#and it has set my body into like fucking survival mode

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Cw: dissociation/depersonalization? Anxiety spirals and all that good stuff

I am having the worst experience right now. I don’t think I’ll be going to bed tonight because I have convinced myself that I’m going to die and everything feels so weird

[tightjeansjavi]

the feel of coldness only water brings

A/N: so this is the unplanned part two of this Joel drabble I wrote called wildflowers. I just woke up this morning to some lovely reblogs on it, thus inspiring this piece 🥺 oh, and I also thought of @beefrobeefcal and her beefy, fat! Joel fics that are so so good while I was writing this!

~word count: 1.6k~

Summary: you convince Joel to join you for a swim in a lake while on patrol despite his insecurities

Pairing | joel x f!reader

Warnings: implied smut, fluff, angst (so sorry) non specified age gap between Joel and the reader, body insecurities(Joel), self deprecating thoughts, real bodies, natural body changes with age etc, language, teasing, flirting, body appreciation/worship, peepaw!joel, grumpy!joel, sunshine reader, reader has no physical descriptions (outside of wearing a bra and panties) +18 minors dni!

Sweat beads and drips down from the base of his hairline and slowly seeps into the fabric of his shirt, staining the fabric naturally. His steel toed boots stop at the water's edge, soft ripples lapping at the worn leather with a soft audible swish. The lake is crystalline, and beneath the glass surface he sees a million different rocks, all shapes and sizes and textures. The mountain air is crisp, refreshing as he inhales deeply.

The high noon sun blinds his vision momentarily, but he welcomes it. The fabric of his shirt is beginning to grow itchy, scratching at his skin from the beading perspiration. He kicks a stray rock into water, watching as it sinks into the shallow depths.

“Joel.” Your voice carries over the water, your head and shoulders bobbing like a cork in the middle of the glistening lake. “You said it yourself, there’s no infected out here, and the water is so refreshing. Won’t you join me?”

His shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his shirt, his jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He squints, bringing his hand over his forehead to block out the blinding rays, “M’fine here, darlin.’” He chuffs out, “Besides, one of us has to be on alert.” He added, rationalizing his decision.

“Is it because you can’t swim?” It was a safe assumption to make.

He shook his head, kicking another rock with the toe of his boot. “It ain’t that.”

“Okay, so you can swim? Well, then what’s the issue? C’mon, baby. You’re practically sweating right through your shirt.” You said teasingly, hoping to see the corners of his permanent set frown quirk upwards, just for you.

“It’s silly.” He wavered, eyes casting downwards to his boots. “M’just—insecure s’all. Don’t want you to uh—see me like that.” He was never the best with communicating, but he tried with you, and that’s all you could ever really ask for.

“Joel, it’s not silly. If it makes you feel any better, you can keep your clothes on? It doesn’t matter to me because I think you're handsome, and your real body isn’t gonna suddenly make me stop feeling the way I do for you.” You reassured him with a soft smile.

“If I keep my clothes on m’gonna sink like a fuckin’ rock.” He forced out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with a huff. “Y’say that now…” he trailed off, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “But ‘m littered with scars, baby. Got grays on my chest and—m’barely fittin’ in my jeans these days. Should probably hold off on extra—”

“Joel.” You sighed, “I’m gonna stop you right there. Cause everything you just described to me?” You lifted your hands up from under the water in emphasis, “is a real fucking body. More importantly, it’s your body. You’re a healthy man, Joel. Your jeans ain’t fitting the same because you’re no longer in survival mode. You’re getting to indulge in a way that you weren’t able to in over 20 years. You're strong, but you're also soft in the right places.”

He doesn't believe you, of course. He would argue that it was because he had grown old and lazy like a house cat. You didn’t give him the chance, however.

“I love how soft and squishy your stomach is. You know why?”

He shook his head, feeling a flush creep up his neck and face,

“Because it acts as the perfect pillow for my head when we’re napping, and I love to grab onto your love handles when we’re cuddlin.’ Love to feel the way it presses into me when we hug. Or when you’re takin’ me from behind.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.” He scoffed.

“Am I?” You challenged him as you pulled yourself out of the water, dripping wet in just your flimsy pair of bra and panties.

“Don’t.” He warned you, taking a step to the side when you reached out to touch him. As if he was a frightened animal shying away. “M’jus’ a fat old man, darlin.’ Don’t gotta lie to me, sweetheart. I can accept the truth.” He was on the edge of snapping, nearly baring his teeth.

“Joel.” You said softly, “stop that. I ain’t have a reason to lie to you. Never have, never will.”

“You don’t have to protect my heart, darlin.’ S’okay. I ain’t deservin’ of your kindness. Don’t know why you even waste your time with a man like me—”

You looped your thumbs into the worn belt loops of his jeans and yanked him towards you swiftly despite his faint protests. “Would you shut up, please?”

Loose pebbles crunched beneath his heavy boots when you pulled him towards you and his hands naturally found your waist, big palms splayed across your damp skin. “Don’t you think you deserve yourself a real man? Someone who—isn’t like me?”

“You are a real man, Joel.” You gently remind him and slowly slip your thumbs from the belt loops of his jeans. “You’re beautiful, and I just wish you could see what I see.”

“Beautiful?” He scoffed, nose twitching when he felt your hands slowly slide up the expanse of his covered chest, “that ain’t me, sweetheart.” He rasped, tilting his chin downwards so he could watch your fingers gently toy with the buttons on his shirt.

“It is you, Joel. And one day you’ll wake up and realize it. And when that day comes, you’ll look in the mirror and tell yourself that you are beautiful, and you are loved, and you are deserving of kindness and softness for as long as Mother Nature lets me have you.”

He could feel himself slowly begin to cave from your words, tears pricking in the corner of his eyes, and he would claim that it was just from the blinding sun and the irritating sweat dripping from his brow. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you, darlin.’ Don’t think I’ll ever understand it. You could have your pick of men in Jackson, and you choose me?” He stifled a chuckle, dipping his chin down further so he could kiss the edge of your fingertips.

“You’re worth more than the whole damn bunch, Joel. Stubborn ass of a man, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Undress me.” He murmured, swallowing the lump rising in his throat, “M’yours.”

You smiled, dragging your thumb against his jaw and slowly tilted his chin upwards so your eyes could meet, “Remember, it’s just you and me out here. Nothin’ but miles and miles of wilderness.”

“Kiss me.” He whispered, tightening his grip around your hips, pulling you in closer.

Your lips brush, testing the waters before you fully kiss him. Tasting the sweat from his brow that had trickled down his lips. Soft, chapped, warm and familiar against your own.

Your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt open, exposing his skin to the warm rays from the sun. You pushed the strained fabric down his shoulders, letting the shirt fall to the pebbles below. You traced his scars with delicate movements, detaching your lips from his so you could follow the path your fingers created. You nipped at the softness of his bicep, pressing open mouthed kisses that trailed down his arm to his hand. You kissed each knuckle, each callous with your eyes staying locked on his.

You squeezed the soft plump flesh of his love handles, imagining yourself using them as an anchor when you would ride his cock in the early morning hours when neither of you could sleep.

You dragged your nose against the swell of his belly, feeling him tense up before melting into your touch like a pad of butter on a hot pan. You inhaled his musky scent, dragging your lips southwards through the dark hair of his happy trail, pressing a kiss there, too.

Your fingers moved in muscle memory as you undid his belt, tugging his too tight jeans over his hips and strong thighs, letting them pool at his ankles.

He watches your every move, brows furrowed together at the sight of you on your knees between his thighs. He hopes to god there is no danger lurking nearby. He wants this memory etched into his brain for the rest of his days.

He breathes out a strained puff of air from between his parted lips when you press the tip of your nose against the underside of his heavy cock, and the drag of your hot tongue through the strained fabric.

A groan bubbles up his throat, spilling over and he presses his hips into your face, the swell of his belly brushing against the crown of your head.

You giggle, nipping lightly at the fabric, feeling his cock twitch and harden. You watch his eyes roll back, words tumbling out in tandem.

“Do. Not. Tease. Me.” He growled and you giggled at his response.

“If you want more…you’re just gonna have to catch me!” You rose from your knees before he could grab ahold of you, stepping back with that glint in your eye.

“Hey! That ain’t fair and you know it!” He huffed, already struggling to unlace his boots so he could pull his jeans off completely. He cursed under his breath when he watched you dive back into the refreshing waters.

“Gonna get you back for this.” He grumbled to himself, fighting the urge to grin at the warmth that he felt flooding in his chest.

You heard a loud splash just as you resurfaced, and two dark brown eyes locked onto you like a target as you playfully swam away.

Your giggles and his deep, raspy laughter filled the hot summer air like a song that you would play on repeat, over and over again.

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[stellocchia]

I absolutely adore the fanon Nightmare Gang found family stuff but... If one of these suckers gets sick they're gonna struggle.

Like, okay, I don't think Nightmare can reasonably get sick. It would make no sense for any virus, bacteria, or parasite to have evolved to survive and thrive in a goop that literally only he posses. He's fine.

But he's also gonna be completely useless when it comes to looking after his team. He would fall for the good old paranoia-inducing mistake of googling the symptoms and finding only death-sentences. And then he's just gonna be miserable and mope until his boys are better.

Killer meanwhile, would logically get sick, but also he would definitely hide it. Like, he was still conditioned by Chara to be a killing machine, no way my guy would just share such a big vulnerability. The others would only find out once he's already in really bad shape and most of the time they wouldn't find out at all.

On the other hand, while I imagine he'd be adept at setting broken bones and the general basic field medicine (again, because of his past he probably had to learn the basics to survive and remain functional), his solution to deal with any actual illness would be "just ignore it until it goes away".

I'm pretty sure Horror is technically already dead, so I don't know if he can get sick... Though I'd say probably? I mean, his body doesn't seem all too different from that of other monsters. Regardless, when sick I say he'd go in full survival mode, build a nest somewhere and be completely unapproachable unless you want your hand chewed off.

On the other hand, being the only one with a living brother and with both of them living in really harsh conditions, he probably has had to handle sickness rather often. Of course, with the lack of resources back in his universe, he mostly had to go for the basics, so his solution is a warm broth and some wet pieces of cloth. At most hot water to disinfect wounds. He's still at least doing something.

Cross is basically like Killer. He doesn't want to appear weak (with a father like his I highly doubt weakness was allowed) so he hides any minor sickness. Though I do think he'd tell, like, Horror if things are getting really bad. If anything, ao he doesn't become a burden for the others during missions.

And, again, much like Killer, I think he definitely would know field medicine. He was trained as a Royal Guard after all, they must have taught him things like that. But actual sickness? Yeah, they probably had medics that handled it when it got too severe. He doesn't know jack shit. His solution is just going to Horror and hoping he's got it handled.

Dust would straight up gaslight himself into thinking he's not sick and that's just his body punishing him for his sins. He literally would not believe it's anything else until someone (again, most likely Horror) pointed it out to him.

And the worst part is that, once he knows, there's no fucking way he'd let anyone treat him for it. That self-loathing fucker would rather suffer through it in some pointless attempt at receiving some form of redemption. He's cooked. Horror would need to tie him to the bed just to force him to get some rest.

So, anyway, this is my propaganda to say let's get at least one Sans who is mentally healthy enough and knowledgeable enough to keep these guys from dying in here.

My vote is for Lust Sans. Just because I love him.

