#And I might also get the reason to get a savior baby

[chaosandwolves]

Ok this is why I despise Margaret so much

It's not only the "you were born to save ppl and that's what you do now" and the "you were a miracle baby now you made one" that makes me furious

(Buck can only be loved by them(by her) in the context of the circumstances of his birth and not for everything he is)

In Buck begins in the flashback when Philip says he wanted a reminder of Daniel and she's like, "We live with the reminder every day, staring us in the face, isn't that enough for you?"

It's such a terrible thing to say.

They never gave one thought about Buck as a whole human. He had one role and when that didn't work out she despised him.

Had Daniel lived, she would've seen Buck only through that lense of him saving Daniel.

They never considered that he would be his own person, their third child.

Like I feel like Philipp made an effort though...

[itsalwaysdark]

sighhhhh made an entire schedule for an imaginary 3mo baby. and wrote down a bunch of notes about how to take care of my imaginary 3mo baby. but then i got rly sad bc i started writing notes about how im going to be working 8 hours a day 5 days a week during the majority of the babys awake time and now im a bit sad . whatever

[the-night-moves-writing]

Savior- Sisterhood (part 1)

Winchesters x Sibling reader (sibling bond ONLY)

Castiel x Winchester Reader (Platonic)

Summary: When Castiel goes off the deep end and becomes god, he finds he still has a soft spot for the smallest winchester

Warnings: angst, reader is mute for a lot of the fic, Descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of John Winchester being a bad father

Characters: John, Castiel x Reader (platonic), Dean x Reader (siblings), and Sam x reader (siblings), very small amount of destiel (you can see it if you squint)

Word count: 1746

A/N: Hi guys! I feel like i might post a little bit more now that i'm back, also there is a part two (and maybe three) in the works for this! i will create a list for you to be able to find all the parts and link it to my masterlist once i get it all set up. Also now i am on A03 and i will link that to my masterlist here in a little bit too. Anyway sorry for the long authors note, heres the fic. <3

I think of ways to turn the tables and fear what happens when they turn, the anger he fills in turn fills me with uncertainty and anxiety. His father passed the hate down the table, passed through graves and passed through cradles. He said he could never turn out like him, he was different. He kept those he wanted to protect at arms length, never fully giving himself the right to feel and to be loved. The one exception to the rule was Sam. Little brother Sammy, his whole reason for continuing on was to take care of Sam and protect him. Then here I came into the picture like a wrecking ball through the perfectly built motel room. 

Left on the doorstep with nothing but a note that read: John i could no longer take care of our child so i give them to you. May they grow to be strong and better than the both of us. There was no name left on the note but my father John Winchester knew who it was from, some random lady in a bar. He never wanted to deal with me so he placed me into Dean's caring arms. Dean was not only my brother and caregiver but also my dad in my eyes. So Dean and Sam became my whole world my entire life, until Sam left us for college. Being only 6 at the time I had a very little understanding of why he left but Dean always just said he left us. So I hunted with Dean and John, well less hunting and more researching for them and learning everything I could about the lore so that I could be helpful to Dean and John and take Sam's place in hunting. 

 Then it was just me and Dean hunting and I learned the basics.  When Dean went to get Sam from college because John had been gone for a few days on a hunting trip i was so angry, how could he leave us and how could Dean still want him back especially when i was 10 and more than capable of helping dean. Then he came back and we were together again and things were good, until Dean died and Sam dropped me off at Bobbys. I was 13 years old and I could hunt with him, I didn't want to be away from both of my brothers. Bobby thought that I needed a car though so he let me rebuild one with him so I rebuilt my sweetheart, I couldn’t call her baby despite me loving the car, a 1965 mustang. A nice little two seater that I had painted green. I used the car to visit where Sam had Dean buried, all the time. Bobby was concerned at how much time I spent at his grave but I couldn't help it. 

I had lost both of my brothers and the only family I had ever had and I was grasping at straws, I lived but it was my spirit that was haunting Bobby's house. I had become basically mute within these past months and Bobby was trying everything to get me to speak again. So when Dean returned out of nowhere I stayed by his side, though it worried Dean how quiet I was. I never left his side though which helped to ease his anxieties and when the entity was following Dean we had bigger things to deal with. I stayed far away from Sam not being able to look in his eyes after being left again. Then we met Castiel. I was very worried and very scared. Somehow Cas picked up on it though and constantly eased my fears, he could tell why i didn't trust Sam and unlike Dean accepted and understood it. Cas easily became a good friend to me because I didn't have to speak with him and he didn't have to try to understand human norms with me. 

Dean and Sam were both worried about this new found friendship between me and the angel but they saw the way that I was opening up. Saw the way I was becoming happy again and they just couldn't interfere. Everything changed when I turned 15 Castiel died and Sam went to hell. Cas came back though like always and when Sam didn't have a soul and Dean was searching for a way to return his, Cas stuck by me cared for me and kept me safe. He answered when I called and he took care of me. He takes care of me and is the only person I can trust. Then I hit 16 and the worst period of my life began, Cas declared himself the new god. The sadness I felt in my chest, crushing my heart.

For the first time in almost 4 years I had something to say 

“Cas STOP!” I said

Everyone turned to stare at me, and Cas turned to walk towards me. He took my hand

 in his and said,

“I am extremely proud of you my very devoted little one” 

His tone borders on threatening and dipping into enjoyment and pride.

He looked between Dean and Sam and myself before he spoke once more

“I expect complete devotion from you all…” he paused for a second, taking a breath before turning to me. The look in his eyes was no longer the soft and comforting look I had grown accustomed to. 

“…you have proven that you will speak for me in what you consider dire situations, so I command you to continue to do so” his gaze softened “ You have always been my favorite, my little one. Please do not give me any reason to punish you.”  

I, not being able to meet his gaze any longer, turned to look at the ground. My favorite person was now gone and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. I could follow him and leave my brothers again, leave my family. Or I could stay and lose the person I'm closest to in the whole world.

I could hear Dean and Sam shouting but I felt like my head was being pushed underwater, I couldn't breathe and I could feel the tears begin to run down my face and splatter on to the floor below. My vision was blurry and it was so loud everything was so loud, my entire life was falling apart and there was nothing I could do about it. I was completely hopeless and useless, I wasn't good enough. Good enough to help Sam and Dean with hunts, or protect them from going to hell, I couldn't do anything. I could feel my breathing quicken and my chest tightening. 

“STOP” Cas’s voice cut clear though the air, he turned from the boys walking towards me. My thoughts, eyes, and breathing were still shaky and unfocused. At some point I had ended up on my knees sobbing.

