#:') its my comfort series ngl

[djevelbl]

Being a secret hater in the shadows is great. currently celebrating the downfall of someone else's blorbo 😋😋😋

[dekuofficial]

hmmm do i go to bed early (doomscroll), keep gaming at my computer, or is it floor time? so many options, and so much time to waste sigh

[qiu-yan]

haterisms beneath the cut

this hater poll brought to you by....a series of Bad Mcfucking Takes i had to read with my own eyeballs. seriously did we read the same book or not.

explanations:

"jiang cheng killed wei wuxian": jiang cheng did not kill wei wuxian in any version of the story. in mdzs wei wuxian died from backlash and in cql wei wuxin chose to let go of lan wangji after jiang cheng stabbed the cliff face. you can argue till the cows come home about how responsible jiang cheng is for wei wuxian's demise, but "jiang cheng killed wei wuxian" is just factually incorrect.

"jiang cheng abuses jin ling": jiang cheng does not abuse jin ling. first, the narration goes out of its way to establish that jiang cheng does not hit jin ling, specifically in a setting where hitting children is normalized and expected. in fact, wei wuxian says that jin ling is bratty specifically because he's never been hit. second, jin ling is also clearly comfortable talking back to jiang cheng and needling him in a way jiang cheng definitely was not with his own parents. even when jiang cheng is actively losing it when he captures wei wuxian in qinghe, jin ling remains completely unruffled - which speaks to how much jin ling takes for granted that he is safe with jiang cheng.

"jiang cheng could have easily helped the wen remnants, he just didn't": antis love to act like yunmeng jiang could have easily taken in the wemnants and jiang cheng simply chose not to because he was a hater/super jelly/various synonyms for ontologically evil. which is not the fucking case. learn to read. yunmeng jiang's own position post sunshot was very weak - they were a great sect in name only and were excluded from the alliance tying the three other great sects together - and jiang cheng could not politically afford to protect wei wuxian after wei wuxian alienated lanling jin. that's why jiang cheng says "if you insist on doing this, i can't protect you," and why wei wuxian then tells jiang cheng to let him go. because they both understand this. come on

"jiang cheng forced jiang yanli to marry jin zixuan": jiang yanli as a character makes so many sacrifices for her family and her brothers. her relationship with zixuan is like the one thing she chooses for herself. she loves him!! the tragedy in wei wuxian killing jin zixuan is that yanli genuinely loved zixuan!! ngl i think antis argue this purely to try to exonerate wei wuxian: if jiang yanli didn't love jin zixuan then wei wuxian donutting him isn't a problem anymore, apparently. this is the result of people thinking of jiang yanli as purely a thing for wei wuxian, rather than a human being in her own right.

"jiang cheng should have protected wei wuxian from yu ziyuan": this one is annoying because jiang cheng was also a child. when a child is abused, it is the fault of the abuser, not the fault of another child who is also subject to the whims of the abuser. come on.

[wandascrush]

Traitor

Warnings: angstttt, betrayal, arguments, romantic tension, very stressful situations, lying, toxic Nat ngl, allusions to sex

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Wanda Maximoff x f!reader, Avengers x f!reader

A/N: Part 6 of my DIWK series! Summary: The truth always has a way of coming out- and todays the day

Fast forward four months 

   The wind blew fiercely against your window as you awoke, sensing an unusual tension in the air—a buzz, as if nature itself was angry. You fluffed your shaggy h/c hair and swung your tired legs out of the warm bed, extricating yourself from the comfortable embrace of a woman’s arm wrapped around your waist. Not just any woman, but Natasha Romanoff—the world’s greatest assassin, a highly skilled martial artist, and your girlfriend. Well, kind of. She didn’t want to label it, and you’d gotten used to that. Things with Wanda had fizzled out, and she was now one of your closest friends. Stability was slowly but surely creeping back into your life.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling you from your morning trance. An encrypted message from Agent Hill: another file to drop off at the HYDRA data server and report back. No pleasantries, no reassurances. The anxiety that once clouded your mind about this operation had dissipated over the months. You had grown confident in your skills, so close to the finish line now. You just needed one more piece of information about a new serum they were developing—something about a super-soldier project. Deliver that, and you would be officially done with HYDRA, Samantha, and all the vile people who worked there. A free agent—literally.

You pulled the file from its folder, reviewing the intel they provided this time. Not bad, surprisingly.

You dressed slowly, your legs sore from prior activities with your “girlfriend.” Natasha’s sleeping form rustled in the sheets before settling, a gentle huff of breath escaping her lips.

At the base, you navigated the winding corridors, each step echoing louder than the last. The data server room was buried at the heart of the building, and each doorway you passed felt like a checkpoint in a prison. Fluorescent overhead lights buzzed, casting a stark, sterile glow that complemented the coldness of the place. Reaching the server room, you slid your ID across the panel, entering as the heavy door hissed shut behind you.

The space was mostly empty, save for the hum of servers and the dull glow of screens casting eerie shadows. A lone technician glanced up at you, nodding in acknowledgment. You were well-known by now—both for your envied operation and proximity to HYDRA’s high command.

You approached one of the terminals, connected your encrypted drive, and waited as it loaded the contents onto their system. But as you watched the file transfer, doubt crept in. How many more lies before they caught up with you? Were they already catching up, and maybe you didn’t know it?

The file finished transferring. You removed your drive, pocketing it quickly. Turning to leave, you caught the technician watching you from the corner of your eye, his gaze lingering a moment too long. You met his eyes and offered a quick nod, concealing the flicker of alarm you felt as he turned back to his work.

Returning to the compound that afternoon felt like a relief. As you stepped into your hall, orange shadows of the sun creeping in through the glass walls, the quiet was broken by a familiar voice.

“Back so soon?”

Natasha’s slid into your view like silk. She was leaning against the wall in the corridor, arms crossed, her expression unreadable—as per usual.

You tried to keep your face neutral, but her sharp gaze seemed to peel back every layer you’d carefully constructed. “Mission ended earlier than expected,” you replied.

She arched an eyebrow, gaze narrowing slightly. “Right. Just strange. Fury usually sends the rest of us a notice when someone’s out. And you leave me a note. Or text.”

“It was classified,” you shrugged, trying to deflect, hoping she wouldn’t probe further.

Natasha’s smirk softened, but her gaze didn’t waver. She stepped closer, her presence intense. “You’ve been slipping away a lot lately, honey,” she murmured, her tone low. “Everyone’s noticed.” Her beautiful green eyes bore into you, calculating your every expression.

There was no accusation in her words, only an edge of curiosity. But the weight of the lies began to press down, your chest tightening with the guilt you’d tried so hard to ignore. “It’s not like that, Nat,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She reached out, her fingers grazing your arm—a touch that felt like both an anchor and a pull. “Then what’s it like?”

For a heartbeat, you wanted to tell her. Instead, you swallowed the words, your throat tightening. “You know how this job is, Tasha. It’s complicated.”

A flicker of something—hurt, maybe—crossed her face before she masked it, letting her hand fall away. She stepped back, crossing her arms again. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

She scoffed, “Doesn’t seem that way.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it.” You squeezed past her, accidentally bumping her shoulder as you did.

Her hand caught yours. “You know I can help, right? Whatever it is.”

You forced a half-smile, “Not this time, honey.”

Natasha held your gaze for a moment longer before nodding, though the air between you felt strained, taut with the things left unsaid. She turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the dim corridor, the weight of her words lingering.

You stared at the ceiling, Natasha’s words looping in your mind. Everyone’s noticed. You wondered if that included Wanda. The thought of her finding out, of her piecing together the truth, was terrifying. She’d already uncovered your family’s past—if she found out everything else…

You didn’t want to think about it.

About twice a week, Natasha would come and sleep in your room, especially after tough training days or a bad mission. Tonight? She didn’t so much as text you. Ouch.

The cold floors at 3 a.m. felt soothing as you walked to the kitchen to grab a drink, catching sight of Wanda curled up on the couch, staring out the window.

Her expression was unreadable.

“Wanda?” you asked, the surprise clear in your voice.

“I couldn’t sleep again,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze was intense, searching your face as though trying to read every unspoken thought.

You grabbed two juices from the fridge, crossing the room to sit beside her. For a moment, neither of you spoke; the silence was thick.

“It was two years yesterday that I held his,” she began, her voice hesitant. “I… I didn’t even remember.”

