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kafkasmeow · 5 months ago

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1 ꗃ A FAMILIAR TUNE

imagine! 7.2k words worth of slow-burn ─ dan heng x reader ─ second pov fem! reader ─ angst and fluff ─ father! jing yuan (strictly platonic) ─ i treated the reader more as an oc, i do apologise for that.

summery ─ leaving home was one of the hardest choices you’ve ever had to make, yet how could you stay when the life you lived could only ever bring you sadness and superficiality?

aka dan heng x reader with mommy and daddy issues

disclaimer ─ this story may hold sensitive subjects such as mentioned death, neglect and the baggage that comes with it, mental illness, violence, harassment and talks of infertility. it has a very long introduction (my bad lol), a rather steamy end and takes inspiration from the original story line so be careful of spoilers and it was inspired by head-canons written here by @lyomeii , please go show some love. remember that this is a work of fiction and any names and characters written are my imagination alone. enjoy <3

taglist ─ @can-i-go-to-sleep-please ─ @can-i-stay-awake

There was a time when things felt easier, when the sun seemed to shine brighter despite the overwhelming shadow that was always cast on your family. You used to love the deep smell of green tea that enveloped the parlour each time the two of you took residence in it, and the wind that would swirl it around the whole of the office all while you laughed without a single care at the way it tugged your translucent shawl and hair.

Jing Yuan adored that sound more than anything, it filled his heart with the warmest of contents yet the cruelest of longings. He would sip quietly on the tea you’d brewed for him and pretend to enjoy the frivolous moment with his eyes closed, but you both knew that when you looked away, another story would be told completely.

Perhaps in reality, the sun never shined brighter than it seemed to and it was never easier to stomach. You were just too naive, too young to notice the thin cords bringing you and your father closer, and too ignorant to see the way they were slowly beginning to rip under the pressure.

To the public eye, your father loved you more than anything in the world, that was no news to anyone atop the Xianzhou Luofu. You’ve always worn the most expensive silks to have ever been created, with the richest of accessories and jewels. Whenever a new Hanfu dress would reach your hands, he would parade you on the busiest streets himself, making sure everyone and their mothers would talk about it by noon the next day.

He made sure you always had the most able and knowledgeable professors at your call, and if you ever needed anything, all you’d have to do is ask to whomever was closest to you at the very moment, and it would be fulfilled within seconds. Sometimes you didn’t know if the servants did it out of admiration for your father or obligation.

Jing Yuan made sure you never needed or wanted for more. Materially, that is.

And things were bound to change as you grew, especially as he cruelly presented you to the scrutiny of high society.

You quickly grew to understand that it was his way of apologising, like a crow that would chip away at your skin then bring you trinkets of appreciation. When you sat and listened to some woman criticise that your dress was too frivolous for the event, too out of fashion for society and that none of your jewels matched, he did not do much but smile and pat your shoulder.

“Little [Y/n] will learn from your kind advice.” He assured her, but you barely held in a snort of frustration. When the other women joined in, when they begun pulling at your hair to adjust it, when they hit your hands with their fans as you purred tea for not angling your elbows right, when they shamed you as the hall hollered with laughter, he watched and smiled, so you took a deep breath and smiled back to everyone around you too.

Later that very evening he found you with tears running on your cheeks, a box of red and gold velvet in his hands. Your father did not speak, nor did he show much emotion on his face and it angered you. You wished to yell, to protest for the fact that he had not jumped to your defence, but as you opened the box, all protests died on your lips and the tears stilled, hands shaking at the most beautiful jade hair pin you’ve ever seen.

But his gifts stopped making up for his emotional absence around the third time it happened.

And you knew they all watched you like a hawk. Every move you’d make before the higher ups would be analysed on a scale of “good enough” or “weak” by none other than your father’s so called friends, while every single gesture before the public was like pulling needles off your skin. Yesterday you wore your Hanfu scandalously low on your cleavage, today you didn’t say thank you when the guard accompanying you opened up your parasol, tomorrow you won’t hold your tea cup quite right and so on.

Usually it was easy to ignore.

But that was before the daughters of the noblest of houses would begin to alienate you for shallow reasons, and before the sons of each commissioner would size you up as nothing but easy stock to win over, an easy marriage in the pocket, or so they thought.

It was easy for them to have the audacity to criticise you to your face or try to win you over, after all, you were nothing but a spoiled brat who’s never heard no for as long as she’s lived. Surely, you’ve never faced a single hardship, so the public felt righteous enough to scold you into it while for those within you were noting but a charity case.

So you tried to learn all you could, so you’d never feel as less in front of others ever again. Since the very evening of your debut, you insisted on having a book under your arm, a needle in your hand, a sword at your hip, or a qin in your lap while tea cups simmered on a table. It felt easier to overlook the loneliness when you did. You found that after a certain age, it felt comforting even to worry about making it in time to granny Hua’s qin lessons while leaving the swordplay hall behind, rather than sit pretty in a room and wait all day for your father to finish his duties as a general. There was no more room at social events for rude interventions, and no more room in your mid for uncomfortable questions to ask while doing so, really.

But you couldn’t avoid them for an eternity, that was for sure. And neither could Jing Yuan, for even in tranquil moments when peace had the taste of green tea and the smell of fresh air after rain, your twinkling eyes were still a carbon copy of how hers were.

In the better of these days, your father would pretend to laugh at a joke you made, while you pretended to be satisfied with his reaction. You’d move a piece on the xiangqi board with elegant hands and chatted about the latest passage you read in a philosophy book, and he hummed in agreement while placing his own piece down. A cleverly crafted strategy to his own defeat, one that you felt content with following despite the fragile shame that came with it.

It was a play you both excelled at most, after all.

At the worst of it all, you can’t understand his harsh voice as he yells “That is enough, [Y/n]!” while slamming his tea cup on the table. The whole room would shake at his warning, but your hunger for answers was much stronger than any fear, so you really can’t understand his fury when you yell back “Father! It is not!” He look at you with sorrow in his heart and his eyes were twisted by a pain you’d never understand, as he could only see her in you.

“I will not have this conversation with you!” He’d warn again, but you took it as an invitation to push even further. “I don’t know the first thing about my mother, Jing Yuan! Her name? Never heard of it. Her face? Never seen it. Do you not think it is cruel, father?” Hot tears streamed on your perfect porcelain cheeks, smearing the red eyeliner you had painted on. “No one ever speaks about her to me, everyone refuses to. But they all look at me like I’m some kind of…” Your voice trailed off with hard puffs and sobs. “Like I’m some kind of…”

His own chest puffed and the sight of you felt like a stab to his heart. You couldn’t get your words out, you didn’t need to really. People constantly looked at you in one of two ways, no matter how perfectly you’ve learned to craft your smiles, or how good your tea brewing had became, you were either a charity case they’d pity, or a spoiled brat that knew none of what the real world would offer.

But despite all of his anger, he was still your father, and as much as he loved to punish himself trough you, he still held back the need of snapping the heads off all of their shoulders. He would reach for the back of your neck with his hand, bringing you into his chest in a half hug. “You are enough. Never forget that.” He’d kiss the crown of your head and inhale the floral smell of your hair. It grounded him, even as you screamed into his chest and pushed him away, his grip stayed firm until you’d shed your last tear and you cried your last sob.

Because despite of how much you hated to admit it, you were living and breathing for his approval, which you seemed to never ever gain.

Unbeknownst to you, everything about you was just like her. Your face, your hair, even the way you wore your Hanfu a little out of place with the shawl falling all over the floor when you walked, or your mannerism as you spoke with a tiny accent on your tongue, it was all her and nothing of his except the mole under your left eye. You’ve never met her, he tried to reason. You’ve never seen her or heard of her deeds. Your mother has been an enigma to you ever since you could remember things, and yet the world punished him with her perfect copy in you when he tried to push her memory away the most.

It felt bittersweet. To the outside eye, general Jing Yuan adored his daughter more than anything else in the world. But underneath the jewellery, there were unaddressed feelings, each pearl you wore for people on the Central Starskiff Heaven to see was a tear unshed, each new dress was a silent apology they’d never hear, each loving promenade you’d have with your father was there to hide for the public a question you asked when the cord was too tensed. One of these days it would snap in half, you were sure of it.

So who could blame you when it all overflowed? When you could no longer smile in the face of those who envied you and when your father’s emotional absence felt like a hallow painting of what should have really been? When the dresses and the jewels weren’t smothering the pain any longer?

You felt it daily, building up, pressing down, tugging at your smiles until they became frowns and empty stares, and your ever growing depression was evident for anyone that roamed the gardens outside your window at night, as your qin carried into the world the saddest tune your heart feared to voice. And this time, not even a Hanfu made out of golden thread would ease your pain.

“So, say you, general,”

Your father hummed back to the woman before him as he placed his piece down on the board. Another noble nodded in agreement with his choice behind him. You saw them all from where you were sitting, fingers strumming the qin in a delicate tune for the whole room to enjoy, while gin purred from flasks and laughter echoed somewhere in the back. It wasn’t like you to agree partaking in parties like these, but how could you turn Jing Yuan down when he asked you to serenade him at the event?

“I would say you’d want to keep your daughter closest to you, am I not right?” The wicked tone in the noble’s voice made you shiver underneath the silver shawl that draped off your shoulders. “Quite so I fear, why is that?”

“Well, I hoped to reach you when I first heard the news, but I was quite busy, yous see?” The woman, an esteemed elder of the Artisanship Commission, hid her face behind what was possibly the most obnoxious fan you’ve ever seen, and your fingers became stiff on the metal strings of your trusted instrument. “Pardon me?” The general stilled his movements on the xiangqi pieces while the chattering went quiet. Nothing but your trembling notes filled the air.

“You know, I wished to give you my deepest condolences the moment I heard. For your daughter’s… unfortunate situation, that is.” Confused, Jing Yuan tilts his head to where you stood, only to be met with the same questions on your face that you desperately tried to drown as you played your melody. He chuckled awkwardly, then, and returned his attention on the game. “I fear I don’t know what you’re going on about, ma’am.”

“Ah… You know, the fact that your daughter is unable to bear children has quite saddened us all. I was looking forward to sending my son as a potential suitor!”

If eyes could kill, you would be sure that the place where the woman stood would have become scorched dust. An involuntary scoff left your lips loud enough to draw attention, but you pretended to be engrossed with tuning your qin before beginning to play another piece for the hall.

“And where have you heard such news, I wonder?” But she held no fear in her eyes.

“Well, for one, everyone in high society talks about it! You see, your daughter is already past the age of accepting suitors yet has never even been seen with a man, so people assume. That being said I personally was told so by a doctor that works under you, your grace.”

‘Lies’, you told yourself, but it was not enough to cool the blush you had on your cheeks from embarrassment, no matter how much you have been shamed by the public eye, nothing could compare to this very moment now.

“Is that so,” Your father trailed off, then placed his piece on the xiangqi board. “Well, from what I know, your son is welcome to send in his suitor application, for my daughter is more than healthy and cared for. In fact, now that I think about it,” But you didn’t wish to hear any more.

With a sudden move, you jumped from your seat to your feet and rushed to gather the qin underneath its silk cloth. The commotion drew attention to you, and so murmurs begun filling your ears which only fed your ever growing shame. “Please excuse me.” You voiced as you bowed deeply to the room of lords and nobles, then picked up your instrument and hurried to the exit with a strained “Please enjoy the rest of your evening.”

