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chokchokk · 9 months

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𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 | song mingi x fem!reader

an ao3 requested husband!mingi one-shot

"Are you trying to challenge me?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : You come home stressed, feeling like the world wants only the worst from you. Good thing that your husband wants the best, right? Right...

"Baby, I would never do such a thing."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.3k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, girlboss office worker!reader, stay at home husband!mingi, praise kink, hand kink, size kink, service top!mingi, use of the pet-name “baby”, starts rougher but then gets really soft and gentle, cunnilingus, fingering, over-stimulation, passionate sex; reader and mingi are in their late 20s/early 30s, reader is a bit bratty but mingi is a brat as well, it pains writer mingi is not a sub in this FUCK, he puts reader in place just a tiny bit, but the dynamics are pretty even, reader and mingi love each other deeply

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wanted to make mingi wear a tanktop but when i digged for it THERE WAS NOTHING???? we never got tanktop!mingi selcas???? how do yall not die of hunger, no, THIRST?

anyhow. this was an ao3 request!!! i had lots of loving fun with it and i hope you do as well babes and bbies xoxo

masterlist link | join my taglist

Did you know married employees are respected more?

Well, that’s what statistics say, but you certainly have never had this observation be proven true. It’s been almost a year since the first time you’ve worn your ring at your work-place, but you still get weird looks for having settled down “too early in the relationship” at such a “young age”, as if they knew anything about your private life— so no, you don’t. You wouldn’t know anything about being respected more as a married employee, even if you’re a few working hours away from being promoted to General Manager.

You throw your keys into their respective tray and hold your nose-bridge, when you enter your house with the sound of your shoes immediately falling to the floor after you shake them off in frustration. Yes, you may have earned your money, but at what cost? To hear old people pick you out because “such a fragile thing can’t possibly handle life”, despite being their lead director, have their hairy fingers pointed towards you since “someone like Y/N needs extra checking” despite you never having missed a dead-line, and to be eyed by them while you’re just trying to get your papers— oh, fucking hell; that is, by definition, not respect, that is horror, and one more reason to finally just quit your job and—

“Baby, you’re home!”

You take deep breath.

“Here I am.”

“Allow me,” your husband hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his torso close to your back; he’s rubbing himself against you with the excuse that he’s helping you get that fucking bag from your hands, and you let out an exhale once the weight is removed from your grip and lands on the floor. He is masterfully not referring to the fact that you came a full hour later than the initial time you have texted him you would arrive, and rather focusing on the how your shoulders feel more tense than usual, massaging his strong thumbs into them.

“Thank you,” you sigh and lean the back of your head against his breast, for he’s towering over you like a guardian pressing gentle kisses onto your hair, making him one comfortable, cushioned wall. You feel a bit guilty for not having asked how his day went, but for all you know, he’s having a blast arranging his new studio that he wants to use in the future to produce with other music artists, but most importantly, help you earn money.

Your stay-at-home husband, Song Mingi. The man who makes it— the time, the work, the stress— all worth it.

“How do you feel, baby?”, he murmurs, kissing your temple while he’s at it. He brushed his teeth not too long ago, you can smell the remains of mint toothpaste at his lip. Is he being obvious? Yes, maybe. You're not complaining though. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” you exhale and let yourself be touched by your husband, though it doesn’t make you as calm as it should in your heart. You’re not craving for any soft vicinity here, you want to smash something to the ground and stomp on it; you’ve spend the whole day surrounded by the loudest, noisy, dim-witted idiots who are certainly preying on your downfall if they don’t fucking—

“Tell me all about it, baby,” Mingi murmurs, his vocal chords vibrating against the back of your head, as he rests his chin on top of it. “I’m listening.”

Sometimes you ask yourself whether you would still be receiving the same comments, if your co-workers knew who Mingi was. Not because he’s some famous man to be afraid of, but because he is taller than all of them, has got a louder voice and could knock those douchebags out with his muscly arms— okay, maybe they should be afraid. Very afraid.

“No, it’s okay,” you breathe and turn around to get your arms around your husband’s waist and press your face into his collarbones that you didn’t realize were revealed. "Button up,” you murmur, almost annoyed that you can inhale Mingi’s comforting scent through the cleavage as well as you can. You wanted to stay angry for just a little bit longer, but your husband makes it nearly impossible. Not to say it doesn’t make feel you any less hot though.

“What do you mean?", Mingi pouts, "Is it not good? I showered! Just for you, baby.”

You chuckle and your lips graze his freshly-washed, freshly-lotioned baby-smooth skin. “No… It’s too good…”

Mingi gets his hands into your hair and rubs his finger tips across your scalp.

“What were you stressed about, baby?”, Mingi continues to ask you, applying a bit of pressure to his touch, his hand feeling like it’s ripping off the upper layer of your head in the best way possible.

“My co-workers hate me,” you murmur, teeth gritted. Your breast begins to slightly enflame at the thought of your co-workers’ faces, but your husband doesn’t seem to mind your tone as much, allowing your mind to roam freely.

“Hate you?”

“They, like, hate my existence.”

“What would they hate you for, baby?”, he asks, working his long fingers down to the lower side of your head, reaching for your neck to scratch it. His hand is well big enough to do all of it at the same time.

Preparing to answer his question, you inhale and exhale deeply, smelling the clothing and leaving it warm.

“They hate that… I’m already settled down at my age.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am as confident about it and— and as hard-working as I am…”

Mingi chuckles and strokes your hair one time to get your hair in its right place after having mushed it. His touch expands warmly on your scalp and it spreads like a soothing wave of comfort.

“They hate that,” you inhale, and then —with revelation— exhale, “I’m such a strong, successful woman.”

“There you go. My strong,” Mingi murmurs, and he’s letting his hands glide down your back, “successful,” further down your ass, “wife.” Squeeze.

“Oh,” you chuckle, fully aware that nothing is on your husband’s mind rather than to persuade you to get into bed with him. Cleaning his teeth, showering, putting on fresh clothes— Did he even shave his beard by himself? Wow.

After almost a year of marriage, some clues become very self-explanatory.

His amazing hands work their amazing ways on your ass, and as it goes for Mingi, he always prides himself that he can make you melt under his touch, especially when you come home from work late on days like these.

“You should just let your anger out on them next time,” Mingi smiles, cupping your ass with the big surface of his hand and you can feel how he’s trying to figure out whether he can raise you up like this— spoiler: he can— and continues to encourage you. “Or on me.”

Were you implying your co-workers should be scared of Mingi? Yes, but also no. For someone your size, despite seemingly being ever-so tiny in your husband’s embrace, to make it so big in such a short time is astounding; ground-breaking, even. You may or may not know, but Mingi finds you are one cold-blooded woman whose blood only boils when she’s being provoked, and if there is one thing your husband wants you to prove to your co-workers, it’s that you won’t think twice once you’ve got the title of being their supervisor.

Too harsh? Maybe. But that’s something you can consider when they’re begging you to accept their apologies, no?

“Don’t edge me on, or I might actually turn into the Hulk or something,” you laugh hoarsely and raise your head up to him. Mingi looks down immediately and grins, continuously groping his hands into your butt.

“You can’t scare me,” he lulls and kisses your forehead, “because you’ll always be my little baby, Y/N.”

“Ohh, shut it,” you sneer and can’t deny that Mingi is the only one who can make you feel this small, “I wouldn’t be too sure I can’t scare you.”

“Do try, please,” Mingi insists with a cheeky smirk and gung-ho, you’re raised from the floor, being carried to the bedroom. Was that a challenge you heard?

“Be rough all you want tonight, alright? I don’t think your stress is gonna get away our traditional way today.”

“Really? ‘Traditional’?”, you huff and raise an eyebrow, Mingi kissing your cheek, as he opens the door to your bedroom.

“It’s almost our anniversary, let’s try something new, baby. I'll do anything you want. Don't care about me. I'll just be... you know. I don't know.”

“What? Is my husband getting bored of being in charge?”, you gasp theatrically, easing your hands into his shoulders, “Does hubby want me to order him around?”

“Let’s get rid of the terminology,” Mingi mutters, a bit sheepish, not wanting to admit that he read the term ‘service top’ somewhere in the deepest corners of the internet earlier this evening and had to ask you when you came home. You coming home an hour later just made him travel further the needy path, imagining how good he could make love to you, when his "own pleasure isn't the focus" (that's a quote from the website.)

“I just want my wonderful wife,” Mingi sighs, as he lets himself fall on the mattress backwards, with you landing on his hard-on, knees propped next to his hips, “And relieve you from all your stress.”

You’re still in your office attire, got your tie on tight around your neck, everything that screams ‘not ready for bed’, but Mingi doesn’t seem to care for your sheets to become dirty. In fact, he apparently wants you to be the dirtiest you’ve ever been, huh?

His long, slender fingers hold you by your jaw, as your husband roughly presses his lips into yours, immediately opening up his mouth to get a second taste with his tongue. While he tastes like mint toothpaste, you taste like bittersweet coffee, diligence and dedication; you are dancing heavenly on Mingi’s tastebuds, and his tongue laps over yours eagerly to not let any drop of your essence go to waste. He’s making you feel wanted, no, he wants you, and as Mingi takes your blazer off, your own desire to have him grows bigger with each passing second.

Your legs feel a bit tight due to the fabrics of your suit, but it doesn’t prevent you from grinding yourself into him, pants interrupting your greedy kiss. “Let’s get this off,” Mingi murmurs into your lips, hooking his finger into your tie, loosening it up, pulling it until he can wriggle your head through.

“Let’s get all of this off,” you reciprocate and his hands are on your waist, as Mingi watches you flawlessly open up the buttons of your blouse, tongue running over his lower lip. “Your co-workers don’t know you,” he chuckles, admiring you sitting on top of him with a look in your eyes that he could feast on for days, “But they should know that you are, fuck, breath-taking.”

You move your hips over his crotch, enjoying hearing your husband gutter out his thoughts.

“You are eye-candy in that, baby,” Mingi heaves, “I’m getting kinda jealous of your co-workers here.”

Cheeky, you let the blouse droop over your shoulders, revealing your lacy bra. Saying that you’re eye-candy doesn’t put it into words, Mingi thinks, and gulps at the sight of you stroking over your own torso and your breast that is just being so perfectly pushed by your lingerie, and— though it barely needs any convincing for him to swathe his tongue around your pretty nipples and get even more prettier sounds out of you— your slight gesture gets your husband’s head fuming with the things he wants to do to you to make you crumble and eat it all up deliciously, not leave anything behind.

“I bet they don’t get to see this though,” he grins and with a quick, studied flick of his fingers, the tightness around your torso is released and your tits are out for Mingi stare into. “Only I get to see this, don’t I?"

You nod and sigh, when he traces the red indents from your underwear with his thumbs and wets his lips; but before you think he's being too gentle, Mingi doesn't let you speak out the words 'yes, only you do' and interrupts you with his mouth, his hands holding you by your waist.

"Mingi," you pant. He has pushed you over on your back to the mattress without warning, caging you in with his frame. "Sorry, baby," he grins, pulls off his tank-top, throws it on the floor, quickly— he's got things to do here!— and then zips open your pants, kissing you from your cheek down to your collarbones, covering your body with his fresh breath. "Works better this way."

Mingi hooks his fingers into your trousers and pulls it off until your panties are revealed to him, but before he's able to wriggle it down to your calves and finally have it off your body, he's having a moment to look at his wife laying in front of him; your glowing eyes are glancing up, waiting, no, teasing, urging him on to do what Mingi has been planning to do since the first time he asked you when you would arrive back home.

"Please don't mention 'work'," you hiss, pushing your tongue against the inner space of your mouth.

He knows. He has never been there at your work-place, and he never asks you more about it than he should, because Mingi does think that his distraction works way better than to rant for hours, and he sees it, feels it— your anger, your frustration, your stress— but does he... well, how should he say this... care for it?

No.

"Why not?", is what Mingi whispers into your skin to make you roll your eyes and border him in with your thighs, the pants that aren't off yet keeping him between your legs. Fuck, you're so hot when you're stressed.

Okay, wait, wait, wait— hear him out.

First, please forgive him. You really have to. Mingi would never say this out loud, not under any circumstance that doesn't include you directly asking for it, but shit, look at yourself right now. Enveloped by your open blouse, your perfect breasts hanging out of it like a window luring him to peek like the shameful man he is, your facial expression judging him for his fawning— you are a goddess in his eyes, Y/N. And gods get angry. And then, when they're angry, they're the most powerful they ever are.

So there you go; Mingi, even though he's a husband that has never, ever throughout your marriage or your relationship, made you angrier for more than 24 hours, kinda enjoys it when you come home stressed, gritting your teeth, panting, groaning— talking to him with umph. The stress makes you riled up, makes you breathe fire, shoot flames out of your eyes that seduce him to be even more ignited, just for you.

"Are you trying to challenge me?", you huff and Mingi makes himself comfortable, placing his elbows around the sides of your body, anchoring himself on your lower abdomen with his forearm.

"Baby," he grins, kissing the inner sides of your thighs, "I would never do such a thing."

Except he is. When you get— and your husband thinks he's a genius to think of this— 'worked up', you become demanding, slightly sassy, playful, and there is nothing Mingi loves more than his wife to tell him exactly what she wants, because he knows he can be a bit dense sometimes. He tries his best, always, to do things according to your liking, but usually, you just let him do his thing since sometimes you need nothing more than his presence.

"I would never tease you like that, my," he pesters, "baby." With his lips stuck at the last inch before he's able to get it near your clothed cunt, you scoff, pressing your thighs together to squeeze his face.

"You better fucking not tease me tonight," you warn him and Mingi bites his lip, feeling his already-very-hard cock twitch inside his joggers at the cause of your tone.

"I love you too much," your husband answers and moves his head around, his pointy nose grazing against your covered clit. Like an automatic reaction, you gulp and throw your face to the side, your hand intertwining with Mingi's long fingers that are resting at the seam of your panties.

"Oh, please," you taunt, “dare to give me your worst performance,” and you think you're safe, since his hands are occupied with yours, but when you are in bed with him, and proceed to tease Mingi like this, then you are never safe with your husband.

(Except the part that you are safe, and safe with the thought Mingi is indeed going to relieve you.) Pressing his tongue against the fabric, Mingi curves it into the band, pushing it with ease, without any type of struggle to— and you should've seen this coming— plunge his tongue into your folds. "Fuck, Mingi," you breathe and he's chuckling against your wet cunt, as he laps his wet muscle over your slickness to gather what has been collecting in your underwear, slow and sensually, though his heavy breathing tells you that he's going to feast on it in no time.

He ‘loves you’, you know that, but ‘too much'? — Can there ever be too much?

"Ohh, fuck, that's good, right fucking there," you groan, gripping into Mingi's hand. With your feedback, Mingi continues to purl over your clit, sucking the fluid so it can spread on his tongue and melt in his mouth.

No. There could never be too much.

You taste so delicious, and it goes without saying that Mingi finds it fascinating that you look even better from this angle; he can see every lash of yours flutter with the slow flicking of his tongue, adding speed as he goes. “Yes,” you whimper, “‘feels so good.”

His heart and mouth are cooperating wonderfully, as his lips are spelling words of awe into your labia; He’s pronouncing how good it feels so good to be your husband, how good it feels to do good— and oh, it is so good to be yours, Y/N. You can’t even believe. The sounds you let out tingle all of his senses and he’s definitely going to have to hurry with his studio, if he wants to eternalise them.

Mingi holds the eye-contact to not miss any of your expressions, laving at your cunt with bizarre flexibility that makes you twist here and there, but his forearm is pressing you down to keep you on your back. "Squirmy," he grins, babying you while you are unable to open move your legs, since your own set of trousers is keeping them closed together, "am I doing you that well?”

Panting because of how constrained you are despite wanting to move around so much, you throw your head down on the soft mattress. "Uh-huh," you exhale, feeling his tongue circle around your clit and tease itself into your entrance, "so well."

Mingi's head is spinning. He wants to make you cum so fast, but he also wants you to beg for your orgasm until your voice is hoarse from the moaning, just so he can see your ribcage move up and down the bed one more time, no, please so many times, and maybe he could get his fingers in so he can— fuck, didn't he plan this out?

He makes it look easy, but in your husband’s mind, he's puzzling and figuring out the ways to pleasure you the best way he can. Mingi heaves and laughs, noticing how he's been cutting himself short of breath, too excited to be pleasuring you. "You’re so beautiful, baby," he says, voice having become raspy and an octave lower than usual; it appears to you that he's drunk on your taste, "you're making me insane with that view."

You inhale through your mouth with your lip-corners pointing upwards, a bit shy with your husband's praise, but you have no other way around than to listen to Mingi's dreamy words. "Unnh-huh," you react, but once your husband is laving at your cunt again, talking amidst of it, you are becoming a mindlessly noisy mess.

"My pretty baby," Mingi murmurs, and as he does so, his mouth is flocking in your slick, tickling your clit repeatedly, "my prettiest, loveliest baby, so whiny for me, fuck."

"More, Mingi," you grunt, feeling like the blouse is keeping you tight, so you push yourself up and get it off your arms— Mingi uses his chance to pull your panties over your knees— and after that, the male digs deeper into your crevice, thighs pressing him in which makes him gasp for dear air, "please."

Your pleads are meaningful to him, make his heart jump, make his head click like he's a dog being asked to obey, and okay, Mingi doesn't think he wants to be a pet, let alone an animal, but— you know what? Your pleads not only show what a considerate wife you are, it also makes Mingi know how much you want him, and that’s the best feeling in the entire world, and he would do everything to chase your pleasure and praise.

“Oh, I got all night, baby,” your husband chuckles, he’s grinding himself against the bed, huffing and panting, tongue delving deep into you on your command.

He drags the intertwined hands of yours down the tiny bit it needs for his thumb to meet your clit, and as Mingi rubs extensively over it, your knuckles go white from how strongly you grip into his fingers.

Oh god, this is exactly what you wanted. His tongue, his lips, his hands, oh, his hands— his fingers; those ridiculously long fingers that cover your whole pelvic bone when extended— slender and rapid, frantically incautious over your cunt, so eager to push you over the edge, pull you back up and throw you over again and again; you love how they look against your body, on your head, on your neck, on your cunt, everywhere they travel during your desirous journeys.

"Aren't I so scarily good?", Mingi huffs, nervy and immodest, talking to get himself to breathe, clearly confident that you are feeling the best you've felt the whole day given the way your muscle was contracting around his tongue, when it was still in you; unfortunately you're unable to answer him with words, just letting out another gutsy "unnnh" as feedback.

"I know, oh, I know," he grins, his thumb rubbing over your clit like he's racing with your stuttered breath, but ultimately, he’s making you feel quite empty with the lack of his mouth at your cunt, and he’s making you feel that way on purpose, "I'm the best, I can do you the best—"

"Mingi! Your Tongue! Please."

After his pant, his mischievous little chuckle, you understand it, understand it all clearly: your naughty Mingi loves to be ordered around by his wife. Loves being ordered around knowing that, once his tongue is inside you, you'll do absolutely nothing to hold him back, and it does make you want to fuck him even more, doesn’t it? You love your husband, you feel so young with him, so undisturbedly yourself— and how loved you feel, too.

Humming a fond "I got you, baby", Mingi shuffles himself together one last time, your thighs sitting perfectly on his shoulders, and there he goes, driving his tongue into you, even more ecstatic than before; now, that you even begged him to, it's like your husband has taken enough of a back to duplicate the amount of vigor, exponentially getting faster and more impassioned. "Oh, fuck," you breathe out and with Mingi's tongue rubbing your inner walls wild and avidly, his thumb sprinting across your sensitive clit, you are heading straight to your first orgasm.

