#I wrote this because I'm procrastinating horribly

[ellieslaces]

NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU, BABY.

featuring: leon kennedy x fem!agent!reader x ashley graham

synopsis: ashley graham's biggest weakness is attractive people, especially kind, attractive people. she was not expecting to be saved by two of the hottest, kindest people she'd ever met, much less to end up crushing on the both of them

content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; tension; lots of flirtatious banter; ashley shooting her shot for an entire fic basically; mentions of reader being bisexual; light smut; kissing (f!f & f!m); one bed trope; forced proximity; no real smut bc idk how to write a threesome :(

notes: takes place on the way back from Spain (technically post RE4R); one bed-ish trope (r&leon share a bed, and a room with ashley); ashley is sort of confused about her sexuality; semi-established relationship (r&leon); really more of a sibling dynamic between ashley and leon (it sounds weird, but its balanced in the actual fic, i promise)

word count: 6.13k (i’m so sorry)

chloe talks: was this entirely inspired by @postersofleon ? yeah, i read this post a week or so ago and i'm losin' sleep over it. so full credits to @postersofleon for the plot! luv their lil' drabble :) also, sorry this isn't more of a threesome fic. if it were a triple female threesome, i could work with that, but add a dick into it, i'm clueless. anyways, enjoy ashley fumbling for this whole fic (luv her, i just can't help embarrassing her shes so cute). also, please appreciate this, i wrote around 80% of this while i was supposed to be studying for an exam. that’s on adhd and procrastination :)

now playing: Nohings Gonna Hurt You Baby; Cigarettes After Sex

It is entirely possible that blondes were, indeed, your weakness. Sure, over the years, you'd come to realize there was something especially alluring about lighter hair - possibly the way it reminded you of the sun, or how each strand looked like spun gold. Although, what seemed to seal your fate was the ever dangerous pairing of blonde hair and blue eyes. Oh, how alluring and damning was the color of icy blue coupled with silvery, silken strands.

For a time, you believed your weakness was encompassed only within your field partner, Leon S. Kennedy. God, how handsome was that agent. Not only handsome, but brave, and kind - awkwardly so, but it really is the principle of the thing. It was painstakingly obvious to everyone, other than Leon it seemed, that you were completely and forlornly in love with him. It seemed you were equally as blind to the evidence that Leon Kennedy was also miserably in love with you.

But the one person who noticed it upon first glance was Ashley Graham. Not only for the clear obviousness of the situation, but because the feeling was entirely, and unfortunately mutual. And it was this girl who also awoke the realization within you that Leon was not the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed person you found enticing.

Though, you were not the only one in this clandestine triad who had an impending weakness for certain types of people. No, you were not, Ashley had an Achilles heel for graciously kind people. Not just kind, but attractive. Not in a shallow or superficial way, but to say more that a person would catch her eye. She had no pre-existing physical type - no particular hair color, eye color, or even height preference. Just that they be kind. And much to the First Daughter's dismay, you were both horribly kind. In your own respective ways, of course.

Leon — as aforementioned — was awkwardly kind, despite how well he meant. He never knew exactly how to word his concern, or how to come about comforting someone. It was usually said in simple phrases such as “you okay?” or in way of one of many snarky comments he had stored in the deep recesses of his mind. Ashley thought he was funny; sometimes.

You, on the other hand, were painfully sweet to her. Always reassuring her that she was okay, and you were going to keep her safe. Field medic, that’s how Leon explained your role in her rescue. You were there to keep her and Leon healthy and in one piece, which you were startlingly good at. Any bruise or cut she procured was immediately treated by your sweet disposition and skilled hands. She liked how gentle you were with her.

So yes, Leon was kind in an awkward manner, and you were kind in a practical sense. And that devastating combination was her inevitable downfall.

From the moment you and Leon found her in that church, she knew she was fucked. Because, how could people look that good while doing the sort of jobs you had? There was no way, no way she would ever be able to form coherent sentences around you two. But, somehow, by some miracle, she got on with you both quite well. Despite the obvious moments of third-wheel-ism because you and Leon were so close.

There where multiple reoccurring occasions where Ashley suspected the pair of you may be together. Or at least fucking on the side. Because no two people who are just partners have that dynamic. The constant tension, the way Leon could be protective or even overbearing sometimes. The way you would rush to his side to patch up his wounds — no matter how small and minuscule they were — after a fight. Sometimes, despite how endearing it could be, Ashley was annoyed. Sure, you two had known each other for an extended period of time and had just met Ashley that day. But, it became so aggravating when you would consult each other without the inclusion of Ashley.

Many times you would apologize to her, expressing how sorry you were for leaving her out of conversations or hypothetical battle plans. It wasn’t that either of you thought she was stupid or couldn’t handle it. No, it was more along the lines that you were used to it just being the two of you. There was rarely ever a third party involved — other than Hunnigan chatting away in your ear pieces of course — in these types of situations.

Ashely was smitten, to put it lightly. She’d made several attempts to quote-unquote ‘shoot her shot’ with Leon. Little comments of how brave he was, how thankful she was for his saving her. Even calling him her ‘hero’ on one occasion or another. His name had posted permanent residence in her vocabulary it seemed.

However, her means of flattery with you was completely different. She was a little more bold with you, seeing as you were more of an open person than Leon was. She partook in the cliche, yet never failing flirtatious mannerisms — simple touches, giggling at your jokes, or simply sticking to your side in dangerous situations. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice, no, you just turned a conscious blind eye to it all. Ashley was a college girl, a sorority girl, a privileged girl. She was probably used to using flattery to get what she wanted, to gain the attention she so desperately thrived on.

Though as your time in the hostile Spanish village went on, you came to realize that it wasn’t superficial, Ashley’s flattery toward you and your field partner. Absolutely not, far from it. You realized after Leon had carried her to Luis’ laboratory and you managed to get the machine working to expel the parasite from her body, that Ashley was totally and completely smitten with the pair of you. She was attached in the worst way. And that would be your inevitable downfall.

Leon was consciously blind to it. Your partner — no matter his selfless tendencies and his awkwardly kind nature — was melancholic. He had a firm belief he was predestined to be miserable. That there was always another shoe waiting to drop. He didn’t deserve happiness, peace, love, a good life. So, he ignored it. He ignored how Ashley was equally as taken with him as she was with you. He didn’t bring it up, he didn’t even act like he noticed. Oh, but you did.

You saw the attachment so clearly by the time the three of you had managed to escape the crumbling island via Ada Wong’s gifted jet ski that Ashely was so attached to the pair of you. She’d offered positions on her own personal detail to you, claiming she could put a word in with her father. Denials were made, kind smiles and the shaking of heads. Too kind of an offer and you liked your jobs, is what you’d told her. That wasn’t at all what you were thinking though.

Post a Hunnigan meltdown over your earpieces, the three of you were told to stay the night in a shabby, rundown little local hotel in a larger town a couple dozen miles south of the village. Still in Spain, still tired, still craving a warm shower. One room, two beds. Great, one of you was stuck sleeping with someone. Ashely offered for one of you to have a bed to yourself, she’d sleep with the other. Not a great idea. You and Leon — having spent many awkward and difficult missions together, so this was not strange to either one of you — decided on giving Ashley a bed to herself and taking the other together

If you’d been alone, oh how your lovestruck little heart would have burst. Sharing a bed with Leon Kennedy, the object of your affection. The sole performer in your wildest — and wettest — dreams. But you weren’t alone. Ashley was in the room, a matter of feet away, in her own double sized bed.

If she hadn’t been — to be vulgar and completely honest — nothing would have stopped you from fucking him then and there. The tension between the pair of you had been growing thicker since your arrival in Spain. It was thick, painfully so, and also horrifically obvious not only to you, but yet again, to Ashley. For the longer stretch of the mission, she’d expected a grand confession at any moment. A breakdown caused by a dangerous situation that ensued a moment of emotional and even physical vulnerability. But, to her dismay and yours, that never happened. Because, above all things, Leon was professional for a lack of a better word. He wasn’t going to allow his emotions to jeopardize the mission.

And so no breakdown of emotional distress and vulnerability played out. No confession of hearts bleeding for the other were cried out. Part of you was glad it hadn’t happened that way. But the larger part of your soul which was dedicated to Leon had wished it had. You longed for the day he realized he needed you too. But, to maintain professionalism and dignity, neither of you made such admissions.

Warm showers were taken in rotation in the tiny excuse for a bathroom. The shower was small and permanently stained with grime, but really was clean as the owner swore. The shower head was one of the older ones from the seventies that made the water come out in a dribble, then a forceful rainfall that hurt your back. The toiletries provided by the hotel were small and cheap, but you were clean. That’s all that mattered.

Sans dried blood and grime, you sat on Ashley’s bed, cross legged as you patched up each one of her injuries. Ashley had been the first to shower, after a fifteen minute debate with the two of you over who should go first. She had a few bandages and exposed scrapes that needed to be re-cleaned. So, with gentle hands you did so as Leon took use of his turn to shower.

“Looks good, no signs of infection so far. But, like I said before, I can’t tell too much without the right equipment.” You reassured Ashely as you finished patching up a cut on her arm and began to put your first aid kit back together.

“Thanks,” Ashley nodded, inspecting her scrape riddled skin. Small bruises and surface cuts were beginning to make their appearance, telltale signs of the brutality the three of you had endured in that village.

“Let me know if you feel feverish or see any swelling. That could mean infection.” You offered, being kind but stern.

“‘Kay,” the girl nodded, smiling up at you as you let out a sigh, leaning back on your hands on the bed.

You looked at her, smiling softly as your head tilted to the side a little. “Need me to kiss it better?”

At this, Ashley’s eyes went wide, her cheeks dusted with pink. You felt a little bad then, you just tried to ease the tension. “S’okay, Ashley. I was just playing.” You laughed, your tone lighthearted as you placed a gentle hand on her knee with an equally gentle smile.

It seemed the touch was worst than the comment. Ashley’s entire face went aflame, her eyes wide, and large as she stared at you. An uneasy ache settled in your chest, uncertainty lingering in the air as your smile faded. The initial shock between the pair of you didn’t last long as the door to the bathroom swung open.

“Jesus, you could’ve left me some hot water.” Leon grumbled as he stepped out into the room, lips downturned and brows etched in an annoyed frown.

The three of you were now paused as Leon’s eyes fell on you and Ashely — or more-so on the hand that rested on Ashley’s knee. Reality seemed to snap into place all at once for you, yanking your hand back and standing up.

“Let me check you out.” You mumbled, clearing your throat as you picked up the first aid kit and took residence on your own bed.

“No, I’m fine. Check on Ashley,” Leon shook his head, damp blond strands sticking to his forehead.

“Already did. Just finished. Your turn, whether you like it or not.” You stated, your tone final as you looked up at Leon, brows raised.

The agent let out a huff of agitation, grumbling something indiscernible as he sat down on the bed beside you. You began to gently inspect Leon's wounds- some small, others more intense. Despite his prior hesitation to be taken care of, he was stoic about it all. He sat still, unmoving, silent as you worked to disinfect and cover each wound with fresh bandages. The silence in the room was loud, startlingly uncomfortable as you patched Leon up.

A quick glance over at Ashley as you finished bandaging a deep cut that you'd quickly stitched up on the field showed her wide eyes. Wide baby blue focused on the way your fingers gently worked, how graceful and careful they were again the alabaster tone of Leon's skin.

"Doing okay over there, blondie?” Leon inquired, a small smirk playing on his face as he spotted Ashley's startling gaze on the wounds decorating his skin. He had mistook her fascination of your hands as nervousness of his wounds. But you knew. You could tell what her gaze meant.

"Oh, yeah. M'fine." Ashley recovered very quickly, to your surprise. Well, maybe it wasn't just your hands that had her enraptured, Leon was sitting on the bed, shirtless.

"Alright, hero-boy, all better." You smiled at Leon as you patted his bicep - earning a small, almost inaudible grumble from him - and moving to close your medical kit. You stood, tucking away in your pack and let out a sigh. "’Kay, l for one, am fucking exhausted."

“Yeah, me too,” Ashely murmured, an aura of discomfort still radiating from her. She offered a kind, if not awkward smile to the pair of you before settling into the bed, pulling the overs over her shoulders. “G’night.”

“‘Night,” you smiled, shuffling over to the bed you and Leon were sharing. You sat down on the edge, eyes trained on the back of Ashley’s head — the blonde hair, how it shimmered against the dim light of the single lamp in the room. You felt almost as if you weren’t really there.

“Need me to check you?” Leon asked, snapping you back to reality. You jolted a bit, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Oh, nah, I’m okay.” You shook your head, clearing your throat as you settled into the bed, flicking off the lamp.

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, getting into the bed too, still in just a pair of pants. Everyone was in the barest of clothing. You in a tank top and underwear — Ashely in the same. It was all you had. All your clothes were soiled with dirt, and grime, and blood.

Thinking of nothing in particular, you laid there, staring up at the ceiling of the dark room. The walls creaked every once in a while, odd drafts filtered in from cracks in the ceiling or from the window. It was too quiet. And it stayed that way for a long while.

