#IF I DIE THEY WILL GET EVERYTHING AFTER ME

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

And that's why men as a class

-> See, the important word here is "class"

Are garbage, where always garbage and will presumably always be garbage

See, for 90% of the time the people in positions of power where men

Kings

Emperors

Princes of teh church

The fucking Pope

Politicians

etc.

Meaning there was plenty of time to look at the fact that at any point during pregnancy/birth the person being pregnant/giving birth can die

Hell you can die weeks after giving birth due to complications from the birth

They had, at this point thousands of yeasr to look at that fact and decide

Since every pregnancy risks the live of the pregnant person, it's the pregnant person who should be THE ONLY ONE who gets to choose if they want to risk their life

And hell, maybe they want to risk their live for dynastic reasons, or to forge a business connection

But it has to be THEIR desicion

Not their dads, not their moms, not their brothers not their husbands not their owner

And that did very decidetyl not happen ...

And how can you look at the facts

that pregnancies are 100% avoidable (just don't have sex, sure, the person with teh uterus might decide fuck it, but again that has to be THEIR desicion)

that they can be leathal

that people with uteruses, to this day, do not always get to choose wether they are pregnant or not

And then explain to me, how the class who very easily could have done everything human possible to change the things that humans can change about it ... And didn't, ...

For their own gain

The king after all needs soldiers

The farmer needs free farmhands

The patriarch needs a dynastic line

etc ...

How this class is not fucking garbage?

Explain it to me like I am five

I'll wait

giving birth sucks tbh. not only do you and the baby you’re birthing almost die, usually you shit yourself and often you tear your taint. then you have to push an organ out of your body (placenta) and if even a little of that remains in your body, you can hemorrhage to death or develop an infection that essentially rots your body from the inside out. even if you had a relatively “easy birth”, you bleed for weeks on end. even after that stops, your body and brain is changed for the rest of your life, the pregnancy leeched minerals from your bones, that can cause osteoporosis later. minor urinary incontinence is not uncommon, brain scans of people who gave birth show permanent changes in their brain, you’re never quite the same.

I say all of this not to say giving birth is disgusting but it is a harrowing and visceral experience. society downplays how fucking awful it is and makes it out to be a ~magical~ experience but it isn’t a magical transformative experience for everyone. it can be an extremely traumatic experience for someone who wanted to carry a pregnancy to term, much more so for someone who did not want to be pregnant in the first place or someone who knows their baby won’t survive the birth. anyway, abortion is a right. pregnancy and birth aren’t just inconvenient, it’s fucking awful.

[rabbitcrimes]

When people are like Wei Wuxian was NOT suicidal it’s like. Ok sure. He just believed that his debt to the Jiangs should be paid with everything up to and including his life. And also that the moral and obvious thing to do in any situation is to put himself between anyone and harm's way. This is because he thinks he’s unkillable but he makes himself unkillable for the same reason he’ll die for a good enough reason: because it’s a way to have worth!

And then famously once everything goes to shit he does beg Lan Wangji to let him die as part of the moment where he is either destroyed by his own evil magic or lets his own evil magic tear him apart, a distinction I don't personally think matters very much at that point. Less explicitly textually, his mentally ill ass behavior after he gives up his core says to me that he wishes that he'd died honorably for Jiang Cheng when he had the chance and doesn't know what to do with himself since he hasn't.

Again I’m aware that he’s operating under a pretty specific set of culturally informed norms as a cultivator and member of a sect but like. TO ME. Everything about how Wei Wuxian conducts himself indicates that he has a box in his mind at all times that says 'in case of emergency break glass' and what’s inside the box is his own death. All the sound of mind actions of a man who has a normal and not suicidal relationship to death.

[wineonawhitetee]

ALRIGHT SO

One of the things I noticed mildly in Mastermind and was given more content of in Sinsmas: Blitz is having a really good time. Like, ofc he's still suffering, but, the ending of the episodes are really good for him. And this is hugely contrasted by the fact that Stolas...isn't.

Blitz is so sweet and gentle with Stolas because he’s doing fine and Stolas isn't. Think about it

By the end of Mastermind, Blitz is in a pretty good position. He's basically become a celebrity among the working class imps. Combined with that, he's INSANELY relieved. Just a few months ago he thought he was going to never see the love of his ife again. A few hours ago, he thought he was going to die. A little after that, he thought the love of his life was gonna die. Then he didn't. He still has his family whole, Loona is freely admitting that she loves him, his employees are okay, Stolas is okay and living with him now. He's doing well.

Compare that with Stolas

He has just lost everything he has ever known. He's lost his powers, his money, his books, his house and -most importantly- his daughter. He is lost and shell shocked and miserable.

While Blitz is relived and hopeful.

This carries forward in Sinsmas, where Blitz is a lot more chipper and Stolas is still downtrodden.

The responsibility of working is weighing on Stolas while Blitz is happy to get him on the job. He doesn't take offense to Stolas's groaning and carries on like normal.

At work, it's also an instance of Stolas being miserable and Blitz trying his best to comfort him and to be supportive, even disagreeing with the client to make Stolas feel better.

Then it's the two things that fucking GET ME in this episode

Blitz trying to warm Stolas up, to be close to him, to cuddle him, to touch him, to comfort him and Stolas being cold and un-receptive (also both of them are hugging themselves nooooo please hold each other it'll helpppp 😭😭😭).

And these last shots that really sell it

Blitz is soft and happy. Stolas is defeated and distant. It's clear in the previous scenes that he loves Blitz and this is everything he ever wanted but it seems like a hollow victory because he thinks he's lost his daughter forever. He's so tired and it's so clear that he wants to enjoy this moment - to give in to the comfort - but he can't.

It also illustrates the development and reversal of Stolitz's dynamic perfectly. Earlier on, Stolas would've jumped at the slightest sign of Blitz’s affection. Now he can't even hug him back. Blitz is kind, hopeful and affectionate. Stolas can't find it in himself to reciprocate.

Y'all, I hate them so much

[zylusmusings]

The young dragon is still alive.

The red he sees on his hands is possibly even redder than the crimson of his own eyes - God, it’s so much blood… and Sylus isn’t even a stranger to violence and blood but he swears he has never seen this much blood. Perhaps, everything is magnified now since it was her that was bleeding. She could get a paper cut, and he’d wage a war against the trees in the Amazon for causing such a grievance against his beloved. 

But this.. this is too much blood, still. Calm and collected Sylus, one has never witnessed him shaken, is now found trembling as he stares at the carmine pool surrounding them both. The smell of iron is nauseating, even for him and he feels the taste of bile threatening the back of his throat. He heaves, mouth agape in small pants while he scrambles to make sense of the situation. 

“Sw..Sweetie.. This is not right, c’mon. You have to… stop this.” He feels small, suddenly. Useless, as shaking hands continue to practically beg the wound on her chest to stop bleeding. The most powerful man of N109 zone deemed completely inadequate at this current moment. There was nothing he could do to stop the profuse bleeding, nothing he could do to save her - and he knew this deep down. 

The same young dragon who was so confused and vulnerable, whose frustration only grew as his horns continued to do the same. So shameful of his fate and destiny, yet knowing there was simply nothing he could do to change it. The same sentiments of ignominy - this time however, he feels like he’s deserving of the humiliation. Waited years upon years for her return, only for her to be dying in his arms. His beloved was going to leave him, and prayers of desperation for their roles to be reversed escapes his cracked lips.. For her to drill the claymore into the depths of his chest, again and again. Then, again and again. The only fathomable passage was for him to die and her to live for thousands and millions more years before she dies a natural painless death, after a fulfilling and happy long life - not this. 

“I don’t know what to do, I’m sorry. I am sorry, I don’t know what to do.” He apologises repeatedly, his tears dampening the hair at the top of her head as his body curls atop hers, his last desperate attempt to shield and protect her, but it’s no use. Nothing can save her. He knows that, too. This dragon is afraid and desperate.

A silent sob escapes his agape mouth, the sight of her choking on her own blood as she fights for her final breaths has him begging the Lord to shower him with mercy. He’d bear the punishment and atone for all of the sins both him and all of mankind has ever committed, if it meant that this world that his beloved would walk on was free of any atom of darkness. Let it be a safe place for her to roam and live unreservedly - because that would have been what she deserved, not this. “It should’ve been me. I’m sorry, it should’ve been me.”

And as her hand falls limp, this dragon roars in pain. 

[niqhtlord01]

Interviews with the Mythical

Human Reporter: What do you mean you invented Christmas?

Vampire: I mean just that, we invented the entire thing up.

Human Reporter: But we have documents, records of-

Vampire: All fabricated during the 3rd century as you call it.

Human Reporter: But why would you do that?

Vampire: Long term plan to subvert the day Christ was born.

Vampire: We gathered and felt that if we could slowly subvert the holiday with something less Christian we could dilute the faithful.

Vampire: Eventually we took a step back and you humans corporatized the holiday all by yourself to the point many associate it with our “Saint Nic” over that zombie boy Jesus.

Human Reporter: How would you say that has played out?

Vampire: I watched a woman throw a child like a football all to get the last Christmas day sale Toaster.

Vampire: It’s going swimmingly. ------------------------

Shape shifter: Oh yes I knew him.

Human Reporter: You knew Vincent Van Gogh?

Shape Shifter: This will be a short interview if you continue to question everything I say.

Human Reporter: I was just surprised since you look so young.

Shape Shifter: Such things as aging function differently for us.

Shape Shifter:  We appear old because we wish to feel the ravages of time.

Shaper Shifter: We appear young because we wish to bask in the depravities of youth.

Human Reporter: So are you immortal like vampires?

Shaper Shifter: *scoffs

Shape Shifter: I wish they would stop referring to themselves like that; the arrogant bastards.

Shaper Shifter: Vampires age slowly, but they age all the same; and I’ve yet to meet one that didn’t find a stake through the heart a grievous inconvenience.

Human Reporter: You are dodging the question.

Shape Shifter: Because I don’t have an answer.

