#I WOULD SAY THINGS LIKE ILL WRITE FOR SURE OR I PROMISE BUT I FEAR I WONT AGAIN SO I WILL JUST TRY MY BEST SORRY GUYS

[amvro]

sorry guys SORRY GENUINELY IM SO SORRY we already know im a liar but i will try my very best to write this winter break i will write at least one thing and post i hope i have abandoned this blog for far too long

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

I can only share my interest in Aegon to you, so I’ll just drop this here. (Dw, contrary to what I say next, this is not a request. Just desperation.)

Broski, I NEED reader wife who’s scared of heights and dragons but Aegon gets her to ride with him just cuz he feels like it. (My hand is probably 1/3 smaller than one of their teeth. I believe Anyone sane should be scared sh’tless while seeing a dragon. 💀)

I ONLY READ ONE FIC WHERE THEY FLY ON A DRAGON! WHY ARE THERE SO MANY AEMOND FICS OF THISS??? HELP ME FIND MORE CUZ I NEED TO HAVE A RIDE ON A DRAGONNNNN. Imagine the refreshing air and scenery. (I personally imagine the beautiful pink/orange clouds from Httyd when Hiccup and Astrid fly together for the first time)😭⚰️

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Also, about the death threats, you handled it well. Really, when everyone finds out you like a hated character, it’s like they are trying to get you to sign your own death sentence. Anyway, keep doing you. You write exceptionally 🤭🫶 ily

PROMISE NOT TO DROP ME? ONLY A FOOL WOULD DROP YOU. ( HOTD x Reader )

pairing: Prince Aegon ii Targaryen x Lady-in-waiting! Reader prompt: Aegon kidnaps you to ride on dragonback, it does not go well. word count: 1, 000+ words

You had been very very firm when it came to dragon's. You were no Targaryen nor held a drop of Valyrian blood in your veins. Sure, you like to gawk at them in art. The dozen paintings, stained glass windows, and books that filled the Red Keep were enough. You would never dare to go near one in real life. Dragon’s were not natural. To ride one, to tame one, it was not natural. A lot of the things that the Targaryen’s did were not natural. 

So when you started as Helaena's Lady-in-waiting, you did everything you could to politely refuse to be near them. Need to go to the Dragonpits? The carriage was nice and comfy, no need to leave it. When Helaena offered to fly with her? Suddenly you grew ill with a cough. Helaena accepted, understanding your fears. She offered kind words and an open invitation should you ever change your mind on the matter.

Aegon was, as always, different. The word 'no'  just could not connect in that tiny little brain of his. He took it as a challenge. He would jest about kidnapping you and taking you flying. You laughed and told him you'd push him out of a window if he dared to do it. 

Of course, he had tried once with a look a little too serious on his face. After waddling away, clutching his groin from your hard kick, he learned that it would not be easy to get you on dragonback. You’d fight back. You would be a challenge, he liked that a lot.

Kicking and screaming at the top of your lungs, you did everything you could think of to get free of Aegon's hold. Clawing at his arms wrapped around your waist, he dragged you along to the Dragonpits, the dragon keeper's onlooking in confusion and mild horror. You could give less of a shit if they thought you mad. There was no way in the Seven Hells that you were going on a flight with Aegon. You'd rather kiss the King's rotten lips than to go flying.

"No! Put me down, you drunken oaf!" You shout, thrashing against him.

"No."

"I am going to kick you so hard you'd never be able to get it up again, Aegon! Put me down!" You bellow, yanking at his hair.

"Not a chance, we are going flying." Aegon brushes off your threats, "You will enjoy it. Tis' delightful."

Letting out a loud scream into his ear, he did not falter, running off of pure spite and stubbornness. It would have been admirable, if it was not for the fact he was dragging you along to go flying. Yanking hard on his hair, he yelps loudly, though his grip does not falter. Gods damn it, why did he have to be strong? Sensing that fighting would not help you, you tried another way.

"Please, please, Aegon." You beg, "I'll give up my desserts for a whole moon. Just let me go."

"Tempting." He chuckles, a smirk on his face.

"Please, Aegon. I do not wish to fly." You beg, on the verge of tears.

"I fly all the time. Once I even did it drunk, tis' nothing dangerous." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

Shaking your head frantically as his grip tightens, he drags you into the dark cave, the stench of dragon thick in the air. The few torchlights in the cave illuminated enough to see his dragon, Sunfyre, burrowing into his rocky nest. Feeling tears of fear bubbling up, you go deadly silent, losing your voice. This was your worst dream come true. Face to face with a dragon. Holding back the whimper in your throat, Aegon presses a kiss onto your temple, refusing to let you go.

“He won’t harm you. He’s used to your scent.” Aegon whispers into your ear, “I brought him one of your dresses to smell.”

“Let me go.” You whimper out, voice full of pure terror. 

“Come on, you’re already here. Let’s just go for a quick flight.” Aegon argues, shaking his head dismissively. 

“Aegon..”

Slowly letting go of your waist, you go to bolt for the cave exit, only to be swept back up into Aegon’s arms. He carried you like a toddler who had a habit of running away. Letting out a loud cry as he refused to put you back down, he wags his finger mockingly, a half amused look on his face. Hearing Sunfyre stir in his nest, you try more desperately to get away, the rumbling of the dragon echoing loudly in the cave. 

“No, no, no.” He scolds, “Bad Y/n. No running away.”

“Put me down! I want to go back to the Red Keep!” 

“No, if I have to attend Court, then you cannot escape this.” He suggests, “Consider this your duty.”

“Fuck duty. Put me down, Aegon!” You sob, bottom lip wobbling. 

“Ooh, so now we do not care about duty, hm?” He mocks, shaking his head with a smirk.

Pressing a gentle kiss onto your temple, he carried you closer and closer to Sunfyre, until the two of you were right in the dragon’s face. Feeling your grip tighten on him, he slowly smiles at the feeling, like see you so unlike yourself. This had to be the first time he had seen you act so improper and anxious. It was refreshing, amazing, and amusing all at the same time. 

Smiling bright as Sunfyre stirs away, the golden dragon huffs at the two of you, his two large green eyes staring back. Puffing his chest out in pride, he hoped the sight of his dragon would impress you and make you swoon. His dragon always got compliments. Looking down at your face, there was not an ounce of admiration or awe or anything positive, only terror. 

“He’s pretty is he not?” He gloats proudly, “You know, they say he is the prettiest dragon to have ever been hatched.”

“If I survive this, I am going to kill you.” You whisper out, face pale.

“Stop speaking as if you are going to die. Sunfyre would not dare to attack, not whilst I am here.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve seen your dragon, can we leave now. I want to go back to the Red Keep, Aegon.” You whimper, tears bubbling up in your eyes.

"No. Don't you dare." He argues, "Don't you dare do the whole crying trick on me. I am not foolish like Helaena and can be swayed."

Watching as you sniffle and whimper, his grip tightens on you, not wanting to give up just yet. Seeing the big puppy dog eyes you give him, he grits his teeth, tensing up. He falter's for a moment. He was always sucker for those big puppy dog eyes of yours. You knew how to make him crumble.

"No, no, no, don't give me that look." He tries to resist.

"Please, Aegon."

"No. Stop that." He shakes his head, "Stop that right now. I demand you stop that."

"I..I want to go home, Aegon. Please, take me home." You beg, sniffling.

Letting out an exasperated groan at you begging and pleading to go home, he begrudgingly agrees to it, knowing that it would be no fun if you cried the entire time. Scowling like a child who had its toy taken away, he loosens his grip on you, putting you back down onto your feet. One day he’d get you on dragonback. Sadly, just not today.

"Aegon, please, I want to go home." You whimper, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“Fine, fine, stop crying.” He grumbles, “But next time, we are going to actually get on the dragon.”

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[myownwholewildworld]

13. DEATHROW

chapter 12 | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 14

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: tommy's ill-placed trust brings you to an impasse. a/n: uhmmm... hi... the only thing i'm going to say is that i'm really sorry. please know that writing this chapter took an emotional toll on me and was crying towards the end. if you're sensitive to certain topics, please heed the warnings. i will tell you though that there will be a happy ending, i promise. as always, i appreciate comments, reblogs and likes, and if you do all three, i'll treasure you forever. take care, lovelies <3 x warnings (spoilers!!): 18+, mdni. some fluff until it isn't. explicit gore, violence, murder. miscarriage. angst and grief. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov. dividers by @\saradika-graphics w/c: ~5.2k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

“Fuck, no,” you grunted, turning the keys in the ignition while your other hand tightly gripped the steering wheel.

The Jeep’s motor spluttered, wheezing as you tried to bring it back to life. Pressing on the gas pedal, you spun the key around again to no avail.

Last night you should have checked on the battery. Having thought about it and then not doing it was infuriating, but at the same time you couldn’t blame either Joel or yourself for it.

You both had been so focused on the conversation, your fears being washed away, that preserving the life of the car battery had dropped several spots in your list of things to worry about. It wasn’t every day that Joel opened up to you, so when he did, you hadn’t dared stop him.

Despite the simmering fear under the surface of your skin, the excitement outweighed everything else. A much-needed ray of happiness among the darkness. Even though it was still too early, you couldn’t wait to welcome this baby into the world. To introduce them to Joel. Imagining him holding your baby, nestled in his arms, him pressing a soft kiss on their forehead…

Your chest swelled with emotion, a wave of warmth overwhelming you, filling your core. You definitely couldn’t wait.

And yes, there were infinite threats out there, but you and Joel would keep them all at more than arm’s length. This baby would be loved, protected. Joel would not let anything happen to any of you, but neither would you ― you would do absolutely anything and everything for them. Whatever the cost.

A big part of you was sure that Tommy would do nothing with the information he had unearthed about you. After all, he was your friend and Joel’s brother. You liked to think that, despite how he ditched you both when you were bit back in Chicago, he still cared about the both of you. Having spent months with him in the wilderness, he had been like the big brother you never had. Always the older sister, you never had someone looking out for you when you were younger. Tommy had filled that part in a sense, albeit briefly.

Joel, on the other hand, was keen on leaving, hence why you were trying to resuscitate the Jeep. Blamed how his brother had changed solely on Laney. And although you agreed that Laney had been an extremely bad influence on Tommy, she could not be the only culprit here. Tommy had decided, of his own free will at first, to get involved with that group, to drown his sorrows in alcohol and harder drugs.

But he would do nothing that would put Joel or you in harm’s way. Despite it all, he was a good person, just a tad lost. Tommy would eventually find his way back to his brother, to family. You were darn sure he would make an amazing uncle.

Grunting, you jumped out of the car, keys dangling from your gloved fingers. Trudging towards the cabin, Joel came down the steps to meet you halfway through in the overgrown path.

“Any luck?”

“Nope, sorry,” you apologised although were not sure why. You handed over the keys. “I should’ve checked the battery last night.”

You unintentionally pursed your lips in frustration, but Joel’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip to soften the gesture. Your eyes flickered to his as his fingers splayed across your jawline.

“I could’ve checked too and didn’t. This ain’t on you, baby,” Joel reassured you. “We’ll find an alternative, don’t worry.”

You pecked the fingertip of his thumb, which earned you one of his lopsided smiles, tiny dimples sinking in his cheeks. Joel was always a sight to see, handsome as he was, but when he grinned, his whole expression shifted. The worry would ease its grip on him, the crow’s feet around his eyes accentuating and the skin on his lips tensing into a boyish smirk.

No wonder he had such an effect on you. Couldn’t be any other way. Because Joel Miller was gorgeous on the outside, but it was his heart what you treasured most about him. His passion, his predisposition to help those who needed him, his good intentions, his kind nature towards you was what stole your heart.

Yes, he could be a huge prick sometimes, but it was out of fear, of love. Not that it was a good excuse for some of his behaviour, but you knew he was trying his best.

“What’s crossing your mind?” he probed, sensing your absent-mindedness.

You shrugged, a half-smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Nothing, just mentally listing the reasons why I love you,” you whispered as he bowed down, replacing his thumb with his mouth.

“Oh, yeah? I bet it’s a long list. Care to share?” Joel taunted you, lips moving against your as he spoke.

You chuckled, slapping his shoulder playfully as you stepped back.

“Stop being a flirtatious tease, Miller. You’ve already knocked me up, you don’t need to impress me anymore,” you joked.

His hand slipped to yours and pulled you into his hard, broad chest. You couldn’t help but titter when his arms wrapped around you in a bear hug. Joel kissed the crown of your head, his palms sliding down your back until both cupped your ass to press you on him.

His mouth made its way to yours lazily, his lips prying yours open with ease. The tease of his tongue swirling around yours pulled all air out of your lungs, his wet warmth pouring into your thirsty mouth. His tongue retreated and you whimpered lowly, for him to lick back in your mouth with ravenous need.

Joel broke the kiss a minute later, gasping for oxygen. You panted as well, slightly flustered.

