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desos-records · 2 years ago

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The part I appreciate the most in the Lockwood and Co show is how it handles depression and suicidal thoughts in teenagers. As a theme, it’s not often (ever) done well. Lockwood and Co is the only story I can think of that depicts it in a nuanced, realistic, non-romanticized way

but first, before I get into it: [if you’re in crisis or need someone to talk to and don’t want to/can’t use your national hotline, highly recommend Samaritans, genuinely saved my life] okay, let’s go

Lockwood is the most obvious, with his general disregard for his own life and admitted suicidal ideation. Lucy struggles with her self-worth and the intensity of the emotions she’s subjected to. George worries that he doesn’t belong, that there’s something useless or wrong about him. The show depicts these thoughts and feelings in a way that isn’t overblown or dramatized, it’s all but casual. Which is how it happens. Depression or suicidal thoughts don’t crash into you all at once, they creep into your life without you noticing

But more importantly (and again, something I’ve never seen anywhere else), the show also offers counterpoints to those thoughts and feelings. It shows that there is a way out, even though you may feel trapped and hopeless. This is crucial for the show’s target demographic. Bad media depictions of depression or suicide get internalized, contribute to the stigma, and make it harder for people to ask for help. This show doesn’t do that. This show tells its audience that, yes, things are scary and painful and it fucking sucks, but it’s not hopeless. And it says it so well

In the second episode, when Lucy wants to quit, she admits something that I’m almost certain she’s never told anyone

“sometimes I just think I’d be better off dead”

And when I watched this the first time, I expected Lockwood to react the way I’ve seen people react in my own life; with silence or panic or downright dismissal. But he didn’t. He stays calm and he says something that is so so important to hear when you’re struggling under the weight of feelings like this

“I understand that”

Saying this tells someone several things: that you’re on their side, they aren’t strange or monstrous for feeling like this, and that you’re not going to attack or abandon them because of it. And you can see the impact it has on Lucy, the way her face clears. She went from struggling to breathe and near tears to calm and steady. It’s no mistake that in this moment we hear his and Lucy’s theme for the first time (those simple, beautiful guitar strings)

The next thing he says is also important

“and it’s not true”

Simple, to the point, directly addressing her feelings, and (the most common mistake) doesn’t make it about him. Telling someone that you love them or that they’d be upset to lose you might sound nice, and it can be later on in the conversation, but in a moment like this, it’s infinitely more helpful to confront the thought itself

A similar moment in the first book stuck with me too, when they’re underneath Combe Carey Hall and Lucy almost steps into the well. What she’s hearing in her head (and the general phenomenon of malaise that ghosts produce) is very similar to depressive or suicidal thoughts. Before she can fall, Lockwood pulls her back

“no, Lucy, that’s not the way it’s going to be”

Depressive and suicidal thoughts deal in absolutes, so sometimes it takes an absolute to counter it

In the last episode, George has that heart-breaking moment where he says all the awful things he thinks about himself, partly because of the influence of the boneglass and Bickerstaff, but it’s also been building up, there in the background. Increasingly, it’s Lockwood and Lucy working together and George working on his own, which picks at old wounds (engineer, engineer, engineer, weirdo). He bonds with Joplin because he feels like she understands him in a way the others don’t

“it’s nice to have someone to show off to”

But Lucy pushes back against all that because she sees herself in all the ugly things George is saying, because she’s felt that way too. She understands that. She’s so surprised and horrified to hear him saying those things, resigning himself to dying down there, she’s not going to let him go on believing them

“you’re not a third wheel or an oddball or whatever it is that you think you are”

“you’re the best of us”

“we are not losing you, Georgie”

Flo called him that earlier too, but Lucy wasn’t there for that and coming unprompted from her it sounds so much like something you might call your slightly annoying younger brother. She’s so absolute about it all, with no opening for doubt, and you can see something like surprise on George’s face (but also pain because now Lucy’s in danger too)

For all Lucy knows, the boneglass will kill her. I don’t think for a second she genuinely believes her talent will protect her; she told Joplin that to protect George. It’s unclear when exactly she came up with the plan to use the skull, but she was willing to risk it anyway. And she knows, she knows, George will blame himself for this (because she would too, if it were the other way around), but even then, she’s very clear

“this isn’t your fault”

Their whole scene down in the catacombs is two kids trying to keep each other alive, physically obviously, but on the inside as well. And, oh god, George almost crashing down next to Lucy after he’s knocked over the boneglass, trying to wake her up. His voice

“Lucy, Lucy, it’s me, it’s me, say something, speak to me”

I think it’s down in those catacombs that George and Lucy really understand each other for the first time. In their own ways, they’re both curious and suspicious about the Problem and what causes it, trying to learn more about it (and stressing Lockwood out in the process). They both left their families; they both struggle with feeling strange and different than everyone around them. That connection pulls them both back from the edge

Lockwood, for all his confidence, is practically in crisis or was fairly recently (I suspect living with George helped). It’s fairly common, actually, for someone suicidal to overcompensate with an exterior shell to hide it, which can manifest in different ways depending on the person (they may not even realize they’re doing it, I didn’t)

And I love how the show handles it. He’s not made into this dark, tragic figure. He’s so full of life it hurts. He jokes around with George and Flo, fights with Kipps, admires Fairfax. He has dreams (plans) for the future. He’s struggling with trauma, they all are, but he’s not Broken™ in the way similar leading characters are often made out to be, in the way we often fear we are

And, of course, there’s Lucy, a wreaking ball through the precarious balance of Lockwood’s life. It’s not so much that she gives him a reason to live (although she definitely helps), but she holds him accountable in a way no one else does. This is the difficult part of recovery that no one talks about. Having people care for you (George) and sympathize with you (Flo) is great and necessary, especially early on. But at some point, you have to take responsibility for yourself and the noise in your head (you have to open your door on the landing)

What that looks like is complicated and messy and different for every person, but seeing it played out in a story is remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. This is a difficult thing for anyone to learn (many adults never even try)

That shot of George, Lucy, Lockwood (and Kipps) rising up on the catafalque sums it all up for me. Each of them fell into darkness alone and rose out of it together. They inspired each other to fight and win their individual battles, even when they couldn’t be there to help

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #quill kipps #lockwood and lucy #lucy and lockwood #locklyle #lockwood netflix #flo bones #She speaks!

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toomiieimagiines · 2 months ago

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hihihi

uhm so am i allowed to request again (i don’t wanna spam) 😭😭🙏

and if i am can u pls do a rui x hopeless romantic best friend reader (i’m totally normal about best friends to lovers lmfao)

so like the reader is always yapping about hot guys and it’s a little angsty at first because rui is thinking to himself ‘why did i have to fall inlove with someone that won’t ever choose me’ and then one day a hot guy comes up to reader and asks her out, reader is about to say yes but then she realises that she barely knew him and there was someone (rui) who had been by her side since day one and she figures out who she really loves (RUIII) so she rejects him and when rui asks why she just hugs him and says ‘because your the one i really want’ mwah mwah i feel like such a genius (i really hope this made sense lmao be prepared for a million bestie-> lovers and angst-> fluff rui requests 😼)

thank youyoyoyoyoyuuu!!

hi guys! i’m so so incredibly sorry for how inactive i have been! unfortunately, the fanfic writer curse caught up to me, and i’ve had considerably bad things happen to me! ToT

i had developed a really bad addiction after a recent episode - which may be why i’ve loved to write my characters so miserable, but they get a happy ending in the end - and have recently relapsed after a couple months. i’ve also been struggling with a lot of things, like being bullied again, pressure from theater, classes, autism, parental issues, memory of past trauma, having no friends, things like that. i’ve just been having a really hard time, so writing has been super difficult for me. i’m currently having some of the worst mental health in my life, and am un-recovering from other things i’ve had in the past too, after seeing the results of my recovery. sorry if this triggered anybody, i just needed to get this off my chest, and felt also that i should explain where i have been. you all supporting me has kept me going, and i hope you enjoy this one too! LETS END THE PITY PARTY!!!

in other - not so depressing news - here you guys go!! sorry for OOCness, obviously this is a more dramatic approach to a story! happy ending, j tried to write the inner narration differently for how you two were feeling at the time.. and ty once again for such a great idea, mama ^3^

“I don’t think I could stand to be where you don’t see me.”

If he has to sit here and listen to this one more time, he thinks he’ll go insane.

Rui Kamishiro loves you. He truly does. You’re his best friend, his partner in crime, his-

Never mind.

Rui loves you, but he absolutely HATES your taste in guys, and it’s driving him nuts. Nodding and agreeing can only get him so far before he wants to rip his own hair out, and tonight is no exception.

“I give up! All boys are dumb, I don’t need them!” You lament, resting your chin in your hands. It’s the same song and dance over and over. You swear off boys, you get attention, you get sucked in, and he has to pick up the pieces when it inevitably fails. How many times has he thought about how much better he would treat you now? He doesn’t know. He’d be a classical lover, he’d never speak to you the way those stupid unprincipled high school boys do.

Gross. That’s his best friend, why’d he think that? And when did he start being so self confident? He really outta look at himself in the mirror. What an egomaniac he’s turning out to be.

He shakes his head.

“You do know I’m still a boy, right?” He prods, trying to cheer you up. He knows this situation well, and he knows exactly how to make you feel better. Again he’d pull you out of this, and again he’d watch you fall in love.

He wishes you could be happy. He wishes you weren’t in love with being in love. You’re too pure for true love, love is disgusting, depraved, and unkind. You’re not anything like that.

“I know, I know, but you’re the only good one!” You point, words self-assured. “I don’t need a boyfriend, you do everything boyfriendy for me anyway!”

Ouch. Thanks a lot, that’s exactly what he needed to hear right now. He’s not gonna dwell on that last bit for now, he’ll wait until he’s home. Then he can- he doesn’t know. Cry, or something juvenile like that.

“So I’m back-up-boyfriend?” He masks himself in jest, smiling teasingly at you.

“Eh, maybe,” you snicker, “you’d definitely be cute if you weren’t my friend.”

He turns to his school work sharply, trying to mask his complete and utter despair. Ugh, why does he have to be so dramatic? His own personality makes his skin crawl with disgust and hatred, and that only makes him cringe more. He could think about how obnoxious he is all day. Maybe he should use that go home and cry pass early. He pretends to check the time, as if that isn’t all he’s been doing.

“It’s getting late, after this problem I should get going.” He mutters, scribbling some random numbers into his notebook. You yawn in response, being broken out of absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

“Ugh, I wish you didn’t have to go!” You drape an arm over his torso, trying to hold him in. He smiles fondly, wrestling to get you off of him.

“I’d have to walk home in the dark then, do you want that?” He knows you’d never let him, and he sees it immediately.

Your face looks knowing, and you let him go right away. It amuses him at first, but quickly fills him with overwhelming pity. You’re so kindhearted it makes him sick. You shouldn’t worry about someone like him, it’s bad for your health.

“Would you like me to walk home with you?!” You shoot up, the idea of him not being safe running through your head. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. How emasculating! He’s not a helpless young girl! He’s just as manly as those boys who you long for, he’s not a puppy to be walked!

God, is jealously turning him into a bigot? He shakes his head once again, this time not just to clear his thoughts. He’s absolutely not letting you walk him home, it’d be mortifying. He takes your attention belly up, you should have a break. Maybe some time to yourself for a change? God, Rui, get a grip.

“I’m fine, I don’t want you out late by yourself either,” he assures, looking at you in haste.

“Ah. You have a point.”

“I always do.” He means more to that, and he wishes he could tell you. He wants you to see that even he knows what he’s talking about. He needs you to see him, just for once. Not as a best friend, or backup boyfriend, just as a regular one. As a lover who dances in the rain, or ties your shoes

He needs to stop. He shouldn’t think about you like that. It’s lecherous.

You two exchange goodbyes, giving him a long hug (much to his horror). He hates how feverish it is it hold you like this, it makes him feel guilty. His body gets hot, his cheeks flare up, his throat feels tight- it makes him feel like a pervert, even if his thoughts are the farthest thing from lewd.

He feels that everything he thinks about you is repulsive, though.

“Be safe”’s and “See you later”’s are passed between you two, and he walks down your front steps, now completely alone. His eyes scan the damp pavement, seeing the golden hues from the sky light the boring rock. That’s how he feels about you, he decides. You’re the sun, and he’s the pavement. He humors himself by thinking that your suitors are the clouds, stopping you from shining your light for him so he can grow weeds in the cracks of his soul. That’s what these feelings are. Weeds.

He wants to live life beautifully with you, he decides. He wants to tie your shoes, he wants to twirl you as you dance.

He wishes he could be the moon. Something of consequence- of importance, but he’s just the pavement. Not the earth, not the stars, not the clouds, or rain, he’s just a man made monster who destroys nature - you - and is walked over by people who do matter.

He should quit being this way, he grumbles, it doesn’t do anybody any good to be so flowery. He’s too girly- too weak. Maybe that’s why you don’t like him. If you’re willing to date anything that moves other than him, that must mean he’s on a completely new level, huh?

That’s what dreaming gets you, Rui. Crushed dreams and embarrassment.

