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cinnamongorll · 4 months

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a fragile line - chapter 20

read on ao3 (111K words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter 20: 'No Sound But The Wind'

Joel’s POV:

“Get her on the table, now.”

Joel staggered towards the metal surface elevated in the middle of the room; his steps were quick, brutal, and unrelenting. He cradled Juliet against his chest with a gentleness that warred with the fury etched in every fine line on his face.

When he reached the table he stopped, towering over it, reluctant to let go of the woman in his arms. Joel couldn’t get the smell of burning flesh out of his nose. It lingered in the air, choking him with every breath. He heard Ethan shout another command, urging him to lay Juliet’s broken body on the medic’s table. But Joel was getting sick of Ethan’s orders, and he had vowed to keep Juliet safe. He couldn’t let go of her. He couldn’t lose the reassurance of her shallow breaths against his chest.

“Joel! Put her down, we’re running out of time,” begged Ethan.

Joel’s eyes cut to Ethan standing over the metal table with gloves and a stack of gauze. He was right, they didn’t have long. Any minute now someone was going to find the three bodies they left at the armoury or stumble across the mess left at Juliet’s house. But how could he let her go? He would protect her, he would keep her from any more suffering.

Joel knew that he was being selfish, allowing his caveman instincts to control him, but he was still high on adrenaline and that burning rush through his bloodstream told him to hold tight to Juliet and kill anyone who dared take her from him.

Finally, Joel's gaze pointed downwards and he flinched.

He caught sight of the dried blood crusted around her ear and the bruises blossoming on her jaw. Then his eyes dropped lower and he was reminded of the blood that drowned her entire torso, soaking her flannel. Joel tightened his grip, pulling Juliet a bit closer to his chest.

Then his eyes moved to his own hands. Blood coated them so brutally that there was no hint of the tanned skin beneath. Joel flexed his fingers and felt the strain of his fractured knuckles. They were the hands that killed Juliet’s father, they were the hands that protected Juliet; saved her. But they were also the hands that brought her here, that fought infected and raiders across the country to bring her to her own personal hell.

Joel finally released the choked breath caught in his throat and allowed Ethan’s voice to tune back into his mind. He leaned down and rested Juliet on the cold metal surface of the examination table, but he didn’t step back. Joel rested a hand on her shoulder as Ethan rushed around him.

His eyes didn’t leave Juliet’s face. She hadn’t woken yet and terror surrounded Joel’s heart at the thought of never again seeing the warmth of her brown eyes. His hand on her shoulder began to tremble and Joel dipped his gaze to her chest as he concentrated on counting her slow breaths.

Joel watched as Ethan cut open her soiled shirt. Each slice of the knife revealed more of the horror that etched Juliet’s skin. Joel felt his other hand curl against the metal table, demonstrating his excruciating rage. His breaths were fast and heavy.

He wished he had taken longer with Elijah, dragged out his torture, relished in it more. Joel’s rage was a vicious thing. It was always there, lingering under his skin, building until it eventually found its release. And Joel’s fury had burned for a long, long time before his fist finally met Elijah’s face. Joel poured months of frustration, months of fear, months of pure blazing rage into each punch.

With every hit, the image of Juliet’s motionless body flashed white across his vision, fueling his assault. All Joel could focus on was killing, ending the life that had ended Juliet’s. But when he saw the brand on her stomach, Joel wished he had taken his time with Elijah.

Joel’s mind returned to the present when Ethan poured some liquid over Juliet’s wound and he was forced to watch as her skin hissed and blistered. Joel’s head shot up, his eyes wild as he found Ethan’s returning gaze.

“I’m cleaning it,” Ethan reassured.

Joel had no words to vocalise the threats that crawled up his throat and coated his tongue. His mind was entirely consumed by the woman lying on the table. If Joel were to speak right now, he was sure he would start yelling. Joel didn’t think he’d be able to stop.

Instead, Joel threatened Ethan with his murderous stare, following his every movement as he cleaned and dressed Juliet’s wound. Ethan’s hands started to tremble under the weight of Joel’s savage attention.

Minutes crawled by. Joel’s hand didn’t leave Juliet’s shoulder. Without realising, his bloodstained thumb had started to rub across a bare patch of skin near her neck. It moved in soothing circles as Joel unconsciously savoured the feeling of her warm skin, reminding him that she was still alive, that she was still with him.

Just as Ethan was pressing the bandage against her wound, the office door swung open, revealing the bartender from only hours ago. Joel twisted around, shielding Juliet’s unconscious body with his own.

The bartender was out of breath, bending forward to rest his hands on his thighs as he gasped. Joel caught Ethan’s eyes before his gaze returned to the bartender. The man was standing straight again, running his hand through his sweat soaked hair.

“What did you do?” he demanded through deep breaths, staring at Joel.

Joel shifted to cover more of Juliet’s body but the bartender caught his movement. He shot Joel a shocked look then stepped closer. Joel instantly reached for the shotgun still hanging from his shoulder, a clear warning to stay away from the woman behind him.

The bartender raised his hands and Joel eased his grip, allowing the gun to fall from his shoulder again.

“I saved her,” Joel ground out, the first words he’d uttered since the basement. His voice was low and flat, entirely devoid of feeling. Joel felt no guilt over his actions, only a deep, brutal fear for Juliet.

The bartender’s gaze found Ethan, standing behind the table, his hand hovered over the fresh bandage which now covered almost the entirety of Juliet’s stomach. Ethan nodded to the bartender, his chin dipping solemnly. “Elijah’s dead,” he announced in a quiet voice.

The bartender's whole body flinched as his eyes cut to Joel again. He didn’t look angry, just shocked. But that shock transformed into horror when he finally noticed Juliet’s wounds. The man’s eyes filled with tears as he took slow, shaky steps towards them. Joel allowed it this time, having assessed that the bartender held no hostility towards them.

“Juliet,” the bartender gasped out with a cry.

“She’s alive,” Ethan responded quickly.

“Barely,” Joel cut in, his hand moving to his gun. “We need to get her outta here.”

The bartender swallowed before meeting Joel’s dark eyes. “They found the bodies in the armoury,” he stated. “A group was headed towards Elijah’s house when I left, if they don’t know he’s dead already, they will soon.”

Joel nodded, having expected this. “Anyone still at the armoury?” he asked, curling his fingers around his gun, ignoring the pain blazing across his knuckles.

“No,” the bartender replied, shaking his head. “A few of them took the bodies and the rest left to go find Elijah.”

Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Idiots,” he muttered under his breath. Then he turned, checking for another rise and fall of Juliet’s chest before he caught Ethan’s questioning stare.

“Can you run?” Joel asked as he moved to slide a hand under Juliet’s neck.

“What? We can’t just leave like this,” Ethan protested, rounding the table.

Joel pinned him with a lethal stare before reaching his other hand under Juliet’s knees and lifting her to his chest. For a split second, with the feel of Juliet’s body against his own, Joel released a breath of relief.

“Stop” Ethan demanded, his gaze cut between Joel and the bartender. “She’s not fit to travel, I’ve only bandaged the burn. We have no idea what other injuries she might have.”

Joel physically flinched at his words, then the anger started to build beneath his skin again. “That’s why I’m gettin’ her out this fuckin' town,” Joel growled, pushing past Ethan and the bartender as he stalked towards open door with Juliet pressed against his chest.

Out in the night air, Joel’s pace started to quicken, heading in the direction of the armoury. There were more guns, more ammo, and most importantly, there was a truck to get them out of the town. Fear and anger fueled his stride as he tucked Juliet closer to his chest. He didn’t look back, not to see if Ethan had stayed in the medic’s office or if he had started to follow them.

Joel would leave Ethan in a heartbeat. Joel had Juliet; she was all he needed to be able to leave. Ethan was the reason Juliet was forced back to this mess.

Joel’s own guilt always lessened when he placed the blame on someone else.

But Joel knew that Juliet cared for Ethan, enough to sacrifice her life and freedom for him. So, when Joel began to hear footsteps running to catch up with him, he didn’t let his anger win. He just allowed Ethan to follow as they raced across the grass towards their ticket out.

……………………………………………………………..

Juliet’s POV:

Juliet could hear voices.

They were definitely male voices but it sounded like they were underwater. Everything sounded distorted. There was a ringing that echoed in her ears and a rumbling that shook her body. She tried to open her eyes but her eyelids wouldn’t move, not even to twitch in response to her brain’s firm instructions.