And you hoped that would be the last you’ve heard of it all, but as fate wanted it, that was far from how things would play.

“Father! This is ridiculous!” You protested. For all reason and purposes, it really was.

Not even a full day after what happened, he invited you to serve tea with him in the parlour. You found it odd, as he never requested your presence on Tuesday afternoons, but did not complain as you stepped into the room with haste.

He took his time finding the courage to face you, and when he understood he would not be able to deliver the news to you with a straight face, he pushed a stack of paper to you without even meeting your eyes. There, in red ink, was your fate sealed by a simple signature. An agreement that had been made without your knowledge or permission, and a wound that would become the reason for the demise of cord that held your family together.

Marriage certificate.

No one knows what was truly discussed that night in the evening, but what was known was that you’ve fled with tears in your eyes and anger on your face. And for better or for worse, that would become the last time anyone on the Xianzhou Luofu had seen you under the identity of the general’s daughter, for you found no more room in your heart for the pain that followed with it.

“You know, when you put it like that, I do think that green works best with coral!” March eagerly nodded her head, while Dan Heng took his time analysing Himeko’s theory. You and welt only listened to the conversation with one ear, while the other was being filled with questions over questions from Stelle.

“I don’t believe that’s a wise move.” You chirped as Welt placed the piece down, and you followed with a quick movement that gained you his general. He groaned and pushed his glasses up away while massaging the bridge of his nose. Stelle wowed and wood at your victory, and March leaned from her seat across the express’ parlour with a “really?” look in her eyes.

“You lost again, M. Yang?”

“I swear I’m good at this game.” And you chuckled while placing the pieces back into their pouch. “Used is a keyword.” March continued to tease while everyone watched your movements, which, weirdly, felt more calming than before your time on the express. In truth, it was because they never snickered underneath their palms and never cherry picked your posture until you’d get it wrong.

That being said, you could only care for one person’s eyes alone, and his stare felt like electricity on the back of your neck.

“How did you learn to play like this, anyways? You’re like a mad genius at these.” Stelle intervened, and you couldn’t help but shiver as your father’s knowing eyes came into your mind. “Ah…” was all that escaped your lips, before you cured your pained expression in a calm and lovely smile. “My father taught me how to play. He always made it so I would win, though. Therefore, for the longest time I believed I was quite bad at it too.”

Your voice felt like crystal in the quiet room, so quiet and soft to the ear that it was more akin to a melody than a spoken sentence. You never truly talked about your home, never about your family of your past, which is exactly why your friends turned to you with a cocktail of shocked expressions. Despite how polite and proper you always were, whenever someone asked about it, you would have the coldest glare thrown their way, sure, involuntarily, but scary nonetheless, and with time the crew learned to not ask about a past you so much wished to hide.

Despite that, they never judged you for any of it, not even when your friendship has been tried over and over by your cold heart. You were never outright rude per se, but distant hit the nail in the head best. When Himeko would extend an invitation to a “coffee party” for the crew as an example, you refused with a polite smile that felt ripped out of etiquette teaching picture books, saying you prefer tea instead.

She feared you’d be left out, you feared being the centre of attention.

“I believe I’ll head in for the day.” You spoke after finishing to arrange the xiangqi pieces on the board. March left out an “Oh…” and you could hear the sad face in her voice. Amongst the others, she was the saddest when you chose to sit the Xianzhou Luofu out, as ever since your addition to the crew, you never turned down an adventure. You explained that your bones hurt from the cold of Jarilo-VI and that you needed a rest, and with Stelle at their side, you were sure they would have no problems getting trough this one trail-blazing adventure. Sure, it was a bit of a shock for Himeko and Welt, but to March? It was a tragedy. Her new bestie leaving her behind? She swore the world would end.

“Please, have a safe journey and a swift return.”

You nodded your head their way before picking up the xiangqi game and reaching for the door. Your fingers grazed the digital pad just in time to hear Dan Heng’s voice behind you. “I will do the same, didn’t quite finish storing the data bank after Jarilo-VI.”

And so you ended up side by side, walking trough the corridors of the Express. However, as you stepped past his make-shift room, you found his steps synced with yours still and, confused, you turned to face him and painted one of your signature smiles. Fake but pretty all the same.

“Can I help you, Dan Heng?”

It was exactly that cold yet perfect, more-like-a-painting-than-an-actual-human attitude that made Dan Heng distrust you from the moment you stepped on the Express. You left everything to speculation in a way in which even your clothes were a mass of black and colourless, without any culture behind or any story at all to tell. Always in a bland attire with no accessories at all. March made fun of you for being so tasteless, but he saw past the appearance. He saw past the way you acted and into the way you wilded your swords like cranes flying in the wind, the way you prepared and steeped tea, and the way you handled xiangqi and go pieces like a native only could.

He peered into your eyes in a way that made you unravel before him without a single word, and he knew it was to hide a side of you that you’ve hidden deeply to the rest. But not quite to him.

And while he was trying to get over a sense of danger in you, fed by your secrecy, you found peace in his presence. Unbeknownst to him, he was the one thing that reminded you of home and the good in it despite it all. If your memories were filled with torment and loneliness, he was the smell of freshly baked red bean sticky rice cakes in the market, or the sound of wind chimes in the summer rain. He was all of the little things you wanted to push away but found comfort in, and you didn’t know if you loved it or hated him for it.

“Yes, actually.” He nodded. “I find I can’t sleep as of late and I wanted to try one of your calming brews.” You frowned at his words but gave in without asking much, which he greatly appreciated. “Very well, please join me for some tea tonight, then.” And silence settled between you two as you lead him to your cabin with unease rolling off your shoulders.

Your room was much like your clothes. Simple and colourless besides the coffer next to your bed, which was unmistakably made with the mastery of a Xianzhou artisanship. But if he noticed it, he didn’t speak on it at all, nor about the low table in the middle of the room that was in the same style, or… well really about anything. You appreciated that most. Even when you settled on the table a traditional set of cups, a clear tea spreading the most enchanting and calming aroma from them, he did not speak a single word.

As he drank, his eyes rested on your covered qin that sat atop your bed, and he did not need to speak for you to understand his intentions. You sat down quietly on the covers, revealing the simple instrument like a truth you’d usually hide from. And he couldn’t help but watch you with sadness in his heart as you tuned the strings with shaky hands ‘till crystal clear notes echoed trough the room.

You took a heavy inhale and looked upon the dark ebony wood as if greeting an old friend before propping it on your lap, but couldn’t handle to meet Dan Heng’s eyes. At least not when he stared at you as if he knew every single secret you feared to tell.

As you raised your hands in the air, getting ready to pull at the string, his own palm engulfed your exposed skin in an unspoken plea, and you couldn’t help but give into his warmth. He pulled gently until your face was buried into his shoulder and his other arm was in your hair, and you didn’t even notice it when silent tears begun to stain the fabric of his coat. He didn’t protest nor ever addressed it, and you preferred the feeling of his body against yours to the coldness of his eyes on a normal day.

As such, you spent the evening together afterwords. Him silently sipping on the calming tea as the sorrowful yet comforting sound of the qin filled your bedroom, until there were no more tears to shed and the pot on the table had gone cold.

No one wanted to admit it, but it had to be said. Something changed between you and Dan Heng from then on and the first one to notice it was none other than March.

They were getting ready to leave the express when she stated it for the whole crew to hear.

“Is it me or are the two of you like, in love or something now?” She arched one of her eyebrows while her lips rested in a scowl. Now, don’t get her wrong she was more than happy for you two if it was the case, but what she could not stand for was the two of you ditching the adventure to enjoy a date over tea and qin music again.

“March, what kind of nonsense are you onto again?” You huffed with cherry red ears, while Dan Heng choked on the water he was previously drinking. All she could do was wave her hand while saying “yeah yeah,” over and over with a bored face before they set out on their way, but not before Welt pinned the two of you down with a knowing look.

The express stilled with their absence, reinforced by Pom-Pom who claimed to have some cleaning to do somewhere in the Express and Himeko who had some paperwork to finish. The parlour felt almost empty, despite Dan Heng’s presence right next to you. He still held his fist over his mouth as if preparing to cough, cheeks dusted pink and eyes on the starry sky before you, but he didn’t say a word about what happened. And something in you told you to follow his lead.

You ate quietly at the sticky rice cake you tried your hand baking, and although the taste was very different from what you remembered, it was still as good as ever. With a tissue all crumpled up in your hand, you resulted to watching the sky along side your new friend, eyeing the stars one by one as they passed by. Yet you found your eyes sliding lower and lower from the window to the man before you, who you found already watching you with wide eyes. As if caught in headlights, he stammered out an incoherent string of words but did not move his gaze, not even as his body leaned to yours until his hand grazed your chin.

You shuddered at his icy touch, but did not dare to move, not even as his fingertips reached for your lips. He gently wiped your lips then brought his thumb to his own mouth, licking off the excess red bean cream from the cake, and you were absolutely sure your face would explode from how hot it get in that very moment. “You had a bit,” He started, but his mouth closed shut when he noticed the dazed stare in your eyes. “Oh aeons, I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” His voice shook and his own ears turned scarlet red, only now realising what he has done. You shook your head, head turning so you could focus on the floor as if the tiles below your feet were now the best sight you have ever seen. “Ah, not at all! I was just surprised, ‘tis all.” Your sweaty palm gripped the tissue tighter. “Would you like some?” And Dan Heng looked at the half eaten cake you extended to him with an expression you’ve ever seen him give March or Stelle. He stared at the cake in his hands with a wholehearted fondness. “Yeah.” Was all he could manage to whisper back.

And somewhere in the back, you swore you heard Himeko giggle to herself.

The same evening, you would hear three soft knocks on your door in the dead of night. There, in the hallway, with a sweat filled forehead and uneasy complexion, stood Dan Heng, and you would be a fool not to extend a hand to him when he begged for help with his tired eyes.

“Quit hiding!” The criminal’s voice rang trough your head like a broken mantra. “Your true form… reveal it!” Dan Heng did his best to dodge the maniac attacks, all while you and Yanqing stood in an awkward stalemate in the middle of the platform.

Your blade screeched against Yanqing’s, but it was like fighting fire with fire, simply useless. No matter how lowkey you’ve been upon reaching the Xianzhou, he needed one singular look to know exactly who you were, even underneath the mask that covered the lower half of your face.

“You, little..” You trailed off with effort. Despite his usual sense of justice, that you’ve always commanded, his attacks felt awfully biased as he strikes your blade repeatedly with his icy ones. His technique felt as familiar as home did, her teaching seeping in his bones trough and trough, but so did your father’s into yours, which you’ve had much more time to perfect than the little lapdog did.

“Move, you idiot!” And with one harsh push of your blade, the young boy was off his feet, giving you enough time to reach Blade before he could get any damage done on Dan Heng. You yelled with each strike you struggled to par, until his crazy red eyes widened in glee and his sword flew from his hands and right by your chin. The sound of your friend’s cry in agony and the blade tearing trough skin and bone made you pause, and horror struck you as you refused to turn around and to even acknowledge what had happened. “You!” Was all you could let out, sword still pointed straight to Blade’s neck.