Shape Shifter: The only way I imagine I can die is if I change into something dead, but I have no idea what that feels like so in the back of my mind there will always be a part of me alive meaning I am never really dead.

Human Reporter: Sounds like a maddening state.

Shape Shifter: Gogh said the same thing before he asked to paint me in my natural state.

Human Reporter: Really? What was it like being in one of his paintings?

Shape Shifter: Let’s just say he wasn’t always paranoid. ---------------------------

Human Reporter: So you take being a wolf seriously.

Werewolf: So?

Human Reporter: I mean, really seriously.

Werewolf: What kind of stupid question is that?

Werewolf: You take being human pretty seriously for being a human.

Human Reporter: But that’s just it, you are half wolf and half human; but your more animalistic side seems to take more precedent.

Werewolf: *Snarls

Human Reporter: I mean from what we do know you still form packs and groups with other werewolves even when in human form, you organize yourself like a pack being led by an alpha, etc.

Werewolf: I see what you’re getting at.

Werewolf: The animal tendencies are more…overpowering than human ones.

Human Reporter: Aren’t they the same?

Werewolf: No, they’re not.

Human Reporter: Could you elaborate?

Werewolf: Do you want to leave with your head?

Human Reporter: Yes.

Werewolf: Than this interview is over. ----------------

 Human Reporter: Do you have a moment for an interview?

Sphinx: Only if you answer my riddle.

Sphinx: What walks on-

Human Reporter: The answer is man.

Sphinx: ……

Sphinx: I haven’t even finished.

Human Reporter: I mean…..it’s not exactly a secret riddle.

Sphinx: But how can you possibly know it?

Human Reporter: Oedipus recorded the answer after he solved it.

Sphinx: *Defeated sigh

Sphinx: I knew I should have just killed that little man.

Sphinx: What else did he write?

Human Reporter: That after he solved the riddle you were so distraught you flung yourself into the sea to commit suicide.

Sphinx: That lying sack of shit! --------------------

Human Reporter: So does your pumpkin rot and you need to collect new ones or is it just eternally ripe?

Headless Horseman: Through the pumpkin That is what you are opening with?

Human Reporter: Well I just wonder how that thing could be still fresh after almost 300 years.

Headless Horseman: *Tilts neck down to show severed neck muscles and spine

Headless Horseman: None of this is freaking you out?

Human Reporter: If I’m being truthful I did interview a zombie before meeting you and they also were missing a substantial amount of flesh.

Headless Horseman: Did you just fucking compare me to a zombie!?!

Human Report: You technically are undead in a sense.

Headless Horseman: They made a bloody movie about me! It had Johnny Depp and I was played by Christopher Walken!

Headless Horseman: They made a tv show about me!

Human Reporter: With respect they’ve made more shows about zombies.

Headless Horseman: *Storms off and kicks over a stack of boxes while swearing in german ----------------

Human Reporter: Thank you for your time.

Leprechaun:  Pay my fee, lest I shall flee.

Human Reporter: *Reaches into pocket and tosses three gold coins.

Leprechaun: *Catches coins, takes a bite on each, then pockets them.

Human Reporter: You’re the only creature I’ve met that’s actually charged for an interview.

Leprechaun: Fools and half-wits waste fortunes with words said free, but I’m neither lest I’m paid handsomely.

Human Reporter:  Bit of a rhyming theme going on I see; very poetic.

Leprechaun: Words and songs are my crafts by trade, but none still finer than my cobbler days.

Human Reporter: What makes Leprechaun gold more special than normal gold?

Leprechaun: A simple question gets a simple answer.

Leprechaun: No gold is finer than the ones I gather.

Leprechaun: Through trade and trick I make my wealth, and by deceit and death I keep it still.

Human Reporter: You’re saying you’ve had to kill to protect your gold?

Leprechaun: The penance is clear, there’s no debate.

Leprechaun: You take my gold, I take your life. ------------

Human Reporter: What is it like to be the neck tie for a god?

Nag Vasuki: You would mock an immortal being?

Human Reporter: Do you not coil yourself around the neck of the literal god of destruction?

Nag Vasuki: I do.

Human Report: Then that makes you a neck tie.

Nag Vasuki: *Lunges across table and bites reporter in the neck, delivering a lethal amount of poison before storming off to get a bagel. ---------------

Human Reporter: Why do you eat children?

Baba Yaga: Why does a raging river drown those lost within its grasp?

Human Reporter: Because a river is part of nature.

Baba Yaga: As am I.

Baba Yaga: There is nothing more unforgiving and unrelenting than that of nature, and in their youthful bliss many young find themselves lost within its tangled woods of thorn and wood.

Baba Yaga: I, like nature, stand at the gates of great change that children must face; be it for great joy or misery.

Human Reporter: Are you saying you eat children because they refused to adapt?

Baba Yaga: *chuckles

Baba Yaga: Only the unlucky ones. -------------------

Human Reporter: in hazmat suit Thank you for the interview.

Nuckelavee: Through the hanging mouth of a horse and its rider man Save your false gratitude.

Nuckelavee: I seek neither your accolades nor your ponderous questioning.

Human Reporter: Then why did you come at all?

Nuckelavee: For all of humanity to know that their end will soon be at hand, and it will be by my machinations shall you fall.

Human Reporter: Forgive me but you remind me of the four horseman.

Nuckelavee:  *laughs

Nuckelavee:  Ah yes, the fear of the southerners was so rich when they first laid eyes on me.

Nuckelavee: They had come to preach the word of their god, so it was only fitting I made them scream out to their savior as I peeled the flesh from their bones. The look of abandonment they gave was so amusing I allowed the last of them passage back to their stone temples.

Nuckelavee: So wrought with horror they were that when they scampered back their minds could not conceive such malevolence as a singular being.

Human Reporter: So you are claiming to be the inspiration for the four horsemen?

Nuckelavee: There can be no other.

Human Reporter: If that was the case are you not upset you were depicted as such?

Nuckelavee: In the end I shall feast on you all; what mind have I to care for such trivialities?

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Daughter Reader

Summary For years, you’ve survived tethered to Joel’s side, haunted by the loss of your sister and scared to step outside of his shadow. So when he bonds with the girl he’s tasked to smuggle, it strains your complicated relationship—until the threat of losing him forces you to confront just how much he means to you [angst, fluff, 5.4k].

A/N This is some of my favorite prose I've written recently. Daughter!reader is a new dynamic for me, but it was such a rewarding writing experience. Thank you to the anon who sent this request in. I hope you all enjoy.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆

It’s cold outside today. If the draft sneaking in through the windows isn’t enough to let on, the sky itself is an undeniable sign. There’s no blue, no clouds that can be distinguished from the next. The entire expanse is a pale white sheet. As if the heavens have decided to shield earth from its view because of how far it’s fallen. 

Nevertheless, life in the Boston Quarantine Zone labors on. Day after soulless day, rain or shine. Like a well-oiled machine who’s battered parts of flesh and blood refuse to lay down and die. 

The glass of the living room window is cool against your forehead as you gaze outside. Everything is dull. Brick, metal, concrete, and endless earthtones constitute the expanse of buildings that seemingly stretch for miles. However, after having explored every corner of this walled city, you know it’s finite. A mere portion of a much larger world trying to find its footing again. 

The people walking on the sidewalks below look small from the height of your apartment. All seeming to move on a droning autopilot, clad in worn clothes that likely belonged to ten other people before them. 

With a sigh, you step away from the window and plop back down on the couch. The coffee table is cluttered with stained, old papers and trinkets, but you reach for the stack of Polaroids you’d previously been flipping through. Each photo and caption transports you back to a past moment in time...

tea for two ♡ March 13, 2003 

A day that seems closer than it actually is, now confined to a single, glossy frame. The white border has faded to beige and the picture itself no longer bears its original saturation. In it, you and Sarah are wrapped in each other’s arms, dressed like princesses for the tea party you invited her to. 

You were her three-year-old shadow, and even though you got on her nerves half the time, she found it hard to say no to you. Everybody in the Miller household did. 

lake day!!! July 4, 2003 

A sunny day. You, Sarah, and Joel are squinting into the light but smiling, your backs to the lake. Later that night, according to Joel’s retelling, you cried because of the colorful, celebratory explosions bursting amid the night sky. 

dad’s getting old (jk ily dad) September 26, 2003

Joel’s smile is shy as he sits at the kitchen table with a cone birthday hat on his head. Sarah was the one behind the lens while you clung to her leg, both you and Tommy making goofy faces in hopes of making Joel smile wider. 

He turned thirty-six that day. By that evening, everything had changed. Not just because of the outbreak, but because Sarah, who had been a light in so many of the photos, was gone too. A few months after her fourteenth birthday, no less. 

It feels strange being twenty-three now. An age she never got to see—

The faint metallic clinking of a belt being fastened prompts you to curiously stand to your feet. After setting down the photos, you saunter to the hallway, where there’s a straight view to Joel’s bedroom. The door is cracked, and warm lamplight pours out to light the end of the hall. With each step closer you take, the old, wooden floorboards creak. 

When you make it to the door, you rap your knuckles against it a few soft times. There’s shuffling on the other side. 

You knock again when there’s no response. “Dad?” 

“What’s up?” he doesn’t say it in a clipped, annoyed way so you know he hadn’t heard your previous knocking. 

“Can I come?” 

He’s quiet for a beat. “I’m finishing up getting dressed. But yeah.”

Inside, the bed still isn’t made. He’s standing in front of the full body mirror leaning against the wall. The paint of the gold trim around it is peeling, revealing the dark aluminum beneath. The glass itself is a bit foggy with stubborn grime that refuses to be scrubbed away. And right in the middle, at the same height that Joel stands, is a sizable spiderweb crack that makes his face look fragmented unless he bends down or shifts to either the left or right. 

Right now, he doesn’t seem to mind the distortion of his face, more interested in assessing his clothes. When you step up behind him, a little to the right, your entire body looks whole. Face and all. 