"Just like that," you whine, knowing very well that it gets your husband riled up well across his usual efforts, and you continue with it just to chase your high, "just like that, baby, just like—"

Hey now, did you just call him 'baby'? And how sneakily you did it, too! You know how crazy it gets him, you tease. Your husband’s tongue raves against your sweet spots and your slick gets combined with his saliva, his thumb using the moisture as lube to not miss any of the chances to make you squirm and spasm on his touches, but Mingi’s cock, his poor cock, twitches in the short moment his sweet, desirous pet-name is exhaled out of your pretty mouth he’s definitely going to need to kiss a thousand times until he can only taste the word “baby” on his lips.

His own pelvis is grinded deep into the mattress, and pearls of sweat form on both your foreheads, your eyes rolling to where you can’t see Mingi concentrating on your face, when it cums with a movement of your pelvis bucking up.

“… That!”, you moan, and Mingi pants, shovelling your come into his mouth, slurping it up so long until you physically have to wring with him to get his tongue off your pussy, but the trousers at your calves make it impossible. It’s Mingi’s choice here. And he’s not letting go.

“Ba—,” you squirm, rocking your body from side to side, “—by, please! Fuck!”

“Call me ‘baby’ one more time, just for me,” he lisps, laving his tongue against your throbbing, pulsating clit, all the while you try yank your ass down, overwhelmed by your prolonged pleasure.

“Baby! Baby, baby, baby—“, you whimper, and Mingi kisses your inner thigh, when he finally stops, satisfied by your calling. With one last peck on your clit, he lets go off your hands and slips out your chokehold, pulling off your pants by hooking his fingers in and sliding them off your feet. “Aww, look at you,” he beams, grinning, going through his hair and stroking his swollen lip, “all blushed away, reminds me of the older days, baby.”

“You are the worst,” you sob, and lay lax on the bed, legs once in for all extending and relaxing. Strangely enough, your head feels light, and your body that was straining and trying to get Mingi off of it, is now feeling warm and calming down from the high.

“Aw, you think so?” Mingi smiles, kissing up your leg, your hip-bone, pressing his lips on your abdomen, your tummy, your ribs, marking all of your body with his love-soaked mouth. "I adore you so much."

Having wrung with your husband, you got rid of some of the fighting needs, but— as you’re being smothered by him and his sweet antics— you sigh into the gentle, feathery contact with your skin, and play molten with his soft hair.

You remind yourself of his words, ‘don’t care about me’, but your husband would be a fool to assume that his wife doesn’t want to give him anything back. “Mingi,” you murmur— noticing that you’ve been closing your eyes due to the relaxation you are experiencing, and he immediately answers an attentive “yes, baby?” back, as he repeatedly kisses your jaw.

“Do you really want me to order you around?”, you hum.

“Haha, no, baby,” he chuckles, “it's just…”

Mingi harrumphes in his thoughts, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on top of your tummy and looking up to you— whispering, "I want to do what's best for you. Especially on days like these."

Your heart throbs at the sight of your husband's hair being dishevelled, his already plump lips seemingly looking more peachy, rosy, kissable after he's eaten you out with more than greed and thirst; something that’s more valuable to a healthy marriage than the phrase ‘good sex, no ex’— Love. And the sweetest love there could ever be.

"You would do that for me, baby?", you ask him, your voice coming out sighed.

"Yes, of course," he insists, kissing you down your sternum, your ribcage moving up and down in a slow rhythm. “Baby, you work so much for us… I feel like this is something I can do for you in return, you know?”

“But what if I don’t make you cum?”

"Huh?"

Mingi stops kissing you and glances upwards. You grin. You wanted to catch him off-guard a little bit. (Though you don't know whether that's surprise in the white of his eyes or something like... intrigue.)

“… Uh,” he gutters, thinking about his words very carefully, but ultimately failing to find something good to say.

You smirk and go through his hair, gently grabbing a handful of it. “I think you’d find it hot."

"Really?", he asks, nervously huffing.

"Mingi, didn’t I edge you all during our early twenties?”

“Baby, don’t—“

“What? Well, I thought it was hot. I remember it being really hot.”

“Those were trying times.”

“We did try a lot of things during college.”

Reminiscing and visiting your rather youthful, spry days, Mingi pushes his head deeper into your hand and smiles, having calmed down from the rather exciting idea that you would suggest something so risqué to him. How long has it been? More than ten years, wow.

"Look at us now, baby," Mingi murmurs, sub-consciously wandering up the silhouette of your body with the backside of his hands, making you rather ticklish, but in a way that goosebumps find themselves on your skin, your breath feeling lighter with each stroke of his finger-tips, "Look at you." He inhales, and then exhales, your thumb resting at his ear, "You are trying to kill me, baby..."

"Ohh, Mingi, I'm not!", you giggle, and you may not know what your husband is talking about, but through his lenses— though you would be right to assume that these lenses are painted a deep, deep red— he's seeing his wife be tempered, moderate, relaxed. If he finds you so hot when you're fuming, Mingi finds you enthralling, when your eyes are barely open, the slightest of smile decorating your lips, and an even more hidden pink daubed on your cheeks... You're his wife, Mingi repeats to himself, and his heart grows double its size because of it.

"I love you," he murmurs, and for the moment, he doesn't even know he said that out loud, “I love you so much”, and means it more the second time.

And there you lay, on the mattress, your husband beginning to kiss you again, his hands cupping your head, your fingers interlaced in his hair. "I love you too," you whisper, and as Mingi grabs you by your back, inviting you to get your body up, you're right in the zone again.

Soft, smitten contact— it’s your lips this time to cover Mingi’s neck with kisses, down to his shoulders, his collarbones, your knee working against his crotch, arms swung behind his head.

“I want to take care of you, baby,” Mingi whispers, his thumb caressing your jawbone, as you peck away the sweat on his skin, he will need another shower. “I want to make love to you.”

You smile in awe of your husband lulling the loveliest of words into your ear, soft rustling from your sheets accompanying his voice. The room you decorated together, the home you fill, and even sooner, you'll start a family— with Mingi as a father to be proud of. Who has done so much to keep you happy.

"But sometimes I think—”

“No, baby,” you interrupt him, his voice was dropping and you know you are preventing Mingi from talking bad about himself. He feels guilty, though you've told him uncountable times that you don't feel like you're the only one under this roof.

"But—"

“Baby, no.”

"Okay... I guess I just love you, then." Mingi chuckles, when your fingernails trail down his breast, drawing a line along his muscle definition, “what did you think I was gonna say?”

“Something that’s gonna take me off my mood,” you hum, hooking yourself at his joggers. Mingi sighs, loudly, not yet relieved, but still at peace somehow.

“Make love to me, Mingi.”

A slight gasp leaves his mouth. Oh…

“Y/N… You can’t say things like that.”

With a smirk, your hand disappears in his joggers, and then in his boxers; his thick, throbbing, struggling cock slicking in your grip, as you wrap your fingers around it.

“I can, baby, and I will,” you sneer, “I thought you wanted the best for me?”

He grits his teeth, but Mingi smiles, finding himself at your service. “Am I the best?”, he asks you, leaning forwards to rest his head against your shoulder, pushing you down again.

“You’re the absolute best, Mingi.”

You slowly glide your hand up and down his length nibbling at his ear, exhaling, seducing him. “You’re the best husband,” you purr, “with the most handsome face,” kissing his temple, “and”, with your other finger hooked at the waist band of his joggers, you reveal “the best cock.”

Mingi is touched. A bit embarrassed, yes, it’s been a while since he’s heard you talk like this, but to hear from the best wife that he is deemed the best husband is the highest compliment he could have gotten. What, his face still charms you? His cock is still alluring to you? Don’t judge him, but even after ten years he will be moved by your words.

Moved.

“Come on, Mingi,” you coo, feeling your cunt pulsate between your legs, his cock twitch between your fingers; your husband gulps and, with your command, roams against your body, "let's get you to work."

Maybe he's really revisiting things from the past, after all the talk about your college endeavours, because you definitely recognise his canine teeth ever-so slightly sunken into your shoulder, as Mingi grabs you by your thighs and spreads your legs gently. Your body remembers, and his cock surely does as well, glistening in pre-cum as it is positioned at your cunt. "God, baby," Mingi grunts, and you lick over your lips in anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pouts, and in an almost reverent tone, Mingi brushes away a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Not even your mom?”, you giggle, and while you think of your mother in law with utmost respect, your husband smiles, unfazed; “She’ll agree.”

And with that, Mingi is inside you, all of his length gliding into you with utmost caution; he’s driving in his pelvis unhurriedly, slow and deliberate, just so you can feel every inch of you inside expand for his girth, stretch for his entrance. "Fuck," you gutter and grab Mingi by his hair, pulling him close to you just as he begins to move, your moan coming out muffled against his lip.

"Never growing tired of it, are you?", Mingi grins into the kiss, and he's right, he's so, totally right, but your face is strained together in ecstasy, lascivious— aphrodisical to your husband. He's throbbing and he can feel how warm his own cock is, as Mingi pulls himself out of your tightness in his entirety and then, "fuck," pushes himself right back in inside you to experience it all again.

"I could never grow tired of my hubby," you chuckle and fuck, feel him, physically feel how he's getting excited about your words, something so enrapturingly hot boiling inside him; but while your personal heat ends up being your devilish little voice encouraging you to tease him, Mingi's does nothing more than to whisper him the most delicate ways of loving.

If he sucks on the spot right here at your pretty, graceful collarbone, will you sigh out an even more graceful breath? (Yes!) If he slides his tongue across your neck, just until your sensitive jaw, will you pull his hair with some type of feistiness? (Oh, god yes!) If Mingi, looking at you with sunken eyes, catches you off-guard and pistons his pelvis in at this exact moment, will you— "Fuck, baby!"

Oh, he didn't even need a voice for that one. Your husband slithers his arms under your armpits, one hand holding you by your back, the other resting on top of your head, so you don't hit the bedframe and hurt yourself, as it falls to the back with his thrust.

"Want me to say sorry?", he hums, again slowly driving himself out, knowing very well that once Mingi changes the direction, he will hit your sweet-spot again, and you shake your head rather weakly, drunken on the feeling of him filling you out.

"Good," Mingi confirms your answer, peppering kisses all around your forehead, as he quickens up his pace, breathing throughout it all. "Y/N," he sighs, you sighing with him for all the same reasons, "you feel so good."

You get used to the rhythm and let loose of the sheets, lightly scratching his skin at his waist. "You feel so good, baby," Mingi repeats himself and his eyebrows are pushed together, his grunts vibrating down your cunt. "Do you feel good, baby?"

Nodding, whispering a wispy string of a lot of 'yes'es, Mingi flashes his eye-smile and digs his face deep into the nook of your neck. He doesn't say it, because he's too busy panting, moaning, breathing out to his own thrusts, but your husband is overjoyed. You feel so tiny under his body— and maybe it's because you are, and yet the place you have reserved in his even bigger heart— which even in this moment, is beating for you and nobody else— is inexplainably huge. He wants to be yours as much as he wants you to be him, be with him, have all his life painted in your pretty colours until his canvas drivels over.

His cock is slipping in and out of you at fast speed now, your whiny moans encouraging Mingi to hold this angle since you're not stopping with it; "Are you close?", he asks and gets one arm of his out to rest his hand on the bedframe, towering over you, hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Yes, I'm close," you answer and search for another kiss, raising your hand to his cheek, Mingi immediately plunging his face into yours. He's close too, has been for a while now, but he had to get your confirmation that he was finally able to release himself into you— and then, when you nibble at his lip while a heavenly note of a moan leaves your opened mouth, Mingi's pelvis moves by itself.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he cusses, having to install one hand at your hips so he doesn't rock you around too much, voice becoming high and needy, greed messing with the practiced way he thrusts into you, becoming sloppy and all the while passionate, chasing the speed it takes to make you feel the best and even better. His other hand slides onto your clit, and it does so by muscle memory, knowing exactly where to rub so you clench around him, scream out his name.

"I love you so much, baby, I want you so bad, and I'm— fuck," he heaves, his voice catching up with his movement, "I'm going to love you until we grow old, baby, I want to be with you until the end of our days— I," and Mingi is rambling his free mind here, his whole body, mind and soul at your service, "I want you to have me forever, Y/N."

"Mingi," you whine, and his cock doesn't stop hitting your soft-spot, your clit tingling from his thumb, making you dopey, skipping you through time, to a future where you lay with Mingi in bed at the same late hour, both heads fuming from work, trying to your steam off together now, worried that your kids will hear your words, grunting silently into each other's ears, the words being, "I'm gonna cum!"

Oh, what good days await you two, and how straight you're heading for it, too— with Mingi's breathing being cut short, coming out stuttered from how fast he's ramming himself into you, not too rough, but fluidly and ceaselessly until you are gasping for air, feeling the string be stretched further and further, pulled for release, spiralled by your husband's vigor and his panting; "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum so fucking bad, fuck!"

Mingi soaks sweatily in your words, his hair chaotic, his abs glistening from the heat of it all— you yank your hand out his mouth, your lower body curling up— "Fuck, baby!"

And with your tightened cunt Mingi lets out a deep, whole-hearted grumble, falling flat on your body, as he spasms; his hot, thick semen shot seeps through along the tip of his cock out your cunt, needing to be fucked right back into you so it doesn’t get lost on your sheets— you seeing absolute bliss, as he pistons into you one last time, eyes focused on your husband.

“Baby,” Mingi pants, and with your gazes meeting, his lips rush over to your cheek, pecking you one, two, three times— and then, on your lips one, two— no, holding one long kiss with you, his plump, rosy softness making your body melt into the mattress, as it falls deeper in slumber. “I love you,” he whispers into your kiss, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “my baby.”

He pulls out, infamously slow, making you heave on his length even after you both finished. “Mingi,” you exhale, feeling your eyelids close by themselves, your husband slightly chuckling.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, caressing your waist and cheek, “you need anything?”

“Oh, Mingi,” you laugh; Mingi can't help himself, can he? Will always ask for your wishes, wishing to grant them, like he's some wizard, a magician, a devoted believer of your enjoyment and happiness— "You did all you could have done, baby."

"Really?"

"Come on, Mingi, you big baby, c'mere."

He huffs, a bit sulky maybe, your silly husband, getting the blanket from the bed to throw it over his shoulder and wham, over you— cuddling you in, for now ignoring that the both of you need a hot, steamy shower, just breathing in and out your presence, your sweet, dulcet presence, which caramelizes in his warmth, against his body, melting.

"Thank you for being there for me, baby," you smile, voice dampened by the blanket, but Mingi understands you just well enough.

You don't need to thank him. Mingi knows you know that. He's obsessed with you, and though you could try and say you're just as obsessed, your husband will try everything to your favour to prove otherwise.

As Mingi throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his breast, making you listen to his heartbeat, beating just for you, you hear him whisper all kinds of affirmations. 'I'll never leave your side, I'll never make you feel lonely, I'll be yours forever.”

A career? A family? A happy life?

It's all waiting for you, patiently, each day and night you leave and come back home— in office clothes and a chaotic mind— watching, admiring, hoping to get the weight of responsibility off your shoulders, get you a taste of freedom, a taste of the fruits of your labour.

"Are you asleep?", he asks and you groan silently, pressing your face deeper down his armpit. "Baby..."

Mingi chuckles. You need this sleep, totally, but you also need to be cleaned up, which gives him the challenge to grab you by your leg the most gentle way he can, lift you up— and, when you lie in his embrace, head snuggled into his breast— he’s careful to not wake you up with the sounds of water splashing down his hand, as he soaps you in.

It’s difficult, this is difficult, it will all be so difficult— but Mingi, being your husband, your soul-mate, your everything, he’s putting his all on it to make it work.

(Work you up, make you work for it; until your voice is hoarse, until your body shakes, until your head is light and you can do it, all over again, the next day, evening and night.

“Happy wife, happy life!”

(Maybe Mingi embraces his new role as the father of your children too much.))

#song mingi smut #song mingi fluff #song mingi x reader #song mingi x y/n #song mingi scenarios #song mingi imagine #ateez x reader #ateez smut #chokkiwa #chokko

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kaeyacollection · 2 months

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Who's ready for my Master Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Crepus Theory!!

I originally posted this over at Hoyolab and people there seemed to really like my favorite joke theory that Crepus just tries to gaslight the whole of Mondstadt right after obtaining Kaeya

Majority of this will be the same but with little tweaks for the wonderful tumblr audience

This joke stems from Kaeya's introduction:

and the use of the word "rumored"

Cause it's not like it said beyond Teyvat or the seven nations just Mondstadt

And I mean like c'mon how many families are living off the grid in Mondstadt

(Actually... Don't answer that I forgot Glory's boyfriend is just

Out there in the bush with Razor...)

Initially I had the idea of Crepus walking around the markets one day carrying Kaeya with Diluc beside him running into Varka who asks:

"Who's the boy?"

"You mean my son?"

"Not Diluc the boy you're carrying"

"I have two sons? You know this??"

But then the Caribert quest came out mentioning Kaeya ran away from home near immediately and was dragged home by Crepus just as fast and it became even funnier

Cause imagine you're by the docks one day and richest man in town gets off the boat with no cargo but instead a tiny child you may not have seen before that Crepus seems to be very cross with at the moment and threatening to turn him into a leash kid if he runs off again

In a small town that loves gossip do you know how fast that information is spreading? Cause I do and Varka's knocking on Crepus's door 30 minutes later like:

"Is this what we're doing? We're just taking kids now?"

Both paths lead to Varka asking where Kaeya comes from and getting hit with a

"I think you're a bit too old to still be confused about the birds and the bees Varka"

Varka getting frustrated to the point he just starts demanding Kaeya tell him what's up

Love to see him following in his fathers footsteps of stressing Varka the fuck out

And upon hearing how his birth father left for juice and didn't return Varka went

"Good! That was ALL I needed to know!!"

Follow ups on if his father intended to abandon him or got lost in the storm and needed a search party?

Don't care!! You weren't kidnapped!!

Welcome to the knights! 🤝

Which bringing it back to it only being a rumor

In a town of alcoholics, who's gonna call out the one guy with the winery?

Here's some add ons that got sparked from the comment section 😘

Bonus panels would have included Varka showing up with Rosaria one day mimicking Crepus about "wHaT you ForGot I haD a Kid" sparking a trend within the community of just adopting random children to the point posters are made saying "In Barbatos name: See a child Take a child"

Alice seeing it and pulling a "when in rome" tucking both Albedo and Diluc(who is yelling he is an adult) under her arms and telling Klee if she ever sees someone in need of a mom let her know she'll send over the paperwork right away

And then the last bonus: Venti wakes up, walks in through the gate while playing a tune, and stops when he sees the poster, not sure if he needs to start yet another revolution, or if this one is fine actually

I imagine the posters had to be taken down because visitors were losing their kids left and right and the solution of parents pinning a note saying "not dead & still want custody" to their kids shirt didn't catch on but the saying still lives strong in the hearts of Mondstadt's citizens I mean look Bennett and his 27 dads Mondstadt may have a lot of orphans but the demand is even higher

Comment on original post:

"I have a headcanon where Kaeya fooled first Crepus, then the rest of Mondstadt but.this is too funny!! I want to see this happening!"