Though someone like Color could also unlock some very fun dynamics. And he may actually get Killer to stop hiding his symptoms like an idiot. And perhaps Cross too. Literally, those guys would lie about getting bit in a zombie apocalypse

[hungharrington]

i looove the idea of steve putting on a few post vecna, his sweet sweet thighs and belly 😭😭❤️just completely oblivious and slightly confused to the adoration held for his softness. slow blowjob in the morning caressing his tummy and working your hand down his happy trail, before going to squeeze his cock. hands squishing and kneading his thighs as he’s sucked off, his pretty little whimpers escaping

THIS. THIS ASK HAS STUCK IN MY BRAIN AND FOLLOWED ME AROUND SINCE U SENT IT NONNIE LIKE YOU!! GET!! IT!! there is such pure adoration in this ask… u love stevie like i do i just know it <3 

it’s not that he’s skinny beforehand it’s just it’s year after year after year of living in survival mode does things to the body. steve’s on the leaner side and it’s saved his skin more times he can count, being nimble and fast. so, yeah, it does take a good year or two before steve manages to relax in his life and then at least one more for his body to catch up and let him settle. let him grow properly— give him that chub around his thighs, his tummy a proper lil pouch instead of lean and hard muscle. and to be honest, steve doesn’t really notice :’) he’s caught up in living his life fully with you happily and you only catch it, like really notice the difference, after seeing a photo of him back in ‘83 and it sets a fucking fire in you. you can’t contain it, can’t think normally about how much you adore the softness steve’s grown into with you — and it comes out the next morning, when you’re both getting handsy between the sleepy kisses. 

steve is surprised by how eager you are— normally mornings together are more of a slow cuddle fuck if anything— but today, you’re hungry for it, lips just caressing down his neck, sloppy kisses down his chest til you get to his tummy and steve loves it. he loves the view of you peering up at him, adoration in your gaze as you nuzzle along his happy trail with a content hum. your hands are soft, sweet, giving a ghost of a touch along the planes of his torso and you don’t mean to tease him, but his length pressed against your stomach isn’t enough to draw you from loving on him. it’s not til he starts squirming a bit that you notice he’s all hot and bothered, chest rising and falling a bit quick. “m’sorry baby,” you murmur, finally letting your kisses lead you lower, along his hipbone. “didn’t mean to tease.” 

you try to restrain yourself and give yourself only a minute on his thighs, little nips and lovebites, but even then steve notices it a bit, the extra attention you’re giving. he sounds a bit wrecked when he rasps his words out, “lotsa… christ, lotsa love on the thighs today, honey,” and you use that are your cue to slide his leaking cock into your mouth, pulling out this adorable soft little moan. you pull back, giving the head the smallest kitten lick, hands stretching up to his tummy for a moment, “bad thing?”you check. steve’s shaking his head against the pillow in an instant, “no! no, never. never… never a bad thing being loved by you sweetness,” his voice is all sticky with love and you know he means every word. your hands drag down to hold his thighs, kneading the softness as you start to suck him gently. the bedroom is golden in the morning sun and steve’s soft little noises, whimpers and moans, sound downright sinful and he feels so damn loved. it might just be a perfect morning.

[garpond]

>be me

>Marry Isis on the 5th day of May

>lose her like a noob

>divorce.jpg

>guess ill ride off to the wild unknown country

>doing laundry, man in corner approaches me for a match

>"Looking for something easy to catch, Anon?"

>broke asf so I agree

>Set out for the cold in the North

>I ask where we are going

>"We'll be back by the 4th"

>bestnewsiveeverheard.jpg

>on the way

>thinking abt turqouise, gold, the world's biggest necklace, etc

>get to destination

>its pyramids embedded in ice

>"there's a body I'm trying to find, anon"

>so that's what he has on his mind...

>start digging

>shit sucks, wind howling, snow outrageous

>chopping through the night like its minecraft survival mode

>in the middle of this my partner just fucking dies

>dont know wtf to do

>make up my mind that I have to go on

>what feels like 900000000 years later finally fucking break into the tomb

>open casket

>its empty

>rageguy.jpg

>literally nothing. no jewels either

>i have been fucking played

>go back outside, pick up partner's body

>yeet him into tomb and cover it back up

>say a quick prayer

>feel satisfied

What do you guys think I should do? I sort of want to ride back to find Isis just to tell her I love her...

[wordy-little-witch]

I am now hip deep in the Edge of Midnight campaign from legends of avantris and lemme tell you some shit -

1) I would lay down my life for Jericho Sticks without any hesitation. Torbek and Jericho are my sons now, no takesies backsies.

2) Lethica and Marius are so perfectly aligned to be end game lovers but I personally adore the idea of them being queerplatonic if only bc it's funny to watch people be confused and I think Lethica would adore that.

3) you can pry the concept of Briggsy having a some kind of magical fantasy cellphone equivalent from my cold dead hands - sending stone or smth idfk - and he's been keeping his buddy/boyfriend Torbek updated on all this like "Becky you would not BELIEVE what happened today-" ((listen I know the flirting bit between them in the yuletide one-shot was a feycurse but leave me alone it's funny as fuck))

4) briggsy @ jericho in ep 24 appropos nothing: Jerry, maybe we have to kiss ((sad, silly twinks with Literal Darksides are his type /j))

5) I have a friend-crush on Nikkie and I will never recover

6) I have an unyielding NEED to have Jericho get a final hit on a boss and yell yeehaw

7) I know stylistically Jericho doesn't have "skin" but I personally hc that his clothes aren't effectively his skin, he has a burlap body - and he has "tattoos" in the form of embroidery. It started when he had to stitch up his own cuts and stuff and he just kept it up.

8) Only Yorgrim has any constant sense of cooking in an actual kitchen-like setting. Farryn, Marius, and Briggsy can do journey or on-the-road cooking, but it's never.... great. Lethica burns everything somehow or gets the bright idea to 'experiment', and it's never good - she's fine if she's got clear end goals. Jericho is understandably skittish around fire due to his body and straw, but he is the closest to being able to cook well and do so semi regularly.

9) Virgil is a weird mix of a hater and lowkey overprotective. He does hate being imprisoned, but also he's kinda bound here so he HAS to keep this disaster of a bard safe. He refuses to admit he might have a soft spot. He is Stressed.

10) Farryn doesn't get the appeal of Girls Nights, but Jericho does!!! They join Lethica for some fun relaxation. Briggsy once asked why Jericho was allowed since he's also a dude, and Lethica just responded "he's allowed to be there - on account of him being a scarecrow and not a literal man after all." It's an inside joke which later has to be explained - Jericho is nonbinary but doesn't rightly care about stuff like that.

11) Yorgrim is the group dad, no I will not explain.

12) sometimes after a battle, Lethica and Marius will help stitch up some of Jericho's tears. Farryn may also add in random flowers she finds around because it makes him happy.

13) Briggsy is small but mighty. The only person he has yet to pick up and carry is Yorgrim - he swears that one day that tombstone will be gone and he'll be able to do it. It's all the rock's fault, he's sure of it.

Spoilers under the cut (caught up to present)

OKAY so I am caught up completely and have decided that Canon is not important leave me alone

• Yorgrim did not die - he got wounded heavily but survived.

• Farryn almost got taken but they got to her in time. She is mute for a time due to injuries and trauma - idk if she ever talks again bc we could use more sign language in the world. Maybe it comes and goes, fuck if I know, idk and idc

ONWARDS TO SILLIES

• Lethica strong armed her way into giving Jericho The Talk after he revealed he had no idea what a penis was. Scarecrows cannot blush, but apparently his fiendish glow can ebb and flow and he glows much MUCH brighter when he's embarrassed - she tries so hard not to laugh.

• Adella and Jericho btw are simply besties. His "crush" on her is a friend crush and Phillip just finds it painfully cute. ((Also -> Jericho has mommy issues and Adella always wanted a son/nephew/little brother. Peaceful alignment))

• Dark Mode Marius is a colossal flirt but still a giant dweeb. He's cool and suave until someone flirts back - then he's a mess.

• Briggsy is very happy with his Kannon & makes "shooting my shot" jokes at every and any opportunity

• Yorgrim, with his reward, manages to finally lay many souls tonrest but he still carries the tombstone on journeys - just not constantly now. He still believes he must pay penance, but it's a little easier to share the burden.

• Farryn, with her own reward, has not chosen to activate it yet. Something tells her to wait, to bide her time and remain. She does, however, get a little more at ease with the others. She and Jericho have come to an understanding, too - that being they they are a package deal, no takesies backsies, and they refer to each other as twin, much to the confusion of many, many, many people. WLW and NBLM solidarity.

• Jericho is pining HARD for Marius, but he's absolutely terrified of damaging the friendship so everyone is watching two oblivious dummies look longingly into each other.

• POLYAMORY POLYAMORY POLYAMORY

• Marius grows rather fond of Virgil, and the sentiment is very much NOT reciprocated bc this angry knight vampire is not good enough for his vessel and he's mad about it.

• Yorgrim: I've only had my friends for a few days, but if anything happened to them, I'd kill everyone in Druskenvald and then myself.

• I fully expect for Jericho to somehow befriend an enemy in disguise, not realize, and accidentally fuck up the evil plan with the powers of puns, music and friendship (/j)

• the first time the party sees Jericho presenting more feminine, he's been lended one of Lethica's dresses after his own clothes got torn up and the rest are being washed. Marius has a nosebleed and faints. Briggsy is staring somewhat respectfully. Lethica is trying valiantly not to laugh. Farryn and Yorgrim regret not dying when they had the chance.

• Marius: i cannot have a relationship because I have sworn to follow the duchess of sin

Lillith: whoa hold up, Do Not use me as an excuse to avoid the cutie pie over there. Besides, he has a demon. I'm queen of hell. I can make a small exception.

Marius: shit

• Briggsy Bi Icon: OH if ONLY Jerry here had a DASHING KNIGHT to SAVE THEM from this PERILOUS INCIDENT

Jericho: captain, I'm just getting off of a horse??

Marius: no no Briggsy has a point, no maiden should be unaccompanied or unassisted. Allow me-

Lethica&Farryn: We Know What You Are

• Yorgrim is watching all this inter party flirting and is definitely wondering if he's gonna have to have an aside with everyone about flirting tactics and communication skills. Briggsy is making it worse by enabling everyone.

• Farryn gets some sweet, succulent healing, that is all.

[yuri-is-online]

I'm so happy that my concept has become an official part of the script!

I enjoy reading the Yutu series, but I'm wondering if there'll ever be a moment when Yuu goes bear mode to protect their cubs.

Hear me out: since Yuu is basically the only non magic student in NRC crewel decided to give them a self defence weapon to keep themselves safe under the condition that they absolutely only use it for self defense. The weapon in question was a taser stick.

Now let's set the scene: Yutu has been trained to deal with phantoms ever since he was accepted into NRC, however when a phantom literally spawns behind him from a portal, it's hard to do much. As Yutu falls and tries to crawl away from the phantom's path Yuu (who was walking behind Yutu) yells "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY KID" and tases the phantom so hard that it loses spacial awareness and falls stunned, giving them time to stand somewhere safer and more advantageous for battle. Yutu is stunned cause while he knows his parent has a fighting spirit, the parent they're used to has been softened by time and trauma so to see them actively looking for blood (uh...ink?) is new. It's also a sight that yutus dad REALLY enjoyed

I think the phantoms would be a bit more sensitive to lightning/electrical attacks because it's not just something that's bright that attacking you (like fire) but it also travels through their body.

-Grim!OB anon

The concept of phantoms being more vulnerable to lightning.... hmmmmmmmm. That's an interesting concept Grim!OB anon. I have been thinking about cosmic magic in TWST... I wish we could get some more insight into how it works and why there are two versions of it. If all magic produces blot, does that include light aspect cosmic magic? And if so does that mean an overblot phantom can use it ●︿●

Yuu's a strong character in my mind, one who reacts when their friends are in danger. Yutu knows this in theory of course; he remembers how you reacted when he was a child and cried about something small, but this isn't something small. The Yuu he has been fighting for had become an ideal more than a person, but that's not the case anymore.

You are real, your fury is real, the noise that's torn from your throat rivals the King of Beast's roar.

"STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY KID"

It's an order so surreal he swears it seals itself into time and knocks him back into the version of him he should be. Years of fighting blot phantoms and scavenging for survival is gone, his father finishes off the phantom with a wave of his pen as Yutu scrambles for you only to find himself hauled up for a strict examination.

"Are you hurt at all?" Your eyes are so hard but your voice is so soft, he can barely hear you. "Sweetheart," your thumb rubs circles on his cheek, oh it's because he's crying "it's ok, I'm here." You are cradling your child in your arms because he is crying and you are determined to keep him safe. "You don't need to fight alone anymore."

You won't let him.

