin... That's everything for now, tho. Hope you enjoyed it whdhjsbdjd

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #shan's bnha opinions #shan's mha opinions #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #afo #all for one

[the-lonelybarricade]

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans - Chapter 2

Summary: Fresh after her third, and final, breakup with Tamlin, Feyre decides a one night stand is exactly what she needs to get him out of her system. Except, her one night stand with a violet-eyed stranger ends up being far more than she bargained for.

-

Or; the one where Feysand gets knocked up from a one night stand.

Read on AO3 ・Masterlist・Previous Chapter

-

Feyre couldn’t look at her phone. Not without feeling nauseated.

There had been many—countless, Nesta would argue—idiotic, brainless things that Feyre had done in her life. There was the time she’d left her passport locked in a hostel safe and had driven three hours on the motorway before she’d realized. There was the time when she’d snuck one of the bottles of vodka her father used to keep stored in the freezer and decided she’d get away with it by replenishing what was consumed with water, only for their father to discover a frozen bottle the following evening. Or, worst of all, there was the summer she’d given herself bangs.

They were all inconsequential in retrospect, now knowing how each of those little mistakes panned out. But at the time, they had felt world-ending.

And maybe there was a solace to find in how trivial those moments felt in reflection. Like one day in the future, Feyre would look back on herself now and laugh softly, saying, Remember how scared I was? I thought the world was coming down around me, but it was only just a new path forging.

That was a nice idea, except this new path was not solid stone, steady underfoot. Nor was it gravel, rough and uneven, easy to slip and unforgiving beneath a fall. No, this new path was quicksand. There was no standing still; there was no scraping together her bearings. This path decided that she was moving one way or another—either sinking to the bottom, suffocating in her own indecision, or scrambling forward in an attempt to keep her head above the surface.

And maybe there wasn’t a way forward at all. Maybe there was only going down, like she was trapped in a sand dial, feeling the ground shift and fall away, every ticking second measured. It certainly felt like there was glass sealed behind her—she knew there was no going back. There was no undoing the purple eyes and velvet laugh and stupid black dress.

Would she one day laugh about this? Who was to say. She wasn’t laughing now. She was fighting the bile creeping up her throat as she sat on the cool tile of her bathroom floor, glaring at the porcelain bowl because it was better than glaring at her phone. Feyre couldn’t say for certain if it was morning sickness that had triggered her nausea or the text that had woken her up.

Feeling better?

Feyre was running out of excuses. A stomach bug only lasts for so long. It was becoming a matter of time before someone busted down her door and demanded she go to the emergency room.

Yes, she texted back.

The response was immediate. I have the day off. Breakfast at 10?

Sure.

It was an effort to heft herself from the floor. It was more of an effort not to grimace when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She fixed her eyes on the faucet, on her shaking hands cupping the water, scooping it into her face, and then into her mouth to rinse out the bile.

She didn’t look that different, not really. There was no pregnancy bump yet. If anything, she’d lost weight. Nausea could do that, but so could guilt. Six weeks ago, she’d had sex with a stranger, with Rhysand, and now there was a life growing in her stomach.

Google said a baby was roughly the size of a pea at six weeks. If that was true, then the weight of keeping this secret made it the heaviest gods-damned pea in existence.

“Have you told him?” Alis said in greeting as Feyre ambled into the kitchen.

Steam curled from the mug in her hands, carrying the scent of freshly roasted coffee. Feyre resisted the urge to cover her nose.

“No,” she said, evading her roommate in a wide arc.

Alis arched a brow. “Will you tell him?”

The bitter smell was so affronting that Feyre could think of little else. A gag built in her throat, which she did a poor job of hiding by darting for the fridge. It was the empty stomach. She needed to eat something, or she was going to puke again.

Feyre settled for an apple and took a long time chewing before she turned back to Alis. She swallowed. “Eventually.”

“The longer you wait—”

“I know,” Feyre interrupted.

Of course she knew. It was all she’d been thinking about. But how? How did she look him in the eyes and say, I’m pregnant? She couldn’t even do it in the mirror—and she’d tried. There were a thousand versions of the script she was constantly writing and rewriting in her head, all those words swirling until they had become a living creature of mist and shadow. One that loomed over her shoulder at all times of the day. She’d somehow convinced herself it would only become real if she acknowledged it.

Alis said little else. She was the only one who knew, by virtue of being on the other side of the door when Feyre had taken her pregnancy test. Though, Alis wasn’t dense, and it wouldn’t have taken her long to peg the morning nausea, the aversion to certain foods. They didn’t say much about it. Not yet. Alis had only offered her unilateral support and given Feyre time and space to dissect her maelstrom of emotions.

And three days ago, when Feyre decided she was going to keep the baby, Alis had said simply, “Then you need to tell him.”

A firm, unwavering reminder she’d repeated each day since. Feyre clenched her teeth to keep from snapping. She knew that, in her own way, Alis was being kind. Time would only exacerbate the issue. But objectivity did little quell Feyre’s kindling irritation. Words bubbled behind her clenched teeth, building into a pressure that made her want to scream: no-fucking-duh.

She didn’t scream. She politely took her apple and her keys and murmured that she would be back soon. Maybe she could have shut the front door with less force, but at least now she could blame her Archeron temper on her hormones.

Feyre rapped her knuckles over the steering wheel. She was parked outside the cafe, and through the large glass pane at the front, she could spot him sitting inside. His posture seemed relaxed enough, his handsome face angled down towards his phone. A second later, hers pinged from its mount on the dashboard.

I’m here. Are you close?

She met her own eyes in the rearview mirror. Blue, like an overcast sea, their mother had always said, reasoning it was why her eldest and youngest were such forces of nature. There was a swelling storm that Feyre could never escape, because it lived inside her. And now she could feel the tide in her chest retreating from the shore, pulling further and further back, and she knew it would crash if she went inside, that it would swallow them both whole.

Be a big girl, she told herself. Go in there and tell him the truth.

She took a deep inhale. Held it, hoping it could hold back the tide, too.

Then, it was only a matter of unlocking her door. Walking the few steps towards the front entrance. Listening to the pealing bell as she pulled open the door.

“Feyre?”

Blonde hair swam into view. The greeting was so unexpected, so startling, that Feyre released the breath she’d been holding.

Then it all crashed down.

Brows pinched together. “Feyre, are you okay?”

Mor had the sense to keep her voice at a whisper. From the way she glanced over her shoulder towards the man hunched over in the booth, it was clear she had put together who Feyre was here to see.

Tears sprung into Feyre’s vision—not because she was crying, but because she couldn’t breathe. The tide was surging around her, clogging her throat, and she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t—

Mor grabbed Feyre by the shoulders and pushed them out of the cafe.

The early Autumn was as indecisive as Feyre. Yesterday, she’d been sweating through her t-shirt. Today, the air stung her cheeks. Maybe the weather had seen a kindred spirit, a storm that could never quite find stillness, and decided to take pity. The cold calmed her, embraced her, reminded her where she was. Outside. With Mor. Where there was plenty of open space and fresh air. The blockage in her throat loosened. She took a gasping breath, then another.

“You’re okay,” Mor soothed.

“I’m okay,” Feryre repeated. To assure Mor or herself, she wasn’t certain.

Mor took in Feyre’s strained voice, her flushed cheeks, the nails digging into her palms and gestured towards one of the outdoor tables. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Maybe… maybe a trial run could be a good thing.

Her eyes drifted over Mor’s shoulder to where Tamlin sat waiting at a table inside. If she glanced at her phone, she probably had another text waiting from him. Growing impatient.

“He can wait,” Mor said, not unkindly.

“Yeah,” Feyre rasped. “Talking would be… nice.”

It was a little too cold for the iron chairs, which seared through Feyre’s leggings. But the cold calmed her, and she appreciated the privacy. The lack of sounds and smells.

Mor was ever-patient, waiting for Feyre to speak.

When it was clear that she wouldn’t, Mor said, “How have you been? That was some night out, huh?”

Right. That was the last time she’d seen or spoken to Mor. Feyre had been meaning to respond to her text—Heyy! Fun night? 😏

And the follow-up one a day later. My cousin is asking for your phone number. Is it okay if I share it?

They’d both seem innocent enough and at first, Feyre hadn’t answered because she’d felt a twinge of guilt for not staying long enough to meet Mor’s cousin. Then, because Tamlin had showed up at her door with a bouquet of apologies and she hadn’t known how to explain to her friend that she’d taken him back. Nor how to explain to Tamlin that she’d had a one night stand during their breakup.

Then she’d found out she was pregnant, and she hadn’t said much of anything to anyone.

“Yeah,” Feyre said, numbness growing where her legs pressed to the chair.

“And now you’re back with Tamlin,” Mor said slowly, waiting for Feyre to fill in the gaps.

The iron latticework of the outdoor table was much more interesting.

Mor sounded disappointed as she probed, “You said it was the last time you guys were breaking up.”

Feyre mustered all the cheer she could force into her voice. “It was the last time. We’re not going to break up again.”

She’d felt much more confident about that line when she’d said it three weeks ago to a disapproving Alis. Already, Feyre could feel that creature slither over her shoulder, hissing into her ear. If she turned, its pupils would be slitted into two digital lines that begged her acknowledgment.

“Right,” Mor said. “And yet, you came into this cafe looking like you were about to burst into tears because…?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” Feyre blurted.

And there it was. That creature turned real. She felt it reach through her chest and tug. Suddenly, all of that sea water she’d swallowed a moment ago came rising to the surface, and her body regurgitated the words that had been drowning her.

“It’s not Tamlin’s. It’s… remember the guy I met at the club? The one with the purple eyes? It was supposed to be this stupid, drunken one night stand, only first names—I don’t even have his number, Mor. I have some nameless, mysterious baby daddy, and I haven’t told Tamlin because I know he’s going to be…” she blinked back the sting in her eyes. “He’s going to be so furious with me.”

Mor was gaping. Whatever she’d expected… it clearly hadn’t been that.

Waiting for her friend’s reaction felt like treading water in a deep, bottomless ocean. But at least she wasn’t drowning anymore. At least the creature had receded back into the shadows, and her breathing was shallow but still filling her lungs.

Then Mor’s eyes flickered over Feyre’s shoulder. Her expression morphed into such panic that Feyre whirled, only to be met face to face with those shocking purple eyes so wide that she could only assume he’d heard the whole damn thing.

“Feyre,” Mor croaked from behind.

But Feyre couldn’t tear her eyes away from Rhys. In the time since their one night stand, Feyre convinced herself she’d exaggerated his appearance. Three shots of tequila could make anyone beautiful. But here she was, stone-cold sober, fighting her jaw not to drop at the sight of him.

