#and his personal self discovery

[4giorno]

oh my lord, eddies texas arc isnt done yet

[azularedemptionarcwhen]

one day, Zuko is going to discover Sokka’s stash of Blue Spirit fanfic written when he was 16yo and titled things like “Stuck in an island with the Blue Spirit” and on that day, Sokka will have to murder him

[nixthelapin]

A Jekyll&Hyde type akuma whose power is to bring out a hidden or repressed part of your personality (but like, making two of you instead of switching in one body), and when Chat gets hit suddenly there’s both “normal” Chat (I’ll get to that in a sec) and Cat Walker/Patte de Velours at the same time.

(Cue Ladybug freaking out upon learning they’re the same person)

“Normal” Chat looks the same, but is just a bit more intense (since this is Adrien’s way of “letting loose” to not be how he is as a civilian, he’s not too different, but because of the split he does lose some usual traits). I.e. *heavily* flirting with LB, going at it with the puns, more agressive and impulsive with the akuma, doesnt like following orders (especially with the remaining feelings of anger towards the partnership being put further into question as LB prefers CW), heart on his sleeve

Cat Walker is also not super different to the episode he was in, but is also more intense thanks to the akuma: all business- no nonsense, doesn’t laugh at jokes (even in a “I’ll laugh if you want” way, like in Kuroneko), cordial to LB, follows LB’s orders to a T (to the point of not making his own decisions in battle), calm and collected (almost emotionless, even with that plastered smile)

CN starts to hate CW as the fight goes on, because LB seems to prefer him (and she’s understandably getting annoyed with CN’s impulsivity). CN gets territorial, saying that he’s LB’s partner. CW: “then why did she replace you with me?” (Man, look at all the self hatred in Adrien’s psyche!)

So CN runs off and leaves them alone to fight the akuma. This ticks LB off even more, but she has an akuma to deal with- and she has CW- so she lets him go.

As the fight goes on, some of the same issues from Kuroneko occur, so she also gets frustrated with CW too.

Since he’s acting more extreme than normal (more like someone awaiting orders than a partner due to the Jekyll&Hyde thing), it causes more problems (like him waiting for her decisions leaving openings where he could’ve done something proactive)

She actually blows up at him, asking why he didn’t do anything (“I was waiting for you to tell me the plan!”), and she says he should be able to think on his own, he doesn’t need her to tell him everything, but- “I thought I was just being what you wanted.”

(He’s shocked and genuinely hurt- though it’s still pretty quiet emotion, subdued and apologetic)

And that’s when it clicks for her what becoming CW was back in Kuroneko. He was molding himself for her. And this version of CW is even more of that. She realizes just how much CN suppresses, not just for her, but for everyone- why else would this be a major aspect of his personality?

(Also, Patte de Velours? Velvet Paw? That’s basically saying he’s been declawed. Yikes.)

She makes CN get his butt back to the fight (or she finds him- he may have been doing something while away like talking with someone, maybe Alya or Nino, or Luka). CN and CW argue more, with insults. Then she goes on a whole rant/lecture to them about how important they both are, both to her and to each other, how they are one person, and their traits are both important, but each extreme is not great. Ex: instinct/impulse and service/obedience (the key is self control, so that your emotions aren’t controlling you, but neither is another person). He is allowed to be both! Neither personality is bad, and hating one is just hating himself- he can’t just reject a fundamental part of himself.

She makes them agree to work together to defeat the akuma. It’s awkward at first, but they get a rhythm by seeing where each one is needed in the plan (LB does still do that, but how they follow is more fluid now). Two cataclysms now! Yay! (Maybe they used their powers already and have to de transform, and they see themselves as Adrien- the same one, not different, and it gets through their skulls. Idk I’m spitballing).

They have a quick talk between the two about accepting each other, it won’t be easy, I’m nervous, we’ll be okay (“yeah, I think we will :)”), etc.

Ends with them combining back with the ladybug cure. Surprise! His outfit is combined too! (Honestly, I just want the ponytail with the fluffy hair)

LB and CN have a talk after recharging about everything. CN apologizes for lying about CW and explains why and how he did it. LB didn’t realize how much he hid. She never meant for him to change or hate parts of himself. He thought she didn’t like the CN parts of him, but LB promises that isn’t true. She admits she did get… annoyed, but never hate! She loves both sides of him. Besides, CW didn’t work out that first time, remember? (Though she very much leaves out her intense crushing being the deciding factor there)

CN admits he feels more, well, not whole, exactly, he’s actually still pretty uncertain about what all this means for “who he is,” but… he can at least say he feels less like he has to perform all the time. He loves being Chat Noir, but he is exaggerating a bit when he transforms, in part to be not like his civilian life. He tells her he’s not like that as a civilian, but he’s also not like Cat Walker. But he’s not really sure who “he” is yet. (What I’m getting at is Oblivio!Adrien- dorky, but not over the top, in love, trusts his lady to make the plan, but is still proactive, etc.)

LB says that’s okay, he doesn’t have to figure it out right away. But she’ll be there to help him figure it out.

END

[laststandx3]

There are many bad things about wish, but one of the most annoying is how it fails to pay off its own set ups.

It's established Asha's father believes in the magic from the stars. He died of an illness (never specified), that Asha's grandfather (her father's father) never got his wish granted in YEARS, well now to me this feels targeted.

Follow my thoughts for a minute, how easy would have been with this already established set up to add the part where it's Magnifico who killed Asha's dad because he was promoting a different kind of magic that would undermine Magnifico's power? This would've established Magnifico as an actual villain from the start, manipulating people's perception of him with magic and the lengths he would go to keep his power and crown.

This would have impacted Asha's journey as well,instead of asking Magnifico to grant her grandfather's wish immediately (which imo is a good reason for him not to hire her, she literally asks for favoritism the moment she arrives), let her instead be perfect for the position, not clumsy and awkward but make her qualified and respectful of the king's secrecy about the wishes. And still she's still not hired. And then she starts questioning him, she's studied, she's ready and it's not enough and the king seemed to like her until she mentioned her father.