“I have news for you.” He laughed, and you took a step back. You would lie if you said your insides didn’t churn with fear, even as he was left completely disarmed before you.

“Behind you… Is none other,” The sound of water engulfed your ears as your head snapped back. “Than the traitor of the Xianzhou. A criminal, forever banished!” Your eyes widened as the barrier around Dan Heng rippled, leaving a water-made dragon to escape with rage all over its face. It roared and turned in the air, coiling until it fell right back to where it came from, and when light and wind filled the platform, you couldn’t help but shield your form with your arms.

“The High Elder of the Vidyadhara… Imbibitor Lunae.”

The hold on your sword weakened. You shuddered as the man you grew so attached to revealed himself before you in a form you’ve recognised from your father’s tales. Long silky hair and cold green eyes, horns and tail and lotus flowers and everything that made the Vidyadhara so revered. You could hardly believe your eyes. With a weak step forward, you pulled at the mask to reveal your strained expression, sword falling to your side numbly.

“You really believed that the Stellaron Hunters were the only ones to infiltrate the Xianzhou?”

Cold air begun pulling at your hair, and you shook off your stupor when Yanqing begun summoning his ice swords. Your body acted before your mind did at the new threat and your sword was back up within seconds, posture ready for a clash.

“A wanted criminal, a banished person and a deserter. In this case, I will bring all three of you to justice!”

The fight ended before it could even begin properly. Yanqing was strong, but Jingliu’s teaching could only get him so far against the three of you. Blade begun striking without mercy, taunting you and Dan Heng for holding back. “What’s wrong, your grace? Scared to harm the boy?” The criminal laughed as you sent only one out of the spirit swords you summoned towards Yanqing. Flashes of electricity begun shining trough your hair with anger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do more. Not even when Dan Heng delivered the final strike with a silent apology.

Yanqing’s knees begun to buckle just as Kafka yelled “All of you, listen to me - stop!”

You couldn’t help but stumble back, swords falling out of existence as Dan Heng’s feet stepped back on the floor and Blade’s weapon vanished before your eyes. “Well, Bladie? Are you satisfied?” She mused and he only hummed in response.

“…What did you do?” Dan Heng called after a moment of silence. “Just clearing the stage for the grand entrance. Can’t have the four of you misbehaving in front of the Luofu’s hotshot general.” Your shoulders stiffened as a familiar laughter filled the platform. All heads turned towards the sight, yet you stayed rooted on your feet, back turned and head shaking in denial. “No, not like this.” You whispered.

“Jing Yuan,” Blade huffed. “General!” Yanqing followed.

The man stared at the sighed before him with a knowing smile just as you got the courage to turn and face him. If he felt anything upon the sight of you, he did not show it. “Many years have passed since the three of you have departed the Xianzhou, and yet the circumstances of your return appear to be equally unhappy. If you still thought of me as a friend,” His eyes went straight to yours, unspoken words weighting you down as you found it harder and harder to breathe. ‘As family’ was what he wished to say, yet he held back. “You should’ve forewarned me.”

“My task is complete.” Was all the blade said. “Mhm. That it is.” Your father laughed in return. “Thank you for assisting the Xianzhou in this small matter. Take this person away, I will pretend I didn’t see anything this time.” He stated harshly despite Yanqing’s protest. Jing Yuan then stared at Dan Heng as the two Stellaron Hunters made their way to the boat at the edge of the platform. “It has been a long time, old friend.” But your friend answered harshly. “I’m not him.”

“Mh. I’m sorry. You cannot leave yet, however. Your astral express friends are still waiting for you in Scalegorge Waterscape. Shall we go and see them together? And you…” The moment you have been trying to prepare yourself for most had arrived, and your father’s smile died on his lips as his eyes analysed your face.

“I missed you terribly, my sweet flower.” Dan Heng stiffened next to you, but his hand fingertips grazed yours in protectiveness, to which you could only respond by accepting his palm into yours. The familiar nickname brought tears into your eyes, and despite the coldness of his face, your father’s voice felt like a familiar little tune you new by heart. Like a warm hug when you needed it most. How you wished you could’ve just forgotten it all and jumped into his chest, just like how you did when you were nothing but a sprout on two legs.

“That being said, we will continue this conversation later. I’m afraid your friends might be in trouble, you see.”

You didn’t know how time had passed so fast, more like a blur than anything, truthfully. Your eyes were opened wide on the platform between the Xianzhou and Scalegorge Waterscape, blade in hand and senses aware as you parred each of the attacks your way. Then you blinked, and when you reopened them, a familiar sight greeted you.

Three cups of steaming green tea on a low rise table, a board of xiangqi and pieces of go scattered all over the table. A sacred silence engulfed the room, besides the occasional sound of the chess pieces falling into place, and none of you could bring yourselves to shatter it just yet.

Dan Heng watched you play with patience while occasionally bringing the cup to his lips, now back into the form you grew so familiar with. You hated to admit it, but his presence comforted you. It gave you the strength to hold yourself together in a situation in which you would have certainly shattered if alone, and your father’s keen eye did not glass over that fact.

You sighed peacefully when your chariot was finally occupied in the middle of the palace, on your father’s side, in a perfect centroid checkmate. The man before you leaned back and sighed, a puzzled expression on his face. “You just had to go and get better than me at this game, did you not?” But you didn’t answer. You still didn’t know what to say, really. Were you feeling guilty for deserting your spot as a cloud knight? For leaving your father behind? Or for bailing on your responsibilities as his daughter? Well, no not quite, so apologising for it felt…strained and forced. But one thing felt real as your eyes met his and Dan Heng’s hand reached for yours across the table. You missed him terribly just as much.

“Every single day that passes shapes you more and more like her.” He added. “I wish you could’ve been by my side for them all.”

“Jing Yuan…” You whispered back, but he didn’t let you finish. “If your mother was here with us today, I assure you, my sweet flower, that things would have been so different.” For a moment, you could hear nothing but your heart beating against your chest.

“You are just like her. And I truly mean it. Your face, your personality, darn it all even the way you speak. And, as your father, I wish I could’ve offered you a better life.”

“You did all you could.” Funny how even now, you were the one to reach with a warm heart, how you were the one to comfort and forgive, even when his heart couldn’t yield.

“Not quite. I was foolish and believed that a firm hand would prepare you for the cruelty of the world. I failed to see, no. I failed to change when I saw that it was harming you more than anything.” You let out a sigh you’ve held in for a very long time and closed your eyes, a last attempt at holding in the tears you wished so disparately to shed.

“I love you, father. Nothing will ever change that. However,” Despite how your hand shook in Dan Heng’s, your voice stood firm, and as you opened your eyes, both men shivered at their determination. “An apology, no matter how needed, will never make up for what has been. If this is your way of asking me to stay, I fear I’ve made my choice.”

But his ever knowing smile was back on his lips, and his laughter caught you off guard. Your fingers tightened on Dan Heng’s fingertips, who had stayed quiet as you and your father voiced what both of you ever feared to before.

“You see, that was not my intention. That being said, if you ever did wish to return, there will always be room for you into my arms, my darling flower.” And you only nodded back, lips slightly parted in surprise.

“We should head out.” Dan Heng whispered to you after the tea had been finished and the conversation ended. He tapped the skin of your palm with gentle fingers, a quiet way of asking for your attention. His eyes were stricken with tiredness, and you doubted that yours were any better, excusing the puffiness brought by your tears.

“Ah yes, I forgot!” The general mused. “There is no need to return to that hotel for the night. I asked for your room to be prepared, for you and your lover here. So you could rest comfortably before leaving.” The moment could be best described by a broken record being pulled abruptly from its recorder and screeching in your head. You eyed Dan Heng who refused to meet your gaze and who’s ears became scarlet red once more. “Father!” You protested. “He- He’s not-”

“Save it, [Y/n]. At least invite me if you do ever get married.”

“Dad!” Shame engulfed you as you pushed Dan Heng out of the room all while the sound of Jing Yuan’s laughter taunted you from behind the doors of the seat of Devine Foresight. You couldn’t help but whisper muffled apologies into your hand that tried to shield your burning face from anyone that would watch, which in truth was as effective as searching for a needle in a haystack.

What you didn’t expect was for Dan Heng’s hand to find yours and move it away, revealing cherry red cheeks that matched his own. He cleared his voice before leaning in just enough for his breath to fan over your ear as your back met the closed doors behind you. “I would not mind if I was.” He whispered before his velvet soft lips rested against the exposed skin of the back of your palm. You were sure your knees would’ve given in if it wasn’t for his arm that hooked around your waist, bringing you so close to him you shuddered.

“I really would not mind it.”

Later that evening, as his teeth grazed your exposed skin before kissing it with sweet words of praise, as your hands intertwined and your bodies became one under the silk sheets of your bed, you could tell that your heart began singing a familiar tune. With each kiss from Dan Heng’s, a new feeling invaded your senses. You were home. Here with him, in this very moment. You were home in his arms.

And you wouldn’t changed it for anything else.

Yes, not even as March yells “I fucking knew it!” the next morning, for the whole of Xianzhou Luofu to hear, upon seeing your neck caked in love marks you had no means of hiding and your hand held tightly by Dan Heng, who only smiled back to everyone as you buried your face into his chest with shame.

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yamujiburo · 11 months ago

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Some of this might sound intentionally hostile in text and I apologize.

I'm saying this as an abuse survivor mind you - don't throw "abusive ships" under the bus so easily - at least, so long as they're not actually glamorizing the abuse. I lived that irl and I personally find someone overcoming it, slowly having enough of that bullshit and getting out over time, and the other person having to wipe their own butt for once after they've made the damn mess, very refreshing. Maybe that's not a ship in the traditional sense. It's no happily ever after bc it shouldn't be, but I find stories like mine shyed away from so often because even the portrayal gets considered a "canon ship". ... that's just how media works now, I guess? I very rarely See a fictional relationship not called a ship in literally any context now so that's the definition I'm running on.

I wish more people were willing to portray the hardships of finding acceptance outside of "whoever you can find will accept you" very much, and finding the better things after. I wish people weren't terrified out of portrayimg situations like mine.

Jessie.. is not a good person in canon. You expect me to believe she moved into to hanamusa seamlessly, without falling on her ass? I never see you talk about Jessie's abusive tendencies in canon. You never talk about the inherent meanness she needed to get over to get there. She's quite aml lot like my ex in canon, actually.

What do you mean you're going to just remove from the character that she is abusive to those around her. Jessie hits people. She takes her own junk out on others all the time. Do you even like the character then, are you actually invested in her growing, or are you just making an OC at this point?

Idk. Do you, boo. But you are posting about a character who, whether you like it or not, is canonically abusive. I just don't buy that dating Ash's mom alone fixed her. That isn't... How that works. It would be excellent if it did. Part of my love of hanamusa is that it signals Jessie's change - but she could have changed for anyone before now.

What makes Delia different? How is she specifically a turning point for Jessie? Because Jessie's flaws go well beyond just bossing people around.

I would love if my abuser had the same outcome as your Jessie. I adore your portayals of hanamusa, where she's still flawed but still strives to do better. That's all I ever wanted from my ex.

What the fuck got her there tho.