You glanced down, your hands twisting together as you gathered your thoughts. “I know,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to remind you, since you didn’t mention it.” Wanda adored her brother, and you adored her. You didn’t want to worsen her pain by adding a reminder. 

    Her hand reached out, covering yours, her touch warm and steady. “I visited his grave earlier,” she swallowed, “left a small baby’s breath bouquet.” “It’s always only one bouquet, but today when I visited him- there were already flowers there.”

  You didn’t know if you should also mention that you left flowers, but when you looked up, Wanda’s eyes were already staring into yours. Her gaze softened, and you felt the pull again, that magnetic connection that made your friendship feel impossible sometimes.

“Wanda…” 

She gingerly brushed a strand of hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. 

“Now your hair is perfect.”

“It’s always perfect, witchy.” 

Her cheeky white smile glowed in the darkness. 

   The next few days most of your training was done with Peter, Clint, or Steve, completely ruling out the possibility of any more relationship messiness. The tension with Natasha, the fragileness you held with Wanda—it was all starting to pull at the threads of your mind once again.

You will never forget that day. That was the day your life changed forever. You often think of what might’ve been, if you hadn’t joined the avengers and all. Just stayed as a high level SHIELD agent. 

Maybe it all would’ve been fine, if not for that Thursday. That stupid fucking Thursday. And for Nick Fury. But you didn’t know all that yet. 

   You swiftly moved through the hallways on your way to meet Bruce in the lab, your mind elsewhere, when a familiar rasp called your name. 

“Y/N.”

You turned to see Natasha, her gaze sharp, expression unreadable. She nodded toward one of the empty conference rooms. “We need to talk.”

You followed her inside, the silence between you thick with unspoken words. You felt like a little kid in trouble with the principal. When the door shut, she turned to you, her arms crossed, her stance tense.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, her tone steady but laced with frustration.

Your heart pounded, every instinct screaming to deflect, to lie. But standing there, facing Natasha’s intense gaze, the walls you’d built felt paper-thin.

“I…No.”

She took a step closer, her voice soft but firm. “Y/N, I don’t know what’s going on, but I will find out.”

The intensity in her gaze, the determination, left you breathless. She was offering you an out, a lifeline, but taking it would mean unraveling everything. You were practically at the finish line. 

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the compound’s alarm blared, cutting through the tension. Natasha’s gaze flickered to the door, her expression shifting to frustration. 

“Of course,” she muttered, looking back to you. 

She turned and left the room, leaving you standing there, your chest tight and burning. 

    The mission had been going well until you were cornered in a tight hallway by a mercenary, his face hidden by a tactical helmet and wielding a blade that gleamed under the dim light. You threw up an arm to block his initial swing, but he was relentless, landing a hit to your side that knocked the breath from you. Blood trickled from a cut on your arm, but you pushed through, angling for a counterattack.

    Before you could make another move, a blast of red energy hit from behind, sending the attacker flying into a wall. Surprised, you turned to see Wanda, her hands crackling with energy. She stepped between you and the mercenary, red tendrils floating around his head before he fainted. 

“Thought you might need a hand,” she said, her tone light, but her eyes betrayed the worry simmering beneath.

You forced a smile, though your pride ached at her interference. “I had it under control.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push it. She held your gaze a moment longer, “Sure you did, L/N.” 

Before you could answer, Natasha’s voice crackled through the comms. “Y/N, Wanda—stop messing around and regroup. Now.”

Her tone was clipped, cold, and even through the comms, you could feel the chill.

You two shared a quick, slightly guilty glance before moving back to rejoin the others. Throughout the rest of the mission, Natasha barely looked at you, and when she did, her expression was hardened, her gaze flicking quickly between you and Wanda with a disapproving edge.

Back at the compound, you found Natasha in the common area, gathering her gear with sharp, precise movements. You hovered nearby, hoping to talk, to get a hint of what was going on, but she barely acknowledged you.

“Nat,” you started, your voice soft.

“What?” Her tone was harsh, her eyes narrowing. “Something you need?”

You faltered, caught off guard by the bite in her voice. “I… I just wanted to check if you were okay.”

She scoffed, a cold smirk pulling at her lips. “That’s rich. Last I saw, you were the one who needed backup. I didn’t realize Wanda was your personal rescuer.”

The words hit like a slap, the sting of her jealousy clear. You opened your mouth to respond, but she cut you off, grabbing her bag and shouldering it without a glance in your direction. You tried to lighten the mood, “A little jealous, Romanoff?” Although you were teasing, the joke came out so soft, genuine. You gently touched the small of her back, gazing at her with worried eyes. 

“Let’s not pretend this is anything more than a job, Y/N,” she said, voice low and unyielding- she shifted out of your touch. “That way, you won’t get distracted.”

“I think we should continue our conversation from earlier-,” you were cut off before you finished your sentence 

“And what if I don’t want to talk? Ever thought about that?” 

“Earlier you said you were here for me, that I’m not alone. I don’t understand, you know I care about you. Just talk to me-,” you hadn’t anticipated the crack in your voice at the end, catching Natasha’s attention, but of course, only for a second.

She packed her bag faster. 

“Natasha please-”

“Enough!” Her loud voice bounced off the walls. 

“So what are we then? We sleep together, we share a bed, you care about me- I know you do. So what is this?”

Natashas jaw clenched, and when her eyes looked at you, they held something you’d never seen, “It’s just sex, Y/N.  Grow up. It’s what adults do.” 

She rushed past you, shoulder bumping yours, leaving you standing there. Wounded and more confused than ever- the Romanov specialty. 

As you entered a new log into your journal that night, spilling your heart about HYDRA, Wanda, Natasha, a knock sounded on your door. For once, you just wanted to be left alone. You threw the journal under the covers, running to the bathroom.

You poked your head out of the door, “In the shower, can’t talk!” You hoped it was loud enough for whatever guest to go away. It wasn’t. 

  As the scent of vanilla and citrus soap slid down your skin, rubbing any grime away and relaxing your muscles, Wanda walked into your room. She figured she’d just wait to talk with you once you got out of the shower, plopping herself down on your bed. However, as soon as she sat, something hard and stiff was felt under her, something very uncomfortable. Wanda slightly lifted herself off of the bed, blindly moving her hand around for the stiff object- finding a small journal. It was a dark red, canvas cover. Your initials were etched into the bottom right corner. 

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the sight of Wanda sitting on the edge of your bed, her hands trembling, sent a chill down your spine. Your journal lay face down on the floor, its secrets exposed. Droplets from your wet hair trickled down your back, the cold seeping through your pajamas and onto the wooden floor. The room was thick with silence. 

Wanda’s eyes, wide and glistening, locked onto yours. Her voice, barely above a whisper, broke the tension. “How long?” The weight of her question pressed heavily upon you.

Your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears. The walls seemed to close in, the air growing thin. You opened your mouth, searching for words, but found none.

Wanda’s gaze hardened, a mixture of hurt and betrayal evident. “All this time… ” Her voice cracked, the pain palpable.

You took a tentative step forward, hands outstretched in a plea. “Wanda, I can explain—”

But she recoiled, as if your very presence burned. “Explain? How can you possibly explain this?” She gestured towards the fallen journal, her movements sharp and erratic, “It’s you. You’re the traitor, you’re the mole,” she glared at you accusingly. The red glow in her eyes grew with each second. 

Desperation clawed at you. “I  was told to lie. Ask Fury he put me—”

“Fury? Are you serious?” she interrupted, her tone dripping with disdain. “Was any of it real? Or was I just another pawn?”

You shook your head vehemently, “No, Wanda, you have to believe me. My feelings for all of you are genuine.”

She stood abruptly, red wisps crackling from her fingers, “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” 

   Before you could utter another word, the door swung open with a resounding thud. Natasha stood in the doorway, her face a mask of cold fury. Behind her, Steve and Tony loomed, their expressions grim. Natasha’s voice was icy, each word laced with venom. “Is it true? Have you been feeding information to HYDRA?”

Your knees threatened to buckle under the weight of their collective gaze. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand upright. “It’s not what it seems. I was working undercover, on Fury’s orders. I was a SHIELD agent before an Avenger, you guys know this.”

Tony scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Convenient excuse. Got any proof?”

You reached into your pocket, fingers trembling, and producing your phone. “Call him! Ask him. Fury will tell you everything, promise.”

