#so feel free to correct if it was mentioned

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 5 Nevermore

Chp. 5 Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, heavy kissing, unprotected piv sex, semi-rough sex, creampie, praise kink, (kinda) size kink, aftercare, fluff and a LOT of angst, light banter, lots of emotions, mentions of past trauma, brief flashback of trauma, another cliffhanger (sorry) A/N: Well, if you're here, I hope you're prepared for what's coming. A HUGE shoutout to @loonmartell for helping co-conspire the trajectory of this story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as always <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in—

“Miss Smith?” 

Your head jerked up at the sound, and the pencil you were drawing circles with fell against your desk. Bradley, one of your students, was standing at the edge of your desk with his test in hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” you smiled, extending a hand. “Thank you.”

Bradley eyed you curiously before turning and skipping back to his desk. You dragged a hand over your face, wanting to crawl into the furthest corner of the world and never be seen again. Beth’s words had been plaguing you for days since you called her. Over and over again, they annihilated your thoughts, a constant broken record that you couldn’t shut off. You still had your nightly calls with Joel, talking past midnight and falling asleep together, but you kept making excuses not to see him. 

“I’ve got lesson plans to make,” you lied.

“I’ll help,” Joel had offered.

“You’re a distraction.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffed.

The next night, you lied and said you were going out with Maria, which was an even worse lie since you were avoiding her at all costs. Telling Beth the news was one thing, but telling Maria was another matter. She was nosey and a bit too loud-mouthed to trust. The last thing you wanted was for the entire faculty to know your dirty secrets. Joel had to remain a secret—at least for now.

It’s not like you wanted to avoid Joel; you were just scared. You were not ready for this new territory, and if Beth was anywhere near correct in her assumptions, it only made you want to shy away more. The only problem was parent-teacher conferences this week, meaning you’d have to see Joel and Sarah…together.

The class bell rang, and your free period between classes began. You dropped your head on the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to wrangle some semblance of calm back into your body. The final class of the day would be Sarah’s, and you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to see her. The blaring reminder that her dad had fucked you sore over the weekend still hung over your head, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for it. How was your fall break, Sarah? Oh yeah, mine was great. Your dad fucked me so hard I ended up having a complete breakdown. 

Fuck. 

You wanted the day to be over. 

The free period went by much faster than you wanted, and as you watched the next slew of kids take their seats, you made a conscious effort not to stare at Sarah as she walked in. She wore her usual smile, the impression of her dimples digging into her cheeks. Some wild thought popped into your head that you had no time to recover from: if you and Joel went any further, God help you, you’d be Sarah’s step-mom one day. Your stomach rolled with nausea as you tried to will those thoughts away. Joel wouldn’t stick around that long; you were a lost cause. There was no chance that would happen. Right? 

Clearing your throat, you rose from your desk and made your way over to the projector to set up the lesson for the day. Since the school year was nearing Halloween, you decided it would be fun to teach Edgar Allen Poe, completely forgetting you had chosen “The Raven”—which was about losing someone. This would have a bite to it that you weren’t ready for.

“Okay, everyone,” you announced. “Did we all finish the reading assignment this week?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement, and you quickly shifted to the first few slides of your presentation. 

“Alright, so who can tell me the overall theme for Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

Georgia, one of your top students, shot her hand up without a beat.

“Yes, Georgia?”

“It’s about his grief for losing Lenore,” she answered.

“Good,” you smiled. “Can anyone tell me what other theme the poem contains?”

“Madness!” Another student chimed in, causing an uproar of laughter amongst the students.

“Okay, okay, settle down. Very good, you guys.”

You switched to the next slide, staring blankly at the words typed out. Lenore is gone forever. Something struck you as you silently read it, realizing you weren’t too far off from Poe in his grief. Although Bennett wasn’t dead, he wasn’t coming back. That fact hadn’t hurt as deeply throughout the last few weeks, especially with Joel around, but it still threw salt in the open wounds still scattered over your heart. 

“In stanza two,” you cleared your throat. “In stanza two, Poe refers to Lenore as ‘nameless,’ which can imply that she has died, and he’s now consumed with grief. Where else did you guys find his grief prominent?”

Georgia quickly raised her hand again, and you motioned for her to speak. 

“In stanza four, he talks about his dreams, which I think he means he’s dreaming of her to return to him. But if she’s dead, there’s no way she’s going to come back,” Georgia said.

Fuck. You felt the sting of tears rim your eyes and briefly paused to gather your bearings. Bennett left. He left, and you had spent years dreaming he would return. 

“Good,” you choked out.

You glanced around the room, your eyes connecting with Sarah’s. It took all your strength not to break down and cry as she studied you with the same concerned furrow in her brows as her dad would do. 

Clicking to the next slide, you exhaled, focusing on the following theme to discuss. Madness. 

“Now, with the theme of madness, where do we see this begin? Obviously, the dreams can be interpreted as his descent into madness, but what else do we find?” You asked. 

To your detriment, Sarah was the one to raise her hand.

“Sarah,” you sighed, nodding.

“It’s the raven,” she said plainly. “The raven is what drives him mad.”

“What does he do to drive Poe mad?” You questioned.

“The raven only says one word,” she explained. “And that word drives him mad until the end of the poem.

“And why does it drive him mad?”

Sarah shifted in her seat, looking around at her classmates before responding.

“Because it’s the answer Poe doesn’t want to hear. Poe doesn’t want to be reminded that Lenore is dead, but that’s the only response the raven will give.”

You were swaying in place, trying to hold yourself together as the memories started ricocheting back into your mind. Now wasn’t the time to collapse, not in front of twenty students staring at you, confused and concerned. You only responded with a nod and flipped the projector off.

“Good job, you guys. Now, does anyone have any questions on this unit? Any questions about the stanza format or the themes?”

Sarah raised her hand again.

“Did his madness kill him?” She asked.

“Who?”

“Poe.”

“Oh, um, no. Well, it’s a mystery, really. Some people say he died of delirium, so, I guess, madness. But other people speculate he drank himself to death.”

The class grew morbidly quiet, which made it harder for you to continue. No one else spoke up after Sarah, so you resorted to handing out the quiz and sinking back into your desk chair.

One by one, the students came up to turn in their quiz, and you averted your gaze each time with a nonchalant ‘thank you.’ When the final bell finally sounded through the room, you hardly had the energy to wave goodbye. 

Sarah was the last to leave, and that same concerned look lingered on her face as she shuffled out. 

That night, you didn’t pick up the phone when Joel called. You stared as it rang repeatedly, watching the light fade from the screen when the ringing stopped. You buried your head under the covers and tried to sleep, but then the nightmares started.

You woke up to your alarm, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. Squinting at the morning sun streaming through the blinds, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Your fingers froze as you read the screen.

Seven missed calls from Joel

Two voicemails from Joel

With shaky fingers, you pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m hopin’ you’re just asleep, but if you’re up, please call me.”

Then you played the next.

“Baby, it’s me again. I miss you, and I’m worried ‘bout you. Please don’t shut me out, okay? I just wanna hear your voice and hear ‘bout your day. If you don’t wanna talk, that's okay. I understand. Just please lemme know you’re alright. I’ll drive my ass out to you if I need to just to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you get this. G’night, baby.”

You dug your knuckles into your eyes to try and force the tears back. Last night, you had the worst of the nightmares: the memory of something you tried to forget. You hadn’t touched that memory in so long. It was just the brutal realization you were truly at fault for everything with Bennett. No matter how badly you wanted to blame him, it was always your fault. 

Glancing back at your phone, you rechecked the time: 7:35. Fuck, you were running late, and you really didn’t want to call Joel back right now. At least not right now. You’d muster the energy and strength to do it later, but you needed to gather yourself and get ready for work right now. Tossing off the sweat-slick sheets, you rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. You couldn’t bother to put makeup on, so you opted to go without it and found a simple dress to wear. It was still in the high eighties in Austin, and a dress was the easiest option for the day. 

Scrambling for your purse and keys, you ran to the garage to start your car and head to the school. 

It wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot that you realized you left your phone on the nightstand. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, sipping her lukewarm coffee. 

She had nagged you into spending your free period in her classroom, demanding that you tell her everything that you had been withholding. You sat on the edge of her desk, your dress flowing over your knees as you stared out her class windows. 

“Nothing, Maria,” you lied. 

She said your name sternly, forcing your eyes to snap to hers. Her usual chipper demeanor was replaced with that ‘mother’ look, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. 

“Something is going on,” she pressed. “Could have something to do with Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. 

“You did it, huh?” She raised a brow. 

You exhaled heavily, nodding your head—no point in lying now. 

“We talked on the phone the entire break, and when I got home, he insisted on taking me on a date. Then one thing led to another… and yeah, we had sex.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands and grinning wide. You stared at her blankly, unamused by her reaction to your words. 

“This isn’t a good thing, Maria,” you said pointedly. 

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re finally putting yourself out there! Oh my god, was it good?” 

“It was,” you sighed. “It was good—really good. He’s so sweet and caring.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” she interjected. 

“But I can’t let it go any further,” you finished. 

Maria leaned forward and placed her hand on your knee. 

“Does he make you happy?” She asked softly. 

“So fucking happy, Maria. I hate it.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. That’s all I’ve been saying for years, and now you have it! Don’t force it to fail before it even begins. I saw the way he looked at you at the father-daughter dance. You can’t fake that.”

“I know. I know. I just—ugh,” you slid off the desk with a groan. “He’s too good for me. I’m still trying to get over Bennett and everything that happened. He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my misery. That’s not fair to him.” 

You were pacing around the room, your eyes darting between the science posters hanging along the walls of Maria’s classroom. You heard her desk chair scrape against the floor as she approached you. She gripped you by the shoulders and leveled you with a heavy stare, but her eyes remained soft. 