[steviewashere]

Time loop fic where there's elements of Life is Strange; so a fusion of sorts, but not an exact au.

Steve Harrington, a seemingly normal dude—almost a nobody, is chosen to have these time-altering powers; similar to how Max Caulfield did in Life is Strange, where she traveled through old photos. In which he realizes the "destiny" of it all is to try and save Eddie Munson from supernatural danger/death. It happens when Eddie "dies" from the demobats. And right as Steve actually reverses time to save him, he's spat back out into 1983, following an aloof, and wanting to do good for the world, Eddie Munson.

(Also, Eddie would come to know about Steve's powers. He'd wonder: why me? Why Steve? He'd think of his life to be selfish, it would be a whole thing. Anyway.) My full idea is under the cut, I'm so sorry for rambling.

Eddie gets caught up trying to find Will Byers in 1983—nearly drowns when he discovers a "body"; Steve is there sulking (over something, you decide what) and notices somebody swimming out, doesn't think anything of it until they sink and don't come up for forty-five seconds—he jumps into lifeguard mode.

Eddie is at the junkyard trying to find metal scraps for a D&D map he's handcrafting for a campaign, gets caught up in the demodogs—Steve shoves him out of the way, all the while taking a gnarly claw to the chest. He survives, but it's a near sort of thing.

Eddie wanders out from a showing of a late night movie, Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are drugged out by the water fountains, he follows them to the bathroom where they proceed to tell him how Steve got beat up, he overhears a confession he probably wasn't supposed to be privy to—eventually, he's out fighting the mind flayer, being told to duck and get down by Steve Harrington.

The events of 1986 happen, as they initially played out. Except, this time, Steve has the memory of what it's like to watch Eddie come close to death. Over and over and over again. He had moments in time where he knew what it was like to be covered in Eddie's blood; knowing he cared too much and had to go back.

He's in 1986, staring at Eddie Munson's big, doe eyes. "Don't be a hero," he says—a threat, no longer a warning. And he's faced with two choices:

Save Eddie Munson OR

Save Hawkins, Indiana

If he saves Eddie, he swaps places with Dustin. If Dustin takes Steve's place, the demobats are no longer distracted. Steve realizes something that he must do. He has to abort mission, like what should've happened in the first place. Instead of fighting, Steve hauls Eddie out as soon as the others leave for Vecna's lair. Eddie squawks, protests, tries to put up a fight. But it's no use. Steve is set in stone. He could've left Eddie to rot in the Upside Down, but coming to know him, coming to know every version of Eddie, coming to know his family and his life and his secrets over the years (even if it seems like seconds to everybody else), Steve can't stomach that. He cares too much; knows what he wants.

Eddie is what he wants.

And Vecna, the Upside Down, Eleven's powers, the resurgence of the ugly and awful every year can finally be over if he makes this choice.

Up to this point, he had used the missing posters of Eddie to save him, to go back through time. But each time he goes back in time, Vecna gets stronger and stronger. If he tries it again, he knows they'll be fucked even if he actually does save Eddie.

He can choose to save Eddie.

He can leave Hawkins all behind, right before the demobats come flooding through the trailer. He can quickly escort Eddie out. In doing so, however, the demobats get to Vecna's lair. The demobats kill the others. Vecna gets Max. Jason gets Lucas. And Erica doesn't fair any better. In the end, with Steve and Eddie skipping town, Hawkins is destroyed by Vecna and his powers, succumbing. Everybody in this scenario dies. Eddie will not be known as a "satanic murderer", he would not face the death penalty after surviving the Upside Down and coming back to Hawkins; nobody will know that he was there when Chrissy died.

With choosing to save Eddie, Steve will forever live with a gnawing guilt towards the others. He would become less of who he was. He'd be forever altered. He would know that Hawkins succumbing would be his entire fault.

If he doesn't save Eddie, the events of season four still happen. However, Vecna doesn't win. With Eddie's death, Vecna dies—almost like they have an odd hive mind connection (you choose how or why Eddie has this connection, I don't have the brain to do so).

Steve comes out of the Upside Down with Nancy, Robin, and Dustin. He comes out clean and harm-free. Max does, and Lucas, and Erica. Everybody is safe—except for Eddie.

Since the town doesn't go into ruin, Wayne doesn't go to the high school when the trailer is ruined. He's still putting up the posters around town.

I think, too, that outside of Eddie knowing, Nancy would know. Because I mean, come on. She's the journalist, knows of the crazy other worldly shit. She had been somebody that Steve trusted, and he trusted her in turn. He comes to her with this knowledge. And they know, with the outcome of Eddie's death, they have to break the news. Edit: I also think Robin would come to know, she'd spot something wrong with Steve and she'd beg for him to tell her; she believes him, of course, and helps however she can.

They tell Wayne. Who takes it as well as any mourning father would.

And in the end, when Wayne isn't looking, Steve and Nancy take the rest of the missing posters. They take down all the other ones around town.

They burn them. Burn all of the missing posters. They burn any trace Steve has of interacting with Eddie in 1983, 1984, 1985. He gets rid of it all.

Steve won't forget who Eddie Munson is. And, yes, unfortunately, the town will still think of Eddie as the "satanic murderer". But everybody else would be safe. And in Eddie's last moments, right before he succumbs to his injuries, he tells Steve, "Do it. For Dustin. Nancy. Robin...Wayne."

If he doesn't save Eddie, Steve will forever live with a gnawing guilt anyway. He will know that Eddie's death was something he could not prevent, even if he wanted to. He would know that Eddie's death isn't his fault, it was supposed to happen in the first place, but he interfered just in time. Only Nancy would know of Steve's choice, of his guilt. (This wouldn't bring them together romantically (don't think of this as me pushing a stancy agenda onto you or whatever), but this would lead to a deeper understanding of their friendship; Nancy couldn't save Barb, Steve couldn't save Eddie. Something, something: You can't save people, you can only love them.)

And that's the dilemma that Steve would have to wade through. Does he sacrifice the guy that meets everything that Steve has ever wanted, the guy that he created literal years worth of memories with, the one he was so set in stone over saving; does he live with the guilt of killing his other friends? Or does he save the family he's come to know, just with a black, absent spot where the rest of his family should be—Eddie Munson; the guilt from his death instead?

Is Eddie worth saving?

That's the thought going through his head when he looks back at Eddie in the Upside Down. Is Eddie worth saving?

(Also, this could work as Jonathan x Steve or, another angsty one I just thought of, Jonathan x Nancy.)

[wyn-n-tonic]

That's a Real Fucking Legacy: Burgundy

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/former Tommy Miller x f!reader Word Count: 4.6k+ Warnings: Unprotected PiV. Soft Joel. Talk of death. Somno mentions. Allusion of erectile dysfunction. Body image talk. Anxiety/depression talk. Author’s Note: I got lazy at the end.

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Jackson’s fine.

Maybe.

Truthfully, it’s more than fine. It’s perfect. 

It’s perfect for what this world is now. 

But it’s not… it doesn’t feel right.

In the years that followed the outbreak, there was a feeling that if something like this existed, you wanted to be there. But that’s the thing about trauma and time.

The longer you give these things to sit in your brain unaddressed, the worse they become. But these things couldn’t be addressed, there was never the time for that and, so, they lingered and built and grew with every day that something new stacked on top.

All this time being in survival mode, this feeling that you don’t deserve safety is tangible in the way it shakes your hands and catches your breath in the most random of times.

Only they were deserving in your eyes. The baby, her father. Her uncle who set off across the country to find this safety for you; who dreamt of this life and that baby in a way that would belong to him and not his brother. Who has accepted the things that happened in reaction to his leaving and his silence and has forgiven you. 

There’s no guilt now. Not in that space, at least. But so much guilt knowing that you’re here and the QZ is still up and there were miles and miles of death and danger between the two.

It’s that hand-shaking, breath-catching guilt that paralyzes you now, leaned up against the sink—a genuine sink with running water—as you try to focus on anything at all. Colors. Sounds. Numbers as you count your own breaths both in and out.

It clouds your mind back into that dark space.

That gray space.

That unsafe, half dead, death around every corner space.

Baby is the first thought that really comes through, her small face grown so big with a toothy smile where, before, it was all gums and cheeks and doing her best to always stay in yours or her father’s arms. She’s safe though. She’s safe right now and you have to remind yourself that. She’s with her Uncle Tommy, working in the gardens today with the woman who came not long after you. Who took his breath away. Who’s now Baby’s aunt and one of the only people you trust with her safety.

Then Joel, with the deepening lines across every curve and corner of his face, the ones you love to trace in the soft darkness of your shared nights. Always only illuminated by whatever spills in through the threadbare curtains on the windows.

Sometimes, you think these moments might be the end.

And how peaceful, how sweet, to endure and survive all of this for so long only to be taken down by guilt and panic.

But you can’t go first. You can’t. You can’t leave him alone with a baby and another crack in his heart. He has to go before you, he deserves to go before you. If anybody’s heart is going to be broken by more death, please, God, let it be you and not him.

That beautiful man with his beautiful eyes, his rough but gentle hands and his coffee rich voice.

It’s that voice that pulls you up and out of your head now; off of the floor.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, pushing tears across and back into your graying hairline. “Not these again, baby.”

“I'm sorry.” It’s not just your hands that shake now, heat climbing up your neck to flood your senses in blood rushing waves. Because that part comes with the embarrassment of him seeing you like this; of having to take care of you again when you’re put so much effort into not needing to lean.

Because he doesn’t deserve to be the strong one all the time. Not anymore. He’s allowed to be and be soft and give in to late nights and later mornings. All these miles from Boston, kept safe by different walls and different rules, and he’s still turning up to save the day. He deserves to rest.

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about,” he says against your cheek, lips ghosting across the warmth of your skin as he pulls you in closer. So close in those well worn, worked through arms with his hand sliding up the expanse of your back and between your shoulder blades until he’s wrapped his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull. “How many times have I woken you up, hmm?” He asks directly into your ear. “How many nights have you spent tending to all the broken parts of me?”

“I shouldn’t be here,” you insist. “I don’t belong here, I’m not good enough.”

Joel pulls away, back just far enough to look down at you with pinched eyebrows and a half broken heart behind those big, brown eyes. “If you’re not good enough, then what the fuck am I?” 

Two beats, maybe three. Moments of silence that stretch between you both as he gently swipes his thumb back and fourth through the saltwater streaks. The tears slowed but they’re still here and Joel patiently pushes every one away.

“You’re perfect,” you finally break. “You’re the second best person in my life.”

“Oh, so Tommy wins after all?” He asks, one dimple pocketing his cheek under a crooked smile. It drops just as quickly as it appeared, an exaggerated expression of pain on his face as you hit him in the chest. “I’m kidding, I know it’s Baby but”—he leans down, his whisper turning from concern to suggestion—“I think I have something that might bump me up to top place for the night.” 

“Please don’t tell me it’s your dick,” you beg. “I love you, I love it, but I look like shit and—“

He stops you, more soothing sounds hitting your ears until you’re quiet again; less tearful and pushing what you were going to say away. It’s hard to believe that, years ago, he was just Tommy’s gruff older brother. Intimidating and prepared. Not a leader but capable of leading should it all come down to it. That’s why Tommy told you to go to him if something ever happened. Not the Fireflies—Joel.

Looking back on that instruction, it makes all the more sense that you’re here with Joel now and not Tommy. Something happened and you went to him.

Stayed with him.

Laid with him.

Built a family with him.

Built a whole life and, now, that man you were so afraid of with all his hard edges is so soft and real in front of you. It was hard to find good men before, even worse now, but he has never been anything but great to you. Even when he’s upset. Even on those nights where there was yelling and misunderstanding and a growing baby in your belly that neither of you knew how to care for, he was great.

“I got you a bottle of wine,” he says, so proud of himself with that smile making itself at home again. “And not that blueberry bathtub moonshine bullshit Seth’s been peddling.”

