#Canon continues to pick the least interesting ways to do things

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Honestly, I like the idea of Gabriel sacrificing himself to save Nathalie in Season 5’s finale. I think it could’ve worked if Paris didn’t treat him as a hero posthumously and if Chat was present.

(And also if the wish didn’t canonically rewrite the whole universe.)

If the writers had always been consistent with making him sympathetic, it could’ve been a powerful ending for his character.

Thoughts?

I don't disagree, though I would argue for a different sacrifice from Gabriel. So long as the wish doesn't rewrite the whole universe, then I'd fix season five's ending by having Gabriel wish for Adrien's freedom, making Gabriel into a sentimonster while Adrien becomes a real boy.

The reason I'd take this route over the Nathalie one is that saving Nathalie is horribly anticlimactic. Canon didn't build up to saving her, it just randomly happens. The show wouldn't feel incomplete if Nathalie suffered the consequences of her own fully-informed choices. She was only saved because Adrien needed a new mommy and Emilie couldn't come back without outing Gabriel as a villain to Adrien, so he gets Nathalie instead because heaven forbid the wish do something interesting. Five seasons of buildup and all it does is maintain the status quo of Adrien living in the mansion with Nathalie overseeing his life. What an asinine way to end the Agreste arc. This is not how you tell a satisfying story!

To explain what I mean, let's talk about my fix for a bit and how it actually fits the story we've been watching for five seasons.

Two major focuses of the show's first five seasons were Gabriel controlling Adrien and Gabriel choosing Emilie over Adrien. Saving Adrien is how you show Gabriel having a change of heart that demonstrates actual character growth. The sacrifice canon went with doesn't mean shit for Gabriel's character because he still picked his wife over his son without a single thought for what it would mean for Adrien's well being. It is not brave or kind to abandon your kid to your villain partner who never expressed interest in being a mother.

You want Gabriel's sacrifice to feel meaningful? Then it needs to be something that actually costs him happiness or that actually increases Adrien's happiness. Saving Emilie at the cost of his own life would be better than what canon went with because at least that would see Gabriel being willing to be apart from her for the sake of their son! Dying to be with her is not giving up on his goal of being reunited with his wife!

For the curious, here's a rough outline of how you could do this fix while leaving season five mostly intact:

Adrien and Marinette learn each other's identities during Kwami's Choice and start dating.

Gabriel is fine with them dating and even likes Marinette, but views her as a non-serious first relationship. He and Adrien conflict over the fact that Gabriel is not willing to let Adrien include Marinette in major life events. For example, Adrien is banned from bringing Marinette to the Diamond Dance not because of Adrigami, but because Gabriel doesn't think the relationship is serious enough to let Adrien bring her around his rich friends even though Adrien will be miserable without Marinette there. Gabriel is also still planning to ship Adrien off to London in spite of Adrien's protests. In other words, focus the conflict more on Gabriel respecting Adrien and his choices without needless complications like Adrigami. Really hone in on Adrien's personal freedom as the defining theme and let Adrien be the one to fight with Gabriel, not Marinette. Adrienette should not feel like the source of the conflict.

Marinette learns Gabriel's identity from Felix and immediately finds Adrien to tell him and figure out next steps. They decided to face Gabriel together right as the Alliance bullshit goes down.

Chat Noir's identity is outed to Gabriel during the conflict because the sight of Emilie's body gives Chat Noir's identity away. Gabriel immediately uses his newfound knowledge to control Chat Noir, freezing him in place so that he can't help Ladybug. Before Gabriel can think of another command, Ladybug takes the ring of the black cat and becomes BugNoir leaving Adrien to watch the fight between his father and his Lady. He will be watching this fight from his mother's side.

Because Adrien knew his father's identity going into the fight, he's more lucid than he was in Chat Blanc plus the command Gabriel used didn't stop Adrien from being able to say what he's feeling. He's constantly calling out encouragement to BugNoir and begging his father to stop this madness. Gabriel tries to command Adrien to stop, but BugNoir never lets him finish a command.

We get to the scene where Gabriel uses the bee on Marinette, only this time that happens because Adrien is present. It's not his fault, it's just that him being there is why she tries to reason with Gabriel. She can see and hear her boyfriend's pain and it's killing her, making her take a risk she really shouldn't.

Gabriel goes to make his wish while looking at Marinette, Adrien, and Emilie's body. Before he can make his wish, he sees and hears Marinette and Adrien talking. Marinette is crying and apologizing to Adrien because she couldn't help him. She wants to free him, but the senticommand is still active, leaving him frozen in place as he tells her to run away or some other emotional scene focused on Adrien's lack of freedom. Cue a flashback to a near identical exchange between Gabriel and Emilie from when she was dying from the peacock and he was desperate to free her.

Gabriel suddenly realizes just how messed up Adrien's status is and that is what gets through to him, not some dumb video telling him something he'd doubtless heard from Emilie before. On the heals of this realization, Gabriel is given the option to make a wish. One wish. One change. He looks between Emilie and Adrien and picks Adrien. Adrien becomes a real boy, Gabriel becomes a sentimonster and ascends into the light with Emilie.

Cut to the canon ending. Nathalie and the Gabriel statue are gone, but other than that it plays mostly the same. Everyone is happy, Amelie is Adrien's new guardian, and Adrien is being allowed to stay in Paris because she's willing to live there until he comes of age or because the Gorilla agreed to stick around. After all, being someone's guardian doesn't actually require you to be present

End of outline

There are better ways to do this fix, but those would require larger changes to canon and I wanted to show that canon could have done this fix without massive rewrites. Yes, the love square would be revealed, but so what? Who even cares about that anymore?

The tension around the reveal came from how it impacted the romance, but Adrien and Marinette are happily together on the side that lets them date freely, so the reveal isn't even going to be fun anymore. The most it will bring is depressing complications because of the events of the season five final and I doubt canon will pull those complications off well.

The secrets between Adrien and Marinette should have ended with season five because, at this point, Adrien and Marinette having secrets keeping them from happiness is boring, awkward, and makes their relationship wildly unhealthy. From what I've heard, it's not like the secrets are even getting that much focus in season six. The secrets could be gone, season six could be about figuring out the new team/dating drama, and the show would probably be better for it.

Since it was in the ask, I'll note that saving Nathalie would work if you rewrote the show to make it feel like character growth for Gabriel. As is, saving Nathalie is completely in character and requires no growth. You'd also want it to feel like something Nathalie deserved through a change like actually letting her try to stop Gabriel in season five. Those are some massive changes making saving Adrien the easier fix by far. It's also the only way making him a sentimonster works in my opinion. A big dramatic removal of control is fitting for a kids show with a theme of parental control.

[evieelyzabethh]

the way u write for arcane x reader are so detailed and in-character, I'm giggling like a like a schoolgirl reading their relationships with the reader ❤️ (also agree that the "slightly pervy jayce" tag will forever be canon). can I also pls request more hcs for canonverse!Viktor x Reader? this time with them already in an established relationship. having viktor as a boyfriend would be the fluffiest thing ever...i would go the ends of the earth for this man

first of all, thank you lovie!!! love seeing other slighty pervy jayce truthers

canonverse!Viktor who enjoys having a pretty girlfriend. Not only do you put up with him, but you are also quite fond of his nonsense. You enjoy listening to his late-night ramblings where he manages to talk himself in circles, tripping over the knots his own accent creates. The late, sleep-deprived nights after working himself into hole are always interesting. He thinks of the oddest questions to ask you.

"Do you ever worry about one day falling through the floor?", you turn to look at him incredulously. His fingers twirled his pencil around as he stared intensely at whatever gibberish he had been writing down, until he stills. You could be convinced he stopped breathing with how shallowly his chest heaved. "What?", and he turns to you, eyes red-shot, expression slightly crazed, his hair flaring around the crown of his head like some spikey halo. "Well, kinetic-molecular theory states that matter is nothing but millions of tiny particles in a perpetual state of motion. That's why if you step of grass, it bends rather than stabbing you straight through your foot, the molecules aren't as densely packed. Granted, what I'm talking about is quantum tunneling, which is more about the energy necessary to break that barrier but..." He's cuts himself off after your hand moves over his chest, resting on top of his beating heart which thrummed far faster than your own pulse. "Vik?" "hm." "I think it's time we go to bed." And he tries to argue, but his words mean nothing as he allows you to gather his papers, stacking them neatly then placing them in the folders you labelled to help be more organized. "But, I really think it's possible. Very low chance of it happening-" "I know, dear, just barely possible. We've had this conversation before." You're already standing, taking his hand as you silently urge him to do the same. Of course, he numbly follows your lead, continuing to argue his point all the way back to your shared bedroom. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he knocks out.

canonverse! Viktor who keeps your apartment freezing. It's not even because he runs hot, it's because he's prone to nosebleeds if he overheats. To balance out the cold and the constantly running fan, there is a weighted comforter and at least one additional blanket on your beds at all times. This being said, his usual sleep attire is some sort of sweatpants or pajama bottoms and maybe a very blood stained, old t-shirt. Since he keeps the room so cold, he is no longer surprised to wake up to you half-way beneath him, head firmly rested on his chest and arms wrapped around his torso. It's a good way to start his day, knowing he should probably head out to the lab, he usually stays until you wake up.

canonverse!Viktor who is a morning guy only because the best parts of his days are his cup of coffee and his good morning kiss. After having to use his brain so much so often, he enjoys the simple mornings he has with you. He likes the domestic act of brushing his teeth with you, he likes seeing you with your morning hair and your wrinkled pajama shirt as you sit on the counter as he makes a quick breakfast on the stove, he likes watching you tie his ties every morning, meticulously picking out which one brough out his eyes the best or went with the color of his vest.

canonverse!Viktor who can handle his liquor...to a point. Whenever you two get invited to functions, that is always what he's relegated to bringing, the bottles. To his credit, he has standards when it comes to drinking, but he always manages to find the strongest stuff imaginable. At first, it's all fun and games watching Jayce make a fool of himself, but after a bit too much, nothing is funny anymore. That liquid courage turns his usual passive aggression into regular aggression. He's not creating problems, but he is definitely making them worse, and you have to take him home after he almost starts a fight.

canonverse!Viktor whose favorite dates with you are people watching. It's a simple activity where the both of you just get to relax, maybe pack some lunch, enjoy the sun, and pick up on random people's juicy conversations. He has one of the most lethal side eyes ever and you have a hard time keeping it together while you react to whatever is going on around you. The insane shit you hear usually becomes an inside joke between the two of you, saying it around Jayce before bursting into a fit of giggles as Jayce gets pouty because he hates being left out of the know. He thinks you two are making fun of him and is too scared to ask

canonverse!Viktor who, when he inevitably proposes, makes both your engagement and your wedding rings. He absolutely never removes either of them. After you two officially tie the knot, he keeps the engagement ring on a necklace and literally never takes off his wedding band. He made them with water resistant so he would never have a reason to take it off. Even before this, though, he always kept reminders of you with him. He keeps a picture of you at his desk, he wears ties you picked out for him, in his breast pocket he keeps a handkerchief you embroidered with your names. Though he complains when you do it, he loves when you leave kiss marks all over his face before work and wears them with pride in his lab.

just canonverse!Viktor who loves his pretty girlfriend very very much!!!

[aloesarchives]

Toji Fushiguro General/Relationship Headcanons #1

TW/Warnings: Profanity, Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, the talks of starting a family, little bit of married life (LMK if anything else needs to be tagged)

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her (Usage of female gendered terms like Sweet Girl, Woman, Princess)

Word Count: 6.6k words

So these head canons exist for all versions of Toji that I write. However, these are more based around Modern/Non-Sorcerer Au and my personal ‘Toji Lives’ Au. But these are also stand alone because they are some general stuff I think about for Toji in general and his relationship with reader. I’m doing a separate head canons where it’s mainly family/domestic fluff with Megumi and Tsumiki. Maybe making more parts if I have more head canons.

Also, I'm starting to plan out the parts for my Toji x Reader/Megumi x Reader mini series. I'll release a google form for those who are interested in the mini series and another one for the continuations of my Suguru x Reader/Satoru x Reader one-shot. So stay tune for any updates in the upcoming weeks!

!!Not proofread and unedited!! 2/22/24 11:26 pm CST

One thing’s more certain, when you first met Toji, you didn’t fall in love right away. Your relationship with Toji was something gradual, building up over time as you kept running into him. 

One of your most notable encounters happened in the grocery store you always go to and see him at. Your fridge was getting empty as per usual so you came today to fully stock it. As you were nearing the end of your trip, you stopped by the meat section to grab some meat for tonight’s dinner. Normally, you prefer your local butcher’s but they were on vacation so this would have to do. As you were going to reach for one, another hand reached for the same one, a much larger hand. You quickly retracted and apologized to the individual when you saw Toji smirking at you. The two of you talked for a bit before your eyes wandered towards his basket. It had barely anything in it, to you at least. There were some canned drinks, minimal vegetables, a bag of chips, like a loaf of bread.

“Are you picking some things for your pantry, Toji?”

“Nah, this is my food.”

“For today?”

“For this week.”

You stand there absolutely stunned. By the looks of his nonchalant expression, he was not joking. You didn’t want to ask him if this is how much he can afford to not make him feel embarrassed. So you invited him to your place for dinner and to cook for him. Toji's insistence on declining was strong, but your persistence for him to eat was even stronger. Adding Toji’s grocery and paying for everything. Toji carries the groceries to your place and you both enjoy a warm filling meal for him. The man had never eaten so good before he fell asleep on your sofa right after. The next day, he woke up around 10 am to the sound of you washing dishes. He sees breakfast for two on the table and a large bag sitting on the counter. You tell him to join you and you both enjoy your breakfast. While cleaning up, Toji asks what’s the big bag for and you said it’s for him. You cooked him a week worth of food because you knew he didn't have time or energy. So you handed it to him as he’s leaving, telling him to come back anytime for a good meal. As soon as your front door closes, he’s just standing there trying to understand what just happened. His heart is swelling at your gesture, his face ablaze with a heavy blush, wondering why he is feeling this way for you. And Toji makes the horrific realization that he’s falling for you and it won’t stop there.

Most likely you have to initiate the first hangout because the man is clueless when it comes to interactions, specifically with women in a non-flirtatious/transactional way. He started to like you because you weren’t handsy with him or led the conversation to something else. You were interesting because your interactions were real with no other intentions besides talking to him. You’ll admit he’s hot but won’t say it out loud because you don’t want to say something uncomfortable or overstep your boundaries. 

Your hangouts consist of eating at those family-owned restaurants or hidden gems, the food’s good with a good price. Walking around or in a park, maybe hiking if you’re even interested. He doesn’t have money to take you out properly but you aren’t someone who’s into high-end or fancy places because they’re a waste of money in your opinion. You find inexpensive ways to spend time with Toji and it’s fun for you because you don’t have to worry about his expectations because he’s having fun too.

The more he sees and spends time with you, the more he values your company. He starts smiling more and is in a better mood than all his years alive. He definitely isn’t energetic but he isn’t as robotic as he used to be before meeting you. Shui notices this but doesn’t say anything to Toji because he thought he was overthinking things. But when Toji asks him how do you know you’re in love, Shui thought Toji legit went insane. Toji doesn’t want to talk about it but he doesn’t know who the hell to ask so Shui is his closest bet. He asks Toji who got him acting up and Toji shows him a picture of you and he asks Toji if he kidnapped you because he didn’t know he could pull an absolute unit of a woman. And Toji replies “I don’t know man, I don’t even know myself.” Shui is lowkey happy Toji has you. He is fully aware Toji doesn’t have the best background but it’s clear as day you being around him is changing him for the better, undoubtingly saving him.

Toji doesn’t have the best living conditions, he lives by himself in a rundown studio apartment that only had a basic kitchen, a bathroom, and main space that doubled as the living and bedroom. He barely had anything in his apartment other than a futon, a closet, and a table. Got some trash lying around because he doesn’t bother to pick it up. Apartment smells like the back of the house kitchen at a restaurant mixed with the boys locker room in high school. You offered to help clean up. Trash bags full of trash and used cleaning wipes, laundry done and fresh, every surface wiped clean. By the time it was done, his apartment looked brand new. You wouldn’t be surprised that it was trashed again but at least it was clean for once. After your help, Toji becomes a little conscious of his space and cleans it. But this turns into him not using that space because he’s always at your place.

Toji has a habit of ghosting/disappearing without notice. You’re seeing him at the supermarket, next he’ll be gone for like a month or so. Since you really don’t have his phone number, you can’t contact him but it’s not like you two were friends let alone dating at this point. You say it is what it is until one stormy night you heard a hard knock on the door. The next thing you see is Toji, two duffel bags, a cut above his eyebrow while being soaked. You shoved him inside, gave him a towel while patching him, drying his clothes while he changed in your guest bedroom. 

Toji lives with you and split the house chores. But since you’re technically the one with a consistent income and job, you mostly are away from the house and Toji is 90% at home. You do grocery shopping or errands before and after work while Toji holds down the fort. It's been a rough few weeks with him but there was progress. And it was good progress.

You find out pretty fast how Toji’s terrible spending habits and crippling gambling addiction. Luckily for you, you have your own bank account so you don’t have to worry about the man stealing your money. However, you do force Toji to give his paycheck from his inconsistent but very high paying jobs. Literally one of his checks had a value of $30 Million Yen! You cashed it in your account so fast and paid all your bills and groceries off for a minimum of 3 months. It never struck why Toji doesn’t see that as much money but you come to learn that his clan is a prominent one with a substantial amount of wealth so that amount doesn’t surprise him. But still, you told him you’re permanently in charge of the finances because you don’t trust him handling any money. Strangely enough, he doesn’t protest at your rule and now whenever he’s done with a job, he instantly gives his cheek to you. You do give Toji some personal spending cash besides for food and necessities, then eventually a card that’s attached to your bank account. But it’s not a joint account but a card that has access to your account. His card has a spending limit to the equivalent of 67.7k yen(roughly $475 dollars) every month. He CAN withdraw money but you are notified through your bank’s notifications when, where, and how much. Even though you two are balling because of his cheeks, you don’t get carried away with the spending because life in the city is too fucking expensive and you need all the money you can get. Plus, you don’t want to raise any suspicion because you’re pretty sure Toji’s money is blood money or from the black-market and you don’t want to draw a lot of attention for your own safety.

Toji only knew how to cook the basics but nothing over the top or fancy. But once he starts living with you, he starts learning how to cook and for all things under the sun it’s fucking immaculate. Toji’s cooking just tests better to the point you assign him on cooking duties since he cooks better and faster than you. Your co-workers are always envious every time they see your lunch. It’s something different everyday but it’s delicious and filling but not the kind that makes you lethargic. It’s so fucking good that you two don’t eat out as much because his cooking has evolved to peak gourmet. Lowkey is happy you like his cooking and it gives him motivation to continue his work if it puts you in a good mood.

Which brings up another point. I believe Toji is capable of gaining multiple useful skills, it’s just he’s unmotivated. Like he could be good at changing tires, plumbing, handy-man work, cooking, any installation, anything under the sun, but he chooses not to because he doesn’t feel obligated to do so. But it all changes when he starts living with you. Man becomes a jack of all trades and he basically makes life easier because you have him fix/do what needs to be done all the while you’re saving money. He’s a fast learner too. Pretty much once he does it the first time and it works without breaking/doesn’t turn out like shit, it’s locked in his head and knows how to fucking do it.

