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orfisheus · 1 month ago

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The Problem With the Eddsworld Fandom's Depictions of Red Leader/Future Tord, A Disabled Perspective

Disability is a contentious concept for most of society, with most either treating us with disgust, confusion, refusing to treat us as human, or to see our struggles as what they are. Ableism affects all people in many different ways, but as someone who focuses a lot of my energy in fandom spaces, the pervasiveness of ableism with how media and their fans interpet and react to disabled characters is a very personal situation for me. While many may argue that an ignorance to these topics in fiction has little bearing on real life, the prevalance of these tropes have echoed and led to feelings of othering for many disabled people, and oftentimes support the same notions that lead to the day-to-day ableism in our own personal lives.

In recent years, I have experienced this most often with the prevalance of negative disability tropes perpetrated by fanfiction surrounding the character of Tord, also known under the alias of Red Leader in some fanworks. It is a problem not just common in the Eddsworld fandom. A more recent, and much larger fandom in Mouthwashing also shares a common trend of repeated ableism in fan depictions and interpretarions of disabled characters. Most fan creators are unaware of these tropes and the harm that they cause, but as a disabled person, I am unable to ignore it.

For context on myself, you can call me Fish. Get it? Or"fish"eus? I like to think I'm funny. I am a mentally ill, disabled, and neurodivergent creative who has niche interests in representation in media and the intersection of intersectionality and fandom spaces. I experience chronic pain due to a multitude of conditions, all of which are invisible disabilities. I am NOT an amputee or have a facial difference, like the character I am analyzing. I can only speak based on my own research in my attempts to portray him positively, but I want to mainly focus on the ableist tropes I see and the real life effects they have. That is something I CAN focus on, because I've been dealing with it for years from conditions that came onset later in my life. I will be speaking from that perspective, but will be doing my best to try to educate on what I do know from my research to help authors, artists, and creatives create a better portrayal of him in fanworks.

The most common tropes I see with him are what I will call "The Disabled Villain", "The Innacurate Disability", and "The Ignored Disability". There are a few tropes in each, but for ease of organization (and the sake of your (and my) time), I will be talking about them together in these sections. There are also overlaps in many, but I will define the main issues with them.

The Disabled Villain

James Bond, Wonder Woman, The Witches. You name it. You have most likely seen this trope at work in cinema. A malicious evil-doer is revealed to have a "horrid" face symbolic of the true evil within their soul, while the beautiful, able-bodied hero is meant to stop them. It's a trope as old as time, one that goes back to even Plato. Tropes are tropes, people subvert them, so a few cases down the line may be excusable. But that has not been the case For many years, the most prevalent form of representation for disabled people was in these villains. Imagine if the only representation you had for yourself was narratives surrounding how the way you look or what your disability is and have it only be equated to evil people. It leads to a villainization of disabled people. People react to facial differences with disgust, because they are "shown" that it is "evil", or "ugly", or equal to being a horrible person. As stated by The Nora Project, "According to the book Disabilities: Insights from Across Fields and Around the World, disabled students are two to three times more likely to be bullied in comparison to their nondisabled classmates. The disabled villain trope contributes to this phenomenon in overt and subtle ways. For example, the trope implicitly encourages fear of disability and difference, while validating, and even elevating, those who fight against the evil, Disabled Villain. Bullying based on fear and disdain is almost a natural consequence of the trope when viewed in this light". Another big issue is that disabled characters have not been given space to exist outside of villainy. There are not many complex narratives surrounding them. This leads to our disabilities being downplayed, us being dehumanised, and we are seen more like props in real life, or simply tools to achieve a message in a narrative.

Tord's disability is never explicitly shown in the show. It is something more prevalent in Fanon, specifically in fanworks that focus on the "Future" era of the show's timeline, where the narrative and outside discussions on the show implies a high tech society, potentially dystopian, potentially a consequence of his actions. These ideas have taken a life of their own in the fandom, with many creators fully expressing these ideas. The problem arises when Red Leader falls in line with this trope. In many works, he is the sole disabled character, a figure of pure evil, or given little nuance in the narrative. Artists illustrate his scars as bright red, crimson, or, in TBATF, green. For some reason. In this way, they attempt to highlight the villainy by equating him with common symbols of evil: facial differences and disabilities. Unfortunately, these are not just symbols. These are conditions and scars that real people have, which the fandom tends to ignore in favor of dramatization.

This was a trope I most commonly saw explored in fanfiction when I first joined in 2016/17. The show, unfortunately, subtly and accidentally perpetrated it by having the only character visibly and irreparably "damaged" by the giant robot fight be Tord, despite the fact that Tom, who had a whole missile directed at him and got buried under a house, was fine with at most a leg injury and a cut on his arm. Luckily, we have grown past the need for ableist tropes, and the faults of the show can be left in the past!

... Not.

Disability tropes have simply evolved in how the fandom treats Tord. Even if it is now done with more consciousness and sympathy towards his character, ignorance still prevails. Let's talk about common pitfalls people fall into when writing him.

The Inaccurate Disability

In fanon perception, Red Leader is an amputee with a high tech prosthesis and a facial difference resulting from burn scars. Like many disabled characters, he suffers from a collective fandom lack of research. But never fret! That is what I have subjected myself to for the past four years, so your friendly neighborhood disabled Fish can tell you how to right your fandom wrongs! Just kidding! Take this as a pointer, and do your own research.

As is common with fictional prosthetics, his arm prosthetic is treated as a perfect fix for his amputation. It acts just like, if not better than an actual arm. The issue with this is that is isn't realistic. Yes, I know, I'm criticising Eddsworld fanfiction for not being realistic. STAY WITH ME HERE. Once again, if it was one instance, or a few, that explored prosthetics being incredibly functional in science-fiction, then it could be a cool concept. But when every sci-fi work has it, then that is no longer a concept. That is a misconception. And I have interacted with people who believed that prosthetics were 100% functional! The thing is, like all disability aids, it does not suddenly make us able-bodied. For example, I have ear defenders that I wear when I experience pain within my ears. But that does not mean my hearing will now become normal, and I will no longer experience pain from the sound I'm hearing. What WILL happen is that I will straight up not hear you. Like, literally. Can you repeat that? I had my ear defenders on. Oh, you're saying that my ear defenders aren't prosthetics and are not a fair comparison? Well, that's fair, but take this as an illustration of a disability aid and how they differ from able-bodied experiences. Also, many prosthetic users do many things without their prostheses, and some even prefer NOT to wear them. Blogs that explicitly cover disabled representation, such as @/cripplecharacters, have posts that cover WHY many amputees are not fans of this trope. The problem comes with that it erases disability, and yet also treats us like we are given a space at the table of representation. It's just another way that authors avoid actually doing research.

Other things that people tend to ignore are how burn scars, or any scars, would not only appear on a character, but also affect them. I have seen, aside from skin tones that looked like they were picked out of a crayon box instead of what would appear on a person, teeth exposed, wounds that look as if they are fresh from the explosion YEARS after they occurred, and what I like to call "paper shredder" scars. Because instead of them looking like burn or shrapnel scars, it appears as if his skin was put through a shredder. Once again, another consequence of the show's at most-30 second scene with questionable decisions that made massive ripples in the fandom. With the injuries Tord received, it is most likely that he would have two kinds of injuries: a burn on 18% of his body (minimum, based on rule of 9s), and/or shrapnel scars from debris. While shrapnel scars would manifest as darker scars, the burn scar would likely be a hypertrophic scar, as "70% of patients develop hypertrophic scars following burns" (Finnerty et. al). The scars, when healed, are warm toned on the boundaries of their areas and cool in between. When on a pale skintone, they are not too dissimilar, and would therefore not have such a drastic color difference as seen on skin. They would also not go down to the bone or skin, as that would be a completely different kind of injury, and are also commonly done to make him look "scarier", which then aids the Disabled Villain trope. It also treats these scars and injuries more like a work of fiction, rather than something that many real people have experienced, adding to continuous misinterpretations of real life disabilities and facial differences.

For writers wanting to include consequences of burns, what would be more likely to be affected are his hearing, vision, and nerves on the right side of his face, as burn scars can go as deep as nerve endings. Also, burn scars, especially third degree burns, require treatments, such as burn-specific skincare. Scars, especially burn scars, can affect you and become disabling. For artists, the main thing I don't see artists do is draw him with damaged hair follicles. Burn scars damage the scalp and eyebrows, preventing hair growth. I am sorry, but he would not still have fluffy, luscious hair. Do not kill me. He just wouldn't. And if you are saying that he had it in the show, I can't hear you because my ear defenders are on, but I hope you heard me, as we've gone over that the show is inaccurate and we should do our own research.

Even well intentioned authors and artists ignore many aspects of the disabilities he would likely have!

Which brings us to the last trope...

The Ignored Disability

Many well meaning people intend to give him nuance by trying to avoid the Disabled Villain trope. Accidentally, however, they end up completely ignoring his disabilities instead.

Just like the high-tech prosthetic, the real disabling aspects of having a disability are at best rarely mentioned. I have seen, in some fanworks, that he goes straight from amputation to having a prosthetic. And that is where his disability ends. Because the prosthetic ends up being a fix-all situation. Authors refuse, or forget, to include aspects of amputation, such as the healing process, stump or phantom pain. Artists will cover up his scars with a helmet or a mask, another trope that undermines his disabilities and attempts to brush it under the rug. I understand that there is a discomfort for able-bodied authors in thoroughly exploring how a character feels about their disability. That is something I think we should. Avoid. If you're not familiar with the experience of being that minority, you do not need to add commentary on it. And if you do, and it just falls into more negative tropes, I will send a salmon cannon at you (/j). However, I do not agree with brushing every disabling aspect of his life under the rug.

People can assume it's not a problem, like it isn't something blatantly apparent. But, if you assume that disability and being disabled is not a "big thing", you end up where your medication is denied because your insurance refuses to see your common procedure as not a necessary medical intervention because you're "too young". And that is not fiction. That is what inspired me to write this essay, because the day that I got that news was the same day I sat down and told myself that I needed to share my perspective on the perception of disabled characters by honing in on one of my favorite characters and how the fandom treated him.

Disabled characters deserve to be included in media, disability and all, with care given to how their life would operate as a result and what they would experience with their specific disability. That's why many people recommend sensitivity readers who can give proper insight upon that disability and can advise people to properly portray it.

But if you cannot afford or access that resource, what can you do?

Fish's Non-Cohesive List of Ways I Tried to Write Tord as a Non-Amputee Without a Facial Difference

Do research!! The more you are to try to understand what you are writing about, the less you are to misinterpret or misrepresent it.

Look into resources that focus on portraying disabled characters, especially with those you wish to write about. Read blogs, research tropes that are common in disabled characters, and hell, read medical journals. They can provide great insight (<< nerd who likes reading medical journals)

Include more disabled characters. Make the other boys be disabled! Want to be canon compliant? Create OCs who have disabilities! I have a bunch! It's 2024! Be cringe and be free! The character's disability would go against the traditional narrative form of "usefulness"? I'm an animator who can't wear headphones and a theatre performer who can't physically handle the volume of a band. And yet, we find ways to persist, to exist. We will always find our way to live in the way we want to, in whatever way we can.

Look into disability activism. Learn the difference between the Medical Model and Social Model of disability. Know what an invisible disability is. Listen to us when we say that we don't want to be treated as special or an inspiration for simply living (inspiration porn). The more you are aware of what we struggle in real life, the more aware you will be to not repeat those mistakes in your fiction.

Write what you can. Highlight little talked about aspects of having a burn scar or being an amputee, such as the recovery, or treatment for the chronic pain, or how different he would be in battle due to decreased depth perception. As a disabled author, I have personally touched on the experience of gaining a disability later in life, and how he copes with it. Now, not all of y'all can do that. But that is a personal experience I do have, and it is something I have highlighted in my own work. So, while I couldn't tell you the ins and outs of having a burn scar or a prosthetic arm, I could describe the shock and frustration that comes with suddenly experiencing difficulties, or even being unable to do what you had done before.

I ask that, if you are willing to do better, or to start on the right foot, you take what I have written, reflect on it, and treat disabled characters, and in turn, disabled people, better from here on out.

Fiction is not reality, but the way we deal with it is reflective of who we are and what we believe. The boundary for our own personal being does not suddenly stop within fiction. When we interact and interpret it and create for it, it is integral that we remain conscious that bigotry runs rampant, albeit often as an unseen force, within fandom spaces, and do our best to counteract that.

I have doubts that the new eddisode will treat this topic with the same respect. I hope you can all go forward with what you have read in this WAY LONGER than I expected essay, and do what those grown British men cannot. Even if they erase it, retconn it, or do not treat it with respect, let's all go forward and do better!

As for always, you can discuss more in the tags or my inbox!

I hope you have a wonderful life,

Fish

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most-datable-datable-bracket · 11 days ago

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MOST DATABLE DATABLE CHARACTER 2 THIRD PLACE

Claude propaganda:

"To say Claude has trust issues is an understatement—you have to spend half the game earning his. (Claude isn't even his real name!) Once you have it, though, he's absolutely ride or die for you until the stars go out. He is so full of heart and ambition: He wants both sides of his heritage to get along, he wants to open borders and eliminate xenophobia and promote equality between commonfolk, and deep down, I think he craves a partner to stand with him at that new dawn, or an equal who sees his vision for the future and will fight for it just as hard. Nobody believed in him when he was a kid, but if you put your faith in him, he'll return it tenfold. Some people don't like that he's calculating, or has to leave the player character at the end of the game to go back to his homeland, but both are necessary elements for his goals to change things. He will always come back, and everyone who bets against him and his love for his companions is wrong with a big fat W. #KhalidForMostDatablePrez"

"Claude is a fun little onion of facades. He calls himself the embodiment of distrust, he acts like he's carefree and without worries, an unscrupulous schemer--and so many in universe buy into that hook line and sinker. He's used to others viewing him with suspicion and uses it as armor to obscure his not-so-dark truth: that he cares immensely, that he values minimizing the loss of life, and that above all he has so much hope that people will fundamentally choose to do better given the choice.

His front guards a center that his conflict filled world would be happy to tear apart. As the child of people from two nations in constant conflict--one of which is explicitly isolationist and dehumanizes those outside its church's reach--he hasn't really had a place where he can be without his facade. As a child he thought he could run, but when confronted with the fact that this hatred existed no matter where he ran, he chose to instead try to create a more just and kind world.