“I haven’t had real wine in years, Joel.” There’s a piece of you that’s skeptical until he’s turning you in his arms and pointing to the counter. He must’ve set it down before picking you up off the floor but it’s there—a bottle of red wine marked for 1999. “That was a good year.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning back against his broad chest. It’s only gotten stronger since you arrived in Jackson, built up by good food and work that makes him proud. You don’t let him go out on many perimeter runs, afraid to have to watch over him as he slips away again, but he goes sometimes. Mostly he just tends to the horses, works in the dirt, builds this or that and plays with the Baby like his life depends on it.

It’s your life that depends on it, though. Your life depends on seeing him strong and well-fed and happy, chasing his daughter around the yard and not trying to stifle her giggles or her cries to protect her from everything else that’s out there. But you know he feels the same.

“Go wash your face,” he whispers into the crown of your head, “I’ll pry it open and pour you a glass.” 

It’s strong. Strong enough cloud your mind over and replace the bad thoughts with blurred ones. Barely two sips from the mug he poured it in and your head is falling back easier beneath the laughter he pulls out of you. 

Every aching inch of you is flushed over with heat like before, but it’s not embarrassment that floods through you anymore. Tension doesn’t exist in your muscles, there’s no trying to hold it together or hold it back and it’s nice. It’s so nice to give over to this feeling without worry, putting all of your senses on a delayed track because you’re safe.

He’s safe.

As the sun sets, you leave the mugs behind in favor of passing the bottle back and forth. Really, you should save it; pace yourself on it; only bring it out for special occasions.

But this is a special occasion.

Thomi’s staying the night with Tommy and everybody is alive. There was loss that brought what made this family together; pain and the threat of more loss. All those sleepless nights you spent upright in bed worrying and crying… That’s over now until you let him go and both of you refuse to let that happen for a long time. 

“What are you thinking about now?” He asks, eyes heavy with twenty-something year old alcohol and it makes you wonder what he looked like in his twenties, too.

“Thinking about you.”

“Hopefully not all the ways I could die again,” he laughs, “don’t wish that shit into existence, baby.”

“I'm not wishing anything into existence,” you tell him. “I’m begging the world not to take you from me yet.” 

“I'm not going anywhere,” he promises. “You and Thomi make damn fucking sure of that.” 

“But you do,” you insist. “In my dreams, all the time. I dream that I don’t even get to say goodbye and I wake up and you’re not even there with me because you’ve already gone off to work or you’re taking care of our daughter and I feel so selfish for wanting you to take care of me, too.”

“So you don’t feel me in the mornings?” He asks. “Do my efforts to turn those dreams around not make it to your beautiful head.”

“I don’t understand,” you whisper, eyes tracing the curve of his nose and his lips. “What do you mean?” 

Joel tips the bottle back and then hands it over again, lips stained a deep purple-red as he sits back on his heels and considers you. “You talk in your sleep, honey,” he says. “I hear you almost daily, always muttering for me or Thomi to be spared for whatever horrors are in your head. I wish I could say that I can’t fucking imagine but I can, I think of it all the goddamn time. Think of you or my child or both ripped apart by bullets or monsters or men.” He shrugs. “I always try to leave you in the mornings with something good, I thought I was succeeding because there’s always a small smile on your face when I come back out from the bathroom and kiss you goodbye.” 

So many of your dreams do turn good but you thought it was your subconscious willing you to believe in the best. Lately, you’ve woken up wet for him and ready, usually having to wait until much later for the touch of tired hands under threadbare blankets or the running water you usually share. 

The rough pads of his fingers ghost across the skin of your upper thighs, heated over with alcohol heavy blood, a racing heart and the want for him you always hold. Realization hits on another sip from the bottle, wine falling out of your mouth and onto your shirt in a choked out sound 

His low laugh tumbles down your throat from a heavy tongue as he pushes your mouth open, body crawling over yours until the space between is negligible at best. He’s all soft touches from hands that have worked so hard, moving from your cheek to your neck to your shoulder, before he finally takes the bottle from your hands to set it to the side. Somewhere safe, where it won’t continue to seep across you, only within you.

“We agreed a long time ago that we could touch one another while sleeping,” he whispers. “I touch you through those dreams, sweetheart.” He does. For so long you thought they were just vivid, not real. You woke up wanting him because you wanted more. “One time, your eyes blinked open and you told me you wanted my mouth, so I gave it to you.” 

His voice is so low, echoing through your mind and traveling down the length of your bones into the tips of every finger and every toe. You remember that, you do. “I thought I was dreaming that, too.”

“I’m sure dream me is a very handsome and capable man,” he smiles down at you, “but I know for a fact he can’t eat your pussy as well as I can.”

“Nobody's ever done anything to my pussy as well as you do.” That fevered heat that spread just below the surface of your skin throughout your veins has finally reached its destination, simmering low in your belly beneath the stretch of skin between your hips.

“Even my brother?”

“I never even let your brother look at it for too long,” you say, shaking your head. “Too insecure about it and the way it looked, I didn’t like the vulnerability of being seen like that.”

“But with me…” He runs a hand down his face and smiles. “You get off on me watching you play with yourself. You like it when I’m down here”—his hand curves around the mound between your legs, laying heavy and hot even with your shorts blocking the full effect of his touch—“like it when I open you up, keep you from closing your cute little legs, and watch you clench and leak around nothing but the mere thought of what I could do to you. It takes everything in me not to fuck every thought out of your head every single day.” 

Head spinning, you push up against his grip and fall back again laughing. “Do it now,” you tell him. “Take me apart, Joel, take all of my thoughts.”

“I haven’t even gotten you wet yet.”

“Trust me, the mere thought of what you could do to me has taken care of that. I know you’ve been having some problems getting hard lately, I don’t take it personally. That’s why I like it so much when you look at me, we both still get something out it, but you’re straining against those tight ass pants and I need you inside of me.”

“Need?” 

“Need,” you affirm. “Need my good man who brings me out of bad dreams to leave me with good, need my beautiful boy who picks me up off the floor and never lets our daughter see the broken pieces of me. Joel, I need you and that’s why I have the nightmares that I do. 

I’m afraid of you being taken away from me and I know it has to be that you’re taken because I know you’d never leave me. I've already come too close to being without you. I’ve already been covered in the deep red warmth of your blood while you go cold in my arms and I see it over and over again every night, don’t make me do it sooner than later.”

“Are those what the panic attacks are about?” He asks.

“No,” you shake out. “The panic attacks are because I don’t feel like I deserve the sacrifices you and your brother made to get me here. To get my daughter here, yes. But me? There’s not an ounce of me that deserves this place.” 

“Oh, baby.” He pulls you closer to him, one hand tightening around your side as the other puts further pressure between your legs. You’ve kept all of these things hidden from him to the best of your ability. You haven’t succeeded very well. “You deserve to be here more than Tommy or I ever will,” he whispers. “I begged you not to leave me as you came close to bleeding out after birth. You deserve to be here, our daughter does, and you both make me deserving, too. Please, baby, stop saying you’re not good when all the best parts of me are because of you.” 

“I get emotional when I’m drunk,” you tell him.

“I can see that.” One thing you’ve loved the most about what Jackson has done to him is allow that relaxed accent back into his voice. It helps that he’s surrounded by his brother constantly again but there are others here, too. Some from all over but most from what was the south. “You also have gotten wetter than I’ve ever felt you.”

“How do you know?” You ask. “You haven’t even touched me.”

A smile spreads across his face and he pushes your legs apart before pulling your shorts to the side to expose you to the tepid air of the house and the heat of his hand. “I have never,” he whispers against your lips, pushing one rough finger easily through your entrance, “gotten you this close this fast. Usually, I’m cleaning myself out of you before you swell up to bursting. What did it, honey?”

“You.”

“Just me?” He laughs like he can’t believe it. “The wine helped, didn’t it? It’s okay.”

“The wine, yeah,” you nod, head heavy and light with the effects of it still pumping through you. You were gone off of it a while ago but—“it’s been awhile since we’ve been able to be like this together. Everything is always so fucking desperate or tired or just looking for relief in the five shared minutes of alone time we get together.” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think we’ve ever been able to be like this together.”

He’s right. Nothing has ever been soft or easy with us. Full of adrenaline, yeah. But never fucking slow unless it’s laced through with exhaustion. Never a show of love because of love but because of fear of losing one another. He pushes another finger deep inside of you, moving together until you grab his wrist.

“I want you.”

“You want me?” He asks, eyebrow raised. “Missed me?” 

“You're teasing me, Joel.”

“It's cause I like seeing your reactions,” he whispers. “When I dream good things about you, I dream of this.” 

“Do you have the good ones, often, baby?” 

“More and more,” he says, pulling himself away and off of you to stand up but offering his hand and helping you up off the couch and not letting go until you’re steady on your feet. “Makes me feel bad when I wake up from good ones to find you having a bad one, if there’s something you don’t deserve, it’s that.” 

“Yeah.”

He takes the bottle and your hand and leads you up the stairs, back towards the bedroom where he doesn’t wait to sit you down in the space that’s usually his. “You want some more, baby?” He asks, holding out the bottle. It’s mostly gone and so is your head but your nerves still haven’t really settled from when he found you on the floor and they’ve only gotten shakier hearing all the sweet things he had to say so you take it.

Take it and tip it back slightly, trying not to choke again when he pulls his shirt off and over his head. With all the ways your brain and you have been altered by this world and these years in it, you look at him with so much happiness for the girl you once were before this all started. The one with posters on her walls of the dark haired, curly haired members of boybands on the walls. With his dimples, he could’ve definitely been one.

Mindlessly, you reach out and touch the still raised scar on his stomach, fingertips tracing across the angry, deep red knot. For a head full of so many bad memories, so much grief and pain, this little scar was the source of the worst of it all. 

He encourages you to take another drink and then takes the bottle from you again, setting it on the bedside table before coming back for your shirt. Even with a world gone to shit and no more models or fashion designers to tell you who and what is beautiful, your insecurities are so thick it’s fucking palpable. But never for Joel Miller. Because he looks at your bare body with not an ounce of scrutiny.

He’s enamored, every time, as a low whistle leaves him with every article of clothing he takes from you. Maybe we’ve never had the softness and the slowness but we’ve always had that—this hunger for one another like we can’t believe our wildest dreams are coming true.

With you completely bare, he directs you back into the middle of the bed, tells you to open your legs and let him see you while he pushes his own pants down, eyes never leaving you once as you reach down to touch yourself in front of him the way you know the both of you like. 

He wasn’t lying either, when he said this might be the wettest he’s ever felt from you. This fast, at least. The sensitivity and heat coursing through your body makes even the smallest touches feel like the biggest and he reprimands you for getting too close too quick without him.

“This might be the hardest I’ve ever been, too,” he breathes out, dragging the tip of himself through the slick before swatting your hand away completely to push in with unobstructed ease. “Please don’t be mad at me if I can’t sustain it,” he says, pulling you further and further down his shaft until the back of your thighs meet the front of his. There’s so much worry in you already about his knees, how he’s leaning on them even with the mattress beneath him, but it goes out of your head the moment he presses even further forward. “I'm old and this also might be the deepest inside of you I have ever been.” 

“I think it is.”

“I almost don’t want to move again,” he whispers against your lips. “Fuck, you’re so warm and I'm already soaked in you but you’ve had a hard day.”

“Sure.”

“You're drunk,” he laughs. “God, you’re beautiful. I love your grays and your smile lines, you are such a fucking knock out.”

You can feel him. Of course you can. But this is so difference and so… new, almost. For years you stayed away from the alcohol that was traded around the QZ. As a woman alone, it was dangerous but, even with the safety of Tommy, the shit that was made and traded was cut through with other shit. Anything to take the fucking edge off the situation of life as it is now. Which is understandable but it also wasn’t you, it wasn’t safe. So, the last time you had any true alcohol was before it all fell down. That was years ago.

Years have gone by since you got drunk in a college dorm and fucked some guy who didn’t look all that different from the guy on top of you now but, still, so, so different. Because before it all went to shit, there was never a snowball’s hope in hell you’d have a man like Joel Miller and you’re certain you wouldn’t have been his type but here he is, saying he wished he met you first. Because he was jealous of Tommy for all that time, being able to find somebody in all this shit. 

“You wouldn’t have liked me very much if we’d met first, though.”

