#I think it would kill him to care about them because they're his kids and not just pretending to so he could hurt others | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milla-frenchy · 18 hours ago

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So happy to read them again 😍😍

You lay on the couch, the blanket Joel brought you tucked snugly beneath your chin, feeling the comforting weight of it. The soft fabric smells faintly like him—like the dust and leather of the ranch, with a hint of something deeper you can't quite place. Your body aches from the injury, a constant reminder of your fragility, but the blanket is a small luxury, an oasis of warmth amid the discomfort.

This is so beautiful and vivid 😍😍

There’s something reassuring about having everything within arm's reach, a reminder that you still have some control, some autonomy, even if your body doesn’t quite feel like your own right now.

I loved all of this. Reading her emotions, feeling them. Poor baby 😥

"What’s her name?" you ask gently, your voice soft but steady. You’re careful, wanting to open the door without forcing him through it.

omg this is beautiful. I love how careful she is

"Named after my grandmother. She is—" His voice catches, the present tense faltering mid-sentence like a misstep on uneven ground. "She was a special kid."

I didn't plan to have my heart broken on a wednesday afternoon after work oh nooooo 😥😥😥

"S’been tough," he admits, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But you find a way to keep goin’. Life doesn’t stop, even when you wish it would."

And this?! This hurts so much, and, it's so true...

When he finally releases your hand, moving his arm slightly, the warmth of his skin lingers, a quiet reminder of the moment you’ve shared. "Thank you darlin’," he says again, his voice steady but soft. There’s something in his eyes now—something lighter, as if the act of sharing, of being heard, has eased the weight he carries, if only a little. "Means more than you know."

❤️❤️❤️ I love this so much

And then he’s gone. You stare at the ceiling, your heart heavy with regret, the words you wish you’d said echoing in your mind. "Stay. Please stay." But you didn’t. Instead, you let him walk away, the distance between you growing not just physically but emotionally.

Why didn't youuuuuuuu 😭😭😭

"I... I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Letting someone—letting you—" "You don’t have to know," he says quietly. "You just gotta let me in."

omg what? 😍😍😍 Odiiiiii you have me on an emotional roller coaster what are you doing to meeeeeeee

“Should’ve just stayed downstairs, fuck sakes,” he mutters to himself.

uuuuuh you're really trying to kill me here

Joel steps closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is about you bein’ a burden? Dammit, I don’t care about that! I care about you not gettin’ yourself killed because you’re too damn stubborn to listen!”

I ALWAYS love when Joel tells someone they're stubborn. I always cackle, cause LOOK WHO'S TALKING, SIR 😂😂😂

“I’ve been where you are,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve lost too much. And I’m not gonna lose anyone else... not like this.”

Damn. Speechless. Odi if I catch you!!! (I'm gonna send you a lot of gifs to take revenge 😌😏)

Howdy Honey II. Beautiful Mess

Series Masterlist * Masterlist * Wordcount 6.6K

Summary: Joel grapples with his frustration and fear after you push him away

Warnings: the fluff before the smut! Some angst and mentions of loss

Notes: Thank you for the long wait for this chapter. Getting back into it with these two has been so much fun! I am very excited for the next chapter heheh. I can foresee three more chapters, which I will hopefully have out at a decent pace. Ty @evolnoomym for reading this over ♏️🌙

You

The first rays of morning light filter through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow across the living room. The ranch outside is waking up, the sounds of hooves and rustling hay mingling with the birds' early songs, but inside, there is a stillness. The air is cool, soft, and peaceful before the day fully begins. You lay on the couch, the blanket Joel brought you tucked snugly beneath your chin, feeling the comforting weight of it. The soft fabric smells faintly like him—like the dust and leather of the ranch, with a hint of something deeper you can't quite place. Your body aches from the injury, a constant reminder of your fragility, but the blanket is a small luxury, an oasis of warmth amid the discomfort.

The potted plant in the corner catches your eye as its leaves flutter in the breeze coming through the open window. The subtle movement is a welcome distraction, drawing your focus away from the twinges of pain in your side, from the dull ache that’s become your constant companion. It's not the worst pain you’ve felt in your life, but right now, in the stillness of the room, it feels like the only thing that matters. You wish you were in your own bed, in the comfort of your familiar space. You can almost picture it—your room upstairs, the soft quilts, the shelves filled with books you've collected over the years. But the reality of your situation makes that impossible. The mere thought of climbing the stairs sends another sharp wave of pain through your body, reminding you that independence is a luxury right now, not a reality. You’ve always been fiercely independent—too proud, maybe, to admit when you need help. The idea of relying on Joel, especially now, when every moment around him seems to stir something inside you, feels almost too much to bear. When you were healthy, those stairs were nothing. You could run up them without thinking twice, bounding up two steps at a time. Now, the idea of even attempting it is enough to make your chest tighten, a reminder that things have changed. You can’t ignore it.

Joel has offered more than once to carry you up to your room, insisting that you’d be more comfortable in your own bed. But each time, you've turned him down. It’s not because you don’t trust him. You know he’s kind, that he genuinely wants to help, but the thought of him lifting you, of feeling his strong arms around you... it stirs something in you—something complicated. It's not just physical pain you need to recover from. There’s a tangle of emotions you can't unravel yet, especially not with Joel so close. Instead, you remain on the couch in the living room, finding comfort in its familiar layout. The space is small, but it feels like everything you need is within reach. The kitchen is just a few steps away, and the thought of being able to grab something to eat or drink without too much effort is a small but significant source of relief. You don't have to ask anyone for help every time you need something. The books and movies you've scattered around the room are close enough that you can slip into another world with little more than a turn of your hand. There’s something reassuring about having everything within arm's reach, a reminder that you still have some control, some autonomy, even if your body doesn’t quite feel like your own right now.

But perhaps the most comforting part of this setup is Joel—always nearby. You know he’s there, moving around the ranch just out of sight, yet still within earshot. You can hear the faint sounds of him tending to the animals, the creak of the barn doors, the rustle of hay and boots on the dirt. It's not quite company, but it's enough. If something were to go wrong—if the pain in your side flared up again or you needed assistance in a way you couldn’t manage—Joel would be there in an instant. The thought of him close by, ready to step in, is both a comfort and a quiet reminder of how much you rely on him these days. You tell yourself that you don’t need him, but there's an undeniable warmth that settles in your chest knowing he’s just a room away. Still, the idea of needing help from him, especially in such a vulnerable state, stirs something deeper in you. Something that makes your heart flutter unexpectedly, a feeling that you can’t quite define. It’s easier this way—on the couch, within your little bubble of semi-independence, where your emotions can stay tucked away, just like the soft blanket Joel brought you.

You glance over at the cover of one of his daughter’s western novels, the title catching your eye. There's something about it that piques your curiosity, stirring questions you hadn’t meant to ask. Who is she, this daughter of his? Was she older? And then, the question that sits uncomfortably in your mind: Is Joel married—or was he? You’ve never seen a wedding band on his finger, never heard him speak about a wife. The mystery about him lingers, unresolved. You know you should be resting, but your mind refuses to settle. You shift slightly, adjusting the blanket as you try to distract yourself. Your eyes drift back to the book on the table—a well-worn copy of Lonesome Dove, its spine cracked and pages dog-eared. Something about the worn edges calls to you. It's a link to the world you grew up in, a reminder of the ranch life, of the toughness and independence that runs through your veins. You never could quite leave the ranch, even when you tried. You reach for the book, your fingers brushing against the paper's texture, the act of holding it feeling almost like coming home. You open the cover to the first page, the familiar scent of ink and aged paper filling your senses. As you dive into the world of Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call, the stories of cowboys and cattle drives pull you in. You’re captivated by Gus and Woodrow—two men bound by their pasts but so different in their approach to life.

As you read, you find yourself identifying with Lorena Wood, Gus's girlfriend. Her fight for her place in the world, her refusal to let others define her, resonates with you deeply. The scene where she insists on joining the cattle drive despite the objections of the men speaks to something inside you. The words, “I ain’t afraid of a little hard work,” echo in your mind, a mantra of defiance that you wish you could adopt fully. You can’t be weak. You won’t be.

"Dreamin’ is free, Lorena," Gus says to her, his voice a mix of wisdom and weariness. "It don’t cost nothin' extra to dream good dreams."

The words settle over you, and for a moment, you close your eyes. You think of Joel—his gruffness, his strength, the way he moves through the ranch with a quiet intensity. He’s always there, a steady presence in your life. You can’t help but wonder what kind of man he was before, what dreams he once had, what kind of life he led. Your thoughts drift, pulled back into the story before you can get too lost in them. The sun climbs higher in the sky, its light streaming through the windows, warm now, settling into the room. You glance at the book beside you and set it aside with a small sense of pride. You've made it through several chapters without letting your mind wander too much.

Your side aches more now from sitting too long, and you know it’s time to try standing. It’s been too long since you felt any sense of control over your own body. You push the blanket back, and slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the couch. The room tilts slightly as you plant your feet on the floor, and you take a steadying breath, trying to ignore the sharp twinge in your side. You hate this. Hate feeling weak. Hate needing help. But you can’t let that stop you. You refuse to let it define you. You're determined to regain some independence, to show Joel that you're not just some fragile thing that needs constant watching over.

You push yourself up, wincing as another wave of pain stabs through your ribs. The movement is slow, deliberate. Each step feels like an accomplishment, even as the pain pulses beneath the surface. You make it to the kitchen, though you're panting by the time you reach the counter. You grip it for support, feeling the cool edge beneath your fingertips. The simple act of pouring yourself a glass of water feels like a triumph.

Then you hear the creak of the front door. You don’t have to look to know it’s Joel. The sound of his boots on the floor, the low murmur of his voice as he moves about the ranch—it's all so familiar now. You hear him pause, then step into the kitchen. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there, gripping the counter like it’s your lifeline.

"Well, look at you," he says, a note of surprise and admiration in his voice. "You're up and about."

You offer him a small, self-conscious smile, glad he’s not rushing to fuss over you. "I thought it was time," you say softly, setting the glass of water down with careful movements. "I can't just lie on the couch all day."

Joel chuckles, his gaze sweeping over you with that same intensity that sends a warm flutter through your chest. He steps closer, cautious. "Reckon not," he agrees, voice low. His eyes linger on you, and you can't tell if it's concern or something else. "But don’t go pushin’ yourself too hard now."

"I’m fine," you insist, a little too quickly. "But you look like you’ve been at it all morning. Would you like something to drink?" You try to sound casual, but the offer feels like an excuse to keep him there, a way to ease the tension building between you.

"S’alright, I can get it," he says, but his voice is strained, tired. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, a visible sign of the work he's been doing.

Before he can protest, you start toward the fridge. "Shut up," you say with a teasing smile. "I got it. Iced tea, right?"

He chuckles softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "That’d be perfect, darlin’."

The fridge door opens with a soft creak, and you pour the tea, the cool liquid filling the glass with a satisfying sound. The simple act requires more focus than it should, but you take your time, savoring the moment of normalcy. You hand him the glass, your fingers brushing his ever so briefly. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends an unexpected jolt through you, a spark that neither of you can ignore. For a moment, you both stand there, neither of you speaking, as if waiting for something to break the silence. His gaze flickers to the floor, then back to you, and he clears his throat, taking a small step back.

"Thanks," he says, his voice steady but low, and his eyes meet yours briefly before he raises the glass in a small salute. He drinks deeply, closing his eyes as the cool tea washes over him.

"You're welcome," you reply, your voice quieter than usual. You busy yourself with straightening up the kitchen, your hands shaking slightly as you try to ground yourself in the mundane. But even in the simple act of tidying, you can feel his gaze on you, the weight of it making you feel exposed in a way you can't quite understand.

"You’ve found some use for the blanket and books, I see," Joel says, his voice soft, but you catch the hint of something more in it, something like pride.

"They've been a good distraction," you answer, a little more casually than you feel. "I'm curious about your daughter’s books. She’s got good taste."

At the mention of his daughter, Joel’s face softens, a wistful look crossing his features. "She always did love a good story," he says, his voice quiet, distant. "Used to read to her every night when she was little. We'd get lost in all sorts of adventures together.”

The conversation takes a quiet but significant turn, pulling you both into uncharted emotional territory. You sense it the moment Joel’s expression softens at your question, his guarded demeanor cracking just enough to let a sliver of vulnerability through. It feels fragile, like holding a bird in your hands, its rapid heartbeat thrumming beneath your fingers. You tread carefully, hoping not to press too hard but unwilling to let the moment pass unacknowledged. "What’s her name?" you ask gently, your voice soft but steady. You’re careful, wanting to open the door without forcing him through it.