And then she talks with the people of rosa about the king, if that was unfair of him maybe , but the answer is that the king is good and kind and doesn't he grants everyone's wishes, isn't that so wonderful of him? (and maybe this can be a song) and at first it sounds like she just doesn't want to accept that she wasn't chosen but after the forth person answers the same exact thing, well then this starts to feel more like a script than an original thought. Just then she looks at all the wishes Magnifico's granted so far and they're all material, it's all about people owning bigger houses, better clothes, riches, nothing is about community, knowledge, about people becoming something(musicians, teachers, scientists, artists...) . The guy that got his wish granted last year also got it granted a few years ago too, Isn't that weird? Some people never get their wishes and this guy twice? And also his wish was so selfish? He wanted a swimming pool! How in the best kingdom, with the best king, nobody wishes nice things for others? And isn't that weird that she and her friends used to make graffitis and jokes on the guards but when Sleepy gave away his wish at 18 suddenly he doesn't make jokes about Magnifico's beard anymore? He's so respectful of the rules now.

And idk maybe Asha doesn't just wish upon a star and everything is given to her. Maybe Magnifico's source of magic is Star and she frees it and that's why Star tags along. The magic of the starts was real, her father was right! Star knew her dad, he tried to save the magical pet but he was killed instead! Now it's not just about freedom and justice she wants revenge. And this is maybe when she fucks up because she was too reckless, she got discovered. Her friends/family are watching how she's getting arrested/executed for treason and that's SO UNFAIR such a cognitive dissonance it breaks Magnifico's brainwash spell.

Now a song about revolution makes sense. But singing about revolution bc they want to be able to wish? Are you kidding me? Not only the movie established that you can have new wishes and that they make you whole again, but also girl, you all read the terms of services when giving Magnifico your wish. You give it to him and if he finds it worth it, it'll be granted. Making questions about the king choices is the opposite of living under a monarchy.

Ultimately I agree with everyone who says this movie feels empty, because it's true, it's a bunch of disney trope stitched together with easter eggs that don't makes us feel anything and that contradicts its own message. The fact that disney doesn't want to make grey characters anymore it's felt. And it mirrors the way people have started to see enjoying stories as media consumption, everything that alludes to people being flawed is an endorsement of abuse. So disney's characters have all turned is these empty shells of heroine tropes. They're always bubbly, their worst flaw is being clumsy, but the worst is that they're always right. Asha's quest to free the wishes is based only on her conviction that the king is wrong in not granting everyone's wish. It's never even hinted in the movie that the subjects of rosa lack something. It's a fairy-tale kingdom in every aspect (maybe the king is a bit egocentric but that hasn't hurt anyone so far), except that her grandpa's wish wasn't granted and so the king must be wrong. If it wasn't for Magnifico's long exposition of I don't accept criticism she wouldn't have questioned him. And even then, that's what living in a kingdom means, that you follow the king's rules. I'm sorry but singing about revolution and then ending the movie still under a monarchy is just contradictory with the whole premise.

[amelikos]

Exchange between Lucius and Gibeon in the most recent trailer.

[faefaye]

Imagine waking up from a long sleep and regaining your memories just because of the cascade of letters awaiting you. Imagine reading and remembering your student and friend, the only person who knows your struggles, who wrote all these letters that are here for you, who went through so much hardship and pain in places you couldn't see and must read between the lines to even know.

You are an angel, one of the strongest existences in the world, and yet the other has gone far beyond you, to somewhere you can't ever reach. The only thing you can do is write to him as he did to you, so that when he returns, he would not forget the person he is at heart. Until that day, you wait. Hoping for the best, but never knowing when or even if he'll return.

(thinking of their relationship again and i want to die)

[lunarcrown]

Talking about pairs? Hear me out: Zedaph/Tango/Impulse/Skizz :> also question if Atlas ever were to get into a relationship who do you think would it be? (he probably sees no use to relationships unless he can exploid the other person smh but it's still an interesting thought)

YESSS ok this is why I need to make a Zed design soon as well bc he is so unhinged and I need to draw this squad and ZANY ADVENTURE

Oh man ATLAS DHHD idk if anyone could STAND his ass but hels is full of surprises I’m sure 😂 his “started from the bottom, oh shit I’m back at the bottom but I’m pretending it’s not actually bad” brand of energy and new gold tooth probably are attractive to SOMEONE.

His first and most fierce love is The Grind/the social Climb and Science (by any means), but besides that he probably appreciates big strong individuals who radiate leadership and power. Unfortunately I think eventually his “I can do it better” itch would make him try and one up whoever he was with, thus dooming them HAHA

[evil-mcytblrconfessions]

has the dsmp been dead long enough to admit that i didn't understand why the transfem c!tommy headcanon was so popular? I don't mind it of course, transfems are lovely, and hc what you want, but most, if not all the people i saw headcanoning this took all the c!tommy away from c!tommy, and only kept his appearance.

All this to say, idm transfem c!tommy, but i don't understand why it was so popular

.

[add1ctedt0you]

What's your version of Jiang Cheng Gives Up? *chinhands*

Hiii! My version of jc gives up is very boring: he gives up on wwx and their shared past and moves on.

An overexposure to yunmeng bros reconciliations has brought me to one conclusion: I don't necessarily need them to reconcile. (Not because: 'jc/wwx is so toxic!' or 'jc/wwx deserves better than that selfish asshole!'. Like, I always roll my eyes. They are two horrible human - fictional- beings who deserve each other!).

But imo, post-canon jc has two priorities:

Jin ling

Himself

First point: he needs to be there for jl. Not only politically! But emotionally too. jl is going through a rough time jc too experienced: a loved ones betrayal. jc knows what it does to you. And listen, one of the things I love about jc is how he is trying his best. Always. In particular when it comes to people he loves. ('but he did a lot of things wrong', thank fuck! He is a traumatized character who behaves like a traumatized character. This scene explains so much about jc imo: jc knows that not having an adult in your life who believes in you is shit. So he tries to give space - in his way- to jl, while fighting his urge to protect him, because the last time every one of his family member was on a battlefield, they died.) So yeah, he is going to try being there for jl, in his imperfect way. And that brings me to point two.

jc has to recalibrate himself, to be there for jl: what he thought were truths, are revealed to be lies. All his life was a lie.

