#[this is something of a remake of a post i made a while back when i took my first shot at overworld sprites] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seriiousgiirl · 9 months ago

Text

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝒜 𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. James is just needy and frustrated.

❛ Part 1 ⋅ Part 3 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Ok, I didn't expect to get so much positive feedback on this story, let alone people reading it. Thanks for the reposts, and the likes, it's really heartwarming. I hope this new chapter lives up to your expectations!

➜ ┊: chapter 2/?.

Yeah, I’m fine,

Just, you know, work and everything.

James' words echoed in your mind far longer than you'd expected, long after you left the school and returned home. It was such a simple explanation, too simple, almost rehearsed. You replayed the conversation over and over, dissecting every syllable. Was that really the whole truth? Or were you just looking too much into it? You usually worried about your students, not their parents, but there was something about Mr. Sunderland that was different.

The way his voice had that edge to it, tired yet restrained, lingered with you.

You tried to brush it off as you kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat, settling into your familiar routine, but it wasn’t easy. Mr. Sunderland had always caught your eye—not in the usual way parents did when they showed up to school events, eager to check off a duty. There was something about him, a fragility hidden beneath his exterior that you couldn't quite ignore. You couldn't stop yourself from wondering, Is he okay?

He wasn’t just Laura’s dad to you; he was an enigma of sorts, a man who seemed out of place among the chatter of parents and the laughter of children. The first time you really noticed it was years ago, at a school event. You could still remember it clearly, as if it had just happened. The room was filled with the vibrant energy of kids running around, voices overlapping, and parents chatting with one another, but James stood on the outskirts, a shadow of a man amidst the lightness. His posture had been tense, like he was holding himself together by sheer will, his eyes distant and guarded, scanning the room as if he didn’t belong.

You had watched him, then—just a little too long—and something about the way he looked made you wonder if he was more lost than he let on. There was a weight in his eyes, a haunted look that never quite went away, no matter how much he smiled for Laura or spoke politely to the other parents. It had unsettled you, this quiet suffering that no one else seemed to notice, or even care to notice.

As you moved about your apartment, grabbing a glass of water and flipping through papers, your mind kept circling back to that same thought. Normally, you were good at compartmentalising—work was work, home was home. But James blurred those lines for you, even when you didn't want him to. There was something about him, something that tugged at your heart in a way that made it hard to let go once you started worrying.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You had no reason to be this concerned.

After all, you barely knew him beyond your interactions about Laura. And yet, here you were, standing in your kitchen, your mind consumed with thoughts of a man you’d only spoken to a handful of times. It was absurd, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you had been noticing him for a while. Maybe it was his quietness, or the way he seemed to drift away in crowded rooms, but something about him had planted itself in your mind and refused to leave.

You were a teacher, not a therapist, and you had no business prying into his life. But that didn’t stop you from caring. You knew that if you hadn’t spoken to him at that first event, if you hadn’t seen that lost, almost broken look in his eyes, you might have been able to brush it off. But you had seen it, and now it was impossible to unsee.

Maybe that was why his tiredness today had stuck with you. The dark circles under his eyes, the way he seemed to force a smile—it all felt too familiar, too much like someone who was holding themselves together by a thread. You sighed, staring into the dim light of your living room, feeling the weight of something you couldn't name.

Maybe it was because you saw a little of yourself in him, in that quiet sadness that never quite left his face.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t going away. And as much as you tried to tell yourself it was just concern for a parent of your student, deep down, you knew it ran deeper than that.

As you ate dinner, you recalled the school event vividly, the day you first gathered the courage to talk to him. The air was filled with laughter and chatter, and you were moving through it all with practised ease, making sure everyone felt comfortable and included. That’s when you saw him.

He had been standing there, watching Laura play with the other children. There was a sadness about him, something fragile and haunting in the way he observed everything without really engaging. You had felt a strange pull toward him, an instinct to reach out, to offer something, even if it was just a gesture of kindness.

You had hesitated at first, unsure if you should approach him. But something in his isolation spurred you forward. Gathering your courage, you had picked up two plates of the chocolate cake from the refreshments table, a favourite among the kids, and made your way toward him. As you walked up, he didn’t even notice your presence at first, so absorbed in his thoughts that he seemed to be a thousand miles away.

When you finally held up the plate under his nose, he jolted, startled by your sudden appearance. His wide eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, he looked at you as though you were a ghost, someone he hadn’t expected to see or speak to. It had almost made you retreat, thinking you had made a mistake, but you had offered him a warm smile instead, hoping to ease the tension.

“The cake is really good,” you had said softly, holding it out to him. “You should try it.”

He had blinked, then smiled politely, a small, hesitant curve of his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Thank you.” He accepted the plate from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest second before he pulled away, creating an awkward silence between you two.

You both stood there, watching Laura run around with the other children, her laughter floating in the air. You had wondered what to say next, unsure if you should even be speaking to him at all. But then his voice broke the silence, soft and gentle, yet with a strained quality that made it sound as if every word was carefully measured.

“You… you are young for a teacher,” he had said, his voice as uncertain as his expression. There was a pause, a flicker of discomfort in his gaze before he looked away, as if unsure whether the comment had crossed a line.

You chuckled softly, relieved that the silence had finally broken. “Yeah, I guess I found my calling pretty quickly,” you replied, taking a small bite of your own slice of cake. You had gotten used to that comment—it was something parents and even some older teachers had mentioned when you first started at the school. But somehow, coming from James, it felt different. There was something in the way he had said it, almost like he was impressed, or maybe curious, but cautious, too.

He nodded slightly, staring down at the cake in his hands before taking a hesitant bite. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t sure how to react, but then his face softened, and he looked at you again. “This… this is really good,” he said, almost as if the taste had surprised him.

You smiled, glad that the small gesture had helped him relax a bit. “It’s the kids’ favourite,” you told him, motioning to the crowd of children still running around, their laughter filling the air. “I bake and we serve it at every event. If it’s not on the menu, the parents complain.”

James chuckled, a low sound that barely made it past his lips, but you noticed how it brightened his face, even if only for a second. It was a small victory, seeing that shift in his expression. “I can see why,” he muttered, taking another bite as if savouring the moment.

You watched Laura playing with the other children and decided to continue the conversation, not wanting the moment to fade into awkward silence again. “Laura’s doing really well in class, by the way. She’s a joy to have. Always so curious, always ready with questions.”

James's expression softened at the mention of Laura. His eyes followed her, his gaze warm despite the distance he seemed to keep from the joyful atmosphere around him. “She loves school,” he said, his voice almost reverent, as if Laura was his anchor in a storm he couldn’t quite escape from. “It’s… amazing, really. The way she’s grown since I’ve—well, since she’s been here.”

You nodded, remembering how Laura had come into the class that first year—bright, confident, and eager to learn. “She’s a natural learner, always asking for more books, more activities. Sometimes I think she’d rather stay in class all day if she could,” you said with a laugh.

James smiled, but it didn’t fully reach his eyes. You noticed the faint lines of weariness etched into his features, and it stirred a quiet concern in you, one you couldn’t quite explain. Every time he spoke of Laura, it was like he was holding onto her with both hands, like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“She talks about you a lot,” James said after a moment, his voice quiet again. “Says you make learning fun.”

That comment had warmed you more than you expected. “She’s sweet,” you replied, smiling at the thought of Laura mentioning you at home. “I just try to make sure the kids feel like they can explore the world in their own way. Laura seems to have a natural curiosity about everything.”

James nodded, but he seemed distant again, as if his thoughts were drifting somewhere far away. You could see it in the way his shoulders slumped slightly, the way his eyes seemed to darken as the conversation went on. You hadn’t meant to pry, but his sadness was palpable. And in that moment, you had found yourself wanting to say more, to offer some kind of reassurance. But before you could, James spoke again.

“I’m glad she’s in good hands,” he said softly, his gaze still fixed on Laura as she ran across the playground.

You remembered the weight of your words that day, how you hesitated before finally gathering the courage to ask him something that had been bothering you for a while. The conversation had been light up until that point, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story, something beneath the surface of James’s distant demeanour and Laura’s bubbly personality.

You didn’t want to pry—especially not during a casual school event—but the question had been lingering in your mind since the start of the year. Laura’s information sheet had been so bare, so lacking in detail, compared to what most parents submitted. No emergency contacts beyond James. No mention of other family. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your place to ask, but as her teacher, you felt like you should at least know a little more.

So, as you stood next to him, the quiet stretching between you after your exchange about Laura’s love for school, you finally spoke up, your voice hesitant. “I, um… I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…” You paused, swallowing the nervousness that had crept into your throat. “On Laura’s information sheet, you didn’t fill in much. I didn’t want to pry or anything, but I was just wondering—well, if there’s anything we should know? Just to be prepared, you know, in case of an emergency.”

James’s face shifted at your words, and for a second, you thought you might have overstepped. His jaw tightened, and he looked down at the ground, his expression hard to read. You immediately regretted asking, feeling heat rush to your cheeks as the silence between you deepened.

“I didn’t mean to—” you began quickly, your words tumbling out as you tried to backtrack. “I just wanted to make sure we had everything we need for Laura. I’m sorry if that was too forward, I just—”

James shook his head, and to your surprise, he let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a faint smile. “No, it’s okay,” he said, his voice a little lighter now, though there was still something guarded in his tone. He glanced at Laura again, watching her as she played, before continuing. “It’s just that… I adopted Laura a few months ago. So I don’t have a lot of information about her past.”

The words hit you like a gentle but unexpected wave, washing over your initial embarrassment and replacing it with a deep sense of sympathy. “Oh,” you whispered, your cheeks flushing deeper as you realised the weight of his admission. “I—I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

James shook his head again, cutting off your apology with a reassuring smile. “Really, it’s fine,” he said, a softness in his eyes that made you relax a little. “I know it’s probably a little strange, but… I didn’t want to put too much on those forms. We’re still figuring things out—so, I would appreciate your secrecy on this matter.”

“Of course,” you nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and understanding settle in your chest. “That makes sense,” you replied, your voice softer now. There was a brief pause, an almost peaceful silence between you, and for the first time that day, you didn’t feel awkward standing beside him. You felt something quiet but real.

He glanced at you then, a flicker of something in his eyes—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper, something unsaid. For a moment, you thought he might open up further, let you in just a little more. But instead, he nodded, offering you a tight smile that didn’t quite mask the exhaustion behind his eyes.

“Thanks for the cake,” he murmured, the word heavy with meaning, but it felt like a conversation he wasn’t ready to continue. “You can now add me to the list of your fans,” he tried to joke. And that was how it ended that day. A polite smile, a brief exchange, and a shared piece of chocolate cake.

But it had been the start of something—an awareness, perhaps—that had lodged itself in your mind since.

‧───────────────

It was the end of the school day, and you stood at the doorway of the classroom, waving goodbye to your students as they rushed out, eager to meet their parents. The air was filled with the excited chatter of children, their laughter carrying through the schoolyard as they bounded toward the gates, already discussing what they would do once they got home—playing, watching cartoons, or just relaxing after a long day.

You smiled, watching them, a familiar warmth settling in your chest. These moments, seeing the kids so happy and carefree, were some of your favourites. But as the crowd of parents thinned and the rush of students began to dwindle, your eyes fell on one child still waiting, standing a little apart from the rest.

Laura.

She was fidgeting with the sleeve of her pink shirt, her eyes darting around as she glanced at the gate, waiting for someone who hadn’t yet arrived. You felt a small pang in your chest, noticing how her usually bright demeanour was tinged with a quiet sort of patience.

She wasn’t upset, not yet, but you could tell she was starting to wonder where he was.

You walked over to her, your steps soft against the pavement. Kneeling down next to her, you offered her a gentle smile, hoping to ease the unease you sensed in her small frame. “Hey, Laura,” you said quietly, “Don’t worry, your dad will be here soon. I’ll wait with you until he comes, okay? So you don’t have to worry.”

Laura looked up at you, her wide eyes filled with an innocence that tugged at your heartstrings. She nodded, though her fingers still played nervously with her sleeve. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice small but trusting.

You sat down on the bench next to her, offering her a comforting presence. The schoolyard was almost empty now, save for a few stragglers who were still being picked up. You glanced toward the gate, hoping to see James approaching, but there was no sign of him yet.

The two of you sat in a peaceful silence for a moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward the little girl beside you. You had always cared for your students, of course, but with Laura… it felt different. There was something about her that drew you in, something about her quiet resilience and the way she tried so hard to be brave.

You glanced at her again, noticing how she was now staring at the ground, still fiddling with her sleeve. “You know,” you said gently, trying to distract her, “you were amazing in class today. I think you’re going to be a star at our next reading session.”

Laura looked up at you, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Really?”

“Really,” you nodded, your tone full of warmth. “You’ve come so far, Laura. You should be proud of yourself.”

Her smile widened just a little, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. At least for now, she seemed more at ease, even if only for a moment. Still, your gaze flickered back to the gate, and you silently hoped James would arrive soon. You knew how much Laura looked up to him, how much she counted on him, and you didn’t want her to start worrying that he wouldn’t come.

Even so, you would wait with her for as long as it took.

As the minutes passed, Laura’s hands fidgeted more restlessly with her sleeve, her small brow furrowing with an expression far too serious for her age. She glanced up at you and then back at the ground, her lips pressing together as if she was holding something in.

“Is everything okay?” you asked gently, leaning a bit closer to her.

Laura hesitated, biting her lip before she spoke. “I... I’m not sure,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... James has been really tired lately. He doesn’t smile anymore—well, even less than usual. And sometimes...” Her voice trailed off, her fingers gripping her sleeve tightly.

You could sense the worry radiating from her, and it tugged at your heart. You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and reassuring. “Sometimes what, Laura?”

She hesitated again, her eyes flicking up to yours before darting away. She seemed on the verge of saying something more, something important, but just as the words were about to spill out, the sound of hurried footsteps caught both of your attention.

James.

He rushed through the gate, his face flushed and his breath coming in heavy pants. His tie was slightly askew, his khaki jacket over his broad shoulders, and you could tell from the sheen of sweat on his brow that he had run all the way from wherever he had been. His gaze immediately locked onto Laura, and the relief in his eyes was palpable.

“Laura... I’m so sorry I’m late,” he said, his voice breathless but filled with concern. He bent down to her level, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Work ran later than I expected, but I’m here now.”

Laura’s face brightened instantly at the sight of him. Whatever worries she had moments ago seemed to melt away as she launched herself into his arms. “It’s okay, James. I knew you’d come. Y/n kept me company.”

James held her tightly for a moment, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath, seemingly trying to steady himself. Then he stood up, his gaze shifting to you. There was an apology in his expression, a look of regret for being late. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,�� he said, still catching his breath. “I rushed over as fast as I could.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “No need to apologise. We’re just glad you made it.”

For a moment, as James straightened his posture, you could see the fatigue lingering in his eyes—deeper than just physical tiredness. It was the kind of weariness that came from something more, something that ran deeper than a late night or a long day at work.

You smiled politely, already anticipating that James would soon make his usual excuses to leave as soon as possible and head home with Laura. But to your surprise, he lingered for a moment longer, his gaze shifting from Laura to you, a look of contemplation on his face. There was something different about him today—something new.

“Miss...” he began, but before he could finish, you couldn’t help but giggle, waving him off playfully. “Oh gosh— It makes me feel so formal and old, how many times have I insisted you call me by my name?” You teased lightly, hoping to break the ice that often felt a little too thick between you two.

James’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in his deep-set eyes. “I suppose it’s hard to shake old habits,” he replied, a half-smile playing on his lips as if he were sharing an inside joke with himself. You watched as he took a moment to consider his words, his brow furrowing slightly as he grappled with the shift in the dynamic between you.

“But... Y/n,” he finally said, his voice almost hesitant, as if he were testing the waters.

The way he spoke your name was slow and deliberate, as if each syllable was a treasure he was unearthing. The warmth of his voice wrapped around you, and the moment felt electric. The air thickened with an intimacy you hadn’t expected, leaving you momentarily breathless.

You felt your heart skip a beat as a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks, your breath hitching slightly in your throat. Suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink, and the innocent and fleeting conversations you typically shared transformed into something more profound, more intimate.

“Y/n,” he repeated, this time almost to himself, as if he were savouring the taste of it.

The sound of your name rolling off his tongue sent a flutter through you, igniting a mixture of excitement and shyness that caught you off guard. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something new and uncharted, and the thrill of it both exhilarated and terrified you.

“I—uh, right... well, it’s nice to be called by my name, that’s all,” you stammered, attempting to regain your composure. The heat of embarrassment crept up your neck, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest, a drumbeat that seemed to echo in the stillness between you.

James chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting, breaking the momentary tension. “I’ll make an effort to remember,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice struck a chord deep within you. You could sense the vulnerability in his words, a hint that perhaps he was allowing himself to be more open, more human.

The moment lingered, stretching into a comfortable silence as you both absorbed what had just transpired. You could sense a connection crackling in the air, a magnetic pull that made your skin tingle and your heart flutter. Laura, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her, stood between you, still clutching her father’s hand, her wide eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, momentarily aback by the interactions.

“James, can we go home now?” Laura chirped, her voice cutting through the quiet. “I want to play with my dolls!”

James jolted, as if he was coming out of a trance and looked down at her, his expression softening as he nodded. “Of course, sweetie. Let’s go home.” But then he turned back to you, an earnestness in his gaze. “I appreciate you looking out for her.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and your heart swelled with a mix of pride and gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. Sunderland. It’s a joy,” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. You were grateful for the opportunity to teach such a bright and spirited child, but it felt like more than just a job.

It was a chance to make a difference, even in small ways.

As the three of you stood there, the afternoon sun casting a warm glow around you, you felt a sense of connection deepening—a bond that was slowly beginning to form amidst the complexities of life. But just as quickly as it had come, the moment slipped away as Laura tugged at her father’s hand, eager to be on her way.

“Come on, James!” she urged, her excitement palpable. “Let’s go!”

With a final shared smile, James turned to leave, his hand wrapped securely around Laura’s. But, just as James was about to turn and leave, he hesitated for a moment, glancing back at you with a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Oh, and… it’s only fair that you can call me James,” he added in a rushed voice, as if the words were tumbling out before he could stop them.