“Everything okay with Ashley?” Leon asked, his voice quiet, as not to wake the subject of conversation.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You mumbled back, turning your head. He, too, was on his back. Both of you too afraid to face each other in bed, seeming too personal. “Why?”

“Just making sure.” His response was quiet, a little too nonchalant, as if he’d forced it to be casual. “It was awkward earlier.”

“Earlier?” You decided to play dumb, despite knowing that Leon wouldn’t believe it. He was well aware you knew what he was talking about. The touch. How Ashley had frozen when you’d touched her leg.

“Whatever, play stupid.” He scoffed with a half smile — a knowing smile. The bastard. “Just saying, she seems attached to you.”

“Oh, and she’s not with you, her hero?” You bit back with a hint of humor. Your voices were still low, hoping Ashely was asleep — or she couldn’t hear you if she wasn’t.

Leon laughed quietly, a rough scoff sound that echoed in your ears. You smiled at little at that sound. “Whatever you say,”

You frowned, gaining the confidence to shuffle onto your side, facing him as you contemplated what that simple, yet heavy ‘whatever’ meant. “What do you mean, whatever?”

Leon sighed, rolling onto his side to face you too. His eyes, still so blue even in the darkness of the motel room, bore into yours. It seemed he didn’t carry the same awkward feeling about this topic as you did. Or, maybe he did and he just hid it exceptionally well. But knowing him, that didn’t seem right.

“She’s just attached to you. Always at your side, or chatting your ear off. And what the hell was with that earlier?” He continued, brows furrowed in their eternal frown.

“I was patching her up. Making sure none of her cuts were infected.” You half shrugged, trying to play it off as something simple, even though it was so complex.

“She looked like she wanted to kiss you or something.”

“Oh, my God,” you rolled your eyes, trying to push away the way your chest tightened at the though. “You’re so fucking dramatic. She wasn’t gonna kiss me.”

“Okay,” Leon shrugged, his tone final and casually dismissive. Like he was finished talking about it. Like he didn’t believe you but didn’t want to say so.

“She was not going to kiss me.” You pushed, voice quiet yet firm. Your own brows were pulled into a frown, like what he’d said was offensive.

But it wasn’t. Kissing Ashley wasn’t a bad thought. It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed another girl before. The first time you had was in the training program for USSTRATCOM, your training partner who made you realize that all girls don’t look at other girls that way. She was the first, others followed.

Ashley was pretty, very pretty. Tall, pretty lips, and the blonde hair, blue eye thing, of course. Kissing her wouldn’t be so bad, really. It would probably be very nice. But nothing like kissing Leon, though.

“Okay.” Leon said again, shifting to lay on his back again, letting his eyes close. The finality of it all aggravated you. So, you asked him a question maybe you shouldn’t have.

“What if she did?” You asked, eyes narrowed and trained on him. A smile bloomed on your face at the way his eyes opened, his brows furrowing deeper at your question.

“What about it? It’s not my business.” Leon grumbled. But the tone he used made it wound like it was very much his business.

“M’kay.” You nodded, quietly celebrating to the way you’d seemed to have stumped him, surprised him.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He stared at the ceiling, and you stared at him. It was deadly quiet, the rhythmic sound of Ashley’s breathing the sole sound in the room.

“Did you want her to?” Leon asked, mumbling quietly. His eyes stayed on the ceiling, as if he were afraid to look you in the eye when you answered. Afraid you had an answer he wouldn’t like.

“I dunno.” You admitted, honestly. You didn’t know, truly you didn’t. Kissing Ashely wouldn’t be so bad, but you hardly knew the girl. Not to mention her heavy attachment to you. It could get worse if she kissed you.

Leon nodded, not sure of how to answer your admission. He laid there, your eyes on him as you laid on your side. You wished so desperately for him to kiss you, or hold you, or do something. It was painful, the thought that he didn’t feel the same.

“Would that bother you?” You dared to ask, voice so low it was almost inaudible as you spoke.

Leon was still quiet for a long moment, maybe considering whether to answer seriously or with his usual dry humor. The latter won. “Not something I’d wanna walk in on.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Why? Because we’re girls?”

“Because she’d be kissing you.” He responding, saying it lightly, like the meaning of that simple sentence wasn’t the heaviest thing you’d ever heard.

Your mind did circles, your heart raced. Did he mean that because you were his partner? Or did he mean it out of jealousy. God, you hoped it was jealousy.

“What do you mean by that?” You questioned, voice apprehensive and unsure.

Leon shrugged, a soft, unintelligible grunt falling from his lips. He didn’t look over at you, his eyes still trained on the ceiling. The nagging feeling that was ever present in your chest worsened. The silence was deafening, painful. Then, finally, he spoke.

“It’d just be weird. It’s Ashely, it’d be weird.” He mumbled, like even he didn’t believe his own answer.

Leon’s words befuddled you, made you frown in contemplation. “Because it’s Ashley? What you mean by that?”

“I mean it’s Ashley. It’d be weird.” He repeated, not clarifying at all. This annoyed you.

Eyes narrowed, lips in a line, you scoffed. “Thanks for the explanation.”

“Anytime,” Leon clipped back playfully. But you were in no playful mood.

You huffed, Leon picking up on your attitude as you sat up in bed. “Seriously, what’d you mean by that?”

Leon let out a scoff of his own, rolling his eyes as he looked over at you. “I mean it’s just a weird thought. You and Ashley. We, we just met her, okay?”

“Oh,” you nodded, wishing you hadn’t jumped to your own conclusions internally. You’d thought he meant it was weird because she wasn’t him. Or maybe that he wanted to kiss you. Not such a simple and obvious answer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, letting out a small sigh to stifle a yawn. “Look, can we get some sleep now? Kinda have a long trip home tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” You mumbled, lying back down on your back, eyes on the cracked ceiling once again.

It was quiet again, the discomfort of silence present once more as Ashley slept in the bed next to yours, and Leon tired to sleep beside you. Your mind buzzed with a thousand variations of the same question: why did Leon actually care so damn much?

“Go to sleep. You think too loud.” Leon grumbled, shifting to lay on his side, back facing you.

“At least some of us think,” you quipped quietly, earning a scoff of a laugh from him before he went silent for the final time that night.

Of course Leon woke up at dawn. The asscrack of fucking dawn. And it wasn’t like he was quiet either. Shuffling of his feet as he stumbled to the bathroom, the sink creaking on. You tried so hard to stay asleep, but your stupid internal alarm clock was ringing too. Oh to be in D.C. where it was still dark.

“C’mon, get up. We need to get moving.” Leon said, his voice somewhat gentle as he rested a hand on your shoulder once he’d emerged from the bathroom, fully changed.

“I’m up. You’re loud.” You mumbled, voice muffled as you pressed your face into the pillow.

“Jesus,” Leon whispered under his breath. “Even Ashely’s up.”

“Good for her,” you nestled deeper into the pillow, hearing a second set of footsteps head toward the bathroom. Less than five short seconds later, Leon yanked the covers from your body, sending a muffled yelp from your lips.

“Up, we need to move.” Leon said again, giving your leg a small shake as you grumbled on about a lack of sleep. His gentleness was gone now, replaced by urgency.

Technically, you were still on ‘enemy grounds’. You weren’t safe until you were back on U.S. soil, and even then there carried a risk with Ashley in tow.

So, with more sour encouragement from Leon, you got up and changed into your now dry clothes. Once Ashely used up her turn in the bathroom, you took yours. And not long after, the three of you were heading back toward the lobby of the shabby motel.

You managed to convince Leon to stick around for an extra thirty minutes for a shitty cooked breakfast in the sad excuse for a dining room where the motel offered complimentary breakfast.

Once full of frozen scrambled eggs, stale toast, and really bad coffee, the three of you were on the move once more. It was tricky, getting home like this. Hunnigan had promised that of you made it to a certain location a few miles north of the motel, there would be a chopper waiting to pick you up. Hunnigan hadn’t failed you yet, so you didn’t doubt her.

“How much further?” Ashley asked, her brows creased, forehead already glistening with sweat as the three of you walked through the winding streets of a small village as you had been for the past few hours.

“Not too much. Tired?” You asked, slowing your steps to walk alongside the girl.

She nodded, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Sympathy panged in your chest — Ashley wasn’t built for this like you and Leon were. The two of you had trained for exhausting situations such as these, she had not. You frowned.

“Need some water?” You asked gently, holding out a canteen from your belt. Ashley nodded vigorously, taking the canteen and drinking deeply.

You motioned to Leon to stop for a moment, he frowned, but did nonetheless. You stood with Ashley as she drank, taking a break before going back to drinking the water.

“Thanks,” she smiled, handing the canteen back to you — now half empty. “Sorry, I drank a lot.”

“That’s okay. Can’t have you passing out on us now, can we?” You smiled, taking a sip yourself before latching it back on your belt.

Leon, noticing that Ashely was finished with her break, began walking again. You and Ashely followed, keeping a small bit of distance between you and Leon.

“Hey, I um, I overheard you and Leon talking last night. Not everything, but some of it.” Ashley confessed, her voice a bit hesitant.

“Oh, that so? What’d you hear exactly?” You asked casually, worry springing in your chest.

“Just, I’m sorry because I know you guys have a like, groove or whatever. And I mess it up and I make it weird.”

You frowned for a moment, thinking about her words. Then it hit you — she didn’t hear about the kissing discussion, just the last bit about her being new to the trio.

“Oh, Ashely. You don’t make anything weird. Leon and I… we weren’t talking about you making things weird.” You promised, lips curved downward as you and Ashley walked behind Leon.

“Then why’d Leon say that?” Ashely asked, the insecurity obvious in her voice.

You hesitated, unsure whether or not to say it to her face. That he’d thought you two were going to kiss. After a moment of consideration — and seeing Ashely’s sad, curious eyes — you decided to just say it. Consequences be damned.

“Because he thought you were going to try to kiss me. When he came out of the bathroom last night.” You explained gently, shrugging as if it weren’t a big deal. When it kind of was.

The girl was quiet for a long moment, her brows creased, lips turned downward. She swallowed, looking back at you from where she’d been staring at her feet. “And he meant it’d be weird if I did kiss you?”

“Yeah, that’s what he meant. Not because we’re girls,” you were quick to interject your previous statement. “But because it’s just… that you and I don’t really know each other that well.”

Ashley nodded, walking beside you as you followed Leon along the uneven stone paths. Every once in a while, he’d glance backward to make sure you weren’t lingering behind or somehow gotten lost.

“Okay,” one simple word carried such finality. It shook you — Ashley was uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel weird. I just wanted to be honest.” You tried to explain gently but firmly. You didn’t want her to think you were strange.

“You didn’t make me feel weird.” Ashely shook her head, eyes squinting in the mid-afternoon sun as she looked over at you.

You smiled a little, relieved you hadn’t put her off or made her uncomfortable. That really was the last thing you wanted. “Good,”

The three of you continued to walk along, and a little further up, you demanded a break. Leon huffed, claiming you didn’t have time for a break. But the sun was warm and you were quickly running out of water.

So, you stopped for a quick fifteen minutes before setting off again. Leon was walking much quicker than before — dead set on getting to the extraction point before sundown. Which was very much possible as you were a mere four miles away.

There was a chopper waiting, just as Hunnigan had promised. God, you’d mentally decided to name your first born after her, so thankful to finally leave Spain and sit your ass down.

You sat beside Leon in the back compartment of the chopper, all three of you sporting massive headsets to protect your ears. You chatted away with the pilot — a friend of Hunnigan’s named Danny who was funny, and reminded you of the late Mike who died in pursuit of getting you and Leon out of trouble in the village.

With the promise of a good meal and actual hot showers, Danny flew the three of you home. You were busy looking outside the chopper when Leon nudged your knee with his, earning a slightly venomous glare from you before he pointed to Ashley. Who was dead asleep across from you.

The ride back to D.C. was long, around six hours. Most of which were spent talking with Danny or falling asleep, slumped against Leon’s shoulder. Around twenty minutes before you were set to land — you and Leon had been previously discussing what you were doing first, eating, sleeping, or showering — you shook Ashley awake.

The poor thing was groggy and half asleep as you all filed off the chopper and bid goodbye to Danny — whom you’d made a promise to meet up with and have drinks in honor of Mike at his favorite bar he’d mentioned before he tragically died.

A government issued SUV waited for you, instructing the three of you to pile into the back so you could be taken straight to the President, then to testing. Which you put up a damn good fight. Who the fuck cared about testing? You were hungry and tired and dehydrated as hell. Leon shut you up quick though, despite not being happy about the arrangement himself.

Unfortunately, the car ride was around a half an hour. The driver — not as intimidating had he’d first appeared — flicked between radio stations ntil he landed on one he knew was Ahsley’s favorite. (Apparently he’d been the one to drive Ashely to college, so he knew what music she liked).

Much to Ashely’s dismay and deathly embarrassment, the fucking Backstreet Boys were playing. The driver turned it up, also having the knowledge that this particular track was one of Ashley’s favorites.

Unfortunately, you knew the lyrics too. You mumbled along with them, Leon biting back a smile at how ridiculous his own field partner could be.