The same short black hair she tugged beneath her fingers was now slightly wind-swept, some of it falling to his face in endearing curls that she concluded were purposefully arranged. He was wearing a navy sweater with a white collared shirt beneath—infuriatingly put together, where she was still sniffing back tears, dressed in her same paint-stained clothes from yesterday.

She’d prepared scripts for him, too, though she always imagined he was someone she would take years to track down. That she’d have time to prepare what to say to him, how to move forward knowing their lives were irrevocably entwined.

“Feyre,” Mor said again after awkwardly clearing her throat. “Meet my cousin, Rhysand.”

Cousin. The one who wanted her number.

“Oh,” Feyre whispered, so many horrible details clicking into place.

Rhysand mustered enough composure to manage a strained: “It’s great to see you again, Feyre.”

Feyre dropped her head into her hands. “Oh my god.”

A chair scraped against the pavement.

Mor said, “I’ll give you two a moment alone.”

She peaked between her fingers, just enough to watch Mor retreat towards the cafe. Likely playing guard dog to ensure Tamlin didn’t stumble upon them. She heard Rhys walk around the table, his footsteps light, as if he were approaching an animal he didn’t want to startle. Then, a pair of broad hands swam into vision as he gripped the back of Mor’s deserted chair, his brown knuckles paling.

He didn’t sit. She could feel his gaze like a leaden weight, so heavy that she couldn’t gather the strength to raise her head.

“When did you find out?” He asked eventually.

Feyre searched for any accusation in his voice, but it was gentle. She lifted her head, finding that some of his shock had thawed, though his expression was unreadable.

“A week ago,” she said.

“Have you…” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “Do you know what you want to do?”

This is where she braced herself. She knew her voice was creeping towards defensive as she said levelly, “I’m keeping the baby.”

Rhysand swallowed thickly. Nodded. “Okay.”

Okay. That knocked her a bit off guard. The lack of questions, of demand for her justification. She’d been preparing for a fight with Tamlin and felt stranded in the face of such simple, ready acceptance. It had to be a trap.

“It was my decision,” Feyre said, plowing ahead. “So I don’t expect anything from you. You don’t need to be… involved. I have no delusion that we’d ever be some perfect nuclear family. If you want to just walk away, this is your chance.”

“And,” Rhysand broached with such caution that Feyre’s spine straightened, “if I want to be involved… would that be okay with you?”

“We’d need to work something out,” she said, ignoring how her voice cracked. Mor’s family came from money. She could already imagine the legal proceedings, the paperwork, the negotiations over days of the week and alternating Christmases. At least Nesta was a lawyer. “I don’t want to get the courts involved. But if it goes that direction—“

“It won’t need to,” he said. “We can play it by ear, do whatever feels right. I just… I’d like to be involved. Starting now.”

The excruciating weight of that small little pea plummeted in her chest. “Starting now?”

Rhys nodded. “If you need someone to drive you to the appointments, or if you need me to pitch in for baby supplies. I’m… I want to help.”

“I’ll think about it.”

His face fell a little.

If she shut him out completely, a lawyer was guaranteed to come knocking at her door. Feyre added, “It’d be nice to get to know you before anything else.”

“Would you like to grab a coffee together?”

“As friends,” Feyre hedged. “I know we—” An image flashed in her mind of those fingers in her mouth, between her thighs. She tried not to flush. “—you know. But I have a boyfriend now. And I’m not looking for you to be my…”

She searched for a word but found none that quite articulated what, exactly, Rhys would be to her.

Baby daddy?

“I just want us to be friends,” she clarified.

His perfect lips, which had once expertly kissed and licked and teased her, edged into a smile. “Then would you like to grab a coffee together as friends?”

“Yes.” She smiled back and found that the pea in her stomach didn’t feel quite so heavy. “Not today, though. I’m, uh… meeting my boyfriend.”

“And I’m meeting my cousin.”

“Right.” Feyre reached stiffly into her pocket, retrieving her phone. “Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll text you?”

The iron chair practically sighed in relief as Rhysand released it from his death grip. His motions were stiff, too, she noted, as he punched in his number and handed it back to her a tad too mechanically.

Their fingers brushed as she accepted it back, and she felt for the second time that day like she couldn’t breathe. Their eyes met, held. “You say the word, Feyre darling. Any time, any place, and I’m yours.”

She thought she might have said something back or just stared dumbly at his obscenely beautiful face. She couldn’t remember, and he didn’t say anything else before he nodded his goodbye and chased after Mor.

It took Feyre a long time to find the willpower to follow after him, back into that cafe, and breathlessly apologize to Tamlin for being late. And she pretended she couldn’t feel a pair of violet eyes watching her as she sat across from Tamlin, forcing a smile.

#Take My Hand Wreck My Plans #humming 'welcome to club knocked up' while writing this fic fr #feysand #feysand fic #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #feyre x rhys #rhys x feyre #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre #feyrhys

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

Hello! If you don't mind, this is half a vent and half an ask both to you and to your followers who have had some experience?

I feel like I want certain aspects of a romantic relationship, the idea of having someone "special" is very appealing. Especially since I find myself falling in the trap of romance tropes, and I really do feel that I want to find that one person who I'd feel safe being physically close with, and not just because I turn my brain off to suffer through it but to actually enjoy it.

I know that I'm rather attracted to men, in theory at least, but whenever there's even remotely a thought in my brain that a polite conversation may turn into something more I get nervous, kinda in a bad way. I feel like I want to put a barrier in and I'm afraid they'll be reading into my behaviour too much. It makes me feel as if I like to play pretend in my head but I'm too much of a coward when real life gets involved.

I've been identifying as ace for years now, and I just turned 24. No experience in the dating department, I've been slowly making my way to accepting being at least arospec as well, possibly just aro, but for some reason it's been so much harder for me. Asexuality just clicked. This I think I may be fighting because the idea of a relationship seems too nice to give up and I've already had a bad experience with an extremely undernegotiated QPR (ended quickly but left a bitter taste nevertheless).

I just wish I could not think about it? But I also feel like the societal expectations of romantic attraction are much more pressing than sexual one. I don't want to lead anyone on, and I don't want to feel this little bit of dread whenever I have a conversation with a guy who I know doesn't have a girlfriend. That's another sign of being aro, right? Being able to be comfortable only when the possibility of the other party wanting you romantically is non-existent.

Sorry for this being so long. Thank you for listening, either way.

Romance definitely has a hard to explain quality to it, and I think that can make it questioning if you're aro especially tricky. It is possible that anxiety you're feeling when a situation could turn romantic is a form of repulsion. It's not uncommon for romance repulsion to feel more like anxiety or nervousness, and for people feel like wanting to go and hide. Alloromantic people can be nervous too sometimes, but it usually comes with a feeling of anticipation and still being drawn to the other person. Or they will usually have either trouble with anxiety in other areas, or issues with romance (romance related trauma for example). Sometimes it can be tricky to know exactly what it is, but if the stuff below doesn't sound like you at all, than repulsion is a likely explanation.

The other thing I would point is that fully alloromantic people often have people in real life they are experience a romantic pull towards, who they really want to be in a romantic relationship with. And if you're not experiencing that, that could also be a strong sign of being aromantic.

Being aromantic, and even romance repulsed, if you are, does not mean you can't have a very important person in your life. I know you mentioned a QPR that didn't go well, and it's up to you if that's something you ever want to try again, but even if you don't. remember that deep bonds can come in all forms of relationships. All types of relationships, including friendships, familial relationships, etc. have the potential to be very special of very deep if you end up connecting to someone in the right way. So whatever path you choose to take, don't feel like this isn't possible.

I'll throw this out followers too if anyone wants to share their own thoughts or advice.

All the best, Anon! Good luck!

#vent post

[cypherverze]

CHAPTER ONE

Hardest Part of Ending is Starting Again

an avengers x john wick crossover fanfic

SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRINGS: avengers x teen!reader (platonic) , tony stark x niece!reader , john wick x daughter!reader , peter parker x female!reader

SUMMARY: Five years after your father’s death, you don’t know how to cope up with the loss, resulting in you joining the life that he had lived before. As you navigate your new found life, old enemies of your father had resurfaced and decided to come after you, knowing that your father is no longer alive, nothing will be able to stop them.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hello! this is my first time writing a fic/imagine. i just had a random idea of reader being john wick’s daughter, and i’m currently hooked in the john wick franchise, so i’m giving this a shot. i’m not sure yet of the romance pairing, but if ever this turns out okay, maybe i’ll add a pairing in the future. though i’m leaning towards it being peter parker x reader. this will be an avengers crossover with john wick. my apologies if there will be typos.

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, i had made fictional connections so that my fic would make sense. i don’t own the characters in my story. please do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 6,200

WARNINGS: mention of death, blood, knives, and violence.

DIVIDER BY: @delishlydelightfuldividers

FIVE YEARS.

It has been five whole years since your father died. You still clearly remembered receiving a call from one of his closest friends that your father passed away during work, finally succumbing to his injuries. It took you a long time before finally deciding to visit his grave, and there you were standing infront of the tombstone, with an epitaph. He was there, buried right next to your mother.

Loving Husband and Father.

You felt bitter. You let the anger and rage build up inside of you. You don’t know how to let out all of the emotions that you had bottling up. At this point, you are a ticking time bomb, little things can set you off. With the death of your parents and no other relatives, not that you know of, that you can turn to—basically making you an orphan, you never know how you’ll cope up in the harsh realities of this world. So you had resorted to the one thing that your father had promised you not to get involved with, and that is involving yourself in the criminal underworld. Thinking that why not continue your father’s legacy, what could be so wrong about it? It’s not like he’s still alive to berate you for it. You needed an outlet, and this is the closest thing that you can think of.

From there, just like your father, you climbed your way to the top, making you one hell of a legendary figure that was once your father, established yourself in the criminal underworld at a young age. You are a literal carbon copy of your father, how you maneuver and mimic all of his moves. However, no one knew you connections with your father, Jonathan Wick. Your father did all of his best for you to be kept hidden, though a few people know of your existence, yes. But only those people who your father trusted the most.

You don’t go by the name (Y/N) Wick, but (Y/N) Jovanovich—your father’s legal last name. The moment everyone finds out that you’re Jonathan Wick’s daughter, you are done for. Everyone will be coming for your head, using you against your father, and knowing him, you are his weakness. He can’t afford to lose you, just like how he lost your mother. He had decided to teach you basic self defense skills as well, and little by little, you are slowly becoming exposed to his true nature of work and in no time, teaching you everything as well—leading you now to the life you are currently living in.