Steve stepped forward, grabbing your phone out of your hand- crushing it. His eyes, usually filled with warmth, were now cold and distant. “Your promises mean nothing to us anymore, Agent.”

Tony stepped further into the room, all of them cornering you, “Besides, Fury’s off grid with Maria. We just got the call.” He sucked his teeth, “But if  you two worked as closely as you say, you would’ve known before us.” The bite in Tony’s words wasn't missed. 

Fuck. 

As they turned to leave, you dove for your notebook on the ground, picking it up and practically shoving it toward Steve, “This! Read this!” ragged breaths left your mouth, “everything that’s been going on is in it. From the first day.”

Steve glanced at you warily, looking back at Natasha, “Can we trust this?” 

The redhead’s gaze toward you was icy, completely void of emotion. Your eyes pleaded with her. She didn’t care. 

“Absolutely not.” 

[doppel-doodles]

A normal post about Doey the doughman from poppy playtime

Round 4 everyone!:D The grand finale to a series I had no idea was gonna be a thing-

I also wanna mention that these posts probably were the most engagement I've ever gotten on Tumblr EVER, it was kinda overwhelming ngl but I'm nonetheless grateful and super happy about it!:>

But now let's get into the thick of it:

These share the common theme of: I'm not sure how to start this, this time my excuse is the fact that I already talked about each of the boys sharing Doey meaning that covers all the basis for his personality and a lot of his interactions.

So instead let me talk about some things that they scrapped for Doey.

So- first things first, some scrapped content that we know of, the first was that apparently Doey was at one point planned to be an antagonist for chapter 2, at first I couldn't really see it but then I did think about it and it weirdly fits when you compare him and mommy longlegs??

Like their gimmicks are kinda similar, both of them are toys that can bend,stretch and twist their bodies however they wish and even from a design standpoint they kind of go together.

Mommy is long and spindly, pink from head to toe meanwhile Doey is big and round with his main color being blue. And I know pink and blue are not opposites on the color wheel but people often associate them as opposites. Not to mention mommy has cool accent color and doey has warm accent colors.

The point I'm trying to make is: they weirdly go together.

Its giving the main big bads henchmen vibes with how they are sorta matching opposites.

Ngl I love that-

It makes me wonder about what could've been, I wouldn't trade my boy does for anything in the world but simply IMAGINE what a more antagonistic Doey could be like, maybe he was more calculating and hid his crazy better or go full hulk on us, maybe he was simply an obstacle mommy would throw at us in the game station.

Some food for thought.

A second thing that was scrapped from chapter 4 was a side quest for Doey where we go to retrieve a book for everyone to read.

And you know what?

We. Were. ROBBED.

FUCKING ROBBED.

I think a little side quest where we just get to contribute to the safe haven would've gone a long way in making the loss of it all the more gut wrenching.

And it just hammers home the fact that all of them are still CHILDREN.

Just imagine: we retrieve the book and then we get to see a little scene of Doey reading to the toys, maybe we even get to sit with them and listen to the story as well, or heck maybe WE get to read the book to them if we wanted to.

And afterwards we get new voice lines from the toys talking about how they really are starting to like us! Maybe even talk to US! It's a little thing that does a lot to make us feel like a part of this community, no longer an outsider.

And a tiny scene like that would make Doeys outburst hurt so much more.

Because we gave him a taste of something better only for the worst possible thing to happen right after.

Like Matthew could've finally gotten to sit back, enjoy a story and experience his first break in YEARS.

Kevin could've started to be more comfortable around us, seeing how much effort we put into helping them, even when it was small things that "didn't matter". He might even start viewing us as a safe adult to be around!

And Jack could just feel like a kid again! Imagine if he doesn't even know the story since he isn't from the orphanage, and he just gets so excited hearing something new and just-

UGHHHHH MY HEART IT WAS SUCH A FUMBLE!

Wanna hear my thoughts on the boys?

Here ya go-

Matthew

Kevin

Jack

[deathbxnny]

"The sun always comes back in the morning." | Arlecchino x Wife!Fem!Reader

Please refer to my Genshin Masterlist in my Navigation Masterlist under Arlecchino's name for the previous parts of this, as I can't tag them for some reason.

Woo... man, this is the finale of a truly great series that I'm almost sad to see go... but I hope you guys will enjoy this and thank you once again for X Anon for their important and phenomenal contributions to our little community! (Read their ask HERE.)

Anyways... buckle in, because this may hurt. (I cried whilst making this ngl lmao)

Content: Bitter sweet ending?, doomed Yuri, wlw, wife reader, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, sfw

Reader is afab and has she/her pronouns!

((Not proofread))

"Are you... sure about this, Mother?"

Lyney breathed out after a long, deafening pause. The flickering flames of the fireplace illuminated the room and filled the silent gaps between his barely audible words. His two siblings sat at his sides on the couch, bodies stiff and rigid, faces illuminated by the merciful warmth of the fire whilst their hearts ran cold.

But it was inevitable, wasn't it? Everyone knew it would happen eventually. They were just too scared to face the truth, wanting so desperately to disillusion themselves than to to see what was really happening.

And you couldn't help but smile at that knowingly, the corners of your lips shaking. You made them this way. You hid the truth from them for so long. Selfishness was never a part of you. It was their well-being and feelings you always put first.

But it was time for the truth.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Freminet was the one to break first. The tears came flooding in, his body shaking uncontrollably whilst he keeled over into the embrace of his trembling hands. His soft sobbing filled the room, but the other two stayed strong, eyes focused and unmoving.

But the pain... oh, the pain.

It was unbearable, and your heart broke at the sight, but you knew this was right. It was time to finally reveal everything. To show your cards and tricks, allow them to see behind the curtains of your perfectly crafted play. You knew better than to believe that they didn't know at this point, after all. Not after what happened just a week ago.

The tension was thick and suffocating, the rest of the children in the house picking up on it and drowning in it knowingly. The end was near. Doom was coming. And no one could stop you now.

"And none of you are at fault for it."

Lyney took off his hat slowly, and you could see the slightest shake in his hand as he gulped down his agony. You knew he blamed himself, thinking he wasn't good enough for his Father and, therefore, the reason for your downfall. But that wasn't it. "... How could it come this far...?" He asked finally, although he knew the answer already deep down. He just had to hear it from you.

Your head turned to a nearby window, the moon shining beautifully in the night sky. What you'd do to disappear in its light than do this. "Sometimes, things such as these can happen when you ignore the early warning signs of a catastrophe... it was... always destined to fail." Lynette sunk into the cushions further as though to escape from your words and reality itself. But she heard every word and understood. She always did. "This is simply how life is, however. We both always had different views and opinions on everything. We... never saw eye to eye. That's ultimately the reason as to why I have decided to do this, children."

More silence, that was filled with Freminet trying to get himself together whilst Lyney closed his eyes in defeat. He knew the consequences of a divorce from his father. They all did. And that may even have hurt them more than it hurt you. But it was alright. They will get through this. Somehow. Gently patting his brother's back, he sighed softly.

"We understand, Mother. As much as it pains us." Tears burned in your eyes, and even then, did you not break. Your children should see your strength and follow it, as they always did. Ultimately, your sacrifices and love for them weren't entirely for nothing. You had raised them into good, kind children. Something your wife couldn't stand at times due to seeing softness as weakness. But you didn't care anymore and prayed they'd keep that part of you in them forever. Even just out of spite.

You nodded and stood up, your shadow casting largely over their sunken and weakened frames as you made your way to the door. They knew what would come next. And it made Lynette finally speak up, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you... had another chance at life... what would you be?" You turned your head and smiled again, nearly chuckled too. You understood what she was asking, as out of place it may have seemed to be.

Your eyes met the moon again and then mountains in the distance. A childish wish came back to mind, one you buried when you took on your role as the "Mother." When all there was, was you and Clervie dreaming of a life beyond the stale walls of your prison. Neither of you ever escaped them in the end, you realised grimly now.

"... I'd be an adventurer traveling endlessly through all of Teyvat... yes, I think that's what I'd be."

You left the room with those haunting words, your gaze focused on the walls and hallways of your home as you walked to where you needed to go next. You've spent years in this house, putting your own blood, sweat, and tears into all of your endless hard work. Your reward was dead children and an endless graveyard to fill. And for what? Was love really all that held you here? Who were you beyond your role as the mother? Who were you as a singular human? Clervie's shadow was haunting you, watching you from the corner of your eyes in the stead of cruel mother. She'd rest once you did. She promised that.