Anyways I've been watching a lot of Bojack Horseman lately -

I agree with you! I don't think abusive relationships (or any tough subject matter in general) should be shied away from in media. It can be powerful when executed well and written by folks who are equipped to tell those kinds of stories. I do think it's sad when people treat it as off limits. But the ask I got was definitely more about which ships I have where I actually like the relationship between the characters. I think the semantics of the word "ship" are kind of vague or rather, over time, got so specific to only mean "absolutely love together and want them as endgame" (for most people anyways). So that's usually what I take the word to mean when people ask me about it.

I can 100% appreciate how an abusive relationship is written and handled, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna ship an abuser with their victim (that falls into the glorifying you're talking about). Love Bojack Horseman! Big fan! I think the way they handled Bojack and Sarah Lynn was beautifully and tragically well written. But does that mean I ship Bojack and Sarah Lynn? Absolutely fucking not.

I've talked about Jessie's character plenty on this blog and the way she's handled in earlier seasons specifically. This is kind of a summary: If we look at it on surface level, yes we can say she was abusive. But I think it's important to acknowledge and take into account the medium, time period and culture. Slapstick and cartoon violence was HUGE in anime and animation in the 90s (and prior to that too). Characters were always cartoonishly slapping each other around with giant mallets, folding fans, etc. Looney Tunes style. These slapstick bits were always distinct from real abuse and hurt (for Pokémon, Jessiebelle comes to mind). Mean slapstick wasn't a character trait exclusive to Jessie either. We saw it in Misty, James, Meowth, characters of the day and pretty much any character who got mad. It was a visual shortcut to show anger.

This type of slapstick has since (thankfully) died out and it hasn't really been a part of the Pokémon franchise since the early 2000s. However, Jessie was a notably special case. One of my favorite fun facts about the Pokémon anime is that there was a point in the series where Megumi Hayashibara (Jessie/Musashi's seiyuu) told the writers that moving forward, she no longer wanted Jessie to be violent or to be shown hitting James or Meowth (source: her memoir "The Characters Taught Me Everything"). She thought it directly went against the vision Takeshi Shudo had for Jessie, James and Meowth, when he created them, which was that they are good natured villains. If you watch from DP and on, Jessie never lays a hand on either of them. I think it was a such a good move on Pokémon's part to change her character like that and I'm forever grateful that Hayashibara said something! Whenever I write Jessie now, I always keep that in mind. She's mean, shouty and stupid but would never genuinely hurt those she cares about.

From then, her character becomes much more bearable. She's still bossy, mean and vain (typical cartoon villainess attributes) but I'd hesitate to say abusive. She'll still yell at James and Meowth, they all yell at each other, but in more of a sibling way (imo) rather than a "i'm actively trying to hurt your feelings way". The show makes a point especially in later seasons to show that Jessie, James and Meowth are not beyond being redeemed. From conception the whole POINT of the Team Rocket trio was that they are redeemable but their persistence and obsession keeps getting in the way of them seeing that there's a better life for them out there.

I won't deny that Jessie was unsavory in earlier seasons, but when I write her, I choose to write the version that Takeshi Shudo and Megumi Hayashibara had envisioned from the get go. She's still incredibly flawed and makes plenty missteps but wants to be better as you stated! My favorite part about Jessie is that she's a piece of shit LOL and I enjoy writing the changes she goes through to be better (but then still showing her default so some of her evil tendencies). In this AU, Delia doesn't fix Jessie. Jessie fixes Jessie because she is with someone makes her want to be a better person. She's already in the middle of turning over a new leaf before even meeting Delia, after leaving Team Rocket. Writing Jessie as legitimately abusive I think could work, but that's not my story to tell and if someone who were more equipped to tell that story did, I'd be very interested to take a listen!

I hope this doesn't come off as trying to deny or invalidate your experience. If you see that in Jessie, I hear you! This is just how I've interpreted her character over the years, having watched every episode of Pokémon and reading Japanese interviews from the cast and crew. She's such a compelling character and I love how messy she is

#ask yam #long post #tw abuse

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

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Baby Blues || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by @fireandbloodsource DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: In which a 15 year old Leyla Hightower experiences postpartum depression and all of the Red Keep and Daemon himself, feel the wrath of it. (head-canon to second choice)

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

warning: oc is 15 when she gives birth

The babe’s cries was all the could be heard inside the birthing chamber. The handmaidens all gushed at the baby as they cleaned her up. Leyla laid there motionless. She had never experienced so much pain in all of her years.

Her head slowly turned to the door to which Daemon entered with a smile plastered on his face. He immediately moved to the bed where his Lady wife laid and kissed her forehead, “You did such a good job, ñuha ābrazȳrys” He whispered as Leyla only gave a tight lipped smile (my wife)

She watched as he moved away from her and to their daughter who they already found a name, Alyssa. All the noises around the room had become muffled to the young Hightower and she didn’t even realise that Daemon was talking to her.

“Leyla? I asked if you want to hold her” He cradled the little girl in his arms. She didn’t want to in all honesty. She felt so incredibly exhausted and her body still ached from delivering her child mere minutes ago.

“Okay” She whispered before Daemon laid the babe on her chest to which she groaned. “Why isn’t she properly cleaned” The young girl quipped , her head turned to the handmaidens who quickly apologised and scooped her up to clean her properly.

Watching the whole ordeal, Daemon held Leyla’s hand. “How are you feeling? I imagine the labour was not easy?” He attempted to comfort her but Leyla stared off into the distance, not replying to him.

The prince moved form the bed to a handmaiden, “Did anything happen during the labour?” He questioned as he stared at his Lady Wife. “No your Grace, everything went normal” She replied before curtsying and walking away.

Leyla walked alongside her Husband, a 2 month old Alyssa in her arms. The two walked into Godswood where there was a celebration held for her sister’s pregnancy.

Whispers could be heard around as they stared at the young Hightower. Daemon too felt the tense atmosphere as he rested his hand on the curve of Leyla’s back. Her face was cold and expressionless.

The past 2 months Leyla had been acting incredibly off. Everyone could notice it people around the Keep would constantly gossip and whisper about it. Maybe it was the fact that she was only 15, and yet she already has child to the Rogue Prince himself.

“If you wish to talk about me, at least talk to my face about it” Leyla’s cold words stunned the group of highborn ladies as they look down to the ground; Daemon too glares at the group who were gossiping about his Lady Wife.

She continued walking to her father, King Viserys, and her sister who saw the ordeal. “Sister, how are you” Alicent gives a warm smile to the younger as she hugs her, cautious of the baby in her arms. “The same as always, sister” Leyla deadpanned before turning to greet the King and her father.

Alicent looks to Daemon with a sad expression as he sighs. Leyla beckons for the wet nurse who quickly took the child out of her arms. She couldn’t even find it in herself to look at her daughter as she was taken away.

Both Daemon and Leyla were taken around to different conversations and the whole time, she would stare down at her cup and not utter a word. “Should we go retire to your solar?” The silver haired men says lowly against her head as she nods, Daemon knew she wanted rest, she didn’t even want to be here but she didn’t want to hurt her sister’s feelings by not showing up.

Leyla let out a loud sigh once she sat down. Daemon sat at the chair opposite and busied himself with a book. The wet nurse placed Alyssa back in her mothers arms. Soon after she immediately started crying as Leyla rocked her to try to stop her loud wails but to no avail, the Targaryen babe continued.

Daemon rubbed his temples as he watched his Lady Wife attempting to calm down their daughter. “Hasn’t she already been fed and changed?” Leyla looked to the wet nurse who looked nervous but nonetheless nodded.

“Then why does she keep crying?!” She muttered annoyed at her baby. “Take her, she’s driving me insane” The young Hightower stood up, ready to give Alyssa back to the wet nurse. “Alyssa is not going to be comforted by the wet nurse but by you Leyla” Daemon sternly spoke, his eyes not leaving the book.

Both the wet nurse and Leyla look at Daemon, Alyssa’s cries intensifying by the minute. “I am already exhausted as it is Daemon-“ “Your her mother, you should be able to soothe your own child, am I wrong?” Daemon finally looks up.

Leyla was baffled, she opened her mouth and closed it soon after. She felt like bawling her eyes out too. “Please, please, please Alyssa stop crying.” Her voice cracked as she patted the babe’s back and walked around her solar desperately trying to calm down her daughter.

The wet nurse and Daemon watch her as tears fall down Leyla’s eyes, Alyssa had still not stopped crying. Daemon stood up and walked over to Leyla and took their daughter from her arms.

He calmed her down in an instant as Leyla sat down, her hand massaging her forehead. The wet nurse took the baby from Daemon so that he could comfort his Lady Wife.

He said nothing as he moved her head against her chest as she sobbed. “I am so exhausted Daemon, Alyssa- she’s-she’s so much work and its draining me” She quietly spoke as Daemon did nothing but listen to her troubles and stroke her back soothingly.

“I am no cut out to be a mother-“ The door to her solar opened loudly and startled the girl. Quickly sitting up and wiping the remainder of her tears, Daemon rolled his eyes and leaned back on the chair, oh how he hated seeing his face around. If he wasn’t his wife’s father, Daemon would have slit his throat ages ago.

Otto first looked at the wet nurse who was rocking his granddaughter in her arms before looking at Leyla. With a stern voice he orders the wet nurse to leave, and then Daemon. “If you think I’m leaving my wife in the presence of her cunt of a father, your wrong” He chuckles as Otto’s lips part in disbelief.

“You think I’d harm my own flesh and blood, my Prince?” He raises an eyebrow at the silver haired man. With a shrug of his shoulders, Daemon looks at Leyla who’s gaze is on her hands as she picks at her nails. He holds her hand to stop her from harming herself before looming up at Otto.

“You’ve harmed her enough by arranging this marriage. Now, you either speak to her whilst I’m here or you don’t speak to her at all” Otto scoffs shaking his head before taking a seat opposite the two. “Daemon. It’s okay” Leyla finally looks up to him.

He lets out a breathe, “I’m not leaving this room,” He says before standing up and making his way to the bookshelf. The two Hightower’s watch the Prince before their attention go back to each other.

“There has been talk around the Red Keep that you have been acting differently,” He starts off, “And do you believe them? They’re just talk father, they know nothing” Leyla scoffs in disbelief. The fact that he assumes the talk is true without even consulting with his own daughter about it was sad.

“I don’t have to believe them Leyla, I have seen it myself,” Otto stares into his daughter’s soul as she gulps. His comment made Daemon look to the two. “It’s not difficult to notice how ignorant you are to your own child. Gods, you walk around the place like a ghost Leyla!” He half shouts.

Daemon makes his presence known as he takes a seat near the two of them. Leyla glances at him before looking at her father again, “Father I’ve just been tired and she’s alot of work!-“ “Don’t act as if you take care of the child. Your wet nurse and maids do.”

Daemon chuckles, “She takes better care of her own child than you ever did when Leyla’s mother died” He butts in. Ignoring the Prince’s comment Otto continues, “People are saying you are incapable of being a mother-“ “Because I am!” Leyla yells, leaning forward in her seat as tears start rolling down her face again.

Daemon shifts in his seat as he leans over and rubs her arm. Otto looks taken aback, he was not expecting that answer from her daughter. “Oh please father,” She chokes back a chuckle, “Don’t act as if you’re surprised. I’m 15 for gods sake! Of course I’m incapable of looking after another human being, what did you expect?” Leyla spat in anger.

