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#grief never goes away but it does change over time

chasingwhitebunnies · 1 year

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I feel a bit silly writing this because I’m sure other people must have but I’ve not seen anything about it

(SPOILERS - I’ll also tag)

I really love how we see Coriolanus’s character descent into who he becomes through each of his kills

His first kill is Bobbin. It was self-defence, kill-or-be-killed. If he hadn’t done it, he probably would have been killed himself, but this sticks with him. Coriolanus is horrified when he realises he took someone’s life. He thinks about it for a long time.

His next kill is Mayfair Lipp, the mayor’s daughter. It’s not self-defence, but he sees it that way. In a way, he’s got a point. She would have reported him, and he would have been hanged. So would Lucy Gray, so he shot her. This time, however, he had a choice. Maybe not much choice, but it was there. He chose to shoot her, but it doesn’t affect him anywhere near as much as Bobbin’s death

The third is the hardest. He doesn’t pull the trigger or tie the noose, but he might as well have. He betrays Sejanus. Sejanus who loves him like a brother. Sejanus who he has known since they were children. He made the decision in a moment and he questions himself afterwards, but he still made that choice. He reasons to himself internally that it was necessary and Sejanus was bound to get himself in trouble, anyway, right? Right? So it’s okay. But it’s not okay. The blood is on his hands and he keeps thinking of the moments they spent together before the betrayal. He benefits from his death and is rewarded for his loyalty. How ironic

Next is Lucy Gray. Possibly. For argument’s sake, let’s say he did kill her. He calls out for her, his gun slung over his shoulder. He realises how she might be scared, the gun sending the wrong message… but he doesn’t put it back. He brings it with him, not to use it, he tells himself. He would never use it, definitely not. He just… wants to talk some sense into her. As soon as the snake bites him, he abandons all pretence. Even though he admitted moments ago he understood why she would be scared, now she’s the enemy. Now she has to pay. How dare she. Not even an hour ago, he had plans to run away with her. He claimed he loved her. They were going to be together. Now, he’s chasing her through the trees with a gun in his hands and he’s screaming for her to show herself. He shoots a lot. When he thinks he finally got her, he’s pleased. It was her own fault, he tells himself, for the snake trick. Even afterwards, when he finds out that the snake wasn’t venomous - which Lucy Gray definitely would have known and therefore was only intended to slow him down - he doesn’t have a single moment of regret. The only thing he regrets is falling for her in the first place and he swears he’ll never do it again. His heart is stone. Frozen like snow.

Finally, his last kill (before the ones that take place once this book ends) is Dean Highbottom. This is the first kill that is not made in a split-second. This is premeditated. He carefully adds just enough rat poison to the morphling, sure to wear gloves, and sets his plan in motion. He has every opportunity to change his mind, to not resort to violent means. Not only does he not regret it, he feels proud. Excited, even. He hopes Dean Highbottom will know it was him that killed him

By the epilogue, Snow has gotten over (or buried deep enough) what guilt he had over Sejanus enough to use the Plinths’ grief to his advantage without any conflicting feelings. He’s convinced himself Lucy Gray was the villain who played him, when she was just a sixteen-year-old girl who was forced into a terrible situation. As we know, he goes on to directly and indirectly kill thousands between TBOSAS and THG, too many. I doubt he remembers most of them, just nameless, faceless children. He doesn’t care anymore, not like he did the first time

The whole world is his Arena. Snow lands on top until it melts

#SPOILERS THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES #SPOILERS TBOSAS #THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES SPOILERS #tbosas spoilers #(melted by fire in case my on the nose metaphor was too subtle)#tbosas #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #Dean Highbottom #casca highbottom #Mayfair lipp #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #bobbin TBOSAS #500

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weebsinstash · 3 months

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losing my mind over the idea of Lucifer being swerved every time by an oblivious reader. He “casually” drops how he used to pull wives at the drop of a hat and reader just goes “that’s great Lucy ☺️” and wanders off while bro is going through the stages of grief

I just love the idea of like, a Reader who GENUINELY IS oblivious and isn't trying to troll him by any means, you ARE just completely unable to fathom this man is coming on to you or legitimately means the things he says.

You're sitting there after Husker made you a tequila for the first time and you're sipping on it and Lucifer's just plopping down in the next stool over, "there was once a time in the past I shared a tequila with a woman, and, well, let's just say 9 months later my daughter Charlie was born!" and you reply without any hesitation at all, "yeah! you know, this is my first time trying tequila but I think it's really nice, although everything Husker makes me is pretty tasty so I've been trying lots of new stuff recently! like the other night I had my first shot of absinthe with Alastor and the taste was so--" and Husker is FACEPALMING and Lucifer is... honestly I think it would be really cute if he ADORES when you show your interests and passions when you start ranting about stuff, so he's like, even when he's mentally gritting his teeth with frustration, he'll be sitting there watching you doe eyed for as long as you want to talk, entertaining any of your long winded tangents or rapidly changing conversational topics

Ugh... you don't understand... the allure of being a tiny fragile human and he's. Well also tiny but he's this ancient inhuman creature who's also just A Silly Loving Family Man. Like. He's ALL POWERFUL. He can pull you into a singing dancing musical where he can make whatever he wants appear, he CAN basically warp materials and reality however he pleases, like... just...he's the small full package who probably HAS a full package if you know what I mean 😏 don't even look at me but characters like him n deku got me thinking about being fawned over by cute guys who are shorter than you but can absolutely easily overpower you without breaking a sweat and are more hung than nature should really allow

Seduction can be a fine line between sexy and cringey and can you imagine he says something to you that just, it just does NOT land. He's got you on your back in your bed and he's above you, with his hand directly under your chin, and he purrs that he wants to plant his seed directly in the fertile soil of your garden and you just LAUGH IN HIS FACE, like "BITCH WHAT?!" Like you CRUSH HIM, FATALITY, man is suffering psychic and emotional damage, you are chipping away at his health bar as you sit there "Haha, you're so goofy Mr Morningstar 🤣 you always know how to make me laugh" and he's HUFFING and laughing in frustration, "OKAY, let's try this again! When I'm done with you, Charlie might have a new sibling on the way!"

"Awww thank you! Charlie's already like a sister to me but I'm glad you're seeing it literally 🥰"

Can you imagine it. The ultimate cockblock. Giving him the ultimate swerve, hitting him with the ultimate grand slam, "YOU'RE LIKE THE FATHER I NEVER HAD" like, how can he possibly stick his dick in you now he knows you see him as YOUR DAD 🥺❤️ He can't VIOLATE his BABY (or can he 😳🤔)

Can't stop thinking about Reader who is completely unaware that this man is unhinged levels of Down Bad until the very moment he's wrestling you down to either fuck you or have a full on love confession. You're just goofing around and palling around and occasionally giving him hugs where you smush your titties or whatever in his face because he's the perfect height and you love to tease him and, then, to YOU, he's 'suddenly without warning' trying to kiss you, say all these passionate things to you, putting his hands in places they've never been before--

I'm still hung up on... the idea of Lucifer impregnating the Reader and you have your little you know cute apple womb tattoo and. I just know he'd be fussing and cooing and like ANNOYING levels of lovey dovey, baby talking your belly before you're even showing. He'd wanna get married with a big fancy flashy wedding to show you off. He'd wanna announce to all of Hell he has a new spouse and want everyone to fear/worship/respect/adore you. He's making this baby SO MANY GIFTS with his own two hands, you have no idea. Duck themed cribs, duck themed onesies, duck themed ducks, he'll make it all! In fact he'll make too many! But, still not enough to satisfy him! Everything has to be perfect, for you, for the baby, for his growing lovely family!

I dunno. Don't expect me to be normal about the fact the man can shapeshift either... he's about to slither right into my incognito tabs...

#yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #hh #sinprompts

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lavenderstobins · 12 days

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Wayne Munson Headcanons

Wayne was born and raised in Tennessee but moved to Hawkins when he was older. He briefly moved away but moved back after Eddie came out to him, wanting a fresh start

He was raised as an Evangelical Christian

He's the oldest of three, having a younger brother and a younger sister. His sister died young and Wayne never got over that grief

He had an abusive father, which contributed to his brother acting out as a teenager

He fought in Vietnam and subsequently hates guns as a result

His first job was in a pastry shop, but his father made him quit and get a job as a mechanic

He was very close to Eddie's mother (his sister-in-law) but kept his distance for his brother's sake

When his brother goes to jail for what seems like good, he tries to help out Eddie and his mom as best as he can

When Eddie's mom dies, Wayne feels like he didn't do enough

Wayne took Eddie in without hesitation. He'd been in a longterm relationship at the time and having Eddie with them broke it down, but Wayne wouldn't sacrifice Eddie for anyone

Wayne is the one who introduces Eddie to Garfield

Wayne had a brief relationship with Benny Hammond. He was in love with him, but felt he couldn't risk letting them be in love. He's heartbroken when he hears Benny committed suicide

When Eddie comes out to him as a boy, he does so by mentioning the D&D spell "modify memory" in his explanation. Wayne stays up for hours squinting at the handbook long after Eddie's fallen asleep, wanting to be supportive

Wayne was the one to buzz Eddie's hair, after he came out

Wayne loves fishing. He used to have a fishing group that consisted of him, Benny, Dale, Henry and Earl. Over the years, it becomes just him

Wayne braves a gay nightclub one night when Eddie's at a friend's. He goes a few more times and ends up having a one night stand with Scott Clarke, much to their mutual surprise when they bump into each other at the school

Wayne thinks he's cursed. He thinks the Munson name is cursed

When the mall 'burns down', he starts suspecting Hawkins is cursed, too

He cries when he sees Eddie in a coma after s4

He's suspicious of Steve initially. That quickly changes when he learns Steve was the one to carry Eddie out of the Upside Down

He finds out Steve and Eddie are dating when he walks in on them making out on his couch