And it was time for you to do just that at last.

The Knave prided herself in being extremely insightful.

She had eyes and ears everywhere. Nothing ever came as a surprise to her. But you... you were the exception. She never knew what came next or what was going on in your mind ultimately. She could only guess your suffering by the endless tears you've shed and the painful fire that burned in your eyes. Yet it never went further than that.

A fatal mistake, she realised grimly.

Was it too late to fix it now? She didn't know. This was the one thing she couldn't plan for nor predict. For once, you had the power in your hands. You never did before. And it secretly irked her more than she liked to admit. But the near panic and sorrow that surged in her usually cold heart overrid the annoyance and replaced it with something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

Dread.

So much dread.

Is this what doom felt like? Is this what it felt like to lose? She hated it. She hadn't felt it in so long. She couldn't stand it! But it was her fault. Peruere understood that. Yet Arlecchino was still in denial. She refused to believe that this was it. There had to be a way to fix it. There just had to. You always forgave her for everything. You knew how she was when you married her and even before then did you never shy away from her demeanor.

Couldn't you understand that the Harbinger had no choice to be this way?

Arlecchino's confidence crumbled as fast as it came, when she saw you calmly sitting there on your once shared bed, the peaceful acceptance in your eyes soul crushing. She wasn't a fool. She understood. She really did. But it didn't mean that she couldn't try to-

"Sit down."

Your voice steady and calm, as though you weren't about to end everything. She obliged, however, visibly unmoved and unbothered as always, but you knew her too well. Peruere could never hide from you.

Sitting down on the nearby vanity chair, she crossed her legs and waited for you to speak. She had to fight for you now more than ever. She... she had to do something. She was losing you. She- "-Do you remember when we used to sneak out at night to see the moon?" She didn't respond. "I remember it well. Those were the small moments of freedom I starved for... a freedom I always starved for. We all did. And for a moment, we thought we had finally escaped for good, didn't we? For a while, we believed we had done better. We had become better."

The tears in your eyes finally betrayed you, and you didn't know why. Was it the reality that was finally dawning on you? Or the heartbreak you knew would be much greater than you could ever handle? You didn't know, but it didn't make you stop talking. The words flowed out of your mouth, the damn finally breaking after so many damned years.

"We never got out of that cage, Peruere. You have become it instead. We never had a chance from the start, and I... cannot do this anymore. I can't stand the ghost of the past haunting me. I can only take so much. I just wanted to see the moon for all of eternity with you and Clervie and yet-" A crack in your voice, a sob escaping your throat. You were overwhelmed by the emotions that ran through you. There were so many of them. Sorrow, grief, sadness... relief. So much relief.

"-We never got out. We have become what we hate the most. And I refuse to be a parf of this llay any longer. My children deserve to feel the breeze as they spread their wongs and fly out of this hell, even if I have to fall for it first." Then came the rage. It was scorching and hot. "For all the ones that have been injured. For all the ones that died. For all the ones I had to bury with my own two hands. They all deserve better. We all did."

Tears ran down your face, fire burned in your eyes, and rage made your body tremble. Arlecchino could just watch you in disbelief. She had never seen you this way. Not once in her life... what was this feeling? Was it loss? Was she losing?

"... It's over. It will all end now." You stood up and carefully presented the papers to her. Papers she had never thought of ever having to see or sign. Silence filled the room, aside from your labored breathing and the clicking of a clock on the wall.

And then she spoke for the first time. "... You... understand that you will have to leave if you do this?" She saw the muscles on your neck tighten, more tears welling in your eyes. "You were right all along, if it makes you feel better... I was never made to be the "Mother." I'm a weak disgrace of one... but I've accepted that a long time ago. I have raised my children to my best abilities, and I'm proud of it until the very end. My image will haunt you in their eyes and their hearts for the rest of your life. I will never leave."

When she looked up at you, then you saw the woman you married years ago appear again for the first time in years. "I... you..." She was speechless. She was actually speechless and powerless for the first time in her life. You just stared down at her, not backing down.

Your decision has been made. And Peruere realised then what her last action of her love for you had to be then. She had to open the gate to the cage. Even if that meant that the bird would never come back.

"... Very well, my love. As you wish." She said as she took the papers from your shaking hands.

The docks to the Aquabuses were always busy, as people rushed to get on and off the vehicles. You often had passed by them and wondered what it must've felt like to travel far away from here. The envy you felt for the foreign passengers that disappeared over the swell of the horizon was one you had always pushed away... until now, as you wanted on your own bus out for the first time in your life.

Clutching a simple leather suitcase in one hand, you turned to look at your children with a pained smile. "This... is my stop, I believe." You said gently, the morning breeze rustling through your clothes and hair. Lyney took off his hat and nodded at that with a sigh, the acceptance grim in all of their eyes. But they were happy deep down. Relieved that at least you got to get out before things got much worse. Maybe one day they'll find the courage to do the same. Not today. Not tomorrow, either.

But one day.

The Knave hadn't come along to say goodbye, but you didn't mind. It was fitting in a way. No goodbyes were needed. You had given her your inner farewell a long time ago.

Once the older two siblings took their turns to hug you tightly, it was Freminets turn. His lip was trembling, his eyes red from the many tears he had shed. But he had one last mission to fullend. A small form of rebellion. "Take this and drink it once you're on the Aquabus. It will give you strength for your travels, Mother." He said as he pressed a small vial of familiar liquid and a folded paper into your palm. You stared down at it knowingly, and Lyney closed his eyes painfully at the sight of it. You all knew what the liquid did.

But you were willing to play pretend one last time.

"Thank you, my love. I'll... write you letters." They all gave you weak smiles, and you took the opportunity to press a kiss to Freminets forehead, his eyes closing with tears escaping them treacherously. Such a terrible actor, but you weren't any better either. Like Mother, like son. "Stay strong, all of you."

Stepping onto the Aquabus, you settled down as it began to pull away from the station. And only then did the three finally break down fully. You could only sit there and watch for the first time. It took all of your strength not to jump into the water and swim back to comfort them like you always did. But you knew what you had to do. Their small act of rebellion would not go to waste like this.

Once they were almost out of sight, you finally popped the vial open and hesitated as it touched your lips. You watched their small forms in the distance, tears welling in your eyes before you finally drank it. Repeating their names over and over again, you hoped to not forget them this way.

Lyney, Lynette, Freminet.

Lyney, Lynette, Freminet.

Lyney... Lynette... Freminet?

Lyn... ette... Fremi...?

.........

.......

.....

...

..

.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" The Melusine conductor asked you, making you blink in surprise and look around in confusion. "I... yes, I am fine. My apologies... I must've... zoned out." You hum carefully, your eyes spying a foreign folded piece of paper in your hand. Opening it curiously, your brows furrowed in confusion.

"The sun always comes back in the morning. -LLF"

Odd. You didn't know what it meant nor how you got here in the first place. But it felt right, either way. "I feel like I've forgotten something, though." You added on in thought. Your head hurt, and you simply used it as an explanation for your odd memory loss. Perhaps you were just tired. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

"Oh! Is it something you require urgently, ma'am? I can turn the bus back around to the station if needed!" The helpful Melusine chirped, yet you shook your head at the suggestion.

Leaning back in your seat, you watched the sun rise over the horizon. Your mind was scrambled and disoriented, but one thought prevailed against all odds. You were an... adventurer. Yeah, right, that's what you were. And you were on your way to... well, wherever the flow of your heart takes you.

"No... It's alright. I'm sure it wasn't anything important anyway."

[beardedjoel]

smother - part i: deliverance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!

Save me. Please, anyone…

Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.

A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.

A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.

You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.

You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.

You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess. 

You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.

“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.

Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.

You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.

The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.

Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void. 

“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?”

You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”

His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone. 

You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly. 

“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him. 

He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.

“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame. 

You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”

You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him. 

“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening. 

“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”

Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power. 

Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots. 

You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention. 

“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.

You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“

“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response. 

“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life. 

He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”

You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.

“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”

You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”

“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.

Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked. 

“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food. 

“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue. 

“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”

You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.

“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes. 

“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?

“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.

You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.

“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.

“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.

“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”

You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously. 

“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better. 

You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to. 

Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything. 

“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth. 

“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”

You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”

Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”

You shrug. “No…”

“Your family? They with ya at this community?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now. 