Before Juliet could begin to panic, another wave of unconsciousness washed over her.

………………………………………………….

“Take the next left,” a voice said.

Juliet heard the words this time, they still sounded strange but they were legible. There was something familiar about the voice but Juliet couldn’t place it. It made her feel younger, safe, comfortable. She could hear the crinkle of paper moving, Juliet assumed it was a map.

She must be in a car.

“Yeah? If you wanna get us killed. I’m goin’ straight,” another voice argued back. This one was older, deeper, darker. Juliet recognised it too, except this voice sent a pulse of warmth through her. This voice was angry and almost frightening but it made Juliet desperate to wake up and find the man who sent the chill down her spine.

She didn’t get a chance because, soon after, the voices faded and the darkness returned.

…………………………………………………………

When Juliet awoke again, the car had stopped.

Her eyes blinked open but the darkness remained. Had she lost her vision? Was it night? The multitude of questions started to seep into Juliet’s, still fuzzy, mind.

The voices were gone, there was no sound but the wind striking against the vehicle.

Juliet started to blink rapidly as her heart rate picked up. Where was she? Why was it so dark? Why was her stomach starting to burn?

A fierce pain began to consume her torso, extending down to her ankles, across to her wrists and then up to the entire left side of her face. Soon, Juliet’s entire body was engulfed in an inferno of agony.

Her breaths came quicker as the panic set in. She couldn’t remember what had happened, why she was in so much pain or why she was alone in a vehicle. There was no space in her mind to begin untangling those thoughts. Her pain consumed everything. Every breath was agony, her stomach contracted as a vicious blaze continued to burn across her skin.

Juliet started to moan, quietly at first, then, as the pain grew, her cries got louder. Tears started to leak from the corner of her eyes, dripping down onto the seats she lay across. A sob choked out of her and Juliet gasped out a quiet cry for help.

As the plea left her mouth, the car door behind her head flew open. Juliet blinked through tears, attempting to see who now stood above her. From the position she lay in, the figure was upside down, holding a torch. Juliet realised it was a man, but she couldn’t see his face.

Juliet began to thrash and cry louder, begging her weak muscles to move. She had to do something, get out of her vulnerable position. Fear consumed the pain in her body.

Then, the man’s voice cut through her terror and Juliet instantly stilled.

“Shh. It’s alright, you’re with me,” he soothed.

The man brought the torch forward and his face was illuminated in a warm yellow glow. Juliet gasped and another sob released through her clenched jaw.

“Joel?” she cried. Juliet’s body sagged in relief as the hot tears continued to pour from her eyes. For a second, she forgot about the pain and focused entirely on Joel’s dark eyes. He stared down at her with his permanent scowl, his jaw was rock hard and his mouth was pressed into a tight line. But his eyes were soft and glossy, watching her with a mixture of shock and a look she couldn’t quite place.

“It’s me. You’re with me,” Joel repeated, his voice rough.

Juliet nodded through sobs but the tilt of her head caused a wave of dizziness to attack her and she stilled all movements, breathing heavy.

“Don’t move,” Joel ordered and shot a look behind him.

“What happened?” Juliet whispered. Her memories still escaped her, she couldn’t remember anything beyond Joel.

Through the torchlight, Juliet watched a muscle jump in Joel’s jaw as his gaze returned to her. “Don’t think just now,” he commanded, his voice like steel.

Juliet’s mouth began to dry. Something was very wrong. That underwater feeling started to return but she didn’t feel like she would pass out again, instead Juliet felt her mind drift away. Without intending to, she disobeyed Joel’s order as flashes of her memories began to return.

Juliet remembered, with a flinch, returning home to her father.

She remembered, with a sickening churn of her stomach, the chair in the basement.

She remembered that her father had taken Ethan from her, turned him against her.

She remembered the slap of the bible against her face.

Then… she remembered the hot poker.

And the smell of burning flesh.

Her burning flesh.

Nausea washed over her and Juliet felt herself shift, struggling to sit up. The consumption of her memories had dulled the pain a little. Her body felt so far away. Juliet was still trapped in her past.

Strong hands captured her struggling limbs, lifting her to a seated position. A rough hand caught her head before it rolled to the side. A calloused thumb brushed over her cheek.

Juliet opened her eyes into Joel’s. He looked at her with unrestrained terror, his stare wide and intense. But his touch was gentle and his body, now seated beside her, was warm.

“It hurts, Joel,” Juliet whispered as her teeth caught her trembling bottom lip in an attempt to stop another sob from escaping. She wasn’t sure herself if she meant the pain in her body or the agony in her mind.

The crease between Joel’s eyebrows deepened and his eyes dropped to her bloodied lips.

“I know, baby,” he murmured in a low voice as his thumb moved to brush over her mouth, gently releasing her bottom lip from the grip of her teeth.

For a long moment, they stared at each other and everything else fell away. Juliet forgot about the pain, she forgot about her past, she forgot about her questions. All she could focus on was the look in Joel’s eyes and the creases on his forehead she was so desperate to soothe. His eyes were wide and open, his expression was defenceless. Juliet could see every ripple of terror, hope and anger glide across his face.

Juliet opened her mouth, words waited on her tongue. Joel followed the movement with his thumb, refusing to leave her lips without his touch.

But before Juliet could speak, the door to her right opened and the shutters fell on Joel’s face once more. Juliet turned her head, fear gripping her, and her gaze instantly met green eyes she knew all too well. Green eyes which had once been her symbol of hope. Green eyes she thought she would never see again.

Ethan.

Juliet screamed.

“No, no, no,” she began to cry as she frantically pressed herself against Joel. No, this couldn’t be happening. Her father had taken Ethan from her. Her father had turned him against her. He was here to take her back to him.

That underwater feeling began to consume her again. Juliet’s memory was hazy and her mind was still ravaged by pain and confusion. But she remembered what her father had said, she remembered what he had done to Ethan, the loyal follower he had turned him into.

Elijah had threatened her with Ethan and she had learned never to take her father’s threats lightly.

In the murky waters of her mind, Juliet was terrified of Ethan.

“Juliet?” Ethan asked frantically, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Before Ethan could lean in any closer towards her, a figure suddenly slammed him against the side of the car, shaking the entire vehicle.

Juliet realised, with a shocked gasp, that the figure was Joel. She hadn’t even noticed he had left her side. Juliet’s thoughts were so scattered, her mind was floating away from her, all she could remember was the soul crushing sadness etched with despair when she had heard of Ethan’s fate. But she wouldn’t let Ethan bring her back to her father, she wouldn’t go through that again.

As her mind started to focus again, she began to hear Joel and Ethan. Joel had him pinned to the car, an arm against his throat.

“What did you do to her?” Joel growled.

“Nothing! Nothing, I swear,” Ethan croaked out, struggling against Joel’s grip.

Their voices grew quieter and Juliet couldn’t hear them anymore, but she watched Joel loosen his grip on Ethan and dart his eyes towards her.

After a moment, she listened closer and Juliet was able to make out their harsh words.

“Elijah must have said something to her, tried to convince her I was on his side,” Ethan ground out, practically spitting at Joel. “I told you he tried to turn me against her, get me to join his cause but his brainwashing didn’t work, I swear it.”

Joel took a step back but his eyes didn’t leave Ethan’s face, the wind swirled around them, blowing through Joel’s hair. He looked conflicted, his lips pursed and his jaw clenched with indecision.

Juliet didn’t know what to make of what she heard. Everything was still so fuzzy, she couldn’t remember everything that had happened in the basement. There were only flashes of horror that blinded her as they attacked her mind. She needed answers, she had to know what was going on.

Juliet squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, attempting to clear her head enough to make sense of Joel and Ethan’s conversation. Her fear of Ethan had begun to ease. Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe her father had lied to her. Maybe Ethan hadn’t changed.

She blinked and felt tears settle on her eyelashes. Juliet was so tired, and everything hurt. She just wanted to return to that black nothingness, but she fought against it, desperate to hear more.

“Why’d he tell her that? What was his goal?” Joel demanded as he ran a hand over his jaw.

“Fear, submission, intimidation. I don’t fucking know. All I know is that Elijah loved to play games with Juliet. He had her so messed up in the head,” Ethan explained, his voice desperate.

Ethan began to turn towards her but stopped himself, sighing quietly, then he dropped his voice lower.

“The man is dead and he’s still playing his fucked up mind games with her,” he murmured, his voice thick with sympathy.