He has designated mugs for different things. He brings a Garfield 'gone fishing' mug out with him when he's fishing. He has a snowy Garfield mug that he pulls out in winter

He ends up dating Claudia Henderson sometime after the Upside Down shit is finally over

He treats Steve, Robin and Nancy like they're his kids, too. And Max. Then by the end of the year he's essentially half-adopted the entire Hawkins gang

He has a soft heart and cares deeply about troubled kids. His friends joke that he has a 'waif in need' alert (thanks @pukner)

He doesn't want to get married, claiming he won't marry 'til his boy can marry

He's a man of few words. He's not good at showing physical affection, but he's prouder of Eddie than he could ever say

Calls Eddie 'his boy'

Heavily distrusts the government. Milks them for all he can when Eddie's recovering in the hospital. Lays it on thick with Nancy's help and then winks at her when the government agent bustles out of the room

Loves watching the game on TV. Eddie complains when Steve and Wayne get together for the game but is secretly thrilled about his favourite people spending time together

His clothes get passed around from Eddie to Steve to Robin to Nancy and back again. When Robin shows up in one of his flannels he doesn't even blink

#stranger things #wayne munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie #my headcanons

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 4 months

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ope.. i got brainrot while driving into work again so here's a rockstar!eddie steddie blurb that goes with this song.

cw for possible refrences to suicidal ideation depending on how you interpret the lyrics (more literal or more metaphorical)

pairing: steddie | word count: 840 | rated: M

The first time Eddie tells Steve he loves him, it’s while they’re awash in the afterglow; Eddie’s still half sprawled over Steve’s bare back with his finger tracing patterns idly over his skin.

“I could trace enough constellations on you to get from here to Mars.” he says as if voicing a thought rather than to Steve.

“Oh yeah?” He snorts.

“Mmhm. And I’d love you from here to there too.”

The steady movement of Steve’s back shudders to a stop, his breath faltering. “Oh yeah?”

A new featherlight touch grazes the skin between his shoulder blades. Eddie’s lips. “From here to Mars, sweetheart.”

Mars becomes a thing between them, and between them alone; “Love you to Mars, Stevie,”, “I love you all the way back home, Eds.” or after some bigot gives either of them grief over their relationship, “Let’s just run away.”, “To where?”, “Hmm. I dunno, maybe Mars?”

So when Eddie has enough of Hawkins, when he does run, and his note is devoid of any reference to their neighboring red planet, it’s crushing.

Steve finds out from Wayne that Eddie and the boys had gone to New York, a two album contract for their band too good of an opportunity to pass up.

He’s jaded and hurt for a long time. Well into Corroded Coffin’s rise to worldwide stardom, and the feeling lasts until a headline in the aisle of the grocery store catches his eye. It screams ‘CORRODED COFFIN’S NORTH AMERICAN TOUR CUT SHORT.”, but there are more: “Frontman Eddie Munson checks in”, and “Eddie Munson: More substance than substance?”.

He and Robin are in Chicago now, running a small bookstore/coffee shop, and Jeff gets in contact with him.

“He’s okay, he’s already doing better. I figured you’d want to know.”

Jeff says it’d been getting worse and worse until Chrissy (who had long been the Robin to Eddie’s Steve, and who’s now his manager) had had enough and sent him off to get help. “He’ll be back sooner than later, I’m sure.”

The next anyone besides Chrissy hears from Eddie, it’s on the radio. A new song from Corroded Coffin’s Eddie Munson that’s nothing like anyone had ever heard from him.

Steve hears it first when he’s preparing to open one day, that’s part of the reason why it comes as such a surprise. He has never tuned the shop radio to anything other than the mainstream channels, not wanting this exact thing to happen and hear the voice of the man that broke his heart to pieces.

“Up next, a change of pace from the currently still elusive Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame,” the announcer says as the song starts in behind him. Steve freezes at the name. “You heard of this guy? He and that band of his had been making waves in the metal scene for years now; and he’s reportedly been checked out of rehab for a couple months without anyone hearing anything from him. Until now.”

The song starts for real now, the acoustic fading into the background as a voice so unmistakably Eddie, his real southern twang leftover from growing up in Tennessee shining through, breaks through it.

Steve’s so floored at hearing his voice again, that he doesn’t really register the lyrics until Eddie croons out “What if I run away to Mars?”

“Mars.” Steve breathes out.

Eddie is singing about Mars.

Steve had always assumed he was forgotten. That after the years of fame and years without him, that the memories Eddie had of him would be locked away just as tight as Steve’s of Eddie were.

He can’t even continue to think about it because Eddie keeps going, “Would you find me in the stars? Would you miss me in the end, if I run out of oxygen?”

Eddie’s singing on his own, it’s just him and his guitar and his own backup vocals and he sounds so horribly sad.

Eddie’s not okay. Eddie’s not okay! Where is he? Where did he go after getting out of rehab?

Steve whips his phone out of his pocket, leaning heavily on the front counter now for support, and searches frantically for Chrissy’s number.

He’s hoping she hadn’t changed it when Eddie’s voice comes back in over his guitar, “I can't tell which way is home, I've been gone for so long..It's an empty world up here“

Steve freezes again.

He listens to the entire rest of the song there. Phone in hand, thumb hovering over the call button, and heart however many miles away to where Eddie is.

“Three, two, one, I miss you..I'm sorry I got issues” Eddie sings.

Steve finds himself thinking ‘I miss you too’ and ‘It’s okay.’

Eventually, the song ends with Eddie’s voice only. No backup instrumentals, only his voice crooning harmonically with himself

“Would you miss me in the end if I run out of oxygen? When I run away to Mars..”

He presses the button.

“Steve,” She says in a surprised greeting, “Hi!”

“Where is he?”

star divider is from @saradika

short little part 2 here! | also on AO3

#surprise surprise noelle is writing something based on a song #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #corroded coffin #chrissy cunningham #jeff stranger things #st #stranger things #st ficlet #streddie ficlet #steddie drabble #noelle writes #steddie angst #gotta keep my place in the angstflayer somehow

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dancingtotuyo · 3 months

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6. play my bloody part

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You take another step forward. Maria goes into Labor.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (Reader is 42, Joel is 56). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: angst, needles, blood, discussions of selfworth, grief (loss of a spouse), childbirth, graphic descriptions of childbirth, traumatic child birth, hemorrhage, likely very bad medical practices (don't try this at home folks, I am not a medical professional), shock, trauma, anxiety

This chapter is intense!

Notes: Thank you to @janaispunkand @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this! I appreciate all your comments and feedback, and I love you both so much!

Words: 5507

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Ellie stops by the clinic a few days later. She stays relatively quiet as you gather supplies. Her eyes track your movements as she swings her legs back and forth from her place on the exam table. You’re not used to her being so quiet.

“Hold out your arm for me?” You give her a reassuring smile.

She listens but seems half a world away. You find a vein with quick precision, letting the blood drip into a glass vial. Your eyes flicker from the collecting blood to her face. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh…” she says. “I guess- why did you agree to do this?”

You cock your head to the side, twisting the top on the vial before you press a cotton ball to the inside of Ellie’s elbow. “You asked. I could at least look at it.”

You press her arm up to hold the cotton there. “Even though you think there’s no point.”

“I never said that.”

Ellie looks you dead in the eye, expression flat. “You thought it. Joel thinks-”

“What does Joel know?” You twist your face, winking at her. A faint smile flashes over her face. “I’m the medical professional here.”

“He talked to Marlene.”

“And Marlene was a doctor? A nurse?”

“No… at least I don’t think so.”

“See, what does she know?” You smile. This time, Ellie actually smiles back. “Now, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you ask me to do this?”

Ellie bites her lip. “I mean if there’s any chance, I have to try right? People could stop dying from this.”

“It’s not your responsibility, you know.”

“What?”

“To save the world.” You say. “It’s not your responsibility.”

“But I’m immune.”

“It’s okay to want to help.” You place the vial in a holder on the counter. The crimson red stands at stark contrast to the sterile-looking clinic.

“I have to help. I have to do something.” Ellie can’t meet your eyes. “It can’t be for nothing.”

“What can’t be?” You tilt your head to the side.

Ellie clenches her fist. Her typically assured demeanor is gone, making her look more like the 15-year-old she is. “Ellie?”

She takes a deep, shaky breath, lip quivering slightly. She doesn’t cry, waiting until she’s more assured to answer. “A lot of people died for me. It can’t be in vain.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She’s quick to answer, looking away.

“That’s okay.” You nod slowly. “But Ellie?”

There’s a pause. She sighs deeply. You can see the tears glistening in her eyes now. She’s fighting so hard to keep it all together. “Yeah?”

“Those people, they made a choice to do that. From what Joel’s told me, it sounds like they did that without even asking you first.”

“What do you mean?”

You hold out a hand in front of her arm, the one with the bites on it. She’s hesitant at first but eventually lets it rest in your palm. You look over the raised skin where the tendrils of fungus are or were. You’re not sure if they’re still there, or if her body just stopped the progression of them. “You get to decide what happens to you, Ellie. Just because you’re immune doesn’t mean doctors or scientists or whatever form of power gets to make decisions for you.” She meets your eyes. You squeeze her hand. “You don’t owe the world anything for just existing.”

She chews on her lip, making you worry that she might draw blood. Her voice is quiet like she’s scared to say the words. “What good am I if there’s no cure?”

“Ellie.” Your heart breaks for her. You want to gather her in your arms and push all the bad thoughts away. You settle for squeezing her hand again “Your value isn’t tied to your immunity. You’re worth something simply because you exist.”

She tries to brush you off, pull away, and not look at you, but you keep a grip on her hand. “Look at me.” You’re stern. She hesitates but listens. You take a deep breath. “I don’t know if it means much coming from me, but you belong here. Here in Jackson, here in the world. You’re not a bother or an inconvenience, and yes, it sucks that we can’t do anything with your immunity, but that’s not your weight to bear. You understand?”