“You like the Backstreet Boys?” Ashely asked, her cheeks a bit warm as you bopped your head to the beat and hummed along.

“Nah, but don’t be embarrassed.” You shook your head, smiling at the girl who was sitting between you and Leon.

“Music is music, blondie.” Leon agreed, nodding his head with your positive attitude. He looked back over Ashely’s head at you, trying hard not to smile at your antics. God, you could be so stupidly immature sometimes.

“Oh,” Ashley mumbled, slinking down further in her seat as the driver made the final turn and parked the SUV.

Leon exited first, then Ashley, and you to follow up the rear. You and Leon were armed, still charged with protecting Ashely, no matter the fact that you were indeed on U.S. soil again, and at the White House. The President didn’t greet you outside to your surprise, but you were ushered immediately to his office.

There he was reunited with his daughter, the emotional moment making you have to quietly clear your throat because it even choked you up to see Ashley so happy to see her father again.

You and Leon were thanked profusely, promised your compensation and the highest of honors and awards. To which you didn’t really want (except the money, fuck, you wanted the money), but you knew better than to even try to deny.

With that, you and Leon were quickly dismissed, told you were being led to government testing to be sure you really were clear of the parasites. You gave Ashley a quick goodbye smile and hug, Leon giving her a pat on the shoulder, telling her to behave herself.

She looked so unsure, so strange standing in the Oval Office, clothes grimy and blood stained, hair mussed as she watched you and Leon being escorted from the room.

The First Daughter felt a strange sort of emptiness in her chest then, watching you leave. Her brows furrowed as her father spoke incessantly to her about how worried he’d been and how much he missed her. You were agents, assigned to bring her home and leave. No more, no less. So why was she so devastated to see you go?

Of course, you felt a little sad to leave the girl behind. Despite spending only around forty-eight hours with Ashley, you found yourself realizing you’d miss her. Her smile and her comments and her laugh. The way she always asked if you were alright when you should have been doing so to her. How she tried her hardest to defend you and Leon, despite her chronic helplessness.

These things were not spoken to Leon though as you two walked out of the White House together, followed by guards back to the SUV you’d arrived in. But, even though you didn’t say it, you knew Leon felt it too. Somehow, in forty-eight short hours, Ashley had left a mark on you. The both of you. And you missed her already.

“Wait!” You stopped in your tracks, you and Leon almost simultaneously looking over your shoulder to see Ashley running out of the White House after you. She was panting, trying to catch up.

She ran to Leon first, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking the agent by such surprise it made him stumble backwards a bit. Leon wasn’t much of a hugger, you knew this personally. But, despite the action being hesitant and awkward, he hugged her back.

After a few moments — which you knew in your bones were long for Leon — he gave her a quick pat on the back. Ashely took the motion in stride and unlinked herself, smiling at him.

Then, she turned to you. Of course, you expected a hug as well, and you got one. She wrapped her arms around your neck too, you wrapped your arms around her middle, hugging her back with no hesitation. But what you hadn’t expected, was for her to lean back and press a kiss to your lips.

You paused, frozen, eyes wide as Ashley kissed you. What the fuck? She wasn’t a bad kisser, actually. You felt a little bad, not kissing her back as Ashley pulled away, letting go of you and taking a step back. You sort of wished you had kissed her back. But, as the girl stood there, she held no contempt for the fact that you hadn’t. She knew she’d taken you by complete surprise.

“Thank you, both of you. I know I already said it, but thank you for saving my life. It, it means a lot.” Ashely said, her lips — which had been as soft as you thought they were — curved in a sweet smile. Baby blue eyes darted between you and Leon.

Leon who was as shocked as you that Ashley had kissed you with such little hesitation. He was still recovering as well.

Ashely said no more, just offering one last wide smile before turning around and walking away. Her guard — which had followed her outside, running behind her — escorted her. She didn’t even look back, didn’t get a second look at the still shocked look on your face.

“Holy fuck,” you said finally, looking away from Ashley’s retreating figure to look at Leon. He was shocked as well, brows raised as he blinked for a moment.

“Yep, that was weird.” Leon mumbled, nodding as if in affirmation. He said no more, turning around and walking to the SUV, leaving you in momentary silence.

You blinked yourself back to the present, realizing Leon’s comment. You frowned, turning and quickly walking to the SUV as well. “So I didn’t just have a dehydration induced hallucination? She actually kissed me?”

“She actually kissed you,” Leon nodded as he buckled in the SUV, you climbing in and sitting beside him. The car started and rolled out of the parking lot.

“Oh my God.” You said, brows raised, shaking your head. You were unsure of what else there really was to say. You were at a total loss for words.

“Fucking weird.” Leon shook his head, whispering again.

This caused you to look over at him, brows raised. “Why? Because we’re girls?” You brought up your challenge from the previous night, knowing full well you’d get the same damn response.

“No, because it's you.”

You frowned deeper, lips downturned. Oh, you liked a good fucking challenge. “You think I’m like, un-kissable, or something, Kennedy?”

Leon rolled his eyes, exhaustion obviously catching up to him. He looked tired — physically and mentally. “I didn’t say that. It’s just weird.”

“See, that’s not an explanation. Just like it wasn’t last night.” You chided, eyes narrowed.

“Christ,” Leon mumbled under his breath as shook his head, clearly regretting ever speaking in the last five minutes. “It’s just weird to see my partner being kissed like that.”

You took this as your chance, a grin forming on your lips. “By another girl? Or just in general?”

“General.” Leon responded, obviously not caring of how bored it sounded.

“Jealous or something?” You challenged further, lips pulled in a shit-eating grin.

Oh you’d gotten him there. You could tell by the way Leon’s shoulders tensed and his too casual expression that he was, indeed, sickeningly jealous. An idea — stupid, one that may ruin your dynamic — popped into your head.

You turned your body to face Leon in the backseat, grinning as he frowned at your sudden closeness. With no hesitation or moment for him to react, you leaned forward and kissed him. Square on the mouth. It must be a thing for blondes to have really soft lips.

Leon didn’t say a word, didn’t pull back, didn’t move. He just let you kiss him. Which was strange in and of itself. You placed a hand on his cheek, him a hand on the back of your neck. Eureka, he’d wanted to kiss you all along. Fuck yes, that’s all you could think.

Leon was a decent kisser too, a really good kisser actually. You scooched a little closer, allowing him to hold you by the back of your neck, your body relaxed against his as if it were natural to do so.

Was this what Ashely was feeling when she’d kissed you? Absolute elation and joy? You didn’t let yourself wonder too much, getting swept up in the fact that you were kissing Leon. His hand was gentle yet firm on the back of your neck, your hand on his cheek drifting down to rest against his chest. This moment, God you wished it could last forever.

Which unfortunately, it didn’t. You heard someone clear their throat, the driver looking at you through the rear view mirror. You pulled back, cheeks a little warm. You must look like some sort of girl. Someone who got around maybe. First the First Daughter had kissed you, now you were verging on making out with your field partner in the backseat of a government vehicle.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pulling away from Leon and sitting back on the seat.

Leon scoffed to himself, letting his hand fall from where it’d been resting on the back of your neck. “You’re stupid,”

“Excuse me?” You let out a small laugh. You’d kissed him and he was calling you stupid? What the hell?

“I can’t believe it took you that long to realize.” Leon shook his head, making you roll your eyes. He’d been jealous the whole time. So the comment of how weird it’d been that Ashley would kiss you — and actually had — was exactly what you thought. Huh, you were some amateur detective.

“Shut up,” you smiled, mumbling as you crossed your arms over your chest, sinking into the seat.

“Nope.” Leon shook his head, making you smile wider.

Maybe these tests wouldn’t be so bad, now that you had two kisses to think on. One you could only ever remember, and one you could receive a million more of once all this was over.

how you can help Palestine! 🇵🇸

[emptywwwriting]

Morning Patrol

Paring: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem! reader

Summary: It's your first patrol shift since you joined Jackson. When your friend, Jesse, calls out sick you have to go on the patrol alone with Joel Miller.

Warnings: Horrible Writing, HUGE age gap (33 years LOL), reader smokes cigs,  reader is also lowkey a horse girl (shut up), smut will be added, edited this @ 3am sry for mistakes lol, no use of y/n

A03 Link: Morning Patrol

Word Count: 3.8k omg...

First writing ever. I'm sorry if it sucks LOL. I wrote this because I’ve been replaying TLOU2 and it re-awoken my love for these characters.

Idk if I will make this a story or not, it depends on the feedback I get. Correct my grammar/spelling if you see anything wrong, feedback is much appreciated. Also, this is a no-Ellie AU not for any reason, in particular, I just didn’t know how to combine her storyline into this. Please read the warnings!!

It's freezing this time of year, cold frosted winds that are carried by the slopes of the mountains swirl the small town of Jackson, freezing everything over. Even the small wooden stove that usually warms your bones isn't cutting it. Yet you have to stop your eyes from fluttering close while you sit next to the open flame. With only your undergarments to cover you, you're balled up as small as possible sitting on the floor next to the heat. Your alarm had gone off 15 minutes ago, but you’d been procrastinating since. It’s your first patrol shift ever since Jackson took you in nearly 4 months ago. This idea was suggested, rather drunkenly, by Tommy at a bonfire just last week.

…

“It’s about time you start pulling your weight here,” Tommy mumbled with a beer resting on his lips, tilting his head towards you.

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze angrily.

Jesse had arranged a get-together by a bonfire following a town event, inviting Tommy, Joel, Dina, and a few other lookout guards. The hangout was calm, warm, and cozy, with everyone sitting around enjoying their drinks, sharing funny stories, and discussing unusual experiences. As a fairly new member of the town, you were unfamiliar with most of the people there. Jesse, who had played a key role in bringing you into Jackson, made sure to introduce you to Dina, with whom you had formed a close bond. She introduced you to the wonderful team of people who manage all of the horses that Jackson uses. Having grown up around animals, and having extensive knowledge of them, you felt right at home. 

However, not everyone was as friendly. Tommy, in particular, seemed to have a strong dislike for you. Ever since the night shift had found you, he had been suspicious of your presence in the town. Tommy constantly questioned you about your past, making you feel like a criminal rather than a newcomer just trying to fit in. While you understood the need for caution in a town as advanced as Jackson, Tommy's suspicions seemed to linger longer than necessary, this pissed you off. Despite your efforts to become a part of the community and form relationships with Jackson’s people, his distrust towards you made it difficult. You couldn't help but feel like an outsider, even when you are trying to enjoy a casual gathering. 

Jesse let out a cough next to you in an attempt to break the tension. Tommy’s brother, sitting next to him, didn't look away from his bottle, staring awkwardly into the brown glass. Jesse adjusted himself upright in his chair and began.

“I mean you can always come with us on a morning patrol shift… if you feel like it of course,” he added quickly, before staring into his own beer bottle.

You hummed in response. 

Still mad at Tommy, you shoot him another hidden glare before finishing your drink quickly.

“I think it would be a good start for you, hell of an early shift but usually a quiet one.” He looks over at you. “Just me and Joel now, another person couldn't hurt.” Jesse finishes.

Tommy's brother, Joel, grunts from across the fire agreeing.

You stare into the open flame thinking about his words.

“You up for it?” Jesse prods.

“Yeah, I'll do it.” You reply.

Tommy lets out a huff but you choose to ignore it. 

Still basking in the awkwardness from Tommy's comment, Dina and Jesse yawn and start collecting their stuff murmuring their goodbyes to the rest of the group surrounding the fire. Tommy and Joel stomp out the flames before falling into quiet conversation, as you follow Dina and Jesse towards the housing strip.

…

You finally force yourself to get up, the cold air wraps around your body as the stove's heat leaves your skin, you quickly get dressed. Sliding your thickest sweatshirt over your head and thick pants onto your legs. Stepping into your boots, you grab a beanie, gloves, and your backpack, making sure that your revolver is with you. After extinguishing the stove's flame, you exit your house and start down the quiet road.

You thought that things were quiet at night, they are even more quiet at four in the morning. Not a soul is awake at this hour, you've never seen the streets of Jackson so still. None of the town's Edison bulbs were on, only the occasional lamp that came from a house's window illuminated your path. Your mind wanders to the patrol, and you recall how just yesterday Jesse called out sick. A horrible stomach flu had torn its way through Jackson, particularly the school kids and teachers. Jesse got it after participating in a snowball fight with the school children, and Dina was now stuck taking care of him.  You had been sick with it nearly a week ago, the aftereffects still haunting your body. Your stomach gurgled with hunger, feeling as if it had sunk in. Chills racked your body at night, but you had no fever and could keep food down, sometimes. You didn't want to leave Joel to do the patrol alone, even though you know he could.

You have never talked with Joel before, just knew of him. His gruffness made itself apparent when he entered a room. He is a very respected man in the small town and it makes you feel like you know him to an extent. You have to admit that his large size and powerful aura make you slightly scared of him, yet it intrigues you even more. You often catch yourself staring at his aged and calloused hands gripping a beer bottle, or while cleaning his gun, and would have to force yourself to look away; But for such a strong and large man he was so quiet. It made you nervous to go on patrol with him. It's not that you dread the patrol itself, nor does it mean you don't want to be alone with him, but you dread the awkwardness of it.