Initially, Toji is lazy because he is a go with the flow type of guy that doesn’t concern himself with appearances. If it’s livable, not rotting, and doesn’t smell rancid, he’s not going to touch it or bother picking it up. That’s why his apartment was a mess because he’s able to live in those conditions because they’re his own, that's not a thorn in his side. Like he’ll leave his clothes by but not near the hamper because he’ll eventually pick them up when it’s laundry day(you end up picking it up but you started to trip over them while in the bathroom). But you establish a routine for Toji to follow. He doesn’t have to follow it exactly but you said there should be at least 4 main components to it. Literally forcing Toji to pick up habits so he’ll be more productive and conscious of his time. 

Took some time but he eventually attaches to it because it mostly revolves around your schedule. It got to a point where he would be waking you up for your work, getting you your morning drink and a decent breakfast, getting your work bag with your lunch inside, all the while getting you out on time. If not, 5 minutes early so you can be on time for work. I can imagine him saying stuff along the lines of:

“Shakes your shoulders firmly (Y/N), Wake the hell up. You slept through your alarm and it fucking woke me up. You gotta get out of the door in 30 minutes or you’re going to be stuck in traffic, dumbass.”

“Oi (Y/N), it’s 6:00 am. You have 15 minutes to get your ass up and get ready for your work. Before 6:20, you better have your work clothes on when you come into the kitchen because I already made your breakfast.”

“I’m trying to get you out of the door early so you can catch the early train and beat the morning rush. Here’s your lunch and your work bag. Make sure you have everything because I’m not going to bring it to your work if you ask me to.” (He does anyway)

“Hey, it’s going to rain hard later so here’s your umbrella cause I don’t you to fucking sick knowing how you get careless with yourself some times. Pain in my ass…”

So you kinda tamed Toji, this wandering stray cat that was 6’2 and built like a concrete pillar. But you didn’t make it your whole personality trait because 1.) you think it’s pretty fucked up to think helping Toji/people like him is more of a project than genuine compassion. 2.) And you roll your eyes when people say you ‘“fixed” Toji. You just say “Um, no? No I didn’t, Toji picked himself up and changed because he decided to. Not because I FIXED him or him changing isn’t my doing because you be surprised by the amount of people that stay the same because they chose to.” Another reason why Toji fell for you is because you see Toji as a whole human with flaws, you humanized him. You don’t parade him around like some sort of object, you acknowledge his presence and it makes him fall in love with you even more.

Definitely have arguments for sure early on that were rougher compared to being together for a while. Again, this is mostly due to him growing up and being treated as sub-human. He’s vocal not because he chooses not to communicate. But because he doesn’t know how, especially with you, his safe person and your home being his safe space. He was used to being neglected, dismissed or straight up abused altogether. But now that he’s living with you, he’s trying to dismantle his old mindset while learning how to communicate/vocalize his thoughts. He feels he’s unworthy of you because you have an immense amount of patience and understanding for him. Sure, there are your flaws but so does he and he knows living with someone like him is harder than anything else. So he’s appreciative of your efforts and faith in him.

He knows he has a loud voice and is careful when he loses his temper. Obviously for noise complaints but also for because it can be startling and scare you. God, one time you both almost got into a yelling match because of something miniscule and irrelevant but it transformed into something deeper that you didn’t know why you two were fighting about it in the first place. But the way he snapped at you and you unconsciously flinched at him, his heart felt heavy and cracking. He never saw you scared before but the thought of him being one of your fears terrified him immensely. He softens himself and deflates his body to show the surrender of his pride. He ACTUALLY genuinely apologies to you and opens his arms out so you could hug him.

Most of the arguments are just you being frustrated with him. Mostly this was early on with his lack of routine and productive habits, like him not picking up his clothes and leaving his cups everywhere. But Toji is one of those passive guys where he doesn’t like arguing with you and wants to end it asap. Even if he’s not in the wrong, he’ll just admit and apologize to you so you aren’t mad at him anymore. He doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him. Sometimes it can escalate to heated ones but those happen rarely and only exist when something snowballs. He may give an attitude here and there but you mostly know that’s him being himself and he doesn’t mean it.

Your relationship didn’t have a definitive label but the lines are blurred between the two of you. You two hug and hold hands sometimes but it’s more than platonic but not enough for love either. Through large and tight crowds, Toji lets you hold onto his arm , has his hand firmly pressed on the small of your back, or holds your hand tightly as he makes his way through. It’s common for you two to be passed out on the couch together or on the floor after watching a movie or a show. Or how he leans his head on yours when on the train, even carrying you home if you fell asleep and doesn’t have the heart to wake you up because you're tired from work. What you have with Toji is nice and comfortable but you do end up loving him because he makes your life warm and worth living. You just don’t know if he’ll feel the same. Oh but he does, he fucking does. But he doesn’t know how to say the three magical words because he never heard them at all when he was growing up. Let alone someone saying it to him.

You definitely say I love you first before him. Because let’s be honest, this man never knew what the hell ‘love’ or true love is. This man grew up in a traditional family that prioritized status, reputation, influence, and anything under that umbrella for traditionalism. So love was never an important aspect of his clan. So for you to show him the true wonders of love and its ups and downs, he’s overwhelmed and a little ashamed because he’s trying to adjust and get used to this feeling. He isn’t a fairly vocal man but he’ll forever be grateful for your patience, kindness, compassion, and understanding towards someone like him. He freezes when he hears you say it to him with such tenderness and warmth only you could give him. You know he’s not ready to say it back but you couldn’t help but tell him because it needed to be put out there for both him and you. You told him he doesn’t have to say it if he’s not ready or doesn’t feel the same. But you also said that you truly only care for and love him only.

But when he said “I Love You” to you, you knew he meant it with all his heart. You could remember it clearly because it was storming with heavy rains. Flash flood warnings are being sent out and weather channels are telling citizens to stay indoors and not leave their homes. Toji has been trying to call you for the past hour but you never picked up. His anxiety was rising, fearing you were stuck or possibly hurt. He says fuck it and grabs his jacket to go out when you open the door just as he was about to leave. Your clothes were wet but not soaked but you held your shoes in your hand while dropping your umbrella and bag on the floor. You tried to explain to Toji that your phone died at work before you could ever call him. There was a flooded street and so you had to take your shoes off to not get them ruined. You did grab him some food though beforehand but that didn’t matter to him when he saw that you were safe and unharmed. He hugged so tightly through your wet clothes when he said the fabled words to you. 

“Goddammit, I fucking love you, (Y/N). I was so fucking worried about you. I thought you were in trouble or something, Sweet girl. .  .”

You started to cry when you heard him say that you kissed him on the lips by impulse. You thought you fucked up and try to apologize only for him to return your kiss with his only while you hold his face and his hands on your waist. Fuck it was beautiful.

Pretty much after that, you both were in the trenches of love with each other. Fuck it’s so tooth-rotting to see it that Shui jokes and teases the hell out of Toji because that man changes his whole demeanor when you call him. He calls him out on how his voice changes from its usual monotone gruffness to low but soft. Toji tells Shui, “I’m a changed man.”

People are so jealous of you two. How the hell did Toji bag you!? The most ethereal, beautiful, compassionate, kind, funny, and respectable woman?! And how lucky did you get finding such a fine specimen of a man?! 

Toji’s pronouns are literally HE/HIM because Toji is HIM while you’re the IT girl with the one of your pronouns being SHE/HER because you are HER FOR REAL ON GOD.

You two are the IT couple, I don’t make the fucking rules. There’s you being the best version of yourself and you unapologetically. Then there’s Toji who’s hot AS FUCK and following his favorite girl around because you’re the only girl for him, BEST GIRL. He is just there but with you nevertheless.

You’re the couple people make those cool edits of, I’m not even joking.

Knows how to drive both automatic and manual but as an automatic cause because of you. You are on permanent passenger princess duty because this man is your chauffeur until he dies or has no legs. Drives with one hand on the wheel and the other is either on the gearshift, your hand, or your thigh. Looks hot every time he turns or reverses because his biceps show themselves and it’s dangerous for you because it makes you feral.

IDK if it’s just me but Toji seems like the guy to buy a whole rotisserie chicken just for himself. He’ll buy one for you, of course. But one of those bad boys is his because he’s not sharing! After a workout or work, he’ll eat it with no signs of meat left on the bones. They’re so clean he even eats the cartilage.

Toji seems like one of those individuals that looks full grown when he’s younger like in his early 20’s and just stops aging altogether. Not like his entire appearance stays the same, it's just his genetic game is so strong and good people believe he's like 25 when he’s actually in his mid to late 40’s. You and him are like cheese and wine. Both perfectly paired together, and the aging is unnoticeable but you both taste divine.

His closet is the most basic and uncomplicated. T-shirts, undershirts, sweaters, hoodies, joggers, sweatpants, maybe one pair of black cargo pants but that’s about it. He always wears sweaters or hoodies when he’s out because he lowkey doesn’t like to be stared at unless it’s you. He knows his compression shirts would make people drool so he opts out of showing up in them unless it’s super hot or he’s too lazy to cover up. Toji definitely would wear those oversized Uniqlo t-shirts for men. He has the black, dark green, and dark blue ones. Fucking never leaves the house with his fucking sandals or black kung-fu slippers. You buy a pair of black Air Force 1’s, Vintage Black Arizona Grip Birkenstocks, and some Doc Martin black leather boots(1460 Smooth Leather Lace Up Boots). You had to up his shoe game because there is no way you’re letting him only have two pairs that are very worn out.

People think he isn’t all that because he’s chill and uncaring most of the time. In reality, Toji knows how to tap into his inner dawg like a switch. He’s really good at hiding it and not making it obvious. But like then snap! He summons his inner dawg and menacing aura. You could be talking to someone unaware that is staring them down. You smile at him and his aura changes so fast as he smiles at you in return. But as soon as you turn away to continue talking to the person, the menacing aura just returns. His aura is so intimidating and menace-like that people genuinely grow anxious and fearful. So much so that they could piss/shit themselves or even throw up if they didn’t have a strong will.

Personally, Toji is more of a German Shepherd boyfriend than a black cat boyfriend. IDK, it just makes sense to me. Like he talks and isn’t hostile to people he knows like you and Shui, literally the only two people in his life that he’s close with. But everyone else, he either hates them or doesn’t give a single care in the world. 

I also personally think Toji isn’t stupid and he's actually intelligent. I think his past issues and how he was treated is the reason he seems like an incompetent person. But really, he’s pretty smart. I know this doesn’t involve the canon but the fact Toji knew which weapons to use on Satoru, beating Suguru with an inch of his life but not killing because he knows what Suguru’s technique can do if he does, and the whole plan with the bounty on Riko was pretty genius. Look, I’m not trying to vouch for him for what he did. But you can’t help but admit what Toji did was impressive. He worked smarter, not harder compared to other people. Especially letting the curse user do all the work for him while he gets to deal with the easy part and go in for the kill. The man came prepared to get the job done. I mean I would too if there was $30 million yen on the line. Sure, he’ll forget to pick up on some social cues. But once the man locks in, he'll be the most observant and perspective person in the room and he’ll learn something about someone just by their body language and simple mannerisms. 

Not sure if this is confirmed or not by Gege but I read someone where that Toji is into philosophical conversations. But I can see because, again, he’s intelligent and has seen/learned a lot of stuff from his hits/jobs. Toji isn’t one of those smartasses that you experience in those advanced classes. He’ll earnestly speak his mind if you ask and what you have to see. He always finds it interesting hearing things from your point of view and I feel like this is one of the ways you two grew close to one another.

You two got married because you just popped the question to him and said yes. You two didn’t have rings at the time but he did buy you the one you wanted but the band had some black on it. His was a solid black wedding band to match yours. Up close, it looks pretty cool. He bought the rings because he asked Shui for any hits/“jobs” that were available on such short notice after you two got married. A week later, Shui notices it and asks him if he finally tied the knot with you. Toji just nods.

Took your last name then both of you decided to add another last name, deciding on Fushiguro. King shit right here. Not afraid or ashamed he took your last name as a middle finger to his clan.

This isn’t a Toji head canon but I can see Shui being a bro and giving Toji consistently well-paying hits/“jobs” because he knows how much you mean to Toji and Toji has to provide for you too. You both would be sleeping and Toji hears a notification go off and knows Shui sent him a job that will be done by tomorrow afternoon.

Routine wise, nothing changes between the two of you. However, Toji is more open and affectionate with you. Especially with nicknames, he rarely uses your real name at home. God, when he calls your names of endearment, you’re going to fucking explode from how deep and gentle voice gets calling out to you. 

He also loves hugging you from behind and having you in his arms. Definitely gives good hugs, they give the right amount of squeeze but are so warm and protective. Is more daring with his kisses, would steal a kiss whenever he gets the chance.

Toji is the type to sleep the closest to the bedroom door. Doesn’t matter where the door is, your body is always in front of him. Just in case something happens, he can/will protect you and he can use his body as a shield to protect you.

Unironically a good listener, legit has a good hearing canonly in reality. He just carries his resting nonchalant face all the time. He could be focused on something or not looking your way, but Toji is listening to you speak and will recite your words right back at you if you think he is. This also helps if you’re someone who tends to forget things or need reminders. He’ll tell you what you were supposed to do 5 minutes ago word for word if you ask him.

Sleeps in his boxers only. Might sleep in a shirt and sweatpants when it’s colder. But Toji’s body mass produces enough heat to be a furnace that you both only sleep with one blanket. He’s always warm. If you get cold hands, fear not because they’ll be warm in five seconds if you place them on Toji’s abs.

Fairly possessive to an extent. It’s usually blended in with protectiveness because one can bleed into another. Like he’ll let you to your own devices but isn’t going to whine if you have guy friends. Toji can read between the lines, he has really good social cues. But he’ll straight up tell you he doesn’t like your male friends/co-workers if they are interested in you romantically. You’re his girl, he wants people to know it. But he would literally kill for you and bring the Heavens to their knees just to keep you safe and protected. Would literally take the fall for you in anything, you can’t change my mind on that. Toji: “Your honor, my girl did nothing wrong. It was self-defense.” 

Toji has self-esteem issues for sure. You could have anyone in the whole world, anyone in this lifetime. But you choose him, and always chose him. The amount of times Toji had to get/do something while you wait for him only to come back to see a random-ass guy talking and trying to get your number. His heart would squeeze at the scene because he wouldn’t blame you for going for someone better. But when he sees you say “Sorry to break it to you, but I’m with my boyfriend and he should be back any second now.” Seeing your eyes scan for him and the way your face lights up seeing him made his heart inflate, making the squeeze disappear. You speed walk to Toji, ignoring the dude, and hug his arm tightly. Toji kisses your head as he walks with you not before throwing the dude a shit-eating grin his way. After that, Toji knows you’re loyal to him and that’s a fact.

But if we’re going to be honest, none of us would leave Toji if he treated us well and deservingly. Plus he’s strong and has the body that even the Gods are jealous of, how are we gonna fumble a bag like that? Ngl, if I meet Toji in real life, I’d run in the other direction fucking scared b/c I’m not fantasy me and fantasy me is better. 

Nicknames for you consist of Doll, Babe/Baby , Honey or Hun, Dear, Sweet Girl, Sweet Thing, Princess.

Toji is the type of man to say “Wear whatever the fuck you want, Doll. I can fight” and says it with his chest with no questions asked because it’s true. Toji got that win streak with zero losses under his belt. But then again, no guy will try to hit on you when they see Toji giving them the ultimate stare down when they try to do something funny.

Once gut punched someone so hard they were sent flying while throwing up what they ate for the day because they tried to make a physical move on you and Toji’s instincts just took over.

Toji definitely brawls and fights. He could get jumped by like 10 dudes and send all of them to the hospital completely unscathed. But his beatings get more aggressive if he is with you. Like if you two are out and some guy tries to hit on you and uses his group to intimidate him, you give Toji the approving nod and he’s just giving all of the most devious combos to ever grace this plant while you're sipping on your drink watching it all unfold.

Also, Toji isn’t letting things slide when you’re uncomfortable, annoyed, or God forbid, scared. One time, you told Toji you were going to get food for both of you at your favorite local restaurant/bakery/cafe. But you were gone longer than expected so he went to find you and saw you talking to a guy. He was confused at first because you usually tell them off or leave automatically. It wasn’t until he got closer when he saw the severity of the situation. To any passerby, it’s two people but then up close you can see the guy’s friend right behind him, backing him up and purposely corning you so their pressure would make you say yes but you held your ground. But you were lowkey scared because they trapped you in an abandoned lot that was hidden from the public eye. So when Toji saw how your body shrunk and clutching your bag of food to your chest, that was his green light to go in. Toji grabs the guy’s throat, his hand being big enough to get a good grip. His eyes are cold and daunting, telling the guy, “You must have shit for brains because she clearly isn’t interested in you. It’s not cool to corner a woman with your bitch-less friends.” That’s his only warning to them before he boxes all of them. Took him 2 minutes max and he’s pulling you along with your food in his other hand. 

Toji also would be more than okay if you ask him to pick you up or drop you off from work. You both have a car but it’s cheaper and more convenient to take public transportation. Like he’ll walk with you to work and leave once you’re inside. Once you’re off, you see him outside waiting for you. Your co-workers you vibe with wonder who’s the handsome guy that is always waiting for you and you say that’s your husband. They’re gawking at him and say you’re so lucky. 

Hates him when people tell him what to do but will follow every command you give him. You’re the only one who can boss him around and he’s actually happy to oblige. Responds with “Yes, Sweet girl”, “Anything else, Honey?”, or “Of course, Dear/Babe/Baby”.

Toji is the type of man to follow you anywhere and do anything with you as long as it makes you happy. The type of man to be like “It is what it is, I’m not gonna complain”.

His body is made from the amount of work he has to do for his occupation. He doesn’t need to go to the gym because he gets a full pump by doing push ups alone at home. Does pull ups in the doorway, has a heavy barbell and dumbbells set in your home because you allowed him thinking it would make him productive. Literally puts body builders and any gym goers to shame. His strong body is built by his job alone and his body’s innate ability to gain muscles and keep a low but healthy fat percentage.

Doesn’t drink because he has a very high alcohol tolerance and also he can’t get drunk too. So if you’re not into drinking, he can always keep you company and will back people off if they pressure you into drinking even though you declined. He can see the amusement in drinking culture but he doesn’t drink himself because he hates being under the influence. He won’t mind if you do and he’s more than willing to pick you up from a night out of friends. Not a fan of bars but will go if you ask him to, your drinks are always protected.

Thinks he can rizz you up but it’s you who has the most powerful rizz out of the two.

If you’re having a bad day or just having a mental/emotional breakdown, Toji will try his best to comfort you. If you want him to hold you, he will hold in a loving and protective embrace. Definitely say things like, “You’re going okay, Baby”, “I’m here, Honey. I gotchu”, or “You’re with me, Doll. I won't let anything happen to you.” Not really good with advice but Toji always listens to what you have to say. He will get you anything you need or make you any food you’re craving at the moment. The man would literally go on a last minute grocery run to make you your favorite food to make you feel better. It makes him feel at ease when your mood lightens up or you smile at him.

Not a picky eater but eats the same types of foods because Toji doesn’t get sick of them that easily and he doesn’t have to think too hard on what to eat. But he will make something different everyday for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for you. He would judge you for eating the same food over and over again but not him because he eats just so to satiate his hunger.

He’s your infinite garbage disposal. You’re full or don’t want to finish your food, Toji will eat it for you. His hunger can be satisfied but his body has a large capacity until it reaches full. He never knew what it was like to be full.