The casualness of the remark hung in the air, but the weight of it landed heavily on your chest. You stood there, momentarily shocked, your mind racing to comprehend what he had just said. The simple invitation felt monumental. You could see the apprehension in his expression, as if he were dreading your reaction, almost afraid of the implications his words might hold.

He turned back to Laura, who was practically bouncing on her toes with excitement, and as he walked away, you felt a strange mix of exhilaration and longing. The distance between you began to stretch, but in that moment, all you could focus on was the sudden intimacy in that one little request.

“James,” you whispered, the name rolling off your tongue for the first time, almost shyly.

But he was already walking away, his back to you, and the sound of his gentle voice echoed in your ears. You could almost see the tension in his shoulders as he hurried to catch up with Laura, leaving you standing there in the golden glow of the setting sun. For a fleeting moment, you wished he could hear you, that your voice could reach him just a little further. But the name lingered in your mind, and you knew this was more than just a name.

As they disappeared from sight, you found yourself smiling, a warm flutter igniting within you. You could hardly believe that you had spoken his name, and yet it felt right. James.

Just James.

‧───────────────

A couple of days had passed since that moment, and you found yourself standing outside the school as the last of the children filtered out, giggling and chattering excitedly about their plans for the evening. The air was warm, filled with the sweet scent of the last remnant of the flowers, yet your thoughts were completely consumed by James.

As he approached, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest. His blue-gray eyes had a captivating quality that seemed to pull you in, as if they held secrets and stories you longed to uncover. They were gentle and soft, yet haunted, a hint of sadness always lurking just beneath the surface. You had come to notice this subtle dichotomy in him—the warmth of his smile contrasted with the weight he carried in his gaze.

Since your last interaction, James had consistently arrived at school on time, much to your surprise. He had also begun to linger after school, initiating unusual and trivial conversations. And each time he approached, you felt the world around you fade, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of shared moments and unspoken words.

“Hey, you,” he greeted, a genuine smile lighting up his face as he stepped closer. The way he said it made you feel like you were the only person in the universe, and it took every ounce of your professionalism not to melt under his gaze. “How was your day?”

“Pretty standard,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just the usual chaos with the kids. You know how it is.” You chuckled lightly, but inside, your heart raced, fighting the blooming flush on your cheeks.

His smile widened, revealing a glimpse of warmth that made your stomach flip. “They can be a handful, can’t they?” He leaned slightly against the brick wall, his body language relaxed yet intent, as if he was genuinely interested in your thoughts.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” you said, your voice tinged with sincerity. “They bring so much joy, even when they’re a bit much to handle.”

James nodded, his expression contemplative, and for a moment, you felt an intimacy forming between you. It was strange, this connection, as if you were bound by an invisible thread that pulled you closer together, even as you knew the rules that separated you.

“Laura seems to really enjoy her time in class,” you mentioned, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

He chuckled softly, but there was an edge of vulnerability in his tone. “She does. I think she’s found her place here.”

You glanced down, fidgeting with your hands, trying to quell the flutter of anticipation that filled the air. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s important for her to feel comfortable.”

James’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’ve made a difference for her,” he said, sincerity lacing his words. “I can’t thank you enough for that.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a wave of warmth through you, igniting a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “I’m just doing my job, really,” you replied, though the way he looked at you made you feel anything but ordinary.

“I don’t think you realise how special you are,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a heartbeat, you felt suspended in time, caught in the gravity of his words. But then reality hit you, a reminder of the boundaries that loomed between you. He was a parent, and you were a teacher.

Yet, as he lingered there, the air thick with unspoken possibilities, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, the rules could bend a little in this moment. The thought both exhilarated and terrified you. You took a breath, willing yourself to maintain your composure, yet secretly wishing that this conversation could stretch into the endless horizon of what-ifs that danced in your mind.

As the silence settled between you, James straightened up, a look of determination crossing his features that made your heart sink slightly. His expression turned serious, the warmth that had lingered just moments ago fading into something more guarded. With a deep sigh, he seemed to gather himself before speaking, the weight of his words evident in the way he shifted his stance.

“Um, could I have your number?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with an urgency that caught you off guard.

You stilled, your breath hitching in your throat. The unexpected request sent a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks, and for a moment, you felt entirely unmoored, caught in a tide of surprise and delight. Was he really asking for your number? The notion was thrilling yet terrifying, sending your mind racing with possibilities.

James must have noticed the startled look on your face because, almost immediately, his demeanour shifted again. Realising how his words might be interpreted, he quickly added, “I mean, it’s just in case I need your help—like you offered before, with Laura or school stuff.”

The clarification hung between you, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and a slight tinge of disappointment. Part of you had dared to hope that this moment was more than just professional courtesy, but as the reality settled in, you pushed that thought aside, telling yourself to focus on the task at hand.

“Of course! That makes total sense,” you managed to reply, your voice slightly breathless. “I’d be more than happy to help with anything you need.”

With a mix of excitement and nerves coursing through you, you fumbled for your phone, your fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked it. This felt surreal—exchanging numbers with James, standing so close to him, the air thick with unsaid words and lingering glances. You dared to meet his gaze again, and for a brief moment, you lost yourself in the depths of his blue-grey eyes, which seemed to flicker with both anxiety and something deeper.

As you typed in your number, a playful thought crossed your mind, and you decided to break the tension. “Just so you know,” you said, glancing up at him with a teasing smile, “I’m not available for cake emergencies or anything.”

James chuckled softly, the sound bringing warmth back into the cool air that surrounded you. “Noted. I’ll keep my cake emergencies to a minimum, then.”

The lightness of the moment felt almost intoxicating, and as you handed your phone back to him, your fingers brushed against his skin. The contact sent a jolt through you, a spark of electricity that made your heart race anew. It was such a simple gesture, yet it felt charged with an intimacy that caught you both off guard.

In that brief moment of contact, you instinctively placed your hand over his arm, a reassuring gesture meant to bridge the gap between you. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, and you felt him flinch ever so slightly under your touch, as if your hand had ignited something deep within him.

His eyes widened for a split second, the guarded look momentarily replaced by surprise. “Thanks,” he said, his tone sincere as he accepted your phone, but there was a subtle shift in his expression, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

“I really appreciate it,” he continued, his gaze locking onto yours, and for a heartbeat, it felt as if the world around you had vanished, leaving just the two of you standing in the schoolyard, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. With a final glance, James stepped back, his expression a mix of gratitude and apprehension. “I should get going,” he said, his voice a little softer now, almost hesitant. “Thanks again for everything.”

‧───────────────

James sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminating the worn pages of his journal. His hand hovered over the paper, as if hesitating to commit his thoughts to words. Outside, the October air had settled into a biting chill, the kind that always stirred uneasy memories. The crisp wind rattled against the windows, and James found himself drawn back to dark times, moments when the world had felt as cold and unforgiving as the night closing in around him now.

He pressed the pen down, scratching out his thoughts with deliberate care, almost as if the act of writing might exorcise the ghosts of his past.

Date: [XX/10/1993]

The air is changing. That sharp bite... it reminds me of those days, the ones I wish I could forget. That hollow feeling creeping in, like the cold. I keep trying to push it away, keep myself in the present. Focus on what matters.

He paused, tapping the pen against the paper, as though searching for the next words. His thoughts inevitably drifted, not to the past he so desperately wanted to escape, but to something—or rather, someone—new.

But lately... lately, there’s been a kind of warmth. Like I’ve found the sun again. It's dangerous, though. I know it is. It has to be about Laura. She's the reason I’m here. She's my only focus. But when I see her... when I see Y/n...

He paused again, his jaw tightening as he tried to push down the surge of feelings rising up in his chest. Y/n, your warmth, your presence—it was getting harder to ignore, harder to suppress the way his heart sped up when their conversations lingered just a little longer than they should.

I try to keep the conversation about Laura. I need to keep it about her. She’s Y/n's student, my daughter, and that’s all there is to it. That’s how it should be. It’s enough, it has to be. But I catch myself wanting more. And that scares the hell out of me. But I can’t help it. I find myself lingering after our conversations, craving the moments we talk about anything else—about the weather, about life, about her smile. God, her smile...

His hand trembled slightly as he wrote, the words spilling out onto the page with a sense of urgency, like he was afraid of admitting them even to himself.

There’s something about her. I see it in her smile, in the way she talks to Laura, the way she looks at me sometimes. She’s young, full of life and warmth, and I... I’m not that. I haven’t been that in a long time. She deserves better. Deserves more than someone who can’t escape his past—a murderer.

James exhaled shakily, running a hand through his ashe blonde hair. The darkness of the room felt oppressive now, mirroring the darkness in his thoughts.

I should stop. I need to stop. I can’t let myself think this way. Not about her. Not when she’s...

He trailed off, his hand going still as he stared at the half-finished sentence, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the air. The journal felt like a confessional, a place where he could let out the thoughts he would never say aloud.

And yet, it offered no relief. No absolution.

She’s kind. She’s patient. She’s pretty. She’s good. Too good for me. I need to remember that. I have to stop before I ruin everything. I shouldn't want her. I shouldn't feel this way. But God, the way she looks at me, the way she smiles... it makes me weak. Makes me want things I have no right to want.

Makes me feel things I've tried to bury deep inside.

But even as he wrote the words, a part of him resisted, fighting the notion of letting go of that warmth, of her. With a sigh, James closed the journal, his chest tightening with the familiar ache of guilt. He set it aside, staring at the ceiling, haunted by both his memories and the new feelings he couldn’t quite bring himself to fully acknowledge.

Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight—not with your name still lingering in the corners of his mind.

As James lay there, staring at the ceiling, the image of your face flickered in his mind, your warm smile and kind eyes filling his thoughts. The more he tried to push you away, the more you seemed to consume him, your presence a constant ache in his chest. He shifted restlessly, the sheets tangling around his legs as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His body grew hot, his skin prickling with a need he couldn't ignore.

James closed his eyes, his breath coming faster as he pictured the gentle curves of your body that he longed to explore, straddling him, your hips rolling against his as you rode him. He could almost feel the heat of your core, the way your walls would clench around him as he thrust deep inside you. A moan escaped his lips, low and needy, as his hand drifted down to his growing arousal. He stroked himself through his pyjama bottoms, the friction of the fabric only adding to his growing desperation.

‘I'm sorry, Mary,’ he thought, even as he pushed his pants down, freeing his aching cock. ‘I'm so sorry. But I need this. I need to feel something, anything, besides this endless grief.’

James wrapped his hand around his shaft, the touch sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He imagined it was Y/n's hand, your slender fingers wrapped around him, guiding him to ecstasy.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hand moving faster, the sound of his skin slapping against his arousal echoing in the silent room. He knew it was wrong, knew he should stop, but the need consuming him was too strong to resist. In his mind, you were on top of him, your hips grinding against his, your breasts bouncing as you rode him with wild abandon. He would grab your hips, pulling you down harder, burying himself deep inside your warmth.

"Oh god, Y/n!" he cried out, his body tensing as he neared his peak. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" The words tumbled from his lips, a desperate plea for forgiveness as much as a prayer of ecstasy.

As he stroked himself faster, harder, the guilt began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of urgency. His hips bucked into his hand, his breathing ragged as he chased his release. With a final, strangled cry, James came, his seed spurting across his stomach and chest. The pleasure crashed over him in waves, washing away the pain and sorrow, if only for a moment.

In the aftermath, as his chest heaved with laboured breaths, James felt a twinge of shame. As the haze of pleasure faded, the reality of what he had done crashed down upon him. Tears welled in his eyes, and he curled in on himself, his shame overwhelming him once again.

"I'm a monster," he whispered, his voice broken.

James lay there, paralyzed by his own shame and revulsion. The sticky warmth of his seed coating his skin served as a stark reminder of his weakness, of the depth of his depravity. He couldn't escape the images of Y/n that haunted his mind, the memories of their interactions intertwining with the twisted fantasies he had just indulged in.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the box of tissues on his nightstand, cleaning himself up as quickly as possible—as if he was cleaning a crime scene. He wanted to scream, to lash out at the world that had led him to this point, but he knew it was futile. There was no one to blame but himself, no one to shoulder the burden of his sins.

As he lay there, listening to the distant sounds of the city beyond his window, James felt a sudden urge to purge himself of the poison that consumed him. He needed to cleanse his soul, to rid himself of the taint of his desire.

With a determined grimace, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He turned the faucet on full blast, the cold water spraying him in the face like a baptismal rebirth. He scrubbed his skin raw, watching his cum as the water swirl down the drain, carrying away the evidence of his transgressions.

James stood there, a broken shell of a man, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. He wanted to scrub himself clean, to remove every trace of her from his being, but he knew it was futile. For the first time, he had crossed that line, had given in to the darkest recesses of his mind. And it had felt...good.

"I'm sorry, Mary," he whispered, his voice raw and hollow. "I'm so sorry. I don't know how to stop this."

But even as the words left his lips, he knew they were empty. He didn't want to stop, didn't want to deny himself the fleeting moments of ecstasy that Y/n brought him. He was a monster, a depraved creature.

After his shower, James sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long, twisted shadows across the room, his journal open once again in his lap. His hand hovered over the page, trembling, knowing exactly what he needed to write but dreading it.

His hand stilled. How had it come to this? He had never expected to feel this pull, this temptation toward someone, toward you. He had tried so hard to be good, to keep things professional, but you had stirred something deep inside him—something he couldn’t control.

Y/n.

Your namelay there on the page, staring back at him like a secret he could no longer hide.

I’ve already tried to relieve myself with thoughts of her… it’s not new. I’ve always been weak to her. The way she smiles, the way she speaks, her kindness. It’s all too much. I’m too weak. But this time…

James exhaled, his chest tightening. This time had been different. This time, he had given in completely, no longer just a fleeting thought or stolen glance. For the first time, he had let you take over his mind entirely, and the release had been overwhelming. It had been the first time in years—since Mary—that he’d allowed himself to finish with someone else in his thoughts.

For the first time, it wasn’t Mary I thought of when I—

He stopped, unable to bring himself to put it into words. But the truth lingered, pressing down on him. For the first time, it had been you.

His grip on the pen tightened, the shame gnawing at him. He had crossed a line—one he never thought he would cross again. But the worst part? The part that made his skin crawl?

It felt good.

For the first time, I let myself think of someone else, and it felt...good.

His breath hitched, a wave of guilt washing over him, followed by something darker. He closed the journal with a sudden snap, his chest heaving, his heart pounding in his ears. Tossing it onto the bedside table, James leaned back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push away the thoughts of you that flooded his mind.

I should stop. I need to stop.

But he couldn’t. He was trapped, caught between the past he couldn’t escape and the future he shouldn’t want.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, though this time, it was barely more than a breath. He wasn’t sure if the apology was meant for Mary or for himself.

He closed his eyes, Mary’s name on his lips, but as his mind drifted, it wasn’t her face he saw.

It was yours.

#silent hill #silent hill 2 #silent hill 2 remake #silent hill james sunderland x reader #james sunderland #james sunderland x reader #smut #james sunderland/reader #x reader #female reader

462 notes · View notes

anawritez-smutt · 2 months ago

Text

𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - 18+ only. minors dni. Y/N tries to escape her controlling obsessed husband, he leaves a disturbing voicemail while she tries to find a way to leave him. contains dark themes and sexual scenes so minors pls dni.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 - 2k 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Finally after a year I decided to post part three. 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝!𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon, casting the Riddle estate in a shroud of deep indigo shadows.

The trees swayed in a breeze heavy with summer warmth, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted a sound that barely pierced the thick silence now draped over the backyard.

Tom zipped himself up slowly, eyes never leaving her trembling form as she knelt in the mud, thighs trembling, skin marked red by his hands. Her breathing came in uneven gasps, her head bowed not in shame, but surrender.

She was his again. Not that she ever truly left.

Tom crouched beside her, brushing her hair from her face with a rare gentleness. “My sweet wife,” he murmured. “You look divine ruined like this.”

She didn’t answer not because she didn’t want to, but because she couldn’t. Her lips were parted, her cheeks stained with tears and filth, her body too overwhelmed by what he’d done.

He loved her like this raw, undone, molded into something only he could control.

Tom pressed a kiss to her temple. “Come now. Let’s get you cleaned up. I want to see your face when I make you mine again.”

She let him pull her to her feet, and he lifted her as if she weighed nothing. He carried her back into the manor, cradling her against his chest like a fragile treasure he both cherished and possessed.

Inside, the mansion was silent, unnervingly so. The grand halls echoed with each step of his boots as he ascended the stairs with her in his arms. The lights dimmed to a low amber glow, casting long shadows along the corridor walls.

When they reached their bedroom, he kicked the door open and laid her gently on the massive bed. Dark silk sheets tangled around her legs as she lay there silent, watching him, her eyes glassy but defiant.

He could see it that flicker of fire that hadn’t been snuffed out, no matter how tightly he gripped her.

Tom liked that.

“You’re stronger than you let on,” he murmured, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “But not strong enough to resist me.”

He watched her, studying the way her chest rose and fell. “Do you think you’re the first to try and escape me?” His voice was low, calm—dangerously so. “Do you know how many witches and wizards I’ve had to break?”

He slipped the shirt from his shoulders, revealing the pale, scar-laced skin beneath. “But none of them had your fire. None of them made me feel.”

He leaned over her, one knee pressed to the mattress, pinning her in place. “And that’s why I’ll never let you go.”

Y/N’s voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “I wasn’t trying to escape you.”

He stilled.

“I was trying to find myself.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes. “You are yourself. Here. With me.”

She closed her eyes, as if that might shield her from the truth. But it was already carved into her skin—his ring on her finger, the Mark on her arm, his name on her soul.

“You think there’s a version of you without me?” Tom’s voice was soft, laced with that twisted tenderness that always came before he unraveled her. “There isn’t. I made you.”

He grabbed her chin gently but firmly, forcing her to meet his eyes. “And I can remake you again, as many times as it takes.”

His lips crashed against hers—not a kiss, but a claim. His fingers tangled in her hair as he deepened it, teeth grazing her lower lip until she gasped. He tasted her panic, her desire, her broken will, and he fed on it.

She whimpered into his mouth, but she kissed him back.

Because she wanted him. Because she hated him. Because she loved him.

All at once.

Tom pulled back, breathing heavy, his forehead pressed to hers. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, “we’ll start fresh.”

His hands roamed her body, possessive, slow. “You’ll be bathed. Dressed. Bound to my side again where you belong.”

She swallowed. “And if I run again?”