Juliet choked out a strangled gasp. If she had enough power in her arms, she would have covered her face, dug the heels of her palms into her eyes until she saw stars.

Her father… dead?

She was thankful for the cushioned seat that caught her head when the darkness consumed her once more.

________________________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

#joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller hbo #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller #ao3 fanfic #pedro pascal #joel tlou #tlou #tlou hbo #Spotify

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phoenix-fell · 1 year

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RWBY emotions and the stages of grief

Okay, hear me out and I’m sorry this is a long one but I’m just a bit intrigued by the emotions of our girls and how they’re being shown. (And a little tired of RWDE folk ripping it to shreds for the comedic outputs). I do feel like the girls mildly symbolise 4/5 of the stages of grief - which I’ll weave in throughout.

We have an obvious loss of innocence/purity and hope from Ruby - which I think is going to be especially interesting in the next couple of episodes, because while Blake has taken the reigns a little here and there, we know that WBY get shrunk and it’s going to force Ruby back into carrying her team (literally).

I quite liked in the last episode just how detached Ruby is from everything; from not noticing the Bees flirting, to not really engaging with the fact Yang is looking for her arm at the auction, to after the auction when she’s just completely oblivious to everyone’s conversation and focused on the sword. I think CRWBY have done a great job of framing her as isolated and detached, or ‘Depression’ - seeing as she speed-ran the first 3 grief stages.

Weiss, though, I feel might be just as interesting. She was framed alongside Ruby when the Bees were having a pun-off. She’s been thrust forward as the comic relief as she struggles to understand the world around her. I know Ruby is heading for a breakdown, but I don’t think Weiss is far behind.

Since the beginning, she’s been ‘Defiance’, a carefully put-together character who likes to be in control of the situation. But now, it’s not just that she’s somewhere unfamiliar; their entire plan fell apart, she watched her friend die in front of her, she has no home, no school, no idea whether she saved anyone and no idea how to get out of the world she’s been dropped into. When the cracks start to show, she’s often framed without her face, because she’s still keeping so much inside, trying to regain control whilst trying to process the fact she has nothing to go back to in Remnant. She’s had blatant evidence to suggest she’s in a fairy tale, but remains in ‘Denial’. Because, if she is, she can’t control that, right? She’s just walking through someone else’s story.

I feel like Yang has been extra ‘brawler’ the last couple of episodes which I feel is because her go-to is to exude strength in these types of situations, it’s her coping mechanism. The first time we see her she bursts into the scene throwing rocks at the Jabberwalker, her first interaction is an outburst because she failed to keep her sister safe and at the auction it’s clear she’s pissed at the Racoon, possibly because losing her arm is so inherently tied to her ability to fight and keep people safe. She seems to reflect ‘Anger’.

While Blake might just be coming out of a cocoon of character development - if she’s pushing forward a Bumbleby arc then I have to believe that feral Blake at the end of last season was when something snapped, but she’s having an easier time remaining composed because ultimately, the worst DID happen - and then she found Yang again, she has a second chance, away, removed from the chaos and war of the world they’ve fallen from and now has a second to breathe and let herself feel. Blake finds comfort in being in a story she knows, because she’s learned the moral of it, and wants to avoid the pit-falls that Alyx did - essentially, ‘Bargain’ her way through to a happier outcome.

I feel like either Ruby’s, Jaune’s, or Neo’s arcs (or maybe even all three, or everyone’s) will inevitably lead to Acceptance. Whether that’s accepting the loss of their loved one, accepting the love of others, accepting your own feelings, that you can’t always be the hero/save everyone or accepting you won’t always be in control.

#rwby #rwby 9 #rwby spoilers #bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #jaune arc #this took me longer than you'd think because I kept getting caught replaying the Bee moments

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blackwolfstabs · 5 months

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30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 27

ATTACKED

Continuation of day 17: THE CATCH → for greysandmarvelfan & mlgx on AO3

WARNING!!! contains rape/non-consensual elements. (yes, i live for angst and venting what fucks with me through my writing, this isn't new, and we should shut up and move on ok? k great)

“Holy shit, it’s that psycho girl!”

“That’s her?”

Overlapping comments and laughter burned Sam’s ears as she led the way out of the frat party. Her heart still thumped like it never broke from its adrenaline-induced fit that had come with beating the ever-loving shit out of Frankie. She could feel the eyes of the partygoers studying her like she was a feral, stray dog being walked out of civilization by Animal Control. No matter how close the voices to her were or how deep each word was, Tara’s desperate voice overpowered them all. It was her voice blending in and out of another voice that was even more familiar… her own.

And the thought of what could’ve been with one and what was with the other made her entire being run hot. Very hot, the touch on her back letting her know she was backed by the Meeks-Martin twins actually feeling cool.

She broke out of orange and purple lighting into the crisp outdoors. Moonlight was considered fraud amongst the lively streets of New York, but she didn’t need any source of it to find her way to her baby sister.

She should’ve known better. She should’ve known that Tara would go to the OKB party anyway. She was impulsive and sick of being chained to the apartment, outside of going to her college classes. Sam had begged her—begged her—not to go.

And Sam never begged. Only for Tara, did she ever.

This was why. She couldn’t trust anyone, especially after Richie’s betrayal and her secret about being Billy Loomis’ daughter getting out. Either she was the wolf in sheep’s clothing or someone else was. She thought Tara would feel the same, having her own best friend for years betraying her over the orchestration of a fucking requel. If that didn’t destroy Tara’s trust, what would?

But it didn’t matter. Tara was nearly raped at that party, and as much as it was her own fault for getting herself into that situation, Sam took just as much blame. Had she not been in therapy, Tara would’ve never had the chance to make it out the door of their apartment.

There wasn’t much of a breeze to tame the invisible fire burning beneath her skin as she followed Chad, who’d passed her and his sister up with his longer strides. It was then that she started running.

She couldn’t get Tara’s voice out of her head, and every time she replayed it, her vision turned everything in sight into a more distinct shade of red. Until it was blood red. Like the blood that painted Frankie’s face. Like the blood left on her hands. Like the blood still smeared on her lips. Like the blood lingering at the back of her throat.

Like the blood that was once shed in a similar situation, at a similar time, but with an opposite outcome.

Having Tara scream her name, be trapped beneath a repulsive human being, and barely escaping what would’ve become another tragedy she’d have to recover from was only half of the battle that nearly had Samantha losing it all.

She should’ve known better.

Because when she was 20, she had been exactly where Tara had been…

—

(flashback / Sam's past inspired by Tanto Amor: Chapter 62 (14:58 - 17:16))

She hadn’t wanted to get caught up in any of this. She’d been a rebel, on the run, and so good at getting herself in and out of suspicious situations, anyone could code her Houdini. But she did not favor Halloween in the slightest. She didn’t like the idea of people hiding themselves behind masks, costumes, and hours of make-up, so no one knew who they were. They all became characters rather than real-life identities, and with that advantage, came a thousand things they could get away with.

All it took were 2 girls who’d befriended her for a few days. They’d begged her to come to this stupid party. They told her she didn’t have to dress up, just come for a good time that would allow her to cut loose. She cut loose more than she let on but always did it on her own terms. No one was going to bark orders at her like her mother had done. No one was going to pin her down and handle her however they pleased.

Until someone did…

And those 2 girls she thought would look out for her didn’t. They didn’t care. They just knew her standoffish personality and impressive beauty would model a perfect bone for a dog to go chase.

She wound up in the garage, encouraged to go fetch more drinks. And she did it for the sole reason that she could get away from the noise and crowd for a moment. What she didn’t know was that doing so would curse this night into becoming the 2nd worst night of her life, after the night her father walked out on everything their family once had all because of what she did.

She leaned against a long, wooden shelf that was bolted against the wall, holding her head with her fingertips on either side of her temples. Having a drink on a mostly-empty stomach was a stupid mistake, even if she had only taken a few sips. She applied pressure, trying to ease the throbbing pain if she could.

She just wanted to go home, wherever the hell home was going to be for the night.

Behind her, the door opened, making her pick up her head to look over her shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew it was a man. He was in all black with the exception of a clown mask covering his entire face. It was white, a tri-brid of yellow, blue, and red paint distinguishing different designs as facial features. Complimenting that were three red horns coming out either side of his face and one at the top of his head.

He stared at her the whole time, keeping her eyes that did the same. He shut the door and locked it, leaving her to drop her gaze to confirm before looking back up.