His eyes briefly flick to you as he continues to button the rest of his olive colored shirt. When he’s finished, he sucks in his stomach and pulls up the waistband of his dark jeans to rest at a more comfortable place on his hips. 

It isn’t until then that you notice a small portion of the back of his shirt is flipped up, the fabric thick enough to hold its place. You reach out to smooth it down. Joel hums in realization. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. 

“Yep,” you murmur. “I thought you were off today.” 

Turning around and brushing past you, he sits in the accent chair to put on his boots. A grunt escapes him with the effort of leaning down. You watch as his thick, battered fingers fumble with the laces until they produce two neat bows. He sits back with a sigh when he’s done, running a hand through his fluffy, silvering hair. 

“I’m meeting with Marlene,” he says. The way you frown tells him that’s not a good thing, or nearly enough information. “Tess will be there too. It’s looking like we might be able to get that car battery we need to set out for Tommy.” 

You process that information with a slow nod. The idea of finding him feels elusive these days. 

A few weeks ago, Marlene told Joel she knew a couple guys who could provide resources. At various points in the months prior, she claimed the very same thing. Every promise she made fell flat because those said contacts either died or backed out of the negotiation. Yet, Joel held out hope every time. 

It used to be you who accompanied him whenever he went to meet with Marlene, but it’d gotten to the point where you couldn’t bring yourself to believe her or stand seeing her face. 

But Joel still did. For the sake of his own conscience. For Tommy. 

After standing from the chair, he fishes into his back pocket for a red cardstock meal card. When you reach out to take it from him, he doesn’t let go, instead opting to look directly into your eyes. 

“Want you to meet us for lunch at the northern dining commons at noon. We should be done by then,” he says, waiting for you to nod so he knows you’re tracking. 

“Don’t leave before then, alright? It’s getting crazier out there. Don’t know if it’s ‘cause summer’s coming or what.” 

“I won’t,” you insist. 

When you try to take the card again, he holds onto it just for the sake of coaxing a smile out of you. It doesn’t quite meet your eyes, but it’s enough to tie him over for now. He lets go of it just as you’re in the middle of pulling, and the lack of resistance makes you stumble backwards. The sound of amusement he huffs out earns him a light punch to the shoulder. 

“I mean it, though.” He points a finger. “Don’t leave till it’s time, alright? We’ll fill you in on everything then.” 

Rolling your eyes, you follow him back out into the living room. “I already said I wouldn’t.” 

“Well, reiterating is my job.” 

Those are the words he leaves you with before heading out the door.  

A few hours later, when the clock strikes twelve, you’re eating at the dining commons alone. Anxiousness prickles beneath your skin. You soothe yourself as chatter and the clinking of silverware float up all around you…

Everything’s fine. Joel’s alright. Tess is alright. Just finish eating and go home. 

•••

Sunset paints the sky that evening. The clouds that lingered all day have finally made way for an expressionist ombre of blue, pink, and orange. It's beautiful in a way that would’ve been worth photographing once upon a time. 

All you can think about is the fact that Joel hasn’t returned. 

A little past seven, voices arise in the hallway. They’re hushed and somewhat frustrated, one of them undeniably belonging to Joel. By the time keys hastily begin jingling in the door, you’re popping to your feet from the couch. A second later, it swings open with enough force that it hits the neighboring wall. 

“Get inside,” Joel orders. You can’t see him from where you’re standing. 

You can’t see anybody. 

“I don’t have to keep listening to you,” quips a tight, youthful voice. “Whatever happened to stranger danger?”  

“Move, Ellie,” Joel says. “Before I make you.” 

A young girl wearing a backpack trudges into the apartment with a scowl. After looking around the bleak accommodation, her eyes settle on you. The air falls silent. You note the wispy flyaways escaping her short ponytail, the slight redness to her eyes like she’s been either crying or rubbing them. 

Ellie sizes you up in return. You can see it in the calculated rove of her dark gaze, the way she squares her shoulder to match your guardedness. 

She eventually whips her attention back to Joel. “Who the hell is she?” 

“Told you I didn’t live alone.” That’s all he gives her before redirecting his attention to you. He seldom reveals the entirety of what he’s feeling in a given moment, but you can see the guilt weighing down on his shoulders. “I—” 

“You missed lunch.” 

He runs a heavy hand down his face. “I know.” 

The girl looks between the two of you with owl-like attentiveness that borders on amusement. At least she wasn’t the only one having a shitty day. Outside, shouting voices arise in the distance. Glass bottles break. 

“Dad. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Ellie’s eyes widen at the revelation. 

Joel doesn’t say anything because you’re staring daggers straight into his very being.  

“I’m immune to the virus,” she speaks up. There’s a hint of pride in her tone, like she’s looking past the present to some undefined future in which she saves the world.  

“He’s gonna take me to the people who can find the cure. Then you guys are gonna go find Timmy or whatever—Tommy.”  

It’s an oversimplification, but Joel doesn’t have the energy to expound right now. Not when you look like you would lunge for him if it wasn’t for the girl.

••• 

Later that night, he sees the first shove coming. Your eyes darken until you’re no longer able to constrain your frustration to a mere look. It frustrates you all the more when he doesn’t budge. So you do it again, pushing both your hands straight into his chest. 

All he does is take a single step backwards to create distance, hands raised in surrender. The fact that he isn’t reacting makes more heat consume your face. 

Until, finally, he grabs your wrists. 

“Are you done acting like a child?” he asks.

“As soon as you quit treating me like one,” you bark. “All you do is give orders and break promises, and I’m supposed to keep following you around like a dog.” 

“I don’t see any shackles.”

“Because it’s you,” you retort, attempting to pull away from his light hold. “You’re the shackles, the prison guard, and the key.” 

Those words make him drop your wrists as if you’ve stung him with poison. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed and drops his head into his hands with a heavy sigh. The mattress creaks under his weight. In the new silence, you stand and stare at him as your breaths even out. 

Neither of you are aware that Ellie has her ear pressed to the other side of the bedroom door, listening. 

When he lifts his head, only then are you aware of how tired and worn down he looks. His hair is more disheveled than it was this morning. The same hair you used to playfully run your fingers through and litter with sparkly hair clips. Except now, his face is void of a smile. 

“I’m sorry about lunch, alright?” His dark eyes search yours for any inkling of forgiveness. He knows he scared you. That’s what’s beneath your anger. “I didn’t know I was gonna get held up like that.” 

Joel Miller was a lot of things, but a pushover wasn’t one of them. 

If he really wanted to, he could’ve at least come to the dining commons to explain. Or ignore Marlene’s request entirely, and force her to find someone else to smuggle the girl. Even Tess had refused to involve herself in the escape plan because she feared it would be all risk and no reward.

“What happens if these guys turn out to be dead too?” You ask Joel, voice softer than before. “What if this is yet another exchange that falls through?” 

He knows you have a point. He also knows he has a brother out there miles away who recently sent him a signal. 

“If there’s a chance, I gotta take it,” he says. “And if we get out there and nobody’s waiting for us, we’re heading to Wyoming anyway.” He meets your gaze. 

You swallow and blink in surprise. “Really?” 

“I’m done waiting around for the right time,” he says, voice low but firm. “It’s never gonna come. Gotta forge it ourselves.” 

He sounds sure. Right now, you could use something to believe in. And if nothing else, a change of scenery from the city walls you’ve been confined within for far too long. 

•••

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

𝐈.

The Capitol Building is empty when you arrive, no sight of the men who were supposed to take Ellie and give you and Joel the supplies you need to carry on. For a while, the three of you linger hopefully on the inside, where grass grows through the chipped marble floors. The only people who eventually arrive are ridden with the virus, their rotting bodies infested with fungus from the inside out. 

You promptly flee the scene after swallowing disappointment like a pill. 

𝐈𝐈.

The front door of Bill and Frank’s house is unlocked when you arrive in the desolate suburbia. Dead grass and tall weeds constitute the yard. The flower beds out front have long wilted. That’s enough for you to know that they’re either dead or gone. Joel pushes into the house anyway, with you and Ellie trailing behind. Bill left a note behind. They’re dead. Ellie asks questions about them that Joel thoughtfully answers.

The three of you take turns showering, then leave.

𝐈𝐈𝐈.

By early August, the trio feels more like a unit, having been bound together by shared letdowns and long nights under the stars. Some days, you don’t know where you are until coming across specific landmarks or recognizable cliffs. You and Joel teach Ellie how to shoot because she wouldn’t stop begging. Most days, as you’re making progress towards Wyoming, it’s the two of you trailing behind Joel, who often shoots unreadable glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re keeping up. 

Sometimes he lets down his walls to offer a small smile. 

•••

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋

All around, tall trees stretch towards the sky, bearing vibrant leaves beginning to change colors. Every so often, a breeze rolls through and ruffles them. The same mourning dove has been calling out into the wind with no response in return. It’s a tune that filled the mornings of your childhood back when you were on the road to Boston with Joel. You hadn’t heard it much since. 

Twigs and leaves crunch beneath your boots as you squat to lower your fingertips into the creek. The water is cool against your skin, and clear enough to see the rocks at the bottom. When you stand up, you startle at the sight of Ellie standing a few yards away. She takes a few apologetic steps back, almost tripping over herself. 

Further away, Joel sits with his back propped against a tree as he reorganizes the contents of his backpack. 

“Jesus, El,” you sigh, pressing a hand to your chest over your heart. 

Ellie no longer seems sure of her reason for approaching you. There were times when she didn’t look her age—whether it be her stare or the way she carried herself—but this wasn’t one. Now, an air of self-consciousness surrounds her, like she’s caught between knowing nothing and everything all at once. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me,” she rushes out. There’s a pang of guilt when you realize she thinks you’re angry. 

“No, it’s fine,” you insist, softening your tone. “I’ve just been in my head.” 

She nods and feels more comfortable to step up alongside you. 

“I’ve seen those pictures you’ve been looking at.” She continues when you don’t say anything, “Was that your sister?” 