Which prompted one of my new favorite lines at the end:

"Wait by fool Crepus first do you mean like Crepus finding him out in the storm bringing him inside to ask him where he lives and Kaeya's just

"? I live here? You adopted me? Are you feeling okay?"

Cause I'm absolutely cry laughing over this that's so good but that also means when Kaeya runs away Crepus is just

"hey no no l'm not misplacing you a second time come home" "

#Kaeya may have wandered away from his last family (believes Crepus) but that sure as fuck wasn't gonna happen a second time #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #crepus ragnvindr #Crepus #dawn family #genshin impact #Genshin #thats right now I get to be the one with the many tags trying to get this out there lmao #dont worry I wont do this often here this blog is primarily a trap to get you guys to check out a very talented lore blog #uh I mean...#to show you various fan works of Kaeya?#hey what's that pinned post up there?#god I hope this is formatted right I havent made a tumblr post since we had post headers #and god damn did it keep fighting me #also it's like 5 a.m. if you see any mistakes...#that's tomorrow's problem

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cry-ptidd · 4 months

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Me and my sister watched Hellsing together. Here's her opinion on the characters

- Alucard: "He's a cunt, but he's entertaining. I'd probably pay to see him in a strip club. I didn't like him and his shit-eating grin and 'master' bullshit at first, but he grew on me quick and i don't like that he grew on me. He's a complex character, and he's hot asf when he cries. Also I wish we'd seen his Dracula form for longer; that was awesome. Him and Anderson had a thing going on."

- Seras: "Didn't really mind her at first, but liked her after she drank blood. Her transformation and the guns are really fucking cool. I didn't like her voice and her whining at first but it got better after a few episodes. I like her when her personality became a little bit more spunky. Her story's fucked up."

- Integra: "Absolute bad bitch. Her attitude reminds me of myself so idk if I should like it or hate it, she's got a lot of pride which I respect. Really human and I like it, she takes no one's shit and she's a badass. Didn't even FLINCH when she got her eye shot out. Girlboss. She gives me ace vibes also."

- Walter: "I liked him, he was funny. And then he betrayed everyone and became emo. He gave good advice, and he was cool as hell with that wise older veteran vibe. I'm disappointed in him, but the plot twist was actually good. You'd notice the signs if you suspected him from the beginning."

- Pip: "He's FINE. I'd braid his hair any day. I was in love and then I mourned. I'm widowed. He was hilarious, plus his voice actor nailed the French. My favorite character. Screeched when he came back. He's a good leader and I loved his speeches, also his death made me cry. And I don't often cry when watching anime."

- Anderson: "kinda neutral. I didn't like him at first, he was obnoxious as fuck. Then he respected women and opposed Maxwell and his orders so he grew in my esteem a bit. His character is cool as fuck tho. I wish he didn't turn into a monster, he fell to the same level as Alucard. It's like human greed or desperation for power. Him and Alucard had a thing going on."

- Enrico Maxwell: "Lucius Malfoy. I hate him but not the one I hate most."

- Heinkel & Yumie: "Really like these two lesbians. So cool and I respect their resolve, especially Heinkel's. Rip Yumi. You were cool. Heinkel being intersex is a dope detail, she's very androgynous too. I like their designs."

- The major: "Augustus Gloop? I like the fact he refused vampirism, that was cool, but he's an actual fucking sociopath and I hate him"

- The Captain: "Ngl, I actually find him quite dope, aside from the nazi thing. Literally no one respected him, that shit had me crying. His face is pretty and his tits are big, even if he looks a bit goofy at times. Wish we'd seen more of him. I felt kinda bad when he got defeated."

- Schrödinger: "I want this thing dead"

- Rip van winkle: "She gives me the vibes of a Dr Seuss character."

- Zorin: "Bleach Ichigo knockoff. Fuck this bitch in particular I hate her"

- The Valentine brothers: "A slav squat necrophile and his gay brother that used to be a runway model but got cancelled after a scandal"

Overall: A hit, neither of us expected her to like it. She likes the political and literary aspects, and also finds the characters interesting. She doesn't really know how to feel about the ending; she considers it realistic and a good end, but she wished it was more epic. But from a writing perspective it's good. Also she lowkey wished Alucard would turn Integra into a vampire, just because it would be cool. Now we send each other memes about it. She calls Nendocard a whore when she passes by him, but says she'd buy a Pip nendo in a heartbeat

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greenmeanqueen · 7 days

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Hi! Sorry for the rant but as an hater of the Rhaenys speech in episode nine to another I felt like you could understand .

In my personal experience ,it’s not only the Targaryen Exceptionalism that bothers me ,it’s also the not so subtle victim blaiming .

The whole window things to me was Rhaenys telling Alicent that she’s a loser for not having ambitions other than to see her family safe ,and the fact that Alicent didn’t girlboss her way out of her problems ( read :abuse)

It’s not only Rhaenys hypocrisy here that makes me go nuts,but the way the show constantly acts like Alicent is stupid for not fighting back against her abusers is sickening .This is a feudal society and their concept of abuse was different then ours ,so what was done to Alicent by Otto and Viserys (and Larys but in this case his behavior would never be normalized) will never get called out ,and Alicent as a woman is considered a property ,first of her father then her husband .She has power and wealth as long as these men give it to her .So she’s already in a bad situation societally and one hard ti escape.

On an emotional level ,Alicent is also really scared of both Otto and Viserys .And abuse victims feel trapped ,like they can’t escape . (and Alicent is trapped ).

The fact that Rhaenys shaming Alicent for being a victim is seen as a wise girlboss moment is something so fucked up .

Sorry for the rant ,and have a good day/night !

thank u for your ask and your thoughts, and i hope u enjoy me ranting some more about (probably) my least favorite exchange of dialogue in hotd!

i’m gonna go kinda line by line with my thoughts so this might get long.

Rhaenys: And you are usurping the throne.

subjective, i think, like a lot of the dance is. who’s the usurper depends on who believes who has the rightful claim. and let’s be real: if the greens didn’t have a leg to stand on, there wouldn’t be a dance. also, let’s recall that part of rhaenys’ stance in the great council was not only that she had a claim, but that her male child laenor had a claim. he, not rhaenys, was the main contender alongside viserys i. i think hotd really messed up important details in trying to simplify everything. anyway.

Alicent: It was my husband's dying wish. Believe it or no, it is of no consequence. Aegon will be king. I came here to ask your support.

Rhaenys: Well, I must credit you for your boldness.

hey, now that’s a take i can agree on, rhaenys! while not the most powerful member of the greens, without alicent’s boldness they would not have survived long.

Alicent: House Velaryon has long allied itself with the Princess Rhaenyra and what has it gained you? Your daughter dead, alone in Pentos. Your son cuckolded. Rhaenyra's heirs are none of yours. It is your husband who grasps so heedlessly for the throne. And even he has abandoned you. Gone these six long years to fight a desperate battle, returning grievously, if not mortally, wounded, leaving the Lady of Driftmark to chart her course alone.

(going by show canon) is alicent wrong though? is she wrong????? it might not be nice but it’s the truth as she sees it.

Rhaenys: The word of my house is not fickle.

Alicent: No. But, dear cousin, you more than any soul alive understand what I say now. Princess Rhaenys, I loved my husband, but I will speak the truth we both know. You should've been queen.

Rhaenys: I little thought to hear those words from you.

but why, rhaenys, did you not expect alicent to say those words to you? what on-screen interaction have you had with her in the past that led to this conclusion? or is that the internalized misogyny talking???

see, this little quip reeks of narrative fuckery. everybody just inherently hates alicent bc *checks notes* she’s a “bad feminist”… in a medieval patriarchal society. if rhaenys doesn’t think alicent would say that, show me why she doesn’t think alicent would say that based on something other than “vibes”.

doesn’t make sense that it’s bc alicent married viserys instead of laena; doesn’t make sense that it’s bc alicent and rhaenyra fought after aemond lost his eye; doesn’t make sense that it’s bc alicent rules in viserys’ stead (if anything, that’d make it more likely she’d say it bc she and rhaenys are/were in similar positions, able to rule when their husbands couldn’t); doesn’t make sense that it’s bc alicent worked with vaemond so he could inherit driftmark (and not lucerys, another male).

so where?

Alicent: The Iron Throne was yours by blood and by temperament. Viserys would've lived his days a country lord, content to hunt and study his histories, but here we are. We do not rule, but we may guide the men that do. Gently. Away from violence and sure destruction and instead toward peace.

the “we do not rule, but…” lines are actually so important to me, because it’s alicent speaking as a woman who understands her position in society to another woman (maybe one who she hopes can feel the same). it’s alicent have a very firm grasp on what her limitations are and thus what is reasonably possible for her to do. here, i think, she underestimates rhaenys’ pride and concept of her own privilege, bc rhaenys does not view herself as a “mere woman”, she’s a targ, and she couldn’t nor wouldn’t visualize anything else.

Rhaenys: Is it in the name of peace that you've imprisoned me? And what of my dragon?

Alicent: If we are overmatched, Rhaenyra will be tempted to strike us, and war will ensue. Without your dragon, she may be persuaded to negotiate. If it's Driftmark you want, you shall have it for you and your granddaughters to pass on as you see fit.

excellent point from alicent. it’s a smart political move to keep rhaenys confined while her loyalties are uncertain. again, it’s not a “nice” thing to do to someone, but it’s not the time to be nice; it’s time to survive. giving rhaenys free reign would give her free reign to use a WMD on whoever she chooses. so, yeah, it is kind of in the name of peace to keep the user away from the weapon, because meleys is a weapon of MASS DESTRUCTION that could destroy the city and kill many.

and guess what happens later at the coronation? alicent is proven right. you let rhaenys out, you let the carnage out.

Rhaenys: You are wiser than I believed you to be, Alicent Hightower.

Alicent: A true queen counts the cost to her people.

Rhaenys: And yet you toil still in service to men. Your father, your husband, your son. You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

i will stand by the post i made back when this episode aired, that some people can only hope to make windows.

if you can see a door, that’s great, but some people can’t and can only visualize fresh air. maybe you could help her find the door, rhaenys, but you’re more interested in shaming her.

rhaenys’ hypocrisy comes out here in full force in how she views alicent’s actions vs. her own, when she has done similar if not exactly what alicent has. but rhaenys is a targ/aryen, she’s got the dynasty and the dragonfire to back her up; alicent has to work with what your typical noble lady has. so, no, alicent can’t just do whatever she wants, bc, like you said redroses, her power is what others allow her. looks like rhaenys doesn’t have a window in the wall of her prison of privilege, and instead bricked herself up with her hypocrisy.

now. while i have ranted for quite a bit now, i do think it’s okay that rhaenys does not agree with alicent and does not see her as she is. that’s character conflict! that makes a great story! i can disagree with rhaenys’ perspective (and i do), but that she has it isn’t entirely the issue. what hammers in the frustration i have is that the narrative is siding with her, not allowing for these two women to have different points of view in shades of grey. the narrative doesn’t push for any interpretation other than rhaenys is correct, and that alicent is a bigoted, self-righteous fool, bc how dare she defend her son’s claim? “that’s not very girlboss of you, alicent, so we don’t care about your reasons for doing so and how they just might be valid from your POV.”

the scene ends without a retort more from alicent, again signaling how the narrative intends this as a “gotcha!” mic drop moment. but since i’ve gone this far, i might as well argue that the following could be considered one, bc she does at least get the final word:

Alicent: I'll leave you with your thoughts.

go ahead and have your thoughts, rhaenys. see how far you go, and if you won’t end up just like the mere mortals after all.

#who knows maybe you can girlboss your way out of dragonfire #sorry i got heated #i hope my ramblings made sense #alicent hightower #pro alicent hightower #anti rhaenys velaryon #anti hotd #anti targaryen #anti house targaryen #anti targaryen exceptionalism #ask a gal

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weaver-z · 2 years

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Ranking famous slashers (based on how likely they are to be cool with trans people)

(Disclaimer: this is a very silly ironic post for pride month).

Chucky (Child's Play)

In what can only be described as an "absolute hum-dinger" of an opening entry, we have Chucky, the only slasher who has (and explicitly supports) a transgender child. Sure. You know what? Good for him.

2. Ash Williams (The Evil Dead franchise)

"Uhh this guy isn't a slasher!" He has a chainsaw for a hand. He's killed 65+ deadites over the course of four movies and a goofy tv show with said grisly chainsaw hand. I will die on the hill that Ash is a good-aligned slasher. Anyway, Ash would also be happy to learn that trans women being more widely-accepted means there are More Women. He wouldn't even have to have being trans explained to him, he'd get it. He's dealt with so much weird shit, someone wanting to transition is nothing. Hail to the king, baby.

3. Herbert West (Re-Animator)

Herbert West looks so much like one of my trans guy friends in real life that I'm just going to decide that he's trans. My guy was synthesizing HRT in his wacky little lab long before he was filling vials with glowing green goo to raise the dead. He's still ranked lower than Ash, though, because he's kind of cringe in general. Sorry, Herbie baby

4. Bubba Sawyer (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

Bubba definitely doesn't care about anyone's gender. He's killing them with chainsaws. That being said, the exceptions to this would occur within his own family. If one of Bubba's brothers came out as trans and you decided to be transphobic, Bubba would definitely cut you into even grislier, gorier little pieces than usual, because he's a bro like that.

5. Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th)

Jason is a conceptually hilarious character at this point, and between all of the deaths and resurrections and visits to Hell and more deaths and resurrections, he's probably had time enough to come to terms with trans people. He just wants to kill everyone at Crystal Lake, for god's sakes. Let him be. (Also, he fought a transphobe--I will explain this remark later in this post.)

6. Daniel Robitaille (Candyman)

Daniel's been dead for quite a while, so that might be a minor roadblock to his understanding of trans people. That being said, he seemed to navigate the modern world pretty deftly in the original Candyman. You might have to explain transitioning to him a bit, but he'd get the concept pretty quickly. He might still kill you with his hook, though. Sorry.

7. Carrie White (Carrie)

Carrie is in a complicated place, because yes, she was raised in a very sheltered, evangelical environment, but we must consider that she is a girlboss and a girlbeast. My verdict? After an initial period of "not getting it," Carrie would throw herself whole hog into being a trans ally. If you are trans, Carrie will be there to light transphobic people on fire. This is not an offer, it is a statement of intent. Be ready for her arrival.

8. Michael Myers (Halloween)

I think that Michael forgot what gender is a while back.

9. Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs + other movies)

Uuugh... see, I think that Hannibal would absolutely use the right pronouns and name for a trans person, but he'd definitely ask those really annoying "tell me, Will" style questions about your gender over a plate of definitely-not-human liver and fava beans. "Do you feel as though you are step in step with God Himself when you take your estrogen pills, as though your are joining in the act of divine creation?" No, Hannibal, she is just transitioning. Please chill.

11. Billy Lenz (Black Christmas)

Diversity win and loss: Billy Lenz is the world's first trans-inclusive radical misogynist! :/

12. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher (Scream)

Ghostface fans, I am so sorry, but these are two misogynistic teenage boys from the 90's. I do not have high hopes for them.

13. Freddy Krueger (Nightmare on Elm Street)

This guy is the transphobe Jason fought. Booooo. Tomatoes. I'm throwing tomatoes!

#slashers #horror #movies

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hyperfixated-archivist · 3 days

Text

Here’s some crack fics I wrote a month ago that haunt my restless dreams. Behold.

———

The archive is on fire

this bothers nobody.

the tape recorder is on, rolling like proud Mary.

”Martin came into work today, fucking hate that man. Wish he would die. I’m such a good boss”

the door opens, and in comes Martin Crackhorn. “Sup you sexy snake, want some leaf juice?” “Fuck off you bastard, I’m reading about the mentally Ill.”

martin blushes.

Tim bursts through the wall like the kill aid man, dressed head to dog in mr bonzo merch. And lingerie, but no one cares about that—there are more pressing matters.

“I solved the arg mother fuckers, here’s my girlfriend.” Alice hand drier walked in on the ceiling, because trans people don’t like physics or any of its motives. “Wassup bitches, gimme a twenty.”

“Why?” Sasha asks, crawling out from her desk chewing a table. “Because I’m so sexy that’s why.”

They all nod in agreement.

“Welp,” Elias says, notifying to everyone that he was still there with a slap of his 200 hundred year old knees. “I’m getting another divorce today, can’t stick around.”

“Leave my dad alone!” Martin and Tim say, glaring at each other before Martin stabs Tim in the elbow. “They! That was new!!”

Jon sighs. “I wish mr spider had just eaten me instead of billy wheeler.”

“Womp womp” says nikola, taking his ear and chewing it like Tabasco.

“I hate this life.” Gerry says, “make out with me,” says the sexy yellow door.

“No thanks, I’m a book, we will never work.” Micheal runs away crying.

“what did you just say to my grandson?” Gertrude has risen from the dead. “I think you’re confused gramma.” “No, I’m Gertrude.”

Eric is in the corner putting his eyes back in, but they’re backwards and he is horrified by the sight of his own Brian.

”marry me Juliet,” says Martin to his emotionally constipated boss. “No! I’m busy.” He picks up the binoculars and looks at Tim who is sat two feet from him on Alice’s lap.

“Omg that’s so gay.” Alice is weeping openly now.

Peter walks in, the room goes misty.

“There you are, my prized little problem.”

“Dad!” Elias gets a weird look, but no one follows up on it because Tim is missing both his girlfriend and his knees.

Peter dips out after punching Jon in the emotions.

”I can see it all.” Jon gets punched by Daisy, who immediately smooches bassira on the forehead before jumping into the coffin.

“Well,” “shit,” Berlin and Hoop are pale and normal looking, pay no attention to the zippers on their necks.

”it’s time to d-d-d-duel!” Mary has been skinned. Everyone ignores her. As they should.

“Well,” Martin wants to say he didn’t see this coming, but he did. “I’m going to marry you.”

“Oh word?” Jon and Martin have a wedding in spring. It is delightful, no one dies, and the priest is just happy to be free from the meaty clutch.

Jared hopworth is the flower girl. It does not end well.

The eyepocolypse is avoided, but Daisy still does because it’s what she deserves.

Elias gets killed by jurgen lightener, who immediately dies of Ligma.

All is well, except for Tim. He is suffering.

Click.

———

Heavy metal blasts from her mouth.

”wassup twot, where’s the cheese?” Mary sighed. “We ‘ave non.” “Bullshit, give me the cheese before I ceaseless watcher you.”

Mary visibly tenses. She pulls out an uno reverse.

Gertrude eats it.

”Dearly beloved, get wrecked.” Gertrude does a backflip.

”I want your lungs.” “No, that’s gay.”

The crusty dusty old bitches fight. Gertrude wins, the absolute girlboss.

Micheal comes out from Gerry’s room, no one ask why.

“Oh no!” Gertrude’s eyebrows run away. “The consequences of my actions!”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Nuh uh.”

a gunshot rings out.

Gerry is an orphan, Mary is still alive, Micheal is single, and Gertrude is secretly John Cena, hence why the eye couldn’t see her.

”if you don’t like my killer attitude—“

Eric bursts in. “You’re cheating on me?!”

“What? No?” Gertrude is a confused old lady.

“Not you— her.” “Oh, yes. She’s a lying scumbag.”

Eric gets the rusty shears, but trips and dies. Not on the shears, but from embarrassment and testicular blueness.

“Gerry wants to die.” No one knows who said it, but it’s very true.

So he does.

momstermf enermguy. Bag for lumgs.

”I want to marry you so that we can divorce.” “Alright Elias, calm your saggy tits.”