“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses. 

“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now. 

“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy. 

And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now. 

Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.

He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment. 

“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet. 

You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees. 

“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.

You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.

“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.

You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further. 

“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.

“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”

One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows. 

“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now. 

He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“T-thank you. B-but-”

“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.

“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him. 

He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.

“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”

He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.

“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.” 

Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?

You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about. 

“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help. 

You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard. 

“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”

You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”

His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.

You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”

Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”

You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.

“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.

“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn. 

Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.

Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.

Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”

He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”

Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.

“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.

“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one. 

“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch. 

“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.

“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”

Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”

Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.

You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.

Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.

His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.

He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.

You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off. 

Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there. 

You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.

This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.

You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it. 

He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”

Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”

You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks. 

“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were. 

You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”

Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all. 

You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.” 

“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him. 

You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself. 

“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”

His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little. 

“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you. 

You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.

“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot  and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.

“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”

You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.

“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.

“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring. 

All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.

“What’re you…”

“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands. 

He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.

“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.

“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response. 

“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.

He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.

“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…” 

You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.

If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.

You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights. 

dividers by @/saradika!

thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back <3

[euniveve]

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤" - zhongli

pairings: zhongli x gn!reader tags: HURT/COMFORT (like major major comfort), glasses wearing!reader, insecure!reader, reader has self-worth issues, fluffy fluff fluff, reader is implied to have depression w.c: 1480 a.n: ngl i wrote this one shot a while ago, it helped me back then, hopefully it'll help some of you guys as well, i think this is beta read (again i wrote this a while back, i forgot) remember that you are loved my dears <3

Another tear hits the cold hardwood floor of your apartment; your glasses have long been housing the pools of your sadness before you finally take them off to bury your face into your knees, choked sobs wrangle out of your throat as your chest burns from the hurt.

What was it again that triggered this? You couldn’t remember… Crying sure does affect you; it drives your mind deeper into its sadness, an inescapable hole of helplessness with darkness surrounding you, not an oil lamp in sight.

A series of knocks fell upon your door– making you jolt in your uncomfortable position, your heart beating out of your chest as you feel the pit in your stomach grow. You don’t want to meet people now, you don’t want to pretend to be fine.

For once, saving face stood second before your needs.

“Qin ai de?” the familiar warm baritone from the other side of the door said, “It’s me, are you alright?”

You open your lips, tears still freely flowing down your cheeks but you stop yourself– deciding to close them again. Maybe anyone is fine, anyone else. But not Zhongli. You cleared your mucus-filled throat, trying to force a clear stable voice, gulping your saliva thickly before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in preparation.

With a shaky breath out you fake a smile, trying your best to sound how you normally do. “Y-yeah! I just wanna be in silence and think; don’t worry about me!”

A few seconds of silence pass by and you hold your breath, waiting for the sound of his feet walking away to grace your ears but you hear none. Instead, what little light the gaps at the bottom of the door provided was blocked before Zhongli spoke again.

“Forgive me, my dear, for I have to do this.”

You couldn’t even take a second to process the words he uttered before the door flew open, revealing the silhouette of your very handsome, very tall former-archon-boyfriend. Almost out of instinct– you cover your face, your trembling hand making out a very poor mask as you try your best to get away from his sight.

“Love, my dear heart,” he cooed, his footsteps dawning closer and closer before it stopped in front of you. The melodious rustle of his fabric as he bends down to meet your face, his amber eyes unmistakable in their sadness as his brows furrow in slight frustration at the sight of your visibly distraught figure. 

Zhongli reaches out; out of instinct, it seems, to comfort you, to hold you at least, his long slender finger wanting to touch your hand to move them yet you flinch when his hand hovers; afraid and unsure.

“My love?”

“Pl-please go away..” you whisper meekly, “I- I don’t want to– I don’t want you to see me like this…”

“,,,”

You quickly and harshly wipe the tears off your face, trying your best to give him a smile while your hand is still covering your puffy eyes. “I’m okay! I think…”

“But you are not,” he said matter-of-factly, his brow furrowed in confusion before his hand finally reached yours, warmth blooming on your skin with his comforting touch. “You are not okay.”

“I will be,” you muttered, “Please? I’m a mess now– I–”

Your hand was moved away, and even with your lids covering your eyes, you can imagine those brilliant eyes; so full of warmth and love you almost want to run away and hide again.

“My love please look at me.”

His voice is but a whisper and there’s care lacing between those strings of sound. Archons do you even deserve this? You are certain that you don’t but it feels so right. 

It feels like you aren’t worthless.

It feels like you matter.

You finally open your eyes, and another waterfall of tears threatens to escape but you can see his gentle smile, the softness of his lips, the curvature of his cheeks; whatever is happening now, it feels like love.

Are you worthy of love?

“You are scared,” you hear him say softly, “you are scared and that is okay, I’m here for you.”

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself whispering.

“What for?”

‘Everything.’ you wanted to say, ‘for being me, for stealing you away from someone better, for being selfish.’

Ah– there it is.

“For being selfish,” you repeat your mind, your eyes shifting to the wooden floor, his gaze tho comforting, feels so real. Like he could see through your walls; like he could tear them down with the slightest of touch. “For being selfish enough to get your love, to be so imperfect yet accepting of it– I’m so sorry.”

You wince at yourself. That sounds more pathetic than you intended. Gods; why does it have to be him? You wouldn’t mind if it's anyone else. Anyone else can call you self-absorbed or pitiable or even entitled. 

But please, archons please, let it not be him. 

“I’m not worthy of it,” you end your sentence with a defeated whisper, “I know I'm not worthy of it; I keep pushing you away, I’m difficult, I’m a horrible person.”

You bit your lip, you can hear him breathing steadily, his hand still grasping yours with that signature comfort, that loving warmth. It feels so good that you want to run away; so good that it feels like knives as the back of your mind keeps shouting at your words. 

Ugly, untrue, you know this, but when those words are repeated thousands – no – millions of times it starts to sound honestly beneath useless praises.

“I’m irreparably broken.”

Silence is between the two of you and it feels deafening. You are ready for this, for him to leave, and how could you not? You have to imagine it time and time again, with every step apart from him, every second without his presence, you imagine it over and over and over again; hoping, praying, that when it eventually happens, it would hurt even less. 

Because you are ready.

“I used to forge weapons as an archon,” Zhongli whispered, his thumb starting to trace the back of your hand. Slowly but surely, you feel his body getting closer to you, that golden touch of his cupping your cheek, those citrine gazes that inspect your very being and you can’t help but lean into his touch.

Archons, you are horrible.

“I forge new weapons for my adepti. Ones made of jade, of black steel, of unbreakable stone, cor lapises, agates, and carnelians.” he took a deep breath, the chilly autumn air filling his lungs before he continued. “But I always prefer to reforge my old weapons.”

“Huh?”

He laughs, that signature rumbling laughter that makes you shiver, that fills you with ease and serenity; it has you longing for a home only he can make, only he can fulfil. “Yes, I prefer my old weapons; one that has my hand moulded on its handle, one that has been broken time and time again.” 

You feel his fingers on your cheek, your cold, tearstained cheek– you want to flinch away but you can’t. Zhongli is your home, you couldn’t hide away any longer.

“So my love, if you are broken then allow me to reforge you.” His voice, archons, his voice resonates deep within your heart, filling its cracks and smoothing its surface. His and completely his, he once noted and each and every time he breathes he reminds you of it. “if you prefer for your pieces to bask in the sun then allow me to carry you, every chuck and dust.”

“I’ll cut you,” you whisper, trying desperately to deny him of the pain you know you would bring. “I'll hurt you; I have jagged edges and–”

“Then do it.”

His arm wraps around you, his hand tugging your head underneath his chin. He places a kiss on the top of your head, feeling the way your body fits with his; longing for the sound of your laughter and accompanying smile.

But Morax knows better; perhaps that person is gone, perhaps they are buried underneath the rubble. And yet he smiled to himself, gripping you tighter, not letting you go. He is pained, it is true. But a god can afford pain. 

Let him afford the pain, as long as you wouldn’t have to feel it.

“I’ll hold you until you feel full, I’ll love you until the last stone crumbles, I’ll be by your side until your soul turns to dust.”

He let go of a breath. It sounds heavy; and perhaps for Morax, it is. His lover it seems has been at war. What sort of warrior god lets their spouse fight a battle all alone?