He lets out a pitiful sigh, kicking a pebble with his shoe. He sees a worm in a lawn which reminds him of himself, he sees a couple shopping for a new game which reminds him of you, he sees a convenience store which reminds him that he’s hungry-

His life can be so mundane sometimes, what a drag.

He’s about to reach his front door, when he steps into a puddle. It feels like an appropriate representation of his life right now. A sense of disgraceful hilarity washes over him, and he begins to laugh. He laughs a while, he laughs as he takes his shoes off, he laughs as he peels his button up down, and he laughs as he lays in his bed. How dramatic he could be some times!

He falls asleep quickly. He has a dream about being on stage and forgetting his lines.

He wakes up with a thud, he fell out of bed. How embarrassing. He decides to check his phone.

Weirdo: RUII

Weirdo: wanna hang w me 2day?? u don’t have dance time right??

Weirdo: gonna kill you. WAKE UP

Me: I’m awake, sorry!

Weirdo: finally sleeping beauty

Weirdo: wanna get a snack? i’m simply starved…

Me: When?

Weirdo: an hr maybe…

Me: Okay :) I’ll tell you when I leave.

Weirdo: kay!!

He really doesn’t feel like being social today, but he’d never pass up an opportunity to see you. He’s an obscene degenerate when it comes to you, pouncing on your attention like a sick dog. It’s mortifyingly pathetic.

He gets dressed, throwing on a boring striped sweater. It’s getting colder outside recently, and he’s always ran cold anyway. His hands are shaky and nervous as he brushes his teeth, the anxiousness to see you making his body jittery. He considers breakfast, but quickly shuts the idea down. He doesn’t want to be stressed out - at least more than he already is - when he sees you. Twitchy hands lock his door, and he gets a few feet away before he double checks that he did, in fact, lock it. Pull yourself together, Rui! He screams at himself.

The walk is just as unexciting as he expected, albeit a bit chilly. He’s feeling thankful for the sweater. The breeze runs its hands through his hair, and he’s reminded that winter is coming. He always liked Autumn flowers the best, hibiscus flowers are pretty too, he supposes. It’s nice to have the warmth of the sun soothing his cold hands during summer, for sure.

He trips over a rock on the way, and his pants get wet on the knees. Khaki blends into an ugly brown, and he sighs. How unlucky, would anything go right for him today?

Turns out it will, you look really good today.

You great him at the door, practically buzzing with eagerness. It makes him smile, knowing that you do, in fact, want to see him. Or at least are acting like it. You’re a good friend to him, he’s lucky to have you.

“Rui!” You hug him as a greeting, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. His heart soothes, eyes closing in relaxation. Problems feel obscure and distant when you two are like this, despite his reluctance last night. He can forget about corrupt feelings - or misguided love- and he can just be your best friend. Despite his apprehension to be cared for, he is flattered that you, at least, seem to like him.

“Hey.” He breaths you in, his voice soft. He hopes you don’t notice, it’s embarrassing.

“Hey!” You reply, pulling away. “Big things planned, Rui!”

“What big things?” He asks, amused. “Big things” for you were junk food and shopping.

“Big things! It’s a surprise!” You put your shoes on, and he can’t help but feel jealous as he watches your hands tie them dutifully. He sighs, stretching. He decides to make it a challenge to act normal the whole day. No weird thoughts are going to beguile his mind, he promises himself.

You lock your front door, twisting the knob to make sure that it did, in fact, lock. This fills him with a child-like sense of delight, maybe you two really were similar.

Nah, not possible. You’re too pure - too perfect. Ugh, Rui, no more stupid thoughts.

He watches you check the time, make a face at a nearby bird, and cover your cheeks with your hands. You suddenly perk up, wrapping your arms around him.

“Warm me up, will ya?” You scowl at the cool air, grip tightening. He gulps. It’s weird he reacts like this, considering you two have done things like this all the time. It’s normal, so why does he have to be such a creep? His arms wrap around yours, running his hands up and down to create heat.

“Should’ve worn a jacket,” he chides, “wouldn’t be cold, y’know?” His voice is so casual, like everything is totally fine. It is fine. Fine, fine, fine.

“Gotta look good. I’m on the hunt, obviously,” you joke. It isn’t funny to him, but he lets out a laugh.

“You’re hopeless.”

You two stop at a convenience store first, and you all but sprint to the drinks. He had this ritual down to a science. You grab two different color slushies, and he grabs whatever odd snack catches your collective stomachs eye today. Today the two of you decide to split a cookie, and walk to the counter. The cashier gives you a smirk, and he averts his eyes.

“This it?” The boy cocks his head, and you get the memo. You immediately jump on the opportunity.

“Mhm!” You wink, resting your chin in your hands while leaning against the counter. In all honestly, he wasn’t even that cute. At least, that’s what Rui kept telling himself.

“Don’t worry about it, than. I got you guys,” he waves you off. Score! You think, but he adds. “If I can get your number.” Rui feels like falling into the floor, how awkward! You just scribble it onto a stray receipt, winking.

“Thank you! You’re the sweetest!!” You singsong, skipping along with Rui following suite. You immediately burst into laughter, throwing a fake punch at Rui. “What a weirdo! Like I’d call him over what, 1000 yen?! I don’t even know him, yuck!”

So you did have some sense, he feels like letting out a sigh of relief. You hold your hands out.

“Which one do you want? I got your favorite!!” You look so proud, and he wants to laugh. His “favorite” isn’t actually his favorite, but he’d never tell you that.

The lie started one day in middle school, when the two of you suddenly had a weird craving for slushies. When you picked them out, you had gotten a red one and a blue one, and asked him what he wanted. While he really didn’t like red, he knew you liked blue, so he said red. Now for the past four years, you’ve always ended up getting him a red one, thinking it was his favorite. He’ll deal with it for you. Seeing your blue tongue stick out with brain freeze is better than any sugary drink anyway.

“Red, duh.” He scoffs playfully, taking a sip of it. The taste doesn’t really bother him all that much anymore. It reminds him of you.

You always let him divide the snacks, thinking he gives himself the bigger half. He never does, but he eats slower so you think he did. You skip along, enjoying it.

“Y’know, this isn’t bad. Wish they had the brownie, though. That never does us wrong.” God, don’t make him think of the ‘crack brownies’ - as you two call them. Those are great, and he likes them, so you never miss an opportunity to shove them down his throat.

“Don’t complain. Remember the egg roll incident?” He points, laughing at the memory. You two steer clear of that section now, having gotten sick.

“Ugh, I haven’t thought about that in a while! I’m never eating an egg roll again after that day! Ugh,” you gag.

Moments of silly memories like this make him feel like he’s known you forever. He can’t even remember a moment where he hasn’t loved you.

“Where’re we going now, commander?” He salutes, following the trail of sunshine you left behind.

“Where ever the wind blows us, kind sir!” You salute back, pushing him along. Your constant checks of your phone don’t go unnoticed by him, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Who’re you texting? Don’t tell me it’s that guy.” He tries to sound casual, knocking his shoulder against yours playfully.

“‘M not a total idiot, I’ll have you know!” You huff, holding your phone to your chest. “It’s just somebody we went to school with a while back, ‘m seeing if I can pull the moves.”

“Do I know him?”

“Dunno, never saw you two talking, so maybe not. He was in my english class, remember, the only class we didn’t have together?”

“Ah.”

You two walk in silence, except for when he yanks you back from the collar so you don’t walk into oncoming traffic, which amuses you greatly. You two soon arrive at the small mall, and he tails you as you run with excitement. You two browse everything, constantly pointing out cute plushies, or interesting keychains.

“Rui, look! Look!” You shake him, pointing to the back of somebody’s head inconspicuously. “Wait don’t yet- Okay, now! He’s turning around! That’s the guy! What a coincidence we see him here, right? Do you recognize him?”

Ha. Yeah, he knows this guy. He definitely knows him. He’s the one who would trip him during passing periods, he’s the one who left flowers on his desk. They make eye contact, and it’s like all of his growth left his body. He’s just the same freak from middle school, he’s still thirteen.

He shudders at the guys smirk, sensing that he definitely knows that Rui knows him. He jogs over to the two of you, and Rui already knows what’s about to happen, due to the lopsided smile on your face.

Damnit, this is the first time he doesn’t think he can act like it’s okay.

“Oh wow, what a coincidence! Must be fate we run into each other like this, ehe…” You giggle awkwardly, a dumb expression gracing your face. It’s painful seeing you that way for anybody other than him, and he looks away awkwardly.

“Must be.” He answers, swaggering closer towards you. Rui thanks whatever God above because - despite his current situation - at least this asshole didn’t go to highschool with you guys.

He looks down at his shoes, and tries to shuffle away, knowing this jackass is about to say something. He’s quickly stopped.

“Who’s this, huh? Feel like a recognize him from somewhere…” He trails off, smirking through his nose as he turns his attention to him. “Have we met before?”

“This is Kamishiro Rui, he’s my friend! He went to middle school with us, remember?” You happily answer for him.

Ha, friend? What happened to back-up boyfriend? He’s a little hurt, to be honest.

He feels bitter, it’s unbecoming- God, he doesn’t care. He should feel bad for getting so angry over it, it’s not like you belong to him. He’s such a freak, getting attached to you like this.

He starts to pick at his fingers, then he plays with a loose string on his sweater. You two continue to chat like nothings wrong, and he keeps thinking. It’s something he’s gotten good at recently.

He stops feeling bad about himself for a second- a split second where he resents you, and wishes his pain upon you. Wants you to know what it’s like to be so disgustingly, guiltily, revoltingly obsessed with someone. In this split second, he can’t even find it in himself to feel guilty about it, which is unlike him. He wishes you felt love like this, that you were as psychotic about it.

But this doesn’t last long, because he remembers that he loves you more than anything. He’s lucky to be your friend. You’re a great friend, you’re an amazing person, you’re the sun, the sun, the sun.

He’s the pavement, he has to remember.

“I’m- I’ll leave you to it, y’know? Fabric store.” He stutters, choking on his voice. You don’t even notice, waving him off.

You do, however, remember to press his shoulder, uttering an absentminded “Okay, Rui, bye,” and he remembers again how perfect you are for doing it subconsciously. He lets himself feel the touch, long after he’s walked away. He deserves it after the trouble he’s reliving.

When he makes it to the fabric store - which he really didn’t need anything from, Nene had gotten some the other day - he can’t help himself from wishing he could just go home. Malls were always overwhelming already, and now his saving grace has the attention of another man. He walks through aisles, but realizes that he now has to buy something.

‘Least he knows that social cue, he laughs bitterly, running his hands across his face in frustration. He’s so ridiculous.

Meanwhile, you were chatting up a storm. It was your first time talking in person since middle school, after all! You feel giddy for a while, but it cuts abruptly. You feel a strange sense of urgency, something’s missing.

Oh, your best friend.

But where had he gone? You’re sure he was just here. You smile apologetically at the cute boy, putting on your best performance.

“Oh, I better go get my friend now. I don’t like walking home when it’s late. Was nice seein’ you, let’s hang out soon, ‘kay?” You singsong, stepping closer. You want to give yourself a pat on the back, you’re so cute.

He rolls his eyes, and you’re hit with a wave of uneasiness. That noise he made sounds strangely dismissive, he’s not the kind of guy to be a jerk though, you must be hearing things-

“Leave ‘im. Between you and me, he was a total freak in middle school. Probably is now, too. Probably likes you or somethin’, total nutcase.” His voice sounds so casual, like it’s not the douchiest thing you’ve heard all day.

You let other men walk all over you, sure. You let them cheat on you, lie, whatever. But you’re not about to stand here and insult Rui. He’s the only untouched thing in your life - the only person who isn’t cruel. He’s so gangly and awkward, but in the best way. You could live a million times and not be able to deserve him, at least you think so. He’s so unusual, and that’s what you love most about him. Little things like not liking loud lights, or liking the red slushies the best, make your heart buzzy with familiarity. He’s the one constant in your life.

You’ve been awfully worried about him recently, though. His particularly (as you like to call it) has gone to the an extreme, and it’s been a battle getting him to eat real food. You’re not blind, you see the way he’s been spacing out, or tapping a little too much. You just thought he’d been overwhelmed. He worries you to death sometimes, but despite all of his own struggles, he always seems to not care about it, deciding to always be there for you instead. Ah, he’s just such an amazing guy - no, not guy, he’s not anything like those other boys you talk to. He’d never insult someone like that. He’s not just a guy, he’s like your person.

Yeah, he’s definitely your person.

Your heart sputters at the thought, and you feel something you’ve never really felt before - save for hugs between the two of you that lasted just a second too long, or words a little too romantic. The feeling makes your mind fuzzy, and your heart hurt terribly with something you could only place as homesickness.

Oh.

“I,” you begin, backing away. “Yeah, I’m sorry but I’ll really be going now-“

“What? C’mon I was just messing with you, even though having guy friend’s kinda weird.” He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah whatever, I’ll call you back,” you say dismissively.

You’re totally lying, you laugh, you’re not calling him back.

He didn’t seem to like that.

“Damn, can’t even joke around with you people. Whatever, weirdo, sorry I insulted your little boyfriend.” The change in tone amuses you.

Yeah, good riddance, pal.

You turn away, walking through the mall with pace. It takes a while, but you spot him watching a pet stores aquarium.

He’s a funny one.