His inability to let others in beyond his facade at first may lead to a sense of distance, but isn't it then all the more satisfying when you're allowed in? All he wants is a little trust, a little faith, and--like what he wants to give everyone--a chance to be better.

And like that you got a charming young lad with a fun personality that your grandma would be thrilled to have stay forever."

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

#claude von riegan #Fire Emblem #fire emblem: three houses #fe:3h #sdv elliott #elliott stardew valley #Stardew Valley #Third Place #MDDC 2

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luvvyouforever · 17 days ago

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thinking about a fem4fem relationship with haley ౨ৎ

❀ she gets so blushy and giddy when you compliment her, especially during the beginnings of your relationship. she'll hide it at first, going back home and thinking about your words all night, but eventually you get to see her sweet smile more and more.

❀ at first, she saw you as competition, or maybe just envy. you're the new farmer, you're pretty, you dress in cute clothes like her, you're drawing attention away from her. she pouts and grumbles everytime someone brings you up.

❀ but then she starts looking for you more. she starts admiring your flower dance dress, she roots for you at the egg hunt, she admires you when you're fishing at the pier while she's tanning. she brings all this up to alex, just rambling, and he looks at her like "seriously?"

❀ alex sweetly informs haley that she has a crush on you. she gets defensive, but when alex starts listing off all these "symptoms" of a crush, she blushes more and more.

❀ even though she knows she has a crush on you, she waits for you to say something first. she'll make hints and seek you out, but in no way will she potentially face the embarrassment of your rejection. when you finally ask her on a date, she's over the moon.

❀ loves loves loves coordinating outfits. you'll have bikinis in the same color, cute silk matching pajamas that she bought out in zuzu, similar winter coat shapes, matching cowboy boots. she always makes excuses like "they were on sale if you bought two!" but you know there's more to it.

❀ she enjoys peaceful nights at the farmhouse where you're doing your nightly routines together in the mirror, haley moisturizing her skin, you applying pimple patches.

❀ likes having you paint her nails. you'll sit on the couch, or maybe the front porch on a swing, her feet lazily perched in your lap while you apply pink polish to her toes. and then you reach for her hands and she keeps them as still as she can for you.

❀ genuinely thrives so much on your praise and love. and she takes it so seriously too! when someone like alex compliments her hair, she smiles, but he doesn't know the work that went into creating the perfect windswept blowout look. but you do.

❀ there's usually never much discourse about who spoons who or who "wears the pants" in the relationship. dating haley is balanced and things just fall the way they do. you know when to be the big spoon for her and she knows when to let you lay your head down in her lap, her fingers running through your hair.

❀ this is so cheesy and typical but she really does like when you give each other makeovers. it's so quiet and intimate and she relishes in your gentle touches on her face as you do her eyeliner. (also imagine this with an alt!farmer, like someone who gravitates towards a darker makeup style than her, and how fun it would be to switch styles for a night in the house).

❀ lowkey though your bathroom is a wreck. a hundred bottles in the shower, makeup scattered along the counter, sweet sticky notes stuck to the mirror, necklaces and jewelry hanging haphazardly on an organizer on the back wall.

❀ no matter who proposes to who and who receives the mermaid pendant, the other will get something of equal significance. haley would opt for a necklace of her own, something with your initials engraved on it.

❀ loves giving and receiving flowers. her eyes just light up so much when she walks in to a fresh bouquet of sunflowers, having just been plucked from your own garden and arranged beautifully. she thinks you would be a florist in another life. she prefers walking around the valley, taking pictures and collecting the prettiest wildflowers along the way to present to you.

❀ speaking of taking pictures, you're her best model! she'll take photos of you working on the farm, photos of you lying next to her on the beach, photos of you posed on the bed, dressed in little to nothing. says you make the prettiest photos for her.

❀ haley's lowk a freak in some ways. she kinda craves to be worshipped, but also wants to worship you. so she thrives on praise in and out of the bedroom. adores having you kiss her, tell her how beautiful she is, and she returns the favor for you.

❀ the easiest way to really get her flustered and needy is to ramp up the praise, making it almost extreme. tell her she's a goddess, she's a queen, nobody else could ever compare to her, you're so lucky to have such a pretty girl in your bed. she'll be like putty in your hands.

❀ the top/bottom and sub/dom dynamics are relatively balanced. i think it depends on the mood and the day and how sleepy haley is feeling. for example, she'd be more of a willing and dominant top if she's had a good day, like when you've laid out on the beach together in the summer and she's gotten the privilege to watch your body in a swimsuit all day long. she'd want to be cared for and treated though if it's a cold winter and she's huffy and overstimulated from her coat and scarf all day.

❀ she loves mutual masturbation, but will never say it out loud. she'll look so pretty with her splayed across your pillows, fingers between her legs, her bright blue eyes looking at you intensely as you pleasure your own self. you notice just how turned on she is and note to return to it again.

❀ loves bathing together and shamelessly running her hands all across your body, chalking it up to just washing off the farm from you (her words not mine), but really she's behind you biting her lips as her hands graze over your breasts and thighs.

❀ she's always watching and admiring you working. she sits on the front porch of your farmhouse, watching you harvest parsnips with your hair pulled back, your usual feminine clothes having been replaced by old farm gear. she's thinking long and hard about everything she wants to do with you.

#stardew valley #haley sdv #haley stardew valley #sdv haley #haley x reader #haley #stardew haley #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #fem4fem #sdv haley smut #sdv smut #stardew valley smut #haley smut #stardew valley haley smut

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dashofmonsters · 3 months ago

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Cream Tea Pt.1

Male Werewolf x Female Reader

It was time for a change and time to get away from mom and dad. Your life had been carefully constructed to a tee down to where you would work and what sort of man you were to marry. This was all you had known until you visited a small town during an exhausting weekend. It was quiet and peaceful and everything you wanted and felt deprived of. Back home you did everything in your power to make this secret move happen and it is happening. It's now or never though and with the help of your only friend, you make your move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loading a moving van in the middle of the night is an absolute nightmare but you can't stand to be here any longer. Your folks had been irritating you with one thing after another. First it was the gala, then showing up at your office and demanding that your boss give you a better position, and now they're wanting you to meet with the eligible sons of their friends to find Mr. Future Husband. That had been the last straw in your opinion and there had been many many more prior.

Leighann, your only friend and savior had been helping you put together 'Operation Runaway' for the last year. It has been a labor of love and freedom and now it's in full force. You had everything planned out and ready and there have been no hiccups at all. Everything was boxed, your notice at work had been given in secrecy, and your parents have been none the wiser.

"That's the last of it," one of the movers grunts, shoving the last box into the van.

"Alright, thank you," you tell him as you fish out tips for the guys. They had worked fast and efficiently and more than deserved it. Their faces lit up and one of them tipped his cap to you.

You look around the parking lot at your apartment and cross your arms, your nerves on fire but in the best possible way. You're about to be hundreds of miles away from here and out from under your parent's thumb.

"I can't believe this is actually happening," you sigh.

"Feels kind of surreal huh? Just last week you were rubbing elbows with an elite crowd and now you're about to move to butt fuck nowhere that no one has ever heard of," Leighann wraps an arm around your shoulder and swings you around.

You laugh and roll your eyes, "It's a nice small town and it's the exact change I need."

Leighann pokes at you a few more times as you let the relief settle into your bones. You're finally getting out from under your family's thumb, you're finally getting away.

You've been the baby of the bunch, having four older brothers who tower over you physically and financially. Your parents saw you as an investment, something to make pretty and to show off to their equally well to do friends with sons.

For years you put on a mask, a well created facade of happiness as you went through pageants, galas, auctions and whatever horribly boring events you were dragged to.

Last year was the worst though, when you started having enough of them parading you around. The three of you had flown over to this beautiful resort where they had showed you off to every bachelor, for a couple years younger than you to nearly sixty!

You had to quietly retire saying all the mingling had made you light headed, something your mother understood quite well after enough glasses of wine.

Instead of heading up to your room, you went down and had your rental car brought to you. No matter where you were, you always made it a point of having your own vehicle, something your parents so painfully allowed you to have was your own freedom.

You drove around and around for a little over an hour until you ended up in a sleepy little town surrounded by trees and had cottage like homes and buildings. There was a group of elderly ladies walking together and they smiled and waved as you passed by.

For some reason that made you cry. You had to pull over at a nearby shop because you could barely see past your tears. You started rubbing your eyes and you knew at that point your makeup was absolutely ruined.

Someone tapped on your car, a little old lady with red cat framed glasses and red and white striped apron. Her grey curly hair was puffy and had a cartoonishly large red ribbon on the side. You rolled down the window and she shook her head at you and handed you a wad of napkins.

You couldn't help but to laugh as you took them and cleaned up your face.

"Now now, why don't you get out of that car and come and tell Mama Joy why you're crying the paint off your face?" she nods her head to the building she came out of, a small little tea shop.

You double check your face real quick before you unbuckle and exit the car. Mama Joy has you follow her into what is possibly the cutest tea shop you've ever been in. The front is filled with potted flowers and bells and wind chimes hang from the ceiling where fairy lights dangle. The tea room has mismatched chairs and tables giving it a whimsical personality.

"You like spiced tea dear?" she asked.

"Yes I do but-"

"Thomas! Throw on a pot of that spiced stuff you made earlier, we have a guest," she hollers towards the kitchen.

"Roger that," Thomas hollers back to her.

Mama Joy has you sit down in a comfy green chair and takes your hands, "Now then, why don't you tell me what's got you so upset today?"

You sigh and feel your chest tighten, "It's...it's a lot."

She smiles and gives your hands a reassuring squeeze, "Then you best get to talking then."

And you do, you tell her about that evening and all the other parties and galas you've been shown off at. About your parents and your brothers, about all the men your parents tried to set you up with. You told her everything.

You don't know when you finally calmed down but when you did, Mama Joy places a warm cup of tea in front of you. It smelled like oranges and chair and you couldn't wait to try it. You added in a little cream and sugar and took a sip. It warms you up instantly and you try not to cry again.

"I can't say that I've been in your position but it sounds to me that you're at the end of your rope with your folks. You're your own person, not a little doll or show dog. Why you haven't tired of this sooner is beyond me," she shook her head and sighed.

"I've been tired of it, but I've had to put on this fake smile for so long... I forgot how miserable I am," you frowned and ducked your head.

A cinnamon roll slid right in front of you as you're looking down causing you to look back up at the man who placed it there.

He was tall with long honey brown wavy hair that looked like it went down to the middle of his back, he had a well kept beard and the most gorgeous amber eyes you've ever seen.

"You look like you need a little pick me up," He smiled with so much warmth in his eyes.

"Oh and none for me?" Mama Joy huffed at him.

He laughed and tsked at her, "You know you can't have any Mama."

"I am nearly eighty, I can do without a foot," she scoffed before cackling.

He gave her a knowing look before rolling his eyes, "If she bothers you too much you can always leave."

You couldn't help but to smile at that, "No no, she's been... nice."

Mama slapped the table, "Why the pause? Did you really have to think about that?"

After that you, Mama, and Thomas spent what seemed like forever just talking, having tea and trying to keep the sweets away from the owner of the cutest little shop you've ever been to.

The night dragged on with Mama having you and Thomas accompany her to a little restaurant her cousin owned. It was a little bit of salsa club mixed with just the appetizers of a Mexican restaurant. You and Thomas had a mocktail while you both watched Mama Joy dance with a Mr. Emmitt.

"They have been into each other for so long I'm surprised they haven't started dating," Thomas commented.

"How long is so long?" you asked.

He shrugged, "Three years give or take."

"Wow, and this is as far as they get?" you watched Mr. Emmitt spin her around as she laughed.

"Yup. Though I think that they're both happy with this arrangement. I think they're still in love with their late spouse but too scared to try to love again," He sighed.

"Tragic and beautiful," you muttered.

"That it is, that it is. What about you? I came in on the ass end of whatever was making you cry, was it some jack ass?" He asked.

You laughed, "More like the lack of a jack ass. No, my parents want to marry me off and age doesn't matter anymore. I think the oldest guy was in his sixties."

Thomas cringed, "That's horrible!"

"I can't take it anymore, I just want to get away from them," you said, finally voicing the one thing you've been wishing for your whole life.

"Then why don't you?" he asked.

You smiled, took a sip of your mocktail and shrugged, "It's not that easy... I have very little in my name and I had to fight tooth and nail just to have my own apartment to have my own space."

Thomas shook his head and sighed, "What if you just up and left? Said nothing and got the hell out of dodge?"

You opened your mouth to argue with him then shut it.

"That," you started. "That's not a bad idea."

"Seriously?" He raised a brow at you.

"No no, you're onto something. I just started a job too and if I save up enough... This might actually work!" you set your drink down and fished out your phone.

"Woah hey, don't you think you should think something like this over a bit more? Make some plans first?" Thomas took your hand with the phone in it.

"Oh gods, you're right. I just... I feel like this will actually work and I just... I feel so stupid for not even considering just leaving," you smiled at him.

Thomas' eyes widened and he withdrew his hand, "Don't call yourself stupid, if anything call your folks' choices stupid. It's costing them a daughter."

Your lip blubbered and you felt like crying again just because you're not used to people being genuinely nice and sweet to you aside from your childhood best friend Leighann.

"Hey now, come on no more crying," Thomas extended his hand and nodded towards the floor. "How about it? Care to dance?"

For a brief moment you consider turning him down but something inside of you seems thrilled about dancing with him. He's rugged and absolutely sweet and saying no just doesn't feel right. So you took his hand and let him lead you to the floor.

He danced with you like you were two awkward teens slow dancing at prom. Your feet got stepped on so often that you laughed each time he shuffled onto them. He nearly ran you into the elderly couples who giggled at his horrible dancing. And he was so off beat.

But this was the most fun you've ever had dancing with anyone, ever.

After a while the dancing died down and Mama Joy pulled you both aside after Mr. Emmitt kissed her hand and waved goodbye.

"I said it once and I'll say it again, you have two left feet boy," Mama Joy poked at Thomas and he grinned.

"Well I was hoping that tonight I might have found my right foot, looks like it's still lost," he shrugged.

The two of them bantered until Thomas got a phone call he couldn't ignore from a relative leaving you and Mama Joy alone.

"You seem to have brightened up a lot, feeling better?" She asked.

"Much," you nodded. "I think I have a plan now."

You tell her the idea Thomas had given you earlier and Mama's face lit up with intrigue. She threw in a few other ideas and her phone number as well saying that she knows some people with homes for sale or rentals for when you start looking.