He hesitates for just a breath before answering, his lips curving into a small, wistful smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Sarah," he says, his voice tinged with warmth and something deeper—something bittersweet. "Named after my grandmother. She is—" His voice catches, the present tense faltering mid-sentence like a misstep on uneven ground. "She was a special kid."

The weight of that single word, was, hangs in the air between you like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of meaning outward. It cuts through the small warmth his smile brought, replacing it with a heaviness that settles deep in your chest. Your heart clenches, the realization landing like a blow. You try to keep your voice steady, though your stomach twists. "Was?" you venture cautiously, the single syllable feeling heavier than it should.

Joel’s expression shifts immediately—his jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if bracing for an impact. You see the pain flash through him, raw and unguarded, before he wrestles it back under control. For a moment, you think he won’t answer, that he’ll shut you out completely. But then he takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet and steady, though it trembles at the edges. "Sarah passed away a few years back." The words are spoken simply, but their weight is unmistakable, each syllable heavy with grief he’s learned to carry in silence.

The room feels smaller suddenly, the air thinner. You struggle to find something to say, some way to acknowledge the enormity of what he’s shared without reducing it to a hollow platitude. "Joel, I’m so sorry," you finally manage, your voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in your words is palpable, your own troubles momentarily forgotten in the face of his loss.

Joel nods, his gaze distant, focused on something you can’t see. He doesn’t brush off your condolences or wave them away as you might have expected. Instead, he accepts them with a quiet grace that’s heartbreaking in its simplicity. "S’been tough," he admits, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But you find a way to keep goin’. Life doesn’t stop, even when you wish it would."

His words linger in the air, stark and unvarnished, and you feel the ache in them like a bruise pressed too hard. There’s no bitterness in his tone, no anger—just a quiet resignation, a weariness that feels like it’s etched into his very being. You wonder how often he’s spoken these words, if at all, or if he’s kept them locked away until now. Your gaze drifts to his hands—strong, calloused, and steady even now, despite the weight he carries. You reach out before you can think better of it, your fingers brushing against his forearm in a gesture that feels both small and monumental. "I can’t imagine," you say softly, your words feeling inadequate but heartfelt. "I’m sorry you had to go through that."

Joel looks down at your hand, his gaze lingering there for a moment before he lifts his eyes to meet yours. There’s something in his expression that makes your breath catch—a flicker of gratitude, of recognition, and something else you can’t quite name. "Thank you," he says simply, his voice rough but sincere. He shifts slightly, covering your hand with his own. The warmth of his touch is startling, grounding, and you’re acutely aware of how solid he feels, how present. "For listening," he continues, his voice softening. "I don’t... I don’t talk about Sarah much. It’s hard, you know?" His eyes hold yours, and you see the weight of the years he’s carried this pain, the quiet strength it’s taken to keep moving forward.

You nod, unable to look away. "I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for," you say quietly, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. "Just... holding onto her memory like that. Letting her still be a part of you."

His brow furrows slightly, his gaze searching yours as if he’s trying to decide whether to accept your words. "Don’t feel strong most days," he admits after a pause, his voice so low you almost miss it. "Just feel tired."

The honesty in his words makes your chest tighten, and you press your hand against his arm just a little more firmly, as if to anchor him. "Maybe that’s what strength is," you offer, your voice soft but unwavering. "Getting up every day, even when it feels impossible. Carrying her with you, even when it hurts."

Joel doesn’t respond immediately, but you see something shift in his expression—something almost imperceptible but deeply significant. He exhales slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction, and when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before. "Maybe," he murmurs, the word more of a concession than a conviction.For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The silence is heavy but not uncomfortable, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. You let it linger, sensing that Joel needs this space, this moment of quiet connection. When he finally releases your hand, moving his arm slightly, the warmth of his skin lingers, a quiet reminder of the moment you’ve shared. "Thank you darlin’," he says again, his voice steady but soft. There’s something in his eyes now—something lighter, as if the act of sharing, of being heard, has eased the weight he carries, if only a little. "Means more than you know."

—-------

As you prepare to settle onto the couch for the night, the creak of the wooden floor under Joel’s boots pulls your attention. Before you can process what’s happening, he’s beside you, scooping you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his hands against you and the solid strength of his hold leave you momentarily breathless.

"What are you doing?" you protest weakly, though your body betrays you by instinctively wrapping an arm around his shoulders for balance.

He doesn’t stop moving, his tone gruff but resolute. "Takin’ you to your room. You’ll be more comfortable there, and it’s about time you used it again." You start to protest again, murmuring something about being too heavy, but he only huffs. "You think this is the first time I’ve carried someone? You’re fine. Quit fussin’."

Before you know it, he’s carrying you up the stairs, each step steady and sure despite the burden you’re sure you must be. The faint scent of leather and woodsmoke clings to him, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. When he reaches the top, the hallway stretches ahead, dimly lit and quiet except for the faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots.

Your bedroom door creaks as he nudges it open with his foot. The room feels foreign, almost untouched since your injuries—a time capsule of your life before everything fell apart. Joel sets you down on the bed with a gentleness that belies his rough exterior, his hands lingering briefly to ensure you’re steady before he pulls away.

"There," he says, adjusting the covers around you with meticulous care that makes your chest ache. "Now you get some rest. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything."

You watch him turn, the broad slope of his shoulders framed by the faint hallway light. A sudden unease wells up in your chest, irrational and overwhelming. The thought of being alone in this room, in this moment, feels unbearable. The words leave your lips before you can stop them.

"Joel, wait."

He stops in the doorway, his silhouette pausing against the light. "What is it, darlin’?" His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of concern beneath it.

Your fingers grip the edge of the blanket as you force yourself to speak. "Could you... stay? Just for a little while. Until I fall asleep."

For a moment, he’s quiet, the furrow of his brow barely visible in the shadows. He looks at you like he’s weighing something heavy, something he’s not sure he can carry. But then he nods, his voice softer when he speaks. "Yeah. I can do that."

He grabs a chair from the corner of the room, pulling it close to the bed and settling into it with a quiet sigh. The room feels smaller now, his presence filling the space in a way that should be comforting, and yet... you feel the weight of it pressing against you.

Joel sits silently, his hands resting on his knees, the flickering light from the bedside lamp casting deep shadows across his face. His gaze flicks toward you occasionally, careful and guarded, as if afraid to linger too long. You watch him through half-closed eyes, noting the subtle lines etched into his features—lines of exhaustion, loss, and something else you can’t quite place. There’s a tension in his posture, a quiet restraint that makes your chest tighten.

"Joel," you say softly, the quiet sound of his name pulling his gaze to yours. He raises an eyebrow, waiting, but the words you wanted to say catch in your throat. What could you even say? Thank him for his kindness? For caring when you’d tried so hard to convince yourself you didn’t need it. Instead, you settle on something you instantly regret. "You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll be fine."

His expression shifts, the corners of his mouth tightening ever so slightly. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, but when he does, his voice is quieter, almost unreadable. "If that’s what you want."

You open your mouth to correct yourself, to say something that might soften the blow, but the words don’t come. Joel stands, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to change your mind. You don’t.

"Goodnight, then," he says, his tone even, though there’s a weight behind the words that you can’t ignore. Joel stands, the chair groaning slightly as he pushes it back. He doesn’t move hurriedly, but there’s a deliberateness in his movements that makes your chest tighten. The air between you feels heavier, laced with something unspoken, something you’re not ready to name. And then he’s gone. You stare at the ceiling, your heart heavy with regret, the words you wish you’d said echoing in your mind.

"Stay. Please stay."

But you didn’t. Instead, you let him walk away, the distance between you growing not just physically but emotionally. The warmth of his presence lingers faintly, like the scent of his leather and woodsmoke, but it isn’t enough to fill the void. The ache in your ribs pales in comparison to the one in your chest. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, what was this feeling that had taken root inside you? It wasn’t just gratitude anymore—it was something else, something harder to define. You’d always prided yourself on not needing anyone, but Joel had a way of making that wall crumble, brick by brick. It was confusing. Maybe you were reading too much into it. Or maybe... maybe you were just afraid to hope again. But the way he’d left, the quiet disappointment in his eyes—it made you feel small, stupid even. What were you so afraid of? You hated yourself for pushing him away when all he’d ever done was try to be there for you. But it was too late now. The door was closed, and so, it seemed, was he.

The room is dark, save for the faint glow of the moonlight spilling in through the curtains. You hadn’t noticed Joel still standing there, silent as a shadow. He lingers by the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. He’s watching you, his brow furrowed, torn between staying and leaving.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” he mutters, more to himself than you.

You turn your head slightly, startled. You thought he'd left. His gaze meets yours for a moment, but the weight of it is too much to hold. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m fine,” you say, your voice tight and unconvincing.

Joel lets out a low scoff, shaking his head. “Fine,” he repeats bitterly. “That your favorite word or somethin’?” His boots barely make a sound as he crosses the room, sitting back down on the chair beside your bed. His presence is overwhelming, filling the small space like a storm cloud about to break. You feel the heat of him, as you try to keep your breathing steady. “I know what you're doin',” he says quietly, his tone softer now. “Pushin' me away. But you don’t have to.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put. His words are gentle, but they cut deep, peeling back the layers you worked so hard to hide behind. You struggle for words, your breath uneven. "I... I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Letting someone—letting you—"

"You don’t have to know," he says quietly. "You just gotta let me in."

His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it now, like he's fighting against his own limits, his patience fraying. You want to reach for him, to let yourself lean into him, but the weight of your own walls is too heavy. You want to let go, but something inside you holds you back, paralyzes you with fear. Fear of what letting him in might mean. Your throat tightens as you try to form the words, but nothing comes. His gaze sharpens, but he doesn’t push you—he waits. The tension hangs thick in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts. But the longer he waits, the more it seems like he’s losing the battle inside himself.

You finally meet his eyes again, but it’s like something’s shifted. There’s still care there, but it’s mixed with frustration, something raw and real. He stands, his movements slow but resolute. "You can’t keep doing this," he says, his voice low but intense. "I can’t keep doing this. You want me to stay, and then... then you push me away.”

His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You don’t know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and you’re helpless to stop it.

The chair scrapes against the floor as he moves it back, the sound harsh in the heavy silence. His words strike you like a physical blow, the sting of truth cutting through the silence. You don’t know what to say, your heart pounding in your chest, but nothing feels right. The space between you is growing, and you’re helpless to stop it.

He moves toward the door, the floor creaking beneath his boots, and you want to scream—to tell him to stay, to tell him you’re not fine, but the words are lodged in your throat, like you’re choking on your own fear.

You sit up in bed, your breath shallow, but you don’t call out. You don’t stop him.

Joel pauses at the doorway, his back to you. For a long moment, it seems like he might turn around, like he might say something else, something to bridge the gap between you. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his shoulders stiff, his head slightly bowed as though he’s already made his peace with walking away.

Finally, his voice breaks the silence. "You need anything, you holler. I’ll hear ya."

And then the door clicks softly shut behind him.

You sit there, staring at the empty space where he was, the weight of his words still pressing down on you. Your fingers curl around the blanket, but it offers no comfort. Your mind races, a mess of emotions, regret, and frustration. You want to call him back, but it feels like it’s too late.

The room is silent once more, and the emptiness is suffocating. You close your eyes, your chest aching, and for the first time in a long while, you realize how alone you truly are..

Joel

The soft glow of the kitchen light spills across the empty room as Joel leans against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee he doesn’t really want or need at this hour. He stares into the dark liquid, his thoughts elsewhere, running over the events of the evening like a song stuck on repeat.

He shouldn’t feel disappointed. You’d made it clear you didn’t want him there, and he respected that. Hell, he’d been in your shoes before—pushing people away because it felt safer. He couldn’t blame you for it. But that didn’t make the sting of it any easier to shake.

Joel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He’d seen the hesitation in your eyes, the conflict. He’d wanted to tell you it was okay, that he’d wait as long as you needed. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure how long he could wait. Every moment he spent with you, every quiet exchange and fleeting touch—it all felt like it was building toward something he wasn’t sure either of you were ready for. "Should’ve known better," he mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the fridge. But even as he says it, he knows he’d do it all over again—because for you, he would wait.