All her pent up emotions building up from the past 2 months were finally spilling out. “You act as if it is my fault for your ill-manner behaviour towards your own flesh and flood!” Otto points to her. “If it wasn’t for your pressure of producing heirs for Daemon and this marriage, I wouldn’t be in this situation” Leyla spoke through gritted teeth.

Silence filled the room. “I think it’s best you leave, Otto” Daemon stands up and looks down at him. The man scoffs and gives one final look to his daughter before leaving the room.

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #house targaryen #fanfiction #matt smith #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x oc #otto hightower #alicent hightower #king viserys #kings landing #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x oc #daemon targaryen headcanon #hotd daemon #dearmotherhoodseries

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lorryicious · 3 months ago

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do you perhaps have any more Loretta/Bill content I’m VERY curious about their dynamic now 👁️👁️

I HAVE. SO MUCH. CONTENT. Loretta has been an oc I have had for YEARS so I absolutely have SO much stuff on her! Shes definitely my favorite oc alongside Jack, my other gravity falls oc. The short of it is they are forced to work together out of inconvenience by the Axolotl.. The most recent development has been the change in Lorettas ability revolving her sight because I thought it would be so cool if Loretta had the same/similar kind of mutation to Bill. It didn't change much to her character, just another reason why they ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time (time police events. I seriously need to write fanfic of the whole story LMAO)

Their dynamic is SO FUN. They bicker ALL the time and usually are yapping about something. They live together, so I think they argue over the smallest things. When they first ended up needing to work together, Bill was not thrilled AT ALL. He was VERY closed off. Loretta, not knowing this creature at all, just decided to let him do his own thing. It's only after an event where Loretta protects Bill when he's at his weakest that Bill realizes Loretta is harmless and that it wouldn't hurt to try to get some enjoyment out of her company. That turns into an actual friendship, which turns into Bill finding out Loretta is like him. Through this, they open up and become closer because of their similar identities. They just ended up on different paths because of their own mutations AUGH. Bill wanted more, when in comparison Loretta was content with what her world was already like.

Loretta is a demon hunter. She takes bounties from individuals around town to get rid of weirdness. She naturally has a knack for attracting it, so the job is perfect for her. Bill helps her with her bounties; in exchange, Loretta lets Bill drain her energy so he can regain his physical form. I have a whole animatic on my tiktok that shows how the possession works-

They are silly. They fight over what to watch on the tv, they karaoke and drink together, it takes AGES for Bill to actually open up to Loretta, Whenever they decide to share the bed (even though Bill doesn't sleep) he kicks off Lorreta off of it anyway just to frustrate her, they do makeup together, They drive up to one of the hills in gravity falls via Loretta's motorcycle and watch the sunset together. Love them. I have SO many thoughts on their dynamic, but they are there for each other, and despite all their issues, they love each other. They NEVER say it to each other because Bill is deathly scared of that word.

They are an oc x canon ship so they are together as partners TECHNICALLY. Still, I also think they are so messed up via the canon story that an ACTUAL domestic relationship dynamic just doesn't work for the two. Plus, Bill needs help understanding labels and Loretta doesn't need them. Plus there's the Jack situation...Which is a WHOLE OTHER RANT. JACK. AUGH. The love triangle (literally) goes insane. In my happy au they are a polycule asf.

Literally ask ANY questions about them, I might even draw something up if its a fun scenario you guys send,,, I LOVE THAT PEOPLE ARE INTERESTED IN THE OCS BECAUSE !!!! I HAVE SO MUCH CONTENT FOR THEM.

Some of this is older art but it still works <33 and I STILL LOVE IT

This one I did recently-

Great side effect for being able to see outside your plane of reality AND being intertwined to a demon, you get to relive HIS trauma TOO!! (imagine how horrifying that was when Loretta told Bill the dreams shes been having) (double note: Bill played it off like they were random when he was FREAKING OUT ON THE INSIDE)

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familyagrestefanblog · 1 year ago

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Jep, this is basically it.

A+ additional tags 👏👏

ML Hot Take

Chat noir is hiding just as much from Ladybug as she is from him, and they are both doing it just so the other is kept safe and unburdened because they both have a flawed understanding of the other, which leaves them both at fault for the ladynoir fall out.

#MLB #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Ladynoir conflict #I miss loving this girl so much #Why this 'feminist' show demanded that girls need to be praised for being questionable leaders and partners is beyond me #Even in s5 she's BARELY acknowledging that Chat exists underneath the mask and only does so in Kwamis choice when she's basically forced to #'she loves him so much!' is not an argument nor an actual Canon observation anymore bc shes beyond RECKLESS with his life and emotions #Buddy. Her not wanting him dead or not wanting him in pain is neither a standard nor an excuse fordoing everything on his damn expense #She barely ever even TRIED giving the boy underneath the mask an ounce of proper help while she is all he gets to have as support #And her wanting to kiss him in s5 doesn't equal her actually helping him either #The only time she did her damn job towards him was Passion and there Adrien was deadass basically holding her Miraculous hostage #And then she never really does anything again or before that. No matter how many times she sees Chat badly struggle in front of her #No wonder that boy didn't make it out of this partnership #My Ladynoir heart will never stop bleeding and you have to be delusional to think s4 made them STRONGER #Whne s5 Ladynoir is either kind colleagues the way she demanded in s4 or deader than Emilie bc Adrien actualy needed some stability for onc #Yes she loves her Chaton but my problem is that CHATON is all she allows him to be and treats him as if he doesnt exist as civilian #Not to mention that she's never owed up to him about having a second partner behind his back when Alya should have been the helper to BOTH #If Alya had she might hav been able to take the Ring in the finale so Mari isnt ALONE but couldnt bc Mari neglected Destruction to Alya TOO #Oc Alya was too afraid to take Destruction in the finale. Nothing about what Mari's leadership teached her gave the Black Cat any relevance #besides 'anomynous little pet to take emotions out on' & 'emotional support partner whose civilian life is irrelevant'#and all the Ladybug has to do being 'try to laugh' & 'tollerating them when they think you owe them anything unti they learned their lesson #Its not like Alya didnt just accept a random new Black Cat in Kwamis Ch. & didnt even ask for a NAME bc safety around the Cat means NOTHING #Plus LB ALSO denied him the right to get someone himself while still being perfectly fine with Chat further showering her in support #Support she's not giving back & seemingly never considered he might ever need as well beyond a little sentence and cute nickname from her #Despite him openly showing his problems in front of her in s5 several times and yet doing basically nothing to help?#What. Was she simply too comfortable gettin showered in support while hardly bein ask anythin besides not starting raging & screaming again #So she rather kept him believing her lie taht she's ALWAYS been as isolated AS HIM so nothing changes and he doesn't ask for more?#Since from Adriens perspective LB lost Scarabella in Kwamis Ch. who he was made to believe was a person she picked on the spot nothing more #What happened to the boy underneath Chats mask in the s5 finale was something Marinette was WILLING to risk by choosing to look away instea

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loliwrites · 5 months ago

Text

II. Strength | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early to mid 30s], joel lives forever fight me, reader being a bona fide badass, canon compliant violence, hunting mention, infected and terrible humans present, mention of death, blood, and murder, hunger, passing mention of trauma-induced menopause, DUBCON [mention of a previous event], quick flirting bit with jackson!male oc, female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, joel’s really just a big softie, no use of y/n. word count: 5.2k series masterlist

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate all they were trying to do for you. You did. Truly. In a time when not giving people the benefit of the doubt and becoming entirely xenophobic was not only the norm, but easy, Tommy and Maria encouraged the others within Jackson to treat you like one of their own. At least for this month. During your trial period. Probation. And you appreciated their patience with you as they tried to assimilate you into the culture. Dina hadn’t grown frustrated when your lack of upper body strength made feeding and watering the livestock difficult. Seth only made mildly offensive comments toward you when you fumbled orders at the Tipsy Bison and poured a pint of beer that was nearly all foam. Maria managed to hide her disapproval of your lack of enthusiasm to what you could only refer to as Jackson beautification. In reality, just a small handful of the townsfolk delegated to cleaning up the commune. Landscaping. Trash pickup and disposal. General maintenance. And of course there was Wendy who never balked or complained when your greenhouse shifts turned less into an act of work, and more into a study of the edelweiss.

The real problem was that you knew you could never serve them in the capacity they hoped for like this. Maybe in a different life under different circumstances, you could’ve played this role perfectly. A yearning for something else wouldn’t have been present, and you could live a somewhat normal, happy life in Jackson. And with just a week left of your trial run, you told Tommy as much. Told him that you really did appreciate him, but this wasn’t working out. Told him that you’d never been good or reliable at anything except with the use of your gun. Told him that the men in the other group hadn’t brought you along on scouts only because you were a good lay. You didn’t need to be a good lay, it’s not like they cared one way or the other. It was because you were a sure thing with your gun. Told him that he was right – you didn’t miss very often. And told him that if they wanted you to be useful to the community, they were going to have to trust you enough to get you out on patrol. That you wouldn’t go rogue and shoot your partner.

Tommy nodded. Diplomatic. And said you were right. That he’d been denying the thing he knew to be your true talent. That he’d give you a shot and let you take his place on patrol for a day. Joel, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic when his brother told him the news. Something muttered over his shoulder as he pushed past you to get into the armory, like, if she fuckin’ shoots me, Tommy, I swear to God…

You followed him into the armory, where metal cases on the wall, currently unlocked and unlatched, held a line of rifles and handguns. All looked a little different, coming from all walks of life before they ended up in Jackson. Somewhere behind you, you heard Tommy yell back at his brother, at this point, I’d fuckin’ shoot you, Joel. But it all drowned out to nothingness because the very real discovery in front of you was that your rifle wasn’t among the others in the cases. Yours was gone and a fury started to grow inside you. Which one of these scummy, good for nothing…

“Here,” Joel said gruffly, nudging your arm.

In his hands, outstretched in your direction, was your prized possession. You grabbed it from him without hesitation; fingers running over the wood and metal, searching for anything that hadn’t been there almost a month ago when you’d last touched it. Anything that clued you in to the fact that someone else had put their mark on it. But you found none. And while still examining it, Tommy led you out of the armory and toward the gate with the other patrolmen.

“You and Joel are at the ski lodge today. It’s about a thirty minute ride north. Usually not too many sightings of anything up there, but the infected start to migrate in with the colder weather so you gotta stay sharp,” Tommy handed you the reins to a horse, which you immediately went to mount. And once settled atop it, with your rifle in one hand and the reins in the other, he spoke again, “hate to say this as you’re heading out, but… that’s my brother, so if somethin’ happens to him, I’m comin’ after you.”

“Yeah and if he does somethin’ to me, who’s goin’ after him?” You tugged the reins to the left, angling toward the large wood gates that you’d stepped through for the first time three weeks ago.

In a community yet not part of the community. It was a weird limbo to be in. That hadn’t happened in the last group – even if that was only fueled by their desire to get in your pants. Maybe that was the reason you weren’t part of this community yet. And you couldn’t even blame Tommy. Had you not killed the man who’d obliterated your family three weeks ago? Had you not taken the chance to hunt him when it was presented to you? Why would Tommy be any different?