“Obviously I cannot leave the care of you to these two, my little one, I better take you with me.” He stated, me not hearing him, though it was more a threat to the boys. Dean finally noticed me and ran over and moved to be on his knees, Sam hot on his trail following suit to kneel in front of me.

“Hey hey hey your ok sweetheart, I promise. I got you, deanies here, don't worry.” Dean said, bringing up the nickname I used to call him trying to calm me down. Dean and Sam continued their calming words till my breath returned to normal. Cas was still staring at us from afar. He looked at us for a minute before speaking 

“If you wish for me to let you keep your sister I expect obedience Dean, I do not want to fret over her as i try to rebuild heaven. I could always just take her with me if that would make you more compliant.” His voice booming and loud

“P…. please let me stay” my voice is still shaky and rough not only from the panic attack but from years of not using it.

“This is not a decision for you to make, if i dont think Dean is capable of caring for you then I won't hesitate to bring you with me.” He said to me 

“Remember for almost 4 years I was the only person you spoke to. I know everything about you, and Dean cannot care for you as much as I could, little one.” Castiel’s voice seemed to soften when speaking to me. Dean could no longer take the former angel speaking as if he could not care for HIS siblings any longer.

“I’ve taken care of her my entire life Cas I think I know what I am doing.” He said a little bit pissed and it showed through his voice.

“I am no longer Cas to you Dean, you may refer to me as lord or god but never speak as if you are close to me again.” The statement was heartbreaking for the hunter, who always had a ‘profound bond’ with the angel.

“Another thing you say you have cared for them yet they were mute for four years, and you have caused so much damage to them. Do you really think you can care for them better than I?” Cas asked him completely serious

“I tried Cas you know better than anyone that i tried for almost two years, but i can't MAKE them talk” Dean was full blown angry now. Making me more frightened

“I TOLD YOU TO NOT CALL ME CAS.” Cas said his voice booming off the walls, he brought his hand up to slam Dean into the wall

“Stop, stop, stop please, I’m sorry, I'm so sorry, please just let me stay.” you cried out

“You have no control over my actions, little one. Dean had been given too many warnings, but seeing as you want to stay I will allow it, but believe me I will be doing check ups, and if I believe that you are not being cared for I will not hesitate to take you. You are still only a child who needs to be protected.” Cas said putting Dean down, Sam running to help him, Cas then turned from me to the brothers before speaking one last time.

“Heed my warnings. I am not going to repeat myself.” he said before disappearing, leaving the siblings alone in the warehouse.

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,”��

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[lilies-n-slander]

Hazbin Hotel would be so much more interesting if charlie’s naïveté and surface-level kindness were treated as the actual flaws they are and didn’t work. Heads up, this kinda just turned into a text wall of charlie neg and ranting so don’t read if you don’t want to see that.

How she currently is, she just doesn’t make that much sense in the setting. I’ve seen ppl say that charlie is a fresh take and contrasts the edginess, but I just don’t see how she is possible. You’re telling me she’s been in hell for 200 yrs but still has this childish and naive personality, is still disgusted by the sinners being cannibalistic, violent, and even just horny, and is so detached from those she calls “her people”? She was born in hell, shouldn’t that make her more used to the sinners’ depravity and not less? She doesn’t seem to have a good grasp on what the sinners want or how they behave. It would make more sense if the show leaned into the toxic positivity white savior nepo baby angle (or rather, actually portrayed it as a *bad* thing) and rather than naïveté, her ignorance was out of self-centeredness and/or lack of true empathy for the other sinners. She would be more interesting as a character too imo.

She looks down on the other sinners (and honestly so does the show?? When she’s showing lucifer around and introduces him to her friends, they’re framed as unappealing as a joke… these are the characters the audience is also supposed to care about.. and many of the bg chars, such as the cannibal town residents, are portrayed as simple-minded brutes), there’s a lot of condescending “….ooookay” type of lines and she constantly has to think of nice ways to frame the clearly negative things she thinks about others. So why does she want to save them so much? The more reasonable explanation is a sense of white savior-ness than actually caring about them.

She’s eager to excuse whatever sir pentious did (which I’m assuming she doesn’t know?) and let him in, despite how he makes the other residents (including her own gf!) uncomfortable. And yes I say excuse, because she never inquires about his past sins or discussed him repenting. It seems to start with sorry, but also end with sorry too. This could’ve been made interesting if she simultaneously looked down on but also excused all sorts of heinous acts. Like val is the most openly manipulative and scummy character, he licks her arm, and yet she’s still apologetic about ruining things (Side note, if she’s genuinely apologetic, then she’s actually an idiot because why is she talking to the boom-mic employee *while they’re filming???*).

She doesn’t know what she’s doing and has no concrete plan but gets incredulous at ppl who don’t blindly trust her. Angel has to leave in ep 4 and she gets SO frustrated over it, like you seriously expect everyone to drop all of their other commitments for you? She has her webster definition notecards for the meeting with heaven and has to improvise and rely on angel being good at the club but she gets mad that lucifer isn’t 100% behind her plan?

Also, trust falls? Really? Then she goes “why isn’t this working? We’ve tried everything!” But on that note, the actual episode portrayal is kinda exactly what I’m going for. Not only do the trust falls not work, charlie says, “I love all of you so much,” pulls her puppy eyes, and only vaggie catches her. It’s surface level and shallow, and does not win anyone else over.

In contrast, vaggie’s attempt at building trust, throwing everyone into a battle, *actually works* (despite vaggie only being in hell for 3 years and being heaven-born, she already knows how things work better than charlie!) and yet charlie talks about it as though it already failed. She says “we work best as a team,” with the underlying message being “I can’t trust you to do things on your own.”

If she was waiting so long to reconnect with lucifer, then why hasn’t she called him in years?? Altho I’m currently rotating lucifer in my brain so I might be a bit biased

“If angels can do whatever and stay in the sky” they can’t?? Your dad is RIGHT there. I. What

She has a power dynamic with every other character except lucifer since she has her demon powers, not to mention she’s giving them a place to stay. When vaggie says she appreciates that charlie doesn’t use her powers, charlie doesn’t say “it wouldn’t be right,” she says it would be too *mean.* But if someone pushes her buttons, who’s to say they wouldn’t slip out (see her flip on a dime after val hits angel. Obv it’s justified in this case, but it shows that she’s willing to use her powers on sinners)? Again, it would be interesting if the show actually leaned into this angle. Imagine if she put on a nice front, never swore, seemed genuinely touching and understanding, but the second someone annoys her she annihilates them and becomes threatening and violent. Then she turns around and is nice again. Too much like alastor? idk

Also, many characters refer to her by calling her lucifer’s daughter, so clearly ppl know that if they cross her they’ll face his wrath by proxy (this also fits in thematically with what lute tells her in the first episode, that she’s exempt from the exterminations bc nepotism privilege). So realistically, everyone else would be a bunch of sucking-up yes-men bc they’re afraid of her. Which they kind of are when push comes to shove?