Neither you or Joel have brought her up, but your silence is an answer. 

“What was she like?” 

“I don’t remember much.” 

Only bits and pieces. The larger gaps have been filled in by Joel over the years. He never talks about Sarah at length, but sometimes he’ll see something or you’ll make an expression that reminds him of her. That usually prompted him to tell a short story. Oftentimes, without meeting your eyes because he was too busy trying to busy his restless hands. Talking about her always makes him fidget. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know what it’s like to lose someone.” 

Ignoring her, you ask, “Did Joel say when we were gonna start back hiking?” 

Embarrassed, Ellie clears her throat and shakes her head no. “Why do you use his first name like that?” You almost hadn’t realized. 

“Force of habit.” Her brows have furrowed in confusion, so you explain, “Half the time, people in the QZ only listened to me when I threw his name in the mix. It holds a lot of weight among certain groups these days.” 

“Like he’s the boogeyman or something?”

You allow a small chuckle to escape at her words. She feels like it earns her a place back in your good graces. Pride glimmers in the grin that stretches across her face. 

“Something like that,” you agree. 

The familiar crunch of leaves rises as Joel makes the short venture over to the two of you. When he sees the fleeting smiles on your faces, he clears his throat and waits to see if he’ll be invited into whatever small moment of amusement had arisen. He seems to have just missed it. 

“Speaking of the devil,” Ellie says, 

Joel frowns, remaining quiet as he walks up to the edge of the creek. He stares into the bottom for a few thoughtful seconds. Both of you watch as he squats down to splash his face with water, humming with refreshment. 

Ellie no sooner moves to copy him. She laughs, a bubbly surprised sound, as she stands with her face dripping and eyes squeezed shut.

“Wait, how do I—” 

“Use your shirt,” Joel quips lightly. 

“Oh, yeah!” She uses her shirt to dry her eyes just as he had.

The chuckle that rumbles through Joel’s chest is a sound you haven’t heard in a while. It makes you stand up straighter, unconsciously shifting his way as if the sound has the power to heal that part of you that misses him even when he’s within reach. Misses how things were before he grew hard and consumed with the need to survive. 

You didn’t fault him for it, though. 

What’s become increasingly clear, however, is that need was born as much out of spite as it was out of the pure, unadulterated will to live. The end of the world took Sarah, and to Joel, ensuring the two of you endured no matter what was his fuck you to the universe. His proof that everything he cared about couldn’t be ripped from his hands. It was a muddled labor of love. 

But right here, right now, he’s laughing. Not urging silence or trying to instill a survival lesson. He’s letting the moment wash over him for what it is. There you stand watching the two of them like a mere onlooker frozen in place. The entire scene is reminiscent of a different time. A different Joel. 

Something heavy and bitter settles in your stomach at the sight of their twin smiles. 

“Are you gonna try it?” Ellie asks like she’s referring to some grand experience.

“It’s just water,” you say flatly. 

Face falling, Ellie looks to the ground as if the bridge connecting you two had been burned yet again. Something protective flares in Joel’s chest. 

He gives you a pointed look. “You feelin’ alright?” 

“I’m great. Grand even.” 

The air shifts, levity disappearing like a vapor. All three of you can feel it.

“Let’s keep moving then.”

For weeks, you keep it moving. Through rain, shine, and snow. The closer you get to Wyoming, the further away you drift from Ellie and Joel. Like you’re the corner piece of an island that’s been chipped away from the larger landmass. 

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Arriving at the Jackson commune does little to mend things back to the way they were. Some days pass by with more conversation and laughter between the three of you than others. Coming here had been the very thing you longed for, right alongside Joel. But tonight, as you fold clothes at the secondhand store where you volunteer, you wonder what there is to dream about now. 

You don’t know what you like or want. You were so young when the outbreak began that Joel’s practices and motivations became your own. You don’t know where he ends and you begin, and the inability to distinguish makes a part of you resent him. 

The bells above the door jingle as Ellie enters with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Half of her hair is pulled into a ponytail, while the other falls in loose waves just past her shoulders. For once, it looks like she brushed it properly. 

You see more of her than Joel these days. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go over to Dina’s,” she says as she pads over to you. “Joel’s not home yet so I figured I’d come tell you.” She absentmindedly runs her hand over the cashmere sweater you’d folded minutes prior to her arrival. 

You set down the pair of jeans you just finished folding. “He’s not?” 

“No,” she says, unphased. “Probably went straight to the dining hall.” 

A dull, gnawing sense of worry arises in your chest. Ellie can’t see it or feel it herself, still tending to believe Joel was somehow invincible. That every time he went out for patrol, he was bound to return because that’s what he’d proven to her so far. 

“Be safe, okay?” you tell her. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

When she leaves, you head to the store owner in the back room. He’s rummaging through a huge box of donated items. 

“Hey, Stewart?”

There’s a click as two glasses knock into one another. “Goddammit—what?” He straightens up to turn around and face you. 

He has a head full of wiry gray hair and his glasses are crooked on his nose. There’s a light sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. 

“You alright back here?” you tease lightly. He grumbles and waves you off. “Would it be okay if I clocked out early? Natalie and Craig are out there, so you’ll still have help until closing.” It’s been pretty slow this evening anyways. No chance a random rush would occur. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, kid.” He huffs and looks back down at the box. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

“You’re the best, Stew.” You flash him a playful smile. 

Outside, you shiver at how cold it’s grown. Crossing your arms over your chest does little to alleviate the creeping chill. The first snow of the season has yet to fall, but you can feel it lingering in the crisp air. Nevertheless, Jackson Hole is buzzing. People of all ages flit in and out of shops and gathering spaces. Everywhere you look, there’s a friendly face, if not an actual friend. 

This time of year, the entire commune is reminiscent of those cute Christmas village displays. Plush wreaths with red bows hang on wooden posts, and colorful fairy lights shine all around. The most activity buzzes over at the dining hall. Families talk and laugh on the benches outside, and you can see people walking around inside through the windows. 

As you head that way, the two men standing on the patrol office porch capture your attention. It was probable that Joel was inside either logging or assessing his hours. 

When you make it to the building, you recognize the taller man as Cameron, someone who often partnered with Joel because they had the same, collected, no-nonsense way about them. They automatically nod to you in greeting, but their lips are set in firm lines like they have news you don’t. 

You offer a shaky smile back as a lump forms in your throat, “Evening.” 

Your heart rate speeds up as Cameron opens the door for you. Inside, six men stand circled around Tommy, who’s tone is firm as he talks with his hands. Some have rifles slung over their shoulders, and others have pistols on their hips. Standing among the group is Lyle, a younger guy who was scheduled to be Joel’s partner today. 

The only person missing is Joel. 

You allow your eyes to rove over the plaques, portraits, and retired weaponry decorating the walls as you await the end of Tommy’s lecture.  

“Let what happened out there today be a lesson—” Tommy stops talking when his eyes fall on you, and other heads turn to look your way. A few throats are cleared, necks are scratched. 

“Hold on a second, fellas.” He breaks out of the circle and heads towards you, cowboy boots clunking against the wood floorboards. There’s a rifle draped across his body like he’s ready for action. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says softly, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything for you to gather what this meeting is all about. Everybody has discretely turned to look at the two of you. 

“Tommy…” 

“Why don’t we step outside for a second, yeah?” He places a gentle hand at the small of your back to guide you back out into the cold. Cameron and his buddy slip inside out of respect for your privacy. 

“What’s going on, Tommy?” 

He wrestles with how to answer. You see it in his dark eyes, the way he shifts his stance. His cheeks are a bit flushed. 

“Joel hasn’t made it back,” he breathes. “Lyle made it in without him around an hour ago. Said they ran into some disgruntled nomads and got split up,” he says. “Got a few people out looking for him now, and I’m about to go out myself.” 

How foolish you’ve been acting these past several weeks hits you all at once. Everything from purposely distancing yourself from Joel, to occasionally ignoring him whenever he tried to ask how you’ve been—you’d made a point to be away from the house as much as possible. Most of all, it’d been foolish to pretend he wasn’t one of the only people in the world you wouldn’t be able to live without.

A stinging sensation pricks in your eyes, but no tears form. You don’t have it in you to cry. Helplessness crashes down on you in the form of frustration. 

“What do you mean came back without him?” you ask. “What good are patrol partners if they’re just gonna leave you behind—” 

“Hey. Hey.” Tommy looks at you intently. His eyes are so much like Joel’s that you look away. “This ain’t the time to be pointing fingers, alright? When you’re out there like that and shit hits the fan, you don’t know how you’ll react.” 

“Definitely not by leaving my partner behind.” 

Joel had never left you behind. Things had gone sideways time after time again, but you managed to remain by each other’s side. 

Worry radiates off of you in waves. 

“I’m worried out my ass too,” Tommy admits, trying to assure you. “But judging other people ain’t gonna bring him back any faster,” he says. 

When release a heavy exhale and slink your head down, Tommy steps forwards to wrap his arms around you. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he promises. “You eaten dinner yet?” 

“I’ll probably throw up if I do.” 

He pulls away to look at you under the soft glow of the porchlight. “Let’s at least try to get a little something in your system, okay? I’ll walk you over to the dining hall.” Tommy guides you that way, and everything around you seems to fade in and out as you walk. 

Tommy’s words manage to break through to you, “I know my brother. He’ll make it back one way or another,” 

He always did. Maybe a bite to eat didn’t sound so bad. 

•••

The unyielding weight of your nerves forces sleep to find you when you make it home. Not in your bed, but on the couch as you sit and wait for Joel’s return. Worrying has taken a lot out of you. 

Creaky footsteps arise out on the porch. Then the lock clicks. Neither of which you register. By the time Joel is walking in through the front door, your eyes flutter open. There’s a slight sway to his stride like he’s favoring one leg. Other than that, he’s still in one piece. You’re on your feet in an instant, ignoring the crick in your neck. 

“Oh my god, Dad—thank god.” 