By the time Thomas got back you had a sense of relief fully settled into your bones. You had the base for a great runaway plan, support, and a place in mind. Things were looking up.

Mama Joy suggested that you head back since it's getting late but not without giving you the strongest granny hug you've ever received.

Thomas walked you back to your car at the tea shop and when you held the door open for you, you felt this odd sense of sorrow like you're really really going to miss him. You think of giving him your number but you fear he might take it the wrong way.

As you settled into the car and strapped your seat belt on you see Thomas from the corner of your eye kneel till he's at eye level.

"Whatever happens, just remember that change isn't easy, especially if it's for something you need. Sometimes it seems easy in the beginning until things destroy your expectations," He gave you a sad smile and took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'll try and keep that in mind," you said, squeezing his hand back.

Moments passed with the both of you holding hands not sure when either was going to break away, but eventually, Thomas did. He stood up awkwardly and bumped his head on the car but laughed it off.

He waved you away after telling you goodnight and walked back into the tea shop.

You drove back to the hotel and passed out after you peeled your heels off and bounced into bed.

The next day, you wasted no time getting things started. You called Leighann up and told her everything that happened last night and she was all ears. Things only got better once you were back at your apartment in New York. Leighann had a full on financial plan, movers, and so on planned out in a little according file for you.

A few months later, you called up Mama Joy and she was excited to hear that not only were you planning to move but you wanted to move to her sleepy little town.

Her friend Linda owned a few homes for sale and one of them was in your price range. After some back and forth conversations online, you eventually sign the papers. You'll have a house, you're own house, in a few months!

You spend time packing when you can and selling decor you don't really care for online for cheap. Most of the decorations you own were terrible holiday gifts from different relatives saying that your apartment lacked any personality.

Surprisingly, you made a good bit of money from selling the horrid things that adorned shelves and walls. Enough money to top the movers and for gas to get to the new house!

To keep your parents off your back, you'd kept up your attendance at their stupid events until a few days ago. You feigned being too sick to attend, saying that someone at work brought in a cold their kid had brought to them from school. Your mother sounded horrified and suggested that you rested for at least a month with little to no contact with the family. You feigned sorrow with a touch of understanding.

And now here you are, packed up and ready to move. Leighann was going with you to help with the long drive and to help get the boxes and furniture into your new place.

"Do you need to go back up and double check the place?" Leighann asks.

You shake your head, "Check listed everything. I think we're good to go!"

"Then let's do this," She grins and the both of you pile into the moving van.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took three days to go from New York to the sleepy little town of Daire Glen. Autumn leaves scattered about as you drive down the main road. Leighann points out to a group of little old ladies in hiking gear and bright colored scarves. You instantly recognize one of them as Mama Joy and quickly roll your window down to wave.

"Look who's finally arrived!" Mama shouts as she waves at you.

You feel a smile spread then and all the other ladies greet you as you slowly pass the group.

"Was that Mama Joy?" Leighann asks, having talked to her on the phone quite a bit.

"Absolutely," you reply.

Leighann then recalls all her conversations with her, from the hottest gossip from the tea shop to the little updates about Thomas she'd give you.

That, that was another thing.

As far as Mama Joy said, she hadn't told Thomas you'd be moving here. Something about a pleasant surprise for the both of you though you have no idea what she meant by that.

You did know that you'd be working with him though. Mama Joy had decided to hire you even though you had no background with the restaurant service or anything of the likes. But she did know that you'd need a job, even if it was part time when you got here.

"Turn right at the next light," Leighann gasps, having nearly forgotten she was on direction duty.

You follow the directions she gives you until you're in the nicest little neighborhood you've ever seen. All the houses were one story and had lush wildflower gardens and flowering trees. Some houses had large stones bordering their garden beds while some had moss covered grey bricks.

Slowly and in near disbelief, you pull up into your new driveway and almost start crying.

"I'm home," you smile, your lips still quivering.

"Yeah no, none of the photos did this place justice. It's gorgeous," Leighann gapes as she opens her door.

As you step out the first thing you notice is the smell of rain and spiced tea. The smell is so familiar that you're instantly taken back to the first night you were here.

"Want to unpack first or walk around the place and let it soak in that you've escaped your parents?" Leighann asks.

"You and your tough questions, but we should probably start unloading," You shrug and head back into the van to repark it to make it easier to unload.

You pull up the latch and the second you see your boxes and furniture, you realize you should have probably called some people over to help unload.

"Want me to see if there are any strong men around here to help us unload?" Leighann puffs out her chest a flexes jokingly.

You laugh and shake your head, "This is a retirement town Leigh, I doubt there will be a lot of any strong men around here."

Leighann groans but quickly perks up, "Oh really? Then what about him?"

Raising a brow, you look in the direction Leighann pointed to with her thumb and your jaw nearly drops.

"Thomas?" you say in disbelief.

As if he heard you, Thomas looks your way and drops whatever was in his hands and dashes over towards you.

Leighann tries to pull you away but you wave her off.

"What in the world are you doing here!" Thomas asks as he sweeps you up off the ground and into a big bear hug.

"I'm moving in," you squeak.

"Moving in? Here? At this house?" He asks, his brows high up on his face.

You grin, "Yes, I am moving in at this house, in this neighbor, in this town. Mama Joy helped helped me."

He squints and kneels to he's at eye level, "This isn't good, do you know what this means?"

You shake your head feeling nervous for the first time in a while.

"We're neighbor's now which means Mama Joy knows where you live which means she might try and kidnap you and convince you to give her sweets," he makes a fake pouty face then laughs.

"I'm messing with you of course, but she might come to bother you from time to time. She gets lonely when Mr. Emmitt gets too busy with his stained glass gig. Anyway are you waiting for help?" He asks, noticing the mountain of stuff and two noodle armed trust fund babies.

"Ah, about that...," you blush in embarrassment. "I kind of forgot to call ahead of time and-"

"We need help, like really really bad," Leighann butts in.

Thomas cocks his head to the side and pats his pants until he pulls out a phone, "I got a couple buddies who owe me a favor or two I can call over."

"That would be amazing," you clap your hands together.

"On one condition though," Thomas raises a finger and winks at you. "We all have dinner at my place afterwards."

You grin and nod, "Sounds like a deal."

Within fifteen minutes a group of guys show up and start pulling the boxes and furniture into your new house with you directing them where to put everything.

Thomas of course helps but with much more enthusiasm. He lifts the heaviest pieces of furniture, brings in the most boxes and even helps unpack some things. The other guys poke at him like they know something you don't but right now, you're just thankful for the help.

"Me thinks you've unintentionally made the very handsome neighbor fall for you~" Leighann elbows your side.

You glare at her, "I highly doubt that, he's just really nice."

"No no, I think your friend might be right," one of the guys, Tyler, agrees.

"Oh for sure, I've never seen him act all...," Rick starts and waves his hand about, "Swoony was it? Mama Joy said he pouted for days after you went back to wherever you went and regretted not getting your number."

Tyler laughed, "I don't think I've ever seen him that mopey either."

You roll your eyes, "I doubt that... And that," you pause and take a box from Ricks hand, "That is personal and I will be taking that."

Stomping off you feel a bit insulted for Thomas that his friends would joke about him like that, especially to you. For the short time you've known Thomas, and it was very short, you got the impression that he's just genuinely nice to everyone.

Sighing, you take your very very personal box of toys to your bedroom. Thomas is in there setting up your mattress on your bedframe and without a shirt on.

You nearly drop the box when he turns around and smiles at you, "Got everything in here."

"Oh um, great, thanks," you smile and try to casually toss your top secret toy box into your dresser.

"How's everything going out there?" he asks, running a hand through his thick hair.

"Pretty uh good, nearly got the kitchen set up. Leighann and I thought we'd be unpacking all week. At this point she'll be here just to visit," you shrug, still doing your best not to stare at his bare and hairy chest.

"That'll be nice for the both of you then. It gives you more time to settle in and find a job if you haven't already," he replies, grabbing his shirt off the bedframe and tossing it on his shoulder.

"Oh uh well about that, Mama Joy already sort of hired me," you give him a nervous grin.

Thomas' face goes blank for a second before he lets out a barking laugh, "Oh of course she did!"

"I'm really wondering why she didn't say anything to you," you groan and slap your face. "I feel like a nuisance just popping up like this now."

"Woah hey hey, none of this is your fault," He walks up to you and puts a hand on your shoulder. "And you're not a nuisance. Mama Joy just got bored and thought this might be funny or something like that. You're fine and it's great that you're here."

You want to believe him but you feel like he's just being nice about it again.

"Isn't it annoying though? I'm certain you had plans for the day and I show up out of nowhere like I did and you had to call in a favor an-"

Thomas puts a finger over your lips quickly silencing you, "Nothing about this is annoying, I promise you."

His amber eyes look stern on his uncharacteristically serious face. His finger on your lips moves slowly until it's under your chin, tilting your head back just a little, "Now say it back, that you're not a nuisance."

For a few moments you forgot what words are until you blubber back and repeat what he just said, "I-I'm not a nuisance."

Thomas smiles and before he can say anything there's a knocking sound behind you.

"We're not interrupting anything are we?" Leighann coos as she leans on the door frame with Rick and Tyler behind her with raised brows and kissy faces.

You instantly feels embarrassed and cover your face with your hands. You know how that looked, Thomas without his shirt on and right up in your face! You hear Thomas coming to your defense swearing up and down that nothing happened and that you were worried you were being annoying.

The guys pick on him relentlessly then while Leighann tries to coax you out from behind your hands, "Come on I was just teasing you."

"I know but now I really feel like a nuisance though," you mumble.

"Come on, why don't we leave these three weirdos to act like teenage boys and you and I will crack open a bottle of red," Leighann tugs on you and drags you to the kitchen.

You still hear Thomas talking to Rick and Tyler though their conversation no longer sounds lighthearted.

Leighann pulls out a few bottles onto the counter and has you take your pick though you just mindlessly point to whatever. Leighann rolls her eyes and grabs a different bottle, something that you usually like.

"Alright come on, spill," she says as she opens the bottle with a pop.

"I just... Maybe coming here was a mistake," you pout.

She rolls her eyes again and sets the bottle down, "No, the only mistake that was made was your parents not letting you have a fucking life."

You cringe at their mentioning.

"You have no preferences, no real likes or dislikes, and it took you till yesterday to admit that you actually don't care for salmon! They fucked up, they failed you, and now you have the greatest opportunity to be you! The real you that you've even hidden from me, your best fucking friend!" She tosses her hands out before grabbing a couple of mugs out of a cabinet a filling them to the brim with wine.

She's absolutely right and it hurts. Living a carefully crafted life you weren't allowed the luxury of preferences or opinions. Everything you had was what everyone else thought you should have. You were never really you. You cried for a solid hour when you admitted you hate salmon. What else do you not care for, what things do you actually care for?

You take the wine filled mug and chug some of it down before Leighann quickly grabs it from your hands, "Slow down girly, we're just taking the edge off."

"I know... I know," you sigh.

"Ugh enough of that ju-"

Leighann stops and looks over your shoulder with a curious expression. You turn around and see Thomas holding Rick and Tyler by their shoulders.

"Hey uh sorry about earlier, we uh went a little too far with the teasing," Rick apologizes.

"Yeah, we didn't mean to embarrass you or anything," Tyler adds.

"Oh uh... it's uh fine now, I'm just not used to getting teased like that is all. I know you were only joking," you try and smooth things over seeing how nervous both guys look.

Tyler and Rick breathe a sigh of relief but Thomas still looks somewhat upset. That's a bit unsettling to you.

"Well with apologies out of the way and the house basically unpacked. What's next on the agenda?" Leighann breaks the silence with grace.

Thomas snaps out of his mood and gives you a nervous smile, "If you're still up for it we can still have dinner at my place?"

Smiling back you nod.

He too breathes a sigh of relief then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas' house is almost as nice as he is. His house is well decorated and he has an impressive library and a large photo of his family at the entry. You were surprised to find out that he's a triplet and how different he and his brothers look.

His kitchen is cute with a wonderful forest green color that has copper pots and pans hanging above the island.

He has Rick and Tyler help with the grill while you and Leighann lounge poolside with fresh made lemonade.

"Not going to lie, I'm now thinking about moving here," she laughs as she steals a glance at Tyler.

She's been messing with him since they've met and you can see something there. They bantered like they've done it their entire lives earlier and Rick and Thomas just stood watching impressed at her while you were impressed at Tyler for keeping up with her.

"If and when that happens are you going to move next to Tyler?" you ask.

She chuckles and sighs, "Oh no, I'd move across the street."

You roll your eyes and look over at Thomas. He was placing some steaks on the grill while talking to Rick. He turns his head enough and catches you looking at him so you just awkwardly smile at him.

Trying to play off that weird moment you turn to Leighann to say something but you're unable to get a word out before Tyler approaches her and the two walk away and start to conversate.

"He is really into your friend there," Thomas says as he approaches you.

"He's in big trouble then, Leighann's a tough cookie," you shrug.

There's a long stretch of silence then that's eventually broken by Thomas clearing his throat, "I'm uh sorry about earlier, that was really inappropriate of me."

"Oh it's f-"

"No, it's not. I also hear what Leighann said earlier as well. About not having any preferences. You told me last time you were here about how little control you had over your life but I didn't think it was that bad. What kind of pack would allow that?" Thomas looked at you with confusion then.

But now you're confused, did he just say pack? Maybe that's some slang for family around here.

"Rich families do this sort of thing all the time. I got too used to it and maybe I feel too guilty if I upset or annoy someone because of how often it was beaten into me," you shrug.

"Beaten?" Thomas asks, looking like he was about to explode.

"Not too bad either, just the usual ruler or pointing stick. And nowhere that would be visible. It stopped when I was fourteen though so it's been a long while," you reassure him as if this was perfectly normal.

Thomas looks like he's really about to explode now, "Your pack allowed that? What the hell is wrong with them? You were just a child!"

"I was expected to act a certain way and if I didn't, there were consequences," you reply though a bit more unsure of yourself than before.

He shakes his head and gets down to your level, "Are there any other children in your pack dealing with that?"

You shake your head, "No, there's none. I'm the youngest in my family so th-"

"Not your family, your pack," he repeats.

Furrowing your brows you cock your head to the side uncertain what he's asking now. Could it be a community thing then? You knew a lot of girls your age also went through what you did, often comparing stories at camps or pageants when you were younger. But that also doesn't feel like the right answer.