“He’s still around, right? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, sweetie. If anything, I think he’s in it for the long haul.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned into her, letting her wrap you up in a motherly embrace. She rubbed circles against your back, hushing you as you wept quietly. 

The rest of the day passed by in a numbing blur. You packed your things quietly and headed to your car, ready to drown yourself in a glass of wine. 

Joel’s truck was parked in front of your house as you turned the corner onto your street. His tall figure was leaning against the driver’s door; his eyes focused on your car as you pulled into the driveway. You inhaled sharply before putting your car in park, mentally preparing yourself for whatever anger he might unleash. 

You barely shut the car door before Joel had his arms around you, tugging you into a warm embrace. You couldn’t make sense of it; why wasn’t he mad? He should be angry at you. 

“Joel?” you whispered, your fingers twisting into his shirt. He smelt of cedarwood and smoke, the lingering scent of the workday still on his clothes. 

“I was so fuckin’ worried ‘bout you,” he muttered into your hair. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of you all day.”

“I left my phone at home this morning,” you explained. “I listened to your voicemails from last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was just running late this morning.”

“Why didn’t you pick up last night?’ He asked, pulling away. 

“I needed some space. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I want you—I want this. I just don’t know how to be fully vulnerable. I know that’s silly to say since I’ve cried every time I’ve seen you.” You laughed at the thought of it.

“You coulda just told me that, baby. I would’ve understood,” Joel sighed. 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“Of course not,” he smiled softly. “Had me worryin’ like crazy, but I ain’t mad. I know this is all new, and you’re scared. Just don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I wanna talk to you and understand what’s goin’ on with you. I told you I wanna work on it with you.”

“I’m s—.”

Joel was pressing his lips against yours before you could say those two words. The kiss was all-consuming and tender, strong enough to erase every thought in your mind. Your mouths moved in unison, tongues intertwined and exploring. It was dizzying to be kissed this fervently; the first kiss couldn’t hold a torch to this moment. You tangled your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, slanting your lips to open yourself even more to him. Joel’s hands twisted into the fabric of your dress that hugged your hips and pulled you tighter against his body. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock straining in his jeans, and he hauled you upwards until you were wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Spinning you around, he pinned you to the metal of your car door, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. Was it possible to be branded by a dozen kisses? He left a trail of sweltering kisses over every exposed part of your upper body, and all you could do was pant and moan helplessly. To hell with the neighborhood and their lingering eyes; the world around you could collapse, and you’d still be clinging to his body. 

“I told you I didn’t wanna hear those apologies,” Joel muttered against the hollow of your neck. 

“What are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You moaned, his teeth grazing your collarbone. 

“All I want right now is to hear you screamin’ my name, so you better invite me inside before I fuck you right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered.

“Wrong name, baby.”

With one strong arm braced around your back and a firm hand on your ass, Joel carried you out of the driveway and through the open garage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the bare patches in his beard. Joel stumbled into the living room and sat you on the edge of the couch. You clung to him, refusing to lay back, too afraid to disconnect from his body. There was something so addicting, so right about being in his arms—almost familiar. 

“Y’look so beautiful in this dress, baby,” Joel breathed. “Turn around.”

You unattached yourself from him, spinning until your thighs pushed against the leather of the couch. Joel’s hands roamed over your calves, dragging your dress up until it piled against your lower back. You gasped as his fingers tore apart your underwear, the scraps falling down your legs and piling at your feet. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, your slick coating your inner thighs. 

“Joel,” you whined as he swiped a finger through your wet folds.

“Use your words,” he hummed, slowly pushing in two fingers.

“I need you, Joel.” He curled his fingers against the spot that left you breathless, coaxing you to speak more. “Need it rough—please.” 

You needed to feel how bad he needed you; you needed to show him you wanted him, even if it meant doing it without saying it aloud.

“Y’want it rough, baby? I can do that. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you exhaled. 

Joel pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to your mouth and smearing your arousal over your parted lips. You hummed as you tasted yourself, pushing your ass back into him. You heard the clang of his belt and the soft sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he swiped his cock across your slick entrance.

“Don’t be gentle,” you moaned.

“Anythin’ you want, baby.”

That was all he said before splitting you open, the fullness of his cock inside you robbing you of all the breath in your lungs. Joel kept his hips flush with yours, his fingertips drifting down the fabric of your dress covering your spine. 

“Joel,” you whined. 

You shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, nudging yourself back until the tip of his cock rubbed against the right spot inside you. You mewled at the sensation, wiggling your hips to find some sort of relief from the pleasure churning inside your stomach.

“Impatient, baby?” Joel teased.

He moved against you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You had been in such a haze last time you hadn’t realized how big he actually was, but now you felt every glorious inch of him inside you. You let out another frustrated whimper, and Joel responded with an onslaught of forceful thrusts. Your body shoved further into the couch, your midsection rubbing against the edge every time Joel snapped his hips against yours. 

Joel’s hand snaked around your neck, drawing you back into his chest, the angle of his cock spearing deeper inside you. Your wails turned to sobs as you listened to Joel grunting harder behind you, his fingers squeezing rhythmically around your throat. 

“That’s it, baby,” Joel crooned. “That’s it. Doin’ so well for me.”

You gasped for air as the desire coiling within your core became agonizing and all-consuming. Your fingers wrapped around his hand holding you up, clawing at his skin as his thrusts became erratic and determined. You were teetering on the edge of euphoria, your body buzzing with pleasure. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” Joel whispered into your ear. 

You fought against your dress to find your clit, the instant connection of your fingers causing you to cry out. Joel’s mouth ravaged your neck, sucking marks into the skin as you drew tantalizing circles over the sensitive bud. It was right there— that explosive pleasure bubbling under the surface. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice strained under his grip. “Don’t—right there. Right there, Joel!”

Joel quickened the pace, your eyes blurring as your orgasm raced through your veins and set your nerves ablaze. Your sex clenched around his cock, forcing him to slow his thrusts as he groaned into your ear. 

“S’fuckin’ good, baby,” he punched out, releasing your neck.

“More,” you heaved. 

“Think y’can take it?” He asked, pinning you down onto the couch cushions.

“Just want you, Joel,” you said. Your words were muffled into the couch as you exhaled, “Want everything with you.” 

You didn’t know if Joel heard you, and you prayed he didn’t. Your brain was lost in some euphoric haze, dizzying you and your ability to control your emotions. Joel knew every part of your body, like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed and what you wanted, and it was so confusing. 

But all your thoughts grew quiet as the lewd sounds of your arousal and his ragged breathing echoed around the house. Joel’s hand pressed into your hair as he pushed you further into the couch. Bent over this way, you were entirely at his mercy, putty in his hands, and helpless. 

“Swear y’were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” Joel grunted. “You’re mine, baby. Mine.”

“Yours,” you cried. “I’m—.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Joel seized up, choking out your name as he spilled into you. His body slumped over yours, the weight of his chest heavy against your back. The hammering of his heart matched yours as you both recovered in silence, the house growing quiet aside from your labored breathing. 

“Too rough?” Joel muttered into your hair. 

You shifted your face to the side, rewarded by his lips pressing into your cheek. 

“Perfect,” you sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You weren’t lyin’ when you said you weren’t a fan of vanilla, huh?” Joel chuckled, pulling out of you. 

You slumped further into the couch, laughing softly. 

“I was talking about cake, Joel. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sure you were, baby. Stay right there, okay?”

You heard his footsteps disappear toward your bedroom, the distant sound of water turning on and off floating down the hallway. A second later, Joel was behind you again, the cool touch of a towel making you jerk away in shock. He gently rubbed the cloth over your inner thighs, taking extra caution of your sore entrance. You’d feel him everywhere tomorrow, and you didn’t hate that for some reason—you wanted the reminder of him. 

“C’mere,” Joel urged, helping you stand. 

He pulled you over to the couch, curling you into his arms and bracing you against his chest. Joel intertwined his fingers with yours, his breathing evening out as you shimmed further into his embrace. Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was just being around him, but all your doubts and worries seemed to fade away. It was just this moment; you and him with limbs entangled together. 

“Tell me somethin’ no one knows about you,” Joel whispered. 

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

“Of course, baby.”

You paused, considering all the possibilities of what you could share. You had forgotten pieces of yourself over the years, the layers of heartbreak and trauma suffocating the person you once were. You still weren’t sure if that girl you had once been was still inside you. 

“I hate pancakes,” you said.

Joel laughed, his body shaking behind you as you buried your head into the couch. 

“Pancakes? Really?” He teased. 

“I just don’t like them!” You defended. 

“Y’gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “They’re just too sweet.”

“So y’don’t like sugar in your coffee, and y’think pancakes are too sweet,” Joel mused. “What do you like?”

“Don’t tease me, Joel.”

His fingers prodded your sides, forcing you to shriek at the contact. You hated to be tickled and hated it even more when he kept you pinned to your chest with nowhere to go. You rolled toward him, squirming against his touch. Joel leaned in to kiss you softly, muffling your protests as you settled into his arms. 

“Your turn,” you sighed. 

“Hmm, well, I like pancakes.”

“Be serious, Joel,” you frowned. 

“Okay, okay. I love watchin’ cartoons.”

You giggled, watching that grin stretch across his face. 

“Been watchin’ them with Sarah since she was a kid,” he chuckled. “I still do sometimes, even if she ain’t home.” 

“That’s cute,” you smiled.

You brought your fingers to his face, scratching at the stubble covering his chin and jaw. Joel’s eyes shut as your touch drifted over the patchy spots, your fingertips drawing circles in the places his beard disconnected. 

