#'you're mature for your age' 'thanks. it's all the fucking trauma'

[druidx]

thinking about how, in her early days in the Watch, Elo might have been being the sort to hide any injuries.

because, well, she's basically a nepo baby right? So she's got something to prove. She's not just the niece of the fabled Shot in the Dark or the Grand Magus. She's her own damned person who is, incidentally, really quite good at being a Watchman.

Her first partner, Sargent Taube, her instructional officer, was reasonable. But he retired after finishing her instruction, so about a year and a half. Then she went through at least 4 or 5 other partners before Farren, who were at best indifferent or at worst actively bullying her.

And she quickly realised there was no such thing as sympathy in the Watch. But also she has to prove she - female, non-human and 3ft fuckall - has what it takes to be as macho as the rest. So she has to suck it up, not let on she's hurt, and thus got really good at hiding her injuries.

She knows Farren is different, but it doesn't stop the habit of hiding injuries, even after they've been partners for a while. Until he finds out by accident and gives her an earful for it, followed up by the equivalent of 'who hurt you?' to which she's like, I have a list if you want a copy.

It all about the 'goes through hell then finally finds the one who cares' 🧡️

[motherofagony]

A HEART FOR EATING // vol. 1

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: post outbreak!joel x f!reader setting: jackson, wy (think tlou pt. 2 minus the golfing) rating: mature, 18+, minors dni word count: 5.6k series summary: a vicious raider attack robs you of human connection and lights a fire of destruction in your life in jackson. joel's fixated on you, and your lives tangle. revenge becomes a needful thing. chapter summary: life goes on after raiders infiltrate a routine patrol. you're a shut-in, and jackson residents tiptoe around your trauma. joel found you after the accident, but you don't know what to make of it. content warnings + tags: age gap (we'll say 15-20 years), protective!joel, mentions of trauma (no s/a, i promise), blood, bodily injuries, death, shitty men, dissociation/triggers, alcohol, angst, sexual tension if you close one eye, the softest enemies to lovers you've ever seen vol. 1 // vol. 2 series playlist a/n: longtime listener, first time caller. yes, there will be smut — in due time. probably a slower burn than you're used to on tumblr dot com, but there will be porn galore, i promise. heavy on the hurt + comfort trope in this one. thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy.

“Get the fuck up!”

The boot connects with your side again, the rounded toe slamming into ribs you’re sure are already broken. You’re trying to play dead, but it doesn’t exactly work when yelps are being kicked out of you. Old Yeller, of all fucking things, comes to mind.

But you’re not sick, not infected. Just wrong time, wrong place.

Blood pools sticky under your head. Voices are filtering in like an untuned radio, gathering static and making you nauseous. Like it’s all one bad hangover or a lucid dream in a realm too far.

“Where are the others?”

Someone else asks the question that you’ve been concentrating on. The knob turns, clearing the radio fuzz just so. You strain to hear, but you don’t dare open your eyes.

“Dead. Not shit on ‘em that was worth stealin’. We gotta fuckin’ go — just leave her.”

A vague twang of Boston wraps around his words. You’d forgotten what it sounded like, how the rs get caught in the back of the tongue and dropped. How the voweled aws are spit at you, the shell of your ear growing numb against the icy concrete. 

Yes, you think. Fucking leave me.

The raider that’s been torturing you for what feels like hours groans as if it’s an inconvenience, an interruption to something he was thoroughly enjoying. Whatever he would’ve done, continued doing, taunts the crevices of your mind. He digs through your bag one last time, and you don’t know what he’s looking for or if there would have been anything at all that would have satisfied him the first time. 

You remember a sliver of skin where his sleeve had bunched, revealing a shitty coupling of star tattoos on his wrist. You can feel your icepick heartbeat behind your eyes, and you wonder if it was a dare over a few beers. A matching tattoo with a lover. The thought lifts you up and out of the crushing burden of pushing air into clenched lungs, only for a moment. It’s no name to grab hold of, but it’s an identifier if you can make it out alive. 

He’d crept up behind you while you were clearing a warehouse that you swore you’d be fine doing by yourself, pushing the cold barrel of something painfully familiar into the back of your head. He was tall, unflinching, unworried, too practiced. He helped you slip the straps of your backpack off your shoulders but staggeringly violent and unkind. Feeling you up for weapons with a disgusting leisure. As if you’d be hiding something gun-sized in your small back pocket.

You’d heard panic and screams outside, and you already knew. Voices outnumbered your friends, and it was almost – almost – funny to think that Tommy said the three of you would be one too many for patrol.

So, when exactly two gunshots hit their targets, it only took you seconds to figure out the score. 

Something significant cracked in you then. Started in your chest and splintered to your heart, head, down to the tips of your toes. There was no fighting back, and you were next.

Now — fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, bloodied face, broken wrist, and one concussion later, here you find yourself. The tall one has a thick mustache, something sinister and villainous that seems too stereotypical even for this. At some point there had been a shift, and what started as a robbery now felt like killing for sport.

“Fine. Think she’s dead anyway.”

He kicks you one more time for the cinematic pleasure of it all. 

This time you don’t wince, don’t feel a jerk or twitch betray you. The muscle in your jaw is so tense, the teeth grinding so hard into one another that you expect to open your mouth to a cloud of dust.

An agony you’ve only ever seen in movies is wringing every cell dry. It’s seizing, unrelenting, almost an exorcism in the tensing and writhing of it all. But you keep it beneath the surface, barely clinging to the little control you have. 

You try to count the footsteps that are finally retreating, to breathe around the blood in your nose both dried and fresh. It feels like measuring the closeness of thunder and lightning, some kind of correlation with the distance of a storm. 

The group trails outside, and heavier footsteps of your stolen horses lead them away. Onto the next. Breath idles in your chest, and the clarity that you think will come when you finally unstick your eyelids doesn’t. Everything feels swollen, scorched, raw. Nerve endings clipped and lapped up by the unrelenting lick of wind. A scream climbs up your throat, but the pain isn’t worth the exhale. And you don’t want them to come back for round two.

You drag the dead weight of your limbs out to inspect what you know to be true, and it’s nothing but bloody snow angels and twisted, awkward angles of your friends. You can’t even look at them, turning your head and squeezing your swollen eyes shut when you check for pulses that aren’t there. 

Snowflakes collect on your lashes and drip pink down your face.

—

Daylight wanes, languid and impatient. It’s been hours trying to retrace your steps back to Jackson, the blood loss slowing you to a stop every five dizzying minutes. Your feet trick you into standing, only for your knees to buckle and bring you down into the snow. Teetering on the cliff of willfully alive and mercifully dead. There isn’t pain anymore, not really, and you’re grateful for the numbing cold, but you can feel your body threatening to cave in on itself. 

Tears don’t come as much as you beg for them, for any type of release that’ll ground you. Enough time has ticked by that someone has to notice an absence of three, but you can’t be sure that you’re even on the right path anymore to meet them in the middle. 

When they find you, if they ever find you, at least they’ll know you tried.

There’s a comfort in that, a warmth that reaches out and grabs you and folds you in like a blanket. It’s safe here, it says. Just lie down for a minute. And you don’t fight it.

Someone’s calling your name now, and it’s a gentle tug back into consciousness. There are frantic hands on your face, delicate and urgent when they take inventory of your wounds. When they say death greets you, maybe it’s this. 

But there’s a Texas drawl that’s murmuring you’re okay, I’ve got you and I know, I know it hurts and shouting instructions to someone else that’s lifting you up, up, up. 

Your fingertips scrape a stubbled jaw when you’re pulled away. The light dims like a blown-out candle. And you’re falling, grasping at anything, everything, nothing. 

You forget the rest.

—

Ten months pass, dripping into spring, then summer, and meeting autumn at its doorstep.

Everything has healed, down to the last scratch. That day feels hazy, and you’d assume it was a hallucination if not for the two friends that didn’t come back with you. The recovery was just as strange, trauma shielding you from the gory parts but not the guilt. Never the guilt. 

Sometimes, you test the memory, prod at it, but nothing new comes to the surface. No recollection of who they were, where they were going, if they were anything more than nameless thieves. It’s probably better this way, but there’s no way of knowing if that’s true.

Fistfuls of flowers collected on your porch, and they seemed to appear out of thin air because no one ever came with them. Anonymous condolences that didn’t want to be seen, and it was an easy guess as to why. You heard rumors, retellings of what happened without much accuracy, but there was nothing to say to correct them. Some of them were angry, and you let them be. Call it penance, undeserved or not. 

Ellie would visit occasionally, sometimes Tommy. You let her play guitar without saying a word, let him bring you books to keep you occupied. Everyone else dodged you, and you didn’t know if it was discomfort or because you were the only one left alive to blame. Probably both.

Since then, they’d kept you busy elsewhere. Projects that hadn’t been projects before suddenly popped up. More hands in the stables for getting horses ready for patrol. Planting vegetables and flowers for food and morale. Playing doctor when the patrols would come back with minor injuries from staving off infected. Being underfoot at the Tipsy Bison, picking up shifts when there was a movie night or some string-lit illuminated get-together. 

Slinking into the shadows and being the ambient background noise in everyone else’s conversations. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell them that you had the farthest thing from a green thumb, that you couldn’t bartend for shit, that the most nurse-like thing you’d ever done was slap a band-aid on a skinned knee. 

An otherness that weighed so heavy you thought it would be better to crush you. Poison that bloomed in the belly of a tight-knit community that didn’t know what shelf to put you on. Who felt like collective trauma was part of the deal, and this was just yours. 

But it softened the blow of your abrupt uselessness. You let it happen. Becoming competent was better than peeking out from drawn curtains. Better than sleeping with your eyes open, watching everyone around you move on while you couldn’t.

While nightmares claw their way up your chest at night and leave you in a cold sweat, flicking on every light that’ll burn to make sure you’re really, truly alone.

The roar of laughter snaps you out of the trance, breaks the eye contact you were making with your fireplace. You wonder absently if you’d tuned out the rest or if everyone had finally huddled together in front of the projector down the road for tonight’s showing of whatever DVD was looted during this week’s patrol. You didn’t usually mind — sometimes even joined when Ellie had enough of your sulking and all but kicked your door in — but tonight feels like an organized, cruel punishment.

You pry yourself from your couch, knocking over the stack of books on your way to the coat rack. Anaïs Nin pierces you with a glare, rotting where you left her. You slip each arm into a heavy coat, tucking one of the books into your bag with a lone cigarette as a makeshift bookmark. It’s cold as fuck tonight, but maybe you’ll linger a little longer after closing down the bar. Maybe you’ll wait until the crowd outside dies down to sneak back into your house, light another fire, and count down the hours until your shift at the stables.

Bartending tonight should be quiet, hopefully only encountering a few regulars that usually kept to themselves and tipped you for doing the same. 

You steal one more warm moment before opening the door and stepping into the flinching cold, taking note of the way words stutter and lose traction when your face registers with the nearby crowd. There always seems to be a vacancy of pleasantries. And you don’t exactly invite them.

Tommy gives you a sympathetic look, tipping his chin up in a half-nod. Ellie lifts a few fingers in a wave, knowing you don’t want the pity but hate the suffocation of nothing at all. You will the corners of your mouth to quirk in a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and force your legs into a normal pace, almost locking your knees so you don’t break into a run. The debt of an overdue visit with them burrows in your chest. 

The Jaws theme song hums ominously, and you think it’s only fitting.

A few people litter the bar when you meet the cozy blanket of peanut-shelled air of the Tipsy Bison. A pool cue cracks against a ball and sends it clattering into a group of others, a low crackle of some country something crooning out of the jukebox. You shed your coat and your bag in the back, washing your hands under scorching water to shake some feeling back into your bones.

“Just a few tonight. Been slow – you’ll probably be out early. What’s playin’?”

You smile at the thick, syrupy Southern mama accent by your side. Cheryl is no-nonsense, usually slips you a little extra at the end of your shifts, and feigns ignorance of anything about the ugly parts of your past. All she cares about is that you’re eating. There is an undying gratitude for Cheryl. 

“Ah. Jaws, I think.”

She seems to read your mind with a laugh, patting your shoulder affectionately like only a mother can.

“Maybe I’ll go join the sharks. Joel just got here, wants a whiskey ‘fore I head out. You know him,” Cheryl tuts, almost rolling her eyes but you know she likes the caretaker role if you’re any indication.

And you do. You do know him.

Joel keeps to himself almost as much as you do, maybe a little less when it comes to Ellie and Tommy. He’s sort of your catty-cornered neighbor, but not the sugar-asking kind. More like the kind that glances in your direction, holds your stare for a beat too long, and abruptly looks away before anything discernible can appear. 

The closest you ever come to saying anything of substance to each other is when you ready his horse for patrols and intercept it when he’s back safe and sound. You try not to let him catch your gaze shifting to that shiny scar on his head, and you stifle down the question that’s none of your business. 

Maybe he does the same for you.

And maybe he was there and saved you that day, but neither one of you has ever mentioned it since. You don’t know how, and there’s a brick wall around the subject that won’t let you. Enough time has passed that you figure he’d have said something if he gave a shit.

Yet, there’s a deep yearning for his approval, his attention. It’s a mystery even to you, when you think about how savagely indifferent you are to anyone else’s. But you think it’s the magnetism of having him as a witness. The way he could vindicate you and give you an alibi, a heroic complex, but he doesn’t. 

So, the idea that he’s one of the patrons that you can count on one hand tonight… you can’t put a name to what it’s doing to you.

Cheryl makes sure that you’re okay, but she doesn’t linger. She packs up her things with haste, jogging through the cold to join her wife in front of the bonfire.

No one really pays you any mind as you start your closing duties early, and it’s doubtful that the seats will fill any more than they are as the party picks up outside.

Joel sits at the corner of the bar that faces you, and he’s down to a knuckle’s length of whiskey. If he were anyone else, you might wonder why he’s not at the bonfire — but it’s Joel. Social anythings are like a second plague to him.

The thought of having to refill his drink vibrates in the back of your mind, and lead fills your stomach. Small talk that you never quite have with him. It dissipates just as quickly, when you see the way he’s fixed on the sweat gathering on his glass instead of anything else, and when a gust of wind comes in as the door opens.

Max. Anxiety snaps in your rib cage like a rubber band. Something acrid hits the back of your throat and you think it might be blood the way your teeth connect with the soft tissue of your cheek. 

Max had been a recurring character in your bed once. Before. It was never more than convenience, and the way you fucked wasn’t love, not even close. Liberating to think that you never neared the edge of feeling anything except his hand pressing your face into a pillow, performing orgasms that never came. 

There’s no carcass of affection left, so devoid of emotion for him that it feels like a severed limb.

He’s all ego and athletic strength, sauntering up to the bar with a gait that reeks of hours of pregaming. There’s a permanent sneer when he addresses you, a coldness that has nothing to do with the weather.

“Tequila. Two doubles.”

He’s the type to twist the knife of your tragedy in even deeper, making sure to hit all vital organs. The first to question what more you could have done to save his friends, blaming you for leaving them there to die as if they weren’t dead the moment raiders showed up. As if you weren’t almost dead. Anything you’ve said in defense is inconceivable, an excuse, an admission of guilt. He mourns at your expense and often.

Jackson trudges forward, but Max forces you to stay in grief and remember.

“I think you’ve had your fill this week. Drank through your ration on Tuesday, remember?” you say coolly, but a twinge of fatigue colors your tone, giving you away. You aren’t in the mood, and Max finds it easy to light flame to your resolve as-is.

Maria spends hours of careful inventory, and there’s been more than one occasion where you’ve been instructed to cut off a greedy drunk. The vice, the urge to drink in an apocalypse doesn’t really align with the limited stock, unfortunately.