He smiled darkly.

“You won’t.”

“But if I do?” she asked again, a whisper of rebellion in her voice.

His eyes glinted. “Then I’ll take your legs. Bind you to the manor. Lock your magic. And breed you until you forget what freedom ever felt like.”

Her breath caught.

He wasn’t bluffing.

Tom pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “You see, love… you’re not my prisoner.”

He looked into her eyes, sincere in the most deranged way.

“You’re my purpose.”

And he would destroy anyone or anything that tried to take her from him.

Even her own will.

#*ੈ 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #⊹𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 #slytherin boys #tom riddle x reader #my writing #imagines #oneshot #harry potter fandom #harry potter #tom riddle #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fan fic #dark fic #anawritez posts #ᯓ★𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐙-𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒

128 notes · View notes

doodledrawsthings · 6 months ago

Note

you. Oh my god, you. (Positive)

listen. Before I had internet access, all I had was 1 hour of allotted browser time, bing image search, and a single dantdm play through of a hat in time that never got finished. I googled fanart and got pretty much nothing, I googled fancomics and got pretty much nothing, but you know what I did end up finding?

your art.

from ages 11-14, my goal in life, in art, was your art. I can’t tell you how much I loved finding random screenshots of your posts, because I was always just so impressed by how clean and consistent your sketches are, how the characters always stay on model, the shape language, how you could somehow sketch a character in like 20 lines when it took me 50 to draw sans in my little spiral notebook— like! Holy shit! For years I have looked up to your art! There’s still a photos folder on my dads old huge-ass 12 inch work iPad labeled “holy crap” and filled with your art. Because it inspired me so much. It’s become an undeniable part of my artstyle, now — I still have fanart I drew way back in the day of Hattie and the rest, I didn’t even know anyone’s names because I couldn’t play the game, but you’re the reason I eventually did play the game. Your coffee shop au and different versions of the prince— one of those ieterations inspired the main character of my novel! Well, novel that I tried to write, I was 13 so it was eh, but I tried!!

I’m submitting this on-anon because I don’t want to out my age on the wide internet (I like my privacy) but. Your art has really meant a lot to me. It’s the reason I played hollow knight, and it’s the reason I kept trying to develop an art style I was happy with. You’re the reason I started scribbling comics in my notebooks. Being 13-14 was pretty much the worst two years of my life, but I had Bing image search and the occasional glimpse of your signature, and I’d be so happy every time I found a new (if crusty) three-times screenshotted jpg. You literally introduced me to the concept of polyamory and nonbinary-ness with the coffee shop au. I had no other access to that in my household, and. Yeah. It meant a lot to me.

Anyway. I’m so glad I’ve finally tracked you down (in the most non-ominous way possible) and I’m so glad you’re still active— Please never stop making art. Your art is incredible, and amazing, and also you never know who’s out there on Bing image search. Thank you for creating for as long as you have. You’re pretty much the reason I’m shooting for an art degree (Wish me luck!) so just…Thank you.

(Also I had no idea you were a professional storyboarder, which is insane because that’s what I want to be when I’m through college. Hey, maybe I’ll end up storyboarding a remake of something you’ve storyboarded! hehehe)

Hi anon!

So right off the bat, I gotta tell you that this message made me start bawling when I woke up and saw it. Like I had a full-on cry session while reading your message and lying in bed for almost an hour. I am crying as I am typing this response, on my phone, still in bed. It’s 11am and i woke up at 9. So I hope it turns out coherent.

The last two years have been. weird. I say that a lot because I wanna say “rough” but that still doesn’t feel quite right. I’m almost hyper-aware that there are so many people that have it worse than me rn, so it feels hard to even acknowledge when I’m going through anything, myself, sometimes- REGARDLESS, it’s been kind of an all-time low for my mental health. There was a point within in the last year where I just HATED drawing. I struggled to bring myself to work, I struggled to bring myself to even draw for fun. It felt like I was posting just to post, trying to keep people aware of my existence and it almost felt physically painful to force myself to sit down and do it, sometimes.

I’m getting better now, I think, but. Yknow.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the “oh I can make money off this,” “oh I can get attention off this,” “oh I can prove myself a functional person in society with this,” of it all. I forget why I actually do this, sometimes, or if I even enjoy it. And then I get messages like yours, about the kid with limited internet access looking for A Hat in Time fan art on Bing image search, and I get taken back to when I was a kid scrolling Google images and deviantart for the same thing.

I don’t mean to like. Foster some kind of parasocial thing with you or any one of my followers. There’s a reason I’m saying all this, I hope it ties up in the end.

We don’t know each other. I’m not some mysterious legendary artist, or whatever. I’m a person who gets burnt out, and jealous, and insecure. I need inspiration to function, just like you, and when I don’t have it, I get art block. But I also really like to draw fictional characters kissing and hanging out. I like coming up with comics and stories and playing out dramatic and funny scenarios in my head like I’m mashing Barbies together. And when other people tell me they enjoy the stuff I put out when I do this, it makes me really, really, really happy.

I think I needed to read your message, probably. With the state of… Everything… Right now, especially recently, I feel like a lot of artists are also struggling with a sense of purpose, pride, and reason as the world makes it harder and harder to even BE an artist, these days. And when I read this message it was like Anton Ego at the end of Ratatouille, I got taken back to when I was a kid looking at my favorite artists and studying their style and striving to be better and better at it over years of my life. Not just because I wanted a job for it or cuz I wanted to be a famous Disney animator or whatever, but because it was fun and I just liked doing it.

Thank you, SO much. I say this in the most genuine and earnest way I possibly can possibly express. I wish you luck on your own path in art and art school. And if you decide that animation industry is your thing, then I wish you the best in that endeavor, as well. I think I will keep making art for a long time.

Peace and love on the planet earth ✌️✌️✌️

#alright I gotta get up and start my day I’m still in bed it’s almost noon lmao #you really never know who’s out there on Bing image search #rainy days tag #starting a new tag I wanna keep this

224 notes · View notes

xamag-draws · 1 year ago

Text

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

#my art #xam rambles #the black brick road of oz #long post #ohsees tag

731 notes · View notes

valdekboy · 4 months ago

Text

Another Amazing AU

I never know what to write here… so let's get straight to the point then. A while back I found another amazing AU that belongs to @chez-cinnamon and I liked it … a lot.

And as always, If I liked something, I can't just be normal about it and comment something nice, I had to draw something. Long story short, first sketches were terrible, that took me on a long trip of re-learning some things and learning a couple new things. Overall, making these drawings was one looong roller coaster.

And as always . . . THAT LITTLE YELLOW SON OF A GUN WAS PUSHING ME TO DRAW THE MAIN 6 HE LIKES SO MUCH. So this time I gave him a camera and made HIM do all the work. Let's see how it went.

Well, the camera experienced Mach 1 speed, so I think that's all

Now, that's all.

In the end I want to say that I love what you did with these characters and I'm sorry if i messed up any of them.

And now off I go cause honestly I'm a bit stressed about posting this. So I'm pressing the publish button and I'm signing off. I'll be back soon.

As always have a Good Night/Day!

And If you want to read a bit of my rambling about this whole drawing process It's all down there. Just be aware that I write these things mostly for myself.

When I did the first sketch I realized that my old method of drawing poses (which was just sticks and orbs) won't work here. So i started to learn and re-learn some basics, and I tried to remake those sketches at the same time.

In the end there were like 5 different sketches for each character and to be honest, I was really close to just throwing it all out the window because it felt like i was going nowhere. But I found the problem.

My brain just couldn't comprehend that REFERENCE is just a REFERENCE not a fucking guideline that you have to hold on to for your dear life. It's okay to mess up here and there and that no-one is going to kill me for that. And when that thought clicked in, it felt amazing. I finished sketches, then lineart, heck I even drew all these in-betweens with Valdi (that yellow potat).

And then there was time for coloring . . . and that fear of messing up came back. That's why there's not much going on in that department. I'll keep working on fixing that, but it might take a while. And these backgrounds were a complete experiment. I'm not even sure myself if they're any good.

All of this felt like I threw myself in the deep water, but somehow I did it and I'm really glad all of this happened. Comparing these to my previous ones, I really see some improvement, and I did these MUCH faster. Even counting in all the learning i did. (plus building up courage to post these)

I still wish these drawings turned out better, the lines feel stiff, there's nothing to interesting in terms of colors or shading, but even with all that, for the first time in a while I think that these drawings aren't that bad.

And now for the AU. Why this one? I just stumbled upon it one day and I really liked the idea of switching up the one who controls the whole circus. And all those changes to the characters, their style, the clothes, colors and all those little details, I just love everything about that AU. All these characters feel really calming/relaxing to draw If these are the right words to use. (I really hope it doesn't sound too weird) I don't know if I would've learnt the things I did if I didn't find that AU.

So I want to say THANK YOU @chez-cinnamon for creating an Awesome AU and all these Beautiful drawings, and for giving me that bit of inspiration I needed.

If anyone decided to read all that and somehow survived, know that I'm sorry if all of that looks like bunch of random thoughts cobbled together (I bet that my english didn't make this any easier) As I said earlier, I write these thing mostly for myself so I can come back and read them in the future (It just helps me sometimes).

And I just want YOU to know, whoever you are, I'm really glad that YOU are here, reading this.

Thank You for being here!

#vb_art #gamemaster kinger au #tadc #the amazing digital circus #jax #ragatha #pomni #kinger #gangle #zooble

137 notes · View notes

c0eu4 · 2 years ago

Text

CL16 | Mine ♡

Request

Summary: One of y/n's friends was too close to her at a party and Charles makes it clear to her in the evening when they returns home.

Warning: smut, unprotected sex, dom! Charles, sub!Reader, jealous!Charles

A/N: I'm so fucking dumb. Again it was an request but I post it while it wasn't finish so I had to remake everything. Pls kill me for my dumbass.

MASTERLIST requests are open

She was smiling as she chatted with Mark, one of her friends at a party. The music was blasting around her and the lights were colorful.

''So are you free this Saturday?'' He asked her, leaning against the kitchen island, with a sly smile on his lips. Before she could answer, she heard a voice behind her.

''She's busy.'' Charles hissed, putting his hands on her hips. Y/n chuckles softly, seeing Mark's face getting all white. Given their relatively recent and private relationship, not a lot of people knew about it.

''Oh..uhm..well..'' Mark smiles nervously as Charles doesn't leave his black gaze, really not smiling.

''Uhm.. I let you both, I have something to do.'' Mark left them, walking quickly and forgetting his drink. ''Coward.'' Hissed Charles, downing Mark's glass in one go.

''You scared him.'' She turns around to face him, putting her arms around his neck. ''I don't share.'' He kisses her tenderly, contrasting with his past behavior. ''Let's go dance, ok?'' She tries to see his smiles again, dragging him to the dancefloor.

They dance together to the deafening rythme of the music. Charles keeps Y/n close to him, feeling her small body moving against him. They dance close, very close. The tension is growing. And they quickly start to feel hot.

''Gonna get us something to drink.'' She scream med over the loud music to his ear. He simply kisses her cheek, already joining some friends to dance with them.

Meanwhile, Y/n doesn't directly go to the kitchen. She feels so hot that she take a break and goes outside, feeling the cold air of the summer night sending shivers down her spine, her tight dress which didn't cover her very much.

Nobody is there. Well, not really. Mark comes behind her, without making any noise. He puts his hands on her hips but she doesn't react. Charles love to put his hand there too, so for her it's him. She feels Mark's breath on her neck giving her goosebumps.

''You have such a good ass in this tight dress..'' Her eyes widen when she doesn't recognize Charles's voice. She just freezes, unable to move. Mark made her turn around to face him, a grin on his face.

He leans down to kiss her, her eyes already dropping a few tears. She closes her eyes, waiting to feel his dirty lips on her soft one. But she never feels it.

She heard Mark's moan and the sound of someone being hitting. She immediately opens her eyes, seeing Charles on top of Mark, hitting his face with his clenched fist.

She doesn't know what to do. She's frozen, Charles' fist hitting Mark's cheek over and over. She finds the strength to call him, but he doesn't answer, goo busy hitting the man below him.

So she comes closer and she gives him a hug, waiting for him to calm down. And he calms down quickly, feeling Y/n's arms around his waist. He gets up and she pulls away from him, leaving Mark on the ground, bleeding.

''Ch-Charles.. w-what did you do?'' Charles' breathing was quick. He was so angry that even when he answered her, he was aggressive. ''He touched you.''

He violently grabs her arm, making her moan in pain, ''Cha! Careful!'' He dragged her towards his car and she quickly understood that it was the end of the party.

During the whole way back to their flat, it was so calm. Charles seems to be less angry but his hands were firmly on the steering wheel. Y/n tries to make her mind clear. All of what just happened was a bit traumatic for her. What if Charles wasn't here? What Mark could have done?

''Forget about him. You're safe now.'' Charles finally breaks the ice. One of his hand finally left the steering wheel to go on her thigh. He rubs it softly, tracing random pattern on it.

''I'm sorry.'' She managed to say. She doesn't even know why she was excusing herself. ''You did nothing wrong chérie.'' darling. He tries to reassure her. ''I should have moved. He was about to kiss me! And I did nothing!'' she was now angry at herself. Angry that she doesn't move. Angry that she doesn't do anything to stop Mark.

''It's normal, mon cœur.'' My heart. She doesn't answer, waiting for the long way back to finish. As they finally reached the underground parking lot and Charles parked the car, they got out of it and Charles immediately took her hand in his.

They go to the elevator, call it, wait for it and enter it. Charles didn't even wait for the door to be close that he pins Y/n against the wall in front of them, kissing her hardly. He puts his hands exactly where Mark puts his, but he squeezes it hard, almost making bruises.

She didn't push him away, already feeling her arousal growing between her legs. Charles let his hand move along her body, making her moan in the kiss. His hand found her wet panties, running his thumb through her folds over her panties. ''Ch-Charles..'' He kissed her neck, leaving a few red marks. ''Mine.'' His kisses go down her collarbone, almost between her breasts.

The elevator door opened and he urged her to their flat. He quickly opened the door and pinned her against it, moving his hips against hers. He pulls up her dress, runs his hands over her ass and she jumps against him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He walks while carrying her to the bedroom, dropping her on the bed. He gets on top of herw taking off her dress. He doesn't wait any longer to take off her bra, already sucking her left breast. She pulls his hair, showing him her pleasure. Her back arch, Charles sucking a purple spot on her breast.

''Je vais prendre soin de toi toute la nuit.'' I'm gonna take care of you all night. His hands slowly go down in her legs, rubbing it with his fingerstip.

He puts himself lower, between her. He quickly took of her panties as a starving man. His lips found her clit, using his tongue to make small circles with. She moves her hips, asking for more. Her hand in his hair tug hardly his now messy hair.

He uses his tongue to stimulate her entering, his fingers rubbing her clit. She was so lucky that Charles had a long tongue. His tongue almost finds her g-spot, putting pressure on it. The knot in her lower abdomen was slowly untied.

''Ch-Charles..I'm..je..suis..jouir..'' I..am..cum.. Charles can't help but chuckle against her pussy. He took a step back to talk to her. ''Say it in a good French and you can cum.'' She whines, the knot in her lower abdomen arching her.

''Damnit Charles! Moi jouir!'' Me cumming. He softly nibbed her inner thighs, indicating her her incorrect sentence. She groans, her walls clenching around nothing. ''I..I'm..Je..Je vais jouir !!'' I'm gonna cum. She moaned loudly, drowning him with her sweet nectar.

Charles gets up from between her thighs, passing his hand throughout his hair to adjust it. His face was shiny from her liquid, his lips red from sucking. He runs his tongue over his lips, wipes his chin and nose with his hand.

She grabs her head, pulling him into a deep kiss. She tasted herself on his lips, him already taking off his clothes. She helped him to take off his t-shirts, watching him closely when he took off his pants and boxers.

He gets up again on top of her, putting his elbows on both sides of her head. He lets his cock slide between her wet folds, making him sigh in relief. He finally slid inside her, his fat cock burring deep into her tight and wet cunt.

He doesn't even wait for her to get used to his size and already make her moan so loud. He hide his head in the crock of her neck, muffling his own moan, ''Mine..Mine..Mine..'' He moan again and again.

Suddenly, he stands up to see her better from the front and accelerates his movement. ''Who.. make you..ah.. feel so good, hm?'' Her back arch and grips tightly the sheet of the bed. ''You!'' Her eyes roll back as she cum for the second time of the night brutality.

He doesn't wait to feel her wall clenching around him that he pull out, a moan of frustrating escaping her lips. Charles puts his hands on her waist and leg and make her turn around, on her knees.

He goes back into her, already slamming his hips against her ass. ''Not Mark, mh?'' She can't think straight, already getting fucked again after her orgasm. Her moan doesn't have any sens and she can't answer to him because of the plaisur.

He grips her hair, lifting her head up. One of his arms go around her waist, pulling her up against his chest. He keep her against him, nibbing hardly her neck and one of his hands found the way of her clit.

She screams in pleasure, Charles using his hand to make small circles one her clit. ''Who owns this pussy?'' She starts to cry of joy, keeping her orgasm back. ''Y-You!'' He let out a long and deep moan against her ear, ''That's not my name.'' He shows her his athletic body with his incredibly well-controlled breathing and his endurance. ''Who owns this pussy?'' Her wall clench around his fat dick, deep inside her, ''You Sir!'' She still doesn't know if she can cum, but she can't keep it anymore. Her whole body tense up and she cum against Charles's cock hardly, again.

He let her fall back against the bed, thrust in her a few more time and let his hot seed fill her up, ''Bonne fille.'' good girl. As she feels completely full, he slowly take out of her in a wet song, leaving a mess between her legs.

He collapse the mattress next to her, already cuddling her. ''Remeber who you belong to.'' He said, his voice muffling by her hair. He kisses her forehead tenderly, his hand already going between her legs. He takes on his fingerstip a bit of her wet liquid (and surely some of his) and suck it, tasting her again.

''Oh god, Charles you're gonna make me cum again.''

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 drivers #f1 x reader #help he's so hot #f1 smut #smut #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #ferrari charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #cl16 #charles leclerc

1K notes · View notes

perfectlysanexd · 10 months ago

Text

I haven't done one of these kind of posts in a while, but the expressions in Rebirth were top notch, and I wanted to talk a bit about and analyze Sephiroth's different smiles, both pre and post Nibelheim.