That's my favorite jc's speech. It's visceral, it's painfully honest. He is literally saying to us his state of mind: he is feeling guilty, wronged and confused.

'who am I?' hits hard, because who you are when you have built your life on lies?! Should he feel guilty?! wwx has made this huge sacrifice for him, but he has hurt him too: what should he feel?!

So, because I interpret jc as someone who overthinks, I want him to lose his mind over his doubts and start a journey of healing (or, what realistically someone without therapy can manage).

I want him to look at Lotus Pier, his home, and think: 'dang, what I have managed is incredible'. I what him to realize: 'what wwx made for me was an huge sacrifice, but my feelings are valid too'. I want him to be, not happy, but satisfied, when thinking about his life. And I don't need him and wwx to reconcile, because I like the bittersweet taste their broken relationship leaves in his mouth.

So, my jc gives up is: he learns to live with himself and jl, peacefully.

[ultrabananapudding]

[HoA Ramble] - How to "correctly" Genderbend Jason Kolchek ?

A thought popped into my mind regarding what would make the most sense for Genderbend!Jason to act like and now I'm unable to decide which character arc I like better.

In the game, Jason starts off acting like the most stereotypical American dude on planet earth. Exhibit A: He doesn't like getting emotionally vulnerable.

With that in mind, wouldn't it make more sense for Genderbend!Jason to retain the stereotypical image of an American, but only this time with female values on the forefront, so they could start growing from such a narrow mindset ?

When I do Genderbend Jason, I always go for the "Tomboy" route as that would have her retain Jason's canon brash personality and we get the same banter as we would do between the different characters in game, regardless of gender.

This is more of a ramble and maybe this kind of differentiation only makes sense to me, but now I'm wondering whether it is better to keep the character arc the same while Genderbending a character, or if it makes more sense to just keep them with the exact same personality traits they have from the game because ultimately they are the same character.

[light-wrath-paradise]

"Estrogen could have saved her" but it's "Testosterone could have saved him" and it's me talking about my and @dandelionsheep 's DA:I Inquisitor

[3gremlins]

omg mary kirby confirming that she intended lucanis* to be ace - between that and bg3's astarion (and my real actual partner), just cements my apparent fatal flaw of being a deeply horny not at all ace person who is constantly attracted to ace people first thing right out of the gate like "yes that one!!" like a cat that just wants only to sit on people who are deeply allergic to it XD (i'm so sorry you guys T.T) *and maybe bellara too? my 2nd romance plan lol

[hazbinbabbling4ever]

I've had to zoom pages since I was 14, so basically since my parents started giving me access to the internet (back when a child left alone on the internet was considered pure madness)... So yeah, mostly my getting older has meant I gravitate towards fandoms that reflect my age. HP had me in his clutches until I ended school, then it was Sherlock bbc and its edge-lord smart-ass allure, then the quiet Hobbit fandom, now middle aged men falling in love fandoms (OFMD and Gomens).

Yknow, when you keep insisting that adults can’t enjoy fandom or play video games or what cartoons or whatever, it’s other young people that you’re hurting the most. Because the most you’ll do to adults is offend or annoy them with that nonsense, but when you plant that idea in a kid’s head, they grow older with the horrible dread looming over them that the things that bring them happiness and comfort have an expiration date. When I was a young adult, I was genuinely depressed about the thought of getting older because I thought I couldn’t keep enjoying all my hobbies, like I had to give up everything I enjoy once I reach [x] age.

And that is simply not true. It’s bullshit. But the harm is does to people is very real. Kids are so afraid of getting older, and one of the big fears is that their life will become painfully bland and boring once they hit adulthood, as if all adults do is work and pay taxes, possibly raise kids. No more fun, no whimsy, no playfulness, no joy.

Anyway, I’m 33 and I love video games and fanfiction and cartoons. If you tell me I’m too old for that stuff, I’ll roll my eyes and block you and go on with my day. But I will worry about the 17 year old who saw your post too and feels a sinking in their chest at the thought that they have to give up the stuff that makes them happy. THAT’S what bothers me.

[o4o41]

Instead of space-hero male-protagonist figure. Leo can like a frilly pink female who's strength lies in keeping positivity, hope and love.

And, like, oppossing and forbiding him to like that is not good. That female helped him discover himself, his identity plenty.

[pedroscurls]

stranded (one-shot)

summary: your car breaks down on the side of the road and a stranger decides to help you out... and you have no choice but to accept his help.

pairing: no outbreak/dark!joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT (18+ ONLY MDNI), DUBCON - please read at own risk / heed warnings!, stockholm syndrome, unprotected p in v, rough sex, manhandling, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, begging, creampie, joel ties you up, spanking, light choking, fingering, age gap (reader is in 30s, joel is in 50s), no use of y/n. word count: 5.1k a/n: and here's yet another story where i'm stepping out of my comfort zone. i've always wanted to write dark!joel, but felt like i couldn't do it justice... but then ali's (@pedgito) hosting a writing challenge (spring fever) and i figured... why not? i chose backwoods horror #1 STRANDED/SIDE OF THE ROAD. please heed the warnings, y'all. this is gonna be very dark and filthy, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's ok!

You had no idea what you were thinking—taking a solo cross country road trip after quitting your job. Maybe you thought that you’d find yourself, find some kind of purpose that was lacking in your life, but instead, you’re stranded on the side of the road. Gas empty, no cell service, and phone already on its last battery. 

This is where you’re going to die—you’re sure of it. It’s how all horror movies start and despite the sun still high in the sky, you’re increasingly getting worried about what could happen when night falls. You scream at the top of your lungs, the sound echoing through the vast empty void. 

God, no one would hear you scream for help if you were in real danger and that thought simply frightens you. Your friends had all but praised you for this trip—this journey to self-discovery and reflection. Your parents, on the other hand, had already been concerned when you said you would be alone on this trip. A woman, traveling the world by herself? Well, that’s just asking for trouble, they said. 