“Yeah, I don’t exactly see Maria around, do you?” A jeer at face value, but you decide in the beat of silence that follows that rule enforcement isn’t worth it tonight. “Sounds like you’ll think of something. And you fuckin’ owe me one, don’t you? Or would you prefer I collect on that another time?”

It’s not worth it. You’re dropping your glare, squaring your jaw, lining up two glasses so that the rims clink. But the way your skin prickles, there’s an unwelcome visitor in his stare, an x-ray vision that you wished Max didn’t have. 

Somewhere down the bar, glass slams against wood and something you know to be amber-colored sloshes.

You try to steady the angry tremble that overcomes your hands as you upturn the liquor bottle. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four.

He holds the ration card to you, taunting you by pulling back when you reach for it, only to smirk and flick it toward you, uncaring of where it lands. You shove it into the mouth of the register with the violence you wish you were brave enough for.

“You can leave now.”

“That so? Mouthy now that you have an audience?” Max gestures cruelly to the grand total of four patrons, five if you counted Johnny Cash.

It stings, but dully. You’ve heard worse – even if not to your face – and it’s all kind of anti-climatic if you considered the low-budget production they always try to make out of you. The words eventually all sound the same, nothing punches quite the way they intend. Still, your cheeks burn as if on cue, and —

“She told you to get the fuck out.”

A low timbre erupts, easily mistaken as pure venom. There’s a sway in the way your senses glitch and then still, and reality swirls at the edge of your periphery. Pool balls stop their roll, murmured chatter ceases, and even the fucking jukebox settles on an instrumental to lean in and listen. 

You dare to look over at Joel, whose demeanor looks more akin to statuesque and threatening than his curved slouch when you first clocked in. He’s standing, flexing his fists so hard that you think they might shatter.

Max backs off but subtly – you can see the way his puffed chest deflates even though his glare doesn’t. He finishes off one tequila before backing up with the other dangling in his fingers, both hands turned palm-out in mock surrender. 

A deep annoyance plucks at his brow, but he knows he’s flirting with a black eye. 

Max flashes a middle finger, lets his grip relax after downing the glass in his hand, and it crashes to the floor with a wincing shatter. He’s gone before you can string together any curses, and would it have mattered anyway?

Then, there’s scattering, the bar flies wordlessly agreeing that anywhere is better than the awkwardness of being here. Cards thrown down, beers drained, and there’s an uneasiness with the way they shuffle outside towards the rest of the group. A dance around the broken glass that isn’t their problem. You pretend not to notice, though you try to hide the redness that stains your cheeks as you bring a dust pan over to the mess.  

You feel eyes on you and, all too suddenly, you realize that Joel didn’t follow them.

“Careful. Here, lemme do that.”

He’s kneeling, taking the pan from you. Knuckles brush yours a little too long and electrify, zapping you. You mutter something like thanks and it’s too ungrateful, too tired. A woodsy scent fills your nose, and you’re hard-pressed not to lean into his collar and bookmark it.

Glass slips into the trash with a tinkling, shimmering sound. You’re already back behind the bar, hands busying with something else, tidying up the already-tidy. Letting him slip outside with the crowd, heavy with satisfaction that he came to your rescue yet again. 

But he’s sat back down, watching you with an odd intensity. He’s never assessed you like this, at least not that you’ve seen. A different sort of undressing than what Max gives you. You meet his eyeline warily. Vulnerable, waiting for your predator’s jaw to unhinge and devour you whole.

“He always talk to you that way?”

A quiet, lethal question hangs in the air, so quiet that you could’ve chalked it up to your imagination. But evidenced by the white-knuckled grip Joel has on his glass, the measured way he brings it to his lips, it was real. Controlled, scary even. But real.

Your mouth opens to answer, then closes. You consider in a beat’s time how it would sound to laugh it off, then stop yourself. It would be too forced, too desperate of a sound to be convincing. You’ve never been the unfeeling, unaffected type.

It’s clear that he knows the answer, has probably seen it with his own eyes, but it’s like he wants a green light to set his sights on some other more sinister and deserving prey.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s been through a lot,” you say, half to yourself. It’s easier this way.

“Does matter. So’ve you,” Joel says, even quieter, like he’s trying to contain an angry edge that threatens to bleed out. The calm is almost worse. In a way, you wish he would loosen the leash on his rage. Or break something to satisfy the urge in you that wants to do the same – you’d give him permission to do that. This is too unreadable and ambiguous, too much room left for agonizing interpretation in how he grits his teeth and pulses that muscle in his taut jaw. You want to yell, let out what’s long pent-up. Yes! Yes, it does fucking matter!

But you don’t. You keep the rag tight on the lip of the pint glass in your hand, rotating it past the point of needing to be cleaned. The rub of the microfiber cloth makes you itch, and your teeth scrape again at the inside of your cheek.

It leaves your mouth before you can catch it and shove it back down.

“Why do you care?”

Joel looks up at you now and you think that you’ve already overstepped during your first, real fucking conversation. He finishes off the whiskey and puts it back down carefully. He stands up, each slow step over to you spiking your blood pressure, your breath shifting into neutral. 

It’s the way he’s fixated on you, a litmus test for any sarcasm. The way a chill creeps into the base of your spine and slithers up each vertebrae despite the warmth you feel below your waist. And when he comes behind the bar, reaches for the glass in your hand and puts it down gently, you wonder if that tug has always been there. 

Fuck.

“You think I don’t care?”

Tiny hairs at your nape stand at attention in a near-salute. The web of intrusive thoughts tangles between you, and you’re acutely aware that this is the closest you’ve ever been to Joel Miller – that you’ve been conscious for. That feeling rushes back and bursts in your chest, the comforting honey in his voice that’s been haunting you since he found you crumpled in the snow. 

The omnipresent, sharp tang of whiskey sticks to the slightly graying stubble that you want to reach out and touch. That you want to feel the scrape of in places that makes heat pool deep in your belly. His flannel is unbuttoned at the top, the column of his throat ridged and tense. 

Focus.

“Why are you saying this now?” you say, and you want to hold your ground but his admission is akin to mesmerizing.

He thinks for a minute, his eyes smoothing over every angle in your face. They look past you, just over your shoulder, like he’s asking himself the same thing.

“Knew you could handle it. ‘Til you couldn’t anymore.”

There it is. You let it sink in, clicking that last piece into place. Always observing you from a safe distance, the buzz of something unsaid ringing in your ears when he’s around. How he listens to your interactions, but never too closely. Watching for weak spots. And tonight was the weakest of them all, letting yourself be humiliated by the only person that knew where to bite just right.

You feel laid bare, too seen. Pissed that he can witness your struggling, thrashing, drowning with outstretched arms and kicking feet and decide when and if he’ll pity you.

And this time, a laugh does slip out – humorless and breathy.

“The same way you can handle whatever’s making you drink alone on a Friday night? Don’t act so holier than thou, Joel. I’m the wrong one.”

“Watch it.”

You don’t mean it. Not really. But you’re so angry, a wasps’ nest that’s been taunted and poked at after being left to its own devices for too long. Sometimes violence feels more intimate. Safer.

And he’s using that gravelly, terse tone with you of all people, and you want to fucking lose your mind.

When he doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you and waits, they leave their home in a wave. Burying stingers where you know they’ll hurt. Once more, with feeling.

“Are you looking for a ‘thank you’?”

Joel’s mouth quirks, but it isn’t a smile. It only stokes the fire, and you know what he’s doing. Letting you win, begrudgingly because you’re being an ass. But you haven’t had a win in the last ten months, only loss after devastating loss. He’s throwing you a raft.

“No. Just tryin’ to help, ‘s all.”

Your nostrils are flaring in sharp inhales that you can’t control, and you physically jab at him, your own tightly wound chest dragging in the hive for a final, practiced nosedive. “I don’t fucking need your help, Joel.”

He’s snatching your wrist, holding it in a vise, but there’s a flinch in his expression. Joel hardens, sliding that cool armor back into place. Sizing you up one more time, committing you to memory. A curt nod, plucking that chord of roughness in his tone that makes you ache.

There’s a glare you’ve never seen from him, like disappointment and disdain wrapped up neatly in one package. Delivered with a dagger straight to your heart.

“We’ll see. Not s’good at that, are you?”

And it’s a KO you allow, one you’ll lay with. But he’s leaning in, invading your space. You move to retreat and cower, the way you’re accustomed to, but Joel’s grabbing a fistful of your shirt and fastening you in place. His mouth’s at your ear as if he’s telling you a secret. 

“Good luck bein’ a fuckin’ martyr.”

The pressure loosens, as does his grip, dissipating like some ghostly presence. He leaves without another word, and something inside you snags and unspools. 

—

You don’t see Joel for days. 

Three days to be exact, torturous and fluid days that feel like trickling sand, but blend together in an indistinguishable slideshow when you zoom out. You time your breaks perfectly at the stables so you don’t run into him, and you ask Cheryl to cover for you on Tuesday, ignoring the strange look she gives you – the resident workaholic. 

It’s a sort of avoidance that you don’t want to acknowledge or look directly in the eye. If you did, it would mean that Joel affected you more than you want to admit. Or that he’d sized you up in an expert way that a categorical stranger shouldn’t be able to.

You should be livid, and you are… in a way. But mainly you want to shrug your skin off, your unease for being so dissected by him. Just unzip it all and let it pool at your feet, stepping out of the pile one leg at a time. The pinch, the untethering of you and the man that could read you without translation.

And when it’s 9 o’clock and you’re making tea as you trudge through a book without really reading anything, you glance outside at the house across the street and it’s so dark that you think it may have swallowed him whole.

Or he’s hiding from you, too.

—

It’s finally Thursday, and you can’t put it off any longer. You’re running out of food, you promised Tommy you’d lend a hand with feeding the horses – and there’s a dull itch to see Joel again. You don’t even know what you’d say, if he even wants to bother with you after the other night. Part of you hopes that you fall backwards into the acquaintance of saying nothing, that you have permission to rewind past whatever this nagging feeling is.

It’s quiet outside – a lazy day. The snow on the ground is melting, patchy in spots where sunlight or kid-feet caught it at just the right angle. The greenhouses are so fogged and frosted over that you’re grateful you can’t see the death-rot inside. It’s not quite growing season yet, but close, and you long for the added distraction in your day if this is the alternative.

Anything to pass the time and not think about Joel and his hands touching yours. The fabric of your shirt oozing between his knuckles when he forced you chest-to-chest. 

When you make it over to the barn, his horse is gone and there’s almost – almost – a twinge of relief. You’ll be done before he gets back from patrol. You won’t have a chance to swallow the apology that will rise in your throat like bile, but maybe it’s for the best.

You’re elbow deep in feed when there’s a yelling that cracks in the air. You freeze, waiting to hear a suffix of children’s laughter, but it doesn’t come. There’s a confused sort of shouting, and the gate at the border of Jackson slams and rattles like you’ve never heard before. 

Shaky hands wipe at your pants, and you step out, a hand shielding your eyes from the glare of the sun.

Joel is slumped atop his horse, upright but hardly. There’s a cut somewhere on his head that streams a blurry red, and the horse whines when Tommy sprints to meet it.

“It’s Joel! I need some fuckin’ help here!”

And without fully connecting the dots or measuring the severity, you just run. Colliding with the crowd that’s formed, shoving elbows and shoulders as if in a trance. Like something’s pressing you from behind, throwing all its weight into pushing you forward. 

You blink and you’re helping Joel down, Ellie’s tattooed forearm somewhere in the jumble of limbs. Tommy’s jean jacket stiff from the cold.

You don’t have to look in a mirror to know that you’re pale as a ghost. The moisture strips from your mouth, joints moving as if by marionette. Blood is already drying and caking in the creases of your hands. Knowing it isn’t yours makes you feel sick.

“‘M fine, Jesus Christ,” Joel coughs, a jagged edge in his throat that sounds anything but. There’s something underneath his coat that’s soaking through, blossoming a dark stain on the front. 

Images keep shifting every time you blink, like you’re losing time in between and someone’s slamming the fast-forward button until it jams. Joel groaning on a makeshift stretcher. Ellie’s frenzied feet following as they take him to his house.

The tall one on top of you, squeezing your windpipe. 

Your head cracking against the pavement. 

Two gunshots firing. 

Snow in your bloodied, matted hair. 

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. I know, I know it hurts.”

Ringing grows loud and shrill in your ears. Tommy’s in front of you, calling your name. Shaking your shoulders. 

“– need you to go fix him up –”

And you’re falling back into the present, vision shifting back into focus. You’re nodding, clinical now. You’ve seen worse, and strangely, that’s comforting. 

“– whatever supplies you need, I trust you –”

The weight of Tommy’s confidence steadies you, tying up the loose ends that have untwined deep inside. You run through the mental checklist of what’s in your medical bag at home – stashed in your closet on the very top shelf. Bandages, antibiotics, sutures. But if you’re dealing with a bite…

“I got it. Promise. Keep everyone out, alright? I’ll let you know.”

He pauses, catching up with the subliminal thing that waits in the air between you. Wariness paints his gaze, and you know he knows what you’re afraid to say. 

Tommy nods, but you’re already running.

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Invisible Voice

(Kill Somebody Like You Part Two Chapter Seven)

🔪Previous Parts Here🔪

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, cursing, past abuse, past SA, past trauma, interviewing, cover stories, boys acting, allusions to murder, anger, mentions of weapons, talks about traumatic birth, mentions of miscarriage, tears, sexism (to omegas), trying to change the world, evil from their past, panic, alpha posturing, misunderstandings, using sex to cope, needy boys, enemies to lovers ❤️‍🔥 Rating: mature

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🩷

Collette was able to set her plans in motion more quickly than either man really liked. She was the main person to actually run their cover business so getting in touch with the right people was simple for her. Within a week Colson was sitting in the lobby of their home with the same woman who interviewed his father, his fiancé and sons with him on the couch. He was dressed to the nines and feeling more like himself than he had in weeks, he could fit into his old suits again even though it was tight around the belly. He had everything on that he would have worn before except for his weapons and his glasses. It felt weird to be around a stranger without them but he was supposed to be completely himself. His omega self. Fuck it was terrifying.

Dom was sweating under the lights but he kept himself as calm as possible and tried for his most charming and disarming smile. The one that made people question his age and call him precious. It was almost amusing how easy it was for him to act the non-threatening Alpha he tried to be for everyone but other Alphas. The woman sitting across from him had already awwed over how sweet he was with his son. He tried to keep himself settled and support his mate but it was difficult to keep smiling when there were so many new people around. He wanted to take his family back upstairs and preferably take his lover to bed. He looked damn good in his new suit and Dom was tempted to cut it off of him.

“I have to thank you for meeting here where something so traumatic happened to your family. I've spoken to some of the people who were here that day. They all think highly of you and say it was you and your family that helped save them.” The interviewer- Ellen, explained politely. Of course Colson knew they would dramatize everything and to most people that would have been traumatic. To him it was basically just another Tuesday. Literally.

He played along and looked around before glancing down and taking his partner's hand as if it were difficult for him. He wondered how hard Dom was biting his cheek not to laugh. “We did what we had to for our family and friends. I've lived here since I was a teenager so you have to understand how important these people are to me. This is my home. I felt responsible with Megan coming for me. I should have seen that she needed help long before that.”