Joel stops in his tracks as you hurry over to him. He lets you look him over as if he’s a child who just fell off a bike. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” there’s a rasp to his voice.  

Relief is written all over your face. It’s the most interest you’ve shown in him in weeks, but he’s grateful for it anyways. He’s grateful for any mind you’re willing to pay him. 

There’s so much you want to say—I thought I lost you, don’t scare me like that again, I love you—but none of it comes out. Instead, it’s all packed into the way you step forward to throw your arms around him. 

But even hugging him brings you close enough. 

Luckily, he’s so tall and broad that you settle for the feeling of being safe, cocooned in his arms. He squeezes you, not in the playful way that used to be a means of making you smile, but in a way that solidifies his presence. Assures you that he’s never going to let go. That you don’t have to worry about living without him.

As your tears wet his shirt, he doesn’t ease up or pull away. He remains constant like he’s been throughout your entire life, even on the days you thought you wanted him to disappear. 

He presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head and you’re overcome with warmth.  

“I love you to pieces,” his voice is low and thick with sincerity. “So much it hurts.” 

It’s you who reluctantly pulls away to look up into his eyes. 

“I love you too,” you murmur, cheeks glistening with tears. 

The tears gathered in his eyes finally spill over. He doesn't turn away or tilt his head back in an attempt to fend them off. They simply roll down his cheeks at your words. You can’t recall seeing him cry since Sarah passed away. Guilt, sympathy, and gratitude swell in your chest. For the years he’s been strong for the both of you, for everyone who’s ever leaned on him in a time of need. He never made it look hard. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” 

“As long as you’re safe, I can handle being ignored.” He manages a small, sad smile. “It ain’t easy growing up during the end of the world.” Few things ever were. 

“It’s a little easier with you.” 

“Just a little?” He asks lightly. 

Both your smiles grow, and as you step back into his arms, every gripe and the the chaotic events of the evening fade away.

- 

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

MORE

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2024 - Part IV

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2024

The final part of our favourite stories published in 2024. Thank you everyone for your support this year and most of all, thank you to all the dedicated fanfic authors this fandom has - you're really the heart of it all.

~*~

Thief's kiss

by danegen (@danegen)

E, 6k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: "This time, I’ll run, and you can chase me.” Lan Zhan’s eyelashes flutter in delicate, adorable confusion. “When I catch you . . .” “If you catch me.” Wei Wuxian wags a finger at him. “If you catch me, you can do whatever you want.” That makes . . . something happen on Lan Zhan’s face. Something that makes Wei Wuxian shiver. Wei Wuxian accidentally tells Lan Wangji about their strange game of chase that night at the inn. His solution to this predicament? Obviously, they need to play again!

~*~

cookin' up a storm, piece of cake

by livinginaworldofnoise (@gh0st-0f-luke)

G, 9k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: yiling_patriarch: first time making a cake with alcohol! it’s still in the oven but it smells great so far ↳ Gusu Lan Kitchen: There is no alcohol listed in the ingredients for this recipe. yiling_patriarch: i didn’t have any oranges or orange juice so i replaced those with a can of orange sparkling margarita! tasted super weird [★★☆☆☆] ↳ Gusu Lan Kitchen: Are you being deliberately obtuse? OR: life is tough for baker!lwj when online troll!wwx won't stop commenting on his recipe blog

~*~

In the end

by apathyinreverie (@apathyinreverie)

T, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Ying does not die. He falls. But he has fallen before. Death devours him. But the dead have devoured him before. He falls and he breaks and still he lives. Or something like it, at least. (An AU where WWX does not die. Well, mostly.)

~*~

Looked so alive, turns out i'm not real

by KatAnni (@kat-anni)

M, 36k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of MDZS Big Bang 2024

Summary: "Nothing leaves the Burial Mounds alive." Lan Wangji goes on a side mission night hunt with Wei Wuxian during the Sunshot Campaign, and finds out just how true that statement is. Inquiry rings through the room, and Wei Wuxian answers. This of course, has consequences. For the MDZS Big Bang 2024, Collab with @sweetlittlevampire

~*~

Devil Flute Upon Graves, Wei Ying

by cloudyrobinwrites (jwyoomi) (@chirpycloudyrobin)

M, WIP, Series, 53k, Wangxian & Hualian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Wuxian received the news of his first death a little bit too late.

~*~

🔒 baby fever

by Mamoonde (@mamoonde)

T, WIP, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Zhan wakes to a pounding on his door in the middle of the night. For a moment, he assumes Wei Ying must’ve come over after all. Instead, it is Jiang Cheng, soaked and covered in mud, and holding a child— A child who looks up sheepishly, with the same light grey eyes as Wei Ying. “I told him we didn’t need to bother you, but he insisted you would want to help.” Jiang Cheng says. or: yet another wwx age regression fic. but modern cultivation au.

~*~

had a marvelous time ruining everything

by livinginaworldofnoise (@gh0st-0f-luke)

G, 8k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Great news, though—well, actually, it may depend how you define ‘great.’” Wei Wuxian folds himself into a cross-legged position and makes a sweeping gesture with one arm toward the closet, from which Lan Wangji can now hear a strange rattling noise. “While you were gone I managed to catch another one!” “Another . . . cat?” Lan Wangji pulls the closet door open wider and stares at the cage he finds there, inside of which a small black cat is clinging to the ceiling bars with all the desperation of a cornered wild animal. “That’s Volcano!” Wei Wuxian says by way of explanation. “She’s a little spicy.” OR: 5 times wangxian's feral kittens get in the way of lan wangji proposing + 1 time they help

~*~

🔒 sweet decadence

by breaththrou

M, WIP, 27k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Xichen breathed in sharply, a crazed laugh escaping him. He lifted his gaze to meet his eyes, a look of despair etched onto the hard lines of his face. "My brother... my brother has always been our mother's child. For that, he could not live. He is gone. I could not find him, and I could not have brought him home. I can only hope now that Wangji is at rest," he said quietly, the wind whipping the greying locks of his hair around his face. Wei Wuxian stared at him, horrified. Lan Xichen looked away as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. "I have only ever wished happiness for my brother, but I fear I have instead brought him death."

~*~

Catharsis

by Starfell123

T, 9k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Look, I know I’m probably foolish. I know that the chances of this not being a business-meeting are slim to none, but I need to know for sure. If Uncle Jiang wants to apologize, I’ll give him a chance to do so. If not, I want to tell him where to stick it in person.” Thirteen years after being thrown out by the Jiangs, Jiang Fengmian contacts Wei Wuxian and asks to meet. Wei Wuxian goes in the hopes of reconciling with his adopted family, but the circumstances he finds himself in wont allow that to happen. What will he do when his former guardian tries to arrange a marriage for him that will benefit the Jiang-sect?

~*~

To Love the God of Death

by Amber_Horizon

E, WIP, 27k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Jin Guangyao, God of the Sky, sees Mo Xuanyu's interest as an opportunity to gain control. Just before Mo Xuanyu is to be appointed the new God of the Underworld, he performs a self sacrificing ritual to escape his fate. Wei Wuxian returns from the dead after 13 years. He wakes in a new body, surrounded by evil talismans, and perhaps worst of all, face-to-face with Lan Xichen, God of the Sea.

~*~

Tides

by Anonymous

G, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: When their routine is interrupted, Wei Ying gets himself and Lan Zhan ready for bed.

~*~

咏红尘 | an ode to red dust

by auberjing (@wrecklwj)

E, 39k, Wangxian | Mojo's Rec to be posted soon!

Part of Bottomji Big Bang 2024

Summary: A-Fu apologises for intruding. Shall I bring you a woman?” Lan Wangji recoils. The question lands like a physical blow: violent, distasteful, and absurd. “No.” “Then,” A-Fu murmurs. “If you wish, I could… relieve you. As a servant, it is my duty.” Or: Crown prince Lan Wangji is taken hostage by Wen Ruohan, who has taken the throne after deposing the incumbent emperor. While imprisoned, Lan Wangji is assigned a handsome eunuch servant named A-Fu. Outwardly, A-Fu is mild and attentive, but his whispered hints at rebellion appear to be the start of something momentous and revelatory…

~*~

redemption, repentance

by stiltonbasket (@stiltonbasket)

G, 3k, Xuanli | Kay's Rec

Summary: Five months after the Sunshot Campaign, Jin Zixuan travels to Lotus Pier to ask for Jiang Yanli's hand in marriage.

~*~

Watch me ignite it

by tawaen

T, 10k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: The news spreads quickly across the cultivation world – Wen Ruohan is dead and his murderer declared himself the new leader of the Qishan Wen sect. Wei Wuxian is described as a demon, as a brutal warlord, as a threat to the very existence of the cultivation world. He is also, unfortunately, the most attractive person Lan Wangji has ever met.

~*~

🔒 counting the hours back to you

by ribena

E, 17k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: It has been three months, two days, eleven hours, thirteen minutes, and fifteen seconds since Wei Ying broke up with him, which is why he is the last person Lan Zhan expects to be knocking on his door at one in the morning. “Wei Ying,” he says, the name already strange and unfamiliar on his tongue, “what are you doing here?” “The trains are cancelled,” Wei Ying says miserably, and then looks up at Lan Zhan properly for the first time, if only for a split second. There’s nothing but utter defeat in his eyes. He wouldn’t be here, of course, unless all other avenues of rescue have been exhausted, because it has been three months, two days, eleven – “I have to get home. It’s my sister’s wedding.”

~*~

A Dragon's Tail

by IamTheLemonLord (@iamthelemonlord)

E, 36k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Part of TopXian RBB

Summary: While visiting the Cloud Recesses for the first time, Wei Wuxian's tail intertwines with Lan Wangji's, a boy who wants nothing to do with him. Now engaged, the two have until they reach adulthood to get to know each other and decide if a future together is something they want. Things would be easier if horny voices in their head would stop yelling at them at inappropriate times.