No one is happy, and Micheal is still a door.

“Don’t @ me.” Gertrude is dead now, and all is at peace.

———

Martin was hungy. Tim owned a pet gorldfish.

Can I make it anymore obvious?

”Martini, you absolute gay barnacle, have you seen my fish Charles-Jevil—“

Marin is choking on the fish. Greedy bastard.

Jon is crying in disappointment and also because of his severe and chronic lack of parents.

Sasha is dead. No one knows why.

Tim has a gun, and breaks through a wall just to walk back in through the front door.

Will wood is blasting from every device, electronic and not.

It’s just Red Moon. Again, and again.

Elias walks in, hears will wood, and because he is a homophobe he immediately dies.

Agnes would have come, but she was on a date with her boyfriend because they deserve happiness and they get it.

Tim has been c4’d by Martin. The audience cheers, then weeps until the archive is flooded.

”My paper-work!” “Jon you fucking neek, no one cares about the fucking boxes you foolish bitch!!”

Jon is having a panic attack, and the water has eaten his shoes.

Tim has forgotten his anger, and since he is a ghost, he can get his pet fish back from Hades, Orpheus style.

Spoiler, he looked back. She died.

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knwatchesninjago · 3 months

Text

S1E8 Once Bitten, Twice Shy

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I LIVEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Y'all!! I am SOO sorry for disappearing off the face of the world for so long!! I had a lot of tests and quizzes that came up due to semester 1 finally being over. Plus I had a lot of hw as well! So I was so busy and couldn't find the time to sit down and watch ep8. But ALAS!!! HERE IT IS!!!!

Let's get into it!! Lol!! ;3

OKAYY

----

The Garma-Wu SIBLING BONDING!!!

First of all, I love how Garmadon's first question isn't "Is Lloyd okay?" Its:

What has Lloyd gotten himself into?

Pftttt, lollll!! Lloyd... you are a gremlin, even in your own father's eyes!

#SiblingBonding

^ Me (as Garm) back when I was a baby and wanted to get rid of my little bro bc he took up all of my parents and grandparents attention

I honestly love how Garm threw away his pride and helped Wu when he heard that his son was in danger!! <333

Reminds me of a certain someone, eh?

SORRY SORRY SORRY!!!!

No more PJO spoilers, okay!! Sorry!! I couldn't help myself!!

Anyways, back to the sibling bonding...

This scene was actually heartbreakingly sad, ngl.

Why would Lloyd open the tombs?

To be like you.

I... never wanted him to... thank you for watching out for him

You may think of me as your enemy... but I was first... your brother

*sniff sniff* I'M NOT CRYING!! YOU ARE!!!!

---

OKAY!! MAY I JUST SAY, BEFORE ANYTHING!!

COLE?!?!? WHAT!?!??! THAT LOOKS SOO GOOD?!?!? DUDE!! YOUR SKETCH LOOKS SOO GOOOD?!?!?!? IT IS CANON, Y'ALL!!! MY COLEY POLEY IS AN ARTIST!!! <333333

---

#Pythor's weird face

^Ugh... dude... what kinda entrance is that!?!?!?

(due to the 30-pic limit I'm only showing three images, sry!!

---

NEXT UP:

#Girlboss is not pleased

Honestly, her face in the second pic when Jay badmouths her unknowingly!! 🤣🤣🤣

---

This scene had me cackle so badly!! Jay's brain is dead rn and Nya is like: "You good, bro?" 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

---

Lastly, my fav moments:

#SerpentineJay

Pfttt, he's soo hilariously cute/ugly, loll!! Hey Jay! I don't blame you for trying to hide ur face from Nya. Ngl, you do not look good witha snake face, loll!!!

AND Y'ALL!!! DID YOU SEE WHAT JAY DID WHEN NYA TOLD HIM THAT SHE WAS THE SAMURAI X?!??!

Shock

2)CHECKS HER OUR OUT! 🤣🤣🤣

Pftttttttt, lollll!!!!

----

#Stop Discriminating Against Snake-People

Poor Jay was casually flogged :'(

----

Sadly... I am up to 30 images... so I leave you with this:

Y'all... HOW IS THIS A KIDS SHOWW!?!?!?!? (this is why I'm not so excited of showing Ninjago to my parents.... this is CrEeEePy, lol)

Anyways, byeeeee!! See y'all in ep 9!! Just a few more eps left for S1!!! <3333

#CasuallyDies

https://kittenninja14.tumblr.com/post/731916269075480576/hey-yall-i-just-found-this-incredible-video-and

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jacenotjason · 6 months

Note

hellooo!! helloo!! I have... I have TWO QUESTIONS!! 1. How would each of them react to someone being homophobic/transphobic towards them? 2. uhhh how would they react if they saw their parents? especially the ones that don't like/have never met parents (i was gonna put something else for the second one but uhhh i frogor uh oh)

OH BOY TWO QUESTIONS!! Ok lets all pray Tumblr doenst eat this its gonna be a lot

Ok first question, how would they react to someone being queerphobic to them?

Eddie: “mhm… sure…” he does not care. He deosnt really listen to people in the first place, the second you start trying to offend him he just tones you out. He does not give half a shit. Maybe if you keep talking.. a fuck will fall into his hand!

Poppy: being queerphobic to her?? Eh. Who cares. She lived through a homophobic cult and also bigoted parents, shes got tough skin. Being queerphobic to her children? PREPARE TO CATCH THESE TALONS BIIIITCH

Julie: absolutely roasts you. She takes one look at you and digs up your nastiest trauma some how. Like this “ew a girl dating a girl thats gay (idk how to be homophobic)” “? *looks up and down* okay? I didn’t ask, go tell your mom. Oh, wait shes dead isn’t she? And your father isn’t even present, he left when you were 6 and you had to rely on your Grandfathers homophobic ideology and your Grandmothers abuse. I don’t care what you have to think.” Then the homophobe just lays on the floor in the fetal position.

Sally: “196.251.208.6” get doxxed.

Frank: he just starts crying :( then he goes and tells Eddie and hes gonna stab you

(How do you even be homophobic to someone questioning??) Barnaby: “I know my identity isn’t the root of your anger.. come here, sit down, lets talk it out..” uuuh free therapy? He just summons tea bc all grandpas have the ability to just summon tea

Howdy: i actually have no idea. Ik hes sort of gotten this reputation as violent but hes- guys hes pathetic. He probably just laughs at them and shoos them away, maybe pull the gun from under the counter if he needs to

OK ooo o this ones a little less fun.. if they met their parents

Eddie: quick Eddie lore he was raised in joint custody, his parents hate each other so… uhm.. were getting the gang back together! He’d probably just sit with his face in his hands as his parents fight like “Ohmygod.. guys stop” they blame each other for how Eddie ended up and hes like “Im literally right here”

Poppy: shes long gotten over her fear of her parents. She’s happy and thats all that matters, she’ll happily tell off her parents like a GIRLBOSS YEAAAHHH happily explain how she escaped the cult they sent her too and how happy she is rn

Julie: uhm.. Julie’s parents are dead. Next question. Lmao ok but fr if she like.. came back to life she’d be so happy :3 she, and all the other joyfuls, were raised by a single mom and Julie got all her “men are trash, defend urself, never be afraid to punch a man” type ideology from her mom and her mom was super accepting and she misses herrr :((

Sally: now you may think Sally has a terrible relationship with her parents.. but she doesnt :3 shes unable to see her mom (for agoraphobic, mental health, and also legal reasons) but she loves her a lot. Her mom did sort of raise her in shitty conditions, but Sally doesn’t blame her at all and misses her a lottt wah

Frank: no

Barnaby: ooohh no… so uuh lore for those that dont know, Barnaby’s parents gave him up to the “”””boarding school”””” when he was four and he doesnt remember them. He’d probably be happier then he should to meet them, but most definitely get gaslit by his parents :( like they have what Barnaby thinks is a normal conversation but really isnt.. someone stop it q-p

Howdy: he fuckin loves his dad!! And all his family!!! And he sees them regularly, so itd just be a normal visit

AAA big post ee

Also tumblr didnt eat it thank u tumblr

#welcome home #welcome home au #welcome home opposite au #thanks for the serotonin!#howdy pillar #eddie dear #frank frankly #julie joyful #sally starlet #barnaby b beagle #poppy partridge #poppy ‘ma’ partridge

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carefulfears · 10 months

Note

And my girl Scully figured out that Diana and Phoebe were abusive to him and that’s why she was ready to disintegrate them with whenever they breathed Mulder’s air iktr. (Also to me that’s part of the reason Mulder was oblivious and defended them, people who are in abusive relationships are not always aware of it)

YUPP you’re literally dead right, anon, in my opinion. it really bugs me when people talk shit about mulder for “trusting” both phoebe and diana, as though that’s not like…the only thing he’s been taught to do.

i’ve been thinking a lot about the difference between scully’s reactions to phoebe vs. diana. when phoebe showed up, scully had only known mulder for a few weeks. and still she knew almost instantly that something wasn’t right.

i didn’t notice until i rewatched fire the way that she never leaves him alone with her. if mulder and phoebe are working on something, you can see scully. against the wall, peeking around the door, pacing in the hallway. he tells her that she’s “off the hook,” that he’s not going to “put her through this” with “phoebe’s little mind games,” and she takes it upon herself to investigate phoebe’s case herself, until she solves it and phoebe can go the fuck home.

girlbosses catch serial murderers singlehandedly to get their best friend’s shitty ex away from them.

when phoebe was around, scully is passive aggressive as hell. constantly hanging around and making little quips and mocking her accent.

when diana shows up? five years later? she’s just aggressive.

she said nah, we aren’t doing this again 😭😭

(one of my favorite scully moments is when she snaps “and not just because i think that woman is a….well, you know what i think that woman is” and mulder is just like “no you hide your feelings sooo well” lmfao)

i really do think meeting phoebe so early in their partnership informs a lot about the way scully reacts to his exposure and relationship to other people throughout the series. she really doesn’t trust a soul around him.

i always think of this line from madness by kittenscully (a post-syzygy fic, addressing the detective white incident):

“A surge of righteous indignation at the notion makes her sit up straighter, and she bites her tongue to avoid a very unpleasant comment from slipping out. As always, she thinks of Phoebe, of his wide, trusting eyes.”

diana was scary levels of manipulative and violating. but diana loved mulder, scully knew that and used that to plead with her in the end.

phoebe didn’t care about anything but playing with fire. she got off on scaring him, crossed state lines just to fuck with his head and hurt him, just like in their relationship a decade earlier. mulder knew this, he knew from the start what she was doing and what she wanted, and he helped her anyway. he praised her anyway. he connected with her and invested in her anyway.

y’all know i’m always thinking about the script note about phoebe’s coldness “eliciting some old need in him to have her affection.”

by the time diana came back around, scully had sat on the floor of a hotel and watched phoebe smile and shake hands with bureaucrats while mulder couldn’t breathe.

scully had stood in the next room when his questions to his mother got him little more than a slap to the face.

it’s different with diana because there’s a lot more history and connection there, and because at that point there is heartbreak and jealousy on scully’s side (when phoebe was in town, she hung around in doorways. when diana reaches for mulder’s hand, she turns around and holds back tears in the car.)

it’s a difficult position for both of them. he doesn’t know how to do anything but appease and trust and be loyal, to help whoever asks. he doesn’t care if it hurts him, he’s been groomed his whole life for that, to feel like he deserves it.

it makes scully crazy. he’s her best friend. she can’t believe anyone would look at that kind of softhearted hope and want to exploit it or crush it, rather than look up to it, follow it, nurture it.

and it hurts!! it hurts to watch him fall back into these traps, and especially with diana, it hurts to feel that your input and relationship doesn’t matter enough to have influence. to not be listened to, to feel like you’re not being chosen.

she doesn’t know that he went to search diana’s apartment after she told him not to trust her. she just heard, “i know her. you don’t. scully, you’re reaching.” and watched him leave.

it’s just this perfect crossroads of each of their most vulnerable spots. scully wants to protect him, always, and she also wants to be chosen.

mulder has to stand by his allegiances, to seek ‘affection’ in cruelty, to play his role in the larger scheme. this is what CSM knew when he recruited diana into the conspiracy, and he knows because he “created” it.

you can’t judge either of them, they’re both following their natures, and furthering the narrative they were chosen for.

(until scully stands in front of diana and begs, “i just want you to think…stand there in front of me, look me in the eye”…and breaks the whole thing down.)

#TLDR children weaned on poison etc etc #LOVE WON IN THE END!! always. scully’s ferocious devotion won in the end #asks #scully baby i hope you got your bubble baths that year #it’s hard. because he Does listen to her and internalize her input #but he also Needs to not lose these last connections and these last people who ‘cared’ about him and to please them and to be what they want #i mean he was like 18 when he met phoebe. ‘she was brilliant. i got in over my head.’#he and diana were together (married) (to Me) for like 5 years #during one of the most vulnerable periods of his life. and his transition into discovering the files and doing therapy and leaving the VCU #Sigh #i know scully would zip him safely in her pocket if she could but like she also feels so insecure and disregarded when diana is around #so it’s like both her Constant protectiveness and her own intimate emotional response. it’s just a lot.#i love season 6 #‘bum a cigarette agent fowley?’#👌👌👌#Diana

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shizuchansmilk · 7 months

Note

heyyyyyy i’ve seen your heiwajima parents art, and i really love your designs! <3 i wanted to ask, do you perhaps have any headcanons that you might like to share? o.o the novels BARELY mention them at all :( i’m scraping for content

DO I!? OH HONEY... DO I 💔💔💔

here's a quick doodle of them as well as a thank u for this ask bc uGH i adore them too (they are barely mentioned and basically everything i like about them i came up with in my own silly little head). this is a pretty long post so do continue reading under the cut if you'd like! ^^

gosh idk where to even begin okok. unironically girlboss and malewife. in my mind kichirou is kinda goofy, the more laid-back parent while namiko's the stricter one despite generally being a pretty quiet person in general.

shizuo definitely gets his temper from namiko i think, and while arguments wouldn't at all be frequent it'd basically be up to kichirou or kasuka to calm them both down whenever they happened ToT

i think namiko has an artistic sort of hobby like painting. don't ask me for any reasonings i just feel like she does, and this passtime eventually rubbed off on kasuka a little since i recall he likes painting too? she'd specifically paint landscapes, her favourites being beaches and the sea. because of this though she tends to spend a lot of her free time a little secluded. sometimes, especially as children, she'd let kasuka and shizuo watch her paint and let them try out their own stuff too, but since shizuo's immense strength became apparent he sort of began to feel like he wasn't as welcome as he once was in a studio full of her fragile hard work so he harbours a sort of reluctance doing any of that anymore.

speaking of, namiko would worry about shizuo. a lot. maybe TOO much in fact. she'd frequently scold him for getting into fights and things like that, and because she's his mother i don't imagine he'd really retaliate. he'd be real pissed off and slam his bedroom door (off it's hinges😭) in a huff, sure, but there's no way in HELL he's pulling a stunt like almost throwing an entire fridge at *her*. she'd be the one dragging him to the neighbours houses and making him apologise for kicking the entire bonnet of their car in or meeting with the head of school because shizuo threw a chair into the wall. idk i kinda get the impression that their relationship is a liiittle strained because their personalities kinda clash but they love each other really. whenever something's bothering shizuo i feel like namiko picks up on it pretty quickly and does little things like make him his favourite dinner or grab a cake from the store on her commute to cheer him up.

kichirou on the other hand is big on sports i think, and listen he DEFINITELY taught his boys how to play baseball. only narita can tell me otherwise like until it's outright disproven this'll always be canon to me. i feel like he's the golden retriever to namiko's black cat in the sense he's a lot more outgoing and talkative and relaxed than her, albeit maybe a little more oblivious. i imagine he was really impressed and boastful about how strong, like a real athlete, his eldest was until the property damage and hospital bills were on the rise.

i feel like kichirou would be pretty attentive to kasuka. like oh he's kinda quiet is he making any friends at school? that kind of thing. where namiko stresses over dealing with shizuo i think kichirou would kind of overthink anything going on with kasuka.

despite namiko being the more temperamental of the two i think kichirou still gets really defensive whenever he catches wind of people talking smack about his family. like you can make fun of him all you want but the moment you get a bad word in about his boys or god FORBID his wife i feel like it's on sight. i don't think he'd go as far as getting into a fight about it but the sudden drop in light-hearted attitude to a very cold and dead serious "haha the hell did you just say?" would be enough to shut most people up. perhaps kasuka gets his acting skills from him, as in being able to switch up at the drop of a hat. otherwise i feel like kichirou's really friendly, though again maybe a little oblivious, probably has met shinra's dad before and thought he was a cool guy but maybe just a tad strange (a sizeable understatement).

in essence, think like phil and claire from modern family or mr and mrs fox from fantastic mr fox. that's basically the dynamic of them i have in my head =w= i might have more HCs but this is all that's coming to me rn. again, thanks so much for the ask!!!! ToT💕

#durarara #drrr #kichirou heiwajima #namiko heiwajima #shizuo heiwajima #kasuka heiwajima

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lapetitechatonne · 1 year

Text

Day Four: There’s something off about them. . .

okay, so if you thought the other day was a stretch, this one most certainly is. It was originally my idea for Mistaken Identity, but i had to switch it around some. the idea is original from this post by @hidden-under-lock-and-key. it’s a nice break from the angst i’ve been posting. enjoy!!! <3

ao3 link!

Kate’s Masterlist here!

When in doubt: Manslaughter fixes everything - 2.1k words

In life, sometimes you here confronted with two options. The longer, hard road of being truthful with those around you and dealing with the consequence of your actions.

Or gaslight, gatekeep, and girlboss.

As Danny stared at the heroes that cornered him in the alley behind Nasty Burger, he was feeling like the former.

“It’s okay son,” fucking Superman stepped forward trying to make himself look as soft as the man of steel could, “we understand the need for a secret identity.”

Danny suppressed a snort. Right. That’s why they were cornering him behind a fast-food joint at eight pm. Real subtle.

“That’s um, great sir,” Danny had no idea where this sentence was going, “but umm. . . yeah, Phantom’s not a meta-human. He’s a ghost,” gaslight it was, he guessed, “and as you can see, I’m not dead. So . . .”

Danny just shrugged. He was used to Wes Weston running his mouth, but this was a whole other ball game. People would actually believe the Justice League if they decided to go public.

But he’d already dug his grave—hehe good one—he might as well keep digging.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” the Flash rolled his eyes and gave him a very disappointed look. If he wasn’t very used to them by now, it might have done something.

“Yeah,” Danny smirked looking the Flash dead in the eyes, “prove it.”

“This isn’t a game,” Batman growled and stepped closer to him, obviously in an attempt to intimidate him.

“No, it’s not,” Danny frowned crossing his arms, “this is my life. Not yours, mine. And you’re endangering it just by throwing around accusations like this.”

Judging from the looks on their faces they didn’t understand the weight of the accusations they were placing on him. Great. Just great.

“Metas and aliens are protected,” Superman started, but Danny just shook his head.

“Anyone or anything contaminated with ectoplasm—like Phantom, the dead guy—isn’t considered a sentient being under the Anti-Ecto acts,” they all looked at him with varying degrees of confusion. Dear ancients, they actually didn’t know, “Look it up. Anyways, I’m late for dinner with my friends so I’m just gonna. . .”

Danny gestured over his shoulder and slipped out of the alley, leaving the heroes in various degrees of confusion and concern.