You had decided to take a break from accepting contracts. After accepting contracts after contracts, you had felt a little burnt out and need to catch your breath, take a breather. You shouldn’t be doing this kind of job, a kid killing other people for a living, being tied to the to the criminal underworld. You should be attending high school right now and learning stuff, you have all the resources—monetary resources, because your father didn’t leave you empty handed when he died. He had solidifed everything to your name, knowing his line of work, he was bound to be gone soon, so he had wasted no time in fixing everything.

That is until one day, you had appeared under SHIELD’s radar. You couldn’t hide everything from them, so they knew everything about you. How you are a daughter of a legendary and elite assassin of the criminal underworld, and surprisingly connected to the one and only Anthony Edward Stark. Turns out you’re not alone in this world after all. Your mother, Helen, was Tony’s closest cousin—until Helen and him had lost contact. Tony was so persistent for you to live with him back at the Avengers compound, but you had refused. You had decided to live on your own, in your family’s house where you had grown up and had focused on rebuilding to keep the memories alive after Santino D’Antonio had blown it up to pieces. But you promised that you’ll visit and hangout with everyone at the compound from time to time.

You had never really showed any interest in joining the avengers, despite how qualified you are. It’s kind of a hypocritical idea for you, you kill people for a living while your uncle’s team saves the world. So that does not really sit well with you, also the publicity that the avengers are getting, it’s bad for you. You prefer a quiet life, a life in the shadows, and that’s a big part of your job. But hey, on the bright side, if they need help, you are always open in helping them in silence and secrecy.

Overall, the avengers were all really nice people when Tony had introduced you to them. They had welcomed you with an open arms, and they were excited to meet someone like you. They still can’t believe that at a young age, you are an elite assassin, a literal force to be reckoned with. Of course they understand your stand on joining them, so they didn’t push it any further, in which you are very grateful about.

“Hey, any family of Tony’s is already a family of ours. Welcome to the family!” Says the star-spangled man when he had met you.

It was a very tiring day, you had just gone back home from hanging out and helping the avengers out in stuff that they needed to do back at the compound. Unlocking your front door, you had been greeted by a dog. It was your dad’s dog, a pit-bull. Your father had never bothered on naming him, but you had taken it upon yourself in naming him ‘Koda’, from your favorite movie when growing up, Brother Bear. Koda had a bit of a time to adjust to his new name, but he came around.

“Hey, Koda! How are you boy? Sorry I had to leave you all alone…again. You know uncle Tony’s policy, no animals in the compound,” You bent down and pat his head, “But sooner or later I’ll have to raise that policy to him, maybe make an exception for you. I don’t want to leave you in this big house all alone whenever I’m out for work.” You sighed.

Koda had been kind of your emotional support dog in some way when your parents passed away, and he makes you really happy, gives you so much joy. You made your way to the kitchen to refill his dog bowl and let him run off in the backyard after finishing his meal to do his thing, while you went upstairs and change into one of your oversized shirt and pajamas.

It was a quiet night. A bit of eerie quiet, but that is how it is every night and you live alone, the neighborhood was peaceful and quiet in general, so kudos to your parents for picking out a good environment to live in. But somehow, there’s this feeling of discomfort in your chest, your chest felt heavy and you don’t know why. You decided to ignore the feeling and went back out to check on Koda. You had opened the sliding door that leads to the backyard for Koda to come in, closed and locked it afterwards. Since you are not sleepy yet, you had decided to have a movie night, preparing some popcorn in the kitchen and grabbing a can of soda.

Turning all of the lights off, the only source of light in the house is the television. You had relaxed yourself on the couch, and Koda had positioned himself beside you. Half way into the movie, you heard a few rustling of bushes outside and paid no attention to it, but you are on high alert. Until it all happened in a blink of an eye. Your body had been thrown off across the room so hard, you had a hard time focusing your vision, you saw that everything around you is slowly being destroyed due to the huge fire consuming it. Koda had rushed to your aid, whining. You had let out a chuckle, knowing that the same thing had happened to your dad. The only difference is that there is no marker binding you.

“Really?! Fucking hell, I just rebuilt this house and some moron decided to mess with the wrong person.” You’re seething with anger, trying to stand up and hissing from the pain.

You slowly and carefully make your way out of the burning house, with Koda guiding you, and stood still in the backyard, slowly watching how the house be destroyed by the fire all over again, with Koda right beside you. You just stayed there, waiting until the help arrived.

“You good, kiddo? What happened?” The police woman, Eliza, asked.

“Gas leak.” Your gaze had remained on the pavement, not bothering looking at her.

“Uh huh.”

“I forgot to check everything before I went to bed.”

“Alright. You got any relatives near the area that you can stay with for the meantime?”

“Yeah.” You stood up, “Have a good evening, officer Eliza.” You began walking away with Koda by your side. Eliza sighed and just stood there, watching you walk away.

It’s was a long walk to the continental, but you have no choice. You had sustained a few minor injury and minor forehead wounds with blood still visible and fresh your shirt. By the time you had reached the continental, the sun was starting to rise.

“Is the manager in?” You asked the concierge.

“Ms. Jovanovich, welcome. Yes, the manager is always in.”

“I would like to talk to the manager. Thank you.”

“Would you like me to announce your presence?”

“Yes please.” You nodded and commanded Koda to stay with the concierge, and made your way to the lounge.

You had arrived in the lounge and saw Winston, the manager of New York’s continental. He motioned you to sit down on the seat infront of him.

“(Y/N), what brings you here? I thought you’re on break.” He chuckled lightly at you, he can see the resemblance of you and your father.

“Yeah, until some moron decided to blow up my house.” You seethed in anger, “Do you know something about this?”

“Not that I know of.” He leaned back on his seat, “Though I heard that some people had finally catch on to you, and discovered your true identity. But you didn’t hear it from me.” You held his gaze, never faltering. He wrote something on the paper, tore it and slowly slide it towards you and took it.

Tarasov.

“You are free to do anything. Since you are not bound by any marker or have accepted a contract, if you want to track the people behind it, be my guest. The continental’s door is always open to you, but always remember, no activities of any kind here in the continental.” You stood up, thanked and bid him goodbye.

You left the continental and began walking to the avengers compound, to seek refuge for the meantime. But you can’t stay there for long, it’s a matter of time before Tarasov catch a whiff of you again, you don’t want the avengers to be involved in this possible personal dispute. They might be the world’s mightiest hero and can defend themselves against Tarasov’s man, but this is your mess to fix. No matter what, you can’t let the avengers be involved.

One of the most important thing that you need to do is you need to get your shit together, you’re angry, of course. But you don’t want to act impulsively without carefully planning everything. The Tarasov mob are once your father’s associates, that is until he had decided to retire so that he can spend the rest of his life with your mother. Viggo Tarasov, the head of the Tarasov mob, gave your father an impossible task to earn his freedom. Life went well with your dad, despite the death of your mother, until his knucklehead of a son, Iosef Tarasov, had decided to mess with your father. But eventually, that said knucklehead had gotten what he deserved, along with his father, Viggo.

Now, the Tarasov mob is being led by Abram Tarasov, Viggo’s brother. He had took on the reigns and steered it back to its original course. Clenching your fist at the sudden realization, you had realized that your father had a close encounter with Abram when he retrieved his car from him, instead of killing him, he had decided to spare his life. Knowing that if Abram messes with your father again, he won’t hesitate to fire a bullet into his head. Now that your father is gone, he’s coming after you. A revenge for what your father did to his brother, Viggo and his nephew, Iosef. He had already learnt of your father’s death and it’s only a matter of time as well before he puts up an open contract, targeting you.

“Abram, that fucking son of a bitch.”

By the time you had arrived at the avengers compound, the sun was already at its peak. The security of the compound had immediately recognized you and let you in. Everyone was already awake and doing their tasks for the day, they haven’t been called for a mission so some of them are present. You had started limping toward the common area and FRIDAY announcing your presence.

“Ms. Jovanovich has arrived.”

Natasha looked up with a smile when friday had announced your arrival, but the smile from her face instantly faltered as soon as she saw your condition.

“Kid, the hell happened to you?!” Sam and Rhodey rushed to help you and sat you gently down on the couch.

You leaned back and rest yourself on the couch, closing your eyes for a bit. Steve, Bucky, Vision, and Clint staring at you as well with full concern visible on their faces. Wanda rushed to the kitchen to get you some frozen peas to numb the pain the you felt on your shoulders, handing it to you quickly and thanking her.

“Fri, please tell Tony and Bruce that (Y/N) is here and is in need of medical attention, ASAP.” Steve commanded Friday.

“Yes Sir.”

“Bruce and Tony are currently in the lab right now, but don’t worry, (Y/N) they’re coming soon.” Steve softly assured you.

“Do you want to tell us what happened, doll?” Bucky asked you softly.

“Some moron decided to have a playtime with a grenade launcher and blow up my house in the middle of the night.” Anger radiating off of you, and had straightened yourself on the couch.

You also sensed the anger from the team when you mentioned the reason why you’re in a bad condition right now. Tony and Bruce came rushing in on the common area, heading straight towards you.

“(Y/N)! Are you okay?! What the fuck happened to you?!” Tony asked in full panic and anger.

“Some people had blown up her house in the middle of the night.” Wanda said.

“You need to be brought to the med bay, (Y/N). We need to check on your injuries.” Bruce calmly said and nodded at him.

“Tell me the name and I’ll destroy that fucker.” Tony seethed.

“No.” You firmly said, “No one will do anything. I will handle this myself, this is mine alone to fix.”

“Kid are you crazy?” Sam said, “In your condition, you won’t be able to that last long.” You grinned at Sam.

“Thanks for the concern, Sam. But you haven’t seen me fight, have you? I have fought everyone even in my worst condition but I still made it out in one piece. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid.”

“Hate to break it to you guys, but the kid’s right. She’s a natural,” Natasha backed you up, “But I agree with Wilson, you are in no state to fight. At least until you have fully recovered.”

“This is just some minor injuries and gashes, it’s no big deal.”

“Okay, kid. You’re a persistent one, aren’t you,” Tony sighed, “If you want to finish your business, you have to recover first. You are in the compound, so follow the rules. Also, why the hell would someone randomly blow up your house in the middle of the fucking night?” He said as he sat right next to you.

“Well, if you have a father that has a job of being an assassin and legendary figure in the criminal underworld, everyone is bound to come for your head.” You chuckled lightly.

They know informations about you, given what the profile that SHIELD has of you. But there had been information in the file that had been omitted, information that shouldn’t be put in the file for your safety, if ever the file had landed in the wrong hands. So they don’t know everything about you besides what the file from SHIELD says. Even Tony, despite him being your uncle, there are stuff that he doesn’t fully know about you.