~*~

Practical Considerations

by teawater & the_anthropologist

E, 96k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Summary: After the Sunshot Campaign Wei Wuxian is fooling around in Lotus Pier, and Jiang Cheng decides that he'd be more useful to the sect if he was to enter a diplomatic marriage. Especially since Lan Wangji seems so keen on dragging him away to Gusu. Only Wei Wuxian doesn't expect any good to come from it...

~*~

Where No Flesh Decks The Bone

by deliciousblizzardshark (@deliciousblizzardshark)

E, 20k, Wangxian | Mojo's Rec

Summary: When Wei Ying falls into the Burial Mounds, he’s rescued not by the Yin Iron, but by a strange, twisted creature who heals his body and slips into his mind. Now ridden by Lan Zhan, a bodiless creature ignorant of human customs and brimming with the desire for revenge against the cultivators who threw his mother into the Burial Mounds, Wei Ying has the power to take down the Wen sect for good– if he and the creature can learn to work together. (Or the Venom-inspired canon-divergence Untamed fic no one asked for.)

~*~

Push It

by phonciblepbone

E, 7k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Summary: "Wei Ying. Good morning. I assumed you had the same sex education as I had, and thus did not need to be informed of the existence of the prostate." "Not the existence, Lan Zhan, of course I knew they existed! I mean that it's…" Wei Ying trails off, looking at Lan Zhan imploringly. "Like that."

~*~

Comfortable in your skin

by Dooiney_Oie (@lexicals)

T, 17k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Summary: "Lan Zhan?" he stuttered, his own voice too deep, looking into a face that should be his and which was now flushed pink with anger. "What did you do?" was the answering reply. Despite the sheer fury being directed his way, Wei Wuxian started to laugh. "Me?" he asked, feeling a touch hysterical, not least because he was being scolded by himself, "You were the one who broke it!" - That nightmare scenario where you end up stuck in the body of the one guy who hates(?) you.

~*~

💙 I'll Take Such Great Care of You

by CheekyBrunette

G, 49k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec to be posted soon!

Summary: Sizhui has grown up with a single father. Now, he learns what it is like to have a mom.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[vaguely-concerned]

:) :) :) hey. hey I'm scrEAMING.

Rook: You know... I think I knew the truth. Deep down. But I couldn't face it. (Varric: Why not?) Because it would mean admitting that I let you die.

Bellara: Maybe when I do, I'll feel it. (Rook: Feel what?) That he forgives me. And that I deserve it.

while we're on the subject of 'stuff that's completely recontextualized once you've played the whole game and that's driving me absolutely bugnuts insane on the replay'... hhhhhow about this scene, huh. I reacted the first time around to just how emotional rook's voice gets in this part (listen to that 'you lost someone important') -- her story is very sad, don't get me wrong, but it's early on in their relationship and it seemed so intense of him out of nowhere. and uh. well now I get it. and it breaks my fucking heart. who do you think rook is really talking to here? just as much as they're talking to bellara? just as much as she is speaking to something in them they cannot face yet, negative space grief you see everywhere around rook in this game when you come back around and understand what you're looking at. they're talking to each other, but each of them is also talking to themselves. all the scenes where Rook is guiding their companions through grief and loss... and winding through, over, under, all those conversations, a separate conversation Rook cannot have yet. because they don't know. they can't bring themselves to know it yet. but it's still here the entire time, leaking into everything like blood or ink into water. it haunts them every step of the way, and no one, least of all them, can see it.

It's not your fault. You have to know that./Then why does it feel like it was? You could switch that dialogue around between them after the regret prison and it would work exactly the same way. Two people talking with one voice of grief, of guilt, of 'he's gone and it's all my fault, I wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough when it really counted' and not knowing it. I'm kind of speechless at how elegantly it comes together now that I know to look for it, and how much meaning it suddenly adds. It really is so FUCKING good. this game is so good, when you pay attention and start to understand what it's actually doing.

But if you don't learn to get past it, you'll drown. well, rook. you'd know lmao. it really is all

I was much further out than you thought    And not waving but drowning.

up in here in this lighthouse tonight

This convinced me irrevocably that Rook truly did know the whole time, deep down. it's right below the surface of their mind that whole time, kept from them both deliberately by solas and helplessly by their own brain trying to shield them from the pain. that whole time!!! and you can actually track it through the conversations they're having and see all the signs along the way, once you realize it

And now he's gone. Because I wasn't good enough. So I try to make up for it. Honor him. Find the truth. and maybe shared grief doesn't always make for half the sorrow. but it's something. and it's so much more than nothing.

[lunajay33]

My Princess

•🪽🦇💙•

Summary: You are Feyres sister and have always been shy but when everything happens and you and your sisters become Fae, you find yourself falling in love with the mysterious shadow brother

Pairing: Azriel x Feyres sister

Content: Sneaking around, fluff, smut, getting caught

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about how my life would turn out, living in a run down home with my three sisters and father gave me no hope for what could come, I thought I would die young of either illness or starvation, I always tried to help Feyre when I could just to help and get away from Nesta and Elain, they never liked me much, I am I second youngest and they liked to point out every flaw of mine

But then one day everything changed when we were kidnapped and thrown into a cauldron changing out forms, from human to far, Nesta took an immense amount of power, Elain could feel the future and me, well I haven’t shown anyone what I’ve discovered, I can morphe into the shadows, dissapear whenever I want, it came in hand when Nesta would get in one of her fits with who ever dared step up to her

But then one night as I was slipping into the shadows I met the most adorable little tendrils of shadow that seemed were alive, they were all over me swirling around with what I assumed was joy as they led me to Azriel, he was quiet like me and I found comfort in that silence but never had the never to approach him until the shadows brought me right into his room, as I’m in the shadow of his book shelf

Noticing him straighten up and peer around as his shadows spoke to him

“I know you’re here” my heart leapt, I shifted back into my fae solid form and stood before him nervously

“So you are gifted after all” he stood infront of me, shirtless showing his broad shoulders and ripped body

“Ummm yeah, please don’t tell the others”

“And why not?” I shrugged unsure of why I had to explain my reasonings only making him smirk

“You’re not like your sisters, you’re…….different”

“Different bad?”

“No different good, you’re intriguing and mysterious, you don’t put everyone out there”

•

From that day forward we kept our nightly meetings between eachother and it was sooooo easy, sneaking through the shadows right to his room, we started just talking and getting to know eachother but along the way I fell for him, how could I not he’s so beautiful inside and out and one night when all the others were busy getting drunk at a bar I felt my soul meld with his and his mine

That night we accepted the bond and we haven’t been able to stop, it’s been a week and our hunger for eachother hasn’t been quenched and it’s getting harder to hide this relationship

“Do you think we should tell the others?” I ask him as we catch our breathes, my head resting in his shoulder, his hand dragging up and down my back

“If that’s what you want my angel, but I can’t say sneaking around doesn’t make things more hot” he smirks as he grips my hip

“Maybe just a little longer” I giggle as I turn and straddle his legs laying forward on his chest

“Ready for more already?” His voice got deeper sending shivers down my spine

“Are you able to” I love to tease him knowing he has taken me multiple times in one night

“Please woman” he grabs my hips and grinds them up and down his hardening dick, I’ve heard about the girls talking about the comparison between wingspans but there is absolutely no way Rhys or Cassian could be bigger than my man, he nearly splits me apart

“I love you Azriel” I moan as he slowly stretches me out

“Not as much as I love you Angel, fuck you feel so good” at this angle he was just hitting every part just right it was impossible to keep quiet

“Oh god more I want more” I scream when he thrusts up into me faster and faster

“OH AZRIEL YES RIGHT THERE” I scream not even caring right now who here’s

“So good, mother above I’ll never get enough of you” right as I’m about to be in heaven the door bursts open and everyone in the group is standing there wide eyed and mouths hanging

“Ummmm what the hell is going on” Nesta shouts anger written all over her face

Azriel sits up and holds me closer covering my body

“Can we have a moment to get decent” he groans his shadows pushing the others out and slamming the door

“I’m nervous, did you see the way Nesta and Elain were looking at me?” He pulled out and helped put his shirt on me as he pulled on his own sweatpants

“Don’t worry it’ll be fine come on!” He took my hand and led me downstairs to where everyone was sat around in the living room

“Congrats brother!” Cassian congratulated Azriel patting him on the back

“How long has this been going on?” Feyre asks with a little smile as she sat next to Rhys

“Well we’ve been talking for a while at night but then last week our mating bond happened and we accepted immediately” I say holding his hand tighter

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Rhys asked

“Obviously she knows she’s not good enough to be with him I mean look at her” Nesta laughed, I hung my head low before Azriel pulled me in at the waist

“Watch your mouth, don’t think I can’t destroy your life just because you’re the high ladies sister

“She’s not wrong” Elain whispered but we all heard

“That’s enough they had their reasons and it’s their relationship, Nesta and Elain you need to leave her alone I’ve had enough of you two always bashing on her just because you know she’s better than you, I’m happy for you sister” Feyre smiles

“You can go to the family cabin if you wish while still in your mating faze” Rhys adds looking happy for his brother the next instant in standing in the cabin Azriel holding me tight from behind

“You know they’re not right, your as pretty as the stars” he says placing kisses up my neck

“Thank you Az, now how about we get back to what we started”

“Don’t have to ask me twice”

[lotus-pear]

ok so i finished the game and i fear this aged terribly

also like an absolute fool i did the true ending so i got no shuake angst on 2/2 like i was expecting……….i also didn’t have a file ready before the talk with maruki so it appears i’ll have to play the game for the third fucking time just to get the bad ending

finally started p5 royal ‼️‼️‼️‼️

expect some royal trio art soon they are my dearly beloveds (minus akechi i hope he dies in this reality too)

[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

chapter tags: discussions of a burn victim (nothing graphic), discussions of suicide and mental health, very brief mentions of things that happened in past chapters (Tommy's mom, military, red handkerchief, implied noncon), anxiety, depression, background character death, Tommy calls the crisis hotline

read below or on ao3

Day 10: 2022

“I'm calling Roberts in early, you can go home.”