“Tell me somethin’ else,” he said.

“I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a quick response—almost too fast—but you couldn’t swallow back the words. You glanced up at him, peeking through your lashes to see his brown eyes soften. 

“Handsome, huh?”

“Well, I can’t call you cute,” you scrunched your nose. “It doesn’t fit you. I like handsome more.”

“I like it,” he smiled. “Call me handsome all y’want.”

You dragged him to your mouth, saying everything you couldn’t form into words. Joel moved with you, his head tilting and mouth molding to yours. He made everything feel so simple; maybe that’s what scared you. It was too easy with him—falling into this idyllic routine. Joel mumbled your name, pulling himself reluctantly from your lips. You chased one more kiss and settled back into his chest. 

“Did you know it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day?” You thought out loud.

Joel tensed up, his arms flexing around you. 

“Superstition says it means your marriage will last,” you continued. “I’ve always thought it was funny, you know? I used to believe in that before my wedding, but after that, I figured everyone had lied to me.”

“Baby,” Joel whispered. 

“No, it’s okay. There’s a point to this, I promise.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly.

“I think the rain was good luck. Maybe not in the way people think, but I don’t think Bennett and I were meant to get married. My sister hated me for going through with it. We didn’t really talk once Bennett and I got engaged. Everyone warned me about him; they told me he wasn’t who I should be with. I was so stubborn to make things work. He—he was there for me during a really awful time in my life. I thought I owed it to him to stay.

“But then here you are, and it makes me re-think everything. The rain? It’s still good luck, just in a different way. I wasn’t meant to be with him because maybe… maybe I was meant to be with you.”

Joel was painfully quiet, his eyebrows furrowing together as he closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. You had rambled out everything you were scared to say, and now it was biting you in the ass. This was why you were too afraid to acknowledge your feelings: the rejection. Joel didn’t see it the same way; he didn’t think of you in the same way, and you just made a complete idiot of yourself. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. You kept the tears at bay, trying not to let yourself succumb to the heartbreak shattering inside you. 

Joel’s hands wrangled you back to his chest, his eyes leveling with yours. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed away the rogue tears falling down your cheeks. 

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind y’were meant for me, baby. I’m thankin’ God every day for bringin’ you into my life,” Joel confessed. “I know this is all new, but I promise to keep provin’ myself because whatever this is between us, it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you echoed. 

“Don’t run away from me,” Joel pleaded. “Gimmie all the good and bad stuff. I swear I can handle it.”

“What if you get tired of me? What if I’m not enough?” You rambled. 

“I could never get tired of you, baby. If anythin’, I keep wantin’ more.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his scent as you pressed your nose into his chest. Joel ran a hand through your hair, his fingers catching on a few knots left from earlier. 

“What’d you mean when you said he was there for you durin’ somethin’ awful?” Joel asked after a beat of silence. 

Flashes of the crash came back into your mind, or at least the ones you could recall. You squeezed your eyes shut as your nightmares began to see the light of day. It was a memory you never liked to revisit.

“Easy,” your mom whispered. “Easy, honey. Don’t move too much, okay? Take it slow.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh lights above you burning into your retinas as you tried to adjust to the room fading into the forefront. You were tucked into a hospital bed, IVs and tubes sticking out of both arms. Your head was pounding, and everything hurt. That’s all you could focus on. Everything hurt so fucking bad.

“Bennett?” You croaked, searching the room. 

Your mom, dad, Beth, and Stella were all grouped around the foot of the bed, their eyes glassy with tears. Bennett was nowhere to be found. Beth’s fear-stricken eyes shifted from your mom to your dad before she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” your mom announced, turning and leaving the room.

Stella shifted uncomfortably and promptly followed, leaving your dad alone at the foot of your bed.

“How’re you feeling, peanut?” He asked, rounding to the side of your bed.

“Pain,” you cried softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Baby?” Joel said cautiously. 

“S–sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

Joel’s brows scrunched together, his eyes staring at you with concern. You turned away from him, lifting yourself from the couch. Pacing the living room, you stared blankly at your bookshelf beside your entertainment center, still collecting dust after two years. You heard Joel shift against the couch behind you and glanced back to see him staring at you intensely. Anxiety was thrumming in your chest the longer you stood in front of him, too many thoughts reeling inside your mind. You never talked about the accident; you didn’t want to be reminded of what had been the catalyst in your relationship's failure. Because that’s what it was. You owed everything to Bennett for sticking by your side through it all, and in the end, you weren’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to salvage what had been your life with him before it all.

“Hey,” Joel exhaled. “C’mere.”

“I—I need a minute,” you cried.

You bolted from the living room and went down the hall, gasping for air when you reached the edge of your bed. The room was spinning as you dropped your head in your hands, the nausea surging up inside you the longer you stayed stuck in the memory. You needed out of it; you needed out. You needed—.

Joel rushed into the room, falling to his knees in front of you as he said your name over and over to coax you out of the trance. Nothing was working. Your head was throbbing in pain, and you couldn’t work around it. 

“Breathe with me, baby,” Joel whispered. “Breathe.”

You heaved in a lung full of air, only to choke on it and gag back the nausea crawling up your throat. Joel rubbed his hands over your thighs, the sensation of his touch jarring you enough to make you cringe. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned, a distant echo of your dad's words. “It’s okay.”

The shrilling sound of your phone ringing pulled you both from the moment, and you crawled over the bed to grab it. 

Beth

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I can’t—I can’t answer it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll do it,” Joel offered with an outstretched hand. 

You practically tossed it at him while you crumpled into the sheets with your hands clutching your head. 

“Hello?” He answered with a brief pause before he said, “This is Joel.”

Silence.

“Fuck, okay. Gimmie a second,” he replied.

“Baby, she needs to talk to you,” Joel said.

You stifled your cries before taking your phone from his hand, already hearing Beth’s frantic voice on the other end of the receiver. 

“Beth, what is it?” You asked, your body shaking. 

“It’s dad, sis. You’ve got to come home, okay?”

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x teacher #joel x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miler tlou #tlou #pre outbreak!joel #the last of us fanfiction #fluff and angst #so much angst

[urhoneycombwitch]

plan b

___

foreword: thank you to this anon, this was just the right amount of sitcom Spider-man pointing meme-ery that I needed. wrote this with husky!neighbor!Eddie since I thiiiink I’ve established that version of him is modern so hopefully this aligns with my made-up canon. lol.

wc: 1.9k

cw: weight mention (in the context of finding meds, no numbers used), embarrassment on R’s end of kink discussion, frenemies vibes between R and Eddie (they get under each other’s skin but in a hot way <3), Eddie is soft-domming in public, no actual smut but still +18 mdni

DISCLAIMER: Plan B can really fuck your shit up and shouldn’t necessarily be used when introducing new kinks. Please do your research and consult w/ a medical professional before using. Putting the fiction in fic with this one.

_____

Christ, there are too many options.

Your vision is swimming in the Family Planning aisle, fluorescent overheads of the CVS taking up residence in your left temple.

You press your fingertips against the spot, massaging gently as you pull different brands of boxes from the shelf to inspect the instructions.

This one says take within twenty-four hours, that might be- oh, shit, there’s a weight cap. Dammit. And this one’s… twice the price? For fucking why?

Frustrated, you shove the expensive thing back in place. The words on the blue label next in line catches your eye- Pre-Seed Fertility Lubricant- and you snap your hand away, as if scorched. Nope. Opposite of what you need. Christ. Pre-Seed?!

It’s almost giggle-worthy. You take out your phone, glancing up and down the aisle; the store is empty this late at night, just an older woman behind the front registers who had greeted you earlier with bored corporate formality, eyes fixed on her magazine.

Picture of Pre-Seed, taken. Check that one off the list. The only person who you’d want to share a laugh over text about this with is the one person who does not need to know why you’re in the goddamn Family Planning aisle at ten PM. On a Thursday.

At least, not yet. You lock your phone, pocketing it before zeroing in on the purple and green-themed Plan B that boasts One Tablet, One Step.

Although it’s pricier than some of the other morning-after pills, it’s the only one that you feel fully confident about buying. You give the box a little toss, feeling the next-to-nothing weight of it in your palm. Fifty bucks for a tiny pill, one that you may not even end up using- but you’ll be goddamned if you’re caught unprepared.

“Can I help you find anything?”

Your blood flashes cold, then hot, as you realize who the voice belongs to- attention focused elsewhere, you didn’t hear Eddie sidling up the aisle until now.

He’s leaning into his arm on the nearest shelf, grinning wolfishly at his own joke, chocolate eyes lit up at having found you here. He looks obscene- biceps and chest bulging at the stretched fabric of his t-shirt, hair unspooling dark curls from a low bun, black ink tattoos rippling over his bare forearms and peeking out from beneath his collar.

Honestly, you don’t know why he wasn’t stopped at the door by the woman on night shift. He’s bordering public indecency with those fitted Levi’s alone.

Fortunately the shock of hearing Eddie’s low voice is not enough to send the Plan B in your hand flying- too late to reshelve it without him seeing, you cling to it tighter, plastic creaking under your grip as you pray to every god ever that he doesn’t notice.

“Oh! Hey. Hi. Haha, very funny.” Well, that was smooth, but at least you said something comprehensible. “What’re you doing here?”

Eddie doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, using his free arm to reach for a pack of condoms near your head- “Late night shopping. Stocking up for the weekend. Can’t seem to keep these around, seeing as I’m being fucked out of house and home.”

”Well… apartment,” you correct, heart leaping at the smile lines that jump around Eddie’s eyes. This is good, maybe you can just keep him talking and find a second to shove the Plan B into a random spot or perhaps launch it into the sun-

Nope, too late. Mid-crinkle, Eddie’s eyes drop to the package in your hand, and you watch his face drop as he processes multiple trains of thought at once.

