#I don't think I've really gotten used to working full time like man I'm there all the time

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏

[linguenuvolose]

girlies who get 100% introverted any time they do a personality test finally find peace when they get to just sit around alone at home on a Saturday after a stressful week, who would've thought?

[from-the-clouds]

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

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

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

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

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

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

“So, can we, uh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Shut the fuck up!’

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

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

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

“Joel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Slow down,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were you hurt?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are we, like, friends now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

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

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

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

“Don’t you have a heater?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I should probably go now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could help you loosen up.”

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

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

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

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

“Go lie down on the bed.”

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

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

──────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

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

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

“Turn around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Slow down.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

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

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

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

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

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

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

“Yes, please, please,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

“O-okay.’ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you roll to face him. 

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

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

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

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

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

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

You never do. 

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

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

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

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

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

──────

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

[sysmedsaresexist]

I spoke with Colin Ross again.

The original post, for those who missed it.

This is going to be really disjointed and rough. I've been put in a really weird position and I want to just... talk about it. This is okay to reblog, I'm sure there's pro/endos that have been waiting for this. Unfortunately, it's going to be attached to a vent.

Sadly, talking to him brought up a lot of bad feelings. I'm still so sad to see so many people turn on me. I'm disappointed that there was so much pushback. I'm disgusted by people's hypocrisy.

People wanted to know why I wasn't posting my side of the emails to Colin Ross, they tried to say he didn't believe those things anymore.

So I emailed him again, recapping our previous conversations, and asking him if he still believed in non traumagenic plurality.

And he responded that he does.

I thought I could post it, and that would be the end of it. Proving we had spoken before, confirming the topics discussed. But in my email to him, I shared what I've been doing since I last spoke with him, what prompted me to reach out to him again. The same thing that stopped me from posting my side of the emails originally. I wasn't entirely honest with him, either. I don't think I would have gotten a response if I had talked about tumblr.

And I'm simultaneously so excited and so scared.

This is a man that, in a very vague sense, formed a mentor/professional relationship with me. Our interaction overall was brief, but it was exciting to discuss his work with him, ask him questions that had been bothering me-- I told him about myself, my educational and work background. I used my real email and name. My real school. He's Canadian, we talked about it. I shared real details of my life, and while it wasn't necessarily in confidence, I don't think he would appreciate knowing that I've shared his personal thoughts and emails on tumblr, of all places. I'm not lying or hiding anything in my side of the conversation.

I'm scared.

I'm terrified to post anything that could be linked to me. Even posting this, I'm like, "can people like... reverse edit my picture and get my email?" I genuinely don't know.

I worry about posting the full screenshots with his email, knowing people won't believe me if I don't, but not wanting to have these ridiculously immature people in his inbox. I have encouraged people since day one to find his email themselves and reach out. I figure that the only people who would put in that work are the people who genuinely want to learn.

But then I realized that there are people that could ruin the relationship I made with him.

People that could make it so that I can never contact him in this way again.

People could use this to find me, if they get Colin Ross talking. (The rational part of my brain says he's smart enough not to give someone else my name, but goddamn, some of you people are actually dangerous)

There are people that want to do that to me. People that hate that I even brought a professional into this conversation. And I get it. I sat on the original conversation for almost three years, remember?

It's really scary to admit you're wrong, that you've been close-minded and hardheaded. It's scary to confront your bias and actions.

But having him respond to me... I feel so lucky? Not that Colin Ross is a saint, but how often do you get to meet someone like him? How often do you have a chance to take advantage of a professional contact that seems willing and happy to have these kinds of conversations with you? Three years later and he remembered me. He took the time to answer me, again.

I don't want to fuck that up.

So I thought about reaching out to certain people, showing them the entire set of emails without any blockout and having them vouch for the authenticity.

Then I realized that I wouldn't trust any of you anti endogenic systems with any of my information after how you've all behaved.

And I realized that none of you are going to change your minds, no matter what I show you, and I'd rather to maintain my professional relationships than put any more effort into any of you.

And I know if I wait too long to post this, people will call it fake, so I either need to go ahead and make this post or just kind of let it disappear into obscurity.

It's so important, though.

Isn't it?

I can't tell anymore.

[kelcemenow]

Call Her Daddy.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 829

Warnings Sexual references, fluff and strong language...obviously.

I hope I've done this one right! I've never heard of the podcast, nor have I listened to it but I did a some research and just went for it! "Hello first of all I’m a huge fan of your work, I have an idea in mind hope you like it. Y/n and travis have been dating for a bit just there close friends know about the relationship and Alex copper a close friend of the reader invites them on her podcast call her daddy where they talk about there relationship/sex life"

"Okay, next question. What is your favourite sexual position?"

You hummed in thought, "I love being on top." You smiled at Alex who nodded in agreement, "There's something about being on top that gives me a sense of power, isn't there? It's a bit dominating."

"Would you say that you like being in the more dominant role in the bedroom?" Alex questioned.

"Sometimes." You giggled, "But on the flipside, I really like being thrown around, you know? Like...lifted up, thrown onto the bed, pushed up against the wall, carried around...that's what I want."

Alex fanned her face with her hand, "Phew, you're speaking the truth here Y/N. So, I promised an exclusive scoop earlier to everybody and I think it's about time that we get to that. Y/N is not my only guest on this episode, we have someone joining us, don't we?"

You laughed, "Yeah, I've been seeing some rumours flying around regarding my dating life and I gotta be honest, a lot of people are getting it all wrong!"

"Gotta love those rumours!"

"So, when Alex asked me to come on Call Her Daddy, I thought it was the perfect time to set the record straight. Plus, I'm going on tour soon and he'll be at quite a few shows so everyone will figure it out eventually anyway."

"So, our guest is someone that you're dating?"

You smiled and adjusted your headphones, "Yeah, we've been dating for a while now and so far, it's only family and close friends that have known about it but we agreed that it's probably time to let everyone else know."

Alex leaned into her microphone, "Just for full transparency, I knew!"

"Yeah you were one of the first people that I told, I couldn't keep that secret from you!"

"Id' have gotten it out of you eventually, I'm good at that!" Alex cleared her throat, "Right, let's not keep everyone waiting for much longer. Daddy Gang, our extra special guest on today's episode is none other than...Travis Kelce!"

You both gave Travis a round of applause as he placed headphones over his ears and smiled into the microphone, "Alright now!"

You grinned and placed your hand on his leg, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Alex took a sip from her water, "Okay, now Travis, you're not new to the podcast scene, we all know that."

Travis snickered, "Nah, I feel at home like this! But I gotta say, New Heights is completely different. You know, me and Jason don't talk about what I think we're going to be talking about here!"

"Yeah, that would be weird!" You laughed.

"Right, let's get straight to it. What's the sexiest thing about Y/N?"

"Oh wow, no messing around here, baby!" He rubbed his beard, "The sexiest thing about my girl?"

"You can only pick one!" Alex lifted an eyebrow.

"That's not easy. Honestly, I think she's the sexiest woman in the world. She could be folding laundry and I'm still mesmerised by her! But the sexist thing about her is definitely how ambitious she is. She has worked her fucking ass off to get what she has got and what makes it even better, is that she did it all herself. I love watching her perform, because I can see what it means to her and how much she has sacrificed to be able to do it. It's amazing, man."

Your lips curled into a huge smile, a wave of happiness washing over you.

"Aww guys, you're going to make me cry! And that's not the vibe I was going for! We want the juicy details!"

Travis mumbled, "Oh...umm...her ass?"

You and Alex both laughed loudly.

"Is that's what you wanted?" Travis looked to Alex who was clutching at her stomach.

"I liked your first answer, baby." You placed your arm gently around his shoulders and traced circles on the back of his neck with your finger.

"I'm sure a lot of people will want to know how you two manage to date with your busy schedules."

You clasped your hands together, "It's difficult, it really is. But we make sure that we keep some time aside for each other. Even if it is just sitting down to have breakfast together or an hour long phone call."

"Technology helps. We like Facetime, we use that one a lot." Travis agreed.

Alex grinned a mischievous smile, "Do the Facetime calls ever get a bit heated...a bit explicit?"

You glanced at Travis with a knowing look, "If I said no-"

"She's be lying." He said loudly.

Your mouth flew open in shock and Alex clapped her hands together, "I knew it!"

"Oh, come on" We're all adults here, we know how those calls can end up sometimes. If Travis calls me shirtless, chances are I'm gonna get a bit...distracted. I Facetimed him from the shower last week." Your cheeks were beginning to deepen in colour, "My God, how do you get this information out of people?!"

______________________________________________________________

I hope that was okay! As always, your comments and messages are always appreciated! You're all too kind! I'll be working through some more requests this week (whenever I have some spare time) and if you want to be added to my Taglist, just let me know!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @killatravtramp @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles

[cannedwyrms]

Spoilers for shadow of the erdtree, but...

I NEED to talk about Marika, okay?

In the base game, I thought she was interesting, don't get me wrong, but the amount of DEPTH SOTE gives her is INCREDIBLE.

The first time I got to the Shaman Village, I instantly knew she was going up on my Good Antagonist List™ immediately.

And, because of that, I wanted to have another ramble about her, as is becoming customary for this blog.

So, let's go over what exactly we learned about Marika and what this informs us about her character.

I think the Shaman Village really takes center stage here. The music, the item descriptions, it all combines to paint a gentler, more human image of Marika. In the base game, she was more like a god (which made sense seeing as she was one), but we see a more human side of her here.

So, the Shaman Village. It's the place where Marika grew up, her home. Unfortunately for her, shaman bodies are apparently quite good for putting into big jars, which was something the Hornsent loved to do. We've all seen it before, right? I mean, we've all seen a zealous religious society commit atrocities against an underclass in fiction, not the jar thing.

And the Hornsent are a zealous religious society. They used the bodies of shamen in jars to make saints. Which sounds like complete nonsense, I know, but that's just elden ring lore babey.

Anyway, it's my personal headcannon, if not outright fact, that the Hornsent's persecution of Marika's people is what led her down the path of becoming a god. Like Miquella, she wanted to make the world a gentler place. Unlike Miquella, though, she only wanted to make it gentler for her people.

In short, it's my belief that Marika became a god in large part to inact revenge on the hornsent.

Okay, pause. I know Elden Ring Lore is like, a big deal and all, and anything I say is basically unfounded on everything except intuition, my own personal interpretations, and because I believe my theories fit thematically within the wider narrative, but just stay with me on this, alright? I think there's a real undertone of misogyny in the fanbase, and sometimes that can color interpretations of certain characters even unintentionally. Marika has gotten this treatment worse than most, I think, because she is a prominent woman who does morally questionable things. Beyond the inherent misogyny, though, I've noticed that a lot of people interpret Marika's actions very uncharitably. Anyways, all that to say, this is my post, and I care more about everything working together thematically than digging deep into the depths of the lore to find out that "oh, actually Scrupulous the Untested mentioned this flower, which represents pure evil, and he was talking about Marika when he did," or whatever. A strawman? Perhaps, but you get my point. Still, I'll try to remain true to my understanding of the lore, but I'm bound to make mistakes. I'm not an expert. Sorry for the long aside, I just felt these were important points that wouldn't fit in elsewhere.