“It wasn't your fault. You shouldn't take that on. She was a misguided Alpha who thought the way too many of them do. That any omega is up for grabs. I've seen too much in my career and I know what that state of mind causes. Damage. Trauma. Most often death. You're lucky I think that it ended up how it did. People like her are why we need to change the way we view both Alphas and omegas. We need to teach the next generation better. It seems you're already working on that.” She grinned over at Blain and Punk. They hadn't given out the kid's names but they were allowed to be filmed. Blain could talk if he wanted but so far he kept quiet, just watching everything and smiling like Dom when it was appropriate. Col wondered if he should worry his whole family was filled with sociopaths but honestly he was just proud.

“We're trying, yes. It wasn't until I had kids that I realized what I was doing before was wrong. I shouldn't have hidden what I am to get where I am today. Now we're trying to show them that no matter what they can achieve anything. Our older boy even helped that day, as you know. Omegas are strong and he knows that.” Kells winked at Blain who nodded but stayed quiet. He hoped this wasn't upsetting him but they'd told him he didn't have to come. The kid had said he was part of their family and would stand with them. It felt cheesy as fuck to say and it definitely was, but deep down he knew while he was hamming it up for the television, it was still true. He had already decided to stand up to teach their boys.

“I think everyone understands. I mean look what happened when you were found out at work. You were protecting yourself from Alpha's and one proved your point. Still you and your family won the day and now you've become the face of a movement. I feel partly responsible for this since I was the one who interviewed your father. Please understand I didn't support that, I don't think abusive people deserve a platform.” Ellen huffed and the couple shared a look. They hoped she didn't get fired for being so honest on screen.

“I don't blame you, I can see how your bosses thought it would be good for ratings. I'm just thankful for getting my chance to speak. I can't call that man my father and I hope everyone understands that. He was abusive to my mother and I and hid behind religion to do it. My uncle…” He wasn't just pausing for dramatic effect but his pulse raced. He squeezed Dom’s hand and took a deep breath, letting himself sniffle. “I'm sorry, I can't talk about that. Especially not in front of the kids.” He didn't mind lying to keep himself from having to be so open. It felt bad enough that his whole family already knew, he didn't need the whole population hearing about his bullshit past.

Ellen handed him a tissue and he made himself tear up. He wouldn't normally, he wanted to seem strong but he also knew an omega crying tugged at everyone's heartstrings. “Of course you don't have to. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what's been brought up for you since that interview.” She sighed. She truly seemed to feel badly and it made them like her even more. Collette had been right, this was the way to handle it. Her plan had been to fight fire with fire and plaster themselves in the media as the perfect family. If Kells had to lead a revolution they needed to control the narrative.

“Thank you. I'm sorry. It doesn't matter how long it's been, some scars never heal.” Colson cleared his throat and tried not to think about how true that statement was. Shit, he hadn't meant for that. “I never meant to be the face of change but being a parent now I see the importance of it. People like them don't deserve to be heard anymore. They hurt children for their own pleasure and amusement and Alphas still run around thinking people like me are toys. The fact he implied I would hurt other omegas? Sick. They're disgusting. Yes I hire omegas in my clubs but I keep them safe. I pay them triple what other places do. Ask any of my people if they feel safe and cared for. I don't force any of them to do anything and we even hire them for our company. But it's not enough. The world has to change. My mother taught me that.” He smiled his most charming smile.

“I had the opportunity to meet your parents before our sit-down. I'm not surprised you have such a lovely relationship with an example like them. Especially since an Alpha gave you your position.” Ellen praised Collette and Travis and they both deserved it. They were still there watching from the sidelines and Kells was happy with that. He needed all the support he could get.

“My dad is incredible. He took me in as a broken kid and helped me heal. Genetics don't make a father, love does. The man you interviewed wasn't anything to me but pain. I learned everything from Travis and now I just hope I can do the same for my son.” He explained softly and he knew the camera was probably zooming in on Blain. He didn't want to overdo it but they needed to seem as sympathetic as possible.

“I'm sure you will. For how young you both are it's incredible you took in a young omega. May I ask how you found him?” They were thankfully prepared for such a question, they knew Ellen would get there at some point. Collette had helped them prepare for every eventuality.

“I don't want to say too much about him, you know? I want my family to have privacy as much as possible. But I help a lot of omegas running my clubs and one of my girls had met him. When his father died he had nowhere to go so the girls sent him to me. I guess they thought I'd offer him a job but no, he's too young. He felt like ours from the first moment we met him.” A lot of it was a blatant lie but the last line was true, Blain was their son from the moment Dom saved him.

“Your family really is the perfect example of what the future should be. Your boyfriend really doesn't mind letting you lead?”

“My fiancé is happy to let me be the boss. Aren't you baby?” Colson teased, leaning over to kiss Dom's cheek.

“Yes master. Kidding! No, I love me mate and I love seeing him flourish like he is. I didn't ‘ave a good example growing up but I knew I didn't wanna be like me dad. I knew from the first time I met Cols tha’ we was meant to be and he was me boss from day one too. Omegas ain't less ‘an and I want our boys to know tha’. If anyone should be the face of change, why not one so pretty?” Col rolled his eyes at his lover's words but kissed him sweetly for themselves and the cameras.

“Your boss? How scandalous.” Ellen laughed.

Kells nodded, it was part of their new backstory. “He walked in one day looking for a job as a bodyguard- we get plenty of threats to our clients. After meeting him I couldn't lend him out to anyone else and now I'm glad I didn't. He helped me so much that day.”

“From what I understand you were in labor through the whole ordeal but the three of you still managed to save everyone in the hotel before your fiancé delivered your son? I can't imagine how terrifying that was. I'm glad the police issued an apology for how they failed you that day.” Ellen was right, they had apologized but the family didn't trust it for a second.

“It was both the worst and best day of my life. My family helped me through it but even dead I can't forgive Megan for making my baby come early. I'm having trouble forgiving the police because something could have happened to my son. We all made it out but I lost some friends that day. You're right Ellen, we have to teach Alphas better. I'm just doing my part to help.” Colson explained, taking his baby in his arms as she took her cue and wrapped up their interview.

“I think you're right, and we all need to do our part to do better. I just want to thank you again for opening up your home and your family for us. You should still be bonding with your son but because of more trauma inflicted by my own company you've had to sit down with me. I can't apologize enough or thank you enough. I think your partner is right, if anyone should be the face of change, you're the perfect example of what it can be. Thank you for being that and showing us.” Ellen held her smile as the cameras stopped and after they were off and the lights were being dismantled it fell to something more genuine.

Colson eased himself off the couch and shook her hand, keeping Punk to one arm. “Thanks again El. I think that went good.”

“Good? Kid that's gonna go wild. I've never been so happy to owe your mom one.” The woman laughed. They had all been surprised to find out the two were old friends.

Collette stepped closer and hugged Ellen close and the beta kept apologizing. “I can't believe they made me sit next to those bastards. I wanted to fucking kill them both. I'm so glad we were able to do this but I think they'll want one with you too. And if this goes as well as I think it will, I'm worried they'll want all of you and your ex on screen together.”

“I know, we'll face that if we get there. I'd be happy to do an interview with you but I wanted the focus on my boys first.” Collette explained. Kells thought she just didn't want to be ‘the face of change’ as everyone kept calling him.

They stood around talking for a while as the cameramen and workers packed up the set to move out. With so many people walking in and out no one noticed a new face walking in until he was looming close. Colson was the first to recognize the scent and his blood ran cold. His lover picked up the switch in his expression automatically and before he even turned to look he was taking Punk from the omega's hold and passing him to Blain. He wanted to send them away but they didn't have time to make sure they were safe so he stayed close as the stranger walked up to their group.

Col felt lost and quiet as he saw his uncle in person for the first time since he was a boy. He had to fight himself not to start shaking but his fight or flight went crazy. His heart raced, his trigger finger itched, and he could feel a pit in his throat he didn't think he could swallow. “You need to get the fuck out of my lobby.” He growled low but it felt too breathy. He honestly thought he might pass out he felt so dizzy.

Collette stepped between them with Travis fuming next to her. “You heard him. What do you even think you're doing here?” She huffed.

The bastard looked between them all and Dom stepped closer. He wanted to reach for a knife he didn't have but he knew he couldn't use force. There were too many people around for him to kill the other man but he couldn't believe the audacity.

“I'm not here for any of you. Get over yourselves. Fucking whores. No, I came for the boy. I saw your little interview and I heard your lies. I know you ran off with something of mine. I can't believe you'd show him off and claim you found him.” It honestly took them all a minute to understand what the hell he was talking about and Colson was starting to regret doing the interview live. They should have recorded it separately but it seems either way the idiot would have come. Maybe if he'd done it later they could have shot him for trespassing. As it was he'd have to have the fucker arrested at best.

“Who the hell are you talking about?” Kells couldn't help snapping but when his uncle looked at Blain his heart froze in his chest.

“You took what's mine. Give it back to me and I'll be on my way.” He obviously knew he had to be careful around such a crowd but he still showed up and they were all pissed.

Dom wanted to step up to him but Colson got in his way, blocking the man from looking at their sons. “You knew? You fuckers beat the shit out of me and sold me and you knew you had-” He had to swallow bile. “My son is not yours. You beat that out of me. You're not owed anything except a bullet between your eyes. Get the fuck out of my home.”

His uncle stared down at him with more hate in his eyes than anyone should be able to muster but Kells met him with the same amount of rage and disgust. When he had the nerve to look at the boy again Blain flipped him off and grinned. It wasn't exactly helpful but it was just who he was and the boss had to summon the hotel guards. “Please escort his ass outside and make sure everyone knows he's not welcome. If he gets in again I'll make sure you're all fired. Don't make me do that please, I like you guys.”

They watched the man get dragged outside and Col felt his power slip away, he'd had enough strength to stand up to the dick but he felt broken having been so close to him again. Dom pulled him against his chest and led him and their boys to the elevator. They were all quiet on the ride up until they got inside their home. “Did tha’ twat waffle think I'm his kid?” The baby Brit exclaimed and Col’s psyche broke enough he laughed at the insult. The sound broke off in a sob and his mate pulled him closer, easing him over to sit down on the couch.

“He knew. He knew I was pregnant and they sold me. They tried to kill us both and they- they succeeded on one.” His voice broke. It wasn't that he wanted to have his uncle's kid but he couldn't help both being terrified of and missing his child every day.

“I guess I'll take the compliment tha’ he thinks I'm yours.” Blain tried to help soothe him but Colson felt lost in his fear and pain. His heart was breaking all over again. “Mum you gotta breathe. He won't get me. He won't get near us again. I'm sorry, if I'd just spoken up once he wouldn't think tha’. It's on me.”

“Hey no. It's not on you. And I should be telling you you're safe. We probably shouldn't have had either of you with us but mom thought…” He sighed. They couldn't change it now but they could all keep each other safe.

“I wanted to be wiv yas. If he shows up again I'll go off on him wiv every British insult I can think of. I might be alright being yours but fuck him.” The boy pulled a face. “Actually no, bad choice of words.” Col couldn't help but laugh again. Dark humor was the family way to handle shit it seemed.

“You are ours. Jus’ means no one leaves ‘ome alone alright? Someday I'll kill ‘em boff for all ‘ey done but for now we stay tog'ever. You fink your mum will come up soon?” Dom asked, they all knew her penchant for coming up to apologize and check on her son. It was sweet but part of him wanted to take Kells to their room and soothe him alone.

“I got Punkers if ya need a bit.” Blain seemed to read his mind but everyone knew how they needed time alone after something intense. It was just part of their bond.

“Fuck. I know it's shitty of me but if she comes up here crying I'll break the fuck down. I can't do it right now.” Col was closer to snapping than he wanted to admit and if he saw tears in anyone's eyes he knew he'd shatter. He felt like he couldn't breathe and their walls were too close. The fucker had been in his hotel and that was too much. Being in the same city as them was too much for him.

“Come on. Let's go rest yeah? I've got yas.” Kells nodded at his lover's soothing voice and let the other help him off the sofa. He didn't know what he needed but he knew what Dom said was true, his Alpha always had him. No matter what.

The killer wasn't exactly sure what to do with his lover once they reached their room. He'd been flooded with needy thoughts earlier in the day but those washed to the back of his mind on a rush of anger at the man who'd interrupted their lives and the fear of what it brought up for his mate. He should have searched them both out long before and killed them already. He felt responsible for them making it into their state and close to his family no matter how little sense it made. He needed to protect his people and he'd failed in that. He couldn't imagine what was going through the other's mind.

Colson sighed as the door closed behind them. It felt calming that they were cut off from the world. Part of him wanted his son in his arms so it gave him something besides his past to focus on but he knew this was better. He needed to let some emotion out. “I don't want to give him a fucking second more of my life.” He huffed as he took his partner's hand in his. Would his uncle keep thinking Blain was his or would he take his word on what they'd done? What did he even want with the boy? Did they realize he was an omega? Did they want money? “Kiss me.”

“Wha'?” Dom blinked. His fiancé wasn't even looking at him when he asked. He could feel the stress rolling off the man. It was almost a physical aura.

Kells cursed under his breath and turned his Alpha to face him. Before another thought could cross his mind he'd pressed their lips together hard. “Shut my fucking mind up.”

“Bab-” Dom couldn't get a word out before he was pushed to fall against the bed rough enough he bounced on the mattress. He couldn't do more than watch as Col started stripping for him. The suit looked incredible but everything looked better off his mate and he felt his body react with every new inch of skin revealed. He wasn't sure this was how they should deal with their problems but since his normal way was murder he didn't think he was the one to throw stones. “Me or you?” He asked softly, swallowing hard.

Col dropped his shirt and cupped his own hardening cock through his slacks, smirking down at his lover. “I haven't decided yet.”

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 🖤

Sorry for the cliffhanger of smut but the chapter was getting long. I can't believe that man showed up stalking them and thinks Blain is his! What can they possibly do if they can't kill him? I hope you're all still enjoying it! ❤️‍🔥🩷🖤

[asteria7fics]

yeah, no offence to you of anything, but i wouldn’t want to talk to you privately. i’ve never had a good experience when talking with an adult privately (or even publicly) online. ‘cause i’ve been on vr chat and discord since i was abt 8 or 9, and now as a freshman i can tell you i was in fact not mature for my age despite how much i was told that💀💀 and i wouldn’t want to break your boundary either😿 (but the long sigh was in reference to the tags in the one response to tsob art😋😋😋)

-😨

No offense taken at all! I'm actually very happy to hear you have that mentality, though I'm sorry to hear that adults have not handled their interactions with you responsibly in the past.

Again, I won't get into a full trauma dump (especially to you dear anon haha) but I was groomed by an adult that I thought would be 'safe' in my early teens, and it really fucked me up for a long time. I've dealt with a lot of it now, thanks to a lot of therapy and accepting that I was actually a victim in the situation, but it will never fully leave me.

Also, yeah life lesson don't fucking trust any adult that says you're "mature for your age" that shit can be so insidious and gross. Oof.

But yes, thank you for the respect towards my boundaries! I'm happy to do what I can to keep this fandom a safe place for everyone to enjoy, yah know?

P.S. Haha I hoped as much!

[cantarella]

I love essays, thank you for responding! Some of my own (wlw) mutuals have been rting/reblogging ship stuff for them, like it’s their token “good hetero ship” and I just…. :(

I’ve also seen a number of ppl refuse to acknowledge that Furina and Focalors are the same person. Like, that’s one bitch. Not recognizing that Focalors is Furina’s divinity (now laid to rest) is such a disservice to her character imho. Like, immortality as a kind of “youth” that dies when you finally breach adulthood is what I keep thinking about, among other things. Atp, with Focalors gone, all her memories independent of Furina (I assume this is because of the curse, and a final note of kindness from Focalors so that her humanity doesn’t have to process 2 sets of memories at once. Though the latter is a head canon I guess), Furina and Neuvillette are so horrifically incompatible with each other.