“I may not need to, but I definitely want to impress you every single fucking day of our lives together until death do us part,” his tone grew darker, more intense, as he mumbled such words against the soft skin of your lips.

Your heart jolted, the bare intensity of his promise making you shiver with raw love. Warmth settled in your core, his pledge a reassuring blanket that nothing would break you apart. You knew he meant every single word, which made it even more significant to you. You didn’t think you could ever love someone else the same way you loved Joel ― it would be simply impossible.

Your eyes got glassy, a finger brushing your waterline as you laughed it off, taking a step back.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry,” you said, a chortle loosening the emotion in your voice. “I don’t think I can even blame the pregnancy hormones for that.”

Joel cradled your face, his thumbs stroking your cold, wet cheeks. His brown eyes softened as he leaned in for a chaste kiss this time. Then his forehead rested against yours intimately.

“I do mean it. I love you. And this baby too,” he hummed, one hand drifting down and then up the hem of your padded coat until it landed on the bare skin of your belly. His thumb trailed an invisible line below your belly button. “I don’t think you understand how much, sweetheart.”

You swooned. How could you not when Joel was talking like that? You liked him being so vocal about his love for you, for this baby, because you knew it was rare.

Hugging his neck, fingers laced at the nape of it, you pushed him down for another kiss, his warm palm still stroking the skin over your womb.

“I do understand, because I feel exactly the same. Now stop this before I lose my mind and lock you up,” you laughed against his lips.

“As tempting as that is, you’re right. We need a vehicle,” he sighed loudly, almost exasperatedly, while he stepped back from you. “We’ll go into town, see what we can find.”

“I can stay here with our supplies, so we don’t have to carry everything with us,” you offered.

“No, you’re coming with me. Tommy knows we are here, it isn’t safe anymore. We go together,” his steely tone told you he would not be convinced otherwise.

“Do you really think Tommy would come back and do something rash? I highly doubt it, Joel. He’s your brother, he wouldn’t harm either of us,” you reasoned with him, knowing it was a lost battle.

“It’s not him I’m worried about, but the others he’s with if he opens his goddamn mouth.” He had a point, so you didn’t argue anymore. “We’ll hide some things in those bushes over there, so you don’t have to carry that much weight, and then if it’s safe, we’ll come back to retrieve everything else.”

You nodded, sliding your hand in his and squeezing it.

“Let’s go then, it’s freezing out here.”

Joel’s senses flared the whole time, even the twigs breaking under his heavy boots made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. The nagging feeling stalking the back of his mind kept him on edge, checking his surroundings at all times.

Oswego felt alien, otherworldly even. Joel had not set foot on this town for years―decades―and nothing had really changed. But the atmosphere had, the mist adding a layer of mystique to how he perceived it. Being here felt… wrong. His skin bristled at the thought, instantly turning around to check on you. Again.

“Yes, I’m still right behind you, just like the last twenty times you’ve checked, Joel,” you mocked him with a gentle smile in an attempt to ease his uneasiness.

Joel pursed his lips, swallowing the snappy retort. His mood had soured with every step closer to the dam on West River Road. With no cars to be seen, you had to venture further in than what he had anticipated.

“I know, just making sure no one is following,” he said instead.

You did not deserve his spoilt temper.

Slowly coming down the hill, you both got to the asphalt. The dam was on your right, fenced off and in big disrepair. The water was pouring over, the winter almost forcing the river to overflow.

Joel quickly moved to your side, keeping you close to him, as you both walked northwards.

“See that red-bricked building? Tommy once got inside and almost didn’t make it out. He tripped over some bare cables, and they came in contact with water… It was a shitshow,” Joel recalled, trying to get his mind off that nagging feeling that made his skin crawl. “He almost electrocuted, got a nasty burn on his hands.”

“And let me guess, you went after him to try and stop him from being even more reckless,” you added, intertwining your gloved fingers with his.

Joel cocked his head, looking at you askance with a subtle grin. You knew him too well by now.

“Damn right I did. That kid could never be left unsupervised,” he tutted at the memory. “I had to break him out while the guard was chasing us. When our old man found us, he was not impressed.”

You chuckled, a melody to his ears in this decrepit world. Joel loved the sound of your laughter, how easy going you were when worry was not gripping you tight. He gently yanked at your laced hands to push you into his side, his arm quickly draping over your shoulders as you trudged forward through the thick layer of snow.

The light screech of distant tyres made him stop right away, his alertness going through the roof as he turned around to discern where the noise was coming from.

His heart jostled against his chest, blood rushing through his eardrums with anticipation. Danger was nearby, Joel could sense it.

He pushed you towards the trees on your left.

“Go, hide in the woods, but don’t strand too far,” his voice was unusually calm, especially considering how his heart pounded, threatening to break a rib.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“Someone’s coming. Trust me,” he pushed you again, this time with more urgency. “Please.”

Your eyes widened when you heard the car approaching too.

“It can be anyone. Doesn’t have to be―”

“I said go.”

“But you―”

“I’ll keep ‘em busy. I’ll be fine. Go,” he insisted, keeping calm even though the fear bubbling inside him was asking him to yell.

Finally, you nodded, a last squeeze on his hand before you ran towards the cover of the woods.

Drawing a deep breath in, with the coolest demeanour he could muster, Joel faced northwards and kept on walking, pretending he didn’t know you were being followed.

Soon enough, a vehicle approached him from behind, his whole body stiffening in preparation for what was to come. His left hand gripped the leather strap hooked to his shoulder, while the right tested the weight of his riffle’s stock. Blood pumped thick through his veins, mind rushing at lightspeed.

Joel dared to shoot a sideways glance to the trees, checking you were nowhere to be seen. His relief was short-lived when he noticed the trail of imprinted footprints on the snowy, frozen ground, a clear path leading to where you were hiding.

If he could throw up his heart, Joel would have done so there and there. But he couldn’t fix that, not now, so could only pray that whoever was following would not spot them.

Not whoever ― Joel knew who they were, as sure as the sun would rise over the horizon tomorrow morning. You were adamant that Tommy would not give you up, that his little brother would smarter than that. But Joel knew better than that ― knew Tommy too damn well. Although he probably meant no harm, his need to belong, to find his people, was far greater than anything else. A fucking irony, if you asked him ― Tommy had him, had you, but apparently neither of you had been enough to satiate his longing.

It had always been like that though, so why was he surprised? Even as a kid, Tommy would find the shittiest people he could to hang out with, and then it was up to Joel to get him out of dire situations.

A loud honk coming from the car derailed his train of thought. Halting suddenly, the riffle’s strap came off his shoulder, the barrel weighting heavy on his left hand while his right pawed the grip.

Joel slowly turned around to face four people coming out of the Jeep. He recognised Laney straight away, the woman who had gotten Tommy’s head up his own ass. A baseball bat rested on her shoulder. The three man that accompanied her were strangers to him ― all of them had drawn their guns.

Fucking outnumbered, but his coward of a brother was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey there, Joel. Long time no see,” Laney greeted him, a wide smile showing her crooked, yellowed teeth. “Going somewhere?”

Joel eyed his opponents, pondering how to get out of this unscathed. His hand tightened around the riffle’s grip, but he kept it steady. Didn’t want to force a situation he wasn’t sure he could win.

“No, just aimlessly walking around,” he barked back, snappy.

He had no time for pleasantries.

Laney laughed, closing the distance with the three man right on her back.

“I see. Tommy was telling us all about how you have forgotten about Sarah already and decided to replace her with another shot at parenthood. Is that right?” She stopped six feet away from him, her grin spanning across her mouth like a fucking clown.

Her words hit him like a motherfucking lorry. The most primal anger flared his nerves, his vision reddening at the thought of Tommy airing his personal life to fucking strangers. Could he not trust his own fucking blood anymore? Why the fuck would Tommy tell her anything about Sarah?

He wasn’t replacing her. Never could, would never even try ― Sarah was irreplaceable. This baby could never supplant Sarah. He’d love them to death―already did―just as he had Sarah. Tommy should fucking know that.

Displaying the highest forms of control for the sake of you both, Joel stood there, white knuckles under the fingerless gloves. He petted the trigger, wanting to give in to this urge ― the urge to right a wrong. But he had you and the baby to worry about, couldn’t be so reckless.

“Did that clicker you call your girlfriend eat your tongue or what?” one of the men chipped in, snickering at his own tasteless joke.

Of course Tommy told them that too. When would the younger Miller ever learn to shut his fucking mouth up?

“What do you want, Laney?”

“Ah, well, you see…” she shrugged, folding arms. Joel wanted to wipe her smile off her stupid face with the blow of his shotgun. “This is our town now. And we don’t like having fucking pregnant clickers around here, Joel. Have you considered the kind of monster that is gonna come out of her?”

Fury crawled up his throat, closer now to losing his goddamn composure. Joel had to blink a couple of times to clear his vision from the tinge of red buffering around his eyes.

You’re the fucking monster, leave my family alone, you bitch, was what he wanted to yell, but instead forced himself to try and diffuse the situation.

“We’ll leave. There’s nothing here that would keep us in this place,” and by nothing, he truly meant no one.

Tommy’s betrayal stung like a swarm of raging wasps.

“Ditching your brother already? Wow,” Laney cackled like a parrot. Then tutted, her head cocking to one side. “Bit late for that, I’m afraid.”

“Let go of me, you bastard!”

Your high-pitched shriek froze the hot blood running wild in his veins. His head snapped to his right, just in time to see a fourth man dragging you out of the woods, grabbing you by your hair as you kicked like a madwoman to break free.

His heart literally stopped, brain trying to catch up with what was happening. He had missed the moment the fourth guy had diverted from the group to track you down through the snow. And Joel was afraid you would pay for his inattentiveness.

A dense knot swelled in his throat, his lungs straining to get some oxygen in. He couldn’t afford to panic now, nor to lose his goddamn mind, but the urge to give in to desperation was overwhelming.

You were everything he had left in this godforsaken world. Joel couldn’t lose you too, not to his brother’s stupidity.

So he persevered, forcing himself to remain calm. The seconds dragged on like a thread being pulled off a blanket, time standing still the moment that vile man threw you to the floor.

On your fours, you fought for a gasp of air before the same man yanked at your hair again, another painful scream as he forced you on your knees.

“You son of a bitch,” you spat, feeling your scalp pinching with the pull.

For a moment you avoided Joel’s gaze, because you knew what you would find there: helplessness. The same you were feeling right now. But his eyes were burning a hole right through your face ― and you finally met his glare.

Even if he had a tight grip on his composure, you could feel his anger, his guilt, his rage. To someone else Joel might look eerily calm and steadfast, but to you, who had learnt everything there was to know about Joel Miller, he looked like a man in penance.

Your captor slapped you, the blow pushing you onto the frozen ground again. Your skin prickled at the contact, a grunt slipping through your lips ― but that was all you would show them.

Joel moved towards you suddenly, a reaction he could not have suppressed even if he wanted to. But the moment the other three men pointed their guns at him, you regretted him doing it. Luckily, the sound of the firearms being cocked stopped him before he could reach you.

“Look, it doesn’t really need to be this dramatic, Joel. You get in the car, we take care of her, and we drive you to your brother,” Laney spoke as if you were not there.

Why did people had developed the ability to talk about you as if you were an object, as if you were not even present? What the fuck was wrong with people? Had they stopped seeing your humanity because of a fucking bite?

“No, you get in the car and leave, before I kill y’all,” Joel muttered under his breath.

Only when you saw the feral look in his eyes, did your heart start racing. This could only go down one way, because Joel would not let them do anything to you. For his own preservation, you wished he did, so one of you could make it out alive.

Launey laughed, followed by the four men.

“You reckon you can take on the five of us?” she taunted, her teeth becoming yellower with the white background. “You are delusional.”

Joel was not someone who took being challenged graciously. You had seen him unleash his temper before, and how that had turned out for the men who tried to rape you. He had not only killed them both, but then spent hours hunting down every single member of their group on his own.

This, though, was different. Joel had already three guns pointed at him.

You felt the shift in the atmosphere before the rest, the twitch in his jaw alerting you that Joel was at his wit’s end. His pose stiffened almost unperceptively, one finger slowly sliding towards the trigger. He didn’t need to communicate with you ― you knew what was about to happen.

Joel lifted the riffle, turned around promptly, and shot the man who had dragged you out of the woods. His body fell to your side with a muffled thud.

Then hell broke loose, the three men coking their guns at him in an instant, stepping in front of Laney to protect her.

“Don’t kill him, Tommy wouldn’t forgive me,” was her only order.

Two of the men holstered their guns, one of them still keeping Joel at gun point, and lunged forwards towards him. A second shot knocked the second man down, while the other two grabbed at Joel’s shotgun’s barrel. A fight ensued while they struggled to get hold of the firearm.

Your pulse accelerated, forcing you out of your state of shock as you raised to your feet, hand slithering to your back to grab your own gun. You would fight besides Joel even if this was the last thing you did.