You wave your hands, trying to get his attention. He swallows, knowing that it’s probably to ask him if it’s cool to walk home by himself. Emotions are stupid, and ironically, you both think that at the same time.

“Rui! Rui! Hey c’mon, let’s go home, yeah?” You smile, face feeling warm. It’s a different feeling from when you usually talk to him. He looks at you, a little shocked. He had assumed you were smiling wide because you set up a date, so he turns his head.

“Where is he, huh?” He looks away, back to the fish tank. You shift in place, was he mad at you? You’re a little irritated at the mention of the guy, though, and huff.

“Don’t worry about that. Seems like I only attract douchebags, so I decided to go.” You explain, poking his shoulder. “Hey,” you start, “let’s just walk home, I wanna talk to you about something.” The idea makes you feel dizzy, but you’ll have to illustrate your feelings one day.

You can leave out the “I think I’m in love with you” part, you think.

The two of you walk in an excruciating silence, staring down at the reflection of the setting sun in the puddles. His heart tightens, remembering his earlier comparison. Even now, you’re so perfect. Even if he’s frustrated with you - despite you turning down the guy in the end (he doesn’t know why, he wanted to ask) - even if he’s ready to scream, and cry, and ask you what it is he did for you to be so turned off by him, he still thinks you’re the most heavenly, divine person to ever grace his view. He wants to be where you see him, he wants to be in your orbit.

“You’re like the sun-“ He blurts out, immediately regretting it. He didn’t mean to say that, God, he’s so fucking stupid. He sees you stop walking, smiling that same stupid, dopey, lopsided smile that he’s always so jealous of-

Oh. It’s for him.

He chokes, stopping to meet you eye-to-eye. You look up at him too, laughing giddily.

“What does that mean?”

He sputters, stepping away. “N-no it’s nothing- It was stupid anyway so-“

“No, tell me!” You urge, laughing a little harder. “What if it was something bad, ‘nd you were making fun of me? That’s not nice, Rui!”

“I- Hey-“ His voice goes a touch higher, a defensive tone rising. “That’s not-“

“Then tell me.”

“It’s just,” he breaths, trying to word it in the least creepy way possible. How does convey the fact that he sees you as a divine presence, that he sees himself as a worthless creature compared to you, without sounding like he’s hopelessly possessed by love for you? “I just- you’re so amazing,” he starts, “I thought of this stupid thing the other day when I was walking home - you know how I am - and well, I just thought of you when the sun reflected off the pavement - since it rained, y’know? - and well, it just- Sorry, it was dumb-“ He rambles, covering his face in anguish.

Nobody’s ever put that much thought into you. Sure, you’ve received a few ‘You’re so gorgeous’’s, where you’ve had to wonder where they learnt such a “big word”, but never something as poetic as that. The usual Rui-ratic explanation endeared you to him even more. You look at him, the smile never leaving. He’s just… so Rui. His stupid striped sweater, his half up hair - that you’d begged him to grow out - his eyes, whatever. Everything about him you treasure, and little do you know he cherished you even that more intensely.

“I think you’re the moon, Rui. Or maybe the earth, since I take care of you, hah!” You snicker, stepping closer to him. He takes a step back in return, and you grab his hands to make him stay put. His heart throbs, and he almost goes crashing down.

“I.. I don’t-“

You yank his hands, making him look back up at you. “Hey, Rui, I,” you look at him assuringly, “I wanna say something, and you can’t laugh okay?”

He holds his breath, so do you.

Fuck it, just tell him.

“I think I’m in love with you, Rui.” You gaze at him, the words shooting out faster than you can second guess them.

“I don’t-“ He breaks away, his fists balling up. You messed up, you think, you really, really messed up. “I’m not- I’m not going to- You can’t just say that because you got rejected. I- It wouldn’t be nice to- You don’t love me-“

“Rui,” you beg, grabbing his arm again, “holding hands on the way to school, cuddling while doing homework, knowing everything about eachother, these aren’t-“ You breath, “I’ve wanted somebody to love me for so long, Rui, and I was so blind to the fact that I was loved. But the love that I felt for you, - that I feel for you - Rui, isn’t the kind where I can be- where I can just be so- so normal about those things!” You monologue, saying whatever’s on your mind. You’re the rambling one now.

“I found myself comparing you to these piece-of-garbage dude’s I’m always with, wishing I could just date somebody like you instead! But now I realize that it is you-“

His heart falls into his gut, and he breaks free from you again. His hands move to his face, covering his eyes. His voice is broken and cracky as he begins to cry. “That was- you-“ He pulls you into a desperate embrace, arms holding you like you’ll disappear. “You shouldn’t, you’re wrong.” He sobs, “I’m- the way I love you is- You don’t understand, the way I feel isn’t normal I- My love is disgusting, and horrible, and depraved-“ He shakes, you rub his back. “You are so perfect compared to me, I’d never be able to- I love you so much, more than friends are supposed to, more than anyone’s supposed to at our age-“

“Rui, hey Rui please don’t cry.” You beg, smoothing out the ridges in his sweater. “I don’t- I don’t agree with that, and I can scream that at you, but I’m sure you won’t believe me. You’re not disgusting for feeling emotions different, Rui that’s what I love about you.”

“Stop- stop saying my name like that. It’s too hard to-“

“Rui, I love you. You don’t need to accept it, but I love you. More than being in love, more than being loved-“

“I love you, too,” his voice cracks, “that’s why I’m so scared. I don’t want to ruin a friendship that’s all I have, if this is just- I’m scared I’d lose you in any way, and I can’t live in a world where you don’t see me. I won’t. It’s sounds horrible but-“ He stops as you pull away from the hug, and wipes his face hastily. You put your pinky out, and his stomach drops again.

“C’mon, just like when we were kids. Pinky promise that no matter what, we’ll always see each other. That way you don’t need to worry anymore, y’know? I never break my kissy pinky promises, ever.”

Just like when you two were little.

He locks his with yours, just like you taught him all those years ago. He remembers your shared handshake for theater, he remembers your shared handshake for testing, and he remembers the song you two had to duet for choir - when you have forced him into it for a year. He holds everything of you so dear to his heart, you endear everything about him to you as well.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I see you.”

“I see you, too.”

You two kiss your hands, then bring them down, still interlinked. You stare at him, and he stares back at you. In a moment of profound sincerity, you lean forward, and kiss him. It’s slow and gentle, and you unlock your hands half way through to hold his face, which he mirrors. His heart settles for the first time. You see him. He’s your moon, your earth, you’re his sun, his stars.

He’s suddenly alarmed by a quick pushing off of him, gasping out a “Rui!”

“I-“ he pants, wiping his mouth. “Hm?”

“we’re in the middle of a park!”

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wherenymphsroam · 3 months ago

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don’t say it’s unholy, if I let you come hold me (pt 1)

⟡ -- leon finds you drowning your grief in the back of a bar just outside of town. but don't worry, he won't blow your cover.

w/c: 2.1k

warnings: themes of coping with grief and depression, implied underage drinking and unhealthy coping mechanisms, vendetta leon, leon is just a wee bit morally grey here just due to the point in his life this is staged during, no sex but explicit language, leon is readers dad's coworker/friend, angst - eventual sex

a/n: okay, I've been sitting on this baby for a hot minute just because of how self indulgent it is iaqhdsiuwsjih. I wanted to make this longer before I released it, but I think I'm going to just continue this in parts (and even then, don't hold me to that lol judgwiuhd !!). again, please heed warnings, and if you are uncomfortable with any themes presented, please just don't read!

playlist: unholy (hey violet), disconnect (she wants revenge), discipline (nine inch nails), paralyzer (finger eleven)

You shouldn’t be here.

By all legal and ethical means, morality aside, you should be at the library, studying for a final you know damn well you won’t be passing. Or better yet, at home. Maybe poured over a mug of tea, that blend your mom has made you since you were a kid. Some shitty romcom playing in the background, ignored as you doze off surrounded by papers, scattered around the dining table like any other honorable, dutiful college student. Not some… dingy, shithole bar outside the parameters of your hometown.

(One you know your dad doesn’t frequent with colleagues. One you know is just outside the radius of people that would see you here, know you enough to know you shouldn’t be here.)

Maybe you would be back home right now, studying until you felt like your brain was going to melt out of your ears, if not for what happened. The “would’ve” “could’ve” and “should’ve”s are stacked high in your brain, like a mountain of now unattainable possibilities laid bare, slain by the events of recent nights. Something so chilling, so bone shattering and brain dissolving you just can’t manage to wrap your head around it.

‘Shock’, right?

That was the operative term for the numbness that has recently buzzed dully in your limbs, the heaviness of your own weight whenever you roll out of bed every day. The term itself is thrown around so flippantly, so easily outside the walls of a hospital, a clinic. General medical common knowledge be damned, everyone knows what shock is.

'Shock' is being betrayed by your child who marries someone of the same gender, rendering you and your paper thin beliefs meaningless. Generations passed down worth of indoctrination gone moot by one, unholy union. It’s coming home and finding your husband in bed with another woman, that blonde bitch at his front desk. The one he told you not to worry about? Yeah, that one.

It’s the unspeakable, the unimaginable striking. It’s blinding, horrid in how it leaves you.. Empty. You’re compelled to apologize for its effects on your nervous system.

Sorry guys, I promise I’m sad. I know I don’t look it, I’m taking it out on all this- shit lying around. I’ve been meaning to throw this out for ages you know. Guess I finally have a reason now, huh? No, I don’t know how much sleep I’ve gotten the past week, it’s probably fine. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. That’ll make me feel worse. Now, if you would, let me go finish my manic episode in peace, will you-?

Could you blame this too as to why you finally dug out that fake ID your friends coerced you into agreeing to?

This wasn’t like you, not one bit. I mean, really, sitting in the back of some gnarly bar, surrounded with the sorts of people Daddy always warned you about? The sorts of people that only came out after dark, that hung around till dawn when they would then go back to dwell in whatever crevice of the city they called home until dusk? Maybe this was moms genes catching up with you – the predisposed ones you always knew would come to bite you in the ass. Maybe you should go check your eyes, don’t people's pupils dilate when they’re manic? “Crazy eyes'' those people on Tiktok would call them, right?

“Unwidin’, huh?”

His voice calls through the air between you like he might’ve well been standing yards away. It takes you a moment longer than maybe appropriate to track his distance, his place at your side at the bartop. Glancing over, you first get a look at his hand, gesturing to the drink in front of you, the cigarette dangling between your fingers. The one that was currently beginning to slip in your weakened grip, speaking of.

They’re long, nimble. Broad hands, worn at the tips, smooth along the meat of his palms. Even under the hazy atmosphere surrounding you, you can make out the glint of the watch up his sleeve – probably expensive, if the quality of the leather of his jacket sleeve has anything to say about it. Look at you. Even buzzed like this, you were spotting the finer details. A daddy’s girl with daddy’s tolerance.

Despite yourself, you nod numbly, head heavy on the bracket of your neck. A sign directly arguing with the idea of your tolerance – or rather, lack thereof – but it can't be as noticeable as your brain is attempting to trick you into believing, right?

Leon settles into the stool next to you, and you don’t so much as cast him a proper glance. Maybe that’s why he finds himself sitting down. You looked out of place, like a damn kicked puppy with your head drowning in a few shots worth in the back of this bar. It was a wonder no one else had approached you up till this point, especially given the time of night. It was hard not to feel like your guardian angel.

“We both know this ain’t the healthiest way to do it.” He says as he flags the bartender down.

Touche, mystery man.

Well, alright. Technically you knew the guy. You vaguely recognized him as one of Dad’s colleagues through the haze of your buzz. It was too sweet to interrupt, you find yourself completely unfazed in the face of the inevitable consequences that would come from your fathers colleague finding you here.

If anything, you couldn’t complain.

His voice was nice. Beyond “nice” actually. If you were any more wasted, you’d take him for a certain type of actor. More specifically, the ones you listen to late at night. The ones that speak to you behind pseudonyms and expensive microphones, nestled into crevices of the internet any mentally stable person wouldn’t dream of wandering into.

You know better than to entertain that thought for more than a few seconds, even despite the dregs of nicotine floating through your blood coaxing you towards such a mental image.

Finally, you brave a glance over your shoulder at him. He’s pretty. Real pretty. How are you only just noticing how sharp his eyes are? They look darker under this bar's lighting, that typically professional, almost playful glint in his gaze nowhere to be found. It had been a few years since you’d last seen him… maybe it was age finally starting to jade him.

Not that you knew the specifics. He was easily older than you by a decade and some change. And clearly all too happy to bypass all niceties in this situation. Damn. Did you look that bad? He was pretty enough to be an angel, but that didn’t mean he had to act like one. Maybe he felt bad for you. Maybe he had a better head sitting on his shoulders than a better half of the people in here.

A huff of soft breath leaves through your nose, tendrils of smoke swirling out of your system with the action. Shaking your head, you dip it, taking another long drag from your quickly burning cigarette, an excuse to try and string together some sort of response that won’t make an ass out of you. Or actually, anything that didn’t scream “you’re hot and I don’t know how to conduct myself around good natured, attractive men” would do just fine. Those damn eyes of his… it was a mistake, letting your gazes lock. His eyes alone were enough to make your stomach flip.

“Well,” you mutter, not daring to look back at him. “This is better than my plan b for the night.”