You are both very quiet people, it's bound to get awkward. With someone chatty like Dina, you could rely on her for conversation for hours, and there would never be a dull moment. But with Joel? Who knows.

Finally, you arrive at the greenhouses which are next to the exit of Jackson. In the moonlit shadows, you see Joel, hand near his mouth, a lit cigarette between his fingers. The tip of the cigarette glowing red illuminating his face in an auburn glow. The sight makes your stomach flip, or maybe it's the virus. He catches your eye as you approach, now a few feet from him.

“Mornin.” He mumbles, voice groggy with sleep.

“Morning” You offer back sounding weak.

His peppered beard nearly sparkles in the dim light, his nose sculpting his face beautifully. Towering over you even at a distance.

Fuck he’s hot.

“We should head out a little early today so I have time to show you all our check-in spots,” He says after another puff.

“Sounds good to me!” You say eagerly, slightly embarrassed at your peppiness. 

He tosses the cigarette into the snow, before stepping on it with his boot, turning away from you and towards the gate. You're suddenly very thankful for Jesse's illness, given now you get to be alone with possibly the hottest man you have ever seen. 

Fumbling for the key he unlocks the gate, before having to open a set of precautionary doors, that you remember entering just a few months ago after night patrol found you nearly dead.

“Watch your step.” Joel throws back at you as you exit the final gate and start up a path of icy rocks.

“Got it.” You retort.

Looking up you can see the moonlit glow of the frozen rocks, a long path up into the cover of the forest. It's eerie, too quiet, and too steep. You would not know what to do without Joel here. Even though his presence puts your mind at ease, it's still terrifying while dark. You had almost forgotten what it's like to not be in Jackson. A whole year of struggling to survive on your own forgotten in a handful of months.

I’m spoiled. You think.

You know Jackson has spoiled you but it's not like you don't deserve it.

 The thoughts of your life before, outside the walls of Jackson, creep into your mind and you become nauseous.

“How long will we be out here?” You ask, trying to get your mind back to Joel.

“Well-” He sighs. “Depends on how many stragglers we have to get through. If the weather holds up and there's nothing out of the blue, the whole watch will be about 8 hours.” 

“Eight hours?” You repeat shocked.

“Yep, a whopping eight hours.” He says sarcastically. “Forget how you outbreak, kids never worked a normal job.” He chuckles to himself.

“I was born as soon as the outbreak started, I think that's hard enough.” You say smiling. He huffs.

“I’d take eight-hour shifts over an infection any day.” You smile.

“Yeah me too.” He replies.

It's quiet again and the awkward tension seeps back in making you more uneasy. The sound of his boots crunching the snow under him fills the air, and you're now closer to the woods. You follow Joel a few feet back, studying his frame while he can't see you. 

Why can’t you think of anything to say and why is he so quiet? You pray for Joel to say something, anything, and when he doesn't, you force yourself to talk.

“Do you like your shifts with Jesse?” 

“Jesse's good, a little woman crazy but he's fine. At least he's a good shot.” He lets out a huff.

“Yep, that sounds like Jesse.” you smile to yourself.

The conversation goes silent again and you begin to wonder if it's just this awkward in your head. The path evens out as you enter the brush, and Joel turns his flashlight on, illuminating the now even darker path. As the forest thickens the moon becomes less and less of a help, your eyes strain, trying to make out the terrain. 

Crunch Crunch Crunch

Focusing on the sounds of snow and wind you space out, now trying to ignore the awkwardness between you.

“How old did you say you were?” 

you didn't 

Joel asks awkwardly.

“Twenty-five.” You reply, 

“Jesus.” He says under his breath.

“How old did you say you were?” You ask playfully.

He laughs, seemingly embarrassed.

“Too old.” He says shortly.

You laugh and begin walking closer behind him. When finally in the complete cover of the woods Joel climbs up onto a large rock, one nearly bigger than you. After getting himself up right, he reaches a hand down to you. He looks majestic like this, so tall above you looking down with a rough and large hand extended. Even his thick wool coat can't fully conceal how large his biceps and chest are. You want to take a picture of him. 

Him saying your name, snaps you back into reality, grabbing his hand quickly, he hoists you up onto the rock. His powerful tug launches you faster than you expected. Your foot lands on a chunk of ice and you slip slightly before he holds you up with the hand he was holding. Dangling from his strong  grip you quickly try to find some kind of footing grunting in pain.

His other hand comes down to the collar of your clothing grabbing it and pulling you up. You reach for his arms for stability and take a breath before opening your eyes to look up at him. You're a mess, knees weak, one arm on his bicep the other on his flexed forearm staring up at him like a hurt puppy. You snap your head back down and release him, brushing yourself off. He slowly lets go of your jacket collar and hand before huffing out a chuckle

“Told you to be careful.” He beams down at you.

Your face is so red it's warming you in contrast to the freezing night air.

“Not my fault you flung me over the rock.” You laugh lightly looking down to hide your face. Not only were you red but you are trying to hide the grimaces you are making from the shooting pain in your ankle.

“Whatever you say darlin'.” He laughs.

And, oh that made your stomach do actual flips. You freeze as he starts down the path again, you're trying to comprehend the nickname, and why it sounded so good coming from his lips.

Darlin’....

 Shaking your head you follow after him promptly. The wind picks up and your hair starts whipping onto your already red cheeks. It is cold, and the wind makes you feel even more miserable. Joel's hair, which had only grown since you joined Jackson, moved in the crisp breeze, he seemed to notice the wind picking up, and he started walking faster.

“I think we are getting caught in a storm.” He says defeatedly, pushing forward into the dark night. 

Your heart drops as you push to keep up with the older man who is somehow faster than you, your ankle screaming at you to stop.

“Let's turn back.” You suggest sighing, you pause for a moment to take the weight off of your foot. 

This earns a quick,

“No, too far back, we are closer to the first check-in.” His voice becomes more strained as the terrain gets more steep and the wind picks up. You quickly start following after him again, in a limp.

“How much further?” 

“Half a mile.” Joel quips.

“Focus on the trail. The wind is getting stronger, we have supplies at the check-in and can camp out there until day shift comes.” 

His strong legs take large strides up the mountain. You continue to follow, the wind nearly knocking you over at some points. The gusts of icy air start picking up fallen snow, blurring everything in a cloud of white dust. Your ankle only seems to be feeling worse as each twist and turn gets harder and harder to trek. In a panic, you grab Joel's backpack so as not to lose him. He yells something at you about the path you think, but you can't hear, the wind is screaming in your ears too loudly. Your ankle feels warm. Twigs and branches snap, each making you jump, you slip only slightly, catching yourself before continuing hot on Joel's trail. Your knuckles are white from the grip you have on his bag. Frozen in place. 

Finally, you see the outline of a shed, Snow, and ice slinging into the side of it from the wind. You see the back of Joel's head raise as he spots the structure before his pace picks up even more and you're practically being dragged. Noticing this he blindly reaches back, taking hold of your forearm and dragging you to the front of him, his warm chest pressed against your back. The wind slams into him, blocking it from you. He pushes you slowly, now noticing your limp. Step by step you make your way to the wooden shed. You hear him breathing ruggedly in your ear, your gasp and breaths fill the air along with his. Finally at the door moving you to the side yet not taking his hands off you he opens the door and shoves you inside. The sound of whirling wind, snow, and branches snapping disappears outside of the dark room, muffling the chaos nearly completely. 

Joel puts a large wood plank in the shed's lock and takes a deep breath before turning to you. He looks you up and down.

“You okay? You slipped a few times pretty good back there.” He sighs trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah, I think I'm good.” You breathe deeply and try to think. “I twisted my ankle a little though.” You sigh.

Throwing down your heavy bag you plop down on the dirt floor next to it. You definitely did something more than twist it because the pain is radiating up into your knee, making it hard to hide your discomfort. 

Inside the shed is small, there's enough room for you, Joel, and a small stove with a plastic crate filled with what looked like ammo and food and first aid, underneath it. Joel looks down at you and you meet his gaze. The feeling of his chest against your back lingers on your skin and in your thoughts. You push your thighs together and look away, hoping he can't read your mind. He kneels in front of you grabbing your ankle suddenly.

“Shit!” You hiss trying to pull your leg back up to your body.

He takes hold of your leg again, this time underneath your knee. You move around trying to find a comfortable position.

“Stop squirming, I need to look at your ankle.”

As he wishes you hold as still as possible as he pulls your pant leg up and begins to untie your boot. Gently he slides off the shoe and pulls your sock off halfway. Unveiling your ankle beat red and swollen. Joel cringes at the sight of it and gently puts your leg back on the ground. Reaching behind himself he grabs the plastic tote and opens it looking for what you assume to be painkillers.

“It's really not that bad, I'll be okay, just need to lay off it for a bit.” You sound defeated.

“We have pain killers in here, you can-” 

You cut him off “I'm okay, and I'm not wasting Jacksons supplies.”

He looks at you, at your ankle, and then slowly up your body. 

“You're not going to be able to walk back down with that.” He says.

You go to disagree with him but you stop yourself because you know he's right, there's no way in hell.

“Im sorry, I-” 

“Not your fault.” He cuts you off and places the small crate at your legs for you to prop your foot on.

“I know I just- I feel like the town already doesn't like me, hell I know Tommy doesn't. And I just don't want to be a problem.”

“Tommy’s a paranoid old man,” He begins. “I love my brother but his suspicions get the best of him sometimes, he loves Jackson, and wants to keep it safe, don't take it personal kid.” His eyes show you his sincerity, and you look down, still ashamed.

He looks up at you saying nothing sympathy written across his face. He groans as he gets up from his knees now looking down at you, examining.

“I hope day shift brings up a horse. We gon’ have to carry you if not.” 

You cringe at the thought of the issues you're causing but know he's right.

“As for this storm,” He walks around the room and cracks the door open slightly before having to slam his body on it to get the wind to stop pouring through. 

“Yeah-” He breathes heavily, locking the door back. “That's gonna hold up for a while.” He puts his fingers on the bridge of his knows like he's trying to figure out what to do.

Joel then spends the next twenty minutes doing something you may call nesting. As you watch, you can sense the anxiety pouring off him. He paces back and forth, seemingly unable to calm down. While he doesn't say anything, the worried look on his face speaks for him. It's as if he's trying to distract himself from the nervousness that looks to be consuming him. He checks and double-checks the locked door, and starts a fire in the small stove, he meticulously tends to it. The pacing continues, with Joel occasionally glancing at the door, as if expecting the weather to magically change.

At this point you're lying on the ground head on a Joel’s pack, just staring into the fire.

“Jesus sit down Joel.” You finally tell him, getting tired just from watching him.

He pauses his pacing and looks at you as if he didn’t know he was even doing it. Mumbling an apology, he walks over to you and sits against the wall a foot or two from your head. You two sit in silence for a while, listening to the fire crackle what sticks were left in there, while the wind whistles through the small shed.

“You got any more of those cigarettes you had earlier?” You ask shyly, like you are doing something bad. You meet his gaze craning your neck up while he looks down confused and surprised.

“Didn't know you smoke” He huffs, reaching into the backpack under your head, he grabs a small white beat-up box and pulls from it, a neatly home-rolled cigarette.

You hum, admiring his strong hands digging through the box.

“Don't tell on me.” You smile looking at him sheepishly. He rolls his eyes before sticking the cigarette in his mouth and bringing a match to the end of it, lighting it and inhaling deeply. Taking it from his mouth he brings the cigarette to your lips until you open them, sticking it between them. Your stomach does cartwheels as he focuses on your lips wrapped around the smoke. Inhaling deeply you lock eyes, staring back into his. He takes the cigarette in front you and lets it rest in his hand as you both exhale.

“How long until they come for us?” You sigh after gently taking the cigarette from Joel’s hand and sticking it in your mouth again.

“Day shift starts at 1:30, and it’s still dark out,” He takes the smoke from you and takes a drag before exhaling.

“So we still have a while sweetie.”

You hide the smile that forces its way to your face by adjusting your body so that your head is now closer to his thigh.

You both take turns puffing on the cigarette until it gets too short to hold, Joel tosses it into the stove, and wipes his hands on his pants. You however are plotting on how to get closer to him. Too shy to say anything, but too desperate to not be closer you casually scoot up more and place your head on his thigh before turning away from him, pretending to get comfy. He gets stiff at this and you get nervous.

shit was that too much?

Frozen in fear you listen and wait. Slowly he relaxes and you hear his head thump against the wall. You let a breath out you didn’t know you were holding, and begin to relax. It was nearly 15 minutes later when you started to hear a small grumble coming from the man under you, he was snoring. You smiled to yourself, proud that you had managed to lay on him and not weird him out, maybe he likes it as much as you do. When he wakes up you'll think about testing your luck again, for now though, you need to rest. Closing your eyes you drift to sleep on his thigh, thinking about his hands all over you.