And now you understand their concern. You understand their fear about you traveling all alone because of where you are now—in the middle of fucking nowhere. You should have refilled your gas when you had the chance, should have charged your phone while you were driving. Should have, should have, should have. 

10%—your phone reads. You try to send a text to your parents, to send them your location, but every attempted text just comes back with the message in red text and an exclamation point next to it: NOT DELIVERED! You raise your phone in the sky, hoping that maybe you’ll get one bar of service, but no luck. 

The trip had been successful, up until this point. You were in Texas, that you were sure of. But where in Texas? You had no fucking clue. 

You lean against the side of your car—the sun glaring down at you and you can feel a thin sheet of sweat on the side of your neck. Why did you think this was even a good idea? Traveling cross country without a plan—how fucking naive. 

Your battery drains fast and your phone finally shuts off. You let out a quiet sigh of frustration and open the passenger door of your car to toss your useless phone inside. Just as you’re about to climb in, you hear a faint noise of a car engine. Suddenly, you feel hopeful—maybe you won’t die here after all.

The sudden excitement that you feel overpowers the possibility that what you’re doing is absolutely dangerous. You’re waving your arms in the air, trying to track down the person in the car who’s making their way in your direction. It’s possible that this person whose truck is slowing down as it nears you could very well be a serial killer, but what choice did you have? 

The truck pulls up behind your car and quickly, you run over to your savior. Your hero. 

“Hi. My car’s dead, my phone’s dead, and I just need a lift to the next gas station... Or any place where I can use a phone to give someone a call,” you blurt out, breathing heavily. 

He turns his head slightly in your direction—eyes gazing at your face, then down to your shoulders and the rest of your body that he can see from the driver’s side. You’re leaning against the opened window of the passenger side of the truck. You don’t belong here, he knows that for sure. 

“Next gas station is in the next town over,” he finally answers. 

“Could you give me a lift there? I can pay you. Let me just grab my things and—”

“No need,” he interrupts, voice low. “I’m headin’ in that direction anyway. Get in.”

You grin and Joel’s jaw ticks briefly. God, you’re beautiful and it’s truly been a long time since he’s been with—

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you laugh, climbing into his truck and interrupting his thoughts. 

Joel finally takes in the rest of your frame and can immediately feel his length stirring beneath his dark jeans. His hands grip the steering wheel to ease some pressure, but you’re still talking and you’re laughing and it shoots straight to the center of his pants. It must be his lucky day. 

“If I were to kill you, I don’t think I’d be confessing that, darlin’,” he answers—the corners of his lips lift slightly. Oh, you had no idea what you just got into by climbing into his truck. 

“Right,” you reply. “That’s a good point.” You look at him—taking note of his damp hair that’s slicked away from his face, his broad frame, salt and pepper patchy beard. You realize that he must be in his fifties, but you can’t help but notice how handsome he is. That’s a good sign, you think. He won’t hurt you. He’s going to drop you off in the next town and hopefully, you’ll be able to head back home in the morning. 

“I’m guessing you live around here?” you ask, feeling the truck move back onto the main street. You glance out the window, watching your car become smaller and smaller as Joel drives further away from it. 

“Yeah,” he answers. “Guessin’ you ain’t from around here.”

“That obvious?” 

He just nods. Joel needs to focus on the road ahead of him. He has to make it seem like he’s not a threat, like he’s not just about to take you directly to his home. His secluded home. 

You introduce yourself formally, telling him your name and turning your body to face him. “What’s your name?”

“Joel.”

“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?” you smile in his direction and Joel glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“Not much to say.”

“Well, how long is the drive to the next town? If you don’t have music, I’m gonna end up talking. I don’t usually like it when it’s too quiet on a drive and—”

“It’s about fifteen minutes,” he interrupts. “Radio is busted.” 

“So talking it is then.”

“No use in talkin’ if we ain’t gonna be seein’ each other after this.” 

“I guess you’re right,” you answer with a sigh. You try to remain quiet, fidgeting with your hands as you stare out the window. Every few seconds or so, you glance over at him and you can’t fully read his expression. He’s so stoic that there’s a part of you that feels like an inconvenience to him. Maybe he should have just kept on driving. 

“How long were you stranded for?” Joel asks. 

“About a couple of hours. Couldn’t get reception to call someone.”

“Yeah, phones don’t work out here.” Joel shrugs. “You eat anythin’ yet?” 

You shake your head. “Skipped breakfast this morning to get on the road.”

“My place is just a couple of minutes away,” Joel says. “I need to grab a few things. Got some food and water for you,” he offers. 

You smile and reach out to rest a hand on his forearm. It’s an innocent gesture, but it makes Joel shift in the driver’s seat. Your touch is so soft, so gentle and he flexes his arm underneath your fingertips. “You’re sweet, Joel. That sounds great. I am starving.” 

Joel bites back a smirk. He’s got you right where he wants you. 

Your hand drops from his arm and there’s a subtle frown that settles on his lips before he pulls off the main road. Within minutes, Joel pulls up to his secluded home. When he shuts off the car, he looks over at you and you’re still smiling. 

“This is a cute place, Joel,” you tell him, climbing out of the truck. 

He follows you and rounds the truck until he’s standing behind you. His fingers itch to reach out to touch you—especially when you raise your arms over your head to stretch, the ends of your shirt lifting just above the waistband of your denim shorts. He wants to touch every inch of you and he lets out a quiet grunt when you accidentally fall back against him. 

“Sorry,” you say, looking over at him from over your shoulder. 

“S’fine,” Joel mumbles and then walks past you to walk towards his front door. He unlocks it and opens it for you, watching you step across the threshold as you look around with curiosity. 

“It’s very dark in here,” you point out, walking further into his home. You see a light switch on the wall and flip it on, illuminating his entire home. Surprisingly, Joel’s large hand encompasses your wrist in a tight grip. You let out a quiet gasp and turn around to look up at him—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. 

“You always like to make yourself comfortable in a stranger’s home?” he asks with a threatening tone. 