Her chest quivers. She manages a nod as a couple of tears fall from her eyes. You wipe them away. “And you will always, always, always, have a place in my home. Just waltz right in and I’ll set a plate.”

A small laugh falls from her lips.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She agrees, a small smile beginning to take over her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You smile back. “Now, what do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you still want me to look at it?” You tilt your head toward the vial of blood sitting on the counter.

She stares at it for a minute, contemplating the answers. “Maybe another day? I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You move away, disposing of the vial. You’re not sure how much weight your words hold, but you feel a little proud of her decision.

“Are you going to the dance tonight?”

“I guess.” She shrugs. “Dina and Jesse say I have to.”

“Good. You should.”

“Are you and Joel going?”

“Adam beat Joel in Texas Hold ‘Em last night and is making him go.” You laugh a little at the begrudging attitude Joel met you with last night, but a bet is a bet.

“I bet you could get him to dance.”

You laugh a little, images you’d conjured up in your childhood bedroom spring into your mind. They were the daydreams of teenage delusions, but there’s still a little dip of excitement in your stomach at the thought.

And then you sober up. “I’m not going.”

“If Joel and I are going, you have to come.”

You force a smile. “I don’t go to them anymore.”

“Oh, come on. I bet you’re a great dancer.”

“It’s not about the dancing.”

“What is it about then?” Ellie wears that goofy little prying grin that’s nothing no short of pure curiosity. If Joel were here. You imagine he’d say her name sternly and give her a look.

You sigh, keeping a tight smile on your face. “It was something my husband really enjoyed. I haven’t gone since he died.”

“Oh,” Ellie says as the energy shifts.

“It’s okay, Ellie.” You brush it off. It’s not her fault, and you didn’t have to answer.

She hesitates, and then she knocks into you, arms flying around your torso, knocking the wind from your abdomen. It takes you by surprise, but it’s a good one. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And then she’s across the room, grabbing her backpack off the exam table. You can’t help but laugh, wondering how she’s managed to hold onto all that wonder and spunk.

“You should still come tonight!” Ellie calls before the clinic door slams shut, leaving you with only your thoughts.

You drop Carter off with Tommy while you walk that night. Maria is on strict bed rest with her due date fast approaching, making them two of only four people not crowded into the Tipsy Bison. You expect to cry on your walk, expect to feel all the emotions that keep you away from the dances, but it doesn’t come even as you round the corner, passing the building that’s overflowing with energy.

Light flickers across the dimly lit street from moving bodies. The doors and windows are open to let the breeze filter through. A few people congregate outside on the patio with boisterous laughter and animated movements. A couple of folks stumble about, already intoxicated. You stop in your tracks, taking it all in. In the past, you’ve doubled back to forgo passing the festivities, but things are different now. Maybe… maybe you’re a little bit different now too.

Then you feel it, almost physically, like someone is pressing on your back, leading you toward the door. The people outside don’t pay you much mind, too caught up in their own worlds. The noise grows louder until you’re inside the Tipsy Bison’s doors.

You pass through the room slowly, almost invisible at first. Then you find him, laughing at the bar with Adam. He’s relaxed. An empty whiskey glass sits in front of him and a full one in his hand. He makes a comment to Adam that earns a playful roll of his eyes. He chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls the glass to his lips. His head cocks to the side. Before his lips make contact with the glass, his eyes lock with yours. He stills, a smile crossing his face. He tips the glass toward you and finishes it off. Then, he’s walking toward you with a determination that makes your insides melt and your toes curl in your boots.

His lips dip to your ear. His voice is low and smooth. “I thought you weren’t comin, Darlin.” His Texas drawl is stronger tonight, not helping the heat that grows in your belly. it sends wicked thoughts through your mind.

You shrug, almost careless about it, but he sees the heat in your eyes. It burns in his too. “Plans change.”

His hand slides around your waist, landing just above your hips. “I like it when your plans change.”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to pull him out of here and into your bed. “Dance with me?”

A grin spreads across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls you toward the dance floor. The crowd of bodies seems to part like the Red Sea before you, not that your mind can focus on anyone but Joel. He tugs you close as the band starts their rendition of My Girl. Your arms slide around his shoulders, body flush against him. He smiles at you. It’s like something out of a high school movie. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

He kisses your forehead, and then your head falls to his chest, eyes blinking closed. It feels like such a sacred moment, it’s hard to believe you’re in a room full of people. Joel sways on beat to the music, humming along. It reminds you of the faint singing that used to drift through your bedroom window at night when he would sit out on his front porch with his guitar and the stars. You spent countless hours sitting under an open window listening to him when you fostered that crush, imagining him singing to you.

You never imagined you’d be in his arms at the end of the world, in front of the whole town no less, as you fight your growing feelings for him. It sends a kick-start to your system. Not enough to raise a panic attack, or for onlookers to notice, but Joel feels it in the way your muscles tense and your body straightens in his arms. Your eyes pop open and you catch it- the rumor mill turning. Whispers pass behind shielded hands between pairs throughout the room. Some of them are audacious enough to make contact with you or send a wink your way.

Joel’s breath hits your ear again. “Wanna give them something to really talk about, Sweetheart?”

You look up at him, brows furrowed. He stops swaying, both hands cupping your cheeks. Your breath catches. It feels like the whole room’s does, and then his lips are on you, hot and searing and nowhere near chaste. Joel Miller never struck you as the PDA type, but this feels like more. He’s staking his claim on you, telling them all to shove it. Everyone is here. Everyone can see what’s happening for themselves. For all intents and purposes, this is the night Joel Miller becomes yours in the eyes of the community. You’re off limits, and so is he, and it feels good. There are no words, no spoken acknowledgment of anything, just his actions.

He pulls away, leaving you slightly stunned and hazy. He chuckles. Spinning you around and then pulling you in as the song ends. People clap around you, for the band of course, but you can only look at Joel with a smile that shines like crystal.

Another song starts back up. Another wave of people join the dance floor. People seem disinterested in the very thing that held them captive moments ago. Joel looks like he is two seconds away from dragging you out of the bar as you stare at each other, unmoving.

Tommy runs in, breath ragged and hair a mess. His eyes dart around until they land on you. He calls your name, running toward you. “Tommy, what’s wrong?”

“Maria’s in labor.”

Whatever trance Joel put you under is gone as years of experience snap into place. You turn to him. “Will you grab my clinic key and get the green bag?”

“Of course.” Joel nods and then Tommy grabs your hand, dragging you to the house. Ellie and Joel are not far behind.

Maria is pacing the guest room when you get there, letting out small groans. Like everything else, Maria handles childbirth with grace and dignity- something you wish you could’ve done.

You shake the memories from Carter’s birth from your mind. It’s mostly a blur- what you remember from that day haunts you. You were a mess- inconsolable. There was no grace or dignity in it.

“How far apart are your contractions?”

“Hello to you too.” She pops a smile. Your tight lips don’t budge. She sighs. “About three minutes.”

“Three minutes? Maria!”

She waves you off. “You were never more than two minutes away.”

“We agreed on five.”

“I changed my mind.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re a shit patient.”

“I’ve been on bed rest for two weeks, have I not?”

You quirk an eyebrow. She may not have left the house, but you’re not convinced she was following the rest of your instructions.

She waves you off like it’s nothing. “I heard you were at the Tipsy Bison.”

You shoot her a glare. “You are literally on the verge of having a baby, Maria. My social life is unimportant.”

“I can still talk in labor.”

“Not about this.”

“Oh come on, I’m going to be here all night. Might as well entertain me.” She grins.

“No. Now let me check your cervix.”

Maria sighs, sitting on the bed. “I think we’re too close as friends.”

Maria’s labor moves quickly. Before midnight, the baby is crowning. You’re coaching Maria through it as Tommy stays by her side, offering what support he can. Maria lets out low moans as she works through contractions, bearing down when you say. Sweat dampens her brow. She’s tired but determined. “How much longer?”

You meet her eyes, giving her an encouraging smile. “You’re almost there. One or two more, Okay?”

She nods, and then another contraction hits. You feel them in your hands, guiding the newest member of Jackson, Wyoming into the world. There’s a long pause, there always is, you never get used to it, you’re quick to clear airways, and then he takes a deep breath, and tiny little wails fill the room.

Relief fills Maria’s eyes and looks of awe and wonder fill the couple’s faces. You can’t help but let out a joyful little laugh. “It’s a boy.”

You place him on Maria’s chest. The proud parents crowd around him, their voices softening, pitching up as they soak in their first moments of a family of three.

“Tommy, you wanna cut the cord?”

He nods. You show him where to do it, and then he’s right back at Maria’s side, caressing his son’s head.

“He’s got so much hair,” Tommy says. Tears gather in the new parents’ eyes.

You’re quiet as you tidy up. Before you slip out, Maria grabs your hand. “Thank you.”

You smile at your best friend. “Of course. Anything for y’all.” She squeezes your hand and you return the gesture. “I’ll give you a few minutes and then be back in to finish up.”

She nods. You wash your hands in the hall bathroom, shedding the soiled apron you wear. Joel greets you when you come out. He raises his eyebrows. “I heard crying, and it sure as hell wasn’t Tommy.”

You laugh. “It’s a boy.”

You see Joel’s happiness for his brother on his face before the big smile ever crosses it. He wraps his arms around you. You lean in, laying your head on his chest. His heart beats beneath your ear steady as a drum. The stress you’ve been carrying for months over this day starts to dissipate from your body. It’s here. He’s here. It happened. You made it through.

Tommy peaks his head out. “Maria says she’s ready for you.”

You nod. Joel kisses your head and you pull away, warm energy thrumming in your veins. Maria looks almost annoyed when she sees you, knowing what’s coming.

“He have a name yet?”

“No,” Tommy looks pointedly at his wife. “She swore we were having a girl. Wouldn’t even discuss boys’ names.”

Maria rolls her eyes, making you laugh. “Tommy, go make yourself useful and get me some water.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Tommy chuckles, the grin unwipable from his face. His hand runs over his son’s head before he leaves.