“I love you,” he whispered, “and that’s nothing your thoughts can change no matter how hard they try.”

[rueclfer]

smau series ideas!!! or something!!! idk help me finally commit to it

1. camp counselor au

ngl kinda self explanatory lmao touya x y/n are camp counselors at the camp they used to attend as kids. very minimal angst tbh i want this to be v sweet and tender <3 childhood best friends to lovers type shit! heavy pining! lovesick dumbasses!!

2. fleabag inspired au

not rlly fleabag but the essence of it probably! y/n is going through the thick of it and someone recommends the local church's phone subscription to daily advice/bible quotes/confessions -> enji todoroki is the head pastor for this church -> guess who runs the phone subscription? assistant pastor touya!!! i do want this one to be angstier + confront religious beliefs, eternal damnation, the push and pull between love and religion and touya's daddy issues !!! but also keep it silly u know???

3. normal people inspired university band au

ok i'm merging these 2 eep. childhood family friends x unrequited love/one sided pining x falling out to reuniting in university where he's in a band and y/n is a hosts for the college radio <3 maybe some emotional constipation and misunderstandings and yearning. i want this to be kinda lighthearted thooo.... heavy on loser touya!

4. postwar rehab patients au

canon adjacent? ish? dare i say my rendition of a fix-it? kinda? y/n attends the same rehab center as touya -> heavily monitored, heavy mental + physical therapy. y/n is one of the many severely injured survivors that came out of the war, touya is the reason why they're there. inherently going to be angsty (for touya ssooorrryyy) bc its canon adjacent but also would like a tender "they saved each other" type thing IDK call it hurt/comfort or something

[agirlwithglam]

👠 The It Girl’s Confidence Guide 👠

Greetings and welcome fellow apprentice, to thee official It Girl’s Guide to Confidence! this guide will be from an actual experienced person. i have been through a phase where i completely hated myself and genuinely thought i wasn't worthy of good things to becoming so confident and completely comfortable on my own. <3 here are the tips that helped me so much 💗 read here for the it girl series!

btw i have a whole guide on self love which i'll add the link of -> HERE.

what is holding you back from being confident? basically ask yourself: what am i lacking that is holding me back from being confident? then work on it. its that easy! something thing that i've done is that i've made a list of what a "perfect" person/ version of me looks like. i've included their personality, intelligence, looks, relationships, mindset and hobbies. so everyday i'm always working towards that and adopting that energy of perfection. but be careful with this! you rly need to have a good self love and self worth to do this otherwise it can bring you down.

affirmations. im ngl this really did wonders for me. every morning i'd either a) repeat affirmations in front of the mirror, or b) listen to affirmations by other people. trust me, it will start to rewire your brain to help you. here is my post on affirmations for self love and confidence. also i highly recommend that you listen to subliminals!

leave. toxic. relationships. the bad people for you will bring you down. good people will hype you up. choose your people.

create a confidence playlist. fill it will songs that make you feel elite and like that girl. if you don't want to create one yourself, you can always search up confidence playlists on Spotify- they have loads of rly good ones.

become obsessed with yourself. cus girlie.. whats there NOT to be obsessed with??

walk, talk, sit, stand with confidence. whatever you do, do it with confidence. when you're walking walk with your chin up and back straight. when your sitting, watch your posture. when your standing, dont slouch- OPEN BODY LANGUAGE. and when you're talking, don't seem unsure or scared, but don't be too cocky/ arrogant. remember: no one is better than you, and you are not better than anyone.

watch helpful videos. for me, the holy grail, the one i'd always come back to and recommend over and over again: thewizardliz and Tam Kaur. let me say that again: THEWIZARDLIZ and TAM KAUR. these are the queens who really taught me to be confident.

alter egoossss. create a new version of you or adopt the energy of another confident icon! i've made a whole post on how to make an alter ego which you can check out.

[voidcat]

— [ 01:36 ] (but if you’re too drunk to drive, and the music is right…)

characters: narumi gen, you, first division (loosely mentioned)

a/n: mentions of drinking and alcohol. can be read as part of the hedgehog's dilemma series bc ngl i kinda wrote it with that in mind. i hate you mari please let my soul be free and take your rabid little brother away from me. sorry for being such good in-law material ig — 1.5k

inspired by mari's bullying comment: "but have u considered the way he looks at u when he's slightly tipsy?"

The dim lights of the bar fall gently on the eyes- something you're more than grateful for.

It's not often the teams go out together after work; let alone even just one section within a division but you'd like to hope the changes within the first division has become somewhat of a routine by now.

The place is warm enough to be of comfort but cold enough to ensure nobody falls victim to alcohol and the sleep it lulls you into. As hours have passed since your arrival, the lively chatter has spread within the space, several booths occupied, everyone divided into similar groups of those they get along well more, or those they wish to converse with. It is calmer now, with the weight of work place regulations and titles gone, just the comfort of a bunch of people, spending their night, taking some stress out in the form of sweet drinks and sour tastes, vibrant colors and heavenly smelling fries, games played with one too many rules broken and words slurred, bodies slowly losing their functions.

You spot Shinonome easily with your eyes, away by the corner, bent by the pool table and holding the cue stick like she came up with the game herself.

A pity, you think to yourself. She was so excited for tonight, especially picked the night and asked to get ready with you, even asking your opinion on her outfit and what accessories she could tweak and add or not. Instead, now hogged with the rest of them, she's teaching them a lesson they'll never forget, ignoring Tachibana's swaying walks and poor attempts to hold his ground.

Still, you think, despite the errors and trials of the evening, you're content by yourself so far. Your seating is near the bar, lest you wish for another cocktail, the volume of the music just right, a soothing and gentle melody carrying you away, reminding you of old days.

A sudden movement by your side startles you just as you bring the glass to your lips. And you notice much to your dismay that what you've assumed to be a pile of several coats and bags is certainly too human-shaped to be that.

From the slouched-over form, rises Narumi Gen, wobbling and swaying in his spot.

Rolling your eyes and breathing through your nose, you still take your sip, bigger than you were planning, and think to yourself that your proximity to the bartender will surely prove itself to be useful.

"H-hey!" Narumi says with a coarse voice, a hiccup mixed in the small word somewhere, sounds like a sore throat, or just dry.

"Fancy seein' you 'ere." He tries again, words still a struggle for him to get out and you try to recall how many drinks he had to end up such a babbling mess already.

"Congrats on your discovery of shapeshift, captain." you say and turn ahead again, a finger grazing over the rim of your glass.

He doesn't seem to pick up on your words and gives you a confused gaze, head tilted to the side so much, he almost falls, a sudden arm shooting up to the table to balance himself, not noticing your vacant hand moving to his direction in case he fell as well.

You take your arm back before he can notice.

In thought, you grab your glass and down the rest of its content in one go, looking at the bartender to notice and making a gesture his way.

The taste of zesty orange still rich on your tongue, you lick your lips, thinking. For some reason, you always overthink when it comes to him.

You doubt the count is much since he doesn't look all too bad. And you are aware, even when these after-work hangouts were barely a thing, he still rarely went out- and his joining rate to them a zero already. From what you know of him, of his life before, it's unlikely he had experience with alcohol to begin with. When you put two and two together, it doesn't really come as a surprise to see him like this.

One part of you is still unsure if he's coming to these as out of some self crafted necessity- that he should be there as the captain if he's invited, or because he genuinely enjoys the company.

The lack of a portable game console or a phone implies the former, and the thought brings a smile to your lips.

Some rustling and movement from the peripheral of your eye and you can somewhat make out Narumi changing his posture, but heed him no mind.

In the midst of your running thoughts, someone comes to take your empty glass away and bring your order.

Two glasses of sparkly, bright orange, a dark and thin straw inside, and you sigh, Narumi's hands working faster than your own, pulling one before himself.

Happily taking a drag of the drink, only to grimace at the sudden taste of alcohol, he coughs a little and you lightly pat him on the back, "there, there" you offer in half concern, half out of habit.

Yellow lights dancing among the corners of the place, it gives the impression of a space hidden and old- nostalgic, in a way. But then again so does the decor, a get-away of sorts.

Typical stools and cushions one could run into pubs back in the day, the never ending sounds of a faint coffee machine working there, clanks of knives from the kitchen here– a haven that is lived and loved. A chance for normalcy, even just for few hours.