So, I believe Marika sought godhood partly to punish the Hornsent, although I won't pretend to understand her full motivations.

I believe this is what Ymir was referring to when he said "I fear that you have borne witness to the whole of it. The conceits - the hypocrisy - of the world built upon the Erdtree. The follies of man. Their bitter suffering. Is there no hope for redemption? The answer, sadly, is clear. There never was any hope. They were each of them defective. Unhinged, from the start. Marika herself. And the fingers that guided her. And this is what troubles me. No matter our efforts, if the roots are rotten, then we have little recourse."

My interpretation of this is that Marika's intentions for godhood were impure. She wasn't seeking to improve things, just punish the ones who wronged her people. Thus, her reign was doomed from the start.

Now, let's get into what really sold me on Marika as a character.

There are, to my knowledge, two items you can find in the Shaman Village.

The Minor Erdtree incantation, and the Golden Braid talisman. Let's take a look at the flavortext for these two items and see what we can glean, starting with the Minor Erdtree.

"Marika bathed the village of her home in gold, knowing full well that there was no one to heal."

So, by the time she returned to her village, everyone was already dead. How devastated must Marika have felt, to return from claiming godhood and revenge, only to find that there was no one left to avenge. She was alone.

Here's the text we get from the golden braid:

"A braid of golden hair, cut loose. Queen Marika's offering to the Grandmother. Boosts holy damage negation by the utmost. What was her prayer? Her wish, her confession? There is no one left to answer, and Marika never returned home again."

Man, reading that, with the shaman village music in the background, just thinking about a young Marika resolving herself to become a god, to save her village and people from the Hornsent, the anger she must have felt, the fear and solemn resignation of her goal, only to return again to find herself alone. What was her wish? What did she leave behind in her village? We'll never know, because Marika is alone. Her people are gone. In the end, she couldn't save them.

Is it really any wonder that she eventually began to doubt the very order she had founded?

But now let's talk about some other aspects of Marika's character that the dlc reveals.

Namely, her Omen sons.

Imagine how Marika must have felt, looking down at her newborns to see the very horns that had destroyed her people upon them. It's just so DAMN good, character wise. There must have been so many mixed feelings surrounding them. I wonder if she even felt any love for them at all when she saw those horns. Like, I don't know, obviously, but I imagine she felt conflicted. She didn't outright kill them, which is good, but she did leave them chained in a sewer for most of their lives, so yeah not great.

But that's what I love about her character. Elden ring, in a lot of ways, is about how victims can become victimizers. How, in pursuit of noble goals, or revenge, you can lose yourself and become just as bad or worse than the people you set out to punish. That's Marika's character. That's why she's part of the List™.

Because Marika started out as someone angry at the systems that oppressed her and sought to change them. She was the hero of the story, in the beginning. But, in pursuit of her goal, she lost herself and became a bit of a monster.

SOTE, to me, revealed that Elden Ring's story is one of complete moral grey. Everyone is working towards a cause that they believe in, including you. The ends justify the means for you, even if it means striking down a mostly innocent grieving woman, hunting your fellow tarnished, or turning on the ones who trusted you and called you a compatriot. Ranni, Miquella, Radahn, Fia, D, Godrick, Malenia, Leda, Ansbach, Thiollier, Gideon, this applies to everyone.

The same goes for Marika. In trying to punish the hornsent and build a better future for herself and her people, she lost her people and eventually succombed to her worst tendencies.

That's why St. Trina pleads with you to stop Miquella. Because to become a god is to sacrifice everything that makes you human.

Marika took that sacrife willingly, in order to punish the ones who hurt her, and in the end, that's what broke her.

I think she recognized this, and that's why she set the stage for you to become Lord. In the chance that someone might do better than her, make the world a gentler place, not for a god, not for ambition or power, not in revenge or anger, but im compassion. Whether or not that's how you choose to rule is, of course, up to you, but I like to imagine that Marika, after everything, found something to hope for again.

Okay, that's the end of my thoughts. Was any of that true to the lore? Who cares. It's how I like to interpret what we were given about Marika. If I'm wrong, then whatever. I'll still be right in my heart.

Alright, bye. Go play shadow of the erdtree, or watch someone else play it at the very least. Next time, I might talk about Miquella, or maybe Leda and her allies.

Someday I'll be brave enough to talk about Agent Black. Someday. But that would maybe turn into a full ten page essay about why Iconoclasts is so very good and I'm not sure the two people who care about what I say here are ready for that.

Okay bye.

A brief adendum to this post:

Because I was analyzing Marika from a literary perspective, focusing on the sympathetic angle SOTE added to her character, I realize I forgot something important, so let me say it now:

Marika's persecution does in no way justify her genocide of the hornsent.

That idea kind of got lost in the shuffle, but it's definitely an important aspect of her character. She's an antagonistic force in the world who has done some very awful things to further her goals, more so than any other antagonist in Elden Ring. Her tragic past only adds dimension to her character, not an excuse for the atrocities she comits.

Okay, bye again.

[66sharkteeth]

I just wanted to say that even though I'm a mostly silent reader, never really commenting on episodes and rarely interacting on the discord, CoB is by far my absolute favorite comic I've probably ever read. I dont doubt for a second that there are many more out there like me, silently gushing over every new episode and excitedly theorizing with their friends.

Even when CoB reaches its end, I will 100% be sticking around for anything else you make.

thank you. im ngl, there's a big irrationality in me that feels like im only writing this comic for like 15 people sometimes. ik that's completely untrue, but it can really feel like that, especially when i step outside the bubble of webtoon and try to share or talk about the comic anywhere else. i've full on just...stopped posting on instagram, because it's just so defeating and exhausting every time i post. I know there's more than 15 people reading my work, but boy its harder to tell myself that every time I post outside of webtoon. i only continue to post here because i've put no effort into growing this so i don't feel as disappointed when only 20 of my 700k followers on webtoon see it.

ik this completely dismisses my silent followers, which i know there are a lot of, and i'm trying really hard to account for them. but man, it's really hard. and i dont think how lonely the process is helps either. i remember numbers never used to bug me as much when i had a close friend to gush about OCs and ideas with, but now that i just gotta kind of do it all myself and be my own cheerleader with nobody to gush about upcoming stuff to, its doubly defeating when it finally posts and nobody's that excited. i don't know how i can feel so alone when there's a good amount of people who follow me, but the whole thing is an incredibly isolating process and it's just gotten so much worse with declining readership and algorithms doing everything they can to make sure nobody sees my work.

sorry if i veered off a bit, but it's been on my mind lately haha. i appreciate every reader so much, silent and vocal. like no seriously, you guys are literally the only thing keeping me going bc i know we're supposed to "create for ourselves" and stuff, but i think most people at least have a friend or partner that they're gushing about their OCs and stuff with, but i just have you guys lol. so thank you for reading, enjoying, and giving me someone to actually share my creations with.

[moyokeansimblr]

Moyo life update

Hey friends so yeah uhm... Well after our old man kitty Zook passed on the 4th my dad decided pretty much immediately that we'd be getting kittens because he thought we needed kitten therapy. Initially the plan was only to get 1-2 because we do still have Sophie (Zook's sister) and while she adores the pants off me she's admittedly a grouchy old lady towards everyone else so we weren't sure how she'd do with a kitten. She's also 15.5 so that's why my dad wanted more than one kitten because Sophie doesn't play much.

My brother's girlfriend knew a family that had a litter of 4 kittens and the plan was for us to take 2 so as to not overwhelm Soph. But get this: on the 4th while my mom and brother were saying goodbye to Zook at our vet... a 12 week old kitten just waltzes up to the door! One of the vet techs grabbed him and was like omg he's here for them! But the other tech wouldn't let her interrupt my mom & brother so she took him home with the plan to tell us about him when we were slightly less sad. When my mom called the vet Friday morning to settle our account she told us about him and he was ours an hour later. My brother named him Waffle (short for wunderwaffe dg2, idk spelling I don't play cod).

But we still wanted Waffle to have someone who wasn't 15 years older than him so Saturday morning we went to meet the litter of 4 kittens my brother's girlfriend's mom's friend had. It was pretty easy, two of them clearly liked us most right away. So by mid day Saturday had two more kittens. They're 8 weeks, and named Pez and Cooper. Cooper is the runt and the first thing my brother's girlfriend said when she saw him was oh my god he's so derpy. 😹 But my dad said he thinks Pez knows Cooper is a little behind and looks out for him.

So far they're all separate. Waffle has his space, Pez and Cooper have a space, and then Sophie has reign of the house. They've had a few supervised meetings that have gone well. Sophie's gave her warning hisses if they've gotten too close but otherwise has just watched them. Pez and Cooper aren't scared at all because they came from a house full of other animals but Waffle is pretty scared. He gets all poofy and growls both at Sophie and the other kittens but we don't think he's had experience with other cats since nobody knows where he came from. So we're working on him so he'll be less scared.

ANYWAYS, because I work part time and from home I am the primary cat carer. Between all the cleaning/kitten proofing, giving Sophie ample attention, and acclimating all three kittens I'm utterly brain fried. I've been trying to work on some CC but I've not been able to sit down and actually play sims at all in weeks what with how sick Zook was and now kittens. I did have a sims 2 birthday gift planned but there's no way I'll get to finish it or any of the other CC I've got in progress by that date. I really just want to play but I'm in cat mode so it's what it is. But in the meantime while I can't play I've been watching a lot of sims YouTube content instead (like sammy sundog's service area videos) so that I can still get my sims fix until whenever I get to play again.

I'll end this post with a pic of my good old girl Sophie because she's handling all of these changes pretty damn great so far. But yeah long story short basically I don't have anything sims to contribute to Tumblr right now. Hopefully soon.

[marmorafarms]

Self Love: Shane x Cis Female Reader

Hey guys!

I've got a new smutty fic for you, and it stars Shane!!! I'm pretty excited about it, so I hope you enjoy!

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Summary: Shane comes over after a rough day. You want to help him relax and have some fun, but Shane is feeling self conscious. It's time for you to work your magic!

Warnings and Content: Alcohol mention, face sitting, creampie, body worship

Working at Joja Mart sucked. A lot. Shane hated that his work options were manual labor or customer service. And honestly? Manual labor would've been the better pick.