The coffee in Joel’s mug has gone cold by the time he finally pushes himself off the counter and trudges to the living room. He sits heavily on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the darkened television screen. Sleep isn’t coming—not after the way the evening ended.

He rubs a hand down his face, trying to shake off the frustration welling in his chest. It wasn’t your fault, not really. Joel knows that better than anyone. But the way you’d looked at him, the way you’d pulled back, it felt like a door slamming shut in his face. Like he was stupid for even hoping.

“Should’ve just stayed downstairs, fuck sakes,” he mutters to himself. He knows better than to get too close, to expect anything. It’s not fair to you, not when you’ve got enough to deal with. And yet, here he is, hoping like a damn fool.

The faint creak of the floor above reminds him you’re still there, probably lying awake just like he is. Joel shakes his head, dragging a heavy quilt over himself as he stretches out on the couch. Tomorrow, he decides, he’ll keep his distance. Let you come to him if you want.

But the hollow ache in his chest says that might never happen.

—

The next morning the shutting of the door pulls Joel from a restless sleep. He stretches, his back protesting the hours spent on the couch, and grumbles as he sits up. The smell of coffee drifts through the house, but it’s faint—like someone turned the pot off before it finished brewing. Joel frowns. He knows you’re still stiff from your injuries, and the thought of you moving around too much sets him on edge. He stands, rubbing a hand over his face, and heads toward the kitchen.

The sight of the empty space only deepens his unease. The coffee pot is half-full, a mug sitting beside it untouched. He glances out the window, his gut twisting when he spots you trudging toward the barn, determination in every step.

“What the hell are you doin’ now?” he mutters, already grabbing his jacket as he steps outside.

The morning air bites at his skin, but Joel barely notices as he closes the distance to the barn. By the time he reaches the open doors, you’re already climbing onto the tractor, one hand on the seat and the other gripping the wheel.

“Hey!” Joel’s voice echoes sharply in the quiet.

You freeze, your head whipping around to face him. “What?” you ask, your voice defensive, though there’s a flicker of guilt in your eyes.

Joel’s chest tightens, but he doesn’t let it show. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

Your brow furrows, and you straighten your shoulders, your stubbornness flaring to life. “I’m trying to help. You’ve been doing everything, and I thought—”

“You thought wrong.” His tone is sharper than he intends, but the sight of you on the tractor—the very image of Sarah in her last moments—sends a cold wave of fear crashing over him.

You bristle at his words, swinging your legs over the side of the tractor to face him fully. “Excuse me? I’m not a kid, Joel. I can handle this.”

“No, you can’t,” he snaps, his voice louder now. “You don’t even know how to work that damn thing, and you’re in no shape to be tryin’!”

Your eyes narrow, hurt flashing across your face before you mask it with anger. “I’m just trying to pull my weight, Joel. I’m not some burden you have to carry! And yes I can fucking drive the tractor.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. Joel’s breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling as he fights to keep the memories at bay. Sarah’s laughter, the hum of the tractor’s engine, the sickening sound of it tipping over—it’s all there, clawing at the edges of his mind.

But he doesn’t tell you. He can’t.

Instead, he swallows hard and steps back, his jaw tightening. “Just… don’t do this,” he says, his voice quieter but no less firm.

You stare at him, confusion and hurt written all over your face. “Why are you acting like this?” you ask, your tone softer now, but Joel shakes his head.

Joel’s chest tightens, and the fight in his voice only deepens. “Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, but you’re not about to let him brush this off.

“Why the hell not?” You step off the tractor, your foot hitting the ground with a thud, your breath a sharp inhale from the pain and ragged in the cold air. “You’re acting like I’m a damn liability—like I can’t handle myself. You think I want to sit around doing nothing while you work yourself to the bone?”

Joel shakes his head, his eyes dark with frustration. “That ain’t it, and you know it. You think I want to be overprotective? You think I don’t see you fightin’ through every goddamn thing just to prove you’re not weak? I get it, alright? But this—this isn’t the way to do it.”

“You don’t get it,” you snap back, your voice growing more desperate. “I don’t need your pity, Joel. I don’t need you to hold my hand or protect me like I’m some fragile thing you have to save. I’m fine. I can do this.”

“You’re not fine!” Joel’s voice cracks, his patience running thin, and the raw emotion behind it makes you pause, your anger faltering for just a second. He steps closer to you, his face inches away. “You’re not fine, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch you hurt yourself just because you’re too damn proud to accept help.”

Your ribs ache as you take a step back, your hands trembling at your sides. His words, his proximity—they feel like they’re suffocating you, pulling you into a place you don’t want to go. But you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t need help,” you mutter, though the words come out unconvincing, jagged.

Joel’s gaze softens, and for a brief moment, it’s like you’re both standing in some kind of fragile truce. But it doesn’t last. The distance between you, emotional and physical, feels too heavy to bear, and Joel moves in again. His voice is quieter now, but there’s a deep, aching sincerity in it. “I don’t want you to need help. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening with something you don’t know how to name. It’s the space between your stubbornness and his care, the tension of wanting to push him away but knowing deep down that you can’t. You want to break, to let go, but you won’t—can’t—show him how much you’re falling apart.

You both stand there in the cold, the world around you feeling distant, like it’s no longer real. And then, before you can stop yourself, you say something that takes both of you by surprise. “Why do you care so damn much?” Your voice cracks as you finally let the wall down, the question raw and vulnerable.

Joel’s eyes darken, his breath catching at the depth of the question. He looks at you, really looks at you, and there’s a long silence that stretches between you, thick with everything unspoken. Then, his lips curl slightly, the ghost of a sad smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ve been where you are,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve lost too much. And I’m not gonna lose anyone else... not like this.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment, your anger falters, replaced with something deeper, something you can’t hide anymore.

Before you realize what’s happening, you’re the one reaching for him, your good hand finding his shirt, pulling him toward you. He hesitates for a second—his body tense, unsure—but then he moves, just like you knew he would. The kiss is sudden, urgent, and the world tilts with it. Your ribs protest, but you don’t care. His hands cradle your face, his lips pressing against yours, rough but soft, like he’s trying to steady himself just as much as you are.

Your heart races in your chest, the ache in your ribs fading as the heat of him seeps into your skin. For a brief, fleeting moment, everything else stops. The fight, the stubbornness, the fear—it all disappears in the space between your mouths. It’s like he’s holding you together, like you’re finally letting him do the one thing he’s been begging you for - to let him in.

When you break away, it’s slow, your breath ragged, but neither of you moves far. You’re still close—too close—and yet, somehow, it feels right. Joel’s forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your skin. He doesn’t speak at first, just keeps you there, close enough to feel the weight of his every breath. Finally, he whispers, his voice hoarse. “You’re not alone, you know that?”

You nod, the words too hard to say, but the truth of them sits heavy between you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe it.

Taglist @akah565 @anoverwhelmingdin @brittmb115 @hannah9921 @maried01

@mermaidgirl30 @red-red-rogue @wintersquirrel

#jmrecs #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #odi

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triptychcryptid · 1 day ago

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I don't vibe with the "Ford can do no wrong," "what ego? He doesn't have an ego" mentality. Look, Ford and Stan are my FAVORITE characters in the show. And it's because they're so complex. Ford absolutely has a huge ego. Alex Hirsch even said in the podcast that it was a big point of his character. His ego was his hubris. Bill says on the website, and I BELIEVE in TBOB that Ford has a huge ego, too.

That, coupled with some crippling insecurities, is what made him so easy to manipulate. But that doesn't mean we should hate him, either. People aren't black and white. We operate in a LOT of gray area. He's grown and learned, and by the end of the show, he actually showed alot of maturity in regards to Stan and the kids. The fact that Stan sacrificed himself to save the universe showed Ford that Stan wasn't the selfish ass he spent 30 years believing he was. Don't get me wrong, Stan can be kinda selfish, but I think alot of it comes from spending so long being denied things.

Being denied love from his father. Being denied redemption from those around him because they all just saw him as a troublemaker. Seeing Ford get what he perceived as the emotional stability he so desperately craved and thinking Ford's life was so great because they'd BOTH been told it would be. Then after all the living out of his car and being in prison, beaten up, running from people who wanted to kill him, he faked his death and got a second chance. He was finally able to "be his own man" in a sense.

He could have the things he wanted, and he got the love he always wanted, from Dipper and Mabel. He'd become a beloved (if sometimes only tolerated) member of the Gravity Falls community. He wasn't about to give that up to Ford like he'd given up most things. But the incident with the portal obviously filled him with a lot of guilt and regret, and he was just SO happy to find out Ford was alive. Having the kids for the summer also showed an embittered, hardened old man that there were still things to live for. People to care about.

The thing with Stan is he's also got ego and insecurities, but he's not as easily manipulated because he's used to not trusting people's intentions. And I don't think Ford actually realized how much Stan kinda lived in his shadow. And in turn, Stan learned that there ARE trustworthy people in his life that love and care about him just for being the weird, grumpy, crazy old man that he is. Because they've learned that he will go to great lengths to protect the people he cares about, but he doesn't allow himself to care about deeply about many people because he's afraid he's going to hurt them, or they're going to hurt him.

If you are in this man's purposefully small inner circle, you are a very lucky person.

#gravity falls stan #gravityfalls #grunkleford #ford pines #stanford pines #stanley pines #stan pines

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lupins-hehim-pussy · 6 months ago

Note

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

#and then. and im putting my most controversial opinion in the tags bc im scared lmao. but like... then... you have the fans..... doing......#the same fucking thing.#the amount of times I have seen Wriothesley used as just a side prop for Neuvillette to feel bad about shit. While Wriothesley is just.....#portrayed as having the inner peace and acceptance of a fucking monk. I was shocked when I read some fics I swear #they really said this man has no trauma at all! the stuff in his past? he's over it!#i hate that passivity when writing victims. like ok if One is written like that #sure. but MHY write all their victims like this #I mean look at fucking Lanoire #and Neuvillette sentenced him to prison after he killed his parents who were never confronted by the law. That's canon.#that's more canon than WRLT itself.#why weren't they confronted? did wriothesley try to talk to someone about it? why did he feel like killing them is his only option ?????#at least have there be some sort of conflict and friction there. How does Wriothesley feel about the court and Neuvillette when #this is the literal system that allowed all that shit to happen to him in the first place???#are you Sure he won't be at least a little wary? the fact that some people think he's Grateful to Neuvillette or even idolises him is crazy #because the man literally subjected him to prison. and if you want to portray his prison life as easy breezy and trauma free #you undermine his entire shitty little 'prison reform' narrative #and if you think he'd be completely 100% accepting of the justice system. Then why the fuck would he kill his parents himself #don't you see that the whole 'I'll accept whatever sentence in order to kill my parents' thing in itself is an act of defying the system #and I Hate #this idea. about being some of the most powerful men in the nation. and yet they can't fucking TRY to set up a better system or smth #i can't believe I read a fic where leaving starving street kids croissants is the most they (the characters and the writer) want to do #like. what the fuck. the whole point of that scene is just to make neuvillette feel bad and be like aw......... poor people exist.... OK???#this is literally how MHY would portray him though.... tbf..... This is what ppl would argue as 'in character'#I just think the character they're in is bad.#I will say I'm giving the fic a lot of grief. there's more to the scene than that. and. ultimately.....#fanfic is (saying this through gritted teeth) ........ recreational....................and free........... in the end.................#i dont think this is reflective of the writer. I do think it is reflective of the way the canon material (genshin impact)#presents in the audience who consumes it. most fans only want these guys to fuck anyway. not think about systemic injustices #canon doesn't make it about the systemic injustices either so why should we. the aesthetic of slums and prisons are just there for fun guys #IM JUST CRAZY OK. I SHOULDNT EVEN BE HERE THIS IS NOT FOR ME . I DONT CARE THAT MUCH FOR PEOPLE FUCKING AND I CARE TOO MUCH

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astonmartinii · 2 months ago

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little lion | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem young mum!reader

journalists go digging in max's past and think they've found f1's next big scandal - but they underestimate just how protective max is of his little lion

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

f1tea

liked by user5, user6 and 23,095 others

f1tea: this is y/n y/ln the supposed baby momma of max verstappen. not much is known about her, with her only going back to work recently as a therapist in monaco.

her and max had their baby, a girl, back when they were 17 in 2015. max has never been seen in public with the child and has never publicly claimed her either.

will we see her in the paddock now all the news is out?