Even IF they didn’t look like father and daughter and even IF the mental age difference wasn’t terrifying… Furina has so much of the world left to learn. She’s still the same person and yet she’s different, that transition is traumatic actually! Not to mention the literal trauma of having the lives of ALL your kin in the palm of your hand that you mentioned.

As for her sq, I thought I was pretty clear that one of the takeaways, after reading the director’s journal, was that Furina is like a big sister/sibling/familial-linkage-of-some-kind to all Fontainians. Despite everything, they are her family, she’d do it all again, because “to be human is to be part of the greatest opera ever known,” and there’s beauty in this life to preserve etc etc. Idk if I’m making any sense tbh, but it’s nice to know at least a few other people understand how to consume media critically 🥹

(Also! When shippers go on and on abt Neuvi paying for Furina’s apartment/things…Clorinde offers to do the same fucking thing. Like, literally offers to find her a new apartment with the apparent fortune she makes from being the champion duelist I guess. But they refuse to acknowledge that. Given, they probably don’t read her character stories or flavor text, but still)

yw! and ouch I can feel that, I'm very picky with who I follow so that didn't happen to me but this pairing is quite inescapable

anyway, that's an interesting take on focalors and furina, which I agree with but only on a symbolic level. yes they're of the same origin, but they're the same only in the way jesus and the holy father are both god. idk if you're familiar with christian doctrine but the focalors furina and neuvillette dynamic is based on the father-son-holy spirit trifecta. maybe I'll do a post on that eventually but in the meantime here's a chart to make it easier

the father (focalors) created the son (furina) in his image, they're both incarnations of god but they're not one or the same being. rukkhadevata explained how this works in the context of teyvat and the irminsul also

furina and focalors share the same nature, though not in the same way rukkhadevata and nahida do as they are reincarnations, but the fact focalors died while furina lives and they don't share memories and experiences proves that in the eyes of the irminsul they're two separate beings with different "fates". which obviously makes furina even more incompatible with neuvi as she was never anything but a frightened young girl and the power and maturity imbalance is so steep it's at a 90° angle

that said, I do believe symbolically focalors' death put an end to furina's adolescence, as a death of the immortal self and of a physical manifestation of the idealized youth

in a similar symbolic way furina is an older sister type of figure to people of fontaine now. she ruled over them for 500 years she obviously cares for them, but only now she can actually learn to know and understand them as herself, and help them in ways furina, not the hydro archon, can

trying to find her own place in the world, distancing herself from her guardian figure and getting help from her friends, achieving enough power to protect herself alone, and literally going out drinking for the first time in her character stories (not that #those people read them anyway I'm sure) which is literally what hyv has been using from the start to show if someone is of age or not, are all steps of someone just stepping into adulthood. trying to ignore all this and say she should go back to working with neuvi and that the vision is him protecting her or putting a claim on her (writing that made me suicidal for half a second) for the sake of a fuckass m/f pairing is an actual insult to both of their characters. it's actually vile to me

anyway I hope the fans explode and die bc they're both illiterate and fans of heterosexuality. like pick a struggle

[scumashling]

Warning: my mental health is bad and this is just me trauma dumping and victim blaming myself lol

1. Don't listen to them. It was your fault. No matter what anyone tells you it was your fault. They're just saying that because it's what they're supposed to say.

2. It's been 5 fucking years. How is this still bothering you.

3. She told you you were smarter then most adults she knew and you were stupid enough to think that's any different then calling someone mature for their age. She got you wrapped around her little finger by complimenting your fucking bullshit discourse takes for fucks sake and calling you a lesbian icon and you believed her.

4. It was your fault

5. She didn't mean any of it either. You aren't special. You aren't interesting. And you most certainly aren't smart. If you were you would've known better then to bus an hour and a half to a college girls house and not expect something like this. She liked you because she's broken and you're a reflection of her. She liked you because you were desperate.

6. You thought about kissing her too. What right do you have to complain about her actually doing it and more.

7. You wanted it.

8. You wanted it.

9. You wanted it.

10. You're disgusting.

11. An older girl is giving you attention like you've always dreamed, who the fuck are you to act like you've been harmed when that's been your dream since you were 14. Girls have never liked you like that and why should they? You should be grateful a girl that beautiful even thought about touching you.

12. She isn't strong. She's almost exactly your size even. You could've pushed her off but you didn't. You could've said no but you didn't. You could've done something instead of just letting her do it but you didn't.

13. You told her you forgave her.

14. You kept running back to her after she did that to you too. You make the whole hour and a half long bus trip multiple times. You kept drinking her booze and letting her buy you more and smoking her weed and you fucking hugged her when you were drunk and sobbing and thanked her for being there for you.

15. She put a chain around your neck and you didn't notice because she didn't even have to pull it. You always come when called. You always heel.

16. You aren't a victim. You're a dog. And a drunk. And fucking gullible and stupid. You're a whore who can be bought with liquor and praise. She could've done it a thousand times and you still would've ran back to her house to down another shot.

17. People use each other all the time. You used her for comfort and she did the same. You are at best, bit of drunk fun.

18. Pathetic pathetic pathetic.

19. You will never have a normal sex life. You will think of her every time you try and fail to have sex like a human being. You will never have sex like a human being. Your girlfriend's hands will always be her hands.

20. Your friends are right to not want to be around you. You are a festering open wound spreading your rot everywhere and you need to get as far away from others before you infect them.

21. You are too much and you always have been. The depth of your rage and hatred is terrifying and more importantly annoying. You do this to yourself.

22. Your purpose is to care for others. When people take care of you, you hurt them. it's unfair to ask that of anyone.And it's so unfair to ask anyone to love you. That's not what you're for.

23. Girls come to you with their damage and you tell them it's okay, not the other way around. Your damage makes people uncomfortable. Your insides are rotten and ugly.

24. People don't love you, they pity you. And you far too damaged for anyone to want to actually hold you. You're a human mirror for others to see themselves reflected in. You're a comfort toy. That's what you've always been. Just like you were for her.

25. You shouldn't have told anyone. You should've just taken your losses and kept your mouth shut and pretended it didn't happen like you told yourself you would. Now it's never going back in. You've defended and praised her to so many people and you can't possibly take it back now.

26. She probably doesn't think about you at all.

[zepskies]

Oh my God, girl, bless you. 😭🙏🏽

It was tricky, not gonna lie lmao, but more on that later...

I'm still loving the vacation vibes (and glamping while ridiculous actually sounds fun and was so aesthetically pleasing during the season) and the "camp" feel of getting to know the other guests. You're nailing all the side characters (aka Luke still sucks and Donno is still my fav little weirdo but I must disagree with him on ketchup and eggs).

Some short-lived chill vibes, right? 😅 I know we all make fun of it but I think I would seriously love glamping (as someone who hates bugs and wants to be as comfortable as possible on vacation but also loves nature). 😂 But thank you for saying that about the side characters! Donno is one of my favorite little psychos in this show. (And I also disagree with him about ketchup on eggs lol.)

Mary was pissing me off at the start of this. Not cool to ditch a friend on your vacation. You could really feel the reader's isolation and that it's not just this trip but in general she's kinda adrift but putting on a brave face for everyone.

She was def meant to piss you off. 😂 She's being a little diva for sure. But I'm glad that you could feel how lonely the reader truly feels, even before Mary started to ditch her. "Putting on a brave face" is definitely it.

Btw I love that you've captured the duality of Emily in that yeah, she's a bit mature for age and intelligent but sometimes she really is a teenager and has no filter/concept of what NOT to do when you come across a certain something in the woods 😂

LOL thank you for shouting this out! I did my best to get personality while still showing that she's a teenager who's gonna act teenager-like in certain situations, even though she does strike me as being mature for her age and above average intelligence, like her parents.

I'm glad Mary came around and was able to talk with the reader and semi-apologize considering what happens. It was at this point when she mentioned a run that I GASPED and realized what the fuck you were doing and who Mary was. Here I thought she was an OC this whole time and you just do a sneaky sneak and blow my mind. All I can say is hats off to you because I did NOT see that coming and I KNOW that was hard to pull off on sooo many levels.

Omg thank you, love!!! I basically tweaked/exaggerated the bits of her personality we saw on the show, but kept her name (and unfortunately what happens to her). I'm actually so glad it still managed to catch you off guard! 😂 Because she's close to the reader you think she might be "safe" as part of the main cast, but this will actually be a major catalyst for the reader's character arc going forward.

I was so sad reader was there when Mary was found but actually also strangely happy? In a horrible moment where the reader had every right to be devastated, she was there for Emily with no hesitation. It's touched on but I think Beau not only appreciates it but really respects her for that reaction of thinking of his daughter first.

It hurts so good right? It's kind of one of those situations where you might be glad to see the reader and Emily trauma bonding, but still feel sorry for poor Mary and what the reader's now going through. And for sure, this is going to frame how Beau sees her going forward as well. ���💞

And he gave her his coat and called her darlin' again when she feels like shit. 😭 🥹 He's a good bean and she needs a good bean in her life and oh I hope they let each other in without too much fuss (and maybe some matchmaking from Emily?). Aaaand now I remember what happens with Emily later in the season and I'm scared for what you've done lol.

He absolutely did, that good, good man. 🥹 He needs a good bean too, and you'll see how they slowly but surely become that bright spot for one another. (Possibly with some help from Emily. 😏)

And lol, it's funny you mention that later plot point with Emily. I won't give anything away yet, but that will be covered in this story.

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me on Part 2 as well!! It made me smile from ear to ear. 🥰 I'm so happy to see you're enjoying the ride so far. 💕

And glad you're on board with 2x a week posting! It's not normally something I do, but it just feels right for this story. (But omg is Wednesday really Beau’s day?? Characters have days?? How did I not know this? 🤣)

Take Me Home - Part 2

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments on Part 1! I know many of you have questions, and I promise, all will be revealed in due time…

(Also, what do you guys think of new chapters releasing on Wednesdays and Sundays instead of just Fridays? A week is a long time, isn't it? 😂)

Song Inspo: “City Grown Willow” by Radio Company

Word Count: 5,200

Tags/Warnings: Tension, hurt/comfort, major angst, and more comfort of a different sort.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Not Right, But It’s Okay

Tensions were running high at Sunny Day Excursions.

Over the next few days, Mary continued to press the issue of you staying in Montana with little passive aggressive comments that got on your damn nerves. You proverbially dug your heels in, and became even more stubborn and taciturn as a result.

Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

However, the entire camp was shaken the night Paige and Luke disappeared on a hike. Buck and Sunny assured everyone that they were doing their best to look for the couple, but come the morning, it was Emily who accidentally found Luke in the woods, bleeding from a head wound, and without Paige.

He claimed that they’d gone their separate ways after a fight, and he hadn’t seen her since. Paige’s suitcase and things were gone from her tent, so Sunny could only assume that she’d found her way back to camp and left for home by morning.

“Look, no one’s a prisoner here,” Sunny had said. “If Paige wanted to go home, then that’s up to her.”

There was still something off about it though, you felt. Emily seemed to share your thoughts; you’d heard her whispering with Avery, and Dan, another camper in his early 40s.

You started to watch Luke a bit harder from then on. As did your friend Mary, if for different reasons.

It was still early in the morning when you caught her flirting with Luke in front of your shared tent.

“A personal trainer, huh?” said Luke. His gaze flit over Mary’s form, and she allowed it with a smile. “You know, I’ve got a pretty good workout routine, but I’ll bet you can give me some tips—”

“Drink lots of water,” you said dryly as you approached the tent. You carried your sketchpad and acrylic paints in your hand, and you pushed into the tent without giving Luke and Mary more than a glance.

You heard Mary’s voice outside the tent, all girlish and flirtatious as she apologized about you, and suggested they could keep talking later. Luke readily agreed. You sat down on the edge of your bed and watched his silhouette walk away from the tent.

Mary soon joined you inside, and she didn’t look pleased. She stared down at you and crossed her arms.

“Are you kidding me with that shit?” you asked, gesturing at the scene you just saw.

“Could you be any more of a cockblock?” Mary shot back.

“Number one, that guy is a little too young for you, Cougar Town,” you reminded her. Luke had to be in his early 20s. It had been a hot minute since you and Mary were of college age. “Number two, he came here with his girlfriend, who he somehow lost in the woods.”

“She left him,” Mary said. “All alone in the middle of nowhere. Then she took off and went home so she didn’t have to deal with what she did. I feel bad for him.”

“No, you’re horny for him. There’s a difference,” you said flatly.

You loved Mary like a sister, but she had the tendency to let guys blind her to good sense. (Ha. Pot calling the kettle black, came your self-deprecation.)

Though you could’ve predicted the way she huffed and walked away, once again leaving you alone. You sighed.

Wasn’t this vacation for us? you wondered.

Mary continued to bait Luke with coy flirtation, while you tried and failed to ride a horse again. Cormack had been kind and encouraging in trying to help you onto the creature, but once you were on its back, you were too afraid to let the horse move.

You felt like you were going to topple off at any moment, even with Beau Arlen’s advice. (Which still made you blush whenever you thought about it.)

So Cormack helped you down, and you went back to the mess tent for a mid-afternoon snack to make you feel better: a giant jelly donut.

You were really getting frustrated with yourself now.

“It’s not so hard,” Emily had said. You could imagine that her dad, the cowboy sheriff, had put her on a horse from the time she was a little kid. You were a city girl, through and through. The closest you’d ever gotten to riding a horse was a plastic one—a carousel at a carnival when you were six. 

While you finished off your donut, you realized that you’d spent the whole day alone. As frustrated as you were with Mary, she was your best friend. And after this week, you would be staying and she would be going back to Chicago. You didn’t know when you would get to see her again.

So with a sigh, you wiped your hands free of donut icing and went to try and find her.

You started with the tent you shared with her. “Hey, Mary? Look I—”

You gasped when, upon entering the tent, you got your eyes seared. Mary and Luke were tangled together under the sheets. He moved off of your friend and rolled onto his back next to her when you came in. Mary uttered your name in shock. Everyone was shocked, really.

You were that, and angry.

“Really?! In our goddamn bed?” you shouted. Your gaze focused on Luke, and you pointed at him. “Get the hell out of here.”

He hesitated slightly, glancing at Mary, but your furious look scared him more. He grabbed his boxers and got dressed under the sheets before he left the bed, and then fled the tent, giving you a wide berth on his way out.

You then focused on Mary, who somehow looked both contrite and irritated at being interrupted. She said your name in a placating way, but you shook your head.

“No. No. Don’t even try,” you said. “That guy’s girlfriend left him in the middle of a vacation! What does that tell you? Please, screw me?”

“You know what?” Mary snapped. She sat up in the bed, making sure to cover herself with the sheet. She leaned over to grab her clothes from the floor and started hastily getting dressed.

“Luke’s actually a nice guy," she said. "You used to know how to have fun. But now you’ve just become this bitter person who can’t relax or let yourself be happy, let alone anyone else.”

That actually struck you—like a physical blow to your chest. You tried to blink past the sting of tears in your eyes.

“You’re a damn child,” you said, steadier than you felt. “You’re not the one who had your whole world imploded.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She still looked angry, but also like she was hiding the sting of guilt. She gathered up some of her things and informed you that she’d be staying at Luke’s tent tonight.

Freakin’ fine by you.

You’d also have to request some new bed sheets from Sunny.

In the morning, you stumbled out of bed after a rough night’s sleep. It was hard for you to sleep in a new place by yourself, especially out here in the woods.

Especially after how you and Mary left things.

You were so tired, you counted it a small blessing that you were able to put on clothes and get your hair into some kind of normalcy before you trekked over to the mess tent.