You weren’t sure if Joel only spoke under the veil of darkness. The most words he’d ever spoken to you were on the porch that first night. Every other time – during the day – it seemed he went out of his way to avoid getting near enough to have to speak to you. But here and now, on patrol, there was nowhere for him to go except the same place you were going. And though he rode even with you (you took it as a great success that he didn’t remain a few paces behind you with a gun pointed in your direction), his eyes remained fixed straight ahead. His lips pulled into a thin line.

“She’s your daughter?” you chirped, almost too happily given that the response you’d get in return was an icy glare. “The one I saw on the first day. When you jammed my gun into my back,”

Joel returned his gaze to the wide open space in front of him. The lodge so close now. The muscle in his jaw clenched; teeth gritted.

“She hangs ‘round the barn a lot. To see Dina. Always has something to say about you. You two in a fight?”

“Drop it,” he growled.

You smiled to yourself, taking his verbal response as a win. You forced him into speaking. “I was a teenage girl once. Nothing seemed to piss me off like my parents could. They weren’t even bad parents. I suppose it would’ve been different if they had been. But that’s the thing about teenage girls,” you dug your heels into your horse and got it trotting away, toward the lodge, “they always run home to father.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

It was more spectacular of a place than you ever thought you’d see. A real-life palace. High ceilings. Big windows. You were sure at one point the furniture would’ve been considered luxury. Now it was worn and dusty and showed its age.

Joel approached a small table off to the side and flipped open the cover to a leather bound notebook. He scanned through the pages until he settled on one about a third of the way through. There must’ve not been anything particularly interesting in it, because it was just a quick glance before he closed it.

“So what do we do?” You looked up, inspecting the high-points visible from this great room. Rifle angled down at the floor.

His answer came delayed as he angled his head to the left, seemingly listening for something. When he finally spoke, it was in a hushed tone, “clear it, then post up on the upstairs balcony. You take the second floor. I’ll clear down here,”

“You’re not gonna shoot me, are you?”

Joel turned his back on you and started toward a large doorway at the opposite end of the room, “not on purpose.”

Inspecting your new surroundings once again, you found the stairway to the second level and slowly ascended it, rifle poised and ready. God, it felt good to have it back in your hands again. It had been like you’d had a limb missing for the last month. You were complete again. Restored with the bountiful confidence that maybe was foolish to have in this day and age. Hell, you could turn a corner and a clicker could be in front of your face. Coming back to that reality, you got your head back on your shoulders, your focus on the task at hand, and every one of your senses tuned in.

Each new room you entered, it grew harder to keep that focus. It was all so grandiose, and maybe even in the very back of your head, you wondered when this patrol was going to take the turn that all previous patrols had taken. You remembered the very first one – with George and James. They’d made you prove your skills by taking down a mountain buck a quarter mile down the barrel of your gun. It was child’s play. Almost insulting that they’d think that was anywhere near a hard shot. And of course you made the kill. An hour later after you walked to it and the men finished field dressing it, James pushed you up against the nearest tree not covered in deer blood, and ripped your pants down your legs. At the time you didn’t know to fight him on it. Maybe fighting him on it would’ve gotten you in the same position as the deer. But if you had known that was going to become routine, maybe you would have.

Now this was your first patrol with a new group. With a man no less. And a man that seemed to wield a great deal of power in the community. A man that, if he went back to Jackson with something bad to say of you, meant that Tommy would be comin’ after you. An eight year sentence had already been served, what was a little bit longer?

Joel called your name from what you assumed was the stairwell; his voice distant but growing nearer. You spoke up to give him a clue of your whereabouts, and only a few seconds later, he entered the room you were in. The sling of his rifle over his shoulder. You’d found yourself paralyzed in thought in what you only knew to describe as a library. A long wall of books, some sad-looking, broken lounge chairs, and a long velvet upholstered couch. Dusty and in desperate need of a cleaning, you figured it was still a better option than up against a tree.

Joel looked up at the wall of books and closed the gap between you, “y’read much?”

You could sense him right behind you. Over your shoulder. The energy was buzzing off of him, and you figured this was it. “Not really,” you turned to face him, and set your gun down at one side of the couch. “How do you guys do this?”

“Do what?” His eyebrows furrowed, ultimately confused.

Hands gesturing between your bodies, you almost felt annoyed at his level of coyness. Couldn’t he just get on with it? “The sex,”

Joel choked on his breath and hacked out a cough, “what?”

“It’s just been a month, so it’s gonna be…” your hands migrated down to your pants and swiftly undid the button. Joel’s hands quickly flew to your wrists and held them still. You caught his eyes on you and the look made you want to disappear into thin air.

“We don’t do that,” his eyes flicked down to his hands where they held yours, and he released them and stepped away from you in one fell swoop. “How many times did they do that to you on patrol?” Joel's entire expression fell.

“Every time,”

“Fuck,” Joel scrubbed his hands over his face. He knew people were terrible before the outbreak. Knew men found ways to press their will onto innocent women. But there was nothing like the apocalypse to make people even worse. He couldn’t relive this memory… of finding Ellie after David and the sheer look of fear and panic on her face. And then when he removed his hands from his face and looked at you again, whatever memory he didn’t want to relive, was emphasized by how much he didn’t want you to relive it.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“No,” Joel cut you off, shaking his head almost angrily. “No one’s gonna do that to you here. ‘nd if they try, you send ‘em my way, alright?”

You nodded sheepishly.

“Alright,” Joel reached past you and picked up your gun from the couch. He thrust it back into your hands, “balcony’s out this way.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“You ever think someone could see your head stickin’ out from above the railing?” The question came with more sass than you thought it would. That type of tone would’ve gotten you something terrible with James and George.

You were belly down on the deck, barrel of your gun positioned between the wood slats of the balcony railing; well concealed. Joel, however, was kneeling next to you, head above the top of the railing, with a pair of chunky binoculars in front of his eyes. And from the corner of your eye, you saw him yank the binoculars away and look down at you with a lopsided grin.

“When you’re my age, it’s a little harder to get down like that. Might never get back up,” he chuckled and lifted the binoculars up to his eyes again. “‘Sides, don’t you think I’d see ‘em first?”

“No,”

That made Joel laugh a little harder and he relented to abandoning his post as it stood, and turned over, ass down on the ground with his back against the railing. He took a deep breath and set the binoculars beside him. A quick glance to the side at you – which you caught from your periphery again.

“How long have you and your daughter been in Jackson?”

His eyes widened, and at that, you pulled your eye away from the scope and returned his gaze. You thought the new eye contact would send his focus elsewhere, yet you were the one who folded first. Too nervous to withstand more of that ice cold, death stare. You set your cheek back on the gunstock and looked down the scope, scanning the treeline west of your position.

“Ellie,” Joel huffed and turned over onto his stomach. Propped up on his elbows, he picked up the binoculars and looked through the slats in the railing. “Awhile,”

“How long has she been ignoring you?”

“How do you know she’s ignoring me?” Neither of you looked at each other, but in the silence he continued, “not as long as we’ve been in Jackson.”

“And how much longer do you think it’s gonna be ‘til you spot the two runners?”

Joel snapped to attention; the ferocity of his movement heightening as he moved the binoculars vigorously, searching. “Where?”

“Half mile down the edge of my nose,” your sight stayed locked on the two runners, hobbling out from the treeline. It took Joel an extra moment. Time for them to come out into the open. Then the rustling beside you began, and you knew it was Joel scrambling to get his gun. “Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, pulling off the glove on your trigger hand with your teeth, then quickly chambered a round. But he still kicked and went for his gun, vibrating the old wood beneath you. “Stay still, goddammit!”

Whether it was because no one had ever dared to speak to him that way before, or because he just didn’t expect it from you, Joel did pause. Now standing straight up and holding the binoculars to his eyes, spotting the runners, it allowed you the chance to take action. A slow and steady inhale gave you the opportunity to line up your sight with the head of the first runner. An even steadier exhale as you got ready to apply pressure to the trigger. And then when your lungs were empty, you paused your breathing and squeezed the trigger. Your shoulder absorbed the recoil of the gun, and a second later through the scope, you watched the first runner fall lifeless to the grass. Without much rush, you chambered another round to go for the second, while beside you…

“Shoot!”

Joel was as good as tuned out right now. Nothing could have rattled you short of your gun being physically ripped out of your hands. Inhale. Exhale. Shoot. Only when the second runner collapsed to the ground, a victim to your skill, did you pull your eye away from the scope, and brush the shell casings away from your side. Clambering up to your knees and eventually into a standing position, you looked out toward the trees.

“C’mon,” you tilted your head to the side, urging Joel to come with you. “If someone’s out there, they’ve seen my muzzle flash twice from this position. Let’s move,”

You turned to re-enter the lodge, figuring you could just as well post up at one of the upstairs windows. Joel fell in step even with you, holding his gun at his side. “How long’ve you been shootin’ like this?”

“Twenty-some-odd years,” you mumbled coolly, re-entering the library. “How long’ve you been hard of hearing in your right ear?”

A smirk flashed over his face. It was there and gone in an instant and was quickly replaced by something resembling pain. “Twenty-some-odd years,”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

The rest of the patrol was quiet. Thankfully. Though you had complete confidence in your skill, it was always a better day when you didn’t have to rely on it. Having to rely on it meant you were in, or were shortly going to find yourself in, a sticky situation. As the mid-afternoon sun beat down hard, you were relieved by Jesse and Astrid – two people you’d only happened upon in passing in Jackson. Before leaving the lodge, Joel showed you how to fill out the log book, writing down your names, and documenting what had happened. When he noted “two runners spotted and downed at treeline”, you insisted he write your name there, clarifying that you had been the one who killed both infected. He begrudgingly agreed.

The ride back to Jackson was even quieter than the rest of the patrol had been. Whatever camaraderie had been established at the lodge seemed to have been put on ice the closer you got to the tall gates of the commune. It was almost as if Joel found it acceptable to be a friend to you as long as he wasn’t near the rest of the town. The first words actually spoken on the ride back was when he instructed you to stop your horse. He pulled two flags out of his pocket – one white and one red. Instructed you that white was all clear, and red meant… well, you know… not all clear. Told you that you better wave that flag high and proud when you were coming back from patrol. More than once in his early days in Jackson, someone on lookout on the wall had taken pop shots at him when his waving of the white flag wasn’t up to snuff. You glanced up at the wall and took stock of the guards there – two on either side of the gates, moving to open it up, while their partners remained at high attention, for anyone or anything that might’ve been trailing you back.

It was almost like you had forgotten that the worst part was about to happen. You’d dismount your horse and have to carry on into the armory, whereupon your rifle – which you’d just proved was your best asset – would be ripped from your hands and showcased up on a wall for the taking of any regular joe. Surely that would happen. Because just one foot crossed the threshold before Joel was ripping your rifle out of your hands, steadily moving up to one of the cases on the wall where he replaced his gun. You knew you were about to see yours right up alongside it. But then the strangest thing happened. Instead of stowing your gun next to his, he took yours back deeper into the armory, into another dark room. And too timid to follow him, you remained frozen in place, eyes locked on the doorway until Joel came back through it empty-handed.