Shane had gotten written up today for saying "Your pussy is way too dry to be riding my dick that hard," to an angry old man. The dude had it coming! He was just passing through town and was yelling at Shane because they were out of bananas. The old man was acting like Shane was purposefully denying him the fruit, and he was just so, so tired.

After being sent home early, Shane texted you. You had sent him a quick "dude wtf" before asking him to come over. He agreed immediately. Marnie would definitely yell at him, and he wasn't in the mood for that.

He only had to knock once before the door was flung open. The smell of pizza and pepper poppers was in the air.

"You made food?" he asked as you let him in.

"All homemade! Nothing frozen!" You said proudly.

"Well shit," Shane said as he plopped down on your couch, food already on the coffee table. "How did you manage to get this ready so fast?"

"Well," you said, sitting next to him, "I was going to invite you over anyway. So I had started on it already." You placed a hand on his, and smiled at his look of surprise. His fingers twitched slightly, but he kept his hand in place. He was still getting used to your touches.

It wasn't that Shane was against you touching him, far from it. But his days of big biceps and washboard abs from playing gridball were over. Now he was old and fat and–

"Shane?" you said softly.

He blinked, realizing he'd been quiet for a little too long.

"Why did you want me to come over?" he asked.

"Aside from enjoying your company?" you asked. "I have something I want to show you. Can I go get it real quick?"

Shane nodded, and watched you hurry to your room. He grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite, wondering what you got him. Maybe it was more of that non-alcoholic wine. Shane had been skeptical, but it actually tasted really nice.

"Here it is!" you said. He turned to look, and his jaw dropped. He set his pizza down, missing the plate entirely.

You were wearing the most beautiful set of lingerie he'd ever seen. It was made from a bold red lace, with golden chains sitting on your waist and hips. Your breasts were displayed beautifully in a bra that plunged low. The fabric was so thin that he could see your hard nipples.

Shane felt like he was going to pass out. Both from how you looked, and from how all the blood from his head had drained straight to his dick. He was at full mast already, drinking the sight of you in.

"Do you like it?" You asked, slowly sashaying over.

Shane wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you how stunning you looked, how he wanted to pull your panties aside with his teeth and lick your wet pussy straight away.

But that wasn't what he said.

"Why?" he croaked out. "Why are you wearing this?"

"You don't like it?" You asked, face falling.

"No! I mean, yes I do like it! It's just…I don't get it."

You looked perplexed. "I wanted to look sexy for you. And I was kinda hoping you would think I am and would fuck me on the couch."

Shane turned bright red and cleared his throat. God, that sounded amazing. But there was still this nagging feeling, this horrible thought that you were doing this out of pity. He was fat and hairy and nothing at all like the other men in town. There was no way you were seriously attracted to him, right?

"You want to do that with me?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. I mean, we've done it before," you pointed out.

"We were drunk!" Shane blurted out, eyebrows furrowed.

This was true. Your first encounter with Shane had been a drunken hookup that led to him avoiding you like the plague for a while. He had admitted later that he had been embarrassed about having random sex with a stranger, and was trying to forget about it.

It was hard to forget about it though, especially with you bothering him on the daily. Your soft lips all over his body, tongue dipping into the slit of his cock before lavishing it with attention…it was hands down the best sex he'd ever had. If he believed in Yoba, he would be on his knees praising the deity for allowing him to remember that night in full detail.

"So what?" you said, moving closer to him. "It was fun. And it'll be even more fun without our minds clouded."

Shane tensed as you got into his lap and began to grind against his clothed cock. Fuck, why couldn't he be normal for two seconds and enjoy this?

"I think I need a drink," he mumbled.

"You can have a Joja Cola when we're done," you murmured, and nibbled the shell of his ear. Shane let out a whine and you grinned.

"Where else are you sensitive?" You asked, moving to his neck. You pressed soft kisses against his skin, starting with his jaw, rough from stubble, and trailing your way down.

"Lie down," you said. The two of you shuffled around a bit until you were sitting on his hips, while he lay back. You pressed down on his cock with your pussy, continuing to grind against him. Shane groaned, and you reached down for his button, ready to get this show on the road.

"Wait!" Shane said sharply. You halted your movements immediately, looking at him, concern on your face.

"You're really sure you want this?" he asked. You let out an annoyed huff at these words.

"Of course! Shane, what's going on?"

Shane closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his eyes were glassy.

"All the other guys in town are…are fit and healthy and handsome. I'm an ugly old hairy fat guy and–"

"Whoa whoa what?" You said, eyes wide in shock. "Let me start off by saying that you're not ugly or old. 37 is not old, okay?"

"You're 28," he muttered. "I'm 9 years older than you."

"I don't give a shit," you said firmly. "And I happen to like how you look. I personally think you're so sexy."

"No you don't," Shane said looking away.

"I do though," you said, and gently kissed him. "So sexy. So gorgeous. Wouldn't trade you for anyone," you said in between kisses. You snaked a hand under his shirt and tugged at his chest hair. He hissed slightly, and you pushed his shirt up.

"Love your body hair," you said, kissing his chest. "Love your soft pecs–"

"Man boobs," Shane corrected in a breathy tone. You chuckled.

"Whatever. I love them." You covered them in kisses, nipping a nipple gently. Moving down, you continued complimenting.

"Mmm I want to see those thick thighs," you said, gripping his legs. "Those thick hairy thighs. Want to spread them open so I can suck that gorgeous cock of yours."

"Fuck baby," Shane said, eyes fluttering shut. Your words were getting to him, and he found himself enjoying the attention.

"Can I?" you asked, touching the button of his jeans. After giving his consent, you popped it open and slowly pulled his zipper down. You looked hungrily down at him.

Shane helped you shimmy his pants off, and you got in between his legs, gently kissing his cock over his boxers. You cupped his sac while you did so, and he moaned in pleasure.

"I wanna see," you finally said, and Shane quickly kicked his boxers off. You hummed in appreciation, and he blushed.

"I'm not that great," he said. Shane didn't have a tiny dick, but he was on the shorter side. He was decently thick, and you nearly licked your lips, ready to take him into your mouth.

"Yeah you are," you said, licking a stripe up his cock. "Perfect for my mouth. Mmm I remember that night…you felt so good in my pussy too."

Shane moaned at your words, and let out a stream of swear words as you took him all the way into your hot mouth. You slobbered all over him, getting as messy as possible as you kissed and slurped.

"W-wait!" he gasped. "Too close!"

You understood. He wanted to last so he could fuck you properly. You pulled off, and he lifted your chin up with a finger, wanting you to look at him.

"Sit on my face," he said. It wasn't a question, it was a command, and you were more than happy to listen. You quickly pulled the panties off, the beautiful jewelry still on your body.

Shane gripped your thighs as you lowered yourself down.

"So wet already," he said before your pussy covered his mouth.

"I wasn't lying when I said I find you–ahhhhh…." you moaned as he began to lick between your folds. His tongue moved to your clit, giving it lots of attention before he dipped it inside of you.

"C-close!" You panted after barely any time had passed. This had happened before as well. You had came on his face in record time from how good he was with his mouth.

You practically screamed out his name, head thrown back in ecstasy. He let you sit there, casually lapping at you, making you twitch. Finally you lifted yourself off.

"Enjoy yourself?" he asked. You responded by kissing him deeply. He touched your lips with the tip of his tongue and you opened up. Your tongues slid against each other as you passionately kissed.

"Gonna fuck me now?" you asked. He nodded, and the two of you swapped places.

"Shit I don't have a condom," Shane said. "Do you…?"

"Just put it in me!" You said desperately. "I'm on birth control, it's fine."

Shane nodded and pushed in. He closed his eyes in pleasure, but they flew open when you wrapped your legs around him, making him unable to move.

"Wh–"

"Compliment yourself," you said.

"Excuse me?" He said.

"You're excused. Now say three nice things about yourself and I'll let you move."

"What the fuck?" Shane said annoyed, but you were clearly serious. He sighed.

"I'm good at making you cum, I'm good with animals, and…I dunno." he said, shrugging.

"Say you have a hot body," you said firmly.

"I have a hot body," Shane said in a monotone. You glared at him.

"Like you mean it," you said.

You went back and forth for a bit before he snapped.

"I'm hot, okay? My body is gorgeous! I'm sexy as fuck!" he practically shouted, but there was something different in his tone.

"Yeah you are!" You said happily, and let him go. "Now fuck me."

Shane grinned, and began pounding into you hard and fast. He smiled as you shouted in pleasure, complimenting him at every turn. The two of you reached your peak at the same time, Shane burying his face into your shoulder as he painted your insides white. Your walls clenched around him, milking his cock for all it had.

"Fuck," Shane said after a moment.

"That was amazing," you panted. "We gotta do this more often."

"Yeah, yeah we do," Shane said. He was no longer worried if you wanted his body. Shane had never felt this loved in his life. And he was going to do everything he could to protect this happiness.

[fizzing-imagines]

My mom's Billy | Billy Hargrove x Single Mom! Military! Reader

Notes: This is the ending Billy DESERVED, with some good therapy, a nice home and a family that loves him

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Words: 4.1k

This was your first time in group therapy. It was highly recommend by your therapist to you, after having trouble connection to others. Her idea was that meeting people with similar experience to yours would help you. Two friendly-looking therapists happily greeted the group of eight, then introduced you. "We have a new face joining us today." Everyone looked at you, you could feel your face heating up. "Oh, uhm...Hi, I'm (Y/N). Uhm...my ex-husband abused me throughout our twelve year relationship. And uhm...I used to be a lieutenant in the navy, but I quit when my son Leo was born so I've been a housewife for five years. I work as a waitress now though." The female therapist of the two gave you an encouragement smile. "I, uhm, I left him a year ago. The divorce was actually finalised last week, so...now I'm here." You let out an awkward laugh, but the group also gave you an encouraging smile. A man with ocean blue eyes and curly, blonde hair stood out to you as he looked you up and down. His face was wrinkled, even though he didn't look too old to you yet. There was a stubbly beard on his face, a bit darker than his hair, and while his lips were full they were also chewed up. What stood out most were the hickeys on his neck.

"Thank you for sharing.", one of the participants told you. With a smile, you gave her a nod. "Have you thought about going back to the navy?", another participant asked you. Wow, these people were open. "I have, but I don't have a partner and my mother is too old to constantly take care of my son when I'm on deployment so that's off the table." It disappointed you, really. You loved your career and regretted letting your ex take that joy from you. "And daycare has gotten so expensive.", a man in the group said. "I have two young children, we have them in daycare." He continued talking about barely being able to afford having his kids looked after at a daycare, so the focus was finally off of you. But the meeting itself was nice, the participants were kind and understanding. Even though the man who checked you out in the beginner barely talked, until he was asked towards the end of the meeting. "Billy, you haven't shared today.", the male therapist said. "Anything you wanna say?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Not really, nothing interesting happened. Had a date, but she wasn't my 'forever person'" He put the last to words into air quotes. "Nothing else interesting happened, really." For some reason, he intrigued you. "Well, besides that this is your last session today.", the male therapist added. "Oh yeah, that too. My therapist said I've gotten a well-enough social circle to not attend anymore and I could really use the hour for more shifts at my job." Everyone said goodbye to Billy.