Whatever. Not his problem.

---

Turns out it was, indeed, his problem.

The stared, dead-eyed at the three heroes on his doorstep contemplating all his life decisions. Because what deity did he piss off to deserve this?

“May we come in?” Superman asked.

Probably Clockwork. This would be his idea of a joke.

Danny sighed and stepped aside. Better to let them in than have the whole neighborhood see them.

He glared at the heroes as they filed in, the Flash and Superman looking uncomfortable while Batman simply stared in silence. Danny gave the door a good slam and walked back into the kitchen. Just because they were there didn’t mean he had to play nice.

“Who was that dear?” his mom looked up from her tablet as he entered the room.

He didn’t answer. He just grabbed his coffee and glared at the heroes standing awkwardly in the kitchen archway.

“Um, hi ma’am,” Superman said, tentatively taking a step into the room like she was going to hit him with a wooden spoon or something, “we came to talk about your son’s, um. Extracurriculars.”

His mom just frowned, setting the tablet down on the table in front of her, “Danny isn’t in any extracurriculars.”

Danny snorted into his coffee. This was going real smooth.

“Well, not really extracurriculars,” the Flash flashed—ha—a smile at her, “the other things he does. Outside of school. Ya know?”

His mom stood up from the table and walked in front of him, blocking the heroes' paths to him, “No, I do not know. What exactly are you accusing my son of? He’s a good boy, granted he doesn’t get out much—”

“Mom!” Danny could feel his face turn red.

“Well honey, it’s true. Anyways, he’s a good, upstanding citizen. Certainly, he’d done nothing to require this response.” His mom placed her hands on her hips and Danny fought the urge to actually cackle.

Tucker and Sam would never believe him.

“Ma’am,” Batman stepped forward from his place behind his colleagues, “we’re here because your son is Phantom, and—”

Whatever batman was going to say was completely lost in his mother's very loud and colorful disapproval.

“Excuse you!” she pointed in Batman’s face, “You do not get to come into my home and accuse my baby boy of being that—that menace! You are severally mistaken, and you can see my some is alive and well, thank you very much.”

He watched over his mom’s shoulder as she quickly pushed them out the door, ignoring the Flash's protests.

“But there’s something off about him!”

“Never,” she grabbed the Flash by the front of his suit, and for a second Danny thought she was actually going to deck him, “talk about my son like that again. Or I will make you regret ever setting foot in Amity.”

She slammed the door in their faces and Danny just grinned.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear all that sweetie,” she walked over to him and kissed the top of his head, “You know I love you. I’d love you even if you were a ghost.”

He smiled at her. He knew.

But this just made things easier.

“I know mom. I really thought you were gonna punch him for a minute there.”

She smirked at him and ruffled his hair, “Don’t be silly, I would have gone for the legs.”

Gods he loved his mom.

---

Danny flinched as the cold night air rushed over his skin. Ugh. Fucking Illinois and its fucking weather. It was seventy earlier, there was no reason for it to be so cold now.

Whatever.

Danny lugged the heavy trash bag out to the dumpster in the alley behind their house. He let the lid clatter down, taking a moment to catch his breath. It was a nice night if those fucking losers weren’t around he’d go for a short flight—

Batman clattered down on the lid of the trashcan, sending Danny flinching back into the rough brick wall.

“Jesus fuck dude! What the hell!” Danny yelled trying to catch his breath.

Batman jumped down onto the concrete in front of him, using his height to loom over Danny.

“We need to talk,” he growled.

“No, actually, we don’t,” Danny huffed, trying to push past him.

Batman caught his arm and twisted it behind his back and—ouch!

“What the fuck! Let go of me!” Danny struggled as much as he could without being suspicious but Batman knew what he was doing and Danny had the arms of a toothpick.

“Not until you answer my question,” Batman growled in his ear.

“Frist of all, get a fucking breath mint,” Danny snarked, call it a defense mechanism, “and second of all, it’s this against the law? You can’t just torture me like this is some bad cop movie.”

Batman threw him around so his back hit the brick wall again, and before he would move his forearm was pressed against Danny’s neck.

“I know you’re Phantom. You know it,” his voice lowered, and honestly, it was terrifying, “you’re either an asset or a liability Phantom.”

Danny gasped for breath, wiggling under Batman’s tight hold. Gods, how much did this man weigh?

“Danny!”

They both turned to see Jazz standing at the mouth of the alley, phone in hand.

“I’d like to report an assault,” she spoke into the phone, looking increasingly worried.

Batman growled and was gone as quickly as he came. Danny felt his legs buckle underneath him as Jazz rushed to his side, still on the phone with the nine-one-one operator.

This just kept getting better and better, he thought humorlessly.

---

Clark watched Bruce glare at the tv, making a displeased grunt under his breath.

“The victim's name will not be released, as it was a minor, but that still begs the question: what was Batman doing assaulting a high school? This has been Harriet Chen—”

Clark clicked off the tv, there was no point in watching. He couldn’t believe there were cameras that Bruce couldn’t find—Bruce was even less happy about it. Barry hadn’t even dared ask him if he wanted a donut this morning.

He sighed, sitting down on the motel bed. He just stared at Bruce, who stared at the blank tv.

Riveting.

Clark wasn’t sure exactly how long they sat there before Bruce’s phone lit up.

“Speak,” he said in probably the most unfriendly tone known to man. That was okay, they knew he was working on his people skills.

Slowly. Very, very slowly.

“I found Phantom,” Clark meet Bruce’s eyes as Barry rattled off the location.

They’d get him this time

---

Danny watched as the heroes tried to hide in the bushes to his left. But that was kind of hard to do in bright red.

He just rolled his eyes and continued playing fetch with Cujo. Maybe if he just continued to ignore them they’d go away.

About twenty minutes later when Cujo got tired of fetch and decided he wanted to dig around in the dirt was when they made their move.

“Cute dog,” the Flash leaned against a tree, watching the hole three times Cujo’s size get larger and larger, “he yours?”

“Nope,” Danny popped his ‘p,’ casually floating into a laying position, “Cujo’s his own dog. He just likes me is all.”

They were silent for a few more minutes, long enough for Cujo to get started on another hole.

“You,” a deep growl was the only warning Danny got before Batman jumped on him. Luckily that warning was enough for him to go intangible and for Batman to seamlessly go through him.

Batman stood looking almost disgruntled as Danny continued to float. Danny raised his eyebrows at the man as he growled at him.

“You know, it’s rude to jump through people,” Danny told him flatly.

“Give it up kid,” Superman sighed as he landed next to his boy band, “we know it’s you. Please.”

Superman and the Flash shot him almost desperate looks. Huh.

Well, he was too deep now.

“I usually don’t have fans so old,” Danny smirked a little and Batman growled again, “but if you want an autograph or something—”

The words froze in Danny’s throat as Batman pulled up his holograph wrist computer—which was so fucking cool—and opened two pictures. One of Fenton and one of Phantom.

Uh oh.

He didn’t know if he could mansplain, manipulate, malewife himself out of this one.

“Your faces are a 99.8% match,” Batman smirked as much as a stoic rock could, and Danny just couldn’t let him have the last word. He just couldn’t.

Manslaughter it was.

“Right, right, that’s really dope and all,” Danny let himself float till he was eye height with Batman, “but like, also rude as hell.” He crossed his arms and stared down the heroes, letting his eyes burn brighter. “That kid is a fucking nerd for one thing. And also, I’m dead. Like, dead dead.”

The heroes just stared at him like they didn’t believe a word he was saying. Fine. Time to take it up a notch.

“Like, I would honestly love to be that kid, because at least he’s alive, even if he’s a fucking dweeb,” Jazz would be so mad if she heard all this negative self-talk, but it was for the bit, “What do you want from me? My death certificate? My fucking bones?” He let his form grow brighter and the ends of his hair flicker into flames. “Or would you like to hear in excruciating detail how I was frozen alive in an avalanche?”

He raised an eyebrow at the heroes and they backed off. The Flash looked a little woozy at the idea while Batman went back to his neutral state.

“We didn’t mean to—” Superman started but Danny didn’t let him finish. Time for the big finale.

“Didn’t mean to what? Huh? Stick your nose in shit that you know nothing about?” Danny shook his head and tried his best to imitate Jazz’s ‘I’m just disappointed’ look, “And here I would have thought that heroes would know how dangerous it is to insinuate innocent civilians are super-powered. You should be ashamed.”

“We—” Danny interrupted whatever the flash was going to say for dramatic effect.

“Ashamed! Cujo has more manners than you.” He picked up Cujo’s wiggling, dirt-covered form and glared at the heroes one last time. “I am rolling in my grave. I hope you know that.”

Danny flew off, Cujo licking his face as he smirked. Once they got far enough away he looked down at the dog, “Pretty good, huh?”

Cujo just barked and licked his nose. Hopefully that would be the last he saw of the Justice League.

Manslaughter always worked.

#no actual manslaughter in this fic lol #just a play on words #just Danny gaslighting the JL #he said 'I'm not dealing with this' and stuck to it #crack #crack treated seriously #Danny being a dramatic bitch #Danny Phantom #dcxdp #dp/dc week 2022

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 9 months

Text

𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 ║ Chapter 9 - And If I’m Dead To You, Why Are You at the Wake?

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 8.8k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: passive sewer slide ideation, allusions to sewer slide intentions, mental health is in the gutter, angst, trauma trauma trauma, ineffective coping mechanisms, moments of gaslight gatekeep girlboss, men are stupid and inferior

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: Joel tries to earn back your trust, and he hopes learning more about your past from Tommy will help him. Your fractured relationship means you aren’t open to his help, and he is no longer privy to your comings and goings. Joel has to decide how long that will remain the case after he learns a troubling detail about your recent activities in town.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧ "𝙸 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞; 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝." ─ Sʏʟᴠɪᴀ Pʟᴀᴛʜ ✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧

Joel had a headache that wouldn’t ease up, but he begrudgingly accepted Tommy’s invitation to meet up at the Tipsy Bison. A few glasses of whiskey later didn’t resolve his headache, but he sure felt better. After the two chat about how Maria’s pregnancy is going as well as one could hope, how Ellie has adopted her hybrid schooling routine full tilt, and how much longer the build is going to take, the topic turns to you.

“Told you to just trust her man,” Tommy snarks, clapping a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “She takes care of the people here. Never missed the mark once. Not once. Maria knew she had somethin’ valuable in that head of hers. S’why she elected to bring her in. Sure as shit helped me get on my feet when I first got here.”

Joel couldn’t pass up the chance to see if he could weasel some information about your past out of Tommy. He steadied himself so he could play this as apathetic as possible. The last thing he needed was for Tommy to catch on that there were issues between the two of you that were entirely Joel’s fault. It was a risk he was willing to take, though, if it meant he had an opportunity to learn more about who you were and where you came from. Maybe he could learn something that would help him figure out a way to get you to talk to him again.

“Yeah, she seems popular with the locals,” Joel drawls. “Ellie’s taken to her real quick, that’s for sure.”

He takes a sip of whiskey and swirls the remaining amber liquid in his tumbler. He’d taken to you quickly, too, but he wasn’t going to tell Tommy that. Joel fidgeted in his seat when Tommy didn't say anything.

“So what’s her story anyway? Never heard how she ‘n Maria end up crossin’ paths.”

He looked up and regretted it almost instantly when he catches Tommy’s nostrils flaring as he tries to suppress a nettlesome smirk.

“Shut up and answer the question, jackass,” Joel snips.

Tommy laughs goodnaturedly and decides he won’t torture his brother just yet about what’s got him so hot under the collar when it comes to you.

“Well, from how it’s been told to me, a patrol group came across her and got her cornered, but she gave ‘em the slip. Clever thing. Nobody was really expectin’ it from her. Thought she was a kid at first, bein’ so small. She was even smaller than she is now, ya know? Worse for wear. Survivin’ on her own in the winter here. Nobody believed her when she said she was by herself.” Tommy shakes his head and chuckles, an acknowledgement that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

“Cornered?” Joel repeats, redirecting Tommy to the point of action in the story.

Tommy scrunches his eyebrows in understanding as he swallows his sip of whiskey. He set the glass down and turned to face Joel straight on with a ruminative expression.

“Yeah. Managed to get her between a rock ‘n a hard place. Prolly wouldn’t’a been able to even manage that without the dogs sniffin’ her out, though. She was a slippery thing. Still don’t understand how she got up the damn tree so fast,” Tommy huffs with wide eyes. Again, bewildered at the reality of your competency in conjunction with your contradictory appearance.

Joel made a noise of impatience when Tommy didn’t get back to telling the story quickly enough. Tommy cleared his throat and got back to his recounting of that fortuitous day.

There had been at least five of them on horseback. The sound of thundering gallops led you to believe it was probably more. The sound of barking dogs led you to believe you were going to be absolutely fucked if you couldn’t find cover in the next few seconds.

You were cursing to yourself at all the supplies you’d left back at camp. A knife and some climbing tools weren’t going to cover the bases for the group close on your trail. Even if you could shake the riders, the dogs would be able to follow your scent. You were going to die. After everything you’d been through and all the times you’d escaped death, you were going to be torn apart by a pack of dogs. Or worse.

You hadn’t seen anyone out here. You’d been camping in the general area for months, and you hadn’t seen a soul. You thought with the firm start of winter that you’d be even less likely to find another human out here. Stupid. Stupid, stupid mistake. All those times you fussed at Caroline for being careless and too relaxed. Now look at you. Running for your life, sizing up the few options for survival that you have. You aren’t even sure why you’re trying so hard to stay alive. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to just give up and face your destiny.

You shake the defeatist thoughts from your mind. Now was not the time. You had to push through. You had to keep going. You had to find somewhere to hide. You shove the spiked palm wraps onto both of your hands. Not the optimum fit, but it was the best you could do while running full speed in the opposite direction of the group hunting you down. Your eyes darted between the options in the treeline. You settle on the widest one. You’d have to scale up the back of it so your body would be hidden from view on the other side.

The forward driving momentum of your run almost causes you to trip over yourself when you make an abrupt stop behind the tree. You slam the climbing claws into the sharp bark and scramble upwards, not stopping until you are at least 20 feet above ground. This had been your intention today, going out to scout the area from higher up. Now you were scouting out just how much time you had before the group made it to your location.

You tuck yourself between branches with dense sprays and pray it is enough to camouflage your body. You had to get yourself situated quickly because once they got close enough you wouldn’t be able to move without shaking some of the snow from the branches and giving your location away.

The cantering of the horses came to a stop several yards away. You didn’t have much of a view from your angle, but you couldn’t risk shifting around to see better. The absence of barks and yips from the dogs was ominous. As if on cue, the sound of snarling barks and snapping jaws circled beneath you and floated up to your ears. You are so tightly wound you imagine that you can feel the vibrations of their nails as some of them claw at the base of your tree.

A sharp whistle calling the attention of any surrounding people makes you jerk. “Hey, they’re signaling over here!” A deep male voice carries like building imploding into itself after the detonation button had been pressed. It radiates through you and sends chills up your spine.

More movement concentrates below you. You can hear a muted conversation carrying on, but you don’t dare look down. The tones of the voices sound like a gathering of minds sorting out and weighing opinions. Some noises that sound like disagreements. A few sound defeated.

Whatever had been discussed was over now when a voice called up to you. “YOU ALONE?”

Your stomach clenched. That was never a good sign. The first question assessing what manpower you had. You were going to die. This was it. You cling to the branches with a vice grip and don’t answer. You can hear someone else telling the first voice that “there’s nobody up there.” A few other voices seem to agree.

A new voice piped up. “She’s small enough. The dogs are saying she’s here. I agree it doesn’t seem likely, but all signs point to that.”

Ah, so that’s what the discussion had been about. Whether or not someone as small and weak looking as you could have managed such a feat. You had come to use that exact thing to your benefit. People not giving you the benefit of the doubt usually ended poorly for them. Your size didn’t have to be a disadvantage all the time. You could use it against people who were presumptuous enough to dismiss you as capable or as a real threat.

“Alright, if nobody’s up there and I’m just talking to myself then it doesn’t matter if I waste a few bullets?” the voice snapped at the others.

You somehow froze even more than you already were. Being sprayed with bullets and then falling 20 feet from a tree seemed like an excessively unique way to suffer.

“ALRIGHT. LISTEN HERE, SWEETIE. IF YOU’RE UP THERE HIDING, YOU NEED TO COME DOWN. WE AREN’T GONNA HURT YOU. THE DOGS NEED TO CLEAR YOU, AND THEN YOU’RE GOOD. IF YOU DON’T COME DOWN, I’M GONNA HAVE TO ASSUME YOU ARE INFECTED AND WON’T BE CLEARED BY THE DOGS ANYWAY,” the voice booms up to you.

Shit. Shit shit shit. Whoever this group was had enough resources to train dogs to sniff out infected? You are FUCKED. The dogs would of course clear you because you weren’t infected, but these men obviously had an established protocol outlined for encountering outsiders. The fact that they were going through this much trouble just to flush you out made your insides churn. Nothing good could come from this.

“I’M GONNA COUNT TO FIVE BEFORE I START SENDING UP SOME SHOTS. YOUR CHOICE,” the voice announced.

You hadn’t imagined this was how you were going to die, but you suppose it could always be worse.

“ONE.”

Maybe he was a really good aim and would kill you with the first round.

“TWO.”

But if he wasn’t and just grazed you, then you’d probably be injured enough to start falling.

“THREE.”

Maybe you’d be lucky and your neck would snap on something while you plummeted.

“FOUR.”

Or maybe you needed to end this on your own terms.

“FI-”

“Don’t shoot!” you yell down.

Surprised murmurs and shuffling down below. No going back now. You’d already made yourself known, so it wouldn’t hurt to get a clear view of just how insurmountable the situation was. You peek through the branches and greenery. Seven men, not five. All on horseback. All armed. Three dogs.

“ALRIGHT. I WON’T SHOOT,” the voice boomed again. You could now see it belonged to a middle aged man with a light brown, neatly trimmed beard. His gun was resting in the crook of his elbow but could be wielded again swiftly if he needed to. “BUT YOU HAVE TO COME DOWN AND LET OUR DOGS CLEAR YOU.”

You didn’t have a lot of options at this point. The thing working in your favor was the fact that most of the group hadn’t considered you past your appearance. Even now, seeing how you had managed to scale the tree and skillfully hide from view, four out of the seven still appeared untroubled by you and your clear disadvantage. It was true that you were woefully outnumbered, but you had escaped worse.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” you call back down in a put-on trembling voice. You were scared, but your pride would have kept your voice level if you hadn’t purposefully altered it. You needed to play into their misconceptions about you if you were going to make it out of this alive and intact.

“YOU DON’T,” the man called up. “BUT YOU DON’T REALLY HAVE MUCH CHOICE, DO YOU?”

The prior claim of no intention to harm you wasn’t aligning with these demands being shouted at you.

“You said you weren’t going to hurt me,” you yell out with a hurt inflected tone. You keep your eyes on the self-appointed leader of the group. You see his face soften a bit. Got him.

“AS LONG AS YOU AREN’T INFECTED, WE HAVE NO REASON TO CAUSE YOU HARM,” he assures you. “ARE YOU ALONE?”

There was that loaded question again. You opt for a dramatically meek nod. You didn’t trust yourself to not vocalize your fear this time, pride be damned.