Seeing you take so long to answer, Thomas takes your hand ever so gently and gives it a squeeze, "You can tell me ok, I promise I won't mention you to your pack leader but the council doesn't tolerate the mistreatment of children. They can help."

Now you know that neither of you are on the same page. In fact you're one hundred and one percent confused.

"I'm sorry, I haven't any idea what you're talking about," you tell him.

He looks away from you for a moment and sighs, "I know it's not easy for you to open up but our kind has to stick together. You said you're from New York and I know the packs up there aren't the best but I didn't know they'd be that bad. How about this, I just list them off and if I say the one you're from just nod your head ok?"

Before he starts listing packs off you hold up your hands with panic running through you.

You remember your parents talking about the other folk at a gala they were at. Vampires, moth men, liches, and werewolves, how they actually existed and lived amongst us. Your dad swore up and down he was close with a werewolf pack.

Pack...

"Thomas, I think there's been a big misunderstanding here and please forgive me for my next question if it seems a bit odd, but you're a werewolf right?" you cringe your face hoping you're wrong.

"Of course I am... Wait a moment, oh goodness are you not one? Are you a different were or perhaps a vampire? No that can't be it's day time, then a li-"

"No no, none of the above. Thomas, I'm human."

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redtsundere-writes · 6 months ago

Text

Part 6: Harvest Season

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering.Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 5083 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

The cold morning tickled your toes protruding from the blankets that barely covered your body. You curled into a ball as you slept with your five sisters while the sun peeked through the hills of the green valley. They were squashed together like sardines to make the most of the small bed's cramped space. The room in the cabin where they lived was practically empty, they only had a small closet with all their clothes, some stuffed animals for decoration and a semi-transparent white cloth that served as a curtain. You were in your fifth dream when you felt a hand pulling your foot. You snapped your eyes open to see your mother at the end of the bed.

“Let’s go to the market,” she asked you as you whittled your eyes wide awake.

You nodded in response so as not to wake your sisters. You carefully slipped out of bed to get dressed in a brown dress, you wore it so much that it already had holes in the skirt. Your mother had sold most of your fancy dresses, so your sisters could buy new ones for the dances they were invited to. Your mother was always obsessed with the idea that one of her daughters would marry a rich man and take them all out of the misery in which they lived. Every morning she used to repeat the same thing: “Up my future princesses because men don't flirt themselves.” You quietly left the room and picked up the old worn-out basket they used to carry the loaf of bread and potatoes they could afford to buy.

Since your father died a couple of years ago, money was always tight. Your mother, to keep her hopes up and not starve to death, had slowly sold all the furniture in the house. She started with the living room, then the dining room, then her bed and then the decorations. Little by little, they were running out of options. Someone had to sacrifice in the work field, and your mother would not be one of them.

The sun was barely rising over the green horizon. It was too early to go to the human market, but you just followed your mother without question. The grass crunched under your worn boots and the cool air ruffled your hair. As you walked along the path you had created from the many times you had gone to town, your mother was quieter than usual. She was a hard woman to keep quiet, always having to have an opinion on something. “The mornings are horrible,” “it hasn't rained in months,” “everything is more expensive.” She always prattled on about any topic that crossed her mind, but today she was different. She just looked straight ahead, walked hurriedly and hadn't even wished you good morning. “Maybe she wants some peace,” you thought. You should have realized it at the time.

You knew you reached the main town when the smell of fish intensified. Every morning, fishermen set out to sell their booty among the busy main streets of the Sukuna kingdom. A place full of humans who were ruled by curses. Since King Sukuna had conquered their lands along with his army more than five hundred years ago, the humans who had already lived there for centuries became easy prey for the hideous deformed monsters. Half of the population was eaten, while the other was left alone as soon as their stomachs were full. The only thing that stopped them from eating more was their own limits. From then on, the curses began to coexist with the humans. Only instead of treating them as equals, it was a cow-butcher relationship.

Since the curses owned the main town, it was rare to see so many humans walking down the street. They were all heading in the same direction, the gloomy castle of King Sukuna. A striking architectural structure of charcoal color and huge windows with blood-red roses. It was so large that despite being surrounded by towering walls, you could still admire the rest of the castle and its imposing watchtowers. Your astonished gaze kept going up to admire the terrible place. Your eyes could not continue because the top of its towers were hidden among the gray clouds and the vultures flying overhead.

Unfortunately, they had not arrived at the market but at the gigantic wooden bridge that led into the castle. Several curses in fine armor paraded around the perimeter as you watched two of them lead a lady into the castle. Your breath hitched as you realized what day it was. Today was harvest day. Once a year, King Sukuna asks those who want to work for him to report to the castle and in return their families would be rewarded financially, but everyone knows it's a trap. No one knows exactly what goes on inside the castle, but a tyrant who mistreats his people does not usually offer “work.” All the people know that once you enter his castle, you don't get out. Even though it is known that entering his castle was like entering a torture machine of your own free will. People in need of money or resources send older relatives or children they can't support to get rid of them.

You dropped the basket in shock at why your mother had only woken you up so early and was so quiet. She was about to sell you. As soon as the basket creaked against the floor, you ran away to avoid your painful fate as the daughter who was betrayed by her mother. You didn't manage to run that far, because two curses pinned you to the ground. You screamed, kicked and twisted your body in failed attempts to escape. Your eyes filled with tears as soon as the curses lifted you off the ground to drag you back to the castle. It was the end, you knew that for a fact.

“We must part ways, my adorable daughter,” your mother said goodbye without looking you in the eye.

“Are you really going to sell me to the tyrant? You know what happens to those who enter!” You yelled while tears fell desperately down your cheeks.

“Don't be like that, you know we need money. The king may be a tyrant, but sometimes he is generous,” she said as he showed you the sack of gold coins the curses give her for you.

100 gold coins. That was all you were worth. All your years of life equaled a year's worth of food. Not even luxuries, expensive furniture or beautiful clothes. Your mother had traded you to eat one more year without worry. You hang your head in defeat. She was treating you as if you were a nuisance. One more pitiful mouth to feed.

“I can work at the market, at sea, in mining, in anything!” You protested.

“How are you going to work there? I educated you as a young lady so you could marry a rich man, and you failed me,” she emphasized, spitting in your face the disappointment she felt.

Your chest ached, snot was building up in your nose and your eyes were beginning to redden from the hot tears coming from your sad heart. Your head was starting to hurt, you couldn't believe this was happening to you. You were always a good daughter. You were the perfect daughter, polite and compliant. What have you done wrong? The frustration of not being able to do anything was eating you alive.

“Think of your sisters. With this money, they will be able to buy new dresses to impress rich men. Next week there is going to be a ball, they say King Gojo will be there,” your mother said excitedly.

“Say goodbye to your mother, we must get you to the castle.” A curse ordered you with a harsh voice.

“I don't have a mother anymore,” you mumbled between sobs.

“My sweet daughter, don't be like that…” your mother called you with disappointment.

“And you no longer have a daughter,” your mother gasped, surprised at the minimum act of rebellion.

From the time you were a little girl, your parents knew you would be a good girl. You always did everything orderly, knew what to say to stay out of trouble and educated your sisters when they were wrong. You were the perfect daughter in their eyes. The only thing you weren't good at was talking to men. At dances none of them would come up to you and none of them would catch your eye. While the sister next in age to you, Yorozu, danced with almost everyone, you always stood on the sidelines as you watched the night unfold. Your mother always scolded you on the way home for not being good enough to get a husband, but that never mattered to you. You knew inside that someday you would marry a good man who could see your true potential.

Curses threw you into the parade ground and closed the gate behind you. You felt worse than dirt itself, you wanted to lie on the ground where you belonged. You wished the earth would swallow you up and disappear at that instant, anyway, you had nothing left to fight for. You didn't even have the strength to cry anymore.

A loud sobbing sound reached your ears, causing you to look up. A little blond boy was crying his eyes out as he desperately searched for his mother. You were in the same situation as him, only you didn't have a little teddy bear to cheer you up. In a place full of old people, no one wanted to pay attention to you. No one had enough energy to soothe the crying of a frightened child.

You stood up and dusted off your dress. Quietly, you approached the child with a red face from crying. He was dressed in a torn white shirt and dirty overalls. He couldn't have been more than 10 years old. You got down on your knees to stand by his height and wiped away his tears with your thumbs before shaking off his clothes.

“I want my mommy,” the boy shouted as he sniffled. A lump rose in your throat. You wanted the one you used to have too.

“She'll be back. You just have to be a good boy, alright?” You asked with a weak smile. The boy nodded as he rubbed his watery eyes. “Whatever you do, just behave well and she will come back.”

“Do you promise me?” he asked you between sobs, raising his little pinky towards you.

“Of course,” you answered, intertwining his little finger with yours.

An old woman approached you both. A granny with a cotton head, raisin skin and a sketchy smile, handed him a piece of candy she had in the pocket of her once-white apron. The boy gladly accepted it, forgetting for a second why he was crying in the first place. Children were always easy to please.

“Poor little boy. He hasn't even started his life, and he's already this lucky,” the old woman whispered to you as you watched him eat the candy and play with his teddy bear perched on the grass. You could only nod in sorrow.

After an hour of waiting and watching the curses hurl more sold humans onto the parade ground. The doors of the gigantic castle opened. A white-haired person with a red stripe and splendid white robes made an appearance along with a scroll under their arm. You stepped in front of the boy to hide him behind you.

“Welcome to this year's harvest. Thanks to your relatives or communities, you have been chosen as the most useless beings of this year. So the great king Sukuna has decided to give you the opportunity to work for him as servants,” The person began to read the scroll aloud in front of everyone.

A collective sigh was heard when he read the word “useless”. Most of them, being elderly, already knew that they were only a burden to their families. Therefore, there was no need to stress it further. It was like squeezing lemon on an open wound.

“As every year, we give those who are completely useless a chance to leave. King Sukuna needs real servants and not stupid dogs.” Along with that announcement, the castle gates opened.

There it was, the door that would lead them to freedom right under their noses. Hearing that, most of them ran towards their escape route, desperate to return home to their loved ones. You took the child in your arms and were about to run away until the thought that the offer was too good to be true settled in your mind. “Those who go in, never come back” you thought.

“Come on, dear, let's go,” the kind old woman asked you while she pulled you by the arm to escape quickly.

“If they do this every year, why doesn't anyone come back home?” You asked her. “It's a trap, I can feel it.” The old woman looked at you puzzled at first, but understood your point after processing it for a couple of seconds. She was so blinded by the brilliant exit that she hadn't boasted about it.

Once the first to escape was about to reach the door, the grille slammed shut. The evil laughter of hundreds of curses echoed through the place like a war chant. In less than a second, a gigantic flock of armored curses began to eat all those who were about to flee. A massacre, desperate screams and blood spraying everywhere. You had never seen anything like it in your life. You knew the curses were evil and ate humans, but you never thought it would be such a disastrous sight. You covered the child’s eyes. The lady covered her face as she realized the hell they had been sent to.

“Traitor dogs do not deserve to live,” the white-haired person said as soon as no human who had tried to escape was left alive.

“You were right…” the old woman whispered next to you between silent sobs.

You looked back at the front of the castle while your eyes were still drowning in tears. The person who was summoning you was glaring at you, as if offended by your mere presence. You looked around, less than half had stayed. The other elders were crying, vomiting and some lucky ones hadn't even turned around to see what was happening. Your arms were shaking from the cold of the morning and the terror that consumed you whole. You squeezed the child against your body to protect it. A little creature was not to blame for being in a place like that. You had to protect him, it was the only way he would have a chance to survive.

“I congratulate you for surviving the first round. My name is Uraume, and I am the right hand of your king, Sukuna Ryomen,” they introduced themselves in a loud, monotone voice so that we could all hear them. “Next you will introduce yourselves to the king. He will have the final word as to your fate,” they explained before returning to the castle.

After finishing their feast, the other curses rounded up the survivors to form a line in front of the castle gates. They were sheep being led by shepherds who were also wolves. No one said a word, they only obeyed by bodily proximity to where they were supposed to be. You did not let go of the child at any time, you had already proclaimed yourself as his guardian. Maybe it wasn't the best idea in hell, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You were willing to protect him as if he were one of your little sisters.

Your beloved little sisters. You hid your face in the little boy's hair so no one would see you cry. Once you entered the castle, you would never leave, either by slavery or death. You would never see your lovely sisters again. You would never see them play, comb each other's hair or sing happily after dinner. You cursed the time when you had grown up and were not woman enough not to marry someone. In your mother's eyes you were a disappointment and were to be discarded. You only prayed internally that your sisters would not have the same fate. Yorozu was only a year younger than you. If she did not marry soon, she too would be sold.

The survivors passed 5 at a time into the castle. The walls were so thick that they could not hear what was happening on the other side. There were 5 more people left, and it was your turn to pass next to the old woman, who was repeating the same silent prayer several times. The curse at the front of the line signaled the 5 people to pass, making everyone move in sync.

“The child must enter,” the curse ordered you.

“But they already let 5 in. It's his turn to go in when I go in,” you defended, holding the little boy tightly.

The curse smiled maliciously before snatching the child from your hands. The difference in strength was crazy. You managed to grab the child by his white shirt to prevent him from being stolen. The child began to cry out loud because the curse had hooked its claws into his back. The curse pulled harder on the boy, leaving you with only the torn piece of cloth in your hand. As you tried to reach him again, the curse kicked you in the stomach so that you fell to the ground. Your body fell, and your eyes could only watch as the boy was mercilessly thrown along with the others.

“Just do what they ask you to do!” You shouted at the boy between sobs before another curse kicked you in the face to shut you up.

The last thing you could see was his face full of tears and snot as you bled from your nose incessantly. The castle doors slammed shut as the curses taunted you. You didn't care what they had to say, you just wanted the child to be okay. The woman you had befriended helped you up as your chest closed, and your eyes hurt from crying. You couldn’t do it anymore.

After about 10 minutes, the doors opened again. The curse kicked you in the back to get you inside. The old woman and three other old men followed close behind. A servant with a grim face welcomed you and led you into the king's hall. A room filled with luxuries along the walls, costly works, candles bathed in gold foil and glowing obsidian candelabras. It was a pity that the beautiful room was bathed in the dark blood of your kind. The walls were splattered, some candles had been extinguished because of it, and there were several dismembered bodies all over the room.

Despite being surrounded by light sources, the deepest part of the room was in complete darkness. Where you assumed the throne was supposed to be, there were many curtains that kept the king in the shadows. The only thing you could see was one of his giant feet being struck by the light of a nearby candle.