Then Laney’s body blocked your vision, the baseball bat swinging in front of your face.

“Where do you think you’re going, you fuckin’ clicker?” were her only words before the bat swayed again, hitting you harshly on the sternum.

Your lungs evacuated all air, leaving you mouthing for a gulp of oxygen. Your knees quivered and you managed to stop the fall, your nails digging in the dirty snow underneath. A second shot of pain ran down your spine when Laney hit your back with all the strength she could muster, and both your arms and legs gave way, your gun falling and dropping a few feet away from you.

Your face kissed the white blanket beneath as you crawled onto your side, still trying to catch a breath, wincing and panting, clutching at your chest. This much pain could only be caused by a broken rib, the stabbing feeling worsening with every breath you tried to get in.

“You’re disgustin’,” Launey snarled before she started kicking you, her boot and the bat taking turns.

She hit you everywhere, but most of the blows landed on your stomach. You crouched down, protecting your head as best you could, while searing pain cursed through your body, sharp and dull at the same time.

You could still hear the struggle between Joel and the two men, and you hoped he would prevail. But you couldn’t wait for him to help you, not with the burning cramps taking hold of your whole body. Another minute of this beating and Laney would end up smashing your skull open ― it was only a matter of time.

Through the agony, the worst pain you had ever endured, you rolled onto your back as the woman kept on hitting you with boots and bat. Not the best idea, but it was your only chance to reach for your gun on the ground.

Laney was so focused on you, she didn’t even notice the moment your fingers wrapped around the grip of your forgotten gun. With no hesitation, your finger slid to the trigger, and pressed it.

The bullet lodged right between Laney’s brows ― a millisecond later, she fell on her back.

You drew in a breath, then a trembling sigh escaped your lips, trying to slow down your heartbeat. A cloud of mist lingered in front of your mouth. Closed your eyes for a minute, trying to reign in the pain coursing through your being.

Tilting your head to one side, you saw the last two men on the floor. Joel was on top of one, fisting and punching his face until his head cracked open. A pool of blood tinted the white snow, and only when his brains were spilling over onto the ground, did Joel sit back and look in your direction.

You saw the fog lifting off his mind, his rage forgotten the moment he landed eyes on you. Those brown orbs you loved suddenly widened with fear and his face expression completely transformed into anguish.

“Baby, no,” he whispered with despair, crawling his way to you.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled the moment he reached you, helping you sit up and hugging you so tight you feared he might break the last of your ribs. “Joel, I’m fine,” you reassured him.

All your body ached just as if you had been put through hell, but you were alive.

“No, no, no, no,” was everything he could murmur, his lips pressed onto your temple. His breath so warm it was soothing. “No, no… can’t be… I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh God, please forgive me. I’m sorry…”

Joel started to rock back and forth still holding you, his eyes so broad and glassy you knew you were missing something.

That was when you looked down and saw the blood staining your jeans where your inner thighs met, leaking through the fabric onto the snow underneath.

For a second you didn’t―couldn’t―understand what was happening, why you were bleeding so profusely.

And the moment it hit you, your lungs tore apart with the loudest scream you had ever let go of.

Joel saw realisation dawning on you, your eyes a window to your instantly broken soul. He cradled your face so you would only look at him. You almost wrestled with him, trying to get up, but his arms kept you bound to him.

The void in his chest grew bigger and bigger with every screech and cry you emitted, breaking him down until tears spilt over his waterlines. This couldn’t be happening ― losing another child. One he had only started to love; one he had let himself wish and hope for. One he promised he would protect at whatever cost. The idea of a family with you, snatched away in the blink of an eye.

He had tried getting to you the moment he saw Laney approaching you, tried to attack her, but the two men had tackled him to the ground and beat him almost to death. Only got a tiny reprieve when he saw you kill Laney before one of the attackers struck him in the head. Then Joel’s instincts kicked in and didn’t simmer down until they were both dead.

Joel had been so focused on eliminating the last two threats, he hadn’t stopped to check on you ― his survival instinct too strong to ignore. Now hated himself for it, for letting Laney get to you, do this to you.

Because of his ineptitude and tunnel vision, you had miscarried. He had not been able to protect you, this baby of yours. Just as he had not been able to protect Sarah almost two years ago. He was a motherfucking failure.

But he couldn’t break, not now when you needed him the most. He had to be strong for the both of you, because your pain was much, much greater than his.

“Baby, don’t look,” he begged you, palms framing your face while his thumbs swept away your tears. “Please, don’t look.”

“J-Joel!” you wailed, your arms draping around his trunk and burying your face in his coat. “No… our baby…”

His hand landed on your crown, pressing you gently onto his chest, his dead heart breaking a tad more.

Joel pressed a kiss on your forehead.

There were no words to describe the loss, the grief for someone none of you would ever meet. Would they be a baby boy or a baby girl? What would they look like? Would have they taken after you or him? Would have they grown to be a happy, chirpy toddler? Their first steps, their first words ― so many firsts gone, firsts neither of you would ever witness.

You both remained there for what felt like hours, Joel hugging you tight, rocking you in an attempt to calm you down, calm himself down too.

Only when the bitter cold started to filter through your clothing, making you shiver, did Joel help you stand up. His arms slipped under your body, and he carried you to the car while you cried your loss in the crook of his neck. Made sure you were comfortable on the seat, put your seatbelt on, and jumped into the driver’s side.

Joel was a man on a mission. Not on a hunting mission―Tommy was dead to him―but on a mission to get you to safety so he could tend to you.

Little did it matter how much he was hurting. Your sobs had quietened down, your face tilted towards the window. On the reflection he could see the dried tears on your soulless eyes, but the moment they drifted down to your lap, you started quietly crying again.

He felt so damn helpless, the only thing he could do was to remove his coat and place it on your lap. He tugged at you again, embracing you without speaking a word. You hugged him back, silence lingering between the both of you, grieving together.

Time was a funny thing, because neither of you realised that darkness had begun to win over the light. With the night approaching, he needed to find somewhere safe to bunker down. After what felt like hours, he kissed your forehead and sat back up on the driver’s seat.

The vehicle roared alive, and Joel pressed the gas pedal like a man on death row.

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu

@smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille @harriedandharassed

@thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus @theoraekenslover @vickie5446

@hiroikegawa

[gamergirl-niffler]

Darling 💛 I get you usually ain't into emergency requests and all, but I could really use some headcanons for Wrio, Tartaglia, Neuvilette, and Itto. Their s/o is dealing with psychosis, specifically grappling with schizophrenia. I would love to get some comfort from them, hah..

Sweetie 💜 I know you are going through some tough time but remember that I am here to give you any kind of support I only can!

I hope you will like what I wrote for you 💜💜

☕ Wriothesley ☕

- Everyone in Fortress of Meropis is looking after you - Duke’s lovely assistant.

- When the world starts to change its shape and the Fortress doesn't look the same anymore, you stop recognizing people.

- Those aren't the residents anymore… They are shadows and they are after you, wanting to rip you apart. They want you dead.

- When this happens and you aren't near Wriothesley, there always is someone who will keep an eye on you while someone else is running to find the Duke.

- When Wriothesley reaches you, you are already trying to get away from whoever is holding you from fear of your life.

- The moment you see him, you run right into his arms. “They… T-They are after me, Wrio. They want to get me.”   

- He hushes you and quickly picks you up. Wriothesley takes you to his office so you are away from everyone and everything.

- He of course makes you a cup of the tea that always calms you down.

- If you see things that scare you, don't you worry - your beloved Duke is there to keep you close, wrapped in his arms; his palm covering your eyes to not make you look at whatever is hunting you.

- Shadowy figures fill the room, your mind gets filled with too many bad voices to count, and all you can do is cry and beg for all of this to stop.

- “Shhh. You’re alright, Y/N. I’ll keep you safe. Even if I have to fight the dark shadows for you,” he assures you, patting your back. His voice is just a whisper. 

- As scary as all of this is, Wriothesley’s voice is like a ray of light in the darkness. No matter what voices say you trust him. 

- When the worst passes, the two of you enjoy some good tea, while talking. True, it's not the easiest since you can't focus because your thoughts are running wild but Wriothesley is patient with you. 

- If he needs to repeat something even a hundred times, he’ll do it or he will simply continue your subject. Anything to make you feel better.

- Once everything fades away, he is there with his cocky smile.

- “I am sorry, Wriothesley… You need to deal with something that terrible,” you whisper, feeling ashamed of forcing him into dealing with someone like you.

- He just scoffs and hugs you tightly. “C'mon, no need to apologize. I love you and nothing will change that. I’ll do everything to help you.” 

- He will forever keep an eye on your meds, making sure you take them. He will count them and write everything down in a little notebook to keep the track.

- If you have any treatment you need to attend, be sure he will join you. Wriothesley doesn't need to be there but he wants to, just so you can witness his support. 

- Even Sigewinne checks on you. As a head nurse, she needs to be sure you are doing okay.

- Wriothesley will take you for walks on the surface, hoping that leaving the rough interiors of Fortress will make you feel better.

- He promises you to always be there. No matter how difficult and scary it may be, your Duke will be close to protect you.

💧 Neuvillette ⚖

- From his past experiences, Neuvillette is fully aware of how fragile the mind can be. No matter if it's the mind of a Melosine or of a human being. 

- He saw his fair share of troubled people during his life but the illness eating you from the inside of your own mind really hurts him.

- Of course he doesn't treat you like a child. You are his beloved mate and he knows you're not handicapped or anything like this, you just have a bad moment.

- The Chief Justice is doing everything he can to ensure your safety when you are near him as well as when you are on your own. 

- You are sitting at the cafe and enjoying some tea and sweet cake when Melosines pop out of nowhere, right next to your table. “Good morning! Are you feeling alright? Is there anything I can help you with? Hope you remembered your meds today.” 

- Each Melosine you meet on your stroll through the Court of Fontain asks you how you feel and if any of them can help you. You know it was Neuvillette’s idea but you don't mind it. Little Melosines checking on you is really cute.

- One day you can’t shake off the feeling of someone watching you and whispering about you. Shadowy figures creep around and you only can see them with the corner of your eyes.

- Your panic only rises with each turn. All you want is to chase away the shadow creature but it is always gone. There was only one thing to do… RUN… run for your life to hide in your house. They can’t get you there, right? RIGHT! 

- Of course your panic doesn’t go unnotice. One of the Melosines sees you pushing through people in a desperate attempt to get back to your home, and she immediately goes to report to Neuvillette.

- Neuvillette finds you inside your home - your place is a mess, looking as if you tried to secure yourself from the outside world. 

- You are sitting among that mess, squeezed tightly in a corner of the room, curled into a small ball.

- The sight of you makes his heart shutter. Without even mentioning the mess he slowly approaches you, calling your name quietly. “My love, Y/N. I am here. What's wrong?”

- You shake your head, holding your knees close to yourself, not even looking at him. “I… I don't know. It just seems like there is something following me! I feel scared, I feel hopeless! I want it to end,” you explain and immediately burst into tears.

- Heavy rain starts to fall but Neuvillette keeps it together on the outside, all for your own comfort. “I can assure you that you are safe, my love. Will you allow me to maybe hold you?”

- You just nod your head and soon you’re wrapped in his embrace. Neuvillette doesn't speak, waiting for you to open up on your own and once you do he is listening to your every word. He provides words of comfort and small touches like wiping your tears and stroking your hair.

- He never judges you for what's happening to you since it's beyond your own control but as iudex and your mate he promises to always be there.

- No matter how you may feel about yourself and your illness, he will be there till the very end, helping and guarding you.

⚔ Tartaglia ⚔

- He doesn't really notice it at first. You are stressed, it's normal. Who isn't stressed? Of course he notices all the odd things about your behavior but doesn't take them as anything bad. Untill…

- One day he finds you wandering around your little hut, looking around like a lost child. You seem really lost as if you didn't recognize your own surroundings despite living there for years. Not to mention you’re bare foot and without a winter coat with all the snow and harsh cold around you.

- “Y/N! H-How are you?” He asked with a worried smile. You quickly cling onto him.

“Tartaglia! I am so happy to see you,” you say happily and hug him tightly. Of course he returns the hug yet it still feels off.

- “Why aren't you home? It's cold out here,” he says, cupping your red cheeks to warm them up a little.

- You blink, looking right up at him. “That's… My home?” you ask slowly and look over your shoulder. 

- Tartaglia nods and slowly leads you inside, he doesn't want you to get sick or anything.

- When you look around the inside of the hut, your eyes still seem lost. It's like you aren't yourself even in slightlest. 

- Tartaglia is trying to start the fire in the fireplace when suddenly you are on the floor, screaming and backing up until your back hits the wall.

“A-Ajax… be careful! There is a man behind you. He is going to kill you!” You scream. Your face is filled with true terror.