After group, you left the centre to get to your car. As you unlocked your door, you saw Billy walking over to your car. "Hey, (Y/N), wasn't it?" You nodded your head. "Well, since I'm not in group anymore I was hoping I could give you my phone number." Your cheeks suddenly felt hot - you haven't been asked out since you met your husband. It hasn't been a concept that was a possibility for you. "Listen, I think I get that it might be hard for you, so you don't have to give me your number." He took out a piece of paper and wrote something down. "But give me a call if you feel like going out on a date. I'd be happy to hear from you, you can reach me at any time of the day." You took the piece of paper from his hand and let out a quiet "Thank you." before he left to get into his own car. You yourself sat in your car for a good five minutes to process what just happened. Someone asked you out on a date? You really couldn't believe it. Eventually, you started your engine and drove to your mothers house to pick up your son.

After you got him into bed you sat in the living room and kept starring at the tiny piece of paper with Billy's number on it. You told your mother about it, and she encountered you to call him, but your brain had a blockage. But will it ever go away if you don't break it? The clock told you that it was already midnight, you questioned how you could sit there for hours with your own thoughts discouraging you. Slowly, you took your flipphone out of your pocket and dialed the number. After a few rings, you were greeted by a sleepy "Hello?" His voice was raspy, and you immediately felt bad for disruption his sleep. "It's...it's (Y/N)." The two of you talked on the phone for a good while, talking through details of what he wants to do where with you. Billy had good ideas, but you insisted on public places only. He was very understanding and suggested a nice restaurant downtown. When you said that you couldn't afford that, he said "Don't worry about money, I'll invite you for the evening." It made you blush a bit - you can't remember the last time you've been invited to dinner.

You two had a good date. Your mother looked after your son and let him have a sleepover at her place, meanwhile Billy picked you up from your house. He brought you flowers and showered you in compliments before even letting you step into his car. It made your stomachs flip up- and down, especially because you sort of accepted the fact that you'd never find love again. While it didn't have to mean that Billy has to be the one, it was nice to be wooed again. Dinner went just as well, you had nice conversations, went on a walk afterwards and he dropped you off at your apartment afterwards. "I'd like to see you again.", he said to you with a smile while standing in front of your entrance. It made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks heat up. "I'm free next Thursday, maybe we can get breakfast together?", you said while smiling at him. He took his hand in yours, said "I'll pick you up at 8:30." and kissed the back of your hand. You said your goodbyes and went inside your apartment. Once you laid in bed and thought about the evening, you couldn't help but grin until you fell asleep.

You looked forward to breakfast with Billy for days, and it went just as well as the first date. Billy took you out at least two times a week for the next month. What you loved most about it was that he never pressured you into any physical contact - the most he ever did was give you a kiss on the cheek. Everyone around you noticed how much happier you've gotten. It also rubbed off on your son, who turned from extremely shy and introverted to an extroverted ball of energy. Right now, you were at Billy's house, having a few snacks and talking about life.

"Billy, can I ask you something?", you said as you leaned your head against the backrest of his couch. "Anything.", he said with a smile. "You really don't need to answer if you don't want to, but since you know why I was in group...why were you?" You've had your suspicions after being at his place a few times. There were no family pictures anywhere, except one of him and his stepsister, and a few childhood pictures of him and his mother. "Was about time for that question, huh?" He let out an awkward chuckle while thinking of an answer. "My dad, actually. He, uhm, he first abused my mother and eventually me. And when my mother left, I became too much like him. I was a bully, and was a dick to my step-sister. But I eventually got out, moved back here and got help. So my sister forgave me at least, but she still lives in Indiana." You knew that he lived there for a while, until he had an accidentally and came back to California. "Billy, I'm so sorry..." you said while reaching out for his hand. He took his hand in yours and squeezed it once. "I'm okay now, (Y/N)." Even though he just told you what happened to you in his past, he still smiled at you. "He's miserable now, we put him in a nursing home in some shithole town." His thumb started stroking over the back of your hand as his eyes looked into yours. "Uhm, I actually had a question...about your ex and your son.", he said while looking down. Something told you that that question was uncomfortable to him. "Sure, what's up?", you asked. "Well, I know what your ex did to you but...what did your son experience?" Knowing what Billy went through with his dad, this was probably for his own piece of mind as well. "It honestly started when he was born. He screamed at him as a baby to shut up when he cried, then he started pushing him when he was running through the house. But once he punched him, I packed our things and ran away with Leo. Pressed charges the same day and haven't looked back." Now Billy was the one to squeeze your hand. "You did the right thing (Y/N), I'm proud of you." You smiled and scooted closer to him, letting your knee touch his. Somehow, both of you knew what the other thought about - he pulled you into a hug and held you tight to his body, while you wrapped your arms around his torso and rested your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, take in his scent; you felt like you were home. Billy was the one for you, you knew that.

On the next date, you two kissed for the first time. The one after that, he asked to be your boyfriend. Of course you said yes, how could you not? But now there was a problem: You'd have to eventually tell Leo. While you did tell him that you've made a new friend and meet up with him a lot, you never told him that you're dating again. That was your mistake, because now you'd have to tell him. The biggest problem? Leo was afraid of men. He couldn't be near male teachers or any of his uncles, even male cashiers got a massive side eye from him. So his mom now having a new boyfriend, after his biology father abused him for his entire life? It didn't seem possible to you. But you did have to tell him eventually, so you sat him down on a Saturday after you two got ice cream.

"Leo, do you remembered my friend Billy that I have been seeing a lot lately?", you started the conversations with. Leo nodded his head, then took a lick of his ice cream. "Is he coming over?", he asked then. "Well, maybe. I actually have to tell you something else about Billy." Your heart started racing, and you honestly didn't even know where you were going with this. "You know when we talked about how daddies and mommies love each other?" He nodded his head once more. "Well, when daddies and mommies separate, it can happen that they meet someone else who made them as happy as the other mommy or daddy made them. But when the other mommy or daddy wasn't a good person-" You were interrupted by your own son. "Like Dean?" Leo never called your ex dad, he always called him Dean. "Yes, like Dean. Well, then the mommy or daddy might meet someone who makes them even happier." Your son continued eating his ice cream quietly. "And Billy is that other person who makes me even happier, and that's what I wanted to tell you, Leo." He remained quiet for a bit, trapped in his own thoughts, before he talked again. "So is Billy your boyfriend now?" He didn't scrunch his face in disgust or anger, which was a good sign. "Yes, sweetheart, Billy is my boyfriend now and I wanted to tell you so you could get ready to meet him someday." Once again, he thought about your words for a while. "Does Billy hit you like Dean did?" Unfortunately, Leo knew too much about abuse too soon. "No, Leo, Billy has never hit me or insult me. Do you remembered when we talked about how Mommies and Daddies should treat each other?" He took a big lick of his ice cream before answering. "That they always cuddle and kiss and hug each other, and that they never hit or scream at each other." You nodded in agreement. "That's right. And that is how Billy treats me." For the third time, he was inside his head and thinking something over. "My friend Lee, his dad has a new girlfriend and he says that she's his step-mother now. Is Billy my step-dad?" Oh, you were not prepared for that question at all. You actually expected a tantrum. "You can call him that if you want to. But you can also just call him Billy." Leo went on to ask when he was going to meet Billy, if he could cook for him with you, if Billy liked basketball as much as he does.

So the day came. On the following Thursday, you and Leo were making two different pizzas for the three of you. He insisted on making a funny face out of salamies on one pizza while you added mushrooms, olives and spinach to the other one. Once you put the food in the oven, your doorbell rang. "He's here!", Leo said while running up to the front door. "Mama, can I open it?", he asked you. As you were washing your hands it wasn't such a bad idea. "Sure sweetheart, be nice!", you said over to him. Your son opened the door and greeted your boyfriend with a wide grin. "Hello, are you my mom's Billy?", he asked. His question made you chuckle. "I am your mom's Billy. Are you your mom's Leo?" He loudly said yes before leading him inside and telling Billy to take his shoes and jacket off. "Mom's in the kitchen.", he said to Billy. "Leo, go wash your hands and change your shirt. Dinner is done soon." You could hear your sons footsteps running off while Billy came through the kitchen door. "That was quite the greeting.", he said with a chuckle in his voice. "He's uncharacteristically excited to meet you.", you replied while drying your hands. The two of you shared a quick kiss before the timer for the pizza went off. "He even made you smiling pizza."

Leo's and Billy's first meeting went extraordinarily well. In the evening, after your boyfriend left, he asked you when he would come over again. And it didn't take long until he asked when Billy would move in with the two of you. Six months deep into the relationship, Leo and you moved in with Billy. He had two extra rooms and a big backyard that he couldn't use all by himself. Your son loved it, and he loved Billy. At some point, he started calling the two of you "My mama and my Billy", which made your boyfriends heart melt. Billy and you got married two years later, you took Billy's last name and tried looking into how Leo could get it too. Eventually, it all resolved itself.

Billy was looking after Leo while you were at work. He picked him up from school and was making him dinner while Leo was doing his homework. However, math wasn't his strongsuit so he walked to Billy with his textbook. "Dad, can you help me with this?" Billy stopped in his tracks as he heard Leo call him dad for the first time but swallowed it down to not make him feel uncomfortable. He helped him with his homework and didn't let anything show until he was alone in the kitchen and cried some tears; happy tears. He continued lunch with your, and now his, son like he always does. Once you came home, he immediately pulled you into a tight hug. "What's gotten into you?", you said with a giggle. "Leo called me dad today.", he mumbled into the crook of your neck. Your eyes went wide in suprise and happiness, then you laughed. "Seriously? Billy, that's amazing!" You passionately kissed him on the lips as he was still squeezing you against his body.