Toji is always the big spoon. Maybe some nights he likes to be held by you but he’s the big spoon no matter what. Probably because he desperately needs to feel your presence in the dream world and protect your physical body. More of a back sleeper than a side sleeper but can sleep in either position. Sleeping positions consist of his arm around you and you’re tucked into his side while using his shoulder as a pillow, sleeping on his chest/on top of him, or back hugging you where his massive body engulfs your own. He loves being close to you when sleeping and hates when you’re not in his arms.

Most likely Toji will have nightmares because he feels like he doesn’t deserve you. If not, feel his life he has with you is even real. Sometimes the dark void is there with shadows looming closer to consume him the more he continues to think like that. It’s not until he wakes up to see your sleeping face and gently caresses it is when he realizes this is life was real, you are real and right in front of him. He smiles like a fool before kissing your forehead and holding you close.

Never has thought about his future because he didn’t think he would live this long, or have a domestic life. But now that he has you and is married, he constantly thinks about the future, your future together. He couldn’t imagine a future without you, it’s not possible for him. He imagines having a family with you and hopes you share the same idea as him.

I know these are wild and don't make sense for his character but let me dream, okay?! I've been simping for this man since October 2020, I've been waiting for this, lol. Anyway, thanks for the support!💙❤️

[boyfriendtodeathconfessional]

A lot has been said of Lawrence and Ren's relationship, but I'm of the unpopular opinion that they didn't actually like each other.

They both had been chatting for an unspecified amount of time (about what, we're left to speculate), but based on their interests, they don't have a lot in common. Ren may have been a little shy, but he's a social butterfly compared to Lawrence. I find it hard to believe he could sit through more than a few of Ren's discussions of magical girl anime, and I imagine Ren would get bored of Lawrence's lack of engagement.

Add to it, in BTD2, in all of Ren's routes except one, he betrays Lawrence and gets him killed. It's easily the worst thing Ren does, and he does it to someone he's allegedly close to? Lawrence hardly ever drinks, and Ren invites him to a bar for their first meetup? These were two people who were grasping for any kind of connection. Ren was looking for anyone to collar, and his willingness to replace Lawrence with some rando MC proves this (Gato drew several pictures of what it would look like if Ren succeeded in collaring Lawrence. It goes poorly for Ren in hilarious fashion). Lawrence glimpsed beyond the veil, saw the Lovecraftian horror that was The River, and needed to find anyone he could relate to. Neither of them fit each other's bill.

Lawrence is a walking contradiction: he craves human contact while despising humanity. He surrounds himself with nature while living in the middle of the city. He embraces self destruction while still continuously coming back from The River. The meetup with Ren was a way for him to finally bridge that gap between himself and others or embrace The River fully. Either way, he's spared from having to make the choice himself: "I'll do anything you want!" you say. "I don't know what I want!" he says. No kidding.

Ren mentions the reason he liked Strade so much was because Strade was the only one who was ever kind to him, but is this true? His mother chose to keep him alive despite killing five of his siblings in their infancy. She lets him stay with her until he's old enough to run away because she what? Needed help with the housework? Besides, according to the BTD fandom, he has looks that could literally kill. If he bothered to look on Grindr he could easily find a sugar daddy who wouldn't treat him like a woodworking project.

No, Ren has it completely backwards. In spite of all the terrible things Strade had done, Ren was still able to see his good qualities, which was a first for Strade. He liked Strade not because Strade did nice things for him. He liked Strade because for the first time in his life, Ren felt needed.

Strade was a lot of things to Ren: captor, friend, confidante, lover, but there's also one dynamic of their relationship that rarely gets brought up: rivals. Strade could get people to like him in a way Ren couldn't, and making them feel heard was a big part of that. Gato said Strade hunted people who lacked confidence in themselves, and who does Ren pick for his own replacement/victim? Possibly the least confident person in the series canon: Lawrence.

The trouble is, Ren can't make Lawrence feel needed like how Strade made him feel. He can't make anyone feel needed, because, as I mentioned, he views people as interchangeable. He's trying to find a companion who will simultaneously treat him as a Strade-type figure and also feel an overwhelming need for him, and it won't happen, because of his difficulty in actually understanding others. What's tragic is this perspective was probably held long before he met Strade, and if the events of TPOF are canon, long after. -☢️

.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

the way we fight

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, drug use, canon-typical violence, slight spoilers for minor tlou 2 cutscene, jackson era, enemies to lovers, undefined age gap, sloooow buildup, smut, grinding, rough oral (male & female receiving)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: no idea how this got so long, but here we are! generally my fics are based on song lyrics, so this one goes out to my girl ari and social house. this honestly took a while to wrap my brain around and idk how the end got so filthy but alas, i really hope y'all enjoy! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated 💕

It’s always an argument with him. He’s just so stubborn. Actually, Joel Miller might be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. There’s never any room for disagreement or discussion with him—it’s his way or the highway. Half the time, you don’t even know what you’re fighting about, hurling callous, empty words at each other as if they don’t hurt. Immensely.

Maybe you really do genuinely hate each other. Or maybe it’s just for the fun of it.

It’s been like this for as long as you’ve known him, which, in hindsight, hasn’t even been that long. Probably a year? Year and a half? In all that time, you’ve never managed to crack his tough exterior and, as far as you know, no one else has, either.

The only things anyone knows for sure are that he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother and he’s got a daughter named Ellie. He hasn’t made a lot of friends here and it’s not hard to see why. He’s mean in a surly old man kind of way and rarely has anything nice to say to anyone—if he says anything at all.

Yet, somehow you still find yourself spending the majority of your time with him. It’s not something you do by choice. It’s a forced proximity thing.

You can’t tell if Tommy schedules you for patrols together because you’re the only one who hasn’t kicked up a stink about it or if he just thinks it’s funny to watch you both squirm. Most of the town thinks it’s hilarious, so you can only guess it’s the latter.

During your first few outings together, Joel wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary, and, even then, all you’d get was a grunt or some grumbled instructions. The silence got old pretty quickly. It wasn’t until you made your first mistake out in the field that he finally started communicating. Maybe a little louder than you’d hoped.

Now, Joel will pick a fight anywhere, usually over the dumbest shit. But his bark is worse than his bite—most of the time, at least.

On his worst days, his anger is explosive and it seems like he takes it out exclusively on you. It’s honestly a little ridiculous that you haven’t just asked Tommy to take you off his patrols already, but there’s a part of you that’ll never admit you actually kind of like your dynamic.

Not a lot happens in Jackson—it’s well-protected and even the community drama gets a little stale. Joel might be a dick, but he keeps things interesting, keeps you on your toes.

And it’s hard to ignore the fire in his eyes that makes you think he likes it just as much as you do.

It’s fucking freezing out and you haven’t even left for patrol yet before Joel’s muttering something condescending under his breath. Surprise, surprise—he’s in a bad mood and about to make it your problem. You throw him an unimpressed look over your shoulder, the best you can muster this early in the morning, and continue to saddle your horse.

“You wanna say that a little louder, Miller?”

He looks tired and annoyed and, god, you haven’t been awake nearly long enough for this shit. Today’s going to be trying enough as it is. You were assigned one of the longer routes and the clouds are already dark with the promise of rain or worse.

There are a few other patrol groups nearby gearing up to leave and their preparations suddenly slow, eyes darting between the two of you as if they can sense the impending argument. You barely notice their loitering, the small crowd inching forward to not-so-subtly eavesdrop.

“No, really, I’d love to hear to hear what you have to say,” you taunt him, hands settling on your hips. “Y’know, it’s really not like you to keep things to yourself. You sure you’re feeling alright today, old man?”

“Feelin’ just fine, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth, rolling his eyes. “Just hurry your ass up so we can get this over and done with. I’m not tryin’ to spend any more time with ya than I have to.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Sweetheart? That’s a new one. It sounded sarcastic as hell and a little patronizing but, still, that’s not something Joel’s ever called you before. Useless and annoying, sure, but never sweetheart.

Your stomach swoops, but you force yourself to ignore it; that’s not even remotely something you want to analyze today.

“Uh, yeah…whatever,” you eye him strangely, and he abruptly looks away, shifting his focus back to checking his saddlebags. It’s like he’s purposefully avoiding your gaze, and it’s weird. He’s acting so fucking weird today.

Sparing him one last glance, you throw a leg over your horse and start toward the gate at a slow trot. You don’t bother waiting for him to catch up.

“What’s our first checkpoint?” you call over your shoulder, but he’s somehow already right behind you, his horse falling in line with yours.

“You should already know that,” Joel sighs, brow furrowed in what you can only assume is irritation. Oh, here it comes—the inevitable lecture. He does this every single time you're on patrol, whether you’ve done something wrong or not. You must’ve really pissed him off if you’re hearing it this early.

Except—he’s not berating you. Instead, he pulls a map out of his backpack. “Alright, look,” he says, leaning in closer so you can see. “This is us right here, and—,” his index finger traces a route from Jackson, winding along a road that passes through a small neighborhood, and lands on your first stop, located a few side streets off a main road, “—we should end up here in about an hour if the weather holds up.”

Nodding, you look up at him. You hadn't realized how close his face had gotten to yours, and your lips part around an involuntary gasp. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second too long before he pulls away, folding up his map and tucking it back into his pack.

You try to convince yourself that you imagined it, that Joel Miller would never intentionally look at your lips like he wants to kiss you, but you can still feel his warm breath on your skin and it’s affecting you more than you want to admit.

This is…not at all like your normal dynamic and it’s throwing you off. Joel hasn’t raised his voice once today and, at most, he’s only made a few snide remarks that weren’t nearly as bad as they usually are.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you breathe out, creating a tiny puff of condensation in the air. “It doesn’t even feel like it's cold enough to snow, anyway. The worst we’ll probably get is some rain and we’ve ridden in way worse than that.”

All you get in response is a low grunt, and then he’s lifting the reins, leading his horse in the direction of your first checkpoint. You sigh. Guess you’re back to square one. You never thought you’d miss your spats, and can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to make him change his behavior so radically.

“Seriously, though, are you okay? You’re, like, really quiet today,” you prod, and his whole body tenses. He turns to you, expression angry, and it sends a shiver down your spine. There he is.

“Didn’t I already fuckin’ tell you I’m fine? What, you suddenly lose the ability to hear or somethin’?” He shakes his head in annoyance, and you’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore because you can’t suppress the grin that spreads across your face.

“This girl, I swear,” you hear him mutter as he trots away.

You don’t say anything to each other for the rest of the ride to the checkpoint. The crumbling attorney's office is basically the same as you remember from the last time you were here. It’s old, obviously, and musty, but it’s stocked with random provisions, like food and ammo, so patrol crews can replenish their supplies before heading out to their next destination.

There’s also a killer view of Jackson from one of the windows, and you get distracted looking out at the lights and mountains in the distance. It’s starting to flurry, so you drop your backpack on the floor and stick both hands out to catch some of the snowflakes in your palms. So much for rain.

“You dilly dallyin’ again? Just sign the logbook already so we can move the fuck on,” Joel’s voice startles you out of your reverie. Huffing, you turn away from the window, looking for the pen that’s supposed to be next to the notebook, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“You know what, asshole, you could’ve just as easily signed the damn thing yourself. You were there too, or are you getting forgetful in your old age?” you shoot back as you hunch down, getting on your hands and knees to search under the desk. You hear him scoff behind you.

You spot the pen towards the back, because of course it rolled that far, and bend down so you can reach out a little farther. Your fingers brush one end and then you’ve got it, sitting back up with your prize in hand. Looking over your shoulder, you just barely catch Joel’s eyes darting away from where you were a moment ago, basically puppy-posing on the floor. That’s…suspicious.

“The fuck? Were you just staring at my ass?” you ask incredulously. There’s no goddamn way. He snorts, arms crossed with an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You wish, sweetheart,” he says condescendingly, and there it is again. That fucking word. So, he’s calling you pet names and staring at your ass now? There’s something seriously off about him today and you want to know what his deal is.

“You wanna tell me why you keep calling me that? You’ve been acting weird as fuck all day and it’s giving me whiplash,” you glower at him, taking a seat at the edge of the desk and forgetting all about the logbook. He shrugs.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he says simply, and you squint at him.

“Seriously, Joel? You've called me sweetheart twice today and now you’re checking me out,” you hop off the desk and walk over to where he’s leaning against the wall. “If I didn’t know any better…,” you glance down at his lips, moving closer, “I’d say you were flirting with me."

Well, that made him angry. "Fuck you,” he growls in your face, and his lips are soft where they accidentally graze your cupid's bow. He’s trembling now, fists clenched at his sides, and you think he’s about to push you away when he grabs you by the hips and shoves you against the wall. Your head lolls back and you laugh cruelly.

“Yeah, Joel,” you roll your hips into his and he grits his teeth, tightening his grip. “I think that’s exactly what you wanna do.”

But before you can go any further, there’s a crash just outside the door accompanied by a familiar sound that turns your blood to ice.

It’s unmistakable. The clicking, guttural and stuttered, is followed by a high-pitched shriek that echoes throughout the small space, and you both freeze. You look up at Joel, terrified, and he raises a finger to his lips, eyes telling you to be quiet or else.

There’s no way either of you can unholster your guns—and reload, in your case—without alerting it to your position. Joel reaches for the hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and you move to do the same, only to realize it isn't there.

Fuck, it has to be somewhere. Probably in one of the dozen random holsters you have attached to you right now.

Frantic, you pat at your sides and legs—anywhere it could be—as your panicked intakes of breath gradually increase in volume. A hand slaps over your mouth, and suddenly Joel is crushing your body against the wall, halting your movements.

"Quit," he whispers harshly, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you nod quickly.

The creature abruptly changes course, jerking toward the open window, and that’s when you notice something familiar by its feet. It's—fuck, it's your backpack. And your knife is gleaming from where it sits, nestled in one of the side pockets.

Stupid, that was so stupid. If, by some miracle, this thing doesn't kill you, there’s no doubt Joel will once he realizes your mistake. His hand drops from your mouth and he glances back over his shoulder at the clicker, gripping his knife a little tighter.

He looks resolute, and it dawns on you that he’s about to make a move. It takes everything you’ve got not to grab onto his coat and pull him back to you as he slowly shifts away, but then something else stops him in his tracks.

Another screech rings out from the other side of the room, and now you know you’re fucked. There’s only one option left now. Either you run, or you get torn apart. He reaches down to take your hand in his, warring emotions of anger and fear in his eyes as he looks into yours, and squeezes; it’s now or never.

The path to the doorway you came through is somehow miraculously clear, and Joel takes off at a sprint, dragging you with him but, to his horror, you decide to do yet another stupid thing.

For reasons you can’t explain, you find yourself ripping your hand out of his, swerving to snatch your backpack from where it lies just a few feet from the clicker.

Joel is yelling, or at least you think he is, and you vaguely feel his blunt nails scratch the back of your hand as he reaches out to stop you, but he can’t. You’re moving on autopilot, can barely register your body moving at all, until your fingertips skim the strap of your pack and the clicker is shrieking in your face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to one before, even dead, and it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. The world freezes for a moment and you freeze with it, unable to move or look away from the fungus erupting from its skull, teeth gnashing inches away from your throat.

And then you feel warmth—warm, strong arms wrap around your waist and tug harder and harder until you’re back out in the cold. Joel spots his horse a short distance away, likely spooked by the commotion, but you can’t see much farther than that. What was a gentle flurry less than a half hour ago has become a violent blizzard, and you’re both getting pelted by ice that burns as it scrapes across your skin.

There’s one horse—just Joel’s horse—but there’s no time to think about the fate of your own before his hands are on your hips, lifting you up and into the saddle, and he’s climbing on in front of you.

He urges his horse forward and you’re off without so much as a glance behind you, galloping away from danger and down a street that you realize you actually recognize.

“Joel,” you squeeze his waist and he ignores you. He’s shaking and it’s definitely not just from the cold. You can feel the anger radiating off of him in waves and it’s warranted. You fucked up big time. “Joel, turn right,” you say a little louder, and he’s still not listening. “Turn right! There’s a library up ahead, you have to turn now!”

He growls, and you think he’s purposely going to miss the turn until he’s yanking the reins to the right, nearly throwing you both off the horse.

“You better know what the fuck you’re doin’,” he all but shouts back, and you wrap your arms around his waist a little tighter.

“It’s safe!” you yell, struggling to speak loud enough for him to hear you over the wind. “Ellie’s been there before, loads of times, and she says it’s safe. “

And that’s all it takes to convince him.

The library’s completely boarded up and, with the wind howling against your backs, it takes more than a few hard tugs to yank enough of them off to get inside the lobby with Joel’s horse.

He hands you the reins before moving into the next room, crouching along the rows of aging books and knocked-over bookcases, and you peek in, watching him anxiously. Cracked bricks litter the ground, and he steps over a few as he crouches into place behind a broken book cart.

He picks one up and then shoots you a look, eyebrows lifting pointedly, and you realize he wants you to get back into the lobby, out of sight. You duck behind the wall, placing a soothing hand on his horse right as you hear the sound of the brick shattering against the ground, and wait. A few agonizing seconds pass before you hear him throw one more a little farther out, just to be sure.

When nothing startles or jumps out, Joel whistles and you know that’s your cue to come out from your hiding spot. Normally, that would piss you off immensely, him whistling for you like you’re a fucking animal, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

You’re exhausted now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, and the only thing you want to do is curl up into one of the torn-up chairs in the corner and pass out until morning. But that’s not what Joel has in mind.

“Y’think you’re off the hook for the shit you pulled earlier?”

You sigh, head tipping back and thumping against the bookcase behind you. “Do we have to do this right now? Joel, I’m tired and hungry, and fucking cold, and I really don’t have the energy.”

“Seriously? Sure looked like ya had the energy when you were runnin’ straight into that clicker’s mouth,” he scowls, reaching down to grab something next to the book cart and throwing it at your feet. “Thought ya might want this back since you apparently decided it was worth more than your life.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, eyebrows pinching together. Joel…he—

It's your backpack.

You were so sure it got left behind when he saved you from that clicker and yet, there it is. You lean over to pick it up, but Joel kicks it out of reach before you get the chance. He looks livid and now, you realize, you’re about to get that lecture you dodged earlier tenfold.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Me? I'm not the one having an identity crisis! You’ve been nothing but distracting all damn day,” you scoff bitterly. “None of this would've happened if you hadn't had a complete personality makeover overnight.”

You can’t believe he…is he serious? There’s no way you’re taking the fall for this, not all of it. Yeah, you fucked up with the backpack, but Joel isn't entirely blameless, either. If you hadn’t been fighting again, you would’ve just signed the stupid logbook and moved on like you were supposed to.

"Yeah, alright, sweetheart. It's my fault you almost got us both killed. Maybe you’re forgettin’ I saved your goddamn life back there, somethin' I wouldn't have had to do if you hadn't gone and done something so fuckin’ stupid."

Sweetheart.

"Stop calling me that! I…fuck, Joel, I just don't get you. I get it—I know I fucked up, but…,” your voice cracks and you can feel your lower lip wobbling, but you can’t let yourself cry. That would only prove to Joel what he already knows—you’re weak. “I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “You really wanna know what I want from ya?” He crowds your space, leaning in slightly. His head tilts like he's going to kiss you, and your breath hitches. “I want ya to get your shit together and stop makin’ unnecessary mistakes,” he says cruelly instead.

Your jaw drops.