Edit: Chapter 2 will be coming out soon, be on the look out!

[magixfairyix]

For the ask game for fanfic writers!!

(I'm sorry that it's quite a lot, you don't have to answer all of them if you don't feel like it)

5 (Spotify, Soundcloud and YT don't quite work here, so could you please give me a just few artists and/or song titles?), 7, 10, 20, 31, 32, 37, 41, 42, 44, 47, 51, 81

Gurl don't apologize I love rambling-

5. Have you ever made a playlist for something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate?

Always. A playlist I used to procrastinate a lot is the Nyx's (Iorda, Pyris, Nith, Lucina) Concerts playlist. I've mentally created scenes for it and a backstory for Iorda and Darcy, so whenever I'm on the bus or I need to tap out a bit from overthinking with writing or live, I listen to it and just mentally play out the scenes.

All the songs are what the Nyx (Iorda singing) would be performing.

Some songs: KILL ALL PREDATORS (ZAND), I Spit On Your Grave (ZAND), ROACHES (Luluyam), Bad Trip (Fae), Hell Yeah! (tiLLie), and a lot more songs by ZAND and Luluyam!

7. Tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote?

Okay the first fanfic I wrote was actually Pokemon! I can't vividly remember it, but I remember that the main character/self-insert had a Pumpkaboo that Team Rocket wanted for some reason. Even back then, my character HAD to have beef with the main villains.

The second Pokémon fic I wrote had a decent backstory. It took place in the Alola region, and my character used to be a part of Team Skull before she dipped out. And she was in hiding because she had a team full of Eevees (whom she saved from different scenarios) that Team Skull wanted to steal.

10. At what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy/hard is it for you?

I will not write a fic unless I have come up with a title. It usually takes a minute or two, and I rarely go back to change it. SSS was always SSS, and the same goes for my other fics.

20. What is your favourite trope to write?

Hurt/comfort. I need them to cry, and then I need them to trauma-dump. And to be comforted like, 'that's horrible, I will kill them.'

31. Tell us about one of your character who's an absolute joy to write?

I love writing Stormy, truly. Icy is hard to write. But Stormy, I can just write chaos, quips, and her just vibing. I also want to write by oc Nith sometime (party girl, protective of friends, and very out of pocket) because she's such a sweetie.

32. Do characters influence your writing style?

Yes, and sometimes I hate it. Iorda obv overthinks and has a lot in her head, so when I write her paragraphs get longer. Which sometimes leads to rambling, which, GIRL. Stormy jumps from topic to topic so then my writing in her POV does too. Darcy just flows, which is refreshing.

Icy beats my writing style with a stick because I haven't quite gotten into her head yet. Key word YET.

37. When creating characters, what comes first: appearance, backstory, motivation, personality, something else?

Usually, appearance, but that changes a lot over time. One day I was trying to draw Nith and her design was pissing me off for some reason, and then randomly I made her African American and then I was like: Ohhh yeah you didn't look good white ngl (said as a basis white bitch). Also Pyris. She also used to be white.

Iorda's appearance had stayed the same over time (since well she's based on me), and her backstory has stayed the same. But it's just gotten more depth over time.

41. What is the weirdest story idea you've ever had?

Low-key, I think the Iarcy MerMay AU WIP, because I plotted the rest of it in my head last night while half-asleep, and there's definitely going to be some eating of fresh at the end.

Never written that before, but HEY why not?

42. Describe the aesthetic of a story in 5 words?

Snow, Shadow, and Storm: Laughter, tears, bonding, screaming, bleeding.

44. Any writing advice you want to share?

JUST KEEP WRITING. I look back at my old writing and I'm like, "Girl what the hell?" ALSO ONE THING I JUST FOUND OUT, read your ff as if you're reading someone else's work (TRULY act like that) and at least with me I find I'm less critical of it.

47. What story are you most proud of?

Snow, Shadow, and Storm. A Heart of Two does better (which I expected because it has gay shit, and blicy) but SSS has been through sweat and tears and a LOT of mental health shit.

51. Share the synopsis of a story you work on that you haven't published yet?

Ink Exchange AU: Basically a crossover with the book Ink Exchange (Melissa Marr) and Iarcy, because I can.

~Iorda's life had never been easy, and more than anything, she yearns for an escape. She knows what she wants, something to change her life and reclaim herself, a tattoo. But more than anything she has the ability to see Fey.

Since she was a child she's been a friend of the Dark Court, but soon she will be trapped in the world of Fey when the new Queen of the Dark Court decides that Iorda would be ideal for the Ink Exchange to allow the Dark Court to feed through her on the emotions of mortals.~

(And yes Darcy is the Queen of the Dark Court. Its toxic. And we love it. I've read Ink Exchange enough times that I can just -insert name here- with Winx)

81. If you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

Don't name that flower Leukemia (thought I made up that word)

Be ferral and write what you want

Be hard on yourself and I'll hit you with a stick

[delusinalandpassionate]

So hello...I kinda disappeared for a moment after Don's Canto was announced. After seeing that, I immediately remembered my list, and I wanted to remake it to be ready for her Canto. However, when I started to do it, and then I read shit tone of theories about her, and everything became confusing, and I am kinda procrastinated everything. But I'm back! And well, that's the mini list. It's all shady things that happened with Don in our main story and events. To save some time and energy, I only mentioned things that are definitely shady, and I'm certain 99% will play a role in her Canto, but it's still pretty chaotic.

I am also going to make analysises of all her IDs and EGOs in two separate parts and what I think they will lead to.

I didn't write a lot about any theories because there are A LOT of them, but I would love to hear your personal favorites and promise to give my best opinion about them

Also to the person who wrote to me about Discord, I tried to find you, but it well there wasn't enough information for me to understand how, so if you are still interested in talking about Don, please just write me in Messeges.

Okay back to the List

.

1. REDACTED

That thing appears in her character description, in a list of particulars , and none of the other characters has anything like this. Also, her list mentions Delusional of Grandiore. However, she does not show any symptoms (yet)

2. Ferris wheel and Carnival

We already saw a Ferris wheel in form of windmill on her character art and carousel in the window of her persinal EGO art and now with a cover for her Canto, we can with certainty say that she has something to do with this theme. The closest thing to Carnival we saw in the City idb Oswald's 8 o'clock Circus. Which is extremely fucked up place and if Don is really was part if it I would be surprised that she looks so normal(both physically and mentally)

Oswald's ideology also has a lot of about wishes and performance, which could suit her character arc quite well, but with him being dead, I am not sure who is left to control Circus.

3. Eyes and dance

Two little hints from second Canto from which my obsession with Don began. We still have no idea what that could possibly mean.

I should mention that there was a theory that her eyes are cognito filters, but I doubt that.

(There were also theories that she's blood fiend, which is interesting.)

4. Deal

In Canto III Episode 10 we get a first mention of mysterious deal that Don Quixote made with Vergilius. It's important to mention that while he beat shit out of her she still argued about her point, but only he mentioned that "deal" she immediately backed up.

Second mention of a deal happens in Canto IV Episode 28 where sinners wonder outloud about their wishes that brought them to the Limbus and Don only gets "...". Which is fucking weird, because there were other sinners who didn't say anything, but only Don was singled out.

Also it seems like a person with whom she made a deal was Vergilius, which I'd already unusual because it's Faust who does this kind of job.

5. Old friends, rampages and distortions

Canto III Episode 19 where Don Quixote beats Sinclair to bring him to his senses and than says "Pardon my rash action. Often I would find myself overcome by fervor, rampaging much the same as a riderless horse. At such moments, mine old friends helped me to come to myself—by beating me senseless. ‘Twas, at times, the only remedy to the fever that had overtaken me."

And well, that's only time she speaks about her past, giving us this little story. And it sounds horrible. However, we can not deny that this type of therapy works in Project moon world really well. I mean, we just finished Canto, where we beat Heatcliff to bring him to his senses.

Actually, if you think about that, most of "rampages" in these games( excluding "panic" from Lopotomy) happen while characters experience Distorting or EGO corruption and surprisingly Don Quixote have some sort of experience with Distortions?

In Canto IV Episode: 53, when we see DongRang Don Quixote is the first to understand that he's experiencing Distortion. And then, in Risk Levels & Classifications, she mentions that Moses(the DISTORTION detective) sounds familiar to her.

Which makes us wonder if she or someone in her past experienced Distortions?

6. Miguel

Don Quixote's quote "Sueno Imposible" is a direct reference to the musical Man Of La Mancha, and Miguel is a main character of this musical author of the story of Don Quixote who trying to live up to his heroic life.

Also, at old sprites, she had MIGUEL written on the bottom of her coat, but it was removed from the model now. HOWEVER, on her official stand, there is still written MIGUEL.

And that kind of makes us wonder if her character arc could be more inspired by musical than book, or if her real name would Miguel. We still not sure, but it definitely should play a role in her Canto.

[bromcommie]

hello my dear -

for the fic author ask game - #26, 28, 30 please? 💕💕💕

Hi, friend! Thank you oh so kindly for the ask <3

#26: Do you ever “prep” your fics with outlines or warmups before you start writing, or do you just dive right in?

If we’re being completely honest, it depends from fic to fic, but mostly: no, I don't really go through all of that before I start writing. I try to, especially with outlines, but realistically in the past year the only fics that ended up getting published were somewhere more towards the "dive right in" side of the spectrum, with some light structure beats sketched out before hand. I only ever laid out one fic in meticulous, color-coded detail, and I haven’t updated that one in over a year because, well: through the power of prep I also realized that I want to change every single thing about it and that drove me into, for a lack of a better name for it, some kind of useless writer identity crisis/creative block.

Which is both a blessing and a curse, because it made me realize that I'm usually an atmosphere & character study-oriented writer, and those things are where I always start from when I get inspired to write. The flip side of that is that I struggle with plot quite a bit, so outlines and beat sheets are a useful tool to figure out what I want and don’t want happening and where the holes are in the long run. At the same time, there’s a real risk of them ending up a procrastination crutch if I get too caught up in them as opposed to the actual writing, which has happened quite a few times. So it’s an interesting balance I’ve yet to strike.

Am trying to make it a habit with newer WIPs, though, and it's kind of going hand in hand with the whole "there's no rush!!! but also you need to get organized at least!!!" thing I'm trying to drill into my brain. So that's something.

#28: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Ah, okay, so: I’d say my pure angst for the sake of angst! levels have toned down a bit since I originally started writing fic, and thank god for that. I’ve also never really been a no way out/“punishing” angst writer. It’s just not my speed, and I kind of tried to set a rule/challenge to myself a while back where all the angst I write has to play some kind of tangible role, either in character or plot motivation.

All of that said, I do think most of the fic writing I do is, well—if not downright angsty, then definitely somewhat melancholy as a baseline. In general I think my angstiest stuff usually boils down to writing either a) dream-like, sometimes disturbing sequences that prominently feature characters’ fears and/or mistrust in reality or their own judgement, which often lends itself to a lot of grim Winter Soldier/Red Room (amongst other things) scenes, b) relationships between good, well-intentioned people who still keep fucking up repeatedly and things not getting better for a long time before they do, or c) repressed grief/depression, survivor’s guilt and suicidal ideation, which, well. Haaaaave you met Steve Rogers? Or any of them, for that matter.

I will say that out of the things I've published, the ones that took the most out of me to write were a nightmare sequence of Bucky's immediately post-CATWS and an interaction with his hallucinated "other self" in it's never over (hey orpheus), and possibly more than that the entirety of moving like a river of trouble crossing, which is a non-explicit nor romantic and yet still pretty deeply fucked up (or at the very least sad, at least for me) Steve/Rumlow fic.

I think that specific detached, aimless space 2012!Steve exists in (and to a degree, post-CATWS Bucky does too) is my angst jam—which is a horrible expression, sorry—as opposed to any plot-related angst, which I suck at.

On the not published front, I just wrote something about Bucky's relationship with his dad and how that affects him post-Kreischberg, which was. Well. Not a picnic, either.

#30: Have you noticed your style change over time?

Oh, for sure! I think some of it is a conscious effort (how the hell do I write more concisely being one goal, and also, what the hell do people do with their bodies or notice around them in between speaking) and some of it just happened the more I kept writing and reading other things. It’s also another thing that varies fic to fic and tone to tone—I’d say the way I write humorous situations and dialogue has changed much less drastically than the way I write drama, for example.

[sonic-spirit]

Aw, right! So reading/re-reading Abbey Kumquatwriter's blog (especially the Crazy Train posts) reminds me of things.

It really fuckin' sucks to hear Andy Blake/Jordan Wood's narratives (Video and Video from Strange Aeons for background). Like. Specifically hearing his narratives utilized to suck people in on his Secret World and to indoctrinate him into his cult. Because there are so fuckin' many parallels to my fuckin' crazy ass experiences as a fictionkin soulbonder.

I don't reach out to my soulbonds much anymore. I'm too overwhelmed, too busy keeping my head above water. And my coping methods, as mentioned earlier today, usually run more towards checking Tumblr or popping on a YouTube video to distract myself. Ever since I worked as a dog groomer, being inside my head has been really dangerous. I'm getting better, but...well. Trauma. I've needed different reliefs. So all those points coming together, and I'm effectively an out-of-practice soulbonder. Which is pretty much how I am with my IRL long-distance friendships. Out of practice, not reaching across the distance the way I'd like. RIP.