Nibelheim itself is difficult to gauge, because SOLDIER Cloud is actually Zack, and furthermore, some of it is definitely his own wishful thinking. But one thing you can say for sure, is that they portray that Sephiroth, despite being so emotionally weary, still summons up the energy to smile at his friend.

As soon as he turns away from Zack, his smile falls, and he doesn't give one to the Mayor at all.

However, when he turns back to inform the men that they're free until sundown, he summons up another smile for them. I don't think that he's just attempting to keep their morale up, he genuinely has affection for Zack, and cares for the others. He respects them for their service, putting their lives on the line for what they think is a good cause, and Sephiroth—as we saw in Ever Crisis—learned to be a compassionate person, who cares about the lives of others, even enemies.

Of course, he's deeply distressed during this time, the despair is eating him alive. Even Cloud acknowledges(despite having not known Sephiroth on a personal level) that he just wasn't himself once they arrived. But I'm not going to talk about my theories on all the Jenova stuff right now, that's not the focus here. Even at the window, you can tell he's feeling off, but when he turns to Zack, he attempts to smile again.

Sephiroth has never enjoyed his fame, and as we learned in Ever Crisis, he didn't choose it; Shinra made up bogus achievements and declared him to be a hero before even his first field assignment, as part of their recruitment campaign. Can't argue with results, I guess—it certainly got Cloud to join up out of hero worship, right? In EC, Sephiroth admits that all he ever wanted was to be normal, something that he knows he can never have. How sad...

So when this man wants to take his picture, it's no wonder that he's over it by then, and tells him no. And rather politely, too, all things considered. But even before that, he smiles and tells Zack that as long as he does his job, their young tourguide will be safe.

But as soon as he turns his back and walks away? Yeah, that smile immediately fades.

Which certainly doesn't change when the guy takes his picture. But of course, when Zack asks Sephiroth to pose for one, he just can't say no, even though he's not super happy about it. Anyway, he continues to smile at Zack for the duration of their journey up Mt. Nibel, making an effort to talk and even cracking a couple jokes, just trying to be a good leader and keep them in good spirits.

And of course, there's the very sad bridge part, where you can tell that he's genuinely upset that he failed to save the other infantryman that got washed away. He searches for him, but comes up empty-handed. Still, he smiles for Zack and teases him about a performance assessment, since their morale is quite low now, but they need to keep going.

Honestly, the Nibelheim part of Rebirth really did an excellent job of portraying Sephiroth's inner struggle. For reference, there are only 3 points in Remake, I think, when Sephiroth drops his ever-present, sometimes affectionate(towards Cloud) and often unhinged, smile: First, it's replaced with sheer rage as he kills President Shinra.

Second time, is when Aerith has a Cetra moment and suggests that his entire existence is "wrong".

And the third time is when he holds out his hand to Cloud at the Edge of Creation, and is rejected by him.

Anyway, back to Rebirth. Ignoring the bizarre smiles he showed us as Nibelheim was burning, as if he was in a trance and just not all there(that's a subject for a different chat), post-Nibelheim Sephiroth's smiles are interesting, too, if we consider what kind they are, depending on who he's dealing with.

For people he hates, like Tseng, it's much more unhinged looking, and very cold. You can tell there's a certain measure of satisfaction from shanking him, haha...

For someone like Aerith, who...I wouldn't exactly say that he hates her, but she's definitely in the way. I would almost say that he considers her to be actively preventing Cloud from recovering his true memories, leading him to remain as merely Sephiroth's "puppet", but that's a theory for another day. He looks at her coldly, as well, but it's a bit different. There's a bit more respect there than there was for Tseng.

And then there's Zack. Actual Zack. I feel like, deep down, he still cares about him, and has no intention of killing him. I almost sense a little...regret? Maybe? Hm. It's definitely a bit warmer of a smile. And of course, although he had many opportunities to get rid of Zack, he doesn't. Instead, he sends him off into the space between worlds safely.

And of course, last but certainly not least, is the way he smiles at Cloud. I know, I know. "But Sane, you like sefikura, so you're biased!" Look, I won't deny that. However, when you really look at it and compare his smiles, which is what this is all about, his truest smiles are always saved for Cloud. He has 2 different "flavors": pure affection and cruel affection. (There are also a few pity smiles, I think.) The former is used most of the time, whenever Cloud is in his sight, and the latter is used during moments when he's trying to control/influence him. I would almost say that he's...satisfied, yet regretful at the same time?? Like these:

And now, let's contrast that with his more genuine, affectionate smiles for Cloud... (The first shot here ⬇ can be contrasted with the shot 2 up from the bottom there ⬆, as the one above is when he's calling Cloud his puppet, and the one below is when Cloud goes to attack him and he opens his arms wider for the incoming uh...embrace.)

Remake had many interesting smiles from him, too, but that will have to be a different post, as this already has 30 screenshots. Anywho, you're free to draw your own conclusions, and not everyone reads faces in the same way, so maybe I'm nuts. Who knows? Either way, I hope you enjoyed this random, indulgent, very long post, haha. If you made it to the end, you're awesome. 💕

All screenshots were taken by me on my PS5. I won't ask for credit on them, since literally anyone can take an identical shot if they pause at the right second. (The exception are the 3 Remake shots, which were taken on PC with mods and the freecam. For those, I would appreciate credit if you use them anywhere, since I don't watermark them.)

#sephiroth #final fantasy vii #cloud strife #sefikura #rebirth

267 notes · View notes

darknight3904 · 6 months ago

Text

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joel run into Jackson's biggest threat.

Warnings: Violence, guns, minor character death, racist remakes, ageism (sorta), language mentions of slavery/ slavers.

Word Count: 2.9k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

May 2024

The first thing Joel registers in the morning is how cold he is. He must’ve nodded off while keeping watch. The second is Louis, who is shaking him awake like the world was ending…again.

“Get up, man!”

“What’s wrong?” Joel mumbles, his eyelids peeling open to the unwelcome morning light. His back is stiff from leaning against the old porch’s support beams.

“She’s gone!”

Joel follows Louis’ pointed finger to where the horses had been tied last night. Sure enough, one is missing from its fence post.

“Fuck.”

Your trail is easy to follow. The ground is soft from the spring rain and Pepper’s hooves have sunk into the Earth, leaving a clear path to wherever you’ve run off. Joel sighs as his own horse, Turnip trots along. At the very least, he knows you haven’t been taken from the cabin. If raiders had found you all last night, well, you’d all be dead in said cabin.

“Thought you had it under control.” Brett huffs from Joel’s left

Despite the comment being meant for Joel, Louis responds.

“Women are unpredictable. Everyone knows that.”

Joel chooses not to comment. It’s true many women were unpredictable, not you though. Or well, Joel thought you weren’t. He could’ve sworn he had been getting to know you in the past months. Last night had been so perfect, laying next to him, smiling and laughing like everything was normal.

You and Joel had switched with Louis and Brett sometime around 2 am. Joel had sat down next to you on the rickety front porch, eyes fixed on the treeline in case anything were to come out of it. When the hell had he fallen asleep? You must’ve slipped away sometime after 4 am, surely he had made it at least two hours?

“Hold up. Look, two o’clock.” Brett points

Joel’s eyes scan the woods, eventually landing on a motionless blob on the green forest floor. He flicks Turnip’s reins and moves towards the human-shaped thing, praying it’s not your lifeless body. Relief floods his system when he sees it’s not you but a dead infected.

Louis jumps off his horse with ease, something Joel hasn’t been able to do in twenty years, to examine the corpse. A single bullet hole rests in the face of this Stalker, it’s a perfect shot, and Brett takes the time to point it out.

“Let’s keep movin’. She’s close, I can feel it.” Joel says, his eyes roaming around, making sure there aren’t any more infected lurking in the bushes.

They make it about another half mile or so before it happens. There’s a shout and then the crack of a gun. Brett shouts a loud curse as his horse panics. A searing pain rips through Joel’s shoulder, the feel of the bullet is unmistakeable as he reaches for the rifle he has strapped to Turnip’s saddle bag. A whistle sounds and before Joel can warn him, an arrow has made its home between Louis’ eyes. Joel’s hands land on the rifle, ready to pull it free but a deep voice has him stopping as Louis’ body falls from his horse with a thump.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

The cocking of a gun has Joel’s hands freezing. From above of all places is where they lurk. Three men, descend from the trees, dressed in dark green, mud smeared to their faces in an effort to blend in.

“Get off the horses. Slow.” One of them orders.

Joel lifts himself from his saddle, his shoulder burning as he does. Warm blood trickles down his skin and gets caught in the soft fabric of his shirt, the same shirt you were resting on last night.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Joel says as his feet hit the ground, his eyes fixed on his gun that sits in his saddle.

Brett’s eyes are locked on Joel, he looks scared out of his fucking mind. Joel should’ve expected this would happen. He was at most 25 maybe 26. Too fucking young.

“Let us pass, we’re looking for someone,” Joel says, his eyes fixed on the one who spoke first, he has red shoelaces.

Brett looks at him, his eyes almost saying “Are you kidding? They just killed Louis, we need revenge!”. Revenge of course was the last thing on Joel’s mind. He needed to find you, fast. Who knows how many more of these tree-climbing fuckers there were.

“These two look strong.” Red shoelaces says, ignoring Joel’s request.

One of the other men gets in Joel’s face, his horrible breath nearly kills Joel’s entire sense of smell as he stares at him.

“This one’s like…sixty fucking years old. He won’t be any good.”

“Well, I’m not the one who shot that one in the fucking face, am I?” Red laces seethes, looking at the last man, who has his bow slung over his shoulder.

“Don’t see why it matters, buyers hate the ones that aren’t white anyway.” Louis’ killer shrugs.

“They don’t want grandpas either, you fucking idiot.” Red laces says, shaking his gun at Joel, “How old are you?”

Joel stays silent. He’s said what he wants. Whatever these men need young bodies for, doesn’t matter to him, he won’t be sticking around to find out.

“Does it even matter? Let’s take them back, and get the boss's opinion.” The man with the bow says

Joel’s mind begins to plot a way out of this. He can take at least two of them but the question is if Brett will be able to take out the third. Joel can see he’s shaking a bit, scared now that his friend has been killed.

“We’re looking for a woman.” Brett’s shaking voice fills his ears

Joel wants to punch Brett in the face. Why would he tell him that? He should’ve just brought Tommy, this naive fucker was going to get himself killed. Joel’s glare could probably freeze hell over as he tries to telepathically tell Brett to shut the fuck up.

“A woman?” Red laces smiles, “We got women. Brought a nice looking in earlier, she’s got a nice ass.”

It’s not you. Joel’s mind swirls as his eyes fixed on the path Pepper’s hooves have left. They lead further into the forest. It can’t be you they’re talking about. There’s the crackle of a radio suddenly, Joel doesn’t catch what’s being said, not that it matters since the one with the bad breath is slamming the handle of his pistol right into Joel’s temple, knocking him unconscious.

You groan a bit as you stretch out on the ground. Your back protests as you try to rearrange here in this bush. The Walrus’ camp is only a few thousand feet from you. This bush conceals you nicely as you get a good head count on everyone. Counting The Walrus, there are two other armed men. You hadn’t meant to stumble upon their camp, you’d heard it, the laughter of men as you were riding through the trees, hoping for a clue of where Adam had come from. You hadn’t expected to find everything, just sitting here in the woods.

The two men that work with The Walrus aren’t familiar to you. You wonder if there are any left from your time with him, perhaps Adam had been the last one. One of them listens to the crackle of a walkie-talkie, their patrol must’ve found something.

You’re not sure where this patrol of theirs is all you know is that they hadn’t seen you, otherwise, you’d probably be sitting in the mud with the four other people they’re holding captive. Two young men, probably around Brett and Louis’ age, and two women are tied to trees. One of the women, her greying hair the only sign of her age occasionally calls out to the younger girl who has a dinosaur t-shirt on. You decide that they are mother and daughter and that they’re going to get out of their ropes first.

Where the fuck was Joel? You swore he would’ve found you by now, he’d gone on and on about his tracking skills a few weeks ago, why hadn’t he found you yet? Your hands grip your rifle, could you take the three of them by yourself? Certainly not…of course you could pick them off from here. But, you wanted to see The Walrus, you wanted to get up close and watch him die, the same way you had with Adam. You needed it.

You remain curled up here in your bush, hoping that you’d tied Pepper off well. You’d left here about a mile away, whispering into her mane that you’d be back soon. Hopefully, that wasn’t going to turn into a lie.

The loud whoops and yells of men have you fixing your gaze back on the camp and shock fills your system. Three more men have appeared, no doubt the ones who were on patrol. They drag two unconscious bodies with them, Brett and most importantly, Joel.

Joel wakes up right as they drop him face-first into the dirt. His tongue tastes the ground below him as someone laughs at his misfortune. His head hurts a bit, nothing serious though, bad breath didn’t hit too hard. His focus was on his shoulder which was still slowly bleeding. It hadn’t hit anything major, Joel was sure of it, otherwise, he would’ve bled out by now.

Joel pushes himself up, Brett who must’ve been hit harder has been left face down in the mud as their captors stare down at Joel, sneering, whispering their thoughts about him. Their guns remain pointed at him and Joel wracks his brain for ways to take them out without Brett’s help. He really should’ve brought Tommy.

Joel looks at the other four people who look terrified. A woman and a teen girl are what catches his eye though. They’re clearly related, with similar facial features along with matching scowls as they stare at him. Joel’s been alive a long time though, long enough to see that they’re both terrified despite their best efforts to look at him with disdain. As for the men, Joel can’t quite place their emotions, he knows they’re not related though. All he can manage right now is relief, you’re not here. You must’ve slipped through their patrol somehow, maybe they were lurking in other trees when you passed through.

“Time to meet the man.” Red Laces says suddenly, his voice giddy with anticipation.

A tent unzips and a man approaches, a long beard adorns his face, and greasy unwashed hair sits atop his head and when he opens his mouth to speak, Joel notices he’s missing two of his front teeth. No doubt about it, this is Adam’s boss.

Joel listens to your quiet voice as you explain who Adam is and what he did to you. Joel nearly gets up four times, ready to rip the man apart limb from limb. You seem so small and fragile, curled in on yourself under the blankets here on his couch as you talk about how you lost your beloved cat.

“There was another man…missing two teeth who killed Loki and turned him into a fucking bowl of soup. He used to hurt me too, for fun.”

If there weren’t five guns pointed at his head right now, Joel would be up and ripping the head off his toothless fucker for what he’s done. The thought of leaving you and Ellie behind has him still in the dirt. He eyes this “leader” the other men seem to respect. What was there to respect? The fact that he was a fucking psychopath who fed girls their pets and cut them up for fun?

“Oliver shot the other young one. Says it was an accident.” Red Laces throws his patrol partner under the bus immediately.

“Fuck you, man. The brown ones don’t sell anyway!” Oliver defends himself behind obvious racism. What a fucking pig.

Joel looks at the leader and his missing teeth, he’s yet to speak, listening to the way his men bicker.

“And you think someone as old as him will?” Red Laces argues back, pointing at Joel, “He’s got more fucking gray hairs than all of us combined!”

Joel watches as Brett begins to stir, his eyes pulling open as his hand flies up to his temple where he’d been hit. A small groan escapes his lips as the one with the bad breath pulls him up and into a kneeling position, mimicking Joel’s current stance.

“Now that we’re all awake…Let’s get some things straight.”

Laces and Oliver stop their arguing, their boss's voice has them rigid as they shut their mouths for once. The boss turns to Oliver and even though Joel has just met this man, he can tell he’s angry. A deep frown on his face as he practically spits in Oliver’s face as he yells.

“I fucking told you! I wanted them all alive!”

“I’m sorry!” Oliver cowers, “I didn’t mean to, I was aiming for his arm, I swear!”

The boss grabs Oliver by the collar, shaking him as spit flies into his face,

“Shooting them in the fucking arm is damaging the goods!”

He whips around and gestures down to Joel, “Age doesn’t matter if they’re strong! You’ve cut into my profits…Who shot him?”

Silence follows as their boss, whose face has gone red with anger demands an answer. Joel deduces that these men must be selling to slavers. He’d heard that in some areas communities used captive people to build their societies, treating the people they bought as literal machines. There was of course the second option as well, there was a flesh market down in Mexico he’d heard about years ago. Some gang that had been big back before the outbreak was now running the border and bought and sold people to be used for other’s pleasures.

Fuck…He couldn’t be sold off to some slaver somewhere. He needed to find you and get back to Jackson. This man and his group needed to die, he’d done too much to you, not to mention they’d clearly been planning to take Jackson for their own personal profits.

Suddenly the boss is leaning down, a pungent smell of body oder and who knows what else assaults Joel’s senses as he speaks,

“Who shot you?”

Joel nods to Red Laces who seems to be nonverbally pleading with him not to rat him out. Of course, Joel doesn’t give two shits if Mr. Laces is punished, why should he?

Red Laces is given a good right hook by his boss who threatens him,

“If you shoot another piece of my cargo, I’ll sell you the next time we go down to Kansas, Got it?”

Joel listens as he gives the same ultimatum to Oliver who begins to grovel and apologize for murdering Louis earlier. He looks at Brett who seems to be about two minutes away from pissing his pants. Joel nods towards the knife that sits tucked into the bottom pocket of the leader's pants. They hadn’t been tied up yet, this was their chance and Joel was going to take it. Brett shakes his head in fear and Joel shoots him a look.

The leader turns back to Joel, satisfied with his speech to his men,

“They said you’re looking for a woman.” He motions towards the woman tied to the tree behind him, “That her?”

Joel remains silent and stares back at this stinking reeking sorry excuse for a human being. Joel could grab the knife if he just took a step closer. There was a pistol tucked into the front of his pants, Joel could easily shoot quicker than this man’s people. They were young, and unseasoned, the oldest, Laces was surely no more than 40. Joel was a better shot than all of them combined.

“Quiet, huh? Whatta shame.”

The leader turns on his heel, ready to go back to his tent. He takes a few steps before tossing his order over his shoulder,

“Tie the younger one up. Shoot the old man, he won’t sell.”

Red Laces pulls his gun out from its holster and points it at Joel’s face. Joel’s thighs tense, it’s now or never. As if it’s in slow motion like some action movie from years ago, he lunges for the gun, ready to hit it out of his would-be killer's hands.