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user7: holy shit this is insane

user8: this poor girl doesn't deserve this

user9: literally, either max is a present father and is just private or he doesn't have anything to do with them? but it coming out like this is probably stressful regardless

user10: also by my calculations, the baby will be nearly nine, so probably has a concept of fame and celebrity and if they haven't gone to a race it's probably for a reason

user11: i mean the way people are already talking about them proves them right already

user12: ted kravitz telling it like it is 🤲

user13: no he's not ??? he basically went on broadcast to call y/n a slut and try and say that he was 'always right about max because this proves he is reckless'

user14: once again, this child is eight and could understand some of this if they see it

user15: also the incidents ted is bringing up happened EIGHT YEARS AGO stop bringing a child into your weird agenda

user16: if he's not careful red bull will ban sky from their media run again

user17: i found her instagram and max, alex and daniel all follow her so it's defo legit

user18: i also found it but it's private :(

user19: i tried to follow but got blocked :/

user20: do you people have rocks for brains if it's private it means we're not meant to find it, if she's not spoken about it in eight years that means IT'S NOT OUR BUSINESS

user21: someone tell max to get a DNA test asap, gold diggers will do anything for money and fame

user22: what fame? she's got like 400 followers and has never spoken about max to any media outlet

user23: the way you people jump to gold digging allegations kill me

user24: also if max is the dead beat that sky are trying to make him out to be and y/n is a gold digger then why haven't we seen some child support claims and whatnot

user25: you have no shame posting this, if she didn't want to be found she doesn't want to be found

user26: f1 vultures at their best

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 2,389,774 others

maxverstappen1: i've seen a lot of journalists and 'professionals' trying to point score with the 'big revelation' of my daughter. sydney is the love of my life and for someone who grew up in the public eye i thought it would be best to keep my daughter away from the circus. not that i owe it to any of you people, but i see syd as much as i possibly can and i didn't want to post her or bring her to the paddock until she could make that choice for herself. y/n is a wonderful mother and is the exact support system i would want for my daughter.

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user27: MAX IS A GIRL DAD?

user28: congratulations media and internet you forced him to expose his kid

user29: the way they probably see this as a victory annoys me to my core

yourusername: you're an amazing father max, don't let them tell you anything else. sydney loves you and that's all that matters.

maxverstappen1: thank you y/n, i miss you both - see you this weekend!

yourusername: we look forward to it! x

user30: she didn't say that she loves him too so they're defo not together

user31: will you people ever learn to read the room?

user32: oh wow so max does see his daughter - watch sky still run with the deadbeat angle

user33: they were so shameless about his SLEEP SCHEDULE i cannot imagine the shit crofty is going to throw at him over this

danielricciardo: i'm sorry for how this has all come out max but i'm so glad i can publicly express my love for my god daughter!

maxverstappen1: this might mean that you can give her all of your gifts in person (if she wants to come) lord knows i can never fit them back in my suitcase

user34: you literally have a private jet?

maxverstappen1: you underestimate how seriously daniel takes being a god parent

danielricciardo: i think i'm singlehandedly keeping jellycat in business tbf

yourusername: and ikea, i have to buy a new shelving unit every couple of weeks daniel

danielricciardo: SYD IS MY BEST FRIEND LEAVE ME ALONE

user35: drop 💥 the 💥 daniel 💥 and 💥 sydney 💥 photos 💥 now 💥

user36: actually don't i don't think my baby fever can take it

alexalbon: you're an amazing father max and sydney is the coolest girl in the world!

maxverstappen1: thank you alex 😊

alexalbon: also if you ever convince y/n to come to races PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make her bake me some of her iconic brownies

yourusername: alex you know i can just bake you some and send them to you via max

alexalbon: please 😫😫😫

yourusername: no worries albono, you're a growing boy you need the nutrients

maxverstappen1: they're brownies

alexalbon: i need y/n's brownies to deal with YOU

maxverstappen1: ok maybe this is why i don't want to introduce you all :(

yourusername: don't worry maxie i'll make you some goodies to go

maxverstappen1: thank you :)

user37: she makes him to-go goodies 🥹

yourusername

liked by feranandoalo_oficial, danielricciardo and 319,506 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm not very happy that i have to make this statement like this because people couldn't respect the boundaries max and i have set as parents but alas: max is the loveliest man in the world and the best father sydney could ask for. he has a very busy life but he still makes as much time as possible for syd and she loves him very much. max has been in the spotlight from a very young age and did not want that pressure and spectacle on his own daughter. we may have never been together, but max has never been the monster you're trying to make him out to be. please respect my daughter's privacy. thank you.

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user41: once again, this is a very cute family but god this is a horrible way to find out about them :(

user42: i hope they know so so many of us are supporting them

danielricciardo: syd has grown so much i actually feel kind of sick

yourusername: i was a mess on her first day of school :(

danielricciardo: oh i can imagine ... max never told us but i'm sure he was his usual stoic self

yourusername: he tried, but we did both cry over a carton of ice cream for the whole morning

maxverstappen1: IT WAS A VERY EMOTIONAL MORNING

yourusername: it really was 🥺

user43: i'm sorry but why do two europeans have a daughter called SYDNEY?

maxverstappen1: she's nearly eight... i made my f1 debut in australia eight years ago... i can't hold your hand any more than that

user44: LMAOOOOOOO

danielricciardo: i am HURT i thought she was named after her beloved god father?

yourusername: if that was the case do you not think we would've gone for the more obvious option of DANIELLE???

maxverstappen1: also you were just an acquaintance and childhood crush at that point daniel

yourusername: omg childhood crush on daniel SNAP

danielricciardo: i'm not that old???

maxverstappen1: we have such good taste

yourusername: we REALLY do

user44: so like they're defo flirting right?

user45: ugh you people have no class (i hope so)

landonorris: i'm so sorry for you guys BUT THANK GOD IT WAS SO HARD TO KEEP HER A SECRET

maxverstappen1: i mean y/n and i kept her a secret for like nearly eight years 🤨

yourusername: i also 100% caught your slip ups you're just lucky there was never any rumour at those times

landonorris: I AM A BLABBERMOUTH PLEASE BE PROUD OF ME

maxverstappen1: fine?

yourusername: i'd be more proud but everyone else also kept the secret sooooo ???

alexalbon

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 894,503 others

tagged: lilymunhe, yourusername

alexalbon: with permission i am now allowed to post my bestest friend in the world!

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user46: god has heard my prayers and gave me my alex and sydney content

user47: i'd say what a random pairing but i think my brain just blocked out alex at red bull as a trauma response

alexalbon: lord knows i only got through being locked in the sim with y/n's brownies and hugs from syd

yourusername: syd asked for her favourite uncle to score more points so we can get ice cream again

alexalbon: i'll fix the damn williams myself

yourusername: hurry up she's getting impatient (i have no clue where she gets that from)

maxverstappen1: I AM NOT IMPATIENT I JUST LIKE THINGS BEING DONE IN A PROMPT MANNER

yourusername: is that what you tell the engineers?

maxverstappen1: ... something along those lines

yourusername: are you going to get more community service?

maxverstappen1: i don't think there were any cameras ???

user48: so max doesn't believe in not swearing around kids... how bad is it with sydney?

maxverstappen1: i am on my BEST behaviour for her

alexalbon: she's like a little sailor

maxverstappen1: in my defence she's much cuter when she swears than me

charles_leclerc: is this why she called me a wanker when i didn't bring leo to the house?

yourusername: i fear that has alex albon written all over it

alexalbon: whoops!

lilymunhe: we need another play date asap !! he goes so mushy i can get him to do all the cute dates i wanna do

yourusername: is that why i got given a badly painted mug?

alexalbon: hey! i worked very hard on that :(

maxverstappen1: i thought sydney painted it alex

alexalbon: can you guys stop ganging up on me :(((((

yourusername: no!

maxverstappen1: 😘

user49: feeling some ... tension here

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, alexalbon and 1,450,987 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: guess who wanted to come see dad at work?

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user51: oh she really is max verstappen's daughter with that cold middle finger to ted kravitz

user52: are they going to make an eight year old do community service as well?

yourusername: great now she's attached to the engineers

maxverstappen1: oh noooooooooo how will we ever cope??? maybe we should all go to every race ???

yourusername: that would be very convenient, wouldn't it?

maxverstappen1: i can see you smiling while typing, i don't think you're as opposed as you say you are

yourusername: you got me! i like to see syd happy :(

maxverstappen1: and me...?

yourusername: and you, i guess 😚

user53: so like are we just going to ignore all of this ^^ and the second picture?

user54: it would be nice that through all the shit they've had thrown at them that they got together through it

danielricciardo: he's been waiting long enough

maxverstappen1: DANIEL???

danielricciardo: what ???

user55: daniel, thank you for your service

user56: i mean we've seen them at one race and it's crazy to think they're not together

alexalbon: why did i have to track my bestie down at the hotel? you verstappens too good for the williams garage?

yourusername: we were busy !!!

alexalbon: franco is distraught

francocolapinto: i am?

alexalbon: yes!!!!

francocolapinto: i am!

maxverstappen1: stop yapping for the love of god i was getting my shit together - something YOU told me to do

alexalbon: fine... i guess

user57: so like that's confirmation right?

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 2,349,855 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm still reporting all you journalists to the ethics boards but i guess something good did come out of all of this

view all comments

user58: FUCK SKY SPORTS BUT THANK THE LORD THIS IS SO CUTE

user59: a family that flips off ted kravitz together, stays together!

user60: y/n's dirty look at him will forever be legendary

maxverstappen1: i've always loved you, and i've loved playing the long game with you and prioritising syd !! here's to the rest of our lives xx

yourusername: i've always loved you too but as convoluted as it has been i think this has been the best way to be - all love to syd first

maxverstappen1: but now we can cut the shit and do all the cute things without it having to be a 'play date'

yourusername: i love you dummy, but your cats are mine now

maxverstappen1: they've always been yours, just like me

user61: okay fuck you guys this is too fucking cute

user62: no because i'm too chronically lonely to read this this morning

landonorris: FINALLY, I COULDN'T KEEP ANOTHER SECRET FOR MUCH LONGER

danielricciardo: booooooo, we've all kept this secret you're not special

landonorris: i thought i was the only one who max told about his feelings? like literally on the podium when he saw y/n and syd watching?

oscarpiastri: i think you just can't read people lando, even i knew max liked y/n and i've only seen them interact THIS WEEKEND

alexalbon: we've all known forever lando, you're not getting sympathy for keeping the secret for 12 hours

user63: the grid being so protective of the lil family is so cute

user64: i read that george got the GDPA to sign a petition that the media couldn't ask about syd before max was ready to start the conversation himself

user65: also by the sounds of it, they've been rooting for this relationship just as long as max and y/n

maxverstappen1: i'm so lucky to have two amazing girls in my life, i'll love you forever and as long as you'll have me

yourusername: now i have you, i'm never letting you go

maxverstappen1: right back at you

yourusername: you're the bestest father ever and the love of my life, never let anyone tell you anything else my gentle boy

maxverstappen1: i love you both more than anything ever, you're my guardian angel and syd is my favourite little lion

fin.

note: HAPPY MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN BIRTHDAY TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE !!!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen social media au

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sastielsfandom · 1 year ago

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Fridays are so stressful for me simply bc of how expensive they are for homeless people. It doesn't matter where we're at, the panic is there. I don't think that panic will go away any time soon either.

#It sucks #But also the longer we're apart from our youngest siblings the more it hurts and aches #Can you believe we were going to try and do something for Thanksgiving?#Not on the day of we leave that day to mourning #But the following week we were going to have a feast #They were looking forward to it we wanted to try and pull something together for them #A happy memory #We didn't promise it bc we didn't know how much we could do for them #I guess it's a good thing because we didn't even get to be there #Their dad made sure of it - it hurts and angers me so badly #I don't like him I don't have to after all he's put us through but what really pisses me off is we would never do that #We've never kept him away from them on any special occasion #He's left their birthdays refused to show up refused to be there so he could do whatever he wanted to #And now is using them as a pawn to hurt us and it sucks #I think it would kill him to care about them because they're his kids and not just pretending to so he could hurt others #They don't deserve to be treated like that #I miss them so much #I hope they're okay - I wish with everything in me that they're happy right now #That they're being taken care of and that they're happy #If this is what's best for them so be it but if this is how it's supposed to be then let them be happy #Bc I know them and I can't imagine this is easy for them #They have a hard time being away from us even for a day bc we're the ones who've been there for them when everything went to shit #And the fact that we're not there with everything that happened #I feel like a failure for that #There's nothing I could've done to change the outcome but I wish that wasn't true #Honestly just ignore me I'm just missing them a lot #That and the weekends always stress me out #Just yeah #I don't know what else to say

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jytan2018 · 1 year ago

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I read the comic in one sitting less than an hour after finishing the movie, and wow I have many Thoughts™.