Maria shifts slightly, careful not to disturb the sleeping infant at her side. She lets out a soft hiss.”

“You good?”

“Yeah, you know how it is. Pretty sure the placenta is already out.”

You nod, kneeling at the end of the bed. You’re relieved to see the placenta delivered, fully intact. There’s some bleeding, but no more than what you’d expect. Another relief. “We should get Tommy in here to move you back to your room. How do fresh sheets sound?”

“Like a slice of heaven.” She smiles.

You move Maria to their room, Tommy sweeping her into his arms like a groom would carry his wife on their wedding night. They throw baby names back and forth as they cross the hall. You carry the baby, swaddled and sleeping. Once he’s tucked into his mother’s arms, you set to work cleaning up. It’s always the hardest part as the adrenaline fades from your bones. Tommy and Maria’s bickering floats across the hallways as you do, making you laugh. This baby may never get named at the rate they’re going.

The first time Tommy calls out your name. It doesn’t register. The second time is much more urgent and he’s in the doorway of the guest room. He’s gone pale, breathing heavily.

Your stomach drops. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s bleedin. It’s soaked through the towel.”

“Shit.” You drop what’s in your hand, grabbing your bag of supplies.

Tommy is at Maria’s side. You lift the blanket and your heart drops. You glance back up at Maria. She looks tired. You’d expect it, but this feels different. “How do you feel?”

“Like I just had a baby.” She tries to joke, but it falls flat. She knows this is bad too. “A little lightheaded.”

There’s another gush of blood. A clot that’s bigger than it should be. “Fuck, Fuck, fuck.” Your breathing turns ragged. There’s too much blood and more appears bringing another large clot with it. She’s hemorrhaging.

“What should I do?” Tommy asks. He’s panicking.

“Go get Joel.” Tommy tries to protest. You cut him off. “Get Joel back in here.” You leave no room for debate, but he still hesitates. “Now!”

He finally listens. Maria locks eyes with you. She knows. You see the fear in her eyes, and it knocks the breath out of you. You’ve never seen Maria scared. She’s always so sure and sturdy, but not now. Her skin has gone dull, losing its typical vibrance, like the life is slowly draining from her. You want to sit on the floor and weep, but you have to push through. “Deep breaths, Maria. I need you to stay as calm as possible.”

You dig through your bag, pulling out everything you need.

Joel is barely across the threshold when you direct him to the chair next to the bed. He doesn’t have time to ask questions. He knows it’s best not to. “You promise you’re O negative?”

“Yes, why?” He hardly gets the words out before you clean his arm with high-proof moonshine and insert the needle in his vein. He winces. You’re efficient, ensuring there’s no air in the tube before inserting the other end into Mari’s arm. You glance down at your watch, noting the time.

“Keep your arm elevated. If you start to get dizzy, you tell me.” You’re stern. You leave no room for argument. Joel watches as his blood flows through the short plastic tube connected to Maria.

You have no idea if this will work. She’s probably losing blood too fast and the risk of complications looms in your mind, but you’ve never had someone survive a hemorrhage like this before. It’s your only hope and you will do everything within your power to keep Maria on this earth.

Maria stays as quiet as she can. She’s focused on her son, memorizing everything about him, so you focus on saving her life.

“What’s happening?” Tommy stays in the doorway. You don’t turn around. You can’t stop what you’re doing. You have to stop the bleeding. It’s the only thing on your mind now. “Tell me what’s happening to my wife!”

“She’s trying to save your wife’s life!” Joel snaps. “Let her do her job.”Joel keeps his eyes pinned to you.

“Tommy,” Maria says. “Come here.” Her voice is weak and raspy. You have to push it out of your mind. If you don’t, you’ll break. You can’t break right now.

Tommy kneels next to Maria and his son. He’s caressing both their heads. You’re sure he’s crying. You’re not convinced you’re not crying too, but you’re too preoccupied to take stock of it.

You know when she goes unconscious, but you don’t hear anything from Tommy. The room is so silent as you rotate between massaging Maria’s uterus and packing it. You’re running out of semi-sterile material. Has the bleeding slowed down? How long has this been going on? It feels like a lifetime. You can’t spare a second to look at your watch.

Joel’s arm drops a little. It’s getting tired. “Keep your arm higher than her head.” You spare a look at Joel only because it pertains to Maria’s health. “Stand if you have to, but slowly.”

The blood loss appears to be slowing down, but you don’t. You keep going and going and going, until you’re sure it’s stopped. Then, you just sit there and wait. Tommy wants to demand answers, but Joel glares him into silence.

You dare you to step back. You’re on autopilot, the adrenaline wearing off long ago. You check her heartbeat and her blood pressure. Neither is great, but it could be worse. You dare to hope you’ve seen the worst of it.

Joel stumbles forward a little bit, catching himself on the bed frame.

“Shit.” You rush over to his side, guiding him back into the chair.

“I'm fine, I’m fine.” He brushes you off, making sure his arm is still raised. You see the shake of it.

You check your watch. It takes you longer than it should to do the math. “Fuck, you’ve been hooked up for too long.”

Joel stops your hand before it can pull. “No, no. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re done.”

“No, Maria… she’s not awake yet… she-” Tommy stands up.

“She’s not waking up.” You face him.

He loses any color he has left, panic-stricken across his face. “What?”

“Fuck,” you cringe. “I mean tonight, Tommy. She’s not waking up tonight. She needs to rest.”

“So she’s going to be okay?”

You want to assure him. You look at their newborn baby sleeping in the bassinet in the corner. You don’t know when he was moved and it doesn’t matter. You want to promise Tommy that he’s not going to be a widower, that their son won’t be motherless, but you can’t.

“I don’t think she’s going to die from blood loss anymore.”

It’s a small assurance, but it’s all you have to give. When you attempt to remove the needle from Joel’s arm this time, he lets you. The bandage feels so delicate and small compared to the trauma you just dealt with. You struggle with it. Joel takes over for you.

“You need food, something to drink,” you say.

“I’ll get it,” Joel says.

You push him back into the chair. “You’re in no condition to walk downstairs.”

“Neither are you.” He says, eyes traveling over your frame.

You furrow your brow. You don’t understand. You don’t see or feel the blood that dresses you, not yet

“Ellie!” Joel yells.

It’s a stark contrast to the quiet encapsulating the room. You hear her footsteps up the stairs. She enters, eyes going wide. She surmised something wasn’t right, but the copious amounts of blood are startling. “Holy shit.”

“Will you bring up some food? Water?” Joel looks to you to confirm.

“Fruit.”

Joel nods. “And then take Carter home?”

“I should-” you go to say.

“No.” Joel cuts you off. He takes your hand, thumb running over your knuckles. “Not tonight.”

Ellie nods. She knows now is not the time for the many questions running through her mind. “Yeah, of course.”

Tommy clears his throat, still searching for answers. You sigh. “I can’t promise anything, Tommy. There’s still so much that could happen, but she’s strong.”

“I know how strong my wife is. I need to know that she’ll be okay.” He’s still pushy and you don’t blame him. You’re all on edge.

“I don’t know!” The world blurs before you. “The risk of infection is high, she- she could have complications from-” Your chest rattles. Joel’s hand settles on your back. Tommy can’t look at you. “She’s my best friend, Tommy. I’m doing everything I can.”

Tommy nods. He knows it’s true, but he’s scared. This is Maria. She keeps Jackson going. She keeps you going.

Ellie brings up the food. She wants to do more, you can see it in her eyes. You can’t pull the words out anymore.

“Thank you, kiddo,” Joel says.

Ellie makes a face at the name. She shoves a strawberry in Joel’s face. “Eat this, you look like a ghost.”

“Carter?” You ask.

“Passed out on the couch,” Ellie smiles proudly. You need the relief, you just hate that the 15-year-old bears that responsibility. “Glad he’s potty trained.”

“Thank you, Ellie.”

She nods at you. There’s some hesitation like she might wrap her arms around you for a second time that day. Was that really only hours ago? But she ducks out of the room instead.

You make sure Tommy and Joel eat. You’re amazed that the newborn still sleeps. His chest rises and falls and from your check-up, he seems to be healthy. You check Maria’s blood pressure and heart rate again. It hasn’t gotten worse.

You clean up as best you can without jostling Maria too much. Tommy joins in, working silently alongside you. Much to his displeasure, you make Joel stay seated. It’s another long silence before you’re finished.

“Sweetheart, you need to go home.”

You’re dead on your feet. Your arms feel like lead at your sides. It’s so apparent in all of your movements, but you don’t feel like you can leave her side. Fear flares up in Tommy’s eyes and then he takes in your appearance.

“He’s right,” Tommy says.

You intend to put up a fight, but it doesn’t happen. You feel the exhaustion in every fiber of your being. You’re not sure you won’t collapse at any minute.

You pull out a bottle of antibiotics. Maria would hitch a fit you know, but you don’t care. You’ll do anything you can to make sure she recovers, and you can’t keep the medicine forever. It’s going to be fancy water eventually if it isn’t already. You hand the bottle to Tommy with careful instructions. “If her breathing changes, or she starts bleeding, come get me immediately.”

He nods. “Of course.”

“We’ll stop at Paul and Lindsey’s, she’s still breastfeeding. Little man is going to want to eat any minute.”

Tommy nods. Joel’s arms come around you, supporting you from behind. Your legs attempt to fold but you regain your balance with his help. Glancing between Tommy and Maria, the urge to stay inflames again, but Joel is leading you out of their home before you have time to comprehend it.

He leaves you on the front steps, approaching Paul and Linsey’s on his own. You’re worried about him, sure he gave too much of his blood tonight, but he comes back a few minutes later.

Joel leads you through your house. You want to collapse into bed at first sight, but he tugs you back. “Shower first.”