At first, she doesn’t help at all during the war and lets everyone else fight for her. Doesn’t want to get her hands dirty ig, even though all of this was caused by her in the first place. She only starts fighting at vaggie’s urging.

Like husk points out, every meeting charlie has with the angels makes things worse for all the sinners. Despite lucifer’s warnings that the meeting with heaven won’t work, and against vaggie saying to calm down, charlie basically picks a fight with heaven at the risk of *everyone else EXCEPT HER.*

What were charlie and lilith doing to stop the exterminations before lilith took her 7 year leave? Hell, what was charlie doing during those 7 years? Why does she have 0 connections outside of vaggie, who she only met 3 yrs ago? Why does she have to introduce herself to rosie, rather than her already knowing her name?

Also in ep 7 she says to alastor “I can’t believe how you can do exactly what you told me you would do!” (standing by and watching everyone fail at redemption) almost like she wasn’t paying attention to him at all.

“Why would vaggie hide that she was an exterminator” -> Rosie asks “how did that make you feel?” “It made me mad and doubt if she loves me” like I get it, it was a betrayal, but IS she stupid

Ready For This is charlie manipulating a town of ppl to join the army. Her pitch includes “on the way to the hotel the scenery is nice and you can make friends :3” and “have you ever wanted to die for a cause? Notably I myself am spared from being killed but uh that’s your problem.” Alastor pipes in that you can eat the angels and that’s what actually moves the crowd, because he understands them.

Her perspective on violence and where she chooses to draw the line is really confusing. Why does she care about sinners being violent to each other if they’ll just respawn? She stops alastor from beating up sir pentious at an arbitrary point, but is fine with him eating and presumably killing the gangsters who come after mimzy. (Edit: forgot to point out yet another example, that she was fine with vaggie tossing sir pentious and angel off the balcony but stops her from tossing niffty as well for no reason.) Why is she so apologetic to the angels actively killing sinners but was distraught over vaggie having partaken? Why was she opposed to the CANNIBALS being eager to eat the angels and saying “idk, they seem kinda murder-y” WHAT. What? I’m struggling to even begin to describe how ignorant that is during a WAR. What did she think was going to happen, that she wouldn’t have to fight anyone herself? Why did she stop her dad from killing Adam but doesn’t react strongly to Niffty finishing the job? If it mattered so much to her, the lack of reaction seems strange to me.

Isn’t it just so poetic that her weapon in the war is a shield that she uses exclusively on herself, which she hardly even needs due to her contractual immunity?

Why doesn’t she think to use her powers to build and maintain the hotel? That doesn’t require any violence or domineering. Yet when lucifer comes over it’s run-down and falling apart. Or ask lucifer to help her build it? She was concerned that asking for the meeting with heaven was such a big ask—why not start with this small thing? Father-daughter bonding.

Why does the show end w lucifer + the sinners congratulating her, and in particular, rebuilding the hotel? Hell doesn’t know that sir pentious got redeemed, so from their pov charlie’s idea didn’t work at all.

Can you tell that I’m writing this while I’m rewatching the show?

Aaand that’s that. Her char has always come off to me as somewhat condescending/fake, but I keep finding more and more things to dislike about the way she’s been written. Unfortunate. Honestly tho I might enjoy watching her more if I read her through this lens. You could probably write a similar post for most/all other chars in the show, limited only by the amount of screentime they get lmao

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Stop Using He Doesn't Know Any Better As An Excuse For Stolas

He's not a child but a grown ass man who should know better. He might be sheltered but that is still not excuse to sexual coerce someone into a transactional relationship while constantly belittling them. And no racial slurs are not sex talk it's belittling and it's a good reason why Blitzo blew up at him because he lacked so much self-awareness about how much of a privileged prick he has been to him ever since they started the deal. It's funny it's from the same crowd who says check your privilege, but the moment Blitzo does that on Stolas they coddle him as if he was unfairly chewed out (and not getting the tongue lashing he rightfully has deserved). Someone being sheltered should have a reality check if they draw the line and everytime someone tries to give him that Stolas (and the narrative) snivels like a baby and says how mean they are to him.

The lack of accountability in the narrative and the stans can really get grating when you know people like him who are excused because of naivety and as a result they end up doing worse things because people don't put their foot down with them. Also again despite depicting how he's trying to set things right he still is ignorant to how hurt Blitzo is by his actions. It just shows he's only thinking about what he feels is right and not what Blitzo thinks will recover. And again he still feels entitled by a relationship just because he did it and again he never apologized for his own doings and just thinks giving him the crystal makes up for it. Say what you will about "Apology Tour", but Bird brain need this lesson even harder and yet we are expect that Blitzo is supposed to suck to him. Well, f that. That bird brain has never done anything to sincerely apologize to Stella and his daughter. He might have verbally said sorry to the latter, but he keeps shitting things up again and again when it's obvious he doesn't really want to change for her and just wants to calm his conscious just as much Blitzo did.

If I was going to give Stolas any sort of baby treatment, it's to tell him to grow up and toughen up because his behavior is just an embarrassment to his family and even Blitzo. He's not some good savior just because he's attracted to an imp due to how he fetishizes him and the narrative treats it as a fun quirk. There is a difference between being sheltered and a bit insensitive to being practically an obnoxious bigot whose attitudes towards lower caste races is obvious and yet one stupidly believes they are progressive even when people say you are not.