The servant asked them to stand in a side row so that the king could get a good view of them all. Once they obeyed, the servant retreated at a brisk pace. Everyone was silent. You could only hear their breaths being disturbed by the situation they were in. Your eyes traveled around the room. The bodies of the discarded individuals were cut into hundreds of cubes, making your blood run cold. It was an extremely perfect job, almost impossible to do. Had the king done that or was someone else in the room with them? You didn't want to see, but it was like a morbid exhibition of what an abominable being could do.

Your eyes roamed around the room in curiosity and terror, until they saw a teddy bear soaked in blood. The teddy bear of the child you swore you would protect. The child's head had been cut off, his eyes had popped out of his skull and were held in place by its corneas, and the rest of his body was completely mutilated into perfect rectangles of flesh. You closed your eyes and clenched your skirt to keep from screaming in despair. The frustration and disappointment in you could not be compared to anything else. You could do nothing to save him. You were pathetic.

“5… 4…” The king started the countdown. For what? You had no idea.

You knew you wouldn't have the answer if you asked him because of his reputation as a foul tyrant. You didn't know much about the dastardly king who reigned over the land of your birth, the only thing you knew was that he hated humans more than anything else in the world. You looked around for answers as to what exactly the king wanted. Nothing about the decorations gave you answers, the only thing that kept catching your attention were the bodies. “If he has servants, why are the bodies still here?” you thought the servants would get rid of them before bringing in any more prospects.

“3…” His deep voice echoed through the walls along with a devilish smile.

Sukuna watched you comfortably from his large stone throne, hand carved by the best sculptors in the region. He was amused to see your eyes darting everywhere. “What a fool,” you thought disdainfully. Nothing in the room could help you know what to do.

“2…” You could hear a small smile escape his lips as he approached 0.

You analyzed the bodies before you and they all met the same characteristic. None of the heads were connected to the rest of the body. Their heads had been cut off before they were mutilated. If none of them had heads, it is because they must have been at the same height, that is, they were standing when their heads were cut off. Standing in front of a tyrant? Complete blasphemy. That was it. That must have been it.

“¡1!”

“Get down, ma'am!” you yelled before pulling the lady down to the floor with you so she could kneel.

You knelt with your head on your hand as a pillow while the other still held the lady's arm. A thin slice rang through the room. It was so fast that you didn't hear a scream or even a whimper, you only heard the bodies of the others in the room fall to the floor under their own weight. The blood of the old man next to you began to trickle down to your fingers. You didn't dare look at the result of what had happened. You were just relieved that you were in one piece.

“Finally… Someone with manners,” the king uttered with disdain. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it wouldn't go away. “The one in the middle, come closer,” he commanded. You were dead, you sensed it.

You struggled to your feet and walked towards him without looking his way. You entered his little sacred place in the middle of the dark, but you could see him clearly. His pink legs were gigantic. His thigh was thicker than your legs put together. That already gave you hints of the giant in front of you. Despite being dressed in a large white robe, he still showed enough skin to be considered vulgar. As soon as you approached, his hand took your head easily as if it were a ball, directing your gaze towards him. Your eyes widened at the eerie sight in front of you. A malevolent face split in half that watched you morbidly. His four eyes roamed your body shamelessly. His half-naked body tattooed with different lines astonished you at a closer look.

“How old are you?” He asked you while he moved your joints with his four arms as if you were a doll he could play with. You answered obediently between stutters. “Tell me, did your husband sell you?” he answered with a mocking tone.

“I am not married, my king,” Sukuna arched an eyebrow at that response. You decided to elaborate your answer to that reaction. “My mother sold me because I didn't marry.”

“You are still old enough to get married,” Sukuna said, still not letting go to observe you better.

He turned and moved you around like a globe to inspect you completely. It's been a long time since I've seen a girl of your age, to be always in the castle or conquering lands, she always sees young men but almost never women. For someone of the lowest possible class, you had your certain charm. Sukuna saw you as if you were a strange doll in an antique store, odd but striking in your own way.

“We were starving, my king.”

“It shows,” he replied with a certain mocking tone. “You know… I'm not used to seeing girls like you around here. They always send me decrepit old men or children who didn't die in their mother's womb,” he explained, annoyed.

Despite the terrifying distance and the fact that your heart was pounding a mile a minute, you were glad he wasn't hurting you. He grabbed you by the head as if he were examining a fruit to dictate whether he could eat it or not, but he didn't squeeze you as if he were squeezing you between his claws.

“I keep the old people because they work the hardest for their daily meal and I kill all the children because I hate how loud they can be.” You quickly realized right there that you never had a chance to save the child. An unruly tear rolled down your cheek, taking a second to mourn the little boy in silence. “So tell me, what should I do with you, kill you outright or give you a chance?” he asked you with a sinister smile.

“Dying before I live through hell doesn't sound so bad,” you thought pessimistically. What was the point of going on living? Your mother had sold you, and you trusted that your sisters would marry before you, especially Yorozu, so you didn't have to worry about her. You no longer felt you had any value, but you were afraid of dying. That inexplicable, but useless fear left you frozen. Why did you want to keep breathing if you weren't going to live anyway? Your mind couldn't make up its mind.

“I trust your decision, my king,” you replied in a sigh of surrender.

Sukuna's smile disappeared, he did not expect that answer. I thought you would beg him for mercy for your life, but you had completely surrendered to him, leaving your fate in his hands. He smiled again, this time, satisfied.

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“Because you always have the last word.”

“Interesting,” He answered before pulling you by the neck to bring you closer to his face. “You are someone special, aren't you?” Sukuna asked with eyes full of interest in you. He had found a gold nugget in a pile of shit.

Your eyes slowly drifted to his. Have you heard correctly? Had he, an almighty king, called you special? You no longer knew if your heart was pounding from the flattery or being so close to the king. You were so close that you could decipher what he had for breakfast that morning, probably people.

“Do you know how to cook and clean?” he asked quietly. You just nodded. “Well, you better not let me down,” he reluctantly let you go, making you stumble backwards. “Now get out of here with that old bitch so you get your uniforms,” he ordered with a harsh tone.

“Thank you, my king. I will not disappoint you,” you thanked him with a weak smile as you bowed several times before retreating from his presence.

Sukuna couldn't take his eyes off you. You ran to the shocked lady to help her out of the bloody room. She laid her head on her fist as she followed your anatomy. There was something about you that caught her attention. You were submissive, but you were not stupid. You were perceptive, but not rebellious. He liked what you had offered him so far, he just needed to do a little more observing.

“Thank you very much, thank you, child, you saved my life!” The old woman cried once they left the room into a candle lit hallway. A small smile crept onto your face. You may not have saved the child, but you saved your new friend. “I am forever in debt with you.”

“No need, ma'am,” you said so as not to make her feel guilty.

“Mrs. Inoue,” she introduced herself in tears as she bowed politely, you did the same as you let her know your name.

They both walked until they reached the end of the hallway where the few survivors were. An uncomfortable silence ruled the place. Mrs. Inoue and yourself sat down on a small bench to wait for instructions. Uraume and a group of servants carrying piles of clothes arrived not long after. Sukuna's right hand looked at everyone with disdain as the servants handed out the uniforms to the new servants who would be under her command. “So she survived…” they thought interested of you as you changed out of the old brown dress into the new uniform.

You lifted the wet apron against the sunlight to check it for any unwanted stains. Your first anniversary as Sukuna's servant was a month away. You couldn't believe that you were about to complete one lap around the sun since you survived the harvest and received your maid's uniform. A long black dress with a contrasting white apron with black boots and a scarf in your hair to keep your hair off your forehead. You returned the apron to the sink to continue washing it by hand with soap and water. A small smile crept in as you realized you had survived the worst, you just hoped you had the same luck for the rest of your life. Now, you could rest for a very deserving week.

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bedupolker · 9 days ago

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PLAYLIST. @viv13drainbow I think if you like that song in particular you'd also really enjoy Summer Salt, Little Joy, and Babe Rainbow for chill beach-y rock (not included). Commentary below:

The Blue Album - The album to start all albums, the album that launched weezer to success. Many hail this as their best album (I love this album but respectfully disagree) but nonetheless it's an essential for weezer fans and alt rock fans as a whole. Plenty of people who know way more about music than I do have praised blue album at length, and it's a funny meme nowadays too. Of course say it ain't so is an all-time classic, a heart-wrenching look into Rivers's relationship with alcoholism and his parental figures. I dunno if anything on the blue album can be called a proper deep cut, but only in dreams is an overlooked gem, and probably my favorite outro in their whole discography. Hopeful but somber, that slow buildup a the end to the guitar solo. Suzanne is a nice B-side.

Pinkerton - the infamous Pinkerton. Their sophomore album. Their breakdown album. Although weezer's not exactly an emo band, this album is often credited to being influential to the genre as a whole. No two people have the same experience with love or breakups, and one of the beautiful things about art is that we can see an experience through anothers' eyes, but I don't think I can think of a more painfully relatable album than this one. The balancing act of portraying its sympathetically-unsympathetic protagonist as equal parts pathetic and lonely while also entitled and aggressive. Some of the vocals are so raw for a second you see the monster in the five foot six, nerdy, physically disabled, lead singer that he sees himself as. Hard for me to pick a favorite standalone song off this one; the good life is a funky jam that wouldn't be out of place next to wheatus or RCHP's tracks, but that's where all the funk ends. Why bother? is a driving, catchy song that starts to show the cracks of his depression, falling for you is full of emotion, and if you get your hands on the deluxe edition, tragic girl.

Green album - At its time of release, Pinkerton was not received well. Creating such a raw, personal piece of art is hard. It's like the artistic version of getting crazy drunk, pouring your heart out, feeling catharsis for a moment, then realizing you'll have to deal with it all the next day. A lot of people interpret island in the sun as a happy song, but to me it's the tylenol after that night of drinking, a lie to tell yourself just to get through the day. It has a peaceful rhythm and brings to mind a tropical paradise, but there's something undeniably melancholy beneath the sunshine and smiles. You've tried to face your pain and you barely escaped alive, maybe you're better off just ignoring it. (That being said, although the damage has been done, Pinkerton has later been reevaluated and is now as widely praised as the Blue Album amongst music critics, and Rivers himself has made peace with that phase in his life.)

Maladroit - Overall this album is rather overlooked. It leans a bit more heavily into the rock aspect compared to green album, yet the lyrics remain impersonal and goofy. It's still not a bad album, though doesn't reach the heights of the first two. The singles, Dope Nose & Keep Fishing are both solid, but Burndt Jamb is my personal favorite. A little beach-y, probably their Stroke-y est song, (the band, not the medical emergency), it's been a mainstay on several of my chill out playlists for years now.

Make Believe - Probably one of their most hated albums by fans. It has the infamously shallow and poppy beverly hills, but you know what? I'm a Make Believe Defender. I truly think it could've been a great album, maybe even on par with Pinkerton. Not because of the album itself, but the demos. Haunt you Everyday is solid on the final product but rips at my heartstrings in this demo, ditto for tell me what you did (different name on the final product), everybody wants a chance to be alone (I said burndt jamb was their strokiest song but I think it might actually be this one) purple flowers (lyrics are a little rough but the melody, the meloncholy... so good) Actually on that note, weezer has, like, multiple album's worth of unreleased content that's miles better than anything on a published album (Link for one of my favorite fan compilations). Yes, the lyrics sound like something I wrote in my diary after a breakup, but that makes them all the more real. A deep dive into weezer will reveal the terrifying truth we've all been blind to: weezer never got bad.

Red Album - Mixed feelings on this one. It was produced by Rick Rubin, industry titan and famous for bringing bands "back from the dead," he's produced more than one of my all time favorite albums. Red is not one of them unfortunately. It has its fans though. Pork and Beans is fun.

Raditude, Hurley, Death to False Metal - Skipping these bc I don't care abt them

Everything will be alright in the end - To fans, this was their first "good" album since Maladroit, maybe since Pinkerton (12 years prior!) depending on who you ask. Although it wasn't as commercially successful as some others, it's a very strong album. Really, what is it about rock bands forgetting they're rock bands then suddenly returning to releasing rock music and magically being good again?? I'm looking @ you too, fall out boy. I have a hard time picking a really standout song- it's one of those albums that's evenly good throughout, no skips, but no obvious standouts either. Da Vinci is fun.

White Album - A fantastic album. You can hear some pretty heavy beach boys influence in this one. Unlike EWBAITE it has a few skips for me, but the highs are very high. Speaking of high. Do you wanna get high has to be my favorite off this one, Endless Bummer could be a sequel to island in the sun, Summer Elaine and Drunk Dori is just good clean weezy fun.

Pacific Daydream - I'm a Pacific Daydream defender. Check out QB blitz. Weekend Woman is flawed, but fun too, the bridge really makes it for me. Very evocative of Good Vibrations by the beach boys.

Teal Album - Oh god a cover album. No Scrubs is probably the only one really worth checking out if nothing else to hear a geeky white guy say "A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly" like he's reading it out of a dictionary. (TLC, who wrote and performed the original song, allegedly got a kick out of it)

Black Album & Van Weezer - I don't care about these either. Damnit I thought we were gonna be good again!

Ok Human - A good album!! What a relief. Could you imagine how embarrassing it would be to name yourself as a homage such a groundbreaking radiohead album and have it be.... bad??? I particularly love this one because in some ways it feels like it's his most personal album since Pinkerton- only instead of being an honest dialogue from a horribly lonely and isolated 20 year old student, it's a much more well adjusted, happily married, 50 year old father who is subject to both optimism and ennui. And it rocks! In a soft, subdued way. The songs flow into each other so nicely, the first three in the album debatably are my favorite 3-song-run in their discog. Aloo Gobi and Grapes of Wrath especially. The transition from dark and somber Dead Roses to light and upbeat Here Comes the Rain never gets old to me. This album (alongside MGMT's little dark age and The Stroke's The New Abnormal) was also like my essential Coronavirus holy trinity.

Spring/Summer/Fall/Winter - This is a compilation of 4 EP's, one of each released during their respective seasons in 2022. I think it's solid all around, with Summer being the strongest. Records and Blue Like Jazz are both very catchy, Thank you and Goodnight... just wait for the outro, trust me.

#weezer

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growthhyp · 8 days ago

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Hello sir, you wouldn't happen to have a tie for sale would you? I just found out I need one for my upcoming job interview. I'll take any color or design of tie you have at this point, I'm desperate.