Anyway. I'm out-of-touch and physically an Over 30 and therefore Old, so I'm not super up on how it all plays out now. But these niches: Otherkin, Therian, hells, even just Paganism are super easy hunting grounds for these sort of predation. Cuz we're already niche. We already know the kinds of things we receive push-back about--especially from the vicious christian and republican fuckwits. And the militant conservative-ass atheist types.

So we're easy to control. Because of the outside pressure. Because of the shame. Shame is what made me procrastinate on writing this sentence for an hour and a half. Shame is what is making me want to write about anything else, than my truly held beliefs about myself and my experiences. Shame keeps us in the closet. Shame isolates us. Shame makes the slightest push back from people we care about feel like a blow. Shame is what left me broke down sobbing on a dime when my good friend one time said he was a furry, "Not like one of those weird Otherkin."

Shame puts us in a corner. And that isolation makes us vulnerable. So we have bad actors, like Andrew Blake, like Emshir from the unicorn Otherkin community, and like others, I'm sure, who use those things to gather a loyal following. And because we already feel the need to protect ourselves, attempts to reach us, either for good or to mock, are met with defensiveness.

This one time, before Emshir burnt down the whole forum and thus my support system the first time (I mean that I was there for it. I'm pretty sure it wasn't his first time throwing a fit and taking his ball to go home), a group of people were trying to reach out to us kids to let us know that shit was fucked. We were warned a group of "Starseeds" and "Otherkin", neither words I'd heard before that time, might reach out to us to tell us lies about how Emshir, the 30 plus year old in charge of a group of mostly teenage kids on the internet, was Actually Bad, and that we should ignore anything they said.

Naturally I wanted to debate with the one who contacted me instead. He went by Michael, and...he was not helpful. Mostly, it turned into me giving him a listening, therapeutic ear as he told me repeatedly about how he'd been a pallbearer for someone close to him, and that had been very hard. As far as arguments for why our leader was Bad, Actually, it was lacking.

All that happened was that we cleaved closer to one another, staying just as isolated as ever. So when Emshir blew it all up because we didn't post enough and because one forum member had remained logged in on their home computer, and their dad found the forum and wrote a scathing thread that, though quickly deleted, left us all shooketh, and got that poor member in horrible hot water with their family...we were hit hard. The only good thing that came from the Outside people contacting us was that it gave us the word Otherkin for the first time. So we would have been able to connect with other groups...if we hadn't been so gun-shy. Having our home forum explode, and having the only other Otherkin we'd ever heard of be...A Lot left us trying to just hold each other. Some members made an alternate forum, and that lasted for a bit, before Emshir started up again. And for some reason, we went back to him.

Eventually, he'd try and lay the groundwork for creating a Unicorn Otherkin sanctuary/commune in Alaska. Reminder that he was twice our age, and most of us thought we were girls (fillies or mares) at the time. Yeah, it's skeevy. He blew that group up later, too. I can find proof of one, maybe two other iterations of the same thing happening. Where Emshir would start a group, then get mad and leave the members high and dry. There'd always be some sort of attempt to establish a new group afterwards, which would gradually lose steam. Emshir would use this as evidence that he was the only one who could run a Real Unicorn Group. I'm more inclined to believe that outside of the heightened, high control environment our energies to Always Be Posting waned, and that being burned by the community that had been our Home getting wrenched away made us hesitant to lean on it the same way.

The third (or was it fourth? I don't know if those were contiguous?) time I joined his forum/cult, because of course I came back for more, was more of the same. This time, he had his 17 year old mate living with him, whom he'd Rescued from her abusive family. And truly, I'm glad she was able to escape her abusive family. I'm just not confident she didn't escape them into another abusive relationship, as so many of us who've been abused tend to do. Cuz hey, this isn't As Bad As That Was, so it Can't Be That Bad. I hope she's okay.

How much do I want to pick a fight over all this? Emshir has books self-published through Amazon under his legal name, so while I don't currently see sign of a forum or things that he's running online, that doesn't mean he's not, and it's just a Discord or tucked in through his authoring. I just really doubt he's stopped targeting kids to pump up his self-aggrandizing ego and framing it as being a Protector and Leader unicorn.

I wish I had more useful memories, or better documentation of what he did. One of my IRL Otherkin friends from the last time I was in his group walked me through a cult evaluation, and we scored pretty highly. But other than, "He was the Leader and therefore Important," and "We didn't dare say anything against him or disagree with him strongly," I don't have great detailed memories of things that happened. ^_^;; My memories in general are pretty scattered. Hi, trauma. So recounting details is difficult. And the Wayback Machine archives are really spotty. There are some, but none of the forum posts were ever archived there, or if they were, it's in a way I've never managed to access. I had backups of all of his podcasts from the mid to late aughts, but they were saved to an external hard drive that no longer works. I've still got it tucked away in hopes that I can take it to a document recovery place sometime, but I've yet to try. And the more time that goes on the less likely it is that it works.

Emshir wasn't one for leading us into astral battles (at least not in the public parts of the forums or while I was there, no idea what he got up to behind closed doors. In closed glades?), but it's a favorite of cult leaders. Andy Blake loves bringing his cult members into some high stakes fights. My unicorn Mommy Dearest utilized it on me. And though I haven't discussed the situations with my friend since they got out of another bad relationship with some cultish signs and looooots of astral battles...I'm wondering how much was orchestrated by said cultish partner.

So it really sucks when you believe in that sort of stuff. And have to decide how much stock you want to put into what so-and-so is telling you about it from their end. Because, from your end, shit's very real. The fight is always there, and it's always hard. Part of the problem is how we're taught to view struggles like this through fiction, since those of us who're likely to be targeted are pretty damn into fiction. If your hero is genre-savvy, and expects everything to come to a nice, clean conclusion...they're gonna keep looking for fights until they think they've found it. Or, more likely, completely burn out.

I've burnt out from this shit even without a cult leader to drive me. My friend shredded herself fighting war after war after war. And Abbey describes the same sort of thing as a lever Andy used to control her and the other cult members--interrupting sleep, constant drama, consoling, caretaking, explaining, and going to bat for Andy and the Others he claimed to channel.

I dunno. Something, something, denouement. Basically, I wish it was less shitty to talk about these kinds of experiences so we wouldn't be so damned isolated when it happens, and so that people could support one another better and so that we could be less fuckin' likely to fall into high control environments. I want to talk about my own experiences about this shit more, and I'm trying, but it's hard. Both because it's simply emotionally hard to confront, but also it's hard to remember and organize into anything that isn't just me spewing thoughts on the page. But that's effectively my writing style as I get back into it, and out is better than Never and Perfect, so it is what it is. Sorry for the disorganized ramblings.

[sweetpascal]

7, 10, 16, 20, 22, 42, 45, 79, 86 ♡

ask game

oooo thank you for the lovely abundance of numbers, lea !! i'm so excited to answer them !! ☺️

7. tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote.

oh my god, it's so embarrassing. i was 12 years old and i was obsessed with the Dolan twins. they were huge back then on vine and YouTube. i was using wattpad at the time. and the fic i created was "the dolan twins are my bullies" 😭 IT'S EMBARRASSING EVEN THINKING ABOUT IT. i was so new to writing, so my writing was fucking horrid (bad spelling, bad punctuation, horrible plots, etc.) and it got a few hundred thousand views. i refuse to read it again now that i'm almost 22 years old 😭

10. at what point in the process do you come up with titles, and how easy or hard is that for you?

funny enough, titles are the second biggest thing i struggle with in story-building (summaries are #1). i try to build around titles to get a feel of how i want the fic to go, but then i get so obsessive over trying to come up with a title that matches the energy and vibes i want to convey. like, it's extremely hard and exhausting. because also, the title won't match the plot and then the fic won't match the title, so it gets really messy. i WANT to try writing first and then creating the title after, but my friggin' brain won't let me use that technique 💔

16. where is your favorite place to write?

in a moving vehicle 🩷 i'm a huge lover of long rides, so the gentle rocking motions of the car/bus/train calms me down and puts me in a state of tranquility and creativity. also, being out in nature helps me shut my brain off and focus on what needs to be done. i usually write in bed, alone. i've soon realized that isolation is what negatively impacts my creative processes 🥺

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

oooooo, that's a tricky one. THERE'S SO MANY TROPES I LOVE TO WRITE AND WANT TO WRITE. enemies to lovers is just *chef's kiss* 😚🤌🏼 delicious. add in some angst and slow burn ??? that is top fucking TIER. a close second is definitely husband x wife fics. especially protective, guard dog husband fics. that's a good oomph.

22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

- develop inspiration from a song, gif, moodboard, movie scene, etc.

- write it down in the notes app

- listen to a playlist to create a vibe of whatever fic i want to write

- write a brief summary and warning tags i want to include in the fic (this helps me build around it)

- write one paragraph

- procrastinate for a few days

- go on pinterest and create a board for inspiration

- write the next few paragraphs until i reach mental exhaustion

- don't write for another few days

- procrastinate and talk about my fic ideas to my fiancé rather than sit and write

- write the next few paragraphs

- procrastinate for a few hours

- listen to music to get in the mood

- force myself to finish the last few paragraphs

- spend another hour rereading and editing

42. describe the aesthetic of a story in 5 words.

makes you want to dissociate :3

45. name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

it was so, so incredibly difficult to pick just three. just know that i had well over 15+ writers, but i narrowed it down to the three that inspired me to start writing for Pedro characters when i wiggled my way into the fandom 🩷

@joelsgreys ; @gutsby ; @pedgito

79. are you an over-writer, under-writer, or just-right-er?

IT ALL DEPENDS ON THE MOOD I'M IN. when i'm so excited about a new fic i want to write, i'm an over-writer. i go overboard and don't realize that i wrote well over 10k words. when i'm in a depressive, mentally exhausted state, i lose care in my writing and write just to write, not really enjoying myself, so that causes me to be an under-writer. i'm one or the other. there's no in between, unfortunately 😣

86. which season best matches the mood of your wip(s)?

[ just like that - day six - perv!stepdad!joel ] ; early fall when it's thunder-storming and insanely windy and dark outside.

[ the serpent and the crown - king!marcus acacius x concubine!reader ] ; late winter when there are blizzards and frostbite type of cold, but also sunny, warm, winter mornings.

[ lies a beating heart - part two of beneath the armor - husband!marcus acacius x wife!reader ] ; early summer with warm afternoons and cool, humid nights.

[ where do we go from here - grumpy!joel x sunshine!reader ] ; late spring with flowers in full bloom, birds chirping, and light rain while the sun is still out.

[notthestarwar]

Hellowww hellowwww✨🧡

Hope you are doin alright✨

I am not sure if I asked you this before, but what are your favorite Fox headcannons or thoughts on him?

Also sour jogurt or sweetened with fruits?

i'm doing good!!! hope you are too??? i havent been on here so much recently. but i'm back in force today. i'm a year older and ✨procrastinating✨as usual

is jogurt the one you drink? i'll be honest i am not a big yogurt fan and i've never really liked the ones you drink. i used to favour like greek yogurt and i'd mix in honey. or sometimes papaya or cherry flavour. or passionfruit!!! but then like. about a year ago every time i had a yogurt i got majorly ill, like vomiting, and its really put me off them. after like the 3rd time i have not been able to stomach the thought of eating yogurt on its own lol. i do love a yogurt dip/sauce tho. raita my beloved.

i absolutely do have thoughts on Fox, i do not talk about him enough. i talk about it a bit here but here is a bit of a rundown:

so i think that Fox acts pretty apathetic and isn't particularly showy with his love, but i think that a intense love for his brothers pretty much underpins all that he is. the intense weight of responsibility and leadership is a big one, i dont think that fox likes being a leader, i think that he takes on that role in order to save his brothers from it. he has to be the best and he has to carry that load because if he doesnt, who else will? he cant imagine anyone ever actually wanting that.

i think that he is a very unreliable narrator when it comes to his own flaws. pretty much: i think that he is absolutely convinced that he is a terrible person. i think that he sees jango in himself and he is terrified of that. he hates jango for what he did to his brothers and he is convinced that jango was beyond saving. that he was evil, and never could have been any better. he wants his brothers love but he doesnt feel deserving of it because in his own eyes, fox may as well be jango. he pretty much projects all his hate for jango and this horrible hand he's been served, on to himself. he doesnt let his self hatred get in the way of his duty though, he isnt self destructive, as he knows that he needs to survive FOR his brothers. he's living for them, so largely he does look after himself. he funnels this self hatred in to a drive to be the absolute best, the most competent soldier ever.

his thing is all about self sacrifice. he doesnt particularly want to survive but he wants to leave his brothers even less. i like drawing a paralell between him and Cody, where they both have the same motivation, this love for their brothers and they are both driven to be the best, to save their brothers from the weight of responsibility, but they go about it in different ways. cody is the sun, burning himself up for his brothers, and Fox, is the sickly artificial light/darkness of the underlevels of coruscant, letting himself wither away for the good of his brothers. (neither of them are healthy about it. i see codys thing very much as one of sacrifice as well. the sun parallel isnt about life and joy. its about. burning. heat. light will go through the meat of a living being like its nothing. its not sustainable. its about giving all you possibly can while you are here and then youre gone. an explosion. its about giving more than you possibly can- because theyve been raised to think thats what you do. to think thats what love is, the only way to show it, all love can be.)

i wrote a series where Fox is given a warning of order 66 just in time so that he can escape the order, but in doing so he has to leave his brothers, leave the fight and to me, that is like the greatest sacrifice he could ever make. all he wants to do is stand and fight. all he wants to do is be with his brothers. but he has to run from them, run from the fight, in order to save them and that, is like, what i see as Fox's major struggle. the horrific weight of responsibility. where you have to do the opposite of what feels right, the opposite of what you want to do, you have to sacrifice your own honour, your rightuousness, in order to serve those you love. its not about looking good, its not about seeming nice or seeming loving. its about, doing the right thing for that person (or people in this case) at the cost of all else, at the cost of your humanity. fox doesnt see himself as a person, he doesnt see himself as one of the vode, he sees himself as a tool. it doesnt matter how his brothers see him, as long as he is working FOR them. fighting FOR them. he isnt a man, he's a weapon. he will die FOR them and he doesnt care if they remember him kindly.