“Oh, shit. Is that… did we…?”

There’s a pinch between his dark brows, likely running through the last few weeks of your hookups (which have all been protected) and trying to do the mental math; you shake your head, trying to stammer through the flush of embarrassment that’s overtaking your system.

“No, it’s not- not from us. Not from you. I mean…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably from one sneaker to the other as words hit a jam in your throat.

Eddie’s in a full frown now, pushing off the shelf, standing to his full height, confusion and hurt seeping into his expression, voice quiet and pitched deep- “Is it from someone else?”

“Oh my god.” This was a nightmare, right? You’d like to wake up now. “No, no, not from anyone else. It’s-”

A sharp exhale, a shake of your head, and the words loosen all at once- “I was gonna get it for us, for me, for this weekend, if you wanted to give me a reason to use it.”

Eddie goes as still as you’ve ever seen him before, fingers stopped in their usual constant tapping, blinking at the box in your hands.

His face smooths.

Then he smiles.

Your stomach flips.

Eddie slides the condoms back into the wrong spot, not bothering to look as he leans in close enough for you to smell the spice of his cologne as he says in a sex-dipped timbre: “Well if you wanted me to fill you up with my cum, why didn’t you just say so?”

A horrified, awkward squawk escapes before you can bite it back; your head whips down the aisle to make sure no one else was within earshot of his dirty mouth as you blindly shove the Plan B away, deep into a shelf. “Oh my god. Jesus christ.”

”Eddie is just fine,” he responds mildly, the cool demeanor to your rapidly heating one as his grin simmers wicked between dimpled cheeks.

“Forget it,” you start, shaking your head and making to brush past, embarrassment flooding in hot, “Just forget-”

Eddie catches you by the elbow, effectively locking you in place with a single move, but he’s not looking at you; with his free hand, he snaps up the slightly crumpled box and scans the words.

“Y’think one will be enough?”

The flood subsides, gives you pause enough to stutter out, “W-what?”

Eddie’s fingers flex on your arm. He turns the box over in his big hand, rings glinting. “We’d better get two. Just in case.”

Your skin feels the impression of his palm even after he lets go, like a Polaroid in rapid reverse as he grabs a second box, warmth fading fast from your skin. “I don’t think- I mean, that’s not how they work, I should probably find a more permanent sol-”

“Just for the weekend.” His eyes are back on you now, self-satisfied smirk giving way to something darker, more intense. “Yeah?”

A shiver casts goosebumps down the length of your body. He’s goddamn toying with you, in the middle of a fucking CVS. Despite your flare of irritation, you nod, voice nearly a croak as you echo, “Yeah.”

The grin lights up his face again. “Good girl.”

Eddie doesn’t give you time to react to this (verbally, anyways- your cunt is most certainly responding to the praise despite your best efforts to remain unaffected), using one large hand to hold both boxes and another to press at the small of your back, leading you down the aisle.

Truthfully, you’re grateful for the help (regardless of his dominance-based tendencies that don’t usually get you this easy); based on the ringing in your ears, you’re doubtful of your own ability to navigate the maze of aisles.

Eddie walks you both to the front register, and you watch as if outside of your own body while the cashier scans the barcodes and Eddie swipes his card.

He pockets the receipt, slides a finger through the handles of the plastic bag, and holds it out between your bodies. Right in front of the goddamn cashier.

”For you.”

This brings you back to yourself, a bit, mortification giving way to annoyance (a much more useful emotion in this scenario), and you snatch it to your chest. It’s your turn to grab Eddie’s elbow, half-dragging him towards the exit.

“Come again soon,” the cashier calls, still in monotone.

So close. You’re less than a yard away from the sliding glass doors that would have swallowed Eddie’s reply- but as it stands, he gets in one last cheerful wave, an award-winning, dimple-charmed smile to match his bright response.

“She will!”

Damn him. You give a final tug and you’re both out in the parking lot, glass doors closing automatically with a whoosh behind you, cool night air kissing at your cheeks.

”Seriously?” You’re mature enough to recognize that your anger is misplaced, adrenaline-fueled, but that doesn’t stop you from whirling on Eddie, giving his shoulder a sharp shove that (unfortunately, tantalizingly) doesn’t move him an inch. “I can never return to this fucking store. Thanks for that.”

Eddie really doesn’t help his case, grin turned shit-eating as he rustles through his various pockets for his pack of cigarettes- “Careful, sweetheart- you know how hot and bothered I get when you’re mad.”

”Unbelievable.” You turn on a swift heel, slipping the bag loops up your arm to dig for your keys. “You just got me blacklisted from our local drugstore and you don’t even care.”

There’s the snick of a lighter behind you, while your car a few spaces down chirrups and blinks in response to the furious press of your fob’s unlock button.

Eddie chuckles, sardonic and unsympathetic. “Too bad this is the only CVS in the whole world. I think you’ll live, princess.”

Ignoring this, you stomp towards your car, petulant, bag rustling; the door is half-open when Eddie calls, “So, are you coming over tonight, or what?”

“Obviously!”

The door slams with more force than you intend, sound ricocheting across the lot.

From the respite of your tinted windows, you watch as a streetlamp-haloed Eddie takes a drag from a cigarette, smoke drifting thick around a hazy visage of the hottest man alive. (Maybe you’re a touch biased. But your opinion is based on personal accounts, so fuck the naysayers.)

He tips his head back to look at the stars, pale column of throat illuminated- with a flush of realization, you scoff. He’s putting on a show for you.

Two can play, you think, driving your seatbelt into place with a click. But first I’m gonna have to make a stop at home. Namely for new undies.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #husky!neighbor!Eddie #husky!neighbor!eddie x reader #eddie x reader

[dixons-sunshine]

hi I just wanted to start with I really love your writing its just so good. I do have a request and if your not interested its okay it is angst but with a possible happy ending.

so its a daryl x reader where before the apocalypse r and daryl were together and they ended things right before everything went to shit and then when the group gets to Alexandria r is there and she has kid/s (maybe twins?? boy and girl??) so turns out r found out she was pregnant right when everything started happening so daryl didn't know and idk he like puts two and two together yk? and if you're okay with it can she be hispanic/ latin (maybe that can be one of the reasons they broke up bc yk merl is an ass to POC)

anyways sorry if that was a lot or didn't make sense

anyways have a good day/night much love <3

Two Plus Two Makes Four | Daryl Dixon x Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Summary: A week before the apocalypse, Daryl was forced to break up with you by Merle, leaving you heartbroken, but not alone—soon after he left, you found out you were pregnant. Now, two years later, you come face to face again with the man that broke your heart, and he finds out something shocking.

Genre: Angst, some fluff towards the end.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: Sorry this took so long to finish. I hope this is good enough to make up for the wait! Please note that I used Google translate for this, so the translations may be incorrect or awkward! Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistakes! (Translations will be at the bottom.)

—

“Kids?! Ya were pregnant and ya didn't fuckin' tell me?!” Daryl bellowed angrily, grabbing your arm to halt you from walking away from him.

You ripped your hand from his grip. “¡No me toques!” You spun around, furiously pointing a finger in your ex boyfriend's direction. “Don't you even dare put this on me, Dixon! You left. You walked out because you cared more about your brother's opinion than you did me! I'm sorry I wasn't gonna baby trap a man who didn't wanna be with me!”

“I deserved to know! I missed two years of their lives 'cause ya didn't tell me! I could of been there fer 'em, for ya, but ya chose to keep it from me!” Daryl exclaimed angrily, following you as you walked into your kitchen. “How could ya keep tha' from me?!”

“You chose to run to your brother the first chance you got! Four years down the drain in an instant for that racist asshole. I didn't owe you anything after that, maldito idiota!”

Daryl stopped in his tracks, instantly regretting starting up this particular argument. You spoke nothing but the truth. You didn't owe him anything. After all, it was him who walked out on you. He chose to let Merle's judgement get to him and influence his relationship. Hell, if it weren't for Merle, he would have proposed to you. He already had a ring picked out and everything back then, but he let Merle ruin everything. It was his own stupidity that cost him two years of his children's lives.

“Mama?”

At the sound of a small, timid voice coming from behind you, both you and Daryl turned and came face to face with your kids, your two year old twins. Your son, Luka, was nervously looking up at you and Daryl while your daughter, Camilla, was standing behind him, holding his hand.

Daryl was struck by the similarities both children shared with him. They both had his eyes, and his hair colour. They were spitting images of him. There was no doubt in his mind that these two children were his. He wasn't blind. He could see they were.

“Everything's fine, amores. I'm just having a conversation with Mr Dixon.”

Camilla stepped forward, her eyes lighting up with wonder. She looked up at Daryl, a smile spreading across her chubby cheeks. “Dixon?” she asked, pointing up at him. “Papa?”

Daryl was surprised. He looked up at you in confusion, silently asking for an explanation. You sent him a strained smile, forcing a relaxed look in front of your children.

“I always talk about you. They deserve to know who their father is. Well, who he was before he left me,” you explained, looking back down at Camilla and Luka.

“Papa?” Luka asked as he stepped forward, his blue eyes that reflected Daryl's sparkling with wonder. “Our papa?”

Daryl looked at you for permission, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. You nodded, silently giving him permission. He was their dad, after all, and he had just as much right to have a relationship with them as you, even if he did leave you. However, that was between him and you, and your children didn't deserve to be denied a relationship with their dad because of it.

The archer bent down, looking between Luka and Camilla as they stared at him in wonder. “Yeah, m'yer papa. M'sorry I wasn't here before, but m'here now. I ain't goin' nowhere.”