“We did meet first,” you tell him. “We had several of the same shifts in different FEDRA duties, I thought you were a grumbly fucking asshole.”

“I'm still a grumbly fucking asshole,” he quips, eyes going soft as he smiles. “I’m really glad you didn’t keep that opinion.”

“Who says I haven’t?”

Dying light from the window hits him when he laughs. It’s the first time you’ve noticed the way the sun kissed his cheeks today at work and every last thought leaves your head the way he wanted it to. On everything you have, you swear he can read your mind, because he was moving against your hips and towards your lips before you even fully reached for him.

The way lays himself on top of you, his whole body weight melting into yours, is like he’s trying to crawl inside of you. This isn’t like the desperate grabs in the kitchen, where he whispers dirty shit into your ear with his fingers shoved down your pants as he hopes to get off against your leg.

No, this is so different.

By now, you’ve fucked drunk with grief. Then with what you thought was love. Then grief again only to find that turned into the true feeling of love. What all those poems and songs were about all those years ago. But you’ve never been actually drunk in his arms. He’s never seen you this way because finding what could make you this was was difficult. It was dangerous. But, here, it’s available and it’s red.

Not red in the way his blood was, not red in the way he blushed over with fever and not red in what you saw when you turned on his brother and told him to fix it. No, this is red in the way blushes up to his ears every day when you call him handsome. This is red in the way the hinges on the door to the backyard are rusted over with years of rain and lack of use. This is red like the wine he picked up with every beautiful intention of giving you a proper date.

Even the sounds he’s making are different. Breathy and desperate because he’s not commanding anything here; not making any declarations; not using his lowest register to push you through it.

Not even the smallest bit of, “you can do this, sweetheart, you can take it,” like he usually gives me. But it’s been a while since he’s even been inside of you so maybe he's the one who needs the encouragement.

“I-I—“ No words come out because he covers your mouth with his own, hand gripped tight around your jaw as he breathes into you.

“You’re so fucking close, sweetheart,” he whispers when he pulls away. “So fucking-ah-fuck.” 

His head falls into the crook of your neck, lips mouthing at the sensitive spot just below where your jaw hinges as you feel his muscles start to tighten up against yours. 

There’s no real warning for either of you, no theatrics or big finale. This is so different in every way relief cascades through your body, transferring from his to yours in inch of connection between you as his body relaxes down fully on top of yours.

Not an ounce of strength or tension remains. He’s not trying to hold himself up or give himself leverage anymore. He’s content to lay here, drunk and twitching, as he catches his breath against yours.

And that’s fine. That’s perfect. It’s what you always wanted; what you felt like you’d never get. He’s here and you’re here and there’s safety in these walls to feel and explore each other in every aching, relief giving way.

[system-of-a-feather]

Re-establishing Baseline Plan

Since moving, I've (completely understandably and expectedly) had my baseline kinda fucked (did not help by with financial stress + job incompatibility + ear infection + really bad post ear infection cold + probable norovirus in literally one month) and so I've been really overloaded, stressed, and just in a place of mostly survival mode where most of my energy is focused on maintaining my mental and physical state in the easiest manners possible

I have been holding up well all things considered and have set up for a probably more compatible job + my fiance has managed to get a job again that he feels will probably work out well for him and I have at least like a week off between jobs to reorientate myself

So to take a good and active effort to make the best of this time, I want to make a plan to set myself up for success. I actually do this every so often when I really need to pick myself up (historically Lucille would usually do it but pros of being basically fully integrated is that I am Lucille as well as me) and I figured it would be a neat thing to display and demonstrate here cause I'd end up making it *anyways* so why not share with the class

If anyone likes this, yall can borrow it ^^

-----

Question One: What current coping skills and hobbies am I currently doing and trying with my time? Are they affective and would I like to change them?

Art, Drawing, Character Design, Art Fight Prep, Story Planning and Writing

This is one of the easiest and most reliable positive coping mechanisms and has gotten me through the majority of the month mostly on it's own. Compared to other coping mechanisms, this one is almost always something I can drag myself to do or at least ask someone to supervise me to make sure I do it when I feel I need some sort of self care. It serves greatly as an alternative when I find that I am doing maladaptive coping that I would rather not do and when in doubt, it has access to some level of social engagement should I feel I need that. With that being said, having relied largely on this for a month, this is suffering diminishing returns and starting to lead to general lack of inspiration and so diversification from this coping mechanism would be ideal

Weekend Gym Trips

This is actually a really good way for me to release energy, give myself space and time to think, and just feel better moving and existing in my body. It also mandates time for me to listen to music and serves a meditative purpose. That said, I have only been doing this on Saturdays and only once on Sunday and I would like to expand that to be at least 3 times a week or at least more spaced out.

Reading Semi Regularly

This is a new habit and coping I picked up and its actually really good! It provides a unique sense of calm when I need it. Unfortunately I've started to drop off the past week due to general stress and illness, so I think its important to return to this. Perhaps set a general goal of "every other day" rather than every day to lessen the pressure.

Video Games

This was helpful but lately I have been not motivated to play anything and I believe its been burnt out. I think it would be good to resume this but it is currently impractical to force at the moment until overall wellness has returned.

TV with Boy

This is helpful but unforunately nothing seems to interest either of us to watch right now. (cri life is hard /lh)

Board Games with Boy

This is a new one and has actually been very nice. That said, it isn't always available and dependent on my fiance's ability to have the energy, time and interest to play them, particularly since I know he is less interested in board games than me. It is good to maintain the interest and offer, but not a coping skill to become reliant on.

Question Two: What sorts of things that I am currently not doing do I know tend to define behaviors, habits, hobbies, and interests that are done when I am out of survival mode and genuinely enjoying life?

Regular Birding, Particularly with Peers

Interest in watching anything on my own, youtube, TV shows, etc

Engagement in Music, Particularly my Musical Instruments

Engagement in Exploration and just independent travels without individuals

Engagement and interest in occasionally reaching out to Buddhist environments

Producing art work for the story that is more developed and inspired rather than "quick" or "reference" focused - actually focusing on the creative and artistic expression rather than the practical expression

Increased social circle communication irl beyond my online bestie, fiance, and online friend group chat; reaching out to individuals and developing new irl friendships

Question Three: Which of those hobbies do I think could be the most reasonable and easy to meet sooner than later (even better if I can make steps to start that right now / today)? In what ways could I make steps to make those first changes and help set myself up for success on expanding my engagement with life beyond survival mode?

Interest in watching anything on my own, youtube, TV shows, etc

While I am not extensively motivated in any manner to watch anything in particular, I am starting to randomly get a lot of bleach related stuff on my youtube and I have been meaning to watch TYBW arc. I have been postponing it because of arbitrary "I wanna read the manga first" and just general other excuses, but realistically those are putting up barriers that I may not get to at this rate and currently I could just use something I'm somewhat interested in to give me some independent relaxing engagement. I think I can set the goal of actually watching Bleach TYBW at least an episode a day starting either today or tomorrow and see if that can bring a momentum and habit into actually being able to watch things that interest me on my own.

Engagement in Music, Particularly my Musical Instruments

I can probably actually take my violin back out. The guitar would probably be better but for whatever reason I feel that my brain thinks that would require more - for a lack of better word - work, so I think I can at least try to find time this week to at least play a little bit of my violin.

Regular Birding, Particularly with Peers + "increased social irl connection [...]"

I can reach out and text my new irl birding connections to see if they are interested; if not I can at least plan to take a birding trip later

Engagement in Buddhist Stuff

I know there is an area I've been thinking of visiting that has free english services on Tuesday, I can make plans to go there that day, particularly since my Fiance should be working for the first day then anyways.

Question Four: What are additional goals and check points that we would like to try to bring us closer to the life style that we know tends to support a thriving mental state and life satisfaction rather than one of survival?

Independent Travels

During the time I have, I can keep in mind this goal and if I have down time think of potentially interesting and alternative places to go to explore; additionally I can plan birding trips to places I have not yet checked out.

Increased Social IRL Connection

It is dependent on if my now-ex-coworker still is interested, but I can follow up and see if we want to still play board games; if not I think potential more ways to reach out will be more viable to plan once a higher level of baseline is established; potentially see if there are any in person DnD groups around that I could make a habit of going to or any martial art dojos that we can afford

More Inspired Art

I think this is something that will come with time between lessening the burn out of my current art-as-a-coping mechanism goal as well as actually engaging in more media and independent interests as to gain more inspiration.

Question Five: Summarize the Key Points and Plans Discussed in This into a Bullet Points of Take Aways

Modifying Current Coping:

Diversify and lean off of using art as a main coping mechanism; give that one a break

Attempt to go to the gym more frequently or at least space it out more throughout the week

Continue reading; lessen the ideal to every other day in case demand pressure is adversely affecting it

Keep an open interest in playing board games with fiance

Changes I Want To Make Soon:

Start watching Bleach TYBW w/ at least one episode a day

Bring out my violin and try to at least play with it for one hour this week

Reach out to new bird peers to see if they want to plan a birding trip sometime, if not then plan one independently

Make plans to go to that place on Tuesday for the open Buddhist service

Changes to Keep an Eye Out For:

Opportunities to go somewhere new randomly for no particular reason or goal in mind other than to just see whats around us

Spoons and time availability to see out places to expand our irl social circles

Inspiration for art in general

Question Six: Set for Regular Follow Ups to Check Progress

Isn't tumblr's queue / schedule function super neat for this

[obsidianpen]

For the Volmione plot bunny, which trajectory would you have taken to?

oh boy here we go

okay so I imagine it going like this: hermione is working with the Head of Thought, an old witch whose name I probably change in my head all the time but we’ll go with Betty for now. Betty is a wily ol thing, about as possessive of her brains and and with Collecting them as slughorn was with students. She went to school with TR so she’s very excited when he gets added to her tank (maybe they were lovers, enemies, she just adores and or hates him, who knows, not me yet).

but the brains by themselves are powerless. When they’re in the tank they’re just suspended in time, sort of like a mental twilight zone (“they’re as cognizant as a school of fish, and about as interesting to watch,” says Betty as she strokes the glass of the tank). So, in order to properly study the minds within them, they need to allow the brains to animate. They have a very special impenetrable room where they do this, one that’s been enchanted with magic much older than anyone living in the department, where there are runes in place that both allow the brains to regain a body while also keeping them entrapped within the runic symbols in the room. (“Out of one fish bowl, into another!” Betty cackles). Here they can control what, if any memories they allow their subjects to have (“they tend to try to be very violent when we allow them to remember everything, up to the point of their tragic demises,” says Betty wisely).

but each brain has its own set of peculiarities when it animates. Morgana manifests as a raven more often than not, and when she does manifest as a witch, it’s short lived as she soon becomes a bird, trying and failing to escape the runes. Rowena Ravenclaw’s body always manifests with crystals growing out of her skin, particularly along the forehead, and she only ever speaks in riddles - no matter what memories that do or do not give her.

and Tom Riddle, they soon learn, has the strange quirk in that they never know what age body he’s going to be in when they animate him.

The first time, he’s a child with no memory of how he got there. He panics and cries, screaming that he’s not mad he’s not. They shut that one down pretty quickly. (“Fuck that,” Betty declares).

the next time they allow him most of his memories, up to last Christmas, they decide, and he manifests as the snakelike dark lord they all know and don’t love. After she talks to him, he guesses who Hermione is. In his mind, she and Harry recently escaped him, and she has no problem letting him know that it was her, that they got away because of her quick thinking, just like they had a so many times before. “Such a clever mudblood,” he hisses—before trying to violently disrupt the runes and attack her. Betty ends the animation spell before he can do much. (“He always was a sore loser,” Betty sighs).

anyway, it would go from there, with Voldemort starting to understand where he is and turning from angry violent captive to suddenly cool, collected, and charming. He starts to almost always manifest as the hottie young dark lord, disturbingly even when he isn’t allowed memories, like his subconscious survival mode mine that knows that’s the smart thing to do, and hermione finds herself animating him without Betty around (against the rules, ofc) just to talk/argue/yell at/etc him, because he’s just so intriguing and blah blah blah. And he’s obviously trying to wheedle his way out of the DoM somehow and she knows that but she keeps talking to him anyway.

meanwhile she can’t tell Harry or Ron anything about this because she’s an unspeakable and when they ask how work is she just says things like “even if I told you, you would never believe me.”