Your answer seems to stir up doubt amongst the men. A few of them exchange glances, and the rest exchange hushed words. The leader turns back to you. “LOOK, WE UNDERSTAND IF YOU’RE TRYNA KEEP SOMEBODY SAFE, SWEETIE. BUT IF OUR DOGS SNIFF THEM OUT BEFORE WE KNOW THEY’RE THERE, WE CAN’T MAKE ANY PROMISES.”

Of course they don’t believe you. Surviving on your own and in the winter of Wyoming, even if it was early on, just wasn’t feasible for someone like you. You don’t appear in good health with your sunken eyes, pale face, and bony frame. You are trying to keep your expressions in check, but something had made them come to the conclusion that you belonged to a group you were now trying to protect.

You’d just have to use that for your benefit as well, then. Let it be a distracting piece of the puzzle for them. Throw them off. Use their judgment against them.

“I’m scared!” you half-sob. The tremble in your voice is real. You are scared.

But your fear doesn’t outweigh your burning determination to get out of this situation.

You see most of the men’s faces give away the fact that they have some tinge of guilt for making you feel scared. You had dangled that bait to see what they would do with the plight of a frightened young female who by all appearances was alone and in need of assistance. Their reaction to such a thing would tell you plenty. Excitement at your fear would’ve indicated many a nefarious possibility. Their reaction of almost compassion was dumbfounding but unequivocally preferable.

“SWEETIE, YOU GOTTA COME DOWN. I’M GONNA KEEP MY FIREARM READY, BUT I DON’T HAVE IT POINTED AT YOU. LOOK RIGHT NOW AND YOU CAN SEE I’M TELLIN’ YOU THE TRUTH,” the leader said.

You took the opportunity to get a clear bird’s eye view of everyone’s locations and tactical preparations. The leader was the only one who had his gun at the ready. Some of the others had even slung theirs on their backs and only held reins in their hands now. You needed to fully commit to the fragile, scared girl act to get them as complacent as possible.

“Do you promise?” you fake cry.

“SWEETIE, COME ON. COME DOWN. I’LL HAVE THE DOGS SIT BEHIND US UNTIL YOU’RE FULLY ON THE GROUND, ALRIGHT?” he offers.

Perfect. Dogs out of the way. One single firearm ready. You slide downward a few branches, making sure to appear clumsy and shaky. “I’m s-s-sorry I d-didn’t answer before,” you whimper. “I’m just–just really s-scared.”

A few of the men look away to ease their conscience. Maybe they were good men who truly did feel for you and didn’t wish to cause you any harm. Or maybe they were just new to whatever fucked up endeavor they were planning and hadn’t learned to commit to shirking whatever humanity they had left in them. Either way, you were quickly gaining the upper hand right under their noses. You stop on a branch roughly ten feet off the ground. You feign exhaustion from the physical exertion and know your appearance will sell it.

“C-Can somebody h-help me get down the rest of t-the way?” you blubber. The adrenaline and fear and resolve all fighting for dominance within you produced real tears.

The leader nods and jerks his head towards one of the men who had been looking away in shame. PERFECT. He was a younger looking man who had a strong resemblance to the leader. Maybe it was his son? He carefully trots his horse beneath the branch you were perched on. You lock eyes with him and force several more tears to spill out before you address him.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you beg quietly with a contorted face.

“I promise, sweetie. I fuckin’ promise I’m not. Nobody is. I swear it,” he implores. He is so earnest and raw it almost makes you feel bad for what you’re about to do. You sniffle dramatically and nod before squatting down as if to ready your descent. You reach out a shaky hand, and the man fully extends both of his arms out to you. He actually seemed nice. If only you could have met these seemingly kind people under different circumstances.

You lean down slightly but keep hold of a thick branch. Just as you curve your hand around his, you push off the limb with a hard kick. The force of it pushes all your weight into the topheavy half of the man. Your jarring exit from the tree shook all the snow held on the branch as it snapped from the tree. The other horses startle at the loud crack, the downpour of snow, and the impact of the falling branch.

Your momentum combined with the targeted push against the man sends him flying off the horse. You don’t have time to fully seat yourself onto it, but you give the horse a hard kick to its hind with your leg that isn’t hooked onto the animal for dear life. You grab onto the reins so tight you feel like you’ll have rope burn on them if you manage to cheat death today.

You pay no mind to the whinnying horses, barking dogs, yelling men, and gunshots going off behind you as you make your daring escape. The horse is galloping at full speed, and you try your best to get into the saddle. You don’t have much recent experience with horses and are fully relying on your childhood days of afterschool equestrian lessons your beauty pageant mother had begged you to take. Caroline was always more of the girly pageant type, and your equestrian competitions and showcases were as close as you were gonna get to any sort of showmanship contest.

You can almost hear your mother now, cheering you on as you flee to safety. Raving over your clever deception so masterfully executed. You can imagine how your dad would be quietly smiling and standing proud over his little girl being so resourceful and brave.

You take to the river to hide the tracks and don't stop until you know you’ve lost each and every one of them. Once it was safe enough to do so, you returned to your camp. It was an exhausting and frightening encounter, but you’d gotten a horse out of it. Not a bad trade.

You stroke the muzzle and jaw of the beautiful creature. You are reminded of your horse from all those years ago. A light reddish brown horse you’d creatively named Brownie. You laugh at yourself for the predictable name. You remember how your mom had hyped you up and insisted it was the most gorgeous, perfect name for a horse. You smile at her memory.

She was a classic beauty in every sense of the term and had dedicated years of her life to the vapid world of women as spectacles, and yet she was the most down to earth, humble person you’d ever known.

She was always proud of you no matter what you chose, but she could never really hide how happy she was to see you puff up your chest a little bit and let the world bask in just how great you were. She and your father both were the picturesque, doting parents. You and Caroline never went without, even if your parents had to pinch pennies here and there and forgo things for themselves.

You wish you could’ve had more time with them. At least now they have Caroline back. All of your family except you, reunited once more. You close your eyes and try not to focus on how much you wish sometimes to join them. To just give up. Get it over with. You sigh a frustrated breath and busy yourself with camp.

Several miles away, the group tracking you had returned to Jackson. Unbeknownst to you, they had recounted the incident to Maria, who was impressed with your abilities. A meeting was called to determine if there was in fact a group nearby of which you were a member, how many there were, if any were infected, if any or all posed a threat, and if there was any indication they would attempt a raid. It was decided that a search and scout mission would be conducted after half the group decided you must be a raider, given your exhibition and trickery.

It was days into their mission before Maria and one other patrol member managed to track you down. They observed you from afar, surveying your movements for two days. Once Maria felt confident you weren’t attached to any group and truly were alone out here, she and the other member caught you off guard and captured both you and the horse without injury.

You remained tied to the stolen horse as they carted you back to Jackson. You panicked the entire way. Something about Maria told you that you weren’t going to get lucky enough to escape this time.

By the time the covering was removed from your eyes, you determined they must be slavers, salivating over their latest haul. It makes you sick to your stomach knowing you will turn a good profit for them. The man tried to engage, but you immediately began to fight.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I killed somebody trying to sell me off, you piece of shit!” you snarl, spitting in his face. You pull and tug against your restraints, but they won’t budge.

Maria intervened before it got more violent and talked to you one on one to allay any concerns you had that they intended to mistreat you in some way.

“And you’re what? The madame of this fucked up operation? You make me sick,” you growl.

“We’re not in the business of selling people,” she replies curtly.

“So what is all this then? What do you want? You could’ve just taken your horse back. You didn’t need to tie me up and bring me back here,” you argue.

“Couldn’t run the risk of you staging a breakout again before I could talk to you,” she reasons with a shrug. “Quite impressive, by the way.”

Something made you feel like she was telling the truth, but you still kept your guard up.

“And what is so important to talk to me about that you had to tie me up and drag me back to this shoebox of a room?” you demand. You narrow your eyes at her and level a challenge to think twice before lying to you.

Maria tells you about Jackson and how they were in the process of rounding up people interested in helping it get off the ground. It was a skeleton crew, and they needed capable people on board if it was going to work. At first you said you weren’t interested, but Maria insisted there was no political hierarchy once you became an established member; your loyalty didn’t need to go beyond pulling your own weight and not fucking anybody over.

You eventually agreed to join. You didn’t have any other plans anyway, and it was at least guaranteed shelter and safety in numbers. You started out as a scout for patrol as well as running supply missions. You were small enough to sneak into places or get a heads up on a site before the rest of the group entered.

You stayed on patrols, scouting, and specialty recon missions until more and more people started to join Jackson, who became your proteges and subsequently highly effective members for patrol and security. It wasn’t long before Maria convinced you to take on the role of community coordinator, and soon enough you served an essential dual role in getting Jackson on its upward trajectory.

You had always been closest to Maria, but you got along with everybody. Practically everyone ended up partial to you in some way because you were the first helping hand they took hold of once they arrived in Jackson. You had trained so many residents for patrol. You had befriended and understood the more skittish newcomers. You were the face that represented the safety of the settlement and the hope of a future it offered; it is one of the main things that would end up cementing you into the township’s hearts.

You never could have imagined this life when you were 15. You’d just had your birthday, and Caroline was plotting how she was going to have a bigger party than yours to celebrate finally becoming a teenager. She never got that party. Your parents weren’t even alive by the time you and Caroline made it to her 13th birthday. The two of you were on the run, escaping the roaming government-looking vehicles rounding people up left and right. You’d witnessed one of them offload every passenger and shoot each one point blank in the back of the head. You didn’t trust any grownups after that.

You avoided FEDRA as long as you could, but it was only a few months on the run when Caroline got sick and needed serious medical attention. You had watched your parents get ripped apart by infected when they gave up their lives to protect you both. Caroline’s shrieks of “Mommy! Mommy, run!” and “Daddy, no! PLEASE NO!!” as you hauled her to safety still rang in your ears when you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. You couldn’t bear losing Caroline. Not when there was a way to save her.

Even as you settle into your role in Jackson and try to start over yet again, you don’t know if you’ve ever once made a correct choice or if it had all just been a long line of wrong decisions on your part that only ended with you sending every person you loved to a premature death.

Joel is overwhelmed by all this new information. He mulls over his drink for a minute and digests everything Tommy just shared. You possessed the skills to survive on your own and in unforgiving weather conditions no less. You’d outsmarted and outmaneuvered an entire group of armed men on horseback. You’d turned your disadvantages into weapons. Tommy watched Joel’s face closely for any hints of something more than just platonic interest.

“Gave your guys the slip, huh?” Joel taunts, hoping Tommy isn’t suspect of anything.

“Eh, I wasn’t around yet, so it’s more like Maria’s guys let a small girl steal their horse even when they had her outnumbered 7 to 1,” Tommy laughs.

“Damn, seven?” Joel mutters, impressed. Tommy starts to shift the conversation, but Joel needed to know more.

“But what about before? I mean, where’d she pick up the skills to get the better of an entire patrol group? And it took a few days to track her down when they went back out to lookin’ for her? Where’d she come from?” Joel felt the mask of casual curiosity slip with his rapid questioning.

Tommy raised an eyebrow and grinned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were mighty interested in gettin’ to know her better,” he gloats.

“Spends a lot of time with Ellie. And like I said, Ellie’s taken a likin’ to her,” Joel counters, trying to disguise his burning intrigue as just being a dutiful guardian. “Just wanna know who she’s hangin’ around with and what kinda person they are.”

Tommy’s grin grew wider. He didn’t believe for a minute that Joel’s motivations for asking about you were limited to Ellie’s well-being. “Of course. That makes perfect sense,” Tommy snarks.

He shot Joel a knowing look and took a sip of his drink. “Well, like I said, I came here after she had been here for, what? Maybe 4 years already?” he estimates. “She joined not too long after it had just got started up.”

Joel’s head drifted slightly to one side, signaling his brother to continue. “I mean, I ain’t ever asked her about it too much. Maria knows her better. Came from freelancin’ type work with Fireflies and whoever else. Never was officially a Firefly or anythin’ like that.”

Tommy tilted his head back as he tried to recall as much detail he could. “I think before that she had been in a QZ doin’ FEDRA stuff. Her and her sister did FEDRA school, I think. Don’t know how they ended up there or why her sister didn’t make it to Wyoming with her. Maria just said how she was really goin’ through it when they first got her to join. Guess it hadn’t been a long time since she had lost her.”

Tommy paused in thought for a moment as he considered your story. It was as if it was the first time he had really sat and thought about it all in chronological order rather than bits and pieces lumped together.

“Well, I guess that would explain why I never saw her baby brother around Jackson,” Joel mused.

“Hm? What’s what?” Tommy turned his attention back to Joel.

“First time we talked she said somethin’ about a younger sibling never listenin’ to their older ones,” Joel explains. Tommy shot him an exasperated look. “I just assumed it was a brother. She didn’t say anythin’ about them bein’ alive or dead or what. I just assumed,” Joel finishes.

Tommy shook his head and chuckled. “Always thinkin’ about me, huh? Might actually find that sweet if I didn’t know how you are.” He clapped his brother on the back way too hard and laughed louder. Joel was still intent on putting the big picture of you together and didn’t even say anything to Tommy about his boisterous, obnoxious antics.

“So, her ‘n her kid sister grew up with no parents, went to FEDRA school, worked the QZ with FEDRA, ended up branchin’ off together to do some under the radar stuff with Fireflies ‘n whoever… Then somewhere along the way it was just her solo when Maria came across her?” Joel summarizes.

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up as if they were springloaded. He was taken aback at how raptly Joel had listened and the unsatiated curiosity he had for you.

“That’s it? That’s all you know ‘bout her? There’s not somethin’ else you just aren’t rememberin’?” Joel probes.

Tommy shook his head side to side, trying to determine if it was the liquor that was making him think Joel seemed completely engrossed in you. “I was sorta jus’ givin’ you shit earlier about wantin’ to know her better. I’m kinda startin’ to think you’re actually interested. Very interested.”

Joel scoffed. “I already told you. Elli-”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re just concerned about who Ellie is hangin’ around with. Nothin’ else at all behind the wheel there,” Tommy mocks. Joel rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite meet Tommy’s gaze.

“You know, it may not have occurred to you, but you could always try bein’ friendly and askin’ her these questions yourself,” Tommy points out.

“I ain’t very chatty,” Joel snips back quickly. He didn’t care for the direction the conversation was taking.

“Seem pretty damn chatty to me when it comes to her,” Tommy counters.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mutters under his breath before finishing his drink. “Hate to ruin your fun, but I gotta head out and check on Ellie.”

“Yeah, I guess I’d better go check on Maria,” Tommy concurs.

The two men settled their tabs and headed for the door. It was a quiet walk back, and Joel was grateful for that fact. The last thing he needed right now was Tommy sticking his nose into the situation just to see what sort of a mess he’d made of everything.

As the two men began parting ways, Tommy called out, “Hey, tell Ellie me ‘n Maria say hi.”

Joel looked back and nodded. “Alright,” he called back.

“Oh and Joel?” Tommy called out again, stopping to face his brother fully.

Joel paused to turn slightly and look over his shoulder. Tommy had the biggest shit eating grin Joel had seen on his face since they were teenagers.

“Tell your friend we say ‘hi’, too. Figure you’ll be seein’ her sooner’n we will.” Tommy’s eyes lit up in a mischievous twinkle.

Joel scoffed and shook his head before turning back around, shoving his hands in his pockets, and marching home once more. Tommy’s unrestrained cackle filled the street behind Joel as he refused to look back.

“Goddamn pain in my ass,” Joel grumbled.

He wanted to say something back to shut his stupid brother up, but he knew Tommy was right. Joel would be seeing you as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Joel didn’t get that opportunity as soon as he had hoped. You had dodged him before when you two had your fight at Tommy’s, but he had still seen you around town a few times then. This time around there was no trace of you for days. You hadn’t made rounds on the worksite. Ellie asked Joel if he had seen you after three days of your absence.

“Nah, must be busy with somethin’,” Joel muttered.

Ellie opened her mouth to no doubt suggest stopping by your house just to check on you, but Joel cut her off.

“It’s enough people in the settlement that I’m sure she’s got more to worry about than just us, kiddo. She’ll turn up.”

Ellie didn’t agree with that assessment, but she also knew better than to argue about it. Joel was surprised when you showed up at his doorstep a couple of days later. You looked like absolute hell.

“Ellie home?” you ask quietly. Your arms are folded across your chest in a hug, and you don’t quite meet his eye.

“Hey,” he breathes. “Was wonderin’ where you were.” He stops himself from reaching out for you. The fact that he had done this, had played such a big part in your current misery, made him feel a bit ill.

You offer a detached nod and nothing more.

“We’re, uh, we’re in the kitchen,” he says, ushering you inside. There’s a sort of far off look whenever he gets a better view of your face.

Ellie is sitting very still as you enter the kitchen. She seems hesitant to make any sudden movement that might startle you or scare you off. You hate that you’ve done that to her.

“I just wanted to apologize to you, Ellie. For the other day. It was… not right to put you in that situation.” Your voice was dull. You tried to emote, but something wasn’t working in your brain. You stare at the pencils and papers she has spread out on the table.

“I mean, what the hell even happened?” Ellie blurts out.

You close your eyes for a moment to gather yourself before answering. She deserved your focus and attention, no matter how excruciating it was for you to give at the moment.

“I, um, I guess it just reminded me of something bad that happened to me,” you gulp. “And, uh, I just got scared, I guess, that something like that was going to happen again.”

“Okayyyyy,” Ellie drew the word out in thought. “And Caro- I mean, the girl’s name? What was that about?”

You swallow down the urge to scream or sob. “C-Caroline is - was - my kid sister. And, um, yeah. We had holed up in a barn for the night, and I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been. Didn’t keep us safe like I was supposed to. So she died, because of it. Because of me. I guess I was afraid it was going to happen again. Just got scared. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

Ellie’s forehead creased up as she pressed her lips together tightly. She shook her head and insisted with wide eyes that you didn’t need to be sorry. You sniff a laugh. “You’re too forgiving sometimes, kiddo.” Your hazy periphery showed Joel eyeing you with what may have been concern, but he isn’t in focus enough for you to tell.

“It’s not like that. I just– I was worried about you. Are you.. are you okay now?” Ellie knew the answer, but she still held hope that it would be different.

“Yes, I’m alright,” you lie. “Don’t worry about me.”

Ellie catches Joel’s eye. He jerks his head towards the backyard, and Ellie nods in recognition. “Okay, well. I think I’m gonna head out to the room. I’m happy you stopped by.” She gives you a half hug on your arm awkwardly before heading through the backdoor.

Joel sat down at the table and gestured for you to join him. Still in a haze from talking to Ellie, you slump into the empty seat mindlessly.

“When’s the last time you ate?” Joel asks.

“Not sure,” you answer blankly.

Joel didn’t like the hollow stare that you fixed on the wall as you spoke. You were coasting between catatonic and indifferent.

“Some nuts yesterday,” you recall.

“You need to eat,” he says, pushing the rest of his bowl of soup over to you.

“Not hungry,” you whisper.

Joel sighs and scoots closer. “Just try it,” he urges, lifting a spoonful to your mouth.

You feel ridiculous and small sitting there while he fed you like a baby, but you take a bite. It was salty and warm. It was almost an overwhelming flavor and temperature after the lifeless fog the past few days had been.

“Eat,” Joel commands. You sit and scoop a spoonful with a shaky hand as Joel trains his eyes on you.

“You not showin’ up to work?” he wonders in a harmless tone.

“Just taking a few days off,” you answer quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“Anybody checkin’ up on you?” he asks.