Daryl wasn't sure how much of his speech they understood, if they understood anything at all, but it didn't matter. The speech was mainly meant for you. It was to let you know that he wanted to be a part of their lives, and there was just about nothing that could stop him from that.

Camilla and Luka, as if having some sort of twin power, both simultaneously rushed forward and into his arms. Daryl wasted no time in hugging them back, somehow managing to pick them both up and rest them comfortably in his arms. It was relatively late, nearly eight at night and well past their bed times, so they rested their heads on his shoulders, making Daryl's heart swell with fondness. They didn't even know him, only having heard of him through the stories you told them, but they already trusted him. And even though he just found out he had kids, he would kill for them.

“We need to talk, sunshine. This ain't somethin' we can just sweep under the rug,” he told you, allowing you to take Luka from his arms to lighten the load. He adjusted his hold on Camilla, letting out a fond chuckle when he heard her yawn and nuzzle her face deeper into his shoulder.

You let out a sigh and nodded. “I know. But let's get these dormilones to bed first.”

Approximately half an hour later, the twins were tucked into bed and asleep. You and Daryl were back in the kitchen, both having a glass of wine in your hands—liquid courage for the conversation you were about to have.

“M'sorry fer leavin' ya,” Daryl broke the silence first, nervously sloshing the liquid around in his glass. “I dun' even know why I did. Merle's opinions should've never influenced our relationship. I loved ya. I still do. I regret leavin' ya more than anythin' else in my life.”

You inhaled deeply, willing the tears away. For two years you had wanted an explanation, and now you were finally getting one. However, hearing him admit that he still loved you, that you weren't stupid for still loving the man who broke your heart, was both relieving and hurtful.

“You hurt me, Daryl,” you whispered, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I get that Merle was your brother, but you should've never let him influence you like that. I had to go through everything alone. Do you know how hard it was being pregnant and fighting for my life against the dead out there? Do you know how terrified I was? I was lucky enough to find Alexandria a couple of days before I gave birth. If I didn't, I would've given birth out there with the walkers. I probably would've died. Camilla and Luka too.”

Daryl felt the guilt gnawing at his insides. He really hated himself at that moment. “M'sorry, sweetheart. I really fuckin' am. I promise I won't leave again. I dun' expect you to give me a second chance. God knows I dun' deserve it, but I promise I'll be here fer ya and the lil ones. I ain't ever gon' let ya down again, I promise.”

You gave him a small smile, reaching over to take his hand in yours. You rubbed your thumb over his knuckles, something you always did whenever the two of you had a serious talk. “Give me some time, Daryl. I still love you, but I need some time to adjust to the idea of 'us' again. It's been just me and the twins for two years. As far as I knew before today, I thought I wouldn't see you ever again. Just focus on the kids for now, okay? They deserve to know their daddy.”

Daryl's lips twitched up into a smile, and he nodded. “I'll wait as long as ya need me to. I ain't ever gon' let anyone influence us ever again, I can assure ya of tha'. And I ain't ever gon' leave ya to raise 'em alone, never.”

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

¡No me toques!: Don't touch me!

Translations (May be incorrect! Please feel free to correct me if they are!):

maldito idiota!: fucking idiot!

amores: loves.

dormilones: sleepyheads.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

[dakogutin]

for @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: teacher au [554 words]

The Grindylow swam frantically inside its tank, no longer as haughty as when Remus first revealed it to the class now that everyone’s attention was on it. He almost felt bad for the poor thing, but then he’d remember how it made faces behind him when he discussed its history and origin.

“Now, who can tell me what spell is effective to defend oneself against a Grindylow attack?” His eyes scanned the raised hands, before landing on a figure by the door. Someone was stood there, observing Remus. Tall, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, head tilted ever so slightly. Dark hair and piercing metallic grey eyes.

Sirius. In hogwarts....

Every thought suddenly flew out the window.  Remus was seconds away from excusing himself for his… visitor. But as usual, Sirius had impeccable timing.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, professor,” he said, stepping forth. Everyone’s heads turned to him. Each word is dripping with arrogance that was perfectly concealed in a velvety voice and a charming smile. “I believe ‘Relashio’ should do the trick. It’s both safe and competent enough to cast on a small creature as a defensive spell, while also equally effective against a swarm of them.”

“Very good.” Remus smiled. “As mentioned, the Grindylow’s main form of attack is by grasping its victim with its tendrils. Casting a Revulsion jinx or ‘Relashio’ is indeed the most effective spell to free oneself from this immobility. And when underwater, this also shoots a stream of boiling water, apprehending these creatures and allowing more time to flee.”

Sirius beamed at him. Students began murmuring to themselves, recognising Sirius or at least recognising that he’s very easy on the eyes. Remus couldn’t blame them, but also, this is exactly the kind of ruckus he was preventing.

After a curt, “excuse me for a while…” and shutting the door behind him, Remus casted a ‘Muffliato’ for good measure. Teenagers are notoriously nosy, and he’s not about to be the latest piece of gossip this early in the school year. “What’s this about?” he asked, turning to Sirius. “Is everything alright?”

Sirius shrugged. “Just thought I’d pop in, really. Haven’t seen you in your natural habitat, professor. Very hot, by the way.” His hand rose to brush off invisible dirt on Remus' robes.

“Really?” Remus said incredulously but chuckled despite himself. Even after all these years, he'd never gotten used to Sirius’ brazen flirting. “You came all this way for that?” He took Sirius' hand to stop it from fiddling with his tie. It was too distracting.

“Maybe I’d like to see our old professors too,” Sirius said flippantly. “And you forgot something.”

“What is it?”

Sirius grinned. “I can give it to you after class. If I’m correct, you have a free period next.”

“Hm, you just happen to be very familiar with my timetable?” he murmured, leaning closer.

“Lucky guess. I knew my O in Divination would prove useful every once in a while.”

“You didn't take Divination for OWLs.”

But Sirius was already spinning him to the direction of the door. “Go back to your third-years, Professor Lupin, before you get scolded by our darling Minerva for flirting during class hours.”

Remus let Sirius push him, laughing. “Don’t think I’ll drop the fact that you disrupted my class, by the way.” Then before Sirius could retaliate, he snuck a quick kiss to Sirius’ lips. “I’ll see you after my class, Black.”

He had a strong feeling that something he forgot wasn’t exactly an object…

#wolfstar microfic #sirius deserved to see remus as a professor!! #scrapped this wip so now it's only getting posted here hihi #yes this was a smut wip #wolfstar #my fic

[raaorqtpbpdy]

In Memory of Mom

Danny meets a strange, Spanish-speaking ghost wandering around Casper High. His Spanish isn't great, but he's pretty sure she's looking for her daughter.

For the Prompt: Danny encounters a strange spanish-only speaking ghost looking for Paulina Sanchez. Being a first year Spanish student, he only recognizes the words "mi hija" and hesitantly leads her to Paulina. It's Día de los Muertos, but because Paulina has been trying to fit in at school, and her papa remarried and doesn't want to make his new wife uncomfortable, they've fallen out of the habit of setting up the ofrenda and marigolds, leaving their mom/wife unable to find her way home. Paulina can't see or hear her, but Phantom can [From @dreamwraith]

Disclaimer: I am white, and I do not speak Spanish. It is with deepest regret that I must admit to using Google translate for the Spanish dialogue in this fic. If you notice any errors in the Spanish, or regarding Día de Muertos (which there might very well be, though I did do my research), please feel free to correct me. I can only do my best, and always appreciate the opportunity to do better.

Read also on AO3

[Warnings for past character death, and mentions of culture death]

Danny typically liked to have more than one day to recover after fighting Fright Knight every Halloween. Not to mention the numerous other ghosts who always had to come out on that stupid holiday to cause as much trouble as possible during the period of time when the barrier between the human world and the Ghost Zone was at it's thinnest.

Of course, Danny never got more than one day, but he would have liked to.

Luckily the ghost that showed during lunch period on November second didn't seem to be causing any trouble. In fact, it didn't seem like she was powerful enough to cause trouble, even if she wanted to. No one besides Danny even seemed to notice her, which at least meant she wouldn't be able to cause any serious damage, even if she tried.

She was speaking Spanish as she walked through the halls of Casper High, and turning her head this way and that as if she was looking for something, or someone.

"¿La has visto? ¿Mi hija? ¿Dónde está mi hija? ¿La has visto?" she called out.

Now, Danny was only a first year Spanish student, and furthermore... he missed a lot of classes, so he wasn't sure exactly what she was saying, but he did recognize the words 'mi hija', 'my daughter'. The last time he'd been to Spanish class, Señora Gutierrez had been teaching family terms. Madre, padre, hermana, hermano, hija, hijo, tío, abuela, that kind of thing.

Subtly, he followed her until she walked into a hallway where there weren't any people, and then, with no one to look at him like he was crazy for talking to the air, he spoke to her.

"Excuse me, are you looking for your daughter?" Danny asked.

"¡sí mi hija!" the woman replied excitedly. "¿La conoces? ¿La has visto?"

Danny knew 'sí', that was 'yes', the most basic of basic Spanish. 'sí' and... and... okay, so Danny couldn't remember what 'no' was in Spanish, but he remembered 'sí'. Ancients, he was really gonna have to start showing up to that class more if he wanted to get the foreign language credits he needed to graduate.

"Uh... tu hija," Danny said, completely confident that he was already screwing up the grammar, "¿que es la nombre?"

"No es muy fluido en español, ¿verdad?" The ghost laughed. "Su nombre es Paulina."

"Paulina?" Danny didn't understand any of the rest of what she said, so he focused on the last bit. "Paulina Sanchez?"

