#( bc i owe so much here i can't deal with starting on it )

[eddiesxangel]

Redemption| Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: after committing a petty crime, Eddie is forced to work community at a retirement home; what he didn’t expect was the pretty girl at the front desk, you. This is so self-indulgent don't come for me

Word count: 3.8k

Cw: mutual pining, male masturbation, Perv!Eddie, Dom!Eddie/ Sub!reader, unprotected sex, corruption kink? breeding kink, sex at work. (Briefly proofread)

An: after 85 years I finally got around to finishing this! It’s not where I thought it would go originally bc it was just suppose to be a fluff piece but the horny gremlin took over

Boredom wasn't even a way to describe how you were feeling. The phones were dead, the day had been dragging on, and it was not even 12:00pm. The residents of the home were also not doing you any favours. Having to repeat yourself about six times in a row at the top of your lungs was starting to get old; your day had just not been going the way you wanted. Any other day, you'd be happy to help, happy to repeat yourself, but today was not one of those days. You were irritated and annoyed; your work bestie was off today, so you couldn't even complain to her about your shit day.

 A sigh of relief fills you when the phone rings, a rare occasion, but today has been so slow you were begging for something to do.

 "Sunny Acres Retirement Home! How may I help you?"  your customer service voice was overly sweet, too sweet. However you can't seem to turn it off, being the people pleaser that you are. 

"Jesus Christ'' You hear mumbled from the other end of the line. 

"Hello? How can I help you?" you roll your eyes, having to repeat yourself, but keep up the chipper act.

 "Yeah, listen, I was assigned to do community hours at this place, and I need to talk to a manager." Damn, this guy had an attitude. 

"Yeah! Sure thing. Can I get your name, please?"

 "Seriously?" 

What the fuck crawled up this guy's ass?

"It's company policy, Sir." You rolled your eyes again, not wanting to deal with more bullshit.

"Eddie"  

"One moment, Eddie, I'll transfer your call." You put him on hold and transferred him to the manager with a good luck warning. 

The next day, you were in much better spirits; your work bestie was with you, it was casual Friday, and you were allowed to wear jeans instead of business casual attire.

It was around 1:00pm when you saw Chief Hopper walk in accompanied by someone you had not recognized. 

"Hey Hopps," you greet him with a smile.

"Hey, you." He said with a smile.

You and Chief Hopper had a friendly relationship because you're close friends with his girlfriend's oldest, Jonathan.  

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Brought in another delinquent for you to roughhouse into shape" he steps out of the way.

Your giggle dies as you lock eyes with the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

"This is Edward; he is here to complete two hundred hours of community service, and he will be starting today."

"It's Eddie," you hear him mumble under his breath. 

Oh so this is the jackass you spoke to on the phone yesterday... a really cute jackass.

He looked to be around your age, but you didn't recognize him. You'd only been in town since the second half of senior year, hating your parents for making your move to a new school so close to graduating. You have been in Hawkins  six years now you're here working 9-5 as a receptionist at Sunny Acres Retirement Home.

"Nice to meet you, Eddie." You introduce yourself and proceed to call the manager to let her know he is here. Once Hopper leaves and your manager shows him around, you immediately call your best friend, Robin's, extension.

"Get over here now! We have a code, hottie," you whisper into the phone. Whenever you see a cute person enter the building, whether it be adult grandchildren, paramedics, or firefighters, you always let one another know when there is one on the premises. No less than two minutes later, she approaches your desk.

"Where are they?"

" There," you point to the dining room directly across from your desk as he is being given a tour of the building.

"Eddie Munson?!" she half yells before covering her mouth. 

"You know him?" you ask excitedly.

"Know him? He's the town freak," she scoffs.

"I'm sure he is a freak, alright?" You wiggle your brows at her." 

"I'm serious! He's bad news." 

"Clearly, he is doing community service hours." 

"Seriously? That is what you're into?" she giggles.

"I don't know? There is something about him?" You bite your lip as you check him out from afar. He turns back to walk towards you, and you quickly look away, not wanting to be caught.

You've always been into bad boys, but your golden retriever, good girl image, always scared them away.

Eddie notices you staring at him because you're not very subtle.  He isn't mad that he caught you staring because he felt that you were checking him out rather than judging him. Unlike your co-worker standing beside you...

Just his luck, he recognized Robin from high school. She was always neutral towards him and didn't say much, but he knew how the people in this town operated. She would turn you against him in no time.

"Buckley." He nodded.

"Munson," she mimicked back.

You watched the scene play out, hoping she would introduce you. Wrong. She goes straight in for the kill.

"My friend thinks you're cute." She points her thumb at you, and you immediately slap her shoulder as a gut reaction.

"Robin?!" you scold her. Mortified about what she admitted to him just to break an awkward silence, you feel like you want the ground to swallow you whole. 

Eddie gives you a cocky smirk before the manager comes back to continue with the tour. 

"Why do you hate me? Did I do something?  Are you punishing me?" you whine. 

"You know I just blurt out things when I get uncomfortable!" 

All you can do is roll your eyes, you loved the girl, but she could be really dense. 

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about your brief interaction all night. Was Robin telling the truth? Did you really think he was cute? Or was she teasing? He hoped that she had grown up since high school and was telling the truth because he also thought you were cute, like really, really cute. He hadn't seen you before, and Hawkins was a small town; he must have known you from somewhere? He wraps his brain around any memories of your face, but he comes up empty. He had to find out more about you. He needed to know you. Something about you infatuated him so much. He thought about how your body looked in the adorable outfit you had on. He thought about what was under the outfit to... Maybe being forced to volunteer his time at Sunny Acres wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to him after all...

The next day, you were assigned to show Eddie some of the duties he was to do for the residents. Talk to them, run bingo, help them with their phone if the line was giving them any trouble, or their TV if they put in the wrong input, serve them beverages, and get to know them and keep them company. A lot of them don't have families or anyone to come visit them. The staff are their family. That was the main reason you stayed at this job for so long. 

Eddie was quiet the whole orientation. The tension from yesterday was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Small talk was not your strong suit; you dreaded it, but you also really wanted to talk with Eddie, so you went for it.

"So what did they book you for? Steal candy from a kid on the playground?" trying to make light of the situation. 

"Murder," he deadpans to you.

"Ha ha. Nice try. They don't give community hours to murderers." you couldn't keep your eyes on the task in front of you.

He was dead silent, but you could feel his eyes burning into you.

"Okay, don't tell me; I'll just keep guessing until you do." you gave a cheeky smile, trying to lighten the mood. 

Another eye roll was shot your way, but you swore you saw a glint of something behind those eyes. 

"So what was it? Trespassing? Vandalism? shoplifting? Public intoxication? Speeding?" you raise a brow at him.

 Eddie just smirked and shook his head as you interrogated him. Your bubbly personality was nothing compared to his. He noticed how you would light up the room when you walked in. The residents of the home adored you, and he could see why. You were one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen; your eyes sparkled, and he loved how you styled yourself. He wasn't used to being so infatuated by someone so cutesy. He noticed you wore a lot of pink and has yet to see you in anything black. He thought of what you would look like with black underwear... then he snapped back out of his thoughts. He tried to think of something less sexy, but as he was trying to do so, your top slipped down when you went to reach for the deck of cards across from you. He caught a glimpse of the frilly light yellow bra you had on under your top.

Eddie noticed the room was getting hotter, or was that just him? You made him nervous; he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of you more than he already has. He felt shame that we had to be waltzed in here by the chief of police, never mind what offence he committed. So he stayed quiet, not wanting the next thing to come out of his mouth to be offensive or crass. So he kept quiet, not saying anything or indulging in the conversation more than he had to.

Another week went by, and you still hardly spoke to Eddie. Work was unbelievably slow yet again. you thought that would give you a chance to speak with Eddie, but you hardly had time to see him because the residents kept hogging him. That was until your manager asked for you to help with the Bingo because everyone decided to show up today. Eddie was in charge of rolling and placing, and you were in charge of announcing and checking.

This was it, this was your chance to speak to him...

"How do you like it here so far?"

"It's fine I guess." He mumbled. 

"Everyone really loves you." You smiled.  

Eddie gave you a look that said what the fuck?

“No really! … Do you not like it here?” What you were really asking was do you not like being around me?

"Don't you get it? How can I serve these snotty rich people when all they do is look down on someone like me?"

"Eddie, are you blind? The residents love you." 

Eddie scoffs at your confession. "I'm serious! When you are gone, Pat always asks where you are! And Linda always refers to you as her boyfriend, and I overheard Martha and June arguing over who got to braid your hair next. You're a real ladies' man around here," You giggle. 

"A ladies man you say?" his mood slowly changes as he smirks at you. That made you blush, the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked away bashfully. He was just so pretty… and the way he looked at you like how he is now is making you so shy.

"Yeah, I'm kinda jealous of Linda, if I'm honest." You flirt. You feel like your stomach was in your ass by the time you finished the sentence.

-

"What's the next number! come on!" Bob yelled from the table. You had completely forgotten about the game.

Small glances were stolen throughout the following weeks.  You would feel the heat rise to your cheeks every time he caught you, and you couldn't tell if he found it endearing or annoying. You never got a response out of Eddie after your admission to being jealous over an eighty-three-year-old.

Eddie definitely thought it was endearing and he can't seem to get you out of his head. He would think about you when he was alone in his room at night. He would think about how you always smelled like marshmallows, how your hair looked so cute with the little bow you put in it occasionally, or how you tease him by wearing those short skirts with stockings underneath. He knew you were teasing him. Everyone else bought the Goodie Two Shoes act, but not Eddie. He saw right through it, and he was fed up. He felt like if he didn't have you, he would actually explode.

Eddie had been watching you from afar this whole time. He would sneak around your desk, finding things he could take home with him as a keepsake. Like little doodles you would leave out, or the pen you were using, or your lip balm. The best was when you left your purse out, and he got a chance to take the travel-size perfume that was lying there on top of everything. There was a reason he got booked for defacing public property and not theft. Theft he was good at.

Eddie sprayed his pillow with your perfume and then used your lip balm that smelled and tasted like strawberries, fuck, everything about you was so sweet: your personality, looks and smell, even your fucking lip balm. He thought about how his lips were touching the thing that touched yours as he applied it to his own, and his dick got hard. Then he thought about how your strawberry lips would look around his hard cock.

You were taking over Eddie's senses as he began to tug at his cock. He thought about how he would love to flip up your skirt and fucking you in one of the empty rooms. His imagination ran wild. He thought about your voice, how your tits would look bouncing in that frilly yellow bra he got a peek at. He wanted you in every position, especially under him. He knew you would be the perfect little sub for him. He needed you to be; he was so close to cumming. He thought about you crying from how much you needed his cock to fill you. He thought about how good you would look and feel swallowing his cock. He needed to take what he thought, no needed to believe, was your virgin pussy.

Eddie came so hard that night, the first night he indulged in his fantasies of you with your smell lingering in the air of his room. The mix of your sent with his was too much. He needed you, and he would do anything to try and get you.

"Ok, I can't take this anymore, you need to talk to him." Robin shook her head. 

"And say what?" 

"Yo Munson, come here!" 

"Robin!" You scolded.  

As Eddie approached, you felt your heart rate go up; you could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What on earth was she going to say now? 

"Okay, I can't take watching you two dance around one another any longer." "She thinks you're cute. Okay..." Robin gestured to you. "Do you think she is cute?"

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just slowly nodded his head.

The tension broke when the shrill of phone ring broke you out of your trance and shook you a little. You just stared at the phone and Robin butted in.

“I’ll take it, you take your lunch” she gave you a wink and you looked to Eddie.

“I could eat.” and he wasn't talking about the chicken they were serving for lunch.

You felt your stomach do a flip-flip; you heard the insinuation in his tone.

"Um, uh- yeah. Okay." You cleared your throat and went to find an empty room for some privacy.

You guided Eddie up to the eighth floor. There were a lot of vacant rooms up there, and hardly anyone went in the west wing since no one was living there yet. The elevator ride up was silent; you felt an awkwardness, like Eddie was looking into your soul even though he wasn't even looking at you... The elevator dinged, and Eddie let you step out first, guiding him to the privacy he yearned for.

809 Eddie read on the door as you fumbled with the lock and key. Finally, you opened the lock and guided him inside. The room was completely empty; it echoed a little as your footsteps filled it.

"So..." You started but Eddie had no time for talking. He wanted you and he wanted you now.

Eddie surprised you by cupping your face and kissing you passionately. No one had ever kissed you like this before; it was strong and hard but also careful.

"You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart." He spoke into your mouth. The kissing got more and more sensual. You ran your hands up his middle before you knew what was happening he quickly turned you around and pressed you up against the wall.

"You think it's cute? Teasing me for weeks with your sweet little outfits?" Eddie's hand was wrapped around your mouth to keep you quiet as his fingers explored you meat of your ass.

"Mmmmmph" You were so scared someone would find you in the empty suite, but it also turned you on more than expected.

"What was that sweetheart? I didn't quite catch that?" His fingers found the waistband of your stockings and pulled them and your panties down with one swift motion. His hand loosened its grip on your jaw so you could speak.

"N-no," You whimpered. This was turning you on way more than it should. You thought you would come up here to talk; maybe he would ask you out on a date. You never thought you would be fucking!

"I don't believe you."

You felt your skirt flipped up and a cool breeze on your wet pussy.

"Tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever filled this pussy?" Eddie asked as he ran a single finger through your wet folds.

"Yes," You admit shakily. You gripped Eddie's wrist of the hand that was clamped around your throat.

Eddie can't say he was surprised that you’ve had men before him. You were beautiful, smart, funny, adorable. It's too bad you had to be with them before he got a taste.

"What a shame you've had to suffer through that before meeting me, babydoll."

"Why is that?" you ask bravely.

Eddie chuckled darkly... "Because baby, I'm about to ruin you for all men."

That made you gulp. You can't believe you were about to fuck your crush in the middle of the work day. You didn't do stuff like this! you were a good girl, a rule follower.

Before you could think anymore about the consequences, Eddie, he slipped his throbbing cock into your needy pussy.

"Holy fuck!" You screamed, and Eddie's hand clamped back down over your mouth to keep you quiet.

Just when Eddie didn't think you could get any hotter, the curse word you let slip from your mouth made his cock twitch inside of you.

"Fuck me, you stretch me out so good," You whine, and Eddie thinks he will bust a nut right then and there. His perfect little angel had the mouth of a whore.

"Yes, you like that, don't you, you dirty little slut." Eddie jerked his hips up into you. It was sharp and hard and hit that delicious spot inside you each time. “You wanna be my good girl? Or my bad girl?”

“Good- oh fuck- good girl. I want to be your good girl!”