The small protest dies on your lips the moment you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You look like you have stepped out of a horror film. You don’t even recognize yourself. Blood, Maria’s blood, coats your shirt and arms. Smudges streak your cheeks. Some of it’s in your hair. It’s endless. Your body begins to shake. You don’t think it’ll ever stop. You lean against the vanity for a semblance of stability. It’s useless. You stare at it all, taking it in, but it doesn’t look like you. It’s like you’re in some faraway space floating around, not connected to your body.

Joel tears your shirt down the back. He’s quick and gentle about it. Your bra is next. He slips off your shoes and then your pants until you’re completely naked. Steam fills the room. Blood soaked through your clothes in some places, painting your skin like modern art. Joel backs you into the shower with ease. You’re pliable, muscles turned to liquid.

Hot water cascades over your body, flooding your eyes. It’s suffocating until Joel pushes your hair out of your face, redirecting the water with his hands. His fingers massage at your scalp over and over. He adds soap to your hair, pulling it through until the grime and blood are gone.

There are no noises, no tears, but you can’t stop the shaking. You must look pitiful standing under the water like a limp doll as you lose control of your body.

Joel scrubs your body clean, and then he does it a second time for good measure. When he finishes, his fingers trail up your arms and neck until he cups your cheeks firmly. Your eyes finally focus on his, pulling you back into yourself with a thud. You feel it all at once, his hands on you, the rawness on your skin, the hot water pounding down on you. Joel sees it happen, his hands slide under your arms as your knees give way. The tears fall. Your back hits the cool tiles. Joel presses against your front, keeping you up.

Finally, tears wet your cheeks. Sobs leave your chest, and your brain spirals through it all: Maria okay one minute and bleeding out the next. The fact that it stopped was little comfort now. So much could still go wrong, and you can’t lose Maria. She’s your rock, probably the only reason you’re alive today. Losing her would be harder than losing Gabe.

If she dies, it’s your fault because you couldn’t save her.

Your chest constricts with a tight, wheezing inhale. The tears stop as you struggle to breathe. Joel takes your hand, laying it over his chest. “Breathe, I’ve got you, Sweetheart.”

He models it. You see and feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. His hand stays over yours until the ache in your chest eases and the water runs cold.

Joel picks you up, tugs a soft shirt over your head, and crawls into bed behind you. He’s solid and warm against your back. You’re locked against him. His fingers dance across your stomach, lips brush against your ear. You lean into him. In such a short time, he’s come to know you so well. Maria is your rock, but Joel is your support. He tore down your walls like cheap construction and built a fucking shelter to keep you warm. You let your brain take you away before the rest of it can sink in because loving Joel Miller would be wonderful, but losing him would kill you.

He whispers in your ear. “What do you want?”

Your eyes won’t stay open anymore between the exhaustion and Joel clouding your senses.

“Stay,” you fumble out. You don’t know if it’s decipherable but it works.

For the first time, Joel stays the night in your bed.

#the last of us #joel miller #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller/reader #pedro stories #pedrostories #pedro #the last of us fanfiction #woman (joel’s version)#woman (joel miller)

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dr3c0mix · 10 months

Note

Hiii! Could you please do a scenario where the reader is gushing over a fictional character and saying stuff like how hot they are and that they (reader) want to marry them (fictional character). And then the reaction of your characters to all that (specifically darik and hallow I think were the names) thanks!!

When Their Darling Simps For A Fictional Character

My OCs x GN Reader

hey silly billys !! ill be on a little hiatus for a bit because ill be visiting family <3 thank you for all the love yall have given me and my characters!

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Adrian sees you on your phone and smiling at...a cartoon character??

Over the course of the week, he teases and makes fun of you for it, but quickly goes through the stages of grief over how he's not getting your attention as much as before.

At first, he denies that he's jealous of a fucking picture, but that denial is soon forgotten once he hears you comment about how hot they were and he's fuming.

He'll try any way to get you to pay attention to him, slap your phone out of your hand, throw balls of paper at you, anything to make you stop ogling over that dumb character and be with him!!

"Stop looking at that stupid fanfiction and pay attention to me!"

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Brandon is not hiding the fact that he's jealous.

I mean he's trying, but you can clearly see he has beef with your fictional husbando.

He goes home and does research on the character, asking you all casual sounding what you like about them and change a bit of his style depending on your answer.

If you like how masc they are, he's gonna show off his muscles more during training, take off his shirt drenched with sweat in front of you, anything he can think of to make you think he's more manly and therefore more worthy of your love and attention.

"Hey (Y/N)! Check out my new haircut! You know, it kinda reminds me of that character you like right?...right?"

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Valeth brought you a few books to read and he notices you taking a liking to a certain character in one of them.

You tell him how dreamy and attractive the character is and how awesome they are, and he's trying not to grab your little book and throw it in the fire.

He would never want you to hate him for destroying something you love but goddAMN would it be satisfying.

He makes sure to note what characteristics you like about them and see if he can display them himself.

The big orc would even try to hide your book in a high shelf so you can't read it and pay attention to this fictional character instead of him :(

"Duckling? How about you put down that book and we prepare dinner together? I've missed spending time with my love~"

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Bo hates it. But he stays quiet about it, there's no way he can tear apart something that doesn't exist...

He's really salty and a bit whiny about it, begging you to compliment and love on him instead.

"Why settle for some fake when ya got the real thing right 'ere darlin'?"

Ribs is tearing apart anything that depicts the character. Say goodbye to your comic books or magazines.

He just throws a little pouty tantrum because you love someone that isn't the horde.

"You're our mate! Now please come here so I can hug you!" >:I

Soda is sitting across from you as you ramble about how cool this character is and he's not listening at the slightest. Fuck this guy, who even are they???

After you're done, he crawls up to you and pulls you into a tight cuddle.

"Thats nice...can we go back to kissing now?"

Screw just thinks you like the merch and not the character so he collects anything with your favorite character on it.

However, the others get mad at him for it and explain. Screw then takes it all away and hides it somewhere you'll never find.

"mmm I think we're cooler.."

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Wolfie isn't happy. He takes whatever thing you have of your character, and he rips it to pieces.

You run after him as he has your treasured item in his mouth and you hear his muffled laughing as he shakes his head around, ruining it..

He makes it his mission to jump in your lap whenever he sees you gushing about your little character, or pawing your face so you can look at him and love him now. It's been 5 minutes (Y/N)! It's his turn!

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Dorik's eye twitches as he watches you smiling and giggling over some picture. What's so good about it anyway?

He tries to get your attention on him by being extra obedient, making your favorite food, turning on your favorite movie for the both of you to watch, running you a hot bath, anything to make you praise him and not that stupid little image!

He almost settles to whining and begging for your attention, asking why and how you like this drawing and not him! He's your loyal servant after all!

"Master! They don't deserve someone as wonderful and perfect as you! Let's just eat dinner together and forget about them!"

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Kalva is a bit like screw and supports your interest in the character, but only if you praise him for finding little trinkets and stuff of them.

He loves seeing you happy, even though he hates the fact that you talk about them like they're your mate or something, but that's nonsense, he's your mate!

There will not be anything of that character in your shared bed/nest. You have a personal space for them, but your bed is special to only you and him.

He coos to sleep next to you, mumbling about you possessively while he huddles close to your warmth.

"Cute mate, my little mate, you're my mate! My happy little darling!"

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Jasper wouldn't really care unless you directly tell him you like them better than him then he's committing a war crime.

If he hears you saying you want to marry them, he's stealing all your merch of the character and burning them.

He might distract you with Jonesy like pushing a glass off a table and framing it on the cat so you could stop paying attention to your fanfics or whatever.

"H-hey, Jonesy's on the table again...maybe you should switch apps...take some pictures.."

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Viktor tries to stay cool but deep down, he's very very jealous of how much you like this character.

He's one of the only ones to actually confront you about it and he's adorable whilst doing so.

"M-my dear, maybe you should read some other books? I-I know how much you love that one but maybe uhm..we could read one together?"

Garrick doesn't even hide his hatred towards them, he insults and belittles them every chance his gets.

Why be interested in someone like them when you got 3 supernatural men hopelessly in love with you?

"Oh they're strong? Bet I could beat em in a fight. Can they turn into a bat? Probably not..I can though!"

Silas ignores it, he's sure it's just a little interest that will go away sooner or later.

But if he hears you talking about wanting to marry them, he's sitting you down and asking you why you'd want to do that. He hints a lot about him being a better pick.

"Darling I'm sure you can do better than them..I mean..you sure theres no other..attractive..intelligent and interesting people in your life?.."

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Baron has to keep his cold exterior from breaking every time you ramble to him about your favorite character. He's read the books you've read because he's a creep because he wanted to know you better and he can't help but find some similarities between him and that character of yours.

He wants to speak up about it but he's scared what he might imply. A bit of him is a bit flattered that you find people like him hot, maybe he should show off those characteristics more often around you.

"They're uhm..interesting, Boss..sounds a lot like someone I know..."

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Caspian is a whiny bitch when he finds out your liking to that character, he'll try to guilt trip you into dropping your interest in them because 'he should be your only love!'

He'll try his best to get you to look at him instead of that ugly little book.

"You love them more than me don't you? You're so very mean sometimes my treasure!"

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Hallow is hiding the book, no ifs, ands or buts. He's not letting some big strong hero protagonist person take up your attention. If you try finding it, he's ripping it up and disappearing for days.

He'll be extra cuddly to you from then. He'll make sure he's the one who makes you happy, not your other little friend.