[imunderthegoddamnwater]

I missed the Dreamtale twins....well, my version of them atleast

Honestly I redesigned Nightmare and Dream because I hate the creator and since she throws a tantrum like a baby whenever someone makes a change in her au I use it to make her mad :]

Anyways here is a bit of lore about them:

-Dream and Nightmare arent really "a version of sans", they never been one

-Dream has some plant features in his sans form just like his Mother (he hates it lol)

-Dream uses a sans look like appearance because he doesnt wants to scare people he helps, after all, Both Dream and Nightmare are the sons of an Angel (Yes they do technicaly have a dad), and looking at an Angel like creature is hard and kind of disturbing for mortals, its not hard for their friends to look at them since their eyes have got used to it, but someone Who just met Dream or Nightmare wont be that okay with it

-Nightmare and Dream can be called she, it, he or anything else, they dont label things, That also counts for sexualities, races, genders and more, they are whatever you call them, they wont really care

-Dream and Nightmare has an older brother called "Savior" (Who looks like a papyrus)

-Dream and Nightmare hates their mom, Nim ruined Nightmare by manipulating him to do shit she's not able to do herself and also was one of the reasons for the Apple incident, Dream was neglected a lot by Nim since she was more focused on Nightmare, she was manipulative towards him as well

-Nightmare and Dream made a truce almost a decade ago, they are mostly okay with eachother (they both technicaly are good guys in their own way)

-The only thing Dream and Nightmare has in common with a sans is their love for junk food and bad puns

-Nightmare turning Dream into stone bit might not be in this au (Im not sure yet)

-Nightmare usually doesnt uses a sans disguise since he has trauma related to the incident with it, he usually uses an Undyne disguise if he needs to, Also her second favorite disguise is Asgore

-Nightmare can have a disguise but he cant hide what happened to his eye, that part stays the same

-Sometimes flowers blooms on top of Dream’s head if he's happy or frustered

-Nightmare sees his team as his kids (and talks about them like they are his kids) while Dream sees his team as friends

-Dream's best friend is İnk

-Nightmare and Dream are in good terms

-Dream and Nightmare shares a similiar hate towards mortals like their mom, but ofcourse they have expections

-Nightmare's best friends are Ccino and Abby/Abolitionist Chara

-Dream dates Fresh while Nightmare is with Reaper Sans 🤭

-Nightmare likes reading and tea

-Both Dream and Nightmare will outlive their teams :(

-Dream keeps forgetting that his friends are mortals and they need stuff like sleep and eating at times, meanwhile Nightmare was forced to learn since everyone in his castle are insane and ignores their own needs, meaning Nightmare had to learn to take care of them

-Both Nightmare and Dream are physicaly very strong

-Both Dream and Nightmare can consume rotten food without any issue, they are literal gods of Negativity and Positivity, they cant get sick that easily

-Dream is nice but he isnt weak or dumb, he also does NOT has the mind set of a child, he will kick ass if he needs to

-Both Dream and Nightmare has issues with the english launguage since some words were very different, as an example, the word gay meant "joyful" and "happy" in the past....I dont think I need to explain what kind of train wrack this cauzed

-Savior is a good older brother so both Dream and Nightmare loves him

-Both of the guardians teams did several tests behind Dream and Nightmare's backs to see if they are plants or not, neither of them find the answer yet...

-Dream and Nightmare suspects they might turn into a tree when they become older, they dont like the idea :(

Thats all that I can remember

[theupstairskid]

Thinking about Buck's coma dream and I realized that, despite what Buck's dream tells him, there's a good chance that Buck would have still been heavily ignored by his parents regardless of if Daniel had lived or not.

Full disclosure I'm an only child so I don't have personal experience with sibling dynamics, but I think the show has given me enough evidence to support my theory/speculation.

First we start with the fact that Evan Buckley's entire existence is linked to and a condition of Daniel's health. For Philip and Margaret Buckley, Evan Buckley is and always will be a reminder of Daniel. Buck's coma dream gives us an idea of what Buck thinks Daniel might have looked like as an adult but we will never actually know. So maybe it's a physical resemblance or simply the conditions surrounding Buck's birth or both, but every time the Buckley's have looked at Evan they see Daniel. (I hope they get to a point where they see Buck for Buck and it seems like we might be heading there, but I'm only using information from the show up to the point of the lightning strike/coma.)

So the link between Daniel and Buck is simply this, if Daniel had been healthy Evan would not exist. If Daniel never had leukemia, Evan Buckley would have never been born. Sure, for argument sake we can say that maybe at some point Philip and Margaret would have wanted to expand their family, but based on my interpretation of the show the ONLY reason they had a third child was to make a match for Daniel so that he could have the bone marrow transplant. It seems to me that they were happy with their two children and had no original intention to have a third. (I also personally believe that if Buck hadn't been a match they would have tried for another child until they found a match, given their level of desperation.) And even if they did have a third child in this situation where they already have the family they wanted/planned there's no guarantee it would have been Buck since the conditions would have changed and the timing would have been off.

Now let's follow the path of the coma dream: in this scenario Daniel had leukemia, the Buckley's had Buck to save Daniel and Buck actually fulfilled the conditions of his birth. He saved his brother.

Buck is an unreliable narrator, we've seen a few examples of this throughout the show, and on top of that this dream starts out as sort of a wish fulfillment, a look at what could have been if the family tragedy never happened. In actuality it's kind of a "Sliding Doors" type situation where we learn what might have become of everyone else had Buck not gone through what he did and entered their lives the way he did.

But basically in his dream, Buck saves his brother and the Buckley family seems to be a strong family unit. The Buckley parents aren't distant or conditional with their affection and they are, for all intents and purposes, the parents Buck always wanted. Buck has the family he's always wanted. Semi-related, I'm actually curious about what made the entire Buckley clan, Doug included, move to California. The Doug thing is especially interesting given that you'd think he would want to separate Maddie from her family and having them be on the opposite coast would be perfect for that. But maybe since the Buckley bond is so strong since Daniel didn't die, maybe he had no choice but to go along with it. Also interesting is that the parents Buckley don't seem to dislike Doug in the dream like they do in real life.

I think it's pretty obvious that Buck's coma dream is an ideal fantasy, at least at the beginning. Until he realizes that Maddie is still with Doug, Bobby is dead, and Eddie's parents took custody of Christopher. (Which are all things Buck directly influenced)

Because I think that if Daniel had actually lived, Buck would have still been ignored and neglected. Sure the Buckley's could love and adore him as the savior baby and dote on him for saving his brother's life, but what I think is more likely is that they would still continue to focus all of their attention onto Daniel and Buck would get pushed to the wayside anyway. Daniel will need to recover and need more tests and treatments to make sure that the transplant worked after all. Daniel is still the child they wanted. Evan Buckley is the child they needed to save the one they wanted. As they say in the show, he's spare parts.

Even in the dream we see that Buck's conjuration of Daniel is somewhat domineering. He's stubborn and dismissive of other's concerns, certain that he's right. He doesn't really listen. He butts heads with Doug because they're both doing the "Alpha male" posturing thing. It could just be older brother behavior, but since this is really Buck talking to Buck, there's an implication that Buck knows would've always been deferring to Daniel had he lived.