"No, you know what? Fuck this,” you seethe. “When we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to never put me on your patrols again. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Think I give a shit about that? Go ahead, you’d be doin’ me a favor!” he yells at your back as you storm away, and you flip him off over your shoulder. Behind you, he sighs heavily, sounding as worn out and frustrated as you feel.

What a load of bullshit. You don't deserve to be treated like this. There's a stark difference between the inconsequential arguments you normally have and whatever the hell that was.

And the worst part? It hurts so much more than you expected it to. Leave it to you to get attached to the asshole whose personal mission it is to make you miserable. This whole thing was fun while it lasted, but you meant what you said. You and Joel, it’s over.

You exhale wetly, tears still threatening to fall as you leave him behind in what the yellowing signs tell you is the romance section. Well, isn’t that ironic.

You quickly realize navigating the library in the dark is more difficult than you anticipated, even with your flashlight. Not even ten steps away from where you started, you trip over something protruding from the ground and almost land flat on your face.

Joel comes running over as you let out a frustrated noise and push yourself up onto your knees. His knife is at the ready like he was expecting danger but, no, it’s just you humiliating yourself even further. He lets out a relieved sigh, holstering his knife, but then just stands there glaring down at you.

“I’m fine, by the way,” you wave a hand from the ground. He shakes his head, reaching down to help you up, and his hand feels so nice in yours—big, strong, and calloused.

You curse yourself for still thinking about him like that, like anything at all, but you can't help it. And when his hand drops yours, it feels distinctly cold and empty.

Shaking it off, you aim your flashlight at the offending spot on the floor. “What is that, anyway?” you ask Joel as he crouches down to brush away some of the dirt and debris.

“A handle,” he mumbles, pulling out his knife again and digging it into a crack in the floor, tracing around what looks like…a door?

“Is that a trapdoor?” You lean over his shoulder to get a better look. He looks back at you and nods, looking a little less angry and a lot more concerned. “Well, should we check it out?”

Instead of answering you, he wrenches the door open and shines his flashlight into the opening. There’s a ladder leading down and you can hear something rumbling below that sounds like a generator.

“Stay here,” he eyes you sternly as he begins his descent down the ladder.

“Uh, yeah, that’s not happening,” you scoff, following him. The ladder’s longer than you expected, and once your feet touch the ground, you reach out to run your hands along the wall, searching for a light switch.

A few moments later, your fingers come across something vaguely switch-like and you flip it, a warm glow filling the room, emanating from about a dozen heat lamps hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes adjust and—

“No fucking way.”

Joel is silent beside you, and you glance over, his expression just as stunned as yours is. You step closer. “Is that…?”

“Weed,” he breathes out.

You didn’t mean to get this high. Really, you didn’t. But you're in a fucking grow room hidden beneath a library in some tiny, backwater town, and you almost just died. So really, what reason was there not to?

The blizzard’s still going strong outside and, at the very least, it’s nice and warm down here. There's also the added bonus of something fun to do while you wait it out.

…Yeahhh, so you might’ve found a mason jar full of already rolled joints between some couch cushions, literally just sitting there for the taking. What were you supposed to do? Not smoke them?

But what surprises you even more than the pot itself is that Joel is smoking it, too.

It’s cute how he coughs after every drag, eyes watering as you pass a joint back and forth. The air is thick with smoke and a strange tension that neither of you can really describe, but you’re not fighting anymore. Not yet, at least.

The couch you're sitting on is cozy and less tattered than the chairs upstairs, so you settle there for the night, sitting closer than you ever willingly have before. Enough time has passed that you’re beginning to realize neither of you plans on moving, either. That you’re actually enjoying each other’s company.

The warmth of him seeps pleasantly through your clothes, and he feels so solid and real against you. Unconsciously, you melt into his side, your fuzzy brain chemicals urging you to feel more, more of him, and he tenses only for a moment before lifting an arm to rest behind you on the back of the couch.

It's strange how readily he's accepting your touch now. With each drag, you feel a little braver and press more of your body into his, draping your legs across his lap and nesting your head in the crook of his neck. He goes boneless when you mouth damply at the skin just below his jaw, his throat rumbling under your lips as he lets out a ragged breath.

You’ve both loosened up so much since earlier. It’s an easy, comfortable sort of peace you’ve found down here, even after the horrors you experienced earlier in the day. Part of you wishes it could always be like this with Joel but, then again, that just wouldn’t be you and Joel.

Your relationship thrives on the way you fight, almost like you can’t exist together without the promise of battle. So, when the high wears off and the world feels less lazy and more dire, you’ll both remember with sharp clarity that you hate each other. The memories will fade away and the war will continue. That’s just how it is.

It’s a little sad when you think about it, but for at least a little while longer, you’ll still have this version of you and Joel. You’ll enjoy the way he feels pressed up against your body; the way he feels pliant and suggestible under your lips.

And you’ll ask the question that’s been eating away at you all day because right now, you’re positive your lips can convince him to do anything.

“Tell me why you keep calling me sweetheart,” you murmur against his skin. He freezes, clearly not expecting you to bring it up again. You lift the blunt to his lips and encourage him to inhale to calm his nerves. The smoke plumes from his nose like a dragon as he exhales, and you're enraptured by the way it swirls through the air before dissipating. He braces a hand on your thigh before responding.

"Well, I…uh—," he mumbles, his cheeks turning a deep shade of burgundy, and you can’t resist reaching out to stroke the heated skin with your fingertips. He breathes shakily as he continues, "I—had a dream about ya last night, and…you, uh—you were…"

He cuts himself off, and your mind goes fuzzy for a moment as you let that little bit of information sink in. So, Joel was dreaming about you last night…and now, he’s treating you so much differently. Calling you pet names, eyeing you up, touching you. It all makes sense—but now you need him to tell you everything.

"What was I doing in your dream, Joel?"

He meets your gaze, looking flustered and a little ashamed, and it's a far cry from the man who was yelling at you not even an hour or two ago.

"You, uh," he clears his throat, still hesitating. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, sucking it wetly into your mouth, and his eyes darken. He lifts a thumb to your mouth, tugging your lip down just slightly, and you can see the moment his apprehension disappears. "You were on your knees for me," he murmurs. "Doin' such a good job, too, workin' that pretty mouth of yours."

You inhale sharply and his thumb drops, but his eyes never leave your lips. Gingerly, you pluck the joint still burning between his fingers and take one last deep drag before flicking the rest to the side and crashing your lips onto his.

God, they feel exactly like you thought they would, soft and a little chapped from the cold, but so fucking eager against yours. You hold his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along the roughness of his beard, and he groans as you exhale into his mouth, tasting the smoke on your tongue.

Sighing, you lean back slowly, heavy-lidded eyes roving over his face to take in his kiss-swollen lips and that beautiful burgundy flush. He's so pretty, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his thick, graying hair as he pants heavily below you.

You need to feel more of him, all of him, so you climb into his lap, straddling his hips and grinding down against where he's already straining in his pants. He grips you tighter in response, working you steadily across his hardening cock.

"Keep going,” you moan breathily. You're already so wet, and heat blooms in your belly every time your clit grazes the seam of his jeans. It's a foggy, hazy pleasure, what you feel when he speaks, and you're addicted to it. “Keep telling me about your dream—a-about my mouth…I wanna hear more.“

You feel rather than hear him growl low in his throat as he ducks his head down to your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin.

“Your mouth…so fuckin’ wet—s-soft and tight around my cock,” he sucks hard under your jaw, and you gasp. “Takin’ me all the way down, like I always knew you could.”

Your breath hitches, eyes rolling back. The thought of him dreaming about his cock down your throat makes your cunt pulse, and now you're positive you're soaking through his pants.

You bet he thinks about it when you're on patrol together, too—that when you're fighting like you've both got something to prove, he's thinking about shutting you up with his cock. Fucking your mouth to show you that what he says goes.

"M-more, Joel…ngh, fuck, I need more," you reach down to shove his shirt up so you can feel him, his stomach flexing and unflexing under your palms. He starts to buck into your clothed pussy faster, like he's fucking you through the fabric, and you whine pathetically as he tugs hard on your hair, yanking your head to the side.

"S’alright, n-needy girl, 'm gonna tell you exactly how I was fuckin' that sweet mouth of yours last night…h-how you were—," he groans raggedly in your ear, voice cracking, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat racing between your legs. "…c-chokin' and gaggin' around my cock while I was cummin' down your throat…"

He keeps giving you what you asked for, tells you all the filthy shit he wants to do to your mouth, and his hips start to stutter like he's bringing himself closer to orgasm with his own words. It would make a lot of sense—Joel's always loved the sound of his own voice, especially when it's directed at you.

But you can’t hear much of anything anymore aside from the sound of your own stuttered moaning, suddenly so, so close to hurtling over the edge with him. You’re sliding so easily over his cock now and you brace your hands on his shoulders as your thighs start to quake around his waist. He digs his fingers into the plush curve of your ass, pulling you down harder, but you squeeze his shoulders roughly to get his attention.

“Y-you—Joel, you can’t cum,” you whine into his neck, and he all but snarls in response. “No…no, no, no. Want you t-to fuck my mouth—you have to cum in my mouth—”

He abruptly yanks you off his lap, shoving you back onto the couch and wrenching your jeans and underwear down in two hard tugs.

You barely have time to let out a squeal before he buries his face in your cunt, honing in on your clit and sucking wetly. He flattens his tongue, circling once, twice, three times, and then you’re cumming with a loud exhale, gushing as you grind into his face.

Your pussy’s still pulsing, locking down around nothing, as you tug him off of you by his hair.

“Joel—jeans..o-off…now.” You help him push them down just enough to free his cock, and then your mouth is on him, sucking him down to the hilt.

His hips buck off the couch of their own accord and he groans pathetically as you gag around him. He’s petting your head and saying something raggedly above you, likely apologizing for hurting you, but it’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

Instead of pulling off to reassure him that you very much want him to keep gagging you, you guide his hands to bury themselves in your hair and squeeze his thigh, praying he gets the hint. His fingers tense against your scalp as he holds you in place and, yeah, he absolutely gets it.

Your head feels like it’s disconnecting from the rest of your body as he starts fucking into your mouth the way he was probably dreaming about last night. He’s just so fucking big, and you feel a weird sort of pride bloom in your chest at being able to take him like this.

Tears are streaming down your face from the effort and you’re drooling all over his lap but, fuck, if he wants to do this every time you patrol together, you’ll let him. You take back everything you said before—if Tommy ever takes you off Joel’s patrols, you’ll kill him.

His fingers start to tug harder, painfully at your hair and you can hear him moaning something above you, his words slurred and desperate.

“S-so fuckin’ good, sweetheart, you’re…ngh—fuckin’ perfect,” he grits through his teeth, breath hitching as you wrap your lips tighter around him, flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. “‘m gonna cum…fuck, fuck—need you t-to swallow it all, sweetheart… know you can do it…so goddamn good.”

Humming and swallowing around him, you reach up to cup his balls and he erupts, pumping thick cum into your mouth and down your throat. Deep groans are punched out of his chest with every spurt and you can feel his cock pulsing against your tongue.

There’s so much of it. You try your best to do what he asked, to be good and swallow everything, but it’s starting to leak out the corners of your mouth and down his cock. Slurping up as much as you can, you pull off with an audible pop and lick off the rest of the salty, white streaks remaining on his skin.

When your watery eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at you like maybe he really has been dreaming this whole time. He’s still a little dazed, from both the weed and the intense orgasm, and he reaches out to cradle your face in his hands almost as if to prove to himself that you’re real. It’s a surprisingly tender gesture that kind of makes your heart ache.

Your lips quirk up as you lean into his touch, aching to prolong the moment, and he leans forward to press a sweet kiss to them, mouth coaxing yours open to taste himself on your tongue. You whine softly as his tongue runs along your bottom lip, and then he pulls back, hauling you into his arms to lie back on the couch.

Those heat lamps feel unbearable now. You're both hot and sweating, chests heaving from exertion, but you still refuse to separate from each other. Your brain’s feeling a lot less foggy, so you’re probably coming down from your high, which means Joel is, too. The realization sends a pang of worry through your chest like you expect him to suddenly come to and push you away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls your back to his chest, positioning your bodies more comfortably before murmuring fondly in your ear, "You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Maybe you’ll get to keep this after all—and without sacrificing everything that makes you and Joel, well…you and Joel. You twist around to shoot him an unimpressed look, but the burgeoning grin on your face betrays you.

“What, you’re just figuring that out? Took you long enough.”

He scoffs. “Listen, sweetheart—“ But you gasp, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. No, way. How are you just putting two and two together now?

“Wait…oh my god, wait—is this why you keep calling me sweetheart? Because it's what you called me when I was blowing you in your sex dream?” You’re grinning so hard it hurts. How the fuck didn't you notice that earlier?

There was plenty of time to work it out when you were all but fucking on the couch for the past hour. But then…he didn’t actually start calling you sweetheart until he was cumming, and the realization makes your cunt throb. You file that information away for now, but make a mental note to come back to it later—hopefully back in Jackson with Joel.

…who’s still mumbling irritatedly into your shoulder. You tilt your head back to press your lips under his jaw, and you're quickly learning that kissing that particular spot turns him to jelly.

“You can keep calling me sweetheart,” you start, thinking over your next words carefully. “But I’ve got conditions.”

“Oh, she’s got demands now,” you can hear the dramatic eye roll in his voice. You suck a bruise into his skin to stop the back sass and it works spectacularly.

“Oh, shut up. It benefits you too, asshole,” you glare up at him before continuing. “I want your dick in my mouth every time we patrol from now on. And next time, you have to fuck me.”

His fingers dig into your sides, and you’re pretty sure you just felt his cock twitch against your ass.

“…Y-yeah, I, uh. I can do that,” he stutters, suddenly demure, and it dawns on you how much you like seeing all these different sides of Joel. He’s been mean and angry, shy and tender, and so fucking sexy all in the span of a single day. It's not something you ever would've expected from him.

You used to think he was just some grumpy old man and that his one personality trait was being an obnoxious jerk, but tonight you were proven very, very wrong.

You pull his arms tighter around you, let yourself get lost in the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back, and hum contently. You’ll have to thank Ellie and her weed-grower friend later.

“Y’know, I almost thought you were gonna say no more fighting,” he says after a few seconds of silence. You look up at him incredulously, and he chuckles.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

[gyodragon]

POST GRIFFITH TORTURE RENASSIANCE!!! i keep staring at your art of griffith's broken stare with the bandages wrapped across his face and his emaciated little corpse beside guts...

I read this ao3 fic about his struggle with recovery in an aftermath where he doesn't go apeshit. *offers it to you gently* https://archiveofourown.org/works/609721

it made me think, as a certified griffith expert, what do you think his recovery may have looked like? could anything possibly have still made him happy after all of that... or at least minorly not-miserable? what kinds of things do you think he'd enjoy in such a state?

would he even try to grow out his hair?

The Renaissance that really constricts our hearts!! I remember when first learning Berserk, it was the transformation Griffith has after the torture that got its hooks into me and compelled me to read the series. The rest is history. Thank you so much btw! I've only drawn him a few times but it feels like more in my heart. Thank you for sending that fic my way! (I'm super into gen fic and that is a good one) *Certified Griffith Expert* AHH! That's sweet! I'd like a badge or something after this long LOL. First off, this ask has given me SUCH AN ITCH to pick 'Iron Hawk' back up (my fan project about Griffith being rescued from the Tower early and the aftermath of that. It's my baby) I'm thinking about maybe using a different, more sustainable format by writing multi-chapter fanfiction with accompanying illustrations. But I assume you mean a scenario about his recovery after the canon full year of torture. Interesting. I actually haven't put a ton of thought into that because, morbidly, I have a hard time imagining any outcome after that amount of trauma where he isn't doomed. So assuming this is a world in which he is able to make some progress in his recovery that allows him to regain some mobility and use of his hands, I could see a return of the bandit era. I could see Judeau with his ingenuity and the help of other Hawks working together to fashion him a kind of wheelchair. A Merlin chair wouldn't fit with the time period but you get the idea! Maybe he eventually uses a cane and back brace. He grows his hair out but it never comes back as thick or as long. He shows his face again but rotates a collection of partial porcelain masks to cover the worst of his scars. If his hands heal enough, he learns sign language, writes with the tip of his finger in people's palms and writes with a large pen or quill. (edit: I've recently been totally swayed by your post about him relearning to speak and whispering to his trusted inner circle. I'm SOLD) I think his band would continue to whittle down until only the most loyal remained. The core members who would inevitably transform back into his friends. He used to protect himself from 'friends' with compartmentalization when they were among the thousands of Hawks under his command. I think that Griffith's life during recovery would be hell but he could find happiness in his inner circle reducing to a small group. Like when he was a kid. I think with the deterioration of his body, it could be possible that his mind goes into overdrive. The frail, mute, mysterious general who is even more of a political/military genius. No more White Hawk. He is just 'Griffith' or 'General' or 'The prisoner'. After enough banditry and roaming, the group reclaims a comfortable position in a land away from political enemies. Griffith gives up on his dream and focuses on fulfilling the promise of his vision to just these few people. He is even able to preform Robin Hood-like feats in the countryside. Outlaw goodness, that sort of thing. He doesn't retire himself though. I have a dark outlook. I think he probably satisfies himself with this twilight campaign, sees his remaining friends in positions of security and wealth and when all is said and done he eventually claims his own life. I think Guts is the last one with him when he is finally finished.

[detectivestucks]

The Bet

18+ Content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Tobi x F!Reader

Summery: You are relatively new to the Akatsuki and your best friends Konan makes a wager with you. When you lose, you're forced to take Tobi on a date.

Warnings: NSFW, canon violence, mentions of biting, fingering, oral-male receiving, unprotected penetration, facial.

Word Count: 4.8k

Anon Ask via DM: Been getting a lot of Kakashi request so I was happy to write for Obito again :)

Tobi always had eyes for you. 

Nothing happens in the Akatsuki without his approval but when Konan asked Pain to let you join their troop of miscreants, Tobi overwhelmingly approved of Pain’s decision. You were skilled, vicious, and adorable. You captured the attention of every man you came across. Even when fighting enemies your beauty captivated them. They shamelessly flirted with you as you battle to the death.

“Come on gorgeous, why don’t you drop the katana and I‘ll take you on a nice date?”

“Wow, strong and beautiful. Maybe after this I can take you to dinner.”

“Keep trying to kill me and I might just ask you to marry me.”

The pick up lines were pathetic and met with a resounding rejection that was usually followed by ending their lives. 

Yes, Tobi had eyes for you alright. He felt a twinge of envy for anyone who joined you on missions because you were a brilliant sight to behold when you hunted your target down. You weren't a victim to the harsh realities of the shinobi world. You were the harsh reality of the shinobi world. 

Always hanging around with Konan, the two of you whisper to each other whenever you’re at the hideout between missions. The other members always came over to talk to you, trying to impress you with boyish charm and corny pick up lines. They would leave you in a fit of giggles and whispers while Tobi watched from a distance. He wanted you as much as the other guys but he had a double life to worry about. He’d leave the rest of the crew to hopelessly fawn over you and your seemingly high standards. 

One afternoon the two of you are chatting away in the corner of the main room laughing at Deidara and Hidan who are putting on an impressive display for you both when Tobi walks through. He runs up to his partner and clings onto him for dear life, pretending to be a damsel in distress

“Oh Deidara! There was a mean man outside! Make him go away with your very impressive art.”