Later that night, you checked in on your son after he went to bed, just to see that he was still awake and seemed upset. "Leo? What's wrong sweetheart?" You walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge of it. "I called Billy dad today and he didn't react...", he mumbled into his blanket. Oh. "Why does that upset you?", you asked him while petting his head. "Because I thought it would make him happy. And I never had a dad..." You opened your arms as an invitation for a hug, which he gladly took as he scooted closer. "Billy was very happy, but he didn't want you to feel weird about it.", you said to your as you hugged him. "He thought that you wouldn't want to do it anymore if he was too emotional." Leo hummed, a sound he started making when he thought about something, before asking "Can dad come in?" You smiled and told him that that was possible, then gave him a kiss goodnight and left the room. "Billy, your son wants to talk to you.", you said to your husband as you stepped into your shared bedroom. "Alright.", he said while getting up and leaving the room. You went into bed and waited for him to return, which was a good 20 minute wait. When Billy came back, he was quiet and quickly got under the blanket next to you with no words. "Sweetheart, you're awfully quiet.", you said to him while taking one of his hands in yours. "It's okay.", he mumbled while getting closer to you. "Our son just had some questions. But it's all good now." The way he said 'Our son' made your heart melt. "Father-son secret?" You smirked at your own words, Billy let out a small chuckle. "Definetly.", he replied before placing a kiss on your cheek.

Life went on for months. Billy was the father Leo never had, he was happier than ever. Billy finally had the family he always wanted. And you were planning on going back to the navy - that was until a tiny plastic stick with two blue lines came in the way. You've had your suspicions before, considering that this would be your second pregnancy. But how? Leo was nine already and so used to being an only child. Billy and you weren't going to get any younger either - at age 37 now, you'd almost be a senior citizen by the time your child graduates high school. So you did what you always do: Go to Billy.

"Bil.", you mumbled as you stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, test in your shaky hands. It was only natural to him to see how terrified you were, so close to crying but swallowing it down for the sake of your son in the next room. "Come here.", he said while walking up to you. It was only then that he noticed the positive pregnancy test in your hands. "You know, I always wanted two kids." was all he said before wrapping his arms around you. "We'll manage."

He stayed true to his words. You gave birth to baby Leia and went back to the navy months after. Leo was ecstatic to be a big brother, not wanting to ever leave Leias side at any time of the day since the moment he first saw her. He went so far that he volunteers to bring her to bed on some days, and for whatever reason she'd always fall asleep when he did without fuzzing. And Billy, oh god, Billy was so happy to watch his daughter grow up. Of course he saw Leo as his own son, but he couldn't watch him grow up from the day he was born. Knowing your and Leo's past, Billy made sure that he won't be anything like your ex or his dad. During your second trimester, he went back to his old therapist to see if he truly was ready to be a father. When Leia was a year old, you and your family were send to Finland for deployment. Once again, your husband stayed true to his words: "We'll manage.". Leo was send to an english-speaking school while Leia went to a regular, finnish daycare. If you were going to live here, you want her to learn a second language while doing so. Billy, somehow, got to continue working as a mechanic while you were obvious caught up with the finnish navy. Everything was beyond perfect and felt like a fairytale. The four of you were send back to America after six years in Finland, but to Florida this time. Leia cried a lot when she had to leave, including the entire flight back and the first night in America. You couldn't blame her - she's leaving the place she grew up in. You promised her to go back to Finland during summer break, and while that cheered her up it didn't help a lot. Once again, Billy stuck to his words. "We'll manage.". He did everything he could to get Leia out of her head, helped her with schoolwork, went surfing with her, took her on daddy-daughter dates. She got better eventually and found many friends. You, on the other hand, felt bad that this would eventually be ripped from her again.

Four years later, you decided on a desk job at the navy in California. It took a lot from you to make this decision, but it was the best one for your family. You couldn't watch your daughter sit and cry for her entire childhood. California was the best decision for everyone, including your husband. He was happier, Leo was happier, Leia adapted after a few months. She loved California eventually, especially because her Dad could show her around so much more now.

"Dad, I have a confession to make." Leo made sure you weren't home. He was two weeks away from graduating high school, and already signed up for his future profession. But he told neither you nor Billy. "What's going on kid?", he asked while looking up from the newspaper he was reading. At this point, he needed glasses to even make out a single letter. "Mom didn't want me to, but I signed up for the marines and got in." Billy knew about your opinion in this. You didn't want your children to get into the military at all. It wasn't a taboo theme at home, but it was barely on the table. After what your ex-husband did to you, you couldn't bear to possibly have them go down the same road as you. "Why did you want to join?", Billy asked. He'd form his opinion based on his reply, he decided. "Mom saves so many people. I've always looked up to her, and I wanna be like her." Billy smiled at his sons words. "You know, I'm convinced that she'll be okay with it if you tell her like that."

You were. Leo went to bootcamp, your old bootcamp, where you dropped him off with a heavy heart. Billy and Leia came with you as well to send him off. "Stay safe, son.", Billy told him before giving him a tight hug. Leo promised to not die, and that was enough for him. Leia cried a bit while saying her goodbyes, and had to hold onto her father after hugging her brother. You were last, it was only logical to him. "I'll make you proud.", he promised you. "Leo, I' already so proud of you.", you said to him with a smile. "You'll do just as well. Bootcamp will be the best months of your life, promise." In motherly fashion, you gave him a kiss on his cheek before letting him walk inside.

Back in the car, Billy tried changing the topic as the mood was low. "Well, if my son comes after his mother job-wise, I hope my daughter comes after me.", he said to you and Leia.

"I was actually thinking about Infantry.", she replied.

[oscarwilderthanyou]

You Kidnapped Me...Again!

Red Hood-Jason Todd/Female Reader

Hey guys! This is just a fun little one-shot I've been working on. Let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy! Just a reminder, my original works are cross-posted to AO3. Also general disclaimer, I own none of the characters used.

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I twist my head side to side in an attempt to relieve the pain in my neck. The detective to my left lets a loud snore, waking himself with the noise, and bolts upright. 

"You good there, Johnson?" I ask with a smirk.

"Fuck off," the older man grumbles in reply. He turns and leans over the edge of the rooftop were sitting on. "Any movement yet?" he asks. 

"Nope, nothing."

I hand him my binoculars and he takes a look for himself. "Who's CI brought this info in again?"

"Martin's," I grimace as I respond.

"Of course it's Martin's," he sighs. "How much do you want to bet he didn't even vet the info before passing it to the captain?

"I laugh in reply, "knowing Martin, I wouldn't take that bet.

"Silence falls over us again and I glance at my watch. "How much longer do you think they're going to keep us out here?"

"Captain seemed pretty determined so I'd guess it's going to be a long night" he leans forward, resting his weight on the ledge and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, placing one between his teeth and offering the pack to me. He lights both before turning back to the ledge. He glances over at me smirking "What's the hurry anyway, you got a hot date?"

I lightly shove his shoulder. "It's my anniversary, asshole."

He chuckles. "Oh yeah I guess it would be, that sucks. I hope you guys didn't have any big plans." 

I take another drag of my cigarette and tap the ash out on the ledge. "Not really, but with our work schedules I feel like we haven't gotten to spend much time together lately."

"I know that feeling" he says with a sigh. "When I first made detective I don't think I saw Carla more than twice a week." 

I wince. "And how long did that last?"

"Well I'm on the same last minute, all-night stakeout as you," he says, pointing out the obvious. I let out a groan and he just laughs in response. We finish our cigarettes in silence.

"So how are Carla and the gir-" my question is cut off by a loud bang from the street below. 

"What the fuck was that?" I whisper urgently.

Johnson immediately begins searching the ground with the binoculars. "I don't see anything," he replies, continuing to search. Another bang rings out, those are definitely gunshots. 

"We need to go down there," I say and Johnson nods in agreement.

We turn from the ledge and make our way down the fire escape, moving as silently as possible. As we descend I unholster my gun, keeping it ready if needed.

I stop walking as soon as we hit street level and scan the area. I listen for a few seconds before I make out the sound of footsteps coming from the alley across from us. I signal to Johnson and we being moving again, this time in the direction of the alley.

We both step into the darkness with our weapons drawn. Another gunshot sounds ahead and I swear its close enough to the see the muzzleflash from the shot. My heart leaps into my throat as Johnson and I both scramble to get to cover. The last shot didn't seem to be pointed in our direction but I wasn't stupid enough to stand out in the open in this situation.

I tuck myself into a door frame, leaning out to check for any possible threats, before concealing myself again. I press my arms against my chest, gun pointed up next to my head. I look for Johnson and see him in a smilar position further into the alley. He looks over at me from the safety of his doorway and I signal back that I'm okay. He nods and turns away to look down the alley.

A full minute passes in absolute silence and Johnson and I lock eyes again. He signals that he's going to move forward and I nod in understanding. He puts his hand up, telling me to wait. As he drops his hand in the signal to go we both step out into the alley. I see Johnson start to push forward and I move to follow him.

I freeze midstep. We're not alone.

I can sense someone standing right behind me but before I call out, a hand wraps around my face, covering my mouth. Another arm reaches around waist, pulling me back and pinning me againt my assailant's body. I try to fight him off but it makes no difference.

I see Johnson glance back and do a double take when he notices I'm not right behind him. He turns to see where I went and we lock eyes. At that moment the hand around my mouth is pulled away, allowing me to call out. Johnson sprints back in our direction but my attacker wraps his free arm around my chest, using both arms to lift me off the ground, and begins moving backwards far faster than should be possible.

I continue to thrash and shout, trying to break free. As we move I hear a vehicle approach and screech to a stop. There's the sound of a van door being slid open and I'm pulled into the vehicle. The door slams shut as the van takes off. 

My attacker releases their hold on me just as I hear my radio crackle to life. "He took her Captain," I hear Johnson's breathless voice say "Red Hood's got Todd." 

I freeze, still facing the door. Behind me I hear a metallic clasp being undone and the hiss of a helmet being removed. I turn to face him.

After a moment of silence he finally speaks "Surprise?" he says. He lifts his left arm, carding his fingers through his hair, and sheepishly smiles at me.

"Surprise? You kidnapped me!" I shout at my husband outraged. 

"Yes, but-" he starts to argue but I interject.

"No buts, I told you no more kidnapping me."

Removing his hand from his hair he wags his left index finger in disagreement. "Technically you said I couldn't kidnap you for any more date nights. This is our anniversary, totally different." He says this like it's a logical argument. 

I cross my arms and glare at him. I allow a few moments to pass in silence before I sigh in defeat, dropping my arms to my sides.  "The precinct is going to catch on eventually, Jay. This is the fifth time." I say to him.

He leans forward and places a hand on my cheek. I can't help but lean into it. "I'm sorry, baby," he says softly, looking into my eyes. "I won't do it again. I just really missed you and I was looking forward to actually spending our anniversary together this year." The lights from the passing street lights reflects off his eyes, his thumb stroking my cheek. 

"I missed you too," I tell him honestly. 

Just then I hear a phone ring. Jason lets go of my  face and leans back, reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants. He pulls out his cell phone and answers it, smirking at me. 

"This is Jason," he answers casually. His smile widens as his eyes sparkle with humor.

"Commissionor Gordan, what can I do for you this evening?" I let out a groan, knowing how this is going to go. The caller responds but i cant make out what's said. 