You shoot a forlorn glance in his direction. You are too exhausted to know if he was asking a genuine question or just reminding you that you had no one to turn to.

Joel recognizes the meaning behind your expression and winces. It was entirely his fault you couldn’t tell whether or not he was being kind or cruel about what support system you had in place right now.

You laugh humorlessly to yourself.

“What?” Joel presses.

“Just thinking about how funny it is. How you asked whose house I’d go to after a fucked up dream. You know, who I had to give myself over to,” you sneer. “And it’s just funny to me, I guess. Because I had a dream last night. And the night before. The one where Caroline dies. Except it wasn’t Caroline’s dead body on the ground with blood everywhere. It was Ellie. It was Ellie that was dead, and it felt really real.” Your last words came out in a choke.

Joel tensed up at your mixture of detachment and contempt, the latter of which he wasn’t sure was for him or towards yourself.

“Listen, I–”

You interrupt him. “Yeah, I know. I should probably thank you, right? For coming to the rescue. And apologize. For putting Ellie through that. For being a negative influence in her life.”

“You don’t believe that,” Joel protests.

“But you do.” Your watery challenge is barely audible.

Joel rubs his face in his hands. He is to blame for this current predicament. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He wanted to help you. He needed to help you. He isn’t sure how to. He was just going to have to come up with something, and fast, and roll with it until some epiphany came along.

“Ellie’s gonna come by after school the next few days to say hi. You’re gonna open the door for her when she knocks. You’re gonna let her in and stay with you for a little bit,” he instructs.

You nod gently. Your brain is a muddle of hurt and distraction. You aren’t sure why Joel is sending Ellie to your house when he so clearly sees you as a detriment. After your hysterics in the barn, you aren’t so sure he’s wrong.

You feel Joel’s rough, calloused hand grab yours off the table. “Honey, please just–”

“Don’t,” you snip. You squeeze your eyes shut tight as they’ll go. “Isn’t it enough for you to be right, Joel? Do you have to rub salt in the wound, too?”

The screech of his chair legs across the floor is the only warning you get before he’s suddenly very close to you. His other hand is grabbing at your hip and inching you forward. You open your eyes to find Joel’s face looking almost pained, but that can’t be right. He was just going to gloat, wasn’t he? Take his victory lap in his mission to remind you that you were nothing more than a fraud. That your life and persona and impact was nothing more than a facade he was slowly chipping away at.

“M’not rubbin’ salt in– Quit it,” he exhales in frustration. “I know I was bein’ a jerk, but I don’t think I’m right ‘n you’re wrong or whatever it is you’re sayin’.”

You shake your head and laugh without a hint of amusement. “I’m giving you the win, Joel, and I’m staying the hell out of your way.”

Joel jerks you forward until you’re almost off the seat of your chair. His arm wraps around your back and squeezes at your hip with his other hand. “I don’t want you stayin’ outta my way,” he grits.

Your noses are touching. You’re sharing the same heavy air. You’ve missed the smell of him. He feels warm and broad and wonderful. Under different circumstances you might be able to enjoy the sensations he’s sending buzzing through your veins.

“I’m not doing this anymore, Joel,” you whisper harshly.

Joel’s eyes flutter closed. “Please. Please don’t…” He draws you tighter when words fail him.

“Joel, I–”

“I’m.. I’m sorry. I am. I really am,” he insists. “I don’t want you outta our lives.”

“Wish I could believe you,” you choke out.

“You think I’d send Ellie to your house if that wasn’t true?” he challenges.

His lips are so close to yours it’s hard to concentrate. Your mind has been nothing but mush lately, and this is gasoline on the fire. “I don’t know what’s true anymore, Joel. I don’t know why you do half the things you do. I just know that being around you hurts. And I’m dealing with enough of that right now. I don’t need more of it.”

Joel grimaces as you pull away from him and stand. He clambers up to stop you from leaving. “No, wait!”

Your step falters just for a moment, but it’s enough for Joel to grab you by the wrist. “What? I’m leaving, Joel.”

“You… Not until you have some water,” he insists. You shoot him an exasperated look. It was just a ploy to get you to stay, but your cracked, dry lips were a testament to the fact that a glass of water wouldn’t be a bad idea.

He presses his hand and forearm around your back again and leads you to the sink. He rushed to the cabinet and back with a drinking glass, as if you might scurry away if he didn’t get back to you fast enough. His arm curls around your back, and he tucks his hand on your waist, almost to secure you next to him. He switches the tap on with a finger and fills the glass. He lifts it to your mouth. You take it from him with two hands and gulp it down.

“There ya go, honey. One more, alright?” he coaxes. You shake your head at his pleasantries but accept a second glass. His hand is rubbing soothing shapes on your side. It’s intoxicating and maddening. You hate yourself for still harboring feelings for him after everything he’s said to you. As if Joel senses your thoughts, he hugs you closer to his side.

“M’sorry. About everything. About.. about your sister, too.” His quiet words may as well have been yelled at top volume the way they crashed into you.

“I have to go,” you say in a strangled murmur.

Joel looks on as you practically run out of his house.

You finally make it home and drop into a kitchen chair. You stare at the ceiling in a sort of half awake, half paralyzed stupor until the sun sets. You eventually make your way to your bed, only bothering to remove your shoes and jacket before sinking into the mattress. Your mental exhaustion claws at your eyes for reprieve. You can still feel where Joel’s hands had been on you. You knew it was going to be a long night.

Joel tried to not let on how much he was worried about you when Ellie was around. She had gone to check on you after school faithfully each day this week. When she reported back to Joel, it was always the same thing: sitting in complete silence in the kitchen for about 15 minutes while Ellie made sure you drank a cup of tea. Seeing you this way had shaken Ellie up on top of how scary it had been to see you break down in the barn. Joel didn’t know what to do. He could barely concentrate on the build site or patrol shifts.

He still hadn’t apologized for all the hurtful things he had said to you. At least, not while you weren’t in the midst of a disconnected haze. He wasn’t sure if seeing him would be more hurtful than helpful, so it was strictly Ellie doing the check-ins. When she told him that you were almost out of tea, he finally had something he could do. Feeling so helpless was driving him crazy, and it would be a legitimate excuse to see you again.

Joel decided to make a trip to the herbalist and medicinal shop on the edge of town and see if there were any fancy tea leaves that would fix this mess. When he walked in, he was amused for a split second at how similar it felt to your home. Green shriveled up things hanging to dry along strings lining walls and shelves. Jars of this and that. A guidebook lying on the front counter, open to an instructional page on St. John’s Wort - whatever the fuck that was. An earthy, welcoming scent wafted through the air. It was the closest thing he’d had to you since you’d come to his house, and he felt a bit pathetic at how much it affected him.

He missed you. He missed the you before he fucked everything up. The you that had been so patient and kind and goofy with him, gifting him coffee, taking him and Ellie into your own home just to teach them how to cook something. The you that had perfectly crafted a schooling situation for Ellie that now had her thriving in Jackson. The you that had done nothing but give give give, all the while Joel just took took took.

He had to give back. He had to find ways to give something to you. Anything to you. He didn’t even know if you’d accept it, though. Still, he had to try. He owed you that much.

Joel looked around the shop and felt completely out of his element. For as much survival skills as he possessed, plants and herbs were always a weak spot for him.

A rustling sound from the back room drew his attention. The shop owner emerged and seemed surprised to see someone. “Ah, didn’t hear ya! Sorry ‘bout that,” Will apologized.

“S’alright,” Joel replied.

“What brings you by? That blend not working out for ya?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

“What’s that now?” Joel questioned, wondering if his bad ear facing Will had him hearing incorrectly.

“The blend I put together for you? You were gonna make it into a tea, right?” Will elaborated.

Joel had no idea what on earth he was talking about. Will notched his head to the side in confusion.

“I mean - I could have sworn she had said you. Maybe she said Tommy was the one that needed it?” he wondered aloud. Joel perked up at this development in the situation.

“Oh, the blend? Is that what you said? Sorry ‘bout that, my right side ain’t so great these days. Didn’t hear you the first time,” Joel lied.

Will’s head popped up, a thoughtful finger still resting on his chin. “Oh, no problem, man. Sorry, I know I mumble sometimes.”

“Not a worry,” Joel assured him, desperate to find out what you had been up to. “Well she must’ve told you all about it exactly right because that blend sure is doin’ the trick,” Joel bluffed. Who else could he have been talking about other than you? No one else made any sense. He couldn’t outright ask if it was you, though, not without giving away his ignorance of the situation.

Will proceeded to recount how you had come to the shop looking for some strong sedative agents for Joel since he was getting so little rest and how that was very dangerous for him as he was a regular on patrols. Joel’s muscles twitched under the force of his clenched jaw.

“Course she didn’t mind getting it for you since Tommy is swamped with the baby coming soon,” he rambled. “She’s always been like that. Helps anybody and everybody."

“Well add me to that growin’ list of people,” Joel faked in casual conversation. “I wondered what exactly she’d asked for. I’ll tell ya, hit the nail right on the head.”

Will was an agreeable, talkative man. Warm and friendly. Freely explained how you specifically asked for something very strong since Joel was a big guy and it would make sleep come easier and last longer.

The hair on the back of Joel’s neck stood on end. “Well, it’s certainly been a tough go,” he continued in his charade. He needed to know exactly what you had been given, and he needed to know now.

“Just wish I could remember all the names in the mix. She told me, of course, but I should have written it down,” Joel huffed, feigning annoyance at himself.

Will was more than happy to give Joel all the details and personally write it out himself. He insisted that Joel stop by any time if he had any questions.

“Come to think of it, I did have somethin’ I wasn’t sure of,” Joel posited. Will nodded and gestured for him to continue. “Is this mixture dangerous at all? You know, anythin’ that could be harmful?” It was the question Joel had been chomping at the bit to ask but had to wait until it wouldn’t come across as suspicious.

Will smiled and assured Joel it was completely safe for a man of his size. “And of course, I know she told you to make sure to not mix it with any alcohol. That’s really the only thing that could be dangerous. Two classes of sedating components is risky.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that. Just wanted to double check. Can never be too cautious these days.”

He and Joel exchanged a few more friendly words, and Joel bought the first bag of tea he grabbed to keep up appearances before heading out. He thanked Will once more, throwing out a “thanks again, Sandman” over his shoulder.

Joel was hellbent on finding you this instant.

Even if this entire situation wasn’t some sham of yours to cover up duplicitous intentions, Joel knew damn well Tommy wouldn’t put you up to the task of fetching and delivering some unverifiable herb mixture for him. The idea of him accepting some mystery earth concoction and swallowing it down without any question was laughable.

You’d covered your tracks so poorly it was a miracle this had only now come to light. Considering the fact that you didn’t make a habit of actively deceiving people, it wasn’t surprising that you wouldn’t know how to make your lies more covert.

Joel was a different breed, and he was now on your trail. He intended to untangle every string of facade you were trying to weave.

This was originally 3.6k and ballooned into 8.8k. I debated breaking it into separate chapters, but that didn't feel right to me. So here we are.

It’s most definitely bad-bad-not-good-feelings time around these parts. Sylvia Plath is the penultimate Sad Girl Hours author for me, and her quote seemed quite fitting for this chapter. (If you’ve never had a sad girl era, honestly how the fuck did you even end up here lmao.)

Catch ya later, Puddles

P.S. - Remember to go pick up that SSRI refill at CVS before they reshelve it. P.P.S. - Be well and take care of yourself, though. Seriously.

#fic: endless night #EnNi #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #joel miller fic

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lord-squiggletits · 1 month

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Salty Ask List: 1, 5, 14, 22 ?

1.What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

Dr/atc/het 100000%... I just don't understand what their chemistry is supposed to be together. It's partially ruined for me by Drift in MTMTE being an absolute mess of a character who got most of his planned plotlines cut or changed, and partially ruined by the fact Drift spends most of MTMTE straight up absent from the story, and then he and Ratchet meet up in Empire of Stone and come back during Dying of the Light and are just...together romantically now? I don't understand how they have any chemistry at all much less romantic lskdjflkds

I know a big one people talk about is "Ratchet saved Drift's life and then told him he believed in him" but... the way their meeting was written didn't come off as particularly romantic to me? Ratchet saved Drift the same way he's saved countless other addicts in the Dead End and then his parting words to Drift were to tell him to go to the Functionists so they could get him a job. Very "pull yourself up by the bootstraps" kind of advice that clearly didn't work since Drift stayed impoverished, his friend got killed by police brutality, he went into the underworld to be a hitman, etc etc. Like yeah in theory it's very romantic for an OTP's first meeting to be one of them saving the other's life and treating the impoverished person kindly for possibly the first time in their life. It's just that that moment in canon doesn't have romantic vibes to me at all, it's just a doctor-patient encounter in which Ratchet is nice to Drift like he's nice to everyone, except it's also kind of condescending/ignorant bc Ratchet basically tells Drift "oh just get a job and get clean and you'll be fine" as if it's that easy to stop being a homeless/jobless drug addict?? If an ER doctor did that shit to me I'd be more likely to see him as an asshole than to admire or like him at all sdklfjsd.

Then Drift was a Decepticon for millions of years, then he joined the Autobots on Earth and like... he and Ratchet sure existed on the same team together dlkfjldsjlkds there were zero interactions of worth b/t them in phase 1, their ship dynamic came entirely from JRO's writing and even then I feel like it's an informed romance more than an organic and believable one.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

I actually used to like O/Pli/ta when I first came here, but as I stayed longer it became evident that the overwhelming majority of the fan content of it reeks of "we are very sorry for having a heterosexual ship, let us compensate for it by making the woman a Girlboss Xtreme and the man a weak simp so that you can be sure the woman isn't being Oppressed and Stereotyped by being in a heterosexual romantic relationship" which is one of my most detested types of fan content, so now I have the ship tag blocked sldkfjlsdkdskl. Literally it's just the same "the woman is a TOTALLY COMPETENT AND COOL ACTION HERO and her man is a TOTAL SIMP FOR HER" that's interchangeable with most het ships in other fandoms, where there's no actual personality or chemistry for them and instead it's just the same Fandom Approved Heterosexual Relationship Dynamic.

That and a significant amount of content I see for it is just like blatantly ripped off from Me/go/p dslkfjsdfsjl or like, taking the main MOP dynamic and just swapping OP and Elita's places so now Elita is the cool action hero who's rival to Megatron and OP just Exists as an emotional support husband I guess. Or like Elita is made into a daring action hero while Optimus is reduced to a meek little wallflower who's no one of any real importance and just follows in her wake. It reeks of insecurity and unoriginality, as if the fanbase is cripplingly aware that Elita was made to be the Token Girlfriend and instead of just making her a better character and making the romance she's a part of more equal and compelling for both characters, they have to violently overcompensate by having Elita steal OP's role and everything interesting about him. 😂Like I'm begging people to just be normal about hetero ships. You can ship a man and a woman together without having to diminish the man and girlbossify the woman to prove you're a Real Feminist.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

Continuity soup is boring and for the most parts creates purely fanon plots/ideas/characterizations that have tenuous relationships to actual canon. It's nice that people have the creativity to make their own AUs, but I also want to read about the actual continuity in question and not someone's mishmash of it.

Like UGH when I read a fic tagged IDW1 I want to see cop Orion not archivist or dockworker Orion. When I read a fic tagged IDW1 I want to read about the Senate led by Proteus and the reigns of Nova/Nominus/Sentinel/Zeta, not about the Council from TFP. When I read a fic tagged IDW1 MegOP I want Orion being a simp for Megatron after reading his stuff/meeting him one (1) time sdkflsdkf not yet another iteration of the tired "one day an archivist and a gladiator became great friends! then they broke up."

It's not hate for other continuities, I'm just tired of the fact that continuity soup is so prevalent that even when I'm specifically filtering for content of the one continuity I want to read about, the fics I find keep having random shit from other continuities interjected into it. I think each continuity has really interesting takes on lore that have potential to be wholly unique for each one, so it's really frustrating when the average fic I can find is just a random mishmash of continuity elements, or more often than not just an IDW knockoff taking place in a separate continuity. Like guys, I'm an IDW stan myself, but wouldn't it be cool if we got more fics that explored ideas that only happen in G1, or only happen in Animated, or Aligned, etc?

Doesn't help that when I AM looking specifically for IDW stuff, most of the content I look at (MOP) does continuity soup for the sake of replacing IDW OP with some sort of aligned/g1 lite OP which makes me salty as hell

22. Popular character you hate?

Drift for sure sdklfsdlk. I mean when I first read about him in the comics (the Drift miniseries) I was like, he's fine I guess he's an action hero whatever. But then literally the more of the comics I read the more his personality and story were just incredibly corny, stereotypical, or boring as hell no matter what writer was controlling him. And he got bounced around between writers a lot, and then even the "main author" people know Drift from (JRO) kept changing his plans for what Drift was supposed to be (and cutting plots related to him) so any hints towards a storyline went nowhere. And then Drift spent basically all of MTMTE gone elsewhere on some exile-adventure, and then during LL he just kind of. Is there, existing.

So like, honestly Drift is a victim of getting bounced back and forth and having his writing changed so often he doesn't reach his full potential, which isn't really "his fault" as a character. It just so happens that I also think the bits of his character that exist are either boring or overhyped or in one case (portrayal of his religion/religious worldbuilding in general) outright offensive. He's basically written like some hippie stereotype with vaguely Asian/Japanese flavoring (the extent of which is basically his name + fighting style) and then he barely like... does anything in the plot? I think he's supposed to be like, ~mysterious and shifty~ but then all of the plotlines that involved him being a secret traitor got cut, so Drift basically just became Weirdly Suspicious For No Reason and his genuine personality/motivations felt indistinguishable from what he was faking and what plots got cut from him. Absolute mess of a character that got almost no payoff for any of the things planned for him, and all that's left is some kooky hippie personality of "hee hoo I believe in auras and mystical vibes and magical colors, also I'm dating an atheist who's openly dismissive of most of my religious beliefs (that I do or don't actually believe in depending on what part of the story I'm in) and this somehow doesn't get in the way of our personal/romantic chemistry

But then the fanbase are basically making him some kind of Gary Stue, obsessed with making headcanons like "Deadlock wrote/edited Megatron's speeches for him too!" and "Drift defected from the Decepticons to try and make a point to Megatron!" and generally trying to make him the Decepticons' Specialest Boy Ever and it's just. Ugh I get that he was under-written in canon, but every bit of fanon I've encountered doesn't make him interesting either. They just kind of make Drift the center of the world where he's actually the coolest, most talented and interesting person ever where other characters owe their accomplishments partially to his influence and I'm just. I don't get it, I don't understand the appeal of fanon and I don't even understand the appeal of canon either. I think part of it is for representation reasons (e.g. Asian, lower class, former drug addict) and it's nice that people can pull something meaningful out of the mess that is canon. It's just for me, canon Drift is so mediocre I don't get why anyone would even WANT him as representation sdlkfjsdlkf. I guess fixing what the writers failed to explore the potential of is an understandable motivation though.