The Black Tie

It's a crisp morning, the kind that makes the air feel alive with possibility, and you're feeling pretty good about yourself. You've scored a decent black tie from a garage sale, which you're now wearing proudly as you step into the gleaming lobby of a high-rise building. The company you're interviewing with is one of those big, corporate giants, the kind that makes you feel like a tiny fish in a very large pond. But you're not just any tiny fish; you're one with a brain that's been honed to a sharp point by years of study, and a degree that proves it. You've got this interview in the bag, or so you think.

You wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead, feeling your heart race as you make your way to the correct floor. The walls seem to be closing in, a reminder of the pressure you've been under to land this job. You've always been the smart kid, the one who'd rather hit the books than the gym, and here you are, surrounded by men who look like they've stepped out of a fitness magazine. But you shrug it off, reminding yourself that brains got you this far. You went back to the elevator and pressed the correct floor.

As the elevator doors glide open, you step into a sea of corporate sameness. Suits and ties as far as the eye can see, you stand tall, the tie around your neck a symbol of your determination. The interviewer, a stern-faced woman with a clipboard, motions you to the waiting room. It's a small space filled with equally nervous candidates, all of them flipping through their resumes like they're reading a map to hidden treasure.

You sit down in the chair, feeling the cool leather against your skin, and that's when it hits you. A warmth, starting in your chest and spreading like wildfire. The kind of warmth that could either be nerves or something more. You wipe the sweat from your brow, noticing the damp stain spreading across the fabric of your shirt. The heat pools in your stomach, a warm, sticky reminder of the extra pounds you've been carrying around. But as you look down, you realize something's not quite right. Your shirt, which was snug around your midsection just moments ago, is now baggy. You tentatively poke at the fabric and feel the firmness of a flat stomach beneath.

Panic sets in, but it's quickly overridden by something else. A strange, exhilarating sensation as your chest starts to rise, pushing against the fabric of your shirt. You grunt, the sound echoing a little too loudly in the quiet room. You glance around, but the other interviewees are too busy with their own nerves to pay you any mind. Your hand moves to your chest, feeling the firmness of muscles you've never had before. It's like someone's pumped you full of air, and your shirt is straining to contain the new you. Your shoulders follow suit, pushing through the sleeves of your now too-small coat. You can't help but stare, watching in a mix of shock and fascination as your body transforms before your very eyes.

The feeling spreads like a wildfire, igniting every muscle fiber in your arms. Your biceps balloon, your triceps pop, and your forearms thicken into ropes of power. Your back muscles start to stretch and bulge, pushing at the seams of your shirt. You can feel the fabric tearing, giving way to the new, more powerful version of you that's emerging.

The pain in your stomach is intense, but it's quickly replaced by a sense of awe as you feel your abs forming. The soft, squishy flesh of your belly is now a tight, chiseled landscape of definition. You can feel the ridges of each muscle, the way they knit together like a finely woven tapestry. Your obliques, those elusive lines that you've only seen on the most dedicated of gym-goers, are suddenly prominent, creating a V-shape that leads down to your waist.

Your mind races with excitement as you flex your arms again, this time harder, watching the muscles dance beneath your skin. The sleeves of your once baggy coat now hug your biceps like a lover, showcasing every bulge and curve. Your forearms, now thick and ropey, the veins pulsing with the beat of your heart. Your lats spread like wings, pulling the tails of your shirt taut across your broad back. The feeling is exhilarating, and you can't help but let out a soft growl of approval.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the polished glass of the conference room door. The sight of your new physique is like a punch to the gut, but instead of pain, you feel an overwhelming sense of pride. Gone is the shy, overweight man who used to dread taking his shirt off at the pool. In his place stands a muscular Adonis, a creature of power and beauty that you never knew existed. You can't help but strike a pose, one hand on your hip, the other flexed in front of you. You look like a Greek god who's been teleported into a corporate jungle, and it feels absolutely amazing.

The seams of your pants are screaming for mercy as your legs and calves swell to match your newfound upper body strength. Each flex of your quads sends a shockwave through the fabric, threatening to rip it apart at any moment. Your feet, now larger and more defined, feel like they're straining the confines of your shoes. You can't resist the urge to stand and stretch, feeling the material of your pants strain with each movement.

You smirk, feeling the confidence suddenly growing on you. You can't help but revel in the power surging through your veins. The room seems to shrink as your presence grows, your muscles casting shadows on the walls.

But then it was not yet done. You felt something stirring in your pants, something that didn't quite fit the pattern of your transformation so far. Your cock began to elongate, stretching out like a firehose slowly being pulled from the base of your skin. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that made you moan and groan. It grew longer and thicker, pushing against the fabric of your boxer shorts, straining the elastic band to its limits.

As your newfound member reached its full potential, your mind was flooded with memories that didn't quite feel like your own. They were memories of your workouts at the gym, pushing weights until your muscles screamed, and early mornings spent measuring your meals down to the last gram. The numbers and formulas of accounting that once filled your thoughts were replaced by workout sets and protein shakes. The thrill of the grind, the desire to sculpt your body into something worthy of admiration, it was all there, as vivid as if you'd lived it yourself.

You couldn't help but let out a deep, guttural groan as your body finished its transformation shredding the remains of your clothes, leaving only black tie in your bulging neck and your black boxers with a bulging anaconda desperately containing it. The room was silent, all eyes on you as your muscles bulged through the shredded remnants of your once baggy shirt and pants. Your cock, now a monstrous extension of your newfound masculinity, stood tall and proud, the head poking out from the top of your boxers like a beacon. Your voice, once high-pitched and uncertain, was now a deep, commanding rumble, a testament to the power coursing through your veins.

The interviewer's jaw dropped as he took in the scene before him. He'd seen a lot of things in his line of work, but nothing quite like this. His eyes darted to the clock, then back to you, and a look of realization dawned on his face. "Oh, sir," he stammered, his eyes wide with shock, "you're in the wrong place. The modeling agency's interviews are on the floor below."

With a flex of your massive bicep, you grinned and said, "My bad, Ms.!" The room was silent, every eye in the place was on you, taking in the spectacle that was your transformed body. The other applicants, all so neatly packaged in their suits, looked positively puny in comparison. You could see the envy in their eyes, the way their gazes lingered on your chiseled abs and the thick, powerful muscles that now rippled with every movement.

You turned and strutted away from the room, each step a deliberate show of the new confidence that filled you to the brim. The stairs were just a few feet away, and you could feel the eyes of the other hopefuls boring into your back. The idea of being late for a modeling interview was almost laughable. You had the body of a god now, and you knew it.

#muscle growth stories #personality change #jockification #jock tf #male transformation #ai generated #nerd to jock

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verdantflamingo · 8 months ago

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"Tomorrow, I must leave the Sea--forever!" - All Fish Are Not Created Equal

So, the fact that it's Mermay again hit me about five days ago, so I slapped my forehead and tried to contribute something at least. I had tons of ideas, but the final products were not great… On my tablet, I have about 10 sketches, if not more, and about ten more are waiting in the "To draw later" folder. So maybe you can look forward to a flood of underwater X-Men, or maybe not… with my pace… I also have an AU story for it… but I don't have much hope for its creation…

This is Jean Grey; she's an "ordinary" mermaid of the common mermaid type. Her tail is green, like her costume, and the underwater super algae she uses as a wrap around her chest is yellow, like her costume. The only thing that sets her fin apart from those of ordinary mermaids is the elongated back fin membrane. She is one of the oldest protégés of the lord and master of the seas - Xavier the Professor Fish. For now, she takes care of the well-being of all underwater creatures, but one day she is expected to take over from her "teacher". Everything you need to know about her for now can be gleaned from the dense cluster of words in the top right corner. Most of it is readable, and what isn't will quickly make itself known.

#Mermay #Mermay 2024 #X-men #X-men Fanart #Jean Grey #Marvel girl #Fanartblr #xmenuniverse #Marvel #Marvel Fanart #Verdant Flamingo is fanarting #Digital art #Jean the Mermaid #X-men under the sea #All Fish Are Not Created Equal #2024 #31. may #It is my day!

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strniohoeee · 1 year ago

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Can you do one with Chris where he overstims the reader until they use the safe word??🩵

Brutal

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Chris has been in one of his moods lately, and when Y/N doesn’t like it….Chris gets a little upset, and takes his anger out on her. This is for this request I got, and another request asking for an angry Chris🫂

Warnings⚠️: This is SMUT!! There’s spit, smacking, use of the word slut, dom Chris, overstimulation, and I think that’s all🤭

Song for the imagine: Bathroom, Hotel-Montell Fish

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

I wasn’t too sure what was wrong with Chris lately, but he’s been so aggy and rude, and I had given him some space for a few days, because honestly me and a rude Chris equals me cursing him out and telling him to leave

I hadn’t seen him in three days, and we texted here and there but he was back at the house with his brothers. Nick and Matt created a groupchat with me and not Chris to tell me how fucking annoying and rude he’s been.

I honestly wasn’t shocked. Chris gets like this every few months. He gets all bitchy and annoying, and usually I have to fuck him, so he gets whipped back into shape. But I wasn’t his mommy, and this behavior had to stop

Nick was texting the groupchat about the latest issue between them

-Y/N Chris is so fucking annoying I’m not even sure how you deal with his annoying ass….like I’m about to put his ass out, and change the locks on the door-Nick

-It’s that fucking bad? What’s the issue now???

-He started complaining while we were filming about how the car video was stupid, he was hot, he was annoyed and that Nick and I couldn’t get our shit together-Matt

-The fuck is wrong with this kid?? Is he a fucking child?

-He might as well be. We had to stop filming because he started cursing like crazy, and started to hit us and shit. He fucking knocked me in my mouth and I started to bleed-Nick

-he’s so fuckkkg ridiculous…like I’m getting tired of putting up with this shit….

-Yeah, and then when we went back home, he started going off about the garbage not being done, and the fucking dishes not being done, but like when I told him to do he started flipping the fuck out-Matt

-Where’s he now??

-in his room yapping like an annoying bitch-Nick

-oh brother…let him calm down he’s having a temper tantrum

-yeah..put his ass in time out next time you see him -Matt

-I sure will LMFAOO

An hour had gone by, and I was just at home chilling. I had showered and I was reading a book when I got a text message

-Chris is on his way over to you…he literally flipped out on us again-Matt

-oh brother….time to play mommy with this kid

-LMFAOOOO lord help you idk how you do this-Nick

About thirty minutes later I heard my front door open, so I knew it was Chris

“Babe” he called out

“In my room” I yelled to him

I heard his Timbs hit the ground in thumps, and then suddenly my door busted open

“Yo” he said taking his hat and shoes off at my door

“Yo? Am I your homeboy” I said raising an eyebrow at him

“I’m not in the fucking mood” he said bluntly

“Oh excuse me…you better fix your attitude because I’m not doing this temper tantrum bullshit” I told him shutting my book and placing it on my nightstand

“Listen I’m not in the mood okay. I just want to see my girlfriend and decompress” he said walking over to the bed, taking off his shirt

“Yeah, and you’re not going to come in here with an attitude and bark at me about what you want to do in my HOUSE” I said rolling my eyes at him

“You piss me off sometime” he said looking over his shoulder and scoffing at me

“Well then….the doors right there Christopher” I said to him

“Stop fucking doing that….stop fucking calling me Christopher and talking down to me like I’m some fucking child whenever we get into an argument” He said giving me his back

“Don’t act like a fucking child, and I wouldn’t have to do this” I said to him

“I should fuck the shit out of you right now, so you know your place” he said running his hands through his hair

“Please Chris….we both know I fuck the SHIT out of YOU” I told him staring darts into the back of his head

“I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll won’t even know where you’re at” he said finally turning around and looking at me

“Try me then” I told him

Immediately Chris got up and came over to me looking down at me like I was his prey

He grabbed my neck and immediately my hands grabbed at his hands, and he smashed his lips into mine sloppily making out with me

He pulled away still looking down at me

“Fucking slut” he said and smacked me. I loved when he did that

He roughly grabbed my boobs through my shirt, squeezing them hard

“Can’t wait to fuck you dumb” he said ghosting his lips over mine

He removed his pants and was just down to his underwear’s.

“You’re so hot when you act like this” I said removing my shirt

“Shut up” he said pulling me in by my neck and making out with me, he then roughly pulled me away

“You gonna use that big fucking mouth of yours to suck my cock?” He asked

“Whatever you want” I told him

“Good…I trained you well” he said

He took his underwear’s off, and stood in front of me before once again grabbing me by my neck to bring me up to eye level with him

“Open your mouth” he said, and I obliged

He spat into my mouth and pushed me away

“Fucking suck my dick” he said sternly, and I immediately went to his dick

I started to lick the tip before hallowing my cheeks out

“Fuck yeah…so hot when you’re not barking at me and just sucking my cock” he said immediately putting his hands in my hair to push my head down causing me to gag

“Awww too big?” He said in a mean way

At this point he was just face fucking me. I was gagging and my eyes were watering non stop

“So good to me, but I’m ready to fuck you” he said immediately pulling me off of his dick

He swiftly removed my underwear and flipped me over so I was on all fours

“I love when I get to fuck you like this” he said smacking my ass

“OW ASSHOLE” I yelled at him

This caused him to pull me up by my hair causing me to wince

“Watch the way you fucking talk to me doll face” and then he threw me forward

He smacked my ass again and then massaged the ache away, spreading my legs and spitting on my pussy

“FUCK, CHRIS” I yelled out moaning into the sheets

He slowly rubbed his cock up and down my pussy causing me to whimper, and then suddenly he slammed into me

“CHRISSSSS” I moaned out loudly

This only amped him up because he started to pound into me so fast and hard I couldn’t even think at all

“Taking me so well like a good slut” he said smacking my ass and fucking into me

Chris was gripping my waist so hard while pounding into me non stop, I had never been fucked this hard by Chris and I was loving every second of it

“FUCK FUCK FUCK” I started screaming out as he drilled into me

“Take it slut fucking take it” he said grunting from behind me

Chris attack wasn’t slowing down, and I was drooling all over my sheets….he was literally fucking me dumb

“Is she drooling everywhere….pathetic” he said smacking my ass again

“CHRISTOPHERRRR” I yelled out

He grabbed my arms and started to pound into me, my nails scratching and digging into his arms….he would for sure have marks

“Chris Chris I’m gonna cum” I yelled out, and immediately came all over his cock while moaning like a bitch