There you accidentally overheard Avery and Emily arguing; she’d lost her knife in the woods when she’d happened upon Luke, but Avery was reluctant to let her go hiking by herself. Apparently, her mother was due to join them this morning as well.

It seemed like the day of late comers though. A new married couple, Tonya and Donno, had arrived late yesterday to join the trip. They’d requested a tent at the far end of the camp, closest to the woods. Apparently, they wanted to really experience nature.

All you knew was, they seemed a bit weird.

“That knife’s important. My father gave it to me,” Emily said, interrupting your thoughts.

It made Avery quiet, but they both greeted you more pleasantly when you had to walk by them to get to the coffee.

“Hey, sorry,” you gave a little wave in embarrassment. You hated interrupting moments that had nothing to do with you, but you supposed it was unavoidable in this camp.

Once you’d gotten your coffee and filled your plate with some eggs and bacon, you joined them at the table. You pretended not to notice the way they both glanced at you with measures of concern. Did you really look that bad?

Avery wisely didn’t comment. Emily wasn’t as good at curbing her inner filter.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked. You gave her a thin smile.

“Just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep so well,” you admitted.

Of course, that was when the reason for your bedraggled appearance strolled into the mess tent. Mary came in and noticed Avery and Emily first with a smile. It turned frosty when she glanced at you. You gave her a mocking “smile” right back.

She chose to ignore you and went for the buffet table instead.

Right, you thought. You supposed that was how it was going to be for the rest of this damn trip.

“All righty! Good mornin’, folks,” Sunny said, entering the mess tent. She surveyed all the faces gathered—some relaxed and jovial, and then your table, a bit awkward, a bit tense.

She moved on with a smile that matched her name and her shiny red hair.

“Just lettin’ you all know as a reminder, we’ve got a bunch of activities for you all if there are any takers. Archery, kayaking, it’s gonna be a great time,” she said. “But if you prefer, you’re welcome to keep to the camp have a more relaxed day. It’s your vacation, so it’s up to you how you wanna spend it.”

You all nodded in understanding.

It’s your vacation. You choose how you spend it.

That, you could get on board with.

You spent the rest of the morning alone, as usual. Either you were reading in the outdoor lounge area, taking in the sunshine and the fresh air, or you were painting, taking in the landscape of the tall trees and the great, big mountains peeking out from behind them.

You earned yourself some peace today, one that let you breathe and try to tune out your frustrations with Mary, and your worries about the future. You hummed along to a melody in your mind as you painted. Completely at peace…

Until a hand tapped on your shoulder, making you yelp and sending your paintbrush high in the air.

Cormack came into your line of vision with a barely stifled laugh and placating hands. While you took out your earbuds (and calmed your breathing), he grabbed your brush and handed it back to you.

“Sorry about that. Just wanted to let you know that lunch is served,” he said, though he took a glance at your painting. “Hey, lookin’ real good there. Nice landscape.”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Aw, you don’t have to be so nice. I’m still learning.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, if you’re interested in taking classes, I know someone who runs an art studio in town. Miss Peggy. Nice lady. Not too harsh.”

You laughed more genuinely.

“Good to know, thanks! Send me the address and I’ll check it out,” you said. Cormack agreed with a smile, and he helped you up from the long couch you were sitting on. The two of you walked back together to the central part of the camp, where the mess tent was.

There you met Emily’s mother, Carla, who’d just joined her family at the camp. She wasn’t exactly dressed for camping in her pressed blouse and pencil skirt; professional and smart, her long dark hair a perfect coil.

This woman was immaculate. As you soon learned, she was also a lawyer. You didn’t often feel intimidated by other women, but she could fit that bill, considering you were sweaty and dusty in your plain V-necked shirt and jeans.

And especially knowing that this was Sheriff Arlen’s ex-wife. Avery seemed like the “wealthy businessman” type—the kind of man you’d expect a high-powered lawyer to be with. You found yourself wondering how she’d met the sheriff.

That’s none of your busineeeess, you sing-songed in your mind, while you speared more salad on your plate. As if that could disguise the juicy brisket burger right beside it.

After lunch, you returned to your tent to finally find Mary. She was lying on the bed, looking a bit listless.

“I’m surprised you’re not attached to Luke’s hip,” you remarked, setting down your backpack and paint supplies on the floor. “Or his face.”

She shot you a peeved look. “He keeps ditching me for that weird new couple. Tonya and Donner or something.”

“Donno?” you supplied. “Yeah, he’s weird. He stole the ketchup bottle from the breakfast table this morning. He told me, ‘You shouldn’t ruin good eggs with sugary tomato paste.’”

Mary raised a brow, but she turned to you when you sat down beside her on the bed. There was a moment of tension between you, even though your gazes were softer to each other. The truth was, you missed your friend today. You guys didn’t fight often, and it had you hurting. Maybe she felt the same way.

“Listen,” you said with a sigh. “I’m not sorry for throwing Luke out of our tent. That was gross as hell, and I didn’t appreciate that. But I don’t want to fight with you. I want to enjoy our last few days together before you go back to Chicago.”

Mary’s lips pursed, but she seemed to relent.

“Yeah, that was a bitch move,” she admitted. She knew full well that her tryst with Luke could’ve happened in his tent, not the one she shared with you. She met your gaze with more resignation, as well as apology.

“You’re really staying here, aren’t you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m not saying there’s nothing for me back home. Of course I’m going to miss you, our friends, the rest of my family…but I need to do this. I need a fresh start.”

It took her a moment, but Mary nodded. She reached over and hugged you. You held her back tightly.

After a beat, she let you go and slid out of bed.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I need to do something. I’m going stir crazy in here.”

“Where’re you going?” you asked.

“Just for a run,” she replied. “I should be back by dinner.”

“A run?” you repeated, your brows furrowing. “In the woods by yourself? Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

“Well, you could come with me,” she offered. You grimaced. You and running didn’t mix. You were more of a yoga girl.

Mary laughed and finished changing into her activewear and sneakers.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “No worries, I’ll have my phone if anything. I’ll be okay.”

“But your cell won’t have service out there!” you said.

Mary was already leaving. She blew you a kiss goodbye, though she did stop in the tent’s entryway. Her face sobered with a sincere apology.

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back, clear my head.”

You were reluctant to see her go, but you nodded.

“Just be back in time for dinner!” you called after her.

Mary wasn’t back for dinner. Even after the sun set, she hadn’t come back from her run. You were really beginning to worry.

All the other campers were gathering up at the edge of camp for a Night Hike. It was an idea Buck and Sunny surprised you all with a few hours ago. You wondered if they were trying to make up for the strange way Paige left the camp.

“The moon’s full tonight,” as Sunny had said, with a slightly too bright smile. “Should be a beautiful time.”

You asked some of the others if they’d seen Mary, but they all replied negatively. Even Luke was nowhere to be found…but someone else was missing too.

“I still can’t believe you let her go into the woods alone,” Carla snapped at her husband.

Avery’s frown deepened. “I had no idea she went off by herself. You know your daughter. She’s headstrong—”

“Yeah, just like her father,” Carla muttered, turning away from him. Avery sighed.

You couldn’t help but approach them.

“Emily’s missing?" you said in concern. "Mary is too. I’ve been waiting for her to come back all afternoon.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Carla said. She frowned as anxiety continued to well up in her eyes. “Maybe they found each other.”

You touched her arm in comfort. “Either way, we can all look for them now.”

Sunny came up to the group with a flashlight and a smile.

“Everyone ready?” she asked.

“Mary’s missing,” you told her, “And so is Emily. Mary went on a run this morning and hasn’t been back since.”

Sunny inclined her head. After she surveyed the rest of the crowd, she settled back on you.

“I see Luke’s not among us either. Maybe they’re together?” she suggested, in a leading tone. You frowned.

“No, she left alone,” you said firmly.

“Don’t mean she stayed alone, darlin’,” Sunny replied, with that Oklahoma twang that so often made her words more charming. “But we’ll be sure to look for her and Emily while we’re out there.”

Carla shook her head and said to her husband, “That’s it. I’m calling Beau.”

“Darling, you don’t need to,” Avery replied, shaking his head. “Emily’s a responsible girl. She knows what time we’re meant to leave—”

Carla shook her head and walked past him and Sunny—towards the hotspot for cell service. You agreed with her; calling the sheriff couldn’t hurt, especially if you all couldn’t find Mary or Emily on this hike.

You still went with the rest of them to start your own search. You tried to keep with the group, but after lingering in certain spots to call for Mary, you eventually realized that you’d lost the trail—and everyone else.

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

The panic was back now, full force, and you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. And when you turned another corner, you screamed when you bumped into someone.

A girl’s scream echoed just as loudly as yours in the big, empty wood, but you got ahold of yourself, literally with a hand over your wildly beating heart when you realized who you’d run into.

“Emily!” you uttered. The girl let out a breath of relief to see you too. You went to her and pulled her into a hug, and she hugged you back.

“Thank. God,” she said. Her voice sounded tight with emotion, and you held her a bit tighter.

“It’s okay,” you rubbed her back. “How long’ve you been out here?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, pulling away from you. “Couple of hours? Maybe longer.”

You nodded and expelled a breath. Poor thing looked tired. She didn’t even have any supplies with her. You gave her a protein bar from your backpack before you two started walking.

“So the good news is, we found each other. The bad news is, we’re still lost,” you said, counting each item on your fingers. “But the good news also is, I’ve only been walking for about…half an hour or so. I’m thinking we can mark trees or other landmarks as we pass them, like checking them off, so we know where we’ve been.”

Emily glanced at you with a smile. “You’re a checklist person, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely!” you agreed. “Checking things off is satisfying. But it’s also good just to take an inventory of where we’re at.”

You two kept walking for a while. Emily explained that she’d been following Luke, who took off by himself after giving her an ominous warning.

“There are some bad people on this trip. Want my advice? Get the hell out of here,” he’d said.

You frowned in concern. You’d felt that there was something fishy about that guy, pretty much from the moment he and Paige disappeared on that hike. Those newcomers he’d been hanging out with ever since, Tonya and Donno…maybe they had something to do with it.

They’d left camp today to go into town, claiming to check on the restaurant they owned and ran. But with everything now starting to come into perspective, you couldn’t take any piece of information at face value around here.

Suddenly, Emily stopped short.

“What’s…” Your words trailed as you followed her line of vision. There was a frilly pair of underwear on the ground.

That led to a hoodie strewn in the dirt and dead leaves. You continued on, until you found Mary, lying on her back on the cold ground. You and Emily gasped her name, but you moved first, dropping to your knees at Mary’s side. You pressed a hand to her cheek and found it cold.

You moved two fingers to the pulse point at her neck, but there was nothing. No life in her. Your mouth fell open in a silent, shocked cry.

“Mary? Honey, can you hear me?” you tried, shaking her shoulders. When she remained unresponsive, tears burned in your eyes and blurred your vision. You finally saw a dark patch of wet pooled out from under her body.

“Oh my God,” Emily said, voicing your thoughts. She was panicked. “Oh God, she’s…she’s…”

You turned to her and wanted to say, Don’t look.

You had briefly taught highschoolers before you became a college professor. You were used to looking out for your students, and as the adult here, you wanted to shield the teen from the sight of this, no matter how much your mind was spinning.

Before you could say anything, Emily fled the clearing with a scream.

“Emily!” you shouted after her. You glanced back at Mary in desperation, but you forced yourself onto your feet and ran after the girl.

You had slightly longer legs, but she was fast. You only caught up to her because she screamed louder, after running into Buck leading a horse through the woods. She grabbed onto him while you caught your breath behind her.

“What? What happened?” Buck asked. You laid a supportive hand on Emily’s shoulder, and she turned back to you with tearful eyes.

“Mary,” you managed, despite the coarseness in your voice. “She’s…”

This isn’t real, you thought. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

“She’s dead,” Emily finished for you. “Someone killed her.”

Buck’s eyes widened in shock. All he could say was…

“Show me.”

Buck brought Mary’s body back to camp on the back of his horse. The three of you walked in silence all the way there. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her lifeless body. It was wrong. And if you did, you knew you’d collapse.

Emily was likely in shock as well. Her arm was looped through yours, though you weren’t sure who was steadying who.

Thanks to Carla, the police were already on the way to Sunny Day Excursions. When you reached the camp, Carla beelined for her daughter. Despite how happy she was to see her mom, Emily was a bit reluctant to let go of you, seeing how shaken you were, but you encouraged her wordless to go to her mother.

Carla pulled Emily into a tight hug, kissing the side of her head, and asked if she was all right. Emily just shook her head and pressed her face into her mom’s shoulder. Carla looked up at you with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” she said.

You gave her teary smile of your own. You couldn’t speak though, especially when Buck passed by with Mary still on the back of his horse. Sunny gasped and grabbed a blanket to cover the body with.

She then went to you, whispering, “You poor dear. Come ‘ere, sit by the fire.”

She covered your shoulders with another blanket and steered you to sit by the bonfire in the center of camp. You stayed there and stared at the flames. All the while, you didn’t feel the warmth. You didn’t feel the silent tears that slid down your face and dropped into your lap.

“Where’s Luke?” you heard Avery ask.

“That’s a good question,” said Sunny. She turned to her husband. “Buck?”

“I don’t know, but somebody better find him,” he replied grimly.

It was another hour before the police arrived.

You still hadn’t moved from your spot in front of the bonfire on a hard bench, but it was Cormack who gently asked you if you wanted to go back to your tent to relax until the police got around to talking to you about what happened.

You’d agreed, silently, and he helped you up. But you found that you could go no further than the couple of steps that brought you onto the platform outside of your tent. The tent you’d shared with Mary.

You couldn’t go in, and Cormack seemed to realize that. He helped you lower down to sit on the platform, with your dirty sneakers planted on the step below. He gave you a cup of hot tea as well, which you held with both hands and sipped slowly.

You only raised your head when you heard Emily’s voice exclaim in happiness. You watched her run to her father, the Sheriff. He welcomed his daughter into his arms and held her tight. Relief was painted all over his face. You heard the rumble of his voice asking her if she was all right. She just burrowed closer in the safety of his arms.

A blonde policewoman had come with him, along with a whole unit of officers. She went to question Buck and Sunny first, while Beau handled Emily, then Avery and Carla. It didn’t seem like a pleasant conversation, between the two men especially.

Don’t stare, you reminded yourself. You lowered your gaze to the dusty bottom stair between your feet. Your vision started to glaze over the longer you focused on that spot. You weren’t lost in thought. You were just…blank. This entire night still didn’t feel real.

Mary’s last words kept ringing through your mind…

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she’d said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back.”

You were interrupted from your reverie when two brown boots entered your line of vision. You looked up, and Beau Arlen was there to greet you with a look of sympathy. And yet, there was a professional set to his face that let you know you were about to be formally questioned about Mary’s death.

“Is that spot taken?” Beau asked, pointing to the space beside you on the platform. You shook your head and scooched over, so he could sit down. He sighed on his way there, greeting you with polite familiarity.

“Sheriff,” you nodded back. You set aside your mug of tea and crossed your arms, holding yourself against the chill.

You’d left the blanket by the bonfire, and your sweater had been stained with blood, after helping Buck set Mary’s body on the horse. You’d ripped the sweater off as soon as you got to camp, leaving you in just your undershirt.

“You need a jacket,” Beau remarked. He glanced back at your tent, as if he was wondering why you hadn’t gone inside to grab one. But his gaze was perceptive. Instead of asking, he shrugged out of his faux fur-lined leather jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

“Here, you can borrow this for now,” he said.