Sam instantly felt sick to her stomach, the worst feeling imaginable flooding through her just by laying eyes on him. And it wasn’t because he was in a haunting clown mask. It screamed at her to run, even though there was nowhere to run. As much as she wanted to look away in order to find some form of defense, she couldn’t. Her heart seemed to thump her chest hollow as he began to slowly walk towards her.

She bit back a whimper and replaced it with, “What are you doing?”

He didn’t say a word, just kept coming towards her. That was all she needed to know to figure if she was going to get out, she wasn’t giving him a second chance to speak. He looked hungry for lust. She was young, but she’d been around long enough to know that look anywhere.

She tried to move aside to walk around him, but he did the same and blocked her. She moved the other way, and so did he. So, she did what her instincts were telling her to do. She tried to run.

But he caught her, grabbing her arms and pulling her in, earning a yelp.

Sam felt one arm wrap around her waist, while the other lassoed her shoulder blades, making her grab onto him to get a grip on her stability. But that only lasted for a fleeting second, for he was trying to knock her off balance.

This was when full-blown panic set in, and her rationality was no longer her own. “No! Stop!” She retreated her arm that gripped his shoulder to push away from him. But it was to no avail.

And still, he said nothing, just fought with her.

“Stop it!” She felt his hold grow stronger around her thrashing. “No-ho!”

Yet, no matter what she did, he handled it better, leaving her struggling whines and whimpers echoing off the walls of the garage.

“No, no!” She began to cry without even realizing it, gripping onto his clothes to avoid falling but still resisting him, nonetheless.

He caught her around the waist, low enough to tilt her at an angle she had to submit to. The grip he held on her arm was promised to leave a bruise as he lowered her to the ground.

Carpenter tried to brace herself in protest, but she couldn’t, which left her spitting out the only words that she could even process. “Please! No, noooo!” her voice pitched into a squeal as he got her pinned on the floor.

He straddled her churning legs in the process, leaving him battling for control of her arms.

The burning in her chest and inescapable hurricane running her auto-pilot a million miles per second kept her from putting up the fight she might’ve been able to with a leveled head. She tried to push against him, realizing he was trying to get her wrists above her head. Tears fell from her eyes as she begged him, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, please…” Her muscles burned out, leaving him to have his way, yet again. “Ple-hease! Don’t do this!”

But he couldn’t care less. He just wanted what he wanted, still refusing to say a word or spare any hint of vocalization. With her wrists secured in one hand, he began to feel down her flank, squeezing at the curve in her hips and filing his fingers to her beltline, where he found the button to her jeans.

“No, no— No-hoo! Nooo!” She tried to buck, to kick, to twist. Nothing worked. “Let me go-hoo!” There was only one other hope she had left. “Heeelp! Help me, pleee-hease!” She knew they were people by the garage door and outside too. Someone had to hear her…

Right?

The man had gotten her jeans undone and moved to clutch the collar of her shirt, trying to tug it down, but not missing the chance to rub his hand against her breast in the process.

This just made her panic even more. “Somebody, please!” she cried, “He-heelp!” She pulled her knee up to make another attempt at kneeing him off. “Get o-hoff of me— Nooo!” By now, she was beginning to sob, which made her words struggle to come out clearly. Her next attempt to shout was replaced by a desperate cry. Even with her arms pinned, she still tried to pull them down.

But then he stopped feeling up and down her body and raised his fist.

She knew what that meant, and as much as she didn’t want to live what would happen next, she couldn’t let herself lose consciousness. “No, no, please! Please, don’t!”

It came down hard and fast.

Pain blasted through the side of her head, and then her whole world went black.

The next morning, she woke up and couldn’t remember a thing… She could smell blood dripping out of her nose. She sat up, confused on where she was or how she’d gotten there. But then she saw her pants down to her knees and her underwear in an awkward straddle around her thighs. Then, the pain hit her head and privates all at once.

And then she knew. She remembered it all… And she broke down into tears of disbelief, shock, and horror.

The worst thing about it was… they heard her. The people at the party the night before… they knew.

It was just that no one cared.

—

All of the rage and merciless sanctions that had fueled her for the last however-many minutes vanished the second she caught sight of her baby sister hugging her knees and crying on a bench. It was like they were back in the ages of 6 and 11, Sam about to be scolded by her mother for not watching Tara and keeping her out of danger, like she was supposed to.

It was her responsibility.

She had a responsibility to Tara, to love her and protect her, the same as she’s always had. She didn’t ask to be an older sister, but she didn’t have to. It was built-in. It had been since the dawn of Tara’s time—to watch over her throughout her life, to bark when she was in danger or lunge when she couldn’t outrun that danger, to run and play with her when she was happy, to hold her close when she was lonely, to wipe her tears when she cried or make her laugh when she was about to cry.

That’s why she was called a big sister. That’s why Tara had called her Sammy. That’s why she was still a Carpenter rather than a Loomis.

She knelt down next to Tara, wanting to place a comforting hand on her leg or touch her in some way, like she always used to do. But she knew she couldn’t… Not right now anyway. “Tara?”

Before Tara could respond, Anika interjected, “We got her asthma under control. She’s just still really shaken up.”

Both, Mindy and Chad, gave the sisters space as they moved over to where Anika was standing with Ethan, who had ditched the party when they were trying to get Tara out of the house.

Sam didn’t look away from her little sister. “Tara…” Her voice had lost all of its darkness and animalistic traces, leaving nothing but concern and softness.

She was shaking. Her baby girl was trembling uncontrollably, and it wasn’t because of the crying. She slowly lifted her face from being buried in her knees to reveal glossy eyes that held regret, hurt, and fear. There was no resentment, annoyance, or rebellion. Just a longing that pleaded for comfort. For rescue. “S-Sam…” Her voice was quiet and delicate, close to breaking with the quivering of her lips.

“I’m here,” she assured her, reaching her hand up to gently caress her shoulder. “I’m here, Tara.” She could feel her own emotions start to get the best of her, but until she certified her sister’s safety, she’d hold them all at bay.

“Sam,” Tara choked out, “You were right…” She had to take a moment to keep herself from drowning in more tears, her breath hitching as she sucked in some air. “I-I never should’ve g-gone…” Then her face creased, and she broke down. “I-hi’m so so-horry!”

But her big sister shook her head, “No, no, no, love, it’s not your fault.” She moved up onto the bench as Tara dropped her legs, showing that she wanted to be held. And Sam did, pulling her in against her chest and feeling her trembling arms wrap around her waist. She shushed her quietly as the younger began to whimper in between small sobs. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for not getting there sooner. I’m sorry for choosing therapy over making sure to keep you home tonight. Don’t you ever apologize for what someone else did to you. You did nothing wrong, Tara.” She promised her all of this through a blurry lens of her own tears. Her voice dropped to a whisper after placing a loving kiss on Tara's head, “Nothing wrong at all…”

Tara clung to Sam’s waist, holding her tight as if someone was going to try to take her away. Maybe in another world, she’d have been stopped by Mindy, Anika, or Chad from following Frankie up those stairs. Maybe in another world, Sam would’ve showed up, and she would’ve been completely embarrassed. Maybe in another world, instead of sitting on this bench, they’d be standing-off in the street, shouting about where they’ve been and where they planned to go—how one was able to move on and the other was still stuck.

Maybe in another world, she’d have told Sam that she had to let her go…

Not tonight, though. Tonight, she wanted Sam to hold onto her forever.

“Thank you for coming, Sammy,” she whispered, hugging her tighter. And she felt her head be kissed again, while a comforting hand rubbed her back, the bowing of her guardian angel’s head leaving her long, black hair to shield her face from the rest of the world. She was safe in Sammy’s embrace.

And Sammy replied.

“Always.”

i don't know whether to apologize for writing this THIS way or not, but i'm sorry??

special thx to @doctorwhoarchive for chatting with me about Tanto Amor (yes, u told me i had a while to go before reaching this part in the show, but there were 3 problems: 1) i'm too curious for my own good 2) i piss myself off for no fucking reason, and 3) i have access to YouTube so I WENT TO FUCKING FIND IT BC STUPID FUCKING ME and so here we are) i don't blame u tho, dw! much love 🩶

All my best ♡ - parker

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void-botanist · 5 months

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"🫁 - would your character cannibalize someone? would it be for survival or because they like it? is it for religious reasons? something else?" And "🐾 - what would your character do if they were turned into a werewolf or some other monster? would they fight it, embrace it? lose themself?"