“I didn’t say you could cum…just for that you’re giving me two more” he said

“No Chris I can’t” I said whimpering

“YES YOU WILL” he said pulling out of me, and flipping me over to face him

He smacked my cunt and then spat on my pussy again. Causing me to moan out

He immediately slammed into me causing me to shiver because I was so sensitive still

“Youre gonna take it, and you’re gonna take it good” he said slamming into me and coming down to leave sloppy kisses all over my neck

I had my legs wrapped around his waist while he relentlessly pounded into me. I started to grip and scratch at his back

“FUCK CHRIS” he screamed out scratching harder

“Fuck baby keep doing that” he said as he started to kiss my neck and slowly taking one nipple into my mouth

“Oh god” I moaned out throwing my head back

Chris was pounding into me, and then suddenly he brought his hand down to my clit to start rubbing ruthlessly

“FUCK FUCK IM GOING TO CUM” I screamed out gripping onto his hair with my right hand

“Come on baby you still owe me one more” he said as he fucked into me harder

I felt myself clench down on Chris, and suddenly my back was lifting off the bed as I was cumming all over Chris’s cock again

“AHHHH” I started to yell out as my nails scratched harder

“One more” he said still pounding into me

“CHRIS NO NO” I said moaning out

“YES” he said, and continued to pound into me

Causing me to whimper and tears to form in my eyes

“Keep on baby cum on my cock so I can fill you up” he said thrusting into me harder

Chris was pounding into me so hard my mouth fell slack and my eyes shut. He was grunting above me and his sweat started to drip down onto me

“Oh fuck Chris” I said as I felt another orgasm beginning to form

“Come on baby give it to me” he said thrusting into me harder

“FUCK” I screamed out as my legs began to shake and I came all over Chris again. I was seeing flashes of white, and my body was shaking from how hard I just came

Chris soon came into me while moaning out my name with a slack jaw. He was fucking into me still trying to ride out his high

“ROSE ROSE ROSE” I started to scream out our safe word as it was becoming too much for me. He immediately pulled out

“Sorry baby. Are you okay?” He asked coming and laying next to me

“Yes baby…it was too much” I said weakly

“I’m sorry my love” he said running his hands through my hair

“It’s okay…that felt amazing” I said looking at him with lazy half lidded eyes

After Chris had fucked the shit out of me he had to help me to the bathroom, and we showered together, and went to lay back in my bed

“I’m sorry for being such a dick” he said stroking my hair

“It’s okay baby. You just gotta talk about your feelings more” I said kissing him on the cheek

“I’m trying, I will do better” he said kissing my forehead

“I love you, and know that I’m always here to talk to you” I told him

“I love you too baby, and yes I know that, so from now on I’ll come to you, so I’m no longer in these weird funks” he said to me

That night we fell asleep in each others arms, and the next day Nick had asked me to come over so we could have a pool day, so Chris and I got ready and headed back over to his house

When we got to the house Nick and Matt were already sitting in the pool chairs getting ready to get in the water at any moment

“Heyy guys” I said as Chris and I walked over to them

“Hey Y/N…..how’s the baby?” Matt asked laughing at Chris

“He’s better now” I said looking over at Chris and pinching his cheeks

“Fuck off” he said laughing and pulling away

We had all been sitting around for 20 minutes before deciding to get in the water

Chris removed his shirt, and when he turned around to jump into the water my mouth dropped

The scratches….he had scratches all over his back and arms

“No wonder he’s in a good mood” Nick said looking over at me

“Oh my god” I said starting to giggle

“The fuck ya talking about” Chris asked turning around

“Your back looks like you got into a fight with an animal” Matt said

“No wonder my back was burning” he said rubbing his chin

“Yall make me sick” Nick said

“Sorry I was fucking the shit out of her last night that would explain the good behavior on my part today” Chris said smiling at them

“CHRISTOPHER” I yelled, and then pushed him into the water

When he came to the surface he reached up and pulled me in by my arm. That day we spent the whole day in the pool, laughing, chatting and just have a good time

I kind of want Chris to get in those moods more often….loved the way he treated me yesterday

The End

Alright here’s some Chris smut for yall! Hope you enjoyed and I hope the people who requested this liked it🖤🖤 thank you all for 365 followers . This is insane like a week ago I had 60 followers??🥹🥰

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplet smut #Christopher sturniolo smut #smut

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joelalorian · 9 months ago

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Petals of Affection - Part I

A floral mystery in three parts featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

I know enough about flowers to fill a thimble. Really, all I know is how to kill them, accidentally or otherwise. Everything to do with the flowers in this story is courtesy of Google, so please suspend disbelief at how some of these could exist in Wyoming, yada yada. I just picked ones that fit the narrative.

Word count: 4,284

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, humor, cursing, gratuitous use of poor floral descriptions, scheming, clueless reader, fluff, eventual smut, alcohol, food, coffee, terms of endearment. POV flops around like a fish outta water. Reader has no physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.

Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)

Hope you enjoy!

Part II | Part III | Masterlist

An oasis in a world rife with death and devastation, you clung to the life the reinforced walls of Jackson offered. After years of struggling to survive each new day, you felt like you could finally take a deep breath. Everyone was no nice and welcoming, some more than others, and you slipped right into the fabric of the small community.

Within a month of your arrival, Maria assigned you to the greenhouses, having picked up on your knowledge and love of plants – particularly flowers. You must have bored her to death one too many times regaling the language of flowers over a bottle or two of aged wine while seated together on her couch. The two of you became fast friends, the kind that felt like you’ve known each other forever. It was exactly what you needed, longed for even, after long bouts of solitude.

Being close to Maria meant you visited their house often. And equally often, you would find Joel Miller there, deep in conversation with his brother about one matter or another. His eyes always flashed when you entered the house, and he’d stop mid-sentence to greet you with an effortless, “Howdy darlin’” as you followed Maria to the kitchen.

Soon enough, the soft greetings turned into more substantial conversation as the four of you dined together or gathered at Maria and Tommy’s for game night, playing whatever new board game the men found while on patrol. Laughter and friendly arguments filled the air on those nights, making it easier than ever to forget about the carnage and desolation beyond the walls.

Tonight, the four of you played Scrabble – it took Tommy finding three sets of the game to get all the letter tiles required to actually play – and your belly hurt from how hard you laughed whenever Maria challenged Joel on a word. He was better at the game than you would have thought – his reserved nature and southern twang not giving away how well-read he was.

“Denied! Fartlek is not a word, Joel. There’s no way!” Maria insisted, not willing to give into Joel’s apparent triple word score on the word that would have him take the lead in total score.

“Is to a word,” Joel returned stubbornly, refusing to remove the letters from the board. “Look it up if ya don’t believe me. It’s in the fuckin’ Oxford dictionary.”

“Oh, it is, is it? Is it in the Cambridge one, too? What does it mean then?” Maria wasn’t backing down, ripping a battered dictionary right out of Tommy’s hands to see for herself.

“Hey! I was looking it up,” Tommy yelped, shooting a wink at you as you both watched the drama unfold.

Ignoring his brother, Joel rattled off something about the word being related to running. At least, that’s what you thought he said, you were too busy fighting back tears from laughing too hard. Sure enough, he was right.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Maria grumbled, flopping back into the couch cushions. “It’s a training technique for running. Screw you, Miller.”

Unsurprisingly, the game ended shortly thereafter with Joel the victor by a healthy margin. After helping to clean up, you offered appreciation and hugs to Maria and Tommy for a delightful evening. “Next time, let’s play something less…”

“Cerebral?” Maria supplied with a frown.

“Annoying?” Tommy interjected with a grin.

Joel stayed quiet, a half-smile gracing his lips as he waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Just something that doesn’t require a dictionary or cause so much arguing,” you laughed. Waving between Joel and Maria, you added, “You two can never agree on anything! See you all tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you home, darlin’,” Joel said, rushing to put his jacket and boots on and catch up with you. When you opened your mouth to let him know you’d be fine on your own, he added, “Gotta check in on Ellie anyway.”

Maria and Tommy shared a look as Joel opened the door to usher you through. You caught them and frowned, feeling like you weren’t in on a joke or something.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the last remnants of winter’s snowy wrath crunching beneath your boots the only sound. You looked up at the night sky as you walked, gasping at the flash of colors in the otherwise darkened sky. Joel stopped, following your gaze upwards as you both stood mouths agape.

“That’s the northern lights, right? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Mmhmm. Aurora borealis. Pretty amazin’.”

“Beautiful,” you sighed, breath a cloud billowing in the crisp air, eyes soaking in every bit of the cosmic phenomenon.

You didn’t realize it staring up at the sky as you were, but Joel’s umber eyes were fixed on you when he replied, “Sure is.”

You stayed like, shoulders gently bumping as you both enjoyed nature’s show, until the temperature dropped further and you shivered. An awed smile remained plastered on your face the rest of the walk to your house, one Joel would never forget.

The dichotomy of the humid, warm air within the greenhouses and the chilled breeze outside confused your body, but you loved it. Sure, the humidity did nothing good for your hair, leaving it a frizzy mass around your head sometimes, but the dewy feeling on your skin always reminded you of childhood summers spent at the beach.

Tending to the various fruit and vegetable plants all morning, in what you deemed Greenhouse 1, you saved your favorite duties – the ones associated with flowers – for the afternoon. While you enjoyed caring for all the plants, you loved tending to the flowers, humming as you pruned and replanted clippings, expanding your every growing collection. If the patrol teams kept bringing you seeds and specimen back, you’d need yet another greenhouse. The council would just love that.

The creak of the door to Greenhouse Two drew your attention shortly after you switched gears and you stood, brushing the dirt from your jeans before glancing up. Your face shifted into a soft smile at the sight of Joel standing hesitantly just inside the door.

“Hey Joel, what did you bring me today?” You knew he had patrol duty and likely found some interesting plant during his travels. “Better not be western baneberry again. You know how poisonous those berries are!”

Stepping forward, Joel chuckled as you teased him. “I know now! It was one time and you’ll never let me live it down, will ya?” Thrusting his hand toward you, he dropped a small pile of seeds onto your dirt-covered palm. “Not sure what these are, but we found down by the ol’ mill. Might be something cool.”

“Might be,” you hummed, poking the seeds a little. Hopefully the cold didn’t get to them. You grabbed the nearest pot, quickly filled it with soil and sprinkled the seeds in as you tilled the top few inches. “We’ll find out soon enough what kind of treasure these are.”

Leaning back against a messy tabletop, hands on hips, Joel watched you tend to the new addition before finding the perfect place for the pot, nestled on a table amongst other seedlings. “Do you –”

Joel’s mouth snapped shut as the greenhouse door banged open next to him, a boisterous voice carrying into the warm space before its body did.

“Tangerine! Check out what I found today,” Alex, another member of the patrol team, called as he strolled right past Joel without acknowledgement. Younger and not as broad as Joel, the man held a growing affection for you, which irked the older man.

“Alex,” you sighed playfully. He was cute in a youthful, untrained puppy kind of way and had an annoying habit of calling you nicknames that made no sense. “I told you to stop calling me that. We don’t even have tangerines here.”

Snickering under his breath, Joel observed the younger man falling all over himself to impress you. Why you indulged the idiot, he would never understand.

Alex waved you off. “You love it, and you know it. Lookit here,” he said, thrusting his hand toward you. Slight though he was, Alex had large hands, and in his right one were three clusters of small, bell-shaped blooms with a purple hue.

“Prairie bluebell! Where did you find these?” Your face lit up as you took the blooms in a gentle grasp, admiring them for a moment before setting to work on replanting.

Alex prattled on boastfully about finding them just off a rocky path down near the river while Joel focused on watching you work. When Alex finally paused for breath, you chimed in with some flower lore.

“Did you know that bluebells are often called fairy flowers? It is said that the bluebells are rung to summon fairies to a meeting. But, since fairies aren’t always good, the flowers could be enchanted leaving anyone who wanders into a ring of bluebells lost in fairy woods.”

Joel snorted at the idea of Alex becoming lost in fairy woods, never to be found again. If only they could be so lucky, he thought. He knew there was more you could share about the symbolism of the delicate flowers, but it would be lost on someone like Alex.

Rolling his eyes, Joel was about to take his leave when Alex blurted, “Would you join me for dinner tonight? I heard they just got in some fresh venison.”

Absorbed in your work, you hardly heard him, and Alex repeated himself, a hint of annoyance in his tone. Joel froze, holding his breath in anticipation of your answer. Please say no, he thought. You could do so much better than this moron.

Brow furrowed, you stared at Alex, considering your response. “Like a date?”

The younger man nodded eagerly, a broad smile spreading across his lips. You glanced at Joel, not certain what you were hoping to see, and found him staring back, stone faced, arms crossed in front of his chest tightly. Giving you nothing to work with, your shoulders slumped, resigned. “Sure, I guess.”

Not the most enthusiastic answer, but you couldn’t remember the last time you went on a date and Alex was the only one asking.

You didn’t even realize Joel moved until the door closed heavily behind his retreating form.

The breeze carried a sense of change as you strolled home from your shift in the greenhouse. The weather was finally warming, ever so slightly, as Mother Nature loosened her grip on winter, letting spring slowly creep in.

Mixed emotions tumbled through your mind as your feet carried you through the streets of Jackson by muscle memory alone. Alex asking you to dinner caught you off guard – you had a feeling he was interested, but he never made any sort of bold move. The fact he finally did while Joel was standing right there threw you off balance.

Did you even like this guy?

Sure, Alex was attractive, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. But his personality made him seem more like a golden retriever, goofy and too eager to impress, than someone you could fall for. It made you wonder if there was any substance lurking under the surface.

In the absence of any other offers, did it even matter?

No, you guessed it really didn’t.

These thoughts carried you right to your front steps and you stopped, taken by the presence of something unusual waiting in front of your door.

A solitary stalk with a gorgeous jasmine bloom, a slip of paper wrapped around the stem held in place by nondescript string.

Picking it up, you held the flower to your nose, breathing in the rich, sensual aroma. The scent brightened your mood, and you slipped the scrap of paper from beneath the string. You whispered the words printed in a block scrawl you didn’t recognize.

Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.

What did it mean?

Glancing around, you searched the street and neighboring homes for a sign of who might have left the flower and note for you. The only people in sight were your elderly neighbors, married couples, and the kids from a few houses down. None of them would have left you such a gift.

Who in the world left this for you?

Would Alex do something romantic like this? You doubted it, but what else did you have to go on?

Once inside, you trimmed the stem and put the flower in a container on the counter, placing the scrap of paper in front of it.