“That shut the fuck up and take it like I know you can”

"oh my god, you're so big." Your eyes rolled back into your head as he became more controlled with his rhythm. His hands gripped your hip, and he wrapped his hand in your hair, yanking your head back like he was riding you.

The view Eddie had was your ass bounced off his cock was making his head spin. He knew you would hand a perfect pussy. It was his now and only his.

"This pussy is mine now, understand? Im going to fill this pussy so good you won't know what to do for days. The only thing you're going to be thinking of is me and my fat cock."

All you could do was moan in response. "Yea you like that you dirty little whore. You like that I own this pussy now…” Eddie slowed down, he rolled his hips slowly into your pussy and he swore he saw the light “You have everyone convinced you're a goodgirl but all you are is a cumslut. Tell me how much you want my cum coating your walls"

"I want it so bad!" you cried.

You've never had a dick like this before. Eddie was right, he's ruined you for all men and he hadn't even made you cum... yet. You had full faith that he was able to do so because you could feel it. The warm fuzzy feeling was bubbling up in your core. Eddie had picked up the pace at your omission, and fuck if he wasn’t hitting your g spot with each delicious stroke of his cock hitting your walls.

"Fuck I'm going to cum!" You scream, all caution thrown to the wind, you'd forgotten where you were. The only thing you could think of was Eddie and his delicious cock.

"Fuck yes, babydoll. Come on this cock." Eddie's hand let go of your hair and wrapped it around your throat, pulling you flush to his body.

"More" You whisper.

"Greedy greedy girl."

"Please" You begged. You needed him to touch you.

"There is my good girl." His hand that had gripped your hip slid down and started playing with your swollen clit and your legs almost gave out.

"Next time, I'm keeping my word, and I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy." Eddie growled.

That did it for you; your inner walls squeezed, and you felt your orgasm rush through you. Eddie trusted in you as your body convulsed around him.

"Fuck you're so fucking tight," Eddie grits through his teeth, and he fights off his impending orgasm. He doesn't want this moment to end, he wants it to last forever. What if this is the last chance he has to feel your pussy wrapped around him?

"Please, Eddie, I want your cum! I want your cum so fucking bad, my pussy needs it."

That did it for Eddie, he let go and his hot seed was being shot into you with a roar.

After minutes of silence and heavy breathing, Eddie bent down and pulled up your panties and stockings for you, trapping his cum with it. You turn slowly, afraid to look him in the eyes, but Eddie doesn't allow it. He brings your cin up, guiding your eyes to look into his.

"Don't shy away from me now, babydoll. You're going to go back down to the lobby and finish the rest of your work day knowing my cum is going to be seeping through your pretty little panties, ok?" He ordered, and you dumbly nodded your head, still fucked out by the amazing dick you just received.

"Good girl" Eddie patted your ass, and you walked to the elevator with wobbly legs. Eddie laughed and held you stand straight before letting go before you reached the first floor.

You returned from your break fifteen minutes later than allotted, but Robin covered for you. You couldn't even look her in the eyes, and she knew you got freaky with the freak of Hawkins.

[luckycloverforducks]

Fuck it, HH swap AU

Their core personalities and backgrounds stay the same, it's mostly a role switch

Niffty <--> Husker

Angel Dust <--> Vaggie

Alastor <--> Charlie

(the typical for swap AUs, I know,,)

Everyone else stays the same

These r edits bc I was just figuring out their designs for the AU, I'll draw them normally another time (Husker isn't here cuz I can't find a good png of the mf)

In this AU Alastor started the hotel mostly because he randomly thought up the idea once and thought, "that's fucking hilarious, I'm doing that" + a secondary sentimental reason he'd kill me for saying (he got genuinely fully invested in the cause eventually)

He advertised it on his radio show suddenly out of the blue after 7 and a half years of radio (lol) silence. Alastor still owns Husker's and Niffty's souls but they're also obviously friends (or atleast close to it)

Also he can read tarot bc why not :3

Charlie is closer to her dad in this AU and more sheltered, adopting a more aloof, smug, and dangerous persona so sinners take her seriously, she also has a very slight condescending outlook towards sinners but she's at her core still compassionate and still views them as her people and want to protect them to a certain extent, and she still thinks the Exterminations are unnecessary and cruel, but she doesn't feel like she can do much about it since according to Lucifer's stories and discouragement, she knows heaven likely wouldn't listen much if at all, but when she heard of Alastor's little project it resparked hope in her and she decided to invest in it, becoming co-owner and funder for the hotel.

Angel Dust/Anthony never made a deal with Valentino and actually stayed in his family's crime/mafia business for the 1st half of him being in Hell, but his dad is a POS and kicked him out for being gay so he started doing s3x work, and then he met Alastor after he brutalized his harassers one day, and Angel wanted to repay the favor somehow. Alastor seems interested in him so they struck a deal (not a soul deal, just a simple deal) which has Angel/Anthony is under Alastors protection in exchange for Angel/Anthony's loyalty and assistance when needed (which is a rare case so Angel still feels like he owes Alastor). They grow friendly with time, and Alastor offers to have him be patient zero for his redemption project, and he accepted.

Vaggie/Vi is still a fallen exterminstor and still met Charlie the same way she did in the show, but after that they went their separate ways and Vi finds herself making a deal with Velvette. Instead of being a pornstar like Angel in the show, she is an influencer and a rockstar/singer, she does enjoy making music and playing the guitar but Velvette tends to overwork her and make her do things she doesn't really like for views/popularity. Velvette is the nicest to Vi/Vaggie compared to with her other employees (which isn't a very highly set bar tbh) but she also frequently break her boundaries.

Vi met Charlie again during one of her concerts and they got close and started dating. (Also one sided Velvette x Vaggie is sort of slightly maybe canon in this AU bc toxic Yuri is fun (and it's only fully one sided after Charlie and Vaggie/Vi started dating))

She helps manage the hotel when needed, but is honestly only there cause Charlie is.

Not much about Niffty changes tbh (she's perfect the way she is, utterly unhinged 😍) she's just a bit more mellowed out and less hyper (she's still hyper just not all the time like in the show) and she's also a bartender and has surprisingly good taste for alcohol, and also frequently makes borderline poisonous drinks while experimenting, but when she gets it right it's really good. Doesn't stop the others of being terrified of her drinks though

Husker is a more smiley and charming in this AU, using a laid back attitude to put people at ease and more willing to open up to him if they need to (he used to use the information people share as blackmail when he needs to back when he was an Overlord, although he never actually needs to spread anything, just threats), and he's still very observant but he's also slightly more unhinged- He's a sort of butler/cleaner for the hotel

He still gets grumpy time to time, but mostly when he's drunk, which isn't as often anymore ever since Niffty was put in charge of the bar (understandably so)

He has a bit of an anger issue and also gets annoyed easily, and sometimes makes unhinged threats as a sort of joke (they stop being much of a joke once you genuinely piss him off)

He likes things clean and tidy because it helps him pretend to be put together

He and Alastor are a bit friendlier compared to in the show, hes still one of the few people that knows more about Alastor, though hes still bummed about the whole being owned by Alastor thing (Husker can also read tarot to a lesser extent bc Al taught him for funzies and Husker thought it's interesting)

His gambling addiction is also ever so slightly worse

[writefightandflightclub]

The light is blinding (Joel Miller x fem!reader)

Summary: When he's hurt, you offer to wash Joel's hair for him. Turns out there may be other forms of comfort you can offer him too.

Genres: character study; angst (sorta); hurt/comfort; SMUT. Joel's POV.

Author's note: I watched TLOU ep 1 last night, then made bad choices today in favour of hyperfocussing on this 8k Joel fic. I mean, this was sort of inevitable tbf. We've been handed a sad, scruffy, brown-eyed, dusty apocalypse DILF, and there was no chance of me not adopting him as a blorbo. Anyway, this is my first attempt at Joel, I wrote this in a trance so god knows what it says and I haven't spent any time on editing/correcting. Can't promise it's any good, but if you want to wash his hair as much as I do (lol) maybe you'll enjoy it, who knows. P.s. I promise it does get super smutty. You just have to survive the extensive internal monologue and many rounds of haircare first. (I'm just like that :P)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Minors interacting will be blocked. EXPLICIT SMUT (unprotected p in v sex, totally ignoring practicalities like birth control in the apocalypse bc we can); canon-typical themes such as grief, apocalypse, infection/disease, trauma, injury. SPOILERS - if you know the core plot points or have seen episode one you'll be okay. Joel's POV.

Word count: 8.2k

GIF by @joelmjller (Pls lemme know if you'd like me to remove this!)

How did he get here, exactly? All stretched out on his back, your careful fingers twining through his wetted, grizzled hair?

Well, he supposes he got here because a smuggling deal had gone sideways - like usual.

He got here, because he’s getting too old for this shit, and because someone precisely young enough for this shit had garnered the advantage just long enough to land a gun barrel blow to his head. A blow which then made room for all manner of nonsense, of course; like Joel being teep kicked into a desk. The desk - owing to its sturdy construction and deliciously planed hardwood - had withstood the blow. Joel’s body, however -far less sturdily constructed - had reacted far less favourably to that particular transaction.

Most of all though, cracked ribs and busted shoulder aside, Joel is here, because of you. He is here, because you offered to wash his hair.

Joel isn’t a clean man, by any stretch. Who could be anymore, with the way things are? In truth, he’s forgotten what it’s like not to be coated with a layer of dirt and smoke and ash. But apparently, even in the midst of an apocalypse, the dried-in, caked-up, days old blood matting his hair had left something to be desired.

He’d agreed to your offer only because - honestly - it was starting to itch. Because this time he truly couldn’t do it himself, the searing pain in his ribs seeing to that. Making sure he couldn’t quite raise his arm high enough or dip his head low enough to get the job done.

He’d agreed to your offer, in part, because he thought you would be quick. And - he now realises - you are being anything but.

You have him stretched out on his back, on a repurposed dentist chair. The worn, dark green leather creaks beneath him as he adjusts, positioning himself just so. You’ve installed a makeshift neck rest and basin to the rear of the chair, and Joel’s head is currently dipped backwards into the warm water, your fingers diligently combing through the strands to release the debris and muck.

You use a cup to cascade the water from the basin over his head, cupping it with the other hand to guard his face and neck from any rogue rivulets. Then, you ease your fingertips over his scalp, massaging in circles, being extra careful -he notes- around his recently closed wound.

Yes, to Joel’s dismay, you are taking your time. You are being so thorough and so attentive, in fact, that Joel even wonders if you will end up washing the gray right out of his hair - Joel’d never been wholly convinced that his newly-developed colouring was ever anything more than a thick, impenetrable layer of dirt and ash.

You hum thoughtfully, a sweet, innocuous note as you assess your next step. “I’m switching out the water, okay?”

That doesn’t sound okay at all. That doesn’t sound done. And Joel had thought that this would be quick. Had needed this to be quick.

Before he can grunt an answer though, you are winding a towel around his hair, presumably attempting to save the drips from reaching the floor as you swap out one basin for another, setting down the one now filled with muddy brown water, and bending carefully to lift a second steaming basin of fresh water on to your makeshift plinth.

He needs to stop this here. “That’ll do,” he says gruffly, motioning to sit up -carefully- despite the pain in his ribs.

“Lie back,” you insist, the sound of your voice muffled through the towel wound over his ears but soothing nevertheless. “I’ve only managed to rinse out the blood and bird’s nests so far. We still need to wash and condition.”

Joel would protest more vigorously -means to, in fact- but the soft smile on your face dissolves him like sugar before he can do so.

He frowns though, for good measure. “Fine. Just make it quick.”

“The quicker you relax Joel,” you sing song, “the faster I’ll let you out of my seat. Deal?”

He grunts. He doesn’t relax. He can’t relax.

“And,” you add playfully, as if reading his mind. “If you can’t relax, you’d better learn fast to fake it.”

Joel sighs deeply in frustration as he lies back, and you usher him gently into position. However, the slow, deep breath he expels does genuinely serve to sink him more deeply into the chair. Does force him to release just a jot of the tension snaking through his taut muscles.

You hum again, softly, in satisfaction, and he thinks he can even hear a smile on your mouth as you foam his hair with some sweet-smelling product, your fingers resuming their careful ministrations across his scalp.

It’s nice, he notes, unwilling as he is to admit it. Your touch could knock him out better than a barrel full of oxy and a bottle of the good stuff. He almost lets himself enjoy it - an attractive woman like you working your hands into his hair, massaging with your thumbs, your fingers, your palms. Applying pressure and sensation, even into the tight muscles in his neck. Loosening some of the tension at his temples. He even consciously relaxes his forehead, feeling his frown soften. Closing his eyes instead of fixing his stare on the broken picture rail he’s sure he could fix with a few tools and a little bit of effort.

He breathes more deeply as he closes his eyes, focussing in on the sensation of your touch. On the scents flooding his nose. Floral and sweet and fruity. It smells of you, and he breathes it deeply. He tries not to think about how his pillow will smell of you later.

It shouldn’t be possible for you to smell as good as you do, Joel ponders. You even have him wondering whether perhaps he’s not the only game in town. Whether there’s another smuggler dealing in contraband which hasn’t even occurred to him to barter with. Perfumes and oils and essences. He doubts that you would be mixed up in smuggling, but he doesn’t doubt that you are capable of far more than surface-level assessments might suggest.

After all, people only survive this long with one of two things: brutality, or blind luck - and no-one is that lucky that they’ve never had to dabble in the former. Everyone who has made it this far is only out for themselves.

Therefore, who knows what secrets you hide behind your sweet facade, Joel contemplates. Though, if he did have to believe there was anyone selfless left on god’s blighted earth? If he had to believe in someone, Joel would bet cards on it being you.

He sucks in another long, slow breath, and the scent of you envelops him all over again. For a moment, he finds himself wanting to believe in you. But it’s never too long before he recalls he gave up a long time ago on believing in anything. Anything except his wits and his fists and his gun, at least.

“That’s it Joel,” you praise as he relaxes - uncoils - just a shade, and the smooth tone of your voice slides right under his skin. The thought that you want to make him feel good makes him tingle. Makes him forget - almost - that he doesn’t deserve that.

Meanwhile, your deft fingers and thumbs continue to work nimbly into him, sliding over the contours and bones and ridges of his skull. Applying a warm, steady pressure against the muscles at the nape of his neck. Circling your thumb against a spot that sends a buzzing, suffusing warmth skittering down the length of his spine. Blooming through him - and, it has been so long. So long since Joel felt anything resembling pleasure that when he feels this warm honey trail down his back, an involuntary moan overspills his parted lips.

Shit. There's no chance that you didn't hear that.

The moan reverberates in the tight, quiet room. Lingers far longer than it sounds out for. Lingers, despite how quickly Joel cuts it short - clamping his mouth shut and hoping he can pass it off as a grunt or some expulsion of pain from shifting in his chair.