“Thank you,” you spoke in a small voice. You grasped one edge of the jacket and pulled it closer around you. It smelled like musky cologne and old leather.

Beau waved off his gesture of kindness.

“I hear you found my daughter in the woods and tried to get her back to camp,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

You glanced over at him, and tears once again shone in your eyes.

“I’m sorry she had to see…”

Beau’s gaze was heavy as he sighed and nodded again in agreement.

“I’m sorry you had to see it too,” he said. “And I’m sorry for your loss. For your friend.”

You took in a shuddering breath. New tears found familiar paths down your cheeks.

“Best friend, since college,” you said.

Beau took that in, before he asked you about the day’s events. You had to explain about Mary going missing first, then Emily, and finally Luke, who still hadn’t been found. You told everything you knew from your perspective.

When you were done, Beau reluctantly asked about the Mary and Luke situation. Your lips pursed, but your upset wasn’t at the sheriff. You knew he had to ask these questions.

“We argued about it,” you admitted. “Me and Mary. I warned her not to get involved with him, and the way Paige left camp was just one of many…but still, I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have let her go into the woods alone! I should’ve gone with her!”

By the end, your whole body wracked with sobs. You covered your face with your hands to try and get some semblance of composure, but you just couldn’t keep it together.

“Okay, okay,” Beau said gently. He laid a hand on your back and rubbed back and forth. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I am.”

You sucked in a few tremulous breaths, sniffling. You looked up at him with red, watery eyes. He gave you a half smile. 

“Sorry,” he repeated, this time for the endearment. “Like I said, got a bad habit of doin’ that.”

You shook your head with a weak curve of your lips, despite how your lower lip wobbled. 

“It’s okay,” you said. 

But it wasn’t. Nothing was. 

You didn’t think you’d ever be okay again.

AN: 😥 I'm sorry about Mary, but I promise, it's all for a purpose, besides following canon. But let me know what you think! There will be much more of the reader and Beau in the next chapter, though you may not expect how their next meeting comes about...

Next Time:

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice. 

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen.

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[lokisprettygirl]

Lose me to Love you (Loki x Female Reader) (AU) (18+)

Read Chapter 22 here / Series Masterlist

Chapter 23

Summary: Loki isn't the only one fighting with his inner demons. People from your past continues to turn up.

Trigger Warning: 18+, Description of rape and assault, panic attack, violence against women, Extreme dark themes, Sexual abuse, physical abuse, public sex, Rough violent sex, 18+, Steamy stuff, age difference ,Rough language, mention of suicide, talk of virginity and slut shaming, manipulative behaviour, mention of trauma, smut, toxic relationship between main characters. Dark themes, cult stuff

His palms felt clammy, he had been standing outside the orphanage for half an hour and you were taking your own sweet time coming out, as he noticed a girl approaching him he was slightly surprised. For some reason he kept picturing the eleven year old sweet girl that he knew instead of this fully matured grown woman that he probably would have fucked if he met her at the club. Just 18, he had to remind himself that you were barely an adult.

"Hiiii" you smiled at him and he snapped out of his thoughts.

"Y/n"

"Lokii..how are you?" You were the reason he was even alive today, for a moment the feeling overwhelmed him so he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him to hug you.

"Thank you darling, thank you..I'll take care of you I promise" the gratitude slipped past his lips and as he felt your arms around his waist his nerves went calm for a moment.

"So it was your birthday a few days ago, want to do something?" You looked at him as he said that.

"Not really..Where are we going?"

"Ummm my place" you hummed as he answered.

He drove you to his house and you looked around as you both entered the studio apartment he was renting in Brooklyn. It wasn't enough for you two but that's all he was able to do at the time, the divorce settlement has ruined him even further.

"It's cozy, I like it" you placed your backpack down on the couch and smiled again.

"Well you can take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch, food is in the fridge, here's the..umm some money..you can go grocery shopping or get whatever you need..the girl stuff and all" he passed you a few dollar bills so you took it from him, everything was awkward with you two and he felt it in his bones.

"What do you do for work?" You asked him and he sighed

"A small gig at a club"

"What type of gig, are you a bartender?" He combed his hair with his fingers as he tried to avoid your constant gaze.

"A bouncer..you ask too many questions" The job always paid okay, that's also how he met Jolene as well, she frequented the club he worked at and she finally asked him out one fine day. When they got married she got him a position at her accounting firm but he was fired while he was resting after the wrist slitting incident. Now he wished that he never ever met her at all.

"That's hot..i like bouncers..they're soo strong and so manly" his brows furrowed as you said that, how the hell you had even been in a nightclub? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know that.

"Well I have to go meet someone..when I come back we can discuss your uhhhh future plans…if you want to get into college or–"

"No discussion required..I want to become an actor..we should probably move to LA" you mumbled nonchalantly before you proceeded to raid the fridge that was mostly empty.

"Excuse me?" He looked at you all perplexed, getting you into acting business didn't seem feasible to him.

"LA? Los angeles?"

"I know where LA is ..are you serious about this acting thing?"

"As serious as Joker was before his dad carved his face" he looked at you all confused again as you quipped "Really??never?? Oh my god we are definitely going to watch the dark knight once you come back.. Don't worry we don't need to watch the first part.. honestly 60 percent of people skipped the first part and went straight to TDK and somehow it makes perfect sense ..it's like you're not even missing anything important or worth knowing…you know…"

Your voice faded in the background as you continued to speak gibberish to him. However your sweet voice also filled his empty sad apartment and he liked that. Alot. That was the moment he knew that life wouldn't be the same from then, he knew he'd have to make several adjustments and since he had taken the responsibility of taking care of you, your dreams and aspirations became his as well.

His eyes opened to your shaking form and he absolutely abhorred that, every time you had a nightmare he felt afraid that you'd slip past his fingers like that one horrible time. It had happened a few days prior to your mother's anniversary during the second year of living together. He never talks about it because you don't seem to have any recollection of those two days, at first he wasn't sure how to deal with you, how to bring you back but on the third night you went to sleep and came back absolutely normal. You had a bad dream last night too but it was about Thor and he just knew this one was different from that. He knew you'd probably not remember this one because it involved your mother.

"Hey sweetheart" he turned the lamp on to see you properly. His heart rendered as he noticed the tears running down the corner of your eyes,

"Loloooo …mommmyy .. I want mommmy" you sniffled, your voice reminded him of that little girl he had left at the orphanage.

"I know baby..it's okay.. open your eyes..I'm here..im here" he shook your body a little and you woke up gasping for air,

"Lolooo mommyyy ..I need mommmy"

"Shhhhhh baby.. everything is okay..you're safe" he mumbled softly as he wiped your tears, his lips lingered over your forehead before he wrapped his arm around your waist and made you sit up so he could embrace you, you felt safe that way.

He leaned against the headboard while you clutched onto him and cried your heart out.

"I'm here baby, my sweet girl, come back to me, I'm right here, you have me i promise" he mumbled mindlessly

"Don't send me away ..they sent me away every time I had a nightmare..they sent me to that place I hated" you sniffled between your words and his eyes welled up.

"You have me okay? I got you baby, I got you i promise" you hugged him as tightly as you could and your foggy grief stricken mind lulled you to sleep but he couldn't sleep that night, next morning as usual you didn't remember the outburst like always, a few years ago he had asked Steve about that place you kept talking about after such nightmares and Steve told him that it was a psychiatric hospital where they sent you whenever you relapsed or whenever you showed the signs of dissociative Amnesia.

"What are you making?" You hugged him from behind so he smiled.

"Guess" you opened the lid of the pot and all the excitement disappeared

"Porridge" your face scrunched in disgust and it made him smile.

"Well you wanted to eat healthy remember"

"Just take me to the gym again, it's been months" you groaned as you moved around the kitchen to make tea

"I will.. as soon as he's caught" You hummed as he said that "Are you feeling okay sweetheart?" He asked you softly and you shrugged

"Yeahh why?" He sighed as you said that. He wanted to ignore it like he had done before but after last night and the way you were trying to help him cope with his trauma, it had made him reflect upon your own situation, you didn't get away unscathed from his father's abuse, sure he wasn't able to harm you irrevocably but the damage was already done when he had hurt your mother.

"Because of the nightmare? Do you remember what you saw?" He asked you and you stopped doing whatever you were doing.

"Nooo.. i .. I didn't have a nightmare last night..it was the night before remember?" You walked over to him to kiss him on the cheek and he hummed in response. He can't just dump it on you, that would only make the matters worse, he had to find a way to talk to you about this.

"Take me shopping today daddy, it's my birthday in a few days"

He picked you up and sat you down on the counter as you said that. Your birthday. He promised to fuck you senselessly on your birthday but the approaching date had him feeling someway, he couldn't decide if it was a good feeling or not, a part of him wanted to ravish you and enjoy every second of it. The other part though? that bastard wanted to keep himself away from your precious body as far as possible, he didn't deserve to fuck a girl like you, he was one of the reasons why girls like you lost their lives, he was the reason why their dreams got broken so how come he got so blessed as to have someone as pure as you saving herself for him.

"What else would you like to do? A party perhaps?" You thought about it as he said that.

"Or we could just spend it together..just the two of us" you answered him while your fingers played with his chest hairs so he kissed you.

"Aren't you bored of seeing my face all the time?" He chuckled after speaking.

"Ask that girl who spent 7 years without seeing this angelic face. She'd always say no" his eyes softened as you said that.

"For this to happen it had to be that way"

"For what to happen?" You asked him confused so he cupped your cheeks.

"For this to happen.." he kissed you passionately, it wasn't a touch and go type of kiss either, his tongue slid into your mouth so you sucked on it, he tasted like peppermint. Delicious "It had to be that way" you inhaled sharply as he finally decided to allow you to breathe.

"Does it bother you that I was into you way before you were into me?" You asked him

"You were just a child sweetheart, you didn't even know what you felt"

"Well I knew I wanted to kiss you, I was ten when I knew that I wanted to kiss you and –"

"Shut Up.. that's inappropriate as hell" He pressed his thumb onto your lips but his digit couldn't really stop you from smiling or talking even

"It's just the truth, and to this date you are still the prettiest boy i have ever seen in my life"

"Well i'm no boy now my darling" he wrapped your legs around his waist to pull you closer to him and his mouth travelled down from your lips, you moaned as he sucked the soft skin of your neck.

"Some parts of you is still the boy i met"

"Uhhhuh like what?" He chuckled condescendingly so you held his cheeks and kissed him lovingly, as lovingly as you could.

"Like these eyes, still as gentle as I remember, mommy always told me that you could judge a person fairly well by the look in their eyes, you have the kindest eyes lolo" his eyes teared up as you said that. He thought you'd give him a break after last night but you were hell bent on coddling him like a baby.

"Well your mommy wasn't really the best judge of character"

"Take it back" your voice broke because the meanie in him came out again so he kissed you again.

"I'm sorry baby" he murmured against your mouth and you almost melted into a puddle because of how tender he seemed at the moment "You're forgiven" He smiled as you whispered. He wondered how badly he'd have to hurt you to make him unforgivable in your eyes because no matter what he did or said you always forgave him and that too pretty easily.

"What else?" He asked you and it confused you for a moment before it finally dawned upon you. He wanted to know more about those boyish parts of him.

"The smile, still the same, everytime I felt scared at the orphanage I would just think about you and your smiling face, that calmed me down immediately" he kissed you again instead of responding with words "And your voice hasn't changed in the slightest either"

"You are such a sentimental little girl"

"Is that bad?"

"Not at all, I just don't want to disappoint you with my stoicism" a smile graced your features at the blatant lie.

"You're pretty sentimental yourself mister "

"No I'm not"

"Yes you are"

"Shhhhhh"

After force feeding you that unsavory porridge he took you shopping like you had asked him to, you also had to be at an audition tomorrow, you needed to find work or you knew he'd try and find other works, like that thing he used to do at the club, you hated not having him at home all night.

You picked a dress but you didn't want him to see it just yet. You both spent the whole day out, it was a peaceful day but it didn't stay that way. Ofcourse it didn't. It came crashing down on you.

Your soul almost evaporated as someone ran in front of the car, you both watched a woman lying unconscious in the middle of the deserted road and you wondered if she was alive.

"Is she…oh gooddd" you mumbled under your breath so he looked at you

"Stay in here okay?" He asked you so you nodded. She had long blonde hair so it wasn't Jolene, you hated that it was your first thought. Your worries didn't cease there because as Loki rolled her over, it was someone you knew, someone you both knew very well. He picked her up hurriedly before you two could get caught by a passerby or something. After laying her down on the backseat, he quickly got in and drove towards the apartment as fast as he could.

"Ummm is that uhh--"

"Yeah and I don't trust the bitch so we are going to take her home and you're going to help me tie her up as securely as we can okay?" You looked at him all perplexed and he glared at you so you nodded.

The cops on the patrol tonight asked him about her so he lied that she was a friend that had gotten drunk out of her mind. As soon as you all reached the apartment you helped him tie her up onto a chair.

"Lokiii what are we doing..is she even alive?" you asked him nervously so he walked towards you and grabbed you by the shoulders.

"She's alive and breathing, it makes no fucking sense that she'd end up right in front of our car of all people"

"We should tell Steve "

"No not after Thor's situation, I'm already on his radar"

"But what if this brings us more trouble?" he wiped the sweat beads from his forehead as you said that. Ever since his bastard father has escaped your lives has turned into a rollercoaster that just doesn't seem to stop rolling.

You both waited for her to come back to consciousness and when she did she started to struggle against the binds almost immediately.

"Why the fuck are you here?" He asked her as he pulled up a chair right in front of her, you dragged another chair from the kitchen table, it almost looked comical as you tried to be as quiet as you could but the situation wasn't funny at all.

"Lokiii? Y/n?"

Well no memory loss it seems.

"Why the fuck You have me tied up Loki? I know you enjoyed that one time I had--" your eyes widened as she said that. He fucked her all tied up? Again you hated how your mind couldn't move past the jealousy

"Shut up.. shut the fuck up okay? Why are you here..answer me" he glared at her and she looked at you, she then gave you the sickly sweet smile that you remembered really well.

"Oh look at you now, turned yourself into Loki's pretty little girl huh?? Dreams do come true i guess"

"Sister Natasha–" Loki glared at you so you corrected yourself

"Natasha..what are you doing?"

"I don't understand, do you guys like own LA now that I can't be here?" She chuckled and Loki's teeth gritted in anger, he was so close to doing something awful

"Are you here to do his bidding again? He sent you.. didn't he?" she started laughing as he said that.

"You are still so naive loki. You know if he wanted to be here and eat her heart he'd be here, he won't need me" He stood up and all of a sudden there was a smacking sound that you heard, you looked at him shocked as he slapped her. Her lower lip split open at the force he used, your eyes teared up because you weren't expecting him to just go off like that, he never lost his control like that with you. He wasn't like that. Not with women. Not outside of consensual bedroom shenanigans.

"Ohhh I have missed that" her reaction wasn't shocking though, you knew they fucked, you just didn't know they indulged into this, though you should have guessed considering the sexual history of the cult.

"Don't make me kill you Natasha, just tell me the truth, for once in your life, tell me the truth"

He heard you sniffling so he turned his head to the side to look at you, the look on your face was enough to kill whatever shred of self esteem he still had left in him.

He walked towards you and grabbed your arm to take you to the bedroom.

"Stay here" he warned you before he turned around to leave

"This is not you loki" his eyes teared up as you said that.