“S–sorry,” you whisper, trying to pull your wrist away from his grip but he doesn’t budge. His grip just tightens. “Joel, you’re hurting me.”

“Pretty little thing,” he mumbles, stepping closer to you. “It’s like you were waitin’ f’me out there,” Joel says quietly. 

“Joel—”

“Shh.” Joel brings a finger up to your lips and his eyes drift down, moving his thumb to brush against you. “Shh, baby.” 

“I think I want to leave now,” you answer. “I think I just want to head into town and—”

“Oh darlin’,” he grins. “Ain’t no town for at least another fifty or some miles.” 

“B–But you said—”

“Guilty,” Joel interrupts, turning you so that your back presses against the wall. He cages you in, hand still gripping your wrist as the other comes up to rest gently over your throat. “M’sorry I lied to ya.” 

Your eyes widen in horror, the realization finally hitting you like a freight train. You had spent most of the drive admiring him—his broad frame, his quiet and mysterious nature, his large hands that gripped the steering wheel, his husky southern accent—that you ignored the feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

This was a bad idea. 

Getting into his truck was a bad fucking idea. 

“I just want to go home,” you whisper. “Please just let me go home and—”

“Shh,” he repeats. Joel steps closer to you, his nose brushing against your own. “Gonna keep you here all to myself. Been a while since I had a little plaything like yourself.” 

You shake your head. “Please, I’ll give you all the money I have back in my car.”

“Don’t want your money. Want you.” 

“Joel—”

“Love the way my name comes out of your mouth, darlin’. Say it again.”

You shake your head, closing your mouth shut. You know you’re in danger, but you’re not sure why you feel a familiar wetness pool between your legs. Your body is responding to him—to this stranger… this handsome fucking stranger who can easily strangle you if he wanted to. 

“Say. It. Again,” he repeats.

“Joel,” you whisper. 

“Good girl,” Joel grins proudly. He drops his hand from your throat and releases his grip around your wrist. He stares into your eyes, searching for any hesitation or any inclination that you’re going to run and leave. He sees your eyes flicker to the front door and he narrows his eyes—his large hand once more coming up to splay against your throat. Joel applies just a bit of pressure and he watches your eyes go wide again. “Wouldn’t think about it, if I were you.” 

You beg with your eyes—apologetic and pleading for him to just let you go. “I’ll be good,” you mumble against his grip. “I promise. I–I’ll be good.”

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun,” Joel nods, releasing his grip around your throat. “And I bet if I were to reach between your legs, I’d feel just how fuckin’ wet you are f’me, won’t I?”

You shake your head in defiance. “N–No…” 

Joel lets out a chuckle. “Mmm, that so?” He tugs on the waistband of your denim shorts and pulls you to him. He’s so rough and there’s an excitement that courses through your veins. He tugs down your shorts and panties down your legs, looking down at your white lacy thong with a grin. He can see a blotch of wetness and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply as he lets out a contented sigh. “I bet you taste fuckin’ good too,” he whispers. 

You suddenly feel self-conscious and your hands immediately move to try and tug down the end of your shirt to cover your lower half. Joel just shakes his head and grabs your wrists to pin them above your head against the wall. You squirm against his grip and he kicks your legs apart, stepping in front of you to keep them spread open. His free hand comes down and immediately runs the pads of his fingers across the length of your sex—your body betrays you because you let out a quiet whimper as you arch your back against his touch. 

“Wet,” he points out. “You like this, don’t you?” 

You shake your head. 

“Liar,” he chuckles. Joel wastes no time in sliding two of his thick fingers past your folds—your warm, tight, and so fucking wet that a large grin spreads across his lips. 

You squirm against him at the sudden and rough intrusion, eyes gazing up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust and more than likely sinister thoughts, but you can’t help but notice his grin and the cute fucking dimple that appears on his cheek. You shouldn’t like this, but your body is yearning for more. Yearning for him. 

Joel’s thick fingers plunge into you repeatedly—his other hand gripping your wrists so tight above your head that you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You shut your eyes tightly, keeping your lips in a thin line and forcing yourself to stay quiet because you know that if you make a sound, it’s only going to fuel him further. 

His eyes stare deeply at you and you’re so wet that Joel’s fingers pump into you with ease. He can see you struggling against his grip and he leans closer, lips near your ear as he whispers huskily. “Lemme hear you, baby.” 

You shake your head in defiance, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. You suck in a breath when his thumb brushes against your clit and a quiet—almost inaudible—moan escapes your lips. 

“Ah, darlin’,” Joel grins, gently nipping at your earlobe. His grip around your wrists loosen just slightly and he’s distracted, yearning to pull more sounds out of you and it gives you just the right moment to push him away. You miss his fingers immediately, a loud squelch echoing the walls when his fingers slip out of you. 

With as much strength as you can muster, you shove him so hard that he stumbles backwards with a grunt. You look around haphazardly, eyes wide, heart beating out of your chest. You’re very well aware that your lower half is bare, but you think maybe you can make a run for it—you just need to grab his keys, run out the door into his truck and drive away. 

You glance over your shoulder and Joel chuckles. He fucking laughs at your poor attempt at running away because he takes three strides in your direction and takes a fistful of your hair. You let out a loud yelp and he’s already quick to bend you over the back of his couch—the edge of it digging into your lower abdomen.

You’re already trying to squirm away, but his grip in your hair tightens and pain rushes through you. You’re about to beg him to stop, to beg him to let you go, but you feel his free hand connect with your backside. The slap reverberates through your entire being and the sound of his hand coming in contact with your ass echoes through his quiet home. 

“You just got here, baby,” he growls—he doesn’t let up, your skin already reddening with each spank. “You can’t leave me yet.”

“I–I–” you mumble and your body reacts automatically, pushing back into him. “Please!” 

“M’gonna have to tie you up, I think,” Joel grins. “Just to make sure you don’t pull that shit again.”

Your ass is beginning to sting and you try to scramble away, but Joel pulls you upright against him. His large hands move to your hips, fingertips digging into you as he uses your body to rub his bulge against you. 