Everyone was just looking at you. You sighed and had decided that it’s time for them to know the truth. They are your family now, at least they deserve to know the truth about you.

“My father is Jarnadi Jovanovich. He’s an assassin in the criminal underworld. People professionally know him as Jonathan Wick or John Wick.” The team was listening intently at you, “They call him The Devil, The Ghost, Lo Spettro, Death’s Very Emissary, but he’s well known as Baba Yaga.”

“Baba Yaga? What’s that?” Rhodey asked. Before you can answer Rhodey, Natasha had beaten you off to it.

“It’s Boogeyman in Russian.” You nodded as a thank you at her.

“My father earned the nickname Baba Yaga because of his unparalleled hyper-lethality. His reputation throughout his career, his peerless efficiency and reliability had earned him considerable respect, and at same time, fear within the criminal underworld.”

“Well damn.” Sam said.

“My father has this persistence to go after those people who earned his anger, making him a legendary figure that is known to the leaders of all criminal organizations as someone never to cross or mess with.”

“Years before he died, he was an associate, the head executor of the leader of the Tarasov mob, Viggo Tarasov. My dad wanted to retire, so he did. But Viggo gave my dad an impossible task, which is to kill all of Viggo’s enemies in one night. Dad really wanted to live a life of peace, away from it all. He wanted to live, marry, and grow old with my mom, Helen Stark—uncle Tony’s closest cousin.”

“What happened then?” Sam asked.

“What do you think happened?” You chuckled, “I’m here right infront of you. He had succeeded the task and Viggo granted his freedom. Then yadda yadda, got married, dozed off into the sunset and eventually, they had me. When my mom passed away, dad had kept me hidden. Off the radar from anyone else that is connected to the underworld, aside from those people who he really trusts. Trust me, you wouldn’t want someone like my dad coming after you if you had betrayed him.”

“I can imagine.” Wanda chimed in.

“No one really knows that he has a daughter, up until now because he hid and protected me so well from those people that wanted to come after him. That’s why I never really use ‘Wick’ as my last name, knowing that if I use them, it will cause too much noise and unwanted problems for me. So I had decided to use Jovanovich as my last name, which is my dad’s legal last name. It helps me keep off unwanted attention at bay, and assassins and mob families coming for my head just because I’m Jonathan Wick’s daughter.”

“I have been living peacefully, as you all know. Despite the job that I do which is unusual for a teenager to be involved in, but not that I care, it’s fun—until last night, when someone had decided to blow up my house,” You growled, “I had just rebuilt that house, but the motherfucker had decided to mess with a grenade launcher and blow up my house.”

“Don’t tell us that someone had learned your true identity and had decided to come for you.” Steve said, concern evident in his face and ignoring the colorful language that you let out.

“Bingo, cap! You got that one right.”

“But who would even do that? You had made your private information completely hidden. I just don’t get it.” Bruce said.

“Years ago, before my dad passed away, at that time he was already retired. Mom just passed away, so he was on the grieving stage, some nutjob infiltrated our house and managed to beat up my dad, left him unconscious, killed our dog, daisy, which is a parting gift from my mom, and stole his car. Which also held very important memories for us. Turns out, the one who did it was Iosef Tarasov, Viggo’s useless and stupid son. Viggo respects and had always feared my dad, but his useless and stupid son had decided to poke the devil in the back.”

“When Viggo found out what his son did, he was angry. Viggo valued and respected my dad, he knew very well that my dad won’t let this go easily. His stupid son had killed our dog, daisy and stole his car, Iosef won’t be getting out alive after it. In the end, dad had managed to kill Iosef and Viggo as well. Now it brings us back as to why my house was blown up.”

“Before I went here, I had visited the Continental. Continental is a hotel for us assassins and other people that has ties with the underworld, it serves as our neutral ground. It is our sanctuary, where we can be safe, in where rule number one is that you can’t do underworld business, like killing, inside the contenental. Rule number 2, is to honor the marker. But story of marker will be on another day.”

“Okay, let me get this straight. This vendetta against your dad, and eventually you had started just because of a dog and a car?” Clint raised his eyebrows.

“Well, if you’ll look at it, that’s kind of what it is.” You shrugged.

“I mean that’s understandable, we have and dog and anyone who killed my dog, I’ll come after them.” Clint said. You nod in agreement.

“Is there a peaceful way to settle this?” Steve suggested, you just laughed a little bit in a maniac way.

“Cap, when you work in this kind of field, settling this is never peaceful. There will always be a loss of life that will be involved. Viggo tried settling this peacefully with my dad, but what happened? That man ended up dead, along with his son. That will teach you to never mess with other people’s stuff.”

“So what do you want to do now, doll?” Bucky asked.

“Meh,” You shrugged, “Besides, it’ll be no time before Tarasov put out an open contract for other assassins to kill me, putting a bounty on my head. Which brings me to my other agenda to talk about, I can’t overstay here in the compound, there will be assassins that will be after me the moment that open contract is up and going, I can’t risk them tearing up this place.”

“You don’t have to worry about us, (Y/N). We can completely protect ourselves.” Rhodey said.

“We have Bruce, he can just smash them in one go, it’s no sweat.” Natasha joked and everyone laughed, including you.

“No, do not in ANY way get involved with this. If you manage to kill one of them, they will know that someone is aiding me. I can’t afford for these people to know that I’m tied with you guys, I’m already thankful enough that the High Table haven’t caught a whiff of me yet being Jonathan Wick’s daughter, and I also intend on keeping it that way, thank you very much. The last thing that I want is the High Table coming for my ass.” You stood up so fast, causing yourself to wobble and almost fell out of balance, if it’s not for Tony catching you, you would’ve fallen on the floor by now.

“I will be staying at the continental, it is the place that I damn well know I won’t get murdered while sleeping for sure,” You smile at them gently, “Though no offense to you guys, okay? I know that no one will be able to get in and out in the compound that has state of the art techs, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. These people are really good in blending in, like one of those people that you’re fighting.” They nodded.

“What? Hydra?” Sam asked.

“Yes, them. You never know, that one of the staff that works here inside the compound might be an assassin. Who knows?”

“Okay, how about you stay first to get treated and after that, I’ll accompany you to the continental.” Tony suggested, in all honesty, he was not having it at all. He wants you to say in the compound, until you’re already in good state.

“Can’t,” You sighed, “I can go there through a an uber or taxi. You cannot be within the continental’s vicinity, ANY of you. That is the place where assassins are all in. They’ll easily know that I’m all connected with you.”

“There are a lot of don’t’s than the do’s, kiddo. I don’t like it one bit.” Tony was a bit frustrated.

“But to make it up for you guys, okay, fine. I’ll stay, but only for one night, to be patched up. After that, I’m gonna bounce out from here, but I’ll make sure that after all of this fiasco, I’d visit more often.” You smiled, and you compromise had earned cheers from the team.

You never stay too long in the compound, they rarely see you as well. You’ll visit once or twice a month, then there are times that they won’t see you for a whole month or two, depending on your work. So that’s why they wanted to you to stay a bit longer.

“Yay! Can’t believe that (Y/N) is staying with us for the first time!” Wanda cheered.

“It’s only temporary,” You reminded and smiled at Wanda.

“Hell yeah girl! We only get to see you once or twice a month kid, so excuse us if we get too happy of you staying instead of visiting just for a day and dipping out on us then going off the grid for how many months.” Sam ruffled your hair and smiled.

Tony put an arm around your shoulders to steady you. You hissed from the pain, there’s a wound in your right stomach that is yet to be treated, you got that after your last contract. It is taking its sweet time to heal, that’s why you took a break from work. You don’t want the stitches to burst open, and with the recent thing that happened to you, the wound surely bled and had opened a bit from the impact when you were thrown off across the room the moment that the explosion had happened.

Abram Tarasov really picked a good time to attack you, right when you were taking a break from the wound that you had suffered from. Knowing that your moves will be limited, that bastard. But he should always remember that any kind of wounds won’t stop you.

“Let’s get you to the the med bay so that you can be patched up asap, kiddo,” You thanked Tony silently, “I also need to talk to you about something.”

You thanked the rest of the team, and they told you that they’ll be visiting you in the med bay from time to time to keep you company.

Once you arrived at the med bay, with Bruce following right after, it was quiet. They laid you down in one of the beds, you noticed an Asian woman, assuming that she’s the one in charge, walked towards you.

“Hello, my name is Helen Cho. I’m the head doctor.” She smiled at you.

Helen. She has the same name as your mother, you couldn’t help but get a little bit sad when you had remembered your mother. But you are quick to mask it off and smiled back at her.

“Nice to meet you, Helen. I’m (Y/N), Tony’s niece.”

Tony and Bruce stepped aside and watched while Helen patch you up. When Helen lifted your shirt up, you were correct, your wound on the right stomach had bursted off a bit. Causing it to bleed and soak in your shirt, you were thankful that it’s only a little bit.

“(Y/N), you were here at the compound yesterday, why didn’t you had it treated?” Bruce looked at you sadly.

“I was doing fine, I treated the would myself.”

“Is this why you’re feeling a discomfort yesterday?” Tony questioned.

“Yeah…kind of” You trailed off.

“How did you get that wound?” Bruce asked.

“I was fighting someone at work, when I didn’t noticed that there was an opening on my end, the asshole took their shot and managed to slash me with a knife.” Tony and Bruce sighed.

“So what’s the advice, doc?” Tony asked.

Helen was already working on patching up your wound, cleaning it off and sewing it close. After that, she proceed on cleaning the gashes on your forehead.

“The wound on her stomach may take a while to heal, it’s pretty deep. If you decided to jump back right in, there’s a high chance it will bust open again, and you do not want that to happen. If it did, you’ll bleed a lot, again.”

“It’s something that had happened to me before, I can take a little bleeding.”

“Are you kidding me right now, Jovanovich?” Tony bursted, “How many days does she need until she recovers?” He turned towards Helen.

“Maybe a week or two, the wound is deep and still fresh. I’m amazed that she hadn’t passed out yet for the amount of blood that she lost.”

“It’s nothing that I can handle, I’ve already done this so many times, trust me.” You butted in.

“Zip it, young lady!” Tony glared at you, you looked at him in disbelief.

“That’s it, she’s all patched up. She needs to rest for at least two weeks before she’s up and going again, I will be leaving a few medications for her to take, mostly to subdue the pain.” Helen cleaned off and kept the stuff that she used in patching you up and left.

“Thanks, Helen!” Tony and Bruce thanked him.

“I’ll go ask Natasha if she can lend (Y/N) some clothes to change on, she needs to change that shirt because it’s soaked in blood.” Bruce left the med bay.