[ca-highway49]

I like how The Rosie Result keeps holding an autism diagnosis over characters heads as some kind of sacrifice they're wanted to go through: Dr. Tilman trying to show how race science is ridiculous by lining his students up, the college says he will be suspended until he gets an Aspergers diagnosis but then in desperate tells him all he needs to so is say he has it with no formal diagnosis, he just quits to open a bar, (well it's not a straight line, but) he says it would be cowardly to blame it on Aspergers and reflect badly on people with it. Then later the private school his son is in says the son will be suspended all year for trying to dissect a pigeon at lunch unless he gets an autism diagnosis, and the staff even admits the diagnosis could be negative. And of course they also call him a psychopath.

I wrote this post midway through the book and the school retracts the whole thing because he acts a certain way under stress (he's the track captain and there's 4 teams going to race and he's been coaching his team that they all at least should finish and you can do it and go faster in the second half, and then there was horrible drama with his friend but he like held her hand across the finish line. The counselors say an autistic kid would be singleminded about the race I mean especially since it's about forgiving his friend it's not just holding her hand it's doing it in the midst of drama. I might not have!) and Don is like well my friend Laszlo is nice and he's autistic (the best argument you can expect in a real extemporaneous argument) and the school is like okay, and pulls a trapdoor lever to send one of the counselors to Summer HR. But then the school wants the son to write a speech about this one moment and he's like how do I write a speech about holding my friends hand? I do not have a crush on her by the way. What an insane thing to force a middleschooler to write a speech about!

I don't know. Everyone is always mad about Sheldon Cooper and Don Tilman but Don isn't usually the butt of the joke. It's hard to explain. Don always ends up in crazy situations, but then also he solves them by being honest or blunt or something. Honesty is a great aspect to theow into miscommunication stories. People can be mad I guess though because a lot of the jokes ARE about communication and the way people see Don. Plus of course he never thought he is autistic, one of e no of the first scenes ine in the series is him getting mad at a colleague for making him cover his Aspergers lecture, it could nave co my en to p it could have come up but it does the opposite.

So I can see people thinking the last book being about autism in an antipsychiatric way as sort of being a "special episode" and procrastination. Here's all the autism takes all at once. They even talk about ABA, even pro-ABA parents say "her trauma, maybe even her suicide is a risk *I* am willing to take" then Don buys a transit pass for his 11 year old who then buys a phone for himself without talking about it with his parents, AND one for his friend who's family is anti-doctor (ei very controlling) so it's like. There's got to be a midway between ABA and letting your kid run around like that. I'm not against kids having phones it just seems like something you should talk about, and, yes, the parents of the other kid have intersicted her against hanging out with the son, because, you know, it just LOOKS weird. Looks are important but only in a cirxular totalogy way.

[voids-ideas]

Adding one more fucking note because I'm unable to stop doing things against my better judgment

My best way to stop procrastinating was this post. Evidently I don't make good decisions

Anyway, HELLO, I'M COMING TO TELL YOU ALL THE THINGS I HAVE DONE.

The thing. It's not completely ready because believe me when I tell you it's a VERY complicated thing. But I asked for help, so now I'm not doing it alone and it reduced my anxiety by like 80%

I washed the shoes I was supposed to wash and other things too. I can finally wear them again!

That's all I have done successfully

I tried to call about the doctor's appointment on Friday, no answer. Monday I forgot. Tuesday no answer. Next time maybe I'll be successful!

Tidying up my room is something I have been doing in my mind, the problem is I have had HORRIBLE days. I have woken up and my body has said "hey yeah. We're not working today" so I've honored the 1k activity and not forced myself to tidy the room while feeling horrible!

Success!

Anyway, thanks to everyone who interacted with this post, wrote nice things and so on. I'm so fucking grateful

NOW STOP BEFORE THIS HITS 20K FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS NICE IN THIS WEIRD UNIVERSE

Ok I am going to do this simply because the first thing I will put here I NEED to do it and I have 0 motivation to do it even though it is EXTREMELY important

In fact, I think that's the reason why I don't want to do it... anyway

If this gets to 30 notes, I do that thing

50 notes, I call to ask if my doctor's appointment has been scheduled (I've been avoiding it for two weeks now)

100 notes, I go wash my shoes that have long needed washing and are just sitting there, existing, waiting for me to deign to wash them.

200 notes, I finish organizing my room (I organized it halfway and then left a bunch of things that still don't have a defined place)

500 notes, I use the things I have to bleach and color my hair. The only thing that has stopped me is the fear of doing it wrong or being too lazy to maintain it.

1k notes, I stop doing things that I know will trigger my chronic pain with the pure intention of confirming that the pain was indeed real (don't do this. 0 recommended).

5k notes, I try some new food without fear of wasting money by buying something I most likely won't like (my autism hates new foods)

10k notes, I wear my bi flag earrings in front of someone I wouldn't usually wear them with. I trust that they possibly wouldn't have a problem with me being bi, but I would never get up the courage to tell them anything

20k notes, wtf I have absolutely no idea. If it comes to this, ehhh... Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing here. Do I promise to be honest in therapy and stop telling them that everything is perfect even though nothing has ever been perfect? Yeah, that probably works. Please don't go this far, I don't know how to do this. Maybe I should... but... it would be awful to learn it

[coridallasmultipass]

sorry in advance if you don't want anyone responding to that post. wish i had something put together and thoughtful to say but all im gonna say is i hope you get some sleep, and i feel you, you're not alone. i get what you're going through, it's really hard and im sorry you have to experience it

-dave yourpetbrother

(also maybe dont take therapists too literally on the homework assignment thing and procrastinate until the night before on your working through grief therapy homework because i promise you thats not what we mean and we would prefer you didn't fuck yourself up like that emotionally /nm)

Thanks, I really appreciate it. I really needed to push myself to confront what that day was like at some point because I still have so much trouble talking about it because it's still so horrible (and I have put off every 'assignment' the therapist has given me for months? weeks?), and the moment was very visually impactful at the time, so it was 'easy' poetic pickings compared to the other option. (And then started panicking after I was done writing lol.) My heart was pounding out my chest earlier when I read what I wrote to the therapist, I thought I was gonna pass out. (Normally, I would hand her what I wrote, but since it's a poem, I know the meter of the lines because they weren't all uniform, and as an ÀÙŘTÌSŚTÉ [artist], I will NOT stand for incorrect flow, even in a 1-on-1 therapy session.)

I don't have it in me to talk about it like that again any time soon. Seven fucking years and it feels like yesterday, it's still too fresh and burned into my mind. It's easier when I'm writing it through like 10 layers removed via fan fiction or something where it becomes completely unrecognizable because it's an entirely different story and events and only a slight passing emotion is the same. I dunno.

Still getting really choked up about a news thing going around right now, too. But anyway, thanks for your concern. <3

[aurekiwi]

Here's my feedback!

First of all, the design/format of the reading is so aestetically pleasing! Super pretty whilst also professional. Additionally, there was SO. MUCH. DETAIL. I felt to lucky to be getting so much content for such a small price (15 pages!!!) 😭😭😭

The oracle cards resonated with me a lot; Especially The Gate and The silence. The former was reassuring because it (imo) represented how I was overestimating how difficult it would be to make the necessary life choices. The quote made this message far more obvious. Anyways, the silence card referred to how I'm literally always distracting myself or avoiding my problems with daydreaming/sleeping/my phone 💀 I have a slight fear of the silence/emptiness/lack of mental stimulation I feel when I try to meditate, which is something I need to tackle.

About future spouse:

•Meeting my fs through connections is a possibility ive seen in quite a few PACs I've read

•From what you descibed, I feel like this process (the beforehand of meeting then) is taking place now; Lately I've been 'Coming out of my shell' much more (I'm actually so nervous bc my sixth form has an event tomorrow, where I'll be working with a bunch of strangers 😖) + I've been slightly less afraid to act like my actual self (If that makes sense) around my friends. Although I deffo need to work on trusting myself

•I'm glad that we'll be able to relate to each other's experiences (I'm pretty sure that's one of my top requirements for a relationship); Also, you were 100% correct abt my trust issues/detatchment

• Their personality is so yum 😭😭😭 I don't really know what else to say since I can't exactly test how much it resonates lol (Remaind me to update you in a few years maybe? LMAO)

• You were right about our ages (In the 17-18 range); AND OMG THE MOODBOARD?! TYSM I SWEAR YOU WENT ABOVE AND BEYOND FOR THIS (Now I'm most likely going to fall asleep daydreaming about him 😍)

For what you wrote about the career section, at the time I was feeling the overwhelm/stress that you mentioned (although this has mostly faded: Summer holidays starting in 2 days :D), as well as my past experiences with people (unfortunately)

Also, the characteristics you wrote in the fulfilling careers part perfectly matched my career aspirations (I'm hoping to be a clinical psychologist in the future), which made me v happy!

One part that didn't resonate as much was the bit abt productivity; One of my main class is that I'm good at planning, but horrible at executing/sticking to plans (Chronic procrastinator 😬) and multitaking with multiple responcibilities

Thank you so much from the reading, and u can't wait for the next one!!! Completely worth the wait :)

Thank you so much for your feedback!

[eliotquillon]

21, 22, 23 for the ask game

21: What do you do when you get writer's block?

WELL. usually a long shower and/or a cigarette (yes this is me coming out as a smoker) works for getting the idea juice re-flowing. tis a cruel twist of fate that i often come up with my best ideas when i physically cannot write so i have learned to turn it to my advantage. usually though i close the document, forget about the fic for 6 months, then restumble across it and go WAOW I WAS REALLY COOKING HERE and finish it LMAO

22: When do you usually write? (day of the week or time of day)

embarrassingly: i normally write when i have a uni deadline to procrastinate. really nothing gets the fic brain going like knowing i have something Actually Pressing to do. which means usually late at weeknights LMAO. i tend to go especially hard in the early morning after an all-nighter; that's when either true genius or the Madness hits in terms of fic content because at that point i'm tired and have lost most of my inhibitions about what sounds stupid or cringe or whatever lmaoo

23: Where do you usually write?

these days i mostly write in bed (i do most of my uni work in bed too, which is horrible for my sleep hygiene i know) because i use my laptop for everything now, but before that i wrote mostly at my desk on my pc. when i was a baby fic writer i wrote everything on my google docs app on my phone but i ended up doing most of a school project on my computer and after that i never looked back. sometimes i'll still jot stuff down on my notes app if i'm on a train or bus and then switch over to laptop if i think the idea has legs, but i definitely used to be more adventurous with my Places of Writing when i was younger lmao

[slurpingsoba]

I saw that I had this post in my drafts so I decided to finish it. It was supposed to be part 2 to this post, but it ended up mostly being an analysis of All For One’s relationship with Shigaraki. And Shigaraki’s hands.

I wasn’t necessarily trying to write meta, but it just kind of just happened. So if you’re interested in reading this, go right ahead!

1. Debunking The Origin of The Hands

In chapter 222, we find out that Shigaraki's hands belong to his deceased family members.

However, as I already said here, the hands are uniform. This is especially suspicious considering that Shigaraki had a sister around his age. Wouldn't her hands be smaller than the average adult hand?

Also, why would the hands be left behind if the rest of the body decayed? I mean, what the fuck?? I can’t really argue if the hands were actually decayed or not without knowing the complete mechanics behind Shigaraki’s quirk, but it doesn’t make sense. Anyway, Shiggy’s quirk is something to discuss another day.

Even if the hands were real, there are only three logical ways in which the hands could have been preserved.

The first way, taxidermy, involves attaching skin onto some sort of frame (in this case, the hands). Keep in mind that taxidermy is typically done with animals, and not humans, though. Because Shigaraki's hands are gray and do not appear to be covered with human skin, I think it's safe to rule out this method.