You don’t so much as flinch when the bartender comes over, taking an order he murmurs in a tone you want spoken against the shell of your ear from behind. Your periphery catches the actions of the bartender pouring his order into a short glass, bronze in color.

Whiskey. Of course.

Reaching for the middle of the table, you stub your cigarette in a conveniently placed ashtray. Sure, you were a little fucked up in a way you’ve never been before tonight, but you had manners.

Meanwhile, Leon is doing what he does best. Observing. He tries his best not to make it obvious how he watches your hand wobbles when you lift it. He watched the subtle change in your expression when he called to you, how your head bobbed when he sat down. Anyone else would be paying attention to how quickly you recoiled with the action, as if self conscious of your dragged reaction time. However, he had spotted the tension in your slouched shoulders. A reaction rooted in self preservation, a fear of judgment. It was enough to tell him just how many shots you probably had in your system.

He was no stranger to girls like you, ‘situations’ such as the one he was currently sitting next to.

It was a familiar, cliche dance – the unspoken, drowning struggles of a near stranger on display, insecurities risen to the surface like hemorrhaged blood under thinned skin. It was written all over you. You were scrappy, worn paper, and he was the storm settling overhead. Baring your weariness and struggle and strife to his blind eye, painting you transparent. He could see right through you. You were running from something. Likely attempting to drown, bury it somewhere deep if not for just a night or so.

“‘Plan B’?” he questions, tone calm, even almost lighthearted. It betrays his sharp gaze, perceptive and on guard as ever. As if he were approaching an injured doe in the wild. Not that he’s done much hunting lately. He’s found that meat off the streets bleeds more freely than the skin of doe’s and rabbits does in present times.

A wry smile tugs at your lips, almost as if you figured he’d press the topic. It was already too much to ask that he didn’t mention your connection to his coworker, how Leon knew you were definitely not supposed to be somewhere like this, and he had managed to uphold that silent prayer.

Maybe your otherwise handicapped condition was blurring whatever lines that stood between you right now, the lines that constructed what he should be doing, finding you here without a legitimate ID. He should be outing you to the bartender, dragging you out of this place by the scruff of your neck with your dad dialed into his phone.

He shouldn’t be… entertaining you, right? Could you go so far as to call his complacent presence.. Encouragement?

Taking a seat beside you, joining you in your mission to drown your ache, your pain. Keeping you calm under his gaze, as if a sedative rolled off him in gentle waves. His throat bobs around his sip of whiskey, and you can’t help how your gaze lingers on the action.

“Plan B consisted of finding someone to fuck me into next week,” you mutter dryly, as if the admission of your half hearted ‘plans’ for tonight left a sour taste in even your mouth. It wasn’t who you were. This wasn’t what you did. For fucks sake, you weren’t even supposed to have gotten this far, knee deep in an actively self destructive decision. But life sure did have one hell of a way of knocking you one hundred eighty degrees in the other direction, didn’t it?

No. That’s an excuse. A shitty one, at that. It's an excuse you've heard your dad mutter under his breath when he slouches into the couch with a beer in hand.

This is a poor choice, and you knew this was a poor choice. And yet, that didn’t stop you from walking your happy ass into this bar, nose up and full of talked up confidence you poured into yourself in the parking lot. No amount of tugging and pulling and pleading your guilty conscience did on your brain would stop you, not this time. You knew that getting into an Uber to haul you outside the lines of town would seal your fate to the whims of this bar. How classy.

If Leon was a worse man, he’d take your words at face value. (Or maybe he’s just damned with all that thorough training he’s been rung through. It’s practically impossible not to read people nowadays. Even alcohol has ceased to debilitate him of this begrudgingly equipped set of skills that was all but pummeled into him.)

His gaze wavers. Flickers, almost with a wash of amusement for a moment. You were trying oh so hard, taking that clipped, short tone with him, all but puffing your chest with this aura of mental toughness you likely wanted to think you had. It was cute, really. But oh, the lacing of desperation in your tone... The sweet vulnerability in your breath… every hairline fracture your already cracking front is bleeding.

He doesn’t have to be a bloodhound to want to dig for more. He just can’t help himself.

thank you for reading! I have emergency commissions open, so if you enjoyed this piece, please consider taking a look at my menu or rb’ing :^)

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #vendetta leon x reader #vendetta leon #if this flops none of u bitches r ever gonna hear from me again istg 💔#kidding #.... maybe

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achilles-rage · 1 month ago

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thirteen crows: chapter three

summary: buck makes you dinner, and then your regulars see first hand how work has been going for you lately.

word count: 2.7k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: i am SO SORRY this took so long. i want to write so bad and i have so many ideas but i can't force myself to write. the seasonal depression is kicking in i fear<33 also i finally get to watch episode 3 of season 8 tonight. will be writing a drabble for motorcycle buck i know it. anyway, enjoy<33

warnings: slight body shaming, mentions of stalking (cute<3), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

The other night at work, Buck spilled his full glass of beer all over the counter and floor, and although you kept trying to tell him that mistakes happen, he insisted on having you over to his house and cooking you dinner. While you were a little upset about the mess you had to clean up, you laughed until you couldn’t breathe when it happened.

He made such a mess, and his actions looked so dramatic that it almost looked fake. His defeated expression and sheepish shrug as he slowly raised his eyes to look at you over the counter added to the hilarity, and you could hardly be mad when he offered so many times to help clean up his mess.

So, now, here you are. Buck is cooking in front of you, while at the same time trying to show off his bartender skills he learned when he was in Peru, and it’s not going well. He insisted on having you over to make up for the incident, just wanting an excuse to see you outside of work, and he’s glad you said yes. He knew you would. And you’ve been to his house enough times to know that he’s skilled in the kitchen, but the added stress of trying to remember all his training is clearly getting to him as your big, sparkling eyes study his every movement.

Something smells like it’s burning, he’s spilt salt all over the counter and floor while trying to make you a margarita, and he was supposed to add the chopped veggies 10 minutes ago, which are still sitting on the cutting board, unchopped.

“I really don’t mind helping.” you tell him with a laugh. Your cheeks hurt from laughing so much at his antics, and you forgave him almost immediately, so this is completely unnecessary.

“I told you I got it. Come on, I’ve got everything under control.” he tells you nonchalantly. Just as he finishes his sentence, his smoke alarm goes off, and you both jump.

You stand up abruptly, grabbing the dish towel on the counter as he takes the pan off the stove and turns off the burner.You stand under the smoke detector and wave the towel in front of it, hoping to shut it off before the entire building has to be evacuated.

Once the smoke detector has stopped blaring and everything is back under control, you sit back down at the kitchen island, trying not to laugh as Buck turns to you with a defeated look.

“Can you grab my phone from the coffee table?” he asks you in a sweet voice, and you nod, immediately getting up and moving to the living room.

“Did you realize you actually do need a recipe?” you tease as you hear pots and pans banging around the kitchen behind you. You assume he’s going to try again, and it makes your heart swell. You’d never dare say anything out loud, but you have a little crush on Buck. It’s normal, sure, but you feel guilty because you also have the same feelings for Eddie.

They flirt with you all the time, yeah, but they’re your work regulars. And either way, you’re not sure that either one of them actually sees you like that.

“No, I’m ordering a pizza. You’re too high maintenance to cook for.” he teases as you turn around. You scoff, laughing slightly at his words and narrowing your eyes. You shove his phone at him once you’re close enough, sinking back onto the chair with a huff.

He smirks at your feigned anger, licking his lips as his eyes trail your body conspicuously. He’s used to seeing you at the bar, wearing some sort of outfit that he’s sure you’re only wearing to make tips. He’s seen you outside of work, not that you know that, and he knows you usually don’t wear miniskirts like the one he and Eddie talk about a little too often.

It’s nice to see you more relaxed outside of work up close though, not bothering to dress up too much. You’re wearing jeans tonight, which still show off your ass in a way that has Buck groaning to himself, but you’re clearly comfortable enough around him to let your guard down.

While it warms his heart, he can’t help but think about taking that comfort from you completely.

He loves seeing how quickly someone’s face can switch from calm to frightened when he and Eddie hunt, and he’s definitely fantasized about how pretty you’d look when your eyes widen in fear more than once to lull himself to sleep.

One minute you’d be laughing at something he said, body angled towards his and your movements loose and relaxed, and the next you’d be looking up at him with tear-filled eyes, lip quivering as you back yourself into a corner, just begging to be devoured.

“You’re the one that insisted I come over so you can ‘make it up to me.’ I told you you didn’t need to do that.” you tell him, rolling your eyes. His tone is still playful, so you know he’s not actually blaming you, but you still feel a little bad that he wasted all this time for nothing.

“And I told you that I need to make it up to my favourite girl. It’s not every day I find someone who gives me free beers when the manager isn’t around.” he teases, winking at you from across the kitchen island. Your cheeks heat up at his words, and your eyes dart down to the margarita sitting in front of you. He and Eddie flirt with you all the time, but Buck referring to you as his girl makes your head spin.

“Alright, pizza’s ordered. Let’s go sit on the couch while we wait.” he says after a minute or two, setting his phone down on the counter. You nod, getting up and following him to the living room.

You talk for a few minutes, the news playing on the tv in the background, but when a reporter begins to speak, Buck’s attention turns to the tv. Your gaze moves to the tv as well, curious to see what’s gotten Buck’s attention, when you see the video of the two masked men that have been terrorizing your city.

It’s the same video you talked about with Grace, Afsah, and Cass, as no one else has managed to get them on video. The reporter talks about yet another body being found a few blocks from you, and a shiver rolls down your spine. At the same time, however, you can’t help but think about how Grace and Afsah talked about the two men.

Your throat goes dry as the video plays in slow motion on the screen, and you can’t help but stare at the outline of the men. They’re very clearly tall and built, and although they’re wearing long sleeves, their biceps looking fucking incredible.

Your focus is solely on the screen as the video plays a few times, your body betraying your brain that’s telling you not to think the way you are. You squeeze your thighs together subconsciously and chew on your bottom lip, eagerly studying their forms as they move.

Buck notices this, and he smirks to himself as he leans back against the couch, legs spread enough for his leg to touch yours. He imagines you eagerly accepting his advances; how desperate you’d be for his mouth, and his fingers, and his cock. He imagines pushing you back onto the couch and sucking and nipping at your neck while you give him half assed protests, even though you both know how much you want him. It’s clear by how you reacted to the video, even if you don’t know it yet.

He has a smug expression on his face when you finally turn back to him, not that you notice in your daze. You’re clearly embarrassed about how you were staring at the tv, and he can’t wait to wear you down until you’re unabashedly begging on your knees to please him with that pretty little mouth.

He can’t wait to tell Eddie about this; he knows he’ll be just as thrilled about it as him. And he knows that Eddie will agree with him; they need you all to themselves, sooner rather than later.

You roll your eyes when you hear Grace’s loud giggle over the football game, keeping your face down in order to hide your annoyance from the two men sitting across the counter from you.

Ever since you hung out with her a few nights ago, she’s been increasingly passive aggressive to you, and you can’t understand why. It’s little comments every now and then about your body, or how your mascara has started to smudge during your long shift, or that you’re not pouring various alcohols properly. Whatever that means.

While you were upset and confused at first, it’s grown into anger, although your eyes still look sad when you look at her across the bar. She’s been a good friend, and you can’t imagine why she could switch up so quickly.

She’s standing in front of a booth of men adorned with football jerseys, flirting and laughing with them. She’s refused to let you serve them all night, claiming that she’d be able to “bring in more tips,” and all you could do was huff and agree.

You couldn’t help the jealousy bubbling up inside of you when you regulars walked in, and she tried to steal them from you as well. You watched with a raised brow as she greeted them with a wide smile, and you bit back a scoff as she leaned over the counter, making sure her chest was on display for them.

They shot her down quickly, of course, the sweet men that they are. They both looked at each other with confused expressions before they turned to you, waving you over to them with grins. You gave them a soft greeting before you began to pour their beer, feeling a little awkward as the little green monster jumped off of your shoulders and onto Grace’s, her watching you with raised brows.

“What’s going on with you tonight?” Eddie asks, both him and Buck picking up on the tension between you and Grace. Your eyes dart up to them, surprised that they noticed the eye roll you tried so desperately to hide.

“Nothing. Just been a long night, I guess.” you tell them, trying to keep your voice light and lacking any hint of the feelings seeping out of you. You don’t want to turn it into a big thing, as much as it hurts you.

Their brows furrow at your response. Normally, you wouldn't miss the chance to rant to them about whatever’s going on in your pretty head. And it’s then that they realize just how much Grace’s words had affected you, and they know that something must be done about it.

It’s clear to them that Grace is intimidated by you; not being used to having to share attention from men, and they almost laugh. You’re so unaware of your beauty that you think that you’ve done something wrong, and they can’t have that.

“Have I told you how pretty you look tonight?” Eddie speaks up after a moment of watching you furiously trying to scrub off a stain that’s been on the bar table as long as they’ve been coming into this shitty bar.

Your shoulders finally seem to deflate as you raise your gaze to meet Eddie’s, and he can see that you’re trying to fight back a smile as your gaze flickers from his eyes to his chest.