Your fingers halt, still tangled in his hair. “D-Do you want me to stop?” There is a heat in your tone, Joel thinks, the vowels and consonants warm and full like the pop and crackle of a hearth.

It's new. And it occurs to him, ever so suddenly, that maybe you are enjoying this too? Touching him?

After all, he’s not insisting upon it. Didn’t suggest it. Has not attempted to prolong it. And yet, you continue, working diligently. Soothing him. Freely offering your praise and those little, contented hums - those small, burgeoning sounds which make his fingertips ache to have your skin beneath them, so that he can keep on making your lips overspill with those sweet sounds of satisfaction.

Indeed, Joel’s hair has got to be cleaner now than it’s ever been. He’s been in your chair longer than he ever intended - and you don’t seem to be working any other angle. Don’t seem to be after any contraband that he can get his hands on. Haven’t submitted any requests. Fished for any information.

Perhaps then, you are enjoying him. Enjoying performing this act of service for him - though god knows why. Perhaps you are even looking down at his body right now while he’s all laid out for you in this worn-out chair. His long limbs stretched out, clothes tugging taut over his tight, muscular frame. Perhaps you like looking at him like this, his hair slicked back and away from his sharp face and his hawkish nose, watching the twist and pull of the muscles as he sets his jaw - needing to consolidate all of his resolve simply to resist your sweet, sugary touches. Perhaps you liked when you watched his eyes flutter closed under your touch. When you watched his lips part with that sound. That throaty, undone moan, all for you.

Joel’s not stupid.

He’s clocked the way you look at him sometimes. With this gentle, inviting hunger. The way you always make the effort to come over and speak with him whenever opportunity presents itself. The way your appealing body bends to him like a flower to its sun, as though he has anything nourishing about him. As though he has anything but darkness to offer.

He’s clocked you too. Has seen the way kindness and warmth dance across your features like a living, licking flame. Has seen you glow brightly too with a steady, constant fire, which he is sure must run hotter and more fierce beneath the surface than any would estimate. He had noticed too, of course, the swell and contours of your body, hiding beneath your clothes in all the places he most enjoys.

He’s thought before how he’d like to find out where the hunger in your eyes could take him if he chased it; but in the end he knows there is never any further to go than here. That every road is a dead end since the world ended. That the quarantine zone is the only place with walls more impenetrable than his own.

Still; he’s thought about you more than he’d care to admit. To Tommy. To Tess. To you. To himself. Has thought about the way your lips might feel on his. How soft and warm your body might be if he held it up against him. The way his calloused hands might look with his fingers sunk into your flesh, grabbing up handfuls of you like you are his daily bread - the very thing he needs to survive.

Of burying his head between your thighs for hours and trying to suck the impossible sweetness out of you, as though, somehow, he could then begin to understand how someone as good as you is capable of existing in a world as shitty and cruel as this.

He’s had darker thoughts too though. Thoughts of filling you rough and sudden - if you’d let him. Of burying his anger in you with every thrust, deep enough that he could attempt to forget it. Of letting you take his rage from him for just a few moments - as if it could ever truly leave him for a moment longer than that.

But of course, in actuality, he’s done none of that. Joel hasn’t pulled on a single one of those threads. He hasn’t unravelled.

Instead, for the most part, Joel has simply ignored you. Ignored you, because that’s the precisely the last thing he wants to do. Ignored you, because the safest option - Joel has established - is usually to give himself the opposite of whatever he thinks he wants.

That is… he’s ignored you until today. Until you offered to wash his hair. A simple yet towering offer of kindness in a world blighted by dark and rot. An offer that feels like more than he deserves when all he’s ever done for you is to give you the brush off. To answer you tersely, his aim with every interaction to have it over quick.

Still… he’d said yes. Or, at least, he’d declined to protest. Had nodded. Had followed you.

If he’s being honest with himself, he could have asked Tommy to help him, even if he was trying to obscure the severity of his latest injuries from his dear ol’ brother. Even Tess - she’d have done it. With plenty of griping, but she would have done it.

The truth is though, that he wanted it to be you. Needed it to be you. He’d gravitated towards you, even before he knew what you might be prepared to give him. Even without any trade to offer. For you, he’d unravelled. Just a little; in a moment of weakness. He hasn’t slept and he hasn’t succeeded and he hasn’t succumbed for so long, that he finally slipped. Finally gave into one of his wants. Finally gave in to what he wanted most. To seat himself in front of the warm hearth of you and to feel a little god dang comfort.

Joel opens his eyes, expression washing clean with a new resolve, and your fingers still frozen in his hair. He fixes his gaze on the broken picture rail. Precisely at the point where it fractures. Where it needs fixing. He needs a little fixing too, he thinks. He’s sure now, that he’s chosen the right tool for the job, when not another damn thing could do it.

“No,” he finally responds, his voice unwavering, blinking his bitter coffee eyes, sweetened already by your sugar. A gentle gulp sinking down the corded column of his neck. “I don’t want you to stop.”

From behind and above him, he hears you release a breath as though you may have been holding one, tight in your chest, and you slide your fingers from his hair. “Good.” Good. The word rattles pleasantly in his chest when you say it. “We’ll do your conditioner next.”

And, for the first time, Joel unclenches his fingers from where they have been curled around the arm rests of the chair, clinging on to the lip until his knuckles had turned white.

This time - for all he can tell via his scalp - your touch feels a little bolder. A little looser. You even drag your nails over his head now, applying long, sizzling scratches which send that same buzzy warmth snaking down his back. You massage him more eagerly, blood flooding to his crotch as he thinks about having your strong, supple, precise hands work him in other places. He imagines, as your nails graze over him, how you might claw harsh stripes down his back in a moment of ecstasy. As your thumb massages a circle into the spot behind his ear, imagines how you might circle the soft pad of it around the swollen head of his cock, collecting up the glistening bead of precum as he leaks for you. Imagines, as you carefully pour a cup of warm, cascading water over his head, how he could bathe himself with the warmth of your skin on his. Imagines, as he hears the subtle wet sounds created as you scrunch sweet-smelling elixirs into his hair, how it might sound if your own juices were being coaxed out of you by his fingers until they began to drip, working down his veined, muscled forearm.

He allows himself to imagine everything he plans to deny himself. He at least allows himself to have that.

“That temperature still okay for you?” you ask as you lift the cup of water once again, fracturing his sordid daydreams.

Joel gives a terse grunt. It’s all he can manage.

“So,” you ask breezily. “Are you going anywhere nice for your holidays?”

It takes Joel a few moments to realise just what you’re doing. To twig. It’s a decade - shit, more - since he had a haircut like that, so it takes him a while to pick up that you’re echoing the banal small talk which used to occur as you sat down in the barber chair. Those memory cogs are stiff. He hasn’t turned them in a long time. He doesn’t want to remember that there was anything before. At least, not a lot of it.

Still, your bit takes him by surprise. It’s such a ludicrous contrast that it makes him laugh to think about how things have changed. Who can even go on holiday now? You can’t even leave the quarantine zone. Shit. Even if you could, you wouldn’t want to. And so, Joel laughs. He laughs and he barely recognises the sound from his own mouth. He laughs… and he instantly regrets it, because he knows better than to pull on any of those threads.

But; it’s too late now.

He laughs and you mirror him, the sound melodious and hopeful, and all of a sudden Joel can imagine everything he’s been avoiding you for.

He hasn’t been avoiding you because he wants to fuck you - not really. He’s fucked plenty of folk, and he’s moved on.

He’s avoiding you, because of how easily he can imagine you in a summer dress, twirling in the yard to show it off to him. How easily he can imagine you sitting on a front porch gripping your morning cup of coffee and the sun shining on your face as you smile up at him. How easily he can imagine you lifting a tray of freshly baked cookies out of the oven, batting his hand away as he steals one before it cools.

Truthfully, he has no idea whether you ever did a single one of those things before - before all this. He doesn’t even really care whether you did. He knows it’s a flat, idealised, empty picture postcard version of you.

But, even so, it still hurts.

It still hurts, because of just how easily he could imagine waking up beside you in his house.

The house that no longer exists.

The house with Sarah in it.

And that’s why he never pulls on that thread.

That’s why he avoids you.

That’s why this can never work.

Because you?

You make him remember all the sweet things. All the sweet things the world used to contain before the rot and the death and despair painted over everything. Infected it.

You make him remember the taste of fresh mangoes. The feeling of sand beneath his feet and waves washing over his toes. Saturdays at the mall. Picking away at his guitar in the living room. The easy jubilation of ball games on the TV on Sundays, with Tommy in the kitchen plating up chicken wings. Of bad movie nights. Of mornings spent around the kitchen table, and his daughter cooking up birthday pancakes.

That’s why he can’t ever start to be happy with you. Why he can’t pull on that thread; because all the good things in life are attached to it. All tied and knotted and tangled up with “before”.

When he dreams of you - when he lets himself - he dreams of then too.

He has to, doesn’t he? Because the past is the only place to build a future when the present is apocalyptic, isn’t it? When you are the only thing he hasn’t lost yet, and everything else -pretty much- is already dead and gone.

It kills him that he found you now.

Found you too late.

It kills him because Sarah would have loved you, and because he thinks he could have too.

You don’t know all of this, of course. You can’t ever know this. And so, your oblivious fingers continue touching him, until he feels another moan begin to spool itself tight in his chest, getting ready to unravel. This time though, he is less sure whether it is a moan of pleasure or of anguish. More and more these days, those two feelings have been starting to feel precisely the same.

“Can we move this along?” he asks gruffly, some of the weight settling back into his brow. He asks, predictably, for the opposite of what he wants. It has to be like that. There’s no other road anymore.

“We can stop whenever you like but… that’s a shame.”

His frown deepens. “Why?”

“Because your hands had only just started to unclench.”

Joel’s heart clenches at the thought you were watching him that intently. That you were weighing the state and tension of his body. Valiantly trying to release some of that weight from him, even when you must be so heavy too.

And of course, knowing this, he only tries to push you further away. Before his dreams of you are seared even more brightly under his skin.

“You know what. I should go.” His chest constricts - throat grows tighter, a lump forming.

Joel idly wonders if his grief will ever stop feeling so raw. That’s the second disease, he thinks. The other monster infecting everything around it. The shadow of the original cloud. He wonders if it will always be this debilitating, even after he’s pushed it down as far as it can go. It’s not only a grief for what was lost, he ponders. It’s also a grief for what he can never have again. It's a grief for you and all the ways he could have loved you.

He sits up -carefully but abruptly, hand clamped over his aching ribs- and his wetted hair sends rivulets snaking down his face, his neck, his chest. Inching beneath the collar of his green button down shirt. Collecting on his shoulders like a pattern of indoor raindrops.

“Joel,” you scold, tutting lightly. Following quickly after him with the towel, trying to mop up after him. Hastily, you towel off his hair. Sneak your hand beneath his collar, gathering the drops up from his chest and neck.

With effort, and a grimace, Joel swings his legs around, until he is sitting upright, feet planted on the floor. But, whether for the pain or for the promise of pleasure - he’s not sure - he can’t bring himself to move any further than that. Especially not as you finally round from the basin, the damp towel slung over your shoulder, your hands and wrists still shined and wet from caressing his hair in a way he can only describe as reverent.

You kneel before him, drying your hands off and setting the towel down before boldly sliding your palms up his denim-clad thighs. “Joel. Would you just let me take care of you?"

He meets your eyes and finds them soft but determined. Empty of darkness, even with the black expanding abyss of your pupil eating away at the colour of your iris.

Joel looks down at your hands as you begin to smooth them up and down, inching slowly up towards his crotch before retreating - repeating the pattern. He looks at you in displeasure, but there’s nothing about your touch which is unwelcome - and that’s exactly the problem. He swallows. Gathers his question up in his throat before he offers it to you gently, as though in cupped, outstretched palms. “How?”

Your beautiful eyes flash with pity then, he thinks, or something like it. It seems like a silly question, but after all this time he doesn’t recall what it’s like to be cared for. He doesn’t know how to let you.

Your palm reaches up to the scruff on his cheek. You smooth it fondly. “Lie back,” you encourage, with a soft smile which seems to glow from the inside, like a porch backlit with the glow of home. “And just let me take care of the rest.”

Joel has always found something to fight for, but today, he has no fight left in him. In truth, he doesn’t want to fight this. To fight you. It is easy to give in to you. In fact, it's too easy. That has always been the problem.

Your hands continue to travel up and down his thighs, and he feels the warmth of you bleed through the fabric.

God. He’s already hard for you. Already full and throbbing in his jeans. Already, he is imagining your hands wrapping around the thick, straining mass of him. Imagining the way that -in moments - you may be unloosing his belt, threading leather through denim loop. The way you might pop the button keenly with your thumb, and he might groan as you relieve the pressure. The way you might unzip the straining fly to have his substantial length spring free, so rarely touched and so so ready to be taken care of.

At the thought of that alone, he’s straining against the seams of his pants, a pressure which sits smack bang between pleasure and pain.

“Joel,” you whisper softly, and he realises he hasn’t yet moved from his position.

“Right.” He swallows. He lies back. Stretches himself out, feeling far more exposed this time, even if he is still fully clothed.

You stand, quickly disappearing the basin away and soon you’re back, standing over Joel and watching him laid out all needy like this. His eyes travel over you, entranced by your form, and he suddenly needs friction. Needs the relief he didn't even know he was waiting for until you offered it - or, implied it. He bucks his hips up, not even caring if he’s being subtle, and the denim and leather creak as he shifts. He punches out a breath as he strains in his pants, chasing any morsel of friction he can. The feeling of his shaft pushing harder against the seam as his whole cock twitches for you. For those hands. For that plush mouth. Maybe for that cunt of yours.

As usual though, when Joel feels anything good, there is a familiar swell of guilt too; this time, riding in on the flood of arousal to his cock. This time, there’s something new to be feeling guilty for too. Something to add to that already long list. He feels guilty for having all of these thoughts about you, despite never having asked you where you were from. Before. What you used to do. Who you lost.

“I’m sorry,” Joel offers, before he even knows that his mouth is moving. Before he’s even figured out what it is he’s sorry for.

Truth is, he’s sorry for so many reasons. For what he’s done. What he’s lost. Whatever you’ve lost. For not asking you about it. Mainly, he realises, because he can’t make you any promises. None that he could keep. Not to keep you safe. He can’t promise you that.

He thinks you’ll ask him what for - why he’s sorry. But instead, you say something else.

“Don’t be.”

If only it was that easy.

Even so, he looks into your eyes as your hungry gaze skims the length of his body, settling at the bulge at his crotch as you drag your tongue along the pillow of your lower lip. You’re beautiful. Vibrant. Full of life and lust and hunger. Alive in a dead world; and suddenly, it doesn’t matter one bit to Joel where you came from. It doesn’t matter what happened before. It only matters where you’re going. What you want. How he can give it to you.