“I think you’re gonna feel real good around me,” he whispers into your hair, hand sliding over your abdomen and down between your legs. “You’re actin’ like you ain’t enjoyin’ this, but you’re so fuckin’ wet f’me.” 

He begins to circle your clit with the pads of his fingers and it causes your back to arch against him, hands darting out to rest on the edge of the couch. A loud moan finally escapes your lips and Joel lets out a low growl at the sound—he wants to hear more of it, craves more of it. 

“From the way you’re squirmin’,” he continues, “Makes me wonder if you’ve been neglected.” 

You shake your head—lying.  

“Oh? Got a boyfriend back home, hm?” 

You shake your head again.

“Poor little thing,” Joel mumbles, head dipping down to the side of your neck as he presses his soft lips against you. It causes a shiver to run through you—his soft lips and his rough beard. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m here now. I’ll take care of ya.”

You’re an absolute mess by the time Joel’s done with you. You’re lying on his mattress, hands bound by rope and attached to the headboard. You’re completely bare for him and he’s brought you to the edge of orgasm too many times to count that you’re practically begging for some release. 

His hands are surprisingly gentle when he settles himself back between your legs and it causes you to flinch. His fingertips brush against your hardened nipples, dark bruises already forming around it from his love bites—he liked to call it. 

“You’re soakin’ my sheets, honey,” he grins. 

“Then let me fucking come!” you retaliate with a huff. Your eyes go wide the minute it leaves your mouth and you’re already trying to scramble away from him, despite being all tied up. 

Joel laughs again. “You’re cute when you’re angry, baby… but let’s not forget who’s in charge here.” 

He finally pulls the ends of his shirt over his head and you lift your own head off the pillow to get a good look at him. There’s no way this fucking man is in his fifties—you shake your head of the thoughts that begin to fill your mind. He has you here held captive and you’re sure that he’s going to kill you once he’s gotten what he needed. 

But you can’t help it. 

Joel’s fucking gorgeous. 

Is this what Stockholm syndrome is? Attracted to your captor? Whatever the fuck it is, you’re squirming impatiently. There’s a dull throb between your legs, an ache, a need for him to give you what you need. 

And he smiles. The same fucking dimple that appeared earlier that day is now in full display because Joel knows he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“Gonna be a good girl f’me? No more fightin’ back?” Joel begins, reaching down to tug his boxers down his strong legs. Once the fabric is gone from his body, your eyes widen once more at the sheer size of him. Girthy. Leaking at the tip. You’re not sure if it’d fit inside of you and Joel notices a flicker of uncertainty flash across your features. “We’ll make it fit, baby. Don’t you worry.”

You whimper quietly in response, feeling him brush his rounded tip against your opening. You try to wiggle your hips down, yearning for more, but he just pulls back and shakes his head. 

“Please,” you plead. You bat your eyes at him, gazing at him under the rim of your eyelashes. It’s a poor attempt at begging, at looking innocent because you look anything but that. 

Joel just lets a small smile line his lips before he pulls away and mounts your upper half. You clear your throat—the size of him this close almost threatening. 

“Don’t be gettin’ shy on me now,” he growls lowly. “Been pleasuring you for a while now, so it’s only fair that you return the favor.” 

“I–I haven’t come yet. Please just let me come and I’ll do anything—”

Joel clicks his tongue and runs the tip of his manhood across your mouth, smirking at the sight of his precome now on your lips. “You ain’t the one in charge here.” He pushes his tip past your lips and lets out a low groan. One hand moves to grip the headboard ahead of him as his other hand keeps a steady grip around the base of his length. “Open wider f’me,” he whispers. 

You have no choice but to obey—parting your lips wider and feeling more of his manhood slide into your mouth. You can feel the corners of your mouth stretch due to his girth. It isn’t long before he pushes further into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat and you gag almost instantly. Tears sting your eyes and he only gives you a few seconds to breathe before he pushes back into you. 

You squeeze your legs together, trying to alleviate some pressure that has been building and building between your legs and the pit of your stomach. You glance up in his direction only to see Joel with his head tilted back, chest and neck exposed, and his eyes completely shut. A quiet groan escapes his lips as he begins to move his hips forward and backward—you swirl your tongue around him, hollow your cheeks and it causes him to moan loudly. 

And fuck, it’s a beautiful sound to come out of him. 

He’s moaning. He’s deep in his own pleasure. 

And it’s all because of you. 

By the time he pulls out of your mouth, Joel’s eyes snap open to look down at you. Lips swollen, tears streaking down the corner of your eyes. You’re so distracted by your desire to come that you don’t realize what could possibly happen once he’s done with you. 

You’re going to die. 

Joel is going to fucking kill you. 

And this cross country road trip you had originally planned was a stupid fucking idea. 

Joel sees a look of fear flash across your features and it only makes him smile, makes his cock jerk at the sight of you. He moves down your body and settles himself between your legs again. 

“Gonna fill you up now,” Joel nods. “And you’re gonna lie there and take it like a good girl.” 

You nod. 

His hand comes up to grip your chin roughly, staring into your eyes. “Say it.” 

“I–I’ll be good. I’ll take it like a good girl and—”

Without warning, Joel pushes fully into you in one stroke. You feel your body jerk upwards at the sudden intrusion and you’re lucky that you’re so wet because while he slides in so easily, you can’t help but feel the painful stretch to give way to his size. Your hands try to wiggle out of the bondage, but the rope just digs further into your skin—it’s like he expertly tied you in a way that the more you struggle, the tighter it gets. 

Joel’s hand moves from your chin to cup your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple as he remains still for a moment. “Feel so good,” he whispers, head dipping lower to brush his nose against yours. He can hear you panting heavily, lips parted slightly. “Like you were made f’me.” 

Then, Joel pulls out to his tip only to slam himself back into you. He repeats this movement multiple times and your moans—the ones that you’ve tried so desperately to hold back—finally escape your lips and mix in with the sounds of his skin slapping against yours. 

The bed rocks against the wall—his thrusts are so rough and you’re sure that your entire body is going to ache for the next few days. 

That is if you’re still alive by then.  