“Shut up.” is all you can bring yourself to say, but Buck is quick to shut you down. Both men want you to feel better. They want you to see yourself as the pretty little thing they do.

“I was just thinking that too. Absolutely gorgeous, baby.” he tells you, licking his lips as his eyes travel down your body.

Finally, your face breaks out into a wide grin, and you look down, laughing softly to yourself as you shake your head. They both glance at each other from the corner of their eyes, smiling smugly. There’s their pretty girl.

“What would I do without y-” is all you can say before Grace comes prancing back over to the bar, holding a fan of money in front of her face.

“Just got a $100 tip from those 6 guys. Said I’m the best server they’ve ever had.” The smiles drop from Buck and Eddie’s face as Grace’s voice trumps your sweet one, and they both roll their eyes when the smile they were finally able to get back onto your face drops along with theirs.

They know that you always work during football nights at the thirteen crows, and they’ve seen the service you give the men that usually attend. You always greet them with the same sickly-sweet smile, and while you’re always extremely nice, you’re not afraid to tease them and give them some attitude when the time is right.

You’re good at your job, they’ll give you that; you always know exactly how to make the men you serve laugh and smile, but it doesn’t mean they’re not jealous while they watch you.

Even so, they know that you pride yourself on your customer service, and they never miss the way your smile gets just that little bit brighter when you know you’re doing a good job. They take note of the way you thrive on praise.

They know that Grace is just saying this to make you upset. She wants to make you think that she’s better than you; that you can’t do what she can, which is seduce the male patrons just enough to get a bigger tip.

As you go back to your furious cleaning, barely even acknowledging their presence again, they both give each other knowing looks. They need to leave right now.

“Alright, it’s getting late. Got a shift in the morning.” Buck says, then downs the rest of his beer before standing up. Eddie murmurs an agreement as he matches Buck’s movements. They both pull out their wallets, then slide the money across the counter towards you. They see Grace’s eyes widen from beside you as she sees how much they’re tipping you, and they smirk. It’s what you deserve.

You give them a small smile, grabbing their money and putting what they owe into the cash register.

“I’ll see you soon?” you ask, looking between the two of them.

“Actually, we’re really busy the next week or so. Might not see us.” You frown at Eddie’s words, but nod slowly before you plaster a fake smile back onto your face. You mumble a quick goodbye as they start towards the door, and they almost turn back around when they hear Grace start explaining to you how she got all her tips tonight.

They stop themselves, though. They have to go. Now. Or else they’ll do something they’ll regret. They know Grace has to go; they know they have to take care of their precious girl, but they have to be careful.

They have to plan this. They need some time away from you, or they fear that you’ll make them act on a whim and they’ll get caught. They can’t have that. Not when they haven’t gotten their hands on you yet. Not without knowing how exactly you sound when you fall apart for them. They’ve heard it many times through the shitty speakers of their cameras, but they expect it’ll be all the better when they’re the reason for your pretty little moans.

They haven’t killed anyone that could be tied to them yet, not really. They know they’re heading into dangerous territory, but they can’t stop themselves. They’d do anything to make you smile again, and if getting rid of Grace will do that, then they’re more than happy to oblige.

next chapter

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wen-kexing-apologist · 10 months ago

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Symptoms of a System Error: The Manifestation of Myungha's Depression in Love for Love's Sake

Ok I will almost certainly have more thoughts about this when I go back to rewatch Love for Love’s Sake in the next couple weeks, but I’ve been thinking about the finale for the last couple of hours and I want to get some stuff out of my head. Before I get too far in to this, I want to say that I think most of the ambiguity in the show is brilliantly executed in a way that allows people to take whatever meaning they want to from it without contradicting each other, without stepping on toes, and without having to twist or bend the narrative beyond all recognition to make it make sense.

So I want to talk about the use of depression in this show, because the way Myungha exists in the world is recognizable enough to me that these moments of choice, and the system errors were extremely legible. That doesn’t mean my take is the correct one (and I honestly don’t think there is one right answer here anyway) but it’s what I got out of it, so with the needless ramble complete, let’s get to it.

Prologue

gif by @dramascene

I connected rather quickly to Myungha as a character from right near the beginning of episode 1 because of how passionate he was about the character of Yeowoon and how much he hoped for a happy ending for that character. As someone who processes a lot of my feelings, and who understands myself better through media consumption, I was quick to appreciate the fact that Myungha recognizes the parts of himself that speak to Yeowoon and to know that because Yeowoon is fictional, he has a chance not to suffer with merely a stroke of a pen. The Author could have chosen from the beginning to give Yeowoon a happy ending, and did not because he believes that there are people for whom bad things will never stop happening. But from the perspective of a fictional story, the Author should consider who he is writing the story for. Myungha connects to Yeowoon, and it sends one hell of a tragic message for how Myungha’s life will end up if even in fiction the people who suffer have no hope of happiness.

Myungha tells the Author that someone like Cha Yeowoon, someone like him [Myungha] with awful lives can still be happy. Looking back on that statement with the knowledge that Myungha kills himself, sends a very clear message, at least for me, of the hope that he was clinging to and finally lost his grip on. The Author asks if Myungha can change the outcome, and thus begins our story.

Debuffs

Now, I don’t know that I will have much more to say here than what @jemmo said in their very brilliant post, beyond the fact I agree with their interpretation of the debuffs. But I am thinking about the debuffs as it relates to mental health and to Myungha’s independence. One of Myungha’s first missions is to befriend Cha Yeowoon, and we see the difficulties associated with doing so when it comes to the Fondness Level meter and the debuffs that happen as a result. I love what Jess said about the dichotomy there: the debuffs mean that every time Myungha gets close to Yeowoon, something bad happens, Myungha uses that as a reason to stay away from Yeowoon to protect him when in fact, being around Myungha and increasing his fondness for him is the only way to really keep Yeowoon safe.

gif by @dramascene

And here again there is something recognizable to me in this dichotomy. Myungha likes Yeowoon, Myungha wants to be friends with Yeowoon, every time something bad might happen to Yeowoon, Myungha is there to intervene. But Myungha is convinced that the potentially negative events that might occur during a debuff are because of him, and so he avoids Yeowoon as much as he possibly can. To me this makes the debuffs a stand in for depression symptoms. Myungha has convinced himself that he is the cause of the bad moments in Yeowoon’s day. Myungha has convinced himself that Yeowoon would be better off if they weren’t friends, because he only makes things worse. And that is not something he can easily shake off, it’s not something he can logic his way out of, that’s the game, that’s just how it is. And so he withdraws until Yeowoon comes to him.

And honestly thinking about it, nothing bad really happens during those debuffs. The light doesn’t shatter, the boys back off on the bus, Yeowoon doesn’t punch Sangwon. Maybe the reason why nothing at all happens is because Myungha intervenes. Maybe if Myungha hadn’t been there, the light would have broken, maybe if Myungha hadn’t been there Yeowoon would have punched Sangwon. But that is not a lens that Myungha is capable of viewing himself through, that is never an option that crosses Myungha’s mind because he is too focused on feeling like the cause of Yeowoon’s problems.

System Errors

I know there is a lot of confusion or at least uncertainty around the system errors. Why are they happening? Where are they coming from? For me, I think the answer is Myungha himself. The first time we get a system error, it’s in Episode 6, what I think is the day after Yeowoon and Myungha have their first kiss and very soon after Yeowoon and Myungha kiss on the rooftop at school. The first error isn’t subtle, but it’s not explicitly stated. Myungha walks in to a room to take a phone call and walks in to the middle of band practice, falling through the world as he tries to remove himself from the situation until he (literally) runs in to Yeowoon. Myungha goes home that night and gets his first moments in the black abyss, and the first explicit mention via pop-up of a system error. I have not gone through (yet) to track every instance of what happens before a system error pop-up occurs from that point on, but I will say moment that was most legible for me in terms of indicating that these system errors were stemming from Myungha himself were when he gets the notification both times that Yeowoon looks directly at him and tells Myungha “I love you.”

gif by @dragonsareawesome123

That moment was a guy punch for me because I was not able to see it any other way except that Myungha is so incapable of believing that people could actually love him that someone telling him directly and sincerely that they love him cannot exist in his world. He literally cannot compute it, and thus an error occurs. Again from the perspective of depression, or trauma, or what have you, this is familiar to me. It is perhaps the most reflective part of Myungha to my own psyche. Neither of us know how to be loved.

Myungha is called out on this repeatedly, he is nice to everyone, he does so much for everyone and refuses to ask for help himself. I’m the same way, I will bend over backwards as much as I can to help the people that I care about, but it is a rare occasion where I can ask for help myself. I’m not sure if this is the case for Myungha, but for me at least a lot of that stems from needing to make myself useful to people in some way so they keep me around. And so I end up feeling like a commodity to the people that I care about and help, and merely tolerated by anyone else that I do not help but that interacts with me any way. Myungha is called out consistently by multiple people, real or NPC about this similar habit. Myungha does not want to be a burden, Myungha only cares about other people’s happiness, Myungha is not happy himself and has maybe never been happy and so he pours everything he can in to lightening the load for others.

He loves Yeowoon, but to be loved by Yeowoon is different. To experience any moments of joy cannot possibly be real. Maybe I am projecting too much on to the character, but it makes complete and total sense to me that Myungha’s worldview would break down upon having someone state wholeheartedly that they want to be a support system for him.

Cruel Choices

gif by @dramascene

With the enmeshment of depression and video game mechanics in mind, I want to talk about the scene at the end of Episode 6. I love this scene so much for a number of reasons:

It turns the game on a head for me as we slip further and further in to a nightmare scenario

It raises the stakes and attempts to get Myungha to make a hard choice

It forces Myungha to think about what is important to him

It’s ultimate purpose and who is posting the mission is ambiguous/uncertain

I’m going to focus on number four. I think it is a perfectly valid read to see this and all video game mechanics as designed by The Author in an effort to help Myungha change Yeowoon’s story in which case this mission feels particularly vindictive and cruel. @lurkingshan posed the question in a conversation we were having about Love for Love’s Sake, where she wondered why the game could not hold two sources of love for Myungha at once. I love that question because it made me realize how differently this show can be read and how important who you choose to read as the entity in control of this game is for what this scene specifically means and I love so many interpretations of it, I love the interpretation that is was simply cruel, I love the interpretation that in retrospect this was the Author being angry at Myungha for dying, I love the reflection from @jemmo that said this felt like a choice between staying rooted in the past (sparing grandma) or choosing a future (sparing Yeowoon)

For me, I think I am leaning heavily in to the pop ups are under Myungha’s subconscious control, his mind, the missions he thinks are important, the problems he thinks he is causing are what is driving the base game. Because of this my base instinct is to lean in to the depression/anxiety/trauma tent where things have been going a little too well for him lately and he has convinced himself that he is due for something bad to happen. I am happy to once again acknowledge that this probably projection, but I know that my own mental illness(es) does not let my peace linger for long. Myungha is spending so much time with Yeowoon, Yeowoon who grounds him when his world is literally falling apart. Yeowoon who cannot contain his smile whenever he is around Myungha, Yeowoon who is downright desperate to bestow love and support upon Myungha, Yeowoon who has accompanied Myungha to the hospital late at night to be there for his boyfriend in a stressful time, and Myungha can’t have that. He loves his grandmother, he loves Yeowoon, they both love him and so obviously means that something bad is going to happen to them.

gif by @25shadesoffebruary

[As an aside I am thinking about what the Author said in the final episode about wanting Myungha to be able to see himself from the outside, and how I took that to mean Yeowoon is supposed to be a reflection of Myungha and a journey to self love, and how Yeowoon told Myungha that something bad always happens to the people around him in relation to this hospital scene]

Secondarily, I do think being confronted with this choice at all allows Myungha to have a moment of reflection, and is clarifying for him to know that both Yeowoon and his grandmother are important people in his life that he doesn’t want to lose. That’s fucking huge, in my opinion at least. And for all this mission was cruel, it was the first time Myungha refused to complete the mission. He was asked to save one, he decided to save both, and the game could have been cruel and taken his grandmother and Yeowoon away for refusing to choose, but it didn’t. They both got to live, and sure Myungha’s mission to make Yeowoon happy was shortened significantly, but I do think fifteen days was enough time to be successful in his mission if the depression and the grief had not gotten to Myungha instead.

Grief

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Something about grief that my therapist told me once was grieving people love helping others. And I think that is the case of Myungha here just based on the way he throws himself in to helping as many people as he can, especially Yeowoon. He knows Yeowoon is grieving, he knows Yeowoon is struggling, and he can distract himself from his own shit by helping Yeowoon instead. But once Myungha is confronted with the possibility that either one of the people that he loves could die, the penality for failing in his mission to make Yeowoon happy looms over his head like a knife. Just like Myungha considered himself the problem with the debuff, he knows how high of a likelihood it is that Yeowoon would regress, would isolate, would sink into a massive low.

And it would be Myung’s fault (in his mind).

Especially because Yeowoon keeps saying that even thinking about going on dates with Myungha is making him happy but Myungha’s mission isn’t complete. Myungha has started to get low, he is not as engaged in his relationship with Yeowoon, he’s convinced himself he is going to fail, and is thus setting himself up for failure because he decides 15 days is not enough time to find happiness, but it is enough time to break somebody’s heart in preparation for a devastating loss. And maybe, maybe Myungha would have snapped out of it with enough time to spare initially, but any hope of that being the case was shattered the second Yeowoon admitted that he wasn’t happy because Myungha wasn’t relying on him.