- He stands up straight and looks around the room but it's empty. There’s no one there but you and him. Hut is so small that no one could even hide. Yet you look serious, your fear isn't fake. You are seeing things that aren't here.

- He drops the wood and joins you on the floor. Tartaglia hugs you tightly, pressing your head to his shoulder like he would be trying to hide you from everything. “Don’t worry. No one is brave enough to go against me or someone I love,” he says quietly, stroking your hair and the back of your neck. 

- The voice in your head is dangerous, and it keeps on talking about how terrible, good for nothing you are. All you can do is cry while nuzzling his shoulder. You feel tired of it, you don't know where you are and all the scary people just follow you, mocking you no matter where you go.

- Tartaglia finds it weird. You aren't his beloved and change is so sudden, you apparently don't recognize your own house and see things that aren't there, swing from happiness to panic in a  second. Of course he is not going to leave your side. He could never abandon you in such a state. Tartaglia holds you the whole time, listening to your words even if they weren't true. He protects you from all the phantoms that hunt you. “It's okay, lovely. I am here, no one will put their hands on you when I am here and I am not leaving,” while whispering his hand gently strokes your back, providing comfort.

- Once you are calm enough, he carefully picks you up to move you to your warm bed. Tartaglia joins you there to show that you are really safe with him. He will listen to whatever you have to say, no matter how odd it may sound. You may spit nonsense and he will nod and talk with you about it.

- When the fatigue after an episode gets to you and you fall asleep, he wonders what he can do. At first he considers asking Dottore for help but the more he thinks about it, the more terrible the idea seems. He doesn't want to put you in danger.

- In the end, he sends a letter to a doctor from Liyue just to find out more about what's happening to you. Of course he takes his time to talk with you about what is happening to you.

- You may feel as ashamed but don't you worry! He is up for the challenge if it means helping you.

- He is stubborn and in love, so no matter what you are stuck with him.

👹 Itto 🎆

- He is basically clueless… Just at first of course!

- Shinobu and Granny Oni have lots of learning to do but since he is taking you seriously, he catches on pretty quickly.

- One day you don't show up on Inazuma’s treets, which worries him.

- You simply can't take it. People are whispering about you because of who you are dating and what you are doing with your life. They are always close, telling you all kinds of nasty things, calling you worthless, stupid, a waste of air.

- Suddenly, there is a knock on your door. “Um… Y/N? Are you there?”

- “Go away Itto! Just go away!” you yell at him, finding a safe place to hide from everything.

- You are home what makes him happy! But your yelling worried him. “C’mon, sweet cheeks! I brought some cool stuff that will make you happy! I promise,” Oni assures you and after a moment of silence he decides to walk in.

- You sit on your bed, wrapped in a blanket from head to toe as if you are trying to hide from him and the whole world. It breaks his heart.

- He puts all the stuff he brought onto the table for sitting next to you. “Hey… I know I can't do much but this big and strong Oni can try and hide you in his arms.”

- You just look at him but after a moment you climb onto his laps. Itto smiles and hugs you tightly. “There ya go. Nice, cozy and safe. Now tell me what's in that pretty head of yours.”

- Itto is holding you close when you speak. No matter how dark your thoughts get, how cruel the whispers become, he is listening to you.

- When you burst into years he panics just a little. “N-No, no, no, no. There is no place for crying here,” he sits you on the bed next to him and then puts his head in your lap. “You always liked my hair, yeah? How about playing with it?”

- You start playing with his soft long hair, slowly calming down from everything. That's to him you started to feel safe.

- When you felt better, Itto was more than happy to gift you with stuff he brought. He got your favorite sweets and a plushie that you dreamed about.

- Next time this happens, he is right by you, providing any possible kind of comfort in the best way possible! In Oni way! 

- Itto will care about your comfort and make sure you feel alright no matter what. You can hide from the whole world in his arms.

[dyns33]

Only wastelands 4

Annnnnd here's part 4 !! I will be honest, I will need some time to finish this series. I know where I'm going, but I can't find the time or energy to write it.

Tag : @one-of-thewalkingdead @coolrobloxkid28 @thebumbqueen @rachmari @ilyvia @justme12200 @honeybunhottie @savanahc @gobbodoggo @bisasterbisexual @killingboredom @bonafideyapper @i-simp-for-mha-men @pixelatedprofilepic @ultimatreality @chattersstuff @harmfulb1tch @hellolettuce444 @miketastic25 @darkangel4121 @avidreadee123 @kaitttttttt @nullx1ety

It would have been a lie to say that Y/N hadn't prayed that Janey would be a better traveling companion to Lucy. The vaultie was not bad, but far too naive, talkative, not listening to advices.

Maybe she had been heard, or Cooper had been a great father, but the little girl was a true angel.

Obviously very clever for her age, she didn't need long explanations to see that the world had changed, that it was dangerous, and that it was a good idea to follow Y/N without asking too many questions.

Of course Janey still had some questions. This was perfectly normal. But she waited until they were safe, often before sleeping, to look at Y/N with her big, innocent eyes.

“Are we going to see dad soon ?”

"… Yes. He's not far away." the woman said as she checked her pitboy.

If the information was correct, Lucy was only a few days' walk away, and if Coop was still with her, then he would be reunited with his daughter soon. 219 years without seeing her, without any news, no clue on her location, and the almost evaporated hope of finding her still alive.

Of the things Y/N hadn't yet explained to Janey, the time that had passed since her forced separation from her father was one of the most complicated. The child probably thought she would find the man in the picture, smiling and with pink skin.

She nervously repeated that Cooper had been ill, but couldn't elaborate. Each time, Janey responded that her daddy was strong, and that he would get better soon, especially if they helped him.

Impossible to contradict this adorable child.

If she wanted to lie again, Y/N would have said that she wasn't walking as fast as she could because she wasn't sure what would happen when Janey saw her father. That would probably be a shock. Was she going to scream ? Cry ? Be afraid of him ?

It would break Cooper's heart. And she could repeat that she hated him, that she didn't care at all about his fate, Y/N didn't want to hurt him like that. Anyhow, but not like that.

There was also the possibility that he would react badly to seeing her. Vault Tech was so monstrous, they would have been able to clone Janey, or create a robot that looked like her, or even brainwash her at her mother's request.

He could also think that he had become too monstrous to approach such a pure being without harming her.

Maybe he had abandoned Y/N, thinking only of himself, but he would never do that to his own daughter. She couldn't believe it. The problem was that he would want the best for her, and he might think that was keeping his distance.

Y/N had imagined all these possibilities, but in reality, she knew perfectly well that they would just be happy to have each other again. If she was afraid, it was mainly for herself. For them.

She had been running from him for three years. Not that he seemed to be looking for her, but she had promised herself that their paths would never cross again or it would end badly.

She was not thinking of killing him. First because she had no chance against this cowboy, but above all because Y/N may have hated him for what he had done, she still loved him too much to really want his misfortune.

That was probably why everything was still very painful.

When the Pitboy beeped to indicate that they had arrived at their destination, Y/N observed the ruined building, Janey's hand still holding hers, awaiting orders.

Although fear kept one alive in the wastelands, one should never hesitate. Never.

Cautiously, motioning to the little girl not to make any noise, they approached what was obviously Lucy and the Ghoul's hiding place for the night.

With another gesture, Y/N indicated to Janey to stay at the end of the corridor, while she checked the place, until she found what they were looking for. And if necessary, she should flee.

As none of her reactions were normal, the vaultie seemed happy to see her, greeting her with a huge smile.

Sitting in a corner, hand on his rifle, Cooper didn't look so happy. Surprised, yes, nervous too. With a mixture of sadness and anger. Not really open to a reunion.

But he had celebrated their separation, he had no reason to want to see her again.

Y/N stared at his gun, wondering if he was going to shoot. No movement showed he intended to harm her, but he kept his hand on the trigger. Maybe he thought she was going to try something.

Slowly, so as not to rush him, and ignoring Lucy's long tirades about everything that had happened to them in New Vegas where they had not found her father, Y/N made Janey understand that she could come.

The weapon fell to the floor as she walked through the door. The hatred completely disappeared from Cooper Howard's eyes.

He just sat there, petrified by this vision of his past.

The poor kid shook a little, clinging to Y/N, not understanding what they were doing with these people. So Y/N got down on her level.

"This is Lucy, she was in a shelter like you and me. And… Janey. Janey, here's your father." she whispered with an uncertain voice.

The child looked at her, searching for a lie or joke on her face, before turning back to the Ghoul, who still hadn't moved.

It may have been instinct, the call of blood, or the great intelligence of this kid, but then she found her smile again, finally recognizing the man who was standing there.

"Daddy !"

While he had been stuck since their arrival, Cooper didn't hesitate for a second when Janey ran towards him. He opened his arms to welcome her, lifting her to embrace her tenderly, breathing a sigh of relief that he had been hoping for for two centuries.

Lucy didn't understand everything that was happening, but she placed a hand on her heart in front of this scene, knowing that she had to keep quiet for once. Nothing should spoil this moment.

"Janey… My lil cowgirl���" sobbed Cooper. "You're okay. You're here."

"I missed you, dad. Why didn't you come with me in the car ?"

"He… I told you, there was no more room. I was supposed to join you later, but there were problems. I'm sorry, my angel. I wanted to come."

“Mom said you left me.”

"Your mother… Your mother will have had bad information. I would never have left you. I would always come for you."

The sentence echoed in Y/N’s mind. A broken promise. Without really thinking about it, she touched the picture she always kept in her bag. If it had been of value to Cooper, it hadn't been enough for him to come get her.

Now that he had found Janey, that photo was forgotten. It was long forgotten, like Y/N, who no longer had any value.

At least this story would have a nice ending. Their paths had crossed so that she could bring back his little daughter. He had saved her, she had saved them. They were even now.

Still silent, she left the room, then the building, without attracting attention. Lucy was too busy crying, while Coop obviously only had eyes for his child.

By the time they realized she was gone, Y/N would already be far away.

Maybe the vaultie would want to follow her, thinking about using her pitboy, but there was no reason the cowboy would want the same thing. If his daughter wasn't enough, he would continue to search for the old MacLean, for Barbara, all those responsible for the end of the world.

But not Y/N. Even to thank her. He hadn't looked for her in 3 years, he had no reason to start now.

So it was a surprise when something passed around her at lightning speed, stopping her in her tracks as she was about to advance towards the desert.

It had been a long time, but she remembered that damn lasso and the habit of its owner perfectly.

“Leaving so soon, sweetheart ?”

Why wasn't he with Janey ? Why stop her ? Why not be happy to see her go, like last time ? He already had Lucy to annoy him, and even if he loved her, it wouldn't be easy to survive in this world with a child. Why make her suffer like this ? Why make her believe that she was important ?

She could ask him all these questions and finally get real answers, but Y/N was scared.

No sound came out of her mouth as she turned to face Cooper, who had regained his cold gaze. This blur between despair and hatred. As if he had a reason to be angry with her.

“Think we need to talk.” he said in a slow voice. “A real conversation, sugar.”

And from the man who hated idle chatter, long explanations, and really all human interaction, that was something.

[mostlybats-partiallyrats]

So umm... I felt like writing a little fairytale-type story. Something short but impactful.

I wrote this all in one sitting, very late at night. So I hope you like it:

There was a girl who fell in love with death. On the night her mother's illness finally took her, the girl saw the mysterious figure sneak in through the window. And as a chilling breeze swept through the room, she gazed upon death's looming figure with awe and adoration.

"Young lady," said death, "I am here to collect your mother's immortal soul. Surely I do not deserve to be looked upon with such love?"

The girl merely smiled and said, "Maybe so, but I have never seen such beauty before. Surely someone so beautiful is deserving of love?"

But death was not beautiful. Not beautiful at all. And yet...

Death took pity on the girl. If she spent her whole life chasing him, then she would waste away, until it was her turn to pass away, like her mother before her. So death made her a promise.

"I cannot control your heart, my lady, that much is beyond my power. But you must live your life, and once a year on this date, I shall return to you, and show you the wonders I have seen."

The girl accepted the offer, overjoyed at the prospect. So, for the remainder of the year she continued her life as if nothing had changed. And when death returned as promised, she was waiting for him.

And so death enacted his plan. He showed her the most terrifying, tragic, and gruesome deaths he had ever encountered; as if the girl were experiencing them herself. Surely, thought death, this would restore her fear, and he could return to his work. The girl took a steadying breath. She wiped the tears from her eyes. And she embraced death, warmly.

"Thank you," she said, "I have never known such thrill and exhilaration, such melancholy, such eye-opening despair. You have shown me feelings deeper than I have ever felt before! How lucky I am to have such a generous love!"

Death was mortified, embarrassed. But what could he say? How rude it would be to tell the girl she was wrong.

"You are most welcome," said death, "and I look forward to our next meeting."