"That's me sweetheart, that's the real me..still want to believe that bullshit you had made up in your head about me? This is me..the monster I keep warning you about"

You shook your head as he said that, you wanted to stop him and hold him, tell him that he wasn't a monster but he didn't give you a chance, just an hour later cops raided the house, they were tipped off. Natasha told them that he had kidnapped her, she told them that you had no involvement in all of this, you begged Steve to not believe her, you asked him to not take him away from you but he said that he was helpless. All the evidence was against him.

They wanted to take him away to lock him behind the bars, he was to be questioned later on about his motives.

And that's when you were finally able to understand why he went crazy on her, he knew her. You didn't.

You didn't know that she was as rotten as Odin. He wasn't wrong, she was there to do his bidding and she got what she needed. You without him by your side.

@annoyingsweetsstranger @whylokiissocute @loki-s-wife @fraoid3 @siggytumbles @crzyplantladyvibes @stupidthoughtsinwriting @vickie5446 @wheredafandomat @mcufan72 @xxntiimulti @loz-3 @dishahaldar @mcdesij @scram1326 @elthreetimes @army24--7 @sinsandguilt @holotacopeely @huntress-artemiss @blog-the-lilly @ultraviolencexxss @disneyismyworldforever @bunny24sstuff @kats72 @somewiseguy @asgardianprincess1050 @multifandom-world8 @loki-laufeyson-1054 @daddylokisqueen @lulubelle814 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @rogerrhqpsody @praq123

🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

If I'm not able to tag you please check your settings

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

DC Titans Incorrect Quotes P.3

Y/N: Um guys I accidentally called dick dad today....

Jason: been there , done that

Y/N: He started crying ... i heard him say "please no more children" .

Gar: I THOUGHT HE CRIED WHEN I CALLED HIM THAT BECUASE HE WAS HAPPY.

Rachel : what's wrong with all of you SERIOUSLY

Dick: kid , can you multi-task?

Y/N: Yes! i'm actually chilling and losing my mind at the same time

Y/N: Fuck capitalism . its a rigged system that keeps us poor and it isn't fair , you should need to work three jobs to afford basic necessitates .

Y/N , playing monopoly: sorry , if you wanted to win you should have tried not being poor

Y/N: Hey, do you have a bag i can borrow?

Jason: The only bags i have are the ones under my eyes , and theyre specifically designed to carry the burden of my existence.

Y/N : literally all you had say was No.

Gar , welcoming Y/N to the titans : okay what's the first rule?

Y/N: Rock-paper-scissors if you can't solve it

Gar: second rule?

Y/N: if Dick tells you no , go to starfire

Y/N: a mosquito tried to bite me and I slapped it and killed it

Y/N: and I started thinking

Y/N: like it was just trying to get food

Y/N: what if I went to the fridge and it just slammed the door shut and snapped my neck

Y/N: how would I feel.

Dick concerned : are you okay?

Gar: why do you have a bag full of passports?

Y/N: in case I have to flee the country

Gar: this is ...really illegal

Y/N putting on a fake moustache : then I guess it's time for richardio montalbaum to take a Mediterranean vacation

Dick: is that vodka ?

Jason: yeah.

Dick: straight?

Jason: No, gay .

Dick: THE VODKA NOT YOU !

Y/N: if I run and jump at gar , he will most certainly catch me in his arms.

Y/N, running towards gar : INCOMMING

Gar: NO , I'M HOLDING COF-

Gar drops coffee to catch y/n

Y/N: I used to play catch with my dad

Y/N: except the ball hit the wall because he wasn't there

Dick:......

Jason: *distant laughter*

Dick talking to the titans : you're very mature for your age

The titans : thanks , it the trauma

Dick : what did you do?

Y/N: okay , but you can't be mad at me

Dick : what, did you do ?

Y/N: okay , first I was minding my business-

Dick: BULLSHIT !

Y/N: I WAS !!

Y/N:[rolls over in bed and knees Dick in the ribs]

Dick: ow

Dick: you kneed me

Y/N, sleepily: yeah I do need you

Y/N: any news ?

Doctor : I'm just waiting for your x-ray

Y/N: but, I've never dated anyone named Ray

Doctor : and we might do a brain scan

Dick:[completely serious] I have to get something of my chest.

Y/N: [with fingers crossed] is it your shirt? , I hope its your shirt

Y/N , waking up from yet another coma : *yawns* hey guys , what time is it ?

Jason: it's about 2 am dude , you hungry?

Y/N: oh , cool . I'm up for some food.

Gar , sobbing uncontrollably: can YOU PLEASE STOP ACTING LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED-

[heathersproship]

I wanted to say thanks for this blog. One of the biggest “problematic” types of ships I’ve read and written since I was even 11-13 was adult x children characters. It was a way for me to safely explore sexuality as a kid who got crushes on adults (teachers, celebrities, fictional characters, etc) without actually pursuing dangerous relationships.

Romantization of forbidden relationships in fiction, reading loads of vampire romances as a kid, and so on were all escapist fantasies for me, and they still hold a big place for me.

The renegade teenager being romanced by the wiser, has-their-shit-together older vampire, the chosen one teen hero attracted to the older elf mystic whose maturity and world view changed their life, a younger character taken care of by an adult character through intersecting familial, platonic, sexual means as a way to wade through my own feelings without having to put myself through ridicule or danger.

It’s more helpful than not being allowed to explore it at all, similar to the way fundie Christians talk about abstinence as the morally pure thing to do.

Fiction helps explore fantasies, intrusive thoughts, personal histories, and more. Not that I think there has to be an overall Morally Correct reason to consume darkfic or problematic ships and the like, but antis loooove bring ableist towards trauma, neglect, mental illness, let alone it’s deeply insulting to compare the real exploitation of children to some teen who has a crush on Louis from Interview with the Vampire.

In addition tons of anime, for example, has teen characters, and if a teenager finds them attractive they’re either bullied for writing them fucking, or bullied for aging them up to fuck. Which then forces a teen to out their real age to a bunch of strangers online to prove they’re Morally Allowed to find lines on paper attractive. Antis make fiction hostile towards anyone who isn’t an adult. Ironically the opposite of their goal.

Firstly, you're very welcome! I'm glad you're enjoying your time here, and thank you for sharing your experience!

Secondly, say it louder (y'know, for the ones plugging their ears in the back)!

Thirdly, when you say "Antis make fiction hostile towards anyone who isn’t an adult," I very much agree. And I think it's a very specific range of adult they strive to cater towards since ageism is something I've seen (though thankfully never personally dealt with!): 18 to 21yos. Being on the younger side of Young Adult means:

they're still young enough to hide behind the shield of "minor" because eighteen and nineteen still have -teen in them (but lbr that doesn't stop some 21yos from claiming they're still minors)

they're chronologically old enough to access Restricted material without needing to lie (I imagine this takes off some guilt or shame)

but

they're not mature enough to handle the responsibility of curating their own experience, coming out of a time when the adults in their lives would take the initiative to sequester themselves away for the safety and benefit of everyone, not just minors, so instead of doing the same and paying it forward, they think they're gaming the system and doing better in their crusades to rid the world of X, Y, Z

If you're older than that, you's a pedo, you sketchy as shit, your mere existence is a scary threat, not even sorry, stop playing online and go pay taxes or something. Silly adult, the Internet is for kids!!!!!

If you're younger than that, you's a baby <3 a smol wittle helpwess bean, pure and clean, and must be protected from the big bad kinksters and the scary sketchy adults uwu!! Or, as Gretchen puts it:

You're new and you don't know things You need good friends who can tell you what to think!

Or, as Chandler says,

You can join the team (or you can bitch and moan) You can live the dream (or you can DIE alone) You can fly with the eagles or if you prefer Keep on testing me and end up like her!

Sometimes I'll see talk about proshippers "grooming" the underaged into "joining their side/liking problematic content" or some shit, when the reality of it is that a) bad people have the potential to be everywhere, and they are, and b) whether or not you’re open about the stuff you like in fiction has to do with your level of security. Because everyone likes things, everyone has different reasons for liking those things, but whether or not you share either depends entirely on whether you feel safe enough to do so. I've yet to see a single person of the proship mindset shaming another for liking/not liking incest, age gap, dubcon/noncon, or any works in which these elements appear, because they themselves aren't a fan. Because we understand everyone has different preferences, without restriction, and so long as no one is actually getting hurt we're good. Drawing blood is not the same as blood being drawn. Antis, on the other hand, will not hesitate to shame and call out those for the crime of liking something they deem unjust or impure by dressing it up as the noble cause of protecting the poor innocent children who can't save (aka think for) themselves, and the fear of being a target to relentless harassment for something so inconsequential as liking a show/character/dynamic is what keeps them cowed. Who wants to live like that? That's stressful as shit! The paranoia, the energy it takes to keep up with that? Exhausting! I'd much rather be in a house full of weirdos all doing their own thing than a house full of "normal people" who won't hesitate to throw you out if you step a toe out of line.

And then, when antis grow out of that age range, they start justifying why it's okay for them to still like the things they do as the chronological physical adults they were so afraid of becoming, because they're doing it correctly.

They're consuming responsibly by sending death threats, rape threats, suicide baiting, or doxing.

They're warning people about the dangers of consuming X, Y, and Z by labeling everyone who disagrees with them degenerates who get off on it/THEIR trauma specifically despite being an Internet rando at best and part of a friendship circle at worst.

They're not lewding the dragon loli they're sending CSEM/CSAM of real children to real volunteers on one of the biggest fanfiction archive sites on the Internet, and that's not even touching how they got hold of it in the first place.

They're blocking people they don't want interacting with them after provoking them of course so they can play the Wounded Gazelle Gambit because clearly they've done nothing wrong, they were just trying to start a civilized discussion and the proshitters went feralsavage.

Whoo, this was a lot. Thank you for sending this in, and I'm sorry I took so long to post and I went on for so long lol. Keep shipping! Indulge! That's what the media's there for!

Happy Heathers Day!

[countessofbiscuit]

What are your Bobasoka headcanons? I've already gone through all of the (criminally little) fic on ao3 and I especially loved Smothered and Covered, and I saw the majority of the fics in the tag were gifted to you so I'm assuming you're the OG shipper. Feel free to essay if you like!!

Thanks for the ask and kind words about that fic :3 

Oh, Bobasoka … where to begin? It’s a pairing that’s been bumping around in exchange requests for a few years — I figure it’d be easy for anyone invested in Ahsoka’s relationship with the clones to be compelled by the idea. Lledra used to draw Boba and Ahsoka interacting, and it was probably a few panels of their incredible Destinies comic that set my Bobasoka wheels turning. I’m also drawn to them because their journeys traverse so much canon; there’s not just a sandbox to play in, but a whole goddamn stretch of beach, stretching far out into the horizon ...  (#AhsokaLives #BobaSurvived :D)

I have to lead with the proviso that almost everything I write/daydream about/headcanon has a groundsheet of Rexsoka. Ahsoka’s interest in Boba, in my head, is intimately tied up with her attraction to and/or relationship with Rex — or, at the bare minimum, her intimate fellowship with the clones. She went through puberty (maybe with heats!) surrounded by a literal army of handsome, roughly college-aged dudes; that must’ve been a heady mix of heaven and hell. If she didn’t quench her thirst before war’s end and her (eventual) separation from Rex, she’d probably be pretty dehydrated when stumbling across Boba. As for Boba’s attraction to Ahsoka, well ... she’s very pretty, she’s potentially useful, she’s not likely to skewer him in his sleep (+2) on account of being a Jedi (-1), and now she’s the one down on her luck; if he falls in bed with anyone, why not this girl who isn’t afraid of him and stares a lot at his lips?                         

And Boba is like a hot shipping potato — satisfying, hard to fuck up, goes well (read: makes for an intriguing story) with almost everyone. And I think it has everything to do with his liminality, something he shares with Ahsoka and probably recognizes.          

Their neither-this-nor-that-ness overlap in such interesting ways, and they each bring their identity issues to the table — Ahsoka as an on-again, off-again Jedi; Boba as a clone who isn’t a Clone™, a Mandalorian by birth and bearing, but not by the book. At different points in their stories, they identify as different things, and that would affect their headspace and color their view of the other. They wrestle with themselves and each other. Force-user and bounty hunter; privileged topsider and orphaned juvenile delinquent fugitive; GAR commander and outcast clone; Jedi and Mandalorian; Disillusioned veteran and disaffected army brat; Rebellion agent and Imperial contractor.

And as much conflict is baked into these dynamics, it also generates a certain magnetism; and I believe they recognize, on some level, their shared trauma and the symmetry in their experiences. Boba and Ahsoka both have happy childhoods with very little to distress or vex them (beyond the art, I do not jive with Age of Republic: Jango Fett, a Disney-canon comic that not only doubles-down on the Jango-wasn’t-Mando nonsense, but shows him being rather cavalier about Boba’s life); Geonosis happens and their adolescent lives are dominated by war (which is how they came to actively threaten each other as space!secondary-schoolers — whaaaaatf!); they are both dubiously (even wrongfully) imprisoned; and they both suffer alienation and incredible personal loss.  

Boba was set apart from the clones before he was even pulled him from the jar, othered and elevated from the beginning. He never bonded with brothers, he does not identify as a clone. And while there are examples of clones making overtures to him, canonically his relationship with them is fraught and probably made worse when he gets banged up in Republic Central at the tender age of eleven or twelve — and of course, Ahsoka is an accessory to this, the second chapter in his tragedy at the hands of the Jedi. He needed help (whether he wanted it or not), it was not given by clones or Jedi alike (hamstrung by bureaucracy, sure, but surely some other means of intervention might have been lobbied for?), and Boba becomes a right teenage disaster, well-balanced only in the sense that he has a chip on both shoulders.

(n.b. Putting my RepComm hat on for a second, I can’t help but sniffle-laugh at the idea that the Alphas watched him get thrown in a maximum-security slammer and were like “Ah, there he is, the feral vod’ika. First time, we’ll let the little snot earn his stripes. Second time, we’ll bust him out and send him on a tough love retreat with A’den or Jaing.”)

Ahsoka, meanwhile, is part-and-parcel of the institutions that Boba sets himself against, even after she too has been cast out by circumstances beyond her control. She grows up in a supportive Jedi community and then spends some seriously formative years with a whole slew of brothers — brothers that should have been Boba’s! 

Boba, on the other hand, is a great example of the proverb that a child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. (As he tells Hondo, “Why should I help anybody? I’ve got no one.”) 

The resentment that must create! But also, later, the quiet empathy too — maybe when Boba’s having one of his better days and Ahsoka’s obviously not. 

And all of the above is interesting enough, without also touching upon the wildcard that is Mandalore.

Boba’s relationship with Mandalore .... well, that’s contested in- and out-of-universe and I won’t allow myself to essay overmuch. I subscribe firmly to a Mandalorian Fetts construction of canon, even though Boba must be someone who struggles mightily with Mandalorian identity. He’s raised by a bona fide Mando, a solicitous, loving father who’d have no reason not to pass on his language and beliefs; but at the same time, it takes that village, and when Boba’s clan of two is shattered, he has no one else. The loss of his dad unmoors him from his only anchor to Mandalorian culture and clan.

If Boba had been close to the Cuy’val Dar, one would think he’d have turned to them rather than fall in with Jango’s criminal acquaintances; or maybe the bounty hunters just scooped him up first, and troubled lil’ Boba was shepherded through bereavement by folks who enabled and encouraged him to externalize his anger in a way that gave him a (false) feeling of agency and strength. 