I've been mulling over this one for the last five days, particularly the cannibalism part. My immediate reaction was that Syndy would, no question, if she could eat. Except if she could eat, she would be mortal and I think that makes her a fundamentally different person even if she is still petulant and angry and grieving. But she probably still would. She would also hypothetically cannibalize someone or something in a mechanical sense as an android - the lines between the two are a little blurry when your world is filled with biotech. Which opens the question of whether taking someone's parts and integrating them into your own system counts as cannibalism. On the less complicated side Avis would also cannibalize someone but only if it was her last practical option. She would also convince other people to do the same ("Sid. It's just meat. Just cook it like meat").

Keeping to the two of them, Syndy would love to be a werewolf. The whole involuntary nature of it would be actually kind of exciting to her because even with my hand wavey "androids have feelings and are not entirely rational just like everyone else" they still have an extremely high level of control over everything about themselves as compared to everyone else. I think the first time she would fight it because the transformation is scary but then she would embrace being able to be feral. It's fun to imagine her killing humans but realistically she would just slaughter wild animals - they're more fun prey but also she won't be visiting the exact same grief on someone else as she's dealt with herself. Avis would also love being a werewolf, especially an in-world shifter, because even if it's still frowned upon for her to go wherever she wants in a park when she's in wolf form, can they A) identify her or B) stop her? She thought not. Wolf-form has better mobility for traversing the woods, too. Which means that AOM would also involve her coming back to Sorian's dirty and gross and possibly waking up naked on his back porch. She would lose herself in wolf form if that meant she could stay in that form forever.

#also this would open the possibility of Avis starting to wear an identifier as she started caring more about other people #c: Avis #c: Syndy #wip: s&h #wip: aom #horror asks part 2

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edenspetals · 2 years

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ꒰🥀꒱ lixue ៸៸

ଓ.° “ don't bite your lip, I want to do that ’

·⊰ species: snake spirit ( former human )

·⊰ sex: female

·⊰ age: 25

·⊰ hair colour: blue

·⊰ eye colour: blue

·⊰ mbti: ENFP

·⊰ about: a woman of no shame, lixue prides herself in enjoying life and living it to its fullest — all whilst having the most fun one can achieve. she has a head of vibrant blue hair that is great in volume and often a hassle to style, even for her typical high ponytail. her eyes are sky blue and when her snake features are showing her pupils turn into slits. to top off this blueberry look, her elongated tongue matches her hair in colour as well. while her teeth are generally sharp, when her snake features are more prominent she extends two frontal fangs, these fangs can also be extended at will rather than instinct. her nails are often grown out as well. her skin is sun-kissed and once again, depending on how prominent her snake features are determines whether or not she has faint, blue scale patterns running along her shoulders and arms. her outfits consist of blue and black hanfus or qipao, however, she does also partake in more modernised outfits that are traditionally inspired by her culture. staying true to her signature colour she often wears dark blue lipstick and eyeliner along the rims her eyes, also creating 'wings' along her upper lid. her right ear has a simple lobe and helix piercing whilst her left ear is littered in piercings such as a stacked lobe, mid, forward and upper helix and a daith.

of human origin, lixue was born and raised through the ways of a cultivator ( the mystical arts who expell evil spirits and resentful creatures ) — and was considered to be of high rank. however, she soon delved into the darker side of things and bonded with a vengeful snake spirit. despite being warned against this by other cultivators. this spirit would soon go on to possess and consume her whole. while she would try to convince the cultivators that she was able to control it, she would soon be exiled after the spirit did indeed prove to be dangerous to those around her. she considered herself a 'rogue cultivator' now, who wanders around expelling evil while simultaneously trying to keep her own devil under control. the snake, otherwise known as lanshen, has merged with her entire being. when experiencing intense emotions, typically anger, her features become more snake-like and her actions and attitude far more feral.

despite this new turn, she did not lose herself. a woman of little shame, she was often described to be a wild and free soul who is flirtatious in nature. very playful and teasing, especially to those that she forms close bonds with. while her temper is influenced by the snake, she has at least some sort of hold on it. however, it is wise to not actively attempt to vex her as that control is dwindling. she's quick witted, sharp-tongued and what some would say to be a 'lunatic' due to her reckless and careless attitude. there is a serene side to her which is often seen in her hobby — painting. an artist by gift, she often finds herself spending her free time painting experiences and visuals throughout her life.

with a lover, lixue's flirtatious and playful nature is cranked up quite a bit. she adores teasing and getting reactions out of you, often being unafraid of flirting with you regardless of place or time. she has a habit of overloading you with physical affection, often scooping you off of your feet and into her arms at random times, or pulling you to her so that she can make your knees weak with kisses. she has a series of nicknames for you, all showing her affection while others are especially to make you flustered. there often times she will request you to be her muse for her paintings and will combine both her passion for art and her love for you. she is quite protective which can transcend into possessiveness if she's slipping to the snake, however, she especially tries to control herself around you. she may draw away when she feels herself slipping, but will always come back and ten times more affectionate when she does.

·⊰ strengths:

ଓ.°enhanced senses and physique — her senses, agility, physical strength and reflexes are all enhanced

ଓ.°charm / seductive magnetism — the ability to be far more persuasive and get her way, she is able to easily fool and in some cases, even hypnotise those of weaker willpower

ଓ.°cultivation — even though she was exiled, she still obtains the ability to use the mystical arts

ଓ.°venom — her fangs can be venomous, depending on the amount and concentration she uses determines whether it merely leaves those bitten delirious or in a more fatal position

·⊰ weaknesses:

ଓ.°appetite — in order to remain functioning and keep her strength up, she needs to consume a lot of food. she finds herself growing weaker and being more susceptible to the snake's tendancies if she is left hungry. the snake compels her to consume a being's soul, therefore, she must keep it satisfied with physical food. she is not always successful and unfortunately, has to delve in the former

ଓ.°cold temperatures — she can become weakened and even immobile during particularly cold days, especially winter. it is important for herself to keep herself warm as she is most vulnerable when in these states as she is compelled to go into a hibernating state

ଓ.°white magic — while she is still a cultivator, due to the snake being a vengeful spirit, pure magic can subdue her and be a threat to her wellbeing and life should she not quell the situation in time

#— ꒰🥀꒱ 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬 ៸៸ lixue ଓ.°#monster oc #monster girlfriend x reader #snake x reader #terato #snake oc #oc x reader #terato x reader #writing

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ladyintree · 10 months

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while she’s in college (and realistically, always after that), tai doesn’t go anywhere without looking, by her standards, fully presentable (excluding the gym or soccer practices). she’s always dressed nicely, always has her hair done, always has her make up done even if it’s light, always has nice jewelry (mostly rings), and she never goes out in her gym clothes or something more comfortable or let’s herself be too late for classes or anything where she’d have to give up time to get ready.

her appearance has always mattered to her. realistically, she’s the kind of person who would definitely prefer to wear more stereotypically masculine clothing pieces / gym clothes around because it’s most comfortable, but she’s always made sure to look her best when she goes out, and sometimes that means leaning farther into her femininity than she’d typically care about. her years in college were definitely the most feminine she'd ever presented herself as, as a way to reclaim something she lost in the wilderness, which was her sense of self / her put-together appearance / the confidence in the way she used to present herself. there's power in looking good and it helps her keep moving forward, but it's also a desperate attempt to regain something she didn't have for nearly two years.

when tai decided to go on the expedition in the wilderness, that's when she finally allowed her appearance to really change. she stops thinking about what articles of clothing to wear together, gradually stops putting her jewelry on, and eventually cuts her hair (for many reasons, but it's more emotional than it is just practical, because she's losing herself and needed the change to reflect that.) she continues to wrap her hair throughout the time in the wilderness and always protects it, but she cares less and less about the clothing she wears or about protecting her own items as they mix with others'.

going to college, she knew that people would know who she was. her face was plastered everywhere in the news for 2 years, and even those who stopped caring about the missing plane would've seen her again once they were rescued. she knows she already has a reputation as she enters university, so she does everything she can to ensure that she has some control over her narrative. she is not the wilderness girl, not the feral girl that people have decided them all to be based on their own conspiracy. she does everything she can to dress like someone you wouldn't expect would've spent the last 19 months in the wilderness. she gets back to wearing high-end clothing, always having her hair styled, always looking as presentable, by her standards + beyond, as possible. there's a lot of normalcy that she is forcing when she re-enters civilization and moves on with her life, but her appearance is one of the most important tasks, because she wants people to see her like this before they remember who she is and make their own assumptions.