Here, you can pretend everything is the same. In the comfort of old posters and within the reflections dirty, rusty bathroom mirrors; you can pretend you are still just a regular person. No life altering events, no losses.

No grief and no prove of lost love to begin with. Here, now, you can pretend you're still young and have someone waiting for you to return home before the sky darkens. Right now, you can let your eyes roam the sticky floors for a cat that looks well too fed to be a stray, fur soft and glinting, a hint of michief in its eyes.

"So~ come here often?" the slurred voice speaks from your side again, earning a 'pfff' from you at the cheap pick-up line.

When you turn to face him, you don't expect to see Narumi half lying on the table. Head resting snug against his palm, a stupid smile on his face– boyish, is best you can muster to decribe.

Rosy cheeks and half dropped lids, and the smile of a young boy still innocent, lost and ready to take on the world if he must looking at you with glee– like you're the most interesting thing he has seen tonight, or in his entire life- the pub the entire world, and you at its center.

This new change to him catches you off-guard. You were ready for anything. Be it a drunken mess, an overly clingy tipsy mess, a little all over the place yet a ted steady despite sleep pouring out of his eyes like the last time.

Nothing, you think, could've possibly prepared you for pink eyes glowing under the dim lights with specs of gold trapped inside the orbs– a smile so genuine, so vulnerable dancing on his lips and his free hand playing with the hem of your sleeve. Dusty pink cheeks that match his eyes and the expression of a fool you fear you might never see in your life again, Narumi Gen stares into your eyes as if there's nothing else in this room right now.

You can feel your mouth open and close with nothing to come out- muscle memory carrying you until so far.

This is bad, your brain signals you, running at a speed too fast for you to catch on- a loss of words, no idea what to do and dreading the very possibility of just sitting frozen there in silence like a deer in headlights.

Seeing movement on your part however, Narumi tries leaning in closer, moving with his folded arm and head still rested against his palm, almost knocking his- now empty, glass off in the process.

The slight tilt of the glass and its clink against the table brings you back to your senses. Hands shooting up towards his direction- to the glass and nowhere else obviously, or so you try and reason, you stall for a second with your hands still in the air.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you give him a gentle squeeze, gaze softening at his reaction– heat rushing to his face, the smile morphing into a small expression of surprise,

Your voice comes out in a soft whisper he is certain he never heard of before: "Come now big guy, let's get you home." you say it like this has always been an usual occurance– and for a blink of a second, he sees the outlines of a stranger he just met.

[arsonisticartichokes]

Hello! I saw your krtdbkdk post, promply choked at how much it fit all my headcanons and and rushed in your asks. Sorry if its is a bit sudden. Could you, please, share any good fics featuring them if you know any? In any combination, though krtdbkdk and tdbkdk are my guilty favourites. 'Cause as a fellow poly enjoyer I am desperate to find some more good and preferably long ones.

Why hello anon! Happy to see another poly enjoyer!! I was put on this earth to draw ot3s so it's good to see some other pals lol /pos. I'm more than happy to give fic recommendations, though, fair warning, my personal fav is KiriBakuDeku, so they're probably gonna fall in that direction (I also have not read fanfiction in a bit since I'm sadly a busy lad TwT), but I'll try and give a variety ^w^

ObscureBrainwave's "TodoBakuDeku" series: They're rather short oneshots, but they're pretty banger in my opinion! Full of sweet hurt comfort for Izuku from his bfs and earsermic dads hehe <3

"ICEHOLE" by surveycorpsjean: A BKDK fic inspired by the winter Au/7th popularity pole. Fair warning, this fic contains ABO, but it's used almost in place of quirklessness in this AU so its pretty enjoyable. Very long and the way they wrote Katsuki and Izuku's relationship made me sit and read it all in one siting lmao (: /pos

"Kiss Ya Stupid Kiss Ya Good" by whiskeyandspite: Pure kiribakudeku fluff where Katsuki tries to teach his idiots how to cook over call/text. Literally precious. (Belongs to a larger series but it's mostly smut and I haven't read it personally lol /lh)

"not a dream (but it feels like one)" by woodsbane: More KiriBakuDeku fluff, this time featuring a delicious amount of pining Kirishima. Ends with them all getting together and is so cute it gave me cavities hehehe <33

"Certain Certainties" by OkeyDokeyTodoroki (swimtime): More fluff, this time TdBkDk. Katsuki comes home from a bad day and his silly boyfriends make it better. Short but sweet, will make you smile :]]

"depollute me, pretty baby" by LokiChoki: KrBk! I'll be so fr, I do not fully remember the plot, I do remember it being full of hurt comfort though and it making me cry, plus it's saved in my "fics to not forget" folder sooo- maybe give it a read! :D

"Eat this (eat me)" by bakadont: Beloved KiriTodoBakuDeku fluff where they make gingerbread cookies together!! (Also part of a longer series that's mainly smut if that's your cup of tea)

"Nitro" by 3daynovel: rather long KrBk chefs au! With head chef!Katsuki and pastry chef!Kirishima. Has some AMAZXING Bakusquad dynamic, and brilliant platonic TdBk. Loved this fic so much that I've reread it a bunch lol, the relationship build up is just so- ARARARA /pos. Fair warning, it does have background IzuOcha if that's not your thing(/lh), but's it's only in a few scenes, and it has amazing platonic BkDk. Also has sequels but my memory is small and I cannot remember if i have readd them or not ngl lol /lh

"Izuku Come Down" by Arson_by_The_Hour: Wow, what's this, shameless self promo? Haha, yeah, I wrote a BakuDeku fic (only thing I've fully written for MHA so far somehow /lh)! It's very long and all about Izuku's worn mental health in his second year of UA. Not super ship heavy, but if you like angst and BKDK hurt comfort, you'll very much enjoy!

[rotting-ink]

I’m kinda curious but what is your favorite horror movie/horror franchise?

So, it's a bit hard because I have so many that are my favourite for different reasons.

The autopsy of Jane Doe fucking... DID something to my brain when I watched it at 15. Like on god. It was scary on teh first watch and then now its a comfort movie. It's so fucking cool. Like holy shit.

Rosemary's Baby. I hate the director and I HATE the fact that for too long, I attributed one of the most fundamental ways I write dream scenes to him. I finally read the book that I adore and realised, he basically added nothing. The scene is PERFECT in the book. But also I love that fucking story. It's the best. I love it so much. It's my favourite type of horror on god.

Rob Zombie's Halloween. Im SO sorry, lmao. It was my first ever slasher movie and I will always have a soft spot for it even though its not as good as the original! I will fully admit that!!

Ari Aster's line of familial trauma work, ngl. Beau is Afraid is on the lwer end, I love it because dude my anxiety is HORRIBle during that movie. Midsommar and Hereditary are top tier to me.

The NBC Hannibal Series. It made me realise that tv shows could be works of art and super gay.

Then these aren't movies but they do SO much. Basically, my favourite horror game is Resident Evil 7 and Silent Hill 2. Playing them is downright therapeutic for me now, I love them so much. Then when I was a kid me and my friends played all the ole school horror rpg games. Mad Father (my favourite), Ib, Misao, The Hanged Man, the Witch's House! I was like... 12? 13? Did something to my brain.

Then I also like my horror books. Penpal, It and Misery (i dont like stephen king that much but those two are what fucked me up. IT gave me a nightmare so bad I had to sleep with the bathroom door shut but I'll never read it again due to that one scene in the sewers at the end, jesus christ Stephen. Misery I ill keep rereading <3 ) then Uzumaki and Smashed and Shiver!! I love Junji Ito's work. Then yknow, The first two Hannibal books. God I'm yapping. ANYWAY!