Before his hands can make contact with the metal of the gun, the sound of a single shot rings out. At first Joel’s sure he’s a goner, that the gun has gone off and there’s a bullet in his head.

Instead, a warm splatter of blood is raining down on him, and a metallic taste of iron fills his mouth as Red Laces drops to the ground, the top part of his head has been ripped open by one well-placed shot.

You curse as your foot gets caught in a tangle of weeds. Nearly tripping over your own feet, you burst out of the bush. The one who was standing over him is dead, you’re sure of it. Your legs burn as you sprint towards the camp, rifle slung over your shoulder as you pull your beloved Colt Python from its holster. You cock your gun, you have to get to him. You’re closing the distance now, closing the distance between you and him.

Between you and Joel.

Next Part

Justice will be had for Loki the cat.

If you're reading this, please leave me a comment or reblog. It's lonely just getting likes on my fics. I yearn for your opinions and feedback.

Been feeling kinda down recently, I don't really know what it is. Oh well, here's a Joel pic from Pinterest:

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly @orcasoul @snowlycanroc @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz @am-3-thyst @concrete-jungleeee

@cherrypieyourface @kanyewestest @bambisweethearts

@sarahhxx03 @loveisacowboyyy @amyispxnk @lou-la-lou @dancinglotusbud

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal

142 notes · View notes

technikki · 4 months ago

Note

Could you talk about the mario yaoi to me. I've only got little glimpses from your posts and I'm sadly not aware of the big picture

ABSOLUTELY DEAR MUTUAL i will talk about luisley any day they make me so so sick i love them ihope they EXPLODE.

so this got long but whatever anyway!!! heres skyes compilation of ACTUAL REAL THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN MARIO AND LUIGI SUPERSTAR SAGA FOR THE GAMEBOY ADVANCE.

upon meeting him for the first time, prince peasley gives luigi a rose, accompanied by this line:

the remake has an added detail in a later scene that shows luigi keeps the rose tucked away under his hat for safekeeping. also this rose is used to show the castle guards they are friends of the prince so they'll be granted entry to the castle and is only needed the first time they go there. despite that, the rose remains in your inventory (likely under luigis hat <3) for the entirety of the game

at the end of this same scene peasley flies away on his little winged cushion thing (bean... creature? is it alive? i have no fucking clue) and zips right past luigi, twirling him around on his way out

the second time they run into each other and at multiple other points throughout the game, luigi will get excited upon seeing peasley and start waving his hat to greet him. he waves like this when peasley exits multiple scenes too, while also saying "bye-bye!". peasley is the only character he does this for with any consistency

at one point the mcguffin gets split into pieces and scattered across the kingdom, and mario and luigi offer to help peasley search for them. he makes a bet with the bros that he can gather the pieces before them, prompting luigi to run up to him and go "oh yeah!". peasley takes this as a challenge, apparently, because this causes him to, and i could not fucking make this up if i tried, pull out his sword and repeatedly jab luigi in the ass with it, causing him to blush a very bright red and start giggling like an idiot

note: and i don't know why this is the case, but if you do not progress the dialogue once he starts doing this, peasley will continue to poke luigi for as long as there is no player input. for more info check out prince peasley pokes luigi for 5 minutes on youtube <3

while collecting one of the pieces, luigi comes across a piranha plant that has eaten peasley and defeats it, saving him. note that this scene takes place in an area that you can only get luigi into. the game makes a point of separating him from mario for this scene. for some reason[winks with both eyes

peasley has also been shrunken down here (long story) and luigi thinks of a way to get him back to normal, prompting peasley to say "to think you know such cool moves! you're a real zero... i mean hero!". something interesting about this scene is that peasley's slip-up here varies depending on what language you're playing in. probably the most famous example is the german translation, where peasley attempts to say "hut ab!" (hats off!) and instead says "hose runter" (pants down. no i'm not joking.) my personal favorite is the spanish translation, where he attempts to say "eres ingenioso!" (you're ingenious!) and instead says "eres delicioso" (take a guess). regardless of what translation you play and what peasley ends up saying, luigi becomes very flustered and starts laughing again

one thing about this game is that it was one of the very first games that decided to actually give luigi any actual relevance (the only earlier one ican think of is luigi's mansion. infact im pretty sure that's the only one), he was still known more or less as just marios palette-swapped "player-2" brother, and they decided to lean very hard into this with how he is treated in-universe. it is a running gag that mario is obviously a very well-known and beloved hero, while luigi is constantly being ignored and made fun of, and barely anyone can ever seem to even remember his name. some characters do treat him with equal respect to mario, but peasley is the only character that not only consistently seems to focus on luigi, but also cannot seem to be bothered with remembering mario's name. peasley calls them the mario bros a few times and there is one point where peasley does address mario directly by name, and its a scene that luigi is not present for. which suggests that peasley does indeed remember mario's name and is trying to make luigi feel a little more special which is honestly really sweet and i hate him so much

at one point luigi has to make an emergency leap out of a plane (longer story) and peasley flies up to meet him. a little bird flies by and, because luigi is uniquely hated by the universe itself, pecks through the cord of his parachute and causes him to begin plummeting out of the sky. peasley attempts to catch him, but because he is an idiot with way too much self-confidence and cannot catch a grown man falling at top speed, luigi simply knocks him right off his little cushion thing and they both end up falling. however there is a split second where it looks like he might end up holding luigi bridal style

peasley is able to make a perfect landing after this scene by using his cape as a parachute, but luigi's landing is. not as graceful and he ends up plunging headfirst into the sand, getting stuck. peasley finds this rather charming and proceeds to laugh and comment on his "luigi dunk"

this is another scene where translators decided to have some fun as well: in the german translation peasley calls him what roughly translates to "an amusing little darling" and in i believe the french translation he calls him something like "clumsy but adorable". basicaly he thinks luigi is very funny and very cute

eventually peasley decides he is going to go fight the main villain himself despite being told how incredibly dangerous it would be, because he does not want to impose on the bros any more than he feels they already have. his mother attempts to reason with him but he runs off anyway, causing luigi to collapse into tears at the thought of something bad happening to him

the ending scene of the game shows mario luigi and friends saying goodbye to the beanish royals at the airport. upon seeing peasley, luigi jumps up and begins actually running at him to hug him.

unfortunately, because luigi cannot have anything ever in his life, peasley is not paying attention (idiot) and continues moving upward, causing luigi to faceplant on the tarmac. he cries after this </3

ALSO have to give a shoutout to these panels from the official manga (scans by my awesome friend @/bowletta btw):

(the pink katakana literally says doki doki dude get it together)

(COME ON.)

so YUUUUP basically they're genuinely one of the most inexplicably gay-coded relationships in any nintendo game and i wish more people knew about peasley because he's a really funny character and his relationship with luigi is extremely cute. heart

#skye's ramblings #YAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAY THANKYOU SPRING. I LOVE MY SUPERMARIO YAOI I WILL ALWAYS TALK ABOUT MY SUPERMARIO YAOI. YUUUUUUP #but YUUUP basicaly theyre a clumsy dork n an overconfident freak who both think the other is the coolest guy inthe world. andtheyre in love #in all seriousness though ithink their dynamic is very good n theyre so sweet n they love eachother a whole lot. theyre so important to me #irreplaceablestars #shrimps squad #luigi #prince peasley #luisley #yuuuuup i'll character tag this why tgefuck not. witness my luisley

115 notes · View notes

nihilo-sensei · 1 year ago

Text

Atsushi was chosen to be transferred to the Port Mafia. He's now isolated from everyone but Akutagawa and is desperately clinging to his sense of self. Atsushi falls his knees with tears in his eyes at the end of another emotionally exhausting day. It's only been a week and he doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up. If something doesn't change Mori will break him down and remake him in the Mafia's image.

At his lowest point, he asks himself the question he always asks when he feels backed into a corner: What would Dazai do? Immediately, the simplest solution falls into his lap. He would just act like Dazai...

... specifically, the way Dazai acts in the ADA office turned up to 11.

Atsushi would be too disruptive to rely on but too effective to punish. And if he was punished, he would take the pain while the tiger undid the damage. Satisfied with his plan, Atsushi goes to bed feeling lighter than he'd felt since he'd been dragged away from his family.

And so began the most stressful three weeks of Mori's Port Mafia career.

---

Atsushi: "Hey, Mori, I accidentally dropped three days' worth of reports in the paper shredder. Oh, and I'm taking lunch early. Just letting you know. Bye!"

---

Mori: "Atsushi-kun, where might you be right now? You know there's a meeting you're scheduled to be at."

Atsushi: "I'm so sorry, Mori, but I'm not going to make it. One of my boots is sick. I'll call you if anything changes."

---

Mori: "What happened to my office couch!?!"

Atsushi: "Oh that? I guess there was a full moon last night. I must've transformed and used it as a scratching post. Sorry, that happens sometimes now that Fukuzawa's ability isn't helping to control Beast Beneath the Moonlight.

Anyway, I'm gonna go take a nap in your car."

---

Mori: "Fukuzawa, I've made a terrible mistake. Please take the weretiger back."

---

The futon in the closet of his and Kyouka's dorm has never been more comfortable.

431 notes · View notes

heuldoch7b · 3 months ago

Text

while i was gone, i was deeply contemplative about part of what made me take a hiatus in the first place, which is shame. long post forewarning

growing up on the internet (i was 10 when i started using the internet, back in 2010-11) and something i was (and frankly, still am) constantly exposed to was shaming others. ranging from "light hearted" shaming; this ranged from poking fun at an amateur artists work for it looking funny or it being super "tumblry" to shaming with the guise of social justice, you know "hey this artist draws X and thats BAD and if you support them youre JUST AS BAD".

when i was younger i poked fun at other artists and engaged in cancel culture, on a very small scale (just my friends and i) and i regret it. it was entirely due to my own low self esteem and peojecting fear of being made fun of myself. but ive retained that fear, even as i've matured and grown to understand how unkind it is to shame and mock others, ESPECIALLY as myself a weird, autistic artist who draws "cringe but free" stuff

and even with regards to problematic content, stuff that, reasonably more often than not, ellicits a "yuck" reaction out of most viewers, has turned more into a genuine social risk of getting a callout over being immoral or gross and losing your social circles and delving into isolation. this happened to me. i think it genuinely messed me up, and im dealing with it even now.

it has lead me to be avoidant of being honest about what i like, and being afraid of befriending others due to fear of being dropped again. this is of course not fair to you, potential reader, but unfair to myself as well. i want to develop a healthier respect for my friends as well as myself about what i do and dont like, and not feeling guilty for saying no or not liking something.

i think, as i remake my old pinned post, i am going to be more explicit on stuff, i like shipping the primarchs! i love it very much even. and if you do not thats absolutely A-OK. i like drawing the dismal warcriminals as genderweird. i like maybe skirting away from how chronically cynical and dour the universe (which i do still enjoy, im into warhammer FOR warhammer) and making silly, comfy stuff. fuck i LOVE drawing weird heroic nudity mythological scenes where some characters are like, centaurs, cause its sick as fuck.

and with all that i myself need to be okay with maybe people who i enjoy their work of dont really jive with all that, and that isnt the end of the world, its just being honest with oneself, and thats really important to do. i will be trying to maybe tag sensitive stuff like primarchcest better, so people can filter it out, but i am not gonna be hypervigilant about tagging everything because that would make me neurotic and id rather just be unfollowed or blocked at that point.

anywho, i really just wanted to put my thoughts down into words and share them, i honestly wrote this out and deleted it like 3 times already due to, hilariously, shame. but this is a really important topic to me and extremely relevant to my social presence on this website. i care for you all immensely, even if we are all strangers online.

i will be sad if i lose potential friendships over the things i like, but theres literally thousands of people if not more on this website, and it so fine and healthy to go like "eh no i dont want that in my life" to something like someones specific fuckin fandom art LOL

if any of you want to talk to me about your experiences with shame, id welcome it, may it be through a reblog or messaging me personally. i think its really important for all of us to be unashamed, mindful of course, but not stifling ourselves. be free have fun type stuff. i hope i can drop my own shackles too. thanks for reading

#long post #big ramble post my roomate told me i should share this so i am

50 notes · View notes

yukidragon · 2 months ago

Text

Sunny Day Jack - Sins, Stripping, Sex Work, and Shame

I’ve got a hankering for some adults only OTP indulgence. Specifically I think it’s time to indulge in the stripper Joseph idea I mentioned a while back.

Now, before we begin, I want to emphasize that sex work can be quite a complicated issue. I initially came into this ramble with the goal of writing some Joseph and Mary fluff with the added spice of stripping and lap dancing on top. I even used this picrew to make a sweet and spicy picture of Joseph seducing Mary while she’s wearing his tank top to get in the spirit of fun and flirty sexy times.

Just another fun, silly, and sexy AU idea, you know?

However… when I started getting into the darker shades to make the lighter colors stand out more, well…

Let’s just say I couldn’t stop myself from digging into Joseph’s psyche and why he has such a negative view of the man he used to be in the present day as Jack. So this ramble stopped really being about an AU - let alone a lighthearted one - and instead delves into the backstory I’ve given Joseph for Sunshine in Hell before he got the role of Sunny Day Jack. There’s just an additional little bit of what if canon divergence thrown in on top.

Sometimes rambles just wind up running away with me like that. Once I started thinking about what led Joseph to a life of stripping and prostitution, things just kept progressing from there. So I wound up painting a much darker picture than I initially intended it to be. Be sure to heed the content warnings in this mature post before proceeding further.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

Content Warning: This post contains talk about sex, sex work, childhood trauma, child neglect, abusive relationships, bullying, cheating, chronic illness, drug usage, body shaming, slut shaming, religious guilt, suicide, homelessness, internalized homophobia, and other such heavy topics.

Don’t worry though, there’s a little sweet and spicy short story of OTP goodness in the final part of this ramble. Feel free to skip straight to the fluffy NSFW finale if you want to give the heavier topics a pass. There’s also a few more quick short story snippets throughout.

As some of you may remember from previous rambles, in the timeline for Sunshine in Hell, Mary (Alice’s past life incarnation and Joseph’s childhood friend/first love) has a surprising reunion with Joseph as an adult while he’s a homeless drifter hitchhiking along the side of the road. I even wrote a short story about it a while back. It was pure chance, a cosmic happenstance that brought these two lonely souls back together again that they both treated as a miracle, resulting in a reunion filled with tears, kisses, and laughter.

Before the pair were reunited, Joseph made a lot of choices that he’s not proud of, both for love and for money, which includes sex work and toxic relationships. Mary knew about his past as a young and dumb kid, even getting swept up in his rule breaking at times like sneaking into a movie theater, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her just how low he had fallen after they were separated.

Joseph Cullman believed himself to be flawed, filthy, and unworthy of love. That’s why he tried so hard to remake himself into someone new, someone better. When Mary found him, he was between jobs, so he was able to hide his dirtiest secrets from her.

No one had to ever know, especially not his sunshine.

But if the time and place of their reunion shifted just a bit, Joseph would be totally exposed in more ways than one.

The Empty Space Where Love Used to Live

Okay, I know everyone (including me) wants to get down to the sexy stripper Joseph seducing Mary stuff right away, but my mind just wouldn’t jump there without exploring how we got here in the first place. Becoming a stripper or sex worker wasn’t exactly something Joseph wanted to become or took pride in.

After running away from home, Joseph had to make his way in life all alone, with no one to support him, and no one to care whether he lived or died. All he had was the clothes on his back, an incomplete education from teachers who constantly called him worthless, and his body to scrape some sort of living together. He had to do a lot of hard labor in order to get by, in more than one sense of the word. His heart was scarred and heavy, both from the things done to him and the things he did. His sense of self-worth was pitiful, and he was so very, very lonely. The only person who ever truly loved him was gone… stolen from him first by her uncaring parents, then by death itself.

Though the rumors of Mary’s death were quite exaggerated at the time. Not that poor Joseph knew that.

If it had only been a rumor that Mary had died, Joseph would’ve refused to believe it. He was a stubborn kid, and school was a hellscape full of rumors, vicious slander, and fighting. But rumors weren’t his only evidence. Even years on, he still vividly remembered that moment in her bedroom that brought him such sorrow and joy all at once. She told him herself while in tears how her doctor was certain that she wouldn’t live to see adulthood.

Mary didn’t want to die with regrets, so she confessed her feelings for Joseph, and he reciprocated. She had been hiding her feelings for a while before that, as she was worried about ruining their friendship. Perhaps she could have continued to hide her feelings to spare him the pain when she died, but she didn’t want to waste the time she had left denying her feelings any longer.

Joseph wanted to fight that death sentence, but how? They were just teens, scared and confused. Even doctors with years of education didn’t know how to help Mary. They couldn’t even give a name to whatever was killing her. There was no internet to search for symptoms back then, and no trusted adult in his life with sage advice. The most he had was just a library with pages and pages of medical books that he would have to flip through one by one, each page packed to the brim with terms that he didn’t understand.

Joseph couldn’t even fight back against her parents when they forbade Mary from seeing him again. They flipped out at him, threatening to shoot him with a shotgun if he snuck into their home ever again, or even just set foot on their lawn. They went so far as calling the police on him, though fortunately nothing more came of it than a stern lecture from a couple cops.

Joseph did try to see Mary again despite these threats, but they never amounted to anything in the end. Adults saw him as a punk, a misbehaving brat, and even if he sought out help, they simply told him to leave her alone. The Phoenix family didn’t want a “worthless” troublemaker “corrupting” their daughter. His own parents didn’t want to deal with the hassle of his “teenage drama,” since he would “just get over it” and find someone new soon enough.

No one understood just how much Joseph loved and wanted to be with Mary, or vice-versa. They were seen as just two stupid kids with a silly crush in the eyes of adults, just a bout of puppy love that would fade out sooner or later. High school romance was rarely more than a fleeting thing. To their parents, young love was more like fireworks, an explosion of hormones that create an exciting thrill that quickly fades and draws the immature and inexperienced teen to seek out that spark again in someone new.

Joseph resented such condescending attitudes and metaphors. He knew damn well what he felt for Mary was far deeper than that. He would never just forget her so easily, as if her presence in his life meant nothing. Just because he was young didn’t mean that what he felt wasn’t love.