I'm not sure if Maddie would also get pushed further aside, but I do think that Maddie would have had to take up parenting Buck anyway even if Daniel had lived. I think that Buck would have still hurt himself for attention and learned that his parents' love is conditional even if he had saved their beloved son, because: "No one has time to play with you; Daniel needs to rest, Evan." "We won't make it to your game, Evan, we need to take Daniel to the doctors." "Maddie is going to pick you up from school, Evan, we need to take care of Daniel." "Don't touch those Evan! Those belong to Daniel." "Oh this is our son Daniel, he's a leukemia survivor. Our amazing boy."

Evan Buckley was always going to be in Daniel Buckley's shadow regardless of if he lived or died.

[vanmarkus]

A terrible headcanon I have is that Tommy already knew about Daniel.

Chim told him (like he told the bomber) when it happened when they met up for drinks in a “you have no idea how crazy life can get” way or maybe he complained the shitty Buckley parents or maybe he complained about Maddie being hurt by Buck’s behavior.

when they go save Bobby and Athena Tommy doesn’t make the connection because in his head Chimney’s girlfriend brother Buck vs Evan are two different people. but then the whole thing with Eddie happens and Eddie says “listen. It’s not my place to tell but Buck’s parents…they weren’t good with either him or his sister” and that’s when something clicks in Tommy’s head and he goes “oh. He’s the savior baby. Of course he’s gonna react badly when he thinks he’s being replaced.” and that’s one of the reasons he decides to go see Buck immediately

okay, but i love this??

like, i don't think the show would ever give us this (though who knows) but it makes perfect sense to me!! Chim would've never thought Buck and Tommy might become friends let alone start dating... so why not spill ALL the beans, right?

which would give Tommy this unfair advantage of knowing about Buck's background, but it'd also put him into the perfect position to give Buck exactly what he needs, plus he just resonates with it, due to his own childhood difficulties and again, Buck is loveable and sweet, so of course Tommy wants to give him everything and more... god.

[dapper-lil-arts]

So I have some time, so I will try to preach about our lord and savior of rare ships: Sunset Shimmer x Cadence.

So hear me out. If Sunset never crossed the portal, she would be forced to interact with Cadence. They would be around the same age. I think Sunset was Celestia's student when Cadence became an alicorn, so there are a lot of reasons for them to interact. BUT! The attention that Celestia gives her new official "Niece" fills Sunset with jealousy. "Why is she part of YOUR family? She just arrived. Is it because she is an alicorn? If I became an alicorn, would I be part of your family, Celestia? Would I be your daughter?"

At first, Sunset will hate her, but at the same time, she wants to talk to Cadence because she wants to know how to become an alicorn. And Cadence wants to befriend Sunset because she does not know anyone else in the castle and because Celestia asked her to do so.

They will be each other's first friend. Sunset will protect Cadence from the nobles because she has experience dealing with them, and she hates them more than she hates Cadence. Sunset will treat Cadence as a normal pony and not a princess because she does not deserve to be one (but Cadence will not know that Sunset thinks she is better).

Cadence will try to be friends because she is the Princess of Love, and she will like that Sunset talks to her as a normal pony. She is unsure that she is capable of being a princess and would love the protection. They are perfect for each other, and their character arcs can be so enriched with them in a relationship! (Sorry, I promise you I'm not crazy; I'm just lonely in this ship).

Its def an deranged crackship, I'll give you that. You should write fanfic about it! Might expand your squad I am rarely into crackships myself, and i envisioned Cadance as being much older for some reason, she did have baby on the show

but I imagine its them having a baby at a young age n stuff. Flurryheart, i mean also I literaly wrote a chapter of my multiverse fic where Sunset is Cadance's pupil, so this is so far fetched to me lmao. and yeah Cadance would be derranged as a mentor. She has a love board and everything, trying to get Sunset some partners. its a fun Psychoanalyzing chapter for Sunset

But yeah i can't say I feel much for the ship you're suggesting at all, you'd have to put in the work to write it into a full story n stuff

[almostgenerallyalways]

tgm fic recs

@stcverogers tagged one of my fics in a rec list yesterday and i thought it was such a good idea, i wanted to share some of my own favs

in no particular order:

* * *

hangman 

one time thing // kiss the sun (fight the fire) // love that’s a real long shot  He nods again like that’s exactly what he expected you to say. “I think you’re wrong. Doesn’t matter now though, does it?” i would rec anything by @callsignvalley but this is probably the series that got me most. i also love tailspin and its rooster follow up steady

california coast in your green eyes // i’ll carry my bags just until i can hold you again (2 different series) Bob’s older sister gets the news that his plane went down during a training drill, and shows up at the hospital at the same time as an arrogant pilot. //  Six months after they break up, Jake shows up at Julie’s Family thanksgiving. A second chance holiday romance with fake dating, family drama, and fall festivities. @theharddeck these fics, esp carry my bags, feel so so real and human to me, i love julie and the characterisation of jake feels so on point i also love her series out of the clear, blue sky as well as kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit + its follow ups

i’ve been holdin’ out so long (4 part series) You can’t stand Hangman, but your dreams lately say otherwise. He notices. @steadfastconviction i adore Bluegrass and her sass

do not engage (series) You hate Hangman. Really, you do... Or so you like to think, until it begins to seem like that distaste might not be as strong as you’d prefer to believe. @clints-lucky-arrow the entire f&f universe is great but Duchess especially is a badass

afterburn (series) It had been clear from the moment you got inside a cockpit that you were going to be something special. You certainly weren’t the youngest Naval Aviator to be invited to TOPGUN, but you had been the youngest to graduate at number one in more than thirty years. Which is all the more reason why it was so tragic that you would never, ever, be able to fly again. @top-hhun is a master of setting a scene

the off-season (series) It was supposed to just be one summer. But somehow you found yourself living in your grandparent’s Maine vacation house indefinitely. It was quiet when the summer tourists left, but tolerable. That was, until your brother’s friend from college needed a place to crash and he somehow wound up staying in your guest bedroom. Also indefinitely. @ereardon just started this series but i’m so into this world (au) already

fuck (the universe) (series) You’re a Kazansky–Tom “Iceman” Kazinsky’s youngest daughter–and you’ve taken after your father and become a Naval aviator. You finished at the top of your class at Top Gun and have worked diligently and fruitlessly to get to where you are now: North Island. You don the call-sign Wisteria not only because the beauty of the flower but because of its lethal qualities. i mention @roosterbruiser below bc i read landslide first but holy fuck indeed