- It's very obvious the two versions were meant to cater to different audiences AND tell different messages. I don't get why people are going "But the comic was better! It had more nuance!" just because Nimona was easier to root for in the movie.

- The comic was written back when ND Stevenson was still trying to process a lot of stuff, so all the characters are morally grey/straight up evil and the climactic battle is between a Ballister who regrets turning against Nimona, even if it was to save others vs. a Nimona who's too hurt to care if her lashing out was going to hurt innocent people.

- By the time Nimona got a movie adaptation, ND was a lot more secure in his sexuality, so the climactic battle was Nimona vs. the Director, the symbol of religious oppression and bigotry. It's not just about your friends turning on you because you're "too much" for them anymore, it's also about a society that would rather bring itself to the brink of ruin than coexist with you.

- (I totally get why people were upset about Ballister's surname change, though. Like come on, the media dubbing him Blackheart just to be mean was RIGHT THERE).

- Nimona's metaphor for not shifting is such a neurodivergent thing. Even in the comic, Nimona's parents insisting she's a monster who replaced their daughter is reminiscent of the changeling myth, which is what many parents thought their neurodivergent kids were—changelings who replaced their "real" children.

- Ambrosius being trained to cut off HIS BOYFRIEND'S WHOLE FUCKING ARM instead of merely disarming him is a very cop thing to do. As much as cops claim they're trained to de-escalate situations, their training still teaches them to treat everyone as a potential threat, and that level of constant vigilance can turn anyone into a trigger-happy/arm-choppy bastard. Even the Director, who can use a sword but probably hasn't actually fought someone in ages, STILL can't see Ballister reaching for the squire's phone without assuming he has a weapon.

- And on that note, the Queen getting killed simply because she was trying to reform the Institution and allow commoners to become knights? That's the best "no such thing as a good cop" metaphor I've seen. Because even if there ARE good cops and they ARE in leadership positions, the system will crush them before they make any meaningful change. It's not a good institution that turned rotten, it's an institution that only exists to spread its rot and refuses to be good.

- That's why Ballister's characterisation is so different in the movie vs. the comic. Comic Ballister had 15 years to come to terms with his trauma and the Institution's evildoing, while Movie Ballister is still freshly traumatised and hasn't found a way to define himself beyond the role he was assigned by the Institution.

- Not to mention Comic Ambrosius was not very noble to begin with and genuinely believed Ballister was better suited to villainy than heroism, while Movie Ambrosius never wanted the glory that came with his lineage in the first place and only antagonised Ballister because of indoctrination he needed to unlearn (which he did, all by himself, after witnessing the lengths the Director will go to just to kill Nimona).

- It really shows how important it is to surround yourself with loved ones who are open to change. Comic Ambrosius can love Ballister all he wants, but he'll still blast his arm off because he thinks Ballister deserved it anyway. Movie Ambrosius will stop to question what "the right thing" even means, even if he didn't love Ballister enough to defend him unconditionally.

I have so many more thoughts bubbling beneath the surface, but I'll probably address them some other day. In conclusion:

[ID: A pink-haired Nimona grinning evilly while holding up a knife.]

Watch Nimona. This is not a request.

Edit: Added more thoughts!

#nimona #nimona meta #nimona comic #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin

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pocketbelt · 11 months ago

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they announced one of the main writers for FFXIV: Dawntrail is the one who wrote the Shadowbringers trial series, "Sorrow of Werlyt", and the amount of people going "ew no that's the one that redeems Gaius" drives me kind of insane

That storyline takes Gaius and says "Behold this idiot, watch and be stunned as everything he ever said to anyone turned out to be fucking obviously wrong. Watch as the fascist imperialist philosophy he ingrained into his beloved children makes them run to their deaths, even as he pleads them not to, and they tell him to fuck himself and do it anyway. Marvel as he watches them die by your hand, you, who destroyed Gaius himself at the peak of his life, and he can do nothing to stop it", and that's a redemption arc to people

The only surviving kid only makes it because her brother acts to protect her, she doesn't make it because of any act of Gaius'

The entire story is literally "In case you somehow missed it in ARR and most of Stormblood, everything Gaius believed in was horseshit and there's no such thing as a 'noble general in the evil empire'". All his meritocracy bullshit vanished the second he was gone, no-one but his own children believed it or held onto it, and the empire put someone directly opposed to that belief into his old seat when he vanished. No-one cared, no-one else "believed", the Empire was never about that, it was only propped up in his own singular legion by him being there and the second he was gone the legion dumped it and moved on and only Gaius was too naive and stupid to see it.

I mean for fuck sake, the Empire digs up the chemical gas weapon he explicitly had sealed away and destroyed all record of after he's gone and if it wasn't for a particularly dedicated and enterprising catboy and his comedy crew of hardcore engineers, it would have caused the eighth apocalypse

Even the follow-up in patch 6.4, of the family portrait, isn't some "aw he good now" thing. The family portrait you help organise for him has to have four of its six members be projected onto the scene via a machine's reconstruction of them as normal people because they're dead, they threw their lives away because the ideology Gaius taught them meant they could only think to die fighting and nothing else. That's his loving family portrait: four ghosts stood at his back as his last living child smiles through her pain.

"well the people of Werlyt didn't kill him for conquering them" they let him clean up the mess he made (which meant watching his children be killed) and as "thanks" they're letting him stay there to live out the last third of his life or so attempting to atone by fixing the damage he did.

He's 56 at the time of ARR; the Empire he gave 3-4 decades of his life to is gone, it's a smouldering ruin, all but one of the people he loved is dead, his surviving daughter is scarred by the path he led her down, and what few friends he had are also dead. He learned that his beliefs were all horseshit and pretty much everyone around him except for himself knew it, he must live knowing that those beliefs got his children killed, all that he achieved that he once considered "good" was for nothing, he learned that the cool old emperor he idolised who had no magic but built an empire by pulling up his bootstraps and who told him that magic and gods were bad was actually an ancient incredibly magical sorceror attempting to resurrect his own god.

That's not a redemption arc, he's the most owned man still alive in XIV

#ffxiv #pocket post

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werecreature-addicted · 6 months ago

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Ok, imagine this, werewolf is in love with his neighbor, a human girl, everything would be fine if it weren't for the fact that the girl is a single mother of a little boy, and I'm not saying this because it's a bad thing for a woman to be a single mother, I'm saying this because of their neighbors, the other human neighbors have the mistaken idea that werewolves are cruel to other men's children, even propagating the absurd idea that werewolves kill the children of other males when they are interested in the mother. Of course our werewolf would never do that, werewolves would never harm a woman's offspring, so he has to be very careful and almost transparent to be able to woo the girl without her thinking that he is a danger to her or his little son

he meets your child first. he's just trying to carry in groceries, all of them in one trip of course, when he hears a small "can I help?" he looks down and sees a human pup with big wide eyes and a missing front tooth. He'd known that knew people had moved in next door a little while ago but he didn't know they came with a kid.

"Sure," he says and hands the kid one bag to carry as they trek up the driveway. it's a short walk and he can easily do it himself, but the werewolf thinks the boy is cute, so young yet already helpful and determined to prove his strength. what a good pack leader he would be one day. the kid drops the bag by his door and then runs back to his yard to play. The werewolf had never paid much attention to his next-door neighbors but he would start now.

He meets you a few days later and wow. he's never met a human so pretty. you seem nervous, a little frazzled from the recent move, but sweet. he tells you about your son helping him with the groceries and offers to help you any time you need anything, just looking for an excuse to see you again.

And you do need his help a lot around the house. it's hard trying to do everything yourself especially when you're raising a little boy. Luckily your neighbor is always there whether it's to replace some shingles on your roof or just play with your son for a little so you can get five minutes to yourself. you won't lie, you do pick specific favors to ask of him. sure you could do your own yard work, but there's just something so sexy about a sweaty hard-working werewolf.

He's so sweet he almost instantly becomes a part of your life. You can tell he's interested in you, you're not an idiot, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like him too. It's flattering to have someone clearly so into you even knowing you have a child.

You spend of late nights confiding in him and before you know it you start to think you're falling for him. then you happen to mention your blooming romance to one of your coworkers and they inform you, horrified, that if a werewolf is interested in a woman with a child they're known to kill the child so the mother can focus on raising the werewolf pups. The story chills you, you'd heard similar things about lions in the wild, and maybe it was true for all preditors.

you can't help but spiral a little bit, you've been leaving your baby alone with a hungry wolf. but... somehow you don't believe it. He had never shown himself to be violent or even anything but loving towards your son. and you knew he was closer to human than some wild animal. he wouldn't really do something like that, would he?

When you get home you're a little jumpy around your neighbor, which he notices. you don't let your son go over to his yard to play and you don't invite him over for dinner, which is odd, to say the least. but he doesn't push. You feel stupid, avoiding him like this, why should you be scared of someone who'd been nothing but kind?

you go out onto your porch that night and see him out looking up at the stars. when he hears you he waves you over.

"it's a pretty night," you comment sitting beside him, awkwardly.

"prettier with you here," he teases, you feel your face go hot and you have to look away, he laughs at your embarrassment. you're quiet for a long time before you finally bring up what was on your mind.

you don't come out and say "Hey are you going to murder my child to get closer to me?" but instead you ask him:

"you flirt with me a lot, but does it ever bother you that I have a child? does that make you hesitate to have a real relationship?" it's still blunt but it's not quite as accusatory.

"I've always wanted kids, I love your son, I'm not going to run because of it, I want you and you having a son doesn't change that," he assures you. A few months later you'll admit exactly what your coworker said, he was horrified you ever thought he'd be capable of hurting the boy he views as his son, and he tells you in no uncertain terms that he would die to protect the both of you. no harm is coming to either of you while he's here to protect his family.

#monster imagine #monster #monster fucker #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #werewolf x reader #werewolf #werewolves #werewolf boyfriend

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yamujiburo · 10 months ago

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You said you like sharing Team Rocket facts, sooo, what are some of your favourite facts that you don't get to share often or think not many people know? :D

Yam's Top 10 Team Rocket Fun Facts!

Jessie and James are both 25 years old

Jessie and James are NOT siblings (you'd be surprised how many people think they are). They have almost polar opposite backstories from each other.

James grew up rich but ran away from home at a young age because of all the pressure as well as his arranged marriage with Jessebelle (who looks exactly like Jessie funnily enough)

Jessie's mother, referred to as Miyamoto, was also a Team Rocket operative who worked directly under Giovanni's mother Madame Boss. However Miyamoto went MIA while on a mission looking for Mew and never came back, leaving Jessie to grow up in foster care

Jessie and James in English are named after the outlaw Jesse James which most people seem to know about. Buuut in Japanese, they're called Musashi and Kojiro, named after the famous swordsmen Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro. Musashi kills Kojiro so do with that what you will. Sub fun fact: Musashi and Kojiro's duel is referenced in Sun and Moon with Jessie battling Ash and using the sun to temporarily blind him and Pikachu before striking.

The Team Rocket trio are based off of the Time Skeletons from Time Bokan, who are probably the earliest version of the very specific trope "san-aku" (literally translated to three evil). The trope usually depicts one female leader and two bumbling men, one short and one tall. They also regularly build mechs/robots and beef with kids. In Sun in Moon, they DIRECTLY reference the Time Skeletons!

When the Johto series came to an end a decision had to be made on whether Misty or Team Rocket would leave the series. Head writer Takeshi Shudo fought really hard to keep Team Rocket (I think it's safe to say that they were his favorite characters). Seeing how Team Rocket stayed in the series till the very end, I think it's obvious to see what the end result of that decision was

The reason Jessie, in later seasons of Pokémon doesn't smack around James and Meowth as much/at all is because her voice actress, Megumi Hayashibara personally requested that the writers make her less violent. She felt it went against the "good natured villain" concept Takeshi Shudo originally had for them. On Hayashibara, Jessie's "failed nurse" backstory is based on Hayashibara's experience in trying to become a nurse.

James' love for sports and racing is often depicted in the show and is a reference to his VA, Shinichiro Miki's, love for cars and racing.