And so it was. Every year the girl grew more and more into a strong and kind woman; and every year death showed her his worst. She thanked him, and they parted. On the fifth year, death floated into her home on the eve of her cousin's wedding. As he rode the biting cold into her room, she turned to meet him, and what a sight she was...

The moon illuminated her hair, black as night. Her dress was as scarlet as a man's last drop of blood. She held a bouquet of flowers. Death had never before beheld such beauty.

"Death!" She said, cheerfully greeting him as an old friend, "I wasn't sure what your favourite flower was, so I just got one of everything that was in season!"

Death had never been given flowers before, and in so many vivid colours. When he reached for the bouquet, however, every last bloom withered and died. The bouquet crumbled between his fingers.

"Oh, I see..." Said the girl, disappointment marring her beautiful face for just a moment.

"It's alright," said death, looking into her eyes, into her very soul, "the most beautiful things in the world are fragile. They do not last forever."

When death finished showing her his worst, he helped to dry the girl's tears.

"Thank you," said the woman, "how lucky I am, to have such a generous love."

"You are most welcome," said death, "I shall count the days until our next meeting."

On another year, when death entered the her home, the woman was frantic. She ran ragged all about her bedroom, and when she heard death enter, she slammed something shut.

"What are you hiding, my lady?" Said death.

"Nothing," she insisted, "nothing at all! I would never hide something from you!"

Death had seen this coming.

Many-a-mortal had tried to trick him in his time, to mislead him, to stab him in the back. But in all his millennia, none had stooped so low as to first attempt to gain his trust.

Death was ruthless in the visions he showed the woman, the things he forced her to witness, the choices he had her make. He showed her the pinnacle of humanity's evil, the very worst of death.

Until finally, he dangled the woman from the edge of the world's tallest cliff, just beyond which was a sheer drop into the roiling ocean below. He asked her a question.

"Do you fear me, mortal? Do you finally fear me now? Are you afraid of death?"

Darkness fell over the cliff, and the wind lashed icy cold at the woman's skin, as she teetered on the precipice between being, and not.

"Of course I do!" the woman cried, brokenly.

With a crack like lightning, they were back in the woman's home. Where death cast her to the floor, and she crumpled into a terrified heap.

"Then you have learned your lesson. No one can deceive death."

"Deceive you?," Cried the woman, "when did I ever deceive you!"

Death was enraged.

"The petty hubris of man! Even now you feign innocence! You were hiding something when I arrived, but you cannot fool me! Many have tried, and failed, to assassinate me, trick me into a deal, a game, all to gain immortality! Ha! The fools knew not of what they asked!"

The woman was silent, sullen. From her back pocket, she pulled out a carved wooden box, and stretched out her hand.

"Take it," she said, and death snatched it from her grip, "You would like to know what I was hiding? Open it."

Death opened the box, expecting to find a dagger, or a neatly folded net, or a vial of poison.

It was a hyacinth flower. But it was not as it seemed. When death picked it up, it did not whither and die. Instead, it reflected the light of the slowly rising sun, creating dancing patterns of colourful light.

It was made of glass.

"It's still fragile," said the woman, "and I doubt it will last forever either. I still do not know your favourite flower. But hyacinths were my mother's. Do you know the story of Hyacinthus?"

Death knew every story ever told, for he was eternal.

"No," said death, "would you kindly tell it to me?"

And so the woman told death the story of the prince Hyacinthus, who was the love of the Greek god Apollo. Of how, jealous of Apollo, and wanting the prince for himself, Zephyr the West Wind killed the prince. Apollo, grief-stricken, holding the dying prince in his arms, turned him into a flower.

A hyacinth.

The woman sighed, and death noticed for the first time, that one of her hairs was not black. It was grey.

"I am sorry that you so often see the worst of humanity," she said, "but you have to understand, you must be willing to trust others. Or else, how could anyone ever hope to prove themselves good to you?"

Death had never shed a tear before that day.

"My lady," he asked, "may I give you a gift as well?"

"Of course, my darling," said the woman.

Death held her as gently as he held the glass flower she had given to him. And he kissed the woman, on that glorious morning.

"There now," said death, "I have given you my blessing. Now through your every misfortune, every tragedy, every impromptu fit of despair; know that I am beside you. Know how much I love you."

The woman held him tightly, and wetted his robe with tears. "Thank you," she said, "how lucky I am, to have such a generous love."

"You are most welcome," said death, "I shall count your every breath until next we meet."

The years went by, and death visited the woman for each of them. They made numerous memories together, joyous, miserable, and all that rests gently, quietly, in between. The woman lived a full and wonderful life, until she was old and grey.

Death, cloaked as always in shadow, riding a frigid gust of wind, floated into the woman's window.

"Death, my darling, you're early," said the woman.

"I know," said death.

"Ah," said the woman, "I see."

"My lady, my love," said death, "before I do this, I must ask of you, one question. How was it that you saw beauty in me, on the night I took your mother's soul? And how was it, then, that I could never scare you away with my visions?"

"Ah," said the woman, "I was wondering when you were going to ask me that. You see, death, everyone was so afraid, when mother became ill. Afraid she would suffer, afraid we would become destitute, afraid for father, afraid she would be damned to hell. Do you know what I was afraid of?"

"What?" Said death.

"That when she died, when that time came, that she would be all alone. You have seen so much cruelty, death my darling. So many horrid people, so many horrid fates. You have shown me them all. Yes, it has made you slow to trust, but frankly I was surprised you had any light left in you at all. To see all of that, to endure it, for as long as life has existed, and still have kindness in your heart - pity, for the girl who fell in love with death - that is beautiful."

Death sighed fondly for his love. His mortal love.

"Are you afraid, my love? Do you fear your death?"

"Of course I do, my darling," she said, "what person does not? But I do not fear you. You want to know why you could never scare me away? Because for every death you showed me, no matter how terrifying, how gruesome, how horribly tragic; you were right by their side. Lighting the way in the dark. You were there to guide every last poor and wayward soul to the next world.

Of course I am afraid of dying, my darling, but that is why I am so glad to have you here with me. To hold my hand. To be my light in the dark."

And so death took her hands, gnarled and marked with age, with experience, with life.

"Thank you" said death, "How lucky I am, to have such a generous love."

[merbear25]

Love your writing!!

Can I request Doflamingo for prompt 19 : "Rules are made to be broken." For a F!reader and NSFW is fine for me if you feel like it (I love NSFW but whatever you'll want will be fine!)

Thank you for sharing your work with us!

Hello, hello! Thank you for your kind words, lovely! I had a lot of fun writing this for you, so I hope you enjoy it 💜💜

A taste of what you've been missing

CW: NSFW!!!! MDNI!!! fem!reader, slightly rough sex, public sex, vaginal penetration, cream pie

Forming alliances had never been your style; they eventually crumbled from your "partners" getting too arrogant and making a sad attempt at stabbing you in the back. With that being said, the Strawhats earned your trust and you theirs. You'd been tagging along with them for a few months and over that time developed mutual respect. There were, however, significant differences that they'd yet to discover.

Despite your loyalty, your moral compass was in need of some fine tuning: drawn in by promises that were seldom kept being the most common to spin the needle. Was it the mystery of what they had in mind that seemed to do the trick? You couldn't quite pinpoint the reason.

Seeing hell freeze over in Punk Hazard together, it was a given that you'd work with them to free Dressrosa from the iron grip of the tyrannical King. However, even with discussing the groups and the overall plan, the overlap in ideas made the whole thing convoluded: the spats between Law and Luffy only continued, leaving threads of ideas unwoven.

Even if a plan had been agreed upon, you'd been with them long enough to realize that relying on such was all too wishful. With that in mind, getting separated from them was inevitable. No matter―you were well aware of the end game, so there was no use in worrying. There was a clear vision to accomplish, and you were eager to make it a reality.

Going off on your own was its own challenge―a true test to your agility, your keen eye, and power that you yielded. However, such excitement for what was to come gave you tunnel vision, which subjected you to negligence. Hurtling towards the palace, being under a watchful eye flew under the radar.

Upon finding a sure way to sneak in, you were abruptly cut off by a large figure plummeting inches infront of you. The crazed mass of pink feathers swayed as a guttural laugh seeped from under it. You backed away to distance yourself between whatever had just crashed landed infront of you. The staggering motions ignited a spark of fear in you, as you came face-to-face with the King of this ill-fated country himself―Doflamingo.

Refusing to die like a coward, you were well-equiped with a warrior spirit. Chuckling at your brave face, he made his observations known, "You don't quite fit in with the Strawhats, do you?"

Taken aback by this, you immediately denied it and add a spiteful, "And what would you know?"

"It's written all over your face," he took a step closer, "it's screamed through your movements." With him gaining ground on you, you made a meek attempt at keeping him away.

Your true desires being apparent in you eyes, you realized you had to justify why you were still hanging around the Strawhats. But, nothing came out. It was as if your soul was being torn between following the safe path and taking the one less known.

He sensed your heart swaying towards the former, and being the opportunist that he was, he wasn't going to allow you to slip through his fingers. Leaning in, he informed you, "Rules are made to be broken. Follow me and I'll show you a world beyond your wildest dreams."

The slick, venomous words coiled around your heart before sinking their fangs in, when it dawned on you―perhaps this was the thing to quench your thirst.

The needle on your, now abandoned, compass spun uncontrollably as you took him up on his offer. "Show me what I'm missing," you say in a hushed voice.

A devilish grin crept on his expression, as he took you by the hand and pulled you close to him, "Of course, my dear." With his fingers gathering the fabric at the bottom of your dress, they clenched into a fist, sending butterflies which could be felt fluttering throughout your person.

Slightly fearing the man who was branded a devil, you couldn't ignore the fire building within you: a dangerous move such as giving into his lust, wouldn't be for the faint-hearted. And you were feeling especially daring today.

The sultry flutter of your lashes was the only lead he needed. Yanking you further into cool opening of the underpass, he shoved your front against the stone wall, leaving a chilled touch to your cleavage.

You felt him pressing himself against you, his breath hot on your ear, "Then let me give you a taste."

Feeling his long tongue trail up the side of your face sent shivers down your spine. Your fingers made a desperate attempt at clinging to the stone as you felt his hands glide under your delicates and promptly tug them down.

Your body tensed as soon as you felt him tease the tip of his cock against your pursed lips. Not even bothering to wait till you relaxed, he pushed in, greedily claiming as much of you as he could. Unable to contain the pained moans, they echoed around you.

Smirking down at you, he was generous enough to allow your body to adjust to his girth, but as his hunger for you increased so did his speed. Quickening his pace, each assult to your g-spot further sent you into a downward spiral of insanity.

Having you unravel on him was one of the greatest pleasures that day had to offer. The delectable sounds of your wet folds slapping aginst his pelvis were too perfect of an opportunity to pass up spanking your ass. Those mewls and yelps seeping out of your lovely mouth were hitting all the right spots.

As your walls clenched around his length in preperation of your approaching climax, his appetite had been satiated enough to give into tempation in unison. With one final buck and growl, you were roughly forced against the unforgiving cold, branding you with a scratch against your chin.

Trembling from the lingering trauma biting at your lower half, the dribble of his lust trickled between your thighs. The flush on your face was prominent while you shakily fastened your panties back around your hips. The reality of what you'd just done was setting in and the dread of not being able to take it back was casting itself over you.

When you turned to look at the man you'd signed your soul over to, doubt as to whether or not this was the thrill you'd been searching for was becoming more and more gnawing.