“Captain Marks-”

“No, Kinard! What you did out there was careless. You could've gotten yourself killed.”

“And if I'd done nothing, that man would be dead.”

“He's gonna wish he were dead if he ever wakes up! He's got third degree burns on over seventy percent of his body! I don't mean to be harsh, Tommy, but you risked your life for a dead man walking!”

“So?” 

Marks took a deep breath, sitting back in his chair. “I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear you say that. I know emotions are high right now, but you know as well as I do I can't have a pilot that isn't concerned about whether they live or die.”

“That's not-”

“Stop talking, Kinard,” Marks warned. “You're on the ground for five shifts, I'll reevaluate things myself after that. If I have any hesitation, for even a moment, about your intentions here, you're getting a psych eval. That'll put you on the ground forever. You understand me?”

Tommy pursed his lips, nodding his head. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, go home, enjoy the rest of your Christmas, come back next shift with a clear head.”

*****

By the time Tommy got home, it was nearing ten o'clock at night. His brain was a jumbled mess. It didn't seem to matter how many times he hit the punching bag in his garage, it was never enough.

After a quick shower, he thought about laying down.

But even the idea of that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

So, he began to pace.

He paced, and paced, and paced, with his hands on his hips. From the living room, to the kitchen, down the hall, and back again.

It all felt like too much. He wasn't just thinking about today. He was thinking about his mom. He was thinking about the military. He was thinking about the red handkerchief. He was thinking about waking up in a stranger's apartment with no clue what happened the night before.

He was thinking, thinking, thinking, pacing, pacing, pacing, and he needed it all to stop.

Just stop!

So he did something he never thought he'd do.

He wasn't even sure what made him do it.

All he remembered was pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing the number.

988.

“988 crisis lifeline, this is Penny. How can I help you today?”

He froze.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

He swallowed. Closed his eyes.

“I'm here.”

“Oh, good. May I ask who I'm speaking with?”

“Tommy,” no attempt to try for a fake name.

“Hi, Tommy! I'm Penny. I know I said it before, but I like to make sure the people I speak to heard me. Tommy, ca-”

“I'm not... I don't wanna kill myself,” Tommy interrupted, needing to make it clear. “I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Okay.” Her voice was soothing, familiar almost. A voice that Tommy hadn't heard in years. “That's what I'm here for, Tommy. What's on your mind?”

He tried to think of what to say. Tried to figure out the perfect way to start the conversation.

He was usually so put together.

But everything felt off.

“I hate Christmas.”

He wasn't sure why that was the first thing that popped into his brain at this moment, but it was out there now.

“A lot of people have complex feelings about holidays. It can be tough sometimes, no doubt about it.”

The tiny admission seemed to open a floodgate for Tommy. “My mom was thirty-eight when she died, and I'm thirty-eight now,” he explained. He was sure the words coming out of his mouth were just as jumbled as the thoughts in his head. “And she- she didn't die around Christmas. She actually died in June, so I don't know why I keep thinking about her today of all days, but I do. Not just her; I'm thinking about a lot of things. But it all sort of leads back to her at the end, I guess.”

“Was Christmas important to her?” Penny asked.

“She loved it when I was really little. Always liked looking at the lights and taking me to the mall to pick out things I wanted. I think my dad ruined Christmas for her though.”

“He wasn't big on the holiday?”

“He wasn't big on family. Looking back, I can see how being with him changed her. I didn't recognize it back then.”

“You were young. She probably didn't want you to recognize it.”

Tommy sighed, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. “She didn't get thirty-nine Christmases, you know? And that doesn't really seem fair. Because I'm here for my thirty-ninth Christmas and I don't even like the damn day. She deserved more. She deserved better.”

“It's never easy to understand why the people we love get taken from us too soon. It can be especially difficult when we lose them as a child.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “She didn't get taken from me,” he bit out, “she left me.”

There was a pause on the line, then, “I'm sorry?”

“Yeah, she uh, she made that choice to leave herself. Stuck me with my dad, who never really gave a crap about me in the first place, and she... she was just gone.”

“I'm sorry about that, Tommy. That's a lot to have to deal with as a kid.”

“I don't ever talk about it, about her. I don't really have anyone to talk about it with. My dad never cared for emotions, so I just plaster a smile on my face and put my shoulders back and keep going.” Tommy shook his head, clearing his throat and wiping away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. “That's not why I called though. Not because of her.”

“Okay,” Penny replied. “Tell me why you called, Tommy.”

Tommy rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension running through his body. “I did something stupid at work today, and I knew better. I just didn't care.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I work for the fire department. I'm a firefighter pilot, but today I was on the ground. We were called to a fire at this house- well, more like a mansion- and we thought we had the place cleared. Then the daughter started yelling for her dad. I headed back inside and found him, um,” Tommy paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It's okay, Tommy. Take your time.”

“He- He was at the source of the fire. A fairly large space heater exploded and the fire had spread quickly. The house was about to collapse, and I was being told to get out, but I stayed. Long story short, I was able to get the man out right before the structure collapsed. He was severely burned though. If he makes it, and it's a big if, he's going to wish he hadn't. My captain won't let me fly for a while now. Sent me home early.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I wasn't even supposed to work today. I took the shift because I hate this damn holiday.”

“You've mentioned that three times now,” Penny noted.

“What?”

“How much you dislike Christmas. Tommy, do you think that maybe the risk you took today had something to do with the fact it's Christmas? Emotions were already high, making you take risks you wouldn't usually take?”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed. “Maybe? I don't really know though, because I feel like I'm ready to take those same risks any day, anytime. I said it before, and I meant it, I'm not trying to die. I just... I don't think I care if I do. It didn't matter to me if I didn't make it out. We're all gonna die someday, you know? That's what I always figure. What's it matter if it's now?”

“I think it would matter to the people who love you. The people who care about you.”

“I don't think I know anyone well enough for them to be affected by my death.”

“Well, it would matter to me,” Penny replied matter-of-factly, and Tommy couldn't help but let out a laugh.

“I dunno, I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.”

“Thank God for that, I'd hate it if you were too perfect.”

“Well, I never said I wasn't perfect. Perfect and bitch can go together, right?”

“I think it's a great pairing.”

A smile lingered on Tommy's face. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke to someone so openly. “Penny?”

“I'm here.”

“Would you stay on the phone with me until Christmas is over?”

“Honey,” she answered, Tommy softening at the name, “I can honestly say there's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

Penny stayed on the phone with him until 12:01. She was willing to stay on the line longer, but by the time Tommy had watched the clock strike midnight, he was ready to go to bed.

He felt better. A little lighter than he had in a while.

He'd been in bed for about fifteen minutes, and was just dozing off when his phone buzzed.

It was Captain Marks.

The man from the house fire died on the operating table.

I know you wanted to save him, Tommy.

Unfortunately we can't save them all.

Tommy stared at the texts for a good ten minutes before switching over to the phone app and dialing 988 again.

[arandomao3user]

As an Ao3 author, I love giving headcanons that'd probably anger a certain side of the Batman fandom, but I personally don't care because it makes great angst and, again, I'm an Ao3 author and chronically ill!

First up! Dick Grayson, I like the idea of him having ADHD, of course, BUT... joint hypermobility syndrome.

(Joint Hypermobility Syndrome: Joint hypermobility syndrome is a connective tissue disorder. Thick bands of tissue (ligaments) hold your joints together and keep them from moving too much or too far out of range. In people with joint hypermobility syndrome, those ligaments are loose or weak. If you have joints that are more flexible than normal and it causes you pain, you may have joint hypermobility syndrome.)

Chronic pain fits him, don't ask, because as the eldest child with chronic pain and hypermobiltiy syndrome, trust, he has that look in his eye that he's been walking on swollen knees for the past twelve hours, had three mental breakdowns, and is still pushing through because SOMEBODY has to deal with this bull.

That's also the reason he wears freakin' spandex-- only, it's for compression! He wears compression items to help with swelling and pain TRUST, and let me have this because the math maths (it probably doesn't, but let me have this.)

He's got chronic fatigue, he's gotten used to popping dislocated joints back into place, Bruce was so confused how he dislocated and sprained so many bones so quickly when out as Robin. It's genetic, of course, Bruce finds. But he has money, and Dick powers through it all! Till he develops arthritis in his early thirties/ late twenties and actually hates everything because WHAT AND WHY--

---

Next up! JASON TODD! I have no proof, evidence, and it doesn't have to make sense but I like giving him asthma sometimes for the angst potential of if he didn't have it, he wouldn't have died in the explosion.

He didn't die from said explosion, nor JUST the smoke inhalation, but because he had an asthma attack, on the ground, bones broken, unable to breath because his inhaler did NOT survive the blast, if he even had it on him.

And that's why he wears helmet with so, so many filters in it now...

Also, being a street kid who struggles to even get his medication that keeps him alive? Peak angst, being to poor to afford your medication because the American healthcare system is actually trashy garbage.

R.I.P. Jason Todd, you would've loved clean air--

---

ANEMIC TIM DRAKE! But I up you, Tim Drake with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS)

(POTS: Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes your heart to beat faster than normal when you transition from sitting or lying down to standing up. It’s a type of orthostatic intolerance.)

Read ONE SINGLE FIC/ SERIES with this and I've loved it since because what do you mean he randomly falls asleep anywhere? No, forget your canon, he passed out and people think he just fell asleep... NOpe, he passed out, sorry random lady he was on a date with!

(The majority of people are AFAM but we aren't ready for my trans Tim headcanons yet either.)

(You’re at a higher risk of developing POTS after experiencing the following stressors:

Significant illnesses, such as viral illnesses like mononucleosis or serious infections.

Physical trauma, such as a head injury.)

Ngl, my dude gets a LOT of physical trauma (and mental--) also, losing a spleen? Surgery and at risk of viral illnesses? I'm sorry, but I need him to suffer more because I like when Tim Drake suffers horribly.