outside of soccer / the gym, the only time she really allows herself time to dress more comfortably is strictly when she's hanging out with people she's come to trust ( she never fully trusts anyone entirely, but at least those who have come to know what she's willing to give. )

#hc.#sorry im only thinking about college t/ai lately <3

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mdhwrites · 1 year

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Beta Amity Looks More Like a Beta Boscha

This probably reads as a joke but like... No. Seriously. What the fuck is up with Beta Amity’s design? I don’t even think it’s a bad design but the main traits of it are: Black wristbands with SPIKES ON THEM. A bright pink sundress. A glorious mane so out of control and big that it puts hair metal bands to shame and makes Adagio from My Little Pony ask what shampoo she uses. What of literally ANY of that reflects on Amity? You know, the high society girl who is under strict watch by a set of parents where one looks like a suburban housewife and the other casts the silhouette of DRACULA. These are regal mother fuckers... And she looks like the epitome of pop punk. Now... I’m not going to claim “How is she supposed to be a hard studying, closet nerd, queen bully the same as this?” because the Beta designs were always supposed to be older. They would theoretically grow into them. I actually really like Beta Luz as a possible, older Luz because you could see how her optimism died so she now looks more like a stoner, doesn’t care as much about her hair getting long but still straightens it and possibly carries the bat around like a security blanket. How do you get from canon Amity to whatever feral lion is Beta Amity? Like... The genuine best guess I’ve got for how her parents let her dress like that is... They don’t. It looks like what she might become if she’d rebelled without Luz and thus got disowned and kicked out. The bracelets help defend herself, the dress might be one of the last things she has without holes in it and she can’t afford a proper haircut so she just let it grow out. That is pretty close, without DRASTIC alterations to her entire family, how I could see that happening. It’s close to how if I give an older Amity larger, longer hair it’s because she’s so devoted to her studies that she just hasn’t gotten it cut. She still would probably keep it in a ponytail because it helps keep it out of her way though and keep it under control. It’s just more practical that way. Which is... Actually part of what I miss about her S1 design as a quick tangent. I personally think it still has been her best design, though I like the long hair version too (even if both Luz and Amity seem to be trending towards their Beta designs in S3 and I don’t know about that. At least in Thanks to Them.) It strikes the most unique silhouette, said the most about her character and was generally just a much more interesting design than the other two. I mean... the short hair made it become a problem where without color, I couldn’t tell Luz and Amity apart because they had practically the same haircut and same design if they were both in uniform. However, losing the ponytail does imply losing some restraint and embracing chaos to some extent which fit her character arc and so did rejecting her mother’s green hair. So... I get why, I just still think S1′s design was the best. Anyways, getting back to the Beta design. So... Why do I say Boscha for this then? Well... The design to me speaks of someone who is so confident, so in charge and so ready to throw down, she doesn’t give a FUCK what you think about her look. It’s a punk look after all. There’s a reason why I first thought the entire fandom characterized the betas as brutal, murder happy hobos because the designs, ESPECIALLY AMITY’S are SO AGGRO. And for an older Boscha who has grown in confidence and maybe even finally supplanted even Amity as the top of the school... It works well. She undid the bun, let it grow out some, and I like the idea that she’s kind of comfortable in almost anything so why not a sundress that will catch your attention but still let her move freely so she can kick your ass? It’s not a design I would give an older Boscha but it still works WAY better as an older Boscha than an older Amity. Which... raises the question of why it ever was Amity’s design? There’s a LOT to be said that a lot of Amity’s character traits are really just useful for making her parallel Luz and make it easy for them to have a villains to lover’s arc (barely in my opinion if I’m honest because of how briefly they’re against each other) and that’s a whole blog in and of itself. The rebuttal would be of course that it’s fine to design a character around their narrative role and expand from there. That’s what I do commonly as a writer. A character forms as much out of necessity as from just a general concept. But what was Beta Amity’s original role then? Was the design just to pull the same trick but harder in episode 3 that canon Amity does? Where she seems utterly unhinged and caring WAY more about things like classes and status than she literally ever will again, to the point of feeling out of character? But also would have been stuck in an outfit that felt out of character? Or was the original plan for Beta Amity to be a true antagonist for a while with the pink dress being a hint that she had a soft side? She was meant to genuinely clash with Luz more? Or is it just a design that Dana doodled and genuinely dropped fifteen minutes later and yet still included as pre-production material? Honestly that last one feels plausible mostly because of how unplanned the show feels. I don’t know. Just in general I don’t know. The Beta designs and attitudes in general have never been compelling to me. They’re good designs, I borrowed a lot, probably more than I should have, from Beta Luz for Daina in Rich Witch design wise. But as characters? I don’t know. No one has ever made a super interesting pitch to me for why they’re more interesting than trying to make a genuinely natural evolution to the younger versions of the characters which the Betas don’t often feel like with how the fandom portrays them. But yeah, those are my thoughts. What are yours?

#Amity #Beta Amity #The Owl House #Rambles

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wanhedas-dagger · 1 year

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👀 Can you tease some dubious consent sex in commander's pet?

I don’t have any scenes written unfortunately. The dub con goes both ways. Sometimes Lexa will keep Clarke going even when Clarke feels like she can’t and needs to stop, but Lexa isn’t done with her. And other times Clarke will keep going despite her Commander telling her to stop or slow down.

I’ll give you a Clarke losing control one. But it’s not a proper scene but rather the idea for this scene.

And this was entirely @lexa-griffins idea and it’s the only fully thought out dub con scene so far. Clarke gets lost in her head sometimes during sex. Especially if somethings happened and she really needs a release, she might just get entirely lost in it. So the scene is basically Clarke going down on Lexa and eating her out. And she makes Lexa cum and Lexa is all sensitive and worn but Clarke just keeps going, she doesn’t stop.

Lexa tries to stop her, tries to push her head away, yells at her, calls out to her, but Clarke is eating that pussy like it’s her last meal and she’s starving. So Clarke forces a second orgasm out of Lexa and now Lexa really really needs her to stop, she’s so sensitive that Clarke’s tongue on her clit hurts like fucking sandpaper. But Clarke keeps going and Lexa may or may not squirt all over Clarke’s face.

The third orgasm fucking hurts and Lexa finally gets the chance to push Clarke off of her. She moved away only slightly while lexa was cumming and Lexa took the chance to shove her away and pull herself back a little. There’s this look in Clarke’s eyes, she looks like a hungry feral animal still staring at Lexa’s wet and throbbing cunt like she’s going to lunge for it again. So lexa slaps her. Hard with the back of her hand, opening one of the recently closed wounds on Clarke’s cheek and it looks like she finally comes out of whatever trance she was in. Oh and Lexa is fucking pissed.

#anon #ask #answer #au commander’s pet

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monmuses · 2 years

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> Fran has a hidden side to her that comes with her masochist mind of going absolutely feral. Because of being a successful guinea pig to a government experiment involving both her parents (who HAVE powers to begin with), there is possibly hundreds of powers and abilities that she will never know she has. Among these quirks are her ability to control time, photogenic memory, supernatural attraction, and NOT human levels of strength. How she handles herself is like any other person, but there are factors to her that separate her from being human entirely.

> Her anger is a direct source to how she controls the feral side to her (along with other emotions and feelings), which takes a lot to make her see literal red. And her rage unlocks the superhuman part of her that will go on a complete massacre if pushed to the edge. This includes the hidden abilities that she otherwise is not aware of, amping up her strength and endurance tenfold to where she can shred demons with ease.

> The downside to this is that she loses ALL possibilities of logical thinking. She loses her ability to speak and resorts to animalistic sounds such as growls and snarls. Her vision goes COMPLETELY red and will see everyone else as her enemy. This includes hallucinating into seeing them as one of the few people she despises: the government officials that are after her, or Cartman.

> Mercy is not on the table. She will not listen to you nor will she let you live. She will be dead set on completely tearing you apart if you push her this far, and there is a small chance she will not remember it. This feralness to her is not another personality, but it is her bottled up anger personified into her fighting technique. SHE WILL ATTACK ANYONE AND EVERYONE AROUND HER. She is called a bioweapon for a reason - and that is to take on armies built upon thousands and thousands of soldiers.