"I'll give it back to you doll, if you give me a kiss~"

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loveundrwrld · 6 months

Text

came back yandere - undead yandere x reader

(content warnings: death, mentioned cannibalism, some minor gaslighting stuff from the yandere)

if someone had asked you if you could bring anyone back from the dead, there’s only one answer that you would pick. your dearest, closest childhood friend leon, who you lost when you two were just starting off college together.

you were completely broken by the tragedy and decided to move away from your hometown to transfer to a new school. you wanted to start all over, to put the loss out of your mind.

when you come back to visit your hometown after graduating. . . you feel as if you are losing your mind. it feels like you are seeing him everywhere. even though you know it’s impossible.

eventually, one day, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you follow him. you want to see for yourself if you’re going mad, or if the friend you keep seeing out of the corner of your eyes is really there. despite knowing it’s hopeless, you desperately want any chance of seeing him again.

you actually end up bumping into him as he stops unexpectedly- he noticed you following him, and, to your surprise, he’s real. not an illusion that your desperate, grief-riddled mind came up with, but a real, solid man. one that looks exactly like the friend that you have lost.

unbeknownst to you, to him, you're just a passing curiosity, an odd person who's been watching him from time to time while he was walking to the graveyard to sneak in a little snack.

you politely apologize and excuse yourself, but he smiles, unbothered, and lets you explain yourself.

he knows while you tell him about leon, about how much you care for this friend of yours, that he cannot possibly match the person you are describing in anything except appearance. he remembers nothing at all about his life, but he's never cared about anything except himself before in the short life he knows. there is no way that could be him.

but, he sees the desperation in your eyes, and the love that you have for this person who shares his face. and suddenly he's hit with a kind of hunger he's never remembered having before.

he’s suddenly overwhelmed with a vicious, overpowering desperation that matches your own. to have your love, the love that this leon had lost.

he knows now that he will take that love from you. no matter what he has to do.

“i'm leon,” he lies. “i’m so sorry you’ve missed me.”

over time you spend more time together, wanting to be closer to the friend you once knew. and he goes above and beyond, being the most sweet, considerate friend you’ve ever had. even kinder to you than he ever was before.

he doesn’t spend any time at all with his friends and family, but that’s ok because he’s making up lost time with you, right? it’s not strange at all that he would want to spend all of his time around you, knowing how depressed you were after he died. and sure, he won’t talk about his death or his mysterious reappearance at all, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to disturb you with any depressing details. it’s not that he’s keeping secrets.

if you notice that he’s acting any differently . . . he immediately changes what he does, going back to how you say he used to act. if you express any confusion on his preferences changing . . . well, there’s always a reason for that, with him. what, he used to hate watching horror movies? well, he was just going along with what you wanted to do, he was just being polite.

he’s your best friend, just like you wanted . . . he’ll be anyone you want him to be.

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #zombie x reader #male yandere #undead yandere #leon north

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bloodychazorite · 6 months

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Q!Slime Rant :DDD

I think Q!Slime deserves to snap, or–at the very least–be bitter.

It is insane how the other members of the other members have been treating him, ever since he lost his daughter. Mocking him, ridiculing him, bringing him back over and over again to that moment. Gods forbid, however, he does the same for a second, asking the–perfectly rational, by the way–question of whether or not the eggs are actually okay. Everyone knows JuanaFlippa is different from the other eggs, being brought back a few times now. And even Slime doesn’t know this but the other residents of the island suspect that Juana is code and trying to infect him. They know she’s different as well, so the question isn't insane.

Wilbur openly poked him, calling him a Misclicker but as soon as he brings up that valid point of Tallulah maybe not being okay, he snaps. (Also this hypocrite was yelling at Phil for not doing anything? Oh my gods.) Bad brought up Flippa’s death and Charlie’s mistakes and failures every chance he got and gave him an egg named after his dead daughter during his fucking breakdown. I’m aware that he’s a demon and maybe that contributes to the fact that he has harshly different standards of what’s okay, but that is an insane action to jump to. When your egg is alive, it’s a lot easier to mock those with dead children, isn’t it?

No one is even remotely attempting to help him with the Code Virus.

They are laughing, and they are pointing it out, but no one is doing anything. Each and every one of them knows that Charlie will be stubborn if they tell him it’s Flippa. Denial is his favorite stage of grief and he’s hardly left it since he first got on this island. But that doesn’t change the fact that people know something is wrong and no one has tried to help other than a brief, “Are you okay?” Or an “Are you feeling alright?”

Clearly not!!

I’m not saying he was a perfect saint, and I’m not saying he’s never done anything wrong. For a while, he was a terrible parent. But he was trying to change, and even succeeding in a few aspects. He loved his girl and was trying to change for her, even before she died for the first time.

Each time he had something taken from him, he got worse.

Every time his daughter died, Mariana left, Tilín’s death, everything makes him worse.

No one tried to help him then, and no one is trying to help him now.

He is far from perfect, but he hardly deserves the endless amounts of suffering he’s been subjected to, not many people do.

A person is deteriorating, decaying, being eaten alive from the inside out in front of each of the island’s residents. People are watching decomposition happen in real time, mentally and physically. In the mental aspect, they’ve been watching it happen for months.

I hope Charlie goes full corrupt and eats all their asses.

Y'know what? Not even that!

I hope he goes full corrupt and they have to lock him up or contain him somehow because he becomes a danger to others or a contamination issue.

Maybe he drags himself around the island, voice hollow and teeming with glitch after tic after error.

Perhaps the Federation could step in and drag him away kicking and screaming desperately for his daughter, wailing and sobbing for anyone to listen and save him, forgive him.

He could lose all concept of his humanity, entirely a shell of his former self, and every person he speaks to can hardly find his soul behind his eyes until he sees Flippa. Not even José cheers him up anymore. The only light in his eyes is the unnatural green gleam against his now dull blue eyes when his gaze meets Flippa’s.

And I hope that–no matter what–every member of Quesadilla Island has to come to terms with the fact that they did nothing to help a suffering, mentally tortured friend, and now there’s a chance that they’ll never get him back.

Anyway I’m insane how's your day going :p

#qsmp #q!slimecicle #charlie slimecicle #badboyhalo #el mariana #juanaflipa #codecicle #qsmp codeflippa #they make me sick #I hope Q!Slime gets worse #can't wait till everything goes to shit #qsmp rant #fucking love this server man #somebody please talk to me about this I'm imlpoding

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demaparbat-hp · 3 months

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Hi there. ^_^ ♥ First, LOVE your art!♥

2nd, for your Katara joins Zuko in hunting the Avatar AU idea, I have a question. :)

If originally Zuko was hunting him to restore his honor, but now he's part of the White Lotus, does this make the White lotus evil? (The kind that think they're doing it for good, but they're delusional, because their idea is clearly bad.)

Or, if they're not evil, what is Zuko's new reason for hunting the Avatar, if not for his honor? :)

Hello, and thank you for the question!

I hope you don't mind me making this a sort-of continuation to this post, but the replies are connected, in a way.

Now, it may come as no surprise that I love to play with canon divergences. So it stands to reason that one minor change to canon became the basis for Zuko's character in this AU. Mainly, that he stayed behind with Azula to eavesdrop the rest of Ozai's audience with Fire Lord Azulon, and thus was witness to the latter demanding his death in exchange for Ozai's right to the throne.

Zuko, unable to sleep that night, is wide awake when Ursa comes to see him. He delays her, deeply afraid of what's happening, and follows her silently through the dark halls of the palace when she leaves. But Ozai intercepts her. Ozai kills her, and Zuko watches.

It changes everything and nothing at all at the same time. Zuko's desire to be the Perfect Prince isn't because he wishes for his father's attention and love—instead, it comes from a place of grief. Zuko's is a simmering rage that drives him to one day take the throne (the very same throne that turned his mother to ashes and gave her no ceremony) from Ozai in revenge. But to do so he first needs to be ready for it.

Zuko learns to listen. Slithering through the shadows of the palace and pushing himself beyond his limits. But the Agni Kai happens. And when everything is lost, Zuko turns his misfortune into an advantage.

Uncle had started to introduce him to the White Lotus before his banishment, so Zuko becomes a member after he's fully healed. He makes the best out of what little he has—a crew full of agents, traitors and dissidents, and a position and name in the Fire Nation military that, while precarious in nature of his banishment, still allows him certain sway from within.

Time passes, and he grows. He goes to missions for the White Lotus, puts a stop to several plans for minor invasions and battles (nothing major, as to not cause suspicion) and works hard and subtle to better things wherever he goes.

He makes plans. Reckless, half-impossible plans to depose of his father. But they are useless and, most often than not, bloody.

The conditions of his banishment are clear. He is stripped of all titles and rights as Prince and can never set foot on the Mainland ever again. He's no longer the Crown Prince to the Fire Nation and has, by the Divine Law of Agni, no right to the throne. That is, of course, unless he does the impossible, captures the long-missing Avatar, and brings them to the Fire Lord. And that, for obvious reasons, is not an option. It hasn't been an option for the last one hundred years.

Until it is.

Capturing the Avatar is not something Zuko does to regain his honor or earn his father's respect (the first, because he had never lost it; the second, because he's never had it in the first place). It is a necessity. Something he must do if he wants to reclaim his title as Crown Prince, take the throne from his father and end the war once and for all.

But, let me tell you a secret. This AU? It was born because I woke up one day with a single phrase repeating itself in my head, over and over again:

The Prince refused to play Pai Sho, not because he was bad at it but, rather, out of boredom—he never lost a single game.

And that's just it. It's a game.

He can't take an untrained, childish fifteen year old Avatar to his father. But he can give the kid enough time to get ready. Chase him around, play the Bad Guy, push him away from the real dangers out there. Oh, he will deliver the Avatar to the Fire Lord—he just needs to keep his cover as loyal prince long enough for the boy to play his part and become a fully realized Master.

The Gambit is dangerous and double-edged, but all of Zuko's moves on the board are part of the same strategy. This, after all, is just another game of Pai Sho.

And he never loses.