The second technique, embalming, is commonly used for corpses. It seems like a plausible way to preserve the hands at first, but embalmed bodies start to decay after 10 years. Based on his age, Shigaraki owned the hands for over a decade, so the hands would have decomposed already by the start of the manga. Therefore, the hands weren't embalmed either.

The third way is something I just learned about five minutes ago. It's called plastination, a process in which body parts are preserved by replacing water and fat with plastic. This method seems the most reasonable, but the preserving process is ridiculously long, so I don't think the hands were preserved this way either.

Point is, there's no way that the hands that Shigaraki wears actually belong to his family. So why would All For One go through the trouble to make fake hands for Shigaraki?

Well, that question has an obvious answer: to manipulate him.

2. All For One's General Manipulation of Shigaraki

We all know All For One is a dickhead. And we also know that All For One appointed Shigaraki as his successor because of his relation to Nana Shimura. While I cannot say that his relation is the only reason he was picked as All For One’s successor, it’s definitely the biggest reason. 

(Two other speculated reasons include Shigaraki’s resemblance to the original One For All user, and the fact that Shigaraki was “born twisted”. Based on what we know post-222, I doubt that Shigaraki was “twisted” before he met All For One. Also, I don’t think we know enough about All For One’s brother to compare him to Shigaraki.)

*Editing note: As I was reading, I noticed that Shigaraki’s behavior in the Kamino arc makes a lot more sense when taken in context with Chapter 222. I reference Kamino a lot in this because of that.*

The Kamino arc explains a lot of All For One’s motivations for manipulating Shigaraki. For instance, All For One states that he wanted to corrupt the Shimura bloodline to get back at All Might. All For One does this to emotionally wound his rival, knowing that All Might would see Shigaraki’s turn to villainy as his fault. 

As All For One’s successor, Shigaraki is tasked with defeating the current One For All user. By making All Might feel responsible for Shigaraki’s evil acts, All Might will be reluctant to face off against him in the future. Of course, this would make it easier for Shigaraki to kill All Might, and thus succeed in completing what All For One started.

Now we know why All For One manipulated Shigaraki, but we don’t know how.

Well, it is a known fact that All For One is a master manipulator, as said by All Might here:

After being alive for so long, let’s just say that All For One knows how to use people to his advantage. He knows how to break someone, and reform them into something that is useful to him. 

Let’s go over how All For One was able to break Shigaraki.

First, I’m going to go ahead and assume that All For One made Shigaraki kill his family. I think it’s obvious that he planned the event because otherwise, it would have been a bit too convenient for him.

The following information is a short summary of chapter 222.

The aftermath of his family’s death leaves Shigaraki emotionally vulnerable and without anyone to care for him. He’s young, scared, confused, and presented with a problem that All For One has a solution to; Shigaraki is in need of a hero, and All For One is willing to act as his savior. But, All For One did not rescue Shigaraki to save him. He purposefully planned to kill off the Shimura family in order to acquire Shigaraki.

Later, All For One presents the hands to Shigaraki in order to make him feel remorseful. Disgusted even, with himself. The hands trigger a flashback, and Shigaraki pukes as a result. Shigaraki’s extreme response to his memories makes me believe that All For One either messed with his memories or conditioned him to react negatively to the hands. I think the first option is more likely, and that the second option is a byproduct of it.

Anyway, the next panel is important in discussing All For One’s manipulation of Shigaraki.

All For One takes a kid reeling from a traumatic experience... and tells him how to channel his feelings of regret, sorrow, anger, etc., into something useful for him. Hmm, this sounds familiar. It’s exactly what All Might said All For One does to manipulate people. He destroys them (in Shigaraki’s case, emotionally), robs them (of a family), uses them (to continue his reign of terror), and dominates them (by making Shigaraki dependent on him). 

Speaking of dependence, Shigaraki is shown to be very attached to All For One at the beginning of the manga. This is especially unsettling considering that Shigaraki mostly communicates with All For One through indirect means. I’ll go more in-depth with that idea under my next heading.

Before I move into my next point, you know how All For One said he was going to teach Shigaraki “where to direct those raging emotions”? He sure as hell did.

In fact, I think All For One did it a bit too well.

3. All For One’s Manipulation: Hands Edition

The hands make Shigaraki feel at peace and simultaneously sick to his stomach. That’s not worrying at all!

He feels nauseous because he remembers what he did to his family, but he also feels calm because the hands remind him of All For One.

Let me elaborate.

When All For One gave Shigaraki the hands, he was providing his successor with something to find relief in. As little Shigaraki reached out towards the hands, he did so to feel comforted by them. The hands’ effect on Shigaraki is similar to All For One’s gesture here:

All For One makes Shigaraki feel as if someone cares about him. Physical affection is something that is foreign to Shigaraki, and the only traces he gets of it are from All For One. However, All For One doesn’t want Shigaraki to feel loved; he wants Shigaraki to feel isolated and resentful. In order to achieve this, All For One distances himself from his successor, and leaves Shigaraki with nothing but the hands in his wake.

*Editing note: forgot to mention this, but All For One’s distancing was strategetic. The period between All For One taking Shigaraki in and the beginning of the manga is mostly unknown, but there are still assumptions that can be made about it. 

The first major distancing probably occurred when All For One was mortally wounded by All Might. Seeing All For One in a critical state would make Shigaraki feel angry towards whoever hurt his master, thus fuelling his hatred for the Symbol of Peace. The second major distancing would be when All For One was put in Tartarus. I know it doesn’t seem planned, but All For One knew exactly what he was doing. Both instances of forced distancing were caused by All Might. Think about it. How would Shigaraki would react to the man who has kept his savior away from him? Not positively, that’s for sure.

Although the major distancing wasn’t necessarily intentional, it still helped All For One shape Shigaraki into a villain. Instances of minor distancing were likely intentional, but they’re either undisclosed to us, or mostly left to us to infer. The best example I could give of this is All For One’s roundabout way of communicating with Shigaraki.*

As a result, Shigaraki finds himself emotionally attached to the hands. After all, they’re all he has left of his family, and they are also physically the closest that Shigaraki can get to feeling All For One’s “love” after he distances himself.

Twisted, I know. Now, All For One still directly influences Shigaraki without being in contact with him. Take this example from chapter 21:

All For One tends to communicate with Shigaraki through electronic devices. There’s only one instance I can recall where All For One is in the same room as Shigaraki, and that’s during the Sports Festival arc. Or Kamino, but I’m not counting that because their encounter wasn’t deliberate.

The lack of direct communication between All For One and Shigaraki only adds to the growing divide between them. Shigaraki becomes more secluded, and, without proper guidance, he develops into a hateful person. But that’s exactly what All For One wanted, as explained here:

I find it interesting that the translation says that All For One has gone to a place that Shigaraki’s “hands can’t reach”. I don’t know, the constant hand references make me think that I’m on to something here lol.

Shigaraki as a recluse, for the most part, is only affected by All For One’s teachings. He has learned to accept distance in physical, mental, social, and emotional forms, to the point that he shows little interest in connecting with others.

His detachment (specifically emotionally) is revealed through his hands. He doesn’t understand his own emotions and All For One’s motives, and he’s unable to relate to society as a whole. So, he clings onto the one thing he does know: the rage and despair All For One planted into his heart.

An example of this is when All For One is jailed after the end of the Kamino arc. You know what Shigaraki does immediately after losing his master?

He hugs his hands, just like he did when he first received them.

He’s grasping onto the idea of something unachievable; that is, closeness to All For One when he desires guidance. Shigaraki needs All For One’s advice in order to pilot his own goals, because without All For One, who exactly is he?

As I was saying, Shigaraki does not completely understand himself or All For One (as shown below). 

So he’s unable to coherently express his motives for being a villain (as shown in the rest of chapter 69). Deep down, I don’t think he has any profound reasons except for the false ones All For One rooted in him.

Continuing, the hands have made fewer and fewer appearances as of late. This indicates that Shigaraki is starting to understand who he is, what kind of person All For One truly is, and the genuine nature of society.

Since the My Villain Academia arc, Shigaraki usually only wears the hands in combat because that’s when he feels it’s necessary to channel his inner rage. After all, he was taught to direct his bad feelings towards his enemies, regardless of who the enemy is.

Shigaraki doesn’t wear the hands around the League because he feels like he can be himself around them (hence, he felt comfortable telling them about his past). He wants to feel close to his friends allies, so he’s attempting to limit the distance between him and the League. And I think that’s great! He is freeing himself from All For One’s brainwashing because he is growing as a person and learning more about himself. He has a small group of people who he can relate to and confide in, and he’s slowly uncovering the truth about his past. 

He’s healing his emotional wounds!

However, I have no idea what this could mean for Shigaraki in the future. Will he overcome his trauma? Or will he continue to wield his trauma as a weapon? I have no idea, but hopefully, we find out soon enough.

4. A Quick Summary

Shigaraki’s hands are important in understanding his character. Besides being physical reminders of Shigaraki’s past life, they also represent Shigaraki’s connection to All For One. The less Shigaraki wears them, the weaker All For One’s influence is over him. 

This ended up being long, and honestly, I don’t know why I wrote so much. But if you happened to read the entire thing, feel free to comment on anything I brought up in this post. I could literally talk about Shigaraki all day (as you can already tell), so I’d love to discuss anything Shiggy related with y’all!

[thesimperiuscurse]

did i... actually manage to make a sim... that looks decent from all angles and all poses? 

bruh.mp3

[andysbubba]

boomer!

-> when a boomer lawyer dates a uni student who LOVES procrastinating = ⬇️

an | it's been so long since i wrote something and i just thought this out in like 20 minutes because i really miss the whole thinking process that goes on behind each and every story. it's a little step towards waving off my middlefinger at writer's block.

warnings | none! just fluff! maybe age gap but not really mentioned. just andy + uni student reader. i'm rusty from like 2-3 months of not writing?? this might be horrible.

---

"No, honey. You gotta listen to me." Andy drags out, leaning down to softly press his lips against your temple before he sets your mug of coffee right beside you, his own mug in his hand as he heads over to his side of the table.

You both had set up your own makeshift offices in the dining room. Half of the table was occupied with all your notes, pens and your laptop. The other half was filled with all of Andy's paperwork for a case he's working on.

"Andy, I'll die if I keep staring at these words. I can't do this anymore."

He glances up at you and snorts, his lips curling into a soft grin. "C'mon, we promised that we'll make today as productive as possible, right? I promise we can stay in bed all day tomorrow."

He's so pretty. You're on the verge of just going over to him and kissing him all over his pretty face. Too bad you're too tired from reading through pages and pages of things you can barely comprehend.

"We can be productive tomorrow and lazy today." You kick at his feet under the dining table, lips quirked as innocently as possible. "Please?"

"That's what you said yesterday, sweetheart." Andy chuckles as he picks up a thick ring file and started flipping through the pages.

You almost whine when those words left his lips. You were really hoping that he didn't recall the events of yesterday. You had successfully convinced Andy to join Team Procrastination. At least for yesterday. Today, he was back in Boomers' Don't Procrastinate Club.

"You're not even on a tight deadline. Why are you so focused on this case?"

Andy puts the file down and looks up at you through those thick lashes of his. "'Cause you have assignments due tomorrow night and I didn't want you to feel left out."

Your heart fluttered at his explanation. Andrew Stephen Barber, everyone. You're debating whether to skip over to him and kiss him because he's just so amazing or just staying in your seat and whining about all the work you wish you don't have to do.

Definitely option one. Two sounds great too, actually.

No, definitely one.

His eyes widened in alarm when you slid off your seat and start walking over to him.

"Oh no."

"You're so dramatic."

Even though he seems reluctant to have you distracted... again. Andy still pushed his chair back slightly so you had enough space to climb onto his lap.

His palms rest just around your waist, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles up at you. "Hi, honey."

You sigh as your fingers intertwine at the back of his neck, gently rubbing the skin there. "Hi, handsome."

"You okay?"

You lean down, lips ghosting just over his and you murmur a soft 'no'.

Andy leans up to press his lips against yours, so soft and so quick that you barely registered it in your head.

"So dramatic." He mocks your words from before.

"I'm tired."

"I'm Andy."

His poor attempt at a dad joke made you snort. "Ha. Ha. You're funny."

"No, I'm Andy."

"God, I can't stand you." You huff out.

Andy chuckles as he tightens his hold on your waist, pulling you into his chest. "Yeah, you can't. Can't believe you're willingly suffering through a relationship with an old man."

His words made you smile as you nuzzle into his neck. Your words sound muffled as you speak against his skin but Andy heard it loud and clear anyways.

"I love you, boomer."

He laughs softly as his hand gently runs down your spine and back up.

"I love you too, honey." You feel him pressing his lips on the top of your head. "Give me 15 minutes to finish this up then we can go take a walk and grab some lunch, okay?"

You hum softly into his neck as the distant, steady beat of his heart calms your mind instantly.

Mission successful.

You work better under pressure anyways.

---

an | reblog, send some love and tell me what you think !

xx haney <3

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