"¡Sí!" she confirmed, enthusiastically. "Mi hija. Paulina Sánchez. ¿Tu la conoce?"

Danny nodded, although he'd kinda fallen off the sentence after 'sí'. "Why are you looking for her?"

"Es el Dia de Muertos," she said. "Quiero verla, pero no encuentro la ofrenda."

Danny had no idea to respond to that. The only word he recognized from all of that was 'la', but he couldn't glean a whole sentence from a single 'the', so he just looked at her with an expression that was half a forced, awkward smile and half a grimace.

"Ummmm..."

Was it safe to lead an unknown ghost to an unsuspecting human? Objectively no. Most especially not when the unsuspecting human was the girl Danny had a massive crush on. But... on the other hand, this particular ghost seemed pretty harmless, and she said she was Paulina's mother. So... maybe it was okay?

"How about I'll take you to her," Danny suggested.

The ghost that claimed to be Paulina's mother nodded excitedly and said something else in Spanish that Danny had no hope of translating. 

Danny led her to the outdoor table where the A-listers always sat, but Paulina wasn't there. After a little bit of prowling the quad, he found her, at an out of the way table no one ever sat at because the the school custodian always ignored it and it was disgusting. 

Paulina had laid her jacket over the bench to sit on, and unfolded a few paper napkins over the surface of the table. She had a handful of sugar cubes, and was poking one with a toothpick for some reason. She hadn't noticed him yet.

As much as he would have liked to go over to her as Danny Fenton and be the hero who let her talk to her mom again, he figured it would probably be suspicious if people knew he could see ghosts others couldn't. A but reluctantly, he looked around to make sure no one could see and transformed into Danny Phantom. The ghost, Paulina's mom, applauded him, like he'd just done a magic trick. To her, it might have seemed that way.

"Thanks," he said, a little sarcastically, and floated over to talk to Paulina.

"Excuse me, Paulina Sanchez?" Danny asked, as if he wasn't sure whether he knew her name or not. "There's a ghost here who wants to speak to you."

Paulina looked up and looked around, then turned back to Danny and raised a perfect eyebrow. She put down the sugar cube she was poking at, and Danny noticed that on her other side, there were two other sugar cubes sculpted into the shape of a skull.

"You mean you?" she asked. "Look, normally, I'd be thrilled, but today isn't really—"

"Oh, no, not me," Danny said. "She has long hair, wearing a nice knee-length dress.... It's kinda hard to describe ghosts in a way that makes them recognizable to people who knew them in life, 'cause colors tend to be different between life-and-death but uh... you and her have the same nose, actually. She says your her daughter? I don't speak Spanish, but I managed to figure out that much."

When he stopped talking, Pauling gave him a flat look.

"Are you messing with me?"

"No," Danny insisted. "She's not a very powerful ghost, so she can't stay in the visible range, but she's here. She wants to talk to you."

"Mamá?" Paulina asked hesitantly. "¿Estás aquí?"

"Sí, hija mía, estoy aquí," Mrs. Sanchez replied. "Estoy muy feliz de verte de nuevo."

Paulina didn't respond for a long moment, apparently waiting. Then, finally, she said, "I don't hear anything."

"I was worried you might say that," Danny said. "I'm gonna have to speak Spanish if you guys want to talk to each other, aren't I?" he sighed deeply. "Alright fine. Apologies in advance because I am gonna absolutely butcher the pronunciations."

"Hija," Mrs. Sanchez said, "volví a verte, pero no había camino para mí. ¿Por qué?"

Danny repeated the words to the best of his ability.

Paulina took a moment to parse them out, with a puzzled expression before finally saying, "Papá se volvió a casar. Su nueva esposa es gringa, así que no le hicimos un ofrenda en casa para que no se sintiera incómoda."

Danny didn't know what any of that meant, obviously, and was grateful he only had to repeat after Paulina's mom, because Paulina herself spoke Spanish very quickly and there was absolutely no way he wouldn't trip over his tongue mimicking her. 

"Pero estoy aquí, debe haber una ofrenda."

Danny mimicked her again.

Paulina looked a little embarrassed. "Sí... yo... hice uno en mi casillero para ti. No quería que no pudieras cruzar."

Her mother gasped. Danny really wished he knew what was going on.

"¿Me mostrarás?"

Paulina's expression lit up when Danny repeated that, and she stood, gathering up her jacket and her sugar cubes.

"Vamos," she said. "I mean, follow me."

She led the way through the empty halls and Danny and her mom followed.

"What were you guys talking about?" Danny asked, then immediately realized what he was asking and quickly backtracked. "I mean, never mind, it's probably personal. I was just curious. You don't have to answer that."

"No, it's okay," Paulina said. "See, my mom passed when I was seven, and every year, me and my dad set up an ofrenda for Day of the Dead with her picture so she could visit us. We moved here from Mexico when I was ten, but we kept up the tradition. 

"Last winter, though, Dad married my step-mom, and she's white, and doesn't know anything about Mexican traditions or holidays. Dad doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, so ever since they got married, we stopped celebrating most of what we used to back in Mexico, so we didn't put up an ofrenda this year, and Mom was asking why she couldn't find it, so I explained."

"Oh... that's... kinda sad," Danny said. "You just had to give up all your culture because your dad remarried?"

Paulina shrugged. "We had to give up a lot of it already, when we moved to America anyway," she said, as if that made it less sad and not more. "At least Sandra's nice, she's just... a little out of her depth sometimes."

"So... where are you taking us?"

Finally, she stopped in front of her locker and turned the dial with her combination.

"I didn't want mom to not be able to visit me, so... I sort of made my own ofrenda in my locker," Paulina explained sheepishly.

The door swung open to reveal the inside. There was a small magnetic shelf stuck on the back of the locker. On it, there was a small electric candle, some kind of orange flower, a pair of black lace gloves, and a heart-shaped locket. The locket was open and propped up so the picture inside was visible. It was the ghost Danny was trying to help.

Paulina reached in an put a few of the sculpted sugar cubes on the shelf next to the locket. The tiny sugar skulls were perfectly to scale with the tiny picture, but absolutely dwarfed by the flower.

The ghost put her hands to her heart and looked absolutely touched by the tiny display.

"Those were her favorite gloves," Paulina explained. "She always wore them when Dad took her dancing."

"What's the flower?" Danny asked.

"It's a marigold," she replied. "Cempasúchil, in Spanish. They're a traditional decoration for the ofrenda. You're also supposed to leave a trail of their petals from the grave to the ofrenda, but... Mom's grave is in Mexico, and the ofrenda is in my locker so...." 

"Ay, esto es hermoso," the ghost said. "Gracias. Amo mucho esto. Te quiero mi hija."

Danny had been to distracted to properly listen, so he wasn't sure how to repeat her words.

"Uh... she says she likes it."

The ghost gave him a look and a light slap that passed right through him.

"A lot, she likes it a lot."

"¡Y te amo!" she added insistently.

"Y te amo, she says," Danny repeated.

"Thank you, Phantom," Paulina said. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "This means a lot to me."

Danny knew his cheeks were turning bright green, and he cleared his throat awkwardly to make sure his voice wouldn't crack.

"Uh, yeah, no problem," he said. "Don't mention it."

It was then that the bell rang signalling the end of lunch, and Paulina grabbed a couple of books from her locker and headed to class. Her mom followed, even though Paulina couldn't see her.

Danny had to get to class, too. He had Spanish class after lunch, and Ancients knew he didn't need to be missing any more of those.

In class, Señora Gutierrez talked about Dia de los Muertos, and for once, Danny actually sort of knew what she was talking about, thanks to Paulina. Maybe he should ask her to tutor him.

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #paulina sanchez #paulina sanchez's mom #dia de los muertos #fic #things i wrote #phic phight #phic phight 24 #spanish

[lilliancdoodles]

OKAY. I saw only one post talking about this but I want to stop it before it gets too big. Fit and Pac is Hideduo. Not FoundDuo. Just cause they aren't 'hiding their feelings' doesn't mean we change the duo name. They didn't get that name cause they were secretly crushing on each other. They got the name from when they first became friends, before they were even shipped. An explanation for the people that are new to Fit and Tazercraft since the ship took off; Fit and Tazercraft became really good friends while Tazercraft was building the hide and seek map. Fit and Ramon would go over and see what they were up to and check on their progress and generally being their friend, earning the three of them (Fit, Pac, and Mike) the trio name 'Hide & Seek Trio'. This name then got split to form 'HideDuo' (Fit and Pac) and 'SeekDuo' (Fit and Mike). It's a set. Just cause Fit and Pac know that they like each other doesn't change the duo name. Don't change the duo name.

#qsmp #qsmp fit #qsmp fitmc #hideduo #qsmp pac #fitpac #fitmc #pactw #foundduo #< i never want to type that again #qsmp discourse #< i guess #qsmp mike #< technically #i mean he's mentioned so i guess he's here too #if im wrong feel free to correct me #but im 95% sure im right here #LCChats

[mukuberry]

This voting period really just feels like im watching a bunch of people force a gay man back in the closet

I know thats not people's intentions but literally how else is he going to take this guilty vote. "I just don't want him to think his lying was okay" he doesn't! And he's not going to think that! He's actively trying to stop lying! All guiltying him will do is tell him he should have kept lying and continuing his relationship!!

"I just want him to have some kind of consequence for what he's done" Was Hinako literally dying not enough??? Sure, he didn't love her, but he still LIKED her. They were friends, they lived together, he married her because he WANTED to love her! He is literally drowning in guilt because of her death, I think he's had enough consequences by now. He might not be wearing his ring anymore, but he still carries it with him, he is very clearly still grieving her death.