#// *yknow that saying how the shorter you are - the closer you are to hell?#// *yeah thats Fran #// *HJDEAJHDWA #✨{𝔭𝔞𝔭𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔩; (𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫)#✨{𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔵𝔦𝔠 - 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰; (𝔣𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔢 '𝔣𝔯𝔞𝔫' 𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔬)

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queen-ofsunflowers · 2 years

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Ripple In a Legacy OC List

This is just me wanting to talk about this and try not to go into spoilers if at all possible. Just small summaries of each character.

So... it kind of goes like this.

Part 1: Lorenzo - One of Will Zeppeli's students (the other being Jonathan) and the only Hamon User out of the original three to survive against Dio, though he loses a leg in the most insane preservation of survival I think I’ve ever come up with.

Part 2: Eleonora - Lorenzo's granddaughter and a Hamon User herself. One of Lisa Lisa's students. Lorenzo helped her leave her family home and is the one who gave her the way to Air Supplena Island in the first place. Half of Joseph's self-control, though the two are formidable in combat together because neither holds anything back.

Part 3: Barbara - Eleonora's granddaughter. A Hamon/Stand User, though the former is something that she only starts using during the Crusade against Dio. A childhood friend of Jotaro who is the defense to his offense and falls back on supporting where he can't. Basically, a Persona Navigator that fights back, as her Stand’s ability allows her to sense the life energy signature in people so long as they are in range. Her Stand’s name is Pentacle Queen.

Part 4: Ringo - Eleonora's grandson. A Hamon/Stand User, though unlike the others, he relies heavily on his Stand more so than Hamon since he honestly has no idea what he's doing with it. Ends up getting adopted by the extroverted Duwang Gang. Possibly has one of the most terrifying Stands out of this entire family, as it allows for the control of blood flow. His Stand’s name is Sergeant Pepper.

Part 5: Theodora - Eleonora's granddaughter. A Hamon/Stand User, who unlike the others, has been training with it for a while before she left and moved to Naples with her brother, Matteo. A member of Bucciarati's gang after an incident involving her ex left her to take the fall of a crime she didn't commit and almost die in an alley. Her Stand’s power allows her to act basically as the Philosopher’s Stone -- transmuting and rearranging the molecules in an inanimate object to make it into a different material, such as metal into rubber. Will use her Stand to transmute objects into things that can conduct Hamon better to give herself a leg-up in battle. Her Stand’s name is Wonderwall.

Part 6: Mickey - Barbara's son. A computer (and unknowingly a Hamon) prodigy who gets a Stand to help Jolyne and save his family. A feral thirteen-year-old who will not hesitate to fight a bitch... or the Catholic Church. His Stand’s name is Ocean Man, allowing him the ability to create defensive domes to act as a shield for his allies.

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wiltingwoes · 14 days

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anywhore here’s a list of opinions via betty and how she views each person in her life

[ HOTEL. ]

CHARLIE: Acquaintances. Low key sees herself in Charlie from the mortal days — loathes that optimism knowing where it got her. Wants to see her use her title more often and take control. Loves her other form though, 10/10.

VAGGIE: Low key friends. Appreciates the soldier / commander mentality. Likes her fighting style. Wants to spar all the time.

PENTIOUS: Acquaintances. Likes his serpent appearance and forked tongue. Wishes he leaned more into the commander persona. Thinks he’s weak as fuck. Hates his eggs, finds them obnoxious and wants to use them for breakfast.

ALASTOR: Low key to actual friends. Friends in power. Respects him for his power and manipulation tactics. Relates to his methods of getting what he wants. Very interested in his magic. Wants him more as an ally.

HUSK: Friends. Relates to him the most. Will bitch to him about all of her irrational issues. Was the only person she told about her ‘Valentine’ persona. Genuinely trusts and likes his company. Respects how blunt and cut throat he is.

ANGEL: Friends. Can and will talk raunchy with him, whether it leads somewhere or not. Finds him humorous and relatable. Feels very guilty about hiding her Vee affiliation from him. Often goes to him for comfort and calls him her ‘gay drop dead bestie’ . Likely wouldn’t ever tell him about her affiliation unless he somehow found out through another party.

NIFFTY: Strangers. Likes her violent attitude. That’s about it. Highly respects her for doing Adam in. Finds it funny as fuck.

CHERRI: Semi close friends. Hot as fuck. Would bang. Loves her personality and attitude. Loves partying with her. Loves that she also doesn’t want redemption and is content with Hell. Would go to her for advice.

LUCIFER: Acquaintances, possibly leaning toward friends. Respects him for his power and status. Definitely got turned on by him losing his shit on Adam. Then gets disappointed when he goes back to being awkward and stand offish. Wants to see more of his power so badly. Questions the rubber duck obsession. If he gives her one, she’s cherishing it in secret and sleeps next to it 24/7.

[ VEE’S. ]

VALENTINO: Closest friend. Love interest. Her soul is owned by him. He’s also her number one obsession. So. Obsessed with him for one LMAO trusts him with her entire life. Loves his style. Loves his power. It’s difficult to tell if she genuinely has feelings for him or if it’s just intense infatuation and obsession however.

VELVETTE: Close friend. Love interest. Chaotic lesbians. Loves her fashion. Loves her bitchy attitude and influence. Loves the sass. Finds her very attractive and spicy. Often wants to disturb her work just to get ‘punished’ for it. These feelings are more genuine than with Val simply because there’s no obsession. Comes to her for advice and girl nights.

VOX: Questionable. Possible friends. Low key loathes him at the same time. Would more than likely be fuck buddies if anything — borderline hate fucking. Dislikes the intense narcissism. Dislikes the power tripping and definitely dislikes the way he treats her in general. But also finds him attractive and respects his power. Finds his hypnotism hot. Wants to slam him into a wall half the time. Loves and hates the sound of his voice. Still can’t help but feel attached to him.

[ ANGELS. ]

ADAM: LMAO. Loathes him. He reminds her of Vox with the intense narcissism — except it’s even worse. Also would hate fuck. Wants to GENUINELY kill him a second time — probably tries to do exactly that when he’s a fallen. Literally would get off to him getting his ego crushed. Laughed directly in his face until she was in tears when she saw him as a fallen for the first time.

LUTE: Genuinely wants to be friends and get closer. Leaning toward love interest. LOVES her method of combat. Loves the commander position, loves the brute force and feral behavior during battle. Sees her old days as a war commander in her. Finds her the hottest out of everyone. 100/10 would try to woo, fallen or angel.

[ OVERLORDS. ]

ROSIE: Love interest. Feels soft and calm around her. Loves Cannibal Town, it’s very upbeat and pleasant with just the right amount of violence. Needs that tranquility every once in a while. Very attached to her and will agree w everything she says because let’s be real Betty is a stupid simp for most women. Loves her Victorian aesthetic and wants to always be dolled up by her. Offers to be her personal bodyguard.

CARMILLA: Acquaintances to possible friends. Finds her hot as fuck. Loves the spicy attitude and fighting methods. Respects her for fighting out of love and protecting those she cares about. Wishes she could have her mentality — but knows she’s too damn fucked in the head to genuinely fight out of love. Looks up to her.

[ LUST RING / A MILLION DREAMS VERSE. ]

FIZZ: Love interest. Loves him, adores him, he helps her heal every aspect of herself. Inner child, self, shadow work, broken dreams, etc. She feels very safe and gentle around him. Cannot find it in herself to be mean to him. Feels human again. A lost puppy to him. Constantly wanting to shower him in affection and love. Would watch the burn just to see him smile. Would trade every life for him.

BLITZ: Close friend. Possible love interest. Relates to him very hard. Understand the self esteem issues and blaming yourself over family. Sees how hard he’s trying and still fucks things up — relates so hard it hurts. Tries to comfort him as much as possible and loves to reassure him she’s always there. Feels human around him too. Tries to compliment him more when he’s feeling low.

MILLIE: Close friend. Would be love interest but respects her marriage. Hot. Loves the violence and protective trait. Relates to her too. LOVES that she’s also an axe user. Girls night.

MOXXIE: Friend. Wishes he was more violent. But when he IS, she’s CHEERING SO LOUD IN THE BACKGROUND LOL LIKE YEEEEEEEAAAAAA BITCHHHHHHHHH FUCK EM UPPPPP

LOONA: Friend. Tries to include her in girls night. Fucks with her style. Loves the hellhound bite. Loves the fact she’s a hellhound in general. Finds her pretty cool.