He tilts his head to the side and you just know he’s batting his lashes below his mask. You and Konan crack up at his ridiculous mini play. You enjoyed Tobi. He was funny and pissed Deidara off constantly. He was the much needed comic relief amongst a bunch of moody, brooding, arrogant rogue shinobi. However out of all the guys in the gang he was the only one you weren’t interested in. Even Zetzu had a better chance ending up between your legs than the orange masked idiot.

Konan sees you laugh a little too hard at Tobi and nuzzles her lips against your ear,

“What do you think Tobi’s like on a date?”

“Oh gods I hope I never have to find out. He’d probably cling to his girlfriend the way he hangs on Deidara.”

You both snicker at that, certain it’s true.

“Care to make a wager then?”

Konan piques your interest and you lift a brow at her.

“Next mission, the woman with the least kills asks Tobi on a date.”

You turn to her with your mouth open. “Konan! You seriously are willing to keep living here if you lose?”

“Oh I’m not losing.” she says, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m sure as hell not losing either.”

The both of you continue to stare at your animated comrades when you speak again.

“What does the winner get?”

Konan snorts “Not going on a date with Tobi.” 

“Besides that!”

“I don’t know.: She thinks for a quick second. “They have to invite their crush into their bedroom.”

Your eyes dart around the room, not sure who to choose. There were a lot of guys in your gang that you wanted to sleep with. Pain was off limits cause of Konan but Kisame was ripped and had that sexy predator thing going for him. You bet he bites and when he does, it breaks the skin. Then he probably soothes your wounds by licking up the blood while he fucks you stupid on his cock. 

Your eyes pan over to pretty boy Deidara who was gorgeous with hair you wanted to pull while his mouth lapped between your legs. You thought about all the sinful things the mouths on his hands would do to you and it makes you cross your legs.

You look at Hidan who was crazy hot and twisted. You could see him getting freaky during your period and you wanted to surrender to the ‘way of jashin’ for just one night, letting him do whatever he wanted to your naked body. 

Lastly you peer over at the quiet Itachi. Reserved, kept to himself, and well mannered. The kind of guy you could bring home to your mama but was probably a filthy boy in bed. You imagine him slapping you and calling you degrading names while his eyes glow red.

“Can’t decide, huh?” Konan says with a light jab. 

“Well not all of us joined the Akatsuki with our childhood crush.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to choose. Cause you’re gonna lose.”

You open your mouth and look at her pretending to be gobsmacked. “Oh it’s on!”

****************************************************

Konan picked a good time to wager her little bet cause your next mission was a full fledged raid. One thing you envied about Konan was her ability to make shuriken out of paper, leaving her with an endless supply of weapons while utilizing minimal physical effort. You on the other hand had incredible speed but only two kunai and a katana at your disposal. No one could match your lightning speed, not even the raikage himself. But you could still only attack up to two targets at a time. 

The night was long and the body count was high.

…and Konan was kicking your ass. 

You were desperately trying to take out more targets than her but her range was so much farther than yours. You were needlessly brutal, terrified of the horrible date night that was to come at the end of the mission. The first rays of light shone over the rooftops when the two of you finally made your retreat. 

“Your count?”

“78” you pant

“Ha! I win! 102”

“Shut up!”

She only smiles back at you.

“Fuck! Now I have to ask out Tobi.”

“Sucks to suck”

“Oh gods, what if he wants me to suck his dick?!”

“You better open wide.”

You shove her off the tree she jumped on but she caught herself by creating paper wings and flew the rest of the way home. Smug bitch.

You meet up just outside of the hideout, entering together. As soon as you walk through the threshold Konan begins to shout. 

“Tobi! Y/N needs you!”

“I hate you so much right now.” You grumble under your breath.

She sticks her tongue out at you, “Deal with it. I’m gonna go find Pain.”

She leaves in a twirl just as Tobi timidly enters the room. 

“You needed me, Y/N?”

“Yes…I have something to ask you.”

Tobi just stands there, staring at you behind his mask, head eerily tilted to the side. Gods he’s so creepy. You begin to wring your hands in front of your stomach, building the courage to ask the dreaded question.

“Tobi…would you…” you bite your lower lip in the most adorable way and Tobi can feel his heart twist in his chest. “Would you go on a date with me?”

“Oh.”

You stare at him, unsure of what to make of his response. Maybe he was going to reject you. Maybe you won’t have to go on a date at all. Thank the heavens.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I-uh…” Fuck! Now I have to plan the date too?! Konan I’m gonna kill you. “I hadn’t decided yet.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you.

“Do you want to go or not? Cause I can go ask one of the others if you’re not interested.”

Tobi scratches the back of his neck and responds in his childish tone.

“Geh, Y/N, I’d be happy to go on a date with you.” He brings his hands together in front of him and tilts his head to the side in a feminine display, “I just wasn’t expecting it is all.”

It took everything in you not to cringe so instead you force a laugh. Maybe he was just trying to be funny. Yeah, that’s it, he was trying to be funny. 

That night you get dressed in a long flowy pale pink skirt with slits along each thigh and a fitted cream colored top with corset detailing around the bust. You hoped one of the other guys saw you in it and would knock on your door later to show you how a real man treats a woman. For now, though, you needed to focus on making it through your date with Tobi.

He knocks on your bedroom door and you walk over to answer it. Tobi stands before you in a fitted black shirt and black pants covered in a long black kimono adorned with a dark gray geometric pattern. It wasn’t a bad look but he hid every inch of his body from everyone as usual.

“Wowzah!”

You smile and roll your eyes. “What, never seen a proper woman before?”

You turn around and retreat back into your room to grab your cream square heels, sliding them on while balancing yourself with Tobi’s arm. 

“So where are we going?”

You look at him and smile playfully “You’ll see.”

You grab Tobi’s hand and pull him through the hideout, heading towards the exit. As you walk through the common area, Tobi looks to the side and sees the jaws of Hidan, Deidara, and Zetzu fall to the floor. He can’t help but feel a swell of pride at their jealousy. 

The date, however, was terribly awkward. You tried your best to be flirty but you had no way of telling how Tobi felt. You couldn’t see him smile or blush. You couldn’t tell if he was staring at you with interest or anger. It was extremely one sided and uncomfortable. You did your best to sell the lie but it was probably painfully obvious that you didn’t want to be holding hands with a big masked baby. 

On the way home you sway as you walk next to him, both arms hugging his right one, trying to maintain a normal conversation. It occurs to you that this might be your only chance to ask the burning question everyone in the Akatsuki is thinking.

“Tobi? Why do you wear the mask?”

“Because I don’t want anyone to see my face of course!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay but why don’t you want anyone to see your face?”

“That’s for Tobi to know.”

You shake your head “What, you ugly or something?” You squeeze his bicep flirtatiously. “You get stuck in a house fired and are covered in scars?”

Tobi goes stiff in your hold. You drop his arm and bring both your hands up to your mouth.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I was only joking!”

Tobi walked next to you in silence. If you thought it was awkward before, that was nothing compared to the embarrassment you felt now. 

“Tobi, you’d have nothing to be embarrassed about you know. It’s not like you’re the only freak in the circus. I mean. Kisame is practically a shark, Sasori lived inside a puppet, and Hidan drinks blood to become a skeleton.” A hot ass skeleton but Tobi doesn’t need to know that. “We’re all weirdos.”

Tobi still doesn’t speak but his body relaxes some. He was getting a little easier to read but you still couldn’t wait for the night to be over. He creeped you out and you still had no respect for him. He was a fool even if he was kinda funny. 

You finally make it back to the hideout and much to your disappointment, everyone has gone to bed. Tobi walks you to your side of the hideout next to Konan’s room and awkwardly gives you two pats on the shoulder before telling you he was off to bed in his high pitched kid’s tone.

You turn to unlock your room with a signature roll of your eyes relieved the night was over.

“Pfh, what a loser, bet he’s never even made a girl cum in his life.”

As Tobi’s walking away he overhears you and stops dead in his tracks. He knows that he’s playing a fool but it wouldn’t hurt to teach you some manners and show you who’s really in charge of the Akatsuki while he’s at it.

Just as you open your door you feel two gloved hands tightly grip your biceps. Someone had snuck up behind you.

“What’d you say?”

The voice was rich and deep. It was a cold blanket that covered you with fear and made chills creep down your back. Your breath falters. You didn't dare turn your head.

“Tobi?”

He pushes you into your room with a finger shoved into your spine between your shoulder blades.

“Would you like to test that little theory?”

You turn around, face painted in fear as you search Tobi’s orange mask for answers. He slams the door closed behind him. Tearing off his robe as he swiftly steps forward causing you to retreat away from him backwards. You’re too distracted by the sudden change in his demeanor to notice the bulging muscles poking through his skin tight shirt before he picks up a shoe and throws it against the wall to kill the lightswitch. 

You reach your arms in front of you, ready to push him away but he somehow passes through them and has a grip on your hair while he is sucking on the skin of your neck. An involuntary pleasured grunt escapes you, realizing he discarded his mask and has his lips locked on your skin. You keep trying to push him off but every time your hands pass through him while his grip against your hair remains solid. You couldn’t figure out how it worked but you were starting to no longer care as he created various bruises along your collarbone. You begin to pant slightly, feeling arousal pool between your legs from how he nibbled against your sensitive flesh. Your mind was slowly fogging over and in your haze you wanna hear his voice again.

“T-talk to me. I wanna hear you s’more”

“And say what, Princess? Tobi isn’t my real name?”

His voice was smooth and intimidating. It made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You lean your face against his.

“Yes, tell me more.” you whisper

“What do you want to hear? That I’m the actual mastermind behind the Akatsuki and you are all my little puppets?”

You begin to lift your leg and wrap it around his waist. Panting from how his baritone tickled your mind.

“or that I’m going to fuck you like a whore right now and turn you into my personal concubine.”

“Yes”

You lunge for his lips, hands clawing the back of his head to pull him into you. You had never been so attracted to a voice in your life. You had no clue what he looked like but you knew he had adorably messy hair and scars on his face. You could feel the tough skin with your lips. He backed you all the way over to your bed and switched places with you so that he could take a seat before pulling you into his lap. 

You straddled him, your heat pressing over his concealed boner, while you feverishly made out with him in the pitch black room. Your kisses left his lips and traveled over the ridges of his face, sucking and breathing on the battered skin he was afraid to show, before you licked a stripe up his cheek. 

He anchored you at your hips and pulled you down on him while he rutted up into you. You cried a needy moan into his ear as your fingers played in his hair. 

“My, my, I think I can make you cum without even touching you. You’ve got yourself all worked up over a little conversation and sitting in my lap.”

You groan at the sound of his voice and begin to grind on him, needing the friction while you kiss his lips. You rub your chest against him as you work yourself up into a frenzy. He reaches behind you, looking for how to take off your shirt when he gives up and opts to rip it off of you instead. 

You let out a small cry, partly in awe of his raw strength but partly because that was one of your favorite tops. 

“I don’t tolerate anything getting in my way.”

“Uh-huh” you agree breathily, cupping his face in your hands, recapturing his lips with yours. As much as you want to keep hearing that velvet voice, you want the lips that form the words to be interlocked with yours. Your arms wrap around his neck as you push your barren chest against his clothed one. His hands explored your soft back. You were glad to feel his fingertips dance over your skin and not his leather gloves. You wondered if you’d get to feel all of him tonight. You could tell how toned he was through his clothes and were dying to lick and nibble his chest. 

“Tobi,” you pant against his face, “please make me cum.”’

He hums and grabs you at your thighs flipping you onto your back and kneeling over you. Your hands continue to explore all over his upper body, running up from his forearms to his biceps, sliding over his delts, and tracing down his traps before sinking your nails into his rhomboids. He grunts into your neck. Arousal puddling in your underwear at the sound. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting your hips and grinding into him some more. Panting and needy, the mystery of him increasing your desire. Tobi grabs the front panel of your skirt and pulls it aside, yanking your panties out of the way. You drag your lips along his jaw. 

One of Tobi’s fingers traces along your slit, collecting some of your slick and smearing it along your sensitive nub hidden within your folds. You twitch from the sudden contact and can feel him smile against your face.

“Someone's sensitive.”

A high pitched “mhm” comes from you as you push your face against his. His thumb casually rubs circles between your legs. Shuddered moans expel into Tobi’s ear as your arms slide back up to Tobi’s neck and wrap around him tightly. He lets a finger slip past your entrance, stroking in and out twice before being joined by a second. 

Your eyes snap shut. He pumps his fingers in and out of you. Your head falls back in pleasure as he scissors you open, playing you like a violin. You squeeze around him, soaking in how it feels to be touched for the first time in over a month. Back in your village you were a menace and well hated but you were never short of male companionship, even if it always ended terribly. Once you officially became a rogue ninja the world was much more lonely than expected. You had imagined it would be different once you joined the Akatsuki but to your own surprise, you didn’t take a lover till tonight. Short of breath you manage to wheeze out,

“Thank you Tobi”

“Good girl, you know your manners.” 

His condescending praise filled you with butterflies when spoken in his bassy tone. You respond by nibbling on his lower lip. You so badly wanted to rip off his clothes but you didn’t dare, too afraid he’d stop. Instead you softly beg into his ear,

“Please shove your cock into me.”

“Of course, Princess. How can I say no when you ask so nicely.”

A small cry of excitement whines past your lips. He darkly chuckles at your neediness. What a sharp turn from the bitch who tried to make a mockery of him by asking him on a date as a joke.

He’d make you pay for that. He intentionally wasn’t pursuing you before but since you sought him out with your farce, now he’d take full ownership of you. You were going to be his property now. He wasn’t talking dirty when he said you’d become his concubine. He meant it. You’d be chained to him, only let off your tether during missions. 

He opens the front of his pants and slips into your quivering entrance, stretching you uncomfortably as he pushed his excessive girth into you. A pleasured wail drew from your mouth.

“What a good girl. Tell me Princess, do you want more?”

“Yes!”

You cry the word. He pulled back slowly just to plunge back in. You sink down into your mattress, getting shoved into it deeper with every inward thrust. It was rough. There was nothing gentle about the way he fucked you. His swollen head pummeled into you, dislocating all your organs. He folded you in half as he pushed in. Your knees found a new home by your ears, his body pinning the backs of your legs, pushing your thighs against your chest. In the darkness he could see the whites of your eyes as they rolled back in your head to look at your melting brain. 

Your mouth was left agape. You were babbling and drooling from his dick dragging in and out of you. You swear you’d never been fucked so good in your life. He brought you to tears on his schlong, pistoning in and out of you. Your nails digging into his back once more.

“Gods damn, Princess!”

Tobi was struggling to maintain his domineering composure. He was losing himself inside of your pussy. It gripped around him tightly. The pink muscle constricted around his member, attempting to milk him before he was ready.  “Eager little fucking slut.”

He husked between thrusts. You body fell limp. You became a rag doll under him. The only part of your body that was tense was your gummy walls which held onto him with a death grip. He pushed his sweaty forehead against yours. Holding the back of your head.

“Fuck this pretty pussy. It belongs to me now. You belong to me. Understand?”

You wished you could’ve answered. You would’ve told him yes. You would've told him that you’d never leave his side. That you’d bend over for him anywhere. You’d wrap around his dick whenever he needed you to. You would willingly degrade yourself in the middle of battle if he wanted. You were addicted to him and you weren’t ashamed to admit it. 

His speed increased. He was about to cum. He brought himself all the way to the edge before he pulled out. 

“Stick out your tongue, Princess.”

You opened wide as he shot his load all over your face and chest. Your body still bent in half; your feet resting over his shoulders. He took the palm of his hand and smeared his fluids all over you. Rubbing the glossy substance into your skin and pushing it into your mouth. You hummed happily which made him melt. He allowed your body to unfold and laid his full weight on top of you, arms possessively threading around your waist and pulling you close. 

You lost your breath. Your mind became a swimming intoxicated mess in his hold. You nuzzled your face further into his shirt while his cum dried on your face and skin. He never undressed. His shirt still on, his pants pulled up. He was a complete mystery to you and now you were invested in solving it. You were his but he was about to be yours just as much. Soon, you’d break him…soon. For now you slept sheltered in his arms.

****************************************************

The next day you both emerge from your room close to noon. The majority of the members of the gang were rough housing together in the common area. All turned still as you came out holding hands with Tobi.

“Holy hell…”

“You two?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with any of them and instead chose to look up at Tobi’s mask. Eyes locked on the face you weren’t sure you’d ever see. Tobi though had a far different reaction. A smug idea popped into his sick mind. It was time to show everyone that you had an owner now and he wasn’t going to entertain any of these brutes trying to encroach on his possession. In his childish voice he called to his comrades.

“Look at my new toy everyone!”

He yanked on your hand so that you were whipped around standing in front of him, your back to the room. 

“Y/N, suck Tobi’s cock. hmm?”

“Yes, sir”

It was embarrassing and made your face heat up but you felt your mouth water as you knelt down before him nonetheless. On your knees, you open the front of his robe and untie his pants, pulling out his thick cock.

“What the hell…” you hear Konan behind you in complete disbelief. 

You let his pulsing length rest on your bottom lip while you look up at him. His chest rumbles as you slip your tongue out and under his weighty member before opening wide and sliding him all the way down your throat. He grips your hair with one hand before looking up at the shocked faces around the room.

“Y/N belongs to Tobi now. Look how good she’s taking my dick, slurping on it like a good little pet!”

Lewd gargles and squelching sounds came from your mouth as you bobbed back and forth along his cock. He was humiliating you in front of everyone and it was making you wet for him. Your hand came between your legs to rub yourself.

“Aww how precious. She’s even playing with herself for me. You see that everyone?”

You wanted to die from embarrassment but you couldn’t help yourself. The taste of him is addicting. He had you out of your mind.

“Here Princess, let me help you.”

He brings both hands into your hair and pushes you down on him. He thrusts into you at the same time causing you to gag around him. You hear him grumble in delight. You open your jaw and allow him to plummet all the way in. Throat constricting around his tip as it slips past your vocal cords. You hum in contentment, forgetting about everyone watching you. You close your eyes focusing on him and how he feels in your mouth. One hand rubbing your clit more harshly while the other clutches his thigh. 

Tobi’s facade almost slipped. He felt high from the way your warm mouth closed around him. He had half a mind to say he loved you. He opted instead to cease talking so as not to give away his cover and instead simply grunted as his hips snapped into your mouth. 

The remainder of the room watched in stunned silence at the pornographic scene before them. They watch the orange mask fall backwards, looking up at the ceiling as Tobi was close to cumming. The jealousy Deidara felt had him storm out of the room. Konan had an uncomfortable guilt crawl over her skin but little did she understand, you were in heaven. You whimper as you touch yourself, bringing yourself close to an orgasm. The sounds make Tobi hammer into you faster until you feel his hot spend shoot down your throat. Your walls clench around nothing and you bring both arms to wrap around Tobi’s wait, holding yourself all the way down on him as you hug around his waist. 

Tobi so badly wanted to coo in your ear and praise you. Tell you what a good girl you were but he couldn’t muster his carefree sound. Instead he pulls himself out of you and grabs your wrist. He yanks you back into your bedroom and slams you up against the door with the two of you on the other side. 

“Fuck Y/N, you’re such a good girl for me. Here, let me reward you.”

You mewl for him, your lip quivering at the return of his deep voice. He twists his mask to the side gaining you access to his lips. You pull them into you while he lifts you up, slipping his wet length between your folds and fucking you against the door.