Joseph knew what shallow, empty love looked like. He saw it every time his parents bothered to remember to say that they loved him. Their version of love was nothing more than a performance, a lie to appease themselves and whoever might have been watching. Such fake love could never fill the hole left in his heart.

What Joseph and Mary shared was nothing like the hollow “love” his parents showed him all his life.

This led to Joseph lashing out at home, at school, against his parents, teachers, authority figures, his peers, and even random people. The world was cruel and unfair. He had been shown this fact time and time again. When he found one bright spot of light in his life, the world tore it away from him and snuffed it out like a candle.

Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much if Joseph never knew love at all. The cold can’t bite as hard if you’ve never known what it feels like to be warm.

The thought that Mary was dead broke something in Joseph. While he had gotten into trouble and acted out at times to get attention, up until this point, he had simply been a reckless class clown that didn’t know when to quit. Sure he had gotten into fights before, mostly taunting bullies that threw insults his way or Mary’s, but his troublemaking behavior was mostly just a cry for attention. It was childish and obnoxious, not malicious or vindictive.

When Joseph was finally forced to accept the idea that his sunshine was gone forever and that no one cared about her passing or how much it hurt him, his anger bubbled over and no one could reach his heart again. He was violent, insulting, and downright cruel. He hurt, so the world deserved to hurt. He stopped trying anymore with his parents. He wanted their love all his life, but it was always empty, and their dismissiveness over his grief and the loss of Mary made him give up on that love too.

After all, it was hard for Joseph to believe that a person was even capable of love at all when they treated his pain as nothing more than an annoyance in their lives.

“What? You’re still hung up about that girl dying? It’s been a month already. You have to get over it if you’re going to get anywhere in life. You can’t keep using this as an excuse to keep whining and slack off.”

“For goodness sake, stop crying. Real men don’t cry. Sigh… When will you finally grow up already? It’s not as if she was family.”

And so on and so forth. The house Joseph grew up in never truly felt like home.

Joseph did try to find love again even after that. It was only natural for humans to seek happiness and affection. We’re social creatures after all. The things he used to do for fun didn’t bring him the joy they once had, so he looked elsewhere. The rules he circumvented were more easily broken now, as were laws. The vices he gained during his teenage years - smoking, alcohol, bullying those who he felt wronged him, rebelling against authority, picking fights, tattoos to express the bottled up feelings he couldn’t really put into words - they offered him rushes of pleasure that distracted him from feeling so empty. Sure, much of the things he turned to during this time were destructive, but they made him hurt just a little less.

Why should Joseph care about what other people thought or felt about what he did? They certainly never cared about him even when he was trying to earn their approval. Who cared if he destroyed himself?

Tragically, Joseph did destroy someone in the end, but it wasn’t himself.

Joseph never meant for things to spiral so far out of control. He had known firsthand the trauma that bullying inflicted. He took it a bit far at times… but a certain student at school made him burn with rage.

In elementary school, Mary was the target of bullying. One person in particular took great delight in making her life miserable, and constantly left her in tears when they were children.

Joseph put a stop to it years ago in a playground brawl. Mary wasn’t happy that he got into a fight, especially since he got roughed up in the process, but she was grateful that he protected her. After that fight, her bully never dared come after her again.

That day, Joseph felt like a hero. He rescued Mary and defeated her wicked arch nemesis with his own brand of vigilante justice. He was the knight in shining armor that saved the princess from the wicked dragon.

The roles changed in high school. Joseph played the part of the villain now, but he didn’t care. He knew full well what he was doing now wasn’t heroic or noble. He couldn’t help but lash out at this former bully and anyone else who had hurt his beloved sunshine in the past. He went after kids that used to make fun of him even if they had long forgotten about such slights against him, or even forgot his name. He antagonized anyone who so much as looked at him wrong, dealing out damage with his fists and poisonous words. He took any excuse to lash out, goading others into a fight whenever he saw an opportunity.

Joseph was an avenger desperately seeking revenge without a real target to claim victory over, and no way to find true satisfaction.

Unfortunately that former bully understood that using Mary’s memory was the best way to hurt Joseph. When they retaliated against his bullying, they painted a blood red target on themselves when they outright taunted him about her death. They told him that they were happy that Mary died and that the world was better off without her.

This foolish teenager didn’t realize the hell they unleashed upon themselves until it was already far too late.

From that day onward, Joseph had it out for Mary’s former bully in particular. He still lashed out at anyone in his path, but he wanted this person to suffer. He wanted them to feel his pain a thousand fold. Day after day, he tormented them, beat them up, insulted them, sabotaged them, and did everything he could to make them hurt far more than he or Mary ever did. He was relentless, and only grew more incensed every time the bully used his sunshine’s name and memory to retaliate against him.

At first it was a war - bully vs bully - but Joseph was far worse than his opponent ever was, and the war wore down Mary’s former bully over time. Teachers didn’t want to get involved and just let the kids sort things out between them. So long as the kids kept the fights out of their sight, the teachers could look the other way. They only had to intervene when it interfered with classes or they couldn’t get away with ignoring it without getting into trouble themselves. Sure there were disciplinary reports, detentions, and lectures, but these things barely slowed Joseph down from his mission of revenge.

Joseph soon learned how to deal out more pain with his words than his fists. Sure his fists did damage, even if it left him with bruised knuckles, but it wasn’t enough. But words… oh words seem so innocent, so deceptively simple and childish when compared to spilling blood or leaving bruises, but if used correctly, the pain words inflicted was far more devastating than any cut or broken bone.

Over time, Joseph figured out what truly hurt his classmate psychologically and dug into their head. Soon his voice was echoing in their thoughts even at home, in their sleep. His well placed attacks on their vulnerabilities seeped into them like a poison.

Even when his opponent no longer had the will to fight back, Joseph did not relent. He ignored stern or desperate pleas for him to leave them alone, no matter who told him. Punishment from adults did not deter him. The defense of friends just gave him more enemies to fight. Tears did not move him, especially when they came from someone who was his enemy, someone who he only saw as cruel and unforgiving. Without love, he had no mercy to give anyone.

For the rest of his life, Joseph wished that he did.

They were gone from school for at least a week before the announcement was made over the school public address system. Tragic news. Suicide. Anyone who knew the deceased were highly encouraged to see the school counselor immediately.

Once the shock wore off, Joseph finally understood the damage he had done… as did many of his peers.

“Murderer!” was the final word Joseph heard shouted at his back when he fled from Haberdae High for the final time. He had nothing but a half-empty backpack and some fresh bruises to take with him when he ran away. He ran and ran and ran with no destination in mind. He kept running long after he stopped being pursued.

Unfortunately, Joseph could never outrun the sins he had committed and the stains they left upon his soul.

Once upon a time, Joseph was the hero who saved the kind soul who brought light into his world. Then he became an avenger seeking justice where there was none to be found. Now he was the villain, fleeing from the punishment he knew that he richly deserved.

Although running away like he did was a spur of the moment thing, Joseph had considered leaving for a while now. There wasn’t much there for him in his hometown anyway. His parents didn’t want him, the teachers hated dealing with him, and his peers didn’t care about him. He never fit in there. People preferred to forget he even existed when they weren’t talking down to him. The only good thing to ever come from his hometown was Mary, and she was gone. Forever.

So even after the surge of panic and adrenaline calmed down, Joseph kept walking. He walked and walked and walked until his body just couldn’t take it anymore. He wound up sleeping in a ditch that first night.

It was the first of many nights sleeping in a ditch.

Joseph couldn’t go back. His parents’ house had never been home to him anyway. The only home he ever knew was in the moments he shared with Mary, where he felt accepted and loved. He had no family who would support him, no friends to rely on. He doubted anyone would care that he was gone. In fact, they’d most likely be relieved.

All Joseph could do was wander, searching for a new home. A new life.

Joseph Cullman was a monster, a murderer. He was worthless, useless, and unwanted. He was someone filthy and unworthy of love.

He never did stop running from what he had done. He left it all behind him, his sins and even his name. He reinvented himself, taking different names, different attitudes to try and turn himself into someone new, someone better.

Joseph Cullman was better off dead anyway.

There wasn’t a goal strictly in his mind, but there were some fanciful dreams leftover from his childhood. If he made it all the way to Hollywood, maybe he could get spotted by a talent agent and make it big on TV or in the movies. He could become someone new in such a big city, someone who would shine like a star. He could be someone everyone admired and adored, someone worthy of friendship and love.

Maybe then love like he once found in his sunshine might find him again someday.

Hard Labor

Reality wasn’t as kind as his fantasies. Joseph could only make it so far on foot, and hitchhiking brought its own risks and costs. He ran away with little more than the clothes on his back, and only his body to pay for his food and shelter.

Joseph took whatever job he could get that didn’t ask too many questions or require an education, even if it might have been sketchy. At first, this was mostly hard manual labor like digging ditches, washing cars, yard work, and the like. Such jobs took advantage of the desperate and were soul crushing. He was overworked and underpaid. Every day left him exhausted and sore.. He barely made enough to eat and have a place to sleep at night.

An unexpected bonus to all his backbreaking work were the muscles Joseph built over time. He was always active and fit, but this constant physical labor day in and day out was more demanding than any workout routine.

Unfortunately, a muscular physique didn’t get him any closer to those lofty dreams of a better life.

As Joseph bulked up, he started to experience another unexpected perk to physical labor. He noticed eyes always wandering across his body, especially when he would go shirtless in the hot sun. It was attention that he wasn’t used to, both alluring and a bit uncomfortable.

The stares and catcalls could get a bit much at times, involving degrading language along with unexpected and unwanted touches. It was dehumanizing at times. Some people made him feel less like a human and more like a piece of meat for them to drool over.

At the same time, it was more attention than Joseph used to get, and he was starved for it. He felt so painfully alone. Being harassed was a small price to pay to not be invisible and ignored. He was strong enough to fend off anyone who took things too far, and he knew how to fight, so he could overlook the downsides of all the attention. He tried to see if he could turn that attraction to him into something more meaningful and lasting. When someone with a nice smile flirted with him, he flirted back. He tried to be charming to those who were kind and friendly with him. He went out on many dates, searching for someone, anyone who could see that there was more to him than just his body.

Joseph wanted to be more than just a piece of meat to someone. He wanted real love.

It didn’t go well. Joseph was still getting used to his new identity, how to behave, and how to really connect with people. However, it can be difficult to connect authentically when someone is hiding who they are, lying about their background, and hiding many secrets. His relationship with Mary came so easily. He could be open and vulnerable with her, but with others he struggled. He misread warning signs and took words of love at face value without realizing that they were just as performative as the new name and identity that he gave himself.

Even though he learned that “I love you” can be a lie from his parents, his desperation to be loved still made him want to believe it when someone new who actually paid attention to him said it.

Romantic relationships rarely ever lasted. Joseph never seemed to be good enough, no matter what he called himself. He let himself fall in love hard and fast when he was treated kindly and showered with sweet words of love and flattery. He was an easy target for people who knew how to manipulate others to get what they want, which usually was just sex with him. His heart was crushed again and again as he kept giving it away to just about anyone who gave him positive attention and told him what he wanted to hear.

Joseph learned how to use his body well, both in work and in the bedroom. He took more stock in his appearance and kept trim but muscular so that his lover’s eyes hopefully wouldn’t wander to someone new. Some of his relationships shamed him if he “let himself go” by gaining a few pounds when he finally started eating well, so he would add a workout routine on top of all the hard work he was doing. He got better at sex to entice his lovers to stay just a bit longer, but wound up in toxic relationships that were built off lust instead of love.

Joseph just wanted to be loved, desired, needed, but he was always left feeling used in the end.

Accepting money in exchange for sex was a gradual progression. Joseph loved receiving gifts from his dates. It made him feel special and important, and it was even more meaningful to him when he was struggling to keep himself fed, clothed, and sheltered. Unfortunately, his dates didn’t actually put any real meaning into the gifts, as they were just “playing the game” when it came to dating.

Give the right gift and say the right words to the person they’re interested in, and they’ll get sex at the end of the date. Then they move on to the next person and repeat the process. Maybe they would take him on a second date sometime when they were feeling horny again.

Joseph caught onto the pattern, but he still kept falling for it anyway. He hoped that if he was just so charming and seductive, so unforgettable that they would stay... that maybe desire could turn into something more.

This was what led to Joseph unintentionally becoming a sugar baby to a closeted gay man who was terrified of being outed. The 70s and 80s weren’t exactly known for being open and accepting of any sexuality but straight after all. Money, presents, and empty but addictingly sweet words of love were used to make up for treating Joseph like a dirty secret. What made him feel even more filthy was discovering that lover was actually married, and he was the affair partner.

Despite all the problems and red flags waving in his face, Joseph struggled to leave the relationship. It was the longest relationship he had since he was with Mary. He didn’t want to lose someone close to him like that again. He wanted to believe that what the two of them had was really love. He opened himself up to his lover and gave so much of himself, trying desperately to make it work between them. He told his lover things that he previously held back then dating others. He let more truth about his past slip in among the backstory he crafted for his current identity. That vulnerability made him cling to the relationship longer than he should. He wanted so badly to have a love that would actually last.

The excuses his lover gave to placate Joseph were flimsy when scrutinized. In retrospect, Joseph wished that he didn’t ignore the warning signs. But his lover seemed so sincere, and those sweet lies were told so convincingly with so much emotion that he let himself believe them again and again.

His lover promised him the moon and all the stars, and he did it so well.

His lover might have been a cheater, but the man insisted that he and his wife were in the final stages of a divorce. In fact, she was already seeing someone else too. His wife was abusive, and he needed to leave her for his safety. She was unhinged. She was terrible. He was pressured into the marriage by his heavily religious family in the first place. He didn’t love her. He never loved her. He only loved Joseph. Joseph was handsome, sweet, attractive, wonderful, and every other beautiful word in the book. He only wanted Joseph. This whole mess would be resolved soon and then it would be just the two of them forever. All Joseph had to do was just be patient and trust him.

And on and on and on the excuses went…

It was nice having money and an otherwise comfortable life, but Joseph couldn’t stay in the relationship. It wasn’t good for him, and he couldn’t live in denial forever. While the nights of passion were intense and his lover’s words were so alluring, the mornings were always empty, with only a wad of cash and a note on the nightstand left behind to keep him company.

For as desperate as he was to be loved, Joseph eventually was forced to face the fact that he was nothing more than a plaything for a rich older man.

The beginning of the end came when Joseph overheard his lover talking to someone else. To his horror, he learned that he wasn’t the only one the man seduced into an affair. There were other people who also fell for this cheater’s honeyed words of love. He even met some of them when his lover convinced him to participate in orgies. He thought that they were an acquaintance joining him and his lover to spice up their love life. At the same time, the other people were led to believe the same thing about him.

The more Joseph pulled at the threads to find the truth, the more it all unraveled. There was no divorce. There never was one. The wife was actually a lovely, sweet woman who was good to their kids. Kids. There were kids involved in this mess, and Joseph never even knew that they existed this entire time! It was hard enough to deal with the fact that his lying, cheating lover had a wife, even with all the excuses, but it made Joseph feel sick that he participated in creating a broken home for those kids.

It reminded him uncomfortably of his own childhood.

The wife and kids didn’t deserve to be treated like this. Neither did Joseph.

The fallout wasn’t pretty. Not that Joseph stuck around long after he burned everything down to the ground. He left that town and the name he made there behind him, running away from the entire messy affair and his heartbreak.

Though Joseph did make sure to leave evidence of the affair for his ex’s wife to find. It was both a way to atone for what he did and to get revenge on a cheating scumbag who played them all for fools with empty promises and lies about love. He hoped that the wife would take the kids and find someone new who would give them the love and respect that they deserved.

Joseph hoped to find someone like that too.

Fortunately Joseph learned from the last time he ran away, and he took as much of his sugar daddy’s money and gifts with him as he could. He sold whatever he couldn’t fit in his backpack and started over from scratch yet again.

Joseph was a bit more jaded about other peoples’ intentions after that when they showed interest in him. He still made an effort to be friendly and even flirty, but he was more guarded with his heart when he eventually tried dating again.

Sex without love wasn’t fulfilling, but it was fun, and it could pay the bills. A quick handjob was cheaper than paying for a taxi cab. A sweet smile, even sweeter words, and a choice glimpse of cleavage and a tight tank top could entice a kind soul to let him bum a cigarette or an extra cup of coffee.

Sex also had a way of distracting Joseph from his loneliness. In those moments of passion, he could convince himself that he didn’t need anything more than this pleasure. He could convince himself that what he was sharing with the person he was dating was love, or at least just as good as love. He tried to be satisfied with pleasures of the flesh and the hope that maybe he might find real love someday. He finally had attention, admiration, approval. He was desired, wanted, needed. The rush was addicting, even if the highs never lasted long.

Digging ditches didn’t pay nearly as well as strip joints, and there were plenty of seedy places in every town. Respectable strip clubs don’t have the strippers moonlight as prostitutes, but Joseph wasn’t really taking jobs at any respectable places. The places he found work at least allowed him to vet out the customers who would pay good money for a private show versus the ones who were just looking for a cheap thrill. It was safer than looking for a john at a bar or on a street corner. He took advice from his coworkers with more experience in the business about how to spot good clients and how to protect himself when things got dangerous.

It wasn’t the life Joseph ever imagined for himself. It all finally hit him just how far things had gone when he was watching his copy of a porno he starred in. Watching himself have sex with a bunch of strangers he barely knew in exchange for money made it sink in that he had become a prostitute.

Joseph never thought his life would turn out this way. A few years ago, the very idea was completely unthinkable. He wanted to be a star, but not like this! Sure, the porno was a small-scale affair, not even with an actual porn studio, but seeing himself like that on his TV made him realize that strangers were going to watch him, judge him, and get off on it.

When did things get so out of hand? Joseph got swept up in the rush of sex and attention. Things never seemed so bad in the moment. The next step never seemed quite as far as he would’ve thought. He accepted gifts, then he accepted cash. He stripped for attention then a job. He had sex to feel love, then to forget his loneliness, then to gain the security only money could give in a capitalist society. He got swept up in things, the idea of lots of easy money for a fun time, and a chance of finding love through attraction and pleasure.

Watching himself from the outside and knowing that countless other people would only ever see him as just a piece of meat and nothing more finally made him realize what he had become.

It wasn’t an entirely negative experience. Joseph found that he enjoyed being watched and watching others. It was a shameful, but thrilling feeling, exciting and even addicting. Sex was fun, exhilarating, and even liberating. He loved to show himself off and be the person everyone looked at with admiration and desire.