* * *

rooster 

landslide (series) It’s been almost three years since the accident that took half of her, and Faye “Clover” Ledger seems fine, really. She loves her old house, she has a perpetually expanding vinyl collection, she’s got a job she likes on base, and she is only a short drive from the beach. She’s grounded--literally. @roosterbruiser landslide is one of those fics i have to read in little bits because it’s just too good. beautiful writing that just transports me (and i love faye, she may be the most developed fanfic oc i’ve ever read - and I love her taste in music)

baby let’s play house // pt 2  you got yourself in trouble. bradley has a bit of a savior complex. together, you come up with what could potentially be the worst idea in the longstanding and illustrious history of bad ideas. @seasonsbloom i just really love this fic, it shows all the quietest best parts of bradley

first impressions  at the induction day for the newest recruits of the Golden Warriors of VFA 87, rooster assumes you’re a civilian, instead of, you know, a member of his team? you see how far you can push it before he figures it out.  @ohcaptains‘s pilot in this fic is the badass bitch i wish i could be. as well as fucking funny.

like i can (series) After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay. @sometimesanalice perfect blend of cute, funny and heartmelting

* * *

bob 

he’s so pretty (when he goes down on me) // pt 2  things between you and Bob are strictly business: he’s your backseater, and that’s all there is. @seasonsbloom‘s writing is so good it made me want to try writing fic myself

* * *

hangman x rooster

we’re fools to make war In a Walmart at three am, between beef jerky and tortilla chips, with the lights flickering above them like it’s the fucking twilight zone, Bradley wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone. or: it's a hundred degrees in texas. i can’t find a tumblr link for this but the writer is @baroness-elsa. this is 66k words and i read it in two days which probably says enough. holy shit.

* * *

there are many many more (this fandom is FULL of talented writers, damn) but this already took me an hour so that’ll be part 2 haha

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨����🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

129 for 🚨!

---

“I have to go, okay? I’ll text you later.”

“Okay,” Maddie replies. “Okay, thank you. I’m sorry.”

Eddie ends the call, having no idea what state he’s about to find Buck in. 

When he walks out to the front entryway of the house, he is greeted with the sight of a man who looks worse than Maddie had sounded. Red, puffy-eyed. Misery written plainly in his eyes and in the twist of his mouth. Eddie thinks he looks fairly green. Like he might puke, or he already has. 

“Buck?” Eddie asks. “Jesus, what happened? Maddie called and I-”

“I know why they’ve always hated me,” Buck cuts him off. “I know why… And I’d hate me too.” 

“What?” Eddie asks. “What do you mean?”

Buck tells him everything. It all comes spilling out his mouth like a broken floodgate. And suddenly Maddie’s phone call makes a lot more sense. Buck explains about the secret middle child, Daniel. Younger than Maddie but older than Buck, who became sick with leukemia when he was just little. He explains that they were running out of options and didn’t have a bone marrow donor. So they had Buck, a savior sibling who was supposed to be a perfect match. Evidently, it didn’t work out that way. And the little boy died, younger than Christopher. 

Eddie listens to the whole story in abject horror. There are so many levels of complications and details that make Eddie’s skin feel like it’s on fire. From the sick child, to the ethical side of Buck’s whole existence, to the erasure of the child after his death. He thinks of Maddie, at Christopher’s age, being told to never mention their sibling ever again. Not even to her other brother. And she did that. She held it all in. Eddie’s not sure how she managed that. 

And the thing is, he gets why Buck is so forlorn and sick about this, rather than just angry. He is angry. But it’s not that simple, is it? Because as much as Eddie is disgusted by Buck’s parents and frustrated with Maddie, he also feels an overwhelming sympathy for them. He cannot imagine surviving what they’ve been through and not coming out of it a little fucked up. 

“I’m the reason their son died,” Buck tells Eddie shakily as Eddie guides him into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. “The son they loved. No wonder they couldn’t love me. It’s a fucking wonder Maddie does.”

“No,” Eddie says, sitting Buck down in a chair and handing him his glass. “No, Buck. You are not the reason.” 

“My bone marrow literally failed to save him,” Buck counters. 

“That’s not you,” Eddie insists. “That’s just statistics. These things don’t always work. Especially thirty years ago!”

“Tell that to the people whose kid died!” 

Buck’s voice is raising. He sounds a little frantic. 

“Buck, it’s not your fault,” Eddie insists, resting his hands on Buck’s shoulders. “You were just a baby. Even if they think it is, it’s not. It’s just a really sad thing that happened.” 

A complete tragedy. Horrific. But not one that should rest on Buck’s shoulders. 

Buck shakes his head. “I… I get that. Logically. I know it’s not my fault, but…”

“But what?” Eddie asks. He’s pleading a little. He needs to know how to help Buck through this. This is unprecedented territory, as far as relationships go, for Eddie. Probably for most people, really. 

“But what if… What if this is what I am?” Buck asks, tears streaming down his face. 

Eddie frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“I… It’s like I’m cursed or something,” Buck explains. 

“Cursed?” Eddie echoes.

“I couldn’t save my brother. I couldn’t save John. Doug is dead because of me.” Buck lists it all off like irrefutable evidence. “N-not that he didn’t deserve… But him dying didn’t have to happen, and then it did. Because I showed up.”

“Buck, no.” Eddie shakes his head. He tightens his grip on Buck’s shoulders. “No.”

“What if I just cause death, Eddie? Like a fucking black cloud hanging over everyone’s lives?”

Eddie feels panic stirring in his chest. Like he can feel the figure of Buck’s reason tumbling down a very steep hill and he can’t catch up to stop it from happening.

“Buck, listen to me,” Eddie pleads. “Those things didn’t happen because of you. Even Doug. He chose his own behavior.” 

“You don’t know,” Buck replies.

“Yes, I do! I do know!” Eddie promises. “You save people every day. You’ve made two careers of it now. I know you’ve had trauma and horrible things happen around you, but those do not outweigh the good.”

“I can’t…” Buck takes a gulping, shaky breath. “I can’t do this, Eddie. It follows me.”

“You’re in therapy. You’re doing so good,” Eddie reminds him. “This… This feeling isn’t forever.”

“What’s the point if everyone around me just dies and I can’t stop it?” He asks like he’s begging Eddie for an answer. But Eddie doesn’t have one that he hasn’t already said. It’s not true. Not everyone around him dies. He doesn’t cause any of it. 

“Buck…”

“I can’t save everyone, Eddie! I can’t!”

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

This could be a totally crack pot theory and you may bap me on the nose and point in another direction if so but..

Is the reason the Marines and World Government are so dogged about getting Shanks because he's part Celestial Dragon? I mean, he can totally be something else; our lord and savior, Oda sensei, has yet to say it’s gospel. But are the Celestial Dragons trying to bring this wild card back into the fold? I mean, he is also Roger's chosen to take the mantle of the Straw Hat, so that might be why. But they could also be like, "Oh good, former mentor out of the way now, come home now," or something? Could be a mix of both? Like, bring the baby Celestial Dragon back into the fold but also have this possible problem in the future under control.