Jason sucks in a quick breath and responds "Oh no! What do you mean he took her again?" His tone is overly concered but he's still grinning at me playfully. I stick my tonuge out at him and he he raises an eyebrow in response. 

When it's his turn to speak again he gets back into character, "He can't keep getting away with this.  I'll be right there. Please, Commissioner, please find my wife." Another pause. "Thank you sir," and he hangs up. 

I roll my eyes at his theatrics. "So what's the plan now?" I ask. 

Jason leans over and opens the hatch separating the cabin from the rear of the van. "Hey Dick, pull over at the next corner."

"Will do Jay!" Dick cheerily calls back. 

"Dick?" I ask surprised. "How did you get roped into this riduculous scheme?"

"That's easy. I'll do anything for the sake of love," he responds wistfully.

I let out a laugh. "Of course you will."

The van pulls over and Jason and I step out. I see Dick still sitting in the driver's seat with his police radio held up so he can speak into it. He gives me a thumbs up and shouts through the open window that he'll be out in a minute.

As I go to step away from the van I turn to tell Jason goodbye. As I turn he grabs my waist and pulls me flush aginst his body. His other hand tangles in my hair as he bends down, bringing his lips to mine.  I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. By the time he pulls away I'm out of breath. 

"I love you, Mrs. Todd," he says quietly, our lips only inches apart.

"I love you too, Mr. Todd" I respond back with barely a whisper.

I hear the van door slam shut and reluctantly turn around. Jason keeps me in his arms adjusting to embrace me from behind. I feel him press a quick kiss to my hair before resting his chin on the top of my head. Dick walks around the front of the van to where Jason and I are waiting. 

"Alright, so I radioed in and let disptach know that I found you after you escaped on foot. I told them that you seem uninjured but didn't go into detail about anything else. A squad car should be here in a few minutes to pick us up." 

"Thanks Dick," I say. 

"Yeah, thanks Dickiebird, Jason adds. 

Dick tosses the van keys in our direction and Jason removes one arm from around me to reach up and catch them. 

"You should probably not be here when they get here, Jay." 

"Good point," Jason nods in agreement. He releases me and I step back, turning around to face him again. He gives me a quick kiss, still enough to still make me weak in the knees.

"Happy anniversary," he says with a smile. He turns and begins to walk away but stops and looks back.

"See you at the station," he calls back to me. "I'm sure you're too traumatized to continue working tonight," he adds with a wink before getting in the van.

"You're insane!" I call back to him with a laugh.

Not even a full minute after the van disappears from view I hear the familiar sound of police sirens approaching. 

[oneatlatime]

Zuko Alone

I'm hoping for some Appa this episode. It's been too long since he's gotten any good sight gags.

Zuko is cosplaying Clint Eastwood. He's also back to being stupid pale this episode.

You know it's a good thing that Zuko's not in the Fire Nation anymore because he really would have sucked at being Fire Nation. Robbing pregnant women is probably kindergarden level stuff for them.

How is Zuko in such bad shape? Last time we saw him he had a cave full of spoils robbed from rich people. Did he not bother to pack at least some of that stuff? Actually, not thinking far enough ahead to pack would be pretty in character.

Oof that would rub me the wrong way. Not enough money for a meal, but sure, let's use totally edible eggs as ammo.

Where'd the egg go?

Who is the scarred up hat wearing vampire and what happened to the real Zuko? Imposter Zuko just elected to not be provoked into a fight. Real Zuko would already be setting things on fire.

Just a bunch of thugs. Yep. It's consistently awesome how many of the facets of war this show can cover.

Imposter Zuko and Song's horse bird just got kidnapped. Did not see that coming.

Zuko kind of has arm bandages like Sokka has this episode. Also love the character detail that the boy has scraped knees.

Is the kid's dad the same guy as the man at the store? Or maybe this is a one haircut town?

So the guy who was near to fainting off his horse bird this morning is now turning down freely offered food? Could Zuko please shelve his pride for five minutes? Kudos to the mom for accurately reading his distaste for charity and turning it into a request for aid though. Although covering for the boy's egg trick is worth at least a meal.

Tangent!

I don't get Zuko. How can he still have so much pride when he's wearing rags and starving himself to feed Song's horse bird? I'm quite shameless when it comes to accepting help and I've never, ever been able to understand the whole 'too proud to accept charity' mindset. I'm always up for some charity. I have enough manners to offer to do the dishes after, but if you're offering free food I'm eating it. And I've never been in a situation as desperate as Zuko's. So I don't get this.

ok tangent over.

Peak rich kid behaviour. I hope those nails aren't expensive otherwise Zuko doing work for food might end up with this family out of pocket.

Is the wood grain on this ladder an actual photograph of wood grain?

Zuko has more patience this episode than he had for all of season 1 combined. He's also never gone this long without yelling. Either proximity to young children activates Zuko's otherwise mostly slumbering decency, or to fit him into a Fistful of Dollars homage the writers had to make him out of character.

If I had been in this situation when I was a kid, if I had been a) this visibly bored, and b) this nosy around guests, I would have been given a hammer and a bag of nails in three seconds flat. Also, nice to see a Sokka face from Zuko.

I get that 'a man without a past' is a staple of the cowboy genre, but the boy's father bringing up the privacy of the past twice in like two minutes makes me think he's done stuff he doesn't want to talk about. Seems both the parents have read Zuko right though.

Finally! Some pretty! I have been suffering! This may be the first really good pretty all season!

Bad news for the Appa decor on my blog. He may have been supplanted in my affections.

Two things: first, Zuko is a carbon copy of his mom. Second, That is way too much forehead.

Having Zuko's mom introduce herself by talking about the lengths mothers will go to for their children is not giving me foreshadowing anxiety at all.

Azula's been a bitch since birth. Noted.

Sir, your eyebrows. Also, yeah, I wouldn't want to play with her either.

Yikes this is making my teeth itch and my skin crawl. Calling it now, she's rotten to the core.

Zuko and Azula's dad has some weak ass genes. BOTH of his children are carbon copies of their mom.

Also, I was not expecting Zuko's very stupid ponytail to be a pre-scar thing. It is much better with a full head of hair.

If I had spent my childhood hanging out with an untouchable princess who set things on my head on fire for fun whenever I involuntarily displayed emotion, I'd be gloomy and apathetic in self defense too.

Sokka in this episode in spirit, if not in person.

Seriously that's the same face three times over!

Um, no? If Iroh doesn't make it back from the front, doesn't his son become next in line to be Firelord?

Can you hear all the unspoken "father thinks that" and "father says that" in front of every one of Azula's opinions in this whole scene? I stand by my assertion that she's awful anyways, but she's also obviously drunk much too much of her dad's koolaid, if you know what I mean.

This kid is going to get into so much trouble one of these days. Provoking the soldiers, nagging the mysterious stranger with the mysterious past, and now taking his weapons? Kid's sweet but he really needs to learn when to stop pushing his luck.

Stabbing dead, dried wood sounds like a great way to utterly annihilate the edge on those. Hope Zuko packed a whetstone.

Where is this patience coming from? I don't understand and it's BUGGING me.

Hold on. Technical problems.

My very basic DVD player sometimes has difficulty with these disks. Whatever happened between the above two screenshots, I've missed it. So picking back up from the one on the right...

Either these soldiers are impressively cowardly (which, yeah) or Zuko's really been working on his death glare, because they've got him outnumbered and out-armoured and they still back off.

OH it's parallels! Zuko's cousin and the boy's older brother. Got it. Kind of a false parallel though. Grandson of the Firelord does not equal earth kingdom conscript.

Give the demonstrably impulsive and nosy child a knife. That'll work out just fine I'm sure. Pretty sad the kid glommed on to Zuko so quickly, but it's also yet another realistic representation of the consequences of war. This show's good.

*shudders* theatre kids.

She's tiny! Do you know how darkly humourous it is to watch a two foot tall baby spout her father's murderous nonsense? Once again, in this whole scene, not a word out of Azula's mouth is actually Azula's.

"What is wrong with that child?" Apart from budding homicidal and psychopathic tendencies? Her dad. Her dad is what's wrong with that child.

Their dad has no subtlety at all. And also no brain? You think a day after the firelord finds out one of his family died is the right time to very boorishly make a play for the crown with you daughter as a prop? Could you possibly come up with a better demonstration of why this guy shouldn't be in charge?

How did this asshole land such a nice wife?

Yep. Siding with the old firelord on this one.

Does flashback Zuko sleep in his day clothes? Because that's not ok.

I like that their mom sees straight through Azula's lying here. She knows her daughter.

In a move that should surprise no one, everything Zuko touches turns to shit, as usual.

It's the Mexico filter!

Absolute truth from Zuko in that monologue. He's got them pegged. Too bad it fell on deaf ears. It's Zuko's curse, that whenever he approaches being remotely reasonable, he happens to be surrounded by people who will react in such a way that Zuko learns to equate being reasonable with failure.

An earthbender. The bare feet should have clued me in.

Last season Zuko and Iroh laid waste to like ten of these guys. And Iroh didn't even have pants. So what gives? Is he that starved?

Ursa pulling a Mufasa.

Don't answer don't answer don't answer

And he does.

Zuko is so very good at completely misinterpreting the point.

So we can add thief to the list of things that make Azula awful. Also that delivery of "who's going to make me? Mom?" is chilling. Zuko's lost his only defender inside this atrocious family and she knows it, he knows it, hell the turtleducks probably know it.

His dying wish? You guys buying that?

Ozai. That's his name. I'd forgotten that.

So... something something dead firelord something something missing mom something something maybe Azula wasn't actually lying this time?

Final Thoughts

The title wasn't kidding. Let's rename the show 'Avatar: the Guy who's Really Bad at Capturing Him' while we're at it.

There is now no way whatsoever that Zuko is not going to be redeemed. No writing team would invest that much energy and a whole episode into a character we're not ultimately supposed to root for. So somehow he's going to end up joining the Gaang. Don't know how he'll pull that one off. He's done some pretty not great stuff. And it's not like the Gaang watched this episode and unlocked his tragic backstory.

Speaking of, what prompted these reflections? I could understand if Zuko started to contemplate his cousin and the events surrounding his loss in the war after he learned about the family's older brother, but he was having flashbacks before he even got to town. Usually when there are backstory bits, there's a good reason to show them at that time, like how the Storm prompts Aang to think about the last storm he was in, or seeing a boat from his father's fleet prompts Sokka to remember what his dad told him. So what caused Zuko's memories to give him situationally appropriate flashbacks?

Pretty funny that he found the Nice Earth Kingdom Family that Azula predicted for him. And they are really nice! Either Zuko is an open book or the parents' social intelligence is off the charts because they're giving him exactly what he needs to feel at ease after barely a single conversation.