Whatever the reasons, Boba does not repatriate himself to Mandalore (much to Fenn Shysa’s melodramatic dismay). He strikes me as a lapsed Mandalorian; he doesn’t exactly follow the creed besides wearing the armor (scavenged? his dad’s sans helmet? canon is confused on this point, but he doesn’t go Mando until the unfinished arcs at the end of TCW, either for lack of stature, lack of armor, or lack of enthusiasm). I feel like if someone rocked up to Boba in a cantina and had the balls to ask “hey, so you a Mandalorian?” Boba would be like “<ominously slow helmet tilt> who’s asking” and never give you a straight answer.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka gets a crash course on Mandalore from none other than someone who, at one point, belonged to a sect that wanted to expunge Jaster’s legacy from the galaxy — and at the very least, had reason to dislike clones. This isn’t the place to explore my Boba/Bo-Katan feelings, but know that they are fathomless, and I would pay good money to be a fly on the wall of that Kom’rk when Bo-Katan gives Ahsoka Mando History 101 with her own special sauce. Ahsoka is probably more up-to-speed on Mandalore than Boba, and at one point, she may even own more beskar than him! (n.b. After the crash, I think one of the first places Rex and Ahsoka bounce is just inside Mando space, to scope out the Sundari situation and maybe try to scramble a signal to Bo-Katan; she’d have the goodwill to at least get them back on their feet if she can’t help them lay low herself. For a variety of reasons worth maybe ficcing down the line, they aren’t successful.)

I don’t really have a concluding statement except, I just think Bobasoka’s neat :) They hit all my depressed-Millennial buttons.

Headcanon by bullet-point isn’t really my style, but this is tumblr so ... tl;dr:

They recognize a lot in each other, even if they’re slow to admit it, if ever. Boba’s a cagey bastard and Ahsoka doesn’t ever like him enough to be emotionally honest.

They bump into each other during Ahsoka’s walkabout(s) ‘cause Coruscant’s Underworld ain’t big enough for the two of them. Without Slave-1, Boba couchsurfs at Nyx Okami’s garage, but he does his laundry at Rafa’s. He might even borrow the Martez’s new, useful friend for a job or two. 

Ahsoka eventually matures enough to be sensitive about her use of the Force on and around clones, and she definitely doesn’t use it around Boba. Definitely not during sex.

Boba is privately weirded out every time Ahsoka uses Mando slang she picked up off the clones or the Nite Owls.

Boba absolutely kills Cad Bane in that shoot-out, keeps the hat, and lets Ahsoka have it. She shoves it out the airlock and uses it for target practice. 

So many great smut flavours! Hatesex. Acquaintances with benefits. “You’re traumatized and touch-starved and you look just like him/them, and I know how to be gentle and what to do, so maybe we could … ?” They’re both privately comfortable with their bodies and sexuality, but Boba’s got trust issues a parsec long and Ahsoka’s lost confidence; it’s always an awkward affair, but desperation wins out.

They exchange comm codes every time they run into each other, which is kind of pointless because they both use burners.

Ahsoka hitches a ride on Slave-1 more than once. There really is only one bed, so it’s either sleep upright, sleep in a pokey prisoner hold, or sleep with him.

For a few years, Boba can pass as a last-generation clone — the ones that got sold off in bulk units to slavers before Kamino sunk another three years’ food, board, and training into them. Boba pretends he doesn’t notice, easy to really, since he tells himself his helmet is his face. But occasionally, when Ahsoka can convince him there’s profit in it, he agrees to play sleeper agent and assists in liberating a few here and there. 

They don’t talk about Aurra Sing.

When an Imp really crosses him, Boba passes on intel to Ahsoka to ruin their day.

Once, when they’re both super skint, Ahsoka volunteers to get handed in to some relatively minor and out-of-the-way Imperial garrison, so Boba can collect, bust her out, and split the pot with her. It’s the closest she ever comes to telling him “I trust you” — and when he brushes the idea aside, citing something about risk, it’s the closest he ever comes to telling her “I love you.”

Boba sees Inquisitors as muscling in on his game. There are so many lousy Force-users around nowadays, it should be easy pickings, but Inquisitors get privileged information. So he makes sport out of misdirecting them, especially from Ahsoka. 

When he pisses her off, Ahsoka fantasizes about Bo-Katan taking Boba down a peg or two while she watches :)))

Boba experienced Ahsoka’s heat once, secondhand through a cabin wall. He thought he was being clever by shooting Rex up with some Nevoota stim pollen, locking him in with Ahsoka, and hijacking their locked ships. Longest three days of his life, limping on broken hyperdrives and shared fuel stores to the nearest waystation to a soundtrack of violent lovemaking : \

Bounty hunters invariably bump into spies and agents because they work in the same areas. The agents pretend to be bounty hunters, eccentric business people, sex workers, or a range of other things. Sometimes each party knows all about the other, but it’s only polite not to mention it. This happens to Ahsoka and Boba A LOT, especially once she becomes Fulcrum; rebel cells and Imperials often want the same people. Occasionally they exchange fire. A couple times Boba gets imprisoned in Ahsoka’s own brig. Once, Boba blows her cover and definitely lives to regret it. 

(this essay was originally punctuated with pics, but replies with images won’t show up tumblr tags so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) 

[adhd-pixie-nightmare-girl]

Pandava QuinText Posts Part 4

Aru and Aiden: on all levels except physical, i am a little heart shaped candy that says, "i'm all yours!"/ Pick up line: hey girl do you want to make a fragile human connection in the vast and unfeeling infinity of a chaotic universe/ haha if your bored you could kiss me idk just sayin

Aru: feeling bored, might imagine myself in unrealistic scenarios of love, idk/ well well well. if it isn't my old friend, the dawning realization that i fucked up real bad/ I'm actually pretty cool just give me like 5 tries to get it right/ I'm majoring in existential breakdowns/ wish there were some unseen omnipotent voice shouting "WARMER" or "COLDER" everytime I make a decision because I am pretty much flying blind here/ "You should never bottle up your emotions" I say, kicking seventeen Emotion Bottles TM under the carpet.

Mini: "that's too much eyeliner!" cry me a fucking table Linda, go back to Forever 21/ if someone points at your black clothes and asks whose funeral is it, a look around the room and a casual "i haven't decided yet" is always a good response.

Brynne: *sigh* why am i better than everyone/ if i ever opened up to you i was joking/ i'm bisexual and stupid. that's all i am. god looked at my shitty tiny frame and said, "you're going to be a little bisexual moron" then released me into the world./ I'm gonna start a Cute Bi Club for all bisexual and biromantic folks all we're gonna do is pet cats and talk about how cute and bi we are

The Sleeper: if you ever feel safe please remember that im out there

The Council: power move: saying "that's treason" every time someone does something that mildy inconveniences you

Meenakshi: ok yes i may be evil and morally corrupt i'm also incredibly beautiful and i think that makes up for it honestly/ yeah i'm beautiful but where's my mental stability???/ Career Goals! This Woman Wants To Control The Continent And Every Person On It

Aru with The Sleeper: family dinners more like heteronormativity and offensive jokes

Nikita: have you ever met someone who's smile looks like it could make flowers grow

The Potatoes: "Wow you're so mature for your age!" thanks it was the trauma

[switching-accounts]

You know that you are human right? You aren't a vampire, fucking twilight type shit man, you're not a wolf, you're not a baby you're 18. Time to start acting like an adult and man up.

Yepp. I fully acknowledge that I am a human 😊 thanks for reminding me though hahah I never claimed to be anything other than such in the physical sense. Physical bodies mean nothing if you're a spiritual person - which I am - but you know, it's cool, everyone has their beliefs.Age regression is also a safe, healthy coping mechanism used by many people who suffer from trauma, abuse and/or mental illnesses and it is encouraged by many therapists. People much older than me - I'm 19 by the way, not 18 hahah - are age regressors. I still function as an adult man outside of little space, so no problem there, however, you're gender stereotype that a man can not have a childish side and still be masculine is rather strange to me, one doesn't have to confine to your ideal of masculine or feminine in order to be those things, you know that, right? If we're taking about growing up, though, you may want to look in the mirror. You're a stranger on the internet, sending hate mail to another stranger on the internet about things that make them happy because you think its weird even though they do not affect you in any way, shape or form, whatsoever. You call that mature? Do you not have a job or go to school or have friends you hang out with? You're so bored with your life and have nothing else better to do with your time than this? Come on. The hypocrisy of this is hilarious. Your words do no affect me. I actually find humor in them because you assume things about me when you clearly don't know me at all and then tell me to grown up and man up when you're the one hiding behind Anonymous because you're too afraid to show your face and say these things. Wonder why that is? Anyhow, I'll be on my way now. I suggest you do the same, and maybe find a hobby or two while you're at it. Keep busy so you don't bore others with your pathetic attempts to upset them 😂

[monstrous-beauty]

Monstrous Beauty Text Posts

Mal: I'm BI I'm HOMELESS I have RADIATION POISONING and I'm NEW IN TOWN/ I swing both ways ;) Violently. With a bat. Come get some motherfuckers./ in order to lead a happy life i'm gonna have to disappoint my parents a bit/ my neutral expression makes me look like i'm always in a bad mood which is convenient because it's usually true/ if i feel an emotion one more time im gonna snap/ "that's too much eyeliner!" cry me a fucking table, Linda, go back to Forever 21/ whatever *becomes an enemy of the state*/ if someone points at your black clothes and asks who's funeral it is, a look around the room and a casual "haven't decided yet" is always a good response/ Hmmmm gay rights but for me i think? The rest of you are on your own/ family dinners more like heteronormativity and offensive jokes/ Maybe she's born with it maybe She's Been Constantly Pressured To Meet Impossible Standards Since Birth/ if i ever opened up to you i was joking/ i'm bisexual and stupid. that's all i am. god looked at my shitty tiny frame and said, "you're going to be a little bisexual moron" then released me into the world.

Estelle: ...and this is my bedroom aka my Isolation Station TM/ every day is leg day when ur running from your problems/ im a witch i mixed some herbs and crystals together and now my cat nows the f word/ it's just me and my 400 unread books against the world i guess/ "You should never bottle up your emotions," I say kicking seventeen Emotion Bottles TM under the carpet./ If you were a gifted kid in elementary school there's a 100% chance you're gay and depressed now

Jaki: the longer my hair gets the more powerful i become/ *enters with a bad powerpoint animation effect* hello/ what if i deleted myself off the face of the earth? haha...unless/ not to be controversial but respect trans women or die by my sword/ I just want to say from the bottom of my heart I didn't sign up for this shit/ accidentally indulged in too much 'me time', turns out I've been reported missing for over six months and presumed dead by most local and national authorities/ since it is pride month and due to recent events I am challenging all transphobes and Agni Kai. I have my hairspray and lighter ready. Get in line.

Malais: "dude" but like romantically

Mal and Estelle: "Darling" but I can't stand you/ I'm gonna start a Cute Bi Club for all bisexual and biromantic folks and all we're gonna do is pet cats and talk about how cute and bi we are

James: women want me. fish fear me. dermatologists hate me. hot singles in my area want to meet me. god wishes he were me./ While you were studying the blade, I was studying a bigger, cooler blade/ you guys don't know what a himbo is anymore. you've lost sight. you can't just call every man you like a himbo. theres nuance/ the more knives you have the more valid you are

Celine: please do not disrespect the moon/ *wakes up* what the fuck/ u ever wake up from a dream like "damn i guess i'm not coping with THAT as well as i thought i was/ i wanna learn how to throw knives so i can throw them real close n graze somebody to let them know 2 shut the fuck up/ I'm gonna replace every bone in my body with a knife, if someone punches me they're in for a surprise (the knife)/ "Wow, you're so mature for your age!" thanks it was the trauma/ yeah i'm beautiful but where is my mental stability???

Solais: Im a slut for validation!!Tell me you're proud!!! Tell I did good!!!!/ have you ever met someone that was sunshine in human form/ the rumours are true...i have a soft heart/ i'm very important and soft/ have you ever met someone who's smile looks like it could make flowers grow/ talents include looking 12 and saying thank you to the bus driver/ I'm dropping out of school to become a full time lesbian reblog if you want in

Diego: she knocked that smug look off my face but luckily i was a second, smaller smug look underneath/ if you ever feel safe please remember that im out there/ power move: saying "that's treason" everytime someone does something that mildly inconveniences you/ *sigh* why am i better than everyone/ ok yes i may be evil and morally corrupt but i'm also incredibly beautiful and i think that makes up for it honestly/ i want to do cool teenager stuff, like going to parties and arson/ yes I am fully aware that I'm the worst TM but I still wanna be like.....loved and stuff/ i am no longer baby i want power/ i'm fine thank you for asking! though recently there has been a darkness growing within me

Lucifer: hi im here to ruin everything/ my therapist once told me i have have obssession with seeking revenge...we'll see about that/ *straight person voice* you rebel scum/ everyone who died and was killed on my quest to get really good fashion and hair deserved it and i don't care/ Men will have a kid and be like "i have lost the ability to be wrong"/ Is it hot in here or am I just Satan

Diablo Siblings: You're important to me you piece of shit/ do you ever see your sibling and just this overwhelming urge to smack them for no reason? like my brother will walk into the room and i'm like "oh man i guess i have to end you"

[aquadestinyswriting]

Yeah. Yeah... Elowyn really did have a lot to prove in her early career didn't she? There was so much that was going against her, and yet look at her post-campaign (I mean, she's still obviously a bit of a wreck, but you know what I mean).

This is why I love Farren so, so much. He helps to keep Elo grounded and keeps her in touch with the general citizenry of Toreguarde, which is probably what allowed her to stop Felix's constant praise from going to her head. To be honest, I think Merri is probably just a weeny bit jealous because I'm not sure if she has an equivalent of him in her life yet (maybe Yoruk counts?)

But the habit of hiding injuries is a terrible one, and I love it! So many opportunities for drama and angst <3.

#also - lol I might need to retcon her age at the start of DNS because I made her far too young for everything that has to fit 🙃️#she was *19*. can you believe that a group of age equivalent 30yos soft-elected her party leader?#then had the audacity to complain she wasn't emotionally mature enough to deal with a lot of what happened during DNS?#'you're mature for your age' 'thanks. it's all the fucking trauma'#also she's actually 3'2. which was hilarious when she tried to protect people#because only one other character was the same height - everyone else is taller

I think the group's average equivalent age range was in their early 20s, hen. I know for a fact that Merri's equivalent age was somewhere around 19-21 and I don't think the others (at least to start with) were too much older (and, IIRC, Darius was 16 for the time that he was a part of the group). So that age gap isn't nearly as big as you were thinking it is. Still, yes, it is really rather stupid that the older young adults basically elected the 19 year old to be party leader.

Yeah, the height thing is hilarious, if only because Dwarves are meant to be taller than gnomes (who are, in turn, taller than woodlings), and yet here's Meredith who's not that much taller than the woodling.

thinking about how, in her early days in the Watch, Elo might have been being the sort to hide any injuries.

because, well, she's basically a nepo baby right? So she's got something to prove. She's not just the niece of the fabled Shot in the Dark or the Grand Magus. She's her own damned person who is, incidentally, really quite good at being a Watchman.

Her first partner, Sargent Taube, her instructional officer, was reasonable. But he retired after finishing her instruction, so about a year and a half. Then she went through at least 4 or 5 other partners before Farren, who were at best indifferent or at worst actively bullying her.

And she quickly realised there was no such thing as sympathy in the Watch. But also she has to prove she - female, non-human and 3ft fuckall - has what it takes to be as macho as the rest. So she has to suck it up, not let on she's hurt, and thus got really good at hiding her injuries.

She knows Farren is different, but it doesn't stop the habit of hiding injuries, even after they've been partners for a while. Until he finds out by accident and gives her an earful for it, followed up by the equivalent of 'who hurt you?' to which she's like, I have a list if you want a copy.

It all about the 'goes through hell then finally finds the one who cares' 🧡️