[lowkeyrobin]

Hiii im a chronically ill and disabled person and I was wondering if you could do a Ranboo x gender neutral reader that’s having a doctors appointment (list of things they would do for comfort when reader is fearful of being there?) :3

hi!!! and yes of course I could!! hope you enjoy! sorry if anything seems a little inaccurate bc I took some stuff I already know and used it for this and stuff but everyone's different lmao

RANBOO ; minor nosocomephobia

summary ; you take ranboo to the doctors with you for some moral support

warnings ; language, talk about hospitals/illness, nail biting and nervous scratching

genre ; fluff

word count ; 578

masterlist

he notices you fidgeting around as you're making your way up the elevator, picking at your nails, scratching your wrists, frequently running a hand through your hair, etcetera

they silently rub your shoulder and give you a little comforting nod as you travel down to the office where the nurses were directing you

you guys have to wait like a fucking hour after the nurse checks your blood pressure and does some basic procedures and whatnot

meanwhile they eventually reach into their enormous pockets and pull out a little fidget toy for you

"you better stop picking at your nails before I smack you. slash lighthearted"

he ensures that while he blabbers on about dumb shit, that you at least smile or giggle

he understands that you're nervous and with the long amount of waiting, it doesn't make it any better, delaying it more just makes you more anxious

if your focus strays away from the fidget toy he brought for you, he's got three more don't even worry bro

while the doctor is asking you questions, you keep looking over at them like they're gonna speak for you because you don't know how to answer some of the questions

at one point you have no idea what the doctor meant because the words got jumbled in your head from the anxiety

ranboo quickly answered for you in a heartbeat and apologized, considering they saw you silent trying to think

while the doctor has you do some physical tests to make sure your heart is running at a "you-normal" pace, he's hyping you up

if you have to do a 6 minute walk to track the way your lungs and heart pump blood and give you air to breathe, he's at one end of the hallway quietly shouting compliments and getting you through it with a little less embarrassment

the doctor is confused but supportive of him doing this for you considering they always knew you seemed very anxious around the the hospital and you seemed a little less scared about it

whatever to get you talking a little more could really go the extra mile, they're happy that you found a good way to do that as well, especially with it being a person

if for any reason they need to stick tubes on you or take ultrasounds around your body, he'll let you squeeze his hand all that you need to

they promise you your favorite fast food/takeout afterwards that way you'll try and get through it a little smoother

if you need him outside the room to talk to your doctor, he leaves in a heartbeat, he'll never disrespect your privacy, don't worry

he took pictures of all your medication bottles before leaving since he knew you'd forget to

you guys both messily botch the names while trying to pronounce them and you and the doctor all get a laugh out of it

he writes down everything the doctor says/recommends for you

they talk with the doctor in private for a bit and stuff while you're signing papers and shit

the sigh of relief once you leave 😭 ran literally looks down at you with a "yeah?"

on the way back down to the parking garage you're still fidgeting with the little tangle they'd given you because obviously going to the doctors because you're chronically ill isn't the funnest thing ever

gives you a big hug once you get to the car

"see? you're so brave and awesome"

"well, thanks for coming with me"

[limpwristssavelives]

one of the things that stuck out to me in the newsreader was how much chemistry dale had with both helen and tim

i feel like in a lot of male centered bi love triangles the woman isn’t very likeable or interesting or doesn’t have as much chemistry with the lead

from what i’ve seen most male centered bi love triangles usually involve a man in a relationship with a woman who then cheats on her with another man and we inherently pity the woman or view her as being in the way of this mlm ship and i think there’s usually a bias in the writing or the fandom for who the protagonist should be with from the start (whether it’s the man or the woman)

but in dale and helen’s relationship it blossomed over multiple episodes of them hanging out and getting to know each other and only then turning romantic and sexual whereas dale and tim have a sexual yearning for one another but haven’t gotten to really know each other yet they each have such different relationships and attractions to each other which i think is really interesting to explore

helen is lonely and wants companionship she’s mentally ill and needs someone to care about her and be there for her when she’s in an emotionally fragile she has no relationship with her family cuz they put her in a mental institution when she was young and takes pills to cope with her mental instability and the pressures of her career/work environment (her boss probably gave her the addiction in the first place) dale is lonely too his (presumably) last relationship ended with him being arrested and labeled a pervert he is very caring and wants to help others so his relationship with helen makes perfect sense why they click and he also wants to be a newsreader which is what helen does best so they form this partnership of helping each other which ends up going into romantic/sexual territory

we don’t know a lot about tim other than he’s kind and playful doesn’t hide the fact that he’s gay and he has liked dale from the beginning and he treats dale very kindly even tho dale was rejecting their attraction and even quit his job when he could tell that helen knew and was in distress over their affair he also went to dales house to make sure he was okay and asked about his past being someone dale can talk about his sexuality and the only person who can really see dale for all that he is without fear of judgement

i think dale has also liked tim from the beginning (whether he consciously knew it or not) but pushed it down to pursue a career and relationship with helen he has been repressing his sexuality since he was in high school and i think he kind of woke up when helen referred to tim as “gay tim” he wanted tim to confirm that he was gay and confirmed their attraction when they kissed in the bar which (due to his past trauma) made dale panic and hate himself promising it would never happen again after his talk with tim about his past he says that he’ll choose his career over being who he is but when he finally talks with helen and explains himself he is met with acceptance

at the end of season 1 we don’t know if helen and dale will continue their romantic relationship or just be friends/colleagues i also thought it was really interesting that in an interview someone said that dales sexuality is ambiguous and in another interview said that dale and helen’s relationship was intentionally portrayed as towing the line of platonic and romantic

season 2 is going to be so interesting to see where they go with both relationships and how dale handles his career and sexuality

[loadednachosao3]

i really want to start writing fanfic but im not good with words, do you mayhaps have some advice? please lacho lord pretty please😭

answering this while I'm a little zonked outta my gourd since it's thunderstorming and that's setting off my chronic illness, but never fear LN is here

if you worry you're not good with words, my biggest tips would be...

the age-old "show, don't tell!" now, sometimes telling is just fine, if it makes the writing read smoother. there's nothing wrong with occasional cliches or saying "he's really fucking sad" when the moment calls for it. but, say you wanna really make sure we know he's sad. you can write, "his lower lip trembled, and he bit it to make it stop. as tears stung at his eyes, he looked up at his lifelong friend and felt a heaviness on his heart that he feared would never lighten." or something!

this does NOT extend to using epithets (epithets being things like "the blonde," "the veteran," "the blue-eyed woman," etc.). please try to use those as sparingly as possible. I know sometimes it seems like you NEED to because pronouns get confusing, but I PROMISE you, if you write a certain way, your readers will be smart enough to figure out who you mean -- even in a same-sex scene! take for example: "Nacho looked at Lalo, and he seemed sad. Why, he wondered? Because he'd turned him down?" on its own, you may be like, "which he turned him down? who's wondering?" but if you've already written Nacho turning Lalo down in a previous scene, and used the tips above to convey sadness from Lalo in the previous paragraph, and have been writing this whole time from third-person limited POV, obviously you don't need to go, "Why, Nacho wondered? Because Nacho had turned the chipper don down?" clunky!!!

speaking of "third-person limited!" learn about what perspectives are used in writing. pick one. stick to it for the duration of your story. so, if you're doing third-person limited, you can write, "Nacho wondered why Lalo was acting so strange. He didn't understand what was going through the guy's head." but third-person limited is LIMITED to what Nacho knows, more or less, so you could not then say in the next (or worse, same) paragraph: "Lalo was sulking because he couldn't believe Nacho had the audacity to treat him like that. He loved him, couldn't he tell? Lalo was so upset he could cry." if you want to explore what's in both of their heads, use third-person omniscient instead (which I personally have a lot of trouble getting right, because it can be hard to keep a consistent narrative going if you can bounce between multiple people's heads -- try alternating third-person limited POVs between chapters as a good in-between! so one chapter from Nacho's, the next from Lalo's, the next from Nacho's, etc.). first-person (I did this, I did that) is often not well-received in fandom, but can work. second-person (you did this, you did that) works best for quirkier things (see: Homestuck, my first lacho game) or x reader stories.

try to avoid too much word repetition unless it's intentional/thematic. see the difference between these passages: "He wanted to make Lalo want him, but he didn't want him to hate him. As he stared out the window at the rain pattering on the window's surface, he wondered if he'd drown in the rain if he couldn't make up his mind soon." OR "He wanted Lalo to want him. But, as he stared longingly out the window at the rain, he couldn't help but wonder if his plan would make Lalo's warm feelings turn to hatred instead. Water dripped down the glass, and he knew he needed to make up his mind." there, we take away the repetition of the words want, rain, and window, in some cases replacing them with synonyms (water, glass). we also use "wanted Lalo to want him" as a minor bit of thematic/stylistic repetition. now, there is NOTHING wrong with using similar words adjacent to each other, particularly if they're very common! and you don't need to bust out the thesaurus to tell us Nacho desires Lalo as he observes the H2O running down the aperture or some overly-complex shit like that. but when you repeat the same words too much too close together, it becomes very noticeable, and will take your reader out of the story.

these are the biggest things I see people doing poorly that will make me less likely to read a fic. but honestly, I (and many other people) will put up with a lot of fumbles for a good story! so don't be too hard on yourself. I'm sure you've got some great ideas to put into the world!

remember: at the end of the day, we're all nerds doing this for FUN and for FREE as a HOBBY. don't judge yourself by professional writing standards! everyone here just wants to have fun! and if someone is mean to you about your fic, that says more about their sad little life than your work.

have fun writing!

[bisquuet]

hi! still alive! AN UPDATE: LONG READ :D no new devlin content since im focusing on my oc comic :( ( speaking of comics. remember that other comic i posted here like once and never talked about it again?? yeah.. ) - lets talk about that. will i ever go back to that comic? -yes, when? i don't know.. i realized i went into the comic very.. unprepared.. or less prepared than i thought i was. so it got me second guessing things and getting confused..!! i have a VAGUE idea of how I want it to go, or atleast i DID, now im not so sure.. I think i need to sit down, splurge out my thoughts and ideas and go from there,, now i technically have a WHOLE post that is done that was supposed to be dropped shortly after the first one. but i thought to myself, oh ill just work on the next update and once im halfway THEN ill drop the second one! i never got halfway. i ended up just sketching more up ahead and adjusting and ''fixing'' things in the second update. making me loose track of time and getting behind, not only i had school to deal with too! so i just have a LOT of storyboarding of pages...that im slighlty afraid of looking at cuz i know that ill want to fix it but ill be unmotivated to actually fix it.. (bad rawr!!) eventually i have to get to it..!! >< ANOTHER major factor of the delay was my confidence, i wasn't satisifed and even frustrated at times when something didnt come out as good as it did in my head. i REALLY like the first update pages! especially devlins scene! but i think i got too ahead of myself and put WAY too much onto my plate, raising expections, of others and myself, mostly myself.... and I was trying to copy to a manga style, rather than convert my style normally into a manga setting, if that makes any sense. so i wasnt.... 'comfortable' drawing.. i dont know how else to describe it! but ever since then and even before, ive been getting less confident with my art and my style, feeling like its ugly or its getting worse. forcing myself to keep drawing, straining myself trying to make something that looks good to me. i have lots of fun and joy drawing for others, the reason i draw is BECUZ i just want to share what i make! as shallow as it sounds i like creating content for others to enjoy! it makes me happy and proud of what i draw! so. when i make something i dont like, i cant bring myself to show it cuz I dont like it.. others may, but that wouldnt change how i would feel about it. i felt that way deeply with the second update, which is why i kept tweaking it,,, and so I just let myself get caught up with other things.. feeling upset and guilty that I kinda just.. abandonded the comic..! saying that ill pracitce and oh ill do that , i Need to do this and this and this when i havent even done ANYTHING! i think, and i genuinely mean this, i think ive only recently started to ACTUALLY do things.! like development for my OC comic, writing for it, making content and sharing about them to whoever would lend an ear! so in a way the seewar comic walked so that my OC comic could run, hopefully.. so, unfortunately ill be focsuing more of my attention on my OC comic, and i honestly can't promise anything. the only thing i CAN say is that i will share the second update that i finished long ago.., no matter how much internal rawr doesnt want to, i feel like thats the first step to overcoming this fear and dread ive associate with the comic, which is something i DONT want. ill be scheudling to drop this weekend since ill be away.. i dont know when ill actively start working on the seewar comic again becuz i genuinely want to finish it and share it, i just have to not be too ambitious and plan out whats necessary. anyways.. now that school is out im finally paying all of my debts and owed art.. its rough but it has to be done. thanks if you have read all of this,, i greatly appreacite the support, from friends and followers, fossils, (thats what my fans are called wink wink) love yall fr <3

[renlyslittlerose]

Kinktober Day 25 - Tickling

Today's prompt request is: If you’re still taking kinktober prompts- I think a sexy tickle fight would be cute! (No worries if you’re not taking prompts anymore. I love your writing!)

For the talented @human-rocket 💖

Cheater's Remorse - 2.102 Rating: E Content: Tickling; Play fighting; Dry humping; Rutting; Bratty Anakin; Bratty Obi-Wan

---

Obi-Wan would never admit to it, but Anakin knew he was ticklish.

Anakin discovered it by accident one day when he was quite young, a gentle jab along his Master’s side when he made a quip that caused Anakin to blush with embarrassment. Obi-Wan had jerked abruptly away at the action, his eyes wide as he stared down at Anakin as if he’d said something incredibly offensive. Anakin quickly took the bit of information and tucked it away along with all the things he’d learned about Obi-Wan - things that only he could know and no one else, such as how he liked jelly filled sandwich biscuits the most, or that he had an irrational fear of flying insects.

Over the years Anakin learned all the different parts of Obi-Wan that would make him gasp and flinch, or sometimes even grab Anakin’s hand and threaten him with a quick ending if he ever did that again. Behind his knees, the crease of his elbow, along his stomach and, when they’d progressed to something more than just Padawan and Master, Anakin learned of Obi-Wan’s ticklish spot along his inner thighs.

One had to poke and really dig, but whenever Anakin did Obi-Wan would break out into hysterical laughter, his body jerking, his hands grabbing as he tried to get Anakin to stop, threats and pleas coiling around them until Anakin finally relented. Sometimes Obi-Wan was too tired to retaliate, but other times he’d push his own assault, grabbing at Anakin as he tried to give him the same treatment.