[princess-of-the-corner]

Quirk Awakenings

Because ya know what? Fuck it! If they ain’t gonna give us solid explanations, I'mma make my own until told otherwise! At least to get The thoughts out so they stop spinning in my head!

So! What’s a “Quirk Awakening”?

Well, it seems to be when a Quirk gets stronger, obviously. But not gradually, through training, but all at once. Usually in response to a perceived threat, or if the person in question is under extreme duress - usually physical, though emotional or mental seems to count in a few cases. So, we’ll say a “Quirk Awakening” is a survival mechanism, a response to a threat, meant to ensure someone’s survival. Similar to an “adrenaline rush” in us regular humans, the kind of thing that let’s mothers move whole cars off trapped children, or lets a human survive almost being frozen solid, or losing a limb. The part of the human body and psyche that makes us go “Not Today, Bitch!” and then perform some sort of god-mode glitch we will never be able to replicate. 

Of course, such actions have consequences. Like, that mother absolutely saved her trapped kid. She also wrecked all the muscles in her arms and back, and will need a lot of physical therapy to recover. So, do Quirk Awakenings have that? Do they effect people that way??

No Idea! Cause what the FUCK do Quirk Awakenings look like, really? They seem wildly different for everyone - which makes sense! No one has the exact same Quirk! But like. What counts as an “Awakening”? Kirishima has his “Unbreakable” mode, which yes, he got through training. But he trained by hardening up, and having people use him as a punching bag. He put himself under duress, to improve his Quirk! Does that count as an Awakening?? Izuku has random power jumps all over the place, as new Quirks come in - does that count? No clue!

Honestly, the only thing that sticks out to me, the thing that makes me think, and tentatively codify this, is Iida.

Hear me out.

So, there’s that scene where Tensei tells his little brother about a “secret technique” that will make him stronger. Normally, in Shonen manga like this, that sort of thing leads to a training montage, mastering some “hidden art” or finding a new understanding. They’ll condense it down, but it’s implied to take a long time, or it should. But that’s not what Tensei tells Tenya. No, the super special “secret technique”? Rip out his mufflers, so they’ll grow back stronger. When I first saw this, I was like “what????”. That doesn’t seem like “training” to me - that’s a little extreme, especially if you watch that scene! Iida has cloth in his mouth, a first aid kit next to him, and IS CLEARLY IN AGONY. He’s sweating, tense, he looks like he’s about to cry. There’s BLOOD. Not to mention the setting, I was absolutely flabbergasted. I questioned why the HELL Iida was out in the woods doing this - if it’s known about in his family, then why isn’t Iida being sedated in a sterile environment? Why isn’t there a trusted doctor team HELPING with this?

Then I thought about it more, and I think I know what it is.

The Iida family’s “secret technique” is them forcing their bodies through a semi-controlled “Quirk Awakening”.

A Quirk Awakening only seems to really happen when a person is put under duress. A “Do or Die” situation. When they don’t have a choice but to either fight back, or fall. Uraraka is implied to get one in the manga, making a Sort of “field” around her where she controls the gravity, without her having to touch anything. Bakugou gets one at some point, seeming to gain the ability to control his sweat, waterbender style, to create explosions at a distance, with better control. Both of them were in situations where they, quite possibly, could have (or should have) died. They were put in a situation where they were told “live or die”, and hit that survival threshold that lets people do insane shit when threatened. So, this Iida Family Secret Technique? It’s mimicking that, which means it really only works when done in suboptimal conditions.

Think about it. The Iida family are one of the older hero families. Why would they hurt themselves like that unless there wasn’t another option? The Engine Quirk has probably gone through a few iterations, some of them likely had their mufflers ripped out while Heroing. They probably noticed that the mufflers that grew back were stronger. Some of them probably figured the “grew back stronger” and tried to do the same in controlled conditions, and I bet you anything it didn’t work. They grew back barely stronger, the same, or maybe not at all. Cause In controlled conditions? You’re safe, and you know it. There isn’t that pressure, that drive that forces your body past its limits. The thing that says “we need to be stronger RIGHT NOW”. It only really works when you put yourself in conditions that force a similar feeling of duress as an actual fight - hence Iida going into UA’s back yard with a first aid kit and no painkillers, without telling anyone where he was going or what he was doing.

This also made me think, that a Quirk Awakening? Is more like a rapid Quirk “Evolution” or “Advancement”. It’s your Quirk jumping ahead to save your life, regardless of how trained you are, or if you were “evolved” enough to handle it. I think it’s totally possible to train to the same (or at least similar) level you would get from a Quirk Awakening but it takes time, effort. It’s that same Quirk Awakening, but done slower, letting everything adjust and grow more gradually. Like, if you go through a proper Quirk Awakening? It’s like a growth spurt during puberty, suddenly your balance sucks, everything is stretched and it hurts, you’re hungry and tired - your body has developed rapidly, not really giving you time to adjust for it, making you play catch up with yourself. To use Kirishima as an example, if, say, during the USJ, Kiri had been put in a situation where he needed that Unbreakable Mode? I bet you he’d unlock it. But I also bet, afterward, he’d be sore, maybe dry skin, tense muscles, need to eat for three and sleep for a week. Iida probably needed to almost relearn how to run with the new mufflers, needed to stretch more, drink more OJ, his whole legs were sore, not just where he tore the mufflers out.

So, like, another example - Let’s say Sero goes through a Quirk Awakening. Well, what happens? His tape gets better, obviously, stronger, he can make more of it, but what else? Well, he’s already flexible, and I posit part of his Quirk is his joints - like, his Tape comes from his elbows. So he gets more flexible, especially in the joints, but what if the tape needs to come from somewhere else? Well (I’m almost sorry for sharing this, but I had the thought, and I refuse to shudder alone) how about the path of least resistance - his nails? Instead of just finger- and toenails, now they shoot tape too. How about his wrists, or ankles? Spread it to every joint.

What about Tokoyami? Does the bird thing get more prominent? Does he get talons? Wings? Does Dark Shadow change in anyway?

We’ve all posited that Hagakure’s Invisibility could do something crazy - it’s light refraction. Could she change colours? Create illusions? Hell, a laser? Could she CONTROL light, through reflection and refraction? A mirror and a torch, and she can make a mirage?

(Running out of thoughts, so would love to hear your feedback! Specifically, how you think this fits with Touya [both Sports Festival and AfO’s Fuckery] and Kurogiri. Also Tomura, cause, like. Look at him)

-

OH HELL YEAH

Honestly there do seem to be some exceptions to the ‘survival’ thing in a way. Specifically thinking about Toya because even in Canon, his fire went from red to blue out of emotional distress, but not life-or-death(though he immediately wass put in a life-or-death situation right after lmao). And this carries through to Chaos Children, though the circumstances change it’s still emotional distress and pure determination.

Also I totally forgot about the ripping the engines out like OOF but yeah it makes sense that a family of Heroes who have been in fucked situations like that would click on to a way to kinda. Force an Awakening.

But also at the same time, people are in distressing situations like that a lot. Especially Heroes and Villains they’d be getting Awakenings left and right. They don’t always get Awakenings. I actually brought this up recently in Road to Hell! Enji’s first thought on how to deal with his weaknesses was actually to try and force an Awakening in his own Quirk, but decided that because he’s been through distressing enough situations without one, that there must be something else that would trigger an Awakening.

And yeah my thoughts on it are that there’s multiple options for where an Awakening can go! to show with what I mentioned before re: Toya’s different Awakenings and also Kurogiri:

In both Toya’s first Awakening and then the Oboro to Kurogiri thing, that’s an evolution of their pre-existing Quirk. Toya’s Quirk evolves from just regular red-orange fire, to hotter blue flames. Oboro’s Cloud ads on abilities to protect himself and to escape danger, becoming Warp Gate.

But with Toya’s second Awakening in CC, there’s not really anywhere for his Quirk to evolve in terms of just fire. Like in theory it could evolve the fireproofing, but it didn’t have that in the first place. It’d be adding something ‘new’ rather than changing what’s there. So instead the Awakening dug into dormant genetics. Even though it didn’t initially show up on Toya, the bits and pieces for his grandfather’s Quirk are still in his DNA and if he somehow had a bio kid there’s a chance of the Quirk showing up again. So the Awakening tapped into that instead, bringing the genetics to the surface and adding it to his Quirk.

This is what I feel would happen in the latter suggestions you mentioned like Sero getting an Awakening. There’s little room for his Quirk to evolve drastically, so instead it would dig into whatever’s lying dormant in his genetics.

[2g-1k]

2G1K - Chapter 2 "Good Evans, Heavens! …Or is it the other way 'round?"

You met the first guy in the kingdom. Behold, the second guy!

Masterpost

Jonathan Evans’ first thought upon regaining consciousness were What the fuck? And to be fair, he has very good reasons to say so.

For one, he felt like someone had just played him like a basketball and slam dunked him headfirst into the ground. Which made sense, as the last memory he had was experiencing a plane crash.

Where then, is the rest of the plane that was supposed to crash along with him?

Evans was genuinely surprised to see his travel backpack lay beside him unscathed, as if God himself gently placed it carefully on the ground. Then he examined himself, and to no one’s surprise, with great pain comes great wounds. Minor cuts and scratches could be found all over his body, and his skin was decorated with various shades of reds, purples and blues. Fixing his glasses, he wished that fate treated him as well as his bag was, while totally not thinking about the fact that being alive - from a plane crash no less - without any major injuries was already a blessing by itself.

Nevertheless, remaining laid down on the ground was not helping him find wherever the hell the bloody plane flew off to crash without him. Evans had to fight a war with his aching muscles and stand up so he could actually see better. Born to lie down, forced to get up, I guess. Observing his surroundings, Evans guessed with no small amount of uncertainty, that he may be in a Christmas tree farm with the amount of pine saplings that occupied most of the land he saw. He wondered if he could ask the farm owner for help, but couldn’t see anything that resembled a building. Nor a person, for that matter.

No plane, no signs of life…yet, thought Evans. Survival mode activation?

It is of utmost misfortune that Mr. Jonathan Evans had spent most of his life in a city, and had spent little time touching grass and getting to know Mother Nature - he knew little to nothing about survival other than the most basic of basics!

A fresh change of clothes from his bag later, he thought about what to do next. Plane or not, it isn’t going to assist in his survival other than providing shelter, not to mention he wasn’t a fan of setting up camp in a place where the dead rested. Was he the only one alive, or are there others around, lost like he was? 

An idea that was in hindsight, so obvious that he felt stupid to have not thought about it earlier, hit his head as hard as he hit the ground. My phone! He definitely felt stupid now. Turning on his phone, he tried to call emergency services for help, but to no avail. Well, at least I tried? Not my fault there’s no signal, anyway.

Be that as it may, it is his problem if he wants to survive. Now he just needed to obtain water and food and he was set for life! Or set for as long as he had to stay here. Despite all the looking around he did since he woke up, he didn’t notice anything resembling water or food.

One thing he noticed, however, was that he felt weirdly out of place. Like he felt tall. Not sure of what to think of that, he tried to shrug it off, and in the name of survival - began his quest for water.

Dusk gradually approached, and Evans was getting a little agitated. During who knows how long, along his arduous trek across evergreen forests of pine saplings that barely reached his waist, he had not seen as much as a single drop of water. Seeing as he still hasn’t walked out of this endless greenery, he tried to walk faster, but found himself unable to as the little trees were scratching him with every step he took. He figured he could just knock them off with sheer force, though decided not to in the end.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally reached the edge of the forest. Although the sun’s rays have sunken deep beneath the horizon, and the stars have emerged to greet the earth, he could vaguely see a large patch of grass dotted with random hues of what he supposed were flowers.

Next to the flower patch sat a tiny cottagehouse, so small that he figured if he stood next to it, its height would not even reach his knees. His jaw nearly dropped at the mere sight.