But it is you who gives him something.

You hinge at the hips, slanting your mouth against Joel’s, and he feels your lips brush up against the scruff on his top lip. Feels the pillow of your plush mouth meet his before your tongue fleets out, licking into him like a searing, dancing flame. You hum hungrily into his mouth and his lips chase you as you pull away, another backlit smile dancing on your face, your features already beginning to resemble home to him in a world where there's no such thing.

Joel watches you move now, with quiet fascination, as you kick off your boots. As you wiggle your pleasing hips, untying then easing your cargo pants and panties down your thighs. His tongue curls around his lip as he is gifted glimpses of your skin - although you are still covered to your upper thigh by the yellow tunic top you’re wearing - and now he can’t help but palm himself through his jeans for a morsel of relief.

Still. What you're about to offer him? It feels like far too much. “What are you doing? You don’t have to-“

“-Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” you promise, meeting his eyes, open and honest and ready to back off if he doesn’t want this. But shit, how could he not want you? Look at you - and so he can’t. He can’t possibly tell you that, even though he thinks that he should.

“No. God, I want you,” Joel pleads, voice hollowed-out with need. All spent, like ash.

“And you’re going to have me.”

You kick your pants and panties off, leaving them to pool discarded on the floor, and Joel palms himself a little harder, grabbing the fat roll of himself through the denim as he catches a glimpse. They’re nothing sexy, of course; but from the way they’ve fallen he is able to note the telltale wet spot on the crotch. It looks like you’ve soaked them through, and God he wants to feel your wetness for himself.

You ease over him, settling your knees on to either side of the leather chair, where Joel’s legs are stretched out before him, sturdy thighs slightly parted to accommodate the arousal between his legs.

You’re still wearing your tunic top, bright yellow like sunshine, and the length of it dances and clings at intervals to your hips and thighs as you move. It’s driving him wild that you are bare beneath. All he can think about is that warm, delicious wetness of yours spilling over him. God, he wants to hear it. Wants to squeeze it out of you. Wants it to drip down the veined shaft of him.

You straddle his thighs, knees folded, the soles of your feet pointed up towards your ass cheeks, and your heat settles just below his own - not quite grinding over him, but tantalisingly close.

You take a moment like this to simply look at him. To gaze into his coffee brown eyes as though there’s something more to him than being sorry and bitter. Like you could see anything sweet there. Anything worth wanting. Then, you comb his damp hair back with your fingers, drawing the strands back from his forehead. Tucking and curling them around his ears.

Your touch - your tenderness - makes him ache. Makes him throb. Makes him want to bury himself in you. His tongue, his fingers, his cock, his feelings - anything of him you’ll take. And, as he wraps his arms around you a wracked moan unspools from his chest as his rough fingertips find the soft skin beneath your yellow tunic. As his touch traverses the contours of you he’s always admired from a distance.

As his jaw falls open, slack with desire, you drink down his moan, catching the resonant sound in the cave of your mouth. Kissing him with a gentle yet constant hunger. With a red hot spark of deviance in your sweet eyes which almost makes Joel spill creamy ropes into his pants there and then. Your tongue travels along your lower lip. Your gaze drops, lust dark and heavy to the bulge at his crotch, and you unloop his belt with those hands of yours. They'll look small next to the size of him, he thinks. He likes that thought a lot.

“Let’s see what contraband you’re smugglin’ in these pants of yours, cowboy," you smile, and Joel's eyes crinkle with rare amusement. His face tips up with a lopsided smile which is quick to drop - all of him focussed on where you're about to touch him.

He twitches eagerly in his jeans thinking about how tight you will grip him, but you don’t touch him just yet. Instead, you shuffle yourself back, down his legs, giving yourself enough space to tug on his clothing and to ease it down his thighs. Once his pants and his boxers have reached his knees you stop there, abandoning them almost as soon as his thick, veined length is sprung free, nestling all tender against the hatch of greying hair trailing down his abdomen - where his shirt is lifted.

He’s flushed a deep colour already. Veined and needy and weeping for you. His need becomes even more urgent yet as he thinks of your hands and the way they move - the way they might touch him. Take care of him. As he thinks about you sliding your thumb over the pearl of precum at his head.

Still, he is not quite ready for the feeling when you dip forward to slide your tongue around the head of him instead, gathering that salty bead with your tongue, lapping it up with relish. He feels you hum around the head of him, the vibration sending a zip of pleasure flooding along his length. Making his balls tighten and ache already.

He wants you. He needs you. He wants you with an urgency, and yet here you are, still taking your time. Taking your time to suck at him and feel him weigh heavy over your tongue until your jaw aches from it. To grip him in your hand and marvel at the girth of him. At the way he is so sensitive that every motion and shift of your pattern makes him melt into the chair, increasingly boneless, his brow burdened with need.

You are tender with him. Careful, of his injuries. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You touch him like he’s wounded; everywhere. His whole body. His whole soul too. And he is, isn’t he? All of him is hurting? Has been for so long?

Joel groans, his lip almost splitting from biting down and stifling his moans. He never was a vocal lover but God, it’s different for you. And this time, the sound punches out of him as you shift. As you settle your cunt over him and he feels your sopping heat glide along his length for the first time. It is a non-descript sound, halfway between pain and pleasure; and instantly, concern flashes in your eyes. You pause; lift off of him with a rise of your thighs and check-in with him.

“Joel. Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

Are you? His breath is searing in and out of his lungs. Ragged breaths, jolting his pained ribs. You have him on the edge and so alight with desire for you that his need feels unbearable. He’s aching to fill you up. His face is contorted and crumpled by his need, brows drawn down, eyes half-lidded. But is this pain? Or is this something else? Something he has forgotten.

For a moment, then, he almost answers “yes”. Yes, because he doesn’t remember anything else but pain and so, the sensation he’s feeling now? Isn’t that pain too? Is there anything else?

He’s almost grateful when he shifts slightly, writhes against the chair to buck his hips keenly up in search of you as you withdraw so cruelly from him, his muscles coiling up. He’s grateful that the shift does indeed send pain blooming through his side; because he knows then, with certainty, that you are bringing him nothing but pleasure.

He’s grateful too though, for the pain, because a pleasure like this? A pure hit of it, not cut through with anything he's more used to? Joel thinks it would be too much for him to take. Joel thinks you are too much for him. Far more than he deserves.

“Joel?” you prompt, sliding your palm against his scruff. He hears it rasp like a scraped match. “I want you.”

You don’t want me, the voice in his head sounds out. I have nothing I can give you. But those are not the words that make it to his lips. Those are not the words at all. “Then have me, sweetheart.”

Joel may have nothing he feels he can give you, but holy shit he wants everything you are offering. He wants your plush, velvet mouth. Your smooth thighs. He wants the pooling slick between your legs - and for once, just this once, he intends to allow himself to satisfy his needs.

He figures he will simply owe you a debt. Find something that you want or need and acquire it for you. He simply has to think of this like a transaction, doesn’t he? Something familiar. Something he knows. That way, he’s not taking anything he doesn’t deserve - and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you.

Once invited back to his body, sure of what he wants, you kiss him. Deeply, hungrily, your tongue rolling and writhing against his. Your breaths just as ragged as his. Your thighs quaking next to his, your want more than evident.

You break for air and you rise up on your knees again so that you can settle over him, notching the fat, swollen head of him against your folds.

You look like a dream on top of him, and with this yellow fabric dancing about your thighs, you look to Joel like you’re wearing a sun dress. Indeed, when he looks up at you - when he blocks everything else out - you make it feel like nothing ever happened. Like nothing was ever lost.

You look just like you’re about to fuck him on his bed on white crisp sheets. Like you’ll fall asleep beside him and in the morning he’ll make you breakfast.

You look like everything he wanted and found far too late.

You are beautiful. You are good. You are gentle. Gentle still. Gentle despite everything. And where on earth did you learn that from - how on earth did you hang on to it - in a world like this? A world which has not been gentle with him. Which has been out to get him at every turn.

You are gentle with him, even when he is undeserving. Even when he has been anything but.

Gingerly then, you settle yourself over him, and once his head is notched there and your slick hand is guiding him home, he slips easily past your folds. His eyes flutter closed as he feels your warmth wrap around him, the tightness of you hugging his girth. You’re so tight that he feels like he must be splitting you apart, but the way you’re shaking for him, the way these delicious moans unravel from your mouth tells him it feels just as good for you too.

You’re gentle with him. Sinking down on him slowly. Being ever so cautious of his ribs and his bruises and scrapes. You’re making him feel so good. So close to coming undone.

But god, he’s not planning on being gentle with you.

There’s a part of Joel that wants to make love to you, sure; but he’s not even sure he’d know how to do that anymore. How to be tender. How to be gentle. And so, he reaches for you in the only way he knows how. Reaches for you with his arms, his hands. With a body that doesn’t remember pleasure - not really. With a soul that doesn’t remember anything good - not really. He reaches for you, with hands that only know how to kill things.

In the end, it’s clunky, when he extends his touch towards you. Rough - and far too desperate. He reaches for you like it’s survival - the one thing he knows how to do - and he claws at your hips, the rough pads of his flesh sinking into your skin like dough. He has the sense, at least, to check with you, to ask with words rasped through gravel in his throat if he can fill you up. And as soon as you say yes, as soon as your breathy affirmatives and pleas lilt to his ears, Joel is dragging you down on him. Spearing you -abrupt and sudden- with the fat length of his dick, surging into you all at once.

The motion, along with the sudden swell of him punches a breath from your lungs, your rib cage flaring with quick short pants. Your eyes, rolling back into your skull as you mewl his name, and god, if he wasn’t hurt he’d be drilling into you already, fucking himself up into you at a brutal pace, so long as you’d let him.

“S-sorry,” he stutters, with effort. “Too much?”

“Almost. Joel - fuck. I’m so full of you.”

He stills as you breathe around him, adjusting to his size, and as soon as you’re ready you rise up on your knees, dragging electric pleasure all along his shaft as your cunt strokes and grips him tightly.

Then, when you sink yourself down once more, impaling yourself on his length, Joel screws his eyes shut as he eases -glides- into the wet, warm cushion of you all over again. You’re so soft and tight and forgiving, your walls relenting to the girth of him, yet providing such glorious friction that it makes his head spin. Makes him see spots, the edges of his vision whiting out.

Next, Joel moves too, adjusting his hips slightly. Helping you impale yourself on him over and over like this. He keeps it going, despite the burn of pain in his ribs and his shoulder. He tries to guide you with the claws of his hands at your hips, until it begins to hurt him too much. Until all he can do is lie back and take it from you. All he can do is feel it, emitting gusty, billowing breaths from the shocked “o” of his plush lips as he attempts to stave of his end. To do all he can to take care of your end too before he spills himself.

He needs to. Needs to take care of you like this, because he can’t offer you any other damn thing.

He can’t promise to take care of you.

He can’t promise that to anyone ever again.

He will only break it.

So, no promises. But surely, he can feel pleasure, for these fleeting moments? Surely, he can give you that too, because even if he doesn’t he’s damn sure you deserve at least that much.

He reaches for you. In desperation again. Like it’s survival. Like he can’t live without this. Without you. Even though he has already. Even though he'll have to again.

For now though, for right now, he's filling you all the way up. Squeezing your juices out of you. Pushing them out with every thrust until he’s fucking you with wet, obscene sounds. Until your slick is coursing down his shaft, coating his balls, inching over him.

With a grunt, Joel gathers some slick with the two forefingers of his left hand, and he rubs the calloused pads of his fingers into your clit. You yowl at the pressure -the pleasure- and then you guide him with your hand over his, Joel quickly learning your pace and your patterns, replicating it perfectly when you release your guiding touch.

It feels so good. It feels so good and your eager, pleasured moans are billowing down to him, your cunt clenching down on him and his dick is feeling fucking blissful as you repeatedly sink yourself. It feels good - so good - and it’s more than he deserves but god, he’s going to take it. He's going to take it even if he has to be punished for it later.

He’s pretty sure the world has been punishing him for years anyway. Pretty sure it’s keeping score and will be sure to let him know about it if he dares to take too much.

For now though.

Holy shit.

It feels so good and you’re so beautiful. So perfect. Better than he could have imagined, his flattened daydreams of you nothing compared to the real thing. You’re a vision, and you’re too good for this blighted earth and you’re every bit deserving of the life Joel knows he can never give you.

It’s bittersweet and you’re beautiful; but you’re too beautiful to look at - bright like the sun in your yellow tunic, fabric moving around your thighs like a sun dress, like something you might have worn in the before times. Like you might have worn in his yard if he’d still had a home to offer you. Maybe. Maybe you would've. It kills him that he'll never know. Never know what you could have had. What he could have given you.

You’re beautiful, and god you’re too beautiful to look at and so he drags you down to his lips as you clamp down around him, squeezing him like a vice, causing pleasure to sear white hot from his middle, creamy ropes of cum filling you up as you convulse. Your spasming cunt sends jolting aftershocks zipping through his length, ekeing every last drop from him, draining him dry.

You’re too beautiful. Too good of a thing for him to hold on to - and so Joel keeps kissing you, his hands coming to cup your face as tenderly as his killing hands know how. Kissing you, for long enough that he can quash the tears which threaten to squeeze out from the corners of his eyes. He kisses you softly, his sentiments dissolving like sugar against your mouth - as sweet as he can muster.

He kisses you, until he feels the shape of your mouth morph into a smile, and that’s it. That's when he stops.

That’s when he stops, because he can’t let himself feel this. He can’t let himself feel this because he can’t pull on that thread. Not when everything he has worked so hard to push down is all knotted and tangled together. Everything he’s loved and everything he’s lost, all bundled up in his chest.

He can’t let himself feel this because it was far more than he expected to feel.

He’d thought that you would be quick. Thought -hoped- you were just using him. Like this was a transaction. That maybe this was how you collect advantages. How you’ve managed to survive. Instead though, you gave, and you took, but it was not transactional in the slightest. And Joel has nothing left in his heart or his pockets except ration cards. Nothing he can give you in return.

Most importantly though, he can’t let himself feel this, because happiness died when the world did.

Died when she did.

And, happiness?

Well - Joel doesn’t believe he deserves to feel it again.

That’s why he encourages you off of him a little too quickly, even when you pepper kisses along the column of his neck. Why he moves away a little too abruptly, even when you tongue hungrily at the salt-slick sweat which has pooled in the hollow of his throat. Why he sets his face, all stern again even as he’s still leaking out of you.

Anyway, he stands, grunting out in pain. Maybe in anguish. Pulling his pants up with his good arm, and preparing to go.

He sets his face, and he looks back at you, where you have huddled yourself in his spot on the chair, your makeshift yellow sun dress hitched up around your hips, exposing where you glisten, all slick with the evidence of what he just did with you.