The reason Team Rocket crossdresses is literally just because the artists thought James looked better in a dress than Jessie did and ran with it

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reareaotaku · 9 months ago

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I Can't Lose You

Summary: After almost losing you, Five goes through extreme measures to make sure you're safe Pairings: Yandere! Five Hargreeves x Reader Tw/Cw: Protective Five, Open-ending

It all happened so fast, even for Five. If he had seen it coming, he would have gotten you out of there, but he wasn't expecting those stupid white-haired brothers to show up. When you had been shot, thankfully nowhere vital, he nearly lost it. Past Five would have killed them, but you were his priority, so he made sure to get you out of there.

"Oh, god- Fuck, are you okay?" It's not a real question, just something to bring Five some sort of comfort. He rips off sleeves, before pushing the fabric on your wound, hoping to control the blood, instead of having his hands get bloody trying.

"Five," You grab his bicep, causing him to look up at you. "I'm fine."

He frowns, letting go of the make-shift sleeve bandage he had made. He lifts up his blood-covered hands, "Fine? You're bleeding out because you were shot. What the fuck were you thinking?" He's angry and he knows he shouldn't direct it at you, but he hates the feeling of worry, guilt, and fear you made him feel.

"What was *I* thinking? What do you mean WHAT WAS I THINKING?! I didn't shoot MYSELF!"

He groans, putting his hands back on the wound. He doesn't respond to your words, frustrating you.

"Well?"

He looks up at you, his eyes down casted and a frown overtaking his face. He sighs, pushing a hand through his hair, "I was just..." He pulls his hands down his face, "Forget it- It's nothing. Don't worry about what I said."

You were a little taken aback, because if there's one thing about Five, it's that he stuck by what he said.

---

You awoke in a bed, looking around the strange room. You were alone and your wound was patched up. You click your tongue, before sitting up and yawning while rubbing the side of your face. You move to the side of the bed, finally standing off, before holding the side of your stomach when a sharp pain shoots through you.

You hear the click of the door and quickly look towards it. It was Five and he had a muffin- or at least what looked like a muffin.

He looks up at you, before quickly coming over to you and making you sit back down, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Your brows scrunch as you shrug, "I was just going to walk and move a little-"

"No, just stay here. You're safe here."

You roll your eyes, before crossing your arms. Why was he being like this? He was acting like you were a porcelain doll that would break if grabbed to hard.

He ignores your pouting before handing you the muffin. "Here, I got you something to eat. And drink the water," He gestures to a water bottle that was on the nightstand, "You lost a lot of blood. You're going to have to be more careful, because I don't want to bandage you up again." He looks up at you before an annoyed look overtakes his face, "Do you know how embarrassing and hard it was to explain when they asked why you didn't have a shirt on and my hands all over you while you were unconscious?"

"What happened to them?"

"Who- The Swedes?" He tilts his head, before looking at your covered wound, "They left after you were shot. I think they think you're dead."

"Why?"

"Because they're idiots," He shakes his head like it was the most obvious answer. "Though, that's good for us. If they think you're dead, they won't come after you and you'll be safe."

"Sounds like you're telling me to stay inside to be 'safe'." You joke but by the way Five looked back up at you it wasn't a joke. You quickly stand up, "You're kidding- I'm not staying here-"

He stands up, pushing you back down on the bed, "Yes you are. You're safe here- This is were you're staying and I don't care if that upsets you."

"You can't control me!" You yell at him, which causes his face to scrunch up.

"So, you think. You're not leaving my sight or out of where I know you are."

"So you think locking me up will keep me safe?"

"Yes!"

"Why! It was one time!"

He turns away from you, holding his face in his hands. He couldn't talk to you. Not now. He was to caught up and he'd say something he'd regret.

"What are you so afraid of?"

He finally breaks and turns towards you, "Because I can't lose you! You almost died! Okay, are you happy?! Fuck," His nails dig into his scalp and he looks away from you. He rubs his temple before sighing, "I don't... know what I'd if I lost you and.... Well, for the first time in my life, I was scared."

You're surprised by his confession, especially since he never told you his feelings before.

"Oh."

"Oh? That's it?" He looks back at you surprised.

You shake your head, "I'm just surprised."

"Yeah," He sits on the edge of the bed, before fiddling with your hand, "You know, when you were bleeding out it was awful." You looked at your hands that were now intertwined, "I know I don't say it, but I do care about you and I just want you to be safe."

"Yeah, I know, but I can defend myself. There's nothing for you to be worried about."

"Yeah, I know... But I can't help it."

"Yeah, you do worry a lot, but I promise nothing bad's going to happen."

#number 5 #tua #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #number 5 x reader #yandere five #umbrella academy #yandere five hargreeves x reader #yandere five x reader #yandere five hargreeves #yandere number 5 #yandere the umbrella academy #yandere umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader

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brucewaynehater101 · 7 months ago

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your posts about Tim being the parent in his time with Bruce+ Richard's parentification + Tim always planning of being a placeholder, got me thinking

What if Tim started off like that, playing parent for Bruce, ensuring he doesn't cross any lines or overworks himself

And just never stop?

His civilian life is starting to crack, and he's doing worse than he could be, but Batman has to be taken care off

In comes Jason who tries to kill him (great another Bruce) so his workload is doubled, and also Damian who has to be untaught murder

Well it's an escalation of what he's used to, but if he can deal with Batman, he can deal with his kids, time to bust out the books on therapy and deprogramming cult teachings

Besides, he's a placeholding for the two of them until they're better like Batman, so who better to teach them the ropes than him?

Let's toss in comments here and there that will clear misunderstandings between the Bats (excluding himself— he's temporary) and what about their interactions keeps the family apart

Like boy is neglecting himself to high hell, only stopping when it's literally impossible, and barely has a civilian life, but it's worth it for Gotham's betterment and the Batfamily's stabilization

Timestream? Well shit, he has to get Bruce back as per his job of keeping the family in order but the family is either not getting better or worse,

Let him just leave a bunch of personalized self-help guides and programmed schedules that'll ensure the bats are getting better while he's away

Oh hey Ra's, midn if I secretly learn everything about how Damian grew up in this fine League of yours so I can teach Damian what is so wrong about his childhood once I'm home?

So everything is getting better post BruceQuest, Richard can be a brother more (because Tim took on his job as parent-brother), Damian and his family are able to bond and understand each other (because Tim untaught an awful upbringing) and Jason feels like a member of the family (because Tim got Jason up to speed with how much he has always been loved) plus Bruce gets to be a father with his kids (because Tim kept the man out of his otherside inevitable self-made grave)

And say Batfamily, in a miracle of communication, realize that Tim has subsumed Bruce's role as caretaker and father

Not to the entire family of course, but even parenting for one sibling or parent as a kid yourself is one too many

And they remember all the comments Tim said to help the family get better subtly suggesting everybody but Tim is family

Like he's said "Your family," never "Our"

He says "You're a Wayne, a member of their family,"

He has to be referred to as Tim and Drake, never Wayne to catch his attention

And also imagine Richard saying "You can't keep being a parent to your brothers and father" and Tim going "glass houses, *tires to parent Rich*"

"NO—"

The shit storm that would happen if the batfamily realized that Tim donned Robin with the intention of always playing parent for Bruce, and then leaving once his intervention isn't need anymore

Yes! I absolutely love the ideas you incorporated with this. I didn't manage to hit all of them in my post, but I tried to expand upon them a bit:

At first, Tim wouldn't realize that's what he's doing. He just wants to help Bruce (even if that includes taking away the Batmobile keys, locking him out of the batcomputer, and using a rewards system when the man successfully takes care of his wounds).

Tim only comes to the realization that he's Bruce's parent when the YJ are being lectured by their mentors. At this point, the team has done far more dangerous stunts and missions than whatever the JL was lecturing them about. When the mentors come, Robin allows Batman to lecture him in front of the others. Tim knows they have to keep up appearances and can listen to a hypocritical discussion from Bruce to maintain the image of Batman Tim has spent so much time propping up.

After the other mentors leave, Tim pulls Batman into a private room for a chat. Bart, fearing that Robin is getting a second lecture, almost bursts in to save Tim. He's slowed down by the glare Tim sends his way. He's stopped by the conversation he overhears.

Tim, with his hands on his hips as he glares up into the cowl, lectures Bruce on all the behavior issues the man displayed the month that the YJ were away.

Bruce is just standing there, head slightly hung, as Tim goes on.

"This is why I feel I can never get away, B. I can't even leave you for a month before your excessive force statistics skyrocket! What am I supposed to do with you?"

Bart quickly leaves as he has a mental breakdown at this discovery. Two hours later, when Batman leaves, Bart asks Robin if he's Batman's father. Tim laughs it off at first, but after Bart lays out the evidence, Tim spirals for a few days at this discovery.

Once Tim accepts that he *is* like Bruce's dad, he decides to just embrace it. He and Alfred can share custody of the man-child (and this is also why Tim has the view of family that he does. His three examples of being a father are his own dad who constantly leaves, Alfred who maintains a professional distance, and Bruce who's his grieving son). Tim sees Dick as his brother, but he sees Bruce as his kid. It's confusing as hell, complicated, and Tim also doesn't see himself as part of the family at the same time.

While the teen is finally settling into his role as Bruce's parent, Jason comes back and tries to kill him. He doesn't know whether or not to laugh that Jason becomes his new responsibility at the same place Bruce officially (in Tim's mind) became Tim's.

The teen treats Jason similar to a grandson and son. He parents Bruce on how to interact with Jason, takes a few college classes and reads a few textbooks on PTSD, and interrogates LoA agents on the Pit. He slowly starts to feed them both phrases and perspectives so that they understand and interact with each other better. He almost wants to hit them both upside the head for their miscommunication.

It's not great, and Tim is so fucking tired, but they are getting closer to being a family. Tim can almost taste his retirement.

Then Damian comes into the family and tries to kill him. Tim wants to scream.

Damian isn't exactly friendly to Tim, but the teen spots a breakthrough when he catches how Dick and Damian interact. He, in what he later calls foolishly, drops some of the weight onto Dick's shoulders. Tim's tired trying to wrangle both Jason and Bruce into somewhat, even unhealthily, communicating with each other.

Then Bruce dies. It's unfair because Tim has lost someone who's both his son and his father to him. No one except Cassie could know about the amount of grief Tim is under because of that. Cassie, who Tim isn't talking to after the whole basement scientist cloning thing.

So, Tim finds evidence that Bruce is alive. He watches as Dick cracks under the weight of Batman and being a father to Damian. He's hurt (oh gods does it burn to lose his self-made but suffocating role that ties him to Bruce), but he understands why Dick gives Damian Robin.

Tim leaves, and he starts to discover himself. He became an adoptive father at thirteen. For once, even though he's heavily lost in the thralls of grief, he's free of that responsibility. He only has to take care of himself (an exhausting task he's never quite accomplished before) and he doesn't rely on anyone.

Still, despite his freedom, he sees Ra's offer for what it is. It's an opportunity to learn more about Damian. Bruce will need Tim's support when he returns, after all. If he takes down Ra's both for himself and Damian, that's neither here nor there.

When Bruce finally returns home, Tim starts to see his retirement again. He sees the progress he's enacting out of the family in all of their relationships. Like Tim's messy relationship with Bruce, Dick is both a father and brother to Damian. Jason and Bruce will occasionally meet at a diner. Damian and Bruce will have father-child outings outside of Batman and Robin. Cass returns home more often. Steph barges into the Manor for food or bugs different Bats on patrol. Babs is able to take time for herself outside of wrangling the Bats together. Duke is starting to join the family, but Tim doesn't imagine too much tension or difficulty with that transition. They'll be fine without him.

It's looking up. Tim can leave behind his the Wayne family.

Then Damian points out how Tim often uses "your" or "their" instead of "our" family.

Godsdamnit.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #thank you for the ask!!!!#your ask has so many good ideas thank you!

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fluideli123 · 4 months ago

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I've watched the DP&W movie twice in theaters and three plus times on a pirated site, and I wanted to grant my analysis on Wade and Logan's relationship that not only respects Vanessa--because Vanessa was literally Wade's Soulmate until shit hit the fan and you can pry that fact from my cold dead hands. But also explains how Logan and Wade actually represent a a-spec experience and relationship that I feel like no one has really gotten into. Am I saying they're a-spec? No. But that doesn't mean queer relationships that are fairly normal in a-spec spaces doesn't mean they don't exist outside of them as well.

First of all, the only two reasons I believe Vanessa and Wade broke up was 1) Wade went back in time to save Vanessa and he told her after his usual routine of jokes and lies and 2) Wade finally believed he could be something more, a hero, only to be turned down by the people who are known for their heroism, leaving him lost.