#squiggle answers #long post #as far as asian coded tf characters go cyc and WB have mountains more character and meaningful plot imo #plus their depictions of religiousness are way less offensive and actually play more importantly into their characters #like idk am i the only one who thinks most of JRO's worldbuilding re: religion is an absolute joke #it's a combination of multiple antagonists who are religious zealots (not offensive on its own though)#plus very shallowly explored religious beliefs that mainly come up for plot reasons #plus a lot of the religious beliefs that DO come up are like incredibly unimaginative and boring and stereotypical #plus the plot basically being a deconstruction of the entire religion like. sike all of the ppl you worshipped and myths you believed in #were lies. they're all assholes and also cyberutopia doesn't exist #it's just one of those things where in isolation/in theory none of these religion related things are offensive in and of themselves #but when they're all stacked together it comes off as a kind of Reddit Atheist view of religion #where the more religious a character is the more likely they are to be evil or literally insane/mentally ill #and what religion IS represented is portrayed as nothing more than like. paint colors and a few holidays #as if religion is nothing more than an aesthetic as opposed to a whole philosophy/way of life w a lot of htought behind it

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ice-cap-k · 6 months

Text

Star Fall

Cross-posted on AO3 here: Star Fall

__________________________________________________

Have you ever loved someone so, so much that you actually hated them?

Pearl did. She loved Scott with a raging resentment.

Scott did. He hated Pearl with a cold fondness.

And as the fire scorched the earth around the two of them, Pearl found herself sizing Scott up.

She was bloodied. She was bruised. She had killed again and again.

He was pristine. There was no blood on his hands by choice and by convenience, but that meant little to her. He was a dead shot with a bow and more skilled than any of the people whose blood now coated her axe head.

The few wolves she had left at her side growled bloodthirsty encouragement. Not Tilly, though. Tilly was gone. Part of Pearl’s soul wanted to leap forward to attack with them as Scott stood frozen in shock and awe at what she had done. Cleo was already dead on the side of the hill. What was one more slaughtered friend?

‘Fallen star’ Cleo had once called her by mistake. Technically that was Scott. He was the star child. He was the flash of brilliance.

Pearl was the moon. A beacon in the dark. Powerful enough to raise tides and shape the land as she saw fit. But she had still fallen. Just like Scott. They had taken each other’s hands and strode into a perilous world where bloodlust set in like a disease. It was them against the world. And then Cleo came knocking and it became three against infinity. They were supposed to gaslight, gatekeep, and girlboss their way to the end.

Cleo was gone now. So was Martyn, but he had no intention of standing by Pearl’s side after he realized he and Cleo were inextricably linked. Scott had abandoned her. The mirrored beat of his heart alongside hers was still there, though, even if he didn’t want it to be anymore.

They were never compatible soulmates anyway.

But the other half of her, the one who remembered what had been before things had gone so wrong… that part was still reluctant.

Both of them stared each other down from either side of the hill. Neither was ready to make a first move. The space between them felt as vast as the distance between the moon and the stars.

________________________________________________________

Pearl, Scott, and Cleo sat on the mossy roof of the Scottage. They were sprawled out, taking a moment to relax now that the boogeyman had finished their kill for the day. It was time to take advantage of the quiet lull before someone ended up losing another life and went red.

They were content to lounge comfortably along the awning and while away their time as they sat and talked. Pearl, in her boredom, had found a Sharpie and reached for the nearest thing she could draw on. In this case, that was Scott’s arm.

“Are you thinking about home?”

“Maybe,” Pearl said with a smirk. “Now hold still, Scott. I’m almost done.”

“Just to be clear, you’re not doing me next.”

“Aw, Cleo.” Scott’s arm shifted in Pearl’s grasp, so she tightened her grip a little. Not enough to hurt him. Just enough to keep him still. She re-adjusted the silver marker in her grip and used it to point at Cleo teasingly. “You’re no fun. It’s not so bad. Think of it like a temporary tattoo.”

“Sure does tickle a lot for a tattoo,” Scott huffed. His fingers flexed against Pearl’s wrist, trying to relieve some of the pressure of her grip. She held on tight, dismissing his discomfort with a click of her tongue.

Cleo snorted. “Thanks. But I’ll still pass.”

Pearl stuck out her tongue at the other girl.

The stars that danced in Scott’s eyes glittered when he smiled. “That’s alright, Pearl. You and I can match. I’ll do you next.”

“Why thank you, Scott. I would love that.” She went back to the drawing on the inside of Scott’s forearm. The silver ink showed up surprisingly well against his pale skin. She filled in the dark side of the moon she had sketched, leaving interwoven layers of lines to make up the illusion of shadows and highlights. A smattering of hand-drawn stars speckled the inside of his elbow. She hadn’t smudged anything yet.

It was a pretty accurate representation if you didn’t count the stars. She knew a few constellations by heart, but not how they would fall in line within the moon’s orbit. Especially not from an Earthside view. Instead, she had focused on the way the light lit up the edges of craters and darkened the depths of dome-like valleys.

“Aaaaaaand… Done!” She finally let go of his hand and smiled as he pulled it back to look over the details. For being a bored doodle on her friend's arm, it may have just been some of her finest work. “What do you think?”

He ran his fingers along the inside of his arm. The constellations in his eyes whirled and shifted as they scanned the detailed drawing of the moon. He was wary of smudging the ink; careful not to let the tips of his fingers brush against the last few lines she had drawn. There was starlight in his smile, the motes of bright brilliant light dancing around his head in shades of red, yellow, and green. “It’s so pretty! I’ve just decided I’m never washing this off. I never want it to go away.”

Pearl’s heart swelled with pride.

“Now it’s my turn to do you.” Scott held out a hand for the marker. Pearl dropped it into his palm and started rolling up the sleeve of her midnight blue hoodie. She offered the inside of her arm eagerly.

“Okay. You got to draw your home on me. So that means that I get to do the same to you.”The silver-tipped marker hung over her skin for a moment as Scott contemplated how to start. He nodded to himself, coming to some sort of decision before pressing the felt tip against her skin.

Scott was right. It did tickle.

Where her moon was made up of round dots and soft lines interwoven to give the illusion of color differences, Scott’s stars were made of hard edges and sharp lines. The arms of the stairs were thin like needles. The dotted paths connecting them were precise and evenly spaced as the constellation began to wrap around the sides of her arm.

Pearl recognized the blown-up image of Corona Borealis, the “northern crown.” The broken lines gave the cluster of stars its shape, while a few other surrounding stars were drawn suspended in the open patches of skin towards the top and bottom of her forearm.

At some point, the half-drawn scene seemed to catch Cleo’s attention. She rolled over to get a better look at Pearl’s arm. Bits of moss still clung to her bright red hair as she shook it out. “That’s really good,” she said, sounding impressed. “Do all fallen stars know how to draw right off the get-go, or are you two just special like that?”

“Ah-ah-ah! I’m not a star child, remember,” Pearl corrected her. She would have waggled a finger to punctuate her point, but she didn’t want to move her arm and mess up Scott’s work.

“Fine. Do all celestial beings automatically come with massive amounts of talent or do you have to work at it like the rest of us?” Cleo’s words came out clipped. She was short on patience, but well-meaning and almost teasing as she motioned between Scott and Pearl.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Scott answered, as he added a few radiating lines out from the far edge of the constellation. “You both know that I’m perfect in every way.” That got a few laughs out of both of the girls.

Pearl shrugged the shoulder of the arm Scott wasn’t working on. “Nah. Me and Scott worked at this. I still practice sometimes. It’s not like I just popped into existence knowing how to build like I do.” She leaned back, looking off toward the cobblestone towers rising over the trees to the south. “Grian, though, he’s built different. If he told me that he’s always known how to make things look nice, I’d believe him.”

The smirk on Cleo’s face widened. “And now you’re using those skills to build a death chamber.”

“Yup!”

“Brilliant.”

There was no guarantee Pearl would ever experience the boogeyman curse, but she wanted to be prepared. She wasn’t like Scott who tiptoed around the idea of death. Cleo and her were more alike in that regard. She was ready to welcome the thrill of the kill. “Thank you for helping me, by the way.”

“Of course. We’re a team. We’ve got each other’s backs…” There was a harsh glint in the back of Cleo’s eyes. A subtle growl to her words as she drew them out. Pearl could tell that BigB’s betrayal at the Fairy Fort was still fresh on her mind.

Pearl didn’t want her worrying about that again. She and Scott wouldn’t do that. Scott was far too honorable, and Pearl had been open with her plans for the trap she had been building underground. “We are,” she stated plainly, hoping the immediate response would help soothe Cleo’s nerves. “And I wouldn’t want to work with anyone other than you two.”

“All done!”

Scott finally released Pearl’s arm. The drawing shimmered in the late evening. It reminded her of her own eyes, the silver ink light and radiant like the disc of a full moon. The interconnected lines of the constellation were like a map leading to someplace neither Scott nor she could ever return to. It looked like he was feeling a little homesick as well.

But this was their new home now. Their new normal. They were embracing it.

“I love it. Thank you, Scott. Are you sure you don’t want one to match, Cleo?”

Cleo’s lip curled. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked back and forth between both Scott and Pearl’s arms. Finally, she relented with a sigh.

“They are rather pretty, aren’t they?”

That was all the permission Scott and Pearl needed. Scott immediately uncapped the marker once more, while Pearl pulled another out of her pocket. This one a more bronzey copper.

“What do you think, Scott?”

“I think we stick with a theme.”

“Do we do the Earth for Cleo?”

“I think we do the Earth for Cleo.”

Cleo rolled her eyes, but she held out her arms dutifully. “Why would I expect any different from the two of you? It’s not like I’m the only one from here.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Alas, that world was never made to last. True to who he was, Scott shone bright. He outshone everyone, even. The star child who tried to avoid killing others at all costs ended up the last one standing.

Pearl was happy for him. Her and Cleo had cheered for him from beyond the edge of existence, where Grian’s watcher magic kept the lost souls at bay. And when Scott joined them, they embraced him with open arms and congratulations.

Their alliance of three had stood strong until the end, and then it was time to say “So long. Until next time.”

But ‘next time’ involved meeting up in another world, for they could not return to the last.

This new world they were visiting was run by different laws. In the last world, lives could be traded like currency, but in doing so you ran the risk of running out. This was made even more risky with the presence of an insatiable desire for death that came and went called the ‘boogeyman curse.’ Pearl hadn’t minded that part so much.

By the law of this new world, though, you were bound to a soulmate.

Pearl wasn’t sure why the inside of her forearm felt all tingly when the tether was tied around her heart. Warmth spread from one side of her inner arm to the other in a wide, uneven C shape. It was pleasant but unexpected. Nobody else she had seen since coming here mentioned anything about a tingly feeling.

When she pulled up her sleeve, she could see an uneven curve of dots interconnected by broken, glowing lines. It shone silver like the moon. Cold like ice.

Odd.

The others, they didn’t have anything like that. None of them mentioned the trace of needle-like sensations.

They mentioned the overlapping emotions as two souls overlapped into one. They talked about how they could feel a second heartbeat. They complained at length how there would be an occasional twinge of pain in their ankles as if landing after a big fall, or scratches against their skin as if a mob had attacked them.

Pearl had that as well, but it seemed like everyone else also had a strange quirk that had developed outside of the norm. For Joel, it looked like the iris in his left eye had lightened to a muddy red. When she ran into BigB, it was the pair of fluffy ears growing out of the sides of his head. (It didn’t take much for her to figure out whom he had been conjoined to). Hers just happened to be lines glowing on her arm.

So Pearl decided not to think much of it. After all, there was so much to see in this great big world.

______________________________________________________________________

“Scott! Scott, wait!”

It felt like she was crash landing all over again as Scott turned his back on Pearl. If she closed her eyes, she could almost convince herself that the pain in her heart was one and the same as the pain when she fell.

The crushing weight in her ribcage was doubled and staggered as the betrayal and frustration weighing down on Scott mixed with her own heartbreak and grief. Their hearts beat in unison, breaking further and further apart as they did.

All she had wanted was a bit of fun and adventure. So what if she got a little hurt along the way? She hadn’t gotten the two of them killed.

“But you could have,” Scott hissed, reading her mind. He turned on her, fingers curling at his sides. “I was scrambling like crazy to get enough food to take care of the both of us, for you!”

“I was being careful!”

“You went into the NETHER!”

Pearl winced. She couldn’t exactly deny that.

“I can’t believe you. I don’t see you for one day, and you go and do something like that?! You do realize me and Cleo were looking all over the server for you, right?”

The tingling in her arm burned with his anger. She set her mouth in a thin line, not willing to show how much his words bothered her. But that wouldn’t work. They were bound. He could feel her unease as easily as she could feel his fear. His stardust was threaded throughout her moonstone-clad heart.

Considering they could tell what the other was feeling, she didn’t have to say it out loud, but she replied out of courtesy. “I was looking too. But I couldn’t figure out my soulmate. And then I bumped into Martyn and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun exploring.”

The anger faded away. To Pearl’s surprise, the secondhand emotion turned to bitter disappointment.

“You couldn’t figure it out?”

There was genuine hurt in his expression when she looked him in the eye. He held his arm out and rolled up his sleeve. The inside of the forearm was shining dimly, just like Pearl’s. Only the marking on his arm was different. It was a large circle made up of curved lines, shadows, and a smattering of stars.

“Oh…” So that wasn’t a large sideways C on her arm. It was the Corona Borealis.

She had forgotten about the doodles they had drawn a couple of worlds ago.

As soon as that thought crossed her mind, Scott’s emotions soured. He could feel her guilt welling up and there was nothing she could do to hide it from him. “I can’t believe this. You actually forgot.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did! You didn’t even realize what that was, did you?” he snapped, pointing at her arm. “You weren’t looking for me. You were looking for anyone who fit the bill for a soulmate.”

“But I’m glad it’s you. We can be Gatekeep, Girlboss, and Gaslight together. Just like last time.”

She reached out towards him, but Scott flinched away. He stumbled back into the trees, putting as much space as possible between the two of them.

“No. No Gatekeep. No Girlboss, and no Gaslight. Not this time. Me and Cleo were there for each other while you were off risking our lives. As far as I’m concerned, she’s my soulmate.”

__________________________________________________________

It was awfully lonely up in Pearl’s tower.

There was Cleo and Scott, who were doing their best to avoid her. And then there was the rest of the server.

Ren had called her a witch. BigB had agreed. She was pretty sure Bdubs and Impulse were afraid of her. Martyn still wasn’t talking to her. Joel and Etho were alright, at least until she stole Joel’s chest plate. Whatever tentative friendship they had before that had gone out the window.

At least she had Tilly. The wolf was resting its head in her lap, begging for scratches around the ears. She whined, shoving her head into Pearl’s stomach.

Scott would feel that. It wouldn’t hurt him, but he would be feeling the rough scrape of the wolf’s claws as Tilly tried to crawl into Pearl’s lap. Just like she could feel the stiffness in her shoulders from Scott’s long day of chopping trees and tunneling out the mines.

Pearl absently rubbed at the space between her wolf’s ears as she stared at the mark inside her arm. The constellation glittered back at her with cold silver light. She could remember the way the marker tickled against her skin as Scott had drawn it.

She should tickle Scott back.

Tilly whined as she gently pushed the wolf out from her lap. She followed at Pearl’s side as she looked out the window.

There was a snow-covered mountain in plain view. That would work.

So she took the ladder two rungs at a time. When she reached the bottom, she spilled out the bucket of water in her inventory so Tilly could leap down after her. The wolf splashed paws first in the puddle she had made. From there, it was only a hop, skip, and a jump to get to the snowy side of the mountain.

As soon as she found a pile of powdered snow, she submerged her arm all the way to the shoulder. Soon the tingle of the mark was overshadowed by the bite of the cold. Pearl pushed herself deeper into the snow drift until she was standing in it. Goosebumps appeared on her skin. It was starting to sting.

Hopefully, Scott felt that tickle.

Tilly, ever the loveable ball of fluff, leaped into the snow next to Pearl. Pearl reached out to scratch the wolf’s scruff and she rolled onto her back. Clumps of snow went flying as the wolf kicked them up, growling with glee.

It gave Pearl something to keep her mind off the cold. Scott’s annoyance was already starting to kick in. Pearl could taste steak on her tongue. Her belly felt full, despite not eating. Scott was eating for the both of them.

He wasn’t coming. She could practically hear his thoughts. No matter how much she tried to get his attention. He had Cleo. It was time Pearl accepted that.

So she focused on the here and now. On her and her wolf. She laughed, flinging her hands out to send a flurry of snow raining down on Tilly.

__________________________________________________________________

Teaming up with Scott and Cleo had been a bad idea. It was a good idea in that if the four of them were ever going to work together, now was the time. The entire server was in chaos, and they were stronger together than they were apart. But it was a bad idea in that both Scott and Pearl couldn’t calm down around each other. There was too much suspicion. Scott was nervous that she would make trouble. That worry planted the thought in her head. It was tempting, but this was also the deep dark where they could easily lose one of their precious lives. And honestly, Pearl was nervous they would leave her alone again.

They were trying, but it wasn’t going the way either of them had hoped.

It was a good thing wardens were blind. The light emanating from both of them kept half the cavern well-lit. Scott’s starlight outshone her own moonlight, and she let it. Not everything had to be a competition and she was trying to stay on her best behavior.

Scott spared Pearl a look out the corner of his eye as they tiptoed across patches of skulk. “You’re not going to pull out a bucket of powdered snow, are you?”

“No.” She pulled the hood tighter over her head as an excuse to avoid eye contact with him. “But I could if you want another tickle.”

“No thank you. I’d rather not.”

Cleo and Martyn were still laying out a trail of wool on the other end of the cavern. It would be a while before they caught up

“You know what, Scott, it might have been hard to forgive you at the start of the season for just abandoning me like that, but you know what? We’re pretty good. You’re a pretty good partner.”

“Thank you. I mean, we tested it last time and it worked well. It was just… you hurt my feelings when you went away with Martyn and then we looked for you for ages and I couldn’t find you. And then I was sad…”

Pearl pushed aside a screen of skulk as they crept towards the warden tunnel. “You know, I’m just gonna talk to that for a second. How about the reverse, right? You were off with Cleo from my perspective.”

Scott frowned. “We bumped into everyone else. We were actually looking for our soulmates.”

“I was looking-”

“Hello,” Martyn called out. He and Cleo appeared from over the deepslate brick wall. “Have you found what we were looking for?”

“Yeah,” Scott said. He and Pearl looked away from each other, taking a few steps further apart. The conversation was essentially over, and neither of them felt any better about the situation.

Pearl could feel it in her bones. This temporary alliance wasn’t made to last. Scott and Cleo were in it for themselves. So was she.

__________________________________________________________________

It was all over, one way or another.

There could only be one survivor.

Pearl was having a hard time looking at Scott and the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. The constellations in them were dim as he spotted Cleo’s body. Her hand went to the constellation on her own arm. The grief was overwhelming.

“I didn’t think it would end this way,” he muttered.

“To be honest, neither did I.”

She shifted the ax in her hand. They were linked. They could feel everything the other could. They both knew what had to happen. Scott’s thoughts drifted at the back of her mind. ‘She deserves it.’

He reached into his jacket pocket. “Pearl, you deserve this more.” She stumbled back as he pulled out a bundle of TNT.

“Excuse me! What do you mean?!?”

The starlight in his eyes flickered. The fuse lit.

“Tilly death do us part, Pearl. Tilly death do us part.”

The fuse reached the top of the explosive casing.

“SCOTT-!”

There was a supernova of light and fire. A blast that rivaled that of a dying sun.

And then Scott’s starlight flickered out in the shadow of the moon.

#whumptober 2023 #prompt no. 27 #“you drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleeding”#traffic smp #life series #trafficblr #double life #last life #creative writing #major character death #3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series-Typical Character Death #animal death #star child scott Smajor #scott smajor #pearlescentmoon #moon deity pearl #pearl-centric #zombiecleo #soulmate identifying marks

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