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t love.

At the end of the day, that was what Joseph really wanted. He wanted someone to love with his whole heart who loved him just as fiercely. He wanted to bring these intense pleasures that he discovered into a relationship that was built on more than just fleeting moments of passion. He wanted that lingering satisfaction and security that only love ever gave him.

Society shames sex workers, and Joseph wasn’t immune to that internalized shame. The fact that he enjoyed it so much, even if only in the moment, just made him feel even more shameful when the high faded. It made him feel dirty and worthless when he wasn’t lost in those exhilarating rushes of pleasure and attention. He constantly tried to distract himself from such negative thoughts, but he couldn’t escape them when he was left alone with only his thoughts for company.

Selling his body was thrilling and profitable, but it left Joseph feeling ashamed, unfulfilled, and empty inside.

When was the last time he had gone to church? His parents used to drag him there every Sunday when he was a kid. It was never a fun experience. He didn’t buy all the bullshit that the priests were always selling, but he wasn’t free of the internalized shame that was hammered into him and the rest of the congregation. Shouldn’t he feel ashamed for that too?

Then again, what was the point of going back now? He was probably damned to hell either way.

Joseph couldn’t exactly afford shame when he was homeless. Sex paid the bills without breaking his back. Sure, he had to get regular checkups to make sure that he didn’t catch anything. Sure he had to worry about stalkers, potential pregnancies, and he hadn’t had a good relationship since…

Mary. Joseph never found someone who made him feel as happy as Mary. For all the excitement, pleasure, and attention he achieved now, it was always so empty in comparison to the time he spent with her. Sex alone never gave him that contentment, peace, and love that he craved so, so badly.

It was funny. For all the rush sex gave him, even the new exciting kinks he discovered, none of it compared to that sunny smile of hers and those sweet kisses she gave that filled him up to the brim with love.

It all made Joseph that much more desperate to find love again, and sometimes he convinced himself that he did, only to realize that he was being used yet again. He didn’t realize that his desperation for love was obvious enough to make him an easy target for people looking to take advantage of the caring and vulnerable. Every failed relationship made him feel just that little bit more jaded and unlovable.

It made him wonder if he could ever find love again.

Joseph went by so many names, reinvented himself so many times. He started over in town after town, working his way towards Hollywood and that nebulous idea of becoming something better than he was. He wanted, needed to be something more than a piece of meat to be devoured, used, and then discarded like trash.

He wanted to become somebody who didn’t have to use pleasure and excitement to distract himself from feeling so worthless and unlovable.

Love and Self-Loathing

Joseph was ashamed of being a sex worker, though he respected others in the business, and he would fight anyone who dared to insult the few friends he made there. Some people genuinely loved the job and made it work… but he never could find that same love for it that they did. He, like so many others, got into that line of work due to a lack of options and wanted something better as soon as possible.

Sex work isn’t an inherently shameful job, but society plays a big part in projecting strong feelings of shame and disgust onto it. It’s also a dangerous job due to laws that are broken and lack of protection for sex workers. Joseph was not immune to the negative feelings society impressed upon the profession even as he participated in it. This perception only added to all the ways authority figures and his peers ground him down over the years with feelings of worthlessness.

Joseph felt disgusted by how much he enjoyed selling his body, at least in the moment. Once the rush of lust and euphoria was over and he was left in the afterglow, he felt cheap and used. Filthy. It was as much of a damaging rush as the nicotine he kept smoking or the coffee he drank too much of… or the “party favors” he sometimes partook in with partners or clients.

As filthy as sex without real love made Joseph feel, it was also the best way for him to make a living and distract himself from how much he hated his life and himself.

A big theme behind the 1984 incident is Joseph getting exposed. The mask of Sunny Day Jack was torn away and all the dirty secrets that he desperately tried to hide were laid bare before the nation and Mary. Everything he didn’t want anyone to know, especially not his sunshine, was revealed in the most damning way possible.

Hiding these shameful parts of his past played a large part in Joseph losing himself in the character of Sunny Day Jack, both in life and in death. He could forget the man underneath the makeup in the rush that stardom gave him, but this time the euphoria came with a squeaky clean image that he didn’t have to feel ashamed of. As Jack, he was finally someone admirable, famous, and adored. Sunny Day Jack was the type of person Joseph always wanted to be as a child, with the love that he always wished for.

It was also tied to the miracle of finding his sunshine once again.

Fortune smiled on Joseph when Mary spotted him hitchhiking on the highway. She knew the name he was born with and some of his past shame, but those were innocent misdeeds, nothing more than the rambunctiousness of youth. Compared to everything else that came after their separation, the child he used to be was positively charming. It wasn’t that hard for him to bury his deepest shames in the past and pretend those years without her never happened at all.

Joseph hid so many secrets from Mary, while she shared just about everything with him. He felt guilty for not being as open as she was with him. She still loved him, still wanted him even after so many years apart. She was so accepting of him and his flaws. She was drawn to him as a person, not as a tempting hunk of meat. His body was just another part of him, but it wasn’t the main attraction for her. Being on the asexual spectrum, sex was never a priority for her. It didn’t matter to her if he had a six-pack or if he was a scrawny twig. She encouraged him to eat well and take care of his health first. It was his heart and soul that drew her to him. She loved him even when he had nothing to offer her but his own love in return.

Joseph hated himself. He hated himself so much. But he loved Mary far, far more than he could ever hate himself. He was convinced that she deserved better than him. He knew that the noblest thing he could do would be to let her find love with someone who wasn’t carrying so much baggage, who didn’t do so many scummy things, who didn’t crave her love like a junkie in withdrawal.

If Mary had been in a new relationship with someone else, maybe Joseph could’ve stepped back and let her go. Maybe he could lie and pretend that he was happy for her. Maybe.

Or maybe he was only lying to himself to think that he could ever let her go again even if there was someone else in her life.

The relief Joseph experienced when Mary ran into his arms and kissed him was a kind of euphoria that put all his sexual encounters to shame. She remembered him. She missed him. She loved him. All the hurt and years they went through weren’t strong enough to destroy this bond between them. She still longed for his love just as much as he did hers.

There was no chance of Joseph making a noble sacrifice after that kiss. Just hearing Mary use that cherished nickname she gave him, yer eyes bright and brimming with tears as she wore the most gorgeous smile ruined any possibility that he might stay away from her. He might not deserve her after everything he had done, but he couldn’t let her go again. He wasn’t strong enough.

That was why Joseph wanted to give Mary only the best version of himself. He needed to become someone worthy of all the love she gave him, or at least act the part. She deserved the very best in everything. She deserved the world. She filled his life with love in a way no one else could. After losing her once, after trying and failing so many times to find love again, he now knew for sure that there was only one person in the world who could ever make him feel complete.

Joseph tried to be whatever Mary wanted or needed him to be, though he never said as much out loud. He quit smoking because of her health issues, even though the withdrawal was hard on him. He tried to speak more gently and smile more. He tried to be more mindful. He took all the lessons he learned about charming people to be more sociable and romantic, and his psychology classes helped him better understand how to handle people. He learned from all the mistakes he made with his many failed attempts at romance. He wanted to be the best partner possible, the ideal lover. He wanted to be someone who could never be replaced.

Sunny Day Jack served as a fantastic template for the type of person Joseph wanted to be. Everyone loved the character. He loved the character.

Mary always said that Sunny Day Jack was inspired by Joseph. She and others told him that was perfect for the role and really brought the character to life. The kids showed him so much admiration and love too when he interacted with them in person. Joseph could never quite see himself in Sunny Day Jack, though he wanted to very much. He wished that he could be half as good as Sunny Day Jack. The character was so good, so pure, so worthy of love. To him, Sunny Day Jack was everything Joseph Cullman wasn’t.

Even still, Joseph tried everything in his power to become the best Sunny Day Jack there ever was. He refused to disappoint his sunshine and all the kids who loved him so much.

Joseph wasn’t perfect, despite all his efforts. Every time he slipped up, got a little too loud, a little too abrasive, fear crept in. He couldn’t shake the doubts that he didn’t deserve Mary and everything she brought to his life, and in those moments the fear whispered poison in his ears. It pushed him to try harder. Too hard.

Mary didn’t just bring her love into his life. Through her, Joseph got the part of Sunny Day Jack at LambsWorks. He got the chance to become a star, just like he dreamed of since he was a child. He had a new opportunity to reinvent himself as the actor James Haberdae. He had a clean slate with new people, a new chance to make friends, a chance to make a name for himself. He had fame, adoration, and respect. He had the opportunity to be someone better.

It was like a dream… and Joseph was terrified that someday he might wake up.

Over time, in a world where the incident of 1984 never ended in tragedy, where Mary and Joseph got to grow old together, he would learn that he didn’t need to be afraid of his sunshine learning the truth about his past. She accepted him whenever his perfect mask slipped, comforted him and supported him when he was at his lowest. He lived to face the aftermath of his secrets being so cruelly exposed, and he wasn’t rejected for all his failings.

Despite his fears, Mary showed Joseph that he was never unworthy of love.

Not that Mary was happy with what Joseph did. It was all a lot to take in. Prostitution, bullying, drugs, dating a married person, and so on… but what bothered her more was how much he hid from her. It hurt that he couldn’t trust her with these parts of his story that made him the man she knew and loved.

She understood though. These secrets weren’t easy to tell. They were painful and messy. Mary and Joseph talked things through in the aftermath. There was a lot of talking and tears.

They made it work. Despite everything, in the end, they came together stronger than ever.

It also allowed Joseph to finally accept himself as someone worthy of love. He didn’t have to be perfect. He didn’t have to be flawless without a speck of filth on his soul. He didn’t even have to be Sunny Day Jack anymore. All he had to do was to keep choosing to do the best he could for himself and for Mary and be open and honest with her. That was all she ever really wanted from him.

Sadly, Joseph never got to experience this kind of closure in the main timeline of Sunshine in Hell. He died at his absolute lowest moment. The liar was exposed in front of everyone. They all knew the filthy, worthless man known as Joseph Cullman hiding behind all the masks and names he wore to hide his shame.

He lost everything. He lost his fame, his reputation, his love, his life, and then his sanity.

Is it any wonder why he’s now so desperate to convince himself that he really was Sunny Day Jack?

Exposed Early

Now, with all that buildup of backstory and how it connects to the main continuity of Sunshine in Hell, let’s see what would happen if Joseph couldn’t hide a part of his shameful past from Mary when they reunited.

Funny thing is I wound up writing out a short story about it instead of just a summary of events. It just goes to show that inspiration can sneak up on you.

…

Under normal circumstances, Mary would have no interest in a strip club. Being on the demisexual side of the asexual spectrum, seeing random people in states of undress never did anything for her. Plus there was also the internalized shame that her parents hammered into her about behaving like a “good Christian girl” and what not. They would bring down the thunder if they ever learned that she went to such a place, no matter how old she was or if she was living on her own.

However, sometimes people had to push themselves out of their comfort zone for the sake of friendship. This is especially true for people who struggled to make friends and didn’t want to lose the few they managed to get.

What her parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right?

Besides, this was a special occasion. A person only got married once (hopefully), so they should live it up for their bachelorette party.

Of course, Mary didn’t understand why the bride-to-be was so keen on watching men strip when in a committed monogamous relationship. It kind of felt like cheating to her, even if they weren’t married yet. The bride-to-be blew off any concerns, acting as though it was only natural. Even still, she told the soon-to-be-groom that the party would just consist of dinner, drinks, and chatting together at the maid of honor’s house.

It didn’t feel right, but Mary didn’t want to cause trouble. She didn’t know if it was her place to say anything and meddle in their relationship. She hadn’t dated anyone since she was a teenager, so she had no idea what it was like to get married. She didn’t want to risk the tenuous friendships on misgivings. She just did her best to swallow her discomfort and went along with the rest of the bridal party.

Even if the other members of the party got a bit too rowdy at times when they finally got to see the strippers perform. Even if the person getting the most hands on with the strippers was the bride-to-be herself.

Mary was mostly a wallflower watching as the rest of the bridal party cut loose, cat calling at strippers and waving dollar bills in the air. She hid awkwardly behind her glass of soda much of the time and tried to focus more on the club decor and the music rather than its scantily dressed employees or excited patrons.

At least she didn’t have to worry about making small talk while the others were fixated on the performers.

The performances were… fine? Not that Mary was a good judge of such things. The performances consisted mostly of muscular men gyrating to the music while undressing and giving the audience suggestive looks. Sometimes there was a gimmick involved like a costume, a pole, or juggling bottles of alcohol. Sure the men were objectively good looking, but watching them strut their stuff didn’t do anything for her except make her uncomfortable when things got a bit too raunchy at times.

The shows certainly worked on the other patrons, even if Mary didn’t quite get it. She was at least happy that her friends were having fun, even if she could do without the high pitched screams of excitement. Whenever a customer tipped especially well, the dancers would offer an extra special service. Sometimes it was a kiss on the lips, while other times it was guiding the customer’s hand to grope along the dancer’s chest. The really big spenders got to enjoy a lap dance or straddle the dancer’s hips and dry hump them.

At one point a customer was led away into the back by one of the dancers, much to the hooting and hollering of the crowd. Mary tried not to speculate what that meant, but it wasn’t hard to figure out anyway.

The big rule of the strip club was that the patrons couldn’t do anything unless guided by the dancer. The customers could only make requests, sometimes shouted, as they waved their money around in a desperate bid to draw the dancer towards them. Sometimes, the strippers would make something of a bidding war for their attention, teasing the customers by coming in close, only to be “lured” away by someone else waving around a larger bill in the air.

Money talked in this place, and a lot of it was flowing straight into some very tiny underwear that was fighting for its life to support both the cash and the large bulge the dancers would sway about.

Mary wasn’t exactly comfortable in the strip club, but it wasn’t as bad as her parents or church made it out to be. The place was mostly clean and security was pretty good about keeping the patrons from getting out of control. Though she did feel embarrassed when a security guard stopped by their table to give a warning when a couple members of the bridal party got a bit handsy with one of the servers after a few too many drinks.

The experience was awkward and a bit uncomfortable for Mary, but overall the strip club wasn’t a den of debauchery, drugs, and sin where the devil liked to play. It was just a place where people paid to show off the sexual side of themselves that they hid from polite society. Even if she didn’t understand the appeal of stripping like the rest of the audience, she could focus on being happy that her friends were having fun.

Though Mary could do without other members of the bridal party trying to goad her into stuffing her hard earned money into some stranger’s thong. Peer pressure might’ve brought her through the doors and pushed her to buy the overpriced soda she’d been nursing all evening, but even the power of friendship had its limits.

Not that Mary was especially close to anyone in the bridal party yet, but she hoped stepping out of her comfort zone like this might change that.

Mary came to the strip club hoping to deepen her new friendships. She wasn’t expecting to see an old friend who she could never forget.

Of course, Mary didn’t quite recognize Joseph right away. He was introduced to the crowd under a different name after all, and she wasn’t really focusing on the dancers. When she finally noticed and recognized him, the realization caused her to spit out her soda and do a double-take.

…

I’m thinking that Joseph should have a fun and suggestive stage name like Randy Ryder, Chase Hardcock, Maxx Climax, or something like that. I went back and forth for quite a while about what stripper name feels most fitting or gives me giggles the most. In the end, I decided on going with Diablo as his stage name and Adam Lovegood as his “real” name. Though I am still open to changing the names if something else strikes my fancy more later on down the line.

…

Needless to say, Mary did not expect the muscular man with the tattoos who was sliding along a pole and stripping down to his underwear to the tune of sultry disco music to be her long lost first love.

Joseph, or rather Diablo as the crowd knew him, was lost in the excitement of the show, just as he was every time he performed. So many people were clamoring for his attention, desperately screaming “his” name while waving their money to lure him their way. They wanted him so badly he could taste it. In these moments, he forgot himself and who he was outside of the shows. He could enjoy the lustful eyes hungrily devouring his body and feel as if he was truly wanted and adored.

Mary spitting her soda got the attention of others in the bridal party, and some odd stares her way. Once again she was goaded and teased to participate, especially since she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man pole dancing on stage.

In so many ways, the moment was as surreal as a dream to Mary. She couldn’t be sure this Diablo person was her Joseph, but what if. What if?

Then again… Diablo was reveling in the attention, the lust and intense energy of the club. He drew some of those in the front row close to touch him, to run their hands along his glistening body as he exposed more and more of his skin.

This Diablo person looked like Joseph, so much so that it made Mary’s heart ache, but he was so different from the Joseph she remembered.

Even still, maybe spurred by the goading of other members of the party, or maybe she couldn’t keep herself away because of the pull of what if, Mary finally stepped out of the shadows she hid in and approached the stage.

The showstopper Diablo was in full form that night. The crowd loved him. He took his time teasing customers who begged him for a kiss, drawing them close, only to get “distracted” by someone else’s desperate bid for his attention. He wanted them to need him so badly that it drove them insane. Only when the excitement was at a fever pitch would he finally choose his favorite for the evening and give them a taste of his temptation.

Diablo eventually selected a pretty thing with a big wad of cash and a nice smile. Their shameless begging drew him to them. He was inches away from giving them what they wanted when he caught a glimpse of sunshine.

Joseph froze when he saw her. Even after all these years, even with the glare of the spotlight in his eyes, he still recognized Mary. How could he not? She was older now, her body filled out with soft and inviting curves.

But what struck him the most were those eyes, those familiar beautiful blue eyes as bright as the sky at dawn. He remembered those eyes alight with joy or filled to the brim with tears. He could never forget the way she looked at him with so much love.

Joseph couldn’t quite place the emotion he saw in those wide eyes of her now, but her gaze pierced him right down to his soul.

“Diablo” hadn’t fumbled a performance since he was still a newbie, but he wound up losing his grip on the pole and the customer’s chin, and he hit the stage floor with a thump. The onlookers were confused by the disruption, and that unease pushed him back to his feet.

If there was one thing Joseph learned from performing, it was that no matter what happened, the show had to go on.

Besides, if the show fell apart, Joseph would get rushed off the stage, and he couldn’t let that happen, not before he got closer to Mary.

Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe this was just someone who simply looked like his sunshine. Maybe this was just his wishful thinking. Maybe he was hallucinating after so many times he lost himself to the memories of his first love. Maybe any or all of these things were true, but Joseph would never forgive himself if he lost this chance to be with Mary just one more time.