One hand moves to your hip as the other moves to wrap around your neck. He applies a bit of pressure to cut off your oxygen and you gasp, eyes wide as you stare up at him. 

Begging. 

Pleading. 

Not for him to stop… 

…but for more. 

Joel grins at that and continues his thrusts, the sensation of your walls sliding along his length only urging him closer and closer to release. He can feel the tightness in the pit of his stomach begin to unravel and he pulls out, not yet wanting to be done with you. 

When Joel does pull out of you, he releases his grip around your throat and hears you take one deep breath. You’re breathing heavily and he looks between your legs—so fucking wet, so swollen and he taps your clit gently with the tip of his manhood only to see you squirm. 

You’re sensitive, he thinks to himself with a grin. 

“Joel,” you whisper. At this rate, you don’t care if you die. Having him bring you on the edge of an orgasm only to stop is worse, you’re sure of it. 

“Gonna keep you here forever,” Joel says with a dark gaze. “You’re mine now. You understand?” 

You clear your throat and nod slowly—anything to get him to make you come. “Y–Yes, yours.” 

“Doesn’t sound too convincing.” 

“Fuck, Joel! Please,” you beg. “I don’t care what you do to me, please just let me come…” 

Joel chuckles—dark, sinister. He leans down and lightly pecks your lips before he climbs off the bed to look at you from top to bottom. “Like I said, you ain’t the one in charge here.” 

Your eyes stare at him and you notice the way his manhood stands fully erect, glistening with your arousal. He follows your gaze and smirks, reaching down to tug on it. “This what you want?” 

You nod. “Please.” 

“So if I untie you, you gonna be a good girl and obey?” Joel contemplates, still stroking the base of his length. His hand doesn’t feel as good as being inside of you and he almost loses his resolve. 

But he doesn’t. 

Joel’s patient. 

“Y–Yes, please,” you plead once more. 

“Love hearin’ you beg, darlin’,” he grins. Joel slowly reaches over and begins to untie the rope around your wrists but he makes sure that his attention is focused on you. He needs to make sure that you’re not going to run again. 

Once the rope is finally undone, you roll your wrists and touch the bruises around it. You flinch and then look up at him—eyes still pleading. 

“One wrong move and I’m tyin’ you up again. You hear me?” Joel growls, seeing you move to sit up. You nod in agreement and he tugs on your ankle, pulling you to the edge of the bed with such force that you let you a quiet yelp. 

Joel flips you onto your abdomen and grabs your hips, lifting you up so that you’re now on all fours on his mattress. He comes up behind you and slides into you with warning—again. 

A loud moan escapes your lips and you fall forwards—cheek resting against his mattress, eyes fully shut tight, and your hands gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles turn white. 

“Feel even tighter this way,” Joel points out with a grunt. 

Your toes curl at his rough assault against you. It’s like he’s possessed, so territorial and so animalistic that his thrusts drive you further into the mattress. You wanted this, but you can’t help the pain that shoots through you at his size. Joel’s by far the biggest you’ve ever had and it wasn’t like you had a healthy sex life before this. 

“Fuck!” You scream, now trying to scramble away from him because it’s too much. He’s edged you for too long that you’re sure you can’t even get there—your body is humming and you can feel the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Joel knows. 

He laughs and grips your hips, pulling back onto him with such force that you arch your back. Joel grabs your arms and pins them at your lower back as he pulls your body forward and backward against him. He glances down and sees just how wet you are—the hair at his base completely damp from your arousal. 

“You wanted to come… then fuckin’ come,” Joel groans, pulling you up against his chest. He grunts into your ear as he keeps your arms pinned at your lower back. His other hand reaches around and dips lower to begin circling your clit against the pads of his fingertips. 

You moan so loud that it echoes throughout his home. Your head tilts back against his shoulder and he drags his teeth across the side of your neck—both your bodies now covered in a thin sheet of sweat. 

“J–Joel, I–,” a loud sob escapes your lips when you finally reach your orgasm. Your body shakes against his own and his thrusts don’t let up—still hammering into you from behind and using your slickness and tightened walls to bring himself closer to his own release. 

“Fuck,” he groans against you, releasing your arms and pinning you back onto the mattress. His hips sling against your own—Joel is literally fucking you into the mattress and you’re already so fucking sensitive that you try to move away. 

Fuck him. If he wanted to deny you of your orgasm, you can do the same to him. 

But it’s no use. Joel’s so much stronger and his large hands grip your hips so tightly that you feel pain from it. 

“S’cute,” he says in between thrusts. “Thinkin’ you can run away.” Joel grunts lowly, chasing his own orgasm. “Can promise you one thing, baby…” He slams into you once more and releases his warm seed into you—paints your tight and wet walls with his come. He leans forward, pushing further into you as his tip kisses your cervix. “You ain’t ever leavin’ me.” 

He presses soft kisses along your shoulder before he pulls out, watching with a smirk to see his come trickle out of you and down your legs. 

“You’re stranded, darlin’. Ain’t no one comin’ to save you,” Joel grins. “And I ain’t even done with you yet.”

[earthtooz]

x : LUST FOR LIFE *+ﾟ

in which: sunday discovers a new emotion when he's under you.

warnings: 1.5k words, sunday is B(h)ORNY and doesn't know how to deal with it, he wants reader so bad, lowkey implied switch!sunday, gn!reader being sunday's freak awakening, NO SMUT BUT UNDER 16 DNI, not edited

a/n: five likes and i'll write nsfw for sunday

What good is a leader who can’t empathise with the lives of the people he was supposed to be leading?

This thought has plagued Sunday ever since he exiled himself from Penacony, since he joined the Astral Express in a journey of self-discovery and reflection, embracing the Nameless lifestyle so he can broaden the horizons that Penacony had restricted. There, he was so detached from the reality of the people he was trying to help, so trapped in a whirlwind of his own ideals to experience humanity, too buried in official duties to rejoice in the many wonders of the universe, the simple pleasures and the grandiose ones.

Since boarding, the former head of the Oak Family has experienced humiliation, desperation, and many close calls with death. It seems he underestimated how easily trouble found the Trailblazers, and the diary he carries with him has been updated with multiple entries, filled with exasperated recounts that ended with him being grateful that he is still well and unscathed.