You're beautiful. Too beautiful. You look like summer when he meets your eyes. A sun that is bright and constant, like it used to be before the rot clouded over the skies.

A light that is far too bright for him.

Part of him expects you to look sad. To look surprised that he has leapt up like this, motioning to leave so violently. Expects you to plead with him to give you more; but instead, you look at him levelly. Knowing, not naive. Maybe you too are clear on the limits of what’s possible. Clear that there are some things that can never be.

Still, as that soft smile plays over your face, as Joel holds the memory of your touch over his body, the bitter coffee look in his eyes sweetens just a little.

“Listen. Thanks," he states brusqely. It’s not enough. Not by any stretch. But unless you want some contraband or some shit, it’s all he’s got.

“No problem, Joel-y. I... I just wanted to take care of you. I thought you deserved that - at least once.”

Tears prick at the corners of Joel’s eyes. Stinging; but pushed down and flattened before you can even notice it. He’s not quite sure. Not quite sure whether hearing you say he deserves something he’s sure that he doesn’t counts as pleasure or pain, but he supposes that it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. He’s back to not knowing the difference. Not recognising pleasure or happiness when they stare him in the face, because now they have become strangers.

Joel nods efficiently at you. Picks up his rucksack and moves towards the doorway, trying not to think about the fact you’re still full of him. About the fact that you’re still smiling, that backlit glow of home imviting him in.

Truth be told, he can’t imagine ever being happy again.

If he could imagine it though? If he could imagine being happy, he’s sure as all hell that it would be with you.

You’re like summer, he thinks. Bright. Luminous. It's just that Joel’s not looking for the light.

For someone who’s so used to the dark? Like him? The light is blinding.

Still, he pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you for one moment more. From the surprise on your face now, he can tell you didn’t even expect that much from him - and by God, you deserve so much better.

His eyes sweeten, just a little further, and his face sets - now with a different kind of resolve. He offers his words, like they’re cupped in outstretched palms. Like he could be gentle. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t owe me a debt, Joel.”

He nods, but that doesn’t mean at all that he accepts your assertion.

His eyes tick over to the broken picture rail, right where it fractures. His gaze lingers on it for a moment, cataloguing what tools he might need to fix it. Clocking the picture frames of salvaged art you have leaning up against the wall, not yet hung.

“I said, I'll make it up to you.” You nod efficiently back at him, and Joel drinks one more long measure of you in before he leaves. Maybe it's not quite a promise, but right now, it's all he's got.

He’d burn the world down for you, he thinks, if it could change a damn thing.

Thing is though, the world has already burned.

He can’t make you many promises. Can’t keep you safe. Make you happy. Offer you a home.

He’ll only let you down.

Maybe all of that is true. Maybe it is - but Joel knows one thing for sure. You’re brighter than the sun, and, in a world full of darkness? He just can’t look away, even though you’re blinding.

[cephalotyrant]

Hiiiiiiiiii so. Azurido bodyswap.

Think about it; these two housewardens who constantly seem to be bickering, and then one day during a joint alchemy class they accidentally swap bodies...

Azul trying to run heartslabyul and hastily memorizing all the queens' rules; speaking of i had a sudden thought do you think azul would learn the rules for riddle after they start dating so he can easily come over to heartslabyul and follow all the rules teehee anyways back on topic Azul is mentioned to have less magic capacity so im imagining him being like "okay yeah this kid's currently on a murderous rampage buuuut do I REALLY need off with your head rn why can't i just assert my dominance with words or some shit works with floyd" (i'l never forget that time azul made floyd kneel as punishment... sad moment)

And then Riddle... bless his heart he's too much of a reasonable honest person for octavinelle's bs he's like "stop scamming students" and they're like "um ACKSHUALLY you see the free market and blah blah blah-" Riddle can't behead them anymore because azul doesn't have that power (loser) so he's just like -_- waiting for them to stop talking please oh please what he wouldn't do for them to shut the fuck up-

also weird thought riddle out of instinct trying to cast owyh and then accidentally activating the true form of it's a deal and just... knocking a bunch of guys out cold. and his glasses. he hates them bc they keep getting foggy.

speaking of glasses azul keeps trying to push them up except they dont exist fuckin L hah hah everybody point and laugh

and riddle's high heels... azul falls over (point and laugh part 2)

anyways getting a bit more serious I do feel like azul and riddle do have more similarities in leadership style (like how azul's canonically very irritable with octavinelle students and ortho mentions it's actually quite rare to see him in a good mood just like riddle) so... poor heartslabyul guys aren't catching a break just yet. Except instead of being collared it's just like "shut the fuck up travis this is why you're poor" "3.8 gpa santocruz??? I think you mean 1.8 because those tabloids could only be written by a FUCKING IDIOT" (i'm joking PLEASE DONT KILL ME I MERELY JEST besides we all know azul probably tries to seem uber classy so he wouldn't swear)

meanwhile octavinelle students have never seen such rage... even more scarily... HONESTY AND STRAIGHTFORWARDNESS (an octavinelle student's worst nightmare)

Anyways Riddle and tweel interactions here are just so funny if this is before floyd realizes the truth because it's like

"Lemme squeeze you, goldfishie!"

"Riddle" has NO REACTION. ICE COLD.

And then "Azul" waltzes in and is like "Floyd why how could you do this that is highly improper!!!!!!!"

Ofc "Riddle's" like "so i owe you now" bc azul wants riddle in his debt lmaooo

Azul keeps trying to find riddle's weakness... but it goes wrong...

Short scene:

Azul gazed into the mirror of Heartslabyul's bathroom, looking at every new detail at this new face of his. Riddle's face. He was looking for weaknesses. Yes, weaknesses, as dastardly as it seemed.

Like - how those soft, sun-kissed cheeks were likely sensitive to light, and how those gorgeous little heart-shaped tufts of hair often added to Riddle's poutiness, and-

Wait, why was Riddle's face growing redder in the mirror all of a sudden?

Womp womp azul you're gay for him

Anyways they turn back and it all gets found out blah blah... Azul saying the most down-bad shit when he thinks no one can hear like "riddle-san looks even prettier from up close" jade and floyd overhear his little mumble he never leaves it down...

and riddle... is hyperfixating over azul's moles. he knew about the one on his chin but there's MORE??? On The neck? The COLLARBONE??? He never undressed (neither did azul bc they were swapped for a pretty short time so it was pretty easy not to as just... yk a respect/consent thing) but while adjusting his tie and stuff he noticed. He is now freaking out over it to Trey. Why does he care??? When can he sign up to kiss them??? More on seven.

OOOOOOAAAAAGHHHHHH BARK BARK BARK BARK GRRR MOEWWW HISSS CRASH BOOM MY LEG!!!

Memorizing the rules would be a DAUNTING ass task bro. But Azul is up to it and I bet he memorized them just for fun at one point so he could find all the loopholes (and rub them in riddles face) funnily enough, Heartslabyul is confuse because it seems like Riddle has gotten... sharper? Some clock him immediately as wrong (ADTC)-- Riddle often stands stiffly and probably has a resting bitch face, let's be real. but now the way he stands is almost looser, more fluid, his body more expressive, flexing his hands. In his attempt to follow the rules, Azul IMMEDIATELY calls out someone using a loophole. But for today, he'll let it slide-- but I better not catch you doing that again, else there will be consequences. (He means Jade and Floyd it was on instinct) Even the way he SPEAKS is different, and why is he talking about himself so much? Don't get started on the moment Azul is mentioned-- why is he suddenly avoiding speaking any bad about Azul Ashengrotto? They were at each other's throats just this morning!

He feels weirdly frail. Not only does he lack his octo-stength, he has to look up at absoloutely everyone! And these heels are ridiculous! Of course, he's heard all about Riddle boasting that the dorm uniform being a replica of the first housewarden of Heartslabyul, but he could have omitted SOME details. The way everyone straightens their back when they hear the clacking of his heels, though... that's quite nice. It's hard not to powertrip.

I'm not going to get into it I'm not going to get into it I'm not-- FUCK. He can't help but be envious of the complete lack of fat on Riddle's body, the way his uniform cinched his waist just right. Perhaps there were some benefits of being so small... And there's a constant dull ache in his dominant hand. Seriously, for someone raised for a future in medicine, he doesn't appear to be taking care of himself very well! Maybe he'll snoop about the room for a diary, finding a drawer full of letters from a very particular woman-- and leave the investigation there. Funnily enough, it fills him with the urge to write his own letter to his own mother... he hasn't spoken to her in a while.

At least the bed is fantastic? Let's just hope Trey doesn't walk in while he's giggling and wrapping himself up burrito-style into the blankets.

Azul (Riddle) back at Octavinelle seems like he's one moment away from a STROKE. So much so that every few moments red rings swirl in his eyes-- his last straw being the fourth pencil he breaks in a row. Since when has Azul been this strong!? Does his dishonest nature extend to taking steroids?? He's going to have a VERY long talk with him later! His glasses keep getting smudged and sliding down his nose, and Azul's layered clothing was so ridiculously heavy-- being of average height is kind of nice, though.

Jade and Floyd clock him as NOT AZUL right away I fear... though it is a little funny to watch Azul's body throw a tantrum and stomp his feet. They freak out, however, when Riddle realizes he has the strength to preperly defend himself... not good. If he can't behead them, he can go physical. Really, he's not fit at all to run Mostro or do deals atp... but Jade and Floyd think it'd be funny if he fucked some up. He's rather impressed by how such a busy establishment runs so smoothly, and the employees, namely, the waiters, are rather polite. They stand straight and speak clearly... Azul’s done quite well.

THE MOLES ARGH...

—

Finally. A respite from the endless things that needed his attention– as the housewarden of Heartslabyul, he was used to tending issues left and right, but this experience, being trapped in Azul’s body, had stretched his patience thin. Azul, truly, had his fingers in far too many pies.

Discarding anything the Octavinelle housewarden wore on the regular would have been improper, though it certainly didn’t prevent him from complaining about it. The layers of the dorm uniform were oppressive, to put it lightly– even his cape, for how it dragged across the ground, wasn’t nearly as heavy. The cummerbund was too tight to be considered remotely comfortable. He abandons it on the chair in front of the vanity.

He tugs on silky purple fabric to undo the bowtie, the thing having gone crooked, most likely from when he undid the suspenders or pulled off the jacket. It’s always satisfying to allow one’s neck to breathe at the end of the day–

Eh?

Right there, not too far from under the collar, is a culmination of small dark spots. Three, in fact. And just when he peels back the collar to get a better look at them, there’s another one, right there, on his collarbone!

Experimentally, he runs a finger over them. They’re just spots of pigment… so why do they make his breath hitch and his face warm so?

The door beside the vanity swings open without warning, causing him to jump and squeeze the collar shut in alarm, crumpling the, no doubt, expensive fabric. He curses, seeing one of two tall eel mermen at the door.

“Are you accustomed to coming in unannounced?”

Jade smiles, half concealing it with a hand. “Oh my. Look at you, you already sound so much like our dearly departed Azul.”

“D– dearly departed!? He’s in my body, not deceased!”

[meirimerens]

hi, i know you headcanon some pathologic characters to be homosexual, like Daniil, Artemy, Yulia, Stakh... what do you think their relationship with their sexuality were throughout their lives? also, i remember in one of your older answers you mentioned Daniil coming out to his mother... how exactly did that happen in your vision?

hello darling this reply has made tumblr give me that "there was an error processing your post" over 15 times now for no good reason. it's like it was too big at first but this is the same length and if you read this it means it sent. anyways.

i had posted something kiiinda similar here (below the cut) including bi characters (eva + the twins) but i had forgor to include stakh + by god i can repeat myself/elaborate (i love. repeating myself <3 for real honestly especially on this) so ooh baby here we

Dankovsky (longest because i'm writing about him so the thoughts are many) knew at a young age (like 11-12) he didn't like girls and instead did boys so he had to come to terms with it in some way Pretty Quickly. to me he was raised christian eastern orthodox, which like all christian denominations comes with its fair share of religious-specific homophobia, he wasn't particularly like. Thrilled per se. + the familial/ancestral culture comes with its own set of expectations around masculinity which homosexuality inherently challenges and the fact that he was already more into cello than like war as a kid made his father raise an eyebrow on him right. so from ages like 11-16, dankovsky was like Well i'm going to have to pretend i don't see it and hope the sky doesn't fall on my head. at around 17 it became evident that was IT really that truly what he was and there was nothing he could possibly do to not make it be this way. it came with a sort of like. acceptance that it just was going to be how it was, but he was already starting to think how he could push the Acting on It part long enough for him to maybe become busy with something else. i think as he grew up he shed the concept of "sin" as he actualized himself atheist so no "hate the sin love the sinner" for him, but you can't really pull the religious guilt out of a man raised religious ykwim. eventually as he accepted that He Was, and that by god it wasn't even a bad thing to be/started Embracing it as one more of his Transgressions (when it. not really is, a transgression comes with a degree of consciousness and will to violate a law or code, the fact that he's gay is just. how it is. that's him forever and that'd be him regardless of context etc), he started assimilating gay codes for himself (the red tie…) to be like. Yes. ykwim. he still had not met a gay person in his life so it truly felt like Him Against the World, but he started being more comfortable with the fact that he was gay. however, it still didn't stop him from started a whole… "i'm not in a relationship rn bc i'm focusing on my studies" mindset. at uni, he truly like. came into his own internally while still trying to maintain a certain ambiguousness outwardly. andrei saw right through that and, even if he's like not gay but bi, he was the first dude daniil met who was also (Loudly) into dudes. dankovsky owes andrei the first like. actual coming out to Someone else than his mommy when andrei would bait him into hanging out with other gay and bi men, dankovsky would sit in a corner not fuckin wit anyone just Soaking In The Homosexuality In The Air, and when andrei went "u got a problem with that? you homophobic?🤨" dankovsky had to go like "i don't have a problem with it at all… when it's other people" [implied: i might deal with it not too well when it's me myself]. and from that point on he was like ah fuck me [not literally] why do i bother being insecure about it. from ages 20+ he was still very much in his Married To My Work Era + as he founded Thanatica he tried to lay low to not get investigated and being very loudly homosexual was not the best way to "not make waves" so even as he settled in himself with the fact that Well he's gay and he's gonna be gay forever so he better live with it, he still stayed closeted for his safety. i think from ages 18 to current game-day 28, not getting laid pardon the frankness led to him developing like an internally Fucking Crazy relationship with love and eroticism and he might have kept himself from entering relationships because he needed someone who Understood He'd Want To Eat Him. (love wins!)

re:coming out to his momma i think she had had her Doubts for a while yknow has had her Doubts. his dad too, but from his dad's perspective it felt deeply Painful (bc when the son is gay it is the father's masculinity that is threatened.. i've spoken about it on the post i've linked in the beginning) whereas his mom didn't have that My Masculinity Threatened. dankovsky knew he was gay since age like 11-12 but only came out at around 14-15, when it became obvious for him and hard to ignore, especially as people begin to have little boyfriends and girlfriends at this age. he told his mom first because he was closest to her and she was like.

she believed him from the beginning because she had had her Doubts. for a while she didn't quite know what to do with this information as it all dawned on her that it likely meant no grandkids, no daughter-in-law to whom she could give her pretty jewelry and so on… but also i think she like. could relate her son's homosexuality to like. fucking Tchaikovsky. who attempted suicide because his marriage to a woman made him so miserable. so she was like… well. that's just how it is isn't it. she's just gonna have to make peace with it whether she likes it or not. i think eventually she came to the conclusion that she spent 9 months building him from her blood and bones and a full day putting him out in the world so it would be stupid to be mad at him for that. + that's god's doing isn't it. she can't be mad at god. and if god's mad at her son he can take it to himself. etc .