#dema answers #atla #zutara #zuko #avatar the last airbender #katara #hunters au #Katara joins Zuko AU #zutara au #fire lord ozai #uncle iroh

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natjennie · 5 months

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thinking about how much a time loop ghosts fic would rip like. maybe it's carpe diem right. like imagine cap doesn't reveal his story, he chickens out, the clock strikes midnight no one moves on they dance they go to bed they wake up.

the morning clubs and discussions seem vaguely familiar but, he's been dead almost 80 years, they run into repeating themselves sometimes, it doesn't register as weird. but when robin runs in yelling that there's a pattern to when they move on, cap starts to get confused. maybe robin is just trying again, he thinks it's TODAY instead? but everyone is reacting like this is the first time they've heard it. maybe he dreamed last night? but he's never had such vivid dreams. strange. he's on edge all day, coming up with theories, and everyone who talks to him can tell there's something a little off. but he doesn't rush into things, so he tries his best to do things the same as yesterday and not make anyone suspicious, but keeps an eye out for anything weird. and he has nothing, clock, dance, sleep. maybe it was a weird dream? but here robin comes again and now he knows something is wrong. so then like, who would he go to first? how does he tell the different ghosts?

there's loops upon loops where he tries telling some of them but not others, having to learn the specific things to say to convince them it's happening and to get them to help. there's loops where he goes to alison and loops where he doesn't and loops where he tries staying away from everyone all day and loops where he can quote what everyone is gonna say before they say it and then. he starts to think, is this really any different than being a ghost in the first place? he's so tired and nothing is working and. maybe he should just give up. experiencing this day over and over again isnt functionally any different than experiencing mindless other days over and over again for years on end. and then he starts to question himself. has this happened before and he's just never noticed? where there years in there, before alison, before pat's clubs, when he'd done the same day multiple times and just been so used to the monotony it didn't register?

and he falls into this like hole of grief and fear and confusion and mostly he thinks about havers. about how if he was here, he would know what to do. about how he always knew what to do. and for loops and loops on end, he stops counting, all he does is wish havers was there with him. he grips the swagger stick so hard it snaps and he throws it as far into the forest and as deep into the lake as he can just to watch it reappear in his hands and he thinks about anthony. about what he had, about what he lost, about what he still has to gain. and he thinks that maybe his family deserve to know. it's not that he owes it to them, it's not something being dragged out of him, taken, like everything else. this is something he can give, freely, and maybe, just maybe, it'll start to feel a little lighter.

so he decides, tomorrow, or today, or the same yesterday, or however it works. next loop, he'll tell them. he keeps everything as similar as he can to that first day, in case this doesn't work and he has to start changing variables again, and when the clock starts to chime, he tells them. and he grips the stick over his heart and he's ready.

#ARE YOU LISTENING #i love time loop fics so fucking much #someone make this a full fic i dont want to #i cant write for shit lol but imagine this as a long beautiful fic #like 12k words. all one chapter #a song lyric title. the works.#bbc ghosts #the captain #capvers #carpe diem #my writing #< not really but just in case

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cuubism · 10 months

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Hey, okay so I'm still very much ruined by your Dream with wings au and I love the overall theme with coming to terms with the loss of them and accepting it and being able to move on, but my brain is by angst like this immediately in the mode of I have to fix this, have to give him back what he lost in some way.

And yeah, here is what I thought could happen.

So the universe ends, Death closes up. But with every end comes a new beginning and so on. So new universe, all Endless are still there + Hob. But because there aren't any humans yet or maybe there never will be, Hob becomes something else, Hope for example, and grows wings because Hope probably has some. Hob is very much conflicted over that because of obvious reasons but then the first beings of this new universe begin to dream and something changes in Dream. He adapts to the new universe and the new dreamers and one day his back is in absolute agony, his wings have started to grow back because the dreamers of this universe need him to have them. And of course he is rather conflicted about this because he did accept his loss and learned to live without them but also he is so elated to have them back. And Hob is there with him every step of the way and it makes it a lot easier and the first time they fly together is magnificent. And maybe Dreams wings are not completely the same as his old ones as he is not the same he was then but he can fly again and cradle his dreamers close not only in his arms but in the safety of his wings as well.

And well this kinda got a bit sappy but hope you like it. Of course feel free to ignore this ramble if it doesn't fit with your idea of your fic it's just how my brain works. Loved your fic by the way if it wasn't obvious.

Oh this is sweet! Yeah I understand the impulse to want to make it better for him somehow. Dream could definitely regain his wings in a new universe with new dreamers.

I love that it's just Hob at the end. Just Hob and the fundamental concepts of the universe chillin in the void. NOTHING can stop Hob.

On that note--

The first thing Dream knows of the new universe is grief.

He had not expected to know anything. Everything had gone when the universe he'd known had finally succumbed to its ultimate entropy, and if, when, a new one came to be, he had expected to reformed utterly. New dreamers. A new Dream.

The thought of not knowing had given him peace. One could not miss anything when one did not even know one had had it. And Dream, at the end, had had much to miss.

Strange, that. Terrible, that.

Why, then, is he sitting on the shores of creation, wet sand sticking to his clothes, the Dreaming stretching out around him? It's empty, flattened, nothing but black sand and dark sea infinitely in every direction--but it's still the Dreaming he knows. Why? And why is he sitting here?

In the next moment, why ceases to matter. He is sitting here, in the reformed, empty Dreaming of this empty universe. And Hob is not.

He curls his knees up to his chest, presses his forehead into them, wraps his arms around his head. He doesn't want this sun, this sand, this Dreaming. He doesn't want this universe that doesn't have Hob Gadling in it.

He blocks it all from his vision and sobs, there on the beach where he'd once spent so much time creating. There is no one to hear. None of his creations remain. There are hardly any dreamers. He digs his fingers into his hair, wishing he could simply rip himself right out of this universe. Some other Dream can tend it. He's had enough.

A light hand lands on his shoulder.

"Go away," Dream growls. It can only be one of his siblings, new-but-not, and he does not want to see them. Cannot, yet. "Tend your own misery."

"What misery?" says a familiar voice. Dream goes still. Someone sits down beside him. "Don't you want to explore a whole new universe?"

Dream throws his arms around him. Hob catches him, laughing, even as Dream presses his face into his neck, still sobbing. "I care not for this wretched universe."

"What kind of attitude is that to start out with?"

"Hob."

"Shh, it's alright." He pets Dream's hair as Dream persists in trying to crawl into him until they're irreparably tangled together.

"How?"

Hob kisses the top of his head. "You've really got to learn the power of just saying no to stuff."

Dream lets out a hysterical laugh against his neck. He just may have lost his sanity when the universe was scrambled. But he'll take this insane universe that has Hob in it over a sane one that does not. "Just saying no?"

"I didn't want to leave you, so I didn't. Simple," says Hob, and Dream wraps his arms around him tighter.

"Destiny will need to invent a new form of logic to accommodate you, Hob Gadling," he says, and Hob chuckles.

Finally, Dream lifts his head to look at him. Hob looks much the same as Dream last saw him, but a new power thrums around him, an aura that's obvious to Dream now that he is looking. "What... are you?"

Hob tugs on his ear in thought, and Dream smiles inwardly to see that that affectation still persists. "I think I, uh. Don't get mad."

"There is nothing that could possibly anger me now other than losing you again."

"Well. I think I... stole part of your power? Not on purpose, really. It's like you said. When you tell Destiny no, things get... weird."

Dream lays a hand on his cheek. Yes, he can feel it, the hum of his own essence, swiftly merging with Hob's. "You've stolen nothing. But part of my domain is within you, now. Under your care."

"What part's that?"

Dream finally manages a tiny smile, even through lingering tears, at the thought. "I believe it is hope."

Hob studies him, eyes wide, then huffs an incredulous laugh. "Sounds a bit messed up, doesn't it? Me taking hope from you?"

Dream leans his forehead against Hob's. "You give me hope. Every day. By being here. And as I said. You have taken nothing. The power is still a part of me. Hope and dreams are inextricable intertwined. But it is in your care, now."

"Right," breathes Hob in wonder, cradling the back of Dream's head. "That's. Wow."

"'Wow,'" Dream echoes, and Hob laughs, cuffing him lightly about the ear in admonishment for the mocking tone.

Dream's hand is still on Hob's cheek, and he reaches for the power that's in Hob now, touches it, lets it flow through him. It reaches for him in turn, lights up his own power that feels so new and fresh and alive, in this newborn universe. He closes his eyes at the warmth, cries finally quieting in his chest.

Hob sucks in a breath. "Dream..."

Dream comes back to himself with a start. "What? What is wrong?"

Hob is looking over his shoulder. "Nothing." He reaches over Dream's shoulder. Brushes his fingertips along the-- along the wing that is now arched there, folded carefully over his back.

He had not even noticed them appearing. They are not physical wings, to whatever extent Dream has ever been physical. They are pure energy, shimmering translucent in the sun when he folds one around himself to touch it. The ghostly feathers spark with power at his touch, and brighter still when Hob lays his hand over Dream's.

"You're beautiful," says Hob, as Dream keeps touching the feathers in wonder. Hob swipes his thumb under his eye, and it's only then that Dream realizes he's crying again. Silent, glittering tears.

"I do not... understand."

"New universe," Hob says. "New dreamers?"

Dream leans his head on Hob's shoulder. "New dreamer. Have you been imagining me with wings all this time?"

"Couldn't help it," says Hob. He strokes a hand along the phantom bone of the wing, and Dream shivers. "Knew you'd be glorious." He strokes the wing again, in awe. "You're beautiful."

Dream tucks his forehead further into Hob's throat, overcome. "What will I do with you, Hob Gadling?"

Hob pets his hair. "Well, right about now I could really do with a hot bath, I'm absolutely covered in sand. Don't suppose you can make that happen, Dream Lord?"

Dream laughs, wet and aching. "If you had not noticed, we are in the middle of an empty desert."

"So? Blank canvas."

"I suppose... I could create something for you." He thinks about it more, the pain of the empty, desolate Dreaming ceding to a different feeling. Hope. "I suppose... I could create anything."

Hob kisses the top of his head. "Exactly."

#just say no to mortality! the hob gadling ethos #this is the sappiest thing i've written in a while wow #dreamling #dreamling fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #hob x dream #my writing #ask #autumnlibrarywolf #dream's wings

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yandere-daydreams · 8 months

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Feel free to ignore this! I'm just v sleep deprived and having brain rot inspired by some things I saw in ur writing and thought it may be up ur alley. Also this brainrot thingy is mainly aimed at readers who have the ability to get pregnant so if that don't sit right with you feel free to ignore it or change aspects of it!