Now, despite having this condition, I am no expert, but also his caffiene/ energy drink addiction is from chronic fatigue, he shouldn't drink it, it's not healthy or good for him, but he stopped caring between the spleen loss and whatever the "Drake" run he did was because what even was that name?--

---

Damian is autistic and I will DIE ON THAT HILL--

No, I won't explain and you can't make me.

---

[lazy-active-me]

This is what’ve had planned as a gift after I propose. Since the day where we said ok this is it, since the day where I thought you were the person I want to marry one day. It would have been this year, that I would have saved enough… it would have been next year when we went to aegypt(which would have been your birthday present… for you to dive… and when you come out of the water I would have stood there with a self made ring out of silver threads woven together… I would have a suit on, with a fine shirt. Pants wet shoes standing on the shore. And hoping you would see me when you get out of the water… hoping that you would see all my love for you. But this dream of mine fell short. Even though i held on to it… for so long… even though i felt that sth was going on for a while already. And when i found that text i had to ask that question. When you said everything is fine, but still things where happening…. I knew it was going to be over… my dream was sth I would have fought for my dream being, my only wish, to live through the highs and lows with you, grow and face things together. Which was my only wish, one of the few things that made me forget about my old one, of wanting to die… for I felt like there was nth here for me… it is not your fault that my wish to leave this place is stronger than ever before… it is my fault for letting go and loving you despite all the things happening in my life before. It is my fault for not being able to unlove you. And all I wished for underneath those shooting stars, they were dreams for you. I hope they will come true. Even though it seems now, like I won’t be in them, with you.

[rosy-crow]

not enough people are reveling in the horrors that is sephiroth having SEVERE CPTSD!!

HGGFJFHF YEAH

Also, on a few lists, “hyper-vigilance” was a symptom…which….bruh

I watched a documentary about kids with CPTSD and also one on attachment disorders in infants after maternal neglect a while ago, and basically, when they put well-adjusted kids in a room with each other and some adults, it was all smiles, trust, camaraderie, play, fun, etc.. Those babies were bright and looking at the adults all the time! They bonded really easily.

But the kids with either the attachment disorder or the CPTSD just sat there looking on high alert. They didn’t sleep or rest, they didn’t trust the adults. They looked anxious and they were babies :(

The kids with the maternal neglect issues were known to look around the room and at the doors like they were waiting for someone. Waiting for someone to come back. It made me cry at the time, dude.

Anyway, Sephiroth first reminded me of the kids with the attachment disorders when I was going through OG and he seemed like he was looking for…something. When he found Jenova, I was like…”OH! WAIT IS THIS MOTHER THING DELIBERATE…”

And when I got to Lucrecia, as soon as she said “I never even got to hold him,” it all clicked. That explained a LOT 💀

I could not find hardly any analysis videos or forums on him (outside of tumblr) that even bothered to mention it. It’s hopefully gonna change with FS!

But what’s also becoming more blatant aside from the attachment disorder is the CPTSD, I agree. He showed up in episode 1 already a mess around the adults, not sure how to interact after isolation, really apologetic when he messed up and he wilted whenever Glenn yelled. Then we had that whole speech he gave when they confronted him about his ruthlessness and he basically gave away that he was trained to be afraid as a warrior. Deathly fearful, paranoid and reactive on the battlefield even with children and elderly because he believed he’d surely die if he hesitated or showed any compassion.

That basically means they beat fear into his head for a long time and put him in situations where he perfected the “kill or be killed” mindset.

(I’m so happy he does THIS with the Wutai troops as an adult though. HE LEARNED TO HESITATE AND OFFER HIS ENEMIES A CHANCE BEFORE JUST GOING FOR THE KILL SJDHDH)

But as for his younger self, what kid would be trained like that (especially by fucking Hojo) and not develop all of the exact traits Sephiroth has in these stories, honestly…I can’t even imagine.

He has the other symptoms of CPTSD too. He feels disconnected and different, he has serious issues with engaging or starting relationships, he dehumanizes himself, he speaks like the world is hopeless and HIS life is worthless outside of his missions, and he is apparently gonna say to Angeal something about them not being able to understand each other because of how they were raised….which fits with the “feeling like nobody can understand you” symptom.

Ugh. This seems to be a big part of what he has and it’s at its worst right now in episode 2 because now it’s not just the isolated war machine childhood + the Hojo horrors fucking him up, but we got everything that happened in Rhadore too.

I mean yeah, no WONDER this kid is closed off and falling into the Alissa/Jenova/Masamune trap or whatever. I bet he’s gonna have a mini Nibelheim or some kind of breakdown, and my hopes are in Angeal’s intervention. If anyone can get through to Sephiroth, it’s him.

[andradrawsstuff]

An au I came up with bc I’m coping and I’ve seen too much sad stuff recently

The sacred timeline? Deadpool x Wolverine reference haha

Just a silly idea inspired by ep 7 that came to me out of nowhere bc I’m coping with how it ended and I’ve seen so many things that are rlly sad and I just want all my bbs to be happy so im gonna self-indulge for a bit

Also mostly from Zaun POV rather than Piltover

^ Quick sketch of 20-something Viktor adopted by Silco and Vander <3

- Silco gets the letter and him and Vander make up

- Young Viktor meets Silco instead of Synged and is adopted by Silco and Vander (parents are dead rip)

- Becomes an older brother figure to the kids, especially Powder and Ekko

- Vi doesn’t die in the explosion like in ep 7

- Powder dumps everything in the water, including the Hexcrystals

- Viktor’s interest is piqued and sneaks in to explore the building after the kids tell him what they saw in there

- Coincidentally meets Jayce trying to jump

- “Am I interrupting?”

- Jayce doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore after his work has been taken, but Viktor admires his genius and invites him to help in the undercity instead

- Jayce introduced to Silco and Vander as Viktor’s “friend” from topside who has nowhere else to go but wants to help out

- They’re skeptical at first, not knowing his intentions

- Jayce meets the kids and realises they are the ones who caused the explosion, but Viktor intervenes and tells them that they’re all here now so just accept it and move on - plus Jayce has nowhere else to go

- Jayce and Vi start connecting more (and become the disaster duo)

- Zaundads notice random things start getting fixed, an unintentional thing that Jayce does: he sees something broken and repurposes/fixes it

- But when he fixes things he usually leaves a trace of how it was broken (idk how to explain but the example when they don’t get rid of the cracks in the table but fill them with gold)

- Viktor notices and points to Jayce, making Silco and Vander more accepting of him

- They also notice how good he is with the kids and how close he and Viktor have gotten

- They participate in the innovators competition

After the time skip

- Piltover and Zaun are pretty much united

- Hextech never gets invented

- Jayce, Viktor, Silco, Ekko and Powder work together

- Jayce and Viktor are lab partners

- Jayce, Viktor and Silco help with medical research

- Ekko and Powder are Heimerdinger’s students at the academy

- Vi is a sort of authority figure in the undercity, with Vander teaching her how to run things

- Works with Sevika and helps her out

- Meanwhile Caitlyn is sent to investigate a case involving some criminals on the border between Piltover/Zaun

- Vi and Sevika go to investigate too

- Vi meets Caitlyn

- They start working together on the investigation as figureheads for their cities

- Vi takes Cait to the undercity to look for clues

- They run into Jayce, where him and Cait reunite

- Powder and Ekko participate in the innovators competition

Uhhh idk what next, I might add more at some point

Currently rlly busy with assignments so I don’t have time to write a whole fic but I’m jotting down ideas and I rlly wanna do some concept art for this idea 🙏

I might also do some headcannons soon ✨

[lostintransist]

Groundhog Day? I will grind that dog into the ground if I ever find the fucker

Reader gets stuck in a loop, has 4 days and 6 hours to convince them to help break the loop.

CW: Mentions of Johnny's canonical death

"The seventh hour is a liar."

You lay on the couch in the break room for the 141 tossing a cricket ball in the air before catching it. Predawn light filtered past the crack in the slat blinds. The light is not strong enough to catch the dust motes scenting the air.

It was nearly five am and Ghost had risen at his predictable time. You had stopped sleeping after the seven loop. You were experiancing groundhog day in all its fucked up "glory".

"What?"

He sounds confused, steps silent as he moves to peer down at you.

"When you and Johnny were talking on the comms trying to escape Mexico he made a joking agreement with you that if either of you were stuck in a time loop you would use the phrase 'the seventh hour is a liar' to tell the other about the loop." Cricket balls are hard, you are reminded of this as you jam your middle finger into the ball instead of catching it. It rolls away from you. Instead of sitting up to grab the escapee you nail Ghost with a blank but serious look. "In four days, thirteen hours, and," you lift your phone from your stomach and trigger the screen, "roughly seven minutes John "Soap" MacTavish will die by Markorov's bullet in his brain."

"And how the fuck do you know that?" He is still looking at you like you are crazy.

"At 0903 Captain Price will start a phone call with the phrase, "This is a secure line, who is this?" Soap is going to trip as he comes through the door at 0614 this morning as you sit next to me on the couch. Gaz is going to sneeze four times in a row at 0853. You will say bless you twice followed by two repeated fuck yous. Your mum joked that any more than two sneezes meant the devil could take your soul and no more blessings would help."

The place skin around his eyes and brows blanche. Ghost does not talk about his family, ever. You knew it was right thing to say though to prove the point. He had told you the last four times you convinced him that if he forgot to tell him that fact. Ghost would only remember the loop until you died though.

"You will believe me by 0930, and then we can talk about how to save him because I can't keep living this stretch of time. Not even death will keep me," your voice cracks on your last word.

He stares through you as he processes your words.

"Okay. Tell me everything," he commands, voice gruff.

Sitting up with a sigh you run a hand over your hair.

"Nice try, you can walk me to medical for an eval after 0930. That happened the first time I tried to tell you."

The silence became charged. Ghost was your commanding officer but he was also a man who did not like to be predictable. Ruined the brand.

"What now then?"

Standing you flick on your flashlight and start to look for your ball.

"Now? We wait until you believe me."

Should I do more with this? Probably.

Masterlist