Or maybe they want him to denounce his former captain use him as a propaganda piece. Like look Rodger stole an entire child and kept him as a slave on his ship. As the former Rodger pirates and Buggy see him slowly deteriorating threw the paper— You know Peata and Johanna hunger games type of situation—and God that would break Shanks.

Idk could be absolutely off base. I’m just shooting into shit into wind and hoping I hit something.

As you mentioned in the last question I sent, I’m very intrigued to see Mihawk break under these circumstances. I feel like it will be a very interesting character study. We don’t have a lot of that with his character in fic mostly, I think, because he's so solid in his older incarnation that it just seems almost out of character for him to fall apart. But younger and less settled, still haven’t reached the highest heights or lowest lows... It will still definitely be a challenge but not improbable. After you're done with this AU, I might write something about canon Mihawk meeting this version of himself- or canon Shanks meeting his version, that won’t end horribly. Especially since these two would be trauma-bonded and practically crawling into each other's skin type of close. While canon characters would have the luxury of non-vulnerability and emotional stability.

Also would you like art? Because I can make art? No promise it’ll be good but I feel like this au deserves some art!

One thing about me is that I love a good crackpot theory, lol. Give me a rabbit hole and I'll never come out. So, that could be! It is very, very compelling for Shanks to be a CD. And one of the big reasons why marines want Shanks is because he's basically the son/successor of Roger, in this AU they are taking the crackdown on Roger's line/crew/associates to the extreme. Shanks is the perfect target, because he's the successor/plus he's young, emotionally attached to Roger, and was at the heart of the Roger pirates' doings. All these things the marines intend to exploit for their own purposes. And they've been gathering intel on Shanks for a while, too. Propaganda purposes? YES. Also, all the pirates they've captured in Loguetown either know who Shanks is, or they find out due to the Marines. So, Shanks is going to be used to break the morale of the captives they have. And not just Shanks. What happens when you single out the greatest pirates in the crowd and systematically break them in front of everyone?(Shanks knows he should stay strong. he knows it. But after so much time has passed...he can't.) Who is going to resist after that? And love the Peeta/Johannna parallels!

As far as Shanks being a Celestial Dragon...hm, there's a reason Doflamingo wasn't caught. And also...the marines gathering intel on Shanks is important to that, because they are also gathering intel on everyone and everything in order to move towards ending piracy for good. No stone is left unturned. During this search they will find certain things, and origins of certain people. And Shanks being a Celestial will give them a good reason to not outright kill him after they do their worst. Oh, I'm eager to see him break myself! (I say that like I won't be doing the breaking, lol) "because he's so solid in his older incarnation that it just seems almost out of character for him to fall apart." One reason why I'm putting so much into this AU is because of exactly that. Drama and angst and hurt is my thing, but with the older versions of Shanks and Mihawk, there is not much that can phase/hurt them to the point of evoking severe drama/angst/hurt, unless it's an overpowered threat. With their younger selves, it's a different story. Their lowest lows lead to the their highest highs in this AU, the idea that marines attempted to wipe their enemies off the face of the earth and instead only created a monster for themselves is a driving theme. So yeah, that'll be fun. OOOOOOH, I'd read that in an instant! please, please do. The juxtaposition of the independent and powerful men the canon Mihawk/Shanks are against the glued-at-the-hip, jointly feared and entertwined Mihawk/Shanks this pair will be. I'd love art! Anything that gets made for this I'd eat up! Fire away! I actually have some sketches I've made too while writing, I'll throw those up pretty soon.

[codename-adler]

My 2 niche aftg takes are that I love and accept Nora’s extra content, just because they don’t get married or say I love u or any of that stuff, doesn’t mean they are not healing and that they can never truly be healed without those things, it’s just that those are not important to them and that’s valid, their happy ending doesn’t have to look like everyone else’s (I also love and accept Nora’s writing, not a fan of when everyone jokingly bashes her books as if she didn’t capture all our hearts, art is meant to make you feel, and she succeeded in that a lot more than a lot of other ‘good’ writing)

Number two is that I’m not a fan of a lot of the fanon characterisation of Andrew and Neil, I know it’s par for the course in queer media that a fandom will feminise one character and masculinise the other (and make one the ‘bottom’ and one the ‘top’ respectively) , and I even expected it, obviously that’s weird in itself but that’s not even the part that bothers me that much since I knew it would happen, the part that does is that they clearly have done it the wrong way round, because like, if any one of those boys is going to wear a skirt, it’s Andrew, he’s the one that likes fashion and might decide to experiment, not Neil. If anyone is a ‘submissive’ it’s Andrew, the way he acts in the books, he literally does anything neil wants to make him happy, and if anyone gives top energy, it’s Neil josten, and I know this is silly but I guess it made the whole thing a lot more jarring for me when I went on to read fanfic and it felt even more ooc than it usually would. Anyway that’s all.

that damn extra content... Okay. i have barely read any of it.

i've read Wymack's story / Dan's recruitment; me likes. i just love that man. nora knows how to build her men.

i've read Jean's drafts and his abuse at the Nest; me hates. the SA just thrown in there for what? Riko's already dead, it's pointless to further villainize him when the series is over. i hate SA as an afterthought, something that gives character, something being used as a plot device. with the announcement of TSC however? we'll see...

i've read Allison's future; me irks. see previous ask.

andreil stuff, i've read about here and there but not directly from the source; some me laughs, some me don't care. that's literally it. i don't give it much, if any, thought at all.

i've heard of Renee's future in the peace corps and marrying a man; me ew ew ew. she is so queer-coded it's baffling how that was achieved with Renee/Jean in mind. and the peace corps?? that toxic american white savior bullshit?? baby no. there are much better religious orgs and rep out there.

the rest is mystery to me. i'm cumulating more and more reasons to thoroughly read through the EC, but it's not like... an urge. i'll get to it when i get to it. i appreciate nora sakavic for writing it, but also for not pushing it everywhere. she doesn't mind whether one considers it canon or not. i really, really appreciate that of her. SO DO NOT COME FOR HER AND HER WRITING. aftg is GOOD. it was never badly written. it's just so out of left field that it is difficult not to be made to feel ashamed for liking the series by mainstream lit and lit. corps. honestly give me a work of literature that has had a stronger grip on its readers than aftg and that you consider being 'well-written' in comparison. i will never, ever say it's bad. because it isn't. i will not be taking any question.

as for the second part of this ask... i am uncomfortable discussing sexual fanon content, and i simply do not read that kind of stuff very often, again because it's not for me, so i won't be able to add to this. perhaps other mutuals can reach out to you on this?

thank you for your contribution @doctorwhomybae and sorry for the tardiness!