Lucky for Anakin, he wasn’t ticklish. Unlucky for him, that just meant Obi-Wan ended up poking him roughly until Anakin apologized and promised never to do that again.

Of course, Anakin never used his powers for ill. He only utilized his knowledge when Obi-Wan was being particularly annoying or frustrating.

Or when Obi-Wan cheated.

“You said no using the Force,” Anakin said from his place on the training mat.

Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders before brushing a lock of hair away from his sweaty brow. The innocent look he sent Anakin made Anakin’s gut tighten - with arousal or anger, he wasn’t quite sure. Probably both.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin glowered. “Right then - when you threw me across the mat. You used the Force, I felt it!” Standing up he approached Obi-Wan. “You were the one who said we should keep the Force out of this, and then as soon as I had the upper-hand you—”

Obi-Wan raised his hand, silencing Anakin. “Saying you have the upper-hand is a bit of an exaggeration, darling. I’m fairly certain you were the one in the headlock.”

Anakin felt his cheeks go red, heat rising up along the back of his neck and chest. Clenching his jaw, he stared at Obi-Wan and tried very hard to come up with some sort of comeback that wasn’t just ‘nuh uh.’

Obi-Wan smirked after Anakin’s extended silence, a quick little thing that made Anakin want to scream. Instead he tackled Obi-Wan to the mat and began his assault.

“A-Anakin, w-what are you doing?” Obi-Wan screeched, his voice high-pitched and frenetic. Laughter pealed out from behind his teeth, quick and sharp.

“Alls fair in love and war,” Anakin gritted out as he jabbed Obi-Wan’s sides, digging into the meat of his hips and ribs beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.

Obi-Wan started bucking up, hips shifting beneath Anakin as he went to grab his hands and pull. But Anakin was faster, and before Obi-Wan could take hold he grabbed his wrists held them back over his head. Obi-Wan let out a displeased grunt and glared up at Anakin. Anakin grinned.

“Well now you can’t tickle me,” Obi-Wan remarked dryly.

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

Before Obi-Wan could form a thought Anakin pressed his face against Obi-Wan’s neck and blew. Hard. Obi-Wan let out a howl before he started squirming again, trying to get away from Anakin’s lips as he latched on and blew again, this time across Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Distracted by Obi-Wan’s movements beneath him, Anakin didn’t feel Obi-Wan’s leg come up and hook around his waist, and let out his own yell as Obi-Wan tried to flip their positions. Thankfully for Anakin, he only managed to get one of his wrists free, and the pair started grappling once more on the mats.

“Y-you little brat,” Obi-Wan grunted out, his arm trying to wrap back around Anakin’s head.

Anakin jabbed his side again, catching bare skin as Obi-Wan’s shirt rode up on him. It was enough to get Obi-Wan’s attention focused on his hands, and Anakin managed to flip Obi-Wan down on to the mattress, pinning him stomach to the floor. There was more scrambling, Anakin shoving his hands beneath Obi-Wan’s shirt as he tickled, his mouth once again latched to the back of Obi-Wan’s neck to blow kisses against the sensitive skin, causing more yelling and laughter to part from Obi-Wan’s lips.

“Once I’m free--” Obi-Wan began.

“You’re gonna what? Murder me?”

“Send you to train under Windu for the next month.” He finished his threat with an aggressive thrust upward, his ass rubbing up into Anakin’s groin.

They both paused as Anakin’s erection pushed firmly against Obi-Wan’s backside. Without thinking, Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan’s wrists and held them to the mat. Obi-Wan was breathing heavily beneath Anakin, tears drying on his cheeks as he caught his breath. Anakin noted the smallest of smirks slipping on to his features, and Anakin only had a second to compose himself before Obi-Wan started rubbing up again.

Friction, satisfying and continuous, slid along Anakin’s cock, pleasure weaving its way through his body as Obi-Wan continued to distract, dismantling Anakin’s upper-hand with each slow, lazy roll of his hips. Anakin knew that if he let go of Obi-Wan’s wrists now he’d be subjected to worse teasing, and so he kept his grip tight on Obi-Wan’s wrists and ground down, trying to regain some of his dominance.

He whimpered when Obi-Wan slipped one of his hands free and reached back to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling in his curls before pulling every so slightly.

“N-not fair,” Anakin huffed out, even as he shoved his clothed cock against Obi-Wan’s backside, hips stuttering as he started to hump into Obi-Wan.

“You’ll never win if you use unfair tactics,” Obi-Wan said idly.

Anakin growled and pulled away from Obi-Wan’s touch so as to bite his neck. Obi-Wan let out a huff and arched back into Anakin’s hips, his knees digging into the mats so as to get a better angle. Anakin let out a whimper as his cock was pushed between Obi-Wan’s cheeks, the fabric of their leggings doing little to block the sensation. A part of Anakin wanted to continue to fight Obi-Wan - to regain his upper-hand by whatever means necessary. But the other part - the larger part that overrode all other senses - just wanted to grind his swollen cock into Obi-Wan’s ass until he came.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Anakin pressed his face against Obi-Wan’s neck and couldn’t help but chuckle when Obi-Wan flinched.

“Don’t you dare,” Obi-Wan mumbled.

“I won’t.”

Instead he bit the skin, teeth sharp along the cords of Obi-Wan’s neck, skin tasting of salt and Obi-Wan’s musk. Obi-Wan shifted and Anakin raised his hips just a little so as to let Obi-Wan pull the banding of his leggings down to expose his ass and cock. Immediately Anakin was doing the same. He let go of Obi-Wan’s other wrist and sat up a little to pull his leggings down enough to free his cock, hissing as it was exposed to the muggy air of the practice room. He stroked himself a few times as he admired the scene before him.

Obi-Wan was still splayed on the floor, hips canted upward and chest pressed into the mats. His shirt had been rucked up, the muscles of his back flexing beneath pale skin, the indent of his spine collecting sweat that Anakin licked up with a firm stroke of his tongue. Obi-Wan let out a low sound that made Anakin’s cock pulse in his hand, sticky precome spreading out across his palm that he applied to the meat of Obi-Wan’s ass.

Sitting back, Anakin pulled Obi-Wan’s cheeks apart and admired the the whorl of muscle that twitched and flexed beneath Anakin’s hungry gaze. It was such a sensitive part of Obi-Wan, the skin soft, his hole eager, his taint vulnerable…

Obi-Wan suddenly stiffened beneath Anakin, and he whipped his head around to stare at Anakin from over his shoulder. “I swear to the gods of all the planets in the galaxies: if you do what you’re thinking of doing, Anakin, I will never let you fuck me again.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Anakin huffed.

He was definitely going to.

“Anakin…”

Anakin let go of Obi-Wan’s cheeks with a dramatic eye-roll before collapsing back down on to Obi-Wan. Without waiting for permission Anakin started thrusting up into Obi-Wan, sliding his cock along the crease of Obi-Wan’s ass while Obi-Wan ground upward. It was quick and messy, Obi-Wan’s pants mixing with Anakin’s soft whimpers, the two moving together with practiced ease. Wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist Anakin hugged him close as he kissed along Obi-Wan’s neck, breathing his scent in and holding it deep within his lungs.

“T-that’s it, that’s a good lad,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his hand brushing Anakin’s arms now and again as he jerked his cock.

Anakin swatted Obi-Wan’s hand away and replaced it with his own, huffing against Obi-Wan’s temple as the weight of Obi-Wan’s cock lay in his hand. Stroking Obi-Wan quickly, he dragged the foreskin up and over the tip before pushing it back down, a gentle slapping noise mixing with Anakin’s soft moans and the rustle of fabric against the mats.

Anakin’s own cock was pressed between Obi-Wan’s ass and his stomach, slick with spend and hot to the touch, Anakin picking up pace as he humped into Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan reached back up and grabbed a fist-full of Anakin's hair, tugging his curls and pulling his head back toward Obi-Wan’s neck. Biting down on the flesh on offer he sucked and licked the skin, little huffs of pleasure slipping past his lips as Obi-Wan praised him and tugged at his curls.

“S-such a brat, but so eager to please. And so easily distracted,” Obi-Wan purred out. “Y-you’d almost won, you know. Would have won, h-had you not been thinking with your cock.”

“Shut up,” Anakin grunted.

His cock ached, and he thrust more wildly up against Obi-Wan, his knees already sore and thighs tensing. Obi-Wan’s cock throbbed and leaked in his grasp, and Anakin knew that Obi-Wan was close, his own groans becoming louder and more frequent.

“I guess this is the way to defeat you, hm? Not through talent nor the force. N-next time you deem it fair to try and tickle me, I’ll just shove you down on your knees and make you suck my cock instead.”

Anakin came with a groan, his hips twitching across Obi-Wan’s ass, the familiar dragging sensation along his cock and balls making his toes curl and his mouth part in wet gasps. Obi-Wan came soon after, spilling across the mat and Anakin’s hand, Anakin teasing the head with his thumb, squeezing out as much as he could even as he vibrated with his own release.

Collapsing on top of Obi-Wan as soon as they were done, Anakin shoved his face against Obi-Wan’s neck and breathed in deep. Obi-Wan smelled like sweat and sex, thick and dense in the back of Anakin’s throat. Obi-Wan still had his hand in Anakin’s hair, his touch softened as he pet the back of Anakin’s head as Anakin continued to cling.

“You still cheated,” Anakin mumbled.

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I thought I could get away with it.”

Anakin blew a kiss against Obi-Wan’s neck.

[boleynqueenes]

BTS: I’ll write a DVD commentary about my personal favorite passage from NT

"'Stall' informs all. Better by far to report no eventuality, to encourage papal strengths and allay papal fears: this, for now, but only until La Anna yields and Leo X's darling realizes she is not so different from any other woman he could bed, and that there are more beautiful ones to take as mistress, not for long, before he marries off his brief, but forgivable, scandal to some poor nobleman in his power. This, for now, those eyes alternately soft with wonder or filled with tears upon her displeasure, but such devotion is unnatural and all that is unnatural meets quick ends. This, for now, but only until Fidei Defensor tires of his inamorata, only until he recognizes her rectitude of chastity for the entrapment it is and shakes his great head free from this sexual stupor, like any prince overcoming any enchantment, for God surely always lights the path…out."

there is a reason i've used this specific excerpt the most times in most of my edits...well, it perfectly encapsulates the perspective of the 'royal watchers' (lol) of anne's queen-in-waiting era, and it's the POV of arguably, one of the worldliest men at court (cromwell), even though at this point of notice, he's more on its edges than at its center, and his master, wolsey, is falling...

the thing is, cromwell knows. he knows because wolsey knows. he is very specifically writing him that all means must be found to conciliate anne, and cromwell is writing back (and this will be in the continuation of this very scene, which i hope to shortly pick up again) her response: "she gave kind words, but will not promise to speak to the king for you". and that is what says everything. the roles have reversed. anne is now the 'mediatrix', it is anne, now, that is the strongest intercessor any man or woman could possibly have in their suit to the king...this used to be wolsey, but she has not only replaced him in this role, she has, arguably, surpassed him.

the opinion of the watchers, "violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume", as to anne's hold, has been given more credence than it deserves because...well, we know the history. it's forgotten that most of them operated from 100% doubt that anne would become queen at all, and that she defied them. but anne was on a tightrope, a very specific set of unprecedented circumstances, that pretty much meant that she would reach either complete triumph above, or fall into the total chasm beneath.

and there's another element, here: the 'enchantment', the 'curse'. for those that viewed anne as a heretic, this was genuinely what they believed...that she controlled him through sexual manipulation, which was intrinsically linked to the belief she was a heretic (heresy encompassed any 'loose' morals as well, if someone is guilty of the 'worst crime' then they are probably guilty of worse than you could possibly even imagine, goes the ideology). it's highly misogynistic, of course, but in a way that is not necessarily immediately recognizable from our 'secular' modern world: she embodies a divine test of temptation that henry has failed ("his sin enthrals him more and more" as chapuys says, relevantly seguing to, "besides which this accursed Lady has so enchanted and bewitched him that he will not dare say or do anything against her will and commands"); yet there is always that hope that he will overcome his failure and publically repent. there is no bridge too far, in terms of derogative rhetoric, towards women that are viewed as having exploited the weakness of 'righteous men' (and this is intrinsic to this view as well: "the King himself is not ill-natured, it is this Anne who has put him in this perverse and wicked temper, and alienates him from his former humanity"), there is no blame that cannot be credibly laid at their feet. they are the perfect target for these kind of thwarted frollo.gif rants; they aggravate every insecurity of toxic masculinity, simply by their existence and their influence: it starts with underestimation, and it ends in boots-shaking fear.

[ronearoundblindly]

I've been working on the finale of Dignity of His Choice for over a year now.