"Innocent votes have no effect on him" Yes they will!! It didn't do anything last time because we forgave him for the wrong reasons and because he absolutely hates himself. Assuming we're right about him being gay, which I'm pretty confident we are, having his 'true' self validated rather than his fake one will 100% have a bigger effect on him this time. Guiltying him will only make his self-hate worse and show him that only his false self is forgivable, so he should keep lying to be accepted.

I know most people's intentions are not to make him keep lying, but regardless of whatever intention you have, it doesn't matter how you want him to take it, you can not ignore how he will actually take it.

#milgram #kazui mukuhara #this was just meant to be a mini-rant but it turned semi serious so im maintagging :< #ik im just shouting into the void at this point but watching his vote go down is stressing me out;; #as always feel free to tell me im wrong ♡ i would love to talk to someone who wants to guilty him #ive seen a few ppl mention the album art as a reason to guilty him as well #i dont have too much to say on that but milgram also pushed us to forgive kotoko and look how that went #just because they're potentially trying to push us to guilty him doesn't mean thats the 'correct' option

[zodarii-dae]

this idea has been rotating in my brain for weeks but i just now finished it. so here you go.

we all know how the winners all have a celestial body. grian is the sun, scott is the stars (i honestly think it would fit better with the rest of this if he was one specific star or even constellation but that's a post for another day), pearl is the moon, and martyn is neptune (i've seen people put him as mars but cmon guys. he's a mean gill. he's gotta be the planet named for the god of the sea). that's all well and good.

but what if we assigned stuff to the rest of the people in the top three?

second place are plants. they get the light from the sky, but haven't quite reached the heavens.

scar is a purple hyacinth. i chose these for a couple reasons; the first being the greek myth. in the myth, apollo kills his lover, hyacinthus, with a discus, and turned his blood into the flower. (there's a bit more to it than that, so i recommend reading up on it!). i chose purple both as a reference to the lilacs he gave grian, and because purple hyacinths mean seeking forgiveness.

ren is red ivy. ivy represents devotion and loyalty, which i think fits him really well. i chose red as both a reference to the red king, and a nod to the red mushrooms that grew around the fairy fort.

scott is a laurel tree. i was thinking about the myth of daphne, who turned into a laurel tree running away from apollo (damn, two apollo myths in one post?), who was trying to get with her. laurels are a symbol of victory, so they're also a reference to him being a winner.

impulse is a forget-me-not. forget-me-nots represent respect, and a promise to remember someone. they're also the color of the sky, which is a nod to skynet.

third place are rocks and stones. hidden below the earth, so close yet so far from the light of the sky.

bdubs is blue sandstone. it looks like the night sky, the way the face of the clock did. he betrayed impulse for scar, who lived in the sandlands.

martyn is amethyst. the purple color is the one most associated with the watchers, and this game is where all the watcher lore really starts. it's also used for spyglasses, which were the southlands symbol.

martyn is also rubellite. not much to say on this one, the color just reminds me of his bleeding heart.

scott is serpentine. it's commonly found in ocean ridges, and scott was of course a mean gill. it's also green, like seaweed, and scott was one of the last greens.

idk i just think that in a series so associated with the number three, we should give a bit more attention to the last three instead of the last one. (1st green, 2nd yellow, 3rd red would be such a cool idea for fanart! cmon guys!)

#everything mentioned in this post was from basic google searches #so feel free to correct me if i'm wrong on something #or if you just want to add something #traffic smp #trafficblr #limited life #third life #last life #double life #life series #life smp #3l smp #ll smp #dlsmp #24life #life series winners #grian #smajor 1995 #scott smajor #pearlescentmoon #martyn itlw #inthelittlewood #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #rendog #impulsesv #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #mcyt traffic signs #zdae thinks

[dittydipity]

the flowers in mp100 op3

come get your free ammunition, hanahaki writers

(i tried to get most of these flower meanings from hanakotoba but also added in some interpretations from other cultures if they all seemed to share a common theme)

red dahlia: perseverance, resilience, dignity red carnation: admiration and love + red rose: love white daisy: hope, peace, innocence white buttercup: joy, youth, friendship, purity

cherry blossom: spirituality, transience, (mortality, self-sacrifice) cape/normal daisies: humility, loyalty white gardenia: trust, hope, protection pink hydrangea: pride, gratitude, (pink: sincerity)

#**please check notes for addition! #feeling incredibly normal about reigen's flowers especially (lying) #i know like 3 flowers so if i got any wrong feel free to correct me/add on! #and bc i mentioned hanahaki im gonna add this jic: #m*brei shippers dni and die <3 #mp100 #shigeo kageyama #reigen arataka #.d

[maigetheplatypus57]

it's been like half a year but I'm still thinking about what a queer teen mood Darcy's outfit was in this pic. The rainbow scrunchie. The nb shirt. The pan tie-dye. It's such a mood to go "I don't care if they clash or not, heck I don't even care if I personally identify as all of these, they're all pride flag themed, and I WILL wear them together to show how aggressively queer I am".

And on a more somber note it's the fact that clothes like these are subtle enough that your parents/any adults you're closeted to probably won't notice (which if I recall right Darcy was still closeted to parents who she Knew weren't fully safe to come out to). And if they did ask her about any of those clothes individually she still had the plausible deniability of saying she just "liked the color scheme" like I'm sure many of us have said to cover up pride flag colored belongings before. But to other queer people? To her supportive and loving queer friend group? And most importantly to herself? They all know it's queer-themed, and they're the only ones who truly need to recognize it as queer.

And that's all that matters.

#heartstopper #heartstopper s2 #darcy heartstopper #darcy olsson #lgbtq #queer #tbh if someone wanted to use this outfit to hc darcy as any of the labels mentioned then honestly GO FOR IT #id love some nb pan lesbian darcy hcs myself #but at least from what was seen in the show (feel free to correct me if its in the comics) darcy only identifies as lesbian? #but hey dude sometimes you gotta get some pride themed clothing to express yourself and sometimes you cant be picky abt which colors #for which flags you get its based purely on what you can find that doesnt have an obvious 'queer themed!' label slapped on it for your mom #to notice at check out. and i love darcy so much for it. literally one of my favorite outfits in the whole show #<- said by someone who actively buys outfits based on what elle wears lmao

[girlsonic]

to be real i am going to have the knuckles series tags so blocked

#i love knuckles but pls keep in mind that even if you’re pirating . your word of mouth is free advertising for the ppl that won’t bother #like the premise was already shit but it makes me so mad i actually feel a bit sick to my stomach after paramount’s statement #idk . i don’t mention this to sound Better and More Correct . i just hope ppl think on it a bit

[gurorori]

bein' completely honest here i have considered npd shu be4 soooo often cause the. the shoe fits (laugh please), i feel like his past & family environment cld really serve as a push, in the end cluster Bs r all jus' sets of survival & coping tactics ya adopt into yr personality as a result of unjust treatment & trauma <- this is true

nawt 2 armchair diagnose him but like we shall go over sum npd traits. cause we kno here it ain't jus' high self esteem (when the opposite is usually evident)

↓↓↓

intentionally or nawt i feel like exvalk shu especially fits the npd mold like dat was his entire character conflict /lh (i miss him)

> a grandiose sense of self-importance

need i say anythin'. listen 2 like the first shu voiceline in ! it was literally 'i am the emperor of ymnsk academy'. .. doesn't he also go as far as 2 declare himself the god of this world? like ''kono sekai no kami da' i remember dat. oh & how much stronger & imposin' his timbre was compared 2 how much softer his voice is rn. he was very much self-focused even though it manifested thru valkyrie, he was distinctly treatin' the unit as his creation & his own creation only. the focus on the self is very real

> a preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

i feel like if ya know shu ya will nod away at every single one of these cause. pre-fall valk <- dat wasn' even a fantasy, i feel like he was really narc-thrivin' back then cause it was the reality, they WERE on top. (srry if ya came here 4 thorough analysis i don' do that round here i jus' show ya smth & we both nod solemnly) success, power, brilliance, beauty, even ideal love (shnz wink?) - exvalk shu is both a perfectionist & a maximalist i think he craved it all, an' even when he has achieved great success he jus' can't get enuff, leadin' him 2 get overconfident 2 the point where he was /dat/ oblivious 2 his own (& valkyrie's, but at dat time he saw valkyrie as himself only, & the rest as just an extension, a tool) imminent demise practically laid out in front of him.

> a belief that he or she is special and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people or institutions

this guy?

the guy who calls the general public philistines & views ppl who don' adhere 2 the same high standards he holds 4 himself imbeciles?

> a need for excessive admiration

the 'go on, praise me more!' guy? it might seem at first like he'd b too prideful 2 outright ask 4 external validation but if ya really look a bit into it, he's very reliant on it.. i think it gets amplified by bein' an idol too, bein' very self conscious of yr image. ofc mr oshisan wld find himself in a field where the entire point is 2 b the center of attention & appraisal.

> a sense of entitlement

i think this jus' circles back 2 every other point i made...!!!! exvalk shu is control & acknowledgment hungry. he wants 2 step on n crush the skulls of every1 who is unworthy & soar thru the skies on the mechanical wings of valkyrie.. or wtv. he is intensely focused on his goal 2 the point of tunnel vision cause he fully believes himself 2 deserve the throne. no1 else can b above him. he despises 'commoners' & those below him yet who brought him all the recognition & glory? wats the expression? rest on yr laurels? dunno if 'm usin' it correctly!!!

i also hope i don' come off as dramatisin' too much. like ik marionette is literally jus' one story but i feel it dat much stronger, i guess. 4 (introject) reasons. i hope these things don' read as a huge stretch.