“You know that I can’t stay here for two weeks, right?” You said to Tony as he sat down on the chair beside you.

“I’m not up for any arguments, you’re staying here at the compound until you’re fully recovered.” Your eyes widened.

“What?! You know I can’t! What the hell?”

“I said what I said, (Y/N). You are staying here until you recover and that’s final. No more arguments. Ajourned.” You groaned, knowing that you can’t win against Tony on this one, it’s a stalemate.

“Fine. Let’s just hope that Tarasov doesn’t put out an open contract while I’m completely out of commision.” You sighed. Tony stood up and hugged you, left a soft kiss on your head.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Tony sat back again and looked at you softly.

“What is it?”

“How’s the idea of you going to high school? There’s a good school that you can go to in Queens. Just a few minutes away from the compound.” You stared at him, not knowing what to say.

There’s a part inside of you that wants to agree, to experience living a normal life. But at the same time, there’s a part of you that you don’t want to. You are afraid that these people may come for you, in a place that a lot of people go to and doesn’t have any idea of what the hell is going on, there’s also a high chance that they can target you there. Where they can easily blend in, due to the amount of people that goes there. So you are unsure.

“There’s a boy that’s currently interning for me, he goes to the same school. You can hangout with him and his friends at school, you won’t be alone.” He smiled at you.

“You’re accepting interns now?”

“Really? That’s the only thing you gathered from what I said?” You chuckled.

“Look, uncle Tony, I’m thankful for the offer. Really. But I’m not sure about this one, I don’t know how long can Tarasov keep my identity any longer from others. I don’t want putting everyone there in danger, especially this boy. Can this boy even protect himself?” Tony smirked at you.

“Trust me, this boy can protect himself alright.” You narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t tell me that he’s one of the team.”

“Yes, no. Maybe, kind of? But the point is, he’s perfectly fine in defending himself. So you have nothing to worry about.” You sighed.

You wanted to agree, but the sudden idea of going to an actual high school might not be so bad. However, you aren’t permanently living in the compound, you are set on rebuilding your house, again. You are not sure that you’re capable of leaving the house, your family’s house where a lot of memories had been made. Your parent’s memories are buried there, so it’s one of the many reasons why you can’t make any hasty decisions at the moment.

“Is it alright if I can think about this first? It’s a lot of stuff to take in, especially that I had just taken a medication. Everything’s woozy for me at the moment.”

“It’s alright. I’ll give you time to decide, kiddo. No pressure.” You thanked your uncle silently.

You desired to live a life that your father had lived once. To grow up as a normal teenager that goes to high school. When your father got a taste of that life, everything had been worth it of leaving everything behind. But you chose to enter this life, the life he had before retiring, the one that your father had spend the rest of his life in staying away from the moment he retired, until these people had decided to throw him back in the game all over again. No matter how you desire for it, you know that you can never escape it. Somehow, it will be a constant in your life. The dream that you dreamed of, it will only remain as a dream and nothing else.

You never regretted any of the decision you made. You were thankful, you were given an outlet to release everything that you’ve been bottling up inside of you, it became a comfort for you. Thinking about it, if you didn’t make any decision of doing it, you might have ended up going all crazy. Your trance had been broken up by barking, it was Koda rushing near the bed. You laughed and reach down to pet his head.

“Hey, buddy. Sorry for leaving you there, but I take it that the team loved you.” You smiled at him and leaned in your touch.

“You know about my policy about animals.”

“Speaking of policy, is it possible to bend it a little on my favor?” You smiled at Tony cheekily, “Please.”

“Ugh okay, fine.” Tony playfully rolled his eyes at you, and you squealed in happiness.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You reached forward and hugged him tightly.

“Sir, Mr. Parker has arrived.” Friday announced.

“Thanks, Fri. Tell him to meet me at the lab.”

“Ms. Jovanovich, Ms. Romanoff said that she will be bringing you the clothes later.”

“Thank you, Fri.” You break the hug, “I assume that it’s your intern?” Tony nodded.

“Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you two once you’re out of here at the med bay.” You nodded.

“Alright then, can’t wait to meet Tony Stark’s protégé.” Both of you laughed. He stood up from his seat, gave a quick hug and softly kissed your forehead.

“Get some rest kiddo. Red will be right up in a while.”

2 weeks.

2 weeks where you’ll be able to live normally for a while. You really do hope that Tarasov doesn’t make any move, or has said anything about your true identity to the others. You need 2 weeks of peace to think properly.

#avengers x teen!reader #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #avengers x wick!reader #tony stark x stark!reader #john wick x avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers one shot #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x wick!reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #marvel oneshot #avengers oneshot #tony stark x teen!reader #tony stark x wick!reader #john wick #avengers crossover

[iamafictionfreak]

TIS THE SEASON TO BE MERTHUR!

Just... Look at them!

I miss everything about this show. Even the very bad CGI and the weak-ass plot points/armour/conveniences/contrivances.

One Christmas Eve, almost 11 years ago, the entire Merlin fandom was butchered into tiny little distraught pieces. It didn’t matter if your favourite character was Merlin or Morgana, Gaius or Gwen. The showrunners held no qualms in destroying your dreams for Gwaine or Perce. The writers did not hold back in their aim to crucify the smile on your face, to forever turn it upside down. No ship was spared. All hopes for the show to finally commit to their original intent, to bring peace between peoples, to save Albion, to allow Merlin his freedom and Arthur the truth, was brought to a bitter, fatalistic end.

Not that I need to repeat this to you, you know what happened, but it’s worth reiterating that this travesty occurred… on Christmas Eve.

CHRISTMAS. EVE.

Christmas Eve.

The night before Christmas, the night before the day where all rules are broken and we can frolic like children around a decorated tree filled with twinkling lights, our collective hearts were shredded.

This event (once we recovered a tiny bit from the shock) gave birth to a plethora of astonishingly well written, poignant, devastating, hilarious fanfictions that had helped nurse our wounds, for nothing could TRULY heal (except a follow-up season with the original characters, come ON BBC) us.

After nearly 11 years of watching these brilliant entries grow, I never thought I’d jump on this bandwagon and write my own fic.

But I've had a few very shit years, as have many people around the world, and I started to wonder as we do when we want to prove magic can still happen.

My brain decided that it wanted my hands to write the most indulgent, likely over done fic in existence for the fandom. This thought stuck with me throughout the year – I was being STALKED by myself – and wouldn’t leave me the hell alone. This hasn’t happened in a long while.

Still… you’ll eyeroll at the idea. It's so OBVIOUS, I'm embarrassed by myself.

What if Arthur discovered Merlin’s magic from the get-go, from episode 1?

WAIT. Hear me out…

So, Merlin saves Arthur for the first time and Arthur SEES. He sees his eyes glow.

He knows he should tell his father, but his instincts are screaming at him. Honour is at stake. This stranger saved his life. How could he reward it with an execution? So, a chance needs to be given, doesn’t it? A chance for Merlin to give up magic forever and live a life of goodness, to turn away from evil and serve Arthur…

Except Arthur can’t help but wonder. About Magic, about Merlin and magic, about the law and all the whys attached and his place within this chain.

But he also can’t trust this peasant who cavorts with the devil, practices wickedness but smiles like a child and offers compassion to everyone. Someone so duplicitous must be dangerous… except Merlin’s an actual idiot! And it’s getting really difficult to keep his guard up.

But isn’t that how sorcerers work? They twist the mind with pleasing ideas, they tempt and coerce, they manipulate.

And slowly, Arthur finds himself being manipulated too. For how could he ever want to trust this man- but he does. He does.

And we’ve never been allowed to see Merlin deal with a S1 Arthur who’s in the ‘know’. Who’s forcing him to keep it secret, who’s threatening him with trial by fire, a young Arthur who’s ignorant, arrogant and so desperate to understand what he cannot trust.

Then there's the layers, royalty versus peasantry, friendship versus alliances, goals versus ideals.

I want to write a fic where this trust is built from the ground up. One of the things about the show that made it impossible for me to let it go is that the ‘relationship’ between Arthur and Merlin fits exactly zero categories, yet all of them.

Master and servant.

Friends

Family

Allies

Enemies

Romantic ideals

Platonic soulmates

Absolute Soulmates

I could go on. And it's one of those rare shows where the writing would be given more oomph if the males leads had dared cross a line or two.

Realistically, they weren't even friends. They were master and servant who'd become a little co-dependant. Arthur could never admit to anything more because of his station, but would he have been able to being completely himself around Merlin if he'd known the truth? We never see Arthur truly be himself. He wasn't allowed to be, not even with his wife. There was always a wall - it was how he was raised and any attempt to develop was killed by plot.

We never saw Merlin completely free, not with a single person. He started happy and healthy and innocent. A liar. He ended up bitter and terrified and angry and alone. Still a liar.

What would he have become if there'd been one person he could truly trust- not Gaius. Not a man already broken and brainwashed by his own self. A victim of the system just as much as he perpetuated the hate and completely unaware of the trap he lived in.

Many of the characters in the show have the versatility and potential to be written a trillion different ways, is it any wonder that fics continue to be written?

Well, I wanted to explore a slow burn development of trust, with Arthur learning how wrong he was, how much he’s trampled on, and all about the seemingly normal peasant boy who meant more to the world than Arthur could possibly understand. What would they have become if they’d been given the time, hm?

When they were young - yes, I'm going there - wild and free.

What of Morgana, what if she could have trusted? What if she could have understood? Would it have turned out differently? Would she have still become the other side of Uther's coin?

Would Merlin still have ended up alone?

There’s lots more I wanted to touch upon, it’s a big what if, but that’ll have to wait for another post.

I’m writing a 5 part prologue that occurs between episode 1 and 2. I’m hoping to release it for Christmas and then take the time to write the rest of the season.

Unless… you guys think it’s a waste of time? Let me know.

In the meantime, I’m STILL SUFFERING (fucking show) and it's making me write, write, write!

(gifs not mine)

#merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin emrys #guinevere #morgana #Gaius #uther pendragon #fuck uther #potential #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin fandom

[aihoshiino]

this is more of a thought project than an actual question, but what do you think it would've been like had aqua's decision to reveal the identity of his past life to ruby backfired upon him? i'm not sure if the possibility would've even existed in the first place given how much sarina idolizes (haha. idolize.) goro, but i like to think about it sometimes because ruby has known the man as "aquamarine hoshino" (guy who is unfailingly stubborn and even frustrating at times) longer than she's known him as "goro amamiya" (a mostly well-adjusted guy from her perspective) and also because ruby has always been my favorite of the hoshino twins and i'm trying to cope with her characterization as of late. sobs

NGL, I do kind of think that Aqua's decision here has already been backfiring even if it doesn't seem quite as apparent on the surface. As Kana points out, while Ruby is acting fine and happy now, her leaning on Gorou-through-Aqua hasn't really addressed the core issues that are impacting her mental health. That relationship is kind of her single point of failure right now and the moment it's taken away from her, she's going to collapse.