[romanarose]

Hello whore! Happy birthday in advance.

What if ROF Frankie were Beatriz's bio son and Santi were the adopted kid? How would that affect their current personalities?

Also, (within the canon timeline), what if Ben weren't a slut? (Lol) Do you him and Frankie might have run away already? Or maybe Santo would murder Ben?

Rooms on Fire

RomanaVerse Birthday Bash

Okay lets get to thinking here.

Firstly.....

thats a great question. I swear I'm not trying to punish our baby here but I just don't think Frankie would fit what Beatriz would want from the savior either. Honestly I think Will would have been best suited for the role, he woul have been what Beatriz invisioned in a jesus figure; he's calm, rational, compassionate and even tempered generally but is not afraid to do what needs to be done to protect his family. As we see with him killing Melanie, he could have made it hurt... but he didn't. Yes, he hit Rey and that was shitty, but he didn't do it for funsies or rage, he did it to correct behavior. Reyansh is a.... point of contention amoung Ben, Will, and Santi, as is JOnah but Jonah is more careful. Jonah knows not to be caught alone in close proximity, not to be too goofy and silly. He know more boundaries since yes are on him after the whole delilah hollbaloo

Rey is not careful. He's a lover. Wether iris or his friends or even frankie and jonah, he's a touchy, smiley, biiiiiiiig hug kinda guy. Will is trying to manage this relationship, remind Rey he is a guardsman, not her little friend and certainly should be watching himself around Madonna. Will is naturally suspicious after Delilah.

I'm rambling omg this has nothing to do with the story

anyway Frankie in this story is passive, quiet. to quite. He's not wht beatriz wants from a god, and certainly not the savior! I havn't gone into it but she absolutly hurt that poor baby trying to make him tougher, and Santi used to stand up for him. Santi is a lot of things and certainly not a good person or partner but he is very much "mine" when he thinks he owns someone, he owns them. Madonna, frankie, Ben and Will are 'his' and in his teens did not let Beatriz hurt him.

I think Santi would be less..... like that. Santi's psyche broke with the idea of being a god and the savior constantly being ripped away and changed, mixed with his mom raising him to beleive these things, and her own mental illness passed down to him.

I personally think of Santi has BPD, maybe some other stuff. He talks about suffering meltdowns like madonna had and Frankie being the one to calm them. Madonna is autistic coded but i dont think santi has signs of autism, but rather has meltdowns from his BPD. If Beatriz wasn't a shit mom she wouldn't have done things like try to beat it out of him or lock him in closets when he was screaming as a kid. A good mom could have worked with him and he could have turned out fine. but that wasn't int he cards. I think without the uhhhhhhh "hey your a god hey no your not actually your the savior no ur not" all the time he wouldn't be this bad but ti think he'd still be rough. I think his possesiveness of frankie might be toned down. I think Santi knew what beatriz was doing sexually to frankie and since he was also fucking Frankie behind the scenes I think it was just a MESS

As for the other part....

I stand by that Ben loves Frankie. I know that most of yall dont believe me but i think he does XD in the fishben bonus chapter, symptom of being human he clearly cares... but i think he's bit of an hydrenalin junkie. Ben does crazy shit, he has no fear. he's an alcohalic and a drug user Madonna desribes him mostly in fun terms, he's childish and immature. Perpetual teenager.

I think even without the cheating... it couldnt work. I think ben could potentially run away with Frankie, because the high of the run would excite him... but theres 2 problems

1, the main reason he doesnt try to leave now isn't because he wants to fuck others. Ben could fuck anywhere lololol he certainly isnt sexually abusing Iris because he cares about hr in anyway, and all the women in delta he fucks are interchangeable

its because he thinks he's a god. he thinks they all are, he has a loyalty to santi he wont let go of. While Frankie and Santi were beaten and frankie sexually abused, the millers didn't suffer that fate. They were essentially adopted later, im thinking Will at age 10 and Ben at 7 or 6. they were on the verge of death when beatriz rescued them, leaving them both with extreme fealty for the garcia's. Ben fucking frankie behind his back is as far as he will go.

2. The high of running away would wear off, and Ben would want his life of luxery, all the dick and pussy he could ever want, and Iris's food. Hes a pretty boy, not to the most skilled in survival. he'd get bored.

I think if santi wasnt the way he was, maybe ben and frankie could live happily together in delta..... but santi is.... like that

[drachenfalter]

Don't you happen to have theories on the way grimwalkers age and how old is Hunter chronologically?

Okay, so I had theories before it was revealed that Belos made way more grimwalkers than is reasonable.

In Hollow Mind, we only see a bit over 20 grimwalker remains, and Belos started making them roughly 350 years ago, which would give us an average age close to 16 - Hunter's age.

But then we got this:

and this:

That's a lot more than 20.

Which means my old theories no longer work. So let's make some new ones:

In For the Future, we learn that grimwalkers can come out of the mud they grow in fully formed, potentially looking much older than they are - but there is a catch to this.

"It's not ready."

Growing a grimwalker takes a long time.

Belos has been gone from the Isles for just as long as the Hexsquad, so this grimwalker was in the mud for months at least - but the fact that Belos is growing multiple at the same time when he only ever has one around leads me to believe that the process might actually take years.

Well, if you want a grown-up grimwalker, that is.

A baby grimwalker might take a lot less time. And we have reason to believe that Belos at least experimented with that at some point.

Here it is. The baby grimwalker.

Now, Hunter believes that Belos took him in after his family was destroyed by wild magic, and Hunter also is the youngest golden guard and went through the standard Coven Scout training before he took on this role. Which means he was around for a couple of years at least.

So, maybe he came out of the muck as a twelve or thirteen year old, and Belos just told him he lost his memories because of wild magic or something.

But there is one other possibility:

The baby on this page could be Hunter.

After FTF, we know that this book doesn't depict the average grimwalker. That this is a specific experiment.

Maybe Belos decided that getting them out fully grown was the reason they always betrayed him, and so decided to try another tactic.

Let the newest grimwalker grow up like a normal child, take away his (adopted) family and then Belos blames it on wild magic and presents himself as Hunter's savior to inspire loyalty and hopefully make Hunter hate magic just as much as he does.

In this case, Hunter would be really around sixteen years old, and all his memories could be real.