Speaking of Azula, I'm not surprised to find that she's always had deeply awful tendencies, even as a child of (I'm guessing) less than ten. But it cannot be ignored that, from the moment her father took a liking to her (as a tool to boost his own greatness, if not as a person), she didn't stand a chance. You can tell by the number of times that the stuff coming out of her mouth is a thinly veiled repetition of her father's unfiltered opinions, that she's been spending lots of time listening to him, probably while he puts down her mom and brother and talks about how she's the special one. You know what I'm getting at. Azula never stood a chance once her father got involved, and her mom lost the ability to influence her once her father started giving Azula praise for objectively wrong behaviour. That being said, Azula is awful even when she doesn't need to be awful for her father's approval, like when she's with her friends, so it's not all her father's doing. She's not a good person but she also had plenty of help to become that.

I guess Zuko and his mom are Fire Nation anomalies? And maybe Iroh has become that since his son died and he lost the war?

How on earth did Zuko survive as long as he did in the palace without his mom to protect him? What a no-win situation to be in. The only person in a whole nation with empathy.

This episode does makes Season 1 Zuko make more sense. He's been larping his dad as a defense mechanism for surviving the Fire Nation/probably a very futile effort to earn his approval. Although Zuko doesn't seem to care much for his dad if the tone he takes with him by the turtleduck pond is any indication.

Being banished was the best thing that ever happened to Zuko. The more distance between him and his remaining non-uncle family, the better. Between prioritizing his crew over capturing the avatar in the Storm, releasing the Avatar in the Blue Spirit, and now defending a random earth kingdom child this episode, it's hilarious how much Zuko HASN'T learned the lesson that Ozai banished him for not knowing. Don't get me wrong; that's a good thing. This episode plainly shows that behaviour that pleases Ozai is behaviour that should be unlearned as quickly as possible.

Zuko completely missing the point of his mom's last instruction is delightfully on the nose. But it also makes sense, which I may talk more about later.

How did Zuko hold on to his temper (and his volume) for a whole episode?

How did a show named after the main character get away with an episode that doesn't feature him at all? As a concept, this is such a strange episode. The writers were like "how can we kick start the woobification of Zuko? I know! A Spaghetti Western!" and it worked. Who comes up with that?

I now want at least as much, if not more, of Sokka and Katara's childhood via flashbacks. And more Gyatso please. If they can devote a whole episode to the childhood of a guy who isn't even a team member yet, they can show me some Sokka childhood shenanigans as a palette cleanser.

I really don't know what conclusion to draw about this episode. The writers have given me a massive backstory/trauma dump and I'm honestly like:

[secretsandwriting]

Come On Darling

Part one has gotten a lot of attention and all the comments were really motivating so have a part two. Idk how good it is, i wrote this in the same general time it took me to write part one so hopefully it's decent.

Part One

"Hello, welcome to Roselight! How may I help you today?" The girl working there didn't even stutter when she saw Noah. She must be used to it in such an expensive shop like this one.

"I need a new tailored suit, she needs a full closet." You could almost see the dollar signs adding up behind her eyes.

"Of course! I'll have the tailors get prepared. As for her what are you thinking about for full closet? Different styles? All dressy? Casual? Sexy?" She didn't even look at you, just paying attention. While she and Noah were talking, you looked around the store. Eyes stopping on one of the other employees smiled at you. She was dressed down a little more than all the others, still in all designer. She seemed more normal then high class like everyone else working.

"Well, then are you ready to start shopping?" She was looking at you expectantly.

"No." Noah's arm you were told to hold onto tightened. His hand resting on yours. Not a threat a warning. "I was hoping I could work with her." You motioned to the employee you had seen earlier. Noah's arm relaxed.

"Unfortunately, she's not a shopper. She just helps stock and bag items."

"She'll be a shopper today then." Noah ordered. She finally started getting nervous.

"A manager has to sign off on i-"

"Then get a manager." Noah interrupted. "She wants to work with her, and we don't want to stand her arguing." A hurried, "I'll get one" was thrown over her shoulder as she retreated to the back. Remerging a minute later, a sharply dressed man following her.

"Hello, I'm Marcus, one of the managers. What can I do for you today?"

"She needs a new wardrobe and would like her to help." Noah motioned to the girl. Marcus glanced over at the girl, who looked like she was starting to get a little nervous with the attention she was getting for a reason she wasn't aware of. Marcus glanced at you next, understanding flashed through his eyes.

"Ah, of course. I'll go inform her of your request and as long as she agrees to it, I'll sign off on it."

"No i-"

"That would be great!" You interrupted Noah. You didn't want to pressure her into having to deal with Noah. Marcus came back a few minutes later, the girl following behind him.

"This is Jackie, she's agreed to help you and I've signed off her helping." His gaze was directed at directly at you. "All commissions will go to her for this sale." Noah's posture changed, considering Jackie's shift, it wasn't good.

"Thank you, that was my next question." Once again Noah relaxed. He had to be overly stressed because that could not be normal.

"I'll leave Jackie with you, let me know if there's anything I can help with." Marcus excused himself. Noah gave the same instructions he gave Caroline and Jackie wrote a few things down in a small notebook.

"Ok, whole new closet?" Jackie looked at you. "You've told me. I'm asking Y/n now." Jackie interrupted Noah when he tried to tell her again. She turned back to you. You nodded. "All styles?" Another nod. "No budget?"

"Budget." Noah immediately started protesting. Jackie waited until they stopped.

"Alright, we can easily get everything you need and any extra you want with 1 Million. So we'll set that as a tentative budget. Budget for you, tentative for the no budget peanut gallery." You were soon whisked away to a small room to get measured. With that out of the way, you were lead to a room full of overpriced clothes and accessories.

Anything you looked at twice or seemed interested in was added to a growing pile of try ons. Once you had ten full outfits, try ons started. Jackie was exactly what you wanted. If it looked good, she made sure you knew it. If it didn't look good, she figured out why. Certain styles were completely removed from the cart, some colors were pulled out too. She didn't try to get you to like the most expensive styles, or the big trends, her focus was solely on what you liked and what looked good on you. Something you were very grateful for.

Four hours of shopping later, and you were lead out to the main room where you had come in. Noah joined you and paid for the large amount of clothing you had liked enough to leave with.

Next you were taken to a shoe store. This time you had a name Jackie had given you. Another sign off and bags left with Noah, you got to work looking for shoes.

An hour and a half and 6 pair of shoes later, you were taken to a makeup store. Another name and sign off, more bags left with Noah and the process started all over again.

Three hours later, Noah paid and you left the outlet and went back to the hotel. Food was dropped off at the room and Noah inhaled his before changing and running out the door for a meeting away from the hotel. A quick "Here's my card, Don't leave the hotel or there will be problems." was thrown over his shoulder before the door was closed.

You started putting your things away, quickly realizing there wasn't enough room for all your new things and Noah's in the small closet in the room. So you made a call to the front desk and a half hour later a clothing rack with a few shelves at the bottom was delivered to your room. Setting it up was easy.

The hard part was deciding if you wanted to risk being petty and moving his things or just putting yours there.

Petty won.

If he was going to force you to get an entire new closet of clothes, you were going to put them in a closet. While moving his suits you snorted to yourself. If circumstances had been different, this shopping spree would have been a dream come true, but now, it just felt like something you would have to worry about repaying later.

Once all of his clothes hanging up were moved, you put his shoes on the bottom shelf. Once you were finished moving his things and adding yours, you moved onto the dresser. Moving his things into two of the six drawers and filled the other four with yours. Next step was rearranging the bathroom to add in the large amount of random makeup things you had gotten.

With nothing else to do, you looked through the list of things the hotel offered and decided to go get a massage. The shopping spree and large total numbers had apparently tired you enough that you didn't really care if Noah was upset.

-----

Noah came back from the meeting to a dark and empty hotel room. Nicolas thankfully kept his head and told Noah to call the front desk to see if they had seen her. That phone call lead him to the spa where he was let into a small room where you were laying face down on a table while a woman worked on the knots in your back.

"He needs to go next. He seems way to tense to be healthy." Noah just stared at you in exasperation, questioning why the hell he was putting himself through all of this for Alec

[mercurygray]

Hii could I pls request #26 "The smell of Cologne/Perfume on warm skin" for Cord and Bucky? 👀 — @shoshiwrites

She'd never had an issue with the commanding officer before, but Cord was quite sure this was verging on ridiculous.

It was one thing to be told to show up to a party - that was well and good. She could do her hair and fix her dress uniform as nicely as the next girl.

But to be told she had to dance? And with him?

"Don't worry," Major Egan said, obviously just as thrilled as she was with the direction the evening was taking. "I won't get any ideas. It's one dance, not an engagement. In five minutes you can go back to hating me."

The band was playing something by Benny Goodman and of course, no sooner had Harding issued his order but they'd switched to slow songs. It would have been fine if the CO had made the observation that Cord hadn't gotten a dance and left it lie, but then he'd added that he would be damned if chivalry on his base was dead, and ordered his former Air Exec to get the Lieutenant a turn around the floor, and there had been snickers.

Cord had to admit, grudgingly, that she'd wanted at least one dance. But she wasn't partial to the way she'd got it. Or the man she was getting it with.

Benny Goodman was making her think of home, and dances at the Legion Hall downtown and airmen who were away from home for the first time getting anxious about asking the shop foreman's daughter for a dance. Nights that smelled like cheap cologne and gardenias and the faint tang of spilled whiskey, even if the dance was supposed to be dry. She'd gotten her first kiss at one of those dances - Tom, a tall skinny fellow from Indiana. She wondered where he was now, whether he was still flying.

None of that, however, helped her with Egan - or the matter of the next four minutes - but she wanted, in this exact moment, to make sure they got something straight. "I don't hate you, Major."

"Really? 'Cause you got a funny way of showing it."

It was true. She was not the man's biggest fan. John Egan was loud, and frankly full of himself, and the world's most devoted flirt, but she didn't …hate him. That just wasn't true. Disliked, strongly, but not hate.

But how to explain that to him? "The first time we met you called me gorgeous."

He scoffed. "And? It was true!"

Cord felt herself go red. "But you call everyone gorgeous," she pressed on. "A Lieutenant would have been nice. I'm an officer- just like you. I worked hard for it, and everyone seems to forget that." Including the CO, it seems. I'm not just here to be an easy date. "Everyone respects a pilot. It's different for us. If you'd walked all over me…then they all would have. Sir."

John Egan might have been many things, but stupid wasn't one of them - and while he could be loud, he could listen, too. For a moment it was just the two of them and the Goodman in the background. "Seems I owe you an apology, then, Lieutenant. For forgetting my manners. I think I've done okay since?" She nodded. "But I stand by the gorgeous comment," he added, almost forcefully. "A man's allowed to say things that are true. Or am I cutting in on some guy back home?"