The banging can be heard by the group on the other side, sitting in the common area.

“Shit…it was supposed to be a stupid prank.” Konan confesses. “What the hell happened last night?”

If only they knew…

Masterlist

[lucabyte]

i am looking at nohats au 👀 please share more

So! NoHats! I'm going to grab you and use this to ramble. A Lot.

The NoHats AU is @samhainian's it's just that I'm the strange little freak who takes the words said unto me and executes on them. But I can still do a little explainer on what our overall thoughts and vibes are. (And, that we are in fact propping up a little box with some cheese under it here. 🪤 Please (PLEASE) feel free to pick up what we're putting down.)

We're far from the only ones exploring a "what if siffrin fucking died" AU, though the main difference with NoHats is the placement of the death in the timeline. Instead of being 'Mal Du Pays Wins' or 'Act 6 encounter goes horribly wrong', the death is… Just after the (literal) falling action.

(This placement is because Sam is a comic book fan who thus has become used to characters being ripped away at the cruelest times by shitty writers. THANK FUCKING GOD adrienne is not that and isat is delightful yippieee, but, back on topic.)

Giving the party the full understanding of What Happened that you get by putting the death after black hole siffrin, but before the A6 encounter leaves an interesting gap to be filled. See, making Siffrin's death very much not Loop's fault means that… this once again reads (when not read as simply a tragedy...) as the universe doing what it sees fit to fulfull Loop's wish… Thus making Siffrin's death Loop's fault again, but only in their eyes. And only in a way they could express if they were honest about who they were…

And this is where having had excuse to waffle about my general Postcanon Loop thoughts the other day comes in handy, because Sam and I have that as our canon-compliant reading to begin with, NoHats plays off of a lot of the same readings of Loop's character. Namely: Uh Oh Somebody's Lying By Fucking Omission Again. (BECAUSE TO BE FAIR THIS TIME… HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU HANDLE THAT?)

Now, neither Sam nor I are fanfic writers, so this has been a little bit trapped in our heads and DMs (and my unfinished art but,)

But our thoughts on how NoHats like… Goes.

Siffrin's death is peaceful, but that does not mean the aftermath of it is. I can't imagine the party takes it well, especially after understanding the circumstances of the Loops. (And, of note, in A5 where nobody had the discussion on what to do with each other's bodies should something happen…) But I'd imagine it traumabonds them somewhat (understatement of the century) and now knowing how the rest of the party feels, they resolve to travel together for the forseeable future.

The party track down Loop to deliver the terrible news, since they were clearly Siffrin's friend too, and invite Loop along to travel at least long enough to (let them grieve) get the burial over with. Loop, here, can be helpful in knowing what Siffrin would've wanted where the party would be at a loss. Loop, I think, takes a bit of a lead on the funerary aspects of it all, because, um. (Performing rites on your own body, huh?)

Then, as things are after a death, life just… Kind of has to continue on as normal. The party travel, pick up Nille, and get to know Loop as this mysterious new person. Maybe in this situation they might stay in Bambouche for a while to give Bonnie more stability since. They are probably taking it the worst. It would've come out of absolutely nowhere for everyone in the party obviously but god, for a kid? For A Kid?

It should be stated NoHats is not intended to be grimdark, just y'know. An exploration of grief. This is also why it's got a bit of a lopsided focus on Bonnie vs the rest of the party because hhrrhghghhghghhhghhghhh <- incoherent

Now, a crossroads.

How does the party discover Loop to be Siffrin? How long does it take. How much have the party embraced them as part of the family (especially with something as intense to bond over as this)?

There's the Odile option. Have her put it together and have to bring it up somehow. This could also be done by Isabeau, perhaps. He's smart. (which. God. If anything's the real Isabeau Torment Nexus it's this)

Then there's the other option batted around by Sam and I. The: The Universe Dislikes Duplicates option.

The items in the house that fzzt away when inspected. The Universe doesn't like there to be two of something, at least not when they're acknowledged. But one of something is just fine…?

Which is to say. I'm not a personal proponent of 'Loop getting their body back'. EXCEPT …… except this one time.

There's only one Siffrin now, so they don't need to be obfuscated to exist.

Consider, if you will. Loop swallowing their guilt for long enough to be comfortable. Falling back into old habits. Without another Siffrin around to compete for the niche of, they actually begin to act like Siffrin again. Not intentionally, it's just… The party is as welcoming as they've always been. And the party swears they keep catching glimpses of a face under all the light.

Then, one day, while still not fully human again, the resemblence becomes undeniable. Loop having not even noticed until everyone looks at them like they've seen a ghost.

Has it been months? How long have they kept up this lie? Is it even a lie, to them? They're Loop. But they were, once, Siffrin.

Even after explaining it, does that make it better or worse?

Bonnie cuts through the betrayed, struck-nerve reactions with a sobering "I missed you."

… Anyway !

Yeah so that's the vibe for NoHats. As for LoopLoops? That's more nebulous. I think it can go anywhere really in the NoHats timeline. I err personally toward the "Loop continuously replays the last 10 minutes before Siffrin's death almost immediately after they find out and have to parkour their ass up the House in the most distressing situation possible to try and get them to hold on, just please hold on." (Remember! Siffrin can remember the contents of Loop's loop backs in the A6 fight!)

But there is the possibility that this happens months, or worse years down the road. One last Loop back. Throw it all away for the chance to just get that one thing you didn't know you even wanted but now know you NEED.

Misc:

Okay miscellaneous time.

This is where I admit that I have a bunch of unfinished NoHats art that I haven't gotten around to yet because I feel like a right tool being so obviously Loop-Centric with my fancontent (I AM . . I REALISE I AM NOT DOING MUCH TO BEAT THE ALLEGATIONS.) So like if people want to see that please say because euaghghghhfh <- the nervous.

this is like the most fucked up place to do isaloop fr. anyway.

one of Sam's mid-game observations that I'm just going to share for no particular reason is that Bonnie's hair shares a bunch of shapes with Siffrin's. The flick up at the top, the 3 pronged shape of the fringe… just something to think about.

Without 2 Siffrins around to compare each other to it'd likely be a lot harder to notice Loop's similarities. Doesn't mean that those similarities don't sting more in this context though.

If you do NoHats without LoopLoops. The concept of this all fading into memory years down the line while they just have slightly-glowy but otherwise regular Siffrin hanging out is fucked up to think about. Just like real grief. Augh

6. a peek into the original dms as a treat from us

[gravity-between-us]

Gravity Between Us

Chapter 10: Event Horizon

Summary: Caleb and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. We were once childhood friends, our bond as natural as the stars in the sky. But now, everything has changed. What used to feel like a safe, familiar orbit between us now pulses with unspoken desire.

Our friendship is no longer enough to keep the tension at bay, and the distance between us feels unbearable. Secrets, lies, and unhealed wounds stand in our way. I don’t know if we can survive this new gravity pulling us together... but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to try.

Pairing: Female! MC x Caleb

Spoilers: Spoilers for Caleb's Myth's as well as memories. Read at your own risk for these. Lore spoilers.

WARNINGS:

Unlikely to be completely canon. The other love interests will not be likely to appear in this fic.

MC is named. MC is socially awkward. MC can be depressed at times.

Very? Slow Burn.

Very explicit smut (Chapter 12 onward): PiV/oral (male and female receiving)/anal sex. Fingering. First time. Pet names (angel, babe, baby, pip-squeak). Kinks: Praise, breeding, creampie, light dom/sub. Rough. Some consensual degradation talk (MC is into it). Probably many, many more that I am forgetting to name. If you see one that should be listed that isn't, feel free to let me know. (MC is a repressed deviant, and so is Caleb.)

Awkward blend of darker moments, angst, fluff, and humour.

Drinking. Questionable life decisions. MC spirals.

Protective Caleb. Both MC and Caleb are a little obsessive and overly protective of each other, which could be considered an unhealthy relationship.

We will revisit memory scenes, but they will be different from the memories in-game.

As proofread as I can get it, but not beta read, so probably some mistakes.

Limited plot - most focus is just on their relationship and interactions.

More warnings could be applied, but as a general rule of thumb, please read at your own risk and do not continue if you find the content triggering.

I dry a plate and set it aside, trying to ignore the way Caleb keeps brushing against me. It’s nothing, probably just my overactive imagination. Maybe he’s just extra tired this morning and not paying attention to personal space.

It happens again. I reach for a dish towel, and Caleb moves behind me to grab a pan from the oven. His groin—not his hip, not his thigh, but very specifically his groin—brushes against my lower back. It’s barely a touch, but it’s enough to send my brain cartwheeling in my skull.

Okay. That… could have been an accident.

I take a deep breath and return to my task, studiously avoiding looking at him. I can do this. I can dry dishes and put them away without making it weird.

Or at least, I could if Caleb didn’t proceed to press himself against my back, his chest warm and solid as he reaches past me. I freeze, a freshly dried mug in my hand, as he takes it from me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He slots it onto the shelf. The one I can’t reach because I am too damn short and his kitchen is too damn tall. His arms bracket me in, his breath ruffling a few stray strands of my hair. The warmth of him lingers against my back even after he steps away.

That one was definitely not an accident. I grip the counter like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to sanity and blink hard.

“Are you alright?” Caleb asks, ever-so-innocent as he goes back to washing the dishes.

“Fine,” I squeak. Too high-pitched. Too fast. Damn it.

I pick up another dish, willing my hands to stop shaking. But then—then—he leans down to wipe the counter, and I swear I feel his breath ghost over the back of my neck.

My fingers slip on the plate, and I barely catch it before it crashes into the sink. I focus on drying the dish with military precision. Because if I don’t, I might start wondering what his hands would feel like if they weren’t just brushing past me but actually holding me. Or what would happen if I turned around and—

Nope. Abort mission.

I press my palms against the counter, silently praying to any and all deities who might be listening to save me from my own inappropriate thoughts. I am absolutely, unequivocally losing my fucking mind.

My knees do that strange thing where they jitter underneath my skin. My stomach ties itself into fancy knots, and I have to press my thighs together and swallow a groan.

I bolt outside the second we finish the dishes, pacing across the terrace and gulping in lungfuls of fresh air like I’ve been drowning.

Which, in a way, I have.

Drowning in Caleb.

I drag my hands down my face, only to freeze and yank them away in horror. Did I just touch my face with dishwater hands? Oh god, I am unravelling. He is unravelling me. And what’s worse? He knows it. He has to. 

No man casually presses his entire body against someone like that, in their own damn kitchen, without an agenda.

I consider my options.

Option one: pretend none of this is happening. Ignore it. Denial is my classic move.

Option two: launch myself off the floating landmass in sheer frustration and let gravity solve my problems. The wind currents might take me somewhere peaceful. Somewhere without smirking colonels who smell like cedarwood, ozone, and sinful temptation.

Option three: march right back inside and demand answers.

“What is your goal, Caleb? Do you take pleasure in my suffering? Do you lie awake at night, dreaming up new ways to drive me to the edge of insanity?”

Except I already know the answer to that. Yes. Yes, he does. I groan and press my forehead against the cool railing. It is not fair, whatever he’s doing. Whatever game he’s playing.

This teasing—this slow, torturous undoing—he’s enjoying it far too much.

And the worst part?

So am I.

You know what? Two can play at this game! I actually rub my hands together like a maniacal, evil genius concocting a plan for world ruin, except the plan here is to bring Caleb to his knees.

I march to my room like a woman on a mission, passing by Caleb, who barely looks at me while he tinkers with the model we are supposed to be finishing together. To be fair, I am fairly useless with models and mostly just enjoy watching him do it. The way his fingers move, the dexterity, the cute little face he makes when he’s focused—it’s all deeply unfair.

But soon, the tables will turn.

In my room, I comb out my hair, making sure the soft waves flow just so. This is strategy. This is war. Every strand must be in its proper place, every detail accounted for.

Then, I march to my dresser, rifling through the mess of clothes until my fingers find something delicate, something devastating—lace boyshorts, cute and just the right amount of scandalous. I don’t even know why I have these here, but I am suddenly thankful for my impeccable, possibly psychic foresight.

I grab a tank top next, tossing it on without hesitation. It bares a sliver of my abdomen and dips low across my chest. Not too obvious, not too desperate—just enough to make him suffer.

Yes, this will do nicely.

Unfortunately, to absolutely no one’s shock, I am awkward. Which means I have to give myself a good psyching up for this—a pep talk like no other.

I plant my hands on my hips and stare at myself in the mirror like I’m about to give the most inspiring speech of my life. The kind that rouses armies. The kind that makes hardened generals shed a single, manly tear.

“Alright, Inara,” I say, pointing at my reflection. “This is it. This is your moment. You have been backed into a corner by the most infuriating man in existence, and you are going to come out swinging. You are a weapon. A walking distraction. A deadly combination of wit, charm, and—” I glance down at myself, adjusting the hem of my tank top, “—well-placed fabric. You can do this.”

“You are a woman of tactics, of strategy. You have stared into the abyss of combat, survived untold horrors, endured the hell of group projects in university, and by the stars will, you will not—will not—be bested in the art of seduction by your childhood best friend who smells like an expensive candle and walks around like he is some kind of gift to humanity. No. No, you will be the problem here. You will be the menace. You will bring Caleb to his knees.”

I inhale. Exhale. I tug my tank top down just a little, fluff my hair, and roll my shoulders back. A vision of confidence. A masterclass in subtle allure. The very picture of temptation itself.

Then I trip over the corner of my rug and nearly faceplant.

I groan and bury my face in my hands. I gather what’s left of my dignity, square my shoulders, and stride out of my room, ready to change the course of history. I am cool, collected, and completely in control.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

The reality is that my pulse is hammering, my palms are sweating, and I can hear the faintest whisper of my own conscience screaming, What the hell are you doing?!

But I ignore it. Who needs a conscience anyway?

I walk into the living room like I belong here, like I have no ulterior motive whatsoever, just a casual woman strolling through her best friend’s house in her underwear because it is her fucking right.

Caleb is exactly where I left him, sitting at the coffee table, focused on the model ship. He doesn’t even glance up at first, fingers carefully adjusting a delicate piece of the structure, his brow furrowed in that way that makes him look both unbearably handsome and devastatingly serious.

Then, slowly, he senses me. I know the exact moment he registers that I am standing there, watching him, and that something is different.

His hands still. His breathing shifts. His eyes flick up.

I brace myself for something. A reaction. A double take. Maybe even a cough or a stammer.

Instead, he just… stares.

And I swear to every deity, every omnipotent force in the galaxy, he looks me over so slowly that it could almost be called lazy. His eyes drags from my bare legs to the hem of my tank top, pausing, lingering, before it continues upward, meeting my eyes with something indecipherable in his expression.

I am expecting—hoping—for a slip in his composure. A twitch of his fingers. A parting of his lips. Some sign that he is not as unaffected as he looks.

But rather, he just raises a single, maddening eyebrow and goes, “…Nice outfit.”

Oh, he’s good.

Fine. If he wants to play it cool, I will simply have to turn up the heat. 

I hum thoughtfully, turning away from him with an exaggerated stretch, arms lifting over my head, back arching just enough to pull my tank top higher. “Oh, man,” I sigh, “I must have slept weird. My back is just so tight.”

I don’t need to look to know he’s watching. I feel it. But his voice is calm when he says, “You should stretch more.”

Damn him.

I let my arms fall, making a show of bending deep to pick up something—anything—off the floor. My fingers grasp a random pen from under the coffee table, and I take my sweet time standing back up, extra slow, just in case he needs a better look.

Silence.

I flick a glance over my shoulder. Caleb still looks entirely composed, only the slight tapping of his fingers against his knee betraying any reaction.

Alright. War it is.

I saunter over to the couch and sit beside him—not too close, but close enough. My legs fold beneath me, and I sigh in contentment, deliberately shifting as if I can’t quite get comfortable. Then I stretch again, arching my spine, arms reaching behind my head.

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

I let my hand rest lightly on his arm, feigning curiosity. “Whatcha working on?” My voice is so sweet I might make myself sick.

He barely looks at me. “Same model as before.”

I nod like that makes perfect sense, tilting my head to watch his hands. He keeps working, seemingly unbothered, but I know him. His jaw is just a little tighter, his breathing a fraction shallower.

I am winning.

I let my fingers ghost against his arm, casual, totally innocent, tracing patterns against the firm muscle. “You have nice hands,” I muse, letting my voice dip into something just slightly suggestive.

His hands pause. It’s brief—so brief I might’ve imagined it—but it happened. I know it did. Slowly, he sets the model down and leans back, exhaling through his nose.

“Inara,” he says, voice low. “What exactly are you doin’?”

I widen my eyes, all innocence. “Sitting?”

His gaze dips, ever so briefly, to where my tank top has shifted, revealing just a little more of my cleavage than before. When his eyes snap back up, they are darker.

I bite back a victorious grin. Checkmate.

Caleb leans in, his breath warm against my skin, and I swear the air between us turns electric. His voice is husky, threading with something serious when he murmurs, “You are playin’ a dangerous game, pip-squeak.”

A shiver races down my spine at the sound of it, but I do not back down. 

The backs of his fingers brush along my arm, slow and deliberate, a touch so light it’s infuriating. “And I don’t think you can handle the consequences. Not right now.”

I shift closer, my knee brushing against his, my hand pressing lightly against his chest. “You keep talking about consequences,” I murmur, tilting my head just enough that our noses nearly touch, “but you have not actually said what they are.”

His gaze dips to my lips. Just for a second. Then back up. “You are smarter than that.”

My heart pounds. “Am I?”

“You think this is a game.”

I shake my head, slowly, letting my fingers drag down his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my touch. “No,” I breathe. “I think you are scared.”

His eyes narrow, a challenge flashing there, and when he speaks again, his voice is rough. “Careful, pip-squeak.”

It should be a warning. Maybe it is. But all it does is make me lean in closer, pressing against the tension that coils between us, that pulls at us like gravity.

“You know,” I muse, deliberately letting my breath ghost against his lips, “if you really wanted me to stop, you would have moved by now.”

His jaw tightens. I see the war waging inside him, the push and pull of restraint, the sheer willpower it is taking for him to stay still when I know—I know—he wants to break just as badly as I do.

The moment stretches, taut and charged, aching.

And then, finally—finally—I break it.

“Fuck it,” I whisper, and before he can say another word, before he can second-guess or pull away or give me another irksome warning, I grab his face and kiss him.

The moment my lips meet his, everything shatters. It’s not gentle. Not soft. It’s fire, and it’s explosive, and it’s been building up between us for years. Years of teasing, of glances that linger too long, of words unsaid, of touch that goes just a little too far.

His lips are warm, rougher than I expected. There’s a familiarity to the way he kisses, like I’ve been here before, like I’ve always known the taste of him, even when I didn’t. His mouth is demanding, urgent, as if he’s been holding back just as long as I have.

I can’t tell if I’m the one moaning or if it’s him, but either way, it’s a sound I feel in my bones. His breath is ragged, warm against my mouth, and I find myself tugging him closer. I’ve never been so hungry, so fucking starved for someone, for this, for him.

I straddle him without breaking the kiss. His hands move to my back, pulling me flush against him, his lips crashing against mine like he’s been starving for this moment, too. I can taste the faint salt of his skin, the sharpness of his breath, the edge of him—of everything he’s been holding back.

The kiss deepens, becomes more frantic, almost as if we’re both trying to prove something. His tongue slips past my lips, and I gasp into him, fingers gripping at his hair, pulling him even closer, as though there’s a part of me afraid if I let go, I’ll lose this moment.