He ambled back to you, his arm bumping against your shoulder, “c’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

And he did. And you let him. Trust was always a choice and though not many people had deserved yours in the last handful of years, you chose to give Joel – and Tommy and Maria – the benefit of the doubt. If there were shades of Joel that resembled the men of your last pack, you figured they would’ve come out while on patrol today. Away from everyone else. When you were still new enough for everyone to take Joel’s side instead of yours. But he’d treated you kindly. Like a human. God, wasn’t that just the absolute minimum. The bar was in hell.

Though Joel knew where your cottage was, and probably knew the quickest route to get there. He let you dictate the path. One you were sure wasn’t the fastest one. One that meandered through more of the quiet house-lined streets than was necessary. But it had been your preferred path. Almost like you were doing a neighborhood watch. The sorts you’d done on your family’s land long before George and James scooped you up. It gave you a sense of normalcy; and in it, the strength to turn your head and look up at Joel.

“What’s in that back room in the armory? The one you left my gun in.”

Seemingly catching your gaze out of the corner of his eye, Joel shifted his focus to his feet, kicking up dust with each new step. “Tommy’s got a chest,”

“A safe?”

“S’not that high tech. Just a box with a lock on it. If I’m bein’ honest, it’d be pretty easy to break into,” he looked up from the ground and into your eyes, finding you already nodding. “I know not having your gun on you here was a sacrifice. Least I could do,”

Lips parted and ready to speak but nothing came out. You ascended your porch and nudged the front door open. Maybe the action itself caught Joel off-guard because he hadn’t assumed anyone would leave their property unlocked, but when you looked back at him, he was approaching the threshold with a furrowed brow. “Actually, it’s not the least you could do,” you stepped further into the house and left the door open for him, figuring – knowing – he’d follow. “Reckon you could do far less. So… I appreciate it. Thanks,”

And then, pulling open the refrigerator (a true luxury in this day in age), you remembered the hunger. And just how much you were lacking in the ‘ability to host guests’ department. The appliance was mostly devoid of contents. Just a spare apple and a handful of carrots you’d managed to sneak out of the greenhouse. Maybe that wasn’t the way to go about things in Jackson. But to be honest, you weren’t really sure how to go about it. In a rush, you closed the door so Joel wouldn’t see just how struggling you were. But when you turned to face him again, you found him by the modest wood table. Fingers nudged the “Diva Cup” box off to the side.

“You can give that back to Maria,” you mentioned off-hand. So much so that Joel nearly jumped backward.

He pulled his hand back and shoved both into the pockets of his jacket. With a gulp, he swallowed down a breath. “Might need it. You– I mean– the women– we don’t got any of the other things here,”

You forced a smile, “I don’t need it.”

“‘Kay,” Joel nodded and took another breath. As soon as the fresh air filled his lungs, he had something else to say, “you don’t need food neither, or you’re on some weird apocalyptic diet?” He grinned a little wider when the look on your face turned positively pained.

“I don’t have anything to trade for food, so…”

The crease between Joel’s eyebrows intensified in his confusion, “when’s the last time you ate a full meal?”

You shook your head, fearing that if he saw you in the slightest bit weak, it’d mean you’d be cast out. “I’m fine. It hasn’t been that long,”

“When,”

You looked up at the ceiling and shook your head again. “Tommy and Maria asked me to eat with them at the dining hall,”

“When?” Joel insisted.

You shrugged your shoulders as if you’d had so many full meals recently that it was hard to pinpoint this one. When in reality… “Last week sometime,”

Before you knew it, forks clinked on porcelain. Porcelain. Another luxury. You couldn’t remember the last time (outside of Jackson), that you’d eaten on a real plate and not some tin container or by picking things off a spit and putting them directly into your mouth.

Yet the tableware was really the least interesting thing about this. The meal – prepared by Joel. The whiskey – real. The setting – his fucking house. How different it was from your modest dwelling. Yours, impersonal, sparse with nothing there that was really yours. But a little bit of Joel was in everything here. The tattered boots being dried by heat from the fireplace. The guitar laying on the couch. The wood trinkets that sat on almost every imaginable surface. After asking about them, he confessed that he’d taken up whittling with all his new free time now that Ellie wasn’t talking to him.

And through it all, you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic for how domestic this all seemed. Imagined this was what you would’ve been up to at this stage in life if the world hadn’t screeched to a halt and done a 180. You could see yourself at a table just like this with a husband a little bit like Joel. Big. Brooding. Could see yourself sitting in front of the fireplace with your husband. Reading, catching up. How was your day? Oh I just ran a couple errands. And when the catching up was done, you could see you and him going up to your shared bedroom, having some passionate entanglement, and then passing out. In another reality, you imagined you could really see yourself enjoying sex.

“You don’t have to trade anything for food,”

You looked up from your plate and over at Joel.

“You’re working in the community. Goin’ on patrol, putting your life on the line to protect the group. That’s why you get to eat. Not ‘cause you got something else to give,”

“Didn’t want anyone to think I was bumming for handouts,”

Joel shook his head and scooped through his food despite using a fork instead of a spoon. “You’re workin’. So grab yourself some things from the greenhouse, and I can help you butcher up some meat. You’ll need the strength,”

His mention of the greenhouse sparked your memory. Of something you’d meant to ask him on patrol. But after the embarrassment you’d faced propositioning sex, and then the adrenaline of having to prove your skill, it’d slipped your mind. “You been to the greenhouse lately?”

He shook his head again and looked up at you, reaching for his glass of whiskey, “I’m pretty much on patrol full time.”

“Wendy’s got this flower there. Edelweiss, she calls it. I’ve never seen anything like it. She said Jesse found it on patrol and brought it back. Was wonderin’ if you knew where he found it?”

Joel took a quick sip and set the glass back down, quickly moving back for his fork. “Probably fuckin’ poisonous or somethin’,”

“No, it’s pretty. Little. She said it sometimes grows right on rocks. Kinda weird, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s kinda weird Jesse’s out pickin’ flowers when he should be focusing on a patrol,”

You giggled. Joel had a point. Of all the things of importance in today’s way of life, gardening seemed to be the least of it. And yet… “I think it’s kind of romantic of him. Maybe he picked ‘em for his partner.” Then, staring at Joel from the corner of your eye, “you got a girlfriend?”

Joel coughed at your abruptness. He set his fork down and took up his whiskey tumbler. “Tommy’s tried settin’ me up with a couple women,”

“No one serious?”

He smirked and shook his head. Picked his fork back up and stabbed at a carrot – your only contribution to the dinner. “They all seem to come to the conclusion that I’m cold,”

“No,” you elongated the end of the word with feigned disbelief. “Not with your sunny disposition,”

Joel laughed. Admittedly it was a little shocking at how easy it seemed to come from him. “Big talk from someone who just spent the last eight years with a bunch’a scumbags,”

“Yeah, well, I’m fucked up.”

His smile lasted a little longer. Long enough for you to both get your wits about you and where you’d brought the conversation. “You ever have a boyfriend in that group of assholes?”

You shook your head with a grin. Consider one of those guys a partner? Absolutely not. “Never had a boyfriend, period. Sounds like a feat but it’s actually not hard when the world shits the bed in your adolescence and your entire existence becomes warding off strangers or muddling through some bad dick just so they don’t shoot you.” With one last bite, and now sufficiently full, you leaned back in the chair, satisfied.

“Jesus,” Joel wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back to match your posture.

“But you… I bet you were batting off women left and right before the outbreak,”

Another fond smile swept over his face, “I had a daughter so my escapades sorta tempered out there.”

“Ellie’s not that ol–”

“Ellie’s not mine biologically,” he stretched out and stared at his hands. “Guess she’s really not mine at all. Just a kid I met along the way. Can’t even get her to look at me,” Joel finished off his whiskey in one big gulp and set the glass back on the table with a heavy clink. “Did’ya mean what you said earlier? ‘bout teenage girls?”

Your eyes flicked back to Joel’s face. He looked pensive, almost hopeful that you had. That Ellie would run home to father. And even if he wasn’t actually hers, that she would indeed come back to him. “I did,” you assured and leaned forward in your seat. With hands outstretched across the table, you reached out for Joel though you knew he wouldn’t reach back. “There wasn’t one thing in life I didn’t run back to my dad for. Dad could fix anything. F’I didn’t know how to handle something… if I couldn’t handle something… he always picked it up for me. That’s what good fathers do and I reckon you’re a pretty good father. She’ll come around. Everyone runs back to safety,”

#joel miller x reader #jackson!joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #ppcu fanfiction #edelweiss fic

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zucchinitart · 5 months ago

Text

skinty LJ 💕

finally gonna make a ref sheet for this man!! repurposing an old sketch cuz I still generally agree with the design…I actually intended to render that old sketch but never did 😭

now here’s some never-before-revealed lore and headcanons!! (this all takes place in a story I’ve never created except in my head 💀 also some have been told, I’m just reiterating them):

-This is how LJ generally looks between the years 1817 to 1886. He was “born” in 1803, stayed with Isaac for one year, got stuck in the box for 13 years, and only started wearing bandages in 1817 once he became a target to the public. As he started getting more wounds, he found out that they would open up easily and opted to wear bandages most of the time.

-He can’t eat as he lacks a digestive system. Instead, he feeds on human interaction. The more positive the interaction, the better it is for him. Because he had such a poor relationship with humans during these years, he ends up looking starved. He’s quite weak in this state, and the only thing keeping him alive is his wit and his sharp nails for weapons.

-His limbs are black right above the connection of his joints (knees and elbows). The rest of his skin is white.

-His hair would be naturally curly, but due to improper care and the long length dragging it down, it ends up looking wavy and sometimes even straight, albeit very frizzy and/or greasy.

-In 1886, that’s when LJ and Lillian first meet (omg OC and canon??? gross 😰🤢). They create a pact, and he starts getting more positive interaction with humans. As he gets more “sustenance,” his wounds start to heal properly and he gets stronger. Unfortunately, most of his wounds have scarred over at this point and they remain on his body as it’s now recognized as “healthy” tissue. (Placement of scars will be in another post)

-Lillian is 23 when she first meets LJ.

-Before his strength improved, Lillian could actually beat LJ in an arm wrestling contest!! But after about a few months of being together, that was no longer the case. (Lillian’s ego was a little hurt, but it was inevitable 😞)

-Although it looks like it, he never actually felt starved. He doesn’t experience typical feelings like hunger or fulfillment.

-Sadly, he’ll never retain his curl pattern. Lillian tries very hard to get it back as she has her own experience with her hair, but she can never get more than a few curls on his head. She gives up at some point and just accepts his wavy/straight hair as is. LJ truly doesn’t care either way. If he had his way, he’d probably forget and never wash it again.

-the dickless look is on purpose!!! No reproductive system means no dick!! Yippee, no nsfw 🤗 Unless I feel freaky, which will most definitely happen…so if you ever see him with a dick, it’s just for my own nefarious purposes 😞

-When Lillian first found out how old LJ was, she said “wow, you could be my grandpa….” LJ didn’t take too kindly to that and scolded her like a grandpa.