Burakh for the longest time um. Didn't know. i think he realized that about himself genuinely age 26 in the 12 days. he's going through an entire coming-of-age/coming-into-place story and i think that includes a realization story lol. i think for the longest time he just thought he didn't love anyone period. up until 20 methinks he was like "well i'm just a late bloomer". then he went to war as a medic and was like "well i'm just so fucked up in the head my mind's full of corpses that's why there's no place for love". then he went home and… lord almighty. for years he thought was just not made for love because he truly. hadn't looked the other way (he's just like me fr fr). he went from not knowing what a closet was to realizing he was in it and the door was ajar to being out and in a man's arm in the span of 12 days. he didn't really have the time to brood about what it meant for his future/himself/his relationship to his people for him to be homosexual because love slapped him across the face and he fell on his ass. as his whole story is about finding his own path and learning to cope with doing things that might not be approved of him and living with choices that are of love regardless it's truly just like. learn to cope FAST. you have way more problems. + as i think the herb brides Know i think he's not given too much grief by his community and doesn't have the religious trauma background of dankovsky. also since his parents are. well dead. he doesn't have to respond to them + his dad textually is like You're gonna have to do something boy. (and that something might displease him but that's out of his hands. and into burakh's).

.

Yulia knew early too like 12-13. she always was a tomboy as a kid and almost just like… naturally blossomed into a masc lesbian. i think from early on she was like. ok well we're coping with that. she already was going against social conventions by being an educated woman a woman in ""typically"" male professions a masculine-dressed woman so at this point the fact that she liked women that was like. well if you don't like it tough luck buddy. she always had a relatively distant (if loving) relationship with her parents so she didn't feel the need to justify herself to them + won't lie they saw it coming. they had it comin… she was not in any relationships for a while because she's kinda like Dry of a person/passionate about things most people just don't see/don't fuck with so while she is charismatic and handsome and knew she could be desired she didn't have any long-term relationship before eva because you truly need a girl who's a lil bit crazy to handle her. and vice versa. so love wins. i think that while she might not have frequented lesbian spaces like bars because her ass does not do well with crowds i think she never felt like she was So Alone like Only Lesbian on Earth. i think she did feel a sense of loneliness about it but it was also mixed with a deep sense of Well I'm Here and I'm One So Someone Like Me Exists.

.

Stakh for a little while was also that "well i'm kinda too fucked up for love" and he was also fighting for his life to be seen as a good student a good protégé a good foster son so romantic love was Far from his mind. i think he realized he was gay around age like 15-16 when it all starts to Dawn on you y'know everything Dawns on you. he was very quickly like. well that's how the cookie crumbles. i think there was a sort of immediate acceptance about the Being Gay factor but more of a restraint about acting on it because he too was like Married to The Student Behavior and didn't want to risk losing his place by isidor's side, especially since he didn't know how isidor would react to him being gay (i know what isidor did to that old man so i know he wouldn't have cared but rubin is not a mind-reader). it was truly like. well i am and i can't do much about it but i'm soo focused rn. as 18-20 came around the corner and his relationship with isidor truly felt like he was fighting for his life trying to be seen as a good student he was like I'm either going to war or becoming a monk. he was fully willing to commit to lifelong monkish celibacy because he's always been. kinda dry. kinda with issues. + i think subconsciously he was trying to not let Desire creep up on him because it would distract him from the menkhu way (nice dichotomy idiot what lies outside of it etc). he went to war [p1 lore which i abide by] and. well when you put a bunch of fit young men together away from the women of course something like this would happen. anyways he comes home having acted on his homosexuality which he is fine with + feels kinda like a weight being lifted off his shoulders but he stil hasn't tasted Desire ykwim. Want. Hunger in the lover sense. but he's like. shrugs. whatever. monk it is. he doesn't become a monk. he clings to being isidor's foster son until his knuckles go white. it ends up being for nothing. grief and anger scythe him right. and in what follows he bonds with someone who's Fucked up and who Knows Hunger and Desire and omg flushed emoji etc. (+ my belief when dankovsky comes to peter's loft to talk about god-knows-what they kinda realize pretty fast He's Just Like Me Fr and dankovsky appreciates his + peter's company kinda like he appreciated Just Sitting There surrounded by gay and bi men even if they barely talk. just knowing you're like. Not Alone. etc)

.

bit long. sorrey.

[99naive]

small life update under the cut for you guys , just to clear things up & let everyone know whats going on with me in these next few weeks in case i wind up MIA or smthing due to stress .

i know i don't owe any apologies for simply being stressed out & busy with irl shit as of late ; i know i don't but at the same time i do feel like i should give a lil rundown of my current situation since ive been so sporadic & patchy as of late with my writing & my commissions ontop of messaging ppl . but as of rn , im playing the waiting game to see when my dog is gone essentially bc my parents are looking to rehome him or just outright go & have him surrendered , & as of the 19th of next month my brother will be ( without my moms full knowledge out of fear of her gaslighting him/guilt tripping him ) pretty well moving out & moving across country to live with his dad in missouri , which is something im currently having to deal with & also keep under wraps from my mom & dad . & to cap it all off , i have no dryer anymore & have been working overtime on laundry & having to hang dry ALL of the clothes in the house which is only making me more busy & thinly strung out . all of this stress & everything has left me so entirely overwhelmed , ive started developing stress rashes , ive barely been able to eat more than a meal a day , & im hardly sleeping bc my parents aren't sharing their bud as much anymore bc they " have to conserve it for themselves " . everytime ive opened up photoshop in the past three days its immediately left me ready to cry & panic bc my brain just immediately feels completely overwhelmed & i can't get any work done . im trying to keep myself together though , & get myself back on track as soon as i can . i just felt bad not letting you all be completely aware of my current situation , so here it is just so no one feels or thinks that im upset with them , or that im ignoring or ANYTHING along those lines . life has literally just decided to come at me FULL FORCE with every possible thing ive been terrified of having happen to me all at once & im so so sorry if my absence or anything has left anyone with the wrong ideas or feelings . ♡

[honeyrisuke]

actually making a post about it here now bc i need to get it off my chest

so, a couple months back I had a really bad mental breakdown and went to therapy, right

and after some hickups I ended up with the guy I have now. He's nice, he's transmasc and has the right qualifications for me.

But so far he has completely misunderstood me at just about every opportunity by chosing to find a 'hidden message' in what I'm saying. I'm german. I don't do hidden messages. Especially not to a therapist.

Originally I explained to him that I get incredibly angry all the time, that I rarely actually feel sadness, I just get mad, usually at myself, and that it's a big strain on my relationships. He chose to interpret that as me not allowing myself to be angry and taking issue with my own anger, and suggesting to just let go and "just feel it sometimes"

I was sussed out by that because I specifically get into trouble and become unsafe BECAUSE I accidentally let go. Still listened to him and had 2/3 moments where I was genuinely not in a safe place because of it.

Explained this to him, he went "ok alright maybe youre not ready yet", and asks me what stops me from distracting myself

I say "because everything I do requires me to do a list of steps to get there, otherwise I'll do it all wrong, and that's exhausting". What he hears: "I am self conscious and think all I ever do is wrong".

I had to explain to him again and again over the course of several sessions that it's not that I'm fussing OCD style over how to do things, but that I will literally blindly send money to someone and then check how much I owe because my brain doesn't work when it comes to multi step tasks. Doing those lists is literally how I learned to deal with this. It's disability related. It's just that when I'm in a horrible headspace, i can't do my list.

Now we FINALLY reached the topic of sadness, after I repeatedly said "I react to getting sad or feeling guilty with anger" since the beginning, and he somehow believed that this meant that I was mildly lashing out at people. I even said the words "I am not safe around myself when these things happen", and he apparently thought this was just my own anxiety and fear of feeling bad. Then right before last session he asked me to write a short story that somehow depicts how I feel sadness, and I did, and we started the session and he quite literally hit me with

like.... homeboy. I don't know how to convey this but I'm not going there because I'm a little sad and explosive sometimes. I am paying 50 euros a week right now because I am genuinely unsafe and scared, and I am CLEARLY communicating as much.

I understand that he probably gets a shitton of patients who are overexaggerating or are just anxious or self conscious, ESPECIALLY in a country like spain where everyone overexaggerates everything all the damn time to the point where harsh words lose all meaning... but to immediately go to that conclusion instead of taking me at face value feels incredibly dismissive. Like. If I was just a little anxious I wouldn't be paying all that money to get help.

[kakusboyfriend]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for some of the last people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals, followers and all the wonderful people on here! happy new year and all the best :)

Ily

Hm, right! This isn't my main so I'll keep it contained to my favorite little fictional characters off the top of my head. All familial bc i feel very attached to my little siblings/children rn ^_^

(6 instead of 5 bc i couldn't decide)

Not numbered because if I had to try and Rate my children and siblings I would never forgive myself...

Gas Heeter (DBS)

Brother

This little guy isn't... Written too well, is he. He's got a cool concept pushing him forward, but ultimately we don't spend nearly enough time building the relationship between him and Elec to see it as something lecherous.

However, I can't help but feel for the poor thing. He's so tiny and cute... And he really was just trying his best out of blind loyalty. He felt like he owed his brother the pain and suffering he was putting himself through, because he wouldn't be here without him

I'm sad we don't see much of him and his other siblings, too - they seemed genuinely nice and caring, unlike Elec. I am quite glad they survived the whole shitshow.

Now, this guy is also the catalyst for Viola becoming a better person, overall. Sure, he already had a sibling figure in Saike (Psyche Demon - you know, the one Janemba grows off of like mold), but Gas arrived into his care in such deplorable conditions, Viola's heart shattered despite the fact it's no longer beating.

Seeing a soul arrive at the suspended world immediately after dying so brutally was a much needed reality check to make Viola care about other people. I'm glad they have each other - though, I really need to expand on their relationship some more ^_^

Allister and Kieran (Pokemon SV/SWSH)

Brothers

These guys share a spot bc they're very similar, personality and design wise! They even share some verbal quirks here and there, which I find really cute ^^

Kieran has the upper hand when it comes to backstory, because he's a Main Character and has his own arc throughout the DLC. But Allister is such a little darling in his own way - he's so shy and sweet, but still a strong gym leader - outclassing a handful of adults, even! He chooses to raise pokemon most people consider frightening and scary, and he does so wonderfully!

They're both near and dear to my heart. Kieran I feel especially bad for, however - it's not that I Hated carmine. Really, I think her personality is fun and even cool at times - but she would've been better Not put into contrast with a socially awkward, kindhearted little brother she's always shouting at. I'm not saying Kieran can't be annoying - in fact I'd Like him to be, it's more fun! - but the way she treats him has me on edge from the start.

I really love them both, and think they'd be good friends if they met - I feel like they'd love to sit in a room together doing their own things in silence ^^

Tetsuo Shima (Akira, 1987 - Movie)

Son

Oh this little kid... I know he's meant to be sympathetic by default, since despite everything he's still 15 - but I genuinely just want to give him a hug and talk to him one to one.

He's in so much pain throughout the movie, and put on the spot for things out of his control - it's not the lashing out that makes him dangerous, per se, since (at first) he's doing it out of self defense, at the very least. It's how far he takes his rampage, until it culminates into his own destruction.

Tetsuo never really had a chance. It's not like I think every kid put on his situation would choose to behave like that, but in the end - he'd always felt alone, inferior and pathetic. Pushing his limits into inhuman levels of stress and fueling it with deranged power was never going to help him deal with anything healthily. There's always hope, and I always choose to believe in the possibility of a happy ending - but he really was a ticking time bomb from the very beginning.

Roy Ulthoon/Ruby Hurricane (BTBATB/OC)

Son

Oh I know for a fact there is a hell. You know why? Because I feel its flames licking my skin whenever I think about this poor tormented soul.

He was never meant to be a real child. Roy was a moral, a lesson, a plot device from the very beginning - about how finicky the human spirit can be, especially when you don't treat it perfectly well from the start. Or maybe I'm just being optimistic, and the writers wanted to make a 'humans are monsters' character to drive the plot forward and serve as a foil to Red's blind faith in humanity.

Either way, god, I hate his ep with an inhuman passion. I know for a fact he could've been saved - I KNOW Batman was not the right choice when dealing with this freshly made human soul that's lashing out against abuse. Or, at the very least, he wouldn't have acted the way he did - he electrocuted my son. I want him as far away from us as possible.

In Citrus' story, he's the catalyst to the alien finding his purpose in life, realizing just how much he enjoys children. He didn't, ever, need to die or be put down - he needed someone that would listen. Instead, they wrote Red's thinking to be that of a parent that tells you 'it is what it is because I said so, now suck it up'. It's not... Terribly out of character, but it could've been framed better, at the very least. I could go on and on about this one, since I basically Made It All Up - but that's for later «3

Kid Buu (DBZ)

Son

HOUGH. God I love this kid. I love this little shit just SO MUCH, he brings me inhuman amounts of joy I can barely contain it.

First off - he's so cute. He's meant to be a demonic entity of pure evil, with 0 thoughts in his brain aside from Killing and Destroying. And yet... He's so endearing. He really is, to be blunt, like a cat in that way.

He's so so tiny, too... And the pinks aren't helping. He just looks like something I'd want to hug and squeeze to death (very likely my own). I know I'm not meant to love him As Much as I do, but come on... It's not like it's my fault.

My reasoning as to why he can coexist with Super Buu, Good Buu and even Uub is kind of muddy. I think Pluto just straight messed with reality for that little guy to live with him - and who could blame him? Just let him waste away in hell for god knows how long? Come on now...

And I know I don't talk about Uub much - mainly, honestly, I don't trust the decision to reincarnate a being of pure evil into a dark skinned child, considering dragon ball's history with antiblackness - but I do find him really cute too ^^ he's just not... Son material? I guess? I'm not mad he exists in Kid Buu's place, iykwim - I just prefer crazy evil kids is all.