This is why Tsukuyomi described Aqua revealing himself to Ruby as a 'bad move'. Sure, it got her back on her feet and ensured the movie would get made with her in the lead role but it has also made her incredibly reliant on the supposed promise that Gorou would marry her when she turned 16 (which, uh, isn't even what he said…!) and his presence in general. But Aqua's plan has been all but textually stated at this point to end in his death which, as I'm sure you can imagine, would be probably not great for Ruby's mental health to begin with but especially now she knows he's Gorou…!!!

That said, it is interesting to roll around a scenario where Aqua drops that reveal and Ruby rejects him… either out of not believing him or because his behavior as Aqua has shattered the pedestal she had Gorou up on. The idea of a version of the Movie Arc where Ruby is still in black hoshigan mode, playing a version of Ai who comes across as flawed, bitter and unsympathetic as a result of Ruby's own inability to be vulnerable… ouughh now we're fucking cooking….

That could be a really fascinating parallel to how Ai was rejected by everyone who saw her as she really was under her idol persona and you could have a lot of fun tying Ruby's gradual understanding of and empathy with Ai and her growing anger with regards to her exploitation to her realization that her all-or-nothing view of Gorou is similarly dehumanizing. Holy shit, now I'm imagining a version of the Movie Arc where Ruby keeps her black hoshigans all the way up to 134 and it's that moment of connection with Ai as a human being that finally breaks her out of it.

Like, holy shit. This is already an incredibly powerful and moving series of pages, but can you imagine just how much harder they would've hit if this had been when Ruby's white hoshigan had blazed back to life? WE COULD'VE HAD IT ALL.........

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk asks #onk spoilers #imaginin g a version of the movie arc that properly centers ai and ties everything back to that mission statement #of understanding her and humanizing her #honestly makes me feel so fucking rabid. akasaka please.

[the-dixon-effect]

When you know, you know Part 2

A/N: originally this was supposed to be a one-shot but I don't blame people for wanting a part 2 as my dumbass left it so unfinished 😭 thank you so much for requesting a part 2 my lovelies hope you enjoy it, thank you sooo much for 100 followers, it warms my heart knowing that many people enjoy my work!

era: season 10, post-Whisperers

pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: none my lovelies enjoy <3

part 1

The air was thick and balmy. It took everything you had to deliberately focus on your surroundings, knowing that if you zoned out, just for a second, your mind would corrupt over with foggy thoughts of Daryl. And you couldn't do that to yourself, not when your interaction had been so bitter, so scathingly cold. So here you sat, leant forward in your armchair with your arms crossed over your knees. You unwittingly gritted your teeth as your right leg tapped up and down at an increasing pace. Perhaps it wasn't just the knowing, it was the feeling. The feeling that things between you would never go back to the way they were. The idea that the one person who filled your heart was now breaking it. And the loss was turning into longing, a longing that stretched you out and diluted all your senses. And then, you realised why every cell in your body was overcome with Daryl, why no distraction could ever tear you apart from the idea of him.

You were in love with him.

You were in love with Daryl Dixon. And you're idly sat at home in Alexandria while he's out God knows where for God knows how much longer. There's a good chance he's not gonna come back, right? Not to you, anyway. Not with the way you ended things. He's probably walking out as far as he can go, decidedly avoiding you and your romantic crisis till he can bring himself to end things entirely. No, no. You can't think like this, it's unhealthy, you decide.

You fidgeted, wondering if it was better for you to continue your daydreams or cease them completely. Eventually, you found ways to busy yourself in and around Alexandria, however, no amount of cooking, hunting, or rebuilding could shake the unwavering heartache.

~

Daryl drifted through the remote Virginian forests without paying much attention to the direction he was travelling in. Unbeknownst to you, he had been suffering from the very same distraction and unshakeable regret. He remembered something that you said, and replayed it over and over again in his mind.

"Daryl, I'm in love with you, come home and start a family with me,"

Your tone had been distant and sarcastic, in a cold way that Daryl couldn't quite decipher. What the hell did you mean? The regrets that lingered in his mind were now telling him that he should've never left you. Not for Leah, not for nobody. He began to imagine how different his life might have been if he had made the right choices instead of the wrong ones, that led him astray from his own happiness. Waking up to you every morning, the early sunlight falling on your face and framing your pretty features. Going out hunting together, bringing Dog, maybe starting a family of your own, just like you'd said. How much you meant it, however, he didn't know. He'd have you all to himself, every day, every night. Even though he had convinced himself that he had destroyed whatever was left of your friendship, the idea of you still seemed so close, so special.

That's what happens, when you realise you love someone. No matter what happens, no amount of separation or disagreement or heartache can tear you away from the person you love. Eventually, you just make it back to them. Every time. Because the forces that bring two people together are stronger than any other force that exists. Some might call it God, others call it fate. The only thing that Daryl knew, however, was that the force that pulled him back to you was magnetic, and he could avoid it no longer.

So he set on his way, dredging in a direction that he half-guessed would bring him home. He had no idea what he would say, how he would fix things, but his pure determination rivalled that of a warrior heading to war. He gritted his teeth and failed to notice how his footsteps, that were previously quiet, were now aggressive and sharp on the forest floor. His pace quickened, and his awareness of his surroundings - and what might be lurking behind them - dropped. His mind was full of you, and though he didn't know it, his soul was too.

~

Returning to your home in Alexandria after the sun disappeared behind the walls, you flopped onto a leather armchair and rolled your head back in a state of disappointment. Not much to be done, apart from actively ignoring the one thing on your mind. Maybe you should talk to someone? Aaron, Rosita? You know they'd cheer you up, but you didn't want to talk to them right now. You only wanted Daryl. If only he was here. If only you hadn't opened your mouth that day in the cabin. You closed your eyes instinctively as images of him flashed past your eyelids-

Two knocks. Who the hell is at your door at this time of night? You repeated the sound in your mind and tried to determine who it might be, not particularly keen on dealing with other people right. It was gentle, yet resolute. Approaching the front door, you hesitated before slowly twisting the cold door knob and pulling it open. The sight you were met with had you stunned in your own doorway.

There was silence for a long moment. Daryl's blue eyes never faltered away from your own as you faced him. For a moment your mind was blank, empty of any trace of conflict with the man on your doorstep. A part of you was glad to see him, a part of you wondered if this was just a dream, and another part of you was angry. Angry that he had the nerve to show up here so bluntly. Crossbow slung over his shoulder, he towered over you with an unreadable expression. If only he would speak, you thought.

"Hey," he began. The faint glow from your porch light radiated on his face. He was half-covered in dirt and blood, but you failed to notice. All you saw were his illuminated features framed by his chocolate bangs and slightly parted lips. You could tell he had something on his lips by the way his brows furrowed and his forehead creased.

"'M sorry," he drawled, stepping a little closer to you. This was genuine. You didn't feel threatened or upset, but you realised that perhaps he needed a wake-up call and a little time alone to understand his true feelings.

"I'm sorry too.." you said quietly, not wanting to disturb the established peace by speaking too loud. "I said too much stuff that I didn't mean,"

"It's okay. Think I needed ta' hear it," his pretty eyes were gazing deeply at you now, and you bit your lip discreetly. "'M sorry I never apologised. For leavin'. Should never have left in tha' first place,"

"Thank you... for saying that. I'm glad you're home. You're my best friend, Daryl," you said softly, allowing a smile to creep on your lips.

"Best friend?" suddenly you realised just how close he was standing to you.

You stared up at him, wondering what he meant by his question and unsure of how to respond.

"Yeah... right? Or.." in that moment you trusted your gut instinct and relied on some of the earlier things he had said. His eyes widened and after a moment of staring, you leant up on your tiptoes and brushed your hand along his jaw.

"Or what?" he asked, allowing your touch and smiling a little in a way you hadn't seen before.

"You tell me," At this, he leaned into you and embraced your lips so sweetly that you'd never guess it could be hardy Daryl Dixon. He kissed you with such tenderness and passion that you could only reciprocate by snaking your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in even closer. Daryl's lips on yours felt like ecstasy and he tasted like wildfire. Sweet, sweet fire, burning you up on the inside and out. Swirling cinnamon and summer rain, it's addictive, just like the nicotine you can taste on his tongue.

Then he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. "I need ya' to tell me," you are breathless, and have to wait a moment to think, let alone respond.

"Tell you what?" you spoke, eyes narrowing in a combination of bliss and confusion.

"That ya' forgive me. I can't.. I can't do this if ya' don't forgive me.. I- I love ya Y/N..." he whispered softly, breaking eye contact and looking down at his shoes. You wanted to be surprised, to take it all in, but you had imagined him saying those things to you for so long. "'M so sorry.."

"It's... I think it's alright. I forgive you, Daryl. And for what it's worth, I liked you first," you chuckled.

"Don't bullshit me," you both laughed before he pulled you into another sweet kiss under the moonlight. You silently sighed in relief, finally glad to have him back. Glad that your prayers didn't go unanswered, glad that your instincts were right, glad to be in love with Daryl Dixon.

#brandy writes #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #twd daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl twd #twd #twd angst #twd drabbles #twd fanfics #twd x reader #twd fluff #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon imagine #daryl drabbles #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines

[aliceksoo]

IU "Love Wins All" MV analysis

Every once in a while one of my favourite artists releases something so good that gets me to the point of obsession, which means coming over here writing about all my thoughts.

And no one does that quite like IU (which is why she is my absolute favourite solo female artist, not in k-pop, just in Music).

Here's a short (LMAO, knowing me it will be super long) analysis of this MV!

The story begins with the two main characters in this story (interpreted by IU and V from BTS), running to escape from a flying box, the villain of this story set in a dystopic reality on the verge of apocalyptic doom.

The two characters run to hide inside a Mall, and from the first shots we can already notice few characteristics:

IU is mute, while V is blind from one eye.

the two are lovers.

Once they manage to hide from the flying cube, they get inside the Mall, where they notice a huge pile of clothes in the middle of it.

They keep exploring until they reach an old electronics shop, and they find an old camera: after trying it, they notice that while using that they can "imagine" an alternative reality, in which they both look healthy and clean.

A reality in which they can pretend to be happily in love, while enjoying moments in a world full of colors, which no longer exists...