Sunday has also experienced laughter, connection, and the bond of humankind- something he did not have before. When he controlled the Oak Family, had everyone under or at his fingertips, the only person he could depend on was himself. When Robin left to travel the cosmos, what was he to do than learn the bitter truth of independence and self-sufficiency? 

Yet, he sits on the couches of the Astral Express and there is bound to be another by him, trying to converse with him like an old friend. He is mentioned in the conversations like an individual who they keep around because they want to, not because he is crafty, not because of what he can offer. No, he can’t offer anything right now, and the crew still wants him to stay.

He learns more about humanity with each passing day.

However, perhaps one of the more puzzling feelings Sunday has had to confront was… infatuation. 

It’s a tricky feeling. It sends his heart into overdrive and his limbs to become jelly, and at the epicentre of this hurricane of uncharted territory, is you. 

“Sunday?” Your voice comes through muffled from the other side of the door. He almost jumps off his mattress at the sound. 

“Door is open,” he responds as calmly as possible, heart thrumming alive at the sound of your voice, beating in time with the rapid succession of your knocks. 

The door slides open slowly to reveal you on the other side. “Pom Pom just wanted to let everyone know that we will be jumping soon.” 

“I see, thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” your gaze then flickers to the angels that flock around him and he watches as your eyes gleam with fascination.

Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, you enter his room and approach him, the door sliding closed without your weight to hold it open. You stop before him without a bow, without a formal greeting of ‘Mr. Sunday’- no, you stop before him like an equal, which you most certainly are. In fact, he would even think of himself below you, but Sunday needs to unlearn this assumption of hierarchy, needs to not let it define the relationships he forms, even if he looks up to you and finds you reverent. 

“Hey, I’ve never seen these little guys before!” You exclaim, sticking out a hand to act like a perch for the angel-like summons. One of them flits up to you and stays on your outstretched finger. “Well, not this close, at least.”

It keens at your praise. Like owner like summon, Sunday supposes.

“I don’t tend to bring them out. They are for combat purposes,” he explains. 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?” 

“What? No! That’s not it-”

“-I’m kidding, Sunday,” you snicker. “We’re friends, I wouldn’t want to fight you.”

“Right,” he exhales, “I wouldn’t want to fight you either.”

“Besides, we already did once.”

He freezes at the memory, remembers when he got hit with the exact train he is currently boarding. 

You, however, are unphased by the recollection, and even continue to rub salt in the wound. “I remember fighting against these little summons too, your owner was a real meanie, do you guys know that?” 

They flock around you, spinning and fluttering like little fireflies.  Instinctively, Sunday covers his flustered expression with his wings, and he doesn’t budge, even when he hears your laugh, the sound almost enough for him to melt into a puddle by your feet.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding, sorry if I took the joke too far.” 

He uncovers himself with an embarrassed sigh, not meeting your eyes. “It’s okay, I think the memory is just… humiliating, more than anything.”

“There are no more hard feelings. Everyone has accepted you on board and none of us think of you to be the same person you were when we first met, I promise.”

Your words are completely earnest, Sunday knows it, can feel it in the way you tell him so unabashedly. So who is he to deny it?

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up at you, “it means a lot to hear that.” 

“I’ll say it as much as you need. Well, I’ll get out of your hair now, just prepare for the jump-”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shriek when you lose your footing, and Sunday feels it too, the force so strong that even he, while sitting, feels as if is being stretched and pulled into a miniscule hole. What he also feels is your body colliding on top of his, and his hands come to your waist to catch you in an attempt to prevent you from slipping, but it’s not enough and he’s falling with you onto the expanse of his made bed.

The Express is warping to some expanse of the universe, and his stomach drops at the sensation, spreading to the ends of his nerves before disappearing, just replaced by the extremely odd feeling of being pulled through the stars. He just hopes you’re comfortable, standing up whilst warping is tough, he heard the stories of when Stelle first tried to do it and how she fell flat on her face. 

When the feeling of normality returns and Sunday doesn’t feel like he has been stretched out, he opens his eyes and tries to take in the sight before him.

You. Your face. Centimetres away from his.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but seeing you this close… perhaps just pretty is an understatement. His gaze unwillingly flicks to your lips and he wished he hadn’t because suddenly the urge to sit up and lick into your mouth is raging; a fire that can’t be contained. 

Sunday wants you to push him down by the shoulders, with no gentleness or mercy, and just… devour him whole. His hands want to find you by the hips and pull you into him more than humanly possible, he wants you to indent yourself onto him so he can remember your taste forever, so that, in a way, you couldn’t ever leave him. 

Alternatively, he would happily flip around and pin you against the mattress. He would pry you open, explore the cavern of your mouth with his tongue and suck your sacred essence out of you so that it can stay and settle in his bones instead, replacing where marrow should be. He wants to lay you vulnerable so his hands can explore places only you want him to touch, wants to take you so that you stay forever, wants to feel your tongue against his, wants to hold your face and feel how you react when he takes his time cherishing you, revering you. 

This feeling is too much, these thoughts are overpowering, yet nothing has ever been more clear. Sunday wants you, lusts for you, even, and he’s never felt so intensely for someone before. 

How would the symphonies sound when they learn of the atrocities he wants to perform? 

Temptation holds him close and infects him with a desire so strong, he’s practically frozen in place as you recover from the shock, holding yourself up with your arms that were on either side of his head. 

“Ow, I’m sorry!” You immediately exclaim, before realising exactly what position you are in, your chests are pressed together, and you’re mortified to think about how close you were before you picked yourself off him, and- his… his hips… are pressed against yours- okay, you needed to leave as soon as possible.

You scramble off him like he had burnt you, frantically shouting apologies whilst doing so, the words clumsy and rushed, but neither of you can deny how you miss the warmth that was suddenly ripped away. 

(If he wanted to, you could have stayed in that position with him.)

Then, before you could get anymore thoughts, you turn and practically bolt out of his room without another word, leaving a hot and bothered Sunday behind.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.