Myungha is so used to be self-reliant there is no way for him to break out of that habit in just two weeks. Myungha knew his death would hurt Yeowoon, but the final nail in the coffin for him was learning that his life was hurting Yeowoon too. And he almost got there, he almost did it, he admitted that he didn’t know how to, but he withdrew at the last second. He has spent all this time, all this energy, all this focus in to changing Yeowoon, he does not have the space to do that for himself.

The Choice

gif by @supanuts

The last moment I will really speak to as it relates to my interpretation of this game being controlled by Myungha as a manifestation of his depression is the author’s pen. Considering the fact The Author asked Myungha if he wanted to try again, I do not think if the Author was controlling this game world that he would have had Myungha disappear from it. Because according to the Gaga subs, the change that Myungha writes is that he wants Yeowoon to be happy, and immediately upon finishing that request, Myungha starts to fade.

If we hold these game mechanics as manifestations of Myungha’s depression, which I do, it makes complete and total sense to me that Myungha would fall back in to the pattern of believing that Yeowoon would be happier if Myungha wasn’t there. Yeowoon has a modeling deal now, he has some modicum of fame, he has friends now, he has supports in place that he did not have before, so what need does Yeowoon have of him, when his inability to let people love him is what is now causing Yeowoon to feel sad.

And I think that massive server error at the end where the world is burning and the universe is melting in to the game is a result of Myungha realizing too little, too late that this isn’t what he wanted. But it can’t be undone. The line he says when he is sinking in to the water about how at the last minute before he died, he regretted it. The game, the drowning here are one in the same to me.

And for me there was just something so beautiful and hopeful from Myungha telling The Author that he wants to try again. We started the show with Myungha telling The Author miserable people can be happy, and we end the show with Myungha and Yeowoon finally getting the happy ending they never thought they would have.

gif by @junghaesin

God I loved this show.

#love for love's sake #lfls #love for love's sake meta #love for love's sake analysis #one thing about this show is that it almost certainly will lend itself well to a rewatch!#and I *love* rewatching shows #wka long post

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fandomsnrambles · 8 months ago

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The spinjitzu family has recently become my roman empire for some reason, you’re all going to see so much of them 😭

Anyway, i’ve been thinking about his relationships with his sons recently. And I know he doesn’t have a good relationship with any of them.

I know people argue ‘Wu was his favourite’ but i think if we actually look at how he acts, you realise he didn’t really have a favourite. I also feel personally inclined to respectfully mention that just because Garmadon said it, doesn’t make it true. Characters have biases that mess with their worldviews after all. It’s like saying Wu’s to blame for the devourer’s bite because he said he was. Even though he was like seven, maybe nine and had no idea that snake even existed.

Thats why you should take everything they say with a grain of salt and then consider their actions.

Wu’s relationship with his father is complicated. In the spinjitzu books he mentions how he wants his father’s approval, but doesn’t know how to start with getting it. We also get hints of the FSM’s (flawed) parenting methods in the show. I’ve noticed he’s emotionally distant even if he’s physically there. I mean, Wu says his father talked to them (Garmadon and Wu) less after the Aspheera incident. Makes me think that the FSM was definitely not there emotionally.

Due to this, Wu’s emotional needs as a child weren’t really met. His fathers distance hurt him and the FSM (maybe accidentally) neglected him. I say accidentally because i’m pretty sure the FSM is a traumatised child soldier who doesn’t know how to properly cope with everything so they just shut down/dissociate.

Wu was also raised with high expectations (alongside Garmadon.) This probably put him under a lot of stress to keep up. I’m thinking gifted child who got burnt out and more depressed as he aged.

I also think the FSM has trust and paranoia issues. You can look at Nineko and the way they went about dying for this. This guy really hands their son a script of where he died without telling him he gave it to him and mentions the bare minimum details. (I wonder if mentioning too much details got the FSM hurt. Maybe thats why he’s so distant.) Of course, trauma doesn’t really excuse being a flawed parent.

I also feel the need to mention that Wu unintentionally copies his father’s trauma responses. Heck, we could even talk about how Garmadon does the same, and later Lloyd. They all bottle their emotions and issues and hope nothing bad ever happens with that ever. Too bad for them though, we know how this ends

(Oof this is ✨generational trauma✨ at work)

Moving on to Garmadon, we know that after he got bitten by the devourer, the FSM helped him through his episodes and tries his best to find a cure. From this i can honestly say that the FSM did love and care for his sons. But this doesn’t mean they knew how to properly show that they did (especially because he doesn’t have a proper basis for what parent-child relationships should even look like.)

We see this when we get to know of Garmadon’s insecurities as a child. He doesn’t think there was anything wrong with him and seems to hate how the FSM tries to find a cure for him. Maybe because he doesn’t like the implication that he needs ‘fixing’ more than anything else. Garmadon’s also different than Wu in the sense that he grows more resentful of his father as he grows older whilst Wu clings to his father’s attention to get approval/praise.

I also want to mention how this resentment built up also affects how his perception of Wu’s relationship with their dad. He thinks Wu is favoured probably because Wu doesn’t have the venom and is the good one (because the venom apparently makes Garmadon the ‘bad’ one) and he sees his younger brother as the golden child. This probably built to jealousy and then guilt for the jealousy because Garmadon does love his brother a lot.

The high expectations also come’s into play here. It probably puts a lot of weight on Garmadon’s shoulders. Which doesn’t make his growing feelings of resentment better nor does it make his insecurities about his venom any better.

What makes this whole situation worse is that NO ONE in this family knows how to communicate. Wu doesn’t tell his dad or his brother how he feels, Garmadon doesn’t as well and FSM wouldn’t be caught breathing a word of his feelings to be honest.

This whole family would rather die than communicate ffs.

In conclusion:

#ninjago #sensei wu #lego ninjago #ninjago wu #lord garmadon #ninjago garmadon #ninjago lloyd #kinda? hes mentioned #master wu #sensei garmadon #garmadon #ninjago fsm #fsm ninjago #first spinjitzu master #ninjago first spinjitzu master #btw i hc he/they pronouns for the fsm #along with aroace #spinjitzu brothers

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 17 days ago

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Forever

Christian Yu x Y/N - drabble - 1.2K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, verbal abuse, shitty parents for reader, reassurance, shoving, L bombs, Mito, so much love its sappy af

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“It’s lovely to meet you both.” Christian said as he shook both your parents hands before walking into the house with you.

“Likewise.” your mother said with an unreadable expression on her face.

Christian had been begging you for the past month to meet your parents since you two had been dating for over a year. You were close with his mom, he wanted to be close to your family too. You were hesitant as you didn’t have the best relationship with your parents. They disapproved of most of your decisions ever since you moved out of the house. Especially when you started dating a celebrity.

“Hi mom,” you said, giving her a hug and kissing her cheek before you did the same to your dad.

“Dinner is on the table, shall we?” she said, motioning you all to the dining room.

You all sat and dished yourselves up some food. The conversation was light and for a second you thought maybe everything would be fine.

“So what’s this I read online - something about you having depression or… oh what was it…”

“Mom!” you said sharply, embarrassed she would call him out like that over dinner.

“Bipolar?” Christian said tentatively.

“Don’t forget his many personalities.” your dad chuckled.

“Can we please change the subject?” you asked as you drank some water, trying to clear the embarrassed lump in your throat.

“I’m just curious. How could you be so successful and have these supposed ‘issues’.” your mom asked. The look on her face was something familiar with you. It was venomous; not a hint of sincerity - she was asking to embarrass and tear him down just like she had with you your whole life.

“Mom, drop it.” you said sternly. You had stood up to your parents years ago, it’s why your relationship with them was so strained. You’ll be damned before they treat Christian even a fraction of how they treated you.

Christian looked incredibly uncomfortable, reaching a hand under the table to hold and fidget with yours. You gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve been diagnosed since I was 13 and medicated for a while. I’m pretty stable most of the time.” Christian said in a watery tone, as if he was walking on eggshells.

“And the other times? Is my kid just there to baby you?” your dad said, crossing his arms.

“Honestly, how serious could this relationship be? It sounds more like a ticking time bomb before you have a mental episode and who knows what will happen to my baby? And if you two had children, heaven forbid, who knows if they would be normal.” your mom said, holding her hand to her chest.

You could see Christian’s eyes watering. “Enough!” you said standing up so abruptly your chair fell over. “Were leaving.” you said, pulling Christian up gently as you walked to the front door.

You parents scolded you to sit back down, saying you were being wildly disrespectful. All you had was tunnel vision, what they said about Christian echoing in your mind. You felt Christian tug against you, when you turned to look you saw your dad holding Christian’s shoulder, gearing up to say something wildly inappropriate no doubt.

You lost it, smacking your dad’s hand off Christian’s shoulder before shoving him back slightly to put space between them. You shoved your finger in your dads face before unloading, “How fucking dare you? You two have been damn near absent from my life for the past 3 years because you are intolerant assholes who refuse to admit when they have hurt people. And now I bring you my boyfriend, the man I love and want to spend forever with, and you insult him to his face?”

“Honey we’re just concerned about you…” you mom began.

“I wasn’t finished,” you said, pointing your finger at her as you raised your voice. “Christian is the most wonderful person I know, he would do anything for me. All you should want for me as your child is happiness. He is my happiness. He has helped me in more ways than you know, more than you two ever have. He got me into therapy. He got me set up with a psychiatrist. He is the best thing to ever happen to me. And if we do have kids, he would be the best father and they would be loved beyond words. I’m done with both of you and your very conditional love - you can either be in my life or not, the choice is yours. But if you are, you will show us the respect we deserve and we will have some firm ass boundaries, do you understand?” you said angrily.

“Y/N,” you mother and father said.

“Do you understand me?” you said in the most scary, authoritative tone you’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.

Both your parents' lips were drawn tight, they gave curt nods.

Without another word you walked out the door with Christian, slamming it before you got in the car. You were so focused driving home you didn’t realize Mito had fully emerged and was silently crying in the passenger seat. You both walked into your apartment silently but as soon as the door was shut you engulfed Mito in a hug. He slowly hugged you back but you could hear him sniffling into the crook of your neck, his tears hitting your skin. You rubbed over his back with one hand while tangling your other hand in his beautiful black locks.

“I love you.” you said to him over and over again, hoping it would break through to them. You pulled back slightly, holding his face in your hands. You wiped his tears away with your thumbs as you looked into his eyes, “You are the most wonderful person I know. Your diagnosis doesn't define you. I love you in every lifetime. They will not be a part of my life if they cannot respect you and see how much joy and love you bring me.” you said, sounding completely sure of yourself.

“Maybe they’re right…” he mumbled.

“No they’re not. I have never once felt or even thought that I couldn’t handle your mental stuff. I have always known that we will support each other no matter what. They are ignorant old bitches and I never want to lose you over stupid shit like them and their words.” you said.

“But what if we had kids? What if they end up all messed up like me?” he said, new tears flooding his eyes.

You kissed him deeply, “If we had kids, they would have the best dad who would love them more than anything in the world. If they had a mental illness would you love them any less?” you asked him, already knowing the answer.

“Of course not.” Mito said with a firm tone.

“Then what does it matter? We would love them and support them and take care of them. Right?” you asked.

Mito nodded in agreement.

“Then you need to afford yourself the same grace. You are not broken, you are not any less worthy of love. You are my boyfriend who I love in every sense of the word who I want to be with forever.” you leaned your forehead against his.

Mito nodded gently, holding your wrists as you held his face, “I love you.” he said with a soft voice.

You smiled gently at him before kissing him sweetly. “Let's go watch a movie and eat an ungodly amount of sweets, yeah?”

Mito nodded with a gentle smile before kissing you once more.

------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello! This was based off a request and I absolutely loved writing this one! I hope you all are well and had a great Halloween :) life is still a bit rough but I am really lucky to have a good support system. I'll write again soon! XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

#dpr christian #writing #dpr ian #dpr live #christian yu #dpr ian x y/n #dpr ian fluff #christian yu x reader #christian yu x y/n #dpr ian x reader #mito #mito x reader

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phantomwitch16 · 9 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel Theory: Lilith

I had never posted about Hazbin Hotel before, but I came across a theory about Lilith that I wanted to discuss. I’ve only seen clips, so correct me if I'm wrong. So, anyone who hasn't watched anything or hasn't caught up yet, WARNING: SPOILER ZONE.

At this point, everyone is quite aware of the Lilith/ Eve Theory, where Lilith left or was kidnapped by Eve to explain her disappearance for most of the show and what she was doing in Heaven. I think the theory has some promise, but some things don’t feel quite right.

In the episode where Lucifer first appears, we learn that Lilith and Lucifer seem to have split years ago. We don't know how long ago or the circumstances of the separation, with it pretty much up in the air.

It could be possible that Lucifer’s depression could've gotten in the way of their relationship (similar to his relationship with Charlie), causing some friction. This obviously would give Lilith a lot of responsibility, likely to raise Charlie and inspire the denizens of Hell by herself. We don't know much about what Lucifer does most of the time other than making ducks, keeping Lulu World running and wallowing in his depression.