[maruyaaya]

OHMYGOSH A SIMPLE LIFE FIC FROM U WUD ACTUALLY MAKE ME DIE NGL.

ur so right. they realy dont know how to be enemies, i fear they're obsessed.

they give me ethubs in a different shade ngl. they're always coming back to one another, equals. they've hurt each other, irreparably even. they know they shoudln't trust each other, yet they'll always come back to one another because thats what they know. they're the only people that they can truly show every ugly bitter part of themsleves and not worry they'll leave.

like. they want to move on, but they can't. they'd kill and die for each other but they hate it.

they're the same amounts of bloodthirsty, almost the same person. if not for the fact, grian will put himself first, and joel will put anyone but himself first.

sighhh. i love them and i hate them so much and they're just dropping lines left and right . like we're getting whole loaves of bread here forget crumbs. they just never leave each others orbit.

sigh some people headcanon joel is a blackhole in the celestial symbolisms and i think thats so perfect what with grian being the sun. they're the same, and yet wholly opposite.

they’re obsessed with each other genuinely they can’t stay away from each other :/ i’m still waiting for a confrontation to the hermitcraft blackmail bc i just know they’re gonna be mad at each other for like 5 minutes and then go back to their toxic yaoi

I REALLY DO SEE THE ETHUBS COMPARISON!! i’m crazy multishipper so i ship gribeans smalletho ethubs gritho shortgrass whatever it is, i probably ship it and IVE BEEN SEEING GRIBEANS/ETHUBS A LOT RECENTLY AND I TOTALLY GET IT??? they’re both pairings that know each other better than anyone else—they’re sickeningly codependent. they rely on each other in an unhealthy way, but they don’t know how not to rely on each. it’s just so much codependency. there’s nobody in the world who will understand them better than the other will so they keep going back to each other

and that’s really the gribeans thesis, isn’t it? grian and joel get each other. they understand each other. they don’t have to pretend to be anything else around each other bc they know that they’re the same. they can actually be themselves without being afraid of being judged and i see that for ethubs too. it’s both comforting and horrifying to recognize that someone understands you down to your very soul.

like gosh just thinking about simple life. “we could just go under and sit there and win” “nah we’d get bored and just kill each other” because that bloodthirst is part of both of them. they both love winning. they like a fight. they like to scratch and bite and kill. and they can be violent with each other because they know that the other will understand. this little convo almost feels like a callback to wild life for me because in wild life, they were the last two left—the only people left after they’d killed everyone around them—and they killed each other with no hesitation. because love is violence for them and they can only perform that violent love around each other. when grian and joel kill each other, it’s essentially the same thing as a kiss.

THEYRE DROPPING LINES LEFT AND RIGHT see i will never understand why gribeans isn’t a more popular ship in the fandom because there is so much content??? like grian and joel are always interacting and being gay as hell why don’t more of you ship this?? like every life series, i don’t have to worry about gribeans interacting because i know that at some point, they’re going to end up on a team together. that’s just what they do. they’re drawn to each other. they can’t escape it. they weren’t soulbound in double life, but that’s only because they literally share the same soul—they didn’t have two souls to connect because they’re sharing the same one.

IM ACTUALLY A HUGE FAN OF BLACKHOLE JOEL i think its my fav celestial symbol for joel (i like comet as well but i prefer blackhole because i think it really shows his thirst for blood and destruction) AND I DIDNT EVEN CONSIDER THE GRIAN SUN / JOEL BLACKHOLE COMPARISON. oh my god i can’t believe this didn’t come to me. this is sickening. they’re he same person, but somehow still different. they share the same soul, the same blood, the same heart, but they’re going to consume each other one day until there’s nothing left. every time they touch, the universe is screaming that they shouldn’t be allowed to do so. there are only two endings to this story: they destroy themselves or they destroy everything around them.

[blorbingqls]

peaceful property final thoughts: what is a home?

i remember the first time peaceful property was released as a mock trailer in gmmtv part 1 for 2024, and how excited i was for the series to air. i thought it to be a perfect ghostbusting plot for a show - and taynew have acted in many other non-BL shows that i was not too worried for it to be a BL or not BL. and internally, after seeing that trailer, i had an idea on how the show was gonna be on what it means to have a home, have a family and understand its better meaning.

now that the show has ended, it has come true in its best form. all the spirit stories was so rooted in the little things that most people would want, and each story ngl made me cry. it gave emphasis on family, on building homes, building warmth and building a sense of familiarity with love and care. and how even with care, the financial difficulties of most people get highlighted. it was endearing to me, because it gave me every flavour of drama, angst, hate, anger, horror, fear and love i thought i didnt need but i did. so badly.

i can definitely say the show was a lot on breaking, healing and building new stuff over the old, with the theme remaining constant over all of the episodes. personally, it provided a new meaning to home. we list a lot of thing while we talk about what home means to someone, in poetry, prose, media and daily life. and i believe you cant find one absolute meaning of home. the show said the same thing here as well. however, it add more depth to the things already said. how home lies within the people, not the buildings we create. its the memories that emphasise a home.

and i think here, the best example to explain home was through uncle somkid. the denial of care and affection he felt through years doesnt equate to the comfort he got at last, knowing his father did love him all those years, left him memories and things behind. and for us as the audience, probably, the arc that somkid got may not be correct because one may think the emotional unavailability of gramps and the whole family doesnt give the correct closure that somkid probably needed. but we find out somkid saying that he finally got the closure he needed. and that is something only he could justify, not us.

i learnt a deeper meaning of how home is everything - the chaos, disagreements, fights, denial of love, hate, laughter, envy, jealousy, pride, ego, disappointment, love, care, affection, warmth, being safe and content of being together with people. and feeling that all with people has become so valid. because you go through all those emotions in the course of life with people/buildings/memories you used to call/call/will call home. these feelings dont remain constant but they show up.

the way i interpreted "home" is still vague and may be incorrect, but i have felt this as i keep defining more homes over the course of my life. i have felt these emotions somewhere or the other while being in homes and its now something which makes me feel warm and content. and this show, made me feel it all.

will like to end my string of thoughts with this thought in mind.

[swampstew]

UNI REVERSE I LOVE U

Fic authors self rec! When you receive this, reply with up to five favorite fics you've written (include links, and if you want- a few thoughts about each one), then pass on to at least five other writers if you're up for it. Spread the self-love ✨

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMAndie! I can't believe you've done this. Well, I did one version of this where I talked about my pretty much all my fics - however, this will go a little more detailed with other things I've done :)

Captain Kid's Fiery Passion - !Yandere Kid. I really enjoyed exploring a darker, crueler Kid that would take reader with no hesitation. I know I only scratched the surface of 'dark fic' with this one, but part of me is entirely too hung up on Kid being an actual cinnamon roll to his beloved that I can't really imagine him being mean mean. That doesn't mean the inspiration isn't there. I have plenty of questionable scenarios I'd like to write out, and my only fear is accidentally triggering myself XD

Spoiling Killer - this is my guilty pleasure. Subjecting my comfort characters to simple pleasures. I can't help writing rottingly fluffy stuff. It's my nature. And I'll do it again too. I won't stop until every crew member is given the pampering they deserve.

Meet the Kid Pirates series - Heat the HR Director and emotional support human! - We know SO LITTLE about this crew and their roles so I decided to make up roles and titles. IF we ever get canonized information, I will update these. However, this was meant to just be fun head canonning :) I was going to do every crew member but after...THAT...chapter, I was too depressed to continue. Still kinda am. BUT FRET NOT - I DO INTEND TO FINISH THIS! and also do the Straw Hats section. In time in time.

Ok, I know I said I was gonna limit this to the drabbles, BUT I JUST REMEMBERED, I also have a WIP book that's part of the What's the Magic Word? universe. Rowena's Future Vision! This is gonna be composed of just drabbles, thoughts, and ramblings of things I wanna see for my ship. Nothing is canonized until its written in the official book(s). This is my sacred space for adding more to Rowena's lore, her relationships with Kid and the world around them. It can kiiiinda be spoilery if you're not caught up to the main fic. Inspired by @abysscronica 's standalone fic "Emperors (dad!Kid x mom!Reader)" which is SOFCKING GOOD but also gave me the courage to write beyond my main fic and explore other themes and tropes that would not otherwise fit in WTMW? NGL I'm inspired to do a Stampede book too cause my mind literally cannot shutthefuckup about Kid and Rowena and making Kid stressed about showing off that he's a better Captain than Luffy, but I have too much on my plate already. I hope that's not stepping on your toes Abyss!!!!!

Ending on a collaborative note, it was a DELIGHT AND HONOR to host this collection of stories for Halloween 2023 with some of my dear moots. SUPER SECRET HALLOWEEN PROJECT was so much fun from conception to execution. I had so much fun envisioning the theme, and hearing from my friends how much they enjoyed being able to do something low-pressure and just for funsies. Plus being able to include fandom by voting on the best costume was really cool - and I'll take any excuse to commission @yamiyamiart ;) Shoutout to my crew: @quinloki @zoros-sheath @sanjis-all-blue @writing-yarn-goblin @icy-spicy @mewiyev @bulle-d-bulliver @leakyweep