Hear me out right. A mix of the sex doll au and hybrid au (either fox or husky) for childe. But like in the doll au how he replaces components as a form of trying to live out the dad fantasy? Yeah that but in the hybrid au. Like reader is trying to rehabilitate this poor little baby fox kit/husky puppy that's really sickly and was abandoned. Childe basically looks at the reader playing nurse/mommy for this poor thing almost 24/7 (his attention is being deprived lol) and goes "oh yeah that little one is ours duh". He starts exhibiting protective dad behavior while simultaneously being like "look at how good of a job I can do".

Follow up to that the pup/kit either gets better and can be handed off to another conservationist who has other young hybrids and would do a better job at caring for them in a group environment with other hybrid kiddos so there's less of a risk of em becoming too domesticated. And reader is supper bummed out about it for a while bc all their attention was zoned in on this one really precious little one and now they've moved onto bigger pastures 🥲. Meanwhile childe sees this and is like "oh now I can both console my mate in their grief, I've proven I'm a capable partner, I can totally help them make new little ones!"

Take all of that inspo/brainstorming as u will. Also if you consider people submitting ideas as commissions I apologize for misunderstanding! Did not intend to overstep 🙇‍♀️

tw - implied violence, child neglect/abandonment, and obsessive behavior.

fjdkljdfksdj i think this would probably be more plausible with husky!childe, but something about this scenario with fox!childe is just,,,

it'd just be so sweet to watch him dote over the tiny, terrified kit one of your friends found shivering in a snowbank. you really aren't qualified to take care of such a young hybrid, but while you scramble to get a hold of a more experienced volunteer, childe picks up the slack. despite being old enough to walk, the poor thing barely leaves his arms. he handles their near-hourly feedings, modifies the ill-fitting clothes you pull out of storage to accommodate their tail and hind legs, even lets them crawl between you and him at night and violate his cardinal rule (no one else gets to so much as touch your bed except for him - an unspoken law that's resulted in more than a few bitten hands and bleeding guests). he does his best to put a dent in their never-ending energy, and when it's time for you to take over, he's never more than a few feet away, wagging his tail as you take the kit's temperature and try to convince them to swallow a few drops of medicine. and, when you finally contact a volunteer with a small shelter and a pack of orphaned kits, childe seems as happy as you are, rubbing his cheek against theirs as he tells them that they'll be home soon enough. it's sweet, even if fox-hybrid dynamics are, admittedly, a little lost on you. honestly, you're just relieved you'll be able to sleep through the night again.

at least, you're relieved until you get back from work the next day, until you find your door unlocked and your apartment wrecked, furniture overturned and rust-colored stains soaked into your carpeting. you find childe on the foot of your bed, bouncing a crying kit in his lap and gushing them quietly, but he doesn't look concerned. if anything, his posture is slack, the smile written across his face nothing short of ecstatic. he looks calm. he looks happy.

he looks like someone who only just found his way home.

#hybrid au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere childe #childe x reader #yandere ajax #yandere tartaglia

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 19 days

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i'm not a zvtara shipper in any significant way, but sometimes i can't help but see aang as slightly hypocritical. i get that he managed to let go of katara in CoD, but i don't understand how exactly he let go of her but was still super into her in all of s3. what does "you need to let her go" even means? also, i get that he doesn't want to kill ozai at the end of the series, but what about the times he hurt people in ways that would result in deadly injuries? (i don't hold the end of S1 against him since he was being used as vessel by the ocean spirit, i'm mostly talking about the avalanche he caused on the northern air temple episode)

When Aang leaves the Guru, despite knowing he won't master the Avatar State at all if he left at that point, he did it because he literally ahd a vision of Katara being in danger. When he is letting go of his attachment in that season finale, he gives one last glance at Katara, who is in the middle of a battle, because he knows that the only way to truly help her would be to trust that she will be okay and focus on preventing the Fire Nation from winning.

On the episode "The Awakening", when Aang is panicking and wanting to reveal to the world that he is alive and fight the Fire Lord without a plan, he goes alone. On the day of the eclipse, he kisses Katara, but they go their separate ways in the battle, instead of him being close by in case she needs him.

The "learn to let her go" thing has NEVER been about him no longer being allowed to be in love with her, or even a close friend, and it was never a fully black and white issue either - that's why we see IROH, the guy who lost his son because he chose his quest for power over thinking as parent and thus keeping him away from the battlefield, telling Aang that he is right to choose love above everything. Why we have Katara be the one to literally bring Aang back from the dead. Why the Guru himself explicitly uses Aang's love for Katara as a way to make him strong enough to deal with the grief of losing his people, and why he says "Learn to let her go" not "Forget about her" (there's a reason the cliche of all cliche lines is "If you love someone, set them free" - attachment existing, by itself, it's not a bad thing, but holding onto it ALL the time can get toxic).

Hakoda let his children go when left to fight in the war, doesn't mean he no longer cares or shouldn't care. Iroh let Zuko go in book 3 because at that point he had understood that his nephew needed to follow his own path, doesn't mean he no longer cared or shouldn't have cared anymore. Why is Aang the only one being held to an absurd standard of "If you understood that you can't always be with the people you care about because you got other responsibilities besides just being their friend, that means you're supposed to never want them around even when that wouldn't negatively affect anything"?

As for Aang's supposed "fatal victims" - this is a cartoon that operates on cartoon physics. The Omashu slide/mail system on episode 5 should have left the heroes permanently paralyzed from waist/neck down, assuming they didn't full on die because the human body simply can't survive a fall like that. Firebenders don't burn themselves when practically holding the flame they're generating, nor when they literally breathe fire. We've seen some of the bad guys survive falling down from an airship and hitting the ocean, in full armor, and be completely unharmed.

The show had casualties - but it was always highlighted a fatal injury instead of glossing over it. There's a reason the showrunners were surprised fans ever thought there was even the slightest chance Jet had not died. In a world where people survive absurd stuff, the show suddenly changing the tune to go "Actually this one screwed over some people" is the ONE way to know there actually was a death, and these situations are still the exception, not the rule.

"Oh but Nichya, it was an avalanche!" yes, much like the one in Mulan - a cartoon that is famous for going "Ya know what, the bad guys didn't die despite being buried in the snow long enough that all the good guys left, and only after a major plot event." It's almost like animation does that kind of stuff all the time...

You can't apply real world logic/physics to a cartoon, and it's very weird that the fandom only feels like doing so in the explicit attempt to create a reason to hate on Aang because they don't like that a pacifist remained a pacifist.

#anti zutara #pro kataang #pro aang #aang deserved better #aang defense squad #respect aang or die by my sword

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wordybee · 1 year

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Leverage does a phenomenal job with consistent character development across all episodes barring a few exceptions (*cough*French Connection Job*cough*) but they really deserve bonus kudos for Parker. Parker is a stand-out example of good character development without sacrificing the elements of a character that make them great.

Parker starts out as a quirky super thief with an occasional cutthroat lone wolf attitude that seems, frankly, strange in hindsight. Moments in the pilot like drawing a gun and saying “That makes me cry inside my special, angry place” is not Parker language we recognize from her at any other point during the series run. The closest we get is her jaunty “Bye, now!” when she’s a few moments away from throwing Tara Cole off the roof of a building, but that’s still not quite as affected as the “special, angry place” line, which really sounds more like she’s mimicking something she’s seen elsewhere.

And what might have been a scene in which writers new to these characters were trying to find their footing but slipping a bit becomes a moment of genius when you realize that a core aspect of Parker is that she is mimicking the people around her, all the time. She doesn’t have a good enough hold on social norms to respond confidently to situations without using others as a blueprint. We see it constantly throughout the show, where she questions whether something is supposed to be funny, or “hot”, or creepy, and it becomes retroactively clear that her “special, angry place” line is terminology she likely got from someone in her past.

Leverage effortlessly portrayed Parker’s growth as stemming from her exposure to the other members of the team. Sophie is probably her most formal teacher of socialization, since Parker asks her directly about what to do in certain situations. She learns human connection more naturally from Hardison, who also helps by reassuring her that she is not broken, not crazy, and there is nothing fundamentally wrong with her. Parker recognizes an innate goodness in Hardison and tries to mimic it while Sophie gives more specific direction. From Eliot, Parker learns that the things that make her different aren’t necessarily bad and can in fact benefit the rest of the team. And the way Nate affects Parker might be the most interesting, since it’s clear from the start that Parker observes Nate’s methodology and approach to jobs — they collaborate on plans, he tests her, and his influence takes her from the loner she was before meeting the team to the leader of the team when Nate and Sophie retire.

The team members other than Parker are fairly set throughout the original series run. There are moments of growth and learning (Sophie and her sense of identity, Nate and everything going on in his head, Hardison and his strengths/weaknesses and generally growing up, Eliot and wrestling with his past) but they are primarily the same core people from beginning to end.

No one experiences as dramatic a shift as Parker, who goes from being so removed from humanity that she doesn’t understand why anyone would be upset by death/dying, to wanting to understand that concept and throw herself into it, to embracing empathy and understanding around grief especially and kind of becoming a secondary emotional core (Hardison is, of course, the primary emotional core of the group). That's amazing growth, portrayed subtly but consistently over the course of the original series while the writers "show their work" the entire way.

And the best thing is, she never loses her quirkiness. She never becomes less weird or less Parker, she just evolves into a greater version of Parker. That’s the key to excellent character development: leaving room for growth and evolution but sustaining the character in the same way actual people might change and grow but remain, ultimately, themselves. Leverage manages that beautifully and it’s a remarkable, remarkable thing.

#leverage #parker #leverage meta #I wrote this when I should've been working which is why it's a long rambling mess of thoughts #with every leverage rewatch comes meta

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