You gazed at the flower, mulling over the riddle before you. The note indicated that you’ve shared moments with whomever left the flower. Jasmine itself symbolized love and romance. You made friends with a lot of people since you came to town – too many shared experiences and moments to choose from.

Twenty minutes and too much thinking in circles, you were no closer to understanding the clues and teetering on the verge of being late for your date. You needed more data before hazarding any reasonable guesses.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” Tommy questioned. Sitting at the bar watching his brother pining over you was not his idea of a fun Friday night. “You should just bite the bullet and ask her out already.”

Joel shook his head. He had no explanation for why he hadn’t made a move yet. For months now, he knew he liked you as more than friends, pined over you in silence, yet he never took the next step. Joel Miller was not a coward, but his fear of losing one of the few friends he had left in the world had him frozen in place, afraid to make any moves. He couldn’t take that chance. Finally putting words to the feelings roiling inside him, he told his brother as much.

“I get it, brother. I do,” Tommy replied, thumping Joel on the back in commiseration. “But can you really say you’re ok watchin’ her go on dates with asshats like Alex? ‘Cause that’s gonna keep happenin’ unless you do something about it. And I don’t mean killin’ the dude.”

Joel shook his head. Hunched over the bar, shooting surreptitious glances your way, he had to admit Tommy was right. He could think of few things worse than watching you go on a date with someone other than him, especially with dipshits like that guy.

“I ain’t killin’ anyone, but I do have a plan. Already put it in motion, in fact.” Picking at a scratch in the bar, Joel shifted his gaze from you to Tommy. “I might need your help with some of it. Maria’s too.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me all about this grand plan then.”

Unsurprisingly, the date was a dud.

Alex had the personality of a goldfish rather than a golden retriever, and the two of you had nothing in common. He also interrupted you mid-sentence no less than three times – once could be considered a mistake, but three times was an unforgiveable offense as far as you were concerned. You stopped making an effort about halfway through dinner and wished for a hole to open up beneath your seat and swallow you whole.

Worst of all, he acted like an entitled dickhead when you refused dessert, thanked him for the date, and let him know there wouldn’t be a second one. He’s lucky you didn’t knee him in the nuts before walking away from the table.

How unfortunate that dating sucked nearly as much now as it did before the fucking apocalypse. It was unfair, really. At what point did being a woman stop sucking?

Lamenting your lack of success in the relationship department, you trudged home. You wondered what Joel was up to – you caught a glimpse of him at the bar with Tommy earlier and he didn’t look happy, but you didn’t see him when you left. Part of you longed to visit him, maybe have a drink and sit on his porch gazing at the stars together like you’ve done before. But it was already late, and you didn’t want to bother him. Hell, he could have a woman over already, which would be mortifying if you interrupted. The thought sank unpleasantly in your mind until you got to your house and pushed it away.

A little gift waited for you on the porch, just like earlier. An orchid this time. Symbol of love, thoughtfulness, and charm. Your index finger traced the delicate petals with the gentlest touch as a smile slowly crept its way across your lips.

Another note was attached, and you plucked it from beneath the same kind of string, eyes devouring the words.

Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

The flower wasn’t completely cold, so it had to have been left recently. Brow furrowed; you glanced around but there was no one in sight. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the identity of your secret admirer, but you were at a loss. Prior to dinner, you briefly thought Alex was the culprit, but now it was obvious he didn’t have a romantic bone in his lanky body.

You heart knew who it longed for it to be, but you refused to consider it. He didn’t want you that way, of that you were certain.

Giving the orchid the same treatment as the jasmine earlier, you tucked the stem into the same container and placed it on the coffee table so you could admire the blossoms while you fell asleep on the couch. After all, why bother with a big bed without someone to share it with?

Saturdays were your day off, but the sun shining through the curtains you forgot to close the night before ruined your plans of sleeping in. Grumbling at the unnecessary brightness, you stumbled into the kitchen desperate for coffee. The coffee tin felt light in your hand when you reached for it and, sure enough, you saw nothing but a tiny amount of powdery remains of coffee beans at the bottom.

God dammit. Barely eight o’clock in the morning and this day already had two strikes against it. It wasn’t looking good so far.

Not caring that you still wore the clothes from your date the night before, you quickly brushed your teeth and finger-combed your hair into submission before leaving the house. Pausing at the door for a moment, you debated whose house to go to. Joel always had coffee – it was his drug of choice – but Maria and Tommy were closer.

Not awake enough for decision-making, you let your feet carry you in whichever direction they wanted… which was exactly three feet onto the porch before they stopped. Another flower with a note sat waiting for you.

Your mood brightened considerably at the sight of the double-flowered, funnel-shaped Eustoma, petals a pale purple. The rose-like flowers weren’t native to Wyoming, but you got lucky months ago when someone found a seed packet. You were shocked the seeds were still viable. Did someone pluck it from the greenhouse? You gave away a few cuttings not that long ago, but unless they were replanted, there’s no way they’d last this long. It had to be from the greenhouse. Where the hell else would they get one?

The addiction-like need for coffee temporarily forgotten, you rubbed the Eustoma gently against your nose, confirming the lack of scent when you breathed in and wondered what the little note would say this time.

Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Stepping back into the house, you added the flower with the others, mulling over the symbolism of the Eustoma. Whoever left it must be trying to tell you that they appreciate and admire you. But when you add it with the others, what did it all mean?

As good as you were with flowers, you were awful at solving mysteries. A detective you were not. Besides, it was still too early for this kind of puzzle.

The desire for coffee returned and you left the flower quandary behind as you made your way to Joel’s.

Joel didn’t expect to see you today, his day looking up when he opened the door to find you on his doorstep. His heart immediately sank when he noticed you wearing the same clothes from the night before, hair mussed.

“Your date must have gone well,” he said, eyes roving over your clothing, knowing his tone was less friendly than you were used to from him. “What are you doin’ here this early?”

You were clearly thrown off kilter by his remark, frowning as he stepped back to let you in.

“Wha—” you started to question him but shook your head. “I just came to see if you had any spare coffee. I ran out without realizing it.”

“Didn’t have any to offer Alex this morning? That’s a damn shame.” Joel felt the heat of your confused gaze on his back as you followed him into the kitchen.

“What are you talking about?” You sighed, staring at him with furrowed brows.

Avoiding your searching gaze, Joel poured a cup of coffee, adding the perfect amount of sugar you liked, and glowered at the cup as he handed it over. “You’re wearing the same clothes as last night. I assume you did the walk of shame this morning only to find you didn’t have any coffee.”

“It’s too early for your judgmental shit, Joel. You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?” You turned to leave, mind trying to wrap itself around why this day was turning out so oddly. Mercury was in retrograde again, it had to be. You and Joel never spoke to each other like this. As you reached the door, not caring that you basically stole his coffee cup, you called over your shoulder, “And the date wasn’t even like that, for the record.”

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” Joel muttered as you let yourself out of his house.

“You didn’t have to be such a dick, you know.” Ellie appeared around the corner; arms crossed over her chest.

“I know. I couldn’t help it. The thought of her with that jackass just…” he sighed. “I got a little carried away, but it’s fine. The plan is still in play. Did you take care of what I asked you to?”

“You come up with some strange plans, old man. Yeah, I got it done.”

Fed up with the day and everyone in town before noon, you hid away in your house for the rest of the day. The interaction with Joel weighed on you the entire afternoon and well into the night. What was up with him? Were you being too sensitive, taking his comments personally?

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was jealous you went on a date with Alex.

Unsurprisingly, you slept poorly and woke up groggy and unfocused Sunday morning. It was going to be a long day in the greenhouse if you didn’t find some coffee to power you up. Getting ready earlier than normal, you planned to stop at Maria and Tommy’s to see if they had coffee – there was no way you were going back to Joel’s after yesterday.

Opening the door to another brisk, early spring morning, the glint of sunlight on the porch drew your eyes to yet another flower waiting for you. Four in a row now, how long would this carry on for?

One of your favorites, you picked up the stalk with six lavender blossoms, violet in hue, and breathed in the fresh, light scent, savoring the sweet undertones. Fingers caressed the downy leaves, making you feel calmer, mellower, which was exactly what you needed.

You kept sniffing the floral scent as you read the accompanying note, finding it fitting.

Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

“Tell me you have a secret admirer!”

Startled, you gasped, gaze shooting to Maria as she approached your house, two mugs of coffee in hand. You face shifted into a smile at the sight.

“I’m… um, I guess. I’m not sure?” You shrugged accepting the mug Maria held out toward you. “Thanks for this, I ran out.”

“I heard,” she replied. “Joel’s on the hunt for more, don’t worry.”

“Of course he is,” you rolled your eyes.

“Soooo…” Maria gestured to the flowers and note in your hand, seeking an explanation. “I feel like there’s a story here.”

“There is, I just don’t know what it is yet,” you admitted. Inhaling the calming scent of the lavender once again, you added, “This is the fourth one I’ve received. Each one has its own riddle. Let me show you.”

Leading the way into your house – you still had an hour before your shift started – you showed Maria the flowers and each note that accompanied them. In small print, you added what each flower symbolized to the corresponding note and numbered them in the order you received them, hoping every little detail would help you sort out the puzzle.

Maria looked over everything, smiling softly at each note. “Whoever this mystery man is, he’s quite romantic.”

“Right?”

“What do today’s flowers mean?”

“In the context of the rest of the flowers so far, love and devotion,” you replied, heat warming your cheeks.

Maria whistled softly. “Someone is down bad for you, girl. Any ideas who it could be?”

Shrugging defeatedly, you admitted, “Not a clue. The one person I’d want it to be would never do something like this.”

Maria hid a smile behind her mug as she sipped her coffee. “How can you be sure?”

tbc

#jettsflora&faunachallenge #writing challenge #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel x female reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories

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rebeccathenaturalist · 1 year ago

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Existence Value: Why All of Nature is Important Whether We Can Use it or Not

I spend a lot of time around other nature nerds. We’re a bunch of people from varying backgrounds, places, and generations who all find a deep well of inspiration within the natural world. We’re the sort of people who will happily spend all day outside enjoying seeing wildlife and their habitats without any sort of secondary goal like fishing, foraging, etc. (though some of us engage in those activities, too.) We don’t just fall in love with the places we’ve been, either, but wild locales that we’ve only ever seen in pictures, or heard of from others. We are curators of existence value.

Existence value is exactly what it sounds like–something is considered important and worthwhile simply because it is. It’s at odds with how a lot of folks here in the United States view our “natural resources.” It’s also telling that that is the term most often used to refer collectively to anything that is not a human being, something we have created, or a species we have domesticated, and I have run into many people in my lifetime for whom the only value nature has is what money can be extracted from it. Timber, minerals, water, meat (wild and domestic), mushrooms, and more–for some, these are the sole reasons nature exists, especially if they can be sold for profit. When questioning how deeply imbalanced and harmful our extractive processes have become, I’ve often been told “Well, that’s just the way it is,” as if we shall be forever frozen in the mid-20th century with no opportunity to reimagine industry, technology, or uses thereof.

Moreover, we often assign positive or negative value to a being or place based on whether it directly benefits us or not. Look at how many people want to see deer and elk numbers skyrocket so that they have more to hunt, while advocating for going back to the days when people shot every gray wolf they came across. Barry Holstun Lopez’ classic Of Wolves and Men is just one of several in-depth looks at how deeply ingrained that hatred of the “big bad wolf” is in western mindsets, simply because wolves inconveniently prey on livestock and compete with us for dwindling areas of wild land and the wild game that sustained both species’ ancestors for many millennia. “Good” species are those that give us things; “bad” species are those that refuse to be so complacent.

Even the modern conservation movement often has to appeal to people’s selfishness in order to get us to care about nature. Look at how often we have to argue that a species of rare plant is worth saving because it might have a compound in it we could use for medicine. Think about how we’ve had to explain that we need biodiverse ecosystems, healthy soil, and clean water and air because of the ecosystem services they provide us. We measure the value of trees in dollars based on how they can mitigate air pollution and anthropogenic climate change. It’s frankly depressing how many people won’t understand a problem until we put things in terms of their own self-interest and make it personal. (I see that less as an individual failing, and more our society’s failure to teach empathy and emotional skills in general, but that’s a post for another time.)

Existence value flies in the face of all of those presumptions. It says that a wild animal, or a fungus, or a landscape, is worth preserving simply because it is there, and that is good enough. It argues that the white-tailed deer and the gray wolf are equally valuable regardless of what we think of them or get from them, in part because both are keystone species that have massive positive impacts on the ecosystems they are a part of, and their loss is ecologically devastating.

But even those species whose ecological impact isn’t quite so wide-ranging are still considered to have existence value. And we don’t have to have personally interacted with a place or its natural inhabitants in order to understand their existence value, either. I may never get to visit the Maasai Mara in Kenya, but I wish to see it as protected and cared for as places I visit regularly, like Willapa National Wildlife Refuge. And there are countless other places, whose names I may never know and which may be no larger than a fraction of an acre, that are important in their own right.

I would like more people (in western societies in particular) to be considering this concept of existence value. What happens when we detangle non-human nature from the automatic value judgements we place on it according to our own biases? When we question why we hold certain values, where those values came from, and the motivations of those who handed them to us in the first place, it makes it easier to see the complicated messes beneath the simple, shiny veneer of “Well, that’s just the way it is.”

And then we get to that most dangerous of realizations: it doesn’t have to be this way. It can be different, and better, taking the best of what we’ve accomplished over the years and creating better solutions for the worst of what we’ve done. In the words of Rebecca Buck–aka Tank Girl–“We can be wonderful. We can be magnificent. We can turn this shit around.”

Let’s be clear: rethinking is just the first step. We can’t just uproot ourselves from our current, deeply entrenched technological, social, and environmental situation and instantly create a new way of doing things. Societal change takes time; it takes generations. This is how we got into that situation, and it’s how we’re going to climb out of it and hopefully into something better. Sometimes the best we can do is celebrate small, incremental victories–but that’s better than nothing at all.

Nor can we just ignore the immensely disproportionate impact that has been made on indigenous and other disadvantaged communities by our society (even in some cases where we’ve actually been trying to fix the problems we’ve created.) It does no good to accept nature’s inherent value on its own terms if we do not also extend that acceptance throughout our own society, and to our entire species as a whole.

But I think ruminating on this concept of existence value is a good first step toward breaking ourselves out first and foremost. And then we go from there.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

#nature #natural history #ecology #wildlife #animals #environment #environmentalism #conservation #existence value #deep ecology #science #scicomm #environmental philosophy #climate change

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