I genuinely believe Vanessa had a hard time taking in that knowledge, but knowing Wade and everything they've been through she would get through that like the badass she is and work through it using her plans A-Z, as she always does. But I think to really stop that woman from continuing to start a family with Wade like she wanted to in Deadpool 2, is if Wade was no longer within the right mindset to do so.

Deadpool 1 introduced Wade as someone who believed he was a bad guy who got paid to fuck up worse guys, he refused the term hero, and the moment he even tried to reach for something selfless. An act that would hopefully spare Vanessa from the pain of cancer, it all got fucked up and he got turned into a monster. Someone he deemed even lesser than he was before. So far gone and completely removed from what he was loved for (his looks and personality, but how could his personality stand alone when he looked so ugly? As ugly as he always felt on the inside?)

So he turned to what he's always known: Tracking people down and making them pay. In his mind this only confirms that he's a monster, he isn't deserving of Vanessa, of anyone. Which is why he finds comfort in Blind Al, a woman who will only have to deal with his personality and not be able to see how ugly he actually is. Symbolism for showing only half of himself and not him in his entirety (not that he can hide it from her, she's too wise, knowledgeable, caring, and knows Wade better than he knows himself at this point.)

Eventually, he finishes his hunt and is still loved despite what had transpired. Vanessa still chose him, still loved him. So maybe despite how ugly he is, he can still be loved. This grounded him, solidified his self worth, have him such stability that he had a thriving relationship with Vanessa that they were SO ready to start a family, aspired to live that dream. Another act of selfishness. Only to, once again, be met by pain. Get his dream taken away, once again resorting to what he knows: revenge.

Wade wants to be a hero? He gets forcefully mutated. Wade wants a family? Vanessa gets killed. Both are immediately solved by death, but that self-loathing and sickening hatred towards himself do nothing to cure that same confirmation he had once thought he got over: That he wasn't a monster, he could be loved, be something else.

So of course Vanessa is who, even in death, looks him in the eyes and tells him he cares, he has always cared. He cares so deeply about the people in his life he meets who unconditionally love him for him as time passes, despite all his flaws.

Wade wants to be a hero? Colossus believes he can be. Wade wants to save the 13-year-old abused kid? Vanessa knows he can. He saves lives by sacrificing himself. He scarified his comfort to show Vanessa the full truth of his ugliness, he sacrificed his life for Russel to give him a better life. Maybe he isn't a complete monster, maybe he can believe again. He can be selfish, he can be reckless. So he goes back and saves more people. Heroes do that. They save the people they love. You don't hold the whole world on your shoulders, no, like Miles learned in ATSV you think of one person of the few people you want to fight against the world to protect. And he did just that.

With Vanessa back and a big family he can finally chase after what he wasn't meant for. Because it's only happened twice, it wouldn't happen again-

Rejection. He can't be a hero because people don't need him. He is the needy one, the one who wants to be needed, needs to be wanted. So, it's the crash. The final straw. He breaks. He breaks so hard because what the fuck is the point to trying if every time he is met with failure? Rejection? Pain? Loss? He becomes so stuck in figuring this all out he neglects his relationship with Vanessa, causing issues. They go separate ways, but still so close, because you don't just lose your best friend like that, even if you're no longer partners. They're always meant to be together one way or another.

So you have this broken man who is searching for purpose, years later still harboring this tiny flicker of hope that he can be greater. He can be great. He can be a hero.

His world is in trouble, he doesn't think twice saving it. He accepts he isn't perfect for this, not like all the big guys back in Avengers headquarters, but he can't let his loved ones die because of someone he's had a vendetta against the last two movies.

He literally fights and fights and fights to find someone to help him, Wade can't save who he loves he has to find someone else you can, anyone else.

Than a broken, desperate man walks into a bar to see another broken man who has since long given up.

The thing about Logan and Wade is that they don't need words. Wade blew himself up in order to die in the second movie, Logan drinks himself away, both knowing they can't die no matter how much they want to. How much they believe they deserve it.

So Wade sees a Wolverine who has potential, who hasn't hurt him (unlike the others, he gets hurt so much, guys) and places his faith in him without hesitation. From that moment on he has never truly doubted Logan's abilities nor his heroism, because he knew his Logan and if his world was anchored by a Logan than all Logan's are built with something he isn't. They're made to be heroes, made to be important. Yeah, they fight, but I strongly believe that's how two broken men say everything words can't possibly describe.

I mean what words could describe the way they go all out on each other, knowing the other can't die, the way Wade looks up at him, not wanting to regrow his entire body because he needs to save his world and understands Logan and has to decide to say something that'll convince him to help. Wade doesn't know if stopping the machine will completely save his world or if a new Logan will patch it up too, it's his own educated wish he passes onto Logan. Because just like Russel, he cares. He understands. He wants to help.

It's that faith, hope, and resistance and face of humor despite it all that causes Logan to stick by that dumb asses side. He lost everything, he is seeing someone like himself before he stumbled home drunk from the bar to find everyone dead. Someone who is capable of doing something he wasn't able to. He wants to help, more and more for Wade and less himself, a silent journey of healing following Wades steps everywhere they stumble into.

Because Logan was just drunk at a bar before being told he was needed to save a world, told he was the worst before being offered help anyone, getting praised over his capabilities, and than told again and again how he is able to be someone he never thought he could be. Much like Wade was and is.

Logan sees it. Wade most likely ignores it, much like anything else. He isn't very open with anyone other than Vanessa as we've learned.

So just- of course Wolverine is the honest one, of course he hits low, he sees himself and Wade and wants to hurt him. Wade wants to hurt him back, but only when he's directly attacked by his words and threats, a way of not taking shit. Logan took shit from the world and than didn't from Wade and his emotional rollercoster right. And I think without whatever happened in that Honda Odyssey things wouldn't have been the same. They needed that fight, that release, that hatred from themselves to burst into the form of someone else who could take it just as much as the other could.

Logan listens to Wade's home at the borderlands. Logan is given kindness and tough love. Logan joins. Logan begins to understand how most linger by Wade's side despite everything. He sees why. He's a force, he doesn't give up, he doesn't quit, not for others. It grants strength, though imperfect and messy.

Logan believes Wade deserves better. So he plans on sacrificing himself only for Wade to once again show how much of a Hero he wants to be and could be. Only for those two idiots to hold hands to madona and come to a mutual understanding and comfort that has Wade making room for Logan in his and Al's apartment.

And there is something so inherently a-spec about not being explicitly sexual with each other, having an understanding that goes beyond direct words and full truths. They they can hurt one another and it feels so good, so wanted and cherished. How they support one another by being fucked up and sloppy. They're wrecks and they help the other heal, do what they're too afraid to do.

What is more a-spec than two people looking at each other with adoration and trust? To be two people who cannot be placed within a single both because their relationship and meaning to one another isn't so neatly cut and within expectations? To love in a way that blood and standing side by side is a comfort? A steadying point in which everything becomes clearer with time?

They make me so fucking sick, they make me so FUCKING SICK.

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l0sercat · 6 months ago

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NSFW alphabet with King Baldwin IV

Please note that this is not the historical figure but the movie version. Also MDNI for my sake and yours.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's a god at aftercare. Literally will get you whatever you need or want. He puts his needs last. When you take care of him he is shy, but very thankful.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn't like his body that much due to his leprosy. He has to admit he was good looking before and during which he loved his hands, but now they're covered in sores. So maybe his eyes. He loves everything about you but more specially your hair. He loves his soft it is and he likes playing with it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming inside you. He wants to get you pregnant so bad, he wants and heir to the throne when he eventually succumbs to his illness. Even if you can't get pregnant he still loves to cum inside you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He gets hard every time he sees you naked. Even if it's not in a sexual context. Taking a bath. Boner. Get dressed boner. Hell if you give him a kiss and shower him in praise he gets hard. He can't help it just loves you so much.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He is a total virgin. No experience. I mean he's a strict Christian so obviously no sex before marriage. He is super happy that your taking his first and he gets to experience these pleasures with you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He really likes doggy. You can't see his scarred body which is a plus. He also likes how he can hit every angle in this position. He wants to make sure you feel good.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Serious 100% He views this act as sacred and something that your taken care of. Making a joke would just ruin the atmosphere.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Does leprosy affect pubic hair? I personally believe that he would try to keep it tame down there. It's not perfect but he put in the effort and that's all that matters.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He is sweet and a little clumsy but it's his first time so. Your pleasure is always number one. You'll have at least three orgasms before he has one.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does not masturbate. He views it as an unholy act. The only way he will cum is by your "hands". Even thinking about masturbating grosses him out.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise. Oh my gosh does he love when you praise him. He feeds off of your praise. He performs better if you praise him. Especially when he cums and you praise him he will go wild.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The bedroom. He'll only do it there because it's the safest. Why would he fuck you anywhere else?

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He really wants to get you pregnant, but at the same time he doesn't because he doesn't want his kid to have leprosy. So it's more so that he just really wants to be close to you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation. To him or you. If you say something degrading he will not stand for it and make you apologize immediately. And he could never degrade you because he thinks your near perfect. It would literally kill him to degrade you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He wants to give but is afraid he'll be bad at it and it probably might hurt his scarred skin. He doesn't mind receiving but is awkward the whole time. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He is slow until he is on the edge and picks up the pace a bit. His leprosy effects him a bit in this department. He can't go to fast or all his stamina will deplete.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No, he prefers to take you properly. Also quickies just wouldn't be good because y'know he's king and all. He has not time to quickly fuck you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

No he is comfortable with what y'all have now and that's all he wants.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He has bad stamina because of leprosy, so he can't last long. But he makes sure you'll have many orgasms and feel overwhelmed with pleasure. He always prioritize your pleasure over his.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Toys weren't even invented back then lmfao

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't tease, much. He'll never deny your orgasm but he'll gently poke fun at the way your face is all red and teary eyed.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He isn't very loud but he doesn't hold back his voice. You'll hear everything that comes out of his mouth.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes when your on top and gently take you fingers through his hair and whisper praises. And maybe call his your king or majesty.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's about 5-6 1/2-inches long and kinda thick. It has a little scaring due to his leprosy but it looks normal. It is not cut but he does clean it well.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's not high but not low. He wants to do it more frequently than he does but his body can't handle it. He feels repulsed by himself but seeing you moaning his name makes him feel better.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After your both cleaned up and taken care of he falls asleep pretty quickly. Your in his arms sleeping and then he falls asleep.

#x reader #gender neutral #gender not specified #gender neutral reader #kingdom of heaven #koh #kingdom of heaven Baldwin #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #Baldwin x reader #yandere Baldwin #yandere king Baldwin #yandere Baldwin iv

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 6 months ago

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🧸 Beary soon 🧸

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, June 2024 edition

Prompt: stuff, 483 words

Rated: G

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Mutual pining; Tooth-rotting fuff

“Careful,” Eddie says as Steve sweeps a horde of tiny demons off the desk. “They're delicate.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve gripes. His arms are sore from carrying boxes and his head hurts. “How about you pack them yourself?”

“I’d love to,” Eddie grins obnoxiously. It tugs on the bandage covering his jaw, where the bats almost tore out his throat. “But alas, I’m under strict orders to rest.”

He settles against the headboard of his bed and winces as the movement pulls on his stitches.

“So you’d rather watch me work my ass off?”

“Exactly, big boy.” Eddie winks at him, and Steve feels himself flush for reasons he’s been refusing to examine ever since the spring break from hell. “Now go. If you can’t handle them with the appropriate care, I’ll get Henderson to do it. Carry those out to the van.”

He gestures at another pile of boxes, like a king giving orders, and returns to his comic book.

While he lugs the first box outside, Steve silently marvels at how much stuff the Munsons have in their tiny trailer. At least the new one is a little bigger, so hopefully it’ll look marginally less cluttered.

He's on the porch steps when the box tears. Books and random trinkets scatter in the grass. Steve swears and drops to his knees.

A shoebox is in the dirt, lid half open. It's labeled PRIVATE in big, black letters.

Maybe, Steve thinks later, he should've looked away. But he's tired and annoyed, and he figures one look at Eddie's stash of titty magazines won't kill either of them.

There's no titties in the box. What greets him instead is his own face, eyes closed, features limp. A polaroid of him, asleep by Eddie’s hospital bed. One of the kids must've taken it, given it to Eddie after he woke up.

There's more.

Wrappers from the candy he snuck in when Eddie wouldn't stop whining about the hospital food.