Diablo locked eyes with Mary. Normally he gave the patrons seductive, teasing smiles, but the smile he gave her was far gentler. There was so much emotion there in his smile and in his dark eyes that refused to look away from her to any of the crowd screaming for his attention. He brought up a hand and gestured for her to come closer.

Mary moved as if reeled in by an invisible string tied to his beckoning finger. She held some bills in her tightly clenched, sweaty palm, but she didn’t look too closely at how much was there. She just did as she was expected to do in this place and pulled out a wad of cash in order to catch the dancer’s attention. She whispered the name he abandoned long ago, but all the other voices drowned her out. There were so many people who wanted Diablo’s attention, but he only had eyes for her.

The show’s tone shifted subtly as Mary reached the edge of the stage, though most patrons didn’t really notice, too caught up in the usual atmosphere of the strip club and their own frenzied attempts to get “Diablo” to notice them. They didn’t notice how gently he touched this particular customer compared to everyone else, or the fact that he didn’t immediately take her offered money to do so.

Mary could hear her heart beating louder than the club music. His gentle touch blazed across her already burning skin. She struggled to speak, still caught between wanting to believe that this man was really Joseph and being afraid that she might be merely projecting his memory onto a stranger. The surroundings were alien to her, and the atmosphere so different from the moments they shared years ago, but the tenderness in the way he held her cheek and the longing in his eyes was so familiar. He made her want to believe.

“Starlight…?”

Despite the chaos around them, Joseph heard her soft voice, and that single word dispelled all his doubts. Joy, excitement, relief, shame, embarrassment, and countless other emotions created a chaotic mess inside of his mind. It was all he could do not to pull Mary up onto the stage and into his arms, but he managed to keep his composure… for now at least. He had gotten good at pushing his feelings away to focus on the energy of the moment, in playing the role he was given.

So “Diablo” kept the show going, flashing Mary a crooked, slightly teasing smile. “Hey there, Sunshine,” he said, and for a moment it was like they were kids again. He was back to being the rule breaking punk with that same cheeky smile who snuck in through her bedroom window to hang out behind their parents’ backs.

The memory struck Mary like lightning, and relief sent a shudder through her body. Emotions started to overflow her heart, brimming in her eyes as tears.

Joseph leaned in to speak softly into her ear so only Mary could hear him. “Come with me. We’ll talk somewhere more private.”

The reminder made Mary more aware of their audience and the mounting frustration of the other customers ignored by “Diablo.” She barely had time to nod before Joseph hopped off stage then scooped her up into his arms, eliciting a shriek of surprise.

“Diablo” smiled cheekily at Mary before regarding the audience. “Pardon me for stopping early tonight, sweethearts, but this lucky customer just bought a private show from me tonight.”

The crowd erupted in a mixture of hooting, jeers, and groans. It wasn’t unusual for a dancer to make a show of sweeping a customer up in their arms and making such an announcement in this particular club. It just usually happened after the dancer played to the crowd for a while and gave several individuals a more public show with kisses, groping, or lap dances.

The whole thing was too much for Mary to handle, especially since the bridal party were shouting the loudest of the crowd, cheering her on to “finally get laid” and how much of a “lucky whore” she was. She had to cover her face in a vain attempt to hide as Joseph whisked her away backstage where the private rooms were.

…

Okay, I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to write 8 pages of a short story about the scene, but it just happened naturally as I was describing the scene and emotions. Gotta love these sudden bouts of inspiration in these rambles.

Despite the implication that Joseph gave to the crowd that he and Mary were going to have some sexy times backstage, what they did back there was anything but sexy. Emotions were running high and they were both relieved to be reunited, even if things were awkward and embarrassing for both of them.

Joseph couldn’t escape the question of how he wound up working in a place like this. He also couldn’t avoid his feelings of guilt and shame. Even though they had been apart for years and he believed that Mary was dead, he felt like he cheated on her. He feels that way to some extent in the main timeline too, but it hits harder when he was literally inviting other people to grope and kiss him right in front of her.

Sadly, there’s no immediate greeting kiss and hug in this AU. Things are too awkward and uncertain at the start of this sort of reunion.

Joseph never imagined that something like this could happen. He had been trying to heal from his sunshine’s death for years. He lost hope that he would ever see Mary again. Being with her again was an impossible wish of his, but now it came true in probably one of the worst ways ever.

Well, maybe not the absolute worst way ever, but this is still pretty bad.

Mary hoped to find Joseph again someday. They talked about their personal dreams for the future since they were kids, and she always liked to hope that he was out chasing one or more of those dreams. Most of all, she hoped that he was happy.

Well he was. Or at least he looked that way to her. Becoming a stripper was nothing Mary never imagined for Joseph, but it was clear that he was enjoying himself when he was up on stage. He obviously loved the attention, the flirting, the touching…

It seemed as if Joseph had moved on without her. He had grown into someone sexually liberated while she… more or less stayed the same. He was off exploring himself in ways she never dreamed, doing things that she would never dare. Meanwhile she never got comfortable with anyone else the way she did with him.

They had finally reunited after all these years, but weirdly it felt like there was this divide between them that was never there before.

Really, both of them would be spinning their wheels a bit once they’re alone together, trying to figure out what to say to one another. I can see Joseph being the one to speak up first, just feeling a desperate need to explain himself before Mary got the wrong idea about him. Of course, what initially blurts out of him is probably going to be awkward as hell and maybe a bit misleading.

This isn’t going to lead to a dramatic misunderstanding between them though. They’re just going to have some very uncomfortable conversation, and Joseph is going to have to explain some things that led him here. This means exposing a few more skeletons he wanted to leave buried forever in his closet.

Not all of them of course. Heavens no. Joseph isn’t going to unload everything on Mary after they’ve finally reunited. He just feels the need to explain things, to somehow soften what he did right in front of her…

He just needs to somehow stop himself from feeling so filthy and ashamed.

It’s funny that the initial idea of this AU was mostly lighthearted and silly images of Joseph pole dancing and stripping for Mary before giving her a lap dance as she gets incredibly flustered and turned on. While it’d be fun to imagine her being shocked and just going along with it all, it’d be a bit too intense for either of them to handle. There’s a lot of heavy emotions and scarring they both carry all hitting them at once without any warning.

Even if Joseph and Mary had an AU where they met for the first time at the strip club, Mary would be even less keen to just go along with sexy times. She’d hide in her shadowy corner, trying not to get anyone’s attention until the bachelorette party is over. There’d need to be some real shenanigans to get them to interact and bond.

Perhaps I could explore that possibility sometime, but that’s a potential post for another day.

Anyway, Joseph has been caught with his pants down here, both figuratively and literally. Even his attempts to explain and smooth things over would be awkward and affected by so many intense emotions. It might even lead to him breaking down as the shame overwhelms him.

Mary is alive. Joseph thought she was dead. He mourned for her. So many sleepless nights he missed her in his life. She left this void behind when she was gone, one he tried so hard to fill again and again and again… and now she’s here to see him when he’s been reduced to… this!

Mary was the one person in the world Joseph could bear his soul to. She’s also the one person he can’t bear to disappoint. He disappoints himself every single day, and her discomfort is obvious. He ruined himself in her eyes. He ruined their reunion, their love…

Joseph doesn’t know when he fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands, but he does notice Mary embrace him.

For as strange and uncomfortable as the circumstances of their reunion were, Mary doesn’t see Joseph the way he sees himself in that moment. She knows that he’s changed, that much is obvious, but it’s only natural. It’s been years and they’re adults now. They lived different lives than the ones they led as children.

Men shouldn’t cry. It’s something hammered into all boys’ heads thanks to society, and Joseph was always told the same by his parents. Realizing that he started crying and having a breakdown in front of Mary seemed to him like yet another reason to feel ashamed of himself. It’s another sign to show that he failed to become someone worthy of love.

Yet Mary chose to keep holding him. She chose to stroke his back and head so tenderly, telling him gently that it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.

Joseph did mutter some things under his breath during his breakdown. It was mostly just fragments of his attempts to explain himself, but also the crushing feelings that he ruined everything. Mary didn’t understand all of it, but she got the gist.

“It’s okay, Starlight. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, Joseph can’t hold back anymore. All the shame and sadness he buried beneath hate and temporary pleasures finally come rushing out of him in a bout of tears and desperate need. He clings to Mary like a lifeline, terrified that the world will take her away from him again.

It’s the most vulnerable Joseph has ever been. He’s on his knees in a seedy backroom with a bed where he slept with untold numbers of people for money, wearing only a tiny thong stuffed with dollar bills. There’s no distractions, no high to chase and lose himself in. Instead, he has the miracle that is Mary and the comfort she gives him despite everything he’s done and what he’s become. He can’t help but unload all the years of shame that had been eating him alive.

Mary can’t help but cry as well for Joseph, for the years they’ve lost, and for all the hurts they had to hold onto alone all this time.

There’s nothing like a good cry to unload so many pent up emotions. Eventually as the tears run dry, Joseph is left feeling spent, but just a little bit lighter.

…

“If this is a dream… I hope I don’t wake up ever again,” Joseph muttered.

Mary let out a small chuckle. It was clear to her that he didn’t mean to give voice to that thought, but she answered him anyway. “If you’re dreaming, I’ll just wake you up, sleeping beauty.”

Joseph caught the reference to one of their many old inside jokes. It was silly and reassuring, though not as reassuring as those arms wrapped around him, or the unexpected feel of her lips pressed against his crown. Instantly he lifted his head to see her flushed face as his sunshine had to look away.

“O-oh, uh… sorry,” Mary stammered, flustered. “I should’ve asked before doing that, shouldn’t I?”

This time it was Joseph’s turn to chuckle wryly. “You never have to apologize for kissing me, Sunshine.”

Mary struggled to look Joseph in the eye as he straightened up to face her properly. That crooked smile he wore sent her heart racing, and she was quickly reminded of not just their closeness, but his state of undress.

…

Needless to say, after they have a long talk about what they both really want, among other things, these two get back together. They’ve missed each other all this time, and they still love each other in spite of everything. They owe it to themselves and each other to at least try again.

Fortunately, things do work out between them… at least until the 1984 incident.

Perhaps they managed to somehow grow old together in this canon divergence. The butterfly effect and me being mushy for my OTP can do some pretty crazy things after all.

Regardless, Joseph quits all forms of sex work. It doesn’t feel right when they’re together again, and he doesn’t need anyone like he needs his sunshine. Instead he leaves with Mary to start over again with a new identity. He still has secrets that he holds back from her, but those will come out slowly over time when he’s ready.

After all, Mary saw Joseph in a state that made him feel so much shame, but still chose to be with him. She still loves him, flaws and all.

There’s plenty of conversations to be had between them in the future, but Joseph finds security in knowing that he can talk with Mary about the parts of himself that he dislikes so much. It’s never easy to talk about the mistakes that he’s made, but he finally has someone who loves him and wants to help him bear his burdens. He’ll bear hers too. It’s the least he can do to repay her for bringing love back to his scarred heart.

The fear of shattering the image Mary has of him is lessened by this exposure. She saw him when he felt so ashamed, so worthless, so filthy… and despite how much Joseph hated what he had become, she still loved him anyway.

It taught Joseph that he doesn’t have to hide his mistakes from Mary in order not to lose her.

Joseph still wants to change. He wants to be a better person, both for Mary and for himself. However, now he can see that maybe, just maybe he’s not as awful as he always believed himself to be.

When he starts over again with Mary, he gives himself the surname of Haberdae. It’s a reminder of his mistakes and a promise to himself to be better. Only in this AU, instead of using the name James, he decides to go by Joseph again.

While there’s nothing left he wants to keep of the Cullman name, Mary helped him see that there was still some worth in Joseph. Somehow she always saw worth in him when no one else could.

Even if it’s only in his sunshine’s eyes, her feelings for him are enough to weaken the hatred Joseph has for himself. In spite of everything he’s done, Mary has shown him that he is worthy of love, and he’ll forever be grateful for her.

Of course, once emotions calm a bit and things settle down, the two of them can turn his stripper days into another of their inside jokes. Joseph has plenty of dance moves to tease and tantalize his sunshine with. Mary certainly is going to get to enjoy plenty of private shows and lap dances with her beloved starlight.

When the topic becomes something a bit more comfortable, Mary even asks Joseph to teach her some of his dance moves. After all, even a retired stripper deserves to enjoy his own private show now and again~

The Sexy and Fluffy Finale

On that note, let’s jump into one last snippet and bring this post back to the fluffy, sexy, and silly idea it originally started out as. I think someone is owed a lap dance, don’t you?

…

“Watch closely, Sunshine,” Joseph practically purred as he sauntered towards her. He moved in time with the music, matching its deep bassy rhythm with the way he shifted his hips and ran his hands along his barely clothed body.

Mary swallowed hard as she followed his every movement with wide eyes. When he came close to her, she reached out for him instinctively. “Joseph…”

Joseph took a hold of her hands and clucked his tongue in faint disapproval. “Nuh, uh, uh. Touching the dancers isn’t allowed during the performance, Sunshine.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed along her fingers as he locked eyes with her. “Try to keep your hands to yourself a little while longer. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

“O-okay,” Mary murmured as she watched Joseph guide her hands behind her back. She shivered when he then glided his fingers up along her arms before straightening up again.

It had been years since Joseph had put on such a seductive performance, but he found it easy to recapture that familiar rhythm. In fact, his movements came far more easily now and with a greater rush of excitement. The eyes watching his every move now weren’t just filled with lust. He could feel the affection in his sunshine’s gaze as well, the deep love and trust she had for him. The small, flustered smiles Mary wore as he drew in close to her were nothing but loving and warm.

Joseph adored the squeak Mary made as he rolled his hips against her lap. He ground himself lightly into one of her thighs, then the other, just giving a small taste of him to start. He wore his skimpiest pair of underwear, which couldn’t quite contain his cock as he became erect. He made sure to let her feel him grow harder by the moment, adding a bit more pressure to his gyrations against her thighs.

Mary gripped the chair’s backing tightly as she tried to keep still. Her body shook with each increasingly rapid breath, and she couldn’t help but squirm as her starlight ground his heat against her.

A small squeak escaped Mary as Joseph took a hold of her thighs and squeezed. He gave her one of his maddeningly sexy smirks before he leaned in to brush his lips against her. It was the softest of touches, barely more than the brush of a butterfly’s wing, and it only made her ache for more. Her lips chased after him reflexively to fall into a deeper kiss, but he remained maddeningly just out of reach save for the barest of touches.

“Not yet, Sunshine,” Joseph teased, hovering close enough that she could feel his lips shape the words against her mouth. “Soon, I promise. Just be patient a little longer.” He chuckled at the small, frustrated sound that escaped Mary as she tried to keep her back firmly pressed against the chair. “That’s it. Good girl.”

“Joseph…,” Mary said, his name coming out as a whine, unintended. That just got another chuckle out of Joseph and a slow roll of his hips against her already burning body. “Starlight…”

Joseph could help but bite his lower lip as he struggled to hold himself back from taking her right now. Driving Mary to this state, making her all but beg for his love gave him a rush that no crowd at any club he worked at could ever hope to replicate. The thong felt far too tight now to contain his excitement, and he needed to feel more of her. He made a show of rolling his hips again before he moved to finally discard his final article of clothing.

“You’re doing so good for me, Sunshine,” Joseph all but purred. He could see Mary practically quaking in an effort not to squirm or reach out to him. He was drunk off her need, her love for him. It was all he could ever ask for. “Here’s your reward.”

Mary held her breath as Joseph took her hands and guided them to his chest. He didn’t have to do much prompting to encourage her to play with his body. She was only too eager to show how much she appreciated her one and only starlight.

Joseph groaned softly as Mary squeezed his pecs before teasingly tracing his nipples. He slid his hands along her arms before drawing her in closer to him, and she took that as an invitation to kiss his chest. “Yes, that’s it, Mary,” he cooed encouragingly before letting out a low moan as she flicked her tongue across his skin. “You’re doing so well.”

Mary let out a sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a whimper as she felt Joseph grind his hardness along her thighs and then her stomach. She tried to keep focus on leaving kisses all along his chest even as he ground himself against her. He was so careful not to put his full weight on her as he hovered over her lap, but he made sure that she could feel the pressure of his rock hard cock prodding her with his every movement.

Joseph let out a low moan of appreciation as he felt Mary’s hands work their way to his hips and grip him tightly. She started to use her tongue on him too, teasing and sucking his nipples each in turn. He loved the attention. He loved just how enthusiastic and eager he made his sunshine with just a little teasing, but he wasn’t about to give up the lead in this dance of his just yet.

Gently, Joseph grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled Mary back from his chest, taking great care not to be too rough. She made a small noise of protest, but thankfully not pain. He smiled triumphantly at her flushed face as she panted for breath and turned her beautiful blue eyes towards him.

“Mary,” Joseph said, his thick voice filled with so much emotion. “I love you so much.”

Mary smiled, and the sight of her just about made Joseph ready to melt. “I love you too, Joseph,” she said breathlessly. “So, so much…”

Joseph couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He seized her lips in a hungry kiss that claimed her as his, shivering in delight as she returned it with equal passion. Her tongue met his eagerly, and followed his lead in this sultry dance. He swallowed the small noises she made into his mouth as his hands wandered across her body to strip away her clothes. The kiss only ended with some reluctance to allow him to cast aside the last piece of cloth that separated them, which he flung across the room with a small note of spite.

They weren’t separated for long, as Mary wound her arms around his neck and pulled him back. She leaned in for another kiss, only to be thwarted when Joseph suddenly straightened up. Before she realized what was happening, she suddenly found herself scooped up into his arms, and she let out a squeal as she instinctively tightened her grip on him. “Starlight!”

Though Mary tried to sound alarmed or maybe offended at being picked up without warning, the note of laughter in her voice gave away her mock protest, and Joseph couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

Joseph gave his sunshine a crooked smile, his eyes smoldering with a hunger for her that he couldn’t contain. “I think it’s about time to switch from a lap dance to a private show, don’t you think?”

Instead of answering with words, Mary pulled Joseph in for another kiss, which he was only too happy to return.

#Sunshine in Hell #Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #My Writing #Joseph Cullman #Mary Phoenix #Picrew Art

45 notes · View notes