Cord suddenly felt a little pale, and extremely mindful of just where they were, and who she was with, and who might be watching them, and the feeling of Egan's hand wrapped around her own, the other decorously between her shoulder blades, the smell of his aftershave musk and faint sandalwood. "No, no… guy back home." Certainly none calling me gorgeous. Dozens of airmen who'd been happy to take a dance or two on a Friday night, but never anything… serious. Not when they were always moving on to something else. "And you?" She asked, trying to be polite.

He chuckled. "No one would have me." His smile was just this side of reckless, and she had a hard time believing what he said. You mean to tell me all the girls in Nebraska don't have eyes? You've never had a problem getting a date here. "And it didn't feel right," he added, almost as an afterthought, "to tie a girl down like that. At least not yet."

"She'll be lucky when you find her, sir."

He murmured assent. "Does this make us square now, then, Lieutenant, or can I expect to keep getting shut out of the tower?"

He was fishing now, and she knew it - the ground between them felt thin and she didn't like the feeling. "I'll keep shutting out anyone trying to be a distraction," she said, as fairly as she could.

He smiled at that, and Cord felt something in her chest soar up seeing that smile before it fluttered back down again. Oh, he's not that charming, girl, some small part of her sneered. You've just been out of the game.

The song wrapped up, and the two of them broke away to clap for the band and go their separate directions. "Do you need a drink?" Ann asked, steering them towards the bar without waiting for the answer.

No, Cord wanted to say, following her friend. But I think I need my head checked.

[ladysophiebeckett]

Some of you are being really weird about Aura Maria in regards to her treatment of Freddy and her overall character\personality traits. Overall, if you dislike a character its fine. It means nothing to me. But these posts about Aura Maria are getting a little misogynistic.

The facts are, that yes--she is immature, she does string Freddy along, she is very extroverted and charismatic and a lot of men like her.

You know who else is immature, strings someone around, is very extroverted and charismatic and a lot of women like them?

This guy right here.He's gonna string around his assistant for at least half a novela.

But there's already some excellent meta on Aura Maria and Freddy vs Betty and Armando and u can read them here and here. so I'm not gonna get into that.

Again, if you don't like Aura Maria thats fine. She's a flawed character in a show with other flawed characters. I don't like Patricia, for example. I think she's annoying, she's mean, her goal is to find a man to fix all her problems and she fails at it. She's immature. She's classist. She gets paid 3x more than the other secretaries bc she's a nepo hire and yet still can't make any payments bc she's terrible with money. I could go and on.

But a lot of you like her and sympathize with her and her problems and how nobody wants to help her.

Aura Maria is also sympathetic character. She became a teen mom. The guy that got her pregnant is not in the kid's life nor in hers. She's a receptionist at a company who's alternate slogan is 'women don't advance here'. Her parents kick her and her son out, yes it was a consequence of Aura Maria's party girl antics. But that's not a good enough reason to kick out your daughter and grandson. Knowing that she's a receptionist and doesn't make much money to begin with.

And then the Mario of it all. No, she shouldn't have gotten involved with him but he's the one in the position of power. He shouldn't have gotten involved with her, he shouldn't have encouraged it, nor should he have been seeing her and Patricia at the same time. Both women who work where HE works. And who does he want to fire when he gets caught? Aura Maria. She's the one who gets the low end of the stick.

Aura Maria and Patricia are looking for men with money to support them and don't do well in this endeavor bc the only man that looks like a prospect is using them in some way. That or the men they encounter don't take them seriously.

Freddy likes Aura Maria and yeah she does like him but she doesn't take him seriously as a prospect bc he's not rich and when you're a poor young single mom--bc REMINDER Aura Maria is in her early 20s forced to grow up quickly (she was a child having a child)--living in your friend's\co workers house--he doesn't completely fulfill her list of requirements of what she needs financially. She's not looking at the full picture. Much like Patricia, who doesn't look at the full picture when it comes to her transactional relationship with Nicolas.

So because Aura Maria mismanges her relationship with Freddy, I'm supposed to what? Have her burned at the stake? That because Freddy is kind to her, and does things out of his own free will over and over again, that Aura Maria needs to be devoted to him? Automatically? Because people think she owes him?

If you don't like Aura Maria, that's fine. But a lot of the posts I've seen in the general tag are past not liking a character bc the vibes are off--it's becoming about hating her bc she's not reciprocating to one guy bc you think he's earned it. Or it's about her not being a good mother bc she's not acting 'like a mother'. And want to see her punished for it as a result, as if getting sexually harassed by Gutierrez (ON TWO OCCASIONS) isn't punishment on it's own.

Because reminder (again)---that Mario AND Gutierrez have taken advantage of Aura Maria in some way bc of their position of power. Bc Aura Maria is young, beautiful, and poor. She can be easily be taken advantage of and tossed away. (Much like another character who gets utilized as a consequence of financial fraud)

But Freddy is the true victim in all of this bc Aura Maria sometimes take advantage of his kindness. Do you realize how dumb that sounds?

There is a double standard in how Aura Maria is being viewed bc she's not acting grateful or humble or self sacrificing enough to gain sympathy. She's being judged solely on how she's treating (1) man and not about all the other factors she's living in--some of them out of her control.

If one can feel bad for Patricia even tho it's primarily her fault that she's in the predicaments she's in, then I don't see why one can't extend that same grace to Aura Maria.

[fixfoxnox]

Use this ask to ramble about anything, better if it's about Roach 🪳💖

(btw I think I found you in twitter by accident, I'm not sure, too anxious to follow anyway)

AHHHHH YESSS ROACH RAMBLE ASK MUAH MUAH (KISSES)

I haven't gotten to yell about my boy by himself in so long omggggg

Oh also before I forget, you probably did find my Twitter! I haven't really made any posts about it cause, tbh, I still have no idea what I want to post there, but I do indeed have a Twitter! It is here for anyone who wants to follow me. Right now I've just really been dropping random cod thoughts and reposting a lot of artists content, but who knows maybe I'll start doing some Twitter exclusive stuff or thread fics or something (has no idea how thread fics work). Anyways on to the boy:

I'm using this as an opportunity to just talk about whatever comes to mind and the first thing I wanna start with are like some alternate ideas I had for Roach's family before I landed on the Sanderson dynamic that I have now:

Roach from a military family

Imagine how fun it would be if Roach was raised in a military family, especially if they still had that overprotective aspect to them. Like baby boy who was raised around the military so he's been intimately familiar with it

Maybe he had some different talent and his family wanted him to go down a different path and not go military like them

He says fuck that and joins the military and fucks around and ends up joining taskforce 141

Extra funny points if his family don't realize that he's on a specialized taskforce cause he was so nervous about telling them and they find out in dramatic fashion

Maybe he drops in to save them on a mission or something like 🤭 the drama of it all I love it

Also side note but I was thinking so hard about the Sanderson boys (Johnathan and Eddie) and I can't draw so I have to snatch some Face Claims for them so this is what I think Roach's older brothers look like:

Johnathan is played by Lee Pace don't test me this man is tall and probably acts as his own security at his bar and also is a goofball and idk Lee Pace is perfect (this should not detract from me also thinking that Lee Pace is a perfect fc for König)

Eddie to me has to look something like Luke Norris idk I feel like he needs a softer and more like nervous/panicky energy than Johnathan and this man fits don't test me don't test me

Also for anyone who is wondering: No, I still don't have a face claim for my Roach. In my mind he changes so much I see so many different artists versions of Roach in my brain at all times so choosing an actor for him is so hard. I have...thoughts, but idk that anyone would enjoy the thoughts that I have so we'll pretend I don't have them.

More on Roach cause he's my lil guy, my lil dude, my lil buddy

Listen y'all know Southern Roach is my bias but also also also have been falling in love more and more with the idea of Russian Roach. He would be so funnn like he works with Nik beforehand maybe he was undercover with the ultranationalists. I also enjoy the idea of him cursing Shepherd and/or Makarov out in Russian I think it would be fun.

However Southern Roach rains supreme I was thinking so hard about a ghostroachsoap au recently based loosely on the song "Farmer's Daughter" by Rodney Atkins. (Y'all let me know if you want the full au its really just farm au cuteness)

Thinking so hard of Roach just being beloved in his small town as this Golden Child precious little dude then he goes off to the military and finally let's that feral side come out a little. Imagine how funny it would be for Ghost and Soap to go home with Roach and see their boyfriend pu on this innocent act and listen to people describe him as this perfect little guy when they know for a fact that Roach is like borderline feral two steps away from being considered a wild animal.

"He's such a good boy, would never hurt a fly."

Ghost and Soap who watched Roach tear a man's throat out with his teeth last week:

Also taking the opportunity to say that we as a community need to start acknowledging hoe canonically skilled Roach is with weapons! Like this is a boy who had both Price and Soap cursing because they couldn't get any kills because he was killing them to fast. This is a boy who beat Ghost (his luitenant) on a rifle test by a wide margin and on the test that ghost beat him he only fell behind four points.

Roach canonical has several extremely brutal takedown moves that he can do, including the pickaxes and the little fucking kick thing he does to the one guy before stabbing him. Also he's like straight up flipping his guns and doing tricks with them and shit in his weapons inspections, Soap talks about how good he is with C4 and shit.

Like I think people see the like spots where he got into trouble and nearly died in the campaign and take that to mean that he's like not as good as Ghost and Soap and needed their help a lot but like honest to God all of the trouble he gets in to is less because he fucked up and more because the world seems to have it out for him.

The roof breaking out from under him, the ice cracking on him, explosions happen to rock his ass just as soon as he hits an open field. Like someone was trying to kill this little fuck and two outta the three times they failed.

And like its not like Roach doesn't help himself during these situations. Like when he fell yeah he had Soap guiding him but he was the one having the run and slide and do all that shit like no amount of Soap's guiding could have made that easy for him.

Also this boy almost falls off a cliff but is able to get himself back on track enough that he not only finishes climbing the cliff but then does a whole ass stealth mission basically invading a Russian military base on his own???

Roach is a very talented and skilled bug and we should all be patting him on the head for how cool he is.

Also I think its absolutely funny cause In my mind he's smaller than Soap and Ghost both like height and build wise (not small, just smaller than those two behemoths) and so when the trio of them are together people like tend to underestimate him meanwhile Ghost and Soap are like "Uh, no, no you uh hey dude no" because they know that Roach will gladly fuck people up.

I also love the idea of Roach appearing out of nowhere like a fucking cryptid. There is no talking behind Roach's back or keeping secrets he is everywhere at once and will appear out of thin air. Ghost and Soap have to like fully leave base if they want to plan a surprise for him and even then both of them have no trust that Roach won't somehow pop into existence next to them waahahhahaha

Alright thats all for my rambling for now