Am I hallucinating?

He blinked once.

Twice.

It was still there. 

He was about to step closer to take a better look, when a faint flickering light beneath him caught his attention. This time, his jaw definitely dropped.

Eyes wide open, mouth gaping in absolute disbelief, he watched as a tiny man no taller than his index finger, carrying an equally tiny lantern, pushing an equally tiny cart, walk along an equally tiny, narrow winding path.

It was by bearing witness to this sight that everything clicked for Evans in that moment.

The saplings were fully grown trees. They weren’t part of a farm, but an entire forest. He didn’t feel tall for no reason. He was tall the entire time.

Because this place is tiny.

His brain about to explode from the sudden revelation, all he could do was stare in wonder as the little man picked up his pace, and subsequently break into a sprint, making a beeline towards the little cottage he noticed moments earlier.

It wasn’t until the little man shut the door to the little cottage did he snap awake from his trance.

Evans had many thoughts flying around in his mind not unlike a hurricane. What the fuck, did I just see a tiny person? He was pushing a tiny cart! He lives in a tiny cottage! He’s tiny! Or am I huge? I’m not dreaming this up, right?

I could try talking to him.

One thought stood above the rest, and given that Evans had nothing to lose, why not give it a try?

What the little man took minutes to reach took him three steps, and soon he was standing in front of the miniscule building that felt more like a dollhouse rather than someone’s actual home.

He could hear the little person talking as he kneeled down to match the height of the cottage. He felt as if he was losing his mind this very instant, listening to a man the size of his finger talk! Evans couldn’t make out what he said, but knowing the little guy exists was more than enough to leave him questioning reality itself.

Now, what should he do to get his attention?

Evans tried to knock on the door, but found it too awkward a position to adjust to do so. Instead, he settled on knocking on the roof.

Knock, knock, knock. He paused, and resumed again. Knock, knock, knock.

He peeked into the window.

Both pairs of eyes were wide open at the sight of each other, one in wonder, and the other in horror. Evans watched as the little person froze up - no doubt in absolute terror - before thawing himself, scrambling out of Evans’ sight.

Evans wasn’t sure what else to expect. Obviously I would be fucking terrified of a person larger than a building too, he thought, but still, damn, am I that intimidating?

He gave the house another two knocks. Knock, knock.

“I know you’re in there, I just want to ask some questions.”

“...Please?”

A few minutes passed.

No reply came.

Evans wasn’t sure of what to make of this situation. He hadn’t expected the little guy to be cooperative, but he wasn’t exactly surprised that the little guy’s first reaction was to escape. He couldn’t know what exact reasons sent him running for his life like that either - ignoring the differences in size. Hell, maybe they don’t even speak the same language, which could be highly possible given that neither of their people have probably met each other at some point in history! Now Evans thought maybe he looked stupid. To appear as a dishevelled, towering brute whom for all Evans knew, made loud booming noises that might not even register as a language! If anyone could see him at that moment, they would be able to see his cheeks flush scarlet, drowning in the embarrassment he just thought up out of nowhere.

As the night lingered, Evans’ thought-up embarrassment was gradually replaced with fatigue. Feeling worn out from all the walking he did today, he was ready to drop and fall unconscious at any second. Still not receiving any form of response from the tiny man who inhabits the tiny house, he got up, walked to the flower patch, and decided to call that his bed and temporary home. Until he could finally return home, at least.

Using his bag as a pillow, he slept beside the house, and silently bid it goodnight.

Perhaps he will try his luck at communication tomorrow.

[mj-iza-writer]

SP Special Containment Part 13

If you are new to the story or just need a reminder on how this story is going please use the hashtag SP Special Containment. -MJ

Whumpee smiled at Aramais as Andy pushed him down the hall.

"Aramais", Whumpee giggled.

"Hey Whumpee, I'm glad to see you in good spirits", Aramais smiled.

"Caretaker says I can't be in the hall to wait for you for when you come out of the showers. Can you tell him to let me?", Whumpee almost whispered forgetting Caretaker was the one pushing their chair.

Cass grinned.

"Whumpee I don't think that is a good idea", Aramais sighed, "you might get bored. I take a long time in the showers."

"No I won't", Whumpee pouted.

"Whumpee, you'll be better off waiting in your room", Aramais said sternly, "trust me."

Whumpee looked down, "okay, good luck in there then."

"Thanks Whumpee", Aramais smiled again, "I'll see you later."

Caretaker grinned and winked at Aramais as they passed.

Cass kept their eyes to the ground as they made their way to the showers.

"I'm sorry for what I did earlier", Aramais sighed as he waited for the straps to be removed.

"It's okay, I'm kind of getting over it now that my heart rate has gone back to normal. I feel bad for Whumpee though", Cass admitted, "they really wanted to see you after. That's sweet."

Aramais pulled off his shirt, "sweet until I have to be sedated and rolled out of here unconscious again."

Cass made a puzzled look.

Aramais stood up, "sweet until they think their friend is dead and go into survival mode", Aramais frowned, "sweet until they refuse to shower because they are so afraid to come in here", Aramais exhaled a heavy but shaky breath, "I know I seem mean and straightforward, but there is a reason to how I am. I have to think about the bigger picture. The what could happens."

"I was at the same level as Mitch was, we were equals. Except I had one weakness that I couldn't get through. Just think about that, there is only one thing that separates me from him. One thing that makes me weaker, and yet you are more scared of me."

Cass started to walk out, the guard blocked Cass.

"The human weapon is free to move around the room. You are not allowed to go out now", the guard ordered.

"Don't run away from him Cass", Andy pulled Cass aside, "he's trying to protect you."

"From what?", Cass got angry again, "he said I was okay to do this, now he seems to be the one twisting my mind. What is he afraid of."

"You becoming this", Aramais was completely naked now.

Cass looked over him in horror as they took in all of the damage that covered Aramais's body.

"This is from my trainers fucking me up so I was tough enough for my missions", Aramais spun around slowly so Cass could see everything, "this is what Mitch did to Whumpee. If you don't believe me, check with Caretaker so you can have access to the images."

A guard handed a prepared sedation.

"Crap, this is supposed to be administered before he gets out of the chair", Andy looked at Aramais.

"Just do it", Aramais sighed, "I'm fine, step back Cass."

Andy prepped the skin.

"Administering low dose sedation to the human weapon Aramais", Andy announced before pricking Aramais, "sedation administered."

"Guards are in place. We are ready for attempt two of the shower", the guards stood at ready.

"Soap, shampoo, and washcloth. I have the towel", Andy walked with Aramais to the shower, "are we ready to test the music theory."

"Yes, remember, no classical music, it's what my trainers listened to", Aramais watched Andy walk away.

"I set up a playlist of different genres to see what works best. If you don't like it, say no, and I'll quickly switch it. I'll save whatever you do like", Andy looked around to make sure everything was in place, "test two, attempting music to calm Aramais while he showers, starting now."

"Nope, nope. Turn it. Turn it.", Aramais yelled before he could even start, "I guess they listened to a lot of that too."

"Got it, no country", Andy started a new song, and started to delete all of the country songs.

"I think the music is helping, at least a little. I feel like I need to punch something though", Aramais sighed and looked at Andy, "do you think the Director would get upset if I punched the wall?"

"I'm sure he'd rather you punch the wall instead of one of us", Andy looked over the playlist, "try not to break anything including your....", Aramais punched the wall full force, "... fingers", Andy looked up.

"Well that will need a bandage", Aramais looked over his fingers, "got some blood, I didn't break anything shockingly."

"There's a dent in the wall now", a guard sighed.

"Hopefully the Director doesn't notice", Aramais looked at Andy.

"I'll talk to the Director about putting a punching bag in here", Andy made a note, "are you doing okay."

"Right now yes, I'm not sure about my head going into the water though. That's why I did my body first", Aramais paused suddenly.

"No, no, no", Aramais leaned against the wall and took some deep breaths.

The guards stepped forward.

"He didn't say to sedate yet. Stand down until he says", Andy held out a hand, "Aramais talk to me, what's wrong."

Aramais shook, "turn.... that song.... off. No more music", Aramais slid down to the shower floor and banged his fist against the wall in annoyance.

Andy paused the song, "are you with us Aramais?"

Aramais turned slowly, and looked at the guards.

"Sedate, sedate", Andy yelled.

Aramais stood as one of the guns was fired.

Suddenly Aramais shook his head, he gave a concerned look to Andy, "another one quick, survival mode is triggering. Sedate me."

Another sedation dart was fired.

Andy pushed Cass behind him.

Aramais lowered himself to the floor, he shook as he fought against his survival mode.

Aramais moaned as his head fell, his body went limp.

"Shit", Aramais mumbled as the sedative put him under.

Andy carefully walked to Aramais.

"He's out", Andy sighed, "Cass can you get me my stethoscope, I don't like how quickly we had to sedate him with the second dose."

Cass timidly walked over to Andy.

"We need to rinse the soap off", Andy listened to Aramais's heart rate, "it's okay for right now, I'll check periodically."

Cass helped rinse and dry Aramais.

"He looks like he's in pain, even when he is unconscious", Cass helped pull pants onto the limp body, "I didn't realize just how bad this was for him."

"He probably is in pain", Andy frowned, "this is a lot of trauma for him to fight through just so the others might have an easier time showering, this includes other sights as well. Anything we find that works will be messaged to the others."

Andy sighed, "we need to stop by the medical clinic to wrap his hand, and I'll need a painkiller for when he wakes up."

"We?", Cass looked at Andy, "you still want my help."

"Is that okay?", Andy pulled Aramais into a sitting position.

The guards helped lift Aramais into the chair.

"Should we put a shirt on him?", a guard picked up Aramais's abandoned shirt.

"He's got blood all over him from the bloody knuckles. I'm just going to wrap a towel around him", Andy tightened the last restraint, "I'll need to come back and clean this up", Andy looked around.

"I'll do it", Mcgee suddenly peaked in, "I heard you yell sedate, so I've been listening. I'll clean this up, get him to Medic before that sedative wares off."

"Thankyou Mcgee", Andy pushed the chair out and saw Caretaker and the Director.

"He got farther. His body was fully lathered and we rinsed him off. He said he didn't know about doing his hair though. He needed something to punch", Andy reached down and pulled a towel he used to wrap Aramais's hand to stop the blood, "he wond up punching the wall, he left a dent... sorry."

"Okay, that's fine", the Director frowned at the bloody hand.

"Maybe we should consider a punching bag or something in there with them", Andy rewrapped the hand, "we should get going though."

"One more thing", the Director frowned, "this is the last shower this week. He has been fully sedated two days in a row, that could be dangerous. Let's hold off for a few days, go back to the drawing board, and see what can be done for attempt three."

Aramais made some tiny moans.

"Yes sir", Andy nodded.

Once back in Aramais's room, Cass helped lift Aramais to his bed.

"He is heavy", Cass gasped.

"Yep solid muscle", Andy groaned as they moved to the bed.

"Oh thank goodness Mcgee dropped off his stuff. He would not have been happy to lose his slippers", Andy put the slippers on Aramais.

"I'll put the dirty clothes in the pile and pick them up tomorrow", Andy tossed the things to the floor by the door.

"What do you mean", Cass watched.

"Whenever Aramais is done with his clothes and they need washed, he puts them over here for washing. I grab them every morning and put them in the hamper outside of the monitor room. It will be ready for when we do wash day", Andy smiled at Cass, "sorry I don't think you know about wash day."

"No", Cass listened.

"So every Monday we roll the weapons out to a pre-planned spot so they can talk. Two caregivers and three guards pretty much babysit them while the third caregiver goes and cleans out their holding rooms."

"Oh we clean the rooms, I've always wondered", Cass looked.

"If you want and if your schedule allows next Monday, you can come help us a little and see how each of us does it", Andy put Aramais's water next to him, "let's get out, he's gets a little confused when he comes out of sedation."

"I was wondering if I could actually shadow you three. I'll be here the next few days, I really want to see what I'm supposed to do exactly."

"Yes that's fine, I'm sure Caretaker and McGee won't mind.