#🐀 VERSE: DOLLHOUSE. 🐀#🐀 VERSE: A MILLION DREAMS. 🐀

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pyronormalsimplicity · 3 months

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FE fates

After The Paturiency, Corrin, Shigure, and Azura are attacked in their room by one of Iago's puppets. Shigure is scarred across one eye and Corrin, in his rage, loses control and is about to go feral until Felicia sacrifices herself by turning into a block of ice, freezing Corrin. Azura realizes just how far into the woodwork Iago has worked himself. Almost a third of all castle staff are sleeper agents, swayed willingly or unwillingly to Iago's beckoning. She manages to escape and somehow Laslow finds her and spirits her away to Ylise. There, she pleads with Chrom to help. Chrom is unable to but Robin and Lucina volunteers, seeing as how Corrin helped Lucina long ago. Laslow, now Inigo, comes along as well. Odin and Selena stay, however, to take care of Selena's child. Lucina, Robin, and Azura are able to gather a token force consisting of friends both old and new and are able to retake the capital. ...

...

Work ends with the reveal that Corrin has been the lorekeeper for the last 4-5 thousand years and the entire work has been him retelling his story to his great-x10-grandchildren or whatever

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 7 months

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Hey Puddles! Just finished the new installment of Whistle in the Dark and wow wow wow

First of all I am such a S L U T for soft!joel

Second, I was married to man who was physically abusive to me and you really hit this right on the head. The feeling of possessiveness, of a debt owed, of "You won't have anything unless I give it to you" is so spot on it made my stomach hurt a little.

I really appreciate your note at the end. I've never been one to shy away from a scrap, but when my husband was the one throwing blows I was literally frozen to the spot. It's hard for me to wrap my head around why that was my response even 15 years later.

Sorry for the rant, thank you or making me feel seen!

🫶🏻

Hi bb!

Not a rant AT ALL. Thank you so so so so so much for sharing this and your thoughts. I have been sitting with this message in my inbox for a few days now bc I wanted to give myself the time to process it all and respond appropriately.

Whistle in the Dark might be my softest Joel, second only to Feral Woman Joel. His character is so wonderful in all the different aspects of his personality that can be leaned into without going entirely OOC. He's such a rich character, and of course Pedro Pascal brought a whole new wave of inspiration with his interpretation of him.

I'm sorry to hear about your past relationship. I'm happy you're away from that and in a safer place. Unfortunately as you know, those experiences stay with the victim - even if they receive support or therapy or whatnot. Not saying it has to control your life, but it etches itself into the deepest parts of the brain for sure.

Anyone who has been in a situation like that before (or perhaps has seen it secondhand through parents or a friend) knows all too well how you struggle with what you "should do" and what you end up doing in the moment. The secret is, there's no right answer when you're with an abusive person. You will never be perfect because they will never accept anything no matter how hard you try to be "good." It's a lose-lose situation.

I knew I was on the right track when I was writing when my stomach also did that uncomfortable clench and turn. Although it was difficult to write at times, I wanted to give the story the realism and care that the themes call for.

I'd also like to point out that the reader/OC in WitD is a very strong individual. She endured horrific circumstances at the hands of her family before ending up in a survival team situation with Matthew. She works patrols in Jackson and is incredibly capable (I think back to the first installment where Joel had taken the time to help her learn to shoot better, and her marksmanship notably improved with the support). She's resourceful, a quick learner, and reliable, and she still has a good heart despite all the things she's been through.

The note at the end was meant to redirect any upset at the appropriate source (in this case, Matthew). I think it's common for the kneejerk reaction to be "why didn't you run?" or "you should've fought back!" because that's ultimately what we wish for the character or person in this circumstances: a deep desire for them to escape it somehow. Because human emotions are difficult and messy, this often comes out as victim blaming when it's merely the energy being directed in the wrong place. (Of course there are people who do blame victims. I'm not talking about those assholes.)

The concept of "no perfect victim" comes to mind with the third installment. If she freezes or doesn't fight back, she's weak or stupid. If she fights back or tries to get out of it, she's setting herself up for failure because he's bigger/stronger/etc. There's no right answer.

There's no right answer because there never is when you're with an abusive person.

Tysm again for reading, and I feel very strongly that the fourth and final installment will feel quite vindicating for you.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

#a word from puddles #puddles asks #fic: whistle in the dark

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jade-curtiss · 8 months

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Ok, I'm really more annoyed than I let show because, I mean, it was the first time in a while I was actually working on something actually productive and...once again, it had to be ruined by "help". I mean. And the thing is...it's not even as "necessary" as could be if I still manage. But the problem is that it really proved one thing: ressources are accessible only to a limited amount of people. Circumstantially I tried to see how long I could last on a certain budget just living casually instead of being overly conscious of everything I spend and...hm. Okay, to put in perspective given a very common trait people forget about bipolarity: spending habits. If anything it's, contrary to popular belief, it's one of the most common things that lead to a diagnostic (it goes under impulsive traits). It's harmless to about anyone but the person who go through that pattern, and maybe people around them, but it varies a lot. The point I want to make is that despite this being one of the most common trait to receive a diagnostic (bipolarity(type I or II) or manic depressive disorder) that is often unnecessarily correlated to criminality and violent impulse. And what is "violent" is often very arguable, it seems that what people seems to expect here is inherently physical when it's often just someone melting down loudly as a defense mechanism, I don't think I've ever seen anyone in that state unprovoked, in my case the only times I've ever been that way wasn't exactly even during episodes but as a desperate way to make boundaries. If words alone get me nowhere I just panic and become gradually hostile until the point is made. But that's very much the thing, to get me there my boundaries have to be stepped on severely. That doesn't count as a symptom in this context. I've seen professionals in these circumstances and, as a kid it's touchy, as an adult instead of a diagnostic they...don't do much really? They give ressources that only work for abled people who can drive with the proper means and good surroundings. But otherwise it's kinda like "fuck you, get killed" and then everyone think that lighting candles and sharing thoughts and prayer will improve anything while the same ressources for these same inaccessible services are shared ad nauseum. I mean the problem isn't a mental health problem here, but a systemic one. It doesn't matter if the disability is mental or physical it falls in the same pit here. From experience, I've been provoked by my family my entire life to be restrained that way. They always pushed on every buttons on purpose knowing what would happen. I would try to explain. Get sent to therapists. And if my therapists confirmed that my reactions were in fact normal. Then. Therapist switch. It was only when I was 17 and made a suicide attempt that people started to realize the issue wasn't exactly mine when they tried to provoke me the first day only to see what would happen in the next days if they did not do that. Nothing happened after a week or two, so they just released me. Then my mom had the brilliant idea to think that she was in control of the situation and still consider herself as a figure of authority in my life, instead of a bitch on watch, then attacked me at the first opportunity. I mean I don't even recall what it was for, it was really that mundane, but she went feral, but she's small and frail and not exactly what I could define as a threat so it was more like her problem here and I think my sister ended up calling 911 at some point, but given the circumstances it resulted in something very funny called losing custody. About. 2 weeks before my 18th birthday, and we probably lived if I make the whole count of it ... Hm. We probably lived. In total. About. 3-4 weeks together? But yeah. Anyway. She sabotaged my whole childhood doing that kind of shit every single times. I dunno what for exactly I mean I wasn't even living with her and yet she got full custody (and the things she spent it on, well, it's ok to loot people, don't think twice anymore), that cunt should be grateful. 🥱

Tl;dr: this is what psychological abuse look like and also why maintaining stereotypes about mental health only allow that kind of abuse to persist. Making a violent character psychotic requires a lot of nuance and violence may be the result of a build up that isn't always related to any symptoms. I mean psychose has the potential to be a very entertaining trait, but people should really look up the symptoms because they do that. And when it comes to labeled as "maniac" characters it's even worse (megalomania is overdone...like make these characters very obsessed with being productive about something completely useless instead, now that fits). Otherwise maintaining certain stereotypes for certain traits has the potential to harm anyone stuck in a vulnerable position (it's not exclusive to minors, but mainly do apply to minors).

Also can we stop pretending that "mental" health is actual medial thing when most of it turns out to be a result of circumstances and an attempt to keep vulnerable people under control without giving them an option to stand up if things fall through the very largely gapped safety net? Some biological factors do affect people cognitively, but most of it is just external. Even in cases of certain psychosis it's just like...tell someone enough bullshit for long enough and of course their relationship with reality will be altered if it's the only thing a person knows. So just because someone got bullshitted their entire lives we can put diagnostics on their back when the source never faces any consequences. Ever. Amazing. And people eat that shit.

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