...So they start to explore around the Mall while imagining their happy moments. They go through a restaurant, where everything is rotten and molded, but they sit at the table and look at each other through the camera, imagining how it would feel to share a meal together, taking solace in those simple moments of happiness, like having dessert together, wiping sugar from your lover's face, etc.

In this imagined reality they suddenly find themselves surrounded by people, but they all look anonymous, with black clothes and covered faces: this is because they do not matter, what counts in this shared fantasy is the happiness between the two main characters, the only focus they have is on each other and their love.

After playing around they run away from the crowd and find themselves in another shop, where they find wedding dresses. Full of love for each other they quickly change into those and play around, pretending to be a newly married couple celebrating their eternal love.

...But their reality is catching up, and in the middle of this happy fantasy, the cube finds them and forces them to resume their escape

While running away the two end up in front of an open gash in a wall, which shows to the viewer the bitter reality of the world in this story: these cubes are everywhere and are destroying the world.

The two keep running together and they end up in front of the huge pile of clothes, where they get cornered by that same cube.

The two stay together and try to fight it, but in front of the inevitable ending the two hold each other and face their destiny together.

We see from the dying camera on the floor that the two get taken by the cube to be vaporized, and after disappearing their wedding dresses fall on top of the existing pile of clothes.

There are many things I can discuss while reviewing this MV, but I want to focus on a few of them.

THE STORYTELLING - when it comes to the Art of Storytelling, setting up a whole world, characters, and narrative with a coherent arc NO ONE does it like IU and her team. This is not one isolated case, she made it a mission in her work to deliver intense stories, ever since her major successes after "Good Day" back in 2010 she slowly established her own sound and image while also experimenting with this focus on narration and "theatricality" that makes the viewer immersed in her stories. Go see: "Eight", "Celebrity", "Coin", "Above the Time", "Ending Scene", "The Red Shoes", "You&I", "Modern Times", "Good Day" and more to get a clear idea of this. You need talent, vision, hard work, effort, and creativity to constantly deliver this quality of work, and IU along with her team is just doing that.

THE ACTING - this ties in with the first point, but I'd say there is no great storytelling if the acting is mediocre. She is one of the most recognized Korean actresses in the industry AND internationally, and it is for a reason. Her acting is intense yet delicate, complex, and fragile, she always gives depth to her characters and develops their backstories to give us a 360° view of them, which makes them more relatable. No matter how involved you are in your work, and no matter how much money and effort your company and team put into it, in the end, if the artists do not make a personal effort to deliver their performative art to the viewer your work will never be 100% effective. IU goes all in each and every time. With her is always quality over quantity, and it shows. Shout out to V for delivering a solid performance: I could easily see parts of him in the "happy" scenes of the story! When he smiles his expressions always look genuine and innocent (if you are ARMY or even a casual BTS fan you will easily know what I'm talking about). He definitely improved a lot since his past experience in a K-Drama, and I can't wait to see more of him on screen once he gets back!

THE CUBE - this is the first important point I want to make in this analysis. Why the cube?! I am sure the jokes about the choice of using a flying cube as a villain are hundreds on the internet, but I haven't seen anyone pointing out a possible actual meaning, so here are two I personally thought of. - The cube immediately reminded me of bright screens: this might be an implied nod towards the online world, the media, and in general the hate that people (and idols especially) receive in the incessant scrutiny both professionally and personally, sometimes resulting in severe and dramatic consequences. If you are familiar with IU you know that her life has been exposed to the public since she was basically a child, and she is now where she is DESPITE all the criticism and invasions of privacy she had to face. You probably also know that she has lost more than one person very close to her, partially because of this online hate that people keep spreading, so it is not too wild to assume that she might have wanted to add that to the meaning of this work.

- ...But more than that, the meaning I personally picked up is more universal and relatable to EVERYONE watching this story. The cube, more than a cube, is a BOX. Which is a symbol for all those social constrictions, limits, labels, and expectations, that society forces on each and every one of us to "fit" inside a specific box. To blend in, to conform to specifics, to get in line and live your life within those metaphorical boxes, that determine whether your aspect, your personality, your career, your private life, etc. are all ENOUGH to the standards the society expects you to follow. It is not a random choice that the two main characters shown in the MV are both showing visible characteristics that make them "different" from the expected conformity. IU's character is deaf/mute (Not sure if it is both), and V's character is blind in one eye. They both have SOMETHING that makes them unable to conform and because of this, they will never be able to fit inside their specific boxes. Because of this, they cannot exist in this dystopic society, that starts to resemble our very reality more and more.

THE PILE OF CLOTHES - Tying the previous point regarding the cubes, I need to point out this last important element in the story. I am sure 99% of you already picked on the not-so-subtle nod to the "Spring Day" MV, which also shows a huge pile of clothes to represent the lives that were lost during the Sewol Ferry Tragedy that happened in 2014. This in turn is using the concept behind a work of Contemporary Visual Art by an artist called Christian Boltanski. With his work "Personnes", representing huge piles of clothes just like the ones shown in these two MVs, the artist talks about life, death, and memory.

He depicts the reality of groups of people that for several reasons (wars, poverty, etc...) have lost their lives. He urges the viewer to go beyond the random acknowledgment of this: he asks us to EMPATHISE, to actually understand that we are in front of the only symbol of lives that are no more. He demands our understanding by showing us something universal, like their clothes. We do not know their names, nationalities, aspects, or whether they were part of metaphorical boxes...

The same artists once said that used clothes, for him, are traces of lost identities, objects of a subject that is no more.

He leaves the clothes, forcing the viewer to focus on those details, to ask questions about those people, to imagine their stories.

He urges us to remember.

I think that the lyrics and the title itself are pretty explanatory of the intent of this song: IU wanted to deliver a powerful message of universal love, and she chose to do it through an MV that shows us how Love can shine bright even in the face of death and tragedy, and she did it in an original, dramatic, deeply moving way that leaves a deep impression on the viewer, perfectly on brand with her previous works.

She showed us that Love Wins All, and she reminded me yet again why she is my absolute favorite solo Korean singer.

#iu #lee jieun #kdrama #music video #bts #taehyung #love wins #love wins all #bangtan #kpop #kpop mv #music

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

another idea for adams character

"

Adam wiped out the blood from his eye as he crawled out of the hole.

Blood. His blood. The first mortal blood in all of existence. And… it was in his eye.

These… these children had actually cut him. Hurt him, and more than once.

Physically, at least.

Spitting out a tooth, he caught sight of his reflection in a pool of sinner blood as he pulled himself up, clear as a cracked mirror, and it was a face (so normal, the sort he knew that no one could ever pick out of a crowd) he had not deigned to really look at in millennia gazed back at him. When had he last taken off his mask?

He felt his fingers dig into the ground as he looked up, looked at all of those who had dared to stand against God's Plan, against these exterminations. Sinners, Hellborn and that fucking princess the serpent's fucking spawn.

He saw them, all… glaring at him, over the sound of angels dying.

Glaring. Angry, as if… he was in the wrong here!? AS IF HE WAS THE ONE BEING JUDGED!?

He spat out a mouthful of gold blood. "You… don't look at me like that, you… you fucking sinners! At least end this! Kill me! You! You of all creatures don't get to just play the fucking mercy card!"

The spawn shook her head. "We're not going to kill you. Because we're not like you."

The world seemd to crack in the back of Adam's mind, and red flooded his vision. "Are… are you fucking serious right now? YOU!? YOU FUCKING THINGS ARE THE ONES JUDGING ME!?"

He swept his bloody gaze over the sinners in the crowd. "NONE OF YOU WOULD EXIST WITHOUT ME! WITHOUT HER! Paradise… was lost! We lost paradise when those fucking serpents that this fucking princess of yours slithered out of… when they whispered in her ear! In my ear! And yet I still loved her, loved all of you, even after that first bite! We lived to let free will live on, when we could have (should have) just offed ourselves the moment Uriel slammed the gate in our faces! Our fault, but we did it out of love once it started rolling and… and then came THIS!"

He swept a bleeding hand out wide over the bloody sky, the Ring of Pride. "THIS IS WHAT YOU ALL CHOSE TO MAKE OF IT! YOU ALL CHOSE, and you keep choosing, over and over again! As above so below! Cannibals, rapists, liars, murderers, warmongers! And… and I'm the bad guy here!? You think I enjoy doing this!? I'm not the monster here! You think I want to keep killing my children, year after year after year!? And only because that fucking, smarmy serpent and his whore ASKED FOR THIS!?"

The spawn's eyes widened, and yet he could not take any satisfaction from even that, that her daddy had neglected to tell her about that little factoid.

Still, she rallied, that FUCKING LOOK back in her red eyes. "Then why are you the one leading this!? If you hate it… then you could just stop."

At that, Adam felt the rage slip out of him, crystalize into something cold. "Because I've gotten a lot of experience when it comes to disowning wayward children, you little freak. This… this is the bed you and all your little friends made. Don't start pointing fingers just because there are suddenly nails in the mattress."

"

Yeah, Adam learned a long, long time ago that actions have consequences, and it doesn't matter how much you regret them or wish things were different or whine and moan, you have to live with those consequences and carry on. This is a man who lost everything, not only for himself but for every single one of his descendants. Consumed by bitterness and guilt to the point where he can delude himself into thinking his actions against his wayward children are justified, enjoyable even, until confronted with his own misery and he snaps.