"I'll go check on Mitch and see if he needs me", Cass walked past the monitor room.

"Okay, I'll be stocking my monitor room", Andy went into the room.

Later, Cass peaked back into the monitor room and found Andy playing a game.

"Hey, could I by chance hang out with you", Cass came in, "Mitch isn't in a great mood right now."

"Yes that's fine", Andy turned the game off, "I'm just waiting for Aramais to wake up."

"I went in and gave him some water, and he yelled at me, so I grabbed my homework, told him goodnight. Then left."

"You still have to check on him tonight, it's still quite a while before lights out", Andy sighed, "I'll go in with you though if you want."

"Okay, I'd appreciate it", Cass frowned.

"Hey, Andy. Aramais's heart rate is going up. It looks like he is waking up", a guard interrupted, "yes he's looking around right now."

"Hey Aramais, here is your requested update. You are coming out from a full sedation following and attempted shower. You have been unconscious for two and half hours now. It is currently seven thirty at night."

Aramais gave the camera a thumbs up before slowly sitting up in bed.

"Ouch", Aramais frowned as he put pressure on his hand. He grabbed his water and started to drink.

"How are you feeling?", the guard asked.

"I have a headache, and I'm regretting punching the wall", Aramais looked at his hand, "I'm really shaky too. I think my blood sugar is low."

"Andy and Cass are coming in. Is that okay?"

"It's fine", Aramais sighed.

"Andy says he needs to check your sugars so get ready for that", the guard added.

"Okay", Aramais leaned his head back.

Andy walked into the room with Cass timidly walking beside him.

"How are you feeling?", Andy set down a few things.

"Like a pincushion", Aramais held out his hand, "I'm really shaky."

Andy came over and pricked Aramais's finger, then took the blood sample. He pressed firmly onto the spot then placed a bandage over it.

"Yep, you're reading at sixty-three for your blood sugar", Andy handed a juice box as he documented the blood sugar, "I'll check again a few minutes after you drink that."

"You missed dinner, which probably explains the low sugar, I can get you something if you feel like eating", Andy sat down.

Aramais struggled to work the straw into the juice.

"Can- can I have some help", Aramais sighed as he gave the juice back to Andy, "I'm really regretting punching the wall. I don't know what hurts worse my head or my hand."

"Doc gave me the pain medicine, do you want it? It's by injection so it will work faster", Andy pulled the shot out, "ready."

"I'm really feeling like a pincushion, but yes, anything to get rid of this headache", Aramais sighed.

As Andy gave the shot, Aramais caught Cass staring.

"How does it feel seeing me as weak?", Aramais asked, "I'm just curious what you're thinking about", Aramais took a sip of the juice, "what might be going through your mind right now?"

Andy looked over at Cass.

"I don't see your trauma responses as weak", Cass admitted, "you're not weak when you are trying your best to help the others."

Aramais grinned, "that means a lot."

"So Cass says Mitch is grumpy today, and wanted to hang out with me. Do you want company or alone time?", Andy asked Aramais.

"Company would be nice", Aramais laid back down, "if you're not busy, that is. I don't feel like eating. I'm a little nauseous from the sedative, maybe a snack later if I can."

"I'm not busy, all of my work is done until you need something", Andy looked at his watch, "I do need to take your blood sugar again though."

Aramais lifted his hand, and waited for Andy.

"I'm not shaky anymore", Aramais sighed as Andy pricked his finger.

"Could I work on my homework in here?", Cass looked at them both.

"I don't see a problem with it", Andy waited for the blood to read, "sugars are going up."

Aramais watched Cass go out of the room, "homework?"

"Cass is still in school. When they are finished they'll be able to jump right into a researcher position", Andy applied pressure to Aramais's finger before putting a bandage on it.

Cass came back in carrying a school bag, "sorry I had to take my pepper spray off. The guards stopped me."

"Pepper spray?", Aramais frowned.

"Yes, in highschool I had a bully. They just so happen to go to my university as well", Cass sighed, "they haven't done anything yet, but they keep getting closer and more threatening."

Aramais gave a weird look.

"I was the weird kid, so I was often a target for bullying", Cass set down his bag, "even in university."

"That sucks", Aramais frowned.

"It is what it is", Cass sighed, "I'm at the top of my class. I like where my life is going, that's all that matters."

Cass sat down, "am I okay right here?"

"That's fine", Andy sat down in a different spot.

"Can I see what your schoolwork looks like?", Aramais started to scoot from his bed, but stopped.

"Um yeah", Cass pushed some of the books down the table closer to Aramais.

Aramais got up and walked closer to the books, "geesh, this is the smart people work", Aramais looked it over, "I was pretty good in school, but not this good."

"Did you like school?", Cass watched Aramais pick up a book.

"It got me out of my house and away from my parents. I liked my teachers too, they took care of me", Aramais admitted, "I had one teacher who always packed me a lunch because my parents often forgot."

"I'm sorry Aramais", Cass listened.

"This book looks interesting", Aramais turned one of the pages, "they were my parents, I often blame them for me becoming homeless. Which is what led me into becoming this."

"Do you like reading? You can read that if you like. I just finished it for a report", Cass watched Aramais flip through some pages.

"Are you sure?", Aramais looked up in shock, "you'd let me borrow it?"

"Yes, I love reading and enjoy spreading the book love", Cass smiled, "you probably get pretty bored in here with nothing to do, I can keep the books coming if you like."

Aramais looked at Andy, "am I even allowed to have books in here?"

"Well, as you say, everything is a weapon. I believe you are allowed to have five personal items at a time outside of what the facility provides you", Andy pulled out his phone to check the rules that were downloaded, "if you get another pair of slippers, that will count as personal property. It looks like you can have one book at a time, just please don't throw it at me."

"I won't", Aramais nodded, "are you sure, Cass? I'll take care of it, I promise."

"Of course you can borrow it, once your done I can bring you a new one", Cass smiled, 'Aramais hasn't been this excited about something for a long time', Cass thought to themself.

"The only rules with personal property, is they need to be signed in with the guards and displayed in view of the cameras", Andy read the rules.

"Thankyou Cass", Aramais grinned, "I really appreciate this. I promise I'll take care of it."

Andy smiled as Aramais started to read before he even climbed into the bed.

Cass smiled at Andy.

"I never even asked if he'd want to read something", Andy sighed, "I feel bad now."

Aramais was already deeply immersed into the book.

"I think he forgot we're here", Andy looked back at Aramais and chuckled.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary

Sp Containment Taglist. @written-by-jayy

[visionthefox]

Im feeling silly , I was looking over my logs of texts I often write to myself, an idea of what ever I want to do in the future And I found a horror idea based on a dream I had- I still somewhat remember it- I have a fear of getting lost and trapped - because I did get lost some few times in my life~ but for some reason my dream changed to "Im running" to "watch as someone else needs to survive" and I guess was to not get too scared? anyways, all I know I was in a abandoment plex, or shopping mall, I was in the play area MIND YOU this was before FNAF RUIN was even a thing! but I used to watch ppl explore abandoment places at night- soo ok, based on this dream of being lost, and running from something, I created an AU I never once shared to anyone sooo feeling silly! I want to let it out~ in resume! actually short one What if Fazbear got tired of weird stuff happening in the daycare, robots coming in and out, missing tech- a fucking death star? and their animatronics getting too comfortable walking away.. so much so is getting the brand in trouble so one night- FazCo just - reset both Sun and Moon, one night they sleep in the room they have, some humans walk in, since they work there Computer can not harm them, Computer tried to wake Moon but failed the next day, both brothers forgor everything and everyone, but something is off, Sun is not nervious nor shy, far from it, he seems to take a leadship, be harsh, sassy and somewhat mean-Moon in the other hand? he is calm, silent, cold only to human and robots, not kids, he is obedient to Sun only, and will be mean to everyone else. idk what exactly happened, but the plex grew darker, as maybe the aura of the change made everyone freak out, since Moon was literally paying FazCo to let him do anything, yet the company reset him as nothing.. soon chaos happend, and Eclipse , who mind you now has a body of his own -and I have no idea on what arc this happened, I just know he still hated everyone and didnt died- tried to walk in the daycare, only to Find Moon staring at him at the top on the play structure, Eclipse tease Moon but soon see something is not ok. Moon let him walk in, and worst, he just stared at him like a cat set on a prey, is only when Sun walked out from the ball pit he stared at Eclispe , and in a cheerfull yet cold tone said "oh, you are not part of FazCo line.. you are a bootleg? sorry~ we dont allow bootlegs in here! you need to leave!" and before Eclipse can say shit, Moon chease him away, Eclipse doesnt know why- but he ran away, maybe because Moon seems to be in his "kill code mode" but he just runs NOW this is the meat of the AU, Eclipse is forced to survive not getting seen by anyone, not even gregrory because he soon realized, every door is locked with new code only the rest on the glamrooks know, he tried to find the code, but just can not.. this is all I got, in my notes I had that Sun tried to reset Eclipse too thinking he just "needed some repains too" but I think Sun wanting Eclipse gone is more scary~ so yea, idk what to do with this so Im letting this out here- I may flesh out this idea? but I dont think I may actually draw it I just knew I wanted some horror related AU with sams at the time I wrote my dream down, I wanted true horror an scene I rememebr is Eclipse running inside one of the tubes, is all dark, only his eyes glow, and he is freaking out, Moon is cheasing him like a actual robot, no much of his personality showing - Eclipse clips up to the play structure, and finds a way out, not before he hears Sun teasing "please come out! we will make you better! you need to follwo FazCo rules~"

[figueroths]

Artists self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five arts/sets/edits/gifs that you've done, then pass on to at least five other people. Time to shine and spread some self-love and appreciation 💖

ik it says five but pls understand and respect that i am incapable of making such decisions <3 and also know that I am abt to start tedtalking <3 i am not sorry for any of this <3

TOP FIVE SIX :)

this maleficent set - maleficent (2014) makes me feel insane like true love being familial, parental in fact !! uwuwuwuwu is top tier and anyway I love these gifs individually and how they pair!

this aquamera set - I love love love aquamera, and this is so vibrant and fun! using the fish font style on the fish man line was inspired i'm such a hottie for that! an early mistake in blending mode led to the first gif being so fucking extra and mwah tbh good call to just run with it. also just remembering I specifically told @khazadkeit to send me that prompt lmfao brave of them, after all the essays I've written in their dms, to invite in even more rot ryan i am kissing u on the shoulder tenderly

this ginny baker set - someone called this "visually intense" in a way that felt like 15% derogatory so i'm gonna snatch that phrasing and make it 100% affectionate. like there's a lot happening, and it's so rewarding to look at these gifs now and find little layered surprises in the blending or layout or typography! 😌

this nabrielise set - listen I am so deep in the rot on tbsatdh that my body has adapted to it and I need that rot to breathe and function. it's a v simple, v pretty, v tender set and I love it

this made for love set - my most slept on set for a most slept on series. typography? sexy! colors? sexy! blending? sexy! simmer + hazel green? 📢 SEXY!

this first kill set - i misquoted in a tiny way that gets deeply on my nerves but I just think theo and talia have one of the most compelling relationships on the show and I really love the flow of this set. sometimes u make smth and one or more gifs are a little off the vibe but this one's 10/10 start to finish 💅🏽

honorable mentions <3 yes <3 i'm that annoying <3 still no apologies <3

the first gif in this san junipero set is so perfect I wanna get back on whatever I was on when I made that

this whole nick miller set I snapped! just sat down and made that in a few hours, learning how to do stuff as ideas occurred to me like oh? beyond my abilities? ok I will simply expand my abilities then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ignore the rest but the last gif in this mad max: fury road set might actually be the best blending I've ever done I'm counting 4 shots in there plus triple layers on the big guy

light of my life penny robinson!! idk this just sparks joy but also I'm obsessed with the hand(/claw?) at her temple in the first gif

more robinsons! this time judy & john beloveds. fuckdjsklfidng typography is my passion 😐 but anyway the second gif is so dear to me. that episode is so dear to me really and how they let each other go in totally different ways but how teaching her independence is key to his survival later when he's dependent on her abilities it's emo hours 🥺💗