I don't think that they split up, at least I don’t think that’s the whole story. There have been some odd details regarding Lilith and a few other people within the series that do add to the theory. While it's possible things might have changed during the development of the series, Viv has previously stated that Lilith and Lucifer were a very lovey-dovey couple and I doubt that she would change it. While I think their relationship would have its faults, obviously with their history and trauma, yeah, that was going to happen, but not the stereotypically 'my partner hates me' bs.

Even if they had split up, I doubt that Lilith would have just up and left Charlie without saying anything.

But anyway, since her appearance on the beach with Lute, there have been several theories about Lilith and whether she would be an antagonist or the main one. I disagree, but given how she's been pretty much a mystery for most of the series, with not much being said about her, it’s understandable most would come to this conclusion. But I doubt Lilith would be because Lilith was the one to instil Charlie to help the denizens of Hell so for her to come to disrupt her progress with the Hotel.

This obviously leads to the Lilith/Eve Theory people have come up with by what people have seen and picked apart from the show and the cards that people received before it aired. Now people who have watched the show and been on Twiiter/X or any other social media probs already know the theory, but I'll spell it out for those who don't.

Just before the show aired, people received cards on each character and a few select items in the series. Of these characters was Lilith, but there was something off with it. Instead of seeing a revamp of her original design in the pilot, it's just a close up with her face shadowed.

The image above has Lilith or who we think is Lilith sitting with her hand over her lips and a shadow over her face, only showing a sinister smile. The one thing strikes me about it was the was almost like she know that we know there was something wrong with the image and was telling us to be quiet.

So far in the show, we've only seen her in the portraits that are decorated around the hotel and in Lucifer's ducky workshop. She makes a brief appearance in Charlie’s flashbacks where we don’t even see her face, though this is largely because the attention was focused on Charlie and Lucifer. Here it shows that even her look has remained largely consistent since the pilot.

What truly defines Lilith design is her long wavy hair. But despite it, there is something different about it in the card. It's very long, obviously but as it gets closer to her face, it starts to look more uneven. Or jagged.

But what grabs the attention in the card is the smile. It looks very sharp and angular, very different to the smile that she has in the portraits and in her depiction on the storybook in the first episode.

But we've already seen it somewhere. Just not on Lilith.

Obviously, this isn't a new take. This is a very popular take that nearly everyone has heard.

I like to think that with the reveal, we will get a more factual retelling of what happened when Lilith and Lucifer rather than what came out of the story book Charlie was reading, likely something her mother made for her when she was growing up. Mainly what happened to Eve as they cleverly avoided it. While we don't know if they're going to tackle it, it's likely that they will discuss Eve's life after eating the fruit and her very long life. I think that while Adam was sent to heaven to become one of the exterminators, Eve became one of the first original sinners sent to Hell.

There are several ways they could handle it with it's possible the Eve is starting a little bit of chaos using the knowledge Lilith and Lucifer gave her. With Lilith attempting to stop her alongside Lute and the rest of Heaven.

For what reason? She could've taken up a new identity after death. that identity being called Roo. Or more specifically, the Root of All Evil.

Roo is someone that's been known for since 2019 and someone Viv is excited to introduce since she first drew her, calling her a looming threat amongst the series. Hints of her appearance have been placed throughout the pilot on the tower and on the show. I believe that Lilith, Lute and Eve are working together with Heaven to track down Roo to destroy her hold on Earth or to prevent her from doing something to Hell, Heaven and Earth.

It's also likely that she is the demon Alastor is chained to. Why her specifically and not Lilith? Besides the timeline matching, there is very little opportunity for them to meet. Even though Alastor has made a big name for himself in the Pride Ring, Lucifer has not heard of him, so why would Lilith? But that just might be a Lucifer thing, they probably could've met after one of Lilith's shows or something.

Knowing Alastor as a person, he would've been in a very desperate situation, or maybe he was too cocky like with Adam and picked a fight with her, thinking that she was some random Overlord or low ranking demon who knocked him down and stole his soul. With her having control over him, then he is willing to do anything to get out of their agreement. Whether its to play around and isolate the princess of Hell from her support network, to make her hopes and dreams crumble to dust.

It could be possible Lilith left Charlie and Lucifer to focus on Roo, with it likely that Lucifer knows what's she's up to and tries to shield her from what's happening. But as the hotel gets more popular, Roo's attention is directed to it, thus putting Charlie and all three realms in danger. Lilith would come to Charlie, try to sugarcoat it as best as possible before revealing Roo as a threat. Then when she comes there, Alastor betrays them, but as he is free, has a change of heart and attempts to help.

That's what i think anyway.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lilith #hazbin lucifer #hazbin charlie #hazbin alastor #hazbin theory #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lilith #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel roo #hazbin hotel eve

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d0youc0py · 1 year ago

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Hey ! Sorry for bothering you, I was just wondering if you'd do something with Ghost or all 141 about reader having a really bad mental breakdown/depressive episode? Maybe reader trying to hide on the base while it's happening but Ghost/141 finds them ? Not an established relationship, pinning if you want.

Sorry if you don't feel comfortable with this, please ignore if that is the case ! Love you and your writings , they are all amazing ❤️

Hope you're doing well 🫰🏻

Love you too! Thank you for your kind words! 🤍P.S sorry I’ve been absent I was on vacation!

He was looking for you when he had heard the labored breathing. He was going to ignore it, until he heard a cry that sounded suspiciously like you. His hand hovered over the door knob, debating whether or not he should enter. Another muffled sob was enough to drive his protective instincts forward.

You looked up at him with frantic eyes. A hand over your mouth showing you were trying to conceal the emotions pouring out of you. You quickly lost that battle.

“I.” You stuttered out. Your breathing was so uneven he felt his own lungs squirm.

“I know, kid, I know.” He lulled. His hands grabbed your arms, in a gentleness you didn’t even know he possessed. He brought you to the floor with him, keeping his hands on you.

“I don’t know why”- You swallowed. Your eyes darted around the room, but he squeezed your arms bringing your attention back to him.

“You need to fix your breathing, yeah? When I squeeze your arms- inhale, when I stop- exhale.” His voice was low and you found it hard to be frightened when he used such a warm tone with you. You nodded your head in understanding. You did as you were instructed, but continued to grow more and more panicked as it didn’t seem to help. The lightness in your head continued to increase, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“My breath isn’t going all the way down. I can’t do it.” You panted. Your arms reached out, tangling themselves in his hoodie.

“Yes, you can Sweetheart. Worst thing that happens is you pass out and wake up with a sore neck, come on now.” He attempted to soothe. He placed pressure on your arms and your drew you breath in. You lungs soaked up the air like a sponge, and you felt less uneasy once you were finally able to get a few breaths in.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing you could think to say after you had calmed. He shook his head disapprovingly. His hands left your shoulders in favor for your fingers that were still tangled in his hoodie. You went to pull away, thinking you had crossed a line, but the warmth- the security of his hands stopped you. You allowed yourself the comfort.

“What’s got you so worked up?” He questioned. Your hands shook in his grasp. His thumb ran over your knuckles. He allowed himself to comfort.

“I’ve just been feeling weird lately. Like things are out of my control and I can’t do anything about it. At first it made me sad now I think it’s making me scared.” You murmured. You admired the way your hand fit perfectly in his no matter the angle.

“I know the feeling.” He sighed, causing your eyes to shoot up.

“You do?” You questioned. The thought of your big bad Lieutenant being anything less than confident threw you for a loop. He nodded his head. “Have you ever-?” You trailed off gesturing to yourself.

“Had a panic attack?” He emphasized. “Course, kid.”

Knowing you weren’t alone caused a heavy weight to leave your tired shoulders.

“Don’t tell anyone though.” He pressed suddenly. His tone was back to the sharp wit you had grown to seek.

“I would never ruin your reputation Lieu.” You smiled, giving his hand a squeeze.

The creepy crawlies were back. The familiar feeling of hopelessness as you watched yourself drown. It had been a while since you’ve had it. That must be why it came back so strong- it was making up for lost time. Your knuckles rubbed your swollen eyes for the millionth time.

Today was an off day. You normally lived for those. Being around your team, the base buzzing with unusual liveliness. Impending death not hanging above your head for once. Yet today it meant you had no distraction. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Just outside your door there were a plethora of activities to engage in. But the thought of putting both your feet on the hard floor was daunting.

There was a knock at your door.

God, you didn’t want anyone to see you like this.

Maybe if you stayed quiet they would go away.

The door slowly crept open.

Of course it had to be Captain.

Would he dismiss you? You doubted he would want you on his team after this.

“Was waiting for you out there but you never came.” He sighed, making himself at home on the edge of your bed.

“I have a cold.” You lied, sitting up. You stared at the pool of blanket around your waist.

“Y/N.” The sternness in his voice caused you to instinctually look up. Your posture straightened. He could help a smile at the effect his voice had on you. “Please don’t lie to me, honey. I’ve seen that look on many peoples faces- my own included.” His face was so soft and understanding it made your throat tighten.

“I’m sorry I lied.” You groaned, running a hand over your face. “I’m just not having the best week, it won’t impact my work, I promise.” You quickly wiped away a tear.

“I know that.” He affirmed. “You know what I do when I feel that way?” He asked. You sniffled furrowing your brows at the question.

“No. Didn’t think you could even feel this way Captain.”

He chuckled.

“You bet your arse I do. On leave especially.” He paused for a moment. He hoped what he was about to say didn’t scare you off- or make you loose all respect for him. “Y/N, when I feel the way you do now I get piss drunk.” Your eyes widened at his statement. You knew Captain could throw them back, but you never saw him drunk. “I’m not especially proud of it, I’m working on it.”

“Wanna work on it together?” You asked suddenly. “I get out of bed, and you don’t drink?”

He thought about it for a moment. He had a higher chance of succeeding if he was doing something for you. He didn’t want to let you down.

“Deal.” He smirked, holding out a hand for you to shake.

“Can you stay till I fall asleep?” You whispered. Your fingers traced the tattoo on his forearm, the action causing him to nearly fall asleep. His hands rested against your hips, pulling you further up on his body. You quickly pressed your ear against his strong heartbeat. The rhythm relaxed the tense muscles in your back.

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you, Bon.” The gravel in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you, Mac.” You mumbled, your eyes drooping. He hummed in acknowledgment. “I don’t just mean for this. If it wasn’t for you I probably would’ve cracked my head open from passing out.”

“Ah, someone would’ve found you eventually.” He smirked, pinching at your sides. “Bonnie.” He started.

“Yea?” You hummed, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him. His body flushed at the closeness.

“Ask for help, okay? You feel that way, come and see me. You aren’t alone.” He spoke with nothing but sincerity. He wiped a tear that rolled down your cheek.

“Okay Jo.” You agreed. You leaned up, placing a soft kiss against his cheek, before relaxing against him once again. He wrapped to arms around you, a silent promise of safety and security.

“Are you on medicine or something for this?” He wished he could take back his words at the glare you shot him. “Not the time, Kyle, not the time.” He sighed to himself.

He took a few hesitant steps towards you. Once he realized you weren’t going to tell him to get lost he sat down beside you.

“What do you need from me, love?” He hummed. You sputtered something he couldn’t quite understand. You ran a hand over your face harshly, over the tears that never seemed to stop. “Hey, hey, gentle now. I happen to enjoy your face.” He scolded. He wrapped an arm around you, holding your hands in both of his.

“I don’t feel good.” You rasped out. “My head just won’t stop. It’s like there is someone just constantly yelling at me in my head. It’s exhausting.” You sniffled. You couldn’t help but press yourself closer to Kyle. His body warm and safe.

“Sounds exhausting.” He agreed, resting him chin on your head.

“I do take medicine.” You explained. “I dropped a weeks worth of it on the floor.” You panted, drowsiness already catching up to you.

“That’s happened to me before.” Kyle chuckled. “Well something similar. I went out on a mission with Boss and left my OCD medication in my pocket. It kept rattling so he made me ditch it.” The smile in his voice caused one to spread across your own face.

“Did that happen to be around the time you spent an hour unlocking and relocking the doors? Oh and you cleaned the whole fridge out.”

“Yeah, no one ever said thank you for doing that by the way.” He huffed.

“Thanks Ky.” You smiled. “For cleaning out the fridge and being good to me.”

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geegers22 · 10 months ago

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I’ve seen lots of conversation on here about Zutara shippers opinions on aang and mai and i thought I’d give my point of view.

I want to start by saying that I think there should be more of a distinction between disliking a character because they are a bad person and disliking a character because they are written badly. With that being said, I can confidently say that, with the material of the main ATLA show, I dislike Aang and Mai because they are badly written characters. Meaning, if their arcs were properly finished, I would have no problems with them. This brings me to another topic of how I don’t really ‘hate’ characters who are bad people if they’re well written but that’s a conversation for another post.

I need to point out that I didn’t start disliking Aang and Mai until they had their arcs undermined when Kataang and Maiko became canon. With the arcs they were going on, they had so much potential to be really interesting and I enjoyed their personalities.

When it comes to Aang, I had no problem with him as a character until season 3 part 2 when I started to realize that his world view (which is flawed based solely on the fact that he is young and there is no way he’s going to have a nuanced pov) was not going to be challenged. Aang should have had to give up katara. Aang should not have just had everything handed to him with the lion turtle and the pointy rock.