He groans against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and it’s too much, but it’s not enough. I need him closer; I need to feel the press of him all over me. We’ve both been dancing around this for too long, pretending we’re not on the verge of collapsing, pretending we’re not already lost.

His hands slip under my shirt, sliding up my back, only to rake his fingernails down my spine. The sensation makes me whine, my head tipping back. He kisses along my jaw, to my neck, breath hot against my skin.

Caleb groans, but it sounds wrong, pained. When I look at him, his eyes are squeezed shut so tight they crinkle at the corners. I’ve seen this look before… on Kevi. I know it’s that chip, but I don’t know what it does or how to stop it.

“Hey, are you okay?” I cradle his cheeks, pressing my forehead to his, trying to catch the breath he stole from my lungs.

“I’m—” He grunts again, gritting his teeth with a hiss of breath. “Fine.”

“Caleb, do you need to stop?” I brush my thumb across his cheek, as if I might be able to soothe away whatever is happening. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His eyes flutter open—dark, molten, like storm clouds on the brink of thunder—hold me captive. They shimmer with a quiet hunger, a promise of things unsaid, of nights we’ve yet to live. They’re full of fire, but it’s the kind that smoulders, slow-burning, waiting for just the right spark to ignite. In them, I see the uncharted territories of his thoughts—places I want to explore and places he fears to let me.

“Do you want to keep going?” He rasps, rough as sandpaper, deep as the abyss.

His fingers flex into my waist, as if he’s preparing himself for an answer he doesn’t want to hear. I’ve rarely seen Caleb fight for control of himself. He’s usually so composed, so self-assured, but right now, I’m pretty sure he’s teetering on a tightrope that might snap at any moment.

“Yes,” I blush, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s forehead.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His fingers thread into my hair, pulling my mouth back to his with a feverish intensity that makes my clit throb, begging for attention. My panties are soaked. I can feel my arousal slick against my thighs. My fingers find the hem of his shirt, sliding the fabric up. He breaks the kiss, only to pull it over his head and toss it aside carelessly.

His hands find my thighs, and he stands in one fluid movement, guiding my legs around his waist. He strides forward, and the hallway passes in a blur of tangled limbs and needy groans. He lowers me gently onto the bed, his weight pressing me comfortably into the mattress. I wrap my legs around his hips, urging him to give me the friction right where I crave it.

He rocks his hips, pressing the hard length of his arousal against my swollen flesh. I choke out a whine, which he swallows straight off my lips as if he might be able to drink it down.

Caleb’s ringtone blares, bringing us both back to reality. He curses under his breath, taking the phone out of his pocket and tossing it aside without bothering to glance at the caller ID.

His fingers glide up my thighs, dawdling maddeningly. My pussy clenches the closer his strong fingers get to the apex of my thighs. I think I might spontaneously combust.

The AI assistant on his nightstand flashes a bright red exclamation mark. He sneers, reaching over to grab an earpiece from the tabletop and placing it into his ear.

“What?” His voice is cold and unemotional, the demeanour of the colonel sliding right back into place. Even his expression closes off and becomes stony. “I’ll look into it immediately.”

He exhales sharply, closing his eyes for half a second like he’s willing this interruption out of existence. Then, with an irritated shake of his head, he mutters, “Sorry. I have to deal with this.”

The apology sounds hollow, as if he’s already somewhere else. He doesn’t wait for me to respond—he’s already moving toward his closet, reaching for his shirt, tugging it over his head with swift, practiced motions. His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense.

“Is it serious?” I ask, pushing up onto my elbows. “I can help—”

“No.” The word is clipped, final. He fastens his belt with quick efficiency. “It’s a minor problem. I’ll be back later.”

There’s no room for argument, no space for questions. His tone is distant, colder than it was just moments ago when he was looking at me like I was the only thing in the galaxy.

He leans down, pressing a whisper of a kiss against my forehead. “Sorry,” he says again, softer this time, but it doesn’t make a difference.

Then he’s gone. Just like that.

I sit there, staring at the space he left behind, at the sheets still tangled from where we had been. Slowly, I draw my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. The room feels quieter than it should, empty in a way that isn’t just physical. I swallow against the ache in my throat, pressing my forehead to my knees.

The crack between us grows wider.

Chapter Masterlist Question, would you like to see this fic continue even after we've established their relationship and gotten to the absoulte freak these two are?

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I have a little bit of an interesting question! I know you stated you like writing horror and NSFW, or at least you do not mind dabbling in them, so I'm curious to your opinion:

(Please, very important onto this, keep in mind that, when I ask about 'Yandere', while yes, I mean this lovesick, obsessed character who goes to kidnapping/harming others/threatening/killing etc extremes to get the object of their affection/obsession, there's many yandere types. I PERSONALLY like only a handful of them because I am very careful with TW (I do not like toxic relationships where the 'darling' is deprived of privacy, is mistreated, forced to do things, has hands laid on them, has their emotional well being messed up by demeaning words, etc, and I do not enjoy abuse depictions of the trope either, so I cherry-pick a lot (due to personal trauma). Yanderes are often portrayed as straight up abusive when they needn't be, there's delusional ones, lucid ones who do not want to feel the way they do, others who rather give themselves to the object of obsession/affection and would rather hurt themselves than ever upset them, others who lean more towards manipulation, etc.). I say this because TW are important and while this is 'just a question in a blog' I want to inform you that there is NO EXPECTATION for you to write abuse, toxicity or anything of the sort. While being WELL AWARE that yandere relationships WILL be unhealthy in nature, it is that kind of 'unhealthy possessive' vibe you can enjoy IN FICTION, and should NEVER allow in real life. Take care of yourselves ❤️)

Obviously, none of the characters are canonically yandere, but do you have any opinions on who could fit the bill? And how/what way/what category they'd fit into?

Please ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable in any way and even if you simply respond without any headcanons/just a little ramble, remember to put TW so people who blacklist yandere stuff or feel trigger by any of it continue having a safe space here! Love your blog and what you do! Keep up the amazing work, and congratulations on such endless artistic talent!!

I haven't done a whole lot with the Yandere trope. I have one unpublished fan fiction for another fandom entirely that involves a yandere character in an antagonistic role. I don't tend to romanticize it because of how problematic it can be.

So needless to say, ⚠️ trigger warnings ⚠️ ahead for this topic, some more than others (lookin' at you, Doffy).

I feel like Sanji could fit the bill of being the lucid, regretful yandere. He knows that his obsession with you could be problematic, but he just can't help it. He gets insecure and jealous easily, and may be inclined to threaten any other men that happen to get to close to his beloved, platonically or romantically. He wants you completely to himself. Would be apologetic about his behavior and feel sincerely guilty for it, but just unable to keep himself from doing so. He also feels his behavior is protecting you in a way from being taken advantage of, and that's the only justification he can make for it—even to himself.

Mihawk, while his confidence and ego mean he's not really the jealous type, would still be a worthy candidate. He wants you aware that you are his in every sense of the word. You, your love, your mind, your body, all belong to him. No one else. He may very well be violent about it, though not toward you—just toward anyone who dares challenge his ownership over you. Toward his lover, he would be particularly doting and gentle, treating you like a fragile and priceless work of art. He would be incredibly disinclined to allow you to go anywhere without him; and if he finds out anyone else is attempting to court your affections or, heaven forbid, hurt you, then their days are going to be numbered.

Next would be Crocodile. Getting more ⚠️triggery⚠️ here. Prime candidate for a possessive yandere. Even if he doesn't have much time for you, you're still his property. He'll expect you to have time for him, to adhere to his schedule and his whims. He'll have a list of rules that you have to follow—no speaking with other men without him present, no going out in public without him or a guard that he has personally assigned to you; this is as much for the sake of keeping you safe as it is to ensure that you don't do anything he would disapprove of. In exchange, he'll shower you with lavish gifts, and treat you like a princess when he is with you...but if you break the rules, there will be consequences.

And lastly, and by far the most triggery, Doflamingo. Congratulations, you've caught the attention of an absolutely sadistic and manipulative yandere! He values total control over all aspects of your life. But he's going to make you think you have some freedom at first. He'll pout a little if you want to go somewhere without him, but he'll allow it...on the surface, at least. Then he'll hire some thug or other criminal deviant to scare you right back into his arms, whether with idle threats or physical force. He'll make you feel like he's your only source of safety and comfort. Make you defend him to your concerned friends and family of your own volition, until you have absolutely no one left but him to turn to. He'll justify it by saying it absolutely is for your own safety, and he sincerely believes that to be true; even if he wasn't hiring people to frighten you, there's still every chance that you could be hurt or enticed to leave if you stray too far from his side, and he can't allow that. Whether he views you as a lover or just a plaything, no one else is allowed to touch you but him.

[ilikekidsshows]

It's never been not funny to me when someone said Marinette is a good representation of strong independent woman and also a great female leader because for all Masashi Kishimoto claim about how bad he was at writing female character, Sakura, the most hated character by the fandom, is actually much more well written than Marinette, ever. Which make me wonder if miraculous is Marinette stan's first ever cartoon they ever watch or the show has perfectly gaslight them. 🤷

---

From what I've witnessed, it's kind of both and then something else, actually. A lot of people who are really passionate about Miraculous got here before the original retool. A lot of them were kids back then and Miraculous was their first big fandom instead of just a show they watched. This is also why claims about Miraculous' uniqueness are so common in these circles that still try to hype the show up. They hadn't really been in fandoms before Miraculous and they haven't gotten similarly invested in many other shows since. In addition to this, Miraculous' episodes are often contradictory, claiming at least two things about what's going on, and audiences could just pick the narrative they were more invested in. This earned the show a lot of good faith for delivering satisfying stories that carried it even as the quality started to deteriorate.

The unpredictable release schedule also makes following the show's continuity a nightmare even as it works great at masking the poor quality of that continuity. In other words, it's very easy for fans to come up with their own version of what goes on in the episodes. In addition, the fandom's so old and big by now that you have tons of varied Miraculous content if the canon isn't to your tastes. We can't ignore that fandoms for so many things also have a lot of people who haven't experienced the original story and only got into the fandom through a fan comic or something similar. Like, the amount of “at least we still have fanfics” comments under my posts tearing the Miraculous canon to shreds just proves that, to some people, the canon doesn't matter.

There's also the sunk cost fallacy. Like, we’ve spent years onto this show and fandom, for some it's been a full decade. It's hard to let go of that level of investment. In fact, I will freely admit I still haven't fully let go, but any investment has turned into resentment. I wanna see how bad this show can get before people finally have had enough, if there's such an insistent part of the fandom that they'll hang onto this garbage until the bitter end and turn around to claim Miraculous deserves a spot among the greats like Avatar and Gravity Falls. I actually tried watching S6 episodes after skipping seasons 4 and 5, and I just couldn't enjoy them. It was somehow more of the same bland nonsense, and Marinette is the least enjoyable part of any episode, because she still isn't allowed to do anything interesting, instead managing to find some way of annoying me in every single episode without even doing anything cool to make up for it.

[panicroomsammy]

Throughout the show Sam and Dean are repeatedly confronted with people telling them their relationship is unusual, but this never seems to sink in for them. The canon compliant interpretation is repression and that they have never acted on their more than brotherly feelings for each other, but I have another theory: they started acting on these feelings way too young and can never acknowledge that they act on them because of this. I’m putting it under a cut for containing severely underage sex but I’ve been thinking about this for days and just have to get it out of my system.

You see, when some kinds of relationships start so young that the people in them don’t know what to call it, it can either never be given a name or it can end. I don’t know if there is any relationship in the world that can survive saying out loud “we started having sex when both of our ages were in the single digits and that was really fucked up but do you want to keep doing it.” But Sam and Dean’s relationship cannot end - they are soulmates after all - so they can never say it out loud. It started before there was a word for it so now there never will be a word for it.

It starts when Sam is two or three and Dean is six or seven. They sleep in the same bed - they have practically ever since either of them can remember. Legs wrapped around each other maybe one of them grinds against the other just the wrong way and it feels good and they don’t stop. Maybe it starts with Sam maybe it starts with Dean, it doesn’t matter - it happens. Maybe Dean already has some idea of what’s going on, maybe he’s done this before on his own, but he doesn’t fully grasp that it’s wrong for him to be doing it with another person. Maybe he has the vague feeling that it would be Bad if John found out about this but he can’t put his finger on why - just an internalization of societal norms that he doesn’t understand and never will. It stays this way all through childhood. Humping turns to touching themselves next to each other turns to touching one another directly. When Dean is in middle school there’s some kind of sex ed class and he finds it intriguing - he’s always been interested in sex - but never puts together that what he’s doing with his little brother is sexual. They’re both boys after all and sex is something you do with a woman. When Sam reaches middle school teenage Dean figures it’s his job to teach his little brother about sex. He never stops to consider that it’s something they’ve already been doing. Dean loses his virginity to some girl in high school. As far as he’s concerned it’s the first time he’s had sex with another person - sex requires a pussy, after all. Some time in their teen years they start going farther. It would seem impossible for the denial to continue at this point but it does. They’re just doing this because they’re brothers, because they need to be closer to each other.

Then maybe Sam realizes. Or maybe he doesn’t. If he does, maybe that’s part of why he leaves. It would be impossible for their relationship to continue once one of them accepted that the start of it at least had been messed up. But then Dean shows up and drags Sam away from his normal life. Was Sam ever really capable of normal, of enjoying normal things in normal ways after everything? Maybe Sam never did realize anything. Maybe he was living in his normal life like a dream, never understanding why it never quite felt right. Then he’s back with Dean. Their relationship is so, so much more than just sex-that-isn’t-sex - that’s just what I’m talking about here - so this doesn’t pick back up immediately. There are so many more things to sort out. But then one night they’re just both horny at the same time and they do find themselves exactly where they left off. It still isn’t sex. Sex is something you do with women. Sex isn’t something you do as a kid. They did this as kids, so it isn’t sex.

When the siren says it wants to be their brother because it wants to fall in love, neither of them bats an eye. When Ash tells them they’re soulmates they’re relieved to spend eternity together but not much else. When countless people assume them to be a couple they’re genuinely confused - they’ve just always been this way so they can’t be a couple because couples are people who haven’t always been that way.

[gloomyteddybear]

why framing matters

oneshot

cw/tw: it's more of an attempt at blackmail than anything, small-town typical 'tudes, it is now canon that 'prey! ghost popped a boner! also, homestuck ashen quadrants in a non-homestuck FF yay! and they kiss in the end!

i got the brainworms rn. straight up researching dialects for a fictinal american man written by canadians. then i remembered the bastard moved around a lot so he prolly picked up some new words

n-knee-way. continuation of 'prey!, this time MC's pov!

the two main things about small towns is that 1: everyone knows somebody. there's few enough people to share your attention to without spreading it too thin, at the very least remember their face enough to feel sympathy. so if they die it hits hard; fewer people means that the odds are higher, it's like shooting fish in a barrel.

in small towns you are 1 in a 1000, while in cities the odds are rarer 1-100.000. in a such a cramped town where everyone knows everyone, to do that is either a sign that they're stupid, have an accomplice or a real attention seeker.

and 2: word travels fast; specially if it is a tragedy, gossip is like rotten carrion for the vultures--- specially reporters and journalists. however, theres a instinctual hesitation to point fingers, 'they'd never hurt a fly' can only do so much to quell distrust. yes, they'd never say you did it, still treating you like they always did, defending your innocence and sweeping accusations under the rug--- but there's still that way some people look at you, the boat rockers to be precise. they'd never say it to your face, thanks to your friends, but they know.

i-told-you-so's already curled in their tongue like trying to hide a bullet on open-not-hiding-anything hands, the anticipation made them dangerous, you just knew. the way one wrong step is all it takes--- how a frightened deer might dash its brains against a tree in the scramble to flee a predator; or worse, trigger fingers on cowards that'd flinch a 'ready, go!'-shot on the air and begin the racing stampede. mass-hysteria herd-mentality. 

your friends-acquaintances-neighbors they'd rather deny on one's guilt, at least until the truths staring straight at them... unless one's an outsider. you were born an outsider, sure you were conceived and raised here. but you'd never fit in.

but, jed, meek door-mat who was not even here for a fraction of your lifetime was accepted with open arms.

ain't that unfair? 

a boring, condescendingly soft-spoken man with one of those 'aren’t i so charming and genuine, please like me’ smiles already curling his lips, they don't know him like they knew you. he had time to perfect the act. he's a novelty-clean slate of a man.

you muttered to yourself, "what can you do? you win some, you lose some,” you shrugged in consolation, "life’s fair like that.” you clean the counter harder.

it's not his fault, rationally you know it. somebody's gotta win somebody's gotta lose. he's not the one that put the cheese in the maze, it's these 'small town neighbors' types that pinned you two against eachother (although, you admit, the bitterness is rather one-sided). you're not a sore loser--- but this...you're already on thin ice, this could shatter it. this is what it feels to come second. without the damn cheese you'd starve---but it's fine. could be worse.

so. jed-one, you-zero

then, worse comes. some nosy ghost thinks he can waltz into your special little picnic, the same ghost who've been making tensions run high with paranoia. it's already bad enough without all the pointing fingers.

but you choked him, he was smart-dumb about it. dumb in the way he stayed down and didn't react when you did, let you take your anger out on him or at least until you lose interest, you could've killed him. but smart enough to know that defending himself would make it worse. like encountering a moose or a bear. you'd crush his skull.

he popped a fear-boner. you think. maybe an actual arousal boner, that's why he groped the tiny-thin bones of your wrist instead of breaking them. and destroy the grass. that too. you judge only a bit--- figures, serial killers aren't the most well adjusted people in the world. and one with that type of crime-scenes, probably has some psychosexual issues going on.

he bumbled away from your grasp like a fresh-born fawn after. he needed-deserved that win. ghost: one, you: zero. ugh. but it was by the goodness of your heart.

a 'ring!' on the door-chime and a hoarse "hey, sorry hi." brings an end to your musings and delivers jed, who waltzes in when you're about to close for the night. sporting a shiny new turtleneck that you just know these damn granny's drool over.

jed notices you staring at the new fashion statement, he smiled self-deprecatively "i look way-too-much like a churchy in my sunday best, don't i?"

he could see the white of your eyes from all the glaring.

he winced, pursing his lips like he ate something sour "sorry- like, i also have a graveyard if that makes you feel better?" he smiles winsomely, like the brownosed lapdog he is

he makes his order and smiles, you almost stop yourself from slamming it on the counter "sorry again." he slips a crushed bill out of his messenger bag and doesn't stay for you to give him his change, at least he tips well.

when you finish closing down for the night, locking the back-door, jed was hanging out by the back entrance.

you already knew, despite his doormat demeanor he was just like you. dead eyes. he at least had the 'decency' to hide his horns.

but that didn't mean you couldn't pretend that you didn't--- act startled and hit him in your 'surprise', as a treat. it should at least cut down the sneaking-up-on behaviour straight from the bud. you're not going to encourage that kind of stuff, specially since your latest voyeur probably managed to get enough to blackmail you (but for some odd reason, despite his reputation---he didn't use it, yet.)

you swung.

you: one. jed: one. tie.

"oh fuck..." he breathlessly mutters, cradling his bloodied nose.

"jed!" you fake a gasp. and trotted towards him, fussing over him with the hem of your clothes to staunch the bleesing. not broken, good.