> interpersonally exploitive behavior

> a lack of empathy

> envy of others or a belief that others are envious of him or her

gettin' lazy. i feel like this cld jus' b self explanatory... i don' wanna go in depth into every single one 4 shu, esp cuz. ya don' need every single criteria 2 match. 4 a diagnosis. but if ya have any specific moments 4 this one feel free 2 add on 👍🏼

> a demonstration of arrogant and haughty behaviors or attitudes

#mika caws #srry like half of these r me goin' 'well it's self explanatory' but it rly is. cause i know him personally. #an' likr all of ya kno him closely too. i don' need 2 wrte an essay. we all kno it's true. #but also i feel da need 2 mention the self esteem bit cuz i feel like its a stereotype dat those with npd have jus'. an unshakable solid #high self esteem which is why they behave & carry themselves da way they do. which is nawt even half of da truth! #while yehs usually 'high' it tends 2 b very fragile cause the things they rely on 2 upkeep it r all said factors like #specifically external validation. individuals w npd tend 2 b deeply insecure n self loathin' too & struggle w low self esteem as well #idk if the high self esteem bein' described as like a 'mask' or a false front is veryyyy correct in the case of npd #i ain't sure how pw/npd feel ab it either so hey if any1 come across it feel free 2 input #but yea i feel like dat bit of nuance is important esp when ya look at exvalk's imminent fall & how strongly it affected shu's entire #interior & exterior. like wow wat a narc crash... r ya ok queen #if any1 finds thjs thru any search stuffs like. pls keep in mind this wasn' meant 2 breach containment #oh an' if sum parts of jt R indeed a stretch idgaf. so many of my exomemories focus on the exvalk period specifically so it's very saturate #in my head. i wasn' writin' this balls deep in marionette i was jus pullin' wat i have in storage

[strangenessandcharrn]

I talk about religious imagery in yellowjackets all the time but it wasn’t until I made this that I noticed that they all knelt down to take jackie into their mouths almost like the eucharist (jackie’s death and lottie’s notion that jackie would have wanted it this way for the baby, symbolizing death and rebirth the same way that sacrament does)… insane of them if you ask me

#the first eucharist being instituted by jesus after being betrayed (jackie and shauna’s feud leading to her sleeping outside) #after their last supper all together… #would also explain shauna’s hunger for blood (of I think it was the bear) tho she knows well that she can get sick from it as the butcher #now I was raised catholic but I’m not now SO if I’m wrong about any of this please feel free to correct me I’m basing it from what I rmbr #wish it were a stretch #yellowjackets #yj #religious imagery #jackie taylor #shauna shipman #jackieshauna #jackie x shauna #shauna x jackie #not to mention jackie became the leader of the group by coach right before he passed.. she was their guiding light #to say lottie is just a disciple would be to underestimate her and overestimate jackie but it does say a fucking lot #yj posting

[monsterhugger]

if you shame or berate people for pirating things. please consider that being able to buy/watch/read/listen to/play things legitimately is a privilege

not even necessarily a "having the money" privilege but sometimes a "living in the right place" privilege or even a "speaking the language said thing happened to be released in" privilege

#getting into arcade rhythm games and fkmt's manga has convinced me piracy is not only okay but morally correct #i would LOVE to play chunithm or read akagi in the legitimate creator-approved way. unfortunately i live in the US and can't read Japanese #thinking abt that old woman yuri mangaka lamenting that english-speaking readers wouldn't be able to read her manga legitimately #to be clear she was 100% not the asshole she was nice abt it #just tragic all around #not to mention fan translators do awesome work for free but you usually don't get fan translations without what is technically reposting #i collect doujin and like so many american doujin collectors i discovered doujin through pirate sites #and i honestly have mixed feelings about it bc it's all art that was reposted without permission #but i've been able to read fanworks i otherwise just couldn't and i've found artists whose work is incredible #and whose books i would love to buy! but it's cost-prohibitive on both our ends #for an artist to get more than an extremely limited run of books printed and for me to pay for international shipping #a book that sells for under five dollars at a convention can be upwards of 20 dollars to buy and have shipped internationally #in a perfect world artists don't die without money and everyone is more normal about piracy

[soo-won]

The real tragedy with Jaeha to me, outside of the recent events, is his realization that he's losing his usefulness for yona, and even starts to chain her down. I think. This is all in my head for now truly but I'm like,, damn he sure is taking the L a lot recently! so I pray this will be adressed later on but you know at the beginning of the castle arc when he tells Yona hey I told you I was your legs :) and she rejects him, because she can't risk it. Like, Yona wasn't in the wrong here, it's just that Yona in the castle arc was entering a battle that has no need for the dragons' powers. People in the castle arent chained literally, they're chained by their duties and the isolation that comes with having more power and information. That distance is not something that can be crossed literally by flying away. But anyway it was still painful for both of them, Jaeha quickly connects the dots and understands the reason behind that, but that only makes him more willing to find a way to help.

Then he is deployed in Kin Province, and as he realizes that Hak is fighting there he makes it his new goal to bring him to Suwon, only to fail to save him from the flooding, as he sees him be engulfed in that wave under his very eyes, and can't find any trace of him for days after it happens. Losing Hak is devastating enough given how much he cares for him, but it adds to the hypothetical feeling that he failed and his leg couldn't bring him to Hak in time.

But it's fine, his presence alone is enough, he is loved and he's like a big brother to Yona, if she needs comfort, because hell this is about hak obviously she will be devastated, he can comfort her...and then Yona hides her sorrow from him and confides to Suwon of all people instead. Sure breaking down in front of Suwon wasn't her intent at all, but she still did in the end. Yona used to cry and confides to Jaeha before (like in the Sei forts arc when she failed to protect Lili), so why? And how not to be jealous of Suwon that seems to have a bond with her that even death and betrayal will never completely break?

He plays an important role in the battle against Kai, so sure, at least his powers still have some use and raises the moral of the troops as well, but now these same powers causes terror instead.

And before that he got captured, again, and as much as Yona defied our expectations and showed her development with a cycle of similar events but a better outcome and way of dealing with it (ie: kidnapping scenario), that is not the case for the dragons. Yona had complete control over her capture, it was her plan, and she could free herself with her own power. Yona is moving ahead of them, never intending to leave them behind, but she doesn't depend on their powers at all anymore.

So really, what does Jaeha have left at this point? Now Yona is the one who has to save him from his own powers! Jaeha who refused to join Yona at first because he didn't want to be chained down by destiny and a prophecy is now the one chained her down oh the irony of it all...

It's no surprise that Jaeha would decide to leave the ddhhb for good, his legs literally can't bring him to them anymore and worse he risks to hurt them, no matter how much he wants to come home, to them, he just can't. He can't be what Garou was to him and selfishly weights them down.

Since the beginning of the castle arc he sees again and again that Yona and Hak are doing fine without him. If Yona is in a pitch or needs comfort there are other people she can seek out. Jaeha wanted to help Hak reach Suwon and in the end he did it all on his own (Just to be clear Hak could obviously not have emotionally done it without Jaeha's support). The encampment arc ended up being resolved by everyone but the dragons, the story in general is at a point where their utility reached their limit, so what now?

The crimson illness is very tied to the mental state of those who have it, worsening when they're under stress and emotional turmoil, so I don't think it's too farfetched to theorize it might be the same for the dragons now. Kija is able to resist it because he has always been the most strong willed and stable of them. So yeah tbh more than Jaeha dying to me I think it's more him isolating himself to protect yona&co and he's not done done for. for now. I don't think he's lying about reaching the end of his lifespan etc(it's the same word as the end of an object's useful life in japanese btw.) but anyway oh well. All that to say I don't think he's dead and this is very much the occasion to finally break the connection the dragons have with their tragic fate and their powers that bring far more bad than good. What Jaeha needs is the reassurance that he is needed and that this does not depend on his powers at all.

#akayona thoughts #akayona246 #akayonaspoilers #jaeha #lumen rants #i didnt want to talk about c246 at first but oops #rare time i barely mention suwon. enjoy. #tbh im not really a jaeha expert so if im wrong feel free to correct me... #squeezing him like a dishrag . that guy has so many issues like #kusanagi LOVES to torture him more than anyone else tbh #the entire deal w the dragons everytime is so against him and his ideals specifically lmao #like losing his freedom in every possible way #yeah being with the ddhhb is his freedom #except that he would still bound to them even if he didn't love them. and it's deeply fucked up #I probably see angst where there isn't.

[arcxnumvitae]

Aur cannot leave Seelie for long amounts of time after becoming entwined with the land. He may leave for a day or so without any ill effects, but what he does not yet fully know, since no ruler prior had ever left Seelie for so long, is that absences of a week/two weeks or more would start to show detrimental effects. Both with him and with Seelie.

Aur would grow lethargic, a little more tired and with a little less energy as the effects first made themselves known. Seelie itself would appear less vibrant in its coloration, and its plantlife would begin to droop ever so slightly as well. As time passed with them separated, the effects would grow more pronounced and it would be around the month mark that things would start to grow dire. One cannot live without the other.

It will be a harrowing realization for Aur.

#{Aur Headcanon #mobile #earlier today when I was away from my computer I said I needed to write this headcanon up #because this phenomena got like a one line mention in a bundle of Seelie headcanons years ago #but didn’t really get expounded on because Aur wasn’t really making any trips like that #but with Steph’s upcoming thing being I believe a week of stuff she said? #(once again Steph feel free to pop in and correct me 😂) #I realized he’d probably start having to deal with that #but I forgot to write it when I was at my computer so here I am typing this now 🥴 #anyways it’ll suck for Aur to find out that you are /locked down/ locked down #and it’s another weakness to keep close to the chest from any parties with less than savory motives finding out