-His body stopped aging once Isaac died. In this version, Isaac dies at the age of 21. LJ is physically around 5 years older than Isaac, so his physical age is stuck at around 26 (but it’s not rlly trustworthy as his body isn’t comparable to a typical human’s…I’d say it’s probably between 25-35 though)

I want to get into so much lore, but I wanna save it for when I draw a comic or something. Ty for reading if you read this far!! 💕

#laughing jack #creepypasta fanart #sketch #headcanon dump

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beausprouts · 5 months ago

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PLEASEEEE GIVE US THE LORE TIMELINE FOR UR AU

WELL I MEAN IF YOU INSIST-

I made this timeline JUST FOR THIS MOMENT. More rambling under the cut if anyone is curious 👍

So essentially I changed everything because I can. I've been in the fandom since like the first game came out and I was a baby so it's my right to mold the lore to what I want thank you very much.

I essentially just condensed it. So FNAF 3 and the events of the Steel Wool era are combined. It makes sense to me that a company like the one that owns the Pizzaplex would use a literal real life murder spree to make a haunted house. Did you guys see the Scraptrap arcade cabinet? Yeah. Exactly.

I took inspiration from the movie with how Will was able to have a weird psychic connection to the kids, and controlled them in a way to how Henry's relationship with the missing children is in this continuity. He was essentially able to convince them it was Will that killed them. Only Charlie knows the truth, because she hasn't revealed herself to her father and pretty much saw everything happen (yikes). I like to think that Charlie and Will kind of team up similarly to how Henry and Mike team up in canon? A perfect mirror flip.

I'm toying big time with some twists, I do like the mimic as a villain but I haven't decided yet if I'm going to use him for this plotline. Maybe! Who knows maybe Henry never made it to his 70s and the current CEO was the mimic all along ooh spoookyyy.

My OC Beau essentially replaces Vanny as the partner in crime to Springtrap. Though this time the goal is to clear his name and to free the souls of the children. Vanessa is still around but nothing bad ever happens to her because she doesn't deserve it and I love her.

I want Michael to get out of the Sister Location spot under the Pizzaplex and become a minor antagonist too because him, Evan, and Elizabeth all also blame William for what happened, what reason would they have to believe otherwise its fair.

So yeah y'know, drawing my stupid oc being silly with Springs ended up getting its own lore bible my bad. Autism moment.

#fnaf au #william afton #henry emily #beauart #beauspeak #listen i am THE YAPPER #i was WAITING for someone to ask y'all should not have asked!!!!#thank you for asking sobs #who framed william afton au

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 year ago

Note

HI there, hate to bother you but i was wondering if you could do the amazing digital circus head canons for a gn! reader who acts a lot like ena

if you have never heard of it you can check on the ena wiki but i would really love if you did something like this so thanks

TADC x ENA type!GN!reader

typically i would do all the characters in one post, but its starting to get late and tumblr wont let me save half answered asks in my drafts for some reason TToTT so im gonna split the cast in half, if you want the rest of the characters you can send in a second ask so i can remember to do everyone else :0! also my apolocheese for any personality mistakes, i think i watched ena a long time ago but was confused/didnt watch the whole thing so uh uh!! relying on a character wiki for this (on that focuses on season 1 so uh uh, idk if that will impact anything) little bonus bonus incorporating enas color thing into this cuz uh we can say its digital world stuff ooo that gives me an oc idea; oc whos like the mayor from nightmare before christmas who has a spinny head/face thing that relates to their emotions

CAINE:

caines is going to be shorter because hes just your number one fan regardless of your personality, in fact he probably has a silly shirt with your face on it somewhere

will do everything in his power to make sure youre happy and content, and will do everything to cheer you up when you switch over to your sad side

takes you to wherever it is that he 'sleeps' when you get overwhelmed by stuff and keeps you there until both of you are sure that youll be okay and your blues are long gone

you and him easily match energies, sometimes he will even try to one up you with using fancy intricate words

POMNI:

writing pomnis part first but oh funny is it that pomni and ena have the same VA

anyways

absolutely loves you, but she is so so worried about stressing you out and switching to your 'sad form', tries to (often times unsuccessfully) cheer you up

honestly you both need a break, things in the circus are hectic and insane, and considering pomni just got here she is going to need your help to get used to things

not much to be said since i think pomni is another character i struggle to write

JAX:

initially teases you for how fast you switch up, its almost like gangle being more upbeat with her comedy mask and more sad when its broken

tones it down a little when you explain you cant really control it whereas gangles case is just her being more confident with the comedy mask (at least thats my hc)

sometimes give you weird looks when you use an unnecessarily long set of fancy words to describe something mundane

bro is fighting the urge to mimic it

surprisingly does the kind thing, he takes you off to the side when something stresses you out so you can have a minute to compose yourself

RAGATHA:

optimistic sweetheart meets ray of sunshine, you two are an unstoppable force of good and kind of rub off on some of the others

similar to jax when you get stressed out or upset about something, usually when its an in house adventure, she sweeps you to the side and helps calm you down. she probably knows some breathing techniques, i think

ignoring the fact they probably dont need to breathe but thats asides the poin

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader

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athanza · 7 months ago

Text

Starlett - Part 1

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

Summary: The Ghoul remembers a recruit of Moldaver, by the name of Irene Taylor, who he met before the war.

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 2 | Part 3 | Final part

2296

Cooper's weather-beaten boots thudded on the dirt, the stones crackling beneath his heels.

The town was too quiet for there not to be a surprise waiting for him somewhere amongst the pre-war rubble so when a glimpse of movement caught his attention and he pulled his gun.

A kid, no older than 15 held up his hands in fear.

"Please don't shoot!"

Coopers sunken eyes narrowed. "Do yourself a favour and scram. If you try anything I will shoot you. Understand?"

The kid nodded frantically in agreement and Cooper gestured with his gun for the kid to get out of there.

As the boy ran off, a large, rolled up piece of paper fell out of his backpack and unfurled face-up in the dirt.

Cooper stepped over as he re-holstered his gun, and looked down at it out of curiosity. When he saw a familiar face on it he bent down to pick it up and held it out in front of him.

"Irene Taylor," It read. "Songbird of Hollywood Hills."

On the poster was a large photograph of a glamorous woman behind a microphone, and a look of a fond, yet faded, remembrance appeared on his scarred features.

2077

"This is a little public for a meeting isn't it?" Cooper asked as he and Lee Muldaver made their way to an empty table at a local jazz club called the Bird Cage.

"My contact is meeting us here. Don't worry about being recognised, this place is used to celebrities, they mind their own business."

They took a seat and settled in and Cooper turned his attention to the band, the singer had a lovely voice and it reminded him of the band that played at his wedding. He shook the memory from his mind.

"So where is this contact?" He asked.

Muldaver smiled a little. "You're listening to her."

He looked back at the singer.

Now that he thought about it, he did recognise her. He'd seen her face on posters for jazz clubs all over the city but never gave them much thought.

"Her husband is Frank Taylor, he's an executive for Vault Tec. She feeds us any information she can get. She's one of our best."

She had wonderful stage presence, captivating the audience with a rendition of "Them There Eyes" by Billie Holiday. Her champagne coloured dress sparkled in the stage lights, and she had every person in that room wrapped around her finger, and she knew it.

When she finished the song the room roared with applause and she stepped off the stage, politely thanking patrons as they came up to her on her way over.

Muldaver rose from her seat to meet her as she reached their table.

"Lee." Irene smiled fondly as she hugged her. "Thank you for coming."

"That was wonderful as always."

"Stop it you." Irene joked.

"May I introduce Mr. Cooper Howard?"

Irene looked at him and he held out his hand, having stood up with Muldaver.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Howard." She smiled as she took his hand.

"The pleasure is mine." He replied with a charming grin.

She sat down at their table and waved the waiter down for a round of drinks.

"How is everything going? Is Frank well?" Muldaver asked.

Cooper noticed Irene make a subtle, nervous glance at the bar before answering. "He's fine." She replied. "You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes, our new recruit."

Muldaver looked at Cooper and Irene seemed surprised, unable to reply for a few seconds.

"I apologise for seeming so shocked, but with all of your promotions with Vault Tec, you're one of the last people I'd expect."

"Don't worry about it." He replied, reassuring her. "I understand. I'm not the first I'd expect either."

"Well, I guess this proves how convincing Lee can be." She smiled again, but there was something in that smile that seemed pained somehow.

Just then, a man came up behind them with a drink in his hand and put the other on Irene's shoulder and she jumped a little.

By her reaction Cooper thought it was another random patron come to say hello and invade her space, but he kissed her on the cheek and she looked up and smiled at him.

"Hello darling." She said.

"Hi Frank, how have you been?" Muldaver smiled.

"Oh, you know, more hours and no pay rise." He joked.

It was obvious he was tipsy and the discomfort on Irene's face as her husband sat down next to her made Cooper's eyes narrow a little.

"Darling, have you met Mr. Howard?"

"No I haven't had the pleasure." Frank replied, reaching over to shake his hand. "Nice to finally meet you Mr. Howard, your advert for vault 4 was terrific, exactly what we were looking for. I was sad to hear about your resignation."

Cooper shifted in his seat and chuckled uncomfortably, trying to retain his professionalism. "Ah, well, I'm not getting any younger." He joked.

Frank laughed, a little louder than was necessary. "Aren't we all! Say, is it true that it was your real dog in A Man and His Dog?".

Cooper took a sip of his drink that had just arrived. "Yes, Roosevelt, he's a beloved member of our little family."

"Well isn't that just the cutest darn thing." He smiled.

Irene was shrinking. Frank's presence was drowning the one that was only just captivating an entire audience. Then he noticed it and his chest pulsed with distain.

"Mr. Taylor, would you mind if I stole your wife for a dance?"

Irene looked slightly worried and stuttered her reply. "U-um, I don't..." She looked at Frank, almost for permission.

He hesitated but wanted to save face in front of everyone. "Of course." He smiled.

She stood up and walked over to take Cooper's extended hand.

He lead her to the dance floor. The band was playing an instrumental of "Good Morning Heartache" and he placed a hand on her waist.

"Not too close." She said. She realised her fear had slipped out and very quickly composed herself. "Don't want Frank to get jealous." She chuckled, disguising her reaction with a joking tone.

He stayed a modest distance from her as they began swaying to the music.

"He's playing it down but Frank is a big fan of yours. He's seen almost all of your movies, even dressed as your role in The Man From Calabasas for Halloween a few years back."

"You know," he said. "There's a funny story from that set. In the scene where I had to lasso that steer, the first take it somehow managed to pull me clean off my horse. I had a terrible black eye for two weeks after that, but the makeup team covered it up so well that no one could tell. In other words, I know a cover job when I see one."

She nervously glanced at her shoulder, briefly enough that hopefully Frank wouldn't notice if he was watching her.

"I know we just met, and it's none of my business, but Lee told me you married him for the mission. If he's hurting you, you need to tell her."

"She knows." Irene replied.

"She knows? And she hasn't pulled you out?"

"I asked her not to."

"Why?"

"Because this cause means a lot to me, and whatever I'm going through is for the greater good. I'm the only one with my foot in the door this high up, at least before you showed up."

He was getting angry now, not at anyone in particular, but at the unnecessary situation.

"Forgive me, but that's about the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard. You don't need to be in this any more than I do."

She scoffed dismissively. "You don't understand Mr. Howard, this is my purpose, stopping Vault Tec in any way that I can, even if it's one password or document at a time."

Part 2

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