That's hard to say. It's hard to admit that this story I feel such excitement and passion for is just *not coming to the page* like so many others have with less excitement and passion. The Stark Legacy has been the same way, except it's been a year and a half.

I have...responsibilities that aren't writing though. I own my business and have no employees. I live alone now and pay for everything, clean everything, maintain everything. It's just me. I think I used to write Fools Rush In with the hope that having to think of both perspectives in a relationship would somehow change mine, if only shift my thoughts to why my marriage was probably fine and I was making too big a deal.

But it wasn't fine.

I don't mean this is a dramatic way (because a relationship between two people will always be evolving and have growing pains, even when everyone is communicating and moving towards the same goal with mutual respect), but I was being lied to. It was a simple lie, sure, something that wouldn't and didn't fully impact our entire lives until the tiny friction point snapped like two tectonic plates, and then in an instant, rattled and confused, we were gone. The layout of my world just *changed* and wasn't going to go back to normal. Normal never existed. It was just then and this is just now.

It's been so difficult to feel that happen in my real life and not fear for my characters--which I get is projection at its finest, but still--how do I protect them? How do I make their life seem real without snapping it in half and then lying about putting it back together? I couldn't do that. I'm alone. What do I know?

Except...I've been writing Fools Rush In for nearly two years, and I never actually knew what communicating and moving towards the same goal with mutual respect really looked like. I was wrong. I've been wrong the whole time. My life, exactly like my art, was fiction. I fabricated happiness in my home and on the page, and in one of those places, I already failed.

There was no finish line or last sentence; the whole story just vanished with an unhappy ending that proved the entire thing was some sort of fever dream. I had put a decade of effort into absolutely nothing. Worse. I worked for that long on hope when there was none.

I've often thought that I relate to Steve/Sketch as much as Reader/Keeps in the FRI series because I play more of a narrator role in life. Steve had a story to go through: survive illness, become a soldier, lead others to victory and safety. In canon, we often see him...not living his own life, and it's even commented on frequently. I think I've been taking on a similar role. You have no idea how difficult it is for me to consider myself the protagonist; things happen to other people, I want good things to happen to other people, but I am not the one who experiences them.

I didn't expect to ever be in the same place as this character when I imagined the 'fake death' story two springs ago, but my life is in tatters after I made the wrong decision for all the right reasons. I struggle to read comments like "how could Steve do this?" and "I could never forgive him" without taking them very personally. Of course, I know that no reader means them that way, but it's still painful to write Sketch and Keeps the happy ending I know they deserve when me...? What the hell is gonna happen to me? Who do I return to after this death-of-the-life-I-had?

I don't know the answer.

I just wanted to say I'm sorry to those who are waiting for Dignity's very happy ending (which I promise it very much is happy). The narrator is just lost at the moment, stuck on all the stories and none of the stories at once, wondering which of the fiction she told herself led to this ending, and...truly unable to trust in 'hope' again.

[toodrasticallydumb]

20 questions for fic writers

Oh! Hello! I was tagged by @pinkytoothlesso11 ! Thanks for thinking of me pinky! I’m kinda new to the whole fanfic scene so i really appreciate it! This was already a long list of questions to begin with but i fear i may have made it worse…

OH WELL HAVE FUN SPORT :}>

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Unfortunately just 2, though I do plan to add a few more in the future as ideas flow. Might take me a minute ‘cause my schedule is just a little bit kinda sorta really swamped down with my main child which requires let me you, A LOT OF CARE DONT SIGN UP TO ADOPT KIDS PEOPLE IT’S NOT—

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Phew. ummmm it changes very rapidly (because i’m a girl w suspected adhd and can NEVER be told to shut up) with every chapter but as of this moment is 228,665! wow! i don’t really know how great of a number that is but i’m sure it’s a lot! I told you I can never shut up! (-whispers- Hey kid, u want some dRuGs? i mean- an update? That itty bitty word count is about to take another not regularly scheduled mini-skyrocket so get ready for it ehehe ;})

3. What fandoms do you write for?

For now, just Trollhunters/Tales of Arcadia, mainly Trollhunters despite the fact that the first of the Tales of Arcadia shows that i watched and really enjoyed was actually 3-Below, but oh well my man is in Trollhunters sooooo oopsie but i DO have some random snippets of fics for Miraculous (rewrite), the Star Wars sequels (rewrite), Batman, some for the Dream SMP, and weirdly enough also Raya and the Last Dragon (rewrite). All of which i prolly wont ever post because i wrote them a while ago and yeaaaahhh not my best writing but if i get enough people other than my best friend wanting me to post them, i might…

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

uhhhh i dont actually HAVE five fics to my name, so i’ll just…put em in order (w their long-ahh title names):

Trollhunter!Strickler: Destiny's Ill-fitted Chosen

'A MiStAkE' because I haven't updated in ages--A Stricklake month 2023 prompt collection

but i am so happy for the people who have left so many kudos on my work it really warms mah little heart ❤️

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. At first, I sorta struggled with it (who the heck am i kidding i STILL do) but since my fic USED to be two times a week updates i would feel like i couldn’t respond to a comment left after i posted a new chapter so i might’ve left some comments in the earlier days unanswered, super sorry. Nowadays i make it a point to reply back to everyone in the order that they commented in because (anxiety makes me think if i don’t respond they won’t comment anymore and know that i love reading their comments and that they’re so amazing for actually taking the time to write something back AND I DO LOVE IT I PROMISE IT JUST TAKES ME A WHILE TO RESPOND—) …because it’s pretty chill to geek out w em and see they liked stuff that i loved to write! I do have a backlog of comments to get to i just end up overthinking everything to match the person’s energy to be sure they know i love em.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Unfortunately, i haven’t actually finished a fully-fledged fic to say it has the angstiest ending bUt definitely a contender would be chapter 1 of my 2023 Stricklake prompt collection because i just leave it on the sad note and don’t do anything about it because angst and because spoilers for my actual story fic that will eventually make it to that point.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Happiest ending, huh? I like to say that most of the things i will/have chosen to write end happy/hopeful because i hate when books/tv shows end bittersweetly it’s like i have enough with life itself being bittersweet most of the time let me be happy LET THEM BE HAPPY. But that doesn’t exclude me from providing the proper banquet of angst that ends in caretaking, my absolute favorite trope.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Oh heck no. I would be devastated honestly, but thankfully everyone who comments is always the sweetest and kindest people ever and really encourage me to keep going, for that i am only thankful.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. Just no. I love romance but i am a minor, so i’ve never consumed smut nor intend to ever write it. Give me a soft romance and loving gestures, I can allude to greater happenings but not details.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I don’t, sorry. I don’t know something in me just doesn’t sit well with crossovers, for the life of me I don’t know why. Like genuinely i wish i could get into them but maybe it’s like food on a plate? i don’t like the foods touching each other so maybe the same rules apply??? yeah i’m drasticallydumb

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that i know of, no.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t believe so, and if someone did they’re in for a heck of a lot of work there…

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! I’d like to sometime but i have no idea how one even goes about making a co-written fic, on top of which i am a very sporadic person in terms of motivation and random ideas produced by a song i’m listening to while writing.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Stricklake obviously is a really big contender if not the winner, the ship that brought me to AO3, writing fanfics, and tumblr. But, if i had to pick other options i’d say Eugene and Repunzel from Tangled would be one of my ogs, another might be uhhh Chris and Aviva from Wild Kratts the og of the ogs.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Chapter 3 of my stricklake 2023 prompt collection, it just has a lot of moving parts and me and my best friend are chronic procrastinators and with the month pretty far gone it might just end up sittin’ there for the foreseeable future 😞 but who knows

16. What are your writing strengths?

Phew, that’s a dozy mainly because i’m not super sure. I’d like to think one of my main strengths is descriptions and really putting you in the mind of the character, i don’t really like spelling things out and i like a little investigating to get you where u end up, u know? I like to think my writing FEELS a little more like a show on a page rather than a true book, most to blame would be my maladaptive daydreaming taking up a lot of time in my planning for my writing.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ah. How the turn tables. I would say that my weaknesses in writing mostly consist of me going a little *too* far into detail on meaningless things or making it too convoluted for people to understand, sometimes spelling it out is better in certain scenarios and i just really need to get myself past that. Another one i would say is that i go REALLY into detail not only in a sentence/chapter sense but also a complete STORYLINE sense, i hate time skips and i shoot myself in the foot wanting to completely document every moment of everyday w a character and hence it seems like a lot of time in universe hasn’t gone by. Trying to improve and grow tho 💪

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Can’t wait to do more of it! Especially with Claire and her family (including NotEnrique) speaking spanglish w each other automatically mainly because i am hispanic and completely fluent in Spanish and live in a similar household so i just love to add a little ✨personalization✨ to my dialogue and interactions in that way. Other languages………….yeaaaahhh i’m not super good will prolly use google translate and hope.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Trollhunters, my gateway into AO3. HOWEVER. if you promise not to tell, the very first fandom i read/wanted to write a fanfic for was actually, as far as i can tell, Wordgirl. don’t ask why. don’t ask me how. it just kinda happened. But, officially, it’s Trollhunters. (maybe with a side of Warrior Cats).

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Not hard at all! My pride and joy, my youngest baby in the grand scheme of my writing journey, Trollhunter!Strickler: Destiny's Ill-fitted Chosen! A surprise to absolutely NO ONE. It’s honestly so amazing to both write and see people read and enjoy as much as I do, he’s my little man ❤️ And doing so much rewriting and character growth and having so much written and planned for the future, it’s just my absolute fav

[giantkillerjack]

To give credit to the last of us for its queer rep, it’s not just queer characters who have tragic/bittersweet endings. Literally everyone (siblings, parent and child, heterosexual) queer or not, has tragic endings. The older queer couple gets the best one out of all of them.

I guess? I mean, it is certainly much better than if they were the only characters to die in the storyline. But people were on tumblr talking about how theirs was a happy queer story. And I think it is the misleading discussion around these characters that bothers me even more than the writing. Like if I had watched that episode instead of looking up the plot summary, I would have had a meltdown at the end when they both died because I truly had gotten the impression that it was going to be a happy story.

But now that I've mentioned the writing:

It's nice that they live till their 70s. It's nice that they get 20 beautiful years together. And it's a bit fucked that the writers felt the need to end those 20 long years on-screen with a terminal illness and suicide in the same episode they are introduced. It would have been incredibly easy to just say that those men get to live on past the end of the episode. There are a million reasons those men could have continued living in the story.

But that's the thing about a show like this. I think there is a distinct possibility that this show is actually incapable of writing a satisfying happy ending.

Craig Maizin, the show's writer, gained acclaim recently with Chernobyl, proving that he is apparently excellent at writing a long, horrifying tragedy in which character struggle only to find there is no way out.

(His other main credits are The Hangover sequels and the Scary Movie sequels, most of which I haven't personally seen, so make of that what you will.)

But more than the writer's background, the show itself troubles me. It has this repeated mantra in it that goes, "when you're lost in the darkness, look for the light." Which is a cool phrase.

But I have reason to suspect that this writer genuinely doesn't know how to write the light. I have no reason to believe he does. I hope I am wrong.

But when you write episode after episode after episode that is an endless inescapable slog of tragedy and desperation - and then advertise it to me, a sick queer person actually living through a pandemic and trying to escape disease and poverty - well.

I think a better writer would include moments of light and hope beyond just trauma bonding. Moments that don't end in death.

When my wife writes about characters in awful situations, there are still these moments of genuine loveliness and fun and joy between the characters; these moments remind the reader what is worth actually fighting for, living for. Imagine! Entire chapters in a post-apocalyptic novel in which characters don't undergo a "hacking someone to death with a cleaver" level of trauma!

But the fact that Bill and Frank still had to die even after an earnest attempt to tell a beautiful love story....

I fear that the light the story ends with - if there is any - will be as dim and desaturated as the show itself. And personally, I am at a point in my life where I don't care to see a story like that.

It's fine if you do like it. It doesn't matter to me if you find beauty in a tragic queer love story. There are places for that in this world. But it is tragic. I am sure of that. And I wish I hadn't been seeing posts saying otherwise, ya know?

And I hope I am wrong about the writer. But I see cracks in the premise. Like in Stranger Things. There was always a promise of light that kept me watching, but it never seemed to come. Instead, the misery and trauma continued to stack and compound for the lead characters, like in TLOU. But... does the writer know how to make that worth it, for us, for the audience - for me? I don't think he does.

I think it very possible that the light isn't really coming for Ellie and Joel in a way that provides catharsis because I have noticed that on shows with no intermittent joy and hope, this is too often the case.

But I do hope I'm wrong. Because if I am right, then a lot of mentally ill fans will leave the experience more depressed than if they hadn't watched it at all.

But for my own part, I'll just continue to skim through the show for monster design ideas. And also I'll say that everyone should watch Infinity Train - ESPECIALLY season 2 of Infinity Train, if they'd like to see a story in which people actually DO find a light that makes the whole journey feel worth it.