"there we go, it hurts still right? but don't you feel better without all that blood on your face?" you coo like you’re soothing a startled wild animal. the same way hunters soothe a rabbit in a trap, clicking their tongue and making soft, gentle sounds until they can get a good angle at it's neck. 

and that's what you did.

he sags, as if all the fight leaves his body, in that oh-so familiar way--- you'd wave it off as a fear response (fight, flight, freeze, fawn, flop), but... it scratches at a very lovely-fresh memory, raw, still. pink and new--- shoes skidding backwards to slam himself against the harsh textured wall, making you pin him down like a tack in a conspiracy-board. he fumbles around his torso- one hand still at your wrist, padding for the strap on his shoulder.

he manages to overturn his messenger bag, scattering polaroids all over the concrete. it's you!

not you red-handed during the act of burial (it makes you reconsider his identity again). but still some... not incriminating but definitely putting the last nail on line of nails on the iceberg--- just a small knock with a hammer, is enough to split that down the middle (these metaphors are getting worse and worse)--- you wont get arrested but people will take matters into their own hands.

not fully un-rightfully. because-yes, you're a serial killer, but also no: you didn't kill those guys, so you would probably get vigilante'd for the sins of- and as the ghostface.

still enough to be usable as blackmail, a tiebreaker.

you falter, and he takes the opportunity to use the gap in your hands to breathe. “do it.” he gasps.

did he want to die? "dont worry, it'll all be over soon."

"don't. want it to last." ah, no, masochism. damn, what do they feed these journalists? maybe the jokes about their tendency to get into trouble was right.

red-blue-magenta-mix lights creeps-in near the alley like the neon-sign of a shitty night club--- as if you could get burned, you instinctively press closer against that cramped little corner in the alleyway, squeezing in like you're trying to get a spot in the dark. a patrol car. not immediate danger but definitely bad. 

this was timed way too right, planned. he probably memorized their route like the chess-player he is.

you're not playing chess, though. you always preferred social-deduction games instead, the one where cheating people and lying is encouraged. the dirtiest trick of them all, you kiss him softly on the lips for good luck. you never said you were below underhanded tactics.

"don't do this to me." he growled.

you smiled, squeezed tighter until his eyes got all sleepy, and he passes out.

you run. as un-incriminating these photos of you are, these probably incriminate him instead.

your win. 

ghost-jed: two. you: two

you're evenly matched, joy, you have a playmate.

[kalinara]

So I've been contemplating Charles Xavier a fair bit since X-Manhunt ended, and I think maybe I've hit on what I think the ultimate problem is when it comes to the character, for me.

So Charles Xavier is one of those X-Men characters that has a really strong pop-culture resonance. Even people who have never picked up a comic book have at least some idea who he is. He's not as popular and famous as Wolverine, by any means. But if you know who the X-Men are, then you have an idea who Charles Xavier is.

Charles Xavier is bald, older middle aged/early elderly man in a wheelchair. He is the kind, wise patriarch of the X-Men.

Now, between you and me, I'm not sure this portrayal was EVER particularly accurate to the flawed and complicated man we see in the comics, but that's beside the point. This is the image that most people think of when you mention Charles Xavier.

(I bring up the wheelchair because it's an interesting fact that Professor X hasn't used a mobility aid in comics since the early 00s. But despite that, it's still very much a part of our pop culture idea of the man. And I suspect there are ableist tropes at work in multiple directions, but I'm not really equipped to analyze on those grounds.)

On one hand, Professor Xavier has mostly overcome the pitfall of the Wolverine. With Wolverine, the creative folks at Marvel always seem to be a little too afraid to rock the boat. Logan is Logan, and any deviation from the theme is going to be incredibly short lived, and very little opportunity for true character growth or deconstruction.

But on the other hand, I think writers are maybe a bit too happy to engage in full scale deconstruction of the character. This isn't always a bad thing. There's a lot that Xavier has pulled, canonically, over the years that's worth looking at with fresh eyes. It's fun to look at the kind of things that we once accepted as staples of the genre and go "wait a second, what effect WOULD that have on those kids?" and "what kind of person would train children in the first place? And why?"

But then, I think, sometimes the writers would go too far, and we get things like Deadly Genesis. Or the reveal that the Danger Room is a sentient enslaved AI.

I don't think it's a coincidence that those stories came out during the early 00s, when the movies were in full swing. Brubaker and Whedon were not, I think, really deconstructing the COMIC BOOK Xavier. They were having fun with the idea of "well, what if Xavier isn't really Patrick Stewart after all?"

But that means the conversation about Xavier veers away from the genre deconstruction elements of "what kind of man trains children for battle, and what are the effects of that?" to "Xavier mindwiped his foster kid to forget his brother's existence/covered up the deaths of an entire team/enslaved a sentient being."

There's no question there, because those are the actions of a villain, full stop. There's no deconstruction there because, until this point, Xavier wasn't actually a man who would do that.

But continuity and canon being what they are, Xavier is now a man who would do that. And it took a good decade, a redemption quest, two actual deaths, and off screen sanctification to get him back to a functional character again.

I think they did a good job, for the most part, in Krakoa, of showing Xavier at his best and worst. He is the visionary who made it happen (albeit with Magneto and Moira's help, but Magneto wasn't going to unite everyone the way Xavier could.) He was the face of the nation and the dream. And his fuck ups, born of ego and blind idealism, made sense. Of course, the man who wants to be King Arthur put his enemies on his round table. Of course, he wants a universal, simple ethical structure that applies to everyone even if that means a misunderstanding could lead a teenaged girl to be condemned to the pit. He can't overrule the Council to save his foster son's child. He can't just let his brother onto Krakoa when his brother isn't a mutant, no matter how hard Cain's tried to redeem himself....

And so on and so forth.

But then, we get Fall of X/Fall of the House of X. Even there, a lot of Xavier's actions make sense. Overruling everyone to send them into a gate to save their lives? Yes. I see that. Being lost in despair when he thinks he's killed them? Makes sense.

Disrupting Scott's rescue mission in order to go back in time to kill a fourteen year old girl? EH. Murdering people to get into ORCHIS? EHHHH.

I'd imagine that was always meant to be a fake out. At least I hope it was. But it gets into the same pattern with Xavier. In deconstructing the ideal of the man, the writers go to far. Then they end up backtracking. Then they go so far backtracking that we lose any opportunity to get into what he's actually done.

So in From the Ashes, we get the reveal that Xavier did not kill the people of the Agnew. Good. That had been a bit too far. In X-Manhunt, then, this reveal is now public. Yay. Now there's no need for Xavier to be imprisoned. All is forgiven. He can skip off into space with his wife, while everyone is sad.

Except, there were a whole lot of IN CHARACTER shit he'd pulled before that. There's a reason that Storm was barely talking to him by the end of Krakoa. Emma was incredibly livid at the games he played. Magneto had fucked off to Mars in frustration. But only Scott's allowed to actually stay angry at him, and it's portrayed as completely irrational. (Which I liked as a beat FOR SCOTT, but I feel like the others should have had some similar sentiment.)

I'm not saying I think Xavier deserves prison. But what about a hug and an "I'm sorry I've put you through this?" Hell, he could even sidestep some actual accountability and go with "I'm sorry I left you to carry this alone."

Admittedly, I'm a biased single character fan, but ONE apology, to ONE character, it didn't even have to be Scott! That could have gone a long way.

But nope, he didn't do that thing that would have been completely out of character, so everything's copacetic now.

I'm cautiously optimistic for Imperial. I think Hickman's done a good job with a realistically flawed Xavier in the past. But man, I'm going to enjoy the break from this roller coaster. At least there are no eulogies this time.

[ennard-is-near]

As promised, my thoughts on The Week Before!

(Spoiler free first, spoilers under the cut. Also long post warning)

It was objectively not a good book. Most fun I’ve ever had reading anything, though.

I’m going to start calling him “Ralph Scott” as his full name. At first I hated the name Ralph but it actually grew on me over time. I think Scott is a valid last name and he doesn’t have one in canon so it’s Scott now. I might just call him Phone Guy sometimes though.

If I had to pick one FNaF song to represent this book it would be Stay Calm, absolutely no question. Do with this what you will.

I really enjoy his relationship with the restaurant and animatronics. It’s pretty realistic imo, he always seemed like he was pretty fond of the brand and had loved it and worked there for a long time.

Coppelia is so y/n coded I don’t know how else to explain this. She feels like a self-insert or fan child. Like the way they describe her outfit reminded me of good ol’ Wattpad fic. This is not good or bad, simply a statement. I actually liked her.

Game continuity stuff:

At first it sort of struck me as odd that Ralph says this is his “first week on the night shift” because in FNaF 2 he mentions that he is going to take the shift after Jeremy. But then he mentions that the restaurant closed down after the Bite of ‘87 so it actually sort of makes sense. It took me a minute to figure that out, though.

As I mentioned before, they are mean to Jeremy? This is genuinely hilarious to me. Like at one point Phone Guy mentioned that staff kept saying “You can’t spell team without meat” right after the Bite and his takeaway is just “that’s not very nice but at least they paid attention at orientation.” The first time he brings it up he asks what Jeremy did to provoke the animatronic (my friend said “what was he wearing?” And I think that’s hilarious). He says that the press blew the whole thing way out of proportion but he says that following “he doesn’t talk anymore. Or do much else” so idk man. Ralph just seems more annoyed than anything, like he’s mad it got the restaurant closed down. He does sort of care a little bit, I guess. It depends on what sentence you’re reading.

(My friend also said that it’s sort of the thing you have to joke about, like if that happened at your work you’d have to be an idiot about it [especially bc it was probably over 5 years ago] and while I completely agree, I feel like he’s mean to Jeremy personally a couple times and that’s not very nice. He was just doing his job, man. This is so funny to me genuinely. I will never stop thinking about it)

There were a couple Bite of ‘83 mentions, which I was not expecting, but was very exciting to me. Ralph going up on stage and thinking about why people aren’t allowed up there…he called 1983 on the phone and it was just screaming and Bite of ‘83 audio (and it was different from the games?) which was wild.

I loved that he said they used to call the Bite of ‘83 “The Big Bite” until ‘87 happened. And he likens it to how they used to call WW1 “The Great War” until WW2. Incredible comparison.

Something that I don’t remember Ralph bringing up directly is the MCI. There’s obviously references to it, but I don’t recall him ever going “wow remember when those kids went missing?” Like he does with The Bites. Not a huge deal but definitely a small thing I noticed.

It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me. The way they wrote the it’s me thing actually sent me to hell and back. Some interesting implications as to what that could mean if it’s happening to Ralph too. I think the way it was described the “it’s me” echo like, taking up his whole mind and actually hurting is so fascinating to me. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.

He refers to himself as “Phone Guy” at one point, or at least says that that’s what other employees call him because he records the training tapes and welcome messages. I actually liked that, it was late at night when I read it but my sleep deprived brain thought it was a cool nod to the fandom.

He also records the messages for Michael (/the next employee) in the books, which is so fun. They used the word-for-word transcript from the games which I also thought was really cool. I’ve always been a fan of those opening phone calls, his FNaF 1 stuff makes you really get attached to the guy and then he fucking dies which is always deviating. Putting them in exactly like the games was a good call.

Also also his night four message recording was really well written actually. It might have been my favorite part of the whole book. Him talking to Coppelia in a non-canon death was really sweet too

They mentioned Susie being Chica and Jeremy being Bonnie by name. I like this. Ralph saying Susie just by vibes was fine, but I kinda want to know how Bronwen knew that Jeremy is Bonnie? Like I know she’s done a lot of research but how does she know which specific kid is which specific animatronic? That seems like a hard thing to figure out, even if you know everything about the case. Eh, whatever.

They kept just… listing the animatronics? Like the book will go “Look out for Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy.” Over and over again. Like yeah, I got it.

Phone Guy

They made him a boy failure. And a lame dad. Absolutely perfect. He says the same stupid fucking joke every time even though nobody’s around. He practices making stupid jokes and puns so he can tell them to his daughter later.

He loves his daughter so much, also. Like all he thinks about her all the time and he checks on her immediately when he gets home. He wants work at her school? He keeps telling her never ever to go to Freddy’s. In the non-canon death where he calls her and he says, “I love you. Don’t come looking for me.” Aughhggg.

A couple of his deaths were genuinely so funny. The one where he’s just mixing shit in the closet and the door gets jammed? That wasn’t even an animatronic that’s just basic workplace safety. The one where he’s being killed (by Chica I think?) and his blood is going all over the floor and he goes “I just cleaned that!” Hey man, there are more important things happening. The one where he puts the cupcake up to his face and it like…eats him? Why did he do that?

There are also a couple non-death endings that are great. The one where he just accidentally gets locked in a room is pretty good. He can get sued by Fazbear which is really funny. Coppelia can get eaten by The Cupcake which is iconic.

Foxy is his favorite. We find this out when he’s being killed by Foxy and he goes “But you were my favorite!” Foxy is also Michael’s favorite. Also nobody asked but he would have been mine if I was a kid at Freddy’s.

I like when he walks in to a room covered in blood and goes “It must have been an animal!” You and I both know it wasn’t, why did he say that? Also he throws about the blood.

Other characters

Coppelia is so good. She’s so middle-schooler and I mean that in a good way. She’s well written in a “that’s what twelve-year-olds are like��� way. During the ending where he calls her and says he loves her and she goes “I know, Dad” like she’s rolling her eyes. Okay go off Coppelia. But also she clearly loves her dad she’s just a preteen. I don’t like that Phone Guy calls her Pel, though. That’s stupid.

I don’t like Bronwen. She’s underdeveloped and as she stands in the book just completely unnecessary. She’s a cool character in theory, a reporter who’s obsessed with the mystery at Freddy’s, but she probably couldn’t work in a book like this. I feel like her only purpose was to give Ralph a quest, phone and dead body to find. He probably could have gotten those things on his own, and it actually would have been better for his character I think. She feels like a self-insert character from someone who won a “get your own character featured in a book” contest. She’s not hugely important or prevalent in the plot, to the point where she could be cut and it would probably make the story better. But as her own character, in a book where she was a main or very prominent side character, she could be very interesting. She’s just not here.

WILLIAM AFTON?? Okay, well, maybe. Probably. He’s only in there a couple times, as “Dave” the maintenance guy who knows everything about the animatronics and is annoyed that you called him at 4am. Definitely William Afton, which is very cool and interesting that he’s still around and slaying at the time of FNaF 1. Idk if I’m going to include that in my personal brain timeline but whatever, still good info to have.

Williams presence does raise a question that has always bugged me, how do people not recognize him? Like I get that maybe it’s like Clark Kent where you’re not looking for William Afton so you won’t recognize him, but I feel like this is a little different. Because Dave Miller isn’t some unassuming maintenance worker while William Afton is some huge famous, supervillain or something. Dave Miller is a guy who knows everything about the animatronics and William Afton is the guy who made the animatronics. And they look the same? He’s not even bothering with glasses or anything. And Phone Guy has to have seen William a few times because he’s implied to be higher up (at least a manager or something) at the company in 1987 so he has to have seen William a few times. And Ralph’s gone bowling with “Dave” before, so why was he never like “Huh I wonder if this is William Afton considering they look the same and have the same job and nobody has seen Afton in a long time.” He’s so Sweeney Todd core.

There’s a brief mention of a character named Mrs. Anderson who has a dead daughter, and to me that daughter is Susie. (Not Cassidy bc I have a different family for Cassidy that I can’t get into rn but trust me.) But that’s so sad actually, that she is basically Coppelia’s babysitter bc she misses her own daughter. I feel like something that FNaF could benefit from is more little character insights like this. Just getting a brief “Mrs. Anderson” and seeing how she’s handling her kid dying. This could not be Susie’s mom, and I’m just seeing connections where there aren’t any, but I think she probably is meant to be.

Okay I’m done

I really liked this book guys. It was worth sneaking a copy of into my house. I had so much fun with it, even if I just read it back-to-front like a normal book instead of “playing” it. (Idk why they kept pretending it was a video game, it’s clearly a book, but whatever.) there were a few very fun details that I really loved and it was a good addition to the canon of the series. I won’t incorporate everything into the lore I made up in my head, but I will definitely take some of it. I really enjoyed it, I really did.

[subway-boss-jericho]

Queuing posts for most of my AUs! Check out this Masterpost! (Disclaimer! - Please don't comment about their iconic knife bangs! I left them off this reference to keep their faces fully visible.)

Steady Tracks Do Not Waver

-Premise- On the return trip home from Hisui, Ingo does not return the same as he left. By some unknown cause, he has been transformed into a pokemon- 13ft tall, Steel, Ground, and very very out of his depth, he finds himself roaming the eerily familiar yet unfamiliar tunnels of Gear Station. Desperate to find a way to his "home" and remember who he is, that is when he encounters Subway Boss Emmet.

This story is not about Ingo. Or at least, not about his return. Ingo was taken out of the story many years ago, leaving Emmet behind to pick up the pieces of the life they always meant to spend together. The last several years he has walked without Ingo have forced him into an active, unavoidable struggle with grief and loss, until recent, when he finally began to come to terms with his solo-car life moving forward. However, now things are changing again. In the days leading up to their meeting, he hears rumors of a strange, powerful pokemon lurking in the subway. When Emmet finally stops in the right place at the right time to challenge it face to face- the face looking back is far too similar to the one he lost years before. It all bubbles back to the surface again; now, with an uncanny passenger in tow, he must keep moving forward down these uncertain tracks. Battling with grief once again, as he avoids pushing his old pains onto this new, familiar, face.

-Noteworthy Points- IF THIS AU INTERESTS YOU, please consider reading the prologue and chapter one on Ao3! Steady tracks! This is the one you probably know me for, if you know me at all. My poster boys!! My favoritest guys,, I want to include so many notes but I know most of the notes I want to write are all spoilers. Please poke me to keep writing <3 This AU is not even remotely dead I just have chronic burnout and it WILL continue please bother me about it whenever you want <3

This story is (and probably will continue to be) almost exclusively told from Emmet's point of view. It is a post-canon exploration of grief, change, and how to go on after everything you know is lost. THIS MEANS there is a LOT of discussion of death! NO ONE IS DEAD, but Emmet believes Ingo has died, and regularly experiences grief and/or talks about him as if he is dead. If that still bothers you, no problem! This is not going to be the fic for you. However, if it at all eases you to know that everyone is still alive, then have fun and maybe bring tissues because I really like writing people being upset (and also them getting better but, that involves them needing to be upset first.)

Also! New STIngo reference!! I have been working on updating the shape language of his design to look more like a pokemon and this is the most up-to-date version! If you want to draw him, reference this one! I swear I will get that side view done eventually, I fucking promise.

Enjoy <3 <3 I love this AU a lot.

-Links- Official Writing - Steady Tracks Do Not Waver Artwork - Fanart by Nyacat39 Artwork - Fanart by Dontmineit (1) Artwork - Fanart by Dontmineit (2) Discussion - The Luxury Ball Artwork and Trivia - Official Reference (Outdated) Artwork and Trivia - Updated Reference (Also Outdated) Discussion - "Awla Boah" Artwork - Fanart by Maelysgriffonne Artwork - Fanart by Dontmineit (3) Artwork - Big Nap (Durant <3) Artwork - CH1 Concept Sketches Artwork - STIngo Sprite Discussion - Coffee Artwork and Discussion - Sounds Discussion - Antagonists Discussion - Strong/Agile Style Moves Artwork and Discussion - Coffee pt.2 Artwork - Emmet's Office (3D Model)