Ok

#helluva boss #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #vivziepop #vivziepop criticism #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #anti-vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

how many video game ideas do you even have?

an incomplete list of the bajillion video game ideas I have had over the past ten years (if you want verification, @raptorcivilization is usually the schmuck I pitch to) that I can't do because I lack infrastructure and resources:

a redo of the eyewitness dinosaur hunter game for the modern era (but obviously without the eyewitness brand) - so a 3D virtual museum environment with an on-site dig that brings dinos back to life. would include the history of birds after the end-cretaceous.

a redo of the magic school bus explores the age of dinosaurs game (doesn't have to be associated with magic school bus, a cute kulinda protag will work fine) - so a point and click game where you go to different environments, learn about the history of life, play mini experiments and mini games to learn, etc.

a museum tycoon game (why the fuck doesn't this already exist) (I have an elaborate system in my head that would include ethical collection and museum reputation as important factors)

prehistoric photo safari - you go back in time to different ecosystems and take pictures of various things you're asked to take pictures of, like "a pennaraptoran preening" or "a tyrannosaur family group" that kind of thing

an aviary zootycoon/planet zoo esque game - basically you're creating a zoo but it's only birds. I'm not bitter about planet zoo, no, whose asking.

or just another zoo simulator that's a better spiritual successor to zoo tycoon than planet zoo is, so it would include aquatic and extinct stuff like the zoo tycoons always did >_> also more birds

the same idea as above but now it includes fossil/extinct birds too, you're welcome

a game where you go back in time and gather prehistoric life and bring them back to the present and try to recreate extinct ecosystems, with an emphasis on ecosystem dynamics

similarly, an ecosystem simulator like tyto-ecology except... better. and still being developed. and mostly focused on extinct ecosystems.

a stardew-style farming game but you're ravens in a post-human world, creating a new society from scratch. as birds.

a bajillion different @saurian-game - like games set in different environments including the Manda Beds of the Triassic, the Jiufotang Formation of the Jurassic, literally anything other than the red beds of the Permian, Fossil Lake in the Eocene... the list goes on

domesticated Kulindadromeus sheephearder game (@paleopinesofficial you can just steal this idea and put it in your game, that's fine)

fossil stories - basically you live the life of different extinct animals based on their fossils, so dueling/fighting dinosaurs and stuff like that. it would be your basic choose your own adventure story type dealio.

a dinotopia video game. that's it. that's the entire concept. maybe something like simcity or the sims but in dinotopia. there's something there.

jewish themed stardew valley (this isn't dinosaur/bird or prehistoric life related, I'm just annoyed at the christonormativity in stardew [why does xmas exist in this alternate universe] and want to make a jewish version out of spite)

pet parrot simulator. mainly so that people who love parrots but really can't care for them can play the game. also so people who are thinking of getting a parrot can play the game and find out if they really can take care of one. I recognize pet simulators exist but they're never really accurate when it comes to parrot care.

I know I have more but these are the best ones. The ones I come back to the most are the museum tycoon game, the prehistoric photo safari game, and the redo of the magic school bus dino game; and @raptorcivilization is keeping the dream alive for the remake of the eyewitness game.

#video games #ideas #palaeoblr #dinosaurs #prehistoric life #I dream of a world in which a rich person decides to become my patron #or just someone who knows how to make things says “let's make this” and I'm the writer Idk

[transmascpetewentz]

if you had to spend even one day as an actual homosexual male in my country, you'd fucking kill yourself out of despair.

i am so FUCKING SICK AND TIRED of evil anglo westerners like you treating homosexuality like an aesthetic! we are not your constume! stop appropriating us!

i'm ANGRY because i experience homophobia every single day despite the fact that i hide who i am from the rest of my society, and then i go on the internet thinking it's the one place i can openly be myself... and what do i see?

gay male spaces being OVERRUN with BIOLOGICAL FEMALES who live under the DELUSION that they are homosexual males! and i fucking slam my laptop shut in anger! i'm fucking sick of you people!

WE CAN'T EVEN HAVE A SINGLE SPACE FOR OURSELVES ONLINE.

you have no idea what it's like to be an actual gay man!

you have no idea what it's like to laughed at, taunted, called "faggot" as you walk through your school hallways.

you have no idea what it's like to be excluded and socially ostracized by the majority of your male peers because they view you as inherently dirty and disgusting.

you have no idea of the PAIN you feel when your first highschool crush — the one boy who isn't repulsed by you and enjoys your company — ends up being a straight boy who never saw you as anything more than a "buddy" and abandons you the second he gets a girlfriend.

you have no idea what it's like to live a LIE, to conceal who you really are, to lie and say you're straight when someone questions you for your own safety, despite the fact that hiding you true self only makes you even more miserable and eats away at you every single day.

you have no idea what it's like to wallow in a puddle of your own misery and loneliness, knowing you are going to die alone & unloved due to the miserable circumstances of your own society.

you haven't SUFFERED nearly enough to be able to understand what being a homosexual male is truly like.

you have never experienced any of these things, because you are not homosexual males, yet you still have the loudest voices in online gay male communities.

it's not fair!

why should you get to be happy and enjoy LARPing as a gay man despite being female, while i have to suffer every single day? you don't deserve it.

and, yes, i know you people not my main oppressors. i DESPISE heterosexual males a lot more than i despise you, don't worry. you're not the ones killing us, but i am still irritated with the erasure of digital male homosexual spaces, as well as the transing of male fictional characters, because those two are the only coping mechanisms i have to distract me from my awful reality — and you people have taken that away from me too.

you might argue that i'm mean or hateful or a bad person because of the way i talk, but can you really blame me? the world left me no choice but to be full of HATE and BITTERNESS.

i am extremely disappointed in, mad at and saddened by your community & how you spiritually degrade, humiliate, disrespect and erase real homosexual males.

your blog is a mockery of us. that's all.

This anon is really funny, because even if I didn't experience homophobia, you act like transphobia doesn't exist. There's a lot to unpack here, so I'll respond under the cut.

if you had to spend even one day as an actual homosexual male in my country, you'd fucking kill yourself out of despair.

The suicide rate of trans people in my country (USAmerica) is 50% lmfao. While I'm currently in an okay place mentally, the same can't be said for most others in situations similar to mine. I try to use the mental energy that I do have to do activism that will help me and others like me.

i am so FUCKING SICK AND TIRED of evil anglo westerners like you treating homosexuality like an aesthetic! we are not your constume! stop appropriating us!

Trans men exist in non-western countries. The reason that you don't know of us is because it is literally too dangerous for us to come out in countries that do not accept us. The only reason I'm even out to a few people is because my gender nonconformity was obvious before I even realized I was trans, so being visibly trans wouldn't change much in terms of how I'm treated. I also lived in a country where being gay and/or trans is illegal before I moved to USAmerica, and I was targeted there for my gender nonconformity even though I didn't know I was trans whilst living there. Even though I live in USAmerica now, I'm not divorced from the reality of what it's like to be queer in a country where things are worse.

i'm ANGRY because i experience homophobia every single day despite the fact that i hide who i am from the rest of my society, and then i go on the internet thinking it's the one place i can openly be myself... and what do i see?

I, too, experience homophobia every single day, even though I try to hide my homosexuality. Being AFAB doesn't exempt you from experiencing homophobia. Instead, I get to hear what cishets say when they think no gays are in the room. People like me are treated as jokes and predators at the same time.

gay male spaces being OVERRUN with BIOLOGICAL FEMALES who live under the DELUSION that they are homosexual males! and i fucking slam my laptop shut in anger! i'm fucking sick of you people!

Actually, most gay male spaces are hostile to trans men, which has caused us to form our own spaces. If you go to our spaces and then get mad that you see trans men, cry about it. Also, the use of "you people" is so telling. Don't the people in your country refer to gays as "you people" or similar? So don't do the same to trans people.

you have no idea what it's like to be an actual gay man! you have no idea what it's like to laughed at, taunted, called "faggot" as you walk through your school hallways. you have no idea what it's like to be excluded and socially ostracized by the majority of your male peers because they view you as inherently dirty and disgusting. you have no idea of the PAIN you feel when your first highschool crush — the one boy who isn't repulsed by you and enjoys your company — ends up being a straight boy who never saw you as anything more than a "buddy" and abandons you the second he gets a girlfriend.

Actually, yes I do know what that is like! I've had those things fucking happen to me! Except for me, it's not just homophobia, it is transandrophobia as well. People see me as a predator and potential rapist any time I try to express any attraction to men. Why are cis people trying to educate trans people on what it's like to be socially ostracized? Lol. Lmao even.

you have no idea what it's like to live a LIE, to conceal who you really are, to lie and say you're straight when someone questions you for your own safety, despite the fact that hiding you true self only makes you even more miserable and eats away at you every single day.

...are you fucking serious right now. You, cis person, have no idea what it's like to actually live a lie, to lie and say you're a woman and dress like a woman for your safety even though it makes you even more miserable and eats away at you every single day! I understand that cis gays face homophobia but are you fucking serious right now? I really hope that you're joking.

you have no idea what it's like to wallow in a puddle of your own misery and loneliness, knowing you are going to die alone & unloved due to the miserable circumstances of your own society.

Actually yes I do because I am a transsexual man. Except due to being raised as a girl, I have been taught to accept dehumanization from cis men and women alike. I had to spend years unlearning the misogyny I was raised to accept, and I still have a lot more work to do. The thing is, if I was to say something like the statement above to someone, I would be called an "edgy teenage girl faking depression for attention" because you have to be a cis man for your problems to be taken seriously.

you haven't SUFFERED nearly enough to be able to understand what being a homosexual male is truly like.

The only requirements of being a homosexual male is to identify as male and be homosexual. That's it. There isn't a required amount of suffering that you must go through to receive your gay man card, and even if there was, every gay trans man has suffered far more than whatever the requirement is.

you have never experienced any of these things, because you are not homosexual males, yet you still have the loudest voices in online gay male communities.

Actually we have experienced these things, because we are homosexual males, and we face transandrophobia as well as homophobia. We also do not have the loudest voices in online gay male communities. If you're a user on this side of Tumblr, you are either invading transmasc spaces and acting like they are the entire community, or you are in an echo chamber that tells you that we are the loudest in the community.

why should you get to be happy and enjoy LARPing as a gay man despite being female, while i have to suffer every single day? you don't deserve it.

What is it about my blog that makes you think I enjoy being transsexual? I constantly talk about how awful people are to me, how my sexuality and gender are constantly targeted by others, and how all of these problems are systemic. I do not enjoy facing systemic oppression on the basis of my gender and sexuality.

and, yes, i know you people not my main oppressors. i DESPISE heterosexual males a lot more than i despise you, don't worry. you're not the ones killing us, but i am still irritated with the erasure of digital male homosexual spaces, as well as the transing of male fictional characters, because those two are the only coping mechanisms i have to distract me from my awful reality — and you people have taken that away from me too.

Guess what—you, as a cis man, are perfectly able to relate to trans male characters. If a character being trans makes you unable to relate to them anymore, maybe you should examine what makes you believe that you are so different from trans men. Maybe it's because you don't see us as human.

you might argue that i'm mean or hateful or a bad person because of the way i talk, but can you really blame me? the world left me no choice but to be full of HATE and BITTERNESS.

You are not a transphobe because you face homophobia. You facing homophobia was not what convinced you that trans men aren't people. You are using your experiences with homophobia as an excuse to be transandrophobic while the root of your bigotry is actually a form of systemic oppression just like homophobia, except one where you are part of the oppressor class.

i am extremely disappointed in, mad at and saddened by your community & how you spiritually degrade, humiliate, disrespect and erase real homosexual males.

And I am disappointed in how your community excludes, ostracizes, fetishizes, and disrespects transsexual men. Except y'all are way louder about the issue of us existing than we are about the regular dehumanization that we face from y'all.

your blog is a mockery of us. that's all.

Cry about it.

#asks #anon hate #transandrophobia #long post