The card and little stuffed bear Dustin insisted he buy from the gift shop, because everyone was supposed to get Eddie something. The bear is wearing a tiny shirt. It says Get well beary soon. Steve frowns. Why would Eddie keep a secret box full of worthless junk he gave him, like some schoolgirl with a-

…

Oh.

“Stevie?” Eddie hollers from inside. “Are you still alive? Do you need me-?”

“No!” Steve yelps. He drops the bear as if singed, then crams everything back into the shoebox, slamming the lid shut so hard the cardboard dents. “I mean … stay where you are, you're supposed to be resting.”

“I'd rest a lot easier if you weren't smashing my stuff left and right,” Eddie grumbles. “But whatever you say.”

Steve's head feels light and tingly as he carries the shoebox over to the van.

Looks like he'll need to have a talk with Eddie soon. Beary soon, preferably.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddiemicrofic #hype's microfics

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dean-a-mean-tae · 11 months ago

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Stray Kids as Yanderes

Request: "You have yandere on your event and masterlist so would you do skz as yanderes? I know you only do soft yandere and thats fine"

WARNINGS: Obsessive behavior, Murder, Mention of suicide, Toxic relationship, Drugging, Manipulation, Humiliation, Claustrophobic issues, basements, blood, tied to a ceiling (not the reader), mention of kidnapping, delusional mindset, mental abuse, self-harm, cussing, suggestive? talking about kissing, Stalking, I think that's it

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO READ! You DO NOT have my permission to repost my work anywhere.

A/N: I wanted to expand on their jealousy, but this is already long enough. I struggled with Jisung so much! >:[ I WROTE THIS AT 2 AM WITH NOTHING BUT DORITOS AND COUGH MEDICINE IN MY SYSTEM!

Master list

*.·:·BANG CHAN

Type: Manipulative Violence: 50-100% Possessive: 86% Jealousy: 65%

Punishments: Manipulation

The relationship looks normal at first glance. Chan takes care of you, but not so much that it feels like you're dependent on him. He lets you talk to people and leave the house. He waited until you were ready before moving you into his home, and he still waited.

You were cozy in the Venus flytrap, and its jaws were slowly closing.

He'd pick your friends off one by one. Chan starts with the acquaintances. They're not close to you, so it shouldn't hurt that much for them to leave you. He puts wedges between you and anyone trying to separate you. Your friend who had a crush on you is gone.

Chan is a dangerous yandere because of his awareness. He knows what he's doing is unhealthy and probably immoral, but he wants you. Chan needs you.

I don't think Chan would really have a punishment for you.

He'd just be doing the same thing he's been doing. He'll guilt trip you into feeling bad for lashing out. You think Chan is too possessive? You're right, but can you blame him? Anyone who looks at you would want to eat you like a snack and take you home with them for leftovers. He's just being cautious.

The jaws are shut, but something is stopping you from panicking.

*.·:·LEE MINHO

Type: Possessive Controlling Violence: 56-97% Possessive: 100% Jealousy: 100%

Punishments: Isolation and Drugging Humiliation

Minho is yours out of courtesy. You are Minho's because he wants you. There is a difference. As soon as you learn it, everything will be easier for Minho for you.

As seen in this post, Minho likes to play with you. It doesn't matter if you don't want to play, he wants to play, and you will. If he can see the exhaustion in your eyes, then Minho will let you rest. Hope that he can see it. Hope, pray, do whatever.

The more "tired" you act, the less likely Minho is to give you a break. In a way, he wants you to break. How else will Minho know what not to do?

You're moving sluggish? Then we're moving around. You're about to fall asleep? Have this melatonin gummy that's actually an energy booster. Minho wants you to break so he can fix you.

If you start lashing out, Minho will make you more compliant. He'll slip it into your drink or your food. Depending on how exhausted you are, will depict how much he gives you. Minho doesn't want to kill you. He'd not let anyone else have you, not even death.

If you go, Minho goes. You are his, and you can't leave.

When you're delirious, he locks you in a room. Not your bedroom, of course. Minho wants that room to be a safe space for you. He'll lock you in the hallway closet if you're claustrophobic. Or he'll stick you in the basement with the lights off. Of course, you're in a concealed room, so nothing can get you, but you can't see that.

I'm a firm believer that Minho would humiliate you as punishment. He'll finally take you out of the house. He'll pick your outfit himself, and when you come downstairs and question his outfit, he waves you off. "I want the attention to be on you."

And it will be. What were you thinking about wearing colors to an all-black event? Why are you off the theme?

*.·:·SEO CHANGBIN

Type: Protective Violence: 75-95% (Never to you) Possessive: 100% Jealousy: 12%

Punishments: Isolation

Sure, your happiness is important, but your safety is Changbin's top priority. You need to be healthy and protected. If this means killing someone disturbing your peace, then that's okay. If Changbin is causing you distress, he'll isolate the both of you for a break. Then it's back to being stuck together.

If you let him, Changbin will take care of you. He'll feed you, he'll bathe you, and he'll dress you. He will do everything for you until you tell him to stop, and even then, Changbin will push those limits.

Changbin's possessiveness is laced in his need to keep you safe. He would love for you to live your life. But why can't you live your life in the safety of his arms?

You think he's harming you? Well, imagine everyone else. What if he wasn't there? They're worse than him. They have no regard for your being, and Changbin knows this.

He's certain of it.

Your punishment is Changbin's dream. He'll lock you up in a room where you can't be hurt. Where you're safe. Where else is better for you?

Changbin who hides the number of lives he's taking to "keep you safe." He's certain your mind won't be able to handle it. You can barely look at the news about their deaths. So imagine finding out they're tied to you?

*.·:·HWANG HYUNJIN

Type: Delusional Violence: 5% (Unintentional) Possessive: 98% Jealousy: 79-100%

Punishments: Isolation

You need him, and Hyunjin needs you. It's a fact, and you can't go against a fact. Well, you can, but you would be wrong. You and Hyunjin were meant to be. You were together in past lives. You will be together in future lives. In all timelines, you are together.

But Hyunjin is in this timeline, in the present, and he wants you now.

Hyunjin doesn't just love you. Hyunjin knows he is in love with you. He needs you like his lungs need air, how his heart needs blood. How the trees need our breath. But you don't want him? No, you're just confused.

And if not? Hyunjin will wait for the next life.

But in this life? Hyunjin doesn't mind ending it early. His body will be in the ground, his soul in the stars, and his breath in the sky. You have no choice but to be with him.

When you walk, your feet touch the ground Hyunjin's body is in. When you breathe, you inhale his air. When you cherish the stars in the sky, they sparkle and shine for you. They are his soul and past lives shining on you.

Hyunjin would never hurt you on purpose. He has no issues with locking you up if it means keeping you in check and him from lashing out at you.

"I will never hurt you. People don't harm who they love," Hyunjin tells you. He tells you this as he locks you in a room with a see-through door. Ironic coming from him, but at least you don't have to worry about him hurting you.

Hyunjin has no issues with giving you time. Time with him, but still time to realize that you are meant to be.

Hyunjin who is overjoyed when you finally return his feelings. Who is overjoyed when the Stockholm syndrome hits.

*.·:·HAN JISUNG

(I had to let him marinate cause this was pissing me off ;-;)

Type: Quiet One Violence: 76-100% Possessive: Jealousy:

Punishments: Murder (not you)

Jisung is the type with earbuds on and scrolling on his phone to make the act believable. He's not listening to anything, but no one knows that. Jisung is eavesdropping on your conversation.

Jisung watches from the shadows. He leans against walls, tucks himself into corners, and hides in plain sight. Jisung needs to know everything about you.

Jisung takes your lost pencils, favorite candy wrapper, and anything you thought you "lost." Jisung who puts your things on the shrine in his basement.

Jisung finds everything about your family and friends. He finds out their habits and their tales. What makes them tick? How can he get them to put in a good word for him? Jisung, who fakes a smile for your love.

Jisung trains himself to be around you. He sneaks into your room and stands as close to you as he can without becoming a mess. He walks a little ways away from you and shortens the distance as he progresses. Jisung who hides his obsession out of fear of losing you.

Jisung who wouldn't hurt a fly, repeatedly stabs the person stealing you. His heart is steady, his face his blank, and his body doesn't tremble. Jisung who kills those who harm you, even those you don't know.

*.·:·LEE FELIX

Type: Clingy Violence: 0% Possessive: 79-100% Jealousy: I don't know

Punishments: Manipulation

This relationship starts normal, but the longer you stay with Felix, the more his obsession progresses. It's a little hard for him to breathe without you, like running for miles with asthma and no inhaler.

Felix would never hurt anyone. You don't know that, though. Felix doesn't like death, and Felix doesn't want to hurt you in any way. Not truly, so Felix gives threats. Behave, or he'll kill *blank*. Stop acting out, or he'll take *blank* out.

If you ever call his bluff, he'll get fake blood and a dead body. Felix will stage the act. You come home, and it's peaceful until you hear noise from the basement. What's that red stuff on the counter?

When you get downstairs, there's blood everywhere, and your best friend hangs by their wrists from their ceiling. When you try to run, Felix, covered in blood, is in the doorway. He knocks you out, and you wake up in your bed.

Felix is scared out of his sleep by your panicked breaths. When you tell him of your "nightmare," his eyes will dull, and he'll look near lifeless. Your phone rings before you can question him, and it's your best friend. As you're talking to them, you glance at Felix, but he's back to normal.

Felix who kisses your cheek and wishes you a good morning before taking a shower. While he's in the bathroom, you check the kitchen and the basement, but everything is normal. When you get back upstairs, Felix is plaiting the table with your favorite breakfast food.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Felix's face is concerned, but his tone is knowing.

*.·:·KIM SEUNGMIN

Type: Laidback Violence: 26% Possessive: Discreetly at 75% Jealousy: I'm conflicted

Punishment: Taking things from you

Seungmin doesn't want you stressing at all. If you have a problem, he'll fix it. Kidnapping you is too much work, so you won't have to worry about that. Seungmin will let you see your friends and family, and let you go out without him.

He knows you would never leave him.

As an idol, Seungmin can get people to watch you when he's not with you. As a person with "normal" status, he finds a way to convince your friends that you have a stalker and he just wants updates on your safety.

They'll send discreet pictures of you so you aren't panicking. They're trying to keep you safe. What if your stalker is watching you now? Seungmin wouldn't lie about your safety. He loves you, and they know it.

You're starting to sneak around? He'll find out why you're sneaking. If it isn't a surprise for him then you have no business creeping around. He should know everything. You should willingly tell Seungmin everything, or at least make it easy for him to find out himself.

Seungmin's punishments start small. It starts with your passions. You like art? Your pencils are snapped, and your paints have been left with the caps off. You make music? Your instruments are locked away or smashed to pieces. Seungmin won't break something of sentimental value. Your studio is locked with everything inside it.

Maybe you like books? If he has to, Seungmin will go through your favorite book and fold the corners. He'll crease the spines of your books and lock them away so that when you get them back, they're messed up.

You read online? You have a Kindle or an app on your phone? That's fine. Your library is cleared out, and he'll start a new book just to make sure there isn't a "Start where you left off" option.

Seungmin isn't evil. He'll make a list of all the books in your library, online or on a shelf, and keep perfect copies. He'll buy you new paints or get you new instruments.

Seungmin who will send a picture of you with your family if you run away. "I hope nothing bad happens to them while you're gone."

*.·:·YANG JEONGIN

Type: Obsessive Violence: Depends Possessive: 50-95% Jealousy: 76%

Punishment: Isolation, self-harm,

You're all he can think about. Jeongin depends on you. He can't eat, his sleep schedule is nonexistent, and he hasn't been outside unless you bring him.

Tell him to give you space, and Jeongin will hand it to you. He'll be fucking miserable, but he'll give you all the space and time you need. When you finally come back to him, kiss him long and slow or fast and intense.

Jeongin doesn't care. He wants you to be stuck to him like glue until you get sick of him and need a break.

Jeongin is fragile. His world revolves around you. You are the sun that brightens his day and the moon that guides him in the night. Lashing out at him about anything is a direct blow to his heart and soul.

You yelling at Jeongin. = You hate Jeongin.

He can't live while you hate him. He lives to please you. If you hate him, then Jeongin has failed you. Failing you means he failed himself, and life is too good for failure as bad as this.

Jeongin who tells you with a blank face but love-filled eyes that he would die for your love. Jeongin who will proudly show you each scar as punishment for making you "hate" him.

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