Oh by the way - if I ever get to developing my AUs this year, he's very important in the reforming of another amoral bastard he happens to live with atm. It's the only person he's in contact with that feels Pain nowadays - which makes the whole thing even funnier.

Baby (DBGT)

Son

Ok I know I said I wasn't rating these in any way. But. Jesus Christ

I LOVE BABY SO MUCH! I LOVE HIM SO SO SO SO MUCH ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY!!!!

He's got such a cool concept, backstory, voice, design... God, he's got it all! He's really unique because of how and When he was created, and it really breaks my heart they'll never write him in a way that makes Me personally happy.

Granolah is usually considered very similar to Baby in concept - but oh brother, the things that set them apart makes the gap so obvious it hurts. Baby is one of a kind, you can't ever try and make another one like him.

And I know, I know. Someone like him is very unlikely to accept being raised and treated as an actual child - a human one, no less, but we'll get to that - but also, isn't that perfect? He's the perfect brood parasite - he gets food, shelter and love from an unsuspecting parent who tends to his every need until he's strong enough to get rid of them and fulfill his purpose. Its genius.

However, he didn't take into consideration the soul that still burns inside of him - no matter how weak, it's still there. He can't help but get attached to Coralia, who treats him so well, and is willing to put his own life on the line to make sure he's safe. God, he doesn't even look human - why is this one so hell-bent on treating him as such?

It's maddening. He's not meant to be nurtured, he's meant to take over people's bodies when they least expect it to end a war that's ended more than half a century ago. And yet... Here he is. A monster in an infant's skin, being treated in the exact same way that made an alternate version of him to murder Dr. Myuu in cold blood. What's happening to him....?

Anyways. These r my delightful little guys!!!!!

[great-its-mj]

Recap all da hungry gmaes

Okay, okay, this is going to be long as hell beware I am recapping four books here one of which is 500 pages long :) Bullet points bc paragraphs are annoying and slight inaccuracy is inevitable <3

The Hunger Games (Book One)

It's the morning of the reaping for the 74th Hunger Games and Katniss just observes her house for a while

Her sister Prim is with their mother so Katniss is like, she's been so nervous but there's no way she gets picked, her name is only in there once and mine is in there about about thirty times so...

Katniss leaves to go hunting and meets up with Gale (🤮) her bestie

They have breakfast in the woods and Gale is like lets take our families and run away together and Katniss is like nah lets not

Then they go back to town to sell their meat and they picked some strawberries too

They sell strawberries to the mayor and his daughter Madge is there and she's kind of friends with Katniss but Gale hates her cuz he's stupid

Madge's got this Mockingjay pin on her dress that is really pointed out because it's important later

Katniss goes home and her mother and sister are getting ready. Her dad is dead now btw so they're poor

Katniss's mom is pretty mentally ill, when her husband died she just shut down for months and left her ten year old daughter to take care of everything so Katniss doesn't like her too much

On to the reaping! (this is still chapter one)

Effie is there from the capitol so she's super eccentric and the district people think she's ridiculous which she is

Effie picks the girl's name first and what do you know, it's Prim

Katniss is like absolutely fucking not and volunteers which is a big deal because she's the first one to ever do that in District 12

Then Effie picks the boy's name and it's Peeta Mellark

Katniss is immediately like anyone but him please because he saved her life

So back when her dad first died a few years ago, the whole family was starving to death, Peeta threw them some burnt bread even though he would get in trouble and now she feels like she owes him something

She says goodbye to her family and Madge gives her the Mockingjay pin as a token

Then they're off to the capitol

On the train, they meet Haymitch who is always drunk and Katniss and Peeta make him stop drinking so he can mentor them properly

They get to the capitol and ride in a chariot while their stylist Cinna sets them on fire :D

Then they train and the career tributes (from districts 1 and 2) are laughing at Peeta and Katniss and just overall being bitches

Katniss sees Rue, a 12 year old girl being sneaky and hiding from everybody up high. She immediately wants to ally with her

Then they do their evaluations, so Katniss goes into a room and shoots an arrow at the gamemakers

Katniss thinks she's gonna be punished, but the gamemakers apparently liked it because she got the highest ranking out of anyone

Interview time!

Peeta wants to be trained separately, and keep in mind she's been mistrusting of him this whole time, so she now thinks he's plotting against her

At her interview, she's really nervous, but the crowd likes her dress and they think she's at least a little charming

Then Peeta goes up and does one of the most iconic things ever

He's being really charming on stage and laying it on quite thick with the host

The host asks if he has a girlfriend and Peeta's like no but I've had a crush on this one girl forever.

Host says something like win and she'll be in love with you instantly then Peeta says I can't because she came here with me

Katniss flips out and thinks it's a ploy to help them win the games (I can't remember if she attacks him in the book or if that's just the movie)

That night, Katniss and Peeta have a deep conversation on the roof and Peeta says that he doesn't want them to change him

Time for the games! Finally!

Cinna is really nice to Katniss and gives her Mockingjay pin to put on her jacket

In the arena, Katniss looks around her as the countdown starts for them to leave their podiums

Haymitch said don't go to the weapons pile but Katniss can't follow orders for shit and goes to fight it out in the weapons pile

She tries to get the bow, but only gets a backpack filled with good stuff before running away

She sets up camp in a tree for a while and slowly dehydrates

Then the arena around her sets on fire and leads her to water so she sets up camp in another tree where the careers find her

Not so good news, Peeta is with them :(

They have the bow, but can't shoot or climb for shit, so they can't kill her. Peeta suggests they wait until she has to come down

Rue appears in a nearby tree and points to a murderous wasp nest above Katniss and she saws it off to land on the careers and Peeta

Katniss is stung and hallucinates, but Peeta tells her to run away before the careers get to her

She passes out, and when she wakes up, Rue is taking care of her. They become allies from there out

She becomes really close with Rue and they spend a lot of time together. I can't remember any specific scenes, but Katniss does say that if can't win she wants Rue to instead

They come up with a plan to destroy the careers supplies pile which is quite literally a pile of stuff in an open field. They took the landmines that were around the podiums and rigged them around the pile

So Rue and Katniss set fires to distract the careers and leave the supply pile unguarded. Katniss then blows it up

She goes to find Rue, but the girl is wrapped up in a net. Another tribute comes by and throws a spear at her and Katniss kills him

As Rue dies, Katniss sings to her, and holds a small funeral for her by decorating her body with flowers

After, there's an announcement from the gamemakers that says there can be two winners this year as long as they're from the same district!

Katniss just shouts Peeta's name and goes to look for him

She tracks his blood to the river and calls his name. He responds and she's like where are you as she steps on a rock. He responds, don't step on me (this is my favorite part)

Peeta is badly injured, and is half dead as is. They make camp in a cave and she tries to nurse him back to health.

She kisses him so Haymitch will send them medicine and make the crowd sympathize with them

There's an announcement saying the remaining tributes can get a backpack with the stuff they need in it at the weapons pile

Katniss goes to get it and gets attacked by one of the remaining career tributes. A different tribute saves her life for what she did for Rue

Katniss brings Peeta the medicine and he heals

Last few nights of the games they wander out of the cave hunting Cato, the last tribute, and are attacked by mutts

Cato dies and they win yay!

EXCEPT the announcer reverses it on them and says there can only be one winner

So Katniss and Peeta prepare for suicide so they'll have no winner

The announcer stops them and says there can be two winners just this once

They get ready for their post games interview, and Peeta has lost a leg apparently

Haymitch warns Katniss that things are about to go to shit

On the way home, Peeta is like what do we do now, and Katniss says she wants to forget everything and Peeta gets upset because he realizes Katniss didn't actually have feelings and he did

And that's all I have the energy for sorry this took so long to get out I am just now clearing out my drafts :)

[amostfoolishgold]

So uhh @pacificwaternymph I may have gotten a little carried away thinking about our witches and I wrote about their meeting. I simply think it's very funny if w!Pyrite is usually all calm and collected and maybe slightly sinister but absolutely ruined that impression in her first interaction with Delilah lmao

(under a readmore bc it's a bit of a Long Boi)

There's not much about her relationship with Delilah that Pyrite would change but, if pressed, she would probably choose the circumstance of their meeting. Pyrite, like so many witches, had been following the competition to become supreme witch. Of course she had, witches tend to be a scattered bunch and celestial witches like herself can be scattered a good deal further than most, but the supreme witch would always be a big deal. The competition was even being broadcast this time around! The remaining handful of the previous supreme witch's staff who were running the thing all had little sprites following each of the contestants fairly constantly and displaying what they saw onto screens across half the country. That did still mean that in order to be watching a screen you had to either hijack the broadcast or be in that half of the country. So Pyrite was among the many witches who had flooded into the cities and towns and villages that surrounded the competition venue. She'd even gotten there early enough to snag a decent room in probably the closest village. Prophetic powers do pay off sometimes and practically every celestial witch who lucked into prophecy had gotten the one about the supreme witch's death. It was really just a matter of tugging on the strings of fate herself to get her nicely situated to watch the competition play out. Admittedly when she'd prophesized she'd "see the competition up close and personal" she was kind of hoping fate would come down on the nice side of that wiggle room and she'd get an invite, and she's still holding out hope that she'll run into one of the contestants during one of the rounds, but she's pretty sure she met a potion witch the other day paying a ridiculous rate to stay in someone's broom closet for the duration of the competition, so she can't complain too much about the room in the Harepelt inn.

It was, in fact, in said inn that she met Delilah. Pyrite had her head face down on one of the smaller tables in the main room, trying to convince herself that having a meal would help with the headache she currently had. It wouldn't, but she also hadn't eaten in a while so she should anyway. She's a fan of Cleo, she really is, the time witch seems the most…competent of the contestants and seems like she'd make a good supreme witch. Plus Pyrite's a massive lesbian so. However, watching her live inevitably gives Pyrite a massive headache and she never fucking learns. Thus, head on table.

And then she feels the frustration and misery fade into a dull echo of themselves, replaced with a subtle tranquillity that she maybe wouldn't notice if she hadn't been sat here wallowing in it for the past hour or so. She jolts upright which, ow, is a mistake, the headache is very much still present and with the sudden movement it all comes back full force. She squints at the handful of people arrayed around the room until she spots a witch at the bar staring intently at her plate of food.

"You!"

Ok yeah she really shouldn't have shouted, there's quite a few people starting at her. The witch at the bar is pointedly not. Pyrite's chair makes a truly awful scraping noise as she stands up and her boots click against the stone floor which isn't helping with the headache even slightly.

"What was that?"

The witch turns to face her with a wince. Under other circumstances, Pyrite might note her fluffy blonde ponytails or her tan skin with a pretty smattering of freckles or her kind eyes or maybe even the way her off-the-shoulder blouse exposes even more freckles dusted across her shoulders. However, in the here and now, all Pyrite can think about is maybe not feeling quite so shit in the next five minutes.

"Honestly? I thought you were having a nightmare. Thought I could help without…well without you knowing."

"Excellent, please do it again."

The witch visibly startles.

"What?"

"I have a very terrible headache from receiving far too many conflicting prophecies because I'm an idiot who keeps watching Cleo's broadcasts. If you have the power to make that suck less please use it."

The witch makes a face that Pyrite cannot even begin to parse, but given the sense of peace returns Pyrite assumes she's working her magic. It takes everything in her not to slump against the bar in relief, instead she opts for a sigh.

"That's so much better." She freezes. "Oh fuck that was just. Incredibly rude of me. I'm Pyrite, celestial witch by trade, and incredibly grateful for the…whatever magic you're doing."

She extends a hand and, after a moment's hesitation, the other witch takes it.

"Delilah, empathetic witch. It's…not a problem."

[llycaons]

ep14 (p2): oh god oh fuck

in comes madame yu. it's absolutely insane the impact she has on the story and characters despite being in what, three scenes? four? her influence...

it hurts so much to see wwx so small and obedient in her presence. also WHAT is everyone so mad at him for! he saved jc's life! isn't that the important thing! he's just a punching bag because everyone is mad and because myu hates him and wants to vent

another example of myu being a terrible politician too blinded by her own issues: actually saving the heirs to the other clans is a REALLY good move that earns the jiangs allies in the inevitable war against the wens! they're also sure to be well-trained young cultivators whos assistance would really help during wartime!

and jc believes this didn't he! he believed it right up until the reveal! he tried to kill wwx with that knowledge that his mom was right the whole time!

worth noting that when myu goes too far here, jfm does push back. he's characterized as impotent and spineless, but he stands up here, shouts to myu to quiet her, tries to walk her away. this kind of sucks bc it just villifies myu more, but honestly I think jfm even doing what he can couldn't keep her from being herself

ohhh triangulation or whatever this is called. delicious

jc seriously almost made me cry here this is such a nightmare and I feel so bad for him

not to mention poor fucking wwx over there who has to hear these insults to HIS parents which he can't even acknowledge or defend against because this isn't about him! nothing is about him he's just an interloper the jiang family graciously took off the streets! he owes them everything and he doesn't have the right to speak back to them and he doesn't truly belong here! nightmare nightmare. despite everything im so glad he's out of that environment postcanon

see above. even being forceful won't work unless he wants to physically remove her, which he probably can't

another devastating shot here. it's so horrifying that jc has to deal with all this and STILL he's not in the worst position because at least he's allowed to be upset by it. and at least wwx will always be there to support him

...or so he thinks

oh I love this sequence! zooming in and out and back and forth as jc strides away and wwx tries to catch up to him. it captures the atmosphere of the scene so well, frantic and dynamic

KING OF OPEN COMMUNICATION 16 YR OLD WWX!!!!

jc is literally right and wwx can't even deny it. he can't even say 'no he loves you' but 'oh that's crazy haha what kind of father doesn't love their own son?' well. jfm doesn't

this is such good emotional support and jc literally can't even thank him for it he just has to be a dick and keep on blaming wwx for everything. the perpetual scapegoat! his emotional punching bag! the brother he can't ever support in turn!

jc can't stop hurting him and criticizing him, and wwx can't accept that he did anything wrong. this isn't a heartwarming or bonding moment between them, it's just another example of wwx pouring energy into supporting and encouraging jc, who rejects it and disrespects him for his efforts. it's another disagreement on something neither will budge on that goes unresolved. it's not even the beginning of the end. that started long before this. but it's emblematic of ways their relationship will disintegrate even though in this very conversation wwx swears to be jc's right hand man.

[mikelogan]

(Same anon) Wait, he’s from The 1975? (See, this is what I mean—I literally just Do Not Know Things until something like this happens. 😂 I think the only song of theirs I ever listened to was Chocolate.)

I wish I could go back to just not giving a shit about who she was seeing and only paying attention to the release dates, but obviously I can’t just turn a blind eye; whether or not I buy the Speak Now re-release is gonna depend on how she deals with this.