Then there’s the southern raiders which I would argue, if Aang’s arc had been completed, would not illicit as many conversations and arguments about it as it currently has. Because his actions in that episode make sense (Sokkas don’t really but again-that’s another story) because he’s a kid. This episode should have been a big decider of his change in worldview. The problem is that the creators decided his flaws didn’t exist and that he was perfect. (At 12 years old?!?!?)

Then there’s Mai. She’s a much smaller character but that doesn’t mean she deserves less of an arc. Mai is a character whose personality I love! (I’m all for gloomy depressed women!) There’s two ways Mai’s character could have developed, and I think both options are great, the problem is that Bryke decided to go in neither direction.

On the one hand, Mai could have been a representation of unlearning the propaganda she was taught in the fire nation throughout her whole life. I think this direction would make Maiko more believable, although I still don’t think they are a good couple because their personalities create a toxic dynamic and Mai’s story with Zuko is meant to represent that toxicity.

The second option would be to have her views not change, like we see in the show, and have her not get back together with Zuko. This is the more interesting path in my opinion because it’s more realistic. I don’t think the problem with Mai’s arc lies with her personal views of the fire nation, more so with her relationship with Zuko. As we have it in the show, Mai’s views don’t change. Therefor, it doesn’t make sense for her character or for Zuko’s for them to get back together like nothing ever happened.

When it comes down to it. Both Aang and Mai had their arcs sabotaged because the creators rejected Zutara. Even without Zuko and Katara getting together these were the wrong decisions. Both characters had potential to be well written, but in the end, the creators chose the path didn’t allow that to happen because they just couldn’t kill their darling. (Kataang)

Sorry for rambling, this is kind of just my take on the whole “Zutara shippers hate Aang and Mai” take.

#is this a meta?#atla #avatar the last airbender #anti aang #anti Mai #anti kataang #anti maiko #anti bryke #zutara #ayo fuck bryke all my homies hate bryke #atla critical #aang critical #Mai critical

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from-the-clouds · 2 years ago

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moonlight on the river - joel miller x reader

masterlist | song inspo

summary: Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter. Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true. Takes place during episode one of the TV series. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 2.4k warnings: angst, fluff, good ol' fashioned hurt/comfort. depressive thoughts, reader sort of has a death wish, references to alcohol/drug abuse, death, loss of family members & loved ones. implied age gap, references to casual sex, heavy petting (no smut). a/n: it's been months since i posted a fic on here! some of my best work comes when it’s 2am, i’m emo and touch-deprived and i have an 8am appointment so i stay up until 5am to write. this was actually supposed to be fully a fluff piece but the angst queen had to strike.

You wish you could drown in the pile of blankets you’ve wrapped yourself in. Wish the couch would swallow you whole, like a whale, then drag you down to the deepest depths of the ocean and leave you there until you can’t hold your breath any longer, until the cold pricks the tips of your fingers and toes, until you succumb completely.

But in some ways, you’re already existing like that, in the sea-level equivalent of the Marianas Trench. One of those sea creatures that look not of this Earth, features warped – adapting, evolving, surviving, despite your environment’s best efforts to eradicate. Your mother had once shown them to you in her old textbooks and shown you the photos of anglerfish, frilled sharks, phantom jellyfish. The memory of your mother makes you wince, and you try to think of something else.

How anyone else around you managed to put on a brave face and make their way through each day was beyond your comprehension, even though you do it, too. They probably all feel the same way about it as you do, but no one talks about the collective trauma you’re all slogging through. No one has anything new to add, and it’s foolish to believe that anyone’s insight could somehow take the pain away. Even if you have a chance to tell your story, there is always someone who has it worse.

Get in line.

Exhausted as you are, you don’t sleep much. Most of your nights are spent at the precipice of unconsciousness, and you can never quite make it over the edge, the helicopters, radios, sporadic gunfire always manages to rouse you first. When you do manage to sleep, you’re plagued with nightmares. You prefer perpetual fatigue.

A knock at your door comes suddenly, and you start, sitting up quickly – but quietly – to not alert the unexpected guest that someone might be in the tiny studio you call home. It’s well after dark, which makes you doubt that whoever, or whatever is at the door, isn’t there for a friendly drop-in or a cup of tea, not that friendly drop-ins or cups of tea ever happened.

But before you grow too panicked, your name is muttered, accompanied by another impatient rap of knuckles against the hollow wood. It’s a familiar rasp, even-toned and calm, and your shoulders sag in relief before you abandon your post on the couch.

“Joel?” you ask softly, squinting in the dim light of the hallway through the crack in the door. He doesn’t look any different, though it’s been about a month since you’d last seen him. You’re not sure what to expect, but he’s the same as always, wearing a worn, tight denim shirt and fraying jeans. He looks tired, but you can’t recall a time when he doesn’t. Everyone looks tired all the time, it just only concerns you because it’s him.

Not waiting for an invite, he steps through the small opening you allot for him and into your place, wordlessly.

“What the fuck, Joel, it’s past curfew are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“I’ve done worse,” he says, dismissively, and yanks the door from your hand to close and lock it behind him.

You don’t argue with him. You rarely do – which you think is partly why he likes you – but especially now, you don’t have the energy. And when you do, he’s too stubborn to listen.

Joel has been many things to you. A dealer, a mentor, a friend, a lover. Lately, it’s the latter. Sometimes he’s none of those things, or a handful of them, or all of them at once. And it’s up to the both of you to decide in the moment which things are true.

So when he steps forward, crowding you backwards until your rear hits your kitchen countertop and you have nowhere to go, you don’t ask questions.

His hand cradles your chin, tilting it back to look into his sad eyes, and he kisses you. For a split second, it’s chaste, and you’re almost confused, until it’s suddenly not, and his grip on your jaw tightens, his lips parting. Joel stakes his claim, his free hand winding into your hair and pulling. You sigh, closing your eyes.

He moves both his hands to cup your ass through the flimsy athletic shorts you’re wearing, lifting your hips up and against him, making to carry you to the bed, or maybe even take you on the countertop – it could be one of those days. Everything he’s doing would normally light you on fire, and there’s a primal instinct that’s telling you you like it, but for some reason, you hesitate.

Joel senses it right away. You’re not sure how. And you don’t want him to. You’re prepared to submit, even though you feel numb everywhere, because you hope for the chance to feel something, anything other than what you’ve felt the last few days. He pauses, too, pulls back.

You expect to meet his eyes when you look up at him, but they are fixed on something else. Tugging on the collar of his shirt, you try to kiss him again, but he doesn’t budge, until you follow his eyes. An empty bottle of liquor sits on the bar behind you. Fuck.

“You’re drinking again.” It’s not a question.

“That was actually from yesterday,” you say, like it would make any difference. The remnants of a hangover have been tweaking your temples all day, biting the back of your eyes. It was half empty when I got it. It was just one night. I can have a couple drinks without getting out of control. Your brain cycles through several more excuses before you decide not to waste your breath.

“What did I tell you about this?” He reached behind you and lifted the bottle, holding it in front of your face like you hadn’t been able to see it clearly enough before.

“You should talk,” you don’t like being cruel, but you’re already desperate to end the discussion. He’s probably drunk or high right now, but it’s none of your business, and you’d given up trying to save him a long time ago.

You shift your weight to lower yourself off the counter and move away from him and the once-inviting warmth of his embrace. Joel doesn’t let you make it far, reaching out to grip your upper arm and tugging you back to face him with little-to-no effort on his part. His strength always startled you, even though it shouldn’t, considering his size. It also should’ve scared you, but the manhandling mostly just turned you on. Not enough that you were going to keep letting him lecture you.

“It’s different. You’re still so young.”

“What does that matter?”

He doesn’t have an answer.

You lift your chin, squaring up to him. “That’s what I thought.”

He puts his hand on hip and studies you carefully. Despite your attitude, you’ve never liked disappointing him. He’s the closest thing you have to a father, which you can recognize is an awfully fucked up way to feel about someone you regularly have sex with, but you lived in an awfully fucked up world.

There’s a wistfulness to Joel’s expression you’ve never seen before. He chooses to change the subject, and you’re thankful until what he says registers.

“I’m leaving town tomorrow night. You might not see me again.”

It takes a moment to process, but it hits you like a blow to the gut. So hard, you’re surprised you don’t stagger backwards with the force of it. Even when it settles, you know it hasn’t even sunk in all the way.

“Well…” you take a long, thoughtful pause, and offer the only thing that your brain can come up with, “....stay safe out there, then.”

“Yeah,” he runs his tongue over his teeth and squints at you. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

Snorting, you know it’s important to remain as blase as possible so you don’t cry. Although, you don’t really cry anymore. Even when you want to, the tears never come. At some point, after watching every person you’ve ever cared for die in uniquely devastating ways, you must’ve reached your lifetime limit.

“I know you. Something’s up.”

No, you don’t! You want to scream, but that would be a lie. It’s been three years since you met, maybe one since your….arrangement, or whatever you’d call it, had begun.

How the two of you had become so close was a mystery even to you. It’s not like you were charming or charismatic, or willing to put up the innocent act. You didn’t try to inflate his ego, which most men loved. At first, you didn’t even really like him at all. That changed with time. Somewhere along the way, things just clicked.

“It’s nothing that no one has ever felt before,” you shrug. Joel has his fair….or rather unfair share of demons, and is the last person you want to complain to. Most of the time, he’s unflinchingly guarded, but he’s shared enough – secrets whispered in your ear while tangled in damp sheets, your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart – to make you wonder if you have it so bad. Focusing on a fixed point, a crack in the tiled floor, you avoid his eyes.

“Hey,” his voice pulls you back. “Don’t do that.”

“I’ll be okay,” you say. “I’m just having a d-a week.” A month, a year, a life. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze.

His face softens, his hand reaching to clasp with your own, thumb grazing across your palm. “Come here,” he murmurs. He pulls you against him tightly, tucking your head under his chin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

“You’re going to be alright. You’re a strong girl.” He’s too smart to believe that, you think. But it doesn’t stop you from pressing your lips against his sternum. His broad chest is sturdy, firm, and you close down your eyes.

Neither of you speak, and one of his hands begins to stroke your back in soothing circles. You stay wrapped in his arms for a long time. Long enough to think about how you might never get to do this again, and you suddenly want him in all the ways you never had him, and all the ways you had. Just one last time.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I can tell you’re exhausted, baby. Let’s get you to bed.”

There’s no reason to protest, he’s right, so you let him lead you to the bed. You’re already in your pajamas, and he draws back the covers and tucks you underneath them carefully.

“You’re staying,” you say. It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out like command, and although you can’t stand the idea of pleading for it, would if you had to. You’re that desperate.

You hear the clunk of his boots landing on the floor, feel the dip of his weight on the opposite side of the bed.

“Of course,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper as he slides underneath the covers.

Joel’s arm snakes around your waist, and you’re being pulled back against his chest. You wriggle to be closer, even though it’s not possible, his nose resting on the crown of your head, stroking your hair softly. He’s being so tender, so sweet, it makes you feel sick.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” you turn your head slightly, so you can see him out of the corner of your eye. You want to be able to remember his face, in case you never see him again. He was handsome, you’d always thought that, even despite the years between you.

“It’s my brother. I don’t have much of a choice, baby.”

Joel had told you all about Tommy. You wished you could be resentful at his leaving to find his brother, but you knew you’d risk pretty much anything for the chance to see anyone in your family again.

You shake your head. “This…sucks.”

He offers a rare chuckle, one that vibrates through his chest and straight to the ache in your stomach that started when he told you he’d be leaving. “It does. I’m sorry.”

Joel sighs, his breath on the nape of your neck, and you shiver. “I’ll miss you.” It’s a simple truth you can hear in his voice without even needing to look in his eyes.

“I’ll miss you.” You reach for his hand.

You roll over to face him, his head propped on his opposite hand, looking down at you.

“You remember everything I taught you?” he asks. “Be smart, keep yourself safe.”

Joel had proven to be a pretty valuable resource when it came to survival skills. He’d taught you how to shoot a gun, to load and reload it, how to take it apart, clean it, and put it back together. You recalled the feeling of him leaning over your shoulder, adjusting your grip to shoot at a target. And even if most of his lessons in hand-to-hand combat resulted in him having his way with you on the kitchen floor – you didn’t mind it at all – you knew enough to defend yourself.

“I do,” you answer. “And I will.”

You think of all the time you’ve spent with him the past few years. How it has made things bearable. It’s likely the last time you’ll ever see him, and you know what you’re supposed to say. But for the life of you, you just can’t say it.

Instead, you lean in to kiss him, lazy and lingering, both your hands on the side of his face, palms pressed against the scruff of his beard. You pull away after awhile.

“Tell me about what it was like. Before all this.” When the outbreak began, you were just a child. It felt like a dream, your memory so fuzzy it was hard to recall anything except the worst parts.

Joel does, and you listen, captivated, though it’s not the first time you’ve heard it. For such a gruff man, he paints a pretty picture.

It’s easy to imagine what your life might be like if none of this had ever happened. It would have been better, infinitely better, for yourself, for Joel, for everyone. It would be better, but if it hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t have met him. For some reason, something about that doesn’t feel right.

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