I just���what do we do here? Start streaming songs of hers that are really relevant at the moment to get her attention? Tweet at her?

She wouldn’t be the first artist to disappoint me, but damn it, I wanna be able to keep enjoying her music.

Sndnfndkdn yeah I'm pretty sure he's the lead singer. I also am kind of feeling that way, wishing I was less involved in the fandom and more of a casual fan, though i wouldn't say I'm a swiftie blog exactly. But yeah, I can't and won't look away now, so it is what it is in that regard.

As far as what we do, I literally do not know. I hate this so much and like I am still holding out hope that she'll address it, but she also seems very determined to Be Seen with him (probably at least partially as a fuck you to Joe bc they were so private and lowkey) and that makes everything that much more frustrating. But in having that hope, I also hope that IF she says something, it's not one of those half assed celebrity apologies where you know they're just doing it not bc they truly are sorry but bc they don't want to get cancelled 🙄 that's more of a slap in the face than not saying anything tbh.

And the only reason I think we're owed some kind of explanation/apology/what have you is bc she's been so outspoken for so many years about stuff like this?? Like she made a whole ass documentary about speaking out against racism and homophobia and all that. Which again, all seems performative now.

[venus-dawnstar]

I have a love/hate relationship with my autism...

Autism is interesting. At least, I find my autism entertaining. To set an example of what I mean, here's a list:

Pros:

-Fuck, music is so cool. I love it and I can feel it moving in my brain.

-I can tell if something is different or off really easily.

-Want me to explain your emotions to you bc even you don't understand them? Oh, don't worry, I don't know how I'm feeling either. No judgment. Anyway, time to examine your body language and tell you what every thought you're having rn is.

-You don't know where to eat? I have a maximum of 5 foods I can keep in my system at every waking moment, ask which one I want. (More ARFID than autism, but still.)

-Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm good texture, much comfort.

-You talk to me for 2 minutes every day? You say hi to me every morning? Good, you're now part of my routine. You may become the highlight of my day with just a small gesture.

-Yooo this painting has 5 people hidden inside. Also, I think this artist has a flaw in this section but succeeds really well in this section and-

-You want something to talk about? I HAVE SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT! MEMEME I DO! ASK ME ABOUT [hyperfixation] P L E A S E !

-.O. You got me a gift! You shouldn't have. What is it? [Literally anything that isn't one of the 10 things I dislike] Omg I love it! Thank you so much! *Keeps it for the rest of my life*

-You know when I trust you. You'll notice. Don't worry about how or when. You'll just know.

-"Words, words, words, words-" "How tf are you on chapter 15 I left for 8 minutes-" "Shhhhhhhhhhhh. I'm at a really important part. Words, words, words, words."

-Want to know when I'm too tired? I stop walking on my tippytoes. That's when.

Cons:

-FUCK EVERYTHING IS TOO LOUD TOO LOUD SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

-Ow why is everything so bright that hurts

-Mmmmmmmmmmmm everything hurts. How do bones hurt? Mmmmmmmmmmmm tension headaches.

-EW NONO TEXTURE GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF I WANT TO PEEL THE SKIN THAT TOUCHED IT OFF OW WHY IS IT PAINFUL

-I can't sleep. My brain doesn't want to. Yeah, I know it's 6 AM.

-What? Huh? Da fuq? Uhhhhhhh.. OH OH OH yeah yeah yeah. Why did that take so long to process?

-WHY IS THERE A BREAK IN THE ROUTINE I HATE IT WHEN A PATTERN STOPS. BAD BAD YUCKY BAD. WHY? PANIC.

-*Static* "Hey. did you hear what I said?" "Oh sorry I zoned out. What?"

-Why am I irritated by this? It's not a big deal. Why am I crying, literally all that happened was [thing most people would call insignificant that I find really important]."

-A thing got denied, guess that's a permanent no. Time to lose all hope in it.

-Everything is awesome and I love life and I'm so happy and- *break in routine, bad texture, sensory issue, bad item, something gets slightly off* GODAMNIT

The main inspiration for this list was from this afternoon. My partner and I were about to go walk the dog and pick up food along the way. But what happened? My shoes were missing. They weren't in the place, let alone the room I always put them in and have for the past months. A break happened in the routine and I panicked so badly that my partner had to pull me into a hug and tell me it was okay. I almost started crying bc my shoes were in the wrong place and I didn't know where they were at first. I was excited, practically jumping for joy because I was about to pay for and have a date with my partner. Then, a pattern broke and I almost had a panic attack. I found my shoes, put them on, and boom. I was happy again. Of course, it took me a while to get past the initial shock from it. But afterwards, I was giddy as a kid on Christmas.

TLDR; Autism has its ups and downs, some of mine are listed above. Also, I lost my shoes and it almost sent me into a panic attack. So that was interesting.

[wizardnuke]

beau....ohhuuugh

[wa-kaizen]

Messages from your passed one | INTUITIVE

You can think of your spirit guides, mom, dad, friend, lover, crush, stranger, baby/child, anyone. It's about who is important to you. Just keep in mind that this is intuitive and a general reading. 🖤

services

1# 2# 3#

4# 5# 6#

꒰ welcome  ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

— have fun!

pile one ༊*·˚

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ before read ❜ ꒱

I don't think most of you have had a bad goodbye with this person, but you could be feeling guilty or sad, thinking that they hate you. You need to know that they will never hate you.

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ the message ❜ ꒱

" Hi, It's me again, I have been talking to you quite a lot actually. I just don't know if you have heard. Can you please stop crying? I am not mad, and I am always next to you. I know you think I am, but I am not. I sit at the side of your bed stroking your back and comforting you. So, I am here, please stop crying. Break out of your shell please. It's hard, but start little by little. Depression isn't easy to deal with right? So just try washing a cup today, and dusting off your shelves tomorrow. Even if you don't want to do it, you have to. There is way too much good things waiting for you for you to be depressed like this. Don't waste them. Don't chase them. Just allow yourself to feel but try to heal even if you can't see them yet. I believe in you, so please believe in yourself too. There is nothing in your way that could stop you. You are protected. I am sorry, you must have expected me to say more, but there is not much to say. I just want you to get better. Please get better. "

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ notes ❜ ꒱

I do feel like their spirit - or what you believe in - is with you everyday, if not 24/7. I don't think they are mad at you, but they do worry about your well being. They really having a hard time from moving on because they do not like to see you be in despair.

pile two ༊*·˚

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ before read ❜ ꒱

For some of you, this is definitely a motherly figure. Someone that you might not like, yet still miss. Most of you might have a child, or pet. They want you to know that they are looking after them and they love this baby of yours very much. Not adding this to the message bc this is really a small part of the group.

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ the message ❜ ꒱

" Hah! Guess where I am! I did make it to Heaven/Jannah! You owe me one, so just wait until we meet again. Jokes aside, I do miss you, we might not have a lot of common, or you might remember bitterly now, but I do love you. I see where you are and what have you become. I am very proud of you. You are doing great, keep going forward. You have a beautiful family you found for yourself. You fit in just right, your love language have also improved. You have came far. Don't worry so much, they love you as well. You have became much more stronger, and healthier at expressing your feelings. Yes, they are still hard but you have improved. Despite all we went through, I still love you a lot. You don't have to feel the same way. I understand if you don't. Forgiveness is a privilege not many experience, and you aren't obligated to give it to anyone. Please remember that yeah? These days you seem to forget. Don't give more than what you are able to give. Don't drain yourself out. Just be yourselves, unapologetically. It will be fine. I promise. "

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ notes ❜ ꒱

I do believe this person died loving you and thinking about you.

pile three ༊*·˚

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ before read ❜ ꒱

There is something about Koi fishes. I don't know what about them, but I have felt a strong pull to mention this to you. I am sorry to tell you this also, but this person died being scared.

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ the message ❜ ꒱

" I am scared. Not for me, but for you. Why don't you ever show anyone your feelings, why are you trying to suppress them? Don't do that. That's dangerous. I don't like it. It's scaring me. Please stop trying to look strong, it's okay to feel things. You are a human. Please allow yourself to feel things. It will hurt more if you don't turn to someone. Anyone. There is someone out there who will understand you. There is nothing shameful about the way you feel.. just please don't do this. Don't damage yourself. You mean so much to me. I can see you having a nice and bright future as well. You will be very happy and find someone you can share life with beautifully as well. All those ideas? All those plans? They are great. But please actually try to do them. "

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ notes ❜ ꒱

This person is quite sad seeing you damage yourself, almost as if they are crying? Treat this however you would like.

pile four ༊*·˚

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ before read ❜ ꒱

This person is very peaceful and playful! For a lot of you, the [blank] is 'papa'

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ the message ❜ ꒱

" Hey! Ya still onto politics? You used to be hardcore about it. Probably not anymore though. You seem happier, that is. It's so nice to see you like this, with that big smile on your face, enjoying life. This is what [blank] would have wanted too. For you to smile, dance, live, drink, find love, just live life. Just be you! Just be you. No one else anymore alright? Please buy that pretty red dress/shirt you wanted. It looks beautiful on you, if you take a picture, I will be there with you. You probably won't see me though, but I will be there. I am there. I am always there. Taking pictures with you is fun, I just wish you would know that I am there too. I miss you, I miss you a lot. To tell you the truth, I don't know how things will be after this. I am scared, even though I am here, as a spirit, I don't know a lot. I can only hope we will meet again, laugh a lot and become friends. Gosh, I miss when we used to just sit around for hours and talk and talk to no end until we couldn't breath from laughter. I love you so much, you can't imagine. I sometimes look down on you and see you enjoy life. It puts a smile on my face. Watching you sleep too. Haha, don't worry, not in a creepy way. I'll just hold your hand and protect your dreams. No more nightmares. I will have to say goodbye now, but I love you a lot. I do my angel. Rest well, take care of yourself. I miss you, see you in our dreams. "

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ notes ❜ ꒱

If you ever manage to communicate with them, please hug them, or reassure them. They miss you so much they could cry.

pile five ༊*·˚

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ before read ❜ ꒱

This person is maybe someone who suddenly passed away? Possibly to an illness.

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ the message ❜ ꒱

" Hey, my messages will personally be strong. I hope that's not a problem, please don't be mad at me. I know it hurts that I disappeared suddenly, but please move on. You are allowed to, you are allowed to have negative feelings, but don't let those weight you down and pull you back. Please allow yourself to live again. Blossom like the flowers in spring, get to your full potential. Please. I love you, start taking care of your health again. I love you a lot, let's meet again. This time, I will be better. "

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ notes ❜ ꒱

This person does have a heavy guilt and fear to them. They feel like as if you are mad because they did something wrong, they are really scared to talk to you incase you incase they cause problems to you again? Please pick another pile as well if you want to, because this is very short.

pile six ༊*·˚

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ before read ❜ ꒱

I feel like since the last meeting of you two, this person has changed as much as they possibly could.

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ the message ❜ ꒱

" Hi. Long time no see right? I would like to to start out with apologising. You didn't deserve all those things that I have done to you. Though, I hope you can listen to me with an open heart, because I would like to tell you something. Please think of yourself from time to time alright? I feel like you surrounded yourself with a lot of toxicity and you cannot see it yet. I want you to please do some inner work and see things for what they are. Take care of yourself, [name]. Those people are not who you think they are, I am not someone you want to trust, I understand that, but I am telling the truth, I just want to protect you. Don't doubt me. I just want good for you alright? I saw your highs and lows both. I like you better when you are true to yourself. I want to see you happy. You are my everything. You got this. You can control your life, don't think you can't. You are able to. You are the best. You have to know that, I know you ro know that. Don't deny yourself from happiness. You are not overreacting. Take that step no matter how big or small. It's for the better. Start living for yourself, not for the person others want you to be, okay? "

₍₍...₎₎ ꒰ ❛ notes ❜ ꒱

I heard the name 'Tanya'. Also, this person's voice was rather weak, kept fading in and out. So they must be a weaker spirit.

꒰ thank you for reading ꒱

[forbidding-souda]

hello im back with another hagakure x reader ask because i let him live in my head rent free

(╥﹏╥)👍

could we get some hcs with yasuhiro and a male reader who helps him pay off his debt? like how he reacts when the reader tells him that he's a free man now and it's all thanks to them?

Yasuhiro Hagakure with a boyfriend that pays off his debt headcanons

this gives me an excuse to bring this up in a post but this is my lovie bae boo thang who gets their ask writting because they sent a donation through here. it's not for a serious cause it's literally only food money bc i actually spend money on nothing else but it'll probably become surgery fund? maybe.

if it's under 10k then i won't say anything because that's relatively cheap for surgery and i'll deal with it. i'll update the surgery situation after march 24th because that's when the doctors appoitment to plan it happens so {also the surgery isn't like for something life threatening it's just trunk noninfiltrating angiolipomas (simple terms lump under skin with blood cells that's fucking annoying but not cancerous)} i have no idea how much it's going to be so i can't say nun about it rn.

-Mod Souda

❤ It was extremely funny contacting Kuzuryuu to get to his sister. You didn't even have to describe the situation deep until he understand what you referring to. "Oh, that fucking guy," he had said.

❤ Internally, you had a big thought-process in wondering how you are going to tell him.

❤ Should you bake a cake? He'd think it was funny, definitely.

❤ He would love a cake.

❤ There has been a lot of worry about his debt when it comes to things about the relationship. He's sometimes worried they'd kidnap you for information - he worries you'll get hurt because of him.

❤ You both can hardly go out to restaurants or any public event. The Kuzuryuu Clan is always watching, always on the look out for him.

❤ When you do decide to tell him, you do it calmly, just bringing it up in a conversation to see if he reacts.

❤ He does react.

❤ He covers his agape mouth with the tips of his fingers before stuttering like crazy. His eyes scan your face, looking for a sign of it being a joke.

❤ "No, I'm serious." You say when you notice his analyzing.

❤ He doesn't know what to do - does he hug you, give you a fat kiss and a pat on the back? Or does he try to hold you bridal style and starting running around?

❤ I believe he doesn't 100% believe you until he gets a letter addressed to him that says "you're boyfriend is really something else isn't he :) -Kuzuryuu". He starts sweating bullets.

❤ First thing the two of you do is just be together in public. Perhaps a nice ice cream date or a walk in the park or even something like crystal shopping (depending on your preference)!

❤ I doubt he's ever seen your eyes in the bright sun before.

❤ Buy him a massage or something to get all that years of stress off his body. Mans needs a cupping.

❤ He will get down on his knees and hold you and thank you.

❤ You are honestly the best thing that ever happened to him - and now you've saved his life.

❤ He owes like everything to you.

❤ For a month he'll like do almost everything you say and treat you like you're a God.

❤ He will probably write you a thank-you letter as if he can't just walk up to you and say it out loud.

❤ Makes